For several days after he thought of importing Jenny Lind Barnum made calculations on the backs of envelopes, and all his calculations led to what seemed to him the inevitable result of a properly executed conception: immense success. He realized that his work would not be easy, in fact that it would be more speculative and more exacting than anything he had ever previously attempted. But Barnum’s two conclusions were, in his own words: “1st. The chances were greatly in favor of immense pecuniary success; and 2d. Inasmuch as my name has long been associated with ‘humbug,’ and the American public suspect that my capacities do not extend beyond the power to exhibit a stuffed monkey-skin or a dead mermaid, I can afford to lose fifty thousand dollars in such an enterprise as bringing to this country, in the zenith of her life and celebrity, the greatest musical wonder in the world, provided the engagement is carried out with credit to the management.” To this second consideration Barnum attached great importance, for it is clear that his Congress of Nations was conceived with the same purpose, which was a desire to show America that he was a man of esteem as well as an amusing and extraordinary character, and that his mind worked along high lines for the edification of his countrymen. Although the term “humbug” was self-imposed, and fruitful of publicity, there was no getting away from its reproachful implications, and Barnum sometimes rankled under its insinuations of guilt; though he was too wise to deny them as just, he aimed to prove them unjustified. Jenny Lind, he knew, would transform him from a showman into an impresario, and he also expected that if her tour was properly managed it would make both of them more wealthy than they had ever been.