Becoming Tom Thumb. Eric D. Lehman

sold at every gas-lit shop, and the café Le Tom Pouce was named in his honor. The famous Goncourt Brothers refer to Charles in their journals, when making fun of a painting, comparing the subject to “Tom Thumb in Napoleon’s Wellington boots.”²⁵ And Barnum made sure it was not just the wealthy that saw Charles. On Sundays he took him to the gardens on the outskirts of Paris where he performed for free.²⁶

      Along with fascinating new acts, in which he would be dragged in a large wooden shoe or served in a pie, he appeared in a farcical play, mostly as a walk-on, though he was described as “well-formed and graceful,” while passing between the legs of ballet dancers. He also continued his costumed poses; they loved his highland outfit in Paris, and he handled his tiny sword well. But the favorite of the French may have been the “character of the gentleman,” in which “he takes out his watch and tells you the hour or offers you a pinch of snuff or some pastiches, or a cigar, each of which are in uniformity with his size.” But, as the Journal des Débats pointed out, “He is still better when he sits in his golden chair, crossing his legs and looking at you with a knowing and almost mocking air. It is then that he is amusing; he is never more inimitable than when he imitates nothing—when he is himself.”²⁷

      This point of view would become the prevalent one in the following years, and although Charles would act in many plays over the next decade, he “posed” less and less often, and when exhibiting in public simply behaved as himself: a very funny human being. How else does someone become a comedian other than rehearsing the routines of others? After a time, there is no need for rehearsal, and comic timing and “quick wit” become natural.

      At the same time as Charles was growing as a comedian, conflicts erupted around him. Along with condescending officials annoyed by the attention being paid to a “dwarf,” there were always people trying to surreptitiously cash in on his success. In May, Sherwood had to sue a man named Nestor Roqueplan, manager of the Théâtre des Variété, who was advertising a play called “Tom Pouce.” The Tribunal of Commerce awarded victory to the American plaintiff, since “the young Stratton was known by the name of Tom Pouce.” The manager had to remove the bills and pay all the costs of the suit.²⁸ But the worst conflicts were between Charles’s parents and Barnum, and were becoming more acute the longer they toured together. Furthermore, the showman’s family had gone home to America by this time, and he was not in the best humor.

      P. T. Barnum’s tutoring helped to bring out Charles’s natural comic talents at a young age. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution/Art Resource, NY.

      After showing in Paris for three and a half months, during which time Charles “hit them [the public] rather hard,” the troupe left to tour Belgium and rural France.²⁹ The company had grown to twelve people, including assistant manager H. G. Sherman, a piano player and an interpreter, Professor Pinte, as well as the tiny carriage and ponies. So, Barnum bought three large diligences and twelve horses, saying “persons catering for the public amusement must dash ahead and damn-dang the expense … When the public sees twelve horses, twelve persons, and three post carriages come into town, they naturally begin to inquire what great personages have arrived.”³⁰ The method worked, and the border crossing into Belgium made such a scene that a customs officer asked if Charles was a “prince.” Apparently H. G. Sherman exclaimed, “he is Prince Charles the First, of the dukedom of Bridgeport and the kingdom of Connecticut.” A few days later, the “Prince” appeared in Brussels at the palace of “fellow royalty” King Leopold and Queen Louise-Marie, though they had already seen him in London.³¹

      While in Belgium, Barnum visited the battlefield at Waterloo, the event then less than three decades in the past. The immense conical hill of the Butte du Lion had already been raised to commemorate the famous battle, and various “humbugs” had turned the battleground into something like Barnum’s own museum, with a firm in England manufacturing relics and know-nothing tour guides lying to the visitors.³² The following day Sherwood and some of the troupe went to Waterloo as well, but their carriage broke down. Barnum took the opportunity to play a mean trick on the Bridgeport former carpenter, saying that the show had lost all the money that afternoon. He repeated the story in print, making Charles’s father look like a complete fool. He continued with a story about Sherwood falling asleep on a Belgian barber’s chair, unwittingly having his black, bushy hair shaved down to the scalp.³³

      Though Barnum’s complaints took the form of jokes, in lashing out at him in this public way, he clearly didn’t like Sherwood very much. Most of the jokes were at the expense of Sherwood and Cynthia’s provincialism, saying “Yes, the daddy & mammy of the Genl. Are the greatest curiosities living …” He joked that “The General’s father is perplexed to get along with the French (who he calls damn fools for not knowing how to speak English).”³⁴ He also claimed Sherwood thought the Dutch were from Western New York, and was surprised to hear them in Belgium.³⁵ Cynthia apparently loved the Toujours sausages she ate in Brussels, and Barnum took great pleasure in telling her they were filled with donkey meat.³⁶ While saying that Charles was “merry, happy, & successful,” Barnum said bitterly, “Stratton is laying up $500 per week, & I guess Bridgeport will be quite too small to hold him on our return. And as for his wife, she will look upon N. York or Boston as dirty villages quite beneath her notice.”³⁷ They came across as the worst sort of country bumpkins to everyone concerned, including the readers of the New York Atlas.

      And Barnum did not confine his lampoons to print. He subtly tortured Sherwood, telling visitors to Charles’s exhibitions that the 5′8″ ticket-seller was the dwarf’s father, ensuring that he was hounded by questions from the audience. This was bad enough when the nosy Londoners crowded round him in their soot-black coats. At least he could speak their language. But in France or Belgium this was a horror for the unsophisticated and insular man.³⁸ Later, Barnum actually read out the “letter” in which he had told the Waterloo story directly to Sherwood’s face, and said afterwards that “he did not like it, but he tried to laugh it off—he failed however.”³⁹

      This passive-aggressive behavior on the showman’s part is as unflattering as the incidents are for the Strattons. In all these cases, Sherwood is portrayed as greedy, angry, and frustrated, and Cynthia as stupid and vain. We can assume that they did not have a high opinion of Barnum either, and probably made their feelings known in front of Charles. Regardless, these quarrels were no doubt picked up consciously or unconsciously by the young performer. Like any young “Prince,” his relatives and courtiers fought for his influence, for his money, and for his love.

      And the fights would only get worse.

      

BUTTONS, BULLFIGHTS, AND BALLOONS

      Charles was part of a strange family now. It consisted of a dozen or so members, some of which changed every few weeks. Along with a variety of musicians and actors, H. G. Sherman, the “antiquarian” was always there, as well as his parents, a man named Lawson, and Professor Pinte the interpreter. A troupe of ponies and horses completed the entourage. The family traveled from town to town through France during the “vintage season,” with its “vineyards loaded with luscious grapes and groves of olive trees in full bearing.”¹ At the inns Charles slept most often in rooms with two beds, one for his parents, and one for him. He “wished” his meals served in his own apartment, or more likely his parents wished it because they didn’t want people to see him for free in the inns’ dining rooms.² Food was expensive, since a potato blight and poor grain crops had driven up prices, and while some towns seemed to be thriving, others seemed trapped in poverty and unemployment.

      When they stopped in towns Charles would perform, sometimes twice a day and occasionally even three times. During the daytime he usually gave exhibitions in “citizen’s dress” and at night in costume.³ He had added the character of Prussian ruler