Scene First
TheNight-birds,of all sorts and sizes, form a great circle, perching in tiers on the branches, the briers, the stones; theCatcrouches in the grass; theBlackbirdhops hither and thither on a fagot.
At the rise of the curtain theNight-birdsare discovered, motionless, black shapes with closed eyes. TheGrand Dukeis perched upon a tree branch above the rest. TheScreech-owl’sphosphorescent 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 OtherI know. All there is to do is to open our eyes.
The Screech-owlAsio! Nictea! Nyctalis! [Three more pairs of eyes have opened.] Brachyotus! [No eye opening at the name, he repeats.] Brachyotus!
One of the Night-birdsHe will be here directly. He stopped to eat a linnet.
Brachyotus[Arriving.] Present!
The Screech-owlNot one of them would miss, when the meeting relates to the Cock!
BrachyotusNot one!
The Screech-owlCarine! [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!
AllLong 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-dukePraise the Night, discreet, propitious,When with wadded wing and mutedO er the sleeping world we fly,And the partridge in the brackenNe’er suspects the hovering presenceTill we pounce without a cry.
The Screech-owlPraise the Night, convenient, secret,When in slaughtering baby rabbitsWe 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-owlPraise the density of darkness!
A Wood-owlThe intensity of stillnessLetting crunching bones be heard!
A Barn-owlFreshness pleasantly contrastingWith the genial warmth of blood dropsSpurting from a strangled bird!
The Wood-owlPraise the black rock oozing terror!
The Screech-owlAnd the cross-roads where our screeches,Furrowing the startled air,Our demoniac yelling, hooting,Make the hardened unbelieverCross himself and fall to prayer!
The Grand-dukePraise the snares of the great Weaver,Night, whose only fault or weaknessIs her tolerance of stars!
The Screech-owlFor spectators are not wantedAt the work of plucking fledglings—Be they Jupiter and Mars!
The Grand-dukePraise the Night, when we take vengeanceOn the goldfinch for his beauty,On the titmouse for his grace!When the darkness takes possessionLet them tremble, those confidingHostages of Day’s!
The Wood-owlFor there is a choice in murder!
The Grand-dukeAnd the inkier the blacknessAll the clearer do we seeTo select the whitest pigeonIn the dove-cote, and the bluestBlue jay on the shuddering tree!
The Barn-owlPraise the hour and taste and relishOf the eggs we suck, destroyingHopes of many a haughty line!
The Screech-owlAnd the councils where in whispersWe prepare what shall resembleAccidents by every sign!
The Grand-dukePraise the shadow’s grim suggestions!The advantage over othersWe inherit through their fright!
The Screech-owlFor our grisly cachinnationsGive the very eagle goose-flesh—
All TogetherPraise our patroness, the Night!
The Grand-dukeAnd now let the Screech-Owl in his russet robe take the floor.
Several VoicesSilence!
The Blackbird[On his fagot.] What an awf’ly lovely evening party!
The Screech-owl[Oratorically.] Brethren of the Night—
The Grand-duke[To theOwlnext 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-owlBrethren of the Night!—
An OwlThere comes the Mole!
Several VoicesSilence!
The OwlShe must have taken, to come here, a route below the roots of the daisies—
The BlackbirdThe 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-dukeI 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 BlackbirdMy eye is merely roguish. I am here to look on, you know, without taking sides,—in the artist spirit, that’s all.
An OwlIf you are not taking sides, then you are siding with us!
The BlackbirdOh, 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!
AllA robber! He robs us!
The BlackbirdNow, what the—Robs you of what?
The Grand-dukeOf health! Gladness!
The BlackbirdHow is that?
The Screech-owlBy his crowing!
The Grand-dukeHis 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; theBlackbirdfrightened, 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; theBlackbirdagain dodges behind the fagots.]
An Owl[Hurriedly.] Never utter that horrible grating word, which so hatefully suggests the scratching of a match!
The Screech-owlYou should express yourself: The Cock heralds the folding back of the pall—
The BlackbirdBut the day—[Start and threatening gesture from all.]
All[In voices of unspeakable anguish.] Not that word!
The Grand-dukeYou must refer to it as “that which will be!â€
The BlackbirdWhat 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-dukeHe begins while the night is still pleasant and cool—
Cries on All SidesHe is a robber, a thief!
The Grand-dukeHe cheats us!
All the OwlsHe cheats us! Cheats us!
The Grand-dukeOf the good bit of night there still is left.
An OwletHe compels us to leave our posts beside the warrens—
The Screech-owlOur feasts of steaming flesh!
The Wood-owlThe witches’ routs where we ride perched on the fist of a hag!
The Grand-dukeAfter cock-crow an Owl is no longer in his normal state—
The Screech-owlHe does evil in a hurry!
The Grand-dukeAnd bungles it in consequence!
The Old Horned-owlAs soon as the Cock has crowed all becomes temporary provisional—
The Barn-owlThough the Night be still black, we are painfully aware of it growing less and less black!
The Screech-owlWhen 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-dukeTheir 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 OwlHow can it be accomplished?
The Screech-owlThe Blackbird here has worked in our cause.
The BlackbirdWho—I ?
The Screech-owlYes, you laughed at him.
All[Cackling.] Ha, ha!
The Grand-duke[Spreading his wings.] Hush! [They resume their sinister stillness.]
The Screech-owlBut 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.
AllWhat shall we do?
The Screech-owlThe Peacock, that great booby—
All[Cackling and rocking.] Ha, ha!
The Grand-duke[Opening his wings.] Hush! [All instantly motionless.]
The Screech-owlThrough 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.
AllWhat shall we do?
An OwlCut his throat!
CriesDeath to the Cock!
An OwlDeath to that aristocrat posing as a democrat and socialist!
AnotherWith spurs on his heels, but a liberty cap on his head!
The Grand-dukeNight-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-owlKill 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-dukeBy means of what secret spring?
A Voice[From the tree.] Duke, may I lay a plan before the assembly?
The Grand-dukeScops! Let us hear!
All[At sight of a smallOwldropping from a bough, and coming forward with tiny hops.] Scops, dear little Scops!
Scops[Bowing before theGrand-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!
ScopsCherishes the dream of presenting these same Cocks to-morrow, in the kitchen garden, at the—
All Together[Laughing.] Guinea-hen’s!
ScopsAnd launching among her set these Birds whose glory will be the finishing blow to the glory of Chantecler.
The BlackbirdFlatten him out like a pan cake!
The Screech OwlBut those Cocks are always locked in!
ScopsI 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!
ScopsAt sight of the ill-omened bird—
All[Cackling and rocking.] Ha, ha!
The Grand-duke[Spreading his wings.] Hush! [All suddenly still.]
ScopsFled, 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 BlackbirdHe is not going. He has refused.
ScopsThe 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 CatI saw a Pheasant-hen exciting his admiration, and I saw that he would go.
The BlackbirdIt’s when you’re sound asleep that you see everything!
The Grand-duke[ToScops.] Very well, then, let us suppose him going.
ScopsChantecler, for all his fame, has retained his bluff country squire’s frankness. When he sees this—
The Blackbird[Prompting.] Tea-fight—
ScopsAnd the contortions of those—
The Blackbird[Same business.] Snobs—
ScopsIn the presence of those—
The Blackbird[Same business.] Big guns—
ScopsHe 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—?
ScopsSuch is my fond hope.
The CatBut listen, Scops. Suppose Chantecler should win?
ScopsKnow, Angora, that there will be among those fancy cocks a genuine game-cock, lean, with tawny wing, the same who—
The Blackbird[Seeing theOwlspuff out their feathers for joy.] Sensation among the audience!
ScopsThe 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.]
ScopsAnd after that—
The Blackbird[Hopping.] It’s quite a tidy proposition as it stands—
ScopsWhat?
The BlackbirdYour 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.Scopsstops short and collapses, as if mown down. All the puffedOwlsappear 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 theNight-birdscalling to another.] Nyctalis!
The BlackbirdIt’s hours before daybreak. Oceans of time, you have!
An OwlAsio, are you coming?
Another Owl[Calling.] Nictea!
Another[Fluttering up to him.] Yes, my dear! [They all stagger and trip over their wings.]
The BlackbirdWhat makes them stumble?
The Night-birds[Winking and blinking with marked evidences of pain.] Oh, how it hurts! Ow! Ow!
The BlackbirdLightning opthalmia, I declare! [One by one theOwlsfly 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 DistanceScops!
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 BlackbirdGone! [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! [ThePheasant-hensuddenly flies over the brushwood tangle, dropping beside him.] You!