Read Chantecler Page 12


  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  Oh, cruel!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  Chantecler's Light o' Love!

  A VOICE

  A nickname for the Cock!

  ALL

  Yes! Yes!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  Grand Master of Illuminations!

  ANOTHER VOICE

  Purveyor of Sunny Beams!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Defending himself foot to foot._] Thanks! Another quip, for I can

  still fight with my feet!

  A VOICE

  The Alarm-Cock!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Who seems upheld by their insults._] Another pun! And I who know no

  more of fighting than can be learned on a peaceful farm--

  A VOICE

  Thresh out his hayseed!

  CHANTECLER

  Thanks! I--[_His torn feathers fly around him._]

  CRY OF JOY

  See his fur fly!

  CHANTECLER

  I feel--Another pleasantry!

  A VOICE

  Lay on, Macfluff!

  CHANTECLER

  Thanks! I feel that the more I am mocked, insulted, flouted, and denied--

  AN ASS

  [_Stretching his neck over the hedge._] Hee-haw!

  CHANTECLER

  Thanks!--the better I shall fight!

  THE WHITE PILE

  [_Chuckling._] He is game, but he's giving out.

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  Enough. Enough. Oh, stop!

  A VOICE

  On White Pile, twenty to one!

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Seeing_ CHANTECLER'S _bleeding neck._] He bleeds, oh!

  A HEN

  [_Rising on tiptoe behind the_ GOLDEN PADUA COCK.] I should like to see

  the blood!

  THE WHITE PILE

  [_Increasing the fury of his onset._] I'll have your gizzard!

  THE HEN

  [_Trying to see._] The Padua Cock's hat shuts off my view!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  Hats off!

  A VOICE

  That was a stinger! On his comb!

  SHRILL CRIES

  [_From the crowd._] Land him one! Do him up! Lay him out! Have his gore!

  PATOU

  [_Standing up in his wheelbarrow._] Will you stop behaving like human

  beings?

  CRIES

  [_Furiously keeping time with the blows showering upon_ CHANTECLER.] In

  the neck! On the nut! On the wing! On the--[_Sudden silence._]

  CHANTECLER

  [_Amazed._] What is this? The ring breaks up, the shouting dies--[_He

  looks around. The_ WHITE PILE _has drawn away and backed against the

  hedge. A strange commotion agitates the crowd._ CHANTECLER, _exhausted,

  bleeding, tottering, does not understand, and murmurs._] What joke are

  they preparing against my end? [_And suddenly._] Joy, Patou, joy!

  PATOU

  What?

  CHANTECLER

  I have done them an injustice. All of them, ceasing to insult and mock

  me, look, gather round me, closer and closer--look!

  PATOU

  [_Seeing them all, in fact, crowding around_ CHANTECLER, _and gazing

  anxiously at the sky, looks up too, and says simply._] It is the hawk!

  CHANTECLER

  Ah! [_A dark shadow slowly sweeps over the motley crowd, who crouch and

  cower._]

  PATOU

  When that great shadow falls, it is not the fine, strange Cocks we trust

  to keep off the bird of prey!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Suddenly grown great of size, his wounds forgotten, stands in the

  midst of them, and in an authoritative tone._] Yes, close around me, all

  of you, all! [_All, huddled in their feathers, their heads drawn in

  between their wings, press against him._]

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  Dear, brave, and gentle heart!

  CHANTECLER

  [_The shadow sweeps over the crowd a second time. The_ GAME COCK _makes

  himself small._ CHANTECLER _alone remains standing, in the midst of a

  heap of ruffled, trembling feathers._]

  A HEN

  [_Looking up at the_ HAWK.] Twice the black shadow has swept over us!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Calling to the_ CHICKS, _who come madly running._] Chicks, come here

  to me!

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  You take them under your wing?

  CHANTECLER

  I must. Their mother is a box!

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Looking upward._] He hovers over us--[_The shadow of the_ HAWK,

  _circling lower and lower, passes for the third time, darker

  than ever._]

  ALL

  [_In a moan of fear._] Ah!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Shouting toward the sky._] I am here!

  PATOU

  He has heard your trumpet cry!

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  He flies further.

  [_All rise with a joyous cry of deliverance, "Ah!" and go back to their

  places to watch the end of the combat._]

  PATOU

  Without loss of a moment they form the ring again.

  CHANTECLER

  [_With a start._] What did you say? [_He looks. It is true, the ring has

  immediately formed._]

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  Now they want you killed to be revenged for their fine scare.

  CHANTECLER

  But now I shall not be killed! I felt my strength come back when the

  common enemy flew across the sky. [_Striding boldly up to the_ WHITE

  PILE.] I got back my courage, fearing for the others.

  THE WHITE PILE

  [_Amazed at being smartly attacked._] Whence has he drawn new strength?

  CHANTECLER

  I am thrice stronger now than you. Black excites me, you see, as red

  excites the bull, and thrice I have stared at night in the form of a

  bird's shadow!

  THE WHITE PILE

  [_Driven to bay, against the hedge, prepares to use his razors._]

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Screaming._] Look out! He has two sharp razors at his heels, the beast!

  CHANTECLER

  I knew it!

  THE CAT

  [_From his tree, to the_ GAME COCK.] Use your knives!

  PATOU

  [_Ready to spring from his wheelbarrow._] If he uses those, I'll

  strangle him, that's all!

  THE CROWD

  Oh!

  PATOU

  I will! Howl you never so loud!

  THE WHITE PILE

  [_Feeling himself lost._] No help for it!

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Closely watching him._] He is getting one of his razors ready!

  THE WHITE PILE

  [_Striking with his sharp spur._] Take that! Die! [_He utters a terrible

  cry, while_ CHANTECLER, _avoiding the blow, springs aside._] Ah! [_He

  drops to the ground. Cry of amazement._]

  SEVERAL VOICES

  What is it?

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Who has hopped up to the fallen_ COCK _and examined him._] Nothing!

  Merely he has dexterously slashed his left claw with his right!

  THE CROWD

  [_Following and hooting the_ WHITE PILE, _who, having picked himself up,

  limps off._] Hoo! Hoo!

  PATOU _and the_ PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Laughing and weeping and talking, all in one, beside_ CHANTECLER,

  _who stands motionless, utterly spent, with closed eyes._] Chantecler!

  It is we! The Pheasant-hen! The Dog! Speak to us, speak!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Opening his eyes, looks at them and says gently._] The day will rise

  to-m
orrow!

  SCENE SIXTH

  THE SAME, _except the_ WHITE PILE

  THE CROWD

  [_After seeing the_ WHITE PILE _off, return tumultuously to_ CHANTECLER,

  _hailing him with acclamations._] Hurrah!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Drawing away from them, in a terrible voice._] Stand back! I know your

  worth! [_The crowd hastily draws back._]

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Close by his side._] Come away to the woods, where true-hearted

  animals live!

  CHANTECLER

  No, I will stay here.

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  After finding them out?

  CHANTECLER

  After finding them out.

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  You will stay here?

  CHANTECLER

  Not for their sakes, but the sake of my song. It might spring forth less

  clear from any other soil! But now, to inform the Day that it is sure to

  be called tomorrow I will sing! [_Obsequious movement of the crowd,

  attempting to approach._] Back! All of you! I have nothing left but my

  song! [ALL _draw away, and alone in his pride, he begins._] Co--[_To

  himself, stiffening himself against pain._] Nothing left but my song,

  therefore let us sing well! [_He tries again._] Co--Now, I wonder,

  shall I take it as a chest-note, or--Co--a head-note? Shall I count

  one-three, or--Co--And the accent? Since they filled my head with all

  that sort of thing, I--Coocooroo--Keekee-ree--And the theory? The

  dynamic theory? Cock-a--I am all tangled up in schools and rules and

  rubbish! If he reduced his flight to a theory, what eagle would ever

  soar? Co--[_Trying again, and ending in a raucous, abortive crow._]

  Co--I cannot sing any more, I, whose method was not to know how, but be

  quite certain why! [_In a cry, of despair._] I have nothing left! They

  have taken everything from me, my song and everything else. How shall I

  get it back?

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Opening her wings._] Come away to the woods!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Falling upon her breast._] I love you!

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  To the woods, where the simple birds sing their sweet unconscious songs!

  CHANTECLER

  Let us go! [_Both go toward the back._ CHANTECLER _turning._] But there

  is one thing I wish to say--

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Trying to lead him away._] Come to the woods!

  CHANTECLER

  --to all the Guineahennery gathered beneath these arbors. Let the

  garden--the Bees agree with me, I fancy!--let the garden work untroubled

  at changing its blossoms into fruit--

  BUZZING OF BEES

  _We agree--ee--ee_!

  CHANTECLER

  Nothing good is ever accomplished in the midst of noise. Noise prevents

  the bough--

  BUZZING

  [_Further off._]

  _So say we--e--e! we--e--e_!

  CHANTECLER

  --from bringing its apple to perfection, prevents the grape--

  BUZZING

  [_Dying away among the foliage._] _So say we--e--e_!

  CHANTECLER

  --from ripening on the vine. [_Going toward the back with the_

  PHEASANT-HEN.] Let us go! [_Turning and coming again angrily toward the

  front._] But I wish furthermore to say to these H--[_The_ PHEASANT-HEN

  _lays her wing across his beak._]--ens that those unnatural Cocks will

  lightly take themselves away, back to the gilded mangers of their sole

  affection, the moment they hear the cry of Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick!

  [_Imitating a servant girl calling_ CHICKENS _to feed._] For all those

  charlatans are stalking appetites, and nothing more!

  THE PHEASANT-HEN

  [_Trying to lead him off._] Come! Come!

  A HEN

  She is eloping with him.

  CHANTECLER

  I am coming! But--[_Coming forward again._] I must first say to this

  Peacock, in the presence of that Addlepate--[_Indicating the_

  GUINEA-HEN.]

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  He insults me in my own house. Sensational!

  CHANTECLER

  False hero whom Fashion has taken for leader, you walk in such terror of

  appearing behindhand to the eyes of your own tail that your throat is

  blue with it! But, urged forward, on and on, by every staring eye upon

  it, you will fall at last, breathless for good and all, and end in the

  false immortality bestowed, false artist, by the--[_Imitating the manner

  of the_ PEACOCK.] shall I say bird-stuffer?

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  [_Mechanically._] Yes!

  CHANTECLER

  No. Taxidermist,--to use the word you would prefer. That, my dear

  Peacock, is what I wished to say.

  THE BLACKBIRD

  Bang!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Turning toward him._] As for you--

  THE BLACKBIRD

  Fire away!

  CHANTECLER

  I will! You became acquainted one grey morning with a city sparrow, did

  you not tell us so? That was your ruin. You have been possessed ever

  since with the desire to appear like one yourself.

  THE BLACKBIRD

  But--

  CHANTECLER

  From that hour, unresting, acting the sparrow night and day, the sparrow

  even in sleep, self-condemned to play the sparrow without respite, you

  have appeared--famous jay!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  But--

  CHANTECLER

  Pathetic effort of a country birdkin, twisting his thick bill to talk

  with a city accent! Ah, you wish to bite off bits of slang? My friend,

  they are green! Every grape you pick breaks in your jaws, for city

  grapes are glass bubbles! Having taken from the sparrow only his make-up

  and grimace, you are just a clumsy understudy, a sort of vice-buffoon!

  And you serve up stale old cynicisms picked up with crumbs in

  fashionable club-rooms, poor little bird, and think to astonish us with

  your budget of scandalous news--

  THE BLACKBIRD

  But--

  CHANTECLER

  I have not exhausted my ammunition! You wish to imitate the sparrow? But

  the sparrow does not, slyly and meanly mischievous, make a cult of

  sprightliness is not funny with authority, is not the pedant of

  flippancy! You percher among low bushes, who never care to fly, you wish

  to imitate--[_Turning to one of the exotic_ COCKS _cackling behind

  him._] Silence, Cock of Japan! or I shall spoil a picture!

  THE JAPANESE COCK

  [_Hurriedly._] I beg your pardon!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Continuing to the_ BLACKBIRD.] You wish to imitate the sparrow, who,

  rising on light wing, underlines his words with a telegraph wire! Very

  well, I hate to grieve you, but--you know I can hear the sparrows when

  they come to steal my corn!--you are not in it, you do not pull it off.

  Your lingo is a fake!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  A--?

  CHANTECLER

  And your performance is a shine!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  He can talk slang?

  CHANTECLER

  I can talk anything!--It's the Paris article made in Germany!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  But--

  CHANTECLER

  Fire away, I think you said. I hope you don't mind my air-gun?

 
THE BLACKBIRD

  I--

  CHANTECLER

  The Grand Master of Illuminations is entirely at your service. What do

  you say?

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Hastily._] Nothing! [_He tries to get away._]

  CHANTECLER

  You wish to ape the sparrow of city streets! But his impudence is not a

  manner of prudence, an art of remaining vague, an elegant method of

  having no opinion. His eyes always express either wrath or delight. Do

  you care to know the secret by which the little beggar, with his

  "Chappie" and his "See" can steal away our hearts? It is that he is

  frank and fearless that he believes, that he loves, that the railings of

  a balcony where some child strews crumbs for him are the only cage he

  ever knew! It is that one can be sure of his gaiety of soul, since he is

  gay when he is hungry! But you who, void of gaiety because void of love,

  have imagined that evil wit can take the place of good humour, and that

  one can play the sparrow when he is a sleek and vulgar trimmer,

  sniggering behind his wing, what I say to you is, "Guess again,

  Mock-sparrow, guess again!"

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  [_Always applauding everything that is said at her receptions._] Good!

  That was extremely good!

  A CHICKEN

  [_To the crestfallen_ BLACKBIRD.] You will make him smart for this?

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Prudently._] No. I will take it out on the Turkey. [_At this point a_

  VOICE _calls, "Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick!" and all the_ FANCY COCKS,

  _rushing toward the irresistible call to food, hurry out, tumbling over

  one another in their haste._]

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  [_Running after them._] Are you going?

  A PADUA COCK

  [_The last to leave._] I beg to be excused! [_Disappears._]

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  [_In the midst of the hubbub._] Are you going? Must you go? Oh, don't go

  yet!

  CHANTECLER

  [_To the_ PHEASANT-HEN.] Come, my golden Pheasant!

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  [_Running to_ CHANTECLER.] Are you running away?

  CHANTECLER

  To save my song!

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  [_Running to the_ YOUNG GUINEA-COCK.] My son, I am in such a state--I am

  in such--

  A HEN

  [_Calling after_ CHANTECLER.] And when shall we see you again?

  CHANTECLER

  [_Before going._] When you have grown teeth! [_Off with the_

  PHEASANT-HEN.]

  THE GUINEA-HEN

  [_To the_ YOUNG GUINEA-COCK.] This has been quite the finest affair of

  the season! [_Darting madly about among the departing guests._] Au

  revoir! Mondays in August! Don't forget!

  THE MAGPIE

  [_Announcing._] The Tortoise!

  ACT FOURTH

  THE NIGHT OF THE NIGHTINGALE

  _In the Forest. Evening. Huge trees with thick gnarled roots. At the

  base of one of the trees, Time or a lightning stroke has hollowed a sort

  of chamber. Rising slopes carpeted with heather. Rabbit holes. Mosses.

  Toadstools. Stretched between two ferns, a great cobweb, spangled with

  water-drops. At the rise of the curtain_, RABBITS _are discovered on

  every side among the underbrush, peacefully inhaling the evening air. A

  time of serene silence and coolness._

  SCENE FIRST

  _A_ RABBIT _in front of his burrow_, CHOIR OF UNSEEN BIRDS.

  A RABBIT

  It is the hour when with sweet and solemn voices the two warblers,

  Black-cap of the Gardens, and Red-wing of the Woods, intone the

  evening prayer.

  A VOICE

  [_Among the branches._] O God of Birds!

  ANOTHER VOICE

  O God of Birds! or, rather, for the Hawk

  Has surely not the same God as the Wren,

  O God of Little Birds!

  A THOUSAND VOICES

  [_Among the leaves._] O God of Little Birds!

  FIRST VOICE

  Who breathed into our wings to make us light,

  And painted them with colours of His sky,

  All thanks for this fair day, for meat and drink--

  Sweet sky-born water caught in cups of stone,

  Sweet hedgerow berries washed of dust with dew,

  And thanks for these good little eyes of ours

  That spy the unseen enemies of man,

  And thanks for the good tools by Thee bestowed

  To aid our work of little gardeners,

  Trowels and pruning-hooks of living horn.

  THE SECOND VOICE

  To-morrow we will fight borer and blight,

  Forgive Thy birds to-night their trespasses,

  The stripping of a currant-bush or two!

  THE FIRST VOICE