The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [70]
“Oh, come in thy beauty, thou marvel of duty … Dear Annie, dear Annie of the vale.”
I bowed my head after the last note and accepted the applause of the room; it was different from the applause I had heard on the river. This was respectful, from men who were cultured, men who had heard Miss Jenny Lind sing.
But there was only one man whose applause fell sweetly upon my ear, all the way from across the room. It was the one man who heard the Nightingale sing, still, in his memory.
His was the admiration I truly sought. And in that moment, when I knew that I possessed it, I allowed myself to wonder, for the very first time, how it would feel to be known simply as a woman—
And not a woman in miniature.
INTERMISSION
From The New York Times, February 26, 1863
A CASE OF FURIOUS DRIVING
Mrs. E. GREEN, residing at No. 22 Watts-street, while crossing Fifth-avenue, near Tenth-street, was knocked down and run over by a horse and sleigh, which was being driven at a furious rate, by LEVI L. HUFF, the colored coachman of Mr. CHARLES GOODHUE, of Madison-avenue. Mrs. GREEN, who was severely injured, was taken to her residence by a policeman. HUFF was arrested and taken before Justice KELLY, who committed him, in default of $300 bail.
From Harper’s Weekly, March 21, 1863
FOREIGN NEWS—ENGLAND—REVULSION OF PUBLIC SENTIMENT
There was a great demonstration at the amphitheatre in Liverpool on the 19th ult., in support of President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. The Liverpool Post says that a more unanimous meeting was never witnessed on any question on which public opinion has been divided. Resolutions applauding the course of Mr. Lincoln on the slavery question, and an address to be provided to him through Mr. Adams were adopted. Some uproar and confusion occurred toward the conclusion of the meeting; but with this exception everything passed off very happily.
[ NINE ]
Or, Another Player Makes
His Long-Anticipated Entrance
MY SUCCESS WAS COMPLETE—TOO COMPLETE, PERHAPS. For Mr. Barnum decided I was so popular, it would be prudent to postpone the expensive European tour. We argued, but finally he showed me the projections for the income we could expect if I appeared at his Museum right away.
I had no reply to that—other than to show him that he could add an extra two hundred dollars a week to my salary, as compensation for my understandable disappointment. He swore mildly but in the end did not appear to mind too much as he signed the check.
Indeed, I think he admired me even more.
P. T. Barnum’s American Museum! How sad to note how little it is remembered these days! Children of this time have no memory of it. They don’t even realize how very much they have missed by not growing up while it was still standing.
I first entered it, accompanied by Mr. Barnum, through a private door that the majority of the public did not even know was there. But later, I insisted upon entering it through the front, just like any member of the public that paid, without grumbling, twenty-five cents each. For nowhere else on earth had there ever been such an assemblage of novelties, animals, music, culture, science, and entertainment all in one place.
You first approached the Museum from the corner of Broadway and Ann Street in Lower Manhattan; it was surrounded by many thriving businesses, including Mr. Mathew Brady’s daguerreotype studio, which I would come to know quite well. The street at this intersection was wide enough to accommodate the throngs of people always milling about in case one of the living exhibits might appear for a stroll or a brief, tempting display of his talent. The building itself was five stories of white stone, with the name “Barnum” prominently featured in red letters above the third-floor windows. Panels depicting