" 'Is it possible you are Barnum?' exclaimed the Commodore, in surprise, 'why, I expected to see a monster, part lion, part elephant, and a mixture of rhinoceros and tiger! Is it possible,' he continued, 'that you are the showman who has made so much noise in the world?'
"I laughingly replied that I was, and added that if I too had been governed in my anticipation of his personal appearance by the fame he had achieved in his line, I should have expected to have been saluted by a steam whistle, and to have seen him dressed in a pea jacket, blowing off steam, and crying out 'all aboard that's going.'
" 'Instead of which,' replied Mr. Vanderbilt, 'I suppose you have come to ask me to walk up to the Captain's office and settle.'
"After this interchange of civilities, we talked about the success of the 'North America' in having got safely around the Horn, and of the acceptable manner in which she was doing her duty on the Pacific side.
" 'We have received no statement of her earnings yet,' said the Commodore, 'but if you want money, give your receipt to our treasurer, and take some.'
"A few months subsequent to this, I sold out my share in the steamship to Mr. Daniel Drew."
Numerous smaller enterprises also marked this stage of Mr. Barnum's career. Some of these were connected with his museum, while others were entirely independent of it. Thus in 1844, in Paris, besides purchasing Robt. Houdin's ingenius automatic writer and other costly curiosities for the museum, he had made at great expense, a huge panorama of the funeral of Napoleon Bonaparte. This gigantic picture showed every event of that pageant, beginning with the embarkation of the body at St. Helena and ending with its final entombment at the Hotel des Invalides. This exhibition, after having had its day at the American Museum, was sold, and extensively and profitably exhibited elsewhere. While Barnum was in London, during the same year, he engaged a company of "Campanalogians, or Lancashire Bell Ringers," then performing in Ireland, to make an American tour. They were really admirable performers, and by means of their numerous bells of various sizes, they produced the most delightful music. They attracted much attention in various parts of the United States, in Canada, and in Cuba.
After the loss of the bell ringers to the English public Barnum secured and sent thither a party of sixteen North American Indians, who were widely exhibited. On his return to America after his first visit to Europe he engaged an ingenious workman to construct an automatic orator. This was a life-size and remarkably life-like figure, and when worked from a key-board similar to that of a piano it actually uttered words and sentences with surprising distinctness. It was exhibited for several months in London and elsewhere in England, but though it was really a wonderful machine and attracted the earnest attention of some people, it was not a popular success. The Duke of Wellington visited it several times, and at first he thought that the "voice" proceeded from the exhibiter, whom he assumed to be a skilful ventriloquist. He was asked to touch the keys with his own fingers, and, after some instruction in the method of operating, he was able to make the machine speak, not only in English but also in German, with which language the Duke seemed familiar. Thereafter, he entered his name on the exhibiter's autograph book, and certified that the "Automaton Speaker" was an extraordinary production of mechanical genius.
Barnum also secured duplicates of the models of machinery exhibited at the Royal Polytechnic Institution in London and a great many interesting panoramas and pictures. These were all exhibited at his museum in New York and afterwards sold to other travelling showmen who exhibited them throughout the country. In the summer of 1850 he added to the museum his famous Chinese collection, including a Chinese family of two men, two "small footed" women, and two children.
Few of his curiosities attracted more attention than the performances of the "Scotch Boys." One of these was securely blindfolded, and then, in answer to questions put by the other, accurately described any objects presented by persons who attended the surprising exhibition. The mystery, which was merely the result of patient practice, consisted wholly in the manner in which the question was propounded; in fact, the question invariably carried its own answer; for instance: