The Death Of Chanticleer

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Title:     The Death Of Chanticleer
Author: P. Chr. Asbjornsen [More Titles by Asbjornsen]

Translator: G. W. Dasent

"Once on a time there were a Cock and a Hen, who walked out into the field, and scratched, and scraped, and scrabbled. All at once, Chanticleer found a burr of hop, and Partlet found a barley-corn; and they said they would make malt and brew Yule ale.

"'Oh! I pluck barley, and I malt malt, and I brew ale, and the ale is good,' cackled dame Partlet.

"'Is the wort strong enough?' crew Chanticleer; and as he crowed he flew up on the edge of the cask, and tried to have a taste; but, just as he bent over to drink a drop, he took to flapping his wings, and so he fell head over heels into the cask, and was drowned.

"When dame Partlet saw that, she clean lost her wits, and flew up into the chimney-corner, and fell a-screaming and screeching out. 'Harm in the house! harm in the house!' she screeched out all in a breath, and there was no stopping her.

"'What ails you, dame Partlet, that you sit there sobbing and sighing?' said the Handquern.

"'Why not?' said dame Partlet; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the cask and drowned himself, and lies dead? That's why I sigh and sob.'

"'Well, if I can do naught else, I will grind and groan,' said the Handquern; and so it fell to grinding as fast as it could.

"When the Chair heard that, it said--

"'What ails you, Handquern, that you grind and groan so fast and oft?'

"'Why not, when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the cask and drowned himself; and dame Partlet sits in the ingle, and sighs and sobs? That's why I grind and groan,' said the Handquern.

"'If I can do naught else, I will crack,' said the Chair; and, with that, he fell to creaking and cracking.

"When the Door heard that, it said,--

"'What's the matter? Why do you creak and crack so, Mr. Chair?'

"'Why not?' said the Chair; 'goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and sobbing; and the Handquern grinds and groans. That's why I creak and crackle, and croak and crack.'

"'Well,' said the Door, 'if I can do naught else, I can rattle and bang, and whistle and slam;' and, with that, it began to open and shut, and bang and slam, it deaved one to hear, and all one's teeth chattered.

"All this the Stove heard, and it opened its mouth and called out--

"'Door! Door! why all this slamming and banging?'

"'Why not?' said the Door; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans, and the Chair creaks and cracks. That's why I bang and slam.'

"'Well,' said the Stove, 'if I can do naught else, I can smoulder and smoke;' and so it fell a-smoking and steaming till the room was all in a cloud.

"The Axe saw this, as it stood outside, and peeped with its shaft through the window,--

"'What's all this smoke about, Mrs. Stove?' said the Axe, in a sharp voice.

"'Why not? said the Stove; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks, and the Door bangs and slams. That's why I smoke and steam.'

"'Well, if I can do naught else, I can rive and rend,' said the Axe; and, with that, it fell to riving and rending all round about.

"This the Aspen stood by and saw.

"'Why do you rive and rend everything so, Mr. Axe?' said the Aspen.

"'Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself,' said the Axe; 'dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks; the Door slams and bangs, and the Stove smokes and steams. That's why I rive and rend all about.'

"'Well, if I can do naught else,' said the Aspen, 'I can quiver and quake in all my leaves;' so it grew all of a quake.

"The Birds saw this, and twittered out,--

"'Why do you quiver and quake, Miss Aspen?'

"'Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself,' said the Aspen, with a trembling voice; 'dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks; the Door slams and bangs; the Stove steams and smokes; and the Axe rives and rends. That's why I quiver and quake.'

"Well, if we can do naught else, we will pluck off all our feathers,' said the Birds; and, with that, they fell a-pilling and plucking themselves till the room was full of feathers.

"This the Master stood by and saw, and, when the feathers flew about like fun, he asked the Birds,--

"'Why do you pluck off all your feathers, you Birds?'

"'Oh! goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself,' twittered out the Birds; 'dame Partlet sits sighing and sobbing in the ingle; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks; the Door slams and bangs; the Stove smokes and steams; the Axe rives and rends, and the Aspen quivers and quakes. That's why we are pilling and plucking all our feathers off.'

"'Well, if I can do nothing else, I can tear the brooms asunder,' said the man; and, with that, he fell tearing and tossing the brooms till the birch-twigs flew about east and west.

"The goody stood cooking porridge for supper, and saw all this.

"'Why, man!' she called out; 'what are you tearing the brooms to bits for?'

"'Oh!' said the man, 'goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-vat and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits sighing and sobbing in the ingle; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair cracks and creaks; the Door slams and bangs; the Stove smokes and steams; the Axe rives and rends; the Aspen quivers and quakes; the Birds are pilling and plucking all their feathers off, and that's why I am tearing the besoms to bits.'

"'So, so!' said the goody; 'then I'll dash the porridge over all the walls;' and she did it; for she took one spoonful after the other and dashed it against the walls, so that no one could see what they were made of for very porridge.

"That was how they drank the burial ale after goodman Chanticleer, who fell into the brewing-vat and was drowned; and, if you don't believe it, you may set off thither and have a taste both of the ale and the porridge."

[The end]
P. Chr. Asbjornsen's short story: Death Of Chanticleer

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