Life of Hon. Phineas T. Barnum [40]
His servants, of course, exercised proper tact, and no offense was given, although many of the nobility and gentry, who drove to his door in carriages adorned with crests and coats of arms, were thus turned away.
Among the early callers was the Hon. Edward Everett, the American minister to England. He was much pleased with Mr. Barnum and his tiny ward, and had them dine with him the next day. He also promised that they should, if possible, be received by the Queen at Buckingham Palace.
A few evenings afterward the Baroness Rothschild sent her carriage for them. They were received by a half a dozen servants, and were ushered up a broad flight of marble stairs to the drawing-room, where they met the Baroness and a party of twenty or more ladies and gentlemen. In this sumptuous mansion of the richest banker in the world, they spent about two hours, and when they took their leave a well-filled purse was quietly slipped into Mr. Barnum's hand. The golden shower had begun to fall.
Mr. Barnum now thought the time ripe for beginning his public exhibitions. He engaged Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, and announced that Tom Thumb was to be seen there. The rush of visitors was tremendous. The aristocracy of London thronged the hall night after night, and a phenomenal success was assured. Barnum did not look beyond such work. True, Everett had spoken of an audience with the Queen, but Barnum had no idea that it would ever be granted. One day, however, he met Mr. Murray, Master of the Queen's Household, at Everett's at breakfast, and that gentleman asked him what were his plans for the future. Barnum replied that he expected presently to go to the Continent, but he would most gladly stay in London if he could get the favor of an audience with Her Majesty.
Mr. Murray kindly offered his good offices in the case, and the next day one of the Life Guards, a tall, noble-looking fellow, bedecked as became his station, brought a note, conveying the Queen's invitation to General Tom Thumb and his guardian Mr. Barnum, to appear at Buckingham Palace on an evening specified. Special instructions were the same day orally given by Mr. Murray, by Her Majesty's command, to suffer the General to appear before her, as he would appear anywhere else, without any training in the use of the titles of royalty, as the Queen desired to see him act naturally and without restraint.
Determined to make the most of the occasion, Mr. Barnum put a placard on the door of the Egyptian Hall: "Closed this evening, General Tom Thumb being at Buckingham Palace by command of Her Majesty."
When they arrived at the palace, a Lord-in-Waiting met them, and began "coaching" them on points of court etiquette. Mr. Barnum, especially, was told that he must in no event speak directly to Her Majesty, but through the medium of the aforesaid Lord. He must also keep his face constantly turned toward the Queen, and so, in retiring from the royal presence, must walk backward. Having thus been instructed in the ways of royalty, Mr. Barnum and the diminutive General were led to the presence of the Queen.
They passed through a long corridor to a broad flight of marble steps, which led to the picture gallery, and there the Queen and Prince Albert, the Duchess of Kent, the Duke of Wellington, and others were awaiting their arrival. They were standing at the further end of the room when the doors were thrown open, and the General walked in, looking like a wax doll gifted with the power of locomotion. Surprise and pleasure were depicted on the countenances of the royal circle at beholding this remarkable specimen of humanity so much smaller than they had evidently expected to find him.
The General advanced with a firm step, and, as he came within hailing distance, made a very graceful bow, and exclaimed, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."
A burst of laughter followed this salutation. The Queen then took him by the hand, led him about the gallery, and asked him many questions, the answers to which kept the party in an uninterrupted strain of merriment. The General familiarly
Among the early callers was the Hon. Edward Everett, the American minister to England. He was much pleased with Mr. Barnum and his tiny ward, and had them dine with him the next day. He also promised that they should, if possible, be received by the Queen at Buckingham Palace.
A few evenings afterward the Baroness Rothschild sent her carriage for them. They were received by a half a dozen servants, and were ushered up a broad flight of marble stairs to the drawing-room, where they met the Baroness and a party of twenty or more ladies and gentlemen. In this sumptuous mansion of the richest banker in the world, they spent about two hours, and when they took their leave a well-filled purse was quietly slipped into Mr. Barnum's hand. The golden shower had begun to fall.
Mr. Barnum now thought the time ripe for beginning his public exhibitions. He engaged Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, and announced that Tom Thumb was to be seen there. The rush of visitors was tremendous. The aristocracy of London thronged the hall night after night, and a phenomenal success was assured. Barnum did not look beyond such work. True, Everett had spoken of an audience with the Queen, but Barnum had no idea that it would ever be granted. One day, however, he met Mr. Murray, Master of the Queen's Household, at Everett's at breakfast, and that gentleman asked him what were his plans for the future. Barnum replied that he expected presently to go to the Continent, but he would most gladly stay in London if he could get the favor of an audience with Her Majesty.
Mr. Murray kindly offered his good offices in the case, and the next day one of the Life Guards, a tall, noble-looking fellow, bedecked as became his station, brought a note, conveying the Queen's invitation to General Tom Thumb and his guardian Mr. Barnum, to appear at Buckingham Palace on an evening specified. Special instructions were the same day orally given by Mr. Murray, by Her Majesty's command, to suffer the General to appear before her, as he would appear anywhere else, without any training in the use of the titles of royalty, as the Queen desired to see him act naturally and without restraint.
Determined to make the most of the occasion, Mr. Barnum put a placard on the door of the Egyptian Hall: "Closed this evening, General Tom Thumb being at Buckingham Palace by command of Her Majesty."
When they arrived at the palace, a Lord-in-Waiting met them, and began "coaching" them on points of court etiquette. Mr. Barnum, especially, was told that he must in no event speak directly to Her Majesty, but through the medium of the aforesaid Lord. He must also keep his face constantly turned toward the Queen, and so, in retiring from the royal presence, must walk backward. Having thus been instructed in the ways of royalty, Mr. Barnum and the diminutive General were led to the presence of the Queen.
They passed through a long corridor to a broad flight of marble steps, which led to the picture gallery, and there the Queen and Prince Albert, the Duchess of Kent, the Duke of Wellington, and others were awaiting their arrival. They were standing at the further end of the room when the doors were thrown open, and the General walked in, looking like a wax doll gifted with the power of locomotion. Surprise and pleasure were depicted on the countenances of the royal circle at beholding this remarkable specimen of humanity so much smaller than they had evidently expected to find him.
The General advanced with a firm step, and, as he came within hailing distance, made a very graceful bow, and exclaimed, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."
A burst of laughter followed this salutation. The Queen then took him by the hand, led him about the gallery, and asked him many questions, the answers to which kept the party in an uninterrupted strain of merriment. The General familiarly