The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb (29 page)

Just as he was reasonably expecting to call me his wife.

INTERMISSION
 

From
Harper’s Weekly
, July 25, 1863

T
HE
T
AKING OF
V
ICKSBURG

We publish on page 465 a new portrait of Major-General Grant, the hero of Vicksburg. Most of the portraits in existence represent him as he was at the commencement of the war, with a flowing beard. He has since trimmed this hirsute appendage, and now looks as he is shown in our picture. For a life of the General we refer to page 365, No. 336, of
Harper’s Weekly
. He has just been appointed by the President Major-General in the regular army.

T
HE
D
RAFT

The attempt to enforce the draft in the city of New York has led to rioting. Men have been killed and houses burned; worst of all, an orphan asylum—a noble monument of charity for the reception of colored orphans—has been ruthlessly destroyed, and children and nurses have lost every thing they had in the world.

[ TWELVE ]
 
And So She Is Married

General and Mrs. Charles Stratton are cordially invited to …

The pleasure of the company of General and Mrs. Charles Stratton is requested …

With kind regards, would General and Mrs. Charles Stratton please accept …

So many invitations, so many kind, generous invitations! Mrs. Astor—dear, dear Caroline Astor!—never tired of throwing dinners in honor of we newlyweds, seating us at her enormous dining table so that all might see and converse with us. She even introduced me to her Parisienne dressmaker, and insisted that her hairdresser visit me daily to do my hair in the same fashion as hers.

And Mrs. Hamilton Fish! Sweet, pious Julia, who was so ill-at-ease in society, despite her husband’s wealth—even she overcame her shyness to throw an elaborate reception for the General
and me, where every guest left with a sterling silver replica of our famous blue carriage, which was such a fixture now, no social event was complete unless our elegant equipage, with its matched pair of Shetland ponies, was seen to be parked outside.

Then there was Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt—beautiful, gentle Mittie; she threw a grand ball in our honor. As we were ushered into her lovely brownstone on East Twentieth Street, I spied two little boys peeking around a corner. The youngest clung to the hand of the oldest and when Charles saw them, he beckoned mischievously, so that they had to come forward.

“Hello, young gentlemen! What are you up to this fine evening?”

“We were waiting for you,” the eldest replied. He had spectacles, was painfully thin, and spoke in a wheezy, high-pitched voice. His younger brother had golden hair and the face of an angel. “We wanted to see if you really were as small as Mama said.”

“Well, are we?” Charles asked, cocking his head quizzically.

“No! I thought you might be as small as a gopher. But you’re not! You’re not much smaller than me!”

“Charles.” I gently nudged my husband and glanced upstairs, where we could hear the violins tuning up for the ball.

“Can’t we stay here a little longer, Vinnie? I’d much rather play with these chaps than parade around a ballroom.” Charles looked at me so eagerly—as did the two boys.

I shook my head, feeling every inch the schoolteacher. “No, of course not. Say goodbye to these nice young men.”

“Well, goodbye, then—what were your names?” Charles shook hands solemnly with the eldest, but the youngest hung shyly back.

“I’m Theodore Roosevelt the second,” the older boy replied with comical gravity. “And this is my brother, Elliott.”

“That is a very big name for such a little boy.” I smiled as I
nudged Charles again. He waved, sadly, as we headed up the massive staircase; so many of these grand homes had very steep stairs!

I understood Charles’s reluctance to leave them; the truth was, we were not fond of balls, although it was very kind of our friends to want to give them in our honor. But Charles and I had to dance almost exclusively with each other, all eyes upon us. I attempted to dance with other gentlemen, but it was difficult; they had to take such mincing steps, and my arms ached with the strain of reaching so high up. And for Charles it was impossible to dance with other women, what with the fashions the way they were; those huge, swaying hoops kept him from getting near enough to a woman to grasp her hands.

But, of course, we did not complain in public, as it would have been hurtful to our new friends. And so many of them did I make in those heady days in the late spring of 1863! The General and I were back in New York, back in the St. Nicholas Hotel, once more, after our whirlwind honeymoon tour, the culmination of which—for Mr. Barnum, at least—was our reception at the White House. You can be sure he trumpeted this in all the Press!

While this was, indeed, a once-in-a-lifetime experience (or so I imagined at the time; I’ve since been to the White House to meet every subsequent president), for me the highlight of our trip was the day after the reception. Mr. Lincoln himself bestowed upon the General and me a pass to drive over “The Long Bridge” that led from the capital out to Arlington Heights, an army camp where one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers were stationed. And among these thousands was my brother Benjamin, whose regiment had arrived from the front just the day before.

I was so nervous that day! Of all the dignitaries and Society people I had met in my new role as the General’s wife, no one’s approval mattered to me as much as my brother’s. I had not seen
him since that day five years earlier when I left home with Colonel Wood, that awful day when he had quit our house, as he had promised, simply because I desired something more for myself than he did. I had always keenly felt his embarrassment over my size, yet he was the sibling—other than Minnie—whom I missed the most.

We were given a military carriage and a military escort to drive us through the endless rows of white canvas tents stretching before us as far as the eye could see. We had the windows down despite the cold, and the General and I kneeled on our seats and leaned out, waving at the troops, drawing cheers and enthusiastic shouts as we drove along. It warmed my heart so to see the joy we brought to our brave soldier lads, so many of whom would never come home; it brings a tear to my eye to think of this, even now.

Finally we stopped, and our carriage was mobbed so that some tall soldier had to pick the General and me both up, and set us atop the conveyance. From there, we could better make out each individual face, some of them so young it made my heart constrict; they reminded me of my pupils, when I taught school. These boys should have been thinking of nothing more dangerous than what tree to climb, what hill to sled down. Yet they all carried guns with an ease that I found terrifying.

The General and I were chatting amiably with the crowd, sharing details of our wedding, which, naturally, they had all read about, when suddenly I heard my name. “Vinnie! Vinnie!
Over here!
” Looking out, I spied Benjamin pushing his way through the sea of tattered blue; had he not called my name, I would not have recognized him. For he was a man now, not a boy, a hardened, muscular man with a beard and mustache and a set to his jaw that reminded me so much of Papa’s. I burst into tears at the sight of
him—and at the joy in his eyes as they lit upon me. The last time we had seen each other, I had found only accusation and pain there.

“Benjamin! Oh, Benjamin!” So overjoyed was I to see him, I tried to stand up, forgetting that I was perched atop a somewhat unstable carriage! A nearby soldier, however, instantly understood the situation and picked me up, placing me neatly on the ground just as Benjamin approached. My brother scooped me up in his arms, twirling me around and around so that my legs flew out and I was afraid the soldiers might see my petticoats. I wrapped my arms around him as best I could—I could not reach all the way around—and I buried my face in his chest. The fabric of his uniform was rough; he smelled like tobacco juice and sweat and smoked meat and some kind of liquor. Then he set me down upon the ground; the soldiers nearest us had respectfully stepped back, so that we were alone inside a circle of dirty, tattered blue legs and muddy black boots.

Benjamin knelt and gripped my shoulders, gazing so piercingly into my face that I felt a moment of foreboding.

“Vinnie, Vinnie—let me have a look at you! Why, how pretty you are, what a fine lady! I can’t believe it!”

“And you, Ben—you look fine! Such a soldier—are you well?”

“As well as ol’ Bobby Lee lets me be; he keeps us on the run, but we have good generals now, and I think the tide might be turning.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t wait to tell Mama and Papa all about you!”

“Are they all fine? The cows—is Papa able to keep up with the cows and all?”

“Yes, yes—everyone’s well.”

“And Minnie? Is she—is she still at home?”

“She came up to New York for my wedding, but she went home after.”

“So she’s not traveling with you?”

“No.”

He nodded, and I knew he was relieved to hear this. But then he swallowed and said softly, “Vinnie … about the way we left things … I don’t know what to say, still. I never understood how you could go off and—”

“Is this my new brother-in-law?”

Suddenly Charles was next to us, clasping Benjamin’s hand. Charles, ever sunny, ever simple, beamed up at Benjamin, completely unaware of any tension between us.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Benjamin replied quietly. Then he colored, and seemed suddenly aware that he was kneeling on the ground. Hastily, he rose.

Just then a soldier shouted, “General, I seen you once when I was but a lad, up at that American Museum. It sure is a pleasure to see you again.”

Another chimed in, “Me, too. Saw him when I was just a little mite. Never thought I’d see him out here in all this muck.”

“We wish you much happiness, General!” another voice called out.

“You sure did make me laugh when I was little, with that tiny sword of yours! I’ll never forget that day!”

Charles grinned and trotted over to talk to these soldiers, moving among them with ease, dancing, capering—bringing a smile to faces still filthy with the grime of battle. As he did, I looked up at Benjamin. He was gazing at my husband with an open mouth.

“What do you say to that?” I asked my brother, with a triumphant smile.

“Well, I guess he’s pretty popular, that Tom Thumb, isn’t he?
I didn’t tell anyone in my regiment about you and him, but somebody found out, and you know what, Vinnie? They didn’t tease me at all. Matter of fact, I’m supposed to get your autographs for some of the men.” He scratched his head, unbelieving, still. “I guess you did all right for yourself after all, Vinnie.”

“Do you really think so, Benjamin?”

“I do.” He knelt back down and took my hand in his; I looked at his hand, so rough, the nails bitten off, bearing red scars from gunpowder, I assumed. I couldn’t begin to imagine all he’d been through, but still I could think of him only as the brother who had carried me to and from school whenever my legs were too tired. “Vinnie, you’re my sister and I love you, and I’m sorry I was ever ashamed of you. I was wrong in all that, ’cause look at you now! These fellows sure are happy you came out here. So’m I.”