Josef Čapek

“ Enter Felix—a poet butterfly.
Felix. (Ecstatically) Iris! Iris! Where are you, Iris? If only I could find a rhyme for you!
All I desire is Beautiful Iris ...
No, that’s wretched, commonplace.
The star to whom my thoughts aspire is Iris, Iris, radiant Iris. [Pg 9]
That’s no better. I know! She will reject my passion and I shall then produce an exquisite lament. For instance,—
If only thou wert ill, hard-hearted Iris! ”

“ It’s the fate of a poet to be terribly happy. Ah, Felix, you remind me of my first love.
Felix. Who was he?
Clytie. Nobody—I forget. None of my lovers was the first. Ah, that Victor! I hate men. Let’s be friends, Felix—like two girls together.
Felix. Like two girls?
Clytie. Love’s nothing to you. Love’s so common. I want something special, something pure, something new.
Felix. A poem.
Clytie. (Doubtfully) Yes, that’ll do—You see how much I like you.
Felix. Listen!
She came in the blue Spring weather, Gay as a foxglove is; And our two hearts rhymed together, And our lips were one in a kiss. ”

“ It’s not every one who could do that. Ah, my boy, that’s what you want—brains, expert knowledge, enterprise, imagination, initiative—and love of work, let me tell you.
Parasite. That’s what I say.
Ichneumon Fly. My good man, if you want to keep alive, you’ve got to fight your way. There’s your future, there’s your family. And then you know there must be a certain amount of ambition. A strong personality is bound to assert itself.
Parasite. That’s what I say, sir.
Ichneumon Fly. Of course, of course. Make your way in the world. Use the talent that’s in you, that’s what I call a useful life. ”

“ Felix. Iris, dear, don’t laugh at me. I’ve had awful experiences—in [Pg 13] my imagination. Terrible disappointments. Love-affairs without number—but only in my dreams. Dreams are the poet’s life. I know all women, and I’ve not known one—I swear it, Iris.
Iris. Then why do you say you are tired of women?
Felix. Oh, Iris, every one disparages the thing that he loves best.
Iris. Do you mean dark women? You love Clytie—the cat.
Felix. No—dreams, eternal dreams.
Iris. You have such passionate eyes, Felix. You’re awfully clever. What are you thinking about now?
Felix. About you. Woman is a riddle. ”

“ Iris. (Looking round from her mirror) Where?
Felix. Your image, Iris.
Iris. My image? Have you fallen in love with my image? Look, my image has heard you. Kiss it quickly.
Felix. It is as unapproachable as you.
Iris. Am I unapproachable? How do you know?
Felix. If I didn’t know that, I shouldn’t love you.
Iris. But must one always be unapproachable?
Felix. There is no true love except in the unapproachable.
Iris. Do you think so? What about
‘shall surely lie When love is’— you know!
Felix. Don’t, Iris—not again.
Iris. Make a poem for me, quickly. Something passionate.
[Pg 15]
Felix. ”

“ Chrysalis. I shall have life for ever; I shall at last be born!
[Moths in a bevy fly into the midst of the light. They whirl round.
Moths. Into it, into it, into it! Wing your flight Into the ecstasy, into the heart of the light!
Tramp. What are you? Moths? What yer want? Is it life?
First Moth. (Separating from the others) Ah ...! (Stands still) [Pg 65]
We are struck from the dark And again we expire. ”

“ I’m ’ungry, that’s what I am, ’ungry, that’s a pretty stage of things, isn’t it?
Tramp. Anything for a piece of meat.
Parasite. That’s what I say. Anything for a piece of meat, and the poor man’s got nothing. It’s against nature. Every one should have enough to eat, eh? Down with work!
Tramp. (Shaking rattle) Poor creature, poor creature!
Parasite. That’s it. Every one’s got a right to live. ”

“ Oh, men never know half the trouble moving is.
Mr. Cricket. Oh darling, come, come—Look, darling, look.
Mrs. Cricket. Now don’t get cross, you horrid man.
Mr. Cricket. I won’t say another word, really I won’t. Fancy, Mrs. Cricket won’t take care of herself, and in her state too—What do you think of her?
Mrs. Cricket. You naughty man—how can you joke about it?
Mr. Cricket. But darling, I’m so happy. Just fancy, all the little crickets, the noise, the chirping— (Imitates the noise and laughs.)
Mrs. Cricket. You—you silly boy—wants to be a great big Daddy, eh?
Mr. Cricket. ”

“ Where am I? Can’t see me ’ands, it’s so bloomin’ dark.... ’Oo’s that speakin’?... (Shouting) ’Ullo! ’oo’s talkin’?... Nothin’—no one anywhere. Gawd! I’m skeered. Where’s the sky got to? There ain’t no sky! Can’t be dead, can I? Feel sick enough. For ’eaven’s sake, a bit of light—jest a glimmer!
A Voice. Wait, wait. The light is coming.
Tramp. I can ’ear voices—everywhere, voices! ’Ark!
Voice of Ant-Soldier. I’m wounded.... I’m thirsty.
Voice of Ant-Commander. Army of Occupation, advance!
Voice of Mr. Beetle. My pile! Where’s my little pile?
Voice of a Butterfly. Iris! Iris! ”

“ For life is eternal, and rises from death where you think that it sleeps.
Third Moth. Life is eternal. It cannot fail. All hail to life— [Falls dead.
Moths.All hail, all hail!
Tramp. Life and death—seems they’re both good if we know how to treat ’em. I’m a battered old moth, I am, but I’ll dance with yer! All hail to life!
Moths. All hail, all hail!
[Moth after Moth falls dead.
Tramp. Butterflies, beetles, moths, and men—why can’t we all live ’appy together? The world’s big enough, and life could be ’appy for everythink—if we ’ad a bit o’ sense.
[Pg 66] Moths. All hail, all hail!
Chrysalis. ”

“ Chrysalis. I shall inspire—I shall create.
Ichneumon Fly. It’s a great responsibility to bring up children—A great worry, isn’t it? Feeding the poor little mites, paying for their education and putting them out into the world. That’s no trifle, I can tell you. Well, I must be off now—Au revoir—Pleased to have met you—Ta-ta, my chicken—Be good!
[Exit.
[Pg 32] Tramp. This ’as me fairly beat. That fly destroys The cricket jest to feed ’is girls and boys; But that pore ’armless cricket found life sweet, Same as ’e does.—No! Nature ’as me beat!
Larva. (Crawling out of hole) Daddy! Daddy! ”

“ Mr. Beetle. Ha, ha! It’s fine to own something—property—the dream of your life, the fruit of your labours. [Pg 26]
Mrs. Beetle. Ha, ha, ha!
Mr. Beetle. I’m off my head with joy—I’m going balmy.
Mrs. Beetle. Why?
Mr. Beetle. With worry. Now we’ve got our little pile that we’ve so looked forward to, we’ve got to work and work and work to make another one.
Mrs. Beetle. Why another one?
Mr. Beetle. Silly—so that we can have two, of course.
Mrs. Beetle. Two? Quite right—quite right—two.
Mr. Beetle. Just fancy—two—at least two, say three. Every one who’s made his pile has to make another. ”

“ A war machine. A vast machine, a huge one. The swiftest, most effective crusher of lives. The forefront of progress, the acme of science. Whew, whew, do you hear it? Ten thousand, a hundred thousand dead! ”

“ Parasite. There’s no equality, that’s what I say. One law for the rich—another for the poor! And if I was to kill anything, I couldn’t eat it—not satisfactorily, I can’t chew properly, my jaw’s too weak. Is that right?
Tramp. I don’t ’old with killin’, no’ow.
Parasite. My very words, Comrade, or at least, hoarding shouldn’t be allowed. Eat your fill and ’ave done with it. Down with larders! Storing things is robbin’ those who haven’t nowhere to store. Eat your fill and have done with it and then there’d be enough for all, wouldn’t there? ”

“ My Larva. Charming, eh? Smart child—And how she grows, and what a twist she’s got. Children are a great joy, aren’t they?
Tramp. I’ve ’eard ’em well spoken of.
Ichneumon Fly. Well, of course they are, you take it from me—One who [Pg 31] knows. When you have them, at least you know what you’re working for. That’s life, that is. Children want to grow, to eat, to laugh, to dance, to play, don’t they? ”

“ Tramp. (Kneeling by the dead Chrysalis) Dead. She’s dead too. Pore Chrysalis—and you ’ad sich ’opes. What was yer going to say? I wonder! They don’t seem skeered o’ death, these little mites don’t. Life’s a rapture to them, and death’s a rapture. It’s queer. Pore little mites—all done for....’Ere—what’s this? My turn, is it? Get off my chest, damn yer! I won’t die. ’Aven’t I jest learned ’ow to live and let live? ”

“ Put it blunt-like—Lord Alf and Lady Rose Be’ave exactly like them insec’s do.
Clytie. Are you a butterfly?
[Tramp throws his cap at her as if to catch her.
Aren’t you a butterfly? [Pg 21]
Tramp. I’m a man.
Clytie. What’s that? Is it alive?
Tramp. Well, in a manner o’ speakin’, lady.
Clytie. (Flying up to him) Can it love?
Tramp. Oh yus. Reg’lar butterfly.
Clytie. How thrilling you are! Why do you have black down on your face? And—oh, it pricks!
Tramp. Down! that’s scrub. ’Aven’t shaved for a fortnight, I ’aven’t.
Clytie. There’s a fragrance in the air about you. ”

“ CREEPERS AND CRAWLERS Scene: A sandy hillock—Various holes, &c.
Beetles are quarrelling over a Chrysalis, which is seized first by one then the other.
Chrysalis. The whole world is bursting into blossom. I am being born. ”

“ Why, If I was countin’, ’stead o’ you, I’d make them vermin fly. Quicker, quicker, quicker! We men are jest like you,— We’re all for speed. I tell yer, we’re countin’ quicker, too; And if we rush to ruin, we’ll ’ave ourselves to thank,— So wake up, ole blind feller. On with yer countin’! ”

“ In the Centre sits a Blind Ant who counts continuously: Ants with sacks, beans, shovels, &c., run across in time to his counting.
Blind Ant. One, two, three, four—one, two, three, four.
Tramp. What’s that? What yer counting for, old boy?
Blind Ant. One, two, three, four—
Tramp. What’s this ’ere? A warehouse or a factory, isn’t it? Hi, what’s it for?
Blind Ant. One, two, three, four—
Tramp. What’s this factory for, I’m asking—why’s this blind feller countin’? Ah, he’s giving them the time. They all move in time as he [Pg 46] counts, one, two, three, four. ”

“ The Yellows have invaded the stretch of country between the roots of the Pine Tree and the Stone——
Chief Engineer. Entirely according to plan. Faster, soldiers, one, two, War forced on us for honour and glory, needs of the State, no conception of Justice; soldiers show your bravery, victory is ours, greatest moment in history. ”

“ Crumbs! if you’re half the ant I takes yer for, I swear You’ll cop that bit o’ land afore the Yellers cop it— But ’ere’s the brass ’ats comin’. I guess I’d better ’op it.
Chief Engineer. Soldiers! We find ourselves compelled to call you to the colours. A wicked enemy has treacherously attacked us, for the purpose of outwitting our peaceable preparations. At this great hour I have been appointed Dictator. ”

“ One’s born and another dies. No great matter, missus.
Woman. It means bad luck.
Woodcutter. What’s death? There’s always people enough. (Chucking the baby under the chin) Gi-gi-gi-gigg, baby! Wait till you’re grown up. ”

“ It does yer good to see ’em pass, Prepared to shed their blood— And jest for ’alf a yard o’ mud, Between two blades o’ grass.
It does yer good to see ’em all So ’andsome and so spry. They’re not afraid to up and die— They’ve ’eard the Nation’s call.
It makes yer think o’ them ole scenes, With star-shells over ’ead, [Pg 55] The night we left a thousan’ dead— And keptured two latrines.
Now, fellers, dig yerselves right in, And stay there till yer bust. Them Yellers wants your yard o’ dust, And don’t you let ’em win!
Chrysalis. They call, they shout, they beat their drums. ”

“ He kills to add to his larder, what’s three-quarters full already. He collects things he does, hangs ’em up to dry, smokes ’em, pickles ’em. It’s a scandal, that’s what it is, a scandal. One’s got a store while another’s starving. ”

“ Meetings, either Open or for Members only, are held once a week during the three terms of the year. Study Groups for such subjects as comparative religion, philosophy, mysticism, psychology, psychical investigation, etc., are formed to suit individual requirements. There is a Library for the use of Members (and of Subscribers of £1 1s. per annum) at the Rooms of the Society, 27, Clareville Grove, Hereford Square, S.W. 7. ”

“ Mrs. Beetle. Our capital—our little pile—our all in all.
Mr. Beetle. Our pi-ile—My gawd—don’t frighten me.
Mrs. Beetle. We oughtn’t to roll it about with us till we’ve made another one, dearie, did we?
Mr. Beetle. I’ll tell you what—we’ll invest it—In—vest it—store it up—bury it. That’s what we’ll do—nice and deep—nice and deep.
Mrs. Beetle. I hope nobody finds it.
Mr. Beetle. Eh, what’s that? Finds it—No, of course they won’t. Our little bit of capital.
[Pg 27] Mrs. Beetle. Our nest-egg—Oh, bless me—I hope no one does—our little all. ”

“ Chrysalis. To be born, to live!
Tramp. All right, little chrysalis—I won’t desert yer.
Parasite. (Rolling out of the Fly’s lair, and hiccoughing) Ha, ha, ha! Hup—that—ha, ha, hup—the old miser—hup—kept a larder—hup—for that white-faced daughter of his. [Pg 44] Hup—ha, ha. I feel quite—hup—I think I’m going to bust—damn the hiccoughs! It’s not every one who’d eat as much as that—hup. I’m not a common man, eh, mate?
Tramp. And ’ow about the Larva?
Parasite. Oh, I’ve gobbled her up too, hup. For what we ’ave received may the—hup.
Tramp. Gah! Bleedin’ Bolshie!
ACT III
THE ANTS
Tramp. ”

“ That ain’t the only reason why I see Everythink double, everythink in pairs.
Them little birds up there ... I see yer plain! Tweet-weety-weet ... Lord! ’ow they bill and coo, As yer might say. Them butterflies again, What sport they ’ave—’ow prettily they woo!
Love’s what they want. Some day they’ll get it, p’raps: Everythink does—or mostways everythink ... (S’pose you’d a girl who loved all kinds of chaps— Wouldn’t you damn yerself, and take to drink?) ”

“ Wait—stay here and watch it—Watch it careful—don’t let your eyes off it, not for a minute—Capital—Capital.
Mrs. Beetle. Where yer off to?
Mr. Beetle. To look for a hole—a little hole—a deep hole—deep and narrer to bury it in—out of harm’s way—Careful—Careful. ”