"STAND FROM UNDER!"
I have asserted, in another place, that, in all probability, in _no_
bubble, short of the famous "South Sea Expedition," has there ever been
so great an amount of money squandered, from first to last, as in the
chicken-trade; and, surely, into the meshes of no humbug known to us of
the present day have there been so many persons inveigled, as could now
be counted among the victims of this inexplicable mania.
A copy of the _Liverpool Express_ in January, 1854, now lies before me,
from which I notice that the great metropolitan show in London, just
then closed, surpassed all its predecessors; and that the excitement in
England, at that time, was at its height. The editor asserts that "it
was not an easy thing to exhaust the merits of the three thousand
specimens of the feathered tribe there shown. No one," continues the
writer, "who is at all conversant with natural history, can fail to find
abundance of material for an hour's instruction and amusement. The
general character of the exhibition has been already indicated; but
this is one of those cases in which _no_ description, however elaborate,
can supply the place of personal inspection."
The British correspondent of the _Boston Post_, but a short time
previously, writes that "the fowl fever, which has raged with so much
violence in _New England_ during the last three years, has extended to
this country. There was a great crowing among the cocks at the late
Smithfield cattle-show, and there seems to have been a still louder one
at the Birmingham fair.
"The mania for the purchase of fine fowls," continues this writer, "was
as furious there as if each of them had been the hen in the fable that
found the jewel in the dunghill. Some pairs brought as high as forty
pounds (two hundred dollars). One very fine pair of Cochin-Chinas sold
for fifty pounds (two hundred and fifty dollars). In the catalogue some
were marked at one hundred pounds, the _valuation_ prices of owners who
did not wish to sell. With you, in America, the rage for fowl-raising is
simply one of fancy and profit,[16] but here it is the result--and a
very beneficial one, too--of free trade. The price of eggs and poultry,
owing to the great demand, does not fall; the price of grain, owing to
free importation, does fall; and hence the great profit which is
realized from keeping fowls. The Dorkings are great favorites, less
difficult to raise than with you; and, though not abundant layers, still
command, from the greater whiteness and superior delicacy of their
flesh, a high price in the market. But the new Cochin-China varieties
are in the greatest demand; the display of them at Birmingham exceeded
all others, and they are now much sought after here."
Such accounts as these continually occupied the papers; and the fever
had been kept furiously alive, by this means, until far into the year
1854. The most glowing accounts of the poultry-shows, at home and
abroad, were kept up, too; but, in the mean time, Shanghae chickens
multiplied rapidly, and grew up, and filled the barns and yards of "the
people,"--and at the same time they did not forget how to eat corn, when
they could get it.
And, in spite of the best endeavors of interested parties to galvanize
the hum into a continued existence, it was now evident to those who
watched its progress, as _I_ had done, that the death-rattle was clearly
in its throat.
At this juncture I was reminded of the details of the mulberry-tree
bubble, the tulip fever, and the Merino sheep speculation; and I had
taken care not to become involved in the final ruin of the hen-trade (as
I knew many had been, and more were destined to be), in the eventual
winding-up of this affair, which was now close at hand.
A brief account of the famous sheep mania (so like the hen fever in its
workings) will not be uninteresting at this point; and its record here,
perhaps, will have the effect of opening the eyes of some chance reader,
haply, who is, even now, half inclined to _try_ his hand in the
chicken-trade.
This sheep bubble originated in the year 1815 or 1816, immediately after
the treaty of Ghent, and at a period when thousands of the American
people were actually "wool-mad" in reference to the huge profits that
were then apparent, prospectively, in manufacturing enterprises.
In the summer of the last-named year (as nearly as can be fixed upon), a
gentleman in Boston first imported some half-dozen sheep from one of the
southern provinces of Spain, whose fleeces were of the finest texture,
as it was said; and such, undoubtedly, was the fact, though the sheep
were so thoroughly and completely imbedded in tar, and every other
offensive article, upon their arrival in America, that it would have
been very difficult to have proved this statement. But the very
offensive appearance of the sheep seemed to imbue them with a mysterious
value, that rendered them doubly attractive.
It was contended that the introduction of these sheep into the United
States would enable our manufactories, then in their infancy, to produce
broadcloths, and other woollen fabrics, of a texture that would compete
with England and Europe. Even Mr. Clay was consulted in reference to the
sheep; and he at once decided that they were exactly the animals that
were wanted; and some of them subsequently found their way to Ashland.
The first Merino sheep sold, if I recollect right, for fifty dollars the
head. They cost just _one dollar each_ in Andalusia! The speculation was
too profitable to stop here; and, before a long period had elapsed, a
small fleet sailed on a sheep speculation to the Mediterranean. By the
end of the year 1816 there probably were one thousand Merino sheep in
the Union, and they had advanced in price to _twelve hundred_ dollars
the head.
Before the winter of that year had passed away, they sold for fifteen
hundred dollars the head; and a lusty and good-looking buck would
command two thousand dollars at sight. Of course, the natural Yankee
spirit of enterprise, and the love which New Englanders bore to the
"almighty dollar," were equal to such an emergency as this, and hundreds
of Merino sheep soon accumulated in the Eastern States.
But, in the course of the year 1817, the speculation, in consequence of
the surplus importation, began to decline; yet it steadily and rapidly
advanced throughout the Western country, while Kentucky, in consequence
of the influence of Mr. Clay's opinions, was especially benefited.
In the fall of 1817, what was then deemed a very fine Merino buck and
ewe were sold to a gentleman in the Western country for the sum of eight
_thousand_ dollars; and even that was deemed a very small price for the
animals! They were purchased by a Mr. Samuel Long, a house builder and
contractor, who fancied he had by the transaction secured an immense
fortune.
Now, Mr. Long had acquired the sheep fever precisely as thousands of
others (in later days) have taken the hen fever. And, in this case, the
victim was really _rabid_ with the Merino mania. In proof of this, the
following authentic anecdote will be amply sufficient and convincing.
There resided, at this time, in Lexington, Ky., and but a short distance
from Mr. Clay's villa of _Ashland_, a wealthy gentleman, named Samuel
Trotter, who was, in fact, the money-king of Kentucky, and who, to a
very great extent, at that time, controlled the branch of the Bank of
the United States. He had two sheep,--a buck and an ewe,--and Mr. Long
was very anxious to possess them.
Mr. Long repeatedly bantered and importuned Mr. Trotter to obtain this
pair of sheep from him, but without success; but, one day, the latter
said to the former, "If you will build me such a house, on a certain lot
of land, as I shall describe, you shall have the Merinos."
"Draw your plans for the buildings," replied Long, instantly, "and let
me see them; I will then decide."
The plans were soon after submitted to him, and Long eagerly accepted
the proposal, and forthwith engaged in the enterprise. He built for
Trotter a four-story brick house, about fifty feet by seventy, on the
middle of an acre of land; he finished it in the most approved modern
style, and enclosed it with a costly fence; and, finally, handed it over
to Trotter, for the _two Merino sheep_. The establishment must have
cost, at the very least, fifteen thousand dollars.
But, alas! A long while before this beautiful and costly estate was
fully completed, the price of Merinos declined gradually; and six months
had not passed away before they would not command twenty dollars each,
even in Kentucky.
Mr. Long was subsequently a wiser but a _poorer_ man. He held on to this
pair till their price reached the par value only of any other sheep; and
then he absolutely killed this buck and ewe, made a princely barbecue,
called all his friends to the feast, and whilst the "goblet went its
giddy rounds," like the ruined Venetian, he thanked God that, at that
moment, he was not worth a ducat!
This is absolute, sober _fact_. Mr. Long was completely and
irretrievably ruined in his pecuniary affairs; and very soon after this
"sumptuous dinner," he took sick, and actually died of a broken heart.
Along in the summer and fall of 1854, having watched the course that
matters were taking in the chicken-trade, I became cautious; for I
thought I heard in the far-off distance something indefinite, and almost
undistinguishable, yet pointed and emphatic in its general tone. I
listened; and, as nearly as I could make the warning out, it sounded
like "TAKE CARE!"
And so I waited for the _dénouement_ that was yet to come. In the mean
time, I had a friend who for five long years had been religiously
seeking for that incomprehensible and never-yet-come-at-able _ignis
fatuus_, a genuine "Cochin-China" fowl of undoubted purity!
I had not heard of or from him for some weeks; until, one morning, about
this time, a near relative of his sent to my house all that remained of
this indefatigable searcher after truth; an accurate drawing of which I
instantly caused to be made--and here it is!
[Illustration]
[16] _We_ have found it a very comfortable "rage," thank you!