Struggles and Triumphs by P. T. Barnum (love novels in english TXT) 📕

been announced as devoted to charity, I proposed to divide equally with her the proceeds of the first two concerts, and not count them at all in our regular engagement. Accordingly, the second concert was given September 13th, and the receipts, amounting to $14,203.03, were, like those of the first concert, equally divided. Our third concert, but which, as between ourselves, we called the “first regular concert,” was given Tuesday September 17, 1850. XIX Successful Management

Head-Work and Handwork⁠—Managing Public Opinion⁠—Creating a Furor⁠—The New York Herald⁠—Jenny Lind’s Evil Advisers⁠—John Jay⁠—Miss Lind’s Charities⁠—A Poor Girl in Boston⁠—The Nightingale at Iranistan⁠—Rumor of Her Marriage to P. T. Barnum⁠—The Story Based on Our “Engagement”⁠—What Iranistan Did for Me⁠—Avoiding Crowds⁠—In Philadelphia and Baltimore⁠—A Substitute for Miss Lind⁠—Our Orchestra⁠—President Fillmore, Clay, Foote, Benton, Scott, Cass, and Webster⁠—Visit to Mt. Vernon⁠—Christmas Presents⁠—New Year’s Eve⁠—We Go to Havana⁠—Playing Ball⁠—Frederika Bremer⁠—A Happy Month in Cuba.

No one can imagine the amount of head-work and handwork which I performed during the first four weeks after Jenny Lind’s arrival. Anticipating much of this, I had spent some time in August at the White Mountains to recruit my energies. Of course I had not been idle during the summer. I had put innumerable means and appliances into operation for the furtherance of my object, and little did the public see of the hand that indirectly pulled at their heartstrings, preparatory to a relaxation of their purse-strings; and these means and appliances were continued and enlarged throughout the whole of that triumphal musical campaign.

The first great assembly at Castle Garden was not gathered by Jenny Lind’s musical genius and powers alone. She was effectually introduced to the public before they had seen or heard her. She appeared in the presence of a jury already excited to enthusiasm in her behalf. She more than met their expectations, and all the means I had adopted to prepare the way were thus abundantly justified.

As a manager, I worked by setting others to work. Biographies of the Swedish Nightingale were largely circulated; “Foreign Correspondence” glorified her talents and triumphs by narratives of her benevolence; and “printer’s ink” was invoked in every possible form, to put and keep Jenny Lind before the people. I am happy to say that the press generally echoed the voice of her praise from first to last. I could fill many volumes with printed extracts which are nearly all of a similar tenor to the following unbought, unsolicited editorial article, which appeared in the New York Herald of Sept. 10, 1850 (the day before the first concert given by Miss Lind in the United States):

“Jenny Lind and the American People.⁠—What ancient monarch was he, either in history or in fable, who offered half his kingdom (the price of box tickets and choice seats in those days) for the invention of an original sensation, or the discovery of a fresh pleasure? That sensation⁠—that pleasure which royal power in the old world failed to discover⁠—has been called into existence at a less price, by Mr. Barnum, a plain republican, and is now about to be enjoyed by the sovereigns of the new world.

“Jenny Lind, the most remarkable phenomenon in musical art which has for the last century flashed across the horizon of the old world, is now among us, and will make her début tomorrow night to a house of nearly ten thousand listeners, yielding in proceeds by auction, a sum of forty or fifty thousand dollars. For the last ten days our musical reporters have furnished our readers with every matter connected with her arrival in this metropolis, and the steps adopted by Mr. Barnum in preparation for her first appearance. The proceedings of yesterday, consisting of the sale of the remainder of the tickets, and the astonishing, the wonderful sensation produced at her first rehearsal on the few persons, critics in musical art, who were admitted on the occasion, will be found elsewhere in our columns.

“We concur in everything that has been said by our musical reporter, describing her extraordinary genius⁠—her unrivalled combination of power and art. Nothing has been exaggerated, not an iota. Three years ago, more or less, we heard Jenny Lind on many occasions when she made the first great sensation in Europe, by her début at the London Opera House. Then she was great in power⁠—in art⁠—in genius; now she is greater in all. We speak from experience and conviction. Then she astonished, and pleased, and fascinated the thousands of the British aristocracy; now she will fascinate, and please, and delight, and almost make mad with musical excitement, the millions of the American democracy. Tomorrow night, this new sensation⁠—this fresh movement⁠—this excitement excelling all former excitements⁠—will be called into existence, when she pours out the notes of Casta Diva, and exhibits her astonishing powers⁠—her wonderful peculiarities, that seem more of heaven than of earth⁠—more of a voice from eternity, than from the lips of a human being.

“We speak soberly⁠—seriously⁠—calmly. The public expectation has run very high for the last week⁠—higher than at any former period of our past musical annals. But high as it has risen, the reality⁠—the fact⁠—the concert⁠—the voice and power of Jenny Lind⁠—will far surpass all past expectation. Jenny Lind is a wonder, and a prodigy in song⁠—and no mistake.”

As usual, however, the Herald very soon “took it all back” and roundly abused Miss Lind and persistently attacked her manager. As usual, too, the public paid no attention to the Herald and doubled their patronage of the Jenny Lind concerts.

After the first month the business became thoroughly systematized, and by the help of such agents as my faithful treasurer, L. C. Stewart, and the indefatigable Le Grand Smith, my personal labors were materially relieved; but from the first concert on the 11th of September, 1850, until the ninety-third concert on the 9th of June, 1851, a space of nine months, I did not know a waking moment