Everyone looks at Joe, who until this time has been standing quietly to one side. Hildegarde pours Elgar some champagne, who drinks it in one swallow. Elgar then gets up and starts to sing…and dance

ELGAR (Singing): Champagne Charlie is me name,
Champagne drinking is me game
Etc…

Elgar tries to dance with Hildegarde but only makes her spill champagne. Elgar then dances off to one side, and with a change of lighting becomes slightly isolated. In the background we hear Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius …

JELKA: That will be all, Hildegarde.

HILDEGARDE: Sorry about spilling the champagne, madam.

JELKA: Oh, do not worry, my dear. Now, take Joe with you and make sure he has something to eat, it is a long drive back to Paris.

HILDEGARDE: Yes, madam.

Exit Hildegarde. Then, as Joe exits…

JOE: Ain’t she the one though, ain’t she?

Joe exits

ELGAR: See what I mean? Such lovely people. I think I might move to America? They were very kind to me when I was last there.

JELKA: A toast.

ELGAR: A splendid idea. Who to?

DELIUS: Hildegarde’s father.

They all toast Hildegarde’s father. The lights change to isolate Elgar further, but a dim spot remains on Delius and Jelka. The music grows louder

ELGAR ( Calling): Alice? Alice? Quickly, my dear, what do you think of this?

Enter Alice Elgar, Edward’s wife. She is wearing a typical Edwardian dress, with her hair piled high. She is carrying a broken wine glass.

ALICE: She really will have to go, Edo, this is the sixth piece she has broken in the last two weeks.

ELGAR: What? No! Listen, what do you think?

ALICE: I think I cannot allow it to go on. The whole set was given to father when he retired from the regiment - each piece is engraved with an officer’s name.

ELGAR ( With exasperation): Alice! Listen. What do you think?

Alice finally listens, and hears the music, which builds…

ALICE: It is the Newman, oh Edo, it is wonderful.

ELGAR: It is for you, my dear. I know how much the Cardinal’s poem means to you, although I have to say I’ve taken out some of the weaker parts, tightened it up considerably.

Elgar and Alice listen for a few moments

ALICE: It is a masterpiece. This will show them I am married to a genius, and not a shopkeeper’s son. (Pause) Oh, Edo, I’m sorry.

ELGAR: Don’t worry, my dear. (Pause) Is that what they really think? That I am an ill educated tradesman’s son, and a self taught tune-smith? Is that what they really think and say?

ALICE: It is not what they say, my dear. But it is what they mean, I fear.

ELGAR: Damn them, damn them all!

ALICE: Edo, you must retain your faith. I did not marry a man who gives up.

ELGAR: You certainly married beneath yourself. My god they even cut your miserable allowance when you married me. And when did you last have a letter from your mother?

ALICE: Edo, enough.

ELGAR: Sorry, my dear, that was unkind. (Pause) Alice, your support has been pivotal, I couldn’t have carried on without you, of that I’m sure. But alas, I fear the stupid British public will not understand the poetic and musical subtleties of Gerontius?

ALICE: Oh, Edo, they will, given a little time. You must remember the British lack imagination when it comes to the arts, they want everything spelled out for them. But they will see the greatness in your work, look how they’ve taken to the Variations. You must be patient.

ELGAR (Angrily): Patient? I am forty two years old, I cannot afford to be patient much longer, and the Variations are simply an elaboration of a good tune, a jolly good one mind you, but a tune, nothing more. Do they have the patience for a longer work, and one based around a Roman Catholic priest’s darker moods?

ALICE: Of course they do, and you know it. They must be shown the way, they must see that Britain, no England, has produced its own Beethoven. Look how poor Delius struggles, even in Paris, a city built upon the very idea of art and music.

ELGAR: A fine composer, a unique voice.

ALICE: Edo, I do wish you would stop referring to your age. I am fifty-one, but you do not hear me constantly referring to the passing years.

ELGAR: Sorry. Sorry, chick.

The music fades in volume a little…

Gerontius
ALICE: Good. Now, from the little I’ve heard of Gerontius you have undoubtedly created a masterpiece, and you know it. Now, get what you have to do finished so that we can go bicycling this afternoon with Carice.

ELGAR: Yes, my dear. I have to work on some of the chorus parts, and then it’s complete. Richter wants to premier it at the Birmingham Festival next year. (Pause) How is our little girl?

ALICE: Looking forward to her ninth birthday, so don’t forget. And she wants a chemistry set so she can help her papa with his experiments, which I have to say I do not approve of, but neither of you will listen to me.

ELGAR: Does she? By Jove! Then she will have one, and there really is no danger. (Pause) Perhaps we might get her a puppy too, a Cairn terrier perhaps?

ALICE: Certainly not! I will not have a dog in the house, filthy creatures. And it is you that wants a puppy, not Carice.

ELGAR: Yes, my dear, you are quite right of course. Remind me of the date again would you. August the…?

ALICE: The fourteenth. Now listen, nineteen hundred will be a wonderful year, you will see. And I received a letter from mama this very morning, and she did ask after you.

ELGAR: Hmm. Well thank her when next you write.

Alice moves to Elgar and kisses him on the cheek. Elgar goes to kiss her back but Alice moves away

ALICE: Edo, I do love you.

ELGAR: I love you.

ALICE: I know. Now, will you please come and speak to the maid, I will not have her break another of father’s glasses. At this rate the entire regiment will soon cease to exist.

Alice exits. The music fades away

ELGAR (To himself): The maid? (Calling) Yes, of course my dear. (To himself) It was so much easier before we had servants. Ah, a chemistry set. By Jove! (Pause) If Carice and I kept the puppy in the shed perhaps Alice would…? (Pause) No, of course she wouldn’t.

The lights widen. We are back in Delius’s garden.

DELIUS: Verdun. What a terrible debacle.

ELGAR: Damn long way to go for a school outing. We never managed further than Weston-super-Mare.

JELKA: Sounds delightful. The western town upon the sea.

DELIUS: I fear not, Jelka. Tell her, Edward.

ELGAR: Tell her what?

DELIUS: About Weston.

ELGAR ( To Jelka): You have never been, my dear?

DELIUS: She has not.

JELKA: For goodness sake you two. Tell me.

ELGAR (With a fake pomposity that fades as the speech progresses): Weston-super-Mare is not a German health spa I have to say. No, it is what is now referred to, I believe, as a popular seaside resort, such as Blackpool, or Brighton, or Coney Island, which I enjoyed immensely when I was last in America. (Elgar laughs) But, with the building of the pier, and the introduction of amusements, and ice-cream, and donkey rides, and delicious fish and chips, and sticks of lettered rock, Weston has now become an extremely popular destination for many of the inhabitants of the city of Birmingham, a city of which I am very fond, and owe a great deal. Strictly speaking of course Weston is not upon the sea at all, but upon the Seven estuary. At low tide it sports seven miles of mud flats which, had Griffith’s wanted to film the battle of the Somme for instance, or Verdun for that matter, would have found it an ideal setting. Sadly, when our priest, Father Knight - who suffered the most terrible halitosis, and dreadful flatulence - took us there by train in the early eighteen sixties there was no pier, amusements, ice-cream, donkey rides, fish and chips, or lettered rock, just mud. I feel Jelka, that those childhood deprivations may very well have blighted an otherwise happy childhood.

Everyone laughs

DELIUS: Bravo. Perhaps your friend Shaw should use that speech in one of his plays, for it has all the hallmarks of the insecure provincial Tory, aspiring socialist, not to mention lapsed Roman Catholic.

JELKA: Perhaps he should set the scene in a garden?

DELIUS: In this garden perhaps, Jelka?

JELKA: I think Mr Shaw has probably used that speech already, Edward?

ELGAR: Do you really think so? Blast. At least with music a theme can be changed, re-arranged, and when every variation has been used and you are left with the same old theme you can go on repeating it and call it a leitmotiv. I know of no composer who has thrown away a good theme after its first outing. If you are a playwright perhaps it is not so easy to repeat oneself without seeming lazy, or untalented?

DELIUS: Surely the secret is to produce a huge body of work in which the repetitions are lost. Then find a good producer who can cut ruthlessly. Is Shakespeare not a case in point?

ELGAR: Certainly. And Shakespeare uses dramatic leitmotiv all the time. And it must be remembered the device is most often used in opera, and Shakespeare has inspired many operas.

DELIUS: And in your oratorios Edward you use leitmotiv beautifully. Although I have to say that if you had not tried to set the whole of the damned Bible to music you might have written many more symphonies.

Elgar laughs. We hear the Larghetto from Elgar’s 2nd Symphony in the background

ELGAR: Too late now, old chap, although the BBC have commissioned me to write a third symphony, but I fear there will not be time.

Elgar fumbles through the inside pocket of his jacket

ELGAR: Received this lovely letter from T.E. Lawrence the other day. May I read it?

DELIUS: But of course.

ELGAR (Reading):

My Dear Sir Edward:

This is from my cottage and we have just been playing your Second Symphony. The three of us, a sailor, a Tanks Corps soldier, and myself. So all the Services are present: and we agreed that you must be written to and told that this symphony gets further under our skins than anything else in the record library at Clouds Hill. We have the Violin Concerto too; so that says quite a lot. Generally we play the Symphony last of all, towards the middle of the night, because nothing comes off very well after it. One seems to stop there. Ha! You would laugh at my cottage which has one room upstairs, and one room downstairs, but there is also a bath, and we sleep anywhere we feel inclined. So it suits me. A one man house I think. We want your Symphony number Three, if it wiser and wider and deeper than number Two, and we shall very sadly dethrone our present friend, and play it last of the evening. Until it comes, we shall always stand in no doubt that the best has already happened.

Yours T.E. Lawrence

ELGAR: Isn’t that a lovely letter, and from such a brave man?

Elgar folds the letter, and puts it back in his pocket

DELIUS: Wonderful. He uses leitmotiv beautifully in Seven Pillars, we subscribed to his private printing. And like you, Edward, he reminds us of emotions, of who is suffering, or rejoicing. But in music no one since Wagner, and perhaps Puccini, has used the device better than you.

ELGAR: You are kind Fred, but as ever you talk nonsense.

Delius laughs. Music fades out…

DELIUS: Lawrence’s work could make a fine opera. Imagine these wonderful lines set to music…

We hear an original piece of music to which the following lines are sung, firstly by Delius, then by Elgar…

DELIUS: They steered their course
Between the idols of the tribe,
And of the cave,

ELGAR: These, the least morbid of peoples,
Had accepted the gift of life
Unquestioningly, as axiomatic.
Suicide was a thing impossible,
And death no grief.
They were a people of spasms,
Of upheavals, of ideas,
A race of the individual genius…

Jelka applauds…

DELIUS: I could find a good tune for that and no mistake. Do you not agree that in large scale works it is impossible not to use repetition, one would have to use it there for instance…

Go to Part 5.