Part 2 - Elgar and Delius
ELGAR: Of course. But you must humour two old men, Jelka; and I have to say, my dear, you look radiant, so beautiful.
JELKA: Sir Edward, please. And why must I humour two old men?
ELGAR: What else is there, Madam Delius? We have all tried in our way to humour the very world itself, have we not, to make it a place that even politicians might not wish to spoil. But spoil it they do. So why not humour the two of us?
JELKA: What? Have you given in? And such a friend of Mr Shaw. I had expected more.
ELGAR: George would say that expectation usually leads to disappointment. No, Madam, I have not given in, but as we travel this dark valley that is the 1930s a little humour is welcome surely?
JELKA: George says! George says! Have you no voice of your own? (Pause) Forgive me, that was uncalled for.
DELIUS: I thought you didn’t want to talk of politics, Jelka?
Jelka gives Delius a withering stare. Elgar then tries to lighten the mood.
ELGAR: Ha. Do you know, Fred, if I were forty years younger I’d steal her away from you and no mistake. Such passion, such, such? Where would we go, Jelka? The South Seas? Taihiti perhaps, follow in the footsteps of Gauguin? Paint, write music, eat coconuts, drink wine, make love beneath the palms?
Delius then picks up on Elgar’s mood
DELIUS: You are a cad, sir! If you were forty years younger I’d not be the way I am and would demand a dual to protect Jelka’s honour. Pistols or swords, Sir Edward William Elgar, 1st Baronet of Broadheath?
ELGAR: There speaks a Bavarian Yorkshireman. But as you are aware I have little facility with swords. Pistols, sir! Damn good shot - even for a First Baronet of Broadheath, not to mention a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order!
DELIUS: Titles, man, letters, nothing more. Of little consequence in the real world, you could easily have refused them.
ELGAR: Is that so? I don’t remember you refusing your Companion of Honour.
DELIUS: Hmm? A trifle, a mere nod toward my natural genius, no more. Now to business. Pistols? Manstoppers? Cowardly weapons. And Bavaria be damned, Edward, Westphalia. Pistols? Bah! Swords! Real weapons, real blood, real fighting at close quarters. Now, when I was a young man in Leipzig…
JELKA: Fred, enough.
ELGAR: He’d never find us would he, Jelka?
JELKA: And if I were forty years younger I would avoid the two of you like a contagion. In fact forty years ago Fred had still not met me. Perhaps that might have been preferable, what do you think, Fred, Fritzy? What do you say?
DELIUS (Angrily): What do you want me to say, Jelka, that I wish I’d never met you? Why do you taunt me so? Anyway, our guest doesn’t want to hear this. All I know is that forty years ago Hitler was still only four years old. Someone should have kidnapped him, broken his scrawny neck and buried him deep in a forest, deep in a German forest, and the whole of the German Royal Family, and their English cousins, and the landed Junkers while they were at it. What do you say, Edward? What do you say Jelka? Should the mob have murdered the Rosens’, and the Delius’ and buried the damned lot of them in a dark German forest? I say they should.
ELGAR: I say, Fred, that’s a bit strong isn’t it? Murder? Should we talk of it so lightly?
DELIUS: I am not talking lightly. Others seem not to be either. There is unfinished business ahead.
ELGAR: Others? Unfinished business? Oh, I’m damned if I know. (Pause) I was in Brazil not long ago, and their forests are ruddy dark too. Perhaps we should send him there? Hitler, eh?
DELIUS: With Goring.
ELGAR: Ha! Goring it is. But don’t murder them. Let them wander around until the natives stew ‘em up for supper? Goring alone should last them a week.
JELKA: Hitler and Goring as Hansel und Gretal? Splendid idea. Probably do the world a power of good.
ELGAR: D’you know forty years ago I was still in the thrall of Oscar Wilde. Now if someone had left him deep in a forest the natives might very well have been drinking Absynthe and using nail polish within a month. Now let’s get off the subject. Madam I am as dry as a dog’s tail in a following wind.
They all laugh


Sir Edward Elgar would have been 150 in June this year, and something more of a prodigy at that age than even he had been in life.
