Struggles & Triumphs: A Memoir. P. T. Barnum
YOUNG “RUSHIA”—THE BUYER SOLD—COUNTRY STORE EXPERIENCES—OLD “UNCLE BIBBINS”—A TERRIBLE DUEL BETWEEN BENTON AND BIBBINS—FALL OF BENTON—FLIGHT OF BIBBINS.
In the month of August, 1825, my maternal grandmother met with an accident in stepping on the point of a rusty nail, and, though the matter was at first considered trivial, it resulted in her death. Alarming symptoms soon made her sensible that she was on her death-bed; and while she was in full possession of her faculties, the day before she died she sent for her grandchildren to take final leave of them. I shall never forget the sensations I experienced when she took me by the hand and besought me to lead a religious life, and especially to remember that I could in no way so effectually prove my love to God as by loving all my fellow-beings. The impressions of that death-bed scene have ever been among my most vivid recollections, and I trust they have proved in some degree salutary. A more exemplary woman, or a more sincere Christian than my grandmother, I have never known.
My father, for his time and locality, was a man of much enterprise. He could, and actually did, “keep a hotel”; he had a livery stable and ran, in a small way, what in our day would be called a Norwalk Express; and he also kept a country store. With greater opportunities and a larger field for his efforts and energies, he might have been a man of mark and means. Not that he was successful, for he never did a profitable business; but I, who saw him in his various pursuits, and acted as his clerk, caught something of his enterprising spirit, and, perhaps without egotism, I may say I inherited that characteristic. My business education was as good as the limited field afforded, and I soon put it to account and service.
On the 7th of September, 1825, my father, who had been sick since the month of March, died at the age of forty-eight years. My mother was left with five children, of whom I, at fifteen years of age, was the eldest, while the youngest was but seven. It was soon apparent that my father had provided nothing for the support of his family; his estate was insolvent, and it did not pay fifty cents on the dollar. My mother, by economy, industry, and perseverance, succeeded in a few years afterwards in redeeming the homestead and becoming its sole possessor; but, at the date of the death of my father, the world looked gloomy indeed; the few dollars I had accumulated and loaned to my father, holding his note therefor, were decided to be the property of a minor, belonging to the father and so to the estate, and my small claim was ruled out. I was obliged to get trusted for the pair of shoes I wore to my father’s funeral. I literally began the world with nothing, and was barefooted at that.
Leaving Mr. Weed, I went to Grassy Plain, a mile northwest of Bethel, and secured a situation as clerk in the store of James S. Keeler & Lewis Whitlock at six dollars a month and my board. I lived with Mrs. Jerusha Wheeler and her daughters, Jerusha and Mary, and found an excellent home. I chose my uncle, Alanson Taylor, as my guardian. I did my best to please my employers and soon gained their confidence and esteem and was regarded by them as an active clerk and a ‘cute trader. They afforded me many facilities for making money on my own account and I soon entered upon sundry speculations and succeeded in getting a small sum of money ahead.
I made a very remarkable trade at one time for my employers by purchasing, in their absence, a whole wagon load of green glass bottles of various sizes, for which I paid in unsalable goods at very profitable prices. How to dispose of the bottles was then the problem, and as it was also desirable to get rid of a large quantity of tin ware which had been in the shop for years and was considerably “shop-worn,” I conceived the idea of a lottery in which the highest prize should be twenty-five dollars, payable in any goods the winner desired, while there were to be fifty prizes of five dollars each, payable in goods, to be designated in the scheme. Then there were one hundred prizes of one dollar each, one hundred prizes of fifty cents each, and three hundred prizes of twenty-five cents each. It is unnecessary to state that the minor prizes consisted mainly of glass and tin ware; the tickets sold like wildfire, and the worn tin and glass bottles were speedily turned into cash.
As my mother continued to keep the village tavern at Bethel, I usually went home on Saturday night and stayed till Monday morning, going to church with my mother on Sunday. This habit was the occasion of an experience of momentous consequence to me. One Saturday evening, during a violent thunder shower, Miss Mary Wheeler, a milliner, sent me word that there was a girl from Bethel at her house, who had come up on horseback to get a new bonnet; that she was afraid to go back alone; and if I was going to Bethel that evening she wished me to escort her customer. I assented, and went over to “Aunt Rushia’s” where I was introduced to “Chairy” (Charity) Hallett, a fair, rosy-cheeked, buxom girl, with beautiful white teeth. I assisted her to her saddle, and mounting my own horse, we trotted towards Bethel.
My first impressions of this girl as I saw her at the house were exceedingly favorable. As soon as we started I began a conversation with her and finding her very affable I regretted that the distance to Bethel was not five miles instead of one. A flash of lightning gave me a distinct view of the face of my fair companion and then I wished the distance was twenty miles. During our ride I learned that she was a tailoress, working with Mr. Zerah Benedict, of Bethel. We soon arrived at our destination and I bid her good night and went home. The next day I saw her at church, and, indeed, many Sundays afterwards, but I had no opportunity to renew the acquaintance that season.
Mrs. Jerusha Wheeler, with whom I boarded, and her daughter Jerusha were familiarly known, the one as “Aunt Rushia,” and the other as “Rushia.” Many of our store customers were hatters, and among the many kinds of furs we sold for the nap of hats was one known to the trade as “Russia.” One day a hatter, Walter Dibble, called to buy some furs. I sold him several kinds, including “beaver” and “cony,” and he then asked for some “Russia.” We had none, and, as I wanted to play a joke upon him, I told him that Mrs. Wheeler had several hundred pounds of “Russia.”
“What on earth is a woman doing with ‘Russia?’ ” said he.
I could not answer, but I assured him that there were one hundred and thirty pounds of old Rushia and one hundred and fifty pounds of young Rushia in Mrs. Wheeler’s house, and under her charge, but whether or not it was for sale I could not say. Off he started to make the purchase and knocked at the door. Mrs. Wheeler, the elder, made her appearance.
“I want to get your Russia,” said the hatter.
Mrs. Wheeler asked him to walk in and be seated. She, of course, supposed that he had come for her daughter “Rushia.”
“What do you want of Rushia?” asked the old lady.
“To make hats,” was the reply.
“To trim hats, I suppose you mean?” responded Mrs. Wheeler.
“No, for the outside of hats,” replied the hatter.
“Well, I don’t know much about hats,” said the old lady, “but I will call my daughter.”
Passing into another room where “Rushia” the younger was at work, she informed her that a man wanted her to make hats.
“Oh, he means sister Mary; probably. I suppose he wants some ladies’ hats,” replied Rushia, as she went into the parlor.
“This is my daughter,” said the old lady.
“I want to get your Russia,” said he, addressing the young lady.
“I suppose you wish to see my sister Mary; she is our milliner,” said young Rushia.
“I wish to see whoever owns the property,” said the hatter.
Sister Mary was sent for, and as she was introduced, the hatter informed her that he wished to buy her “Russia.”
“Buy Rushia!” exclaimed Mary in surprise; “I don’t understand you.”
“Your name is Miss Wheeler, I believe,” said the hatter, who was annoyed by the difficulty he met with in being understood.
“It is, sir.”
“Ah! very well. Is there old and young Russia in the house?”
“I believe there is,” said Mary, surprised at the familiar manner in which he spoke of her mother