it, you shall for my sake deceive the Dawn.
CHANTECLER
I? How?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Stamping her foot; in a capricious tone._] It is my formal and
explicit wish--
CHANTECLER
But listen, dear--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
My formal and explicit wish that you should for one whole day refrain
altogether from singing.
CHANTECLER
That I--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
I desire you to remain one whole day without singing.
CHANTECLER
But, heavens and earth, am I to leave the valley in total darkness?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Pouting._] What harm will it do to the valley?
CHANTECLER
Whatever lies too long in darkness and sleep becomes used to falsehood
and consents to death.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Leave singing for one day--[_In a tone of evil insinuation._] It will
free my mind of certain suspicions troubling it.
CHANTECLER
[_With a start._] I can see what you are trying to do!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
And I can see what you are afraid of!
CHANTECLER
[_Earnestly._] I will never give up singing.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
And what if you were mistaken? What if the truth were that Dawn comes
without help from you?
CHANTECLER
[_With fierce resolution._] I shall not know it.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_In a sudden burst of tears._] Could you not forget the time, for once,
if you saw me weeping?
CHANTECLER
No, I could not.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
Nothing, ever, can make you forget the time?
CHANTECLER
Nothing. I am conscious of darkness as too heavy a weight.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
You are conscious of darkness as--Shall I tell you the truth? You think
you sing for the Dawn, but you sing in reality to be admired,
you--songster, you! [_With contemptuous pity._] Is it possible you are
not aware that your poor notes raise a smile right through the forest,
accustomed to the fluting of the thrush?
CHANTECLER
I know, you are trying now to reach me through my pride, but--
THE PHEASANT-HEN
I doubt if you can get so many as three toadstools and a couple of
sassafras stalks to listen to you, when the ardent oriole flings across
the leafy gloom his melodious pir-piriol!
THE WOODPECKER
[_Reappearing._] From the Greek: Pure, _puros._
CHANTECLER
No more from you, please! [_The_ WOODPECKER _hurriedly withdraws._]
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Insisting._] The echo must make some rather interesting mental
reservations, one fancies, when he hears you sing after hearing the
great Nightingale!
CHANTECLER
[_Turning to leave._] My nerves, my dear girl, are not of the very
steadiest to-night.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Following._] Did you ever hear him?
CHANTECLER
Never.
THE PHEASANT-HEN
His song is so wonderful that the first time--[_She stops short, struck
by an idea._] Oh!
CHANTECLER
What is it?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Aside._] Ah, you feel the weight of the darkness--
CHANTECLER
[_Coming forward again._] What?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_With an ironical curtsey._] Nothing! [_Carelessly._] Let us go to
roost! [CHANTECLER _goes to the back and is preparing to rise to a
branch. The_ PHEASANT-HEN _aside._] He does not know that when the
Nightingale sings one listens, supposing it to be a minute, and lo! the
whole night has been spent listening, even as happens in the enchanted
forest of a German legend.
CHANTECLER
[_As she does not join him, returns to her._] What are you saying?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Laughing in his face._] Nothing!
A VOICE
[_Outside._] The illustrious Cock?
CHANTECLER
[_Looking around him._] I am wanted?
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Who has gone in the direction from whence came the voice._] There, in
the grass! [_Jumping back._] Mercy upon us! They are the--[_With a
movement of insuperable disgust._] They are the--[_With a spring she
conceals herself in the hollow tree, calling back to_ CHANTECLER.] Be
civil to them!
SCENE FIFTH
CHANTECLER, _the_ PHEASANT-HEN, _hidden in the tree, and the_ TOADS.
A BIG TOAD
[_Rearing himself in the grass._] We have come--[_Other_ TOADS _become
visible behind him._]
CHANTECLER
Ye gods, how ugly they are!
THE BIG TOAD
[_Obsequiously._]--in behalf of all the thinking contingency of the
Forest, to the author of so many songs--[_He places his hand on
his heart._]
CHANTECLER
[_With disgust._] Oh, that hand spread over his paunch!
THE BIG TOAD
[_With a hop toward_ CHANTECLER.]--at once novel,--
ANOTHER TOAD
[_Same business._] Pellucid!
ANOTHER
[_Same business._] Succinct!
ANOTHER
[_Same business._] Vital!
ANOTHER
[_Same business._] Pure!
ANOTHER
[_Same business._] Great!
CHANTECLER
Gentlemen, pray be seated. [_They seat themselves around a large
toadstool._]
THE BIG TOAD
True, we are ugly--
CHANTECLER
[_Politely._] You have fine eyes.
THE BIG TOAD
[_Raising himself by bearing with both hands upon the rim of the
toadstool._] But, Knights of this fungoid Round Table, we desire to do
homage to the Parsifal who has given to the world a sublime song--
SECOND TOAD
A true song!
THE BIG TOAD
And a celestial!
THIRD TOAD
And a no less terrestrial!
THE BIG TOAD
[_With authority._] A song by comparison with which the song of the
Nightingale sinks into insignificance!
CHANTECLER
[_Astonished._] The Nightingale's song?
SECOND TOAD
[_In a tone of finality._] Is not a circumstance to yours!
THE BIG TOAD
[_With a hop._] It was high time that a new singer--
ANOTHER
[_Same business._] And a new song--
FIFTH TOAD
[_Quickly, to his neighbour._] And a song by a stranger--
THE BIG TOAD
Came to change conditions here.
CHANTECLER
Ah, I shall change conditions?
ALL
Glory to the Cock!
CHANTECLER
I do not see that the forest thinks so poorly of me after all!
THE BIG TOAD
Played out, the Nightingale!
CHANTECLER
[_More and more surprised._] Really?
SECOND TOAD
More and more his song confesses itself effete--
THE BIG TOAD
Mawkish!
THIRD TOAD
Null!
FOURTH
[_Contemptuously._] And his old-f
ashioned pretense of inspiration!
FIFTH TOAD
And the name he has adopted: Bul-bul!
ALL THE TOADS
[_Puffing with laughter._] Bul-bul!
THE BIG TOAD
This is the way he goes on: [_Parodying the song of the_ NIGHTINGALE.]
Tio! Tio!
SECOND TOAD
His solitary idea is an old silver trill copied from the bubbling
spring. [_He imitates in grotesque fashion the singing of the_
NIGHTINGALE.] Tio! Tio!
CHANTECLER
But--
THE BIG TOAD
[_Quickly._] Do not attempt, you, the Renovator of Art, to defend that
ancient high authority on sentimental gargling!
SECOND TOAD
That superannuated tenor quavering out his cavatinas to the glory of
minor poetry and the edification of fogydom!
THIRD TOAD
The Harp that twanged through Tara's hall, and insists on twanging
still!
CHANTECLER
[_Indulgently._] But why should he not, after all, if he enjoys it?
THE BIG TOAD
Endeavouring to impose on a suffering and surfeited public the musty old
fashion of ingenious fioritura!
CHANTECLER
Audiences nowadays, of course, look for a different sort of thing.
THIRD TOAD
Your song has exposed the artificiality of his.
ALL
[_In an explosion._] Down with Bul-bul!
CHANTECLER
[_Whom the_ TOADS _have gradually surrounded._] Gentlemen and honored
Batrachians, my voice, it is true, gives forth natural notes--
THE BIG TOAD
Yes, notes which lend us wings--
CHANTECLER
[_Modestly._] Oh!
ALL
[_Waggling their bodies as if about to fly._] Wings!
THE BIG TOAD
Their secret being that they sing Life!
CHANTECLER
That is true.
SECOND TOAD
Yes, my dear fellow, Life!
CHANTECLER
[_With careless complacency._] My crest for that reason is flesh and blood!
ALL THE TOADS
[_Clapping their little hands._] Good, very good!
THE BIG TOAD
That formula is a programme.
SECOND TOAD
Since we are assembled around a table, why should we not offer to the
Chief--
CHANTECLER
[_Modestly, hanging back from the suggested honour._]Gentlemen--
SECOND TOAD
--to the Chief of whom we stood in notable need, a banquet?
ALL
[_Beating enthusiastically upon the toadstool._] A banquet!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Looking out from the tree._] What is the matter?
CHANTECLER
[_In spite of all, rather flattered._] A banquet!
THE PHEASANT-HEN
[_Slightly ironical._] Shall you accept?
CHANTECLER
You see, my dear--the new tendencies--Art,--the thinking contingency of
the Forest--[_Indicating the_ TOADS.] Yes, I have lent wings to--[_In a
light and careless tone._] It's all up with the Nightingale, you see.
Musty old method! Antiquated trill! This is the way he goes on--[_To
the_ TOADS.] How was it you said he went on?
ALL THE TOADS
[_Comically._] Tio! Tio!
CHANTECLER
[_To the_ PHEASANT-HEN, _with pitying indulgence._] He goes on like
this: Tio! Tio! And I believe I need not scruple to accept--
A VOICE
[_In the tree above him breaks forth in a long note, limpid, and
heart-moving._] Tio! [_Silence._]
CHANTECLER
[_Startled, raising his head._] What was that?
THE BIG TOAD
[_Quickly, visibly embarrassed._] Nothing! It is he!
THE VOICE
[_Slowly and wonderfully, with the sigh of a soul in every note._] Tio!
Tio! Tio! Tio!
CHANTECLER
[_Turning upon the_ TOADS.] Scum of the earth!
THE TOADS
[_Backing away from him._] What--?
SCENE SIXTH
THE SAME, _the_ NIGHTINGALE _unseen, and little by little all the_
FOREST CREATURES.
THE NIGHTINGALE
[_From the tree, in his emotionally throbbing voice._] Tiny bird, lost
in the darkness of the tree, I feel myself turning into the heart-beat
of the infinite night!
CHANTECLER
[_To the_ TOADS.] And you have dared--
THE NIGHTINGALE
Hushed lies the ravine beneath the magic of the moon--
CHANTECLER
--to compare my rude singing with that divine voice? Scum of the earth!
Toads! And I never divined that they were doing to him here what was
done to me over yonder!
THE BIG TOAD
[_Suddenly swelling to a great size._] Toads! Yes, as it happens, we are
Toads!
THE NIGHTINGALE
Vapour of pearl wreathes the summits in an ethereal veil--
THE BIG TOAD
[_Self-appreciatively._] We are Toads, certainly, magnificently embossed
with warts! [_All rear themselves up, swollen, standing between_
CHANTECLER _and the tree._]
CHANTECLER
And I perceived not, I who have never known envy, to what venomous feast
I was bidden!
THE NIGHTINGALE
What matter? Sooner or later, you, the strong, and I, the tender, we
were fated, despite all the Toads in the world, to understand
each other!
CHANTECLER
[_With religious fervour._] Sing!
A TOAD
[_Who has hastily dragged himself to the tree in which the_ NIGHTINGALE
_is singing._] Let us clasp the bark with our slimy little arms, and
slaver upon the foot of the tree! [_All crawl toward the tree._]
CHANTECLER
[_Trying to stop one of them who is clumsily hopping._] But are you not
yourself gifted with a singing voice of exceptional purity?
THE TOAD
[_In a tone of sincerest suffering._] I am, but when I hear somebody
else singing, I can't help it,--I see green! [_He joins his
companions._]
THE BIG TOAD
[_Working his jaws as if chewing something which foamed._] There foam up
beneath our tongues I know not what strange soapsuds, and--[_To his
neighbour._] Are you frothing?
THE OTHER
I am frothing.
ANOTHER
He is frothing.
ALL
We are frothing.
A TOAD
[_Tenderly laying his arm about the neck of a dilatory_ TOAD.] Come and
froth!
CHANTECLER
[_To the_ NIGHTINGALE.] But will they not trouble and prevent your
mellifluent song?
THE NIGHTINGALE
In no wise. I will take their refrain into my song--
THE BIG TOAD
[_Patting a little_ TOAD _on the head to encourage him._] Don't be
afraid, go ahead,--froth!
THE TOADS
[_All together, at the base of the tree to which they form a crawling,
writhing girdle._] The Toads, croak! croak! the Toads are we!
THE NIGHTINGALE
--And make of both a Villanelle!
THE TOADS
We welter in malignity!
THE NIGHTINGALE
The while they fume beneath my tree I fill with song the enchanted d
ell--
THE TOADS
The Toads, croak! croak! the Toads are we! [_And the Villanelle
proceeds, sung by the alternate voices, one of which, ever higher and
more enraptured, carries the song proper, and the others, ever angrier
and lower, the burden of the song._]
THE NIGHTINGALE _and_ THE TOADS, _alternately_
I sing! for Wind, that harper free,
And music bubbling from the well--
--We welter in malignity!--
And fragrance floating from the lea,
Of meadow-sweet and pimpernel--
--The Toads, croak! croak! the Toads are we!--
And Luna showering ecstasy,
All weave so wonderful a spell--
--We welter in malignity!--
Its melting magic moveth me
The secret of my heart to tell!
--The Toads, croak! croak! the Toads are we!--
Within my heart all sympathy,
Within mine eye all visions dwell--
--We welter in malignity!--
Life, Death, I turn to rhapsody,
Who am the deathless Philomel!
--The Toads, croak! croak! the Toads are we,
Who welter in malignity!
CHANTECLER
Beside those heavenly pipes, ah, me! my voice is Punchinello's squeak!
Sing on! Sing on! The Croakers are in retreat.
THE TOADS
[_Retreating, overcome by the conquering song._] Croak! croak!
CHANTECLER
Their fate to seethe in the cauldron of a witch! But you, the creatures
of the forest come to slake the thirst of their hearts at your song. See
them creeping to the lure--
THE TOADS
[_From the underbrush._] Croak! croak!
CHANTECLER
A doe, look! tiptoeing on delicate hoofs, followed by a wolf who has
forgotten to be a wolf--
THE TOADS
[_Lost among the grass._] Croak!
CHANTECLER
The squirrel steals down from the lofty tree-tops. The whole vast forest
is stirred by a thrill of brotherliness.
THE TOADS
[_Out of sight._]--roak!
CHANTECLER
The echo alone now repeats--
FAINT DISTANT VOICE
--oak!
CHANTECLER
Gone! Gone are the Toads!
[_Music holds the night: a song without words, delicate volleys of
rapturous notes._]
CHANTECLER
The Glow-worms have lighted their small, green lamps. All that is good
comes forth, while hate shrinks back to its lair. Now they that shall be
eaten lay themselves down in the grass by the side of them that shall
eat them. The Star of a sudden looks nearer to earth, and forsaking her
web the Spider draws herself up toward your song, climbing by her own
silken thread.
ALL THE FOREST
[_In a moan of ecstasy._] Ah!
[_And the forest lies as if under a spell; the moonlight is softer, the
tender green fire of the glow-worm shines blinking among the moss; on
all sides, between the tree-boles creep, shadow-like, the charmed
beasts; eyes shine, moist muzzles point toward the source of the music.
The_ WOODPECKER _stands at his bark window, dreamily nodding; all the_
RABBITS, _with uppricked ears, sit at their earthen doors._]
CHANTECLER
When he sings thus without words, what is he singing, Squirrel?
THE SQUIRREL
[_From a tree-top._] The joy of swift motion.
CHANTECLER
And what say you, Hare?
THE HARE
[_In the coppice._] The thrill of fear!
CHANTECLER
You, Rabbit?
ONE OF THE RABBITS
The Dew!
CHANTECLER
You, Doe?
THE DOE
[_From the depths of the woods._] Tears!
CHANTECLER
Wolf?
THE WOLF
[_In a gentle distant howl._] The Moon!
CHANTECLER
And you, Tree with the golden wound, singing Pine?
THE PINE-TREE
[_Softly beating time with one of its boughs._] He tells me that my
drops of resin in the form of rosin will sing upon the bows of violins!
CHANTECLER
And you, Woodpecker, what does he say to you?
THE WOODPECKER
[_In ecstasy._] He says that Aristophanes--
CHANTECLER
[_Promptly interrupting him._] Never mind! I know! You, Spider?
THE SPIDER
[_Swinging at the end of one of her threads._] He sings of the raindrop
sparkling in my web like a royal gift.
CHANTECLER
And you, Drop of Water, sparkling in her web?
A LITTLE VOICE
[_From the cobweb._] Of the Glow-worm!
CHANTECLER
And you, Glow-worm?
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