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!