CHANTECLER
[_Coming back to the_ BLACKBIRD.] And so that habitual skeptical
sneer--?
THE BLACKBIRD
Wiped out! My satirical whistling, as the Dog called it, now expresses
pure admiration. Listen, like this: [_He whistles admiringly._]
Tew!--How is that?--Tew-tew [_Nodding soberly._] That’s all right!
CHANTECLER
[_Innocently._] You are not such a bad fellow, after all. I said so to
the Dog.
THE BLACKBIRD
[_With profound conviction._] You’re a wonderful old boy!
CHANTECLER
[_Modestly._] Oh!
THE BLACKBIRD
To come it over the Hens--[_He again whistles Admiringly._] make them
believe that he engineers the dawn! [CHANTECLER _starts._] A simple
idea, but it took you to get on to it! Brother, I believe you were
hatched in Columbus’ egg!
CHANTECLER
But--
THE BLACKBIRD
All other Don Juans are donkeys beside you! Says he to himself: Make the
daybreak to impress little pheasant-hens! And does it, too--succeeds!
CHANTECLER
[_In a smothered voice._] Be still!
THE BLACKBIRD
Neat, the little roof which must be gilded! Complete, the ladder for the
Motes!
CHANTECLER
[_In a spasm of pain._] Be still!
THE BLACKBIRD
And the access of modesty, a sweet little final touch! I kiss my hand to
you! Oh, he knows how--no mistake he knows--
CHANTECLER
[_Constraining himself, in a curt voice._] The Dawn? Certainly, I know
her. I think I may claim that honor!
THE BLACKBIRD
You precious fakir! Don’t you consider you have succeeded?
CHANTECLER
In bringing on the day? Yes, certainly, I have succeeded admirably, in
this case.
THE BLACKBIRD
Oh, you do it so well! How awfully well he does it!
CHANTECLER
Making the light? Of course, I have done it so often! I am used to it.
The Sun obeys me.
THE BLACKBIRD
So, worthy Joshua! You feel the dawn coming, and then you crow! For
lightness of touch and richness of invention, give us a lyric poet!
CHANTECLER
[_Bursting forth._] Wretch!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Surprised._] Are you keeping it up with me? [_Winking._] Oh, we know
how the thing is done!
CHANTECLER
You may know,--not I! I just open my heart and sing!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Hopping about._] That’s the idea!
CHANTECLER
Blackbird, laugh at everything besides, but not at that, if you love me!
THE BLACKBIRD
I love you!
CHANTECLER
[_Bitterly._] With half a heart!
THE BLACKBIRD
Can’t say a word about his _Fiat Lux?_
CHANTECLER
Not that! Not that!
THE BLACKBIRD
Old man, it’s not my fault that I’m no gull.
CHANTECLER
[_Looking after him as he hops about._] He cannot keep still long
enough, I suppose, to let the sacred truth sink in. [_Trying to stop him
in his hopping._] You behold the agony of emotion shaking me. No more
baffle and keep me off with words!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Hopping past him._] Catch, if you can, and convince me!
CHANTECLER
[_Imploring._] It’s a matter of life--my profoundest life! Oh, convince
you I must, if only for a second! I feel the holy impulse to struggle
with your soul!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Hopping past him._] Do you!
CHANTECLER
In solemn earnest, at the bottom of your heart, you did--did you
not?--believe me?
THE BLACKBIRD
I believe you!
CHANTECLER
[_With pressing anguish._] You must in some manner be aware of the
dreadful cost to me of that song? Come, use your reason. To sing as you
heard me sing, you must realise that I needed--
THE BLACKBIRD
A whopping muscle and a tolerable nerve!
CHANTECLER
No, let us not make light of serious things, responsible winged
creatures that we are!
THE BLACKBIRD
Let us go in for heavy-weight truths, by all means!
CHANTECLER
But can’t you see that to look straight at the sun, rising before his
eyes by the exertions of his larynx, one must have at the same time--
THE BLACKBIRD
Stentorian lungs and the eyes of a lynx! [_He hops out of the way._]
CHANTECLER
[_Controlling himself._] No, I cannot give up the hope of winning this
soul to the truth! [_With desperate patience._] Come, now, have you any
conception, unhappy bird, of what dawn actually is?
THE BLACKBIRD
I should say so! It’s the time of day when fluffy Aurora gets busy, as
it were, and plays ball!
CHANTECLER
But what do you say when you see the dawn shining upon the mountains?
THE BLACKBIRD
Mountains, I say, what on earth are you blushing about?
CHANTECLER
And what do you say when you hear me singing in the furrow long before
the cricket is awake?
THE BLACKBIRD
Cricket, I say, you scandalous slug-a-bed! [_He hops out of the way._]
CHANTECLER
[_Beside himself._] Are you conscious of no impulse to exclaim, cry out,
when I have made a dawn so fine and fiery-red that the heron, flying in
the early glow, looks from afar like a flamingo?
THE BLACKBIRD
Sure, brother, sure! I feel like shouting, “Bully, do it again!” [_He
hops out of the way._]
CHANTECLER
[_Exhausted._] That soul! I am more spent with chasing it than with a
whole day’s grasshopper hunting! [_Violently._] Did you not see the sky?
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Simply._] How could I? The ground is all you can see through that
little black hole. [_Pointing at the flower-pot._]
CHANTECLER
Did you see the mountain-tops tremble and turn crimson?
THE BLACKBIRD
While you were crowing, I had my eye on your feet.
CHANTECLER
[_Sorrowfully._] Ah!
THE BLACKBIRD
They were performing on the soft sod something choice in the line of
fancy dances!
CHANTECLER
[_Giving up._] I pity you! Back to your darkness, obscure Blackbird!
THE BLACKBIRD
Your obedient servant, illustrious Cock!
CHANTECLER
My course is toward the sun!
THE BLACKBIRD
Take along smoked glasses!
CHANTECLER
Blackbird, do you know the one thing upon earth worthy that one should
live wholly for its sake?
THE BLACKBIRD
There I draw the line. I won’t enter the debate!
CHANTECLER
That thing is effort, Blackbird--effort, which uplifts and ennobles the
lowest! For which reason, you, contemner of every sublime aspiration, I
contemn! And that fragile roseate snail, struggling unaided to silver
over a whole fagot, I honour!
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Snapping up the snail._] I’ll make him look silly!
CHANTECLER
[_With a cry of horror._] Abominable! To point a joke--put out a little
flame! An end. Here we part. You have no more heart than soul.
[_Going._]
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Hopping up on the fagot._] I have mind, however!
CHANTECLER
[_Turning, disdainfully._] That is open to discussion.
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Acidly._] Oh, very well! I was administering, in my merry little
characteristic way, a grain of antidote against lunacy. But I wash my
claws of you. Go ahead, justify the report of your enemies.
CHANTECLER
[_Returning._] Who? What?
THE BLACKBIRD
Strut about with your bill-board: “I’m the whole show!”
CHANTECLER
You associate with those who hate me?
THE BLACKBIRD
Do you object?
CHANTECLER
No, you pitiful jester! The habit has grown so strong, you can no more
be in earnest about friendship now than anything else. [_Going nearer to
him._] Who are my enemies?
THE BLACKBIRD
The Owls.
CHANTECLER
You sorry fool! Can’t you see that to believe in my destiny becomes all
too easy if the Owls are against me?
THE BLACKBIRD
Rest happy, then. They have a deal on--your lighting of the world being
a trifle flashy for their taste--a deal on for cutting your throat.
CHANTECLER
Through whom?
THE BLACKBIRD
A brother bird.
CHANTECLER
A Cock?
THE BLACKBIRD
A Saint George of a Cock, who is to meet you--
CHANTECLER
Where?
THE BLACKBIRD
At the Guinea-hen’s.
CHANTECLER
What a farce!
THE BLACKBIRD
Wait! It’s one of those Cocks bred and trained for fighting, who would
make just two bites of either you or me. [_As_ CHANTECLER _abruptly
starts toward the back._] Where are you going?
CHANTECLER
To the Guinea-hen’s.
THE BLACKBIRD
Ha! I forgot our knightly spurs and helmet! [_He makes a feint of
preventing him._] Take my advice, don’t go!
CHANTECLER
But I will go!
THE BLACKBIRD
Hold on!
CHANTECLER
[_Stopping beside the flower-pot, as if amazed._] How singular!
THE BLACKBIRD
What?
CHANTECLER
Did I understand you to say you came out of that flower-pot?
THE BLACKBIRD
You did.
CHANTECLER
[_Incredulous._] But how could you possibly have got into it?
THE BLACKBIRD
[_Getting into the pot._] I told you, and tell you again! Through that
little black hole I was looking at the--[_He thrusts his bill through
the hole at the bottom._]
CHANTECLER
The earth! And now through a little blue hole you shall look at the sky!
[_With a vigorous blow of his wing he turns the pot over the_ BLACKBIRD,
_who is heard fluttering beneath it, with smothered cries._] For you
hate and shun the blue sky, you Dwellers in Pots! But one can force you
to see at least as much as would cover a corn-flower, by overturning
your pot, now and then--with the sweep of a wing! [_Off._]