one to support her claim, although he had not been willing to swear out an affadavit on the matter. Barnum maintained he had only repeated what the other two had told himâand what crime was that? If people had been duped, he had been the biggest victim of all.
Laughing along with the crowd, he demanded to be told what was wrong with his logic. It didnât matter in any case, he said, because he was well satisfied with the exhibition of Joice Heth. If she hadnât been George Washingtonâs mammy, she certainly had looked old enough to have been that person, and therefore the point was well made.
âWhat was the point, Barnum?â someone yelled over the laughter.
âThat George Washingtonâs mammy, if she had lived, would look very old,â Barnum was alleged to have answered, to the shouts, hoots, and cheers of the crowd.
Joice Heth had made Barnumâs reputation in New York. He was a merry rogue, a character, an actor who had somehow stepped off a stage to play his part in real life. And in New England, Barnumâs home, where the whole story had spread, where among its devotees the practical joke was a matter of regional pride if not outright legend, Barnum was a hero.
At his motherâs instruction, little Charlie Stratton was at the door to welcome the great man. Barnum swept him up and set him on his shoulder. âStay close to me, boy, youâre the one I came to see. Speak up, I want to hear you speak up.â
âYes, sir.â
âI had to take the chance of scaring you,â Barnum explained that bleary night in his New York office years later. âIf you were going to turn into stone on me, nothing in the world was going to make you fit for performing, and the sooner I knew it, the better. The carriage was costing me a fortune. Fortunately, you chirped right up. It was as sweet as hearing a chipmunk nicker, and you were sitting on my shoulder. You were present in that scabrous back yard for my discussion with your parents, so you should remember every word. What you donât know is that I had five hundred dollars in my pocketânot all I could get my hands on, mind you, but close to it. I was terribly broke in those days, but I had to be ready to put a binder on any deal I was going to be able to make with your parents. When I spoke, I made sure to look your motherâs way every once in a while, not too often, but regularly enough to make her believe I knew she was going to have plenty to say in any decision to be made about the matter. New England breeds people like her, rabbits, but it breeds foxes like me, too. God rest her soul, her piety and social ambition only made a hassenpfeffer of her for me. Dark, cold climates make for dark, cold people, Charlie. The witless yearning that infests us all takes sinister forms where life is hard. Even now, with New York turning into another Paris, New England is filled with people believing that only God can save them from their frostbitten, overcast gloom. Even a dog knows enough to come out of the rain, Charlie.â
âGod helps those who help themselves,â Tom Thumb said, toasting Barnum with his tiny glass.
Barnum returned the toast. âJust make sure people are looking the other way when youâre helping yourself, however, and donât stuff your pockets too full. In any event, after promising to put money in escrowâI had to mortgage my house for thatâand guaranteeing your parents a minimum payment every month, as well as swearing that you would have the finest of English tutorsââ
Tom Thumb squealed with laughter. âI never saw one! â
âYour parents didnât care in the first place,â Barnum replied, a little put off. âWasnât I a good teacher? Havenât I seen you myself standing over your newspaper, morning after morning, turning it like bed sheets, while you read every column, every word? God knows you can do your sums. You even
Learning to Kill: Stories