_The_ NIGHT-BIRDS, _of all sorts and sizes, form a great circle,
perching in tiers on the branches, the briers, the stones; the_ CAT
_crouches in the grass; the_ BLACKBIRD _hops hither and thither on
a fagot._
_At the rise of the curtain the_ NIGHT-BIRDS _are discovered,
motionless, black shapes with closed eyes. The_ GRAND DUKE _is perched
upon a tree branch above the rest. The_ SCREECH-OWL’S _phosphorescent
eyes alone are wide open. He proceeds with the roll-call, and at every
name two great round eyes brighten in the dark._
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Calling._] Strix! [_Two eyes light up._] Scops! [_Two more eyes light
up._] Grand-Duke! [_Two more eyes._] Metascops! [_Two more eyes._]
Minor! [_Two more eyes._]
ONE NIGHT-BIRD
[_To the other._] The Great Bubo presides.
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Calling._] Owl of the Wall! Of the Belfry! Of the Cloister! Of the
Yew! [_At every name two more eyes have opened wide._]
A NIGHT-BIRD
[_To another just arriving._] The roll is called!
THE OTHER
I know. All there is to do is to open our eyes.
THE SCREECH-OWL
Asio! Nictea! Nyctalis! [_Three more pairs of eyes have opened._]
Brachyotus! [_No eye opening at the name, he repeats._] Brachyotus!
ONE OF THE NIGHT-BIRDS
He will be here directly. He stopped to eat a linnet.
BRACHYOTUS
[_Arriving._] Present!
THE SCREECH-OWL
Not one of them would miss, when the meeting relates to the Cock!
BRACHYOTUS
Not one!
THE SCREECH-OWL
Carine! [_Two eyes open._] Caparacoch! [_No eye opening, he repeats
emphatically._] Ca-pa-ra-coch!--Well?--Well?
CAPARACOCH
[_Arriving out of breath, opens his eyes, faltering an excuse. _] I live
a long way off!
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Dryly._] You should have started the earlier! [_Looking around._] We
are all present, I believe. [_Calling._] Flammeolus! And Flammeoline!
[_All the eyes are now open._]
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Solemnly._] Before beginning, let us give, but not too loud, the cry
which makes us all as one!
ALL
Long live the Night!
_And in a weird, savage, hurried chorus, interspersed with hoots and
flapping of wings, all talking together and rocking themselves in
hideous glee._
THE GRAND-DUKE
Praise the Night, discreet, propitious,
When with wadded wing and muted
O’er the sleeping world we fly,
And the partridge in the bracken
Ne’er suspects the hovering presence
Till we pounce without a cry.
THE SCREECH-OWL
Praise the Night, convenient, secret,
When in slaughtering baby rabbits
We can do it at our ease,
Daub the grass with blood in comfort,
Spare the pains to look like heroes,
Be ourselves where no one sees!
AN OLD HORNED-OWL
Praise the density of darkness!
A WOOD-OWL
The intensity of stillness
Letting crunching bones be heard!
A BARN-OWL
Freshness pleasantly contrasting
With the genial warmth of blood drops
Spurting from a strangled bird!
THE WOOD-OWL
Praise the black rock oozing terror!
THE SCREECH-OWL
And the cross-roads where our screeches,
Furrowing the startled air,
Our demoniac yelling, hooting,
Make the hardened unbeliever
Cross himself and fall to prayer!
THE GRAND-DUKE
Praise the snares of the great Weaver,
Night, whose only fault or weakness
Is her tolerance of stars!
THE SCREECH-OWL
For spectators are not wanted
At the work of plucking fledglings--
Be they Jupiter and Mars!
THE GRAND-DUKE
Praise the Night, when we take vengeance
On the goldfinch for his beauty,
On the titmouse for his grace!
When the darkness takes possession
Let them tremble, those confiding
Hostages of Day’s!
THE WOOD-OWL
For there is a choice in murder!
THE GRAND-DUKE
And the inkier the blackness
All the clearer do we see
To select the whitest pigeon
In the dove-cote, and the bluest
Blue jay on the shuddering tree!
THE BARN-OWL
Praise the hour and taste and relish
Of the eggs we suck, destroying
Hopes of many a haughty line!
THE SCREECH-OWL
And the councils where in whispers
We prepare what shall resemble
Accidents by every sign!
THE GRAND-DUKE
Praise the shadow’s grim suggestions!
The advantage over others
We inherit through their fright!
THE SCREECH-OWL
For our grisly cachinnations
Give the very eagle goose-flesh--
ALL TOGETHER
Praise our patroness, the Night!
THE GRAND-DUKE
And now let the Screech-Owl in his russet robe take the floor.
SEVERAL VOICES
Silence!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_On his fagot._] What an awf’ly lovely evening party!
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Oratorically._] Brethren of the Night--
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_To the_ OWL _next to him._] The meeting-place seems to me particularly
well chosen. The blackest spot, the moldiest tree. To the right, old
postherds. To the left, in the dark between the hollies--the view!
THE SCREECH-OWL
Brethren of the Night!--
AN OWL
There comes the Mole!
SEVERAL VOICES
Silence!
THE OWL
She must have taken, to come here, a route below the roots of the
daisies--
THE BLACKBIRD
The subway, what else?
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_To his neighbor._] Is that the Blackbird?
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Coming forward._] Yes, your Grace. And the two agate balls over there
are the Cat.
THE GRAND-DUKE
I can hear him licking his paws.
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Resuming._] Brethren of the Night! Inasmuch as everybody here--and we
plume ourselves upon it!--is possessed of the evil eye--
ALL THE BIRDS
[_Chuckling and rocking in their peculiarly disgusting and
characteristic fashion._] Ha, ha!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Spreading his wings to demand silence._] Hush! [_All return to their
appalling stillness._]
THE BLACKBIRD
My eye is merely roguish. I am here to look on, you know, without taking
sides,--in the artist spirit, that’s all.
AN OWL
If you are not taking sides, then you are siding with us!
THE BLACKBIRD
Oh, I say, what a primitive notion!
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Completing his sentence._] Let us express ourselves with simple and
direct malevolence: the Cock is a robber!
ALL
A robber! He robs us!
THE BLACKBIRD
Now, what the--Robs you of what?
THE GRAND-DUKE
Of health! Gladness!
THE BLACKBIRD
How is that?
THE SCREECH-OWL
By his crowing!
THE GRAND-DUKE
His crowing brings on enlargement of the spleen and pericarditis! For it
heralds--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Hopping about._] Oh, I see--The light!
[_All make a violent motion in his direction; the_ BLACKBIRD
_frightened, hides among the fagots._]
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Emphatically._] Never speak that word! When that word is spoken, Night
at the horizon feels a crawling discomfort, a titillation underneath
her wing.
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Cautiously correcting himself._] The brightness of--[_General start
of dismay repeated; the_ BLACKBIRD _again dodges behind the fagots._]
AN OWL
[_Hurriedly._] Never utter that horrible grating word, which so
hatefully suggests the scratching of a match!
THE SCREECH-OWL
You should express yourself: The Cock heralds the folding back of the
pall--
THE BLACKBIRD
But the day--[_Start and threatening gesture from all._]
ALL
[_In voices of unspeakable anguish._] Not that word!
THE GRAND-DUKE
You must refer to it as “that which will be!”
THE BLACKBIRD
What difference does it make whether or not he heralds the--
ALL
[_Stopping him._] Ha!
THE BLACKBIRD
--the folding back of the pall, since that which will be--will be!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_In tones of despair._] Simple torture it is to hear a brazen throat
forever reminding you of what you know to be only too true!
ALL
[_Writhing in pain._] Too true! Too true!
THE GRAND-DUKE
He begins while the night is still pleasant and cool--
CRIES ON ALL SIDES
He is a robber, a thief!
THE GRAND-DUKE
He cheats us!
ALL THE OWLS
He cheats us! Cheats us!
THE GRAND-DUKE
Of the good bit of night there still is left.
AN OWLET
He compels us to leave our posts beside the warrens--
THE SCREECH-OWL
Our feasts of steaming flesh!
THE WOOD-OWL
The witches’ routs where we ride perched on the fist of a hag!
THE GRAND-DUKE
After cock-crow an Owl is no longer in his normal state--
THE SCREECH-OWL
He does evil in a hurry!
THE GRAND-DUKE
And bungles it in consequence!
THE OLD HORNED-OWL
As soon as the Cock has crowed all becomes temporary provisional--
THE BARN-OWL
Though the Night be still black, we are painfully aware of it growing
less and less black!
THE SCREECH-OWL
When his metallic voice has cleft the night, we squirm like a worm in a
fruit that is cut in two.
THE BLACKBIRD
[_On his fagot, mystified._] The other Cocks, however--
THE GRAND-DUKE
Their song creates no uneasiness. It is his song which must be silenced.
ALL THE NIGHT-BIRDS
[_Flapping their wings, in a long lament._] Silenced! Silenced!
AN OWL
How can it be accomplished?
THE SCREECH-OWL
The Blackbird here has worked in our cause.
THE BLACKBIRD
Who--I?
THE SCREECH-OWL
Yes, you laughed at him.
ALL
[_Cackling._] Ha, ha!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Spreading his wings._] Hush! [_They resume their sinister stillness._]
THE SCREECH-OWL
But his song has not acted any the less directly on our gall-bladders
for the fun that has been made of him. He has grown stronger than ever
since he was found ridiculous.
ALL
What shall we do?
THE SCREECH-OWL
The Peacock, that great booby--
ALL
[_Cackling and rocking._] Ha, ha!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Opening his wings._] Hush! [_All instantly motionless._]
THE SCREECH-OWL
Through the Peacock, likewise working in our cause, the Cock came out of
fashion. But his song is just as inconvenient, in fashion or out of it.
He is all the more proudly uncompromising for no longer being in style.
ALL
What shall we do?
AN OWL
Cut his throat!
CRIES
Death to the Cock!
AN OWL
Death to that aristocrat posing as a democrat and socialist!
ANOTHER
With spurs on his heels, but a liberty cap on his head!
THE GRAND-DUKE
Night-birds all, arise!
[ALL, _arising with outspread wings and glaring eyes, increase
enormously in size. The night appears doubly dark._]
THE BLACKBIRD
[_With unabated lightness._] Midnight to the fore!
THE SCREECH-OWL
Kill him! But how can we, when our eyes cease to see the moment he comes
out?
ALL
[_Wailing like an ancient chorus._] Woe!
THE OLD HORNED-OWL
[_Craftily._] How kill--from afar?
THE GRAND-DUKE
By means of what secret spring?
A VOICE
[_From the tree._] Duke, may I lay a plan before the assembly?
THE GRAND-DUKE
Scops! Let us hear!
ALL
[_At sight of a small_ OWL _dropping from a bough, and coming forward
with tiny hops._] Scops, dear little Scops!
SCOPS
[_Bowing before the_ GRAND-DUKE.] You are aware, mighty
Blind-by-day-and-seer-by-night, that in pleasant gardens up yonder hill
a breeder of birds--termed aviculturist, raises for exhibitions--termed
agricultural, the most magnificent Cocks of the most extraordinary
varieties. Now, that great discoverer of rare birds, the Peacock, who,
possessing a voice which pierces the ear-drum cannot abide a voice which
pierces the darkness--the Peacock, whose specialty it is to confer
celebrity upon every strange beast--
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_To his neighbour._] From every strange region!
SCOPS
Cherishes the dream of presenting these same Cocks to-morrow, in the
kitchen garden, at the--
ALL TOGETHER
[_Laughing._] Guinea-hen’s!
SCOPS
And launching among her set these Birds whose glory will be the
finishing blow to the glory of Chantecler.
THE BLACKBIRD
Flatten him out like a pan cake!
THE SCREECH OWL
But those Cocks are always locked in!
SCOPS
I am coming to that. This evening, when a maid, having entered their
wire-netted close, was scattering corn in a golden shower, I started up
suddenly from the hollow of a pollard willow, and the girl--
AN OWL
[_To his neighbour._] What a bright mind, our little Scops!
SCOPS
At sight of the ill-omened bird--
ALL
[_Cackling and rocking._] Ha, ha!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Spreading his wings._] Hush! [_All suddenly still._]
SCOPS
Fled, with one arm across her eyes! The cage was left open, and the
whole fantastic host will meet Chantecler to-morrow at the--
ALL
[_With peals of laughter._] Guinea-hen’s!
THE BLACKBIRD
He is not going. He has refused.
SCOPS
The devil!
THE CAT
[_Quietly._] Go on, Scops. He will be there.
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Looking at him from a distance._] What do you know about it, pocket
panther?
THE CAT
I saw a Pheasant-hen exciting his admiration, and I saw that he would
go.
THE BLACKBIRD
It’s when you’re sound asleep that you see everything!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_To_ SCOPS.] Very well, then, let us suppose him going.
SCOPS
Chantecler, for all his fame, has retained his bluff country squire’s
frankness. When he sees this--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Prompting._] Tea-fight--
SCOPS
And the contortions of those--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Same business._] Snobs--
SCOPS
In the presence of those--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Same business._] Big guns--
SCOPS
He is sure to say things which they are equally sure to take up.
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Thrilled._] And do you believe that a cock-fight--?
SCOPS
Such is my fond hope.
THE CAT
But listen, Scops. Suppose Chantecler should win?
SCOPS
Know, Angora, that there will be among those fancy cocks a genuine
game-cock, lean, with tawny wing, the same who--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Seeing the_ OWLS _puff out their feathers for joy._] Sensation among
the audience!
SCOPS
The same who has defeated the most famous champions--the White Pile.
And as this victor in Flemish and English encounters wears at his heels,
for the defter dispatching of his enemy, two razors fastened there by
the ingenuity of man, by tomorrow night Chantecler will be dead, and his
eyes picked out of their sockets.
THE SCREECH-OWL
[_Enthusiastically._] We will go and gloat over his corpse!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Risen to his full height, formidable._] And his comb, which looked
above his forehead like an incarnate bit of scarlet dawn, we will take
his comb,--our dearest dream at length fulfilled!--and we will eat it!
ALL
[_With a yell, which ends in their ferocious cackling and rocking._] And
we will eat it,--eat it, ha, ha!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_Spreading his wings._] Hush! [_Dead silence._]
SCOPS
And after that--
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Hopping._] It’s quite a tidy proposition as it stands--
SCOPS
What?
THE BLACKBIRD
Your scheme! By Jingo, if I were the sort of bird to take things
solemnly, I would go straight to the Cock and tell him. But I will do
nothing of the sort. [_He concludes, with four little hops._] For I
know--that all this--will turn out--beautifully!
SCOPS
[_Ironically._] Beautifully indeed! [_He continues in growing
excitement._] And after that, if those absurd Cocks of far-fetched
breeds have not by to-morrow evening gone back to their cages, we will
eat them all, no longer good for anything!
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_In his neighbour’s ear._] And after that we will eat the Blackbird for
dessert.
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Who has not caught the last sentence._] What did he say?
SCOPS
[_Quickly._] Nothing! [_In a still increasing frenzy of glee._] And
after that--
[_In the distance: Cock-a-doodle-doo! Instant silence. _SCOPS_ stops
short and collapses, as if mown down. All the puffed _OWLS_ appear
suddenly to have grown thin._]
ALL
[_Looking at one another and blinking._] What is it? What was that?
[_They hastily spread their wings and call to one another for flight._]
Grand-Duke! Minor! Minimus!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Hopping from one to the other._] Going? So soon? Why, what’s your
hurry?
VOICE
[_Of one of the_ NIGHT-BIRDS _calling to another._] Nyctalis!
THE BLACKBIRD
It’s hours before daybreak. Oceans of time, you have!
AN OWL
Asio, are you coming?
ANOTHER OWL
[_Calling._] Nictea!
ANOTHER
[_Fluttering up to him._] Yes, my dear! [_They all stagger and trip over
their wings._]
THE BLACKBIRD
What makes them stumble?
THE NIGHT-BIRDS
[_Winking and blinking with marked evidences of pain._] Oh, how it
hurts! Ow! Ow!
THE BLACKBIRD
Lightning opthalmia, I declare! [_One by one the_ OWLS _fly off._]
THE GRAND-DUKE
[_The last to go, spins on himself with a cry of pain and rage._] How
does he contrive, that pernicious Cock, to have a voice that fairly puts
out your eyes! [_He heavily flaps off._]
VOICES OF THE NIGHT-BIRDS
[_In the distance._] Strix!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Looking after them among the branches, and later in the blue space
over the valley._] They are calling one another!
VOICE IN THE DISTANCE
Scops!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Bending over the valley, where the dark wings are dwindling and
fading._] They wheel--waver--dip--
VOICES
[_Dying in the distance._] Owl of the Wall! Of the Belfry! Of the Yew!
THE BLACKBIRD
Gone! [_He looks about, gives a hop, and with an immediate return to
levity._] But it’s supper-time.--Now for a bite of cold grasshopper!
[_The_ PHEASANT-HEN _suddenly flies over the brushwood tangle, dropping
beside him._] You!