Chantecler Read online

  THE PIGEON

  [_To the_ WHITE HEN.] White Hen!

  THE TURKEY

  --not always wholly without point!

  THE OLD HEN

  [_Reappearing for an instant._] In the Peacock's absence, the Turkey

  spreads his tail!

  [_The_ TURKEY _turns quickly around, the lid has already dropped._]

  THE PIGEON

  [_To the_ WHITE HEN.] Is it a fact that Chantecler is never hoarse,

  never the very least husky?

  THE WHITE HEN

  [_Keeping on with her pecking._] Perfectly true.

  THE PIGEON

  [_With growing enthusiasm._] Ah, you must be proud Cock who will be

  numbered among Illustrious Animals and his name remembered five, ten,

  fifteen years!

  THE TURKEY

  Very proud. Very proud. [_To a_ CHICK.] Who are the Illustrious Animals?

  Tell them off!

  THE CHICK

  [_Reciting a lesson._] Noah's Dove--Saint Rocco's Poodle--The--the Horse

  of Cali--

  THE TURKEY

  Cali--?

  THE CHICK

  [_Trying to remember._] Cali--

  THE PIGEON

  This Cock, now--this Cock of yours--Is it true that his song attunes,

  inspires, encourages, makes labour light, and keeps off birds of prey?

  THE WHITE HEN

  [_Pecking._] Perfectly true.

  THE CHICK

  [_Still hunting for his word._] Cali--Cali--

  THE PIGEON

  White Hen, is it true that by his song, defender of the warm and sacred

  egg, he has frequently kept the lissome weasel from--

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Looking out between the bars._]--messing his shirtfront with omelette?

  THE WHITE HEN

  Perfectly true.

  THE CHICK

  Cali--

  THE TURKEY

  [_Helping him._] Gu?

  THE CHICK

  Gu--

  THE PIGEON

  Is it true--?

  THE CHICK

  [_Jumping for joy at having found._] Gula!

  THE PIGEON

  --true that, as report says, he has a secret for his amazing singing, a

  secret whereby his crow becomes the brilliant burst of red which makes

  the poppies of the field feel themselves contemptible imitations?

  THE WHITE HEN

  [_Weary of this questioning._] Perfectly true.

  THE PIGEON

  That secret, that great secret, is it known to anyone?

  THE WHITE HEN

  No.

  THE PIGEON

  He has not even told his Hen?

  THE WHITE HEN

  [_Correcting him._] His Hens.

  THE PIGEON

  [_Slightly shocked._] Ah, he has more than one?

  THE BLACKBIRD

  He crows, remember, you only coo.

  THE PIGEON

  Well, then, he has not even told his favourite?

  THE TUFTED HEN

  [_Promptly._] No, he has not!

  THE WHITE HEN

  [_As promptly._] No, he has not!

  THE BLACK HEN

  [_As promptly._] No, he has not!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Thrusting out his head._] Hush!--An a�rial drama! The Butterfly,

  absorbed in his head of blossom, banquets, all oblivious of--

  [_A great green gauze butterfly-net appears above the wall, softly

  coming towards the_ BUTTERFLY _settled on one of the flowers._]

  A HEN

  What is that?

  THE TURKEY

  [_Solemnly._] Fate!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  In a thin disguise of gauze!

  THE WHITE HEN

  Oh, a net--at the end of a cane!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  No harm in the cane--it's the kid at the other end of the cane! [_Half

  aloud, watching the_ BUTTERFLY.] You neat little fop, sailing from rose

  to rose, to-night you'll be neat as a pin can make you!

  ALL

  [_Watching the cautious approach of the net beyond the wall._]

  Nearer--Nearer--Hush! He'll catch it!--No he won't!--Yes, he will!

  SUDDENLY OUTSIDE

  Cock-a-doodle-doo!

  [_At the sound, the_ BUTTERFLY _flies off. The_ NET _wavers a moment,

  with an effect of disappointment, then disappears._]

  SEVERAL HENS

  What?--Eh?--What was it?

  A HEN

  [_Who having hopped up on a wheelbarrow can follow the flight of the_

  BUTTERFLY.] He is off and away, over the meadow.

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_With ironical emphasis._] It's Chantecler, practicing knight-errantry!

  THE PIGEON

  [_With emotion._] Chantecler!

  A HEN

  He is coming!

  ANOTHER HEN

  He is just outside--

  THE WHITE HEN

  [_To the_ PIGEON.] Now you will see. He's a very fine bird indeed.

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Thrusting his head between the bars._] Easy as possible to make, a

  Cock!

  THE TURKEY

  [_Admiringly._] Admirable amenity!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  You take a melon--a fine specimen, I will grant,--for the trunk. For the

  legs, two sticks of asparagus,--prize sticks, of course. For the head, a

  red pepper,--as handsome as you may find. For the eye, a

  currant,--exceptionally clear and light. For the tail, a sheaf of leeks,

  with luxuriant blue-green flags. For the ear, a dainty kidney-bean,

  --extra, superfine!--And there you have him, there's your Cock!

  THE PIGEON

  [_Gently._] One thing you have omitted--His heavenly clarion call!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Indicating_ CHANTECLER, _who now appears upon the wall._] Yes, but

  with the exception of that--slight detail, you must own my portrait is

  a likeness.

  THE PIGEON

  Not at all. Not in the very least. [_Contemplating_ CHANTECLER _with a

  very different eye from the_ BLACKBIRD'S.] What I see, beneath that

  quivering hemlet, is Summer's glorious and favoured knight, who, from a

  groaning wain at evening borrowing its golden harvest-robe has arrayed

  himself in this, and lifts it from the dust with a gleaming sickle!

  CHANTECLER

  [_On the wall, in a long guttural sigh._] Coa--

  THE BLACKBIRD

  When he makes that noise in his throat, he either is in love, or

  preparing some poetic outburst.

  CHANTECLER

  [_Motionless on the wall, with head high._] Blaze forth in

  glory!--Dazzle--

  THE BLACKBIRD

  He's letting off hot air!

  CHANTECLER

  Irradiate the world!

  A HEN

  Now he pauses--one claw lifted--

  CHANTECLER

  [_In a sort of groan of excessive tenderness._] Coa--

  THE BLACKBIRD

  That, if you please, is ecstasy!

  CHANTECLER

  Thy gold is of all gold alone beneficent! I worship thee!

  THE PIGEON

  [_Under breath._] To whom is he talking?

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Sneering._] To the sun, sonny, the sun!

  CHANTECLER

  O thou that driest the tears of the meanest among weeds

  And dost of a dead flower make a living butterfly--

  Thy miracle, wherever almond-trees

  Shower down the wind their scented shreds,

  Dead petals dancing in a living swarm--

  I worship thee, O Sun! whose ample light,

  Blessing every forehead, ripe
ning every fruit,

  Entering every flower and every hovel,

  Pours itself forth and yet is never less,

  Still spending and unspent--like mother's love!

  I sing of thee, and will be thy high priest,

  Who disdainest not to glass thy shining face

  In the humble basin of blue suds,

  Or see the lightning of thy last farewell

  Reflected in an humble cottage pane!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  [_Thrusting out his head._] Can't call it off now, boys, he's started on

  an ode!

  THE TURKEY

  [_Watching_ CHANTECLER _as by a series of stately hops he comes down a

  pile of hay._] Here he comes, prouder than--

  A HEN

  [_Stopping in front of a small tin cone._] See there! The new-fangled

  drinking-trough! [_She drinks._] Handy!

  THE BLACKBIRD

  Prouder than a drum major chanting as he marches:

  "My country, 'tis of thee!"

  CHANTECLER

  [_Beginning to walk about the yard._]

  Thou smilest on the--

  ALL THE HENS

  [_Rushing to the_ WHITE HEN _who is eating something._] What's she

  eating?

  THE WHITE HEN

  Corn. Nothing but corn.

  CHANTECLER

  Thou smilest on the sunflower craning after thee,

  And burnishest my brother of the vane,

  And softly sifting through the linden-trees

  Strewest the ground with dappled gold,

  So fine there's no more walking where it lies.

  Through thee the earthen pot is an enamelled urn,

  The clout hung out to dry a noble banner,

  The hay-rick by thy favour boasts a golden cape,

  And the rick's little sister, the thatched hive,

  Wears, by thy grace, a hood of gold!

  Glory to thee in the vineyards! Glory to thee in the fields!

  Glory among the grass and on the roofs,

  In eyes of lizards and on wings of swans,--

  Artist who making splendid the great things

  Forgets not to make exquisite the small!

  'Tis thou that, cutting out a silhouette,

  To all thou beamest on dost fasten this dark twin,

  Doubling the number of delightful shapes,

  Appointing to each thing its shadow,

  More charming often than itself.

  I praise thee, Sun! Thou sheddest roses on the air,

  Diamonds on the stream, enchantment on the hill;

  A poor dull tree thou takest and turnest to green rapture,

  O Sun, without whose golden magic--things

  Would be no more than what they are!

  THE PIGEON

  Bravo! I shall have something to tell my mate. We shall long talk of

  this!

  CHANTECLER

  [_Seeing him, with noble courtesy._] Young blue-winged stranger, with

  new-fledged bill, thanks! Pray lay my duty at her coral feet!

  [_The_ PIGEON _flies off._]

  THE BLACKBIRD

  Jolly your admirers, it pays!

  CHANTECLER

  [_In a cordial voice, to the whole barnyard._] To work now, all of you,

  with a will!

  [_A_ FLY _darts past, buzzing._]

  CHANTECLER

  Busy and resonant Fly, I love thee! Behold her! What is her flight but

  the heart-whole gift of herself?

  THE TURKEY

  [_Loftily._] Yes.--She has dropped considerably in my esteem, however,

  since that matter of the--

  CHANTECLER

  Of the what?

  THE TURKEY

  Of the Fly and the--

  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