The History of the Hen Fever. A Humorous Record

"Well, John," said the show-man, "something must be done. I've got the fever, bad, I'm afraid, as you suggest; and it must be fed. What can you do for me?"

John thought the matter over, and it was finally agreed, as there were no good fowls in America (according to John's notions), that he should be deputized by Phineas to proceed to "Hingland," and procure some genuine (that is, pure) stock, for the coops at Iranistan, at the liberal show-man's expense! A capital recipe, this, for Barnum's disease, as well as for John's own benefit.

But Phineas isn't taken down easy, though they do occasionally "fetch him." And so he hesitated. He thought the matter over a while, and finally said to his friend, one day,

"John, I've got it!"

"'Ave you?" says John.

"Yes, I've got it. You know I've something in my head besides grey hairs, John."

"Hi've no manner o' doubt o' that," replied John.

"Well, I have thought this thing over, and I have determined to see, first, what there is in America, before I send you out to Europe."

"It'll take you a long time to do that," said John, "and you'd 'ave to travel a great w'ile to see all the poultry we've 'ere."

"I won't travel at all," said Phineas.

"No? As 'ow, then?" inquired John.

"I'll get up a show – a poultry exhibition – on a grand scale, and it shall come off at my Museum, at New York. Everybody'll come, of course; and we can see what there is, buy what I want from the best of 'em, and make our selections as we may fancy; you shall go out afterwards to England, and obtain for me what I can't get here, you see."

"Capital! – hexellent!" responded John.

"And I'll call it the – the —what?" said Barnum, stopping for an appropriate title to this anticipated exhibition.

"I donno," said John, puzzled.

"Well – then – the National Show," continued Phineas. "How'll that do? The first exhibition of the 'National Poultry Society.' I think that's good. You see that includes all quarters of the country; and we shall know no north, no south, no east, no west! A quarter admission – Museum included – capital!"

"Yes – just the thing!" chimed in his friend. And shortly afterwards advertisements and circulars found their way into the hands of all the hen-men in the country, who were thus invited to visit New York, in February, 1854, to contribute to the grand show of the "National Poultry Society," of which P.T. Barnum, Esq., was President.

A long string of names was attached to this call, and the list of "Managers" embraced one or more representatives from every State in the Union – my own humble name appearing among the Vice-presidents for Massachusetts.

The whole thing was clearly one of Barnum's dodges to fill his Museum for a few days; and probably not a single individual except himself had any knowledge of the formation or existence of any such society as this, of which he thus nominally appeared to be the presiding officer. At any rate, after diligent inquiry, I could never ascertain that anybody knew anything about any such an association, except himself.

However, this was a matter of no sort of consequence, of course. The Fitchburg Dépôt Show, in Boston, was a similar affair; and I now joined in this exhibition without asking unnecessary questions, – because I saw that there was fun ahead, and that I could make an honest penny out of it, whether Barnum did or not.

Every one now put his best foot foremost; and, as this fair approached, Shanghaes were converted into Cochin-Chinas (by the knowing ones), by the removal of the feathers from the legs; the mongrels were made feathered-legged Bother'ems, by the free use of gum-tragacanth and down; the long-tailed fowls were deprived of all superfluous plumes, through the aid of the pincers; and what this last process did not satisfactorily effect, the application of the shears completed (see engraving!); until, at last, the unlucky bipeds, whom nature had originally supplied with decent caudal appendages, were reduced to that requisite state of brevity, astern, which the mode or the taste of the day demanded. And, at length, all was ready for the great "National Show" in New York city.

As it turned out, the whole thing (though an utter sham as regarded its being a society matter) proved to have been well conceived, and, from beginning to end, was admirably well carried out. Mr. Barnum did his part most creditably at this first show in New York, and the experiment was eminently successful.

The birds were afforded excellent care, and an immense quantity of good specimens found their way to the Museum at the appointed time. For a week, notwithstanding the very dull weather, the great rooms of the American Museum on Broadway were thronged with visitors; and Barnum was in high glee at the entire success of his undertaking.

Not content with one week's show of the fowls, Barnum proposed that it should be continued for six days longer; and the crowd continued to visit this exhibition for another week, and to pour in with their friends, their wives, their children, and their quarters, to the great edification and satisfaction of the proprietor of the show, and the "President" of the "National Poultry Society."

I was there, with a goodly quantity of my "rare" and "unexceptionable" and "pure-bred" fowls, which were greatly admired by the thousands of lookers-on, who flocked to this extraordinary exhibition. It was really astonishing (to me, at least) what very fine birds I had at this show.

And, "may be," fowls didn't sell there! If I remember rightly, "the people" were round, on that occasion. And so was I!

CHAPTER XXIX.

FIRST "NATIONAL" POULTRY-SHOW IN NEW YORK

Whether it was because Barnum had taken this enterprise in hand, whether it was because it was known that my "superior" stock was to be seen at the Museum, or whether it was because the intrepid "Fanny Fern" had promised to visit the show, I cannot say; but one thing was certain, – such a gathering of "the people" was seldom witnessed, even in busy, driving, sight-seeing New York, as that which crowded the great rooms of Barnum's establishment on the occasion of the first exhibition of the so-called "National Poultry Society."

"All the world" was there, with his wife and babies, and nieces and nephews. The belle and the beau, the merchant and the mechanic, the lawyer and the parson, the rich and the poor, old and young, grave and gay, – all were in attendance upon this extraordinary display of cockadoodledom; and Barnum – the indefatigable, the enterprising, the determined, the incomparable Barnum – was in his glory, as the quarters were piled up at the counter of the ticket-office, and "the people" wedged their way up the crowded stairs and aisles of his Museum.

The great show-man was as busy as His Satanic Majesty is vulgarly supposed to be in a snow-storm! Now here, now there; up stairs, down stairs; in the halls, in the lobbies; busy with John, button-holing the "committees," from morning till night. All smiles, all good-nature, all exertion to please the throngs of visitors who constantly jammed their way about the building. And, to say that everything about this undertaking (so far as he was personally concerned) was not managed with tact and good judgment, as well as complete propriety and liberality, would be to state what was untrue. Mr. Barnum rarely does anything by halves; and to him, in this instance, belongs the credit of getting up, and carrying through successfully, the very best show of poultry ever seen in America, – beyond all comparison.

In due season I selected from my then somewhat reduced stock sixty specimens of the Shanghae tribe of fowls, which, with some twenty samples of choice Madagascar Rabbits, I forwarded (in charge of my own agent) to this long-talked-of show.

The person whom I employed to look after my stock – (for I had long since got to be "a gentleman," and couldn't attend to such trifling matters, personally) – the man who went with it to this exhibition was thoroughly posted up in his "profession," and knew a hawk from a handsaw, as well as a Shanghae from a Cochin-China. And when he started for New York with my contributions, I enjoined it upon him to bear in mind, under all circumstances, that the gentleman he represented had the only pure-bred poultry in America, any way. To which he replied, briefly,

"Is that all? I knew that before."

I said, "John, you're a brick. A faced-brick. A hard-faced-brick. You'll do."

John winked, and left me, with the understanding that, as soon as he should have time to look around the show, he would telegraph me at Boston what the prospect was, comparatively. I felt quite sure that my fowls would take all the premiums, for they always had done so before; and my "pure-bred" stock grew better and better every year!

I did not go to the show for a day or two after my agent left; and, on the morning succeeding the opening, I received from him the following brief but expressive telegraphic dispatch:

"G.P. Burnham, Boston.

"Arrived safe; thought we'd got 'em, sure. We have —over the left. You are nowhar!

"B."

Here was a precious fix, to be sure! For five years, I had carried away the palm at every exhibition where my "splendid" and deservedly "unrivalled" samples had been put in competition with the stock of others. And now, at the first great national exhibition, where everybody would of course be present (and where the first cages that would be looked for, or looked into, must be those of Mr. Burnham, the breeder of the only original "pure" – blooded poultry in the country), according to my agent's dispatch I was nowhar!

This dispatch reached me at noon, and on the following morning I was in New York. I looked about the several apartments in the Museum, and satisfied myself who had the best fowls there, very quickly. As it happened, they were not inside of my cages, by a long mark!

Yet "the people" crowded around my showy coops, for which my agent had secured an advantageous position, and in displaying them (if I remember aright) he lost no opportunity in saying just enough (and no more) to the throng who passed and admired their beautiful proportions, their great size, and splendid colors. There were not a few choice birds scattered about the rooms, – under the benches, or in the far-off corners, – which my eye fell upon, which my agent subsequently purchased at very modest prices, and which found their way, somehow, into my coops.

"The people" now stared with more earnestness than ever. By the evening of the second day, my "pure-bred" stock did look remarkably well! And when the "committee" came round, at last, I found myself the recipient of several of the leading premiums, for my "magnificent," "superb" and "extraordinary" contributions, again. And now commenced the fun, once more, in earnest.

Everything that I sent to New York was quickly bought up at enormous prices. Fifty, eighty, a hundred, a hundred and twenty-five dollars per trio, was willingly paid my agent for the rare and incomparable fowls I exhibited there. "The people" were literally mad on the subject; and I hadn't half enough to supply my customers with, at figures that astonished even my ideas of prices, – which, by the way, were not easily disturbed!

During this exhibition, Mr. Barnum announced that a "conversational" gathering would be held, one day, in the lecture-room of his Museum; whither the throng were invited to repair, at last, to talk over matters pertaining to the welfare of the trade generally, and the hen-humbug more particularly.

A rush was directly made for this hall, which was quickly filled up by the multitude, who now stood or sat, with gaping mouths and staring eyes, in readiness to be further bamboozled by the managers of this National "Society," who duly paraded themselves upon the platform, and commenced to show themselves up for the edification of the uninitiated, and to the great amusement of those who had "been there" before them.

Mr. Barnum presided, but with that grace and modesty and extreme diffidence for which he is so noted. The enthusiasm of the occasion soon reached concert-pitch, however, and everybody on the stage, in the parquette, and around the gallery, desired to relieve themselves of the pent-up patriotism that rioted in their bosoms; and all desired to be heard at the same time.

Cries of "Barnum! Barnum!" "Where's Bennett?" "Speech from Burnham!" "Down in front!" "Give 'em a chance!" "Hear the president! – there he is!" "Hurra for the Bother'ems!" &c. &c., rang from the lungs of the crowd. And finally order was restored, and Mr. Barnum approached the front of the stage, to deliver himself of "feelings that could be fancied, not described," amid the cheers and shouts of that crazy multitude.

CHAPTER XXX.

BARNUM'S INNATE DIFFIDENCE

As soon as the vociferous cheering had subsided, Mr. Barnum reached the foot-lights, and smiled beneficently upon the crowd before him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the show-man, modestly, "unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, you will pardon me, imprimis, for hinting at the extreme diffidence with which I now rise to address you; and I am sure that, notwithstanding the commendable zeal that now animates this enlightened audience, you will sympathize with me in the midst of the embarrassments under which you must readily perceive I am laboring, and extend to the speaker your lenity (all unused, as you are aware he is, to this sort of scene), while he ventures upon a few very brief remarks on the interesting and laudably-exciting topic that has brought us together here, on this happy occasion."

This modest appeal brought down the house, of course; and the bashful Mr. B., after clearing his throat, was requested by the crowd to "Go on, Barnum! Proceed – put 'er through!"

"The hen fever," continued Mr. B – , "is but just begun to be realized, ladies and gentlemen, among us." (Barnum had been attacked by the malady only a few weeks previously, and hadn't "heard from the back counties" then!) "This first exhibition of the National Poultry Society, my friends, is ample evidence in support of this statement. Was there ever such a show seen, or heard of, ladies and gentlemen, as this which you are now the witnesses of? Never! Yet, I repeat it, this is but the commencement. The enthusiasm which has attended upon this exhibition, the feelings that have been stirred up by this before unheard-of display, the people of every grade in society that come forward here in its support, the zeal which animates the bosoms of the thousands upon thousands who have attended it, and the names of the men connected with its origin and present patronage, afford ample evidence in support of my assertions, that the fire has but just begun – just begun to burn, fairly, ladies and gentlemen!" ("That's a fact," was the ready response of a young gentleman who had just paid my agent over three hundred dollars for a few samples of my "choice" chickens; the first he ever owned!)

"I want to say a few words," remarked a stranger, under the gallery, at this point. But he was requested by the chairman to "hold in!" until Mr. Barnum concluded. After considerable urging, this anxious man was prevailed upon to sit down; though he was evidently "full to bursting," with his enthusiastic emotions.

"We have a good deal to learn yet, gentlemen," continued Barnum (and that was truthful, at any rate!) "We have much to learn; but we know enough to spur us on to acquire more. More knowledge, more experience, more fowls. We haven't enough – we don't know enough, yet. I am greatly rejoiced at the prospects, to-day, and with the entire success of this enterprise, here!" (And well he might be.) "I have freely given my time and humble talents to its consummation, and we have triumphed! We, the people, the men who have the heart and the pluck to undertake and carry through this sort of thing. There's no hum in this, gentlemen! None, whatever. How can there be? We see this thing before our very eyes. It is a tangible, living, breathing, walking, crowing" (and he might have added eating!) "reality, ladies and gentlemen. There can be no humbug in anything of this sort; because we can take hold upon it, handle it, view it with our eyes open. A humbug is but an unexplained or half-concluded fact. This is a self-evident, clearly-defined fact —

'A thing that is– and to be blessed!'

And when you, or I, can take a crower in our hands that will weigh twelve or fourteen or fifteen pounds, – when we can see and feel him, – can there, by any possibility, be humbug in it?"

"No – no – no!" shouted the crowd; the ladies kindly joining in the decisive negative given to this forcible appeal.

"Then, I repeat it, we are but just in the beginning of the commencement of this new and promising era. The fire has just begun to burn, and to illumine the world; and, as I said before (or intended to say), it is not to be subdued! It is a mighty conflagration, which assails everybody at this moment, and is now enveloping all classes of the community, from the highest to the lowest! This land is in a blaze! In a threatening, exciting, violent, whirling, astounding blaze, gentlemen – and no opposition or invention can put it out!" ("Fetch on your fire-'nihilators, then!" shouted a vicious wag, from the gallery.)

"We don't want to put it out," continued Mr. Barnum, growing warmer as the fire of his zeal in this cause continued to glow within him; "we have no wish to put it out. Let it burn! Let it come! Let it conflagrate! We love it —you love it —I love it – it's one of the things we admire to think of, and speak of, and read of, and pay for, and help to keep alive here, and everywhere, and elsewhere! Our country is big enough; we have millions of broad acres, miles on miles of fertile fields, and cords of maize and grain that cannot be used or disposed of, unless it be devoted to the uses and benefits of these beautiful birds, sometimes so cavalierly spoken of by their enemies, but the value of which I know, and most of you, gentlemen, know how to appreciate!" (Applause, and cries of "Go it, old hoss! You'll be a capital customer for some of the hen-men to pick up! Go it, Barnum!")

"I did not rise, gentlemen," continued the speaker, "with any idea of telling you anything new. I am but an humble coadjutor with you in this pleasing and innocent undertaking. I can see, as you can, also, the importance of this subject" (he didn't say what "subject"), "and I trust that we may go on, and increase, and multiply domestic fowls and customers, in a ratio commensurate with the rapidly increasing throbs of the public pulse – which is now beating only at 2.40, and which must soon reach a 2.10 pace, if nothing breaks!" ("Hurra! Hurra!" yelled the boys; "that's a good 'un!") And the President sat down, blushing, amid the uproarious applause that followed his remarks.

As soon as order was comparatively restored, other gentlemen, whom the President introduced as "honorable," and "talented," and "professional," and "influential," took the rostrum, and "followed suit" upon Barnum's lead.

A vote of thanks was finally passed to Mr. Barnum for his services, and the sacrifices he had made in behalf of the "Society;" another to the "orator" of the day (whose name I have now forgotten), formerly a member of Congress, I believe; another similar vote to the Secretary, to whom, also, a plated jug was subsequently presented; a vote to Mr. Burnham, of Boston, for his speech and his "magnificent" contributions of pure-bred stock; a vote condemning everybody who had or should thenceforward nickname fowls; a vote of condolence and sympathy with John Giles, because none of his pure Black Spanish fowls were in the exhibition; a vote to Porter, of the New York Spirit of the Times, for his disinterested notices of the show; another to Greeley, of the Tribune, who hadn't time to visit it; another to pay the bills of the "Committees" at the Astor House (minus the champagne charges!); another to Dr. Bennett, for not being present at this show; another endorsing the claims of patent pill-venders and cross-grained bee-hive makers; another to Frank Pierce, for the allusions in his inaugural to the "march of progress" in our land, which of course included Shanghae-ism; another to Caleb Cushing (an honorary member), who was lauded as the most thoroughly graceless humbug known to the "national" society; another endorsing the collector and postmaster of Boston as disinterested democrats; another that my "Grey Shanghaes" were evidently the only full-blooded fowls exhibited at the American Museum on this occasion; and numerous other resolves were duly "voted," of which no note was taken at the time.

While this bosh was transpiring, I sent to Boston for some fifty pairs more of my "superb" specimens of Shanghaes and Cochins, all of which were disposed of during the second week of this show, at curiously "ruinous" rates. And at the close of the exhibition my agent had taken very nearly three thousand dollars for the "pure" Shanghaes, and Cochins, and Greys, he had sold there for my account!

I trust that every one was as well satisfied with the results of this first exhibition of the "National Poultry Society" as I was. It is the last show I shall ever attend. And having invariably taken the lead, from the beginning up to this trial, I retired, content with the self-assurance that I had made all I could make out of this sort of thing, and that the field now legitimately belonged to my juniors in the profession. May success attend them!

At the close of the exhibition, my friend Barnum congratulated me.

"They tell me you've done well, Burnham," said my friend, cheerfully. "I'm glad of it. And, since you've made it so handsomely, suppose you leave me a couple of your best Fancy Rabbits, yonder; I'll add them to the 'Happy Family.'"

"Certainly," I replied. "With great pleasure, B – . And, since you have done so capitally with this show, you shall give me a quarter of your profits on the tickets sold. Here – take the rabbits!"

"A-hem!" said Barnum. "No – no. It's no matter. You needn't – no – we won't say anything about it. It's all right. You'll do. You can run alone, I guess. I believe I don't spell my name right! Good-by – good-by."

I haven't seen friend Barnum since.

At this exhibition of poultry I managed to show a pair of my pure-bred Suffolk pigs, too, which did not set me back any. I took numerous orders for these animals, and I have given on page 174 what passes for a likeness of a fancy "Shanghae" fowl, such as we "read of in the newspapers," and which everybody, during the last five years, imagined he was buying, when he ordered "such," after seeing the "pictur'."

In this class of illustration, there was quite as much deceit and chicanery practised, commonly, as in any part of the general system of the humbug. The uninitiated saw the well-rounded forms of the huge fowls or hogs he sought, in his weekly agricultural journal, from time to time; and, through the same channel, he met with "portraits," represented to have had originals at some time or other, and which were said to be in the possession of this or that breeder, who "had been induced, after earnest solicitation, to part with a very few choice samples," out of such imaginary stock. With the swine, the thicker the ham, the smaller the feet, the shorter the nose, and the thinner the hair, the better and the purer blooded pig you got, for instance!

The following is a sample of this kind of guy, which has had its run in the past three years, and upon which tens of thousands of dollars have been squandered by enthusiastic admirers of these bloated bladders of lard. This is supposed to be a likeness of the "genuine" Suffolk pig.

The good old lady replied, when asked if she loved the Lord, "I donno much about him, but I hain't nothin' agin him!" So I affirm in reference to this hog. But one thing I may be permitted to remark in this connection; to wit, that the more pure Suffolk pigs there are, the less corn you find round. That's all!