We hear Delius’ “A Song Of Summer” and see Delius and Elgar sitting at the table. There is a painters’ easel to one side with a large canvas. Joe is sitting to one side. We then hear the music from Delius’ Florida Suite in the background.

DELIUS : You should have taken up fencing Edward. We fought well.

ELGAR : I fear not, Fred. Prefer the gun. ( PAUSE ) I have to say Leipzig didn’t seem conducive to music-making somehow.

DELIUS : The ideal place for a conservatorium of music. Outside the building there was no music whatsoever. If this were a café in Dresden there would be a string quartet playing Beethoven, always Beethoven. And there were no starving musicians busking on the streets to put students off. I insisted that father send me there. And only one music shop. Ideal.

ELGAR : That was the trouble with Worcester – music was everywhere. Without music I wonder if so many would have gone to church? I wonder if religion itself would have survived?

DELIUS : Edward. In America, especially in the South, the Negro churches almost worshipped their music, as a god. But what music, Edward, what harmonies. Strange how we should collide like that in the street.

ELGAR : Both with copies of Greig’s String Quartet in G.

DELIUS : But you were the one with a beautiful girl on your arm, who for some inexplicable reason takes one look at me and runs off.

ELGAR : Helen. Oh that. Shock I expect. She was pretty. Her father ran a shoe shop. She was a student at the Conservatorium if you remember?

DELIUS : Yes. And your father?

ELGAR : A music shop, on the opposite side of the road.

DELIUS : Music everywhere? A toast?

ELGAR : Yes, to?

DELIUS : To beautiful girls.

ELGAR : Beautiful girls.

Elgar helps Delius to drink.

Helen enters. The music fades. Helen then sings, with piano or guitar accompiament, the original version of G.H.Clutsam’s ‘Ma Curly-Headed Babby‘. Elgar and Delius listen…

HELEN ( SINGING ) : Oh ma babby, ma curly-headed babby
We’ll sit below de sky,
‘An sing a song to de moon.
Oh ma babby, ma little nigger babby,
Yo’ daddy’s in de cotton field,
A workin’ for de coon.

So, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, by by,
Does yer want de moon ter play wid?
Or de stars ter run away wid?
Dey’ll come if you don’t cry;

So, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, by by,
In de mammy’s arms be creepin’
An’ soon yer’ll be a-sleepin’,
lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, by by,
Oh ma babby, ma curly-headed babby
I’ll dance yer fast to sleep
An’ lub yer so as I sing.
Oh ma babby, ma little nigger babby,
Just tuck your head like little bird,
Below its mammy’s wing.

So, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, by by,
Does yer want de moon ter play wid?
Or de stars to run away wid?
Dey’ll come if yer don’t cry;

So, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, by by,
In de mammy’s arms be creepin’
An’ soon yer’ll be a-sleepin’,
lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, lul-la, by by,
So by –

Elgar applauds, and Helen joins them at the table.

HELEN : Thank you, my dear?

ELGAR : That was delightful. Fred, meet Helen Weaver, my fiancée.

DELIUS : Helen, you have a beautiful voice.

HELEN : Thank you.

ELGAR : Fred has spent a good deal of time on an orange plantation in Florida. Heard a good deal of Negro music there, especially in the churches…

DELIUS : May I call you Helen?

HELEN : You may?

ELGAR : Fred is a composer too. He intends to study here in Leipzig.

HELEN : May I call you Fred?

Delius nods.

DELIUS : Or Fritz, whichever. The word ‘nigger’ is increasingly frowned upon in Europe, Helen. And rightly, don’t you think?

HELEN : No, I think I’ll call you Fritz, like a favourite dog. I have to say I have not given the word much thought.

DELIUS : Perhaps you should, perhaps we all should.

HELEN : But why should it be frowned upon? Perfectly harmless surely? Edward?

ELGAR : Fritz has a point I think, Helen…

DELIUS : Surely, in the latter part of the 19th Century, we cannot use such words to describe another human being? Words can be the weapon of hate. Used badly and no group of people, no single person, will be safe.

HELEN : I did not mean to offend you, Fritz, and of course you are quite right. I just thought it a lovely song. We hard it last night at Edward’s hotel didn’t we Edward. A young man was entertaining the diners from below the terrace; busking I believe they call it.

ELGAR : So much for Leipzig and music, Fred.

HELEN ( TO DELIUS ) : Have I heard any of your music?

DELIUS : I doubt it. Very little to hear. Although I could bring my accordion around this evening and serenade you at dinner.

Helen laughs.

ELGAR : We could both serenade the diners, Fred. I have my violin, and Helen can sing. Probably make some money. What do you say, Fritz?

HELEN : You are joking, Edward?

ELGAR : Yes, my dear.

DELIUS : Champagne, Helen?

HELEN : Please.

Elgar pours champagne.

ELGAR : I remember my brother and I playing under your father’s bedroom window. Do you remember that, Helen?

HELEN : How can I ever forget. Poor father.

ELGAR : I thought it was your window. Frank and I had both had rather too much to drink at The Feathers. We’d been rehearsing upstairs in their function room. I started scratching away at some tune or other, and Frank is blowing and bubbling away on his bassoon. Suddenly the bedroom window flies open, and there’s Helen’s father in his nightcap – and he’s just about to throw the contents of his chamber pot over our heads - when he sees Frank’s bassoon and for all the world thinks it’s a gun! Ha! Your old man put his hands up in the air and shouts out, “You can have my money, although there ain’t a lot, but you can ‘ave it. But please God don’t shoot, I’ve a wife and daughter to look after, and I’m only a poor shoe-mender!” I tell you we ran as fast as our legs would carry us. Caused quite a stir when the local paper printed a piece about Mr. Weaver the shoe shop owner being held up in the middle of the night. He drank out on that for weeks after.

HELEN : He did not, Edward, you know father doesn’t drink.

ELGAR : So he tells you and your mother.

HELEN : Anyway he still doesn’t know it was you. And unless you’re very good to me I shall tell him.

ELGAR : I shall be very good.

DELIUS : You are a lucky man, Edward. What would you do if I took Helen away from you? Persuaded her, with my undoubted charm, to run away with me to the southern ocean… to Tahiti perhaps? What do you say, Helen?

HELEN : We could visit Robert Louis Stevenson. I believe he lives with the natives. But no Fritz. I think you may have said that to too many girls already?

DELIUS : Ah.

ELGAR : You’re a cad, sir! A dual! Pistols! You blaggard. Pistols at dawn.

DELIUS : Too late by then, old chap.

ELGAR : Gone you mean? A toast then… to?

DELIUS : Robert Louis Stevenson… and the natives.

They all drink.

Lights go down and Helen gets up and joins Joe. She becomes Hildegarde.

JOE : How old was your father when he died?

HILDEGARDE : Killed.

Joe nods.

HILDEGARDE : Oh, twenty-six, twenty-seven, something like that.

JOE : God awful place.

HILDEGARDE : You were there?

JOE : Verdun? No. But I hear it was a bloody massacre, but old Frenchie put up a fight and no mistake.

Pause.

JOE : I’m sorry, Hildegarde. It was no picnic for the Bosch. I know that. Was your father…?

HILDEGARDE : They never found him. ( Pause ) Five hundred men disappeared into thin air… a huge explosion.

JOE : A mine I expect, land mine, the whole of Verdun was a death trap.

Pause.

HILDEGARDE : Where did you learn German, Joe?

JOE : Oh, here an’ there. Spent a lotta time in Bavaria…

HILDEGARDE : Saxony is very different.

JOE : Is that so? ( Pause ) You like it here, with the Delius’?

HILDEGARDE : Oh yes, they are so kind, and teach me all sorts of things…

JOE : How to open champagne?

HILDEGARDE : Oui. Yes, and cooking, and reading English, the great novelists, like Edgar Wallace.

Joe laughs.

JOE : Sir Edward was tellin’ me he likes Edgar Rice-Burroughs, you know, Tarzan and all that stuff.

HILDEGARDE : Excuse me?

JOE : Odd? That the two greatest English composers like books like that?

HILDEGARDE : Ja, maybe they like them because it relaxes them, takes their mind off music, could this not be so?

JOE : Yeah. reckon you’re right there.

We hear Elgar’s ‘Sospiri’ again

HILDEGARDE : Is he a nice man?

JOE : Who? Sir Edward? Hell, I’ve only known him for a couple of hours, but he seems one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, and no mistake. I was talkin’ to his valet, Dick, back in Paris and d’ya know, Dick was sayin’ when they came for Sir Edward’s horses in 1915 he cried like a baby, and Dick stood there holding them, and they were looking at him as if they knew, and Sir Edward said goodbye to each one, an’ he kissed ‘em and told ‘em to be good. And he told the army horse handlers to treat ‘em well, and they said “..yes, Sir Edward.” And then Lady Elgar led him inside. But Dick says he turned and waved after ‘em. I know how he felt, the old man kept horses in Arizona.

Widen lights.

HILDEGARDE : I had a horse once, when I was a little girl. My father was an architect in Kassel, but we had this country cottage alongside the Eder? Oh, I was only six or seven. But this Sunday he woke me up early and took me outside to the barn, and inside was this lovely white pony and he said it was mine and that we would go riding every weekend until I was good enough to join the Hussars! I called her Gretchen after my grandmamma, because she had white hair and beautiful eyes. And we did go riding every weekend just like he promised. ( PAUSE ) But I never joined the Hussars. Then the war came and daddy went away, and the cottage was sold, and one day my pony wasn’t there anymore, and mother took us away to relatives in Zurich. Soon after mother died, and I stayed in Zurich for a while…

Hildegarde breaks down sobbing. Joe goes to her and takes her in his arms and holds her…

JOE : Hey honey, come on.

HILDEGARDE : I’m sorry, Joe, forgive me.

JOE : Ain’t nothing to forgive honey. You’ve had your losses, close ones too. And I tell yer my own ma, when she headed for that happy gossip ground in the sky, there were many who heaved one hell of a sigh of relief I tell you, not least me, but she was missed by some. I remember this old guy came to the funeral, just stood there for a minute, took off his hat, turned and went. Often wondered who he was. She’d never mentioned anyone, but someone mourned her. Mystery. Reckon we’ve all got sorrows and secrets, best kept to ourselves. What do you say honey? Ain’t that best?

HILDEGARDE : Maybe. But it’s good to share sometimes. Madam Delius is a good listener, she has been like a second mother to me, Joe, has taken good care of me.

JOE : But I tell ya honey, there ain’t no one who ain’t been touched by sorrow and death these last few years, not one. ( PAUSE ) You lost your father, and your mother, I lost no end of fine friends in the war. Good friends too, friends you’d wanna mourn for the rest of your goddam life.

HILDEGARDE : Yes. Which part of America do you come from, Joe?

JOE : Florida originally, then a spell in Arizona before the family moved to New York. Hell!

HILDEGARDE : But why move?

JOE : The ol’ man got a job labourin’ on Brooklyn Bridge, paid good money, an’ we needed the money. There was me an’ my sister, an’ another on the way.

Music ends.

HILDEGARDE : Perhaps I will go to New York, Joe?

JOE : You could do worse, especially with this creep Hitler hollerin’ and such. Yep, reckon it’d be a good idea. Hell you could come back with me, how about that?

HILDEGARDE : Do you really mean…?

JOE : Sure. What’s to keep ya here? Look we gotta keep movin’ see, no point hangin’ in one place too long. My pa’s old man hung around in Louisiana too long, got drafted into the Grey Brigade and died at Gettysburg. He never saw my Pa, died afore he was born. Come back to Paris with Sir Edward and me, an’ we’ll get a boat from Cherbourg direct to New York…

We hear Duke Ellington’s ‘Saturday Night Function’

HILDEGARDE : But Joe…?

JOE : Hildegarde? Do you like dancing?

HILDEGARDE : Yes.

JOE : Come on then, if we’re going to New York you’ve gotta know how to dance.

Glitter ball comes on as Joe and Hildegarde perform a dance routine to Ellington’s very raunchy number from the early 1930s. We see Delius’ left hand tapping to the music. There is a smile on his face. At the end of the dance the lights go to black. Exit Joe and Hildegarde. Then as the lights slowly brighten we hear Delius’ “Over The Hills and Far Away” and as we hear the music we see Jelka enter and go to the easel and start painting. Gradually a soft golden light spills onto Delius and Jelka as she paints. Delius talks…

DELIUS : Jelka? I have been basking in the sunshine and enjoying this lovely place. The climate and the flowers are extraordinary, and the situation of my grove is right on the beautiful St John River; it is truly a paradise garden. We caught a young alligator yesterday, he must be about a yard long, and we have him in a barrel in front of the house. I am bringing a lot of snake skins back, I have killed so many. It is a pity I cannot bring some of the flowers or a piece of the moonlight, or some of the magnolia, and orange blossoms. The sunsets here are something remarkable, and the scenery is lovely and perfect for a painter. The house has a broad veranda facing the river, and stands in the middle of the groves. In front of the house is a garden with gardenias, hibiscus, and a few other tropical flowers I cannot name. Over the veranda there is an enormous honeysuckle, and a live oak shades a lawn of vivid green. I have not written any music, but will do so when I get back. How can one write anything other than letters in such a place.

Pause.

DELIUS : I must find her, find them. Albert says very little, only that she is well, but she has fears. Why would she think I wanted to take the child away?

I am so desolate Cynara…

Pause.

DELIUS : Jelka, I should be back in Paris by Mid-May.

JELKA : Grez is lovely Fritz, ideal for a painter. I fell I can get so much work done here. It is almost impossible for me to work in Paris these days, there are so many artists. Please say you will come down as soon as you can, after your return from Florida. It is a pity your lovely plantation is not in Grez.

Pause.

JELKA : Why does he not tell me about her, does he think I am a fool, that I would care what he had done, that the most important thing is that I love him, love him with all my heart. That I would give up this damned painting just to be with him. Do I care if he had a Negress for a lover, and a child by her. Why will he not have a child by me, what does he fear?

Pause.

DELIUS : Jelka I am in Norway, Christiana. Heiberg needed me at the last minute for rehearsals, but I fear some of the populace may very well lynch me for using the National Hymn. But the whole thing sounds fine. We managed to get 4 trombones at the very last minute. Spent a few hours with Ibsen two days ago, who is very interested in my music, and has promised to come to the play. Perhaps this is the start, Jelka? I will come down to Grez as soon as I can. Is that where Robert Louis Stevenson used to visit with that damn donkey?

Pause.

DELIUS : I think about her all the time, her golden body and dark hair, her sweet utterances and the way she bit my lip and laughed – not loudly. The child must surely be beautiful. Is it a boy or girl? No one will say. Albert knows, I am sure. But there can be no more children, not with anyone. The doctor has confirmed my condition. Like me he is worried about them, but there is nothing that can be done until they are found. I have left some money with Albert, and the doctor’s name.

Pause.

JELKA : I read that the first two performances went well. But is it true some of the audience hissed and had a real demonstration against the piece, and especially against the music? If that is true it means your music is worthy, true.

DELIUS : Half the audience applauded, the other half booed, what a wonderful noise, and all because of a play, and some half-boiled music! But every seat is sold out for months! Ha! But I am longing to get out of this place, Jelka. To come to Grez.

Pause.

DELIUS : I have been faithful to you, Cynara, in my fashion.

JELKA : Come soon, Fred, I need you so badly.

DELIUS : No-one speaks of the play anymore, now it is only my music. I have never experienced anything like it before. All the good artists are for the music, as are the left-leaning politicians, at least those that listen to music. All the bourgeois are against it. Ibsen is delighted with the state of affairs, I have never seen such a stern-looking man laugh so much, he has congratulated me most heartily. I do feel sorry for Heiberg though, his satire on Norwegian politicians is very good, and after all it was he that asked me to write the music. Now the music is all they speak of. Is that the lot of a playwright. Perhaps they should keep well clear of music and musicians?

Pause. Lights down on Jelka. Widen lighting of Delius and Elgar. Music fades.

ELGAR : A pretty young thing that Hildegarde.

Elgar’s Weakness?
DELIUS : You have a weakness for young ladies I think?

ELGAR : I don’t have a weakness, Fred.

DELIUS : What about that incident with your maid?

ELGAR : It was not an incident Fred. I was simply showing the girl how to play the piano, that the glasses were not important.

DELIUS : Was it a requirement that she sit on your lap?

ELGAR : Made it easier…

DELIUS : Be careful, Edward. Not everyone will see it that way.

Elgar nods and smiles.

ELGAR : You are an odd bird, Fred.

DELIUS : Perhaps I’m the wrong person to give advice?

ELGAR : I really was only showing her how to play diminished fourths and fifths…

Delius laughs loudly.

DELIUS : I know. Remember never to starve the quaver. Not a word, Edward.

ELGAR : Not a word. Think I’ll take a bit of a walk, stretch the legs. Won’t be long, old chap.

Elgar gets up, puts a cigar in his mouth, looks around him and marches off. Jelka continues painting.

DELIUS : Who’s there?

Enter Joe.

JOE : Only me, sir, Joe, Sir Edward’s driver.

DELIUS : Ah, Joe, good, come and sit with me. ( PAUSE AS JOE SITS BESIDE DELIUS ) Help yourself to a glass of Champagne, Joe. ( JOE DOES SO, AND DRINKS ) Do you like Sir Edward’s music, Joe?

JOE : Can’t say I’ve heard any, except Land Of Hope And Glory…

DELIUS : He hates that now. Considers it to have been stolen by the jingoists, by the phoney patriots.

JOE : Is that so? Helluva a good tune.

DELIUS : But you must listen to his first symphony, Joe, it is a masterpiece, for once he breaks the rules, but don’t tell him I said that.

JOE : No, sir.

DELIUS : The Adagio is quite dangerous in its innovation.

JOE : Dangerous, music?

DELIUS : Oh yes, music, like good Champagne, can enter the bloodstream with alarming alacrity, changing one’s emotions immediately, alarmingly. Sorry, Joe, never get a composer talking about music. Have you always been a driver?

JOE : No, sir. Been a soldier. Baker’s assistant back in New York. Sure miss that bakery at times, that was a good life. Hell though, had to get there round three in the mornin’ to make sure the fires were still in, then rake ‘em, an’ build ‘em up again – they had to stay in all year round. Used the money to get through college.

DELIUS : Good man. What did you study?

JOE : Literature, English and American literature. I tell ya the day I first discovered Walt Whitman…

DELIUS : As I ebb’d with the ocean of life,

As I wended the shores I know…

JOE : As I walk’d where the ripples continually wash you…

DELIUS : Ah, dear old man. I tried to capture his essence when I wrote ‘Sea Drift‘. Fenby and I have been working on a new Whitman piece…

JOE : Fenby?

DELIUS : Eric, he has been my eyes, and my musical heart beat these last few years. ( Pause ) So what did you do after college, Joe?

JOE : Then the war came, so I skipped north to Canada, joined the Canadian Black Watch. Scottish blood on Ma’s side. Inverness.

DELIUS : You’re very tall, for a part Scotsman.

JOE : My pa’s side got some Indian blood way back, they come kinda tall don’t they.

DELIUS : So I believe. Sir Edward was saying you write for the films, screenplays I believe they call them?

JOE : Screenplays, plays, short stories, anythin’. Nothin’ published, or produced as yet. Hung out with Hemingway for a while, boxed with him once, kicked his ass too.

DELIUS : I must get Jelka to read some Hemingway to me. Do you know the work of Edgar Wallace?

JOE : Sure, ‘King Kong‘, now that was a good movie.

DELIUS : I have heard of it, but as you see I don’t get out much. I will let you have a copy of ‘The Four Just Men’ before you leave.

JOE : Thank you, sir. (Pause) Say, you heard of Robert Sherwood?

DELIUS : The playwright. ‘Reunion in Vienna‘, of course… ( DELIUS IS IN PAIN ) Joe? Joe? Can you turn me a little?

Joe makes Delius comfortable…

DELIUS : Danke, thank you. That’s better…

JOE : Forgive me for askin’, sir, but…

DELIUS : Hmm? Oh, Syphilis, Joe.

JOE : Guessed as much. The soldier’s companion.

DELIUS : Very perceptive. Sadly I didn’t have to fight for it. (Delius laughs)

JOE : Hell, at least a third o’ the guys in the 42nd caught a dose at one time or another, me included, and if it’s dealt with early. Hey, I’m sorry, sir.

DELIUS : You were talking about that playwright…

JOE : Bob, Bob Sherwood. We were in the same Canadian outfit, both Yanks, sorta got on.

We hear Elgar’s ‘Sospiri’ again

DELIUS : Was it dreadful, the fighting?

JOE : Dreadful? That ain’t the word I’d choose. Vimy Ridge is a place I ain’t never gonna forget. Not a tree left standing by the time we got there, an’ damn near half the battalion wiped out, but we hung in there day an’ night with the Boche no more an’ fifty yards away. Most nights we’d go over an’ take part of a Heinie trench, bayonet the bastards as they slept or smoked, take a couple back as prisoners. (Pause) When you bayonet a man he don’t scream like ya might think, no he, he, just starts breathin’ heavy, an’ then starts to shiver, you can feel him shiverin’ right up through your rifle. Only when ya pull the bayonet out does he moan, but by then you’ve moved on, stuck another, an’ back over the top before the shootin’ starts. They used to call us Der Damen Von Holle!

Fade Music.

DELIUS : The Ladies Of Hell?

JOE : On account of the kilts.

DELIUS : Ah…

JOE : A couple a days after the Boche offensive in March ’18, Bob an’ me were restin’ in this holding centre – a beautiful ol’ Chateau. We were livin’ pretty high too, when one day Staff comes running inta the Mess damn near bustin’ himself sayin’ we were gonna be inspected by the top brass. Well, all hell an’ metal polish broke loose then. An’ who d’ya think arrived?

Pause.

DELIUS : I don’t know.

JOE : No? Anyways, like I was saying, we’re all lined up an’ who d’ya think showed?

DELIUS : Oh I don’t know. (Pause) The Kaiser?

JOE : Nah. King George V. Well, we’re all pressed, pleated, an’ buffed. An’ the King stops in front o’ me, looks me up an’ down, an’ scratchin’ his beard says “You’re a Canadian aren’t you?” “No sir, a Yank!” I answers. Then he says “Ha! Hadn’t realized the Yanks were still colonials!” Hell they laughed.

DELIUS : Did you tell him about the bayoneting?

JOE : Nah. Perhaps I shoulda done? (Pause) Sir?

DELIUS : Yes?

JOE : I’ve asked Hildegarde to come back to the States with me…

DELIUS : Ah, a wise move. Europe is no longer a safe place. I fear there will be much killing, like your Vimy Ridge. Yes, take her. (Pause) She will make you a good wife…

JOE : Wife? I hadn’t thought of…

DELIUS : Don’t worry about her age, it means nothing. She has suffered greatly. I sometimes feel there are no young people left, no matter what their age. Marry her Joe.

JOE : You don’t mind? Who will look after you and Jelka?

DELIUS : Joe, there is very little left to look after. Go, take her.

We hear Delius’s ‘A Walk To The Paradise Garden’ as Joe makes Delius comfortable. Joe exits. The lights come down on Delius and up on Jelka. Enter Elgar. The music continues…

ELGAR : Jelka, my dear.

JELKA : Have you had a good walk?

ELGAR : Splendid. Found that hotel where Stevenson used to stay.

JELKA : Hotel Chevillon.

ELGAR : Yes. How is Fred?

Elgar is now looking at Jelka’s painting.

JELKA : Sleeping as you see. Dreaming too, no doubt.

ELGAR : Of the orange groves.

JELKA : Probably…

ELGAR : A fine painting. Around here?

JELKA : Across the river there. ( She points. ) The edge of Fontainebleau.

ELGAR : I never knew how good you were, why have I never seen your work exhibited?

JELKA : In the early days I did have a couple of exhibitions. I remember a young American woman bought several. But since then I have had other concerns have I not?

ELGAR : I see. Muse to a great man? The lot of many women, but things are changing for the better, you may have read George’s latest book…

JELKA : No. ( Pause. ) Is Charlotte George’s muse? Was Alice yours?

Elgar is silent.

ELGAR : Your work is not unlike Fred’s music, Jelka – hard to put your finger on but always beautiful - a bit like the flight to France, that feeling of freedom as you leave the ground, then the soaring upwards into the clouds and the bursting through into the clear blue sky. I see that in your picture, I hear that in Fred’s music. You have clearly inspired each other.

JELKA : I’m sure that you are right.

ELGAR : I would like to buy the painting. May I?

JELKA : I…

Delius awakes with a start. Lighting widens to include Jelka. Fade music.

DELIUS : What? Who’s that? Joe?

Jelka goes to Delius. The music fades.

JELKA : Are you alright, my dear? You have been dreaming.

DELIUS : Have I?

Delius looks around him…

DELIUS : Ah, Edward. How are you? Where is Shaw?

ELGAR : Shaw?

DELIUS : Bernard Shaw?

ELGAR : In Ayot I shouldn’t wonder, or London. Had a letter from him only the other day, why?

DELIUS : But he was here…

JELKA : No. But he has been mentioned more than once.

DELIUS : Oh, but I could have sworn. (Pause) Did Griffith’s ask you to write the music for ‘Birth Of A Nation‘, Edward?

ELGAR : Good Lord no. I’d have bitten his hand off with glee had he done so!

JELKA : Fred! Enough! You have been dreaming.

Delius looks blindly toward the package brought in by Joe at the start of the play…

DELIUS : And what about the parcel?

ELGAR : What? Ah! The package. I’d forgotten about that, it’s a present Fred. For you, a chemistry set. A set which, I have to say, contains my own patented apparatus for producing sulphurated hydrogen. It also contains a phosphoric paste concoction I made this morning, which must be kept moist otherwise it may go off by spontaneous combustion. ( Pause. ) Oh, my lord! Oh, my lord!

DELIUS : What?

JELKA : What?

ELGAR : I should have asked Joe to keep it moist. The heat. It may very well have dried out…

Everyone turns and looks at the package. Lights to black. We hear a loud explosion.

In the darkness we hear Elgar’s cello concerto. As the lights come up we see Delius as before, and Elgar. We also see an American Confederate Soldier also sitting at the table.

ELGAR : Well what do you think, old man, not a bad place eh? Could be worse?

DELIUS : Could be.

ELGAR : Could be someone’s garden. Table and chairs.

DELIUS : Or a café?

ELGAR : Yes.

A Waiter enters and takes the Soldier’s order.

SOLDIER : Whisky

WAITER : Whisky.

The Waiter approaches Delius and Elgar.

WAITER : Would you like to join the soldier? I’m sure he would enjoy your company? (Pause) Well?

ELGAR : Champagne. (To the Soldier) Will you join us in drinking Champagne?

SOLDIER : Me?

ELGAR : Yes.

SOLDIER : Don’t rightly reckon I’ve had Champagne afore…

ELGAR : Let this be the first time. Champagne waiter.

WAITER : Champagne.

DELIUS : And three glasses.

WAITER : Three glasses.

The Waiter exits.

SOLDIER : Thanks buddy, mister.

DELIUS ( to soldier ) : You enjoy coming here?

SOLDIER : I do now. At first…

ELGAR : How long have you been here?

SOLDIER : Gettysburg, over 60 years. What a hole that was. This your first day?

DELIUS : Yes.

ELGAR : My wife doesn’t seem to be here.

SOLDIER : No?

DELIUS : Perhaps women go somewhere else?

ELGAR : Wouldn’t be at all surprised.

The Waiter enters with the champagne.

ELGAR : Ah!

The Waiter pops the cork with a loud bang.

DELIUS : No! No!

WAITER : Sorry?

DELIUS : Nothing. Just pour. Where do the women go?

The Waiter pours.

WAITER : Women?

ELGAR : My wife, Alice. Where would she be?

WAITER : Sometimes they come.

The Waiter exits.

ELGAR : Shall we have a toast?

SOLDIER : To?

DELIUS : To women.

SOLDIER : To women.

ELGAR & DELIUS : To Hildegarde.

ELGAR : A beautiful young woman.

SOLDIER : Is she?

DELIUS : Of course.

ELGAR : Her father was killed at Verdun.

SOLDIER : Verdun. There are many here who were killed at Verdun. I have had a long time to study military history, and Verdun was kinda like Gettysburg. There are many here who wish not to remember, too painful. Time is all we have, guess we should use it well, after all it is forever. Do you know, at Verdun there were more soldiers killed per square yard than anywhere else, over 750 000 French and Germans killed and wounded. It was the symbol of French honour. And the French are very honourable. The German commander, General Erich von Falkenhayn fulfilled his ambition to bleed the French white, bled his own forces just as white! Same at Gettysburg. Either of you gentlemen ever been there?

DELIUS & ELGAR : No.

A pause in the music – silence.

JOE : Ain’t much to write home about, an’ before 1863 don’t reckon many had heard of it at all, I sure as hell hadn’t. Only had 2,400 inhabitants, an’just 10 miles north o’ the Mason-Dixon line, an’ its only claim to fame was a Theological Seminary.

DELIUS : Religion again.

SOLDIER : I was with the Confederate infantry under General John Petigrew, we’d come up from Cashtown on the morning of July 1st. About lunchtime we pushed forward toward the town but came under heavy fire from General Buford’s troopers. That’s when we sent for help. Little did we know that Buford had too, an’ before yah could spit tobacca we were in one helluva fight. I took a ball in the head around four, next thing I know I’m sat here drinkin’ whisky. ( Laugh. ) Resented the whole darn thing at first, what with the wife eight months gone with our first. I’d written a couple o’ days afore tellin’ her to get to Florida an’ look for work on some orange plantation. Folks from around those parts tell me she did okay, ain’t seen her neither.

DELIUS No?

ELGAR : My Valet, Dick, was at Verdun too. Medical attachment. The French ran out of medical orderlies.

Pause.

SOLDIER : Do I know you two gentlemen?

ELGAR : No, we are, we’re just composers.

DELIUS ( pointing to Elgar ) : Sir Edward Elgar. ( Pause ) I’m Delius. Pleasure to meet you.

SOLDIER : We don’t get much music around here.

DELIUS : A bit like Leipzig.

SOLDIER : Hell! Heir Bach will agree with yah there. He’s always cussin’ about the place.

ELGAR : Are we in Germany?

SOLDIER : Don’t rightly know. But it’ll feel like home soon enough.

Enter T.E. Lawrence on a bicycle - he is wearing grey flannel trousers, a tweed jacket, and a scarf - and is followed by an out of breath waiter running to try and catch up.

WAITER: I am so sorry, Sir Edward, but he would not stop.

ELGAR: Good God, it’s Lawrence. My dear man, what on earth are you doing here? ( To the Waiter) Pour some champagne for our guest.

LAWRENCE: No, no, water will suffice.

ELGAR (To the Waiter) : Bring some water would you.

The Waiter exits

ELGAR ( To Lawrence): How wonderful to see you, but what are you doing here?

LAWRENCE: I went out to post you a letter, and it was such a wonderful day thought I’d deliver it in person.

ELGAR: But I had a letter from you only the other day, and how did you know where I was?

LAWRENCE: I took a chance. Had you not been here I could easily have left the letter, and thinking about it I haven’t written to you in many months.

ELGAR: But I have your letter right here.

Elgar searches for the letter in his pockets, but no success.

ELGAR: Well, I’ll be damned, could have swore I brought the thing with me. Read it to you earlier Fred, remember?

DELIUS: Did you, Ted?

ELGAR: Damned odd if you ask me. But anyway, jolly good to see you. Tell us all what you’ve been up to.

The Waiter enters with water, and hands Lawrence a glass. Lawrence drinks thirstily.

LAWRENCE: You really want to know?

ELGAR: Of course. We all do.

General agreement

LAWRENCE: Going mad most of the time. ( Lawrence points) Are those the Malverns over there? I can see why you love them so much. I would love them had I been born within their shadow.

ELGAR: Did you say going mad?

LAWRENCE: Yes, quite mad. Oh, people tell me not to be so bloody silly, to pull myself together and all that, but I know I’m going mad, quite mad. This really is very good water. Would you like me to read my letter to you Sir Edward?

ELGAR; Well, I…

SOLDIER: Yes, we’d all love you to read the letter, son. Say, you ever been a soldier?

LAWRENCE: No, I mean yes, no, not really. I was in the desert once, a long time ago now, a lifetime ago.

SOLDIER: Tell me, tell us all what happened.

LAWRENCE: It’s all pretty boring stuff really, pretty boring.

SOLDIER: Tell us.

We hear Elgar’s ‘Sospiri’ again

LAWRENCE: No, no really…

SOLDIER: Always good to talk about things, son.

LAWRENCE: Always?

SOLDIER: Sure.

Long Pause as Lawrence drinks

LAWRENCE: It was 1917, we were on the road to Damascus, Allenby wanted Damascus badly, and we were in front of him and we came across these Turks, battalion strength I should think, no more, and they were in a pretty bad way, and in Allenby’s way too. They were still well armed, but exhausted, and hungry, and then we saw the village, just a little distance away, and there was smoke rising, so I rode across to take a look and the sight I beheld sickened me, sickened me to the very pit of my stomach. The dead were everywhere: old men and women, young women and children, all cut to death, the women, old and young, raped, the old men and boys bayoneted, and their genitalia stuffed into their mouths. They had even killed the animals, even cats and dogs. And those in my band who had come from this village recognised mothers, and aunts, uncles, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, and a palpable hatred began to rise that was stronger than the stench of death that arose from all around us. And then one youngster rode out toward the Turks, his sword raised above his head, as if he had every intention of killing them all single-handedly, but he was cut down by rifle fire. I…

SOLDIER: What, son?

LAWRENCE: I gave the order to attack. And we cut down every last man, every last man.

Fade Music…

Lawrence is shaking…

LAWRENCE: They are going to kill me of course, oh, I know they are after me, and they will get me, sooner or later. Sooner than later I expect.

Lawrence then hands Elgar the letter, mounts his bicycle and rides away.

ELGAR: Well, I’ll be damned.

Elgar opens the letter, and reads. We hear Lawrences voice, off stage, reading…

LAWRENCE (VO):

22nd December 1933

Dear Sir Edward:

This is from my cottage and we have just been playing your 2nd Symphony. Three of us, a sailor, a Tank Corps soldier, and myself. So there are all the Services present: and we agreed that you must be written to and told ( if you are well enough to be bothered) 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. The three of us assemble here nearly every week-end I can get to the cottage, and we wanted to say ‘thank you’ for the symphony ever so long ago; but we were lazy, first: and then you were desperately ill, and even now we are afraid you are too ill. There is a selfish side to our concern: we want your Symphony III: if it is wiser and wider and deeper than II we shall very sadly dethrone our present friend, and play it last of the evening…

We hear Elgar’s Cello Concerto take up from where it left off…

LAWRENCE(VO): Until it comes, we shall always stand in doubt if the best has really yet happened.

Yours Sincerely, T.E. Shaw.

Elgar screws up the letter and begins to laugh, laughter which turns to tears…

Enter the Waiter.

WAITER : You have a visitor, Sir Edward.

Enter Alice, Lady Elgar. The Waiter watches.

ALICE : Edo, is that you my dear?

Elgar goes to Alice.

ELGAR : Alice, my swan?

They embrace. Delius listens. The Soldier looks on. The music continues…

ALICE : He is right, it will feel more like home every day. We can even go bicycling, when you are feeling stronger. Soon everyone will be here. All those pictured within.

ELGAR : Like old times?

ALICE : Like old times. I have missed you so much, my dear, and there is so much to remember, to regret.

ELGAR : Regret, my dear? Surely not?

ALICE : I was unkind…

ELGAR ( raising his voice ) : Nonsense! I will not have it!

ALICE : Edo? You have just raised your voice to me. You never raise your voice.

ELGAR : No. I apologise, my dear.

ALICE : I fear I should have let you have a dog.

ELGAR : Yes my dear, I do wish you had. I hope they are alright?

ALICE : Carice has them.

ELGAR : Good.

ALICE : Your father is waiting to see you, Edo.

ELGAR : Is he? The dear old man. And mother?

ALICE : She too. The cottage at Broadheath is ready for you, should you wish that to be home?

ELGAR : And your parents? Are they here, or are they somewhere…?

ALICE : They are here, yes, have made it feel like home. India. I fear they have regrets too.

ELGAR : No doubt. ( Pause. ) Do you know, my dear, the first time my father came to visit us at ‘Birchwood Lodge’ he came to the tradesman’s entrance.

ALICE : I know.

ELGAR: Lawrence has just left.

ALICE: I know, my dear, you will see him again soon, I’m sure.

Pause.

ELGAR : Yes, he said something like that. (Pause) Not Broadheath. “Craeg Lea” I think. Yes, let us make that home, my dear.

ALICE : I would like that. Like that very much.

ELGAR ( to Delius ) : I say goodbye, old chap. No doubt we shall bump into each other.

DELIUS : No doubt.

Alice and Elgar exit as does the waiter.

The Soldier now gets up to leave…

SOLDIER ( To Delius ) : Would you like me to stay longer? Will you be okay…?

DELIUS : I shall be fine. I’ll just sit here for a while.

SOLDIER : I can come back later if you’d like?

DELIUS : That is very kind… so very kind.

SOLDIER : Hell, ain’t no problem.

Exit the Soldier.

We see Delius sitting alone. Enter the Waiter with a letter.

WAITER : A letter for you.

The Waiter hands Delius the letter.

DELIUS : But I cannot…

WAITER : I think you can…

Delius opens the letter and reads…

DELIUS ( reading ) :

Dear Daddy,

Mother said I should not contact you, that it would not be right for me to contact such a prominent man, let alone call him Daddy. But I simply could not go on any longer; felt you had the right to know about me, and what happened.

DELIUS : I don’t understand.

WAITER : Nothing to understand. You have found them at last. Listen…

We now hear an American Woman’s Voice off stage…

AMERICAN VOICE ( off stage ) : We first heard your Florida Suite in New York. That’s when I first saw you. I wanted to run to you then but mother said no, so I just sat there and looked at you, and listened to that glorious music, and knew it was about mother, about that first time you both met in Jacksonville, at Morgan’s Bar, where mother played the piano and sang. I saw you again in Paris in 1929. I was singing this time – do you remember? At the Moulin Rouge. I was billed as the latest, hottest, jazz attraction…?

DELIUS : Yes I remember. That was you?

VOICE : Yes, that was me. But you were with a group of people, at that table in front of the stage, you beat time on the arm of your wheel chair and smiled at me… remember?

DELIUS : Yes. That was you, my…?

VOICE : Yes, me, Irmaline.

DELIUS : She called you that?

VOICE : No. I call myself that. I am in Paris, and would love to come down to Grez, may I? I know you are seriously ill, so I feel I must see you. I will understand of course if you feel that you cannot see me. You can write to me at the hotel. Mother, too, is very ill, although the doctor will not confide in me. I fear she does not have long to live. May I come?

DELIUS : Yes!

Enter a young American Woman. The Waiter exits with a bow to the Woman, who walks around Delius as she talks…

YOUNG AMERICAN WOMAN : When I came they would not let me in. That is fine, it happens all the time of course. They, that is the young woman who came to the door, said you were asleep, that you could not be disturbed. And I had come such a long way, but no matter. But you see I did see you again, before I knocked the door. Saw you from across the river. It wasn’t difficult. When I saw your house I realised the garden must back onto the river. I left my motorcycle by the church and made my way over the small bridge, then watched you and your guest from the trees. I always carry a small pair of opera glasses, so you see I could see everything clearly. It was wonderful just seeing you again. I remember you lifted your left arm at one stage, I was certain you had seen me, were waving at me? But how could you. So you see I felt I had to try and talk to you, just the one last time, you do understand?

DELIUS : Oh yes.

YOUNG AMERICAN WOMAN : It was not to be, but the young woman, Hildegarde I think her name is, was very kind. (Pause) I shall be returning to Paris tonight, and then to New York where I start a tour with an all-girl orchestra. I have to earn a living, but some of those small towns don’t take too kindly to folks like me. There are men who think female musicians are easy pickings. But don’t worry, I pack a .38 Police Special along with the perfume, and a pressed gardenia mother gave me years ago. I shall be okay.

The young woman goes to Delius and kisses him, then exits as the Soldier enters. She gives the Soldier something…

DELIUS : Who? What?

SOLDIER : It’s me. Nothing to worry about. She’ll be fine, you’ll see.

DELIUS : She? But…

The Solider places into Delius’s left hand that which was given to him by the Young American Women. Delius grips it tightly. The Soldier then moves to the back and watches as Jelka enters and moves to Delius.

DELIUS : Who?

JELKA : It’s me, Fred, nothing to worry about.

SOLDIER : She’ll be fine, you’ll see.

DELIUS : She?

JELKA : Fred?

DELIUS : Did we have a letter delivered today, Jelka?

JELKA : A letter, today? No deliveries today, Fred.

DELIUS : By hand?

JELKA : No, not today.

DELIUS : Oh. (Pause) Have they gone?

JELKA : Yes. Edward had to get back to Paris if you remember, he’s conducting his Violin Concerto tomorrow with that young man.

DELIUS : Menuhin.

JELKA : Yes.

DELIUS : And the chemistry set.

JELKA : Chemistry set?

DELIUS : In the brown paper parcel, a present from Edward, it exploded!

JELKA : Exploded? Brown paper parcel?

DELIUS : But I saw it. ( Pause. ) I have seen many things today.

JELKA : No parcel, my dear, I can assure you.

Pause.

DELIUS : Joe will look after Hildegarde.

JELKA : Joe?

DELIUS : Edward’s driver.

JELKA : But, ah, I see. (Pause) She did make rather a mess with the champagne though.

DELIUS : As long as it wasn’t the Bollinger 16.

JELKA : No. Not the Bollinger. ( Jelka calls. ) Hildegarde?

There is no reply.

JELKA : Where is the child?

Pause.

DELIUS : Perhaps we can listen to the concert on the wireless?

JELKA : Broken, you know that Fred. We will have to get another one, the French really cannot make wirelesses. I’ll ask Beecham if he would be kind enough to send us a new HMV set, what do you say?

DELIUS : Yes. (Pause) Well perhaps you can read some Hemingway to me?

JELKA : I don’t think we have any Hemingway, my dear.

DELIUS : No? I meant to give Joe ‘The Four Just Men‘…

JELKA : Are you alright, Fred?

DELIUS : Yes. Just feeling rather tired. Perhaps I’ll get some sleep.

JELKA : Yes. I will carry on with the painting.

Jelka goes to the easel and paints. Delius lifts his left hand. He then slumps in his wheel chair, his left arm falling, and as it does so his hand opens and flower petals fall to the floor. Enter Elgar.

SOLDIER & ELGAR : You’ll be fine.

Jelka rushes to Delius.

JELKA : Fred? Fred!?

The Soldier then pushes Delius off in the wheelchair followed by Elgar. Jelka is left standing, looking at Delius, with her back to the audience.

JELKA : Fred!!

Fade to black. Fade Music.

CURTAIN
A version of this play was first produced at The Shakespeare Institute in Stratford in 1999, and another at Stratford Civic Hall in 2003.

THE END