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DR. VOLTAIRE'S CANDIDE |
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As the Overture starts, a shaft of light reveals an Eighteenth Century chair at a table on which is an inkhorn, a large white quill pen and a manuscript. For a moment we see only this, then gradually, very faintly, we are aware of movement at some distance beyond it. Slowly the movement defines itself. Two bright pink sheep (actors in skins) are gamboling together. As they do so, movement starts elsewhere and as more light concentrates, we see two grotesquely hooded penitentes, one of whom carries a cross. In yet a third area movement gradually materializes into four smartly drilling Bulgarian soldiers. We see alternately or simultaneously as the nature of the music dictates, all these three groups. Then, at a certain point, we make out, close to the table, a simple bed in which someone is lying asleep. This figure sighs or moans in its sleep and stirs, but does not awaken. An eighteenth century male servant appears, carrying a mug of chocolate on a tray. He goes to the bed, puts down the tray and shakes the sleeper's shoulder. The sleeper sits up abruptly and instantly the dancing images disappear. The sleeper is Voltaire as an old man. He wears a white nightshirt and a white nightcap. As the servant leaves the room, He gets out of bed, coughs, stretches, finds a glass of water, gargles, then puts on a heavy ornate robe. Picking up the chocolate, He goes to the table and sits down. He picks up the quill pen and surveys the manuscript. As he does so, the three separate groups — the soldiers, the penitentes and the pink sheep reappear and merge into a dancing group only to vanish as the Overture ends and bright lights concentrate on Voltaire, the pen in his hand, at the table. Putting down the pen, Voltaire finds and puts on an Eighteenth Century pair of spectacles, pick up the manuscript. VOLTAIRE (Reading). In Westphalia in the castle of the Baron Thunder-Ten-Tronck, there lived four young people. All of them were very happy because they knew they were living in the best of all possible castles in the best of all possible countries in the best of all possible worlds. (He rises and starts toward one of the small curtained stages) The happiest of them all was the noble youth Candide. Though merely a bastard cousin, he was graciously permitted to wear the best second hand clothes and . . . (He pulls a curtain revealing Candide with two attendant huntsmen. Candide has a falcon on his wrist. As Voltaire reveals them) . . . to fly the third best baronial falcon. (Candide sings of the happiness of his lot in an eight bar passage taken from the last main theme of the overture. This, of course, will have to be a new song, that is, new lyrics) SONG: (After the song, he releases the falcon which is jerked clumsily from his wrist and shoots upward stiffly to disappear. A second later, a large stuffed swan clunks down on the stage. The huntsmen applaud) HUNTSMEN. Bravo, bravo, Master Candide! (Candide smiles with legitimate pride. Underscoring continues) VOLTAIRE (Moving to another stage). The next happiest of the four was probably the serving maid, Paquette. (He draws curtains revealing Paquette, a very sexy girl, helping to dress the immensely fat Baroness while the Baron stands watching) VOLTAIRE. She enjoyed the honor of dressing the Baroness in the very presence of the Baron himself — and, for her willingness to co-operate, was a favorite with all. (Behind the Baroness’ back, the Baron lecherously ogles Paquette and pinches her behind) BARON (To Baroness). My dear, if you could spare this young wench for a few minutes, she could grease my riding boots. BARONESS. Of course, my Lord. BARON (Leering at Paquette). I will await you in the stables. Bring the lubricant! PAQUETTE (Beaming at him sexily). Oh yes, my Lord. Willingly, my Lord. (Voltaire is now moving to another stage) VOLTAIRE. Also extremely happy was the Baron’s virgin daughter, Cunegonde. (He pulls a curtain revealing Cunegonde in innocent white, standing beside a large artificial rose bush covered with huge white roses) VOLTAIRE. Cunegonde knew she was not only the highest born maiden in the land but also the prettiest. She was assured that she could look forward to a tremendously advantageous marriage. (To the same eight bars as Candide, Cunegonde sings of the happiness of her lot) SONG: (After the song, she plucks a rose and carries it winsomely to her cheek. The underscoring continues) VOLTAIRE (Moving again). At the moment, the least happy of the four — though still happy — was the Baron’s son Maximilian. (He pulls another curtain to reveal Maximilian who is dressing himself also in virginal white. In fact, his outfit is an exact masculine version of his sister’s) Maximilian, being the handsomest youth in Westphalia, was naturally and very sincerely devoted to his own person, but — alas, a pimple just under the left cheekbone! (Maximilian’s hand goes to his cheek, discovers the pimple, reacts in horror. A male servant enters with his cloak) SERVANT. A delegation of villagers, sir, to pay homage. MAXIMILIAN. Dismiss them! (Hysterically indicating the pimple) Look, look. How can I receive even a peasant like this! SERVANT (Sycophantic). Who could notice so trivial a blemish, Sir when, with one smile from you, their eyes are dazzled? MAXIMILIAN (Preening again). Well, there is a great deal of truth in that. Admit them. (Now all four stages are visible, the actors on them are frozen) VOLTAIRE. If there was the faintest shadow to darken the idyllic existence of these children, it lay in the fact that Candide — except when hunting — could think of little else but the glorious hair and eyes of Mlle Cunegonde. (Candide moves forward from his group, a hand yearningly on his heart) CANDIDE. Oh Mlle Cunegonde! VOLTAIRE. . . . while Cunegonde, in spite of her exalted birth, was alarmingly conscious of her bastard cousin’s strong young thighs. (Cunegonde kisses the rose and sighs) CUNEGONDE. Oh Candide! VOLTAIRE. However, except for this tiny flaw — and the pimple — their innocent happiness was unstained. (All four principals, from their positions, start to sing the next eight measures of the theme of the new song, leaving their groups and marching joyfully around the ramp. Group sings) SONG: VOLTAIRE (Over the music, to the Audience). You may ask, if you are of a cynical turn of mind, how, even in this best of all possible castles, such unique happiness should prevail. The answer is simple. (As he talks, he starts shedding the robe, nightshirt etcetera, slowly transforming himself) These admirable children had the great good fortune to be instructed in the realities of Life by the wisest of all possible philosophers and scientists — a man to whom none of the secrets of God’s mysterious ways lay unrevealed. This dazzling individual, this paragon of human virtues was ever at readiness to mould and shape his pupils minds and characters in that harmonious . . . (He breaks off. By now he has transformed himself into a cheerful pedant in cap and gown, bearing a nagging resemblance to Groucho Marx. At this point the marching children are coming his way, almost up to him.) DR. PANGLOSS (To Audience). Excuse me. Overslept again. What a night! (He strides in his new character up to the children, falling in behind them) PUPILS (Instantly, oozing with respect). Dr. Pangloss! (The parade reverses itself so that Dr. Pangloss is now in the lead. To the music he marches them to one of the large Stages which is set to appear like a very American 18th Century schoolroom, desks, a blackboard with BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE . . . ? written on it and a portrait of the Baron looking very like George Washington. Cunegonde, Maximilian and Candide sit at the desks. Paquette, curtseying, exits. Pangloss yawning, hung-over, takes up his professorial stand in front of them, glares at them, suddenly produces from his cloak a chicken leg out of which he takes a large bite, then, pointing severely with the chicken leg at Maximilian) DR. PANGLOSS. Syllogism Number One. Since this is the only possible world, it follow . . . MAXIMILIAN. . . . that this is the best of all possible worlds. DR. PANGLOSS. Correct. (Lecherously caressing Cunegonde’s cheek) Ergo. Since this is the best of all possible worlds, it follows . . . CUNEGONDE. . . . that everything that happens in this world is for the best. DR. PANGLOSS. Correct. (An even lewder caress, then pointing the chicken leg at the mooning, inattentive Candide) Ergo. Since everything that happens in this world is for the best it follows . . . CANDIDE. . . . that that is the best of all possible chicken legs? DR. PANGLOSS (Cuffing him). Oaf! (To Maximilian the pointed chicken leg) MAXIMILIAN (Very smug). . . . that everything in this world is perfect the way it is. DR. PANGLOSS. Correct. Quod Erat Demonstrandum. So if any man says everything is well. PUPILS. He lies. Everything is not well. Everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds. (Dr. Pangloss and pupils sing) SONG : "THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS" (LESSON SONG)
Let us review Lesson Eleven. PUPILS. Paragraph two, axiom seven. PANGLOSS. ONCE ONE DISMISSES THE REST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS, ONE FINDS THAT THIS IS THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS. PUPILS. ONCE ONE DISMISSES THE REST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS, ONE FINDS THAT THIS IS THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS. PANGLOSS. PRAY, CLASSIFY PIGEONS AND CAMELS. PUPILS. PIGEONS CAN FLY. CAMELS ARE MAMMALS. PANGLOSS. THERE IS A REASON FOR EV’RYTHING UNDER THE SUN. PUPILS. THERE IS A REASON FOR EV’RYTHING UNDER THE SUN. MAXIMILIAN. OBJECTION! WHAT ABOUT SNAKES? PANGLOSS. SNAKES. ‘TWAS SNARE THAT TEMPTED MOTHER EVE. BECAUSE OF SNAKE WE NOW BELIEVE THAT ‘THO’ DEPRAVED, WE CAN BE SAVED FROM HELL-FIRE AND DAMNATION. PUPILS. BECAUSE OF SNAKE’S TEMPTATION. PANGLOSS. IF SNAKE HAD NOT SEDUCED OUR LOT, AND PRIMED US FOR SALVATION, JEHOVAH COULD NOT PARDON ALL THE S INS THAT WE CALL CARDINAL, INVOLVING BED AND BOTTLE NOW ON TO ARISTOTLE. MANKIND IS ONE. ALL MEN ARE BROTHERS. PUPILS. AS YOU’D HAVE DONE, DO UNTO OTHERS. PANGLOSS. IT’S UNDERSTOOD IN THIS BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS. PUPILS. ALL IS FOR THE GOOD IN THIS BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS. CANDIDE. OBJECTION! WHAT ABOUT WAR? PANGLOSS. WAR. THOUGH WAR MAY SEEM A BLOODY CURSE, IT IS A BLESSING IN REVERSE. WHEN CANNON ROAR, BOTH RICH AND POOR BY DANGER ARE UNITED. PUPILS. ‘TIL EV’RYTHING WRONG IS RIGHTED. PANGLOSS. PHILOSOPHERS MADE EVIDENT THE POINT THAT I HAVE CITED. ‘TIS WAR MAKES EQUAL, AS IT WERE, THE NOBLE AND THE COMMONER, THUS WAR IMPROVES RELATIONS. NOW ON TO CONJUGATIONS. AMO, AMAS, AMAT, AMAMUS. PUPILS. AMO, AMAS, AMAT, AMAMUS. PANGLOSS. PROVING THAT THIS IS THE BEST OF AL POSSIBLE WORLDS. WITH LOVE AND KISSES, THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS. PUPILS. PROVING THAT THIS IS THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS. WITH LOVE AND KISSES THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS. PANGLOSS. QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRADUM! Q. E. D. AMO, AMAS. AMAT, AMAMUS. Q. E. D. QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRADUM! CUNEGONDE, CANDIDE, MAXIMILIAN, PANGLOSS. QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM IN THIS BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE, POSSIBLE, POSSIBLE WORLDS! QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM! DR. PANGLOSS. Syllogism Number Two. Since everything is made for a reason it follows . . . MAXIMILIAN. . . . that everything is made for the best reason. DR. PANGLOSS. Par exemplum. A leg is made . . . CUNEGONDE (Innocently revealing hers). To walk. DR. PANGLOSS (Appreciates leg). A belly is made . . . MAXIMILIAN. To digest. DR. PANGLOSS (To Candide who is gazing mooningly at Cunegonde). A mouth is made . . . CANDIDE. To kiss. DR. PANGLOSS (Clouting him). Wrong, wrong, wrong. This is a classroom. Not the gutter. (Pointing to Maximilian) MAXIMILIAN (Smug). To eat. DR. PANGLOSS. Ergo. Since every part of the body is made for the best of all possible reasons, it follows that every part of the State — which is merely a body in macrocosm — is made of the best of all possible reasons. Everything is perfect the way it is and everything that happens — however seemingly unpleasant on the surface — happens for a supremely benign purpose. Par exemplum . . . (Paquette enters with a stein of beer on a tray. Pangloss, grabbing the beer, ogles Paquette) DR. PANGLOSS. Class dismissed. It is time for Mademoiselle Paquette’s lesson in advanced physics. Off, off. (He shoos the pupils away. Cunegonde, as she leaves, glances back at Paquette, clearly curious as to what the physics lesson may involve. She hesitates, then, disingenuously drops her handkerchief and exits after the boys) DR. PANGLOSS (Instantly, he starts to undo the willing Paquette’s blouse). No fleas? PAQUETTE. Oh no, sir, I’ve scrubbed. (He throws her down on the floor and starts to mount her. Cunegonde returns "for her handkerchief", is fascinated by the scientific experiment spread out on the floor beside her. She moves to Pangloss, tapping him on the shoulder) CUNEGONDE. Excuse me, sir. DR. PANGLOSS (Looking up, embarrassed but only for a moment). Certainly. What is it? CUNEGONDE. You know of my interest in science, sir. I realize this experiment may be a little advanced for me, but would you be kind enough to explain it? DR. PANGLOSS. Gladly. It is to study the specific gravity of two bodies, the male and the female. If the partners stand with their bodies erect . . . so . . . (He pulls Paquette up to her feet to standing position) the lips connected so . . . (Demonstrates) . . . the arms to insure firm contact . . . so . . . (Puts his arms around her) . . . it will be observed that the female body, its specific gravity lower, will tend to fall backwards . . . (Demonstrates) . . . the male body following it in a symmetrical curve . . . (On top of Paquette again) — thus demonstrating amongst other things the most natural and complementary juxtaposition of the male and female bodies. CUNEGONDE. I see. Thank you, sir. I appreciate your taking the time to enlighten me. (She leaves) PAQUETTE (Giggling). From now on there won’t be a pantry boy safe from that one’s specific gravity. DR. PANGLOSS. Spread your legs, girl. (He resumes mounting her as the scene blacks out and we see on another Stage, as Underscoring starts, Candide, stripped to the waist, practicing chinning himself on the branch of an artificial tree. Cunegonde enters, stops, watching his naked chest, enthralled for a moment. Candide, seeing her, confused, drops from the tree) CANDIDE. Goodday, Mademoiselle Cunegonde. CUNEGONDE. Good day, dear Candide. (Pause) Candide? CANDIDE. (Eager) Yes, Mademoiselle Cunegonde. CUNEGONDE. As my faithful friend and companion from the cradle, would you consider attempting one of our dear master’s physical experiments — even though it is somewhat ahead of our curriculum? CANDIDE. Anything for you, Mademoiselle Cunegonde. CUNEGONDE. You are very civil. It concerns the relative specific gravity of the male and female bodies. You put your arms around me . . . so . . . (She puts the astonished but fervent Candide’s arms around her waist) Next the lips make contact . . . (She puts her mouth to his. The reaction in Candide is instantaneous and enthusiastic. So is her response. They start to kiss wildly) CANDIDE. Oh Mademoiselle Cunegonde! CUNEGONDE. Oh Candide! CANDIDE. It isn’t possible! CUNEGONDE. It isn’t possible! CANDIDE. And yet for many months I have been dreaming of just such a contact. CUNEGONDE. I too have dreamed. But what are dreams but fancies? Oh worthy Dr. Pangloss to have shown scientifically that this is the best of all possible juxtapositions. CANDIDE. Oh Cunegonde. CUNEGONDE. Oh dear Candide, it has been proved without a shadow of doubt that I — regardless of my high position — have been put on this world to complement you. CANDIDE. And I to complement you. (They sing) SONG: "OH HAPPY WE" (CANDIDE AND CUNEGONDE)
SOON, WHEN WE FEEL WE CAN AFFORD IT WE'LL BUILD A MODEST LITTLE FARM. CUNEGONDE. BUY A YACHT AND LIVE ABOARD IT; ROLLING IN LUXURY AND STYLISH CHARM. CANDIDE. COWS AND CHICKENS. CUNEGONDE. SOCIAL WHIRLS. CANDIDE. PEAS AND CABBAGE. CUNEGONDE. ROPES OF PEARLS OH WON’T MY ROBES OF SILK AND SATIN BE CHIC! I’LL HAVE ALL THAT I DESIRE. CANDIDE. PANGLOSS WILL TUTOR US IN LATIN AND GREEK, WHILE WE SIT BEFORE THE FIRE. CUNEGONDE. GLOWING RUBIES. CANDIDE. GLOWING LOGS. CUNEGONDE. FAITHFUL SERVANTS. CANDIDE. FAITHFUL DOGS. CUNEGONDE. WE’LL ROUND THE WORLD ENJOYING HIGH LIFE, ALL WILL BE PINK CHAMPAGNE AND GOLD. CANDIDE. WE’LL LEAD A RUSTIC AND A SHY LIFE, FEEDING THE PIGS AND SWEETLY GROWING OLD. CUNEGONDE. BREAST OF PEACOCK. CANDIDE. APPLE PIE. CUNEGONDE. I LOVE MARRIAGE. CANDIDE. SO DO I. CUNEGONDE. OH, HAPPY PAIR! OH, HAPPY WE! IT’S VERY RARE HOW WE AGREE! CANDIDE AND CUNEGONDE. OH, HAPPY PAIR! OH, HAPPY WE! IT’S VERY RARE HOW WE AGREE! OH, HAPPY PAIR! OH, HAPPY WE! IT’S VERY RARE HOW WE AGREE! CUNEGONDE. And now, as the experiment progresses, you lean toward me . . . (Pulling him toward her) . . . thus inducing my specific gravity . . . (She pulls him back to the floor on top of her. The wild kissing continues. Candide strips off her blouse. He is mounting her as Maximilian enters and gazes at them in horror) MAXIMILIAN. What are you doing to my sister? You can’t do that to my sister! CUNEGONDE (Looking up from beneath Candide, sisterly). Foolish boy, run away and play. (Maximilian runs off. Candide and Cunegonde resume their love-making, singing a brief reprise of O HAPPY WE, possibly the "0 happy we" section. Maximilian runs on again, followed by the Baron and Baroness, then, after a beat, by Dr. Pangloss and Paquette) MAXIMILIAN. Look, look! Look what they’re doing! Look! (Candide and Cunegonde jump up, Cunegonde doing up her blouse) CANDIDE. An experiment, sir. CUNEGONDE. One of Dr. Pangloss’ noble experiments in physics which has proved conclusively . . . BARON (Swinging on Pangloss). Sir, are you responsible for this? DR. PANGLOSS (Deeply shocked). Never, sir, has there been so false an assumption. (Glaring at the two) An outrageous violation of all that I stand for. PAQUETTE (Equally holy). Me too! CUNEGONDE. But, father, I love him. CANDIDE. And I love her. BOTH. We will be married at once. BARON (Apoplectic). Married? My daughter? BARONESS. To a bastard? BARON. Curses on the day when my Christian charity bid me give asylum to the sideswiped offspring of my sluttish sister. (Pointing a fierce finger at Candide) Out! BARONESS. Out! MAXIMILIAN. Out! PANGLOSS. Out! PAQUETTE. Out! CANDIDE. Oh dear Cunegonde! CUNEGONDE. Oh beloved Candide. BARON. Out, out, out! (He grabs Candide by the shoulders, turns him around and starts viciously kicking him off toward the ramp) Dare to set foot again in Westphalia and you’ll be strung from the highest gibbet. (Candide now goes sprawling off onto the ramp where he lies supine. The Baroness faints, Cunegonde bursts into hysterical weeping, tearing her hair. Pangloss and Paquette look righteously shocked. The Baron and Maximilian make a solid male phalanx) BARON and MAXIMILIAN. The honor of our family is restored. (The scene blacks out. Candide for a moment lies motionless on the ramp. Then he sings:) SONG: IT MUST BE SO (CANDIDE)
MY WORLD IS DUST NOW AND ALL I LOVED IS DEAD OH, LET ME TRUST NOW IN WHAT MY MASTER SAID: THERE IS A SWEETNESS IN EV’RY WOE. IT MUST BE SO. IT MUST BE SO. THE DAY WILL FIND ME ALONE IN SOME STRANGE LAND. BUT MEN ARE KINDLY: THEY’LL GIVE A HELPING HAND. SO SAID MY MASTER, AND HE MUST KNOW. IT MUST BE SO. IT MUST BE SO. DR. VOLTAIRE (Through megaphone). What happens to the noble youth Candide when obliged to fend for himself in this best of all possible worlds! (Candide, with difficulty, rises to his feet, staggers a few steps along the ramp and then collapses. Two men, dressed in blue, enter, see him, pause to look down at him) FIRST MAN. A well-built youth. SECOND MAN. About the right height too. (Taps Candide on the shoulder) Good day, young man. CANDIDE (Regaining consciousness, gazing up at them). Alas, it’s hardly a good day for me, sirs. I am half dead from hunger and thirst. FIRST MAN. That’s easily taken care of. There’s an inn just down the road. CANDIDE. Unfortunately, sir, I am penniless. SECOND MAN. And about five feet five in height, would you say? CANDIDE. Yes, sir, that is my height. But why . . . ? FIRST MAN. Young man, we will buy you the largest breakfast obtainable in Walderberg-Trabk-Dikdoff. CANDIDE. You will? FIRST MAN. What are Christian gentlemen for if not to help their brothers in distress? CANDIDE (Rising, beaming). Oh, thank you, thank you. This is a good world. I knew it. I knew my dear master could not have been mistaken. SECOND MAN. It is obvious to us, sir, that you are an affectionate youth who can love tenderly. CANDIDE. Oh yes, indeed. I love Mademoiselle Cunegonde with all the tenderness in the world. FIRST MAN. In fact, sir, we were referring to the King of the Bulgarians. No doubt you love His Majesty unswervingly. CANDIDE. Unfortunately, sir, I am not acquainted with the gentleman. SECOND MAN. Ah! But were you to know him you could not fail to love him. Here. You must drink to his health. (He produces a flask of wine, offering it to Candide who takes it gratefully) CANDIDE. Thank you, sir. (Drinks. Instantly the attitude of the two men changes) FIRST MAN. That’s it! SECOND MAN. He has drunk the King’s health. (The first man whips out handcuffs and manacles Candide’s wrists, the second man produces leg irons and slams them onto Candide’s ankles. They lift him up) FIRST MAN (As they carry him off). You are now the support, the aid, the defender, the hero of the Bulgarians. Your fortune is made and your glory assured. DR. VOLTAIRE (Appearing as they carry him up the ramp). Glory! That most coveted of all rewards for human endeavour! How lucky is Candide to be given, so quickly, the opportunity to achieve it. For Bulgaria’s national honor is at stake. Her perfidious neighbor threatens to wrest from her the vital Kronenberger-Dipstick-Rosenstock Bog — three and a half square miles of indispensable swampland which abuts their mutual borders. What an honor for Candide to die fighting in its defense against a vicious enemy. Of course, in this case, the enemy happens to be his own beloved Westphalia. But then, life has its little ironies. (As he speaks, to martial music, on another stage we become aware of a Bulgarian sergeant drilling as many Bulgarian soldiers as are available, with barked orders, stampings, precision turns etc. The two men, carrying Candide, join them. They unmanacle him and thrust him into the drilling group. The drilling continues with the bewildered Candide doing his best to get into step etc. The drilling gets more and more complicated, the shouted orders more frenetic. Eventually the sergeant shouts, "Halt". The exhausted soldiers, including Candide, collapse onto the ground) DR. VOLTAIRE (Reappearing in another unexpected spot). One fine summer morning, after ten days of heroic drilling and at a suitable break, Candide, perplexed by his current circumstance, longing for Cunegonde, strolls a few feet into a flowery meadow to commune with himself. (As he speaks, Candide gets up from the sprawled mass of soldiers and, to the underscoring of 0 HAPPY WE, strolls down the ramp to another stage where he stands brooding) CANDIDE. Oh Cunegonde, how odd that I, whose only wish is to hold you in my arms again, am obliged to search for glory in the camp of your mortal enemies. Can it be that some slight error has taken place somewhere? DR. VOLTAIRE (As disembodied voice). For shame, young man. Have you so little faith in your noble master’s philosophy? CANDIDE. Oh thank you, sir — whoever you are — for those admonishing words. Now I am sure again that, in spite of surface appearances, all is indeed for the best. (As he speaks, the sergeant, noticing his absence, blows shrilly on a whistle, jumps up, nodding to two soldiers) SERGEANT. Deserter! Get the deserter! (He and the soldiers come rushing down the ramp and jump on the surprised Candide) SERGEANT AND SOLDIERS (As they drag him off). Coward! Deserter! Foul betrayer of the Fatherland. (They bring him to a spot where a tremendously imposing general sits on a horse. [NOTE: Possibly played by Voltaire] They plunk him down in front of the general) GENERAL. Of all offences against God and Man desertion is the most heinous. CANDIDE. But, sir, I was merely . . . GENERAL. Silence for the verdict. Either you volunteer for the spy-hunting exercise Number Two or you receive three lead bullets in your brain. Since this is the free army of a free country, you have your free choice. CANDIDE. In that case, sir, the free choice I prefer — that is, I mean what I’d choose to do is to leave this free army and try to find Mademoiselle Cunegonde again. GENERAL. That is not one of the free choices available. There are only the two I have indicated. Which shall it be? CANDIDE. Then — well, the spy hunting exercise Number Two, I suppose, sir. GENERAL (To sergeant). Give him the Westphalian cap and one minute’s start. (The sergeant thrusts a Westphalian cap on Candide’s head as a drum roll sounds. Then he pushes him forward) SERGEANT. Run, run, run for your life. (Candide starts to run through the Audience) SERGEANT (Counting down). Sixty seconds . . . forty seconds . . . fifteen seconds . . . two seconds . . . NOW! (The entire troop of soldiers starts dashing after Candide. There is a wild chase up and down the ramps, onto and off stages, etc. until Candide is finally cornered. All the soldiers converge on him, striking savagely at him with fists, clubs etc. We see Candide sprawl out of the scrimmage onto his back, panting, bleeding, more dead than alive) CANDIDE (Moaning). Please! I beg you! The other free choice — the three lead bullets. SERGEANT (Shouting). A pistol! (A soldier gives him one. His legs astraddle Candide, the sergeant aims the pistol at his temple. As he does so, a soldier runs up, panting) SOLDIER. War is declared! The Fifth Regiment has crossed the Westphalian border! (The sergeant lowers the pistol, gestures at Candide) SERGEANT. Patch him up. We’ll need him later. (As he and the bulk of the soldiers rush off, two soldiers lift the half dead Candide up and start to carry him down the ramp) DR. VOLTAIRE (Reappearing with battle sounds behind him). Poor Candide, deprived of his bid for glory! While the Bulgarians, inflamed by the righteousness of their cause, sweep through Westphalia, slaughtering and liberating the populace, our young friend is far behind the battle lines with nothing more heroic to do but to resolve a few lingering philosophical doubts. (We see Candide on a small stage, seated perhaps in an anachronistic wheel-chair. He has a neat white bandage around his temples and is attended by a neat white hospital nurse)
( Singing) MY MASTER TOLD ME THAT MEN ARE LOVING-KIND: YET NOW BEHOLD ME ILL-USED AND SAD OF MIND. MEN MUST HAVE KINDNESS I CANNOT SEE. IT MUST BE ME. IT MUST BE ME. BARON. Almighty God who, in the beginning of time, bequeathed the sacred Kronenburg-Dipstick-Rosenstock Bog to my most Christian ancestors, look down and, in your infinite mercy, destroy the godless Bulgarian invaders. BARONESS. Oh blessed Holy Mother, I vow a candle for every swinish Bulgarian who bites the dust. MAXIMILIAN. Oh God who has blessed me with the incomparable gift of Beauty, see to it that, whatever holocaust occurs, my features may escape disfigurement. For my admirers’ sake, Amen. CUNEGONDE. Oh dear Lord, send my beloved Candide back to me for surely he, and only he, can save me from the dreadful fate of ravishment. (As they remain kneeling, their concentration entirely on the altar, two Bulgarian soldiers with swords sweep up behind them. Like lightning, they slaughter the Baron, the Baroness, and Maximilian with thrusts of their swords. One soldier is about to spear Cunegonde. The other shoves him roughly away and grabs her up in his arms) CUNEGONDE (Struggling). Oh no! . . . oh sir! . . . oh please! . . . Oh NO! SOLDIER (Delighted with his acquisition). Ninety seven men in the company at twenty ducats a screw! My fortune’s made! (He carries her, kicking, off. The scene blacks out. Candide, who, through this scene, has been sitting brooding, starts again to sing)
(Singing) MY MASTER TOLD ME THE WORLD IS WARM AND GOOD: IT DEALS MORE COLDLY THAN I HAD DREAMT I T WOULD. THERE MUST BE SUNLIGHT I CANNOT SEE. IT MUST BE ME. IT MUST BE ME. (As he speaks, we hear once again, off, drum rolls, sword clashes, soldiers’ shouts etc. Behind Candide are revealed as. many of the company as possible strewn across one side of the theater as slaughtered Bulgarians) DR. VOLTAIRE (Continued). Now, since the Bulgarian need for reinforcements is crucial . . . (The sergeant comes rushing up to Candide, tugs the bandage from his head) SERGEANT. To your regiment instantly. (Throws him a sword and runs off. Candide gets up with great difficulty, tries to pick up the sword. It falls from his hand. He tries again, manages to hold it and starts hobbling off up the ramp. He comes to the corpses and, gazing down at them in horror, starts picking his way through them. As he does so, on the other side of the theater, is revealed a pile of Westphalian Corpses — straw puppets. The soldier who abducted Cunegonde enters with her slung, as if dead, over his shoulder. He tosses her down on the pile of corpses and exits. Cunegonde stirs as the music of 0 HAPPY WE starts) CUNEGONDE. Oh dear Candide, where are the days when we dreamed and loved in our innocence? CANDIDE (Unaware of her, of course). Oh beloved Cunegonde, what cosmic necessity brings me to this pass — that I shoulder wander, without you, through the corpses of blameless butchered citizens? Oh, Cunegonde! (The lights black out except for spots on Candide and Cunegonde)
(Singing) SOON, WHEN WE FEEL WE CAN AFFORD IT, WE’LL BUILD A MODEST LITTLE FARM. CUNEGONDE. WE’LL BUY A YACHT AND LIVE ABOARD IT, ROLLING IN LUXURY AND STYLISH CHARM. CANDIDE. COWS AND CHICKENS. CUNEGONDE. SOCIAL WHIRLS. CANDIDE. PEAS AND CABBAGE. CUNEGONDE. ROPES OF PEARLS. WE’LL ROUND THE WORLD ENJOYING HIGH LIFE: ALL WILL BE PINK CHAMPAGNE AND GOLD. CANDIDE. WE’LL LEAD A RUSTIC AND A SHY LIFE, FEEDING THE PIGS AND SWEETLY GROWING OLD. CUNEGONDE. BREAST OF PEACOCK. CANDIDE. APPLE PIE. CUNEGONDE. I LOVE MARRIAGE. CANDIDE. SO DO I. DR. VOLTAIRE (Back now at his table). The war having ended in a deadlock with the honor of both parties triumphantly exonerated, each of the two Kings commands a celebration to give thanks to a co-operative Deity who has granted them both their respective victories. (We see the two conflicting victory celebrations — the Bulgarian in one area, the Westphalian in another. There are rival parades, banners, priests with candles etc. in a big production number)
GLORIA, GLORIA, GLORIA! WESTPHALIANS. GLORIA, GLORIA, GLORIA! BULGARIANS HAIL TO THE HOME-COMING CONQUERORS! WESTPHALIANS. HAIL TO THE HOME-COMING CONQUERORS! BULGARIANS HOME FROM THE PATRIOTIC WARS! WESTPHALIANS. HOME FROM THE PATRIOTIC WARS! BULGARIANS BLOW, BUGLE, BLOW! WESTPHALIANS. BLOW, BUGLE, BLOW! BULGARIANS. BRAVO! WESTPHALIANS. BRAVO! BULGARIANS. DRUM, KETTLE-DRUM! WESTPHALIANS. DRUM, KETTLE-DRUM! BULGARIANS. WELCOME! WESTPHALIANS. WELCOME ! BULGARIANS and WESTPHALIANS. HIP! HIP! HOORAY! GLORIA, GLORIA, GLORIA! BULGARIANS (simultaneously with the WESTPHALIANS below). BIS! MORE! LOUDER! FASTER! WESTPHALIANS (simultaneously with the BULGARIANS above). GLORIA, GLORIA, GLORIA! GLORIA GLORIA GLORIA, GLORIA, GLORIA! DR. VOLTAIRE. And what now of the noble Candide? What of the unfortunate Cunegonde? I will tell you. Finally, on foot, Candide reached that flourishing and most Christian of Protestant Republics — Holland. Once the good Burghers learned that he respected the Pope — that notorious Anti-Christ — they beat him a bit and shanghaied him onto a sailing vessel carrying bibles to heathen Ireland. Cunegonde — raped no more than was reasonable under the circumstances — was sold to a tremendously rich Jew in Lisbon. This was a satisfactory arrangement until one day at Mass the Grand Inquisitor set eyes on her and claimed her as his own. A delicate situation until a logical compromise was reached. The Jew had her Mondays, Tuesday and the Sabbath, while the Grand Inquisitor took his pleasure for the rest of the week. There was a certain friction as to who possessed her on the night between Saturday and Sunday — but let that pass. They were both very generous to her and the natural ebullience of youth soon restored her equanimity. (We see Cunegonde on a small stage. She is fabulously dressed and is playing with the jewels from a large casket. In mime, Don Issachar, the Jew, enters, embraces her, takes a huge diamond six point star from his neck, presents it to her and leaves. A beat, then the Grand Inquisitor enters, embraces her, takes a huge diamond cross from around his neck, presents it to her, leaves. She blows him a kiss. Alone, she sings:) SONG: GLITTER AND BE GAY
GLITTER AND BE GAY, THAT’S THE PART I PLAY. HERE AM I, UNHAPPY CHANCE, FORCED TO BEND MY SOUL TO A SORDID ROLE, VICTIMIZED BY BITTER, BITTER CIRCUMSTANCE. ALAS FOR ME, HAD I REMAINED BESIDE MY LADY MOTHER, MY VIRTUE HAD REMAINED UNSTAINED UNTIL MY MAIDEN HAND WAS GAINED BY SOME GRAND DUKE OR OTHER. AH, TWAS NOT TO BE; HARSH NECESSITY BROUGHT ME TO THIS GILDED CAGE. BORN TO HIGHER THINGS, HERE I DROOP MY WINGS, AH! SINGING OF A SORROW NOTHING CAN ASSUAGE. AND YET, OF COURSE, I RATHER LIKE TO REVEL, HA HA! I HAVE NO STRONG OBJECTION TO CHAMPAGNE, HA HA! MY WARDROBE IS EXPENSIVE AS THE DEVIL, HA HA! PERHAPS IT IS IGNOBLE TO COMPLAIN . . . ENOUGH, ENOUGH OF BEING BASELY TEARFUL! I’LL SHOW MY NOBLE STUFF BY BEING BRIGHT AND CHEERFUL! HA HA HA HA HA HA! HA! (ETC.) AND YET OF COURSE, THESE TRINKETS ARE ENDEARING, HA, HA! I’M OH, SO GLAD MY SAPPHIRE IS A STAR, HA HA! I RATHER LIKE A TWENTY CARAT EARRING, HA HA! IF I’M NOT PURE, AT LEAST MY JEWELS ARE! ENOUGH, ENOUGH! I’LL TAKE THEIR DIAMOND NECKLACE AND SHOW MY NOBLE STUFF BY BEING GAY AND RECKLESS! HA HA HA HA (ETC.) OBSERVE HOW BRAVELY I CONCEAL THE DREADFUL, DREADFUL SHAME I FEEL. HA HA HA HA (ETC.) DR. VOLTAIRE (Rising and moving from the table). Since everything in this best of all possible worlds is made for the best of all possible reasons, it so happened at this time that a volcano near Lisbon fulfilled its natural function by erupting. (On a stage we see the tackiest representation of an earthquake. A cardboard wall collapses, for example, onto a scattering of corpses — the puppets again — sprawled on the ground. Dr. Voltaire is now invisible to us) DR. VOLTAIRE’S VOICE (Off). It was on this very day that Candide, having been thrown overboard as a Jonah, crawled more dead than alive into a fishing village at the very heart of the earthquake. (We see Candide crawling on hands and knees into the disaster area. He gets up, totters around, surveying the corpses) CANDIDE. Alas! An entire population wiped out by an erupting mountain! What benign law of the universe, I wonder, could have made this cataclysm essential? (As he speaks, a filthy ragged beggar with a metal nose and fingers missing staggers on, obviously dazed from the quake) CANDIDE. God be praised — another living soul. (He starts toward the beggar) Oh poor unfortunate creature, a blessing on your unhappy head. BEGGAR. How about a couple of cruzados instead? (They gaze at each other, suddenly reacting in astonished delight) CANDIDE. No! BEGGAR. No! CANDIDE. Dear Doctor Pangloss! PANGLOSS. Dear Candide. (They embrace) CANDIDE. Tell me, sir, what of the others? How are they all at home? How is Mademoiselle Cunegonde? PANGLOSS (Cheerful). Dead. CANDIDE (Appalled). Dead? PANGLOSS. Dead, raped — slaughtered … all of them. Even I barely escaped after an hour’s dazzling disquisition on the nature of mercy to a very dense Bulgarian Corporal. CANDIDE. Dead? Mademoiselle Cunegonde? Raped and dead? All of them? Oh dear Master, how can such ghastly horrors befall in this best of all possible worlds? PANGLOSS (Even more cheerful). Never forget, my son, the sacred laws of probability. Were they all to have lived longer who knows what crueler fate may have been in store for them? Excuse me. (As he sneezes he whips out a dirty handkerchief bringing it to his absent nose. For the first time Candide notices the nose and the missing fingers) CANDIDE. Oh, Master, your nose, your fingers. What atrocity has overtaken you. PANGLOSS (Beaming). No atrocity, my son. These are merely the necessary side factors of God’s most exquisite gift to his faithful children. Love. CANDIDE. Love? PANGLOSS. You remember, of course, your noble aunt’s serving maid Paquette. In her arms I enjoyed the delights of Paradise which harmoniously brought with them the equivalent tortures of Hell. CANDIDE (Tentative). The law of counterbalances? PANGLOSS. The same. CANDIDE. And Paquette! Was she too slaughtered in cold blood to preserve her from some crueler fate? PANGLOSS. As report would have it, yes.
She is dead, she is dead. My poor darling Paquette: Still, she is living with me yet. CANDIDE. Ring-around-a-rosy, Ring-around-a-rosy, Ring-around-a-rosy, Please explain. PANGLOSS. She is dead, she is dead. My poor darling Paquette: Still, she is living with me yet. CANDIDE. If she's dead, as you said, We are filled with regret. PANGLOSS. She is dead, she is dead. My poor darling Paquette. CANDIDE. But how can you say she's passed away And living with you yet? PANGLOSS. Oh my darling Paquette, she is haunting me yet With a dear souvenir I shall never forget: ‘Twas a gift that she got from a sea-faring Scot, He received, he believed, in a shallot. In a shallot from his dame, who was certain it came With a kiss from a Swiss — she'd forgotten his name — But he told her that he had been given it free From a sweet little cheat in Paree. Then a man from Japan; then a moor from Iran — Though the moor isn't sure where the whole thing began — But the gift you can see had a long pedigree When at last it was passed on to me! PAQUETTE with MEN. Then a man from Japan; then a moor from Iran — Though the moor isn't sure where the whole thing began — But the gift you can see had a long pedigree When at last it was passed on to he! PANGLOSS. Love is sweet, love is sweet. And the custom is sound, For it makes the world go round. PAQUETTE with MEN. We repeat, love is sweet, And the custom is sound, PANGLOSS. For as I have shown, It is love alone That makes the world go round. PAQUETTE. Well, the moor in the end spent a night with a friend, And the dear souvenir just continued the trend To a young English lord, who was stung, they record, By a wasp in a hospital ward. Well, the wasp on the wing had occasion to sting A Milano soprano, who brought home the thing To her young paramour, who was rendered impure, And forsook her to look for the cure. Thus he happened to pass through Westphalia, alas, Where he met with Paquette and she drank from his glass; I was pleased as can be when it came back to me, Makes us all just a small family. PAQUETTE and PANGLOSS. Oh, he happened to pass through Westphalia, alas, Where he met with Paquette and she drank from his glass; I am/he is pleased as can be for it shows us/him that we One and all are a small family. PANGLOSS. All for love, all for love, May its pleasures abound; For it makes the world go round. PAQUETTE, PANGLOSS and MEN. All for love, all for love, May its pleasures abound; For as I/you have shown It's love alone That makes the world go round! DR. PANGLOSS (Indestructibly cheerful as ever). A scourge, as you see, sir. But a scourge which exquisitely illustrates the Great Law of Compensation. Syphilis, for such is the name of the ailment, was discovered in the New World and if the New World had not been discovered, how should we have been blest with chocolate, tobacco and the potato? CANDIDE (Impressed). I am, I admit, extremely fond of the potato. PANGLOSS. So you see? Even the blackest-seeming disasters are merely blessings in disguise in a world where everything is for the best. (One of the corpses – an actor — stirs and moans) MAN (Half rising). Help me. For the love of God help me. CANDIDE (Running to him). Here I am, sir. Whatever I can do for you, I am at your service. MAN. Did I not hear your friend say that everything in this world is for the best? PANGLOSS (Swaggering over). That, sir, is an axiom. MAN. Then, since to you everything is for the best, am I to suppose you do not believe in original sin? PANGLOSS. Since everything is for the best, sir, it follows that the Fall of Man was merely a necessary feature of the eternal whole. Ergo, for the best. MAN (Suddenly jumping up). Heresy! Heresy! (He blows a whistle from around his neck. Instantly two agents of the Inquisition run on) MAN (Continued). Gentlemen, I am an authorized agent of the Holy Inquisition. Arrest these men as foul and foreign heretics. (The two agents leap on Pangloss and Candide, overcome them and drag them off. The man drops to his knees in a posture of prayer) MAN. Almighty God, I thank you for granting me this morning the inestimable privilege to root out and extirpate yet another two loathely minions of the Devil — making the week’s take eighteen. (Crosses himself) Ave Maria etc. . . . (The scene blacks out. Dr. Voltaire appears, changing from his Pangloss clothes into his Voltaire clothes.) [NOTE: From hereon, his costume changes get quicker and quicker, presenting more and more problems for him which we exploit] DR. VOLTAIRE. After the earthquake which destroyed three-quarters of Lisbon, the Holy Inquisition discovered an infallible remedy for preventing such disasters in future. And the remedy? To purge the city of its heretics in a splendid auto da fe for the Glory of God and the edification of the general public. (As he speaks, on the large uncurtained stage, we see the public square in Lisbon. There is a raised dais for the Grand Inquisitor and his attendant judges. A gibbet and a whipping post. Two heretics in tall penitente hoods, kneel before the dais. The populace is excitedly milling around and singing: )
(The actress playing Paquette comes running on in Portuguese peasant costume, clicking castanets) DR. VOLTAIRE. . . . as you see, bears a remarkable. resemblance to our own Paquette — that is, remarkable for a Portuguese. (Paquette and Company do a dance. After the dance, the number continues:)
HURRY, HURRY, HURRY (ETC.) WATCH ‘EM DIE! HA! HURRY, HURRY, HURRY (ET’C. ) HANG ‘EM HIGH! WHAT A DAY, WHAT A DAY FOR AN AUTODAFE! WHAT A SUNNY 8UMMER DAY! WHAT A DAY; WHAT A DAY! FOR AN AUTODAFE! WHAT A LOVELY DAY FOR HANGING AND FOR WATCHING PEOPLE DIE. SONG: "THE INQUISITION"
SHALL WE LET THE SINNER GO, OR TRY HIM? CHORUS TRY HIM. 3 JUDGES. IS THE CULPRIT INNOCENT OR GUILTY? CHORUS. GUILTY. 3 JUDGES. SHALL WE PARDON HIM, OR HANG HIM? CHORUS. HANG HIM. WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! HE DON’T MIX MEAT AND DAIRY. HE DON’T EAT HUMBLE PIE. SO SING A MI8ERERE, AND HANG THE BASTARD HIGH! 3 JUDGES. SHALL WE DOUBT THE CHARGES OR APPROVE THEM? CHORUS. PROVE THEM. 3 JUDGES. SHALL WE SHOW THIS HELPFUL WITNESS MERCY? CHORUS. MERCY. 3 JUDGES. SHALL WE GIVE HIM FIVE OR TEN YEARS? CHORUS. TEN YEARS. WHAT A CHARMING DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY, WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! WHAT A CHARMING DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY, WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! AT FIRST HE LIED AND FRISKED US, BUT NOW HE’S SUNG HIS TALE. SO BID HIM BENEDICTUS AND LET HIM SING IN JAIL! 3 JUDGES. ARE OUR METHODS LEGAL OR ILLEGAL? CHORUS. LEGAL. 3 JUDGES. ARE WE JUDGES OF THE LAW, OR LAY-MEN? CHORUS. A-MEN. 3 JUDGES. SHALL WE HANG THEM OR FORGET THEM? CHORUS. GET THEM! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! WHEN FOREIGNERS LIKE THIS COME TO CRITICIZE AND SPY WE CHANT A PAX-VOBISCUM, AND HANG THE BASTARDS HIGH! WHAT A DAY, WHAT A DAY! OH, WHAT A DAY, WHAT A DAY! OH, WHAT A DAY, WHAT A PERFECT DAY FOR HANGING! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY! WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY! AT LAST WE CAN BE CHEERY. THE HANGER PASSED US BY. SO CHANT A DIES IRAE. WE’LL HANG THE BASTARDS HIGH!! OH, WHAT A DAY!! (The agent we have seen before, runs on dragging two more hooded penitentes, one of them carries a cross. These are Pangloss and Candide) AGENT (Prostrating himself before the Inquisitor). Your Holiness, I humbly provide you with two more heretics rescued from the snares of the Devil solely by my indefatigable vigilance. Shall I recite to you, Your Holiness, their unspeakable blasphemies against the Holy Mother Church? INQUISITOR (A trifle bored). Why not? AGENT (Dragging Pangloss forward). This pernicious limb of Satan denied the existence of Original Sin! CROWD (Appalled). No! (Crowd crosses themselves) INQUISITOR. Hang him! (Guards whip off Pangloss’ hood, revealing his identity and start to drag him to the gibbet) CUNEGONDE (Reacting). Oh no! Can it be? My beloved Master! AGENT (Presenting Candide). And this unregenerate youth consented to listen to him. CROWD (Shocked). No! (Cross themselves) INQUISITOR (After whispered consultation with other judges). Flog him! (GUARDS instantly strip Candide stark naked) CUNEGONDE (Reacting more to Candide’s seductive nakedness than to his predicament). Oh no! It is! That pearly white skin! That unmistakably Westphalian skin! (To Old Lady) That chest! Those thighs! How dare they mutilate so godlike a body? (As Pangloss is dragged toward the gibbet, Candide is dragged to the whipping post) INQUISITOR (As cathedral bell chimes). The hour approaches for High Mass and my sacred duties must be fulfilled. Let God’s merciful and corrective will be served to its divine conclusion without my holy presence. (He rises and with great dignity departs. As he passes the distracted Cunegonde’s box, he winsomely pinches her cheek and exits. Pangloss now stands with the noose around his neck. Candide is tied to the whipping post. From the Cathedral Off Stage we hear either (a) a regular church TE DEUM or (b) Bernstein's FONS PIETATIS, page 65 in printed score. In rhythm to it, one executioner starts flogging Candide as the second prepares to release the trap under Pangloss and the other heretic) CUNEGONDE (With a shriek). Alack, the day. (She faints)
(Singing) WHAT A DAY, WHAT A DAY OH, WHAT A DAY, WHAT A DAY OH, WHAT A DAY, WHAT A. PERFECT DAY FOR A HANGING! WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY WHAT A LOVELY DAY, WHAT A JOLLY DAY WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY WHAT A LOVELY DAY . . . DR. PANGLOSS. Ladies and gentlemen, one final word in praise of the universal laws of Science. God in his wisdom made it possible to invent the rope and what is the rope for but to create a noose? And, Glory be to the Greatest Philosophers, what is a neck for but to be . . . (The hangman releases the trap. Pangloss and the other heretic are hanged. As the scene blacks out:) CHORUS. (Singing) . . . WHAT A JOLLY DAY WHAT A DAY FOR A HOLIDAY. (The crowd disperses, leaving Candide alone, naked, tied to the whipping post, half-collapsed onto the ground) CANDIDE (Stirring, returning to consciousness). My master hanged! And I, after countless other humiliations and defeats, flogged by the Mother Church herself for no cause whatsoever! How can a man believe in a benign Providence and still keep his sanity? To what purpose was this world created? DR. VOLTAIRE (OFF, as disembodied voice). To drive men mad. CANDIDE. Who was that? Who spoke? DR. VOLTAIRE. Who but yourself whose faith is fragile as a straw in the wind? Only believe. CANDIDE. Believe! DR. VOLTAIRE. From what is worst, what can come but something better? (Candide slumps down again unconscious. After a beat, the Old Lady whom we have seen in attendance on Cunegonde enters, goes to him, starts to undo his bonds. As the lights black out on them, Dr. Voltaire enters as himself but with Pangloss’ rope still around his neck. Remembering, with a little cluck, he removes the rope, tossing it in the wings) DR. PANGLOSS. Good fortune can appear in many guises — even in the person of this totally unknown old lady who carries .him to safety where, with magic ointments known only to the old ladies of this world, she speedily restores him to health and vigor. (On another stage we see the Old Lady putting a robe on Candide in mime. She takes out a blindfold and ties it across his eyes. She takes his hand and starts to lead him up the ramp toward Dr. Voltaire who stands by a curtain. As they reach him, he pulls the curtain, revealing Cunegonde ravishingly dressed in a negligee and wearing a veil. The Old Lady leads Candide onto the stage, whips off his blindfold and, curtseying, withdraws. Candide gazes at the veiled lady and bows) CANDIDE. Oh Madame, is it indeed you who sent the faithful old lady to nurse me in my hour of need and to restore to me my former vigor? (Cunegonde removes the veil. Candide, staggered, gazes at her. Candide and Cunegonde sing:) SONG: YOU WERE DEAD, YOU KNOW
OH. OH. IS IT TRUE? CUNEGONDE. IS IT YOU? CANDIDE. CUNEGONDE! CUNEGONDE. CANDIDE! CANDIDE. CUNEGONDE! CUNEGONDE. CANDIDE! CANDIDE. CUNEGONDE! CUNEGONDE. CAN . . . CANDIDE. OH. OH. IS IT TRUE? CUNEGONDE. IS IT YOU? CANDIDE! DEAR, MY LOVE ! CANDIDE. CUNEGONDE ! OH MY LOVE, DEAR LOVE! CANDIDE. DEAREST, HOW CAN THIS BE SO? YOU WERE DEAD, YOU KNOW. YOU WERE SHOT AND BAYONETTED, TOO. CUNEGONDE. THAT IS VERY TRUE. AH, BUT LOVE WILL FIND A WAY. CANDIDE. THEN WHAT DID YOU DO? CUNEGONDE. WE’LL GO INTO THAT ANOTHER DAY. NOW LETS TALK OF YOU. YOU ARE LOOKING VERY WELL. WEREN’T YOU CLEVER, DEAR, TO SURVIVE? CANDIDE. I’VE A SORRY TALE TO TELL. I ESCAPED MORE DEAD THAN ALIVE. CUNEGONDE. LOVE OF MINE, WHERE DID YOU GO? CANDIDE. OH, I WANDERED TO AND FRO . . . CUNEGONDE. OH, WHAT TORTURE, FAR FROM HOME . . . CANDIDE. HOLLAND, PORTUGAL AND ROME CUNEGONDE. AH, WHAT TORTURE . . . CANDIDE. HOLLAND, PORTU . . . CUNEGONDE. AH, WHAT TORTURE CANDIDE. I WOULD DO IT ALL AGAIN TO FIND YOU AT LAST! CUNEGONDE and CANDIDE. REUNITED AFTER SO MUCH PAIN BUT THE PAIN IS PAST. CUNEGONDE. WE ARE ONE AGAIN. CANDIDE. WE ARE ONE AT LAST! CUNEGONDE and CANDIDE. ONE AGAIN, ONE AT LAST ONE AGAIN, ONE AT LAST ONE, ONE, ONE, ONE, ONE AT LAST! OLD LADY. Oh Madame, the Jew! CUNEGONDE. Oh no! The Jew? CANDIDE (Blank). The Jew? (At this point Issachar the Jew, magnificently dressed, is visible coming up the ramp) OLD LADY. Oh quick, Madame, as you value your life! (She runs out) CANDIDE. Pardon me, Mademoiselle Cunegonde but who is this Jew? CUNEGONDE. Oh dearest Candide, so much has happened to me since we parted, all of it for the best, I’m sure, but not at all as I expected it. You see . . . (She breaks off as Issachar, rubbing his hands in anticipation, enters the room, then sees Candide) ISSACHAR (In furious rage). What? What is this? What — bitch of a Gallilean? Is it not enough that you deceive me with his Holiness the Grand Inquisitor? Must I — sneered at and cheated as I am in this city of Godless Goyim — endure this additional humiliation? (Drawing his sword on the bewildered Candide) Cur! Cur! Cur of a Christian Dog! (He lunges at Candide who backs away. Issachar pursues him around the room. At one point he stumbles, trips and falls, dropping his sword) CANDIDE (Always courteous, running to help). Oh sir, I trust you have not injured yourself. (Helps him up, picks up the sword) Here, sir. Your sword, sir. (Issachar, now blind with rage, hurls himself at Candide. In the process he manages to spear himself on his own sword. He drops dead) CANDIDE (Looking down at the corpse in horror). I have been instrumental in the death of a fellow human being! I who have nothing but love in my heart. How could it have happened? Oh, Mademoiselle Cunegonde, how can you ever forgive me? CUNEGONDE. No, no. Never reproach yourself. Oh Candide, now I can tell you the truth. Although he was kind and gentle for a Jew, for the past three months, he has been — taking advantage of me. CANDIDE (Appalled). Advantage? CUNEGONDE. Yes, yes. Oh dearest Candide, what onslaughts have taken place on my virtue. And yet one fact has been triumphantly revealed to me. Repeated ravishment of the body cannot affect the heart. Through it all — through all of it — my love for you has remained unsullied. Oh Candide, oh beloved, we are together again and now all will be well. (She throws herself in his arms. They kiss passionately. The Grand Inquisitor enters) INQUISITOR. Fair one, it is midnight. Yet another delicious Sunday commences for us and . . . (He breaks off, stunned, as he sees the embrace. Candide breaks away. At his iciest) Sir! CANDIDE (polite). Sir! (To Cunegonde) Pardon me, Mademoiselle Cunegonde, but who is this gentleman. CUNEGONDE. Do you not recognize him? It is the Grand Inquisitor himself. And his jealousy is implacable. CANDIDE. Jealousy! You mean he too . . . ? CUNEGONDE. Both of them — sharing me — separate days. INQUISITOR (Recovering his speech). You will both be burnt at the stake tomorrow. CUNEGONDE (To Candide). You see? CANDIDE (Gazing at the Inquisitor). The man who had me flogged, the man who hung my master, the man who defiled my love! CUNEGONDE. Repeatedly — for several months! CANDIDE. A dilemma indeed. As a faithful Christian, I know I should submit myself to His Holiness in all matters. And yet, under these circumstances . . . CUNEGONDE. Oh yes! Under these circumstances . . . (Stoops, picks up Issachar’s sword, holds it out to Candide) CANDIDE (Taking the sword, apologetic to Inquisitor). Pardon me, sir. Perhaps my beloved Master — had he lived — would have advised otherwise. But I see only one alternative. Pax Vobiscum. (He spears the Inquisitor on the sword. The Inquisitor drops dead. Aghast, staring down at the two bodies) Another! I have killed another! Two mortal crimes in as many minutes! CUNEGONDE. But for love! And surely love condones all! (She hurls herself, weeping, into his arms. The Old Lady enters, sees the corpses) OLD LADY (To Cunegonde, clucking). Leave you alone for five minutes! CUNEGONDE (Running to her). Oh noble old lady, we are lost. Oh dear one who all these months has so faithfully instructed me, employ that sagacious brain of yours. Save us, save us. OLD LADY (Promptly). Cadiz! CANDIDE. Cadiz? OLD LADY. There are two horses in the stables; the night is dark. We’ll be across the border by morning. Painful though it will be for me with only one buttock, I will ride behind my mistress. (To Cunegonde) Quick. A cloak — the most valuable. (Cunegonde runs to get it. To Candide) You, young man, the jewels, the moidores, the cruzados. (As Candide runs for the jewel box, surveys the corpses) Praise be to God that my lady’s two seducers were men of property. Would I had been that lucky! Ah well, His Holiness will be buried in the Cathedral with the greatest pomp while the Jew will be thrown in the sewer. There are advantages to being a Christian after all. Quick, quick, let us flee. (They all start for the door) CANDIDE (In spite of the situation, overwhelmed with curiosity). Excuse me, Madame, but did you say one buttock? OLD LADY. A time may come, young man, when I will freeze your ears with the tale of my many calamities, but that time is not now. To the stables! (They exit. We now hear tremendously Spanish and fiery guitar music which continues throughout this scene. Dr. Voltaire appears) DR. VOLTAIRE. The flight across the border was achieved without a hitch and yet, the next morning, in a travellers inn outside Cadiz . . . (On a small stage we see Candide, Cunegonde and the Old Lady asleep on pallets on the floor. Cunegonde stirs, wakes, looks around her with increasing anxiety. She jumps up, starting to search hysterically) CUNEGONDE. Oh no, oh no! CANDIDE (Waking up). Beloved, what is it? CUNEGONDE. My jewels, my moidores, my cruzados! Gone, gone, all gone. Oh where shall we find other generous Jews and Inquisitors to reimburse us? OLD LADY. (Now awake) The jewels gone? CANDIDE and CUNEGONDE. All! All gone! OLD LADY (Rising, philosophical). It must have been the Franciscan Father who shared my bed last night. CANDIDE (Astonished). At your age, Madame? OLD LADY (Preening, straightening her dress). To some, young man, my charms have far from waned. Ah well, since the blame is attached to me, it is my responsibility to repair our fortunes. (Produces a rose which she sticks in her teeth) CANDIDE. Pardon me, Madame, but how do you propose... ? OLD LADY (Leering at him through the rose). Wait, young man. And see. (With Candide and Cunegonde following, she starts up the ramp toward the large uncurtained stage where actors now dressed as Spaniards bring in a small central fountain and start parading around it, including three very rich, very old dons. The Old Lady, still with the rose in her teeth, enters voluptuously, followed at a discreet distance by Candide and Cunegonde. The Old Lady undulates sexily up to the three old dons) OLD LADY. Buenos tardes, Senores. It is your privilege to encounter the greatest courtesan from Paris, France. All one needs to enjoy her immortal favors is — a princely sum. (While the populace stare, she tosses her head, does a few dance steps and, dancing the while sings:) SONG: I AM EASILY ASSIMILATED
I was not born in sunny Hispania. My father came from Rovno Gubernya. But now I'm here, I'm dancing a tango: Di dee di! Dee di dee di! I am easily assimilated. I am so easily assimilated. I never learned a human language. My mother spoke a High Middle Polish. In one half hour I'm talking in Spanish: Por favor! Toreador! I am easily assimilated. I am so easily assimilated. It's easy, it's ever so easy! I’m Spanish, I'm suddenly Spanish! And you must be Spanish, too. Do like the natives do. These days you have to be In the majority. SENORES. Tus labios rubi Dos rosas que se abren a mi. Conquistan mi corazon Y solo con una divina cancion. OLD LADY. Tus labios rubi, Dreiviertel Takt, Mon tres cher ami, Oui oui, si si, ja ja ja, yes yes, da da. Je ne sais quoi! SENORES. Me muero, me sale una hernia! OLD LADY. A long way from Rovno Gubernya! CUNEGONDE, OLD LADY & SENORES. Tus labios rubi Dos rosas que se abren a mi. Conquistan mi corazon Y solo con una divina cancion. De tus labios rubi! Rubi! Rubi! Heh! Me muero, me sale una hernia! Me muero, me sale una hernia! OLD LADY (Making the best of it, a shrug) Provincials! (She sits down dejectedly on the edge of the fountain) CUNEGONDE (Going to her, putting her hand on her arm) I thought it a most attractive dance, Madame. OLD LADY (Eager). You really did? CANDIDE. So did I! What a herd of boorish peasants! If they come back again to insult you, I will spear them – every man Jack of them. (He draws his sword and makes impressive thrusts in the air. From behind the fountain comes the unexpected sound of clapping. A man appears from behind the fountain dressed as an impressive businessman) MAN. Bravo, noble youth. A fine display of swordsmanship. Have you other martial endowments. CANDIDE (Thinking). Well, sir, I have somewhat mastered Bulgarian drilling. (He starts to demonstrate) MAN. Excellent. Just the man we need. CANDIDE. Me, sir? For what, sir? MAN. The Holy Jesuits of Montevideo are sorely beset by the neighboring heathen. A captain is needed to lead a relief party. CANDIDE. A Captain, sir? Me? MAN. Who else? The ship will sail this very day. CANDIDE. Well, sir, that is, sir . . . (Turning to the Old Lady and Cunegonde) May I bring with me my . . . MAN. . . . your bawd and her satellite? Why not? They will be treated with all the honor that befits your new rank. (Offers a card) We will meet at the dock. (He exits. The three of them stand a moment stunned by their good fortune) CANDIDE (Blissful). Montevideo! The New World! At last, in the New World we will find that truly harmonious existence for which our dear Master prepared us. ALL THREE. The New World! (For another moment they stand in silence, taking in this new turn of Fate. Slowly the Old Lady picks up the rose)
It's easy. CUNEGONDE (Sings). It's ever so easy! CANDIDE (Sings). I’m Spanish, I'm Montevidean. Ane you must be Latin, too. OLD LADY (Putting rose in her mouth again). Do like the natives do. These days you have to be In the majority. ALL (Now their confidence is back in a burst of new enthusiasm for life). Tus labios rubi Dos rosas que se abren a mi Conquistan mi corazon Y solo con una divina cancion De tus labios rubi! Rubi! Rubi! Heh! Me muero, me sale una hernia, Me muero, me sale una hernia, (etc.) DR. VOLTAIRE (Addressing the Audience). In this Brave New World — in Cartagena, Columbia to be exact — it is very hot. So, respecting the logical and harmonious Laws of the Universe, the King of Spain has. sent to protect its simple inhabitants, an extremely hot-blooded Governor. There is, in fact, no local mother, wife, daughter or widow who has not, at one time, received his warm personal attentions. (He gets up, throwing off the serape and sombrero, becoming a swaggering, Errol-Flynnish lecherous Governor. He struts around, kissing, embracing, goosing etc. every woman who passes him, singing to each of them)
( Singing) Lady Frilly, Lady Silly, Pretty Lady Willy-Nilly, Lady Lightly, Lady Brightly, Charming Lady Fly-By-Nightly. My Lady Fortune found me. What a joy to have around me Lovely ladies, six or seven. This is my idea of heaven! Fortune, keep the wheel a-spinning, spinning. They adore me while I’m winning! Lady Frilly, Lady Silly, Pretty Lady Willy-Nilly, Lady Lightly, Lady Brightly, Charming Lady Fly-By-Nightly. Fools love only one or two. Ladies, I love all of you. DR. VOLTAIRE (As he strolls through the Audience). I assume, Madame, that you have not forgotten that handsome youth Maximilian — nor indeed, sir, that most amenable of serving maids, Paquette, whose Portuguese double is also familiar to you. I furthermore trust that you are eager to learn of their sad fate. What disasters! And with what fortitude endured! Maximilian, grievously wounded though not entirely dead, was carried off in a dung-cart with other corpses to a common grave. However, just as the sextons were tossing back the first clods . . . Ah well, I shall not weary you with the details. Suffice it to say that, after many misfortunes, he was miraculously reunited with Paquette. In fact, they shared the same manacles on a slave ship bound for South America. (As he speaks, a drawbridge is lowered from a side stage onto the small stage in the center of the house which has not yet been used and will now become the slave market. At the head of the ramp, two female slaves appear, manacled and wearing long veils. A slavedriver starts whipping them down the ramp.) [NOTE: While this is happening Voltaire is wildly putting back on the discarded Governor’s clothes and scrambling back onto the large stage. As he does so, he glances back at the two female slaves who now stand disconsolate in the slave market] DR. VOLTAIRE. Oh, I forgot to tell you. The Captain of the slave ship — a man of Special Tastes — struck by Maximilian’s beauty, transferred him to his own cabin where — faithful widower as he was — he dressed the youth in the garments of his late lamented wife. With Maximilian’s reluctant co-operation, he was thus able to relive his very happy married life. (On the slave market, one of the women [Maximilian] draws back his veil, looking sheepishly at the Audience. On the large stage a young man comes running up to the Governor) YOUNG MAN. Gobernador, the new slaves have arrived. GOVERNOR. Male or female? YOUNG MAN. Female, sir — two of them. GOVERNOR. Excellent. There is a place for one of them as hostess in the broth... the Casino which I have so graciously provided for your pleasure — and profit. Lead me to them. (As the action continues on the large stage, the Governor, humming LADY FRILLY, goes with the young man down the ramp to the slave market. Still humming, he inspects the two "women" as if they were horses for sale, forcing open their mouths, investigating their teeth etc. Paquette finds no favor with him) GOVERNOR (To Slaver). No sale. (Turns back with great interest to Maximilian) But this! What exquisite beauty! Seldom have I seen a maiden who pleases me more. MAXIMILIAN (His vanity piqued, in spite of the situation). You haven’t, sir? GOVERNOR. My dear, you are bought. MAXIMILIAN. I am? GOVERNOR. There will be a place for you in my broth . . . my Casino. MAXIMILIAN. There will? GOVERNOR. And, since I am in a bountiful mood, I will even grant you the honor of sharing my bed tonight. MAXIMILIAN (Resigned to anything by now). Oh sir! (Music starts. The Governor opens his mouth as if to sing, changes his mind, beckons over the young man [Candide’s understudy]) GOVERNOR. Sing! This is too high for me. [NOTE: If the Governor can indeed sing most of the song, this line can be inserted at a point before the high notes are needed] SONG: MY LOVE
Poets have said Love is undying, my love. Don't be misled. They were all lying, my love. Love's on the wind, But now while he hovers, Let us be lovers. One soon recovers, my love. Soon the fever's fled, For love's s transient blessing. Just a week in bed, And we'll be convalescing. Why talk of morals When springtime is flying? Why end in quarrels, Reproaches and sighing, Crying for love? My love. MAXIMILIAN (Playing the shy maiden). I cannot entertain Your shocking proposition. How could I regain My virginal position? PAQUETTE. She is so pure That before you may bed her You must assure us That first you will wed her. Wed her! ATTENDANT (After receiving nod from Governor. Through next stanza, Governor indicates his wishes to the rather nervous Attendant). Well then, Since you're so pure, I shall betroth you, my love, Though I feel sure I’ll come to loathe you, my love. Still for the thrill I'm perfectly willing For if we must wed Before we may bed, Then come let us wed, my love. SLAVER (Indicating Paquette). And the other, sir? She can make the coldest night incandescent — as I can vouch from personal experience. GOVERNOR I told you. No sale. Remove her. (The SLAVER starts reluctantly dragging Paquette off by her chains) PAQUETTE (As she is dragged back up the ramp, waving to Maximilian). Farewell, dear one. And fortune speed you. MAXIMILIAN. You too, old friend. Farewell. GOVERNOR (To Maximilian). Well, fair maiden, you insist upon marriage? So be it! (He offers his arm to Maximilian and starts with him off the center stage and up the ramp toward the large stage. The young Attendant accompanies them. Shouting) GOVERNOR. Father Bernard! (An ancient venal Priest emerges from the populace on the large stage, bowing fawningly. The Governor, Maximilian and the Attendant join him) GOVERNOR (Winking at the Priest significantly). Marry us, Reverend Father — as you married me to that stiff-naked British governess. Remember? PRIEST (Knowing leer). Indeed, your honor. (As the populace gather around, he whips a tattered and anything but holy book from his habit) PRIEST (Continued). Your Honor Don Fernando di Ibarra y Figueroa y Mascaranes y Lampoudas y Souza — do you take this maiden? GOVERNOR. I certainly do. (Pulling Maximilian to him, fondling his bosom. The fingers feel something wrong. A take. They feel again. Suspicions swelling, the Governor rips open Maximilian’s blouse, revealing a male chest. Appalled) Good God, a man! (The populace reacts. Maximilian, panic-stricken, starts to dash away. He is overpowered and dragged struggling back to the Governor) GOVERNOR. String him up. MAXIMILIAN. Oh no, sir. Please, sir. It was the slave captain with his perverted lusts who dressed me against my will as a . . . GOVERNOR (Breaking in). In that case, bugger him first — then string him up! PRIEST (Tentative). Excuse me, Your Honor, but if you have no further use for this innocent youth, he is of a type which would be most serviceable in our Holy Fraternity. I am in a position to offer a small sum. GOVERNOR (Still furious). Very well. He’s yours. But no more favors for a month. (Looks around, selects two of the local women to slake his frustrated passions) Carmencita! Concepcion! (They come to him. He puts his arms around both of them) My dispensation of Justice from the Town Hall steps will be postponed for . . . (Leering at the two women) . . . two hours. (To the music of LADY FRILLY, he exits with the two women as the curtain is. drawn over the scene. Simultaneously, Four Spanish soliders appear down the ramp to the center stage which was the slave market but now will become part of a ship. They are carrying a tall mast and rigging which they set up on the center stage so that the rigging reaches right up to the gallery above the curtained stage [The Musicians’ Gallery] where sailors reach down to assist them. In a few seconds, they have converted the entire Theater into a ship of which the center stage is part of a deck and the Gallery the bridge. As the center stage blacks out, Dr. Voltaire appears at the other end of the Theater. He has managed to change into the Voltaire clothes although he still wears the Governor’s wig. In one hand he holds the Voltaire wig, with the other he is doing up his fly buttons) DR. VOLTAIRE. Pleasuring two ladies! And in this heat too! (Throws away Governor’s wig, puts on Voltaire wig) Meanwhile upon a ship at sea. (As he speaks, we hear sea sounds, ship’s bells etc. which continue behind the scene) ONE SAILOR (In gallery). Lower the boom! SECOND SAILOR (In gallery). Belay, belay! DR. VOLTAIRE (Over continuous sea sounds). Candide, Cunegonde and the faithful Old Lady, after forty days of squalls and tempests, yearn eagerly for the new idyllic life which — surely — awaits them in Montevideo. (The lights now come up on the central stage [the deck] where sit Candide and Cunegonde, hand in hand, the Old Lady and the four soldiers. The center stage is now rocking. The soldiers are groaning, rolling around, possibly throwing up over the side. One of them has a zither beside him.) [NOTE: Throughout the following scene, suitable nautical Ad Libs sound from the sailors on the "Bridge"] CANDIDE. Dearest Cunegonde. CUNEGONDE. Dearest Candide. CANDIDE. A few more days and we will be sighting the New World where, I know, we shall find a Paradise on earth. CUNEGONDE. I do hope so, for I must confess my faith in dear Dr. Pangloss has been somewhat shaken by my sufferings in the Old World. OLD LADY. You think you have suffered, my lady? Bah! In contrast to afflictions, yours have been no more than the sting of a midge in June. CUNEGONDE (Indignant). Madame, unless you have been raped by two Bulgarian regiments, seen two fathers, two mothers, two brothers slaughtered, two lovers flogged by the Auto da Fe and undergone seduction by two Jews and two Inquisitors — you are ill-equipped to make light of my sufferings. OLD LADY. Pouff! Were you but to see my ravished backside alone, you would not dare to attempt so frivolous a calumny. Shall I speak to you of my manifold misfortunes? CANDIDE. Oh please, Madame — stressing the lost buttock. I for one would listen with the greatest interest — and sympathy. OLD LADY. Very well. I shall proceed to set your hair on end. (Shouting to soldier with zither) Soldier, music of much woe from your zither. (The soldier, though sick, manages to get up, pick up the zither and play lugubrious music through the following scene) OLD LADY (Rising majestically despite the rocking boat). You think of me as a mere serving maid of the lowliest origins? Wrong! How laughably wrong! I am, in fact, the daughter of the High Archimandrite of All the Russias and that paragon of loveliness — the Princess Wanda von Rovno Gubernya, raised with all privileges and honor in the most majestic castle in all Eastern Poland. (She pauses for effect. Now even the sea-sick soldiers are listening agog) OLD LADY. As a burgeoning maiden, what beauty was mine! What flashing eyes! What sinuous form! What breasts! Why, the women who dressed me fell into ecstasies when they beheld me from the front — and behind. And every man in Poland yearned to be in their shoes. What surprise, then, when my hand was requested in marriage by the Duke of Massa-Carrara, the greatest prince of all the Italies! But then — ah woe, ah woe. (She breaks down) CANDIDE (Eager). But then? OLD LADY. (Bravely carrying on). Laden with jewels and rich garments worthy of my high estate, I set sail for Massa-Carrara with my saintly mother and the noblest of attendant ladies in a splendid galleon only to . . . to . . . (She breaks down again with a racking sob) CANDIDE (Still rather cross). Only to — what? OLD LADY. Barbary Pirates! Boarding us! Slaying the sailors! Dragging my poor mother, myself and all our attendant ladies onto their foul vessel where, on the instant, they stripped us stark naked. SAILOR (On bridge). Frigate sighted to starboard! SOLDIER WITH ZITHER (Fascinated, forgetting to play). Stark naked? OLD LADY. Play, oaf. Play. (As he starts again) And furthermore they inserted their fingers into that part of our bodies which has not for nothing been named — private. CANDIDE (Appalled). That part? OLD LADY. That part. A less sheltered maiden than I, of course, would have realized they were merely searching for hidden diamonds, a custom established from time immemorial among the civilized nations who roam the sea. But imagine the shame of a highborn Polish virgin! SAILOR (On bridge). The frigate approaches. OLD LADY. And yet — ah yes, ah yes! Far greater tribulations were in store for me. The pirate captain — an abominable Negro black as pitch — ravished me incessantly until our arrival at a port of Morocco. CUNEGONDE (Skeptical). Incessantly? OLD LADY. And bid me consider it a high honor to boot! But that was a mere trifle to what lay ahead on land. In Morocco civil war was raging between the Black Moors and the Less Black Moors. On landing we were instantly assailed. Considerately the Negro Captain shielded me behind his muscular back — but what did I witness? Before my very eyes a Black Moor seized one of my mother's arms, a Less Black Moor a foot. Others fell on our attendant ladies, tearing them to pieces in their over-eagerness to mount them. For the Moors are far hotter of blood than their chilly Northern Brethren. ONE OF THE SICK SOLDIERS (Deeply insulted). Madame, you are speaking in the presence of a French man. OLD LADY (Rising above this). Nevertheless! Imagine the ghastly death of my mother; imagine my protector slain, imagine me staggering more dead than alive to the shade of a palm tree; imagine me swooning and then . . . CANDIDE. And then? OLD LADY. Unconscious though I was, I felt myself oppressed beneath the weight of a massive body. My eyelids flickered open to reveal, straddled upon me, a gigantic white man of modest appearance and bearing. And, as his lips met mine, he gave the most heartfelt sigh . . . CANDIDE. A sigh? OLD LADY. He moaned, he muttered between his teeth and then, tears streaming from his eyes — they were blue — he spoke. CANDIDE. What did he say? OLD LADY. He said: How maddening at this moment to be a eunuch! CANDIDE. Pardon me, Madame, but haven't you omitted one item? OLD LADY. What item? CANDIDE. The loss, Madame, of your buttock. OLD LADY. Alas, young man, I have merely scratched the surface of the disasters with which God in his wisdom has seen fit to afflict me. To continue . . . (There is a loud cannon shot, followed by cries and shouts from the Bridge. "We are boarded! We are boarded!") OLD LADY (A great cry). Oh no! Not again! Not Barbary Pirates again! (Now a fierce struggle starts up in the Bridge. Two vicious looking individuals with knives in their teeth come running down the ramp toward the deck. The soldiers, seeing them, instantly dive overboard. The "pirates" swagger onto the deck where Candide, alone now and unarmed, stands nobly shielding the ladies) CANDIDE. Take all we possess, sir, take me as your slave, but I beseech you as a Westphalian Man of Honor — spare the ladies. FIRST PIRATE (Thick cockney accent). Sorry, mate. We ain't no pirates after loot and such like. We're jest Godfearin' British tars. SECOND PIRATE. Five months at sea and sorely lacking in a bit of female company. FIRST PIRATE (Thrusting his knife at Candide's chest). So, if you'll jest step aside, laddie. (He pushes past Candide, grabbing Cunegonde while the second pirate grabs the Old Lady) SECOND PIRATE. You too, Mumsie. There's many a good tune left in an old fiddle. (Candide leaps on one of the pirates, is knocked down, gets up, is knocked down again. Eventually, in triumph, the pirates carry the two women, kicking and struggling, off up the ramp) FIRST PIRATE (As they leave). Ta and tata, matey. Bon voyage. (Candide, alone, is left lying almost unconscious on the deck. Slowly he revives, looks around dazedly) CANDIDE (Raising his eyes to heaven, in furious despair). Is there no end? Must men always ravish, massacre? Must they always be brigands, cut-throats, cheats, rapists, fanatics, hypocrites and murderers? DR. VOLTAIRE (As disembodied voice). Have sparrow-hawks not always slaughtered the pigeons that come their way? Why should what applies to pigeon-hawks not apply to men? CANDIDE. But surely Man who was chosen by God as his image on earth . . . DR. VOLTAIRE. His image! Maybe this is his image! (As Candide slumps down again on the deck, we hear off very solemn, ecclesiastical music — introducing the Jesuits. The deck blacks out. Dr. Voltaire appears at another point in the theater) DR. VOLTAIRE (Over the music). The heartbroken, embittered but ever dutiful Candide arrives at the Jesuit stronghold in Montevideo, single-handed — for, alas, all his relief regiment has drowned. He presents his credentials. (On another small stage we see Candide entering a room which is adorned with crucifixes, statues and pictures of martyrs slain in the most horrendous fashion. Offstage, we hear the chanting of the Jesuits at prayer. On a small table is a bell. Candide looks around, picks up bell and rings it. Immediately a tall, handsome young Jesuit in a hood enters) CANDIDE. Excuse me, reverent youth, but I have been sent by the King of Spain . . . (The Jesuit rushes to him, throws his arms around him, kissing him) CANDIDE (Rather flustered). Sir, I was not anticipating so warm a welcome. I . . . (The Jesuit throws back his hood, letting long hair fall down to her shoulders. It is Paquette) PAQUETTE. Master Candide, surely you recognize me. CANDIDE (Astounded). Paquette! PAQUETTE. The same. You are wondering perhaps why I am so attired. There are some of the Holy Brethren who still prefer the weaker sex. Oh Master Candide, once again is our dearest master’s great law of improbabilities confirmed. You here . . . I here . . . and — wait! (She runs off. The chanting from the chapel stops. Candide, still astounded, stands. Paquette returns pulling another very important looking Jesuit by the hand. This is Maximilian) MAXIMILIAN. Oh Candide, ah beloved foster brother! CANDIDE (Staggered). Maximilian! But — but they slaughtered you! MAXIMILIAN and PAQUETTE. Oh no, they didn't. You see, it was like this. (They sing a new song with new lyrics the music of DEAR BOY. This would be a narrative song in which Maximilian and Paquette tell Candide of the tribulations they have undergone. Maximilian tells of the kindly pedant who snatched him from the common grave, took him into his own home where he cherished him until, unhappily, he was arraigned and burnt for buggery. Paquette tells of how a famous doctor took her as his scullery maid and mistress; his wife was jealous; he poisoned her and fled, leaving Paquette to go to prison. Released she was handed from brothel to brothel, finally ending up on the streets where she often had to borrow a petticoat so she could lift it up for her clients. After the song, Maximilian embraces Candide as, once again, the chanting of the Jesuits in the chapel starts offstage, and continues throughout the scene) MAXIMILIAN. Oh dearest of foster brothers! You alive! What a miracle! If only a similar miracle could have befallen my beloved sister. CANDIDE. It has. MAXIMILIAN. It has? CANDIDE. Cunegonde lives! MAXIMILIAN. What bliss! Where is she now? CANDIDE. Wherever she is, if it takes my whole life, I will find her again. MAXIMILIAN. That's my good fellow. Trusty old Candide. CANDIDE. I shall find her — and marry her! MAXIMILIAN (Appalled, all his Westphalian pride of family asserting itself). Marry her? You? My sister marry a bastard? CANDIDE. But, dear friend, I love her fondly and she loves me. And did not our great master teach us that all men are equal in the face of God? MAXIMILIAN (Apoplectic with rage). The face of God! The face of God! You dare to employ the face of God as an excuse for tarnishing our family name? I'll give you the face of God. (As the chanting offstage swells in volume, he picks up one of the huge crucifixes and starts to attack Candide with it. With Paquette vainly trying to stop it, a wild chase takes place around the room. As in the case of Issachar, Maximilian at one point trips, stumbles. Candide at this moment has dodged behind a statue of St. Peter. He pushes it inadvertently, sending it crashing onto the prone Maximilian, crushing him to death) CANDIDE (Appalled). Again? Oh not again! Dear Heavens, I cannot have killed my beloved foster brother. (He kneels down by Maximilian, looks at him, then gazes tragically up at Paquette) Dead! PAQUETTE. Grieve not, Master Candide. Don't you remember what our dear Master always said? Had he lived longer who knows what crueler Fate may have been in store for him? (Candide continues to weep. She grabs his shoulders) Quick, quick. Don't you realize what will happen to you if you remain in this holy place five minutes longer? (She makes a hanging gesture) CANDIDE (Common sense prevailing, rising). Yes, yes. I must fly. If I were hanged, who is to rescue my lady Cunegonde? (He starts to run out) PAQUETTE. Wait, fool. Dressed as a soldier of Spain you would be caught hours before you crossed the border. Here. (Grabs his arm) Help me! (As the chanting off continues, she drags him back to the body of Maximilian. Together they start urgently pulling off his habit as the scene blacks out) DR. VOLTAIRE (Appearing). Ah, that resourceful Paquette! That night two reverent young Jesuits slipped off past the guards, off, off, deeper and deeper into the jungle where the benign rule of the Holy Jesuits had not yet managed to extend its glorious message of peace and charity. (Paper festoons come swirling down over the Audience, suggesting a jungle as we see Candide and Paquette, both now dressed as Jesuits, fighting their way through the imaginary jungle up a ramp) DR. VOLTAIRE (Continuing). After many weeks, fording torrential rivers, scaling a skysplitting mountain . . . (As he speaks, Candide and Paquette, exhausted, stumbling, have reached a step-ladder which, at one side of the curtained stage, leads up to the Musicians' Gallery. We see them climbing it and disappearing on the Gallery behind the seated musicians) DR. VOLTAIRE (Continuing). . . . they stumbled upon the secret, legendary country of Eldorado where — inconceivably — everything is for the best. There is no war, no hunger, no greed. The very mud is gold and the pebbles of the streets are diamonds. In Eldorado all the inhabitants are wise, gentle and articulate. So are the beasts. And if you don' t believe me . . . (Lights come up on the Musicians' Gallery. Two Pink Sheep are sitting peacefully on the ground. They graze idly, then look up)
Up a seashell mountain Across a primrose sea, To a jungle fountain High up in a tree. Then down a primrose mountain Across a seashell sea, A land of happy people Just and kind and bold and free. OTHER SHEEP (Off). Eldorado. Eldorado. (etc.) (The Pink Sheep stop singing and start to graze) DR. VOLTAIRE. Now, since you insist, news of the Old Lady. The cheerful British tars who had held her with Cunegonde under their protection, discovered that her debits outweighed her assets. One fine spring morning, they dropped her off on a craggy cliff-bound shore where, ever resourceful, she lived off clams and other crustacea. (On another stage we see the Old Lady. She catches a huge crab, bangs it against a rock and starts to devour it greedily. Now, once again, the Pink Sheep [Prima donnas] start to sing)
We bathe each dawn In a golden lake. (As the Sheep sing, a Lion with a diamond collar, pads on, lies down beside them)
Emeralds hang upon the vine. All is there for all to take, Food and God and books and wine. We have no words for fear and greed, For lies and war, revenge and rage. SHEEP and LION. We sing and dance and think and read. We live in peace, and die of age. OTHER SHEEP (off). Eldorado. Eldorado. DR. VOLTAIRE. How considerate is Fate. On the very day when the stock of crustacea was exhausted . . . following his natural pursuit of hunting... (Behind the Old Lady, possibly swinging down on a vine, we see a pygmy with a blow dart. He lands, stalks, peers, shoots the Old Lady with a dart. She tumbles over. The pygmy, with difficulty, carries the Old Lady off over his shoulder like a slain beast) DR. VOLTAIRE. While in Eldorado . . . (Now up in the Musicians’ Gallery beside the Sheep and the Lion we see an enormous book with a hand visible at each end, holding it. The book is lowered to reveal Candide and Paquette. They are dressed in fantastically brilliant Eldoradan costumes of jeweled gold. Paquette wears a tiara. The Lion comes over to them, sniffs, rolls on his belly. Paquette scratches it) CANDIDE (With little sigh). Here indeed is Paradise at last. PAQUETTE. At last. (They pick up the book again and, hidden behind it, start to read. After a beat, the book is lowered) CANDIDE. How happy one could be to live here for ever. PAQUETTE. For ever! CANDIDE. And yet. . . PAQUETTE. And yet... CANDIDE. Oh where is my beloved? Where is Mademoiselle Cunegonde? PAQUETTE. And where are the casual pleasures of the bed? (They look at each other. With a common impulse, they rise, go to the Sheep and start to pile ingots of gold and bags of jewels on their backs) DR. VOLTAIRE. Good news of the Old Lady! Once she had recovered from the venom and was deemed inedible, the pygmies bartered her for three machetes to an itinerant German botanist who, in turn, managed to dispose of her for a modest sum as a Madame in a brothel in . . . well, never mind where at the moment. As back in Eldorado . . . (The ELDORADO underscoring has never stopped. Now Candide and Paquette have finished packing the Sheep. Cumbersomely they climb backwards down a second step-ladder on the other side of the Musicians' Gallery. As they do so, the Lion leans down, waving goodbye. Once on the ramp, Candide and Paquette start off on their journey, followed by the burdened Sheep. As the Sheep sing, they make an entire circle of the theater on the ramp)
We gave them home. We called them friend. We taught them how to live in grace. Seasons passed without an end In that sweetly blessed place. But they grew sad and could not stay. Without his love Candide grew cold. So we sadly took them on their way With gracious gifts of gems and gold. (With CHORUS off) From Eldorado, from Eldorodo.
"Goodbye," we said. "We pray you may safely cross the sea." "Go," we said, "And may you find your bride to be." Then past the jungle fountain, Along a silver shore, We've come by sea and mountain To be with his love once more. To be with his love once more. CHORUS (off). From Eldorado, from Eldorado. DR. VOLTAIRE. Undaunted, however, after indescribable hardships, they finally arrived by a miraculous coincidence at — where else but ... Cartagena, Columbia! (Frenzied Latin American music: I AM EASILY ASSIMILATED breaks out as the curtains part to reveal the square outside El Casino Grande del Illustrissimo Gobernado de Cartagena, Columbia. Frantically Dr. Voltaire sheds the Voltaire costume, puts on his Governor's costume, as the populace of Cartagena dance. Breathless, the Governor joins the dance. As he does so, Candide and Paquette in their fantastic Eldoradan costumes leading the two Pink Sheep enter. They cause, of course, an instant sensation. The music stops dead. For a beat the populace gazes at them in wonder. Then the Old Lady, dressed as a madame, sensuously swinging her hips, appears from the casino with three flashy whores. Instantly she sees Candide. Candide sees her. They run into each other's arms) OLD LADY. Oh happy circumstance! CANDIDE. Happy indeed! Oh tell me quickly — what news of Mademoiselle Cunegonde? OLD LADY. Constantinople. CANDIDE. Constantinople? OLD LADY. All me, I fear, yes. That is where those scurvy British tars were headed. For it is there, it seems, that blondes are currently selling at the most favorable rate of exchange. CANDIDE (To Paquette). To Constantinople — on the instant. (Pause) But — how? (The Governor has been inspecting the Sheep with their priceless burden of gold and gems with unconcealed greed. Now he comes insinuatingly over) GOVERNOR. Fair youth, am I to understand that you would embark for Constantinople? CANDIDE. Oh yes, indeed, sir, yes. GOVERNOR. Luck is with you. It so happens that I have a frigate bound for Constantinople which sets sail this very dawn. CANDIDE. Oh no! GOVERNOR. Oh yes. All will be arranged for you. I shall see that these charming animals are safely stowed on the frigate immediately. Tomorrow at dawn a skiff will take you and . . . (Leering at Paquette) . . . your companion to the frigate and you will be in Constantinople before the month is out. (He jerks his head to two thuggish looking individuals who start dragging the Sheep off) CANDIDE. You are generous, sir, and yet I feel it better that we should accompany the sheep since they are timid and accustomed to our presence. GOVERNOR. Tush, young man. The courtesies of this country insist that you are my guests for tonight. (He claps his hands. Instantly the three whores move toward Candide) GOVERNOR. Any — or all of these ladies — will be honored to entertain you. (Candide gazes at the whores. Though faithful to the death, he is also tremendously sex-starved) CANDIDE (Struggling against temptation, to Paquette). I really don't think . . . PAQUETTE. Go ahead, Master Candide. After all, you've got to start sometime. (The whores converge on Candide and sweep him into the casino as the curtain falls. For a beat, there is what seems like an unrehearsed delay. We see the curtain bulging. Then Dr. Voltaire, as the Governor, stumbles out from behind them, one leg out of the Governor's pants which trail behind him, no wig on, carrying both wigs and his Voltaire clothes over his arm. As he starts running the whole length of the ramp to the other end of the theater, he somehow manages to make the change) DR. VOLTAIRE (Panting but triumphant). The dock — dawn! (Lights come up on the uncurtained large stage. Behind it is a backdrop of blue sea with, quite high up, a painted frigate at whose stern we plainly see the two Pink Sheep gazing back to land. Upstage is a rowboat which can be pulled off by a rope. Downstage is typical Dock Activity — fishermen mending nets, girls selling fish, foreign sailors etc. The music of BON VOYAGE starts in underscoring) DR. VOLTAIRE. The entire populace of Cartagena, Columbia, prepare to bid farewell to our friends. The Governor . . . (Realizing that he is once again in the wrong costume) Oh God! (He feverishly starts to make the change back to the Governor's outfit. As he does so, Paquette appears coming up the ramp. Voltaire rushes to meet her, while making the change. he reaches her. The change has been made except, say, for the wrong wig) GOVERNOR. Good morning, pretty maiden. I trust you slept well. (Realizing he has the wrong wig, he changes them and repeats his greeting) Good morning, pretty maiden. I trust you slept well. PAQUETTE (Ogling him). Who should know better than you, sir? GOVERNOR (Slightly embarrassed). Yes, yes, indeed. Delightful! How forgetful one becomes. (Caressing her, he starts with her up to the main stage just as Candide, very guilt-ridden, enters from the wings, pursued by the three whores) GOVERNOR (Indicating the rowboat). Good morning, fair youth. As I promised, the skiff awaits. (Just as Candide and Paquette are about to get in the row-boat, the Old Lady comes running on with a bundle) OLD LADY. (Throwing herself at Candide's feet) Oh beloved Master, buy me that I may fly to the aid of my beloved mistress. Save me from this Godforsaken dung-pit. CANDIDE. Of course, faithful old retainer. But . . . (Remembering) all my wealth lies with she sheep on the frigate. (Again remembering, taking a huge diamond ring from his finger and handing it to the Governor) ... Will this perhaps be sufficient, sir? GOVERNOR (His eyes bugging at the value of the ring). She's yours. (As the populace crowd around, Candide, Paquette and the Old Lady get into the row-boat. As the row-boat is pulled off, the populace wave) POPULACE AND GOVERNOR. Goodbye, goodbye. [NOTE: As they sing BON VOYAGE on the sea drop upstage appears a miniature of the skiff going diagonally across it, perhaps zig-zagging off course, but always approaching the frigate. Just before it reaches the frigate, it sinks]
Bon voyage, dear fellow, Dear benefactor of your fellowman! May good luck attend you. Do come again and see us when you can. GOVERNOR. Oh, but I’m bad. Oh, but I'm bad, Playing such a very dirty trick on such a fine lad! I’m a low cad. I’m a low cad. Always when I do this sort of thing It makes me so sad, Ever so sad! Oh, but I'm bad! Every so bad! CHORUS. Bon voyage, bon voyage, Bon voyage, bon boyage! Bon voyage! MEN'S CHORUS. Bon voyage, we'll see ya. Do have a jolly trip across the foam. WOMEN’S CHORUS. Santa Rosalia, Do have a safe and pleasant journey home. CHORUS. Journey home. Bon voyage, bon voyage. GOVERNOR. I'm so rich that my lfie is an utter bore. There is just not a thing that I need. My desires are as dry as an applecore, And my only emotion is greed. Which is why, though I’ve nothing to spend it for, I have swindled this gold from Candididididididididide, poor Candide! But I never would swindle the humble poor, For you can't get a turnip to bleed. When you swindle the rich you get so much more, Which is why I have swindled Candide. Oh dear, I fear he's going down. He's going to drown! Ah, poor Candide! CHORUS. Bon voyage, dear stranger, Hope that the crossing will not prove too grim. You seem to be in danger, But we expect that you know how to swim. GOVERNOR. What a dumb goat, what a dumb goat, Handing me a fortune for a perfect wreck of a boat. Never did float, never did flost. This is going to make a most amusing anecdote. Never did float, wreck of a boat. What a dumb goat! CHORUS. Bon voyage, bon voyage, Bon voyage, bon voyage! Bon voyage, best wishes. Seems to have been a bit of a sabotage. Things don't look propitious. Still from the heart we wish you Bon voyage, bon vayage (etc.) Bon voyage. (After the song, on another stage we see the classic comic-strip tiny desert island with a single palm. Candide, Paquette and the Old Lady, drenched to the skin, struggle up onto it, panting, and collapse) PAQUETTE. Swindled out of our sheep! OLD LADY. Penniless again! PAQUETTE. Marooned! CANDIDE (Tormented by guilt). And how richly deserved! Oh not for you, my dear faithful friends, but for me! For the first time I see that the Almighty can be just. He has struck me down for my vile, my wanton infidelity to Mademoiselle Cunegonde! OLD LADY. Dear Master, before you condemn yourself too severely, think of the Bulgarian regiment, think of the Jew, think of the Inquisitor, think, indeed, of the British tars who had their way with her all too energetically! Fond though I am of my mistress, we can hardly number Chastity among her virtues! CANDIDE. But she was forced! Always she was true to me in her heart. OLD LADY (Maternal). And I'm sure you were true to her in your heart last night too. So stop moaning, dear, and look around for some likely crustacea. (Candide drags himself up and starts investigating the island. As he does so . . . ) PAQUETTE (Sudden glad cry). Oh look, look! Over there . . . look! (We see the Pink Sheep valiantly swimming toward them. They reach the island, scrambling up, and throw themselves on Candide like pet dogs) CANDIDE (Caressing them). Oh dear faithful animals. PAQUETTE. Oh Master Candide, once more is Dr. Pangloss' philosophy triumphantly vindicated! We are rich again and . . . (She breaks off with a cry) A sail! A sail! We are rescued! (She tears off her petticoat and waves it wildly like a flag.) CANDIDE, PAQUETTE, OLD LADY and the SHEEP sing: NEW REPRISE: "BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS" (The scene blacks out. Dr. Voltaire appears, carrying two pieces of paper) DR. VOLTAIRE. Fresh information — rushed to me by courier from — (Putting on glasses, studying the papers) Montevideo and . . . Teheran, Persia. (Consulting first piece of paper) Amazing as it may seem to you, Maximilian was not slain by the falling statue of St. Peter . . . (A young stage manager appears in the wings) STAGE MANAGER. Psst! DR. VOLTAIRE (Ignoring him). However, during his convalescence, both the Holy Father Physician and the Holy Father Dietician . . . (Now an agitated wardrobe mistress appears by the stage manager. In her arms, she carries a pile of clothing including Turkish pantaloons and Turkish slippers with turned-up toes) WARDROBE MISTRESS. Psst! DR. VOLTAIRE (Continuing, ignoring her). . . . became so enamored of him . . . WARDROBE MISTRESS and STAGE MANAGER. Psst! Psst! DR. VOLTAIRE (Glancing at them, seeing the clothes) Oh no! (An anguished pause as he realizes his predicament, then, beckoning to the two, he starts undoing his Voltaire trousers. The two rush on, drop to their knees in front of him, helping him to pull off the pants) DR. VOLTAIRE (Continuing). . . . became so enamored of him that, to restore harmony among the Holy Brethren, Maximilian was reluctantly . . . (The two have tugged off the Voltaire trousers, but now, trying to thrust on the baggy Turkish pantaloons, they dislodge his balance, sending him staggering sideways . . . ) DR. VOLTAIRE. ... reluctantly sold as a . . . (Once again they jolt him off balance. In a rage he cuffs the stage manager, tugs at the recalcitrant pantaloons, thrusts the pieces of paper into the stage manager's hands and, shooing the laden wardrobe mistress off in front of him, hobbles, muttering, off stage. The stage manager, paralyzed by Stage Fright, looks down at the papers in his shaking hands) STAGE MANAGER. . . . reluctantly sold as a slave to a visiting Rumanian sea-captain. (This is the end of one paper. He realizes it, turning his attention to the other) And if you find this odd . . . (Aside) . . . which I certainly do . . . earlier, back in Lisbon, a sudden torrential downpour so dampened the rope around Dr. Pangloss' neck that his head slipped from the noose and he escaped — only to be captured by a Persian merchant who carried him off and chained him to a tremendous carpet on which he was forced to stitch twenty hours a day — considerably impairing his vision. However, dedicated as he was always to find the silver lining, he . . . (He drops the papers, bends down to pick them up, tries wildly to sort them out, gives up) Oh fuck it! (He scurries off in confusion. After a beat, as if kicked on by an invisible boot, he returns clutching the megaphone) Constantinople! At the palace of the wealthiest merchant — the noble if slightly nouveau Venetian Spice King — Signor Alonso della Brabantino! (There is a fanfare. On the large uncurtained stage, Turkish slaves carry on a huge luxurious pouffe which they set center stage. Other slaves bring a huge hookah and a spittoon. There is another fanfare. The slaves prostrate themselves, buttocks to the Audience as, to tremendously impressive entrance music, Dr. Voltaire as Signor Alonso della Brabantino makes his entrance. Over the Turkish pantaloons and slippers he wears a dazzling tunic, on his head is a high turban. He has a long black beard almost to his knees. With great dignity, he moves to the pouffe and sinks voluptuously into it, ignoring the prostrate slaves. He inspects the hookah. It is not to his liking) ALONSO (With imperious gesture). A fresh hookah, Eustachio. ONE OF THE PROSTRATED SLAVES. Yes, noble sir. (Rises, runs off) ALONSO (Similar gesture). The gold fly-swat, Thunder-Ten-Tronck. SECOND PROSTRATED SLAVE (Equally sycophantic, rising). Yes, noble signor. (He rises and becomes — of course — Maximilian also dressed as a Turkish slave. He runs off. A splendidly dressed eunuch enters with a long staff) EUNUCH. The suppliants arrive, sire. ALONSO (Weary). Announce them. EUNUCH (Banging with the staff). His Majesty the ex-Emperor of all the Russias, Ivan the Bold. (The Emperor, still with his crown, though in rags, appears, kneels before Alonso. The staff is banged again) EUNUCH. His Majesty the ex-King of England — er – Bonny Prince Charlie. (Prince Charles, who is ancient, also in his crown but in rags, totters on, kneels. The staff is banged again) EUNUCH. His Majesty the ex-King of Poland, Stanislas the Short. (The Polish king repeats the same business. Staff bangs again) EUNUCH. His Majesty the other ex-King of Poland, Stanislas the Less. (The second Polish king enters etc. Staff is banged again) EUNUCH. His Supreme Excellency the ex-Sultan of Morocco, Abdul Mamoud Abdullah the Unconquerable. (The Sultan enters as the others. After him scurry Eustachio and Maximilian who rush the fresh hookah and the golden fly-swat to the lounging Alonso. All Kings are now kneeling before Alonso) MONARCHS (In unison). And so, noble sir, we who were once almighty and now have been brought so low, beg of your exaltedness a crust of bread — a glass of wine. ALONSO (Rising languidly, offering a hand to each King to be kissed). Poor unfortunate Monarchs rash enough to have put your trust in the fidelity of subjects rather than the dependability of banks and promissory notes, you are welcome to feast with me tonight. MONARCHS (Salaaming). Blessings on your august head. ALONSO. Not only that. Tonight, so bountiful is my mood, I have a special favor for you — which you will enjoy in an orderly fashion, lining up according to the protocol of your respective vanished honors. (The Monarchs eagerly rise, forming a line with a certain amount of jostling. Alonso waits until they stand obediently in line much, in fact, like sailors in a brothel. He claps his hands) ALONSO. The third most seductive Caucasian odalisque from my summer harem! (The Eunuch enters, leading — who else? — Cunegonde dressed as a houri with a flimsy veil. The Monarchs reacts with eager anticipation) ALONSO (To first King in line). There is an inner couch. Each monarch is entitled to eight — seven minutes. (Just as the first King is leading Cunegonde off, Candide, Paquette and the Old Lady, all staggering under bags of gold and jewels, make a dramatic entrance. Instantly Candide sees Cunegonde, Cunegonde sees Candide) CANDIDE. Cunegonde! CUNEGONDE. Candide! (Music starts)
Is it you? CANDIDE. Oh. Oh. Is it true? CUNEGONDE. Candide! CANDIDE. Cunegonde! CUNEGONDE. Candide! CANDIDE. Cunegonde! CUNEGONDE. Can . . . CANDIDE. Cunegonde Oh. Oh. Is it true? CUNEGONDE. Is it you? Candide! dear, My love. CANDIDE Cunegonde! Oh my love, Dear love! CANDIDE (Drawing his sword). Release the lady, vile beggar! ALL KINGS (Appalled by such lese-majeste). Beggar! His Majesty! (As Candide starts rushing forward with the sword, the Old Lady grabs him) OLD LADY. Wait, Master. Now you are rich, why fight for her? Buy her! CANDIDE (Seeing the sense of this, to Alonso). Noble sir, regard these bags stuffed with gold and gems. They are yours for the odalisque. (Paquette whispers in his ear) CANDIDE. All but one, sir, for except for a paltry ring, this is all the worldly wealth that we possess. (Alonso heaves himself up from the pouffe, comes, very dead pan, to investigate the bags) ALONSO. You drive a hard bargain, sir, but the odalisque is yours. CANDIDE. Oh thank you, sir! (Alonso beckons to the slaves who come over to take the bags. One of them is Maximilian) MAXIMILIAN (Rather shy, to Candide). Pardon me, sir, but would you consider buying me too? CANDIDE (Recognizing him). My beloved foster-brother! But I slaughtered you! MAXIMILIAN. Oh no you didn't. You see, it was like this . . . Oh well, never mind now! Just buy me, please. CANDIDE (To Alonso). Alas, sir, only one bag of gold remains, but if, in your generosity... ALONSO (Grabbing the last bag himself). Done! (Turning to Kings) Gentlemen, let us repair to the garden of a thousand scents where the fifth fairest Caucasian odalisque and, perhaps, even an Ethiopian youth will be at your disposal. (Turning to Eunuch, barking the order) Remove these petty merchant and their slaves. Let them no longer defile this chamber. (Exits with Kings. The Eunuch, his arms folded, comes, glaring, up to our group) EUNUCH. Out! (Insulted Candide draws his sword. With a lightning karate thrust, the Eunuch sends him sprawling, the sword flying from his hand) EUNUCH. Out! (Candide, intimidated, picks up his sword. Our group starts to shuffle disconsolately off the stage onto the ramp) OLD LADY (Muttering). Fool, he could have saved at least half the fortune. PAQUETTE. And we could have lived in luxury. (Candide, however, is totally unaware of them, as he takes Cunegonde into his arms) CANDIDE. Oh Cunegonde, there has not been a moment when my soul did not cry out for you. CUNEGONDE. Nor mine for you — however prevalent my calamities. Oh dearest Candide! CANDIDE. Oh beloved Cunegonde! (Takes the last ring off his finger, slips it on to hers) To unite us for ever. (They go into a long kiss) PAQUETTE (Eyeing them, disgusted). It's all very well for you two, but what do we do now without a penny to our names? OLD LADY. Oh well, never look back. You wish the future solved? PAQUETTE and MAXIMILIAN. Oh yes. OLD LADY. It's solved. PAQUETTE and MAXIMILIAN. Solved? OLD LADY. Many years ago, close to these parts, just before they ate my buttock... CANDIDE (Startled by this out of his bliss). Ate it? OLD LADY (Brushing this off). The famished Mongols at the siege of Palus-Maoetis! . . . As I was saying, close to these parts, there was talk of the Wisest Man in the World who lives in a cave. There is no problem — they claim — which he cannot unravel. Come. We will inquire of his whereabouts and start a new life, based, I hope, on a wiser philosophy than that which has guided us hitherto. (She starts off down the ramp. Maximilian and Paquette move to follow her, glance back at Candide and Cunegonde who, once more, are in each other's arms, lost to the world. They shrug and follow the Old Lady) CANDIDE (As underscoring begins). A new philosophy? Why not? And yet what is wrong with the old which has reunited us once more? (Candide and Cunegonde sing:) REPRISE: "YOU WERE DEAD, YOU KNOW" (After the SONG, a small stage above the LOVERS, lights up, revealing a WISE MAN who squats, cross-legged, shaven-headed, in a long orange robe, meditating. We notice something gleaming in the center of his face. Can it be a metal nose? Candide and Cunegonde look up) CANDIDE. See! The Wisest Man in the World! (Calling) Oh sir! SAGE. Are you addressing me? CANDIDE. Oh sir, we have suffered so terribly in this bewildering world and, though reunited at last, are penniless and seek to start a new life. Oh, Sage, tell us how we can at last find happiness? SAGE. Happiness! Now let me see. Unfortunately the Wisest Man in the World has just stepped out for a moment, leaving the notes of his meditations with me, his humble disciple . . . (Produces a sheaf of papers, sorts through them) Now . . . it won't take a moment . . . Happiness, you say? Happiness! CANDIDE and CUNEGONDE (Simultaneously recognizing him). Dr. Pangloss! PANGLOSS. Yes, indeed, that was, I believe, my name at one time. Pardon me, but am I familiar with you? My eye sight — all that stitching . . . not what it was . . . CANDIDE. Oh dearest Master, who are we but your own Candide and Cunegonde? PANGLOSS (Totally indifferent). Who are they? Ah . . . here we are... (Takes up a piece of paper) Happiness, you say? (He stretches out his arm, holding the paper as far as possible from his eyes) Happiness! It's all mixed up with other things, I'm afraid. However . . . (Starts to read) "Never seek for happiness. It is an illusion. Never seek for fame. It is a whiff of smoke. Never seek for knowledge. It is beyond Man's scope. To be happy, never hope, never despair, never think. Act as the rat, the crocodile, the fly act — merely fulfilling your natural function." (Drops paper) And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm new at this job and rather behind and with my meditation on the twelfth enigma behind the fourteenth mystery of the fifth revelation. (Gets into yoga position, ignores them) CANDIDE. Oh Dr. Pangloss, even if you don't remember us, at least tell us what is the natural function of Man. PANGLOSS (Furious). Oh very well! (Grabs up a piece of paper at random, reads) "What is the natural function of Man? What was it in the Garden of Eden?" (Drops paper, gets up) Always interruptions. How can a sage concentrate! (He moves grumbling off into the cave. Underscoring starts) CANDIDE (To Cunegonde). The Garden of Eden! Where Adam and Eve lived in peace with the animals, tending the trees and flowers. (Taking her hand, indicating the ring) With this ring, we will buy a little farm and, casting aside all vain speculations as to the meaning of this meaningless world, we'll live in harmony together — fulfilling Man's natural function. (As Candide and Cunegonde sing MAKE OUR GARDEN GROW, the following things happen: (a) Dr. Pangloss reappears from the cave in his orange robe, gazing toward the curtained stage at the other end of the theater. (b) A Cow appears and starts to walk through the Audience toward the curtained stage. (c) Paquette appears, walking down a ramp toward the curtained stage. (d) Maximilian appears, walking down the other ramp. (e) The Old Lady appears, perhaps through the Audience, also walking toward the curtained stage. (f) Toward the end of the song, still singing, Candide and Cunegonde, hand-in-hand, also start walking toward the curtained stage which is now bleeding indicating the rustic scene behind it. (g) As they do so, the whole Company appears at various points, dressed in Eighteenth Century farming clothes, supporting the song [although not reaching the stage]. (h) The principals and the cow reach the stage, the curtain parts as they climb into the almost fairy-tale rustic scene. (i) Now Dr. Pangloss sheds his orange robe and bald-wig, appearing as he appeared at the beginning, ancient, in a nightdress. He starts down the ramp toward the stage)
You've been a fool and so have I, But come and be my wife, And let us try before we die To make some sense of life. We're neither pure nor wise nor good. We'll do the best we know. We'll build our house, and chop our wood, And make our garden grow, And make our garden grow. CUNEGONDE. I thought the world was sugarcake, For so our master said, But now I'll teach my hands to bake Our loaf of daily bread. CUNEGONDE and CANDIDE. We're neither pure nor wise nor good. We'll do the best we know. We'll build our house, and chop our wood, And make our garden grow, And make our garden grow. CUNEGONDE, OLD LADY, PANGLOSS, CANDIDE , MAXIMILIAN, and COW. Let dreamers dream what worlds they please. Those Edens can't be found. The sweetest flowers, the fairest trees Are grown in solid ground. (Plus CHORUS) We're neither pure nor wise nor good. We'll do the best we know. We'll build our house, and chop our wood, And make our garden grow, And make our garden grow. OLD LADY. The Pox! The Pox! (They all jump up wildly, scratching, searching under their arms for symptoms of the Pox. As they do so, Dr. Voltaire has reached the stage. With an ancient, faltering hand, he draws the curtain) DR. VOLTAIRE (To the Audience). The end. Thank you. |
| Compiled by Michael H. Hutchins |