The Candida Secret

By GEORGE A. RIDING

NO play of Shaw's has had 'a greater vogue, on stages both amateur and professional, than Candida. No one who has read it has failed to wonder, as the author undoubtedly intended, what was the secret in the heart of the poet Marchbanks, left with the reader at the end of the play—with the reader, for to read the play reveals a mystery not apparent as the curtain falls upon a stage performance.

Those who know the play will remember that with his concluding words the poet turns to Candida saying, " In a hundred years we shall be the same age. But I have a better secret than that in my heart. Let me go now. The night outside grows impatient." What follows is among the most moving and poignant play-endings of the English stage. Candida " takes his face in her hands," her husband the parson standing silent by ; Marchbanks goes down on a knee and Candida kisses his forehead. " Then he flies out into the night." Candida turns to the embrace Of the weaker man, Morel her husband, and Shaw's final " stage direction," if that it can be called, is, "But they do not know the secret in the poet's heart."

In my younger days, when I was a master at Rugby, I had contacts with a literary society whose members were senior boys belongieg to the School House. Early in 1920 they met to read Candida, and at the end of their reading they fell naturally to a discussion of the poet's secret. They decided, their protracted dis- cussion having led to nothing but divergent views, to instruct their secretary to write to Shaw, asking him to divulge his version of " the secret." The name of the secretary I have withheld ; he is now the head of an important firm of publishers.

The correspondence which followed, a copy of which 1 am privi- leged to possess, constitutes both a piece of interesting and valuable literary criticism and a self-portrait of G. B. S. in one of his most characteristic and likable moods. It is surely too good to be buried and lost in the minutes of a school literary society—minutes which by now may well have passed into eternity.

The boys led off as follows:— School House, Rugby. Feb. 25th, 1920.

" Dear Mr. Bernard Shaw, We are a play-reading society formed of members of this house for the purpose of reading'good plays of all kinds, and have been reading Candida in the volume of Plays Pleasant. A discussion arose among "the members as to what the secret was in the heart of the poet Marchbanks, which you mention at the end. None of the suggestions satisfied the society as a whole. We therefore decided to write and ask you to reveal the secret, should there be one. Apologising for wasting your time."

One of Shaw's postcards brought his reply:- 10 Adelphi Terrace, W.C. Feb. 26th, 1920.

" I have my Jwn opinion on the subject, but do not pretend to know more about it than anyone else. If you will send me a statement of the various guesses made at-the discussion, I will tell you what I think of them. G. BERNARD SnAw."

On March 1st he following letter was written to Marchbanks's creator, after the various members of the society had been asked to put on record their different interpretations of the secret : — " Dear Mr. Bernard Shaw, I enclose the various suggestions we have made with regard " to the poet's secret, and am much obliged to you for your kindness in giving us your opinion on them. They are as follows : - (1) The poet Marchbanks was going to seek an end to his miserable existence, finding that the woman he loved most could not live with him.

(2) The poet was after another lady whose heart he would try to win.

(3 He never found another love, so that he lost for ever his happiness on this earth.

(4) There is no secret, and it is only mentioned for the_ purpose of puzzling the reader.

(5) Marchbanks will come back when Morell is dead.

(6) Marchbanks 'knew that Candida loved him, and she knew it, but her duty to Morell kept her with him.

(7) See J. Galsworthy's Strife, Act 11, Scene II. 'David-Roberts: For all that Mr. Simon Harness says, for all that Thomas Rous, for all that any man present here can say—We've won the fight '

Thanking you for your kind help in this matter.

Yours truly,"

The last and most valuable letter is illuminating, pretendingly prickly, in parts lovely—and very human:- 10 Adelphi Terrace, W.C. March 8th, 1920.

"Dear Sir,

What has happened to Rugby ? Never could I have believed that.. it would produce such a brigade of sentimental blighters. They are all. wrong ; and the soulless wretch (No. 4) who thinks that the secret is a spoof secret is the only one whose opinion is not pure sob-stuff. To bring them to a proper state of mind I recommend, first, a course of the poets on the subject of Night, Begin with something simple, like Act V of The Merchant of Venice, and then work on, not forgetting' Byron's She Walks in Beauty Like the Night' until you finish up with Wagner's Tristan and Isolde, where you will find the final and complete repudiation of the day and acceptance of the night as the true realm of the poet.

Then your fellows will understand what Eugene means when he turns so fiercely away from Candida's picture of a happy home in Victoria Park, and exclaims Ah, never. Out then into the night with me,' and later on, Let me go now. The night outside grows impatient.' What did you all make of, ' I no longer desire happi- ness ; life is nobler than that' ? And why does Eugene speak of Candida not as the woman I love,' but as the woman I loved'?

The secret is very obvious after all—provided you know what a poet is.. What business has a man with the great destiny of a poet with the small beer of domestic comfort and cuddling and petting at the apron-string of some dear nice woman ? Morell cannot do without it: it is the making of him ; without it he would be utterly miserable and perhaps go to the devil. To Eugene, the stronger of the two, the daily routine of it is nursery slavery, swaddling clothes, mere happiness instead of exaltation—an atmo- sphere in which great poetry dies. To choose it would be like Swinburne choosing Putney. When Candida brings him squarely face to face with it, his heaven rolls up like a scroll ; and he goes out proudly into the majestic and beautiful kingdom of the starry night. Read the scene over with that in your heads, and every word of it will come right. Read it under the sentimental delusion that the poet is going to drown himself because 'he cannot have the other fellow's wife, and every word will .seem utter nonsense.

Mind, I have no doubt that Eugene found that though his head was in the stars he had to keep his feet on the ground as much as Morell, and that some enterprising woman married him and made him dress himself properly and take regular meals. But he did not steal her, from a friend. I hope this explanation— penned rather hastily in a fast train—will give satisfaction. It is only my way of looking at it ; everybody who buys the book may fit it with an ending to suit his own taste.

Faithfully,

G. BERNARD SHAW."

Hats off to the young men of Rugby-1920 vintage—for having produced for lovers .of Candida that piece of light and guidance from its " onlie begetter " !