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--
THE BLACKBIRD
Is that streaming eye, my friend, a result of age or rheumatism?
PATOU
Neither! But I have within me several dogs, and there is conflict amidst
me. My hunter’s nostril twitches at a shot, but, directly, my
house-dog’s memory raises before me a bleeding wing, the glazing eye of
a doe, the pathos of a rabbit’s dying look--and I feel the heart of a
Saint Bernard waking in my breast! [_Another shot._]
CHANTECLER
Again?