Struggles and Triumphs · Chapter 33 (2/2)

The announcement that “Richard’s himself again”⁠—that I was at last out of the financial entanglement⁠—was variously received in the community. That portion of the press which had followed me with abuse when I was down, under the belief that my case was past recovery, were chary in allusions to the new state of things, or passed them over without comment. The sycophants always knew I would get up again, “and said so at the time;” the many and noble journals which had stood by me and upheld me in my misfortunes, were of course rejoiced, and their words of sincere congratulation gave me a higher satisfaction than I have power of language to acknowledge. Letters of congratulation came in upon me from every quarter. Friendly hands that had never been withheld during the long period of my misfortune were now extended with a still heartier grip. I never knew till now the warmth and number of my friends.

My editorial friend, Mr. Robert Bonner, of the New York Ledger, sincerely congratulated me upon my full and complete restoration. I had some new plays which were adapted from very popular stories which had been written for Mr. Bonner’s paper, and I went to him to purchase, if I could, the large cuts he had used to advertise these stories in his street placards. He at once generously offered to lend them to me as long as I wished to use them and tendered me his services in any way. Mr. Bonner was the boldest of advertisers, following me closely in the field in which I was the pioneer, and to his judicious use of printers’ ink, he owes the fine fortune which he so worthily deserves and enjoys.

Nor must I neglect to state that a large number of my creditors who held the clock notes, proved very magnanimous in taking into consideration the gross deception which had put me in their power. Not a few of them said to me in substance: “you never supposed you had made yourself liable for this debt; you were deluded into it; it is not right that it should be held over you to keep you hopelessly down; take it, and pay me such percentage as, under the circumstances, it is possible for you to pay.” But for such men and such consideration I fear I should never have got on my feet again; and of the many who rejoiced in my bettered fortune, not a few were of this class of my creditors.

My old friend, the Boston Saturday Evening Gazette, which printed a few cheering poetical lines of consolation and hope when I was down, now gave me the following from the same graceful pen, conveying glowing words of congratulation at my rise again:

Barnum, your hand! The struggle o’er,

You face the world and ask no favor;

You stand where you have stood before,

The old salt hasn’t lost its savor.

You now can laugh with friends, at foes,

Ne’er heeding Mrs. Grundy’s tattle;

You’ve dealt and taken sturdy blows,

Regardless of the rabble’s prattle.

Not yours the heart to harbor ill

’Gainst those who’ve dealt in trivial jesting;

You pass them with the same good will

Erst shown when they their wit were testing.

You’re the same Barnum that we knew,

You’re good for years, still fit for labor,

Be as of old, be bold and true,

Honest as man, as friend, as neighbor.

At about this period, the following poem was published in a Pottsville, Pa., paper, and copied by many journals of the day:

Companions! fill your glasses round,

And drink a health to one

Who has few coming after him,

To do as he has done;

Who made a fortune for himself,

Made fortunes, too, for many,

Yet wronged no bosom of a sigh,

No pocket of a penny.

Come! shout a gallant chorus,

And make the glasses ring⁠—

Here’s health and luck to Barnum!

The Exhibition King.

Who lured the Swedish Nightingale

To Western woods to come?

Who prosperous and happy made

The life of little Thumb?

Who oped Amusement’s golden door

So cheaply to the crowd,

And taught Morality to smile

On all his stage allowed?

Come! shout a gallant chorus,

Until the glasses ring⁠—

Here’s health and luck to Barnum!

The Exhibition King.

And when the sad reverses came,

As come they may to all,

Who stood a Hero, bold and true,

Amid his fortune’s fall?

Who to the utmost yielded up

What Honor could not keep,

Then took the field of life again

With courage calm and deep?

Come! shout a gallant chorus,

Until the glasses dance⁠—

Here’s health and luck to Barnum,

The Napoleon of Finance.

Yet, no⁠—our hero would not look

With smiles on such a cup;

Throw out the wine⁠—with water clear,

Fill the pure crystal up.

Then rise, and greet with deep respect,

The courage he has shown,

And drink to him who well deserves

A seat on Fortune’s throne.

Here’s health and luck to Barnum!

An Elba he has seen,

And never may his map of life

Display a St. Helene!