The Hen
by H.H. Munro (SAKI)
The Hen (1914) is a comic domestic warfare story in which Clovis schemes to evict an overstaying guest by weaponizing a hen. "The hen was an instrument of policy."
"Dora Bittholz is coming on Thursday," said Mrs. Sangrail.
"This next Thursday? " asked Clovis
His mother nodded.
"You've rather done it, haven't you?" he chuckled; "Jane Martlet has only been here five days, and she never stays less than a fortnight, even when she's asked definitely for a week. You'll never get her out of the house by Thursday."
"Why should I?" asked Mrs. Sangrail; "she and Dora are good friends, aren't they? They used to be, as far as I remember."
"They used to be; that's what makes them all the more bitter now. Each feels that she has nursed a viper in her bosom. Nothing fans the flame of human resentment so much as the discovery that one's bosom has been utilised as a snake sanatorium."
"But what has happened? Has some one been making mischief?"
"Not exactly," said Clovis; "a hen came between them."
"A hen? What hen?"
"It was a bronze Leghorn or some such exotic breed, and Dora sold it to Jane at a rather exotic price. They both go in for prize poultry, you know, and Jane thought she was going to get her money back in a large family of pedigree chickens. The bird turned out to be an abstainer from the egg habit, and I'm told that the letters which passed between the two women were a revelation as to how much invective could be got on to a sheet of notepaper."
"How ridiculous!" said Mrs. Sangrail. "Couldn't some of their friends compose the quarrel?"
"People tried," said Clovis, "but it must have been rather like composing the storm music of the `Fliegende Hollander.' Jane was willing to take back some of her most libellous remarks if Dora would take back the hen, but Dora said that would be owning herself in the wrong, and you know she'd as soon think of owning slum property in Whitechapel as do that."
"It's a most awkward situation," said Mrs. Sangrail. "Do you suppose they won't speak to one another?"
"On the contrary, the difficulty will be to get them to leave off. Their remarks on each other's conduct and character have hitherto been governed by the fact that only four ounces of plain speaking can be sent through the post for a penny."
"I can't put Dora off," said Mrs. Sangrail. "I've already postponed her visit once, and nothing short of a miracle would make Jane leave before her self-allotted fortnight is over."
"Miracles are rather in my line," said Clovis. "I don't pretend to be very hopeful in this case but I'll do my best."
"As long as you don't drag me into it - " stipulated his mother.
* * * *
"Servants are a bit of a nuisance," muttered Clovis, as he sat in the smoking-room after lunch, talking fitfully to Jane Martlet in the intervals of putting together the materials of a cocktail, which he had irreverently patented under the name of an Ella Wheeler Wilcox. It was partly compounded of old brandy and partly of curacoa; there were other ingredients, but they were never indiscriminately revealed.
"Servants a nuisance!" exclaimed Jane, bounding into the topic with the exuberant plunge of a hunter when it leaves the high road and feels turf under its hoofs; "I should think they were! The trouble I've had in getting suited this year you would hardly believe. But I don't see what you have to complain of - your mother is so wonderfully lucky in her servants. Sturridge, for instance - he's been with you for years, and I'm sure he's a paragon as butlers go."
"That's just the trouble," said Clovis. "It's when servants have been with you for years that they become a really serious nuisance. The 'here to-day and gone to- morrow' sort don't matter - you've simply got to replace them; it's the stayers and the paragons that are the real worry."
"But if they give satisfaction - "
"That doesn't prevent them from giving trouble. Now, you've mentioned Sturridge - it was Sturridge I was particularly thinking of when I made the observation about servants being a nuisance."
"The excellent Sturridge a nuisance! I can't believe it."
"I know he's excellent, and we just couldn't get along without him; he's the one reliable element in this rather haphazard household. But his very orderliness has had an effect on him. Have you ever considered what it must be like to go on unceasingly doing the correct thing in the correct manner in the same surroundings for the greater part of a lifetime? To know and ordain and superintend exactly what silver and glass and table linen shall be used and set out on what occasions, to have cellar and pantry and plate-cupboard under a minutely devised and undeviating administration, to be noiseless, impalpable, omnipresent, and, as far as your own department is concerned, omniscient?"
"I should go mad," said Jane with conviction.
"Exactly," said Clovis thoughtfully, swallowing his completed Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
"But Sturridge hasn't gone mad," said Jane with a flutter of inquiry in her voice.
"On most points he's thoroughly sane and reliable," said Clovis, "but at times he is subject to the most obstinate delusions, and on those occasions he becomes not merely a nuisance but a decided embarrassment."
"What sort of delusions?"
"Unfortunately they usually centre round one of the guests of the house party, and that is where the awkwardness comes in. For instance, he took it into his head that Matilda Sheringham was the Prophet Elijah, and as all that he remembered about Elijah's history was the episode of the ravens in the wilderness he absolutely declined to interfere with what he imagined to be Matilda's private catering arrangements, wouldn't allow any tea to be sent up to her in the morning, and if he was waiting at table he passed her over altogether in handing round the dishes."
"How very unpleasant. Whatever did you do about it?"
"Oh, Matilda got fed, after a fashion, but it was judged to be best for her to cut her visit short. It was really the only thing to be done," said Clovis with some emphasis.
"I shouldn't have done that," said Jane, "I should have humoured him in some way. I certainly shouldn't have gone away."
Clovis frowned.
"It is not always wise to humour people when they get these ideas into their heads. There's no knowing to what lengths they may go if you encourage them."
"You don't mean to say he might be dangerous, do you?" asked Jane with some anxiety.
"One can never be certain," said Clovis; "now and then he gets some idea about a guest which might take an unfortunate turn. That is precisely what is worrying me at the present moment."
"What, has he taken a fancy about some one here now?" asked Jane excitedly; "how thrilling! Do tell me who it is."
You," said Clovis briefly.
"Me?"
Clovis nodded.
"Who on earth does he think I am?"
"Queen Anne," was the unexpected answer.
"Queen Anne! What an idea. But, anyhow, there's nothing dangerous about her; she's such a colourless personality."
"What does posterity chiefly say about Queen Anne?" asked Clovis rather sternly.
"The only thing that I can remember about her," said Jane, "is the saying 'Queen Anne's dead.'"
"Exactly," said Clovis, staring at the glass that had held the Ella Wheeler Wilcox, "dead."
"Do you mean he takes me for the ghost of Queen Anne?" asked Jane.
"Ghost? Dear no. No one ever heard of a ghost that came down to breakfast and ate kidneys and toast and honey with a healthy appetite. No, it's the fact of you being so very much alive and flourishing that perplexes and annoys him. All his life he has been accustomed to look on Queen Anne as the personification of everything that is dead and done with, 'as dead as Queen Anne,' you know; and now he has to fill your glass at lunch and dinner and listen to your accounts of the gay time you had at the Dublin Horse Show, and naturally he feels that something's very wrong with you."
"But he wouldn't be downright hostile to me on that account, would he?" Jane asked anxiously.
"I didn't get really alarmed about it till lunch to- day," said Clovis; "I caught him glowering at you with a very sinister look and muttering: 'Ought to be dead long ago, she ought, and some one should see to it.' That's why I mentioned the matter to you."
"This is awful," said Jane; "your mother must be told about it at once."
"My mother mustn't hear a word about it," said Clovis earnestly; "it would upset her dreadfully. She relies on Sturridge for everything."
"But he might kill me at any moment," protested Jane.
"Not at any moment; he's busy with the silver all the afternoon."
"You'll have to keep a sharp look-out all the time and be on your guard to frustrate any murderous attack," said Jane, adding in a tone of weak obstinacy: "It's a dreadful situation to be in, with a mad butler dangling over you like the sword of What's-his-name, but I'm certainly not going to cut my visit short."
Clovis swore horribly under his breath; the miracle was an obvious misfire.
It was in the hall the next morning after a late breakfast that Clovis had his final inspiration as he stood engaged in coaxing rust spots from an old putter.
"Where is Miss Martlet?" he asked the butler, who was at that moment crossing the hall.
"Writing letters in the morning-room, sir," said Sturridge, announcing a fact of which his questioner was already aware.
"She wants to copy the inscription on that old basket-hilted sabre," said Clovis, pointing to a venerable weapon hanging on the wall. "I wish you'd take it to her; my hands are all over oil. Take it without the sheath, it will be less trouble."
The butler drew the blade, still keen and bright in its well-cared for old age, and carried it into the morning-room. There was a door near the writing-table leading to a back stairway; Jane vanished through it with such lightning rapidity that the butler doubted whether she had seen him come in. Half an hour later Clovis was driving her and her hastily-packed luggage to the station.
"Mother will be awfully vexed when she comes back from her ride and finds you have gone," he observed to the departing guest, "but I'll make up some story about an urgent wire having called you away. It wouldn't do to alarm her unnecessarily about Sturridge."
Jane sniffed slightly at Clovis' ideas of unnecessary alarm, and was almost rude to the young man who came round with thoughtful inquiries as to luncheon- baskets.
The miracle lost some of its usefulness from the fact that Dora wrote the same day postponing the date of her visit, but, at any rate, Clovis holds the record as the only human being who ever hustled Jane Martlet out of the time-table of her migrations.
Frequently Asked Questions about The Hen
What is "The Hen" by Saki about?
"The Hen" by follows Clovis Sangrail as he schemes to rid his mother's house of an overstaying guest. Mrs. Sangrail has Jane Martlet visiting for a self-imposed fortnight, but another guest, Dora Bittholz, is arriving on Thursday. The problem: Jane and Dora are bitter enemies, their friendship destroyed by a dispute over a bronze Leghorn hen that Dora sold to Jane at an inflated price. The hen refused to lay eggs, and the resulting exchange of letters was "a revelation as to how much invective could be got on to a sheet of notepaper." Clovis attempts to frighten Jane into leaving by inventing a story about the butler Sturridge suffering from dangerous delusions, but Jane stubbornly refuses to go — until Clovis sends the butler into the morning-room carrying an unsheathed sabre, at which point Jane flees through the back stairway and is driven to the station within the hour.
What is the significance of the hen in the story?
The hen — a bronze Leghorn that refuses to lay eggs — serves as the catalyst for the entire plot without ever appearing on stage. It represents how trivial disputes can escalate into consuming feuds when pride prevents either party from backing down. Dora sold the hen to Jane at an "exotic price," and when it proved barren, Jane demanded Dora take it back. Dora refused because that would mean "owning herself in the wrong," and she would "as soon think of owning slum property in Whitechapel" as admit fault. The hen itself is almost irrelevant — what matters is the principle each woman has staked her reputation on. This is characteristic of , who often uses animals as triggers for human absurdity, as in Tobermory and The Seventh Pullet.
Who is Clovis Sangrail in Saki's stories?
Clovis Sangrail is 's most famous recurring character — a witty, mischievous young man who appears in dozens of stories across the collections The Chronicles of Clovis (1911) and Beasts and Super-Beasts (1914). In "The Hen," Clovis is at his most resourceful: when his mother asks him to solve an awkward social problem, he claims "miracles are rather in my line" and proceeds to fabricate an elaborate lie about the butler's madness. Clovis serves as Saki's agent of chaos within polite society — he understands Edwardian social conventions perfectly and exploits them ruthlessly. Other notable Clovis stories include The Storyteller, The Lumber Room, and The Stampeding of Lady Bastable.
What are the main themes of "The Hen" by Saki?
The story explores several interconnected themes:
- Pride and stubbornness — Both Jane and Dora refuse to yield over a worthless hen, and Jane refuses to leave the house even when told the butler may be homicidal. Pride governs every character's behavior.
- Social manipulation — Clovis is a master manipulator who exploits social anxieties (fear of servants, fear of violence) to achieve a purely social goal. His schemes are bloodless but ruthless.
- The absurdity of Edwardian hospitality — Mrs. Sangrail cannot simply ask Jane to leave because social convention forbids it. The entire elaborate plot exists because directness is impossible in polite society.
- Deception as entertainment — Clovis lies not out of malice but out of creative impulse, much like Vera in The Open Window. The lie is the art form.
What literary devices does Saki use in "The Hen"?
employs several distinctive literary devices in "The Hen":
- Dramatic irony — The reader knows Sturridge is perfectly sane while Jane believes he is dangerously delusional. When Sturridge innocently carries the sabre into the morning-room, the reader understands what Jane cannot.
- Hyperbole — Clovis compares composing the quarrel between Jane and Dora to "composing the storm music of the Fliegende Holländer," Wagner's most tempestuous opera.
- Wit and epigram — Lines like "Nothing fans the flame of human resentment so much as the discovery that one's bosom has been utilised as a snake sanatorium" are classic Saki — precise, surprising, and quotable.
- Story within a story — Clovis invents a nested fiction (Sturridge's delusion about Queen Anne) to manipulate Jane, mirroring Saki's own storytelling craft.
- Anticlimactic irony — The "miracle" becomes unnecessary when Dora postpones her visit, deflating the urgency of the entire plot.
What is the Sturridge subplot in "The Hen"?
The Sturridge subplot is Clovis's fabricated story-within-a-story, designed to frighten Jane Martlet into leaving. Clovis tells Jane that Sturridge, the family's long-serving and impeccable butler, has developed "obstinate delusions" from years of monotonous perfection in service. He claims Sturridge once believed a guest was the Prophet Elijah and refused to serve her food (since Elijah was fed by ravens). Now, Clovis says, Sturridge believes Jane is Queen Anne — and since "Queen Anne's dead" is all posterity remembers, the butler thinks Jane ought to be dead too. Jane is alarmed but refuses to leave, calling it "the sword of What's-his-name" (Damocles). When the lie fails, Clovis takes direct action: he sends Sturridge into the morning-room with a drawn sabre on a false errand, and Jane finally bolts.
How does Saki use humor in "The Hen"?
's humor in "The Hen" operates on multiple levels. At the verbal level, nearly every line of dialogue sparkles with wit — Clovis names his cocktail "an Ella Wheeler Wilcox" (after the sentimental American poet, a wry joke about mixing high and low culture), and his observation that postal invective is "governed by the fact that only four ounces of plain speaking can be sent through the post for a penny" turns rage into a matter of postal economics. At the situational level, the comedy builds through escalation: a hen dispute leads to a fabricated madness, which leads to a Queen Anne delusion, which leads to a butler with a sword. At the structural level, the punchline is double: Jane is finally expelled, but the "miracle" is undermined by Dora's cancellation, making the entire scheme pointlessly perfect.
When was "The Hen" by Saki published?
"The Hen" was published in 1914 in 's collection Beasts and Super-Beasts, which was his final collection of stories published during his lifetime. Saki was the pen name of Hector Hugh Munro (1870–1916), a British writer celebrated for his darkly comic short fiction satirizing Edwardian society. He is often compared to Oscar Wilde for his epigrammatic wit and to O. Henry for his mastery of the surprise ending. Munro was killed in action during World War I in November 1916, just two years after this collection appeared. "The Hen" belongs to the subset of Clovis Sangrail stories within the collection, alongside tales like The Open Window.
How does "The Hen" compare to other Saki stories?
"The Hen" is a quintessential Clovis comedy of manners, lighter in tone than Saki's darker supernatural tales. It shares DNA with The Stampeding of Lady Bastable and The Phantom Luncheon, in which Clovis uses elaborate deception to manipulate social situations. The animal-as-catalyst device connects it to Tobermory (a talking cat) and The Open Window (where a hunter's return serves the hoax). Unlike the genuinely menacing Sredni Vashtar or Gabriel-Ernest, there is no real danger here — the threat is entirely manufactured, and the comedy lies in watching how effectively a fictional danger produces real results.
What is the ending of "The Hen" by Saki?
The ending delivers a double punchline. After Clovis's first scheme (the Queen Anne delusion) fails to dislodge Jane, he sends Sturridge into the morning-room carrying an unsheathed sabre on the pretext that Jane wants to copy its inscription. Jane — already primed to believe the butler is homicidal — vanishes through a back stairway "with such lightning rapidity that the butler doubted whether she had seen him come in." Clovis drives her to the station, promising to cover for her departure with a story about an urgent telegram. The final ironic twist is that Dora Bittholz writes the same day to postpone her visit, making the entire "miracle" unnecessary. The closing line notes that Clovis nevertheless "holds the record as the only human being who ever hustled Jane Martlet out of the time-table of her migrations" — a comic trophy for an effort that served no practical purpose.
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