Chapter 2
CHANTECLER I never thought much of that story. Who knows whether the coach would have reached the top of the hill without the Fly? Do you believe that rude shouts “Gee up! Ge’ lang!” were more effective than the hymn to the Sun buzzed by the little Fly? Do you believe in the virtue of a blustering oath? Really believe it was the Coachman who made the coach to go? No, I tell you, no! She did much more than the big whip’s noisy cracking, did the little Fly, with the music straight from her buzzing heart!
THE TURKEY Yes, but all the same--
CHANTECLER [_Turning his back on him._] Come, let us make of labour a delight! Come, all of you!--High time, Ganders my worthies, you escorted your geese to the pond.
A GANDER [_Lazily._] Is it quite necessary, do you think?
CHANTECLER [_Going briskly towards him, with a look that forbids discussion._] Quite! And let there be no idle quacking and paltering! [_The_ GANDERS _go off in haste._] You, Chicken, your task, as you know, is to pick off slugs, your full number before evening being thirty-two.--You, Cockerel, go practise your crow. Four hundred times cry Cock-a-doodle-doo in hearing of the echo!
THE COCKEREL [_Slightly mortified._] The echo--?
CHANTECLER That is what I was doing to limber up my glottis before I was rid of the egg-shell sticking to my tail!
A HEN [_Airily._] None of this is particularly interesting!
CHANTECLER Everything is interesting! Pray go and sit on the eggs you have been entrusted with! [_To another_ HEN.] You, walk among the roses and verbenas, and gobble every creature threatening them. Ha, ha! If the caterpillar thinks we will make him a gift of our flowers he can stroke his belly--with his back! [_To another._] You, hie to the rescue of cabbages in old neglected corners, where the grasshopper lays siege to them with his vigorous battering-ram! [_To the remaining_ HENS.] You--[_Catching sight of the_ OLD HEN, _whose shaking, senile head has lifted the basket-lid._] Ah, there you are, Nursie! Good day! [_She gazes at him admiringly._] Well, have I grown?
THE OLD HEN Sooner or later, tadpole becomes toad!
CHANTECLER True! [_To the _HENS,_ resuming his tone of command._] Ladies, stand in line! Your orders are to peck in the fields. Off at a quick-step, go!
THE WHITE HEN [_To the_ GREY HEN.] Are you coming?
THE GREY HEN Not a word! I intend to stay behind, to see the Cuckoo. [_She hides behind the basket._]
CHANTECLER You, little tufted hen, was it just my fancy that you looked sulky falling into line?
THE TUFTED HEN [_Going up to him._] Cock--
CHANTECLER What is it?
THE TUFTED HEN I, who am nearest to your heart--
CHANTECLER [_Quickly._] Hush!
THE TUFTED HEN It annoys me not to be told--
THE WHITE HEN [_Who has drawn near on the other side._] Cock--
CHANTECLER Well?
THE WHITE HEN [_Coaxingly._] I who am your favourite--
CHANTECLER [_Quickly._] Hush!
THE WHITE HEN [_Caressingly._] I want to know--
THE BLACK HEN [_Who has softly drawn near._] Cock--
CHANTECLER What?
THE BLACK HEN Your special and tender regard for me--
CHANTECLER [_Quickly._] Hush!
THE BLACK HEN Tell me, do--
THE WHITE HEN --the secret--
THE TUFTED HEN --of your song? [_Going still closer to him, in a voice thrilled with curiosity._] I do believe that you have in your throat a little copper contrivance--
CHANTECLER That’s it, that’s what I have, very carefully concealed!
THE WHITE HEN [_Same business._] Most likely, like great tenors one has heard of, you gulp raw eggs--
CHANTECLER You have guessed!--A second Ugolino!
THE BLACK HEN [_Same business._] My idea is that taking snails out of their shells, you pound them to a paste--
CHANTECLER And make them into troches! Exactly!
ALL THREE HENS Cock--!
CHANTECLER Off with you all! Be off! [_The_ HENS _hastily start, he calls them back._] A word before you go. When your blood-bright combs--now in, now out of sight, now in again--shall flash among the sage and borage yonder, like poppies playing at hide-and-seek,--to the real poppies, I enjoin you, do no injury! Shepherdesses, counting the stitches of their knitting, trample the grass all unaware that it’s a crime to crush a flower--even with a woman! But you, my Spouses, show considerate and touching thought for the flowers whose only offence is growing wild. The field-carrot has her right to bloom in beauty. Should you spy, as he strolls across some flowery umbel, a scarlet beetle peppered with black dots,--the stroller take, but spare his strolling-ground. The flowers of one same meadow are sisters, as I hold, and should together fall beneath the scythe!--Now you may go. [_They are leaving, he again calls them back._] And remember, when chickens go to the--
A HEN --fields--
CHANTECLER --the foremost--
THE HENS ALL TOGETHER --walks ahead!
CHANTECLER You may go! [_They are again starting, he peremptorily calls them back._] A word! [_In a stern voice._] Never when crossing the road stop to peck! [_The_ HENS _bow in obedience._] Now let me see you cross!
A HORN [_In the distance._] Honk! Honk! Honk!
CHANTECLER [_Rushing in front of the_ HENS _and spreading his wings before them._] Not yet!
THE HORN [_Very near, accompanied by a terrific snorting._] Honk! Honk! Honk!
CHANTECLER [_Barring the_ HENS’ _passage, while everything shakes._] Wait!
THE HORN [_Far away._] Honk! Honk! Honk!
CHANTECLER [_Standing aside for them to pass._] You can safely go!
THE GREY HEN [_From her hiding-place._] He has not seen me!
THE TUFTED HEN You may think this is fun! Now everything we eat will taste of gasoline!
SCENE THIRD
CHANTECLER, _the_ BLACKBIRD _in his cage, the_ CAT _still asleep on the wall, the_ GREY HEN _behind the_ OLD HEN’S _basket._
CHANTECLER [_To himself, after a pause._] No, I will not trust a frivolous soul with such a weighty secret. Let me try rather to cast off the burden of it myself--forget and [_Shaking his feathers._] just rejoice in being a rooster! [_He struts up and down._] I am beautiful. I am proud. I walk--then I stand still. I give a skip or two, I tread a measure.--I shock the cart sometimes by my boldness with the fair, so that it raises scandalised shafts in horror to the sky!--Hang care!--A barleycorn--Eat and be merry.--The gear upon my head and under my eye is a far more gorgeous red, when I puff out my chest and strut, than any robin’s waistcoat or finch’s tie.--A fine day. All is well. I curvet--I blow my horn. Conscious of having done my duty, I may quite properly assume the swagger of a musketeer, and the calm commanding bearing of a cardinal. I can--
A VOICE [_Loud and gruff._] Beware, Chantecler!
CHANTECLER What silly beast is bidding me beware?
SCENE FOURTH
THE SAME, PATOU.
PATOU [_Barking inside his kennel._] I! I! I!
CHANTECLER [_Retreating._] Is it you, Patou, good shaggy head starting out of the dark, with straws caught among your eyelashes?
PATOU Which do not prevent my seeing what is plain as that hen-house rrrroof!
CHANTECLER Cross?
PATOU Grrrrrrr--
CHANTECLER When he rolls his r’s like that he is very cross indeed.
PATOU It’s my devotion to you, Cock, makes me roll my r’s. Guardian of the house, the orchard and the fields, more than all else I am bound to protect your song. And I growl at the dangers I suspect lurking. Such is my humour.
CHANTECLER Your humour? Your dogma, suspicion is! Call it your _dog_ma!
PATOU You can stoop to a pun? From bad to worse! I’m enough of a psychologist to feel the evil spreading, and I’ve the scent of a rat-terrier.
CHANTECLER But you are no rat-terrier!
PATOU [_Shaking his head._] Chantecler, how do we know?
CHANTECLER [_Considering him._] Your appearance is in fact peculiar What actually is your breed?
PATOU I am a horrible mixture, issue of every passer-by! I can feel barking within me the voice of every blood. Retriever, mastiff, pointer, poodle, hound--my soul is a whole pack, sitting in circle, musing. Cock, I am all dogs, I have been every dog!
CHANTECLER Then what a sum of goodness must be stored in you!
PATOU Brother, we are framed to understand each other. You sing to the sun and scratch up the earth. I, when I wish to do myself a good and a pleasure--
CHANTECLER You lie on the earth and sleep in the sun!
PATOU [_With a pleased yap._] Aye!
CHANTECLER We have ever had in common our love for those two things.
PATOU I am so fond of the sun that I howl at the moon. And so fond of the earth that I dig great holes and shove my nose in it!
CHANTECLER I know! The gardener’s wife has her opinion of those holes.--But what are the dangers you discern? All lies quiet beneath the quiet sky. Nothing appears to be threatening my humble sunlit dominions.
THE OLD HEN [_Lifting the basket-lid with her head._] The egg looks like marble until it gets smashed! [_The lid drops._]
CHANTECLER [_To_ PATOU.] What dangers, friend?
PATOU There are two. First, in yonder cage--
CHANTECLER Well?
PATOU That satirical whistling.
CHANTECLER What about it?
PATOU Pernicious.
CHANTECLER In what way?
PATOU In every way!
CHANTECLER [_Ironical._] Bad as all that, is it? [_The_ PEACOCK’S _squall is heard in the distance: “Ee--yong!”_]
PATOU And then that cry, the Peacock’s!
[_The_ PEACOCK, _further off: “Ee--yong!”_]
PATOU More out of tune all by itself than a whole village singing society!
CHANTECLER Come, what have they done to you, that whistler and that posturer?
PATOU [_Grumbling._] They have done to me--that I know not what they may do to you! They have done to me--that among us simple, kindly folk they have introduced new fashions, the Blackbird of being funny, the Peacock of putting on airs! Fashions which the latter in his grotesque bad taste picked up parading on the marble terraces of the vulgar rich, and the former--Heaven knows where! along with his cynicism and his slang. Now the one, travelling salesman of blighting corrosive laughter, and the other, brainless ambassador of Fashion, their mission to kill among us love and labour, the first by persiflage, the second by display,--they have brought to us, even here in our peaceful sunny corner, the two pests, the saddest in the world, the jest which insists on being funny at any cost, and the cry which insists on being the latest scream! [_The _ BLACKBIRD _is heard tentatively whistling, “How sweet to fare afield”._] You, Cock, who had the sense to prefer the grain of true wheat to the pearl, how can you allow yourself to be taken in by that villainous Blackbird! A bird who practises a tune!
CHANTECLER [_Indulgently._] Come, he whistles his tune like many another!
PATOU [_Unwillingly agreeing, in a drawling growl._] Ye-e-es, but he never whistles it to the end!
CHANTECLER [_Watching the_ BLACKBIRD _hopping about._] A light-hearted fellow!
PATOU [_Same business._] Ye-e-es, but he lies heavy on our hearts. A bird who takes his exercise indoors!
CHANTECLER You must own he is intelligent!
PATOU [_In a longer, more hesitant growl._] Ye-e-e-es! But not so very! For his eye never brightens with wonder and admiration. He preserves before the flower--of whose stalk he sees more than of its chalice--the glance which deflowers, the tone which depreciates!
CHANTECLER Taste, my dear fellow, he unmistakably has!
PATOU Ye-e-e-es! But not much taste! To wear black is too easy a way of having taste! One should have the courage of colours on his wing.
CHANTECLER You will admit at least that he has an original fancy. No denying that he is amusing.
PATOU Ye-e-es--No! Why is it amusing to adopt a few stock phrases and make them do service at every turn? Why amusing to miscall, exaggerate, and vulgarise?
CHANTECLER His mind has a diverting, unexpected turn--
PATOU Ready but cheap! I cannot think it particularly brilliant to remark, with a knowing wink, at sight of an innocent cow at pasture, “The simple cow knows her way to the hay!” Nor do I regard it as evidence of notable mental gifts to answer the greeting of the inoffensive duck, “The quack shoots off his mouth!” No, the extravagances of that Blackbird, who makes me bristle, no more constitute wit than his slang achieves style!
CHANTECLER He is not altogether to blame. He wears the modern garb. See him there in correct evening dress. He looks, in his neat black coat--
PATOU Like a beastly little undertaker who, after burying Faith, hops with relief and glee!
CHANTECLER There, there! You make him blacker than he is!
PATOU I do believe a blackbird is just a misfit crow!
CHANTECLER His diminutive size, however--
PATOU [_Vigorously shaking his ears._] Oh, be not deceived by his size! Evil makes his models first on a tiny scale. The soul of a cutlass dwells in the pocket-knife; blackbird and crow are of the selfsame crape, and the striped wasp is a tiger in miniature!
CHANTECLER [_Amused at_ PATOU’S _violence._] The blackbird in short is wicked, stupid, ugly--
PATOU The chief thing about the Blackbird is--that you can’t tell what he is! Is there thought in that head? feeling in that breast? Hear him! “Tew-tew-tew-tew tew--”
CHANTECLER But what harm does he do?
PATOU He tew-tew-tews! And nothing is so mortal to thought and sentiment as that same derisive tew-tewing, disingenuous and non-committal! Day by day, and that is why I roll my rs, I must witness this debasing of language and ideals. It’s enough to produce rabies!
CHANTECLER Come, Patou!--
PATOU In their objectionable jargon, they have the ha-ha on all of us! I am no fastidious King Charles, but I dislike, I tell you, being referred to as His Whiskers!--Oh, to be gone, escape, follow the heels of some poor shepherd without a crust in his wallet, but at least, at evening drinking from the glassy pond, to have--oh, better than all marrow-bones!--the fresh illusion of lapping up the stars!
CHANTECLER [_Surprised at_ PATOU’S _having lowered his voice to utter the last words._] Why do you drop your voice?
PATOU You see?--If we speak of stars nowadays we must do it in a whisper! [_He lays his head on his paws in deep dejection._]
CHANTECLER [_Comforting him._] Be not downcast!
PATOU [_Lifting his head again._] No, it is too silly and too weak! I’ll shout it if I please! [_He howls with the whole power of his lungs._] Stars!--[_Then in a tone of relief._] There, I feel better!
CHICKENS [_Passing at the back, mocking._] Stars!--Ho! Stars for ours! Stars! [_They go off, fooling and giggling._]
PATOU Hear them! Our pullets will be whistling soon like blackbirds!
CHANTECLER [_Proudly strutting up and down._] What care I? I sing, and have on my side the Hens.
PATOU Trust not to the hearts of Hens--or of crowds. You are too willing to take the price of your singing in lip-service.
CHANTECLER But love--love is glory awarded in kisses!
PATOU Ah! I, too, was young once, I had my wilding devil’s beauty,--an inflammatory eye, an inflammable heart. Well, I was deceived. For a handsomer dog?--No, they deceived me for a miserable cur!--[_Roaring in sudden wrath._] For whom?--For whom, do you suppose?
CHANTECLER [_Retreating._] You alarm me!
PATOU For a low-down dachshund who trod on his own ears!
THE BLACKBIRD [_Who has overheard_ PATOU’S _last words, sticking his head between the bars of his cage._] Still harping on the dachshund, is he? What’s the odds, old chappie? You were the goat!--How does being the goat matter?
PATOU But you up there, scoffing at everything, who are you, may one ask?
BLACKBIRD I’m the pet of the poultry yard!
PATOU Bad luck is what you’ll bring them!
BLACKBIRD A prophecy-sharp?--Say, wisteria, we are twisted up with laughter! [_He comes out of his cage and hops to the ground._]
PATOU [_As he approaches_] Grrrrrrr--
CHANTECLER Hush! He’s a friend!
PATOU A false one.
CHANTECLER [_To_ BLACKBIRD.] Fine things we learn when the talk is of you!
THE OLD HEN [_Her head protruding from the basket._] Strike rotten wood, and see the wood-lice scatter! [_The basket-lid drops._]
PATOU [_To_ CHANTECLER.] He laughs at you behind your back!
BLACKBIRD [_To_ PATOU.] Ha, retriever, you retrieve?
PATOU When you pour forth your heart in your ardent cry, giving it over and over, he calls it the same old saw that your jag-toothed red crest stands for!
CHANTECLER So that’s what you say?
BLACKBIRD [_Affecting simplicity._] You surely don’t mind? How can it affect you? And a joke about you is always so sure of success!
PATOU [_To the_ BLACKBIRD.] Point-blank, do you admire or despise the Cock?
BLACKBIRD I make fun of him in spots, but admire him in lump!
PATOU You always peck two kinds of seed.
THE BLACKBIRD My cage has two seed-cups, you see.
PATOU I am single-minded and downright!
THE BLACKBIRD You--are an old poodle of the year 48! I am an up-to-date bird!
PATOU [_Gruffly._] Out of my way! lest I give your black coat red tails! [_The_ BLACKBIRD _nimbly gets out of the way,_ PATOU _goes into his kennel grumbling._] I’ll show him some up-to-date jaws!
CHANTECLER Be quiet! It’s his way. The truth is that if once he stood in the presence of beauty, this very Blackbird would applaud!
PATOU Not with both wings! What can you expect of a bird who, with woodbine and juniper full in sight, prefers to go inside and peck at a musty biscuit?
BLACKBIRD He never seems to suspect that the poacher is a blackguardly sort of brute!
PATOU What I know is that the underbrush is all a delicate golden gloom--
THE BLACKBIRD Yes, but leaden shot can cleave your delicate gold. The quail is such a canny bird, that he lies low lest he make his last appearance on toast. And so, in lack of quail--
PATOU Does the great stag delight any the less in his green forest for turning over among the grass at evening some bit of a rusty cartridge?
THE BLACKBIRD No, old chap--but the stag, you see, is just another kind of a hat-rack!
PATOU Oh, but freedom, freedom, with violets looking on! Love!--
THE BLACKBIRD Antediluvian pastimes! not nearly such good fun as my nice new wooden trapeze. Oh, my cage, let us sign a joyful three-six-nine years’ lease! I live like a Duke, I have filtered drinking-water--[_At_ PATOU’S _significant start and growl, he springs aside, finishing._] You can sling mud upon me, I have a porcelain bath!
CHANTECLER [_Slightly out of patience._] Why not make a practice of talking simply and to the point?
THE BLACKBIRD I like to make you sit up, and watch you blinking.
PATOU Grrrrr--in the plain interest of public decency, I say it behooves us--
THE BLACKBIRD Don’t say behooves, say it’s up to you, old chap!
CHANTECLER What’s all this juggling with words?
THE BLACKBIRD The thing, Chantecler, quite the thing! I knew a city sparrow once, and it’s the way they talk in fashionable circles.
CHANTECLER I was well acquainted with a little red-breast, who lived beneath a city poet’s eaves; he did not talk like you.
THE BLACKBIRD I belong to my time. Every chap that’s a bit of a swell nowadays must be a bit of a tough. It’s smart, you know.
PATOU I froth at the mouth! Smart,--there’s the Peacock’s password!
CHANTECLER Oh, the Peacock, by the way, what is he doing these days?
THE BLACKBIRD Ogling with his tail-feathers!
PATOU Baneful his example has been to many an humble heart.
CHANTECLER What signs do you see of his influence?
PATOU A thousand nothings.
THE OLD HEN [_Appearing._] Bubbles floating down the stream tell of laundresses up stream! [_The lid drops._]
CHANTECLER I am sure I have not seen the smallest bubble from which--
PATOU [_Indicating a_ GUINEA-PIG, _who is passing._] See there, that Guinea-pig--
CHANTECLER [_Considering him._] What about him? He is just a yellow Guinea-pig!
GUINEA-PIG [_Snippily correcting._] Khaki, if you please!
CHANTECLER [_To_ PATOU.] Kha--?
PATOU A bubble!--And yonder waddling duck--
CHANTECLER [_Looking at him._] He is going to take his bath--
THE DUCK [_Drily._] My tub!
CHANTECLER His--?
PATOU A bubble!
[_A long grating noise is heard within the house Crrrrrrr, then._]
THE CLOCK Cuckoo!
THE GREY HEN [_Leaving her hiding-place and running towards the cat-hole._] His voice!--Now through the kitty’s little door I finally shall see him! [_She thrusts her head into the hole. The_ CUCKOO’S _call is not repeated._] Oh, deary, deary me! I am too late! [_Calling._] Bis! Encore!
CHANTECLER [_Turning around at the noise._] Eh?
THE GREY HEN [_Desperately, with her head in the cat-hole._] He has stopped!
THE BLACKBIRD It was the half-hour.
CHANTECLER [_Close behind the_ GREY HEN, _abruptly._] How does it happen, my love, that we are not in the fields?
THE GREY HEN [_Turning, scared._] Goodness gracious!
CHANTECLER What are we doing, my love, in the cat-hole?
THE GREY HEN [_Upset._] I was just taking a peep--
CHANTECLER To see whom?
THE GREY HEN [_More and more upset._] Oh--!
CHANTECLER [_Dramatically._] Who is it?
THE GREY HEN Oh--
CHANTECLER Confess!
THE GREY HEN [_In the voice of a woman caught in guilt._] The Cuckoo!
CHANTECLER [_Amazed._] You love him?--But wherefore?
THE GREY HEN [_Drops her eyes, then with emotion._] He is Swiss!
PATOU A bubble!
THE GREY HEN He is a thinker. He takes his airing--
CHANTECLER She loves a clock!
THE GREY HEN --always takes his airing at the same hour, like Kant.
CHANTECLER Like what?
THE GREY HEN Like Kant.
CHANTECLER Did one ever--! Out of my sight!
THE BLACKBIRD Trot, Kant you?
[THE GREY HEN _hurries off._]
CHANTECLER Here’s a pretty--Wherever did she learn that Kant--?
PATOU At the Guinea-hen’s.
CHANTECLER That foolish old party of the crazy cries and the white-plastered beak?
PATOU She has taken a day.
CHANTECLER A day off, do you mean?
PATOU No, a day at home.
CHANTECLER A day at--Where does she receive?
THE BLACKBIRD In a corner of the kitchen-garden.
PATOU Under the auspices of that strawman with the unsavoury old top-hat.
CHANTECLER The scarecrow?
THE BLACKBIRD Yes, his being there makes the affair select.
CHANTECLER [_Bewildered._] How is that?
THE BLACKBIRD Don’t you see? He scares off all the puny fowl--. Poor relations are not wanted at a function.
CHANTECLER So the Guinea-hen has a day!
PATOU [_Phlegmatically._] A bubble!
CHANTECLER A balloon!
THE BLACKBIRD [_Imitating the_ GUINEA-HEN.] Mondays, my dear--
CHANTECLER And what do they do at that feather-brain’s parties?
PATOU Cluck and cackle. The Turkey-cock airs his social gifts, the Chick gets into society.
BLACKBIRD [_Imitating the_ GUINEA-HEN.] From five to six--
CHANTECLER Evening?
PATOU No, morning.
CHANTECLER What--?
THE BLACKBIRD You see, she must take advantage of the time when the garden is deserted, and yet have it a five-o’clock tea. So she chose the hour when the old gardener is at his early potations.
CHANTECLER What nonsense!
THE BLACKBIRD Quite so.
PATOU You needn’t talk. You go to her teas.
CHANTECLER He goes--?
THE BLACKBIRD Yes, I am one of their ornaments.
PATOU And I am not so sure but that some day--
CHANTECLER What are you mumbling to your brass-studded collar?
PATOU --some Hen may get you too to go!
CHANTECLER Me?
PATOU You!
CHANTECLER Me?--
PATOU Led by the end of your beak.
CHANTECLER [_In high wrath._] Me?--
PATOU For when a new Hen heaves in sight, you can’t help yourself, you know--you lose your balance-wheel--
THE BLACKBIRD You slowly circumambulate the fair one--[_He imitates the_ COCK _walking around a_ HEN.] “Yes, it’s me.--Here I am!” And you say, “Coa--”
CHANTECLER I never knew a more idiotic bird!
THE BLACKBIRD [_Continuing to mimic him._] You let your wing hang, sentimentally--your foot performs a sort of stately jig--[_A shot is heard._] Ha! I don’t like that!
PATOU [_Starts up quivering, and scents the air._] Poaching Julius is at his tricks again!
THE BLACKBIRD Dog, it seems to stimulate you agreeably!
PATOU [_With ears up-pricked and shining eyes._] Yes! [_Suddenly, as if controlling himself, passionately._] No--!
THE BLACKBIRD What affects you so?
PATOU Oh, horrible, horrible! A poor little partridge perhaps--