BARNUM REDIVIVUS.
A WORD FOR BARNUM.
Barnum, your hand! Though you are “down,”
And see full many a frigid shoulder,
Be brave, my brick, and though they frown,
Prove that misfortune makes you bolder.
There’s many a man that sneers, my hero,
And former praise converts to scorning,
Would worship—when he fears—a Nero,
And bend “where thrift may follow fawning.”
You humbugged us—that we have seen,
We got our money’s worth, old fellow,
And though you thought our minds were green,
We never thought your heart was yellow.
We knew you liberal, generous, warm,
Quick to assist a falling brother,
And, with such virtues, what’s the harm
All memories of your faults to smother?
We had not heard the peerless Lind,
But for your spirit enterprising,
You were the man to raise the wind,
And make a coup confessed surprising.
You’re reckoned in your native town
A friend in need, a friend in danger,
You ever keep the latchstring down,
And greet with open hand the stranger.
Stiffen your upper lip. You know
Who are your friends and who your foes now;
We pay for knowledge as we go;
And though you get some sturdy blows now,
You’ve a fair field,—no favors crave,—
The storm once passed will find you braver,—
In virtue’s cause long may you wave,
And on the right side, never waver.
Desirous of knowing who was the author of this kindly effusion, I wrote, while preparing this autobiography, to Mr. B. P. Shillaber, one of the editors of the journal, and well known to the public as “Mrs. Partington.” In reply, I received the following letter in which it will be seen that he makes sympathetic allusion to the burning of my last Museum, only a few weeks before the date of his letter:
Chelsea, April 25, 1868.
My Dear Mr. Barnum:—The poem in question was written by A. Wallace Thaxter, associate editor with Mr. Clapp and myself, on the Gazette—since deceased, a glorious fellow—who wrote the poem from a sincere feeling of admiration for yourself. Mr. Clapp, (Hon. W. W. Clapp,) published it with his full approbation. I heard of your new trouble, in my sick chamber, where I have been all winter, with regret, and wish you as ready a release from attending difficulty as your genius has hitherto achieved under like circumstances.
Yours, very truly,