Chanticleer

“ They probably embodied the traditionary peculiarities of their whole line of progenitors, derived through an unbroken succession of eggs; or else this individual Chanticleer and his two wives had grown to be humorists, and a little crack-brained withal, on account of their solitary way of life, and out of sympathy for Hepzibah, their lady-patroness.
Queer, indeed, they looked! Chanticleer himself, though stalking on two stilt-like legs, with the dignity of interminable descent in all his gestures, was hardly bigger than an ordinary partridge; his two wives were about the size of quails ”

“ The mice drew the carriage into the coach-house, Partlet and Chanticleer flew on to a perch, the Cat sat down by the fire, the Duck lay down by the well-pole. The Egg rolled itself up in the towel, the Pin stuck itself into the cushion, the Needle sprang into the pillow on the bed, and the Millstone laid itself over the door. ”

“ At that very moment a red rooster, who stood with his burnished wings on the garden wall, near enough to have heard all that had passed, lifted up his throat, and poured forth a clear cry, which rang through the placid air far and wide.
"He will—I know he will," said little Sam Peabody, leaping down from his judgment-seat in the window. "Chanticleer knows he will, or he would not speak in that way. He hasn't crowed once before, you know, grandfather, since Elbridge went away; we'll hear from brother soon, I know we shall—I know we shall!" ”

“ THE ADVENTURES OF CHANTICLEER AND PARTLET.
1. How they went to the Mountains to eat Nuts.
"THE nuts are quite ripe now" said Chanticleer to his wife Partlet; "suppose we go together to the mountains, and eat as many as we can, before the squirrel takes them all away." "With all my heart" said Partlet; "let us go and make & holiday of it together." ”

“ I have always hated her!”
“And do you mean to tell me,” said Greyskin, “that you are going to stay here quite contentedly till they come to wring your neck?”
“What else can I do?” asked Chanticleer.
“Join us, and turn your talents to account. We are all beautiful singers and we are going to Brussels to offer ourselves as choristers at St. Gudule. We were a trio before. With you we shall be a quartet, and that’s one better!”
Chanticleer was only too glad to find a means of escape, so he willingly joined the party, and they once more took the road. ”

“ Chanticleer was extremely jealous of any intrusion upon his property, and warned off every one who did but set foot on his land. Tom Leverett knew this well enough, and knew what a pugnacious and litigious fellow his neighbour was, so he ought to have been more careful than to give Chanticleer any ground of complaint. Tom, it appears, had a great taste for botany, and often rose early to indulge in his favourite pursuit. One morning, in the ardour of his search for some particular plant, Tom crept through the hedge into one of his neighbour's fields ”

“ Lie down with him she loves so well.
Like a cheerful voice answering to these, and wishing, out of the mysterious darkness of night, all happiness and prosperity to the young couple, the silver call of Chanticleer arose without, renewed and renewed again, as if he could never tire of announcing the happy union to all the country round.
And now enjoyment was at its height among the Peabodys, helped by Plenty, who, with Mopsey for chief assistant, hurried in, with plates of shining pippins, baskets of nuts, brown jugs of new cider of home-made vintage; Mrs. ”

“ Claude Chanticleer—who was a prominent member of the dirty set. Mrs. Perry had asked about her, and Lady Blueberry's calm face had been somewhat overshadowed as she told us that Tricky, as they called her, had been causing her family considerable anxiety.
"She is always going in for some new extravagance," she said. "She and Claudie gave up their two rooms, as you know, about a year ago, when Mrs. ”

“ But one thing seems certain, and that is that the gold-wrought coffers contained the ancient offering of fairy fruit to Dorimare. And the coffers were of such miraculous capacity that there was enough and to spare, not only for the dessert of the Senate, but for that of every household in Lud-in-the-Mist.
CHAPTER XXXI THE INITIATE
You may, perhaps, have wondered why a man so full of human failings, and set in so unheroic a mould as Master Nathaniel Chanticleer should have been cast for so great a role. ”

“ When that great shadow falls, it is not the fine, strange Cocks we trust to keep off the bird of prey!
Chantecler
[Suddenly grown great of size, his wounds forgotten, stands in the midst of them, and in an authoritative tone.] Yes, close around me, all of you, all! [All, huddled in their feathers, their heads drawn in between their wings, press against him.]
The Pheasant-hen
Dear, brave, and gentle heart!
Chantecler
[The shadow sweeps over the crowd a second time. The Game Cock makes himself small. Chantecler alone remains standing, in the midst of a heap of ruffled, trembling feathers.] ”

“ Chantecler
I am thrice stronger now than you. Black excites me, you see, as red excites the bull, and thrice I have stared at night in the form of a bird’s shadow!
The White Pile
[Driven to bay, against the hedge, prepares to use his razors.]
The Pheasant-hen
[Screaming.] Look out! He has two sharp razors at his heels, the beast!
Chantecler
I knew it!
The Cat
[From his tree, to the Game Cock.] Use your knives!
Patou
[Ready to spring from his wheelbarrow.] If he uses those, I ll strangle him, that’s all!
The Crowd
Oh!
Patou
I will! Howl you never so loud! ”

“ Chantecler
[Whose crow is beginning to tire.] Cock-a-doo—
The Pheasant-hen
Oh—yellow among the pine trees!
Chantecler
Gold it ought to be,—gold!
The Pheasant-hen
And pearly grey—
Chantecler
It shall be white!—I haven’t done it yet! Cock-a-doodle-doo—It’s very bad so far, but I won’t give up!
The Pheasant-hen
Every hollow in every tree is pink as a wild rose—
Chantecler
[With growing enthusiasm.] Since love lends me strength in addition to faith, I say the Day to-day shall be more beautiful that the Day!—Do you see? Do you see the eastern sky at my voice dappling itself with light? ”

“ Chantecler
You lie on the earth and sleep in the sun!
Patou
[With a pleased yap.] Aye!
Chantecler
We have ever had in common our love for those two things.
Patou
I am so fond of the sun that I howl at the moon. And so fond of the earth that I dig great holes and shove my nose in it!
Chantecler
I know! The gardener’s wife has her opinion of those holes.—But what are the dangers you discern? All lies quiet beneath the quiet sky. Nothing appears to be threatening my humble sunlit dominions.
The Old Hen
[Lifting the basket-lid with her head.] The egg looks like marble until it gets smashed! ”

“ The Pheasant-hen
[Lured along and half persuaded by the madness of the Cock.] Such a thing might be, after all, since love is involved in the mystery!
Chantecler
Resume, horizon, at my command, your fringe of little poplars!
The Pheasant-hen
[Bending over the valley.] There emerges from the shadow, gradually, a world of your creation—
Chantecler
Sacred things you are witnessing—To sacred things I am initiating you!—Define your outlines, distant hills! Pheasant-hen, do you love me?
The Pheasant-hen
We shall always love to be in the secret of the Makers of Dawn! ”

“ The Pheasant-hen
[Gently rocks him, darting a glance now and then over her shoulder to see how the dawn is progressing.] You see that a wing is an outspread heart— [Aside.] Day is breaking! [To Chantecler.] You see that— [Aside.] The sky has paled! [To Chantecler.] —that a wing is— [Aside.] The tree is steeped in rosy light! [To Chantecler.] —partly a shield, and partly a cradle, partly a cloak and a place of rest,—that a wing is a kiss which enfolds and covers you over. You see that— [With a backward leap, suddenly withdrawing her wings.] the Day can break perfectly well without you! ”

“ Cries
[Furiously keeping time with the blows showering upon Chantecler.] In the neck! On the nut! On the wing! On the— [Sudden silence.]
Chantecler
[Amazed.] What is this? The ring breaks up, the shouting dies— [He looks around. The White Pile has drawn away and backed against the hedge. A strange commotion agitates the crowd. Chantecler, exhausted, bleeding, tottering, does not understand, and murmurs.] What joke are they preparing against my end? [And suddenly.] Joy, Patou, joy! ”

“ Chantecler
[Collecting himself and straightening up.] When one dwells in a soul, it is better, believe me, to meet with the Dawn there, than with nothing.
The Pheasant-hen
[Angrily.] No! the Dawn defrauds me of a great and undivided love!
Chantecler
There is no great love outside the shadow of a great dream! How should there not flow more love from a soul whose very business it is to open wide every day?
The Pheasant-hen
[Coming and going stormily.] I will sweep everything aside with my golden russet wing! ”

“ Chantecler
She is distractingly lovely, so much is certain!
Patou
He is never going to fall in love with a woman dressed as a man!
The Blackbird
[Who has again hopped down from his cage.] I must go and tell the Guinea-hen that a golden bird has blown into town. She’ll have a fit! She will invite her! [Off.]
Chantecler
So you come to us from the East, like the Dawn?
The Pheasant-hen
My life has the picturesque disorder of a poem. If I came from the East, it was by way of Egypt. ”

“ The Tufted Hen
You may think this is fun! Now everything we eat will taste of gasoline!
Scene Third
Chantecler, the Blackbird in his cage, the Cat still asleep on the wall, the Grey Hen behind the Old Hen’s basket.
Chantecler
[To himself, after a pause.] No, I will not trust a frivolous soul with such a weighty secret. Let me try rather to cast off the burden of it myself—forget and [Shaking his feathers.] just rejoice in being a rooster! [He struts up and down.] I am beautiful. I am proud. I walk—then I stand still. ”

“ The White Pile
[Astonished.] Fool? Coxcomb? What? What? What?
Chantecler
[Beak to beak with the Game Cock.] What? What? What? [A pause. They arch themselves, with bristling neck-hackle.]
The White Pile
[Emphatically.] In America, during my grand tour, I killed three Claybornes in a day. I have killed two Sherwoods, three Smoks, and one Sumatra. I have killed—let me advise anyone fighting me to take something beforehand to keep down his pulse!—three Red-game at Cambridge and ten Braekels at Bruges!
Chantecler
[Very simply.] I my dear sir, have never killed anything. ”

“ Chantecler
All those Rabbits looking on make it a trifle—
The Pheasant-hen
[Suddenly flaps her wings; the frightened Rabbits start, on all sides white tails disappear into rabbit-holes. The Pheasant-hen coming back to Chantecler.] There! [They bill.] Do you love my forest?
Chantecler
I love it, for no sooner had I crossed its verdant border than I got back my song. Let us go to roost. I must sing very early to-morrow. ”

“ You, Cock, who had the sense to prefer the grain of true wheat to the pearl, how can you allow yourself to be taken in by that villainous Blackbird! A bird who practises a tune!
Chantecler
[Indulgently.] Come, he whistles his tune like many another!
Patou
[Unwillingly agreeing, in a drawling growl.] Ye-e-es, but he never whistles it to the end!
Chantecler
[Watching the Blackbird hopping about.] A light-hearted fellow!
Patou
[Same business.] Ye-e-es, but he lies heavy on our hearts. A bird who takes his exercise indoors!
Chantecler
You must own he is intelligent! ”

“ 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! ”

“ 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! ”

“ Chantecler
I am not Gallic if you give the word a base or ridiculous meaning. By Jove! Every Hen here knows whether my trumpet blast belongs to a soprano! But your perverse attempts to wring blushes from little baggages in convenient corners outrage my love of Love! It is true that I care more to retain love’s dream than these Cochin-Chinese, who, courting a giggle, use refinement in coarseness, research in vulgarity; true that my blood has swifter flow in a less ponderous body, and that I am not a feathered pig,—but a Cock!
The Pheasant-hen
Come, come away to the woods,—I love you! ”

“ Patou
—some Hen may get you too to go!
Chantecler
Me?
Patou
You!
Chantecler
Me?—
Patou
Led by the end of your beak.
Chantecler
[In high wrath.] Me?—
Patou
For when a new Hen heaves in sight, you can’t help yourself, you know—you lose your balance-wheel—
The Blackbird
You slowly circumambulate the fair one— [He imitates the Cock walking around a Hen.] “Yes, it’s me.—Here I am!” And you say, “Coa—”
Chantecler
I never knew a more idiotic bird!
The Blackbird
[Continuing to mimic him.] You let your wing hang, sentimentally—your foot performs a sort of stately jig— [A shot is heard.] Ha! ”