Barnum became by his success with “The Drunkard” something of a dictator of public amusements, as well as a caterer. But he would not have been permitted to exercise any autocratic powers. “The Drunkard” was successful, in fact, it became a mania, because it satisfied a need of the moment, and Barnum had been the first to recognize that vice dramatized in lurid enough colors could support a very thick coating of moralic acid. CHAPTER VI JENNY LIND I The conceit that to induce Jenny Lind to sing in this country would add to his reputation and fortune and to her fortune and reputation came to Barnum in October, 1849. He had been resting, as much as he ever rested, at “Iranistan,” and was devoting his leisure to schemes for the improvement of his Museum and his dignity. He considered a Congress of Nations, an exhibition to excite the admiration and awe of the United States and Europe, which would consist of a man and a woman, the most perfect specimens available, from every accessible country in the civilized and savage world. He sent an agent abroad to scout for the appropriate types, but the project was one that required large financial outlay and considerable time for its proper execution, and in the meantime Barnum became interested in Jenny Lind. He had never heard Jenny Lind sing, and he had never even seen her, since she arrived in London a few weeks after he left there with General Tom Thumb; but he had heard of her singing and her personality, for both were objects of universal admiration abroad. In Europe she was the idol and the ideal of the moment, and whatever people she visited readily accepted her as a genius whose gifts they were happy and privileged to enjoy. In this country she was unknown to all except the few transatlantic travelers and those who read the musical notes from abroad.