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!