Scene Fifth
Chantecler, the Blackbird
Chantecler[Coming back to theBlackbird.] And so that habitual skeptical sneer—?
The BlackbirdWiped 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 BlackbirdTo come it over the Hens—[He again whistles Admiringly.] make them believe that he engineers the dawn! [Chanteclerstarts.] A simple idea, but it took you to get on to it! Brother, I believe you were hatched in Columbus’ egg!
ChanteclerBut—
The BlackbirdAll 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 BlackbirdNeat, the little roof which must be gilded! Complete, the ladder for the Motes!
Chantecler[In a spasm of pain.] Be still!
The BlackbirdAnd 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 BlackbirdYou precious fakir! Don’t you consider you have succeeded?
ChanteclerIn bringing on the day? Yes, certainly, I have succeeded admirably, in this case.
The BlackbirdOh, you do it so well! How awfully well he does it!
ChanteclerMaking the light? Of course, I have done it so often! I am used to it. The Sun obeys me.
The BlackbirdSo, 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!
ChanteclerYou may know,—notI! Ijust open my heart and sing!
The Blackbird[Hopping about.] That’s the idea!
ChanteclerBlackbird, laugh at everything besides, but not at that, if you love me!
The BlackbirdI love you!
Chantecler[Bitterly.] With half a heart!
The BlackbirdCan’t say a word about hisFiat Lux?
ChanteclerNot that! Not that!
The BlackbirdOld 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!
ChanteclerIn solemn earnest, at the bottom of your heart, you did—did you not?—believe me?
The BlackbirdI 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 BlackbirdA whopping muscle and a tolerable nerve!
ChanteclerNo, let us not make light of serious things, responsible winged creatures that we are!
The BlackbirdLet us go in for heavy-weight truths, by all means!
ChanteclerBut 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 BlackbirdStentorian 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 BlackbirdI should say so! It’s the time of day when fluffy Aurora gets busy, as it were, and plays ball!
ChanteclerBut what do you say when you see the dawn shining upon the mountains?
The BlackbirdMountains, I say, what on earth are you blushing about?
ChanteclerAnd what do you say when you hear me singing in the furrow long before the cricket is awake?
The BlackbirdCricket, 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 BlackbirdSure, 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.]
ChanteclerDid you see the mountain-tops tremble and turn crimson?
The BlackbirdWhile you were crowing, I had my eye on your feet.
Chantecler[Sorrowfully.] Ah!
The BlackbirdThey 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 BlackbirdYour obedient servant, illustrious Cock!
ChanteclerMy course is toward the sun!
The BlackbirdTake along smoked glasses!
ChanteclerBlackbird, do you know the one thing upon earth worthy that one should live wholly for its sake?
The BlackbirdThere I draw the line. I won’t enter the debate!
ChanteclerThat 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 BlackbirdStrut about with your bill-board: “I m the whole show!”
ChanteclerYou associate with those who hate me?
The BlackbirdDo you object?
ChanteclerNo, 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 BlackbirdThe Owls.
ChanteclerYou sorry fool! Can’t you see that to believe in my destiny becomes all too easy if the Owls are against me?
The BlackbirdRest 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.
ChanteclerThrough whom?
The BlackbirdA brother bird.
ChanteclerA Cock?
The BlackbirdA Saint George of a Cock, who is to meet you—
ChanteclerWhere?
The BlackbirdAt the Guinea-hen’s.
ChanteclerWhat a farce!
The BlackbirdWait! It’s one of those Cocks bred and trained for fighting, who would make just two bites of either you or me. [AsChanteclerabruptly starts toward the back.] Where are you going?
ChanteclerTo the Guinea-hen’s.
The BlackbirdHa! I forgot our knightly spurs and helmet! [He makes a feint of preventing him.] Take my advice, don’t go!
ChanteclerBut I will go!
The BlackbirdHold on!
Chantecler[Stopping beside the flower-pot, as if amazed.] How singular!
The BlackbirdWhat?
ChanteclerDid I understand you to say you came out of that flower-pot?
The BlackbirdYou 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.]
ChanteclerThe 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 theBlackbird,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.]
Curtain