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CHAPTER 1
EARLY BOYHOOD
I WAS born in the town of Bethel, in the State of Connecticut, July 5, 1810. My name, Phineas Taylor, is derived from my maternal grandfather, who was a great wag in his way, and who, as I was his first grandchild, gravely handed over to my mother at my christening a gift-deed, in my behalf, of five acres of land situated in that part of the parish of Bethel known as the "Plum Trees." I was thus a real estate owner almost at my very birth; and of my property, "Ivy Island," something shall be said anon.
I think I can remember when I was not more than two years old, and the first person I recollect having seen was my grandfather. As I was his pet, and spent probably the larger half of my waking hours in his arms, during the first six years of my life, my good mother estimates that the amount of lump sugar which I swallowed from his hands, during that period, could not have been less than two barrels. My grandfather would go farther, wait longer, work harder and contrive deeper, to carry out a practical joke, than for anything else under heaven. In this one particular, as well as in many others, I am almost sorry to say I am his counterpart; for although nothing that I can conceive of delights me so much as playing off one of those dangerous things, and although I have enjoyed more hearty laughs in planning and executing them than from any one source in the world, and have generally tried to avoid giving offence, yet I have many times done so, and as often have I regretted this propensity, which was born in me, and will doubtless continue until "dust returns to dust."
My paternal grandfather was Captain Ephraim Barnum, of Bethel — a captain in the militia in the Revolutionary War. His son Philo was my father. He too was of a lively turn of mind, and relished a joke better than the average of mankind. These historical facts I state as some palliation for my own inclination that way. "What is bred in the bone," etc.
I am not aware that my advent created any peculiar commotion in the village, though my good mother declares that I made a great deal of noise the first hour I saw the light, and that she has never been able to discover any cessation since.
I must pass by the first seven years of my life — during which my grandfather crammed me with sugar and loaded me with pennies, to buy raisins and candies, which he always instructed me to solicit from the store-keeper at the "lowest cash price" — and proceed to talk of later events.
I commenced going to school at the age of about six years. The first date which I recollect inscribing upon my writing-book was 1818. I was generally accounted a pretty apt scholar, and as I increased in years there were but two or three in school who were considered my superiors. In arithmetic I was unusually quick, and I recollect, at the age of twelve years, being called out of bed one night by my teacher, who had laid a small wager with a neighbor that I could figure up and give the correct number of feet in a load of wood in five minutes. The neighbor stated the dimensions, and as I had no slate in the house I marked them on the stove pipe, and thereon also figured my calculations, and gave the result in less than two minutes, to the great delight of my teacher, my mother, and myself, and to the no small astonishment of our incredulous neighbor.
My father was a tailor, a farmer, and sometimes a tavernkeeper; so I was often kept out of school, and never had any "advantages" except at the common district school, and one summer at the "Academy" in Danbury, a distance of three miles, which I marched and countermarched six times per week. Like most farmers' boys, I was obliged to drive and fetch the cows, carry in firewood, shell corn, weed beets and cabbages, and, as I grew larger, I rode horse for ploughing, turned and raked hay, and in due time handled "the shovel and the hoe," as well as the plough; but I never really liked to work.
My organ of acquisitiveness must be large, or else my parents commenced its cultivation at an early period. Before I was five years of age I began to accumulate pennies and sixpennies. At the age of six years my grandfather informed me that all my little pieces of coin amounted to one dollar, and if I would go with him and take my money, he would show me something worth having. Placing all my wealth in a pocket handkerchief which was closely wound up and firmly grasped, I started with my grandfather. He took me to the village tavern, then kept by Mr. Stiles Wakelee, and approaching the landlord, he said, "Here, Mr. Wakelee, is the richest boy in this part of the country. He has a dollar in cash. I wish you to take his change and give him a silver dollar for it." The complaisant landlord took my deposits and presently handed me a silver dollar.
Never have I seen the time (nor shall I ever again) when I felt so rich, so absolutely independent of all the world, as I did when I looked at that monstrous big silver dollar, and felt that it was all my own. Talk of "cart wheels," there was never one half so large as that dollar looked to me. I believed, without the slightest reservation, that this entire earth and all its contents could be purchased by that wonderful piece of bullion, and that it would be a bad bargain at that.
But my dollar did not long remain alone. My mother taught me that I should still save my pennies, and I did so. As I grew larger, my grandfather paid me ten cents per day for riding the horse which preceded the ox-team in ploughing, and I hit upon various expedients for adding to my pile. On "training days," instead of spending money, I was earning it in the vocation of a peddler. My stock in trade consisted of a gallon of molasses, boiled down and worked into molasses candy, called in those times "cookania," and I usually found myself a dollar richer at the end of "training," than I was at the commencement. As I always had a remarkable taste for speculation, my holiday stock soon increased, and comprised "ginger-bread," cookies, sugar candies, and cherry rum. The latter article consisted of a demijohn of New England rum, in which was put a quantity of wild cherries, and I believe a little sugar. I soon learned that the soldiers were good cherry-rum customers, and no sooner did I hear the words "halt," "ground arms," than I approached the "trainers" with my decanter and wine-glass. In a few years I should have been a second Croesus in wealth, had not my father considerately allowed me to purchase my own clothing. This arrangement kept my pile reduced to a moderate size. Always looking out for the main chance, however, I had sheep of my own, a calf of which I was the sole proprietor, and other individual property which made me feel, at twelve years of age, that I was a man of substance.
I felt at the same time that I had not reached my proper sphere. The farm was no place for me. I always disliked work. Headwork I was excessively fond of. I was always ready to concoct fun, or lay plans for money-making, but hand-work was decidedly not in my line. My father insisted that I could hoe and plough and dig in the garden as well as anybody else, but I generally contrived to shirk the work altogether, or by slighting it, get through with the day's work.
I was not quite twelve years of age when I visited the commercial metropolis for the first time. It happened as follows: My father, as before stated, kept the village tavern. Late one afternoon in January, 1822, Mr. Daniel Brown, of Southbury, Ct., arrived at our house with a drove of fat cattle which he was taking to New York for sale. The stock were put into our large barnyard, the horses ridden by himself and assistant were stabled, and Mr. Brown having partaken of a warm supper, drew off his boots, put on his slippers, and sat down by the fire to spend the evening comfortably.
I looked upon him as a great man, for he had been to "York," and to "go to York" in those days was thought quite as much of as to go to Europe is now. I listened to the relation of his adventures in city and country, my interest in the man continually increasing. At last I heard him say to my father that he expected to buy many more cattle in Ridgefield, and at other points on his way to the city, and he would be glad to hire a boy who was light of foot, to run along with him and assist in driving the cattle. I immediately besought my father (like a modern office-seeker) to intercede for me, and if possible procure me the coveted situation. He did so. Consultation with my mother resulted in her consent, and it was immediately arranged that I should visit New York. I was told to retire at once, so as to be ready to start with the drove of cattle at daylight in the morning. I went to bed, but not to sleep. Visions of all sorts haunted my imagination. A new world was about to be opened to me. I slept an hour or two towards morning, dreaming of the great city with streets paved with gold, and many castles — in the air.
At daylight I was aroused, took a few mouthfuls of breakfast, and started off on foot in the midst of a heavy snow storm, to help drive the cattle. Before reaching Ridgefield, Mr. Brown put me on his horse to gallop after a wandering ox; the horse fell, rolled upon my foot, and sprained my ankle. I suffered intensely, but dared not complain lest my employer should contrive some way to send me back, for I was not yet ten miles from home. He very considerately allowed me to ride behind him on the horse, and that night the landlady of the hotel where we stopped bathed my ankle, which was considerably swollen. The next day it was a trifle better, but as I continued to limp, Mr. Brown permitted me to ride most of the time. In three or four days we reached the city of New York, and put up at the Bull's Head tavern, kept, I think, by Mr. Givens. The drover would be busy a week selling his cattle, and then I was to return home with him in a sleigh.
That was a great week for me. My mother gave me a dollar before I left home, and I never expected to see the end of it. I supposed it would supply my every wish, and yet leave unknown quantities of small change on hand. The first outlay I made was for oranges. I was very fond of this fruit, and had often wished I could have as many as I could eat. I entered a confectionery store and inquired the price of oranges. "Four pence apiece," was the reply. Now, "four pence" in Connecticut is six cents, and I supposed it was the same the world over. Profiting by my experience in "beating down" the price, and not doubting Franklin's proverb that "a penny saved is two pence earned," I informed the lady that "I considered four pence apiece too dear, but I would give her ten cents for two." The feminine shopkeeper hesitated for a moment, but finally said that seeing it was me, and as it was probably my first visit to New York, she would let me have the two oranges for ten cents, but she should expect me to trade with her whenever I wanted any thing in her line. I thanked her, and took the oranges. I thought it was very liberal in her to make such a generous deduction from the price of her fruit, little dreaming that, owing to the difference in currency, I had paid her two cents more than she asked.
Soon dispatching my two oranges, I purchased two more, and had eighty cents left. This seemed to me sufficient for all mortal wants. I then bought for thirty-one cents a little gun, which would "go off" and send a stick some distance across the room. I intended to astonish my schoolmates with the gun when I got home, for it astonished me considerably, as I had never seen anything of the kind before. I went into the bar-room of our hotel, and began to amuse myself with the extraordinary implement. The bar-room was crowded with customers, and shooting at random, the arrow grazed one man's nose and passed on, hitting the barkeeper in the eye. Smarting under the pain it occasioned, the latter came in front of his counter, caught me by the collar, shook me sternly, boxed my ears till my head rung, and told me to put that gun out of the way or he would throw it into the stove. I felt considerably injured in my feelings, and sneaking slyly up stairs placed the precious treasure under my pillow.
Visiting the toy shop again, the good woman instructed me in the mystery of torpedoes. She threw one with considerable force on the floor, and it exploded, greatly to my delight. Would not these astonish our school-boys? I bought six cents' worth for that purpose, but could not wait to use them at home. As the guests at the hotel were passing in to dinner, and supposing that they had never seen any thing in the torpedo line and would be delighted to do so, I could not refrain from giving them the opportunity. So taking two from my pocket and throwing them with all my strength against the side of the hall through which the crowd was passing, a loud double-report followed, much to the surprise and annoyance of the guests. The landlord came rushing out in a high state of excitement, and discovering the culprit he stretched me upon the floor at a single blow with his open hand. "There, you little greenhorn," he exclaimed, "see if that will teach you better than to explode your infernal crackers in my house again!" It did. I was perfectly taught in a single lesson; went up stairs and deposited the balance of the torpedoes with my gun. I ate no dinner that day. My dignity had been insulted and my appetite had vanished. I was humbled. I felt forlorn and forsaken. I however had one resource. It was the toy shop. I visited it again, bought a watch, a breast-pin, and a top. I was still a rich man. I had eleven cents left. I went to bed and dreamed of all my possessions.
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, I visited the toy shop again to "look around," and perceived many things which I had not noticed the day previously. Presently I saw a beautiful knife with two blades, besides a gimlet and cork-screw! This was a novelty. The most useful article in existence, beyond all doubt. I must possess it. My father would be delighted, for it was a carpenter shop in miniature, and was too valuable an article to leave behind me. Wouldn't old Bethel be astonished! But what was the price of this combination of all that was useful and ornamental? Only thirty-one cents. Alas, I had only eleven! I learned to my astonishment that my funds were exhausted. But have the knife I must, and so I proposed to my kind friend, the shop woman, that she should receive back the top and breast-pin at a slight deduction from what I had paid for them, and then taking my eleven cents, should let me have the knife. The kind creature consented, and thus I made my first "swop." Presently I discovered some molasses candy. It was whiter and nicer than any I had ever seen before. I must have some. So I asked the lady to take back the watch at a slight discount, and give me the worth of it in molasses candy. She did so. It was delicious. I had never tasted any thing so nice — and before night I had resigned my gun into her possession and swallowed its value in molasses candy. The next morning I swallowed all my torpedoes in the same shape, and in the course of the day even my knife followed in the sweet footsteps of its illustrious predecessors. Molasses candy was the rock on which I split. My money was all gone — my notions all swopped for it — and yet, like Oliver Twist, I cried for "more." The good woman had a son of about my size. I had no particular use for my two pocket handkerchiefs. Her boy could use them, and I gladly accepted her proposal to trade them for four sticks of molasses candy. I had an extra pair of stockings which I was sure I should never need, and they went for five more rolls of molasses candy!
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Bartum's Own Story"
by .
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