The History of The Hen Fever Part 11

"You can send others, you know."

"No, sir. I can't dispose of _these_, surely."

"Can you duplicate this lot?"

"Pretty nearly--perhaps not quite."

"I see," he continued. "I will give you two hundred dollars for them."

"No, sir."

"Three hundred--come!"

"I can't sell them."

"Will you take _four_ hundred dollars for the nine chickens, sir?" he asked, drawing his pocket-book in presence of a dozen witnesses.

I declined, of course. I couldn't sell these identical fowls; for I had an object in view, in sending them abroad, which appeared to me of more consequence than the amount offered--a good deal.

"Will you _name_ a price for them?" insisted the stranger.

I said, "No, sir--excuse me. I would not take a thousand dollars for these birds, I a.s.sure you. Their equals in quality and number do not live, I think, to-day, in America!"

"I won't give a--a--thousand dollars, for them," he said, slowly. "No, I won't give _that_!" and we parted. Yet, I have no doubt, had I encouraged him with a prospect of his obtaining them at all, he _would_ have given me a thousand dollars for that very cage of fowls! To _this_ extent did the hen fever rage at that moment.

I subsequently sent this gentleman two trios of my grey chickens, for which he paid me $200.

And now the Grey Shanghae trade commenced in _earnest_. Immediately after the announcements were made (which I have quoted) orders poured in upon me furiously from all quarters of this country, and from Great Britain. Not a steamer left America for England, for months and months, on board of which I did not send more or less of the "Grey Shanghaes."

From every State in the Union, my orders were large and numerous; and letters like the following were received by me almost every day, for months:

"G.P. BURNHAM.

"SIR: I have just seen the pair of superb Grey Shanghae fowls which you sent to Mr. ---- ----, of this city, and I want a pair like them. If you can send me _better_ ones, I am willing to pay higher for them. He informs me that your price per pair is forty dollars.

I enclose you _fifty_ dollars; do the best you can for me, but forward them _at once_,--don't delay.

"Yours, &c.,

I almost always had "_better_ ones." That was the kind I always kept behind, or for my own use. I rarely sent away these better ones until they cried for 'em! I always had a great _many_ of the "best" ones, too; which were even better than those "better" ones for which the demand had come to be so great!

Strange to say, everybody got to want _better_ ones, at last; and, finally, I had none upon my premises but this very cla.s.s of birds--to wit, the "better ones." To be sure, I reserved a very _few_ pairs of the _best_ ones, which could be obtained at a fair price; but these were the ones that would "take down" the fanciers, occasionally, who wanted to beat _me_ with them at the first show that came off. But I didn't sleep much over this business. I always had one c.o.c.k and three or four hens that the boys didn't _see_--until we got upon the show-ground. Ha, ha!

A stranger called at my house, one Sunday morning, just as I was ready with my family for church. He apologized for coming on that day, but couldn't get away during the week. He had never seen the Grey Shanghaes--didn't know what a Chinese fowl was--had no idea about them at all. He wanted a few eggs--heard I had them--wouldn't stop but a moment--saw that I was just going out, &c. &c. He sat down--was sorry to trouble me--wouldn't do so again--would like just to take a peep at the fowls--when, suddenly, as he sat with his back close to the open window, my old crower sent forth one of those thundering, unearthly, rolling, guttural shrieks, that, once heard, can never be forgotten!

The stranger leaped from his chair, and sprang over his hat, as he yelled,

"Good G.o.d! what's _that_?"

His face was as white as his shirt-bosom.

"That's one of the Grey Shanghaes, crowing," I replied.

"_Crow!_ I beg your pardon," he said; "I don't want any eggs--no! I'll leave it to another time. I--a--I couldn't take 'em now; won't detain you--good-morning, sir," he continued; and, rushing out of my front door, he disappeared on "a dead run," as fast as his legs could carry him. And I don't know but he is running yet. He was desperately alarmed, surely!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I DON'T WANT ANY EGGS--NO!"--(See page 109.)]

I was so amused at this incident, that I was in a precious poor mood to attend church that morning. And when my friend the minister arose at length, and announced for his text that "the wicked flee when no man pursueth," those words capped the climax for me.

I jammed my handkerchief into my mouth, until I was nearly suffocated, as I thought of that wicked fellow who had just been so frightened while in the act of attempting to bargain for fancy hen's eggs on the Sabbath!

A Western paper, in alluding to the fever, about this period, observed that "this modern epidemic has shown itself in our vicinity within a short time, and is characterized by all the peculiarities which have marked its ravages elsewhere. Some of our most valuable citizens are now suffering from its attacks, and there is no little anxiety felt for their recovery. The morning slumbers of our neighbors are interrupted by the sonorous and deep-toned notes of our Shanghae Chanticleer, and various have been the inquiries as to how he took '_cold_,' and what we gave him for it. 'Chittagongs' and 'Burma Porters' are now as learnedly discussed as 'Fancy Stocks' on change.

The N.Y. _Scientific American_ stated, at this time, that the "Cochin-China fowl fever was then as strong in England as in some parts of New England,--in fact, stronger. One pair exhibited there was valued at $700. What a sum for a hen and rooster! The common price of a pair is $100," added this journal; and still the trade continued excellent with me.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XVII.

RUNNING IT INTO THE GROUND.

There now seemed to be no limit whatever to the _prices_ that fanciers would pay for what were deemed the best samples of fowls. For my own part, from the very commencement I had been considerate and merciful in _my_ charges. True, I had been taken down handsomely by a Briton (in my original purchase of Cochin-Chinas), but I did not retaliate. I was content with a fair remuneration; _my_ object, princ.i.p.ally, was to disseminate good stock among "the people," for I was a democrat, and loved the dear people.

So I charged lightly for my "magnificent" samples, while other persons were selling second and third rate stock for five or even six and eight dollars a pair. The "Grey Shanghaes" had got to be a "fixed fact" in England, as well as in this country, and still I was flooded with orders continually.

I obtained $25, $50, $100 a pair, for mine; and one gentleman, who ordered four greys, soon after the Queen's stock reached England, paid me _sixty guineas_ for them--$150 a pair. But these were of the _better_ cla.s.s of birds to which I have alluded.

In 1852 a Boston agricultural journal stated that "within three months extra samples of two-year-old fowls, of the large Chinese varieties, have been sold in Ma.s.sachusetts at $100 the pair. Several pairs, within our own knowledge, have commanded $50 a pair, within the past six months. Last week we saw a trio of White Shanghaes sold in Boston for $45. And the best specimens of Shanghaes and Cochin-China fowls now bring $20 to $25 a pair, readily, to purchasers at the South and West."

Now, these prices may be looked upon by the uninitiated as extraordinary. So they were for this country. But at a Birmingham (Eng.) show, in the fall of 1852, a single pair of "Seabright Bantams," very small and finely plumed, sold for $125; a fine "Cochin-China" c.o.c.k and two hens, for $75; and a brace of "White Dorkings," at $40. An English breeder went to London, from over a hundred miles distant, for the sole purpose of procuring a setting of Black Spanish eggs, and paid one dollar for each egg. Another farmer there sent a long distance for the best Cochin-China eggs, and paid one dollar and fifty cents _each_ for them, at this time!

This was keeping up the rates with a vengeance, and beat us Yankees, out and out. But later accounts from across the water showed that this was only a beginning, even. In the winter of 1852 the _Cottage Gardener_ stated that "within the last few weeks a gentleman near London sold a pair of Cochin-China fowls for 30 guineas ($150), and another pair for 32 guineas ($160). He has been offered 20 for a single hen; has sold numerous eggs at 1 guinea ($5) each, and has been paid down for chickens just hatched 12 guineas ($60) the half-dozen, to be delivered at a month old. One amateur alone had paid upwards of 100 for stock birds."

To this paragraph in the _Gardener_ the _Bury and Norwich Post_ added the following: "In our own neighborhood, during the past week, we happen to know that a c.o.c.k and two hens (Cochin-Chinas) have been sold for 32 guineas, or $160. The fact is, choice birds, well bred, of good size and handsome plumage, are now bringing very high prices, everywhere; and the demand (in our own experience) has never been so great as at the present time."

In this way the fever raved and raged for a long year or more. Shows were being held all over this country, as well as in every princ.i.p.al city and town in England. Everybody bought fowls, and everybody had to pay for them, too, in 1852 and 1853!

In a notice of one of the English shows in that year (1853), a paper says: "There is a pen of three geese weighing forty-eight pounds; and among the _Cochin-China_ birds are to be found hens which, in the period that forms the usual boundary of chicken life, have attained a weight of seven or eight pounds. Of the value of these birds it is difficult to speak without calling forth expressions of incredulity. It is evident that there is a desperate _mania_ in bird-fancying, as in other things.

Thus, for example, there is a single fowl to which is affixed the enormous money value of 30 _guineas_; two Cochin-China birds are estimated at 25 _guineas_; and four other birds, of the same breed, a c.o.c.k and three hens, are rated in the aggregate at 60 _guineas_,--a price which the owner confidently expects them to realize at the auction-sale on Thursday. A further ill.u.s.tration of this ornithological enthusiasm is to be found in the fact that, at a sale on Wednesday last, one hundred and two lots, comprising one hundred and ten Cochin-China birds, all belonging to one lady, realized 369. 4s. 6d.; the highest price realized for a single one being 20 guineas."

Another British journal stated, a short time previously, that "a circ.u.mstance occurred which proves that the Cochin-China mania has by no means diminished in intensity. The last annual sale of the stock of Mr.

Sturgeon, of Greys, has taken place at the Baker-street Bazaar. The two hundred birds there disposed of could not have realized a less sum than nearly 700 (or $3500), some of the single specimens being knocked down at more than 12, and very many producing 4, 5, and 6 each."

The attention, at this sale, devoted to the pedigree of the birds, was amusing to a mere observer; one fowl would be described as a c.o.c.kerel by _Patriarch_, another as a pullet by _Jerry_, whilst a third was recommended as being the off-spring of _Sam_. Had the sale been one of horses, more care could hardly have been taken in describing their pedigrees or their qualifications. Many were praised by the auctioneer as being particularly _clever_ birds, although in what their cleverness consisted did not appear. The fancy had evidently extended to _all_ ranks in society. The peerage sent its representatives, who bought what they wanted, regardless of price. Nor was the lower house without its delegates; a well-known metropolitan ex-member seems to have changed his const.i.tuency of voters for one of Cochins; and we can only hope that it may not be his duty to hold an inquest on any that perish by a violent or unnatural death. The sums obtained for these birds depended on their being in strict accordance with the then taste of the fancy. They were magnificent in size, docile in behavior, intelligent in expression, and most of them were very finely bred.