The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [90]
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