INTEREST IN PUBLIC IMPROVEMENTS—OLD PARK PROJECTS—OPPOSITION OF OLD FOGIES—THE SOUND SHORE AT BRIDGEPORT—INACCESSIBLE PROPERTY—THE EYE OF FAITH—TALKING TO THE FARMERS—REACHING THE PUBLIC THROUGH THE PAPERS—HOW THE LAND WAS SECURED FOR A GREAT PLEASURE-GROUND—GIFTS TO THE PEOPLE—OPENING OF SEA-SIDE PARK—THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GROUND BETWEEN NEW YORK AND BOSTON—MAGNIFICENT DRIVES—THE ADVANTAGES OF THE LOCATION—MUSIC FOR THE MILLION—BY THE SEA-SIDE—FUTURE OF THE PARK—A PERPETUAL BLESSING TO POSTERITY.
INTEREST IN PUBLIC IMPROVEMENTS—OLD PARK PROJECTS—OPPOSITION OF OLD FOGIES—THE SOUND SHORE AT BRIDGEPORT—INACCESSIBLE PROPERTY—THE EYE OF FAITH—TALKING TO THE FARMERS—REACHING THE PUBLIC THROUGH THE PAPERS—HOW THE LAND WAS SECURED FOR A GREAT PLEASURE-GROUND—GIFTS TO THE PEOPLE—OPENING OF SEA-SIDE PARK—THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GROUND BETWEEN NEW YORK AND BOSTON—MAGNIFICENT DRIVES—THE ADVANTAGES OF THE LOCATION—MUSIC FOR THE MILLION—BY THE SEA-SIDE—FUTURE OF THE PARK—A PERPETUAL BLESSING TO POSTERITY.
FROMthe time when I first settled in Bridgeport and turned my attention to opening and beautifying new avenues, and doing whatever lay in my power to extend and improve that charming city, I was exceedingly anxious that public parks should be established, especially one where good drive-ways, and an opportunity for the display of the many fine equipages for which Bridgeport is celebrated, could be afforded. Mr. Noble and I began the movement by presenting to the city the beautiful ground in East Bridgeport now known as Washington Park,—a most attractive promenade and breathing place and a continual resort for citizens on both sides of the river, particularly in the summer evenings, when one of the city bands is an additional attraction to the pleasant spot. Thus our new city was far in advance of Bridgeport proper in providing a prime necessity for the health and amusement of the people.
Our park projects in the city date as far back as the
SEA-SIDE PARKSEA-SIDE PARK
year 1850. At that time, by an arrangement with Deacon David Sherwood, who lived in Fairfield, a few rods west of the Bridgeport line, and who owned land adjoining mine, we agreed to throw open a large plot of ground free to the public, provided State Street, in Bridgeport, was continued west so as to pass through this land. But a few “old fogies” through whose land the street would pass, thereby improving their property thousands of dollars in value, stupidly opposed the project in the Fairfield town-meeting, and the measure was defeated. Seventeen years afterwards, in 1867, after a long sleep, these same old fogies managed to awake, as did the citizens of Fairfield generally, and then State Street was extended without opposition; but property, to some extent, had changed hands and had largely increased in value, so that the chance of having a free park in that locality was forever lost, and the town was actually obliged to pay Deacon Sherwood for the privilege of continuing the highway through his land. How many similar opportunities for benefiting the public and posterity in all coming time are carelessly thrown away in every town, through the mere stupidity of mole-eyed land-owners, who stand as stumbling-blocks not only in the way of public improvements, but directly in opposition to their individual interests, and thus for scores of years rob the community of the pleasures to be derived from broad avenues lined with shade-trees and from open and free public grounds.
Up to the year 1865, the shore of Bridgeport west of the public wharves, and washed by the waters of Long Island Sound, was inaccessible to carriages, or even to horsemen, and almost impossible for pedestrianism. The shore edge in fact was strewn with rocks and boulders,which made it, like “Jordan” in the song, an exceedingly “hard road to travel.” A narrow lane reaching down to the shore enabled parties to drive near to the water for the purpose of clamming, and occasionally bathing; but it was all claimed as private property by the land proprietors, whose farms extended down to the water’s edge. On several occasions at low tide, I endeavored to ride along the shore on horseback for the purpose of examining “the lay of the land,” in the hope of finding it feasible to get a public drive along the water’s edge. On one occasion, in 1863, I succeeded in getting my horse around from the foot of Broad Street in Bridgeport to a lane over the Fairfield line, a few rods west of “Iranistan Avenue,” a grand street which I have since opened at my own expense, and through my own land. From the observations I made that day, I was satisfied that a most lovely park and public drive might be, and ought to be opened along the whole water-front as far as the western boundary line of Bridgeport, and even extending over the Fairfield line.
Foreseeing that in a few years such an improvement would be too late, and having in mind the failure of the attempt in 1850 to provide a park for the people of Bridgeport, I immediately began to agitate the subject in the Bridgeport papers, and also in daily conversations with such of my fellow-citizens as I thought would take an earnest and immediate interest in the enterprise. I urged that such an improvement would increase the taxable value of property in that vicinity many thousands of dollars, and thus enrich the city treasury; that it would improve the value of real estate generally in the city; that it would be an additional attraction tostrangers who came to spend the summer with us, and to those who might be induced from other considerations to make the city their permanent residence; that the improvement would throw into market some of the most beautiful building-sites that could be found anywhere in Connecticut; and I dwelt upon the absurdity, almost criminality, that a beautiful city like Bridgeport, lying on the shore of a broad expanse of salt water, should so cage itself in, that not an inhabitant could approach the beach. With these and like arguments and entreaties I plied the people day in and day out, till some of them began to be familiarized with the idea that a public park close upon the shore of the Sound was at least a possible if not probable thing.
But certain “conservatives,” as they are called, said: “Barnum is a hair-brained fellow, who thinks he can open and people a New-York Broadway through a Connecticut wilderness”; and the “old fogies” added: “Yes, he is trying to start another chestnut-wood fire for the city to blow forever; but the city or town of Bridgeport will not pay out money to lay out or to purchase public parks. If people want to see green grass and trees, they have only to walk or drive half a mile either way from the city limits, and they will come to farms where they can see either or both for nothing; and, if they are anxious to see salt water, and to get a breath of the Sound breeze, they can take boats at the wharves, and sail or row till they are entirely satisfied.”
Thus talked the conservatives and the “old fogies,” who unhappily, even if they are in a minority, are always a force in all communities. I soon saw that it was of no use to expect to get the city to pay for a park. The next thing was to see if the land could not be procuredfree of charge, or at a nominal cost, provided the city would improve and maintain it as a public park. I approached the farmers who owned the land lying immediately upon the shore, and tried to convince them that, if they would give the city free, a deep slip next to the water, to be used as a public park, it would increase in value the rest of their land so much as to make it a profitable operation for them. But it was like beating against the wind. They were not so stupid as to think that they could become gainers by giving away their property.’ Such trials of patience as I underwent in a twelvemonth, in the endeavor to carry this point, few persons who have not undertaken like almost hopeless labor can comprehend. At last I enlisted the attention of Messrs. Nathaniel Wheeler, James Loomis, Francis Ives, Frederick Wood, and a few more gentlemen, and persuaded them to walk with me over the ground, which to me seemed in every way practicable for a park. These gentlemen, who were men of taste as well as of enterprise and public spirit, very soon coincided in my ideas as to the feasibility of the plan and the advantages of the site; and some of them went with me to talk with the land-owners, adding their own pleas to the arguments I had already advanced. At last, after much pressing and persuading, we got the terms upon which the proprietors would give a portion and sell another portion of their land which fronted on the water, provided the land thus disposed of should forever be appropriated to the purposes of a public park. But unfortunately a part of the land it was desirable to include was the small Mallett farm, of some thirty acres, then belonging to an unsettled estate, and neither the administrator nor the heirs could or would give away a rod of it. But the whole farmwas for sale,—and, to overcome the difficulty in the way of its transfer for the public benefit, I bought it for about $12,000, and then presented the required front to the park. I did not want this land or any portion of it for my own purposes or profit, and I offered a thousand dollars to any one who would take my place in the transaction; but no one accepted, and I was quite willing to contribute so much of the land as was needed for so noble an object. Indeed, besides this, I gave $1,400 towards purchasing other land and improving the park; and, after months of persistent and personal effort, I succeeded in raising, by private subscription, the sum necessary to secure the land needed. This was duly paid for, deeded to and accepted by the city, and I had the pleasure of naming this new and great public improvement, “Sea-side Park.”
Public journals are generally exponents of public opinion; and how the people viewed the new purchase, now their own property, may be judged by the following extracts from the leading local newspapers, when the land for the new enterprise was finally secured:
OUR SEA-SIDE PARK.[From the “Bridgeport Standard,” August 21, 1865.]Bridgeport has taken another broad stride of which she may well be proud. The Sea-side Park is a fixed fact. Yesterday Messrs. P. T. Barnum, Captain John Brooks, Mr. George Bailey, Captain Burr Knapp, and Henry Wheeler generously donated to this city sufficient land for the Park, with the exception of seven or eight acres, which have been purchased by private subscriptions. Last night the Common Council appointed excellent Park Commissioners, and work on the sea-wall and the avenues surrounding the Park will be commenced at once. Besides securing the most lovely location for a park to be found between New York and Boston, which for all time will be a source of pride to our city and State, there is no estimating the pecuniary advantage which this great improvement will eventually prove to our citizens. Plans are on foot and enterprises are agitated in regard to a park hotel, sea-side cottages, horse railroad branch, and other features, which, when consummated, will serve to amaze our citizens to think that such a delightful sea-side frontage has been permitted to lie so long unimproved. To Mr. P. T. Barnum, we believe, is awarded the credit of originatingthis beautiful improvement, and certainly to his untiring, constant, and persevering personal efforts are we indebted for its being finally consummated. Hon. James C. Loomis was the first man who heartily joined with Barnum in pressing the plan of a sea-side park upon the attention of our citizens, but it is due to our citizens themselves to say that, with an extraordinary unanimity, they have not only voted to appropriate $10,000 from the city treasury to making the avenues around the Park, and otherwise improving it, but they have also generously aided by private contributions in purchasing such land as was not freely given for the Park. Of course, we shall not only, at an early day, publish the names of such citizens as have subscribed money for this purpose, but they will also be handed down to posterity, as they will richly deserve, in the publication of the Park Commissioners.
OUR SEA-SIDE PARK.
[From the “Bridgeport Standard,” August 21, 1865.]
Bridgeport has taken another broad stride of which she may well be proud. The Sea-side Park is a fixed fact. Yesterday Messrs. P. T. Barnum, Captain John Brooks, Mr. George Bailey, Captain Burr Knapp, and Henry Wheeler generously donated to this city sufficient land for the Park, with the exception of seven or eight acres, which have been purchased by private subscriptions. Last night the Common Council appointed excellent Park Commissioners, and work on the sea-wall and the avenues surrounding the Park will be commenced at once. Besides securing the most lovely location for a park to be found between New York and Boston, which for all time will be a source of pride to our city and State, there is no estimating the pecuniary advantage which this great improvement will eventually prove to our citizens. Plans are on foot and enterprises are agitated in regard to a park hotel, sea-side cottages, horse railroad branch, and other features, which, when consummated, will serve to amaze our citizens to think that such a delightful sea-side frontage has been permitted to lie so long unimproved. To Mr. P. T. Barnum, we believe, is awarded the credit of originatingthis beautiful improvement, and certainly to his untiring, constant, and persevering personal efforts are we indebted for its being finally consummated. Hon. James C. Loomis was the first man who heartily joined with Barnum in pressing the plan of a sea-side park upon the attention of our citizens, but it is due to our citizens themselves to say that, with an extraordinary unanimity, they have not only voted to appropriate $10,000 from the city treasury to making the avenues around the Park, and otherwise improving it, but they have also generously aided by private contributions in purchasing such land as was not freely given for the Park. Of course, we shall not only, at an early day, publish the names of such citizens as have subscribed money for this purpose, but they will also be handed down to posterity, as they will richly deserve, in the publication of the Park Commissioners.
[From the “Bridgeport Standard,” August 21, 1865.]The names of P. T. Barnum, Capt. John Brooks, Mr. George Bailey, Capt. Burr Knapp and Henry Wheeler have gone into history as the generous contributors to the best enterprise ever attempted for the benefit of our city; and the city has accepted the trust with the most commendable promptness, and appointed its commissioners, who have already entered upon their duties. We shall watch now with eager interest the unfolding and development of such a park as can nowhere be found on either side of the Sound, and one which shall be “a thing of beauty and a joy forever” to our city.It needs but the hand of skilful art, assisted by a proper public spirit, to render the Sea-side Park a charmed spot of delightful resort for public drives or private walks. The commissioners chosen to superintend the inauguration of the laying out and improvements of the grounds are men of correct taste, of good judgment and of liberal and comprehensive views as to the wants and demands of a growing city like Bridgeport. They understand that Nature is here to be made so attractive by Art, that all classes shall be drawn hither not merely for the pleasure of enjoying a favorite resort but also for the profit which comes to the nobler impulses of our nature, by the contemplation of cunning handicraft upon the landscape, as God left it for man to adorn and beautify. Here will be planted trees of every variety that will endure the temperature of this latitude, and flowers of every hue and perfume; here will walks serpentine through shady groves, and anon lead out to behold the broad expanse of the beautiful Sound.Some one has aptly said, that one work of art was worth a thousand lectures on art. Here, then, let the statues of the artist be placed, to educate the masses by their silent teachings, and win them to higher ideas and better views of life by their mute eloquence. One feature of American parks is especially worthy of mention: they are essentially and emphatically democratic. They are made for the people, and are in turn appreciated by the people. They are open alike to the millionnaire with his coach-and-six, and the poor pedestrian without a penny. The advantages possessed by Bridgeport as a manufacturing city are becoming daily more and more appreciated by business-men from various portions of the country. There is no city in the State which can compare with ours in the recent erection of large and permanent manufacturing establishments. This fact brings into our midst a large industrial population, for which, even now, the supply of dwellings is inadequate to the demand. This population, commingling and combining with our own, and possessing energy, enterprise, business tact and intelligence, will rapidly develop the resources of our city and its surroundings for mechanical pursuits, and the productions of the various manufacturing establishmentsalready erected, or in process of erection. To such a class, the benefits of a Park, possessing such facilities for recreation and improvement as the Sea-side Park will present, will be incalculable, in fostering the health, promoting the happiness, and elevating the taste of all who can avail themselves of its beneficial influences.To the public-spirited gentlemen who have so generously donated to the city the land for the Sea-side Park, Bridgeport owes a debt of gratitude which she can never repay. Their names will descend to posterity, and be remembered with pride and exultation as among the noblest of public benefactors, so long as the flowers bloom and the waves wash the margin of the Sea-side Park. No citizen of Bridgeport, identified with her growth and prosperity, and having the future welfare of the city at heart, should fail to contribute, in such a manner as best he may, to such a grand improvement. Let our citizens take hold of this noble enterprise with that large and liberal spirit in which it has been conceived and thus far consummated, and Bridgeport will ere long possess an attraction which will draw hither for permanent residence much of the wealth and intelligence, refinement and virtue of the great metropolis, which now sequesters itself along the banks of the Hudson, or among the sand-knolls of New Jersey.
[From the “Bridgeport Standard,” August 21, 1865.]
The names of P. T. Barnum, Capt. John Brooks, Mr. George Bailey, Capt. Burr Knapp and Henry Wheeler have gone into history as the generous contributors to the best enterprise ever attempted for the benefit of our city; and the city has accepted the trust with the most commendable promptness, and appointed its commissioners, who have already entered upon their duties. We shall watch now with eager interest the unfolding and development of such a park as can nowhere be found on either side of the Sound, and one which shall be “a thing of beauty and a joy forever” to our city.
It needs but the hand of skilful art, assisted by a proper public spirit, to render the Sea-side Park a charmed spot of delightful resort for public drives or private walks. The commissioners chosen to superintend the inauguration of the laying out and improvements of the grounds are men of correct taste, of good judgment and of liberal and comprehensive views as to the wants and demands of a growing city like Bridgeport. They understand that Nature is here to be made so attractive by Art, that all classes shall be drawn hither not merely for the pleasure of enjoying a favorite resort but also for the profit which comes to the nobler impulses of our nature, by the contemplation of cunning handicraft upon the landscape, as God left it for man to adorn and beautify. Here will be planted trees of every variety that will endure the temperature of this latitude, and flowers of every hue and perfume; here will walks serpentine through shady groves, and anon lead out to behold the broad expanse of the beautiful Sound.
Some one has aptly said, that one work of art was worth a thousand lectures on art. Here, then, let the statues of the artist be placed, to educate the masses by their silent teachings, and win them to higher ideas and better views of life by their mute eloquence. One feature of American parks is especially worthy of mention: they are essentially and emphatically democratic. They are made for the people, and are in turn appreciated by the people. They are open alike to the millionnaire with his coach-and-six, and the poor pedestrian without a penny. The advantages possessed by Bridgeport as a manufacturing city are becoming daily more and more appreciated by business-men from various portions of the country. There is no city in the State which can compare with ours in the recent erection of large and permanent manufacturing establishments. This fact brings into our midst a large industrial population, for which, even now, the supply of dwellings is inadequate to the demand. This population, commingling and combining with our own, and possessing energy, enterprise, business tact and intelligence, will rapidly develop the resources of our city and its surroundings for mechanical pursuits, and the productions of the various manufacturing establishmentsalready erected, or in process of erection. To such a class, the benefits of a Park, possessing such facilities for recreation and improvement as the Sea-side Park will present, will be incalculable, in fostering the health, promoting the happiness, and elevating the taste of all who can avail themselves of its beneficial influences.
To the public-spirited gentlemen who have so generously donated to the city the land for the Sea-side Park, Bridgeport owes a debt of gratitude which she can never repay. Their names will descend to posterity, and be remembered with pride and exultation as among the noblest of public benefactors, so long as the flowers bloom and the waves wash the margin of the Sea-side Park. No citizen of Bridgeport, identified with her growth and prosperity, and having the future welfare of the city at heart, should fail to contribute, in such a manner as best he may, to such a grand improvement. Let our citizens take hold of this noble enterprise with that large and liberal spirit in which it has been conceived and thus far consummated, and Bridgeport will ere long possess an attraction which will draw hither for permanent residence much of the wealth and intelligence, refinement and virtue of the great metropolis, which now sequesters itself along the banks of the Hudson, or among the sand-knolls of New Jersey.
Thus was my long-cherished plan at length fulfilled; nor did my efforts end here, for I aided and advised in all important matters in the laying out and progress of the new park; and in July, 1869, I gave to the city several acres of land, worth at the lowest valuation $5,000, which were added to and included in this public pleasure-ground, and now make the west end of the park.
At the beginning, the park on paper and the park in reality were two quite different things. The inaccessibility of the site was remedied by approaches which permitted the hundreds of workmen to begin to grade the grounds, and to lay out the walks and drives. The rocks and boulders over which I had more than once attempted to make my way on foot and on horseback were devoted to the building of a substantial sea-wall, under the able superintendence of Mr. David W. Sherwood. Paths were opened, shade-trees were planted; and fortunately there was in the very centre of the ground a beautiful grove of full growth, which is one of the most attractive features of this now charming spot; and a broad and magnificent drive follows the curves of the shore andencircles the entire park. Although work is constantly going on and much remains to be done, yet a considerable portion of the park presents a finished appearance: a large covered music-stand has been built; and, on a rising piece of the ground, a substantial foundation has been built for a Soldiers’ Monument. The corner-stone of this monument was laid with impressive ceremonies and a military display, in the presence of a large concourse of citizens and soldiers, among whom were Major-General Alfred H. Terry, U. S. A.; Major-General and Governor Joseph H. Hawley; Adjutant-General Charles T. Stanton; Quartermaster-General Julius S. Gilman; Surgeon-General Philo G. Rockwell; Paymaster-General William B. Wooster; Aides-de-Camp and Colonel John H. Burnham, Alford P. Rockwell, William H. Mallory, Charles M. Coit, General S. W. Kellogg, of the First Brigade; Colonel S. E. Merwin, jr., Colonel Crawford, and other officers of the Governor’s staff, and of the Connecticut State Militia.
The branch horse-railroad already reaches one of the main entrances, and brings down crowds of people every day and evening, and especially on the evenings in which the band plays. At such times the avenues are not only thronged with superb equipages and crowds of people, but the whole harbor is alive with row-boats, sail-boats and yachts. The views on all sides are charming. In the rear is the city, with its roofs and spires; Black Rock and Stratford lights are in plain sight; to the eastward and southward stretches “Old Long Island’s sea-girt shore”; and between lies the broad expanse of the salt water, with its ever “fresh” breezes, and the perpetual panorama of sails and steamers. I do not believe that a million dollars to-day would compensatethe city of Bridgeport for the loss of what is confessed to be the most delightful public pleasure-ground between New York and Boston.
For these magnificent results, accomplished in so short a time, the people of Bridgeport are indebted to the park commissioners, and especially to Mr. Nathaniel Wheeler, whose untiring energy and exquisite taste have been mainly instrumental in bringing this work forward to its present state of completion.
There is easy and cheap access to this ground by means of the horse-railroad from East Bridgeport and Fairfield, and numerous avenues open directly upon the park from Bridgeport. It is the daily resort of thousands, who go to inhale the salt sea-air; and the main drive is already, on a lesser scale, to the citizens of Bridgeport, what the grand avenue in Central Park is to the people of New York; with this priceless advantage, however, in favor of Sea-side Park, of a frontage on the Sound, and a shore on which the waves are ever breaking, and sounding the grand, unending story of the mysteries of the great deep.
On the western and northern margins of this public ground, in sight of the Sound and in full view of every part of the park, will hereafter be built the villas and mansions of the wealthiest citizens, and, when the hand that now pens these lines is stilled forever, and thousands look from these sea-side residences across the water to Long-Island shore, and over the groves and lawns and walks and drives of the beautiful ground at their feet, it may be a source of gratification and pride to my posterity to hear the expressions of gratitude that possibly will be expressed to the memory of their ancestor who secured to all future generations the benefits and blessings of Sea-side Park.
MY PRIVATE LIFE—PLANS FOR THE PUBLIC BENEFIT IN BRIDGEPORT—OPENING AVENUES—PLANTING SHADE-TREES—OLD FOGIES—CONSERVATISM A CURSE TO CITIES—BENEFITING BARNUM’S PROPERTY—SALE OF LINDENCROFT—LIVING IN A FARM-HOUSE—BY THE SEA-SHORE—ANOTHER NEW HOME—WALDEMERE—HOW IT CAME TO BE BUILT—MAGIC AND MONEY—WAVEWOOD AND THE PETREL’S NEST—MY FARM—THE HOLLAND BLANKET CATTLE—MY CITY RESIDENCE—COMFORTS OF CITY LIFE—BEGGING LETTERS—MY FAMILY—RELIGIOUS REFLECTIONS—MY FIFTY-NINTH BIRTHDAY—THE END OF THE RECORD.
MY PRIVATE LIFE—PLANS FOR THE PUBLIC BENEFIT IN BRIDGEPORT—OPENING AVENUES—PLANTING SHADE-TREES—OLD FOGIES—CONSERVATISM A CURSE TO CITIES—BENEFITING BARNUM’S PROPERTY—SALE OF LINDENCROFT—LIVING IN A FARM-HOUSE—BY THE SEA-SHORE—ANOTHER NEW HOME—WALDEMERE—HOW IT CAME TO BE BUILT—MAGIC AND MONEY—WAVEWOOD AND THE PETREL’S NEST—MY FARM—THE HOLLAND BLANKET CATTLE—MY CITY RESIDENCE—COMFORTS OF CITY LIFE—BEGGING LETTERS—MY FAMILY—RELIGIOUS REFLECTIONS—MY FIFTY-NINTH BIRTHDAY—THE END OF THE RECORD.
WHATI can call, without undue display of egotism or vanity, my “public life,” may be said to have closed with my formal and final retirement from the managerial profession, when my second Museum was destroyed by fire, March 3, 1868. But he must have been a careless reader of these pages, which record the acts and aspirations of a long and industrious career, who does not see that what, in opposition to my “public life,” may be considered my “private life,” has also been largely devoted to the comfort, convenience, and permanent prosperity of the community with which so many of my hopes and happiest days are thoroughly identified. I speak of these things, I trust, with becoming modesty, and yet with less reluctance than I should do, if my fellow-citizens of Bridgeport had not generally and generously awarded me sometimes, perhaps, more than my need of praise for my unremitting and earnest efforts to
WALDEMERE.WALDEMERE.
promote whatever would conduce to the growth and improvement of our charming city.
When I first selected Bridgeport as a permanent residence for my family, its nearness to New York and the facilities for daily transit to and from the metropolis were present and partial considerations only in the general advantages the location seemed to offer. Nowhere, in all my travels in America and abroad, had I seen a city whose very position presented so many and varied attractions. Situated on Long Island Sound, with that vast water-view in front, and on every other side a beautiful and fertile country with every variety of inland scenery, and charming drives which led through valleys rich with well-cultivated farms, and over hills thick-wooded with far-stretching forests of primeval growth,—all these natural attractions appeared to me only so many aids to the advancement the beautiful and busy city might attain, if public-spirit, enterprise, and money grasped and improved the opportunities the locality itself extended. I saw that what Nature had so freely lavished must be supplemented by yet more liberal Art.
Consequently, and quite naturally, when I projected and established my first residence in Bridgeport, I was exceedingly desirous that all the surroundings of Iranistan should accord with the beauty and completeness of that place. I was never a victim to that mania which possesses many men of even moderate means to “own everything that joins them,” and I knew that Iranistan would so increase the value of surrounding property that none but first-class residences would be possible in the vicinity. But there was other work to do, which, while affording advantageous approaches to my property, would at the same time be a lasting benefit to the public;and so I opened Iranistan Avenue, and other broad and beautiful streets, through land which I freely purchased and as freely gave to the public, and these highways are now the most convenient as well as charming in the city.
To have opened all these new avenues, in their entire length, at my own cost, and through my own ground, would have required a confirmation of Miss Lavinia Warren’s opinion, that what little of the city of Bridgeport and the adjacent town of Fairfield was not owned by General Tom Thumb, belonged to P. T. Barnum. It is true that, apart from my East Bridgeport property, I became a very large owner of real estate on the other side of the river, in Bridgeport proper and in Fairfield, my purchases in Fairfield lying on and so near to the boundary line—Division Street—as virtually to be in Bridgeport. Everywhere through my own lands I laid out and threw open to the public, streets of the generous width which distinguished the old “King’s roads” in the colonies, before grasping farmers and others encroached upon, and fenced in as private property, land that really belonged to the public forever; and on both sides of every avenue I laid out and planted a profusion of elms and other trees. In this way, I have opened miles of new streets, and have planted thousands of shade-trees in Bridgeport; for I think there is much wisdom in the advice of the Laird of Dumbiedikes, in Scott’s “Heart of Mid-Lothian,” who sensibly says: “When ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking in a tree; it will be growing when ye’re sleeping.” But, in establishing new streets, too often, when I had gone through my own land, the project came literally to an end; some “old fogy” blocked the way,—my way,his own way, and the highway,—and all I could do would be to jump over his field, and continue my new street through land I might own on the other side, till I reached the desired terminus in the end or continuation of some other street; or till, unhappily, I came to a dead stand-still at the ground of some other “old fogy,” who, like the original owners of what is now the shore-front of Sea-side Park, “did not believe there was money to be made by giving away their property.”
And this is the manner in which these old fogies talked: “We don’t believe in these improvements of Barnum’s. What’s the use of them? We can get to the city by the old road or street, as we have done for forty years. The new street will cut the pasture or mowing-lot in two, and make a checkerboard of the farm. It was bad enough to have the railroad go through, and we would have prevented that if we could; but this new street business is all bosh!” And then, singularly enough, every old fogy would wind up with: “I declare, I believe the whole thing is only to benefit Barnum, so that he can sell land, which he bought anywhere from sixty to two hundred dollars an acre, at the rate of five thousand dollars an acre in building-lots, as he is actually doing to-day.”
It is strange indeed that these men, who could see the benefit to “Barnum’s property” by opening new streets which would immediately convert cheap farm and pasture land into choice and high-priced building-lots, should not see that precisely the same thing would proportionately increase the value of their own property. Conservatism may be a good thing in the state, or in the church, but it is fatal to the growth of cities; and the conservative notions of old fogies make them indifferentto the requirements which a very few years in the future will compel, and blind to their own best interests. Such men never look beyond the length of their noses, and consider every investment a dead loss unless they can get the sixpence profit into their pockets before they go to bed. My own long training and experience as a manager impelled me to carry into such private enterprises as the purchase of real estate that best and most essential managerial quality of instantly deciding, not only whether a venture was worth undertaking, but what, all things considered, that venture would result in. Almost any man can see how a thing will begin, but not every man is gifted with the foresight to see how it will end, or how, with the proper effort, it may be made to end. In East Bridgeport, where we had no “conservatives” to contend with, we were only a few years in turning almost tenantless farms into a populous and prosperous city. On the other side of the river, while the opening of new avenues, the planting of shade-trees, and the building of many houses, have afforded me the highest pleasures of my life, I confess that not a few of my greatest annoyances have been occasioned by the opposition of those who seem to be content to simply vegetate through their existence, and who looked upon me as a restless, reckless innovator, because I was trying to remove the moss from everything around them, and even from their own eyes.
In the summer of 1867, the health of my wife continuing to decline, her physician directed that she should remove nearer to the sea-shore; and, as she felt that the care of a large establishment like Lindencroft was more than she could bear, I sold that place. I have already spoken of my building of this residence. Itwas emphatically a labor of love. All that taste and money could do was fairly lavished upon Lindencroft; so that, when all was finished, it was not only a complete house in all respects, but it was a perfect home. And a home I meant it to be, in every and the best sense of the word, for my declining years. Consequently, from basement to attic, everything was constructed, by days’ work, in the most perfect manner possible. Convenience and comfort were first consulted, and thereafter, with no attempt at ostentation, elegance, pure and simple, predominated and permeated everywhere. No first-class house in the metropolis was more replete with all that goes to constitute a complete dwelling-place. Under this new roof I gathered my library, my pictures, my souvenirs of travel in other lands, and assembled my household “gods”; while the surrounding grounds, adorned with statuary and fountains, displayed also, in the walks, the arbors, the lawns, the garden, the piled-up rocks even, the profusion of trees and shrubbery, and the wealth of rare and beautiful flowers, my wife’s exquisite taste, which in times past had made the grounds of our loved and lost Iranistan so celebrated as well as charming. It was hard indeed to tear ourselves from this fascinating spot, but there are times when even the charms of home must be sacrificed to the claims of health.
Lindencroft was sold July 1, 1867, and we immediately removed for a summer’s sojourn to a small farm-house adjoining Sea-side Park. During the hot days of the next three months we found the delightful sea-breeze so bracing and refreshing that the season passed like a happy dream, and we resolved that our future summers should be spent on the very shore of Long Island Sound. I did not, however, perfect my arrangementsin time to prepare my own summer residence for the ensuing season; and during the hot months of 1868 we resided in a new and very pretty house I had just completed on State Street, in Bridgeport, and which I subsequently sold, as I intended doing when I built it. But, towards the end of the summer, I added by purchase to the Mallett farm, adjoining Sea-side Park, a large and beautiful hickory grove, which seemed to be all that was needed to make the site exactly what I desired for a summer residence. It will be remembered that I bought this Mallett farm, not for myself, but so that a portion of it could be devoted to the public park; and, a generous slice having been thus given away, there were several acres remaining which were admirably adapted to one or more residences, and the purchase of the grove property made the location nearly perfect.
But there was a vast deal to do in grading and preparing the ground, in opening new streets and avenues as approaches to the property, and in setting out trees near the proposed site of the house; so that ground was not broken for the foundation till October. I planned a house which should combine the greatest convenience with the highest comfort, keeping in mind always that houses are made to live in as well as to look at, and to be “homes” rather than mere residences. So the house was made to include abundant room for guests, with dressing-rooms and baths to every chamber; water from the city throughout the premises; gas, manufactured on my own ground; and that greatest of all comforts, a semi-detached kitchen, so that the smell as well as the secrets of the cuisine might be confined to its own locality. The stables and gardens were located far from the mansion, on the opposite side of one of thenewly opened avenues, so that in the immediate vicinity of the house, on either side and before both fronts, stretched large lawns, broken only by the grove, single shade-trees, rock-work, walks, flower-beds and drives. The whole scheme as planned was faithfully carried out in less than eight months. The first foundation stone was laid in October, 1868; and we moved into the completed house in June following, in 1869.
It required a regiment of faithful laborers and mechanics, and a very considerable expenditure of money, to accomplish so much in so short a space of time. Those who saw a comparatively barren waste thus suddenly converted to a blooming garden, and, by the successful transplanting and judicious placing of very large and full-grown forest trees, made to seem like a long-settled place, considered the creation of my new summer home almost a work of magic; but there is no magic when determination and dollars combine to achieve a work. When we moved into this new residence, we formally christened the place “Waldemere,”—literally, but not so euphoniously, “Waldammeer,” “Woods-by-the-Sea,”—for I preferred to give this native child of my own conception an American name of my own creation.
On the same estate, and fronting the new avenue I opened between my own property and the public park, I built at the same time two beautiful cottages, one of which is known as the “Petrel’s Nest,” and the other, occupied by my eldest daughter, Mrs. Thompson, and my youngest daughter, Mrs. Seeley, as a summer residence, is called “Wavewood.” From the east front of Waldemere, across the sloping lawn, and through the reaches of the grove, these cottages are in sight, and before the three residences stretches the broad Sound,with nothing to cut off the view, and nothing intervening but the western portion of Sea-side Park. Sea-side and sea-breezes, however, do not include the sum of rural felicities in summer; and so I still keep possession of the fine farm which, years ago, was the scene of the elephant-plowing feats. On this property, which is in charge of a judicious farmer, I have some very fine imported stock, including several head of the celebrated white-blanket “Dutch cattle,” which excite the curiosity and attract the attention of all who see them. These cattle are black, with a distinctly defined white “blanket” around their bodies, giving them a very unique appearance; and when they struck my fancy in Holland, some years ago, I imported several of them: nor is their singular appearance their best recommendation, for they are excellent milkers, and my dairy and farm products keep my table constantly supplied with fresh fruits and vegetables, poultry, and that choicest of country luxuries, pure cream.
Amid such comforts, advantages, and luxuries the summer months speed swiftly and sweetly by. My well-supplied stables afford the means of enjoying the numberless delightful drives which abound in the vicinity; and my salt-water-loving friend, Mr. George A. Wells, is always ready to minister to the pleasure of myself or my guests by tendering the use of anything in his Sound fleet, from a row-boat to a yacht. The five months in the year which I devote to rural rest seem all too short for the enjoyment which is necessarily compressed in the twenty weeks. But I can feel at the end of the season that it is a consolidation as well as compression, not only of pleasure, but of capital, in the way of health and vigor for the winter’s campaign of city living and metropolitan excitement.
For, at my time of life, and especially for a man who has had so much to do with the metropolitan million as I have done, I am convinced that the city is the most congenial residence during the cooler season of the year. No matter how active may have been one’s life, as a man grows older, if he does not become a little lazy, he at least learns to crave for comfortable ease and seeks for quiet. To such a man, the city in winter extends numberless pleasures. There is a sense of satisfaction even in the well-cleared sidewalks after a snow-storm, and an almost selfish happiness in looking out upon a storm from a well-warmed library or parlor window. One loves to find the morning papers, fresh from the press, lying upon the breakfast-table; and the city is the centre of attractions in the way of operas, concerts, picture-galleries, libraries, the best music, the best preaching, the best of everything in æsthetical enjoyments. Having made up my mind to spend seven months of every year in the city, in the summer of 1867 I purchased the elegant and most eligibly situated mansion, No. 438 Fifth Avenue, corner of Thirty-ninth Street, at the crowning point of Murray Hill, in New York, and moved into it in November. My residence therein in the winter season has fully confirmed my impressions in its favor. The house is replete with all that can constitute a pleasant home, and the location is so near to Central Park that we spend hours of every fine day in that great pleasure-ground. While I am in town, it is scarcely more than once or twice a week that I take pains to ascertain by personal observation that I am living on the edge of a toiling, excited city of a million inhabitants. My pecuniary interests in Connecticut and in New York occupy my attention sufficiently tokeep me fromennui, and an extended correspondence—for which I do not yet feel the need of a private secretary—employs an hour or more of every day. I have had letters from New Zealand, and other remote quarters of the globe, respecting curiosities, and addressed simply to “Mr. Barnum, America,” and the post-office officials, knowing of no other Barnum who would be likely to receive letters from such out-of-the-way places, regularly put these vaguely addressed letters in my New York box.
Yet I suppose that not less than two-thirds of all the letters I receive are earnest petitions for pecuniary aid. This begging-letter business began to persecute me as long ago as the time of the Jenny Lind engagement, and even before. Many of these letters ask money as a free gift, and some of them demand assistance; while others request temporary loans, or invite me to furnish the capital for enterprises which are certain to bring the richest returns to all concerned therein. When I was travelling with Jenny Lind, I received a letter from a woman in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, who informed me that she had named her just-born boy-and-girl twins “P. T. Barnum” and “Jenny Lind,” coolly adding that we might send $5,000 for their immediate wants, and make such provision for their future education and support as might be determined upon at the proper time! In some of these letters, the amusement afforded by the orthography and grammar was almost a compensation for the annoyance and impudence of the requests. One very bad speller, referring me to a former employer of the letter-writer, wrote: “I Can rePhurr you too Him”; another, urging his petition, declared; “god Nose I am Poore”; and not long ago I received a communicationfrom an old man who claimed to be too decrepid to earn a support, but he urged that he was a religious man, and added: “I tak grait pleshur in Readin my bibel, speshily the Proffits”; and it did look a little as if he had a sharp eye to the “Proffits.”
I have said but little in these pages of the immediate circle which is nearest and dearest to me. My wife, with whom I have lived so many happy years, and who has been my support in adversity and my solace in prosperity, still survives. Our children are all daughters: Caroline C., the eldest, was married to Mr. David W. Thompson, October 19, 1852; Helen M., my second daughter, was married to Mr. Samuel H. Hurd, October 20, 1857; Frances J., the third daughter, was born May 1, 1842, and died April 11, 1844; and Pauline T., the fourth daughter, was married on her birthday, March 1, 1866, to Mr. Nathan Seeley. For my eldest daughter I built and furnished a beautiful house on ground near Iranistan, and she moved into it immediately after her marriage, though of late years she has resided in New-York in winter and in Bridgeport in summer. For Helen and Pauline, I bought and furnished handsome houses in Lexington Avenue, in New-York, within a short distance of my own city residence in Fifth Avenue. A fine young rising generation of my grandchildren is growing up around them and me.
I have written as little as might be, too, about my religious principles and profession, because I agree with the man who, in answer to the pressing inquiry, declared that he had “no religion tospeakof”; and I believe with him that true religion is more a matter of work than of words. When I am in the city, I regularly attend the services and preaching of the Rev. Dr. E. H.Chapin, and I usually go to the meetings of the same denomination in Bridgeport. “He builds too low who builds beneath the skies”; and I can truly say that I have always felt my entire dependence upon Him who is the dispenser of all adversity, as well as the giver of all good. With a natural proclivity to look upon the bright side of things, I am sure that under some of the burdens—the Jerome entanglement, for instance—which have borne so heavily upon me, I should have been tempted, as others have been, to suicide, if I had supposed that my troubles were brought upon me by mere blind chance. I knew that I deserved what I received; I had placed too much confidence in mere money and my own personal efforts; I was too much concerned in material prosperity; and I felt that the blow was wisely intended for my ultimate benefit,—a chastening, which, like the husks to the prodigal son, should cause me to “come to myself,” and teach me the lesson that there is something infinitely better than money or position or worldly prosperity in our “Father’s house.”
And I should be ungrateful indeed, if on my birthday, this fifth of July, 1869, when I enter upon my sixtieth year in full health and vigor, with the possibility of many happy days to come, I did not reverently recognize the beneficent Hand that has crowned me with so many comforts, and surrounded me with so many blessings. It is on this day, in my own beautiful home of Waldemere, that I write these concluding lines, which record a long and busy career, with the sincere hope that my experiences, if not my example, will benefit my fellow-men.
(844th page, including engravings.)
A NEW EXPERIENCE—“DOING NOTHING” A FAILURE—EXCITEMENT DEMANDED-VISIT OF ENGLISH FRIENDS—I SHOW THEM OUR COUNTRY—NIAGARA FALLS—WE VISIT CUBA—NEW ORLEANS—MAMMOTH CAVE—WASHINGTON—“CASTLE THUNDER”—TRIP TO CALIFORNIA—SALT LAKE CITY—I OFFER BRIGHAM YOUNG TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS TO “SHOW” HIM “DOWN EAST”—AM “INTERVIEWED” AT SACRAMENTO AND SAN FRANCISCO—THE CHINESE—SEA LIONS—THE GEYSERS—MARIPOSA—THE BIG TREES—INSPIRATION POINT—YOSEMITE VALLEY—THE REMARKABLE TOWN OF GREELEY, IN COLORADO—QUEBEC—SAGINAW RIVER—SARATOGA—ALICE CARY—WILD BUFFALO HUNT IN KANSAS—MY GREAT TRAVELLING SHOW—THE WINTER EXHIBITION IN NEW YORK—THE EMPIRE RINK—SUCCESS OF THE SHOW—OPINIONS OF THE PRESS—CURIOSITIES FROM CALIFORNIA—MY IMITATORS—ATTEMPTS TO DECEIVE AND SWINDLE THE PUBLIC.
A NEW EXPERIENCE—“DOING NOTHING” A FAILURE—EXCITEMENT DEMANDED-VISIT OF ENGLISH FRIENDS—I SHOW THEM OUR COUNTRY—NIAGARA FALLS—WE VISIT CUBA—NEW ORLEANS—MAMMOTH CAVE—WASHINGTON—“CASTLE THUNDER”—TRIP TO CALIFORNIA—SALT LAKE CITY—I OFFER BRIGHAM YOUNG TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS TO “SHOW” HIM “DOWN EAST”—AM “INTERVIEWED” AT SACRAMENTO AND SAN FRANCISCO—THE CHINESE—SEA LIONS—THE GEYSERS—MARIPOSA—THE BIG TREES—INSPIRATION POINT—YOSEMITE VALLEY—THE REMARKABLE TOWN OF GREELEY, IN COLORADO—QUEBEC—SAGINAW RIVER—SARATOGA—ALICE CARY—WILD BUFFALO HUNT IN KANSAS—MY GREAT TRAVELLING SHOW—THE WINTER EXHIBITION IN NEW YORK—THE EMPIRE RINK—SUCCESS OF THE SHOW—OPINIONS OF THE PRESS—CURIOSITIES FROM CALIFORNIA—MY IMITATORS—ATTEMPTS TO DECEIVE AND SWINDLE THE PUBLIC.
EVERYone knows the story of the Emperor Charles the Fifth. His ambition gratified to satiety in the conquest of kingdoms, and the firm establishment of his empire, he craved rest. He abdicated his throne, “retired from business,” content to live on his laurels in the peaceful shades of the Cloister at Yustee. The tradition is that here he forgot the world without, withdrew in thought as in person from the cares and turmoils of state, and found rest and cheerfulness by alternating his devotions with the tinkering of clocks. Perhaps every one is not so familiar with the somewhat recent correction by Mr. Stirling of this romantic story. In fact, the Emperor was never so restless as when he was taking rest; was never so full of the perplexities of empire as when, in “due form,” he had shaken them off. In the Cloister he was the same man that he was in the Camp and the Court, and when he sought to repress his energies, they simply tormented him.
Not denying that my egotism is equal to a good deal, I must beg my readers not to suppose that I assume for my own history a very extended similarity to that of the greatest monarch of his time. In fact, the points of difference are quite as striking as those of resemblance. It is true, we both tried the “clock business;” but I must claim that my tinkering in that way throws that of the Emperor entirely in the shade. I was not, however, fool enough to go into a cloister. Let not an illustration any more than a parable “run on all fours.” But I want a royal illustration; and the history of Charles the Fifth, in the particular of abdicating for rest, I find very pertinent to my own experience. I took a formal, and as I thensupposed, a last adieu of my readers on my fifty-ninth birth-day. I was, as I had flattered myself, through with travel, with adventure, and with business, save so far as the care of my competence would require my attention. My book closed without a suspicion that in any subsequent edition “more of the same sort” would make possible anAdditional Chapter. It is with a sense of surprise, and withal a feeling akin to the ludicrous, that in this new edition, I cannot bring my career up to my sixty-second year, without filling a few more pages, in their contents not unlike in kind to those which make the bulk of my book.
As stated on page 768, my final retirement from the managerial profession closed with the destruction of my Museum by fire, March 3, 1868. But when I wrote that sentence I had not learned by a three years’ cessation of business, how utterly fruitless it is to attempt to chain down energies which are peculiar to my nature. No man not similarly situated can imagine theennuiwhich seizes such a nature after it has lain dormant for a few months. Having “nothing to do,” I thought at first was a very pleasant, as it was to me an entirely new sensation.
“I would like to call on you in the summer, if you have any leisure, in Bridgeport,” said an old friend.
“I am a man of leisure and thankful that I have nothing to do; so you cannot call amiss,” I replied with an immense degree of self-satisfaction.
“Where is your office down-town when you live in New York?” asked another friend.
“I have no office,” I proudly replied. “I have done work enough, and shall play the rest of my life. I don’t go down-town once a week; but I ride in the Park every day, and am at home much of my time.”
I am afraid that I chuckled often, when I saw rich merchants and bankers driving to their offices on a stormy morning, while I, looking complacently from the window of my cozy library, said to myself, “Let it snow and blow, there’s nothing to callmeout to-day.” But Naturewillassert herself. Reading is pleasant as a pastime; writing without any special purpose soon tires; a game of chess will answer as a condiment; lectures, concerts, operas, and dinner parties are well enough in their way; but to a robust, healthy man of forty years’ activebusinesslife, something else is needed to satisfy. Sometimes like the truant school-boy I found all my friends engaged, and I had no play-mate. I began to fill my house with visitors, and yet frequently we spent evenings quite alone. Without really perceiving what the matter was, time hung on my hands, and I was ready to lecture gratuitously for every charitable cause that I could benefit.
Then I, who had travelled so many years, that almost all cities seemed to me as the same old brick and mortar, began now to think I would like to travel. In the autumn of 1869, after my family had moved for the winter from Bridgeport to our New York residence, an English friend came with his eldest daughter to America especially to visit me. This friend was Mr. John Fish, and he is an old friend of the reader also, for he is the enterprising cotton-mill proprietor, of Bury, England, fully described in chapter xxxiiof this book, in which he is mentioned as “Mr. Wilson.” When I was writing that chapter, I had no authority to append his real name to the faithful photograph of the man; but Mr. Fish gives me his consent to use it now. I need not say how pleased I was to see my friend, and how happy I was to show a representative Englishman whatever was worth seeing in the metropolis and elsewhere in the United States.
After enjoying the Christmas and New Year’s festivities in New York; taking numerous drives in our beautiful Central Park, including several sleigh-rides, which, to them, were real novelties; going the rounds of the metropolitan amusements; and “doing” the city in general and in detail, my English friends wanted to see more of the “New World,” and I was just in the humor to act as the exhibitor. In fact, I now resumed my old business of systematically organizing an extensive travelling expedition, and, almost unconsciously, became a showman of “natural curiosities” on a most magnificent scale.
We first went to Niagara Falls, going by the Hudson River and Central Railroads; and returned by way of the Erie. I saw these scenes through the eyes of my English friends, and took a special pleasure in witnessing their surprise and delight. As they extolled the beautiful Hudson, that stream looked lovelier than ever; the Catskill Mountains were higher to me than ever before; for the same reason Albany, Syracuse, and Rochester were more lively than usual; the mammoth International Hotel at Niagara Falls looked capacious enough to bag the entire islands of Great Britain; and the immense Cataract seemed large enough to drown all the inhabitants thereof. The Palace cars of the Erie Railroad astonished my friends and gave me great satisfaction. The contagion of their enthusiasm opened my eyes to marvels in spectacles which I had long dismissed as commonplace.
They wanted to go to Cuba. I had been there twice; yet I readily agreed to accompany them. We took steamer from New York in January, 1870. We had a smooth, pleasant voyage, and did not even know when we passed Cape Hatteras. In three days we had doffed all winter clothing and arrayed ourselves in white linen. Three weeks were most truly enjoyed among the novel scenes of Havana and the peculiar attractions of Mantanzas,—including a visit to the new and beautiful Cave a few miles from that city. We made a charming visit to a coffee plantation and orange orchard; another to a sugar plantation, where my English friends, as well as myself, were shocked to see the negro slaves, male and female, boys and girls, cutting and carrying the sugar cane under the lash of the mounted, booted, and spurred Spanish overseer.
But riding in our charming volantes from that plantation to the exceedingly beautiful valley of the Yumurri caused us almost to forget the sad scene we had witnessed. We all agreed as we stood on the east side of this almost celestial valley and witnessed the sun dropping behind the hill, on whose summit the royal palms were holding up their beautiful plumes, that the valley below, interspersed with its cottages and streamlets,and its rich tropical trees, shrubs and flowers, was a scene of surpassing loveliness; and I was not surprised to see the tears of joy and gratitude roll down the cheeks of the young English lady. I enjoyed the scene hugely; but as one evidence that this pleasure was derived from the enjoyment it afforded my trans-Atlantic friends, I will say that when I was in Cuba with Jenny Lind in 1851, I witnessed the same scene without emotion, so absorbed was I in business at that time. And this is a fitting opportunity for saying that in order to enjoy travelling, and indeed almost anything else, it is of the very first importance that it be done without care and with congenial companions.
We feasted upon oranges, pine apples, bananas, and other tropical fruits, and enjoyed the warm, mild days. The enjoyment was no doubt enhanced or at least better appreciated, by our reading of the freezing condition of our New York friends. The quaint buildings, and the novel manners and customs of a nation speaking a different language from our own, of course are interesting for a short time.
We went to New Orleans by steamer. We stopped a few days at the St. Charles Hotel; “did” the city; and then took passage for Memphis on a steamer which was so capacious and commodious that my English friends declared that people at “home” would scarce believe it was a steamer. A few days sail up the broad Mississippi was a real treat. The conversations which my English friend held with the Southern planters, and their manumitted slaves, caused him to somewhat change his opinions in regard to the merits of our late civil war.
From Memphis we went by rail to the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky; thence to Louisville, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Harrisburgh, Baltimore and Washington. A few days’ sojourn at the best hotel in the world, “The Arlington,” a visit to all the attractions in and around our national Capital including attendance at Mrs. President Grant’s levee and a talk with the President, and with numerous Senators and Members of Congress, terminated our visit. We then proceeded to Richmond; for my friend Fish had a great desire to see the Confederate Capital, and especially Libby Prison, and “Castle Thunder.” He was almost indignant when he discovered that the latter institution was a tobacco warehouse, instead of being a great castellated fortress, such as his imagination had pictured it. From Richmond we visited Baltimore and Philadelphia, and returned to New York.
In April we made up a small, congenial party of ladies and gentlemen, and visited Californiaviathe Union and Central Pacific Railroads. And here let me say that this trip is one of the most delightful I ever made. The Pullman Palace Cars are so convenient and comfortable that ladies and gentlemen can make the trip to California, a distance of 3,000 miles, with no more real fatigue than they will experience in their own drawing rooms. They can dress indishabille, read, lounge, write, converse, play a social game, sleep, or do what they choose, while a great portion of the route affords a constant succession of novel and delightful scenes, to bewitnessed nowhere else on the face of the earth. I say emphatically, that for every person who can afford it, the trip to California is one that ought by all means to be made. Like a thing of beauty it will prove “a joy forever.”
When our party arrived at San Francisco, they all agreed in saying that if they were compelled to return home the next day, they should feel that they were well paid for their journey. In view of the strange and interesting scenes we witnessed in Salt Lake City,—a place in many respects unlike any other in the world; and in fresh remembrance of the wild, bold, rocky mountain scenery, the vast plains, the wild antelope, buffalo, and wolves, the mining districts, the curious snow sheds, and many other scenes and peculiar things brought to our notice,—I think my friends were right in their conclusions.
We took our journey leisurely. I lectured in Council Bluffs, in Omaha, and in Salt Lake City. We stopped several days in this celebrated Mormon city; and as I wished without prejudice to examine into the habits, customs, and opinions of the Mormons, we put up at the Townsend House—a very excellent hotel kept by Mr. Townsend, a New England Mormon with three or more wives. One of the principal Mormons, an Alderman and an Apostle, had visited me in New York. He devoted his time to our party for several successive days; and through his courtesy and influence we were furnished facilities for obtaining information that not one stranger in a thousand ever enjoys. We not only visited the Tabernacle and all the institutions, civil and religious, but were introduced into the families of several of the dignitaries. In turn, we were visited at our hotel by all the principal church officers. Without stopping to discuss their great error—a plurality of wives,—I must say that all of our party agreed that the Mormons of Salt Lake City were an industrious, quiet, seemingly conscientious, peaceable, God-fearing people. A serious defection has taken place in their church. The portion called the “Liberals” have renounced polygamy for the future; and this example, together with their rejection of certain theological superstitions, is giving them great influence and respect. This branch of the Mormons is growing rapidly; and I have no doubt that their influence, aided by the great influx of Gentiles caused by the Pacific Railroad, will soon serve in exterminating the plurality wife system—unless, unhappily, fanatics and fools give this system renewed strength by recklessly persecuting its devotees to martyrdom.
I lectured in the Salt Lake Theatre—a large and commodious building belonging to the Mormons. A dozen or so of Brigham Young’s wives, and scores of his children, were among the audience. As I came out of the theatre one of the Apostles introduced me to five of his wives in succession! The Mormon wives whom I visited in company of their husbands, expressed themselves pleased with their positions; but I confess I doubt their sincerity on this point. All with whom our party conversed (and some of our ladies talked with these Mormon wives in secret), expressed their solemn conviction, that polygamy was the only true domestic systemsanctioned by the Almighty, although they confessed they wished it was right for a man to have but one wife.
I was introduced by her father to a girl of seventeen, named Barnum. The old man was an original Mormon. He had moved from Illinois with Brigham Young and his disciples, when they were driven out and compelled to make that wonderful and fearful journey over the plains. The daughter was born in Salt Lake City, and of course knew nothing of any other religion. I asked her laughingly if she expected to have the fifth part of a man for her husband?
“I expect I shall. I believe it is right,” she replied.
My apostolic friend took me to Brigham Young’s house early in the morning. Mr. Young had gone to Ogden to accompany some Bishops whom he was sending abroad. I left my card with his Secretary, and said I would call at four o’clock. But before noon a servant from President Young brought a message for me to call on him at one o’clock. At the hour designated I called with my friends. Brigham Young was standing in front of one of his houses—the “Bee Hive,” in which was his reception room. He received us with a smile and invited us to enter. He was very sociable, asked us many questions, and promptly answered ours. Finally he said with a chuckle:
“Barnum, what will you give to exhibit me in New York and the Eastern cities?”
“Well, Mr. President,” I replied, “I’ll give you half the receipts, which I will guarantee shall be $200,000 per year, for I consider you the best show in America.”
“Why did you not secure me some years ago when I was of no consequence?” he continued.
“Because, you would not have ‘drawn’ at that time,” I answered.
Brigham smiled and said, “I would like right well to spend a few hours with you, if you could come when I am disengaged.” I thanked him, and told him I guessed I should enjoy it; but visitors were crowding into his reception room, and we withdrew.
I subsequently met him in the street driving his favorite pair of mules attached to a nice carriage. He raised his hat and bowed, which salutation I, of course, returned. I hope that Brigham’s declining years will prompt him to receive a new “revelation,” commanding a discontinuance of the wife plurality feature of the Mormon religion.
Arriving at Sacramento, where the train stopped for half an hour, I was “interviewed” for the first time in my life by a newspaper reporter. On the same evening, in the excellent Cosmopolitan Hotel, in San Francisco, I was again “interviewed” by the chief editor of a morning paper, accompanied by his reporter. By this time I had become accustomed to this business, and when the gentlemen informed me they wanted to interview me, I asked them to be seated, pulled up an extra chair, on which to rest my feet, and said:
“Go ahead, gentlemen; I am ready.”
Well, they did “go ahead,” asking me every conceivable question, on every conceivable subject. I felt jolly and “spread myself.” The consequence was, three columns of “Barnum Interviewed” appeared next morning with a “To be continued” at the bottom; and the succeeding morning appeared three columns more. This conspicuous advertisement prepared the way for a lecture I gave in Pratt’s large hall, which was well attended.
It took us a week to “do” San Francisco, with its suburbs, including Oakland, Woodward’s celebrated and beautiful Gardens, and “Seal Rock.” When I saw that small rocky island lying only ten rods off, covered with sea lions weighing from eight hundred to two thousand pounds, the “show fever” began to rise. I offered fifty thousand dollars to have ten of the large sea lions delivered to me alive in New York, so that I could fence in a bit of the East River near Jones’ Wood, and give such an exhibition to citizens and strangers in that city. I little thought at that time that I should subsequently expend half that sum in procuring these marine monsters and transport them through the country in huge water-tanks as a small item in a mammoth travelling show.
The Chinese quarters,—where were their shops, restaurants and laundries, their Joss House, and the Chinese Theatre,—gave us a new sensation, and were quite sufficient to quench a lingering desire I had long felt to visit China and Japan. The Chinese servants and laborers are diligent, peaceable, clean, and require no watching. When I remembered how many thousands of dollars I had paid to “eye servants” for not doing what I had hired them to do, I did not feel sorry that there was a prospect of the “Celestials” extending their travels to the Eastern States.
While I was in San Francisco, a German named Gabriel Kahn brought to me his little son—literally a little one, for he is a dwarf more diminutive in stature than General Tom Thumb was when I first found him. The parents of this liliputian were anxious that I should engage and exhibit him. Several showmen had made them very liberal offers, but they had set their hearts on having “Barnum” bring him out and present him to the public.
Of course I felt the compliment, but was inclined to say “no,” as I had given up the exhibition business and was a man of leisure. But the marvelous manikin was such a handsome, well-formed, intelligent little fellow, speaking fluently both English and German, and withal was so pert and so captivating, that I was induced to engage him for a term of years and gave him the soubriquet of “Admiral Dot.” Indeed he was but a “dot”—or as the New YorkEvening Postput it, the small boy of the “period”—at any rate, in the matter of growth, at a very early age he came to a “full stop;” though further, in the matter of punctuation, he compels an “exclamation” on the part of all who see him, and occasions numerous “interrogations.”
I dressed the little fellow in the complete uniform of an Admiral, and invited the editors of the San Francisco journals and also a number of ladies and gentlemen to the parlors of the Cosmopolitan Hotel to visit him.All were astonished and delighted. The newspapers stated as “news” the facts, and gave interesting details with regard to Barnum’s “discovery” of this wonderful curiosity who had been living so long undiscovered under their very noses. It was the old story of Charles Stratton, (Tom Thumb,) of Bridgeport, over again, with a new liliputian and a new locality.
Meanwhile, I told the parents of the Admiral that personally I should not exhibit their son till I returned to New York; but advised them to give the San Franciscans the opportunity to see him during the remaining few weeks of my stay in the Golden State. My friend Woodward, of Woodward’s Gardens, engaged the Admiral for three weeks, duly advertising the curious discovery by Barnum of this valuable “nugget,” further stating that as he would depart for the East in three weeks the only opportunity for the San Francisco public to see him was then offered at the Gardens.
Immediately there was an immensefurore—thousands of ladies and children, as well as men, daily thronged the Gardens, saw the little wonder, and purchased hiscarte de visite. During the short period he remained there, little “Dot,” as dots are apt to do, “made his mark,” pocketed more than a thousand dollars for himself, besides drawing more than twice that sum for Mr. Woodward. Moreover, the extended and enthusiastic notices of the entire San Francisco press gave the Admiral a prestige and start which would favorably introduce him wherever he might show himself throughout the United States. Thus originated the public exhibition of one of the handsomest, most accomplished, and most diminutive dwarfs of whom there is any history, and the fame of the little Admiral already is rapidly spreading all over the world.
Speaking of dwarfs, it may be mentioned here, that notwithstanding my announced retirement from public life I still retained business connections with my old friend, the well-known General Tom Thumb. In 1869, I joined that celebrated dwarf in a fresh enterprise which proposed an exhibition tour of him and a party of twelve, with a complete outfit, including a pair of ponies and a carriage, entirely around the world.
This party was made up of General Tom Thumb and his wife (formerly Lavinia Warren), Commodore Nutt and his brother Rodnia, Miss Minnie Warren, Mr. Sylvester Bleeker and his wife, and Mr. B. S. Kellogg, besides an advertising agent and musicians. Mr. Bleeker was the manager, and Mr. Kellogg acted as treasurer. In the Fall of 1869, this little company went by the Union Pacific Railway to San Francisco, stopping on the way to give exhibitions at Omaha, Denver, Salt Lake City, and other places on the route, with great success. In San Francisco Pratt’s Hall, which the company occupied, was crowded day and evening for several weeks. Every one went to see them. The exhibition was profusely hand-billed and posted in Chinese as well as in English, and crowds of Celestials went to see the smallest specimens of “Mellicans” known in that region, for Admiral Dot living in San Francisco had not then been “discovered” by Barnum.
After a prolonged and most profitable series of exhibitions in San Francisco, the company visited several leading towns in California and then started for Australia. On the way they stopped at the Sandwich Islands and exhibited in Honolulu. From there they went to Japan, exhibiting in Yeddo, Yokohama and other principle places, and afterwards at Canton and elsewhere in China. They next made the entire tour of Australia, drawing immense houses at Sydney, Melbourne, and in other towns, but they did not go to New Zealand. They then proceeded to the East Indies, giving exhibitions in the larger towns and cities, receiving marked attentions from Rajahs and other distinguished personages. Afterwards they went by the way of the Suez Canal to Egypt, and gave their entertainments at Cairo; and thence to Italy, exhibiting at all available points, and arrived in Great Britain in the summer of 1871. Notwithstanding the enormous expenses attending the transportation of this company around the world, it was one of the few instances of profitably “swinging round the circle.” The enterprise was a pecuniary success, and, of course, the opportunity for sight-seeing enjoyed by the little General and his party was fully appreciated. They travelled to see as well as to be seen. Fortunately they all preserved the best of health and met with no accident during the extended tour. My name did not publicly appear in connection with this enterprise—the exhibition was conducted under the auspices of “Thumb,” but I had a large “finger in the pie.” Mr. Sylvester Bleeker, the manager, wrote me from Dublin, December 6, 1871, a letter from which I extract the following: