Upon getting this Americanism explained, I had the satisfaction of finding that my interlocutor's question simply meant, in English, "Who is your impresario?"
"Well," thought I, "I am going to have a lively time in the States, that's evident: this is a foretaste that is promising." I went to my cabin thinking about the Yankee who was to "boom my show."
The greatest "boomer" in America is the great, the only, the unique Barnum. The personality of this king of showmen is not particularly interesting, except for being typically American, and one that could not exist in any country but America.
Mr. Barnum (Phineas is his baptismal name), pursued by Fate, is every five years the victim of a conflagration. His fires happen with terrible regularity. Whilst I was in America, his tigers and elephants were burnt out of house and home. Scarcely had the flames been extinguished, when there were paragraphs in the papers to say that Mr. Barnum's agent was buying fresh animals for the "biggest show on earth," and all over the walls of America's cities were to be seen flaring posters, representing Phineas Barnum rising from the flames, like a modern Phœnix. Appended was a long literary essay, which began: "Rising Phœnix-like from the ashes of my fifth fire," and setting forth the wonderful attractions of the new show which was to be opened.
Mr. Barnum holds in small esteem the man who lets slip a chance of making money. He would think it quite natural to offer 10,000 francs a week to General Boulanger to show himself in his museum, and would think it very unnatural that the General should refuse such a handsome offer. The rumour had it that the enterprising Phineas wrote to M. Pasteur some time since to try and engage him. He guaranteed, it is said, 50,000 dollars to the illustrious savant if he would inoculate before the American public twice a day. It was not much to ask, and the 50,000 dollars would have been easily earned. Barnum, however, had to content himself with engaging a gentleman in spectacles, resembling more or less the famous master of the Rue d'Ulm, and he succeeded in securing four little Americans whom M. Pasteur had just saved from hydrophobia. They were inoculated (with clear water probably) for a month, in all the principal towns of the States. The Society for the Protection of Animals, which does not include man in its circle of operations, made no objection, and the coffers of the enterprising Phineas overflowed with dollars.
Barnum does not understand how a good offer can be refused. He looks upon everything as being to sell or to let, and the almighty dollar as the master of the world. One day, he took it into his head to make an offer for the house in which Shakespeare was born. The English fired up at the idea, and he had to abandon his project, and be satisfied with "Jumbo."
The Musée Grévin in Paris, and Madame Tussaud's Exhibition in London, are full of celebrities in wax. The dream of Barnum is to exhibit them in the flesh.
If every European nation were to become a republic, the dethroned monarchs could go and make their fortunes in America, and the greatest ambition of Barnum would be realised.