CANDIDA
BERNARD SHAW
1898
ACT I
ACT II
ACT III
ACT I
A fine October morning in the north east suburbs of London, a vastdistrict many miles away from the London of Mayfair and St. James's,much less known there than the Paris of the Rue de Rivoli and theChamps Elysees, and much less narrow, squalid, fetid and airless in itsslums; strong in comfortable, prosperous middle class life;wide-streeted, myriad-populated; well-served with ugly iron urinals,Radical clubs, tram lines, and a perpetual stream of yellow cars;enjoying in its main thoroughfares the luxury of grass-grown "frontgardens," untrodden by the foot of man save as to the path from thegate to the hall door; but blighted by an intolerable monotony of milesand miles of graceless, characterless brick houses, black ironrailings, stony pavements, slaty roofs, and respectably ill dressed ordisreputably poorly dressed people, quite accustomed to the place, andmostly plodding about somebody else's work, which they would not do ifthey themselves could help it. The little energy and eagerness thatcrop up show themselves in cockney cupidity and business "push." Eventhe policemen and the chapels are not infrequent enough to break themonotony. The sun is shining cheerfully; there is no fog; and thoughthe smoke effectually prevents anything, whether faces and hands orbricks and mortar, from looking fresh and clean, it is not hangingheavily enough to trouble a Londoner.
This desert of unattractiveness has its oasis. Near the outer end ofthe Hackney Road is a park of 217 acres, fenced in, not by railings,but by a wooden paling, and containing plenty of greensward, trees, alake for bathers, flower beds with the flowers arranged carefully inpatterns by the admired cockney art of carpet gardening and a sandpit,imported from the seaside for the delight of the children, but speedilydeserted on its becoming a natural vermin preserve for all the pettyfauna of Kingsland, Hackney and Hoxton. A bandstand, an unfinishedforum for religious, anti-religious and political orators, cricketpitches, a gymnasium, and an old fashioned stone kiosk are among itsattractions. Wherever the prospect is bounded by trees or rising greengrounds, it is a pleasant place. Where the ground stretches far to thegrey palings, with bricks and mortar, sky signs, crowded chimneys andsmoke beyond, the prospect makes it desolate and sordid.
The best view of Victoria Park is from the front window of St.Dominic's Parsonage, from which not a single chimney is visible. Theparsonage is a semi-detached villa with a front garden and a porch.Visitors go up the flight of steps to the porch: tradespeople andmembers of the family go down by a door under the steps to thebasement, with a breakfast room, used for all meals, in front, and thekitchen at the back. Upstairs, on the level of the hall door, is thedrawing-room, with its large plate glass window looking on the park. Inthis room, the only sitting-room that can be spared from the childrenand the family meals, the parson, the Reverend James Mavor Morell doeshis work. He is sitting in a strong round backed revolving chair at theright hand end of a long table, which stands across the window, so thathe can cheer himself with the view of the park at his elbow. At theopposite end