The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [71]
After paying admission, families, immigrants, Society people, farmers in their finest, and a constant parade of newspapermen from all over the world mingled together as they took in the wonders to be seen. And such wonders! On the first floor, there were halls lined with display cases brimming with the most unusual artifacts, exotic animal bones and skins, minerals, the world’s largest baby tooth, horrifying medical instruments all gleaming with steel and sharp edges, a part of an asteroid that had once killed a farmer’s cow, a thread of the blanket that the Baby Jesus was swaddled in, a real live flea circus, dioramas of all sorts of scenes, even miniature naval battles on real water. There were cases and cages full of preserved animals and skeletons. In one room was the famous “Happy Family,” where, in the same cage, a lion, a tiger, a lamb, and assorted birds all lived together in apparent harmony. (Although Mr. Barnum confessed that the exhibit could continue only as long as he had a fresh supply of lambs and birds!)
On the second floor was the waxworks, where mannequins of famous personalities stood milling about companionably, as if at a silent tea party. There was George Washington, Queen Victoria, the Apostles, Napoléon, Joice Heth (the original humbug herself, the old Negro slave whom Mr. Barnum had tried to pass off as George Washington’s one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old nursemaid, until she died and was discovered to be only eighty), and Jenny Lind. Naturally, Charles Stratton was represented in this hall as well. In one corner stood a tree trunk upon which Jesus Himself had once sat—or so read the inscription. On this floor too was a picture gallery of astoundingly realistic portraits, some that even appeared to pop out of their frames, so breathtakingly lifelike were they. The famous Feejee mermaid was still on display—the crudely stitched-together torso of a monkey and a fish tail that had been the second great example of Mr. Barnum’s ability to whip a gullible public up into a frenzy. This phenomenon was safely behind glass, thank heavens, for I could well imagine how it must smell by now!
And in the middle of the second floor rose the enormous saltwater tank in which a real beluga whale lolled about, alive, but barely. I felt sorry for the poor thing, so confined, so miserable. But it was an extremely popular attraction, indeed. Rare was the person who had ever seen a whale up close, save for Captain Ahab himself!
Strategically placed at intervals were signs that promised This Way to the Egress! I bit my lip when I saw people eagerly going in the direction they pointed, and chided Mr. Barnum about it later. “That is an awful trick to play upon people,” I scolded him.
“I’m not saying anything deceitful at all. It’s not my fault if the educational system in this country is so appalling, no one knows that ‘egress’ is Latin for ‘exit.’ ”
“And so you sit here and take another twenty-five cents each from these poor people who find themselves locked outside, forced to enter again through the ticket booth!”
“Yes, I do. And I need every extra twenty-five cents I can get so that I can pay your heartlessly negotiated contract, cruel woman! So if there’s anyone to blame, it is yourself.”
I had to smile at him. I always smiled at him in those days.
Of course, the noise in the place was horrendous; animals and people all chattering, heavy boots and spurs being dragged across wooden floors, the constant importunate