Struggles and Triumphs P. T. Barnum (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📖

began to adapt my remarks to the audience and the occasion. At intervals of ten minutes, or so, came interruptions which I, as my audience saw, fully enjoyed as much as the house did. When this miscellaneous entertainment was concluded, and I stopped short at the end of the hour, crowds of the young men pressed forward to shake hands with me, declaring that they had had a “jolly good time,” while the leader said: “Stay with us a week, Barnum, and we will dine you, wine you, and give you full houses every night.” But I was announced to lecture in London the next evening and I could not accept the pressing invitation, though I would gladly have stayed through the week. They asked me all sorts of questions about America, the Museum, my various shows and successes, and expressed the hope that I would come out of my clock troubles all right.

At least a score of them pressed me to breakfast with them next morning, but I declined, till one young gentleman put it on this purely personal ground: “My dear sir, you must breakfast with me; I have almost split my throat in screaming here tonight and it is only fair that you should repay me by coming to see me in the morning.” This appeal was irresistible, and at the appointed time I met him and half a dozen of his friends at his table and we spent a very pleasant hour together. They complimented me on the tact and equanimity I had exhibited the previous evening, but I replied: “Oh! I was quite inclined to have you enjoy your fun, and came fully prepared for it.”

But they liked better, they said, to get the party angry. A fortnight before, they told me, my friend Howard Paul had left them in disgust, because they insisted upon smoking while his wife was on the stage, adding that the entertainment was excellent and that Howard Paul could have made a thousand pounds if he had not let his anger drive him away. My newfound friends parted with me at the railway station, heartily urging me to come again, and my ticket seller returned £169 as the immediate result of an evening’s good-natured fun with the Oxford boys.

After delivering my lecture many times in different places, a prominent publishing house in London, offered me £1,200 ($6,000,) for the copyright. This offer I declined, not that I thought the lecture worth more money, but because I had engaged to deliver it in several towns and cities, and I thought the publication would be detrimental to the public delivery of my lecture. It was a source of very considerable emolument to me, bringing in much money, which went towards the redemption of my pecuniary obligations, so that the lecture itself was an admirable illustration of “The Art of Money Getting.”

XXXII An Enterprising Englishman

An English Yankee⁠—My First Interview with Him⁠—His Plans Based on Barnum’s Book⁠—Advertising for Partners⁠—How My Rules Made Him Rich⁠—Method in Madness⁠—The “Barnum” of Bury⁠—Dinner to Tom Thumb and Commodore Nutt⁠—My Agent in Paris⁠—Measuring a Monster⁠—How Giants and Dwarfs Stretch and Contract⁠—An Unwilling Frenchman⁠—A Persistent Measurer⁠—A Gigantic Humbug⁠—The Steam-Engines “Barnum” and “Charity”⁠—What “Charity” Did for “Barnum”⁠—Selling the Same Goods a Thousand Times⁠—The Great Cakes⁠—Simnel Sunday⁠—The Sanitary Commission Fair.

While visiting Manchester, in 1858, I was invited by Mr. Peacock, the lessee, to deliver a lecture in “Free Trade Hall.” I gave a lecture, the title of which I now forget; but I well remember it contained numerous personal reminiscences. The next day a gentleman sent his card to my room at the hotel where I was stopping. I requested the servant to show the gentleman up at once, and he soon appeared and introduced himself. At first he seemed somewhat embarrassed, but gradually broke the ice by saying he had been pleased in listening to my lecture the previous evening, and added that he knew my history pretty well, as he had read my autobiography. As his embarrassment at first meeting with a stranger wore away, he informed me that he was joint proprietor with another gentleman in a “cotton-mill” in Bury, near Manchester, “although,” he modestly added, “only a few years ago I was working as a journeyman, and probably should have been at this time, had it not been for your book.” Observing my surprise at this announcement, he continued:

“The fact is, Mr. Barnum, upon reading your autobiography, I thought I perceived you tried to make yourself out something worse than you really were; for I discovered a pleasant spirit and a good heart under the rougher exterior in which you chose to present yourself to the public; but,” he added, “after reading your life I found myself in possession of renewed strength, and awakened energies and aspirations, and I said to myself, ‘Why can’t I go ahead and make money as Barnum did? He commenced without money and succeeded; why may not I?’ In this train of thought,” he continued, “I went to a newspaper office and advertised for a partner with money to join me in establishing a cotton-mill. I had no applications, and, remembering your experiences when you had money and wanted a partner, I spent half a crown in a similar experiment. I advertised for a partner to join a man who had plenty of capital. Then I had lots of applicants ready to introduce me into all sorts of occupations, from that of a banker to that of a horse-jockey or gambler, if I would only furnish the money to start with. After a while, I advertised again for a partner, and obtained one with money. We have a good mill. I devote myself closely to business, and have been very successful. I know every line in your book; so, indeed, do several members of my family; and I have conducted my business on the principles laid down in your published ‘Rules for Moneymaking.’ I find them correct