DELIUS : A pianola what?

ELGAR : In the attic, a pianola.

JELKA : A pianola? I do not understand.

DELIUS ( To Jelka ) : Ein speilen klavier, ja? Mit pedal? Pedal treten und musik…

Jelka cuts in.

JELKA : What the Americans call a player-piano, I know that.

DELIUS : Mein Gott. Do go on, Edward.

ELGAR : Well as I start to approach the pianola an elderly woman enters the room, sits at the instrument and lifts the lid. I can clearly see the makers name – Concertola, Birmingham, England. The elderly woman then starts to pedal and I can see the white piano roll begin to move upwards. And do you know as soon as the music started the dust that had covered the pianola vanished, and the wood shone as if newly polished, and sunlight poured into the attic from what had appeared to be a covered window, and the music rose and rose in volume. And then, standing in the sunlight, is a young woman in a bright pink dress, and in her hair a pink ribbon, and she is looking at me…

Yehudi Menuhin with Elgar

The lights go down, and a spot picks out Elgar, and another spot picks out a young woman in pink. We hear a piano version of Elgar’s ‘In Smyrna’…

WOMAN : Hello, Edward.

ELGAR : Who…?

WOMAN : Don’t you remember me?

ELGAR : Should I?

WOMAN : No, but I remember you. Along the banks of the Severn, always talking about music, about poetry, especially Shakespeare. And your father’s lovely shop, full of shining instruments and the latest music from all over the world, and the way the bell used to ring when someone opened the door and how one could smell freshly baked bread from the bakery next to my father’s shoe shop?

ELGAR : Yes.

WOMAN : You told me you loved me that day it rained and we took shelter in that barn, do you remember?

ELGAR : I remember the rain…

WOMAN : Edward! Why do you always tease me so?

ELGAR : I remember.

WOMAN : And you kissed me.

ELGAR : I did?

WOMAN : You did, and wanted more.

ELGAR : My Saxon warrior blood – Aelfgar. I expect you refused me?

WOMAN : I did not.

ELGAR : I know. And the rain turned to sun, and that most beautiful of smells – of wet earth, and of you…

WOMAN : Of us.

ELGAR : Of us.

WOMAN : We were young.

ELGAR : Indeed. I remember you now.

WOMAN : I know.

ELGAR : Is this a dream?

WOMAN : Not at the moment, but when you wake.

ELGAR : When I wake. Do I have to wake?

WOMAN : No, you can stay here with me, if you wish.

ELGAR : And after the rain?

WOMAN : Oh, we walked alongside the river for a while, I remember you sang to a swan - A Salut d’Amour - a lovely song. You said it was for me. But you gave it to another.

ELGAR : My swan. Do you mind?

WOMAN : Not now.

ELGAR : I read Walt Whitman to you.

WOMAN : Yes. We sat amongst some reeds.

ELGAR : God and eidolons
And thee my soul,
Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations,
Thy yearning amply fed at last, prepared to meet,
Thy mates, eidolons.
Thy body permanent,
The body lurking…

WOMAN : There within thy body,

The only purport of the form thou art…

ELGAR : The real one myself…

WOMAN : An image, an eidolon.
Thy very songs not in thy songs,
No special strains to sing, none for itself.

ELGAR : But from the whole resulting…

WOMAN & ELGAR : rising at last and floating…

Pause.

ELGAR : Wish I’d met him…

WOMAN : Edward?

ELGAR : Yes?

WOMAN : Why did you let me go?

ELGAR : But you were ill, my dear.

WOMAN : No, not ill.

ELGAR : But they said you had to leave, consumption, that you needed…

WOMAN : Not ill, Edward, do you not understand.

EDWARD : Not sure. It was very sudden, and so far away.

WOMAN : Oh, Edward, can you not see?

ELGAR : I see you now, that day in the rain. I feel you now that day in the rain. I am with you now that day in the rain, we are together now that day in the rain…

WOMAN : Oh Edward, my darling Edward, do you not see me now?

ELGAR : And she was gone.

Lights down to black. The music fades…

Go to Part 8.

JELKA ( READING ) :

My Dear Fritzy:

Just a line. We leave next week for St Moritz. Sweet one, I think constantly of you. We have one tremendous interest – your work. I’d make every sacrifice toward it for you, even if it meant losing you, my sweet love. I am so sorry about the last time we met. I acted badly. I will not ask your forgiveness ( you should not ask for mine ), just your understanding. Promise me you won’t worry? Pin your faith to me and you are sure to win. I want to see your dear eyes lose that troubled look – and they will in time. Don’t forget my ‘moustache’ will you, how could you, and don’t think it small – it means something to me now, even if I couldn’t put it into words. I should think you would understand that after I had first loved you like that. I love you with all my heart, you are the only friend in whom I trust, and the only one who means anything to me.

Give my regards to Miss Rosen when you return from Norway. I do know her of course, and met her once – bought two of her paintings – although she will probably not remember me. But she is a fine woman and no doubt best suited to you, but how I long to see you again. Take care, and I have given my husband an ultimatum about Tuesdays. Perhaps your leg really is a result of too much Champagne. Time moves on, Fritz.

Your own Claire.

Jelka puts the letter back in a pocket. THE MUSIC FADES

JELKA ( WHISPERING TO DELIUS ) : Who was Claire, Fred?

DELIUS : Hmm?

ELGAR : Jelka?

Enter Hildegarde.

JELKA : Yes, Hilde?

HILDEGARDE : Madam, there is a young woman at the door. ( Pause. )

JELKA : Yes?

HILDEGARDE : She wishes to see Mister Delius.

Pause.

JELKA : Tell her we are sorry but Mister Delius is not well, that he is sleeping and cannot be disturbed. Tell her that.

HILDEGARDE : Yes, madam.

Hildegarde exits. Jelka looks at Delius.

JELKA : Why, Fred? Why do you still do this to me? You sit there dreaming your life away. I still have to face this world…

ELGAR : Jelka?

Hildegarde enters.

JELKA : Yes, Hilde?

HILDEGARDE : She has gone, madam, but asks that you give this letter to Mister Delius.

Hildegarde hands Jelka a letter. Jelka looks at it, then puts it with the other one.

JELKA : Thank you, Hilde.

Hildegarde exits.

ELGAR : I say, are you alright, Jelka?

JELKA : Yes… fine.

ELGAR : Is Fred asleep?

JELKA : Yes. He sinks easily into sleep now.

ELGAR : You are a brave woman, Jelka. I’m not at all sure I could have coped with Alice had she been in a similar state. Not at all sure.

JELKA : One does. Love is a very strange beast don’t you think. There may be many reasons why one shouldn’t love someone, very positive reasons why one should hate.

ELGAR : They are too close perhaps – love and hate. Too close to separate?

JELKA : No. Love is all powerful, it can never be escaped, not completely. Oh, you may think it has gone, but no, it can creep back and attack, and if you’re not careful, destroy.

ELGAR : Escape? Destroy?

JELKA : I was not careful you see.

ELGAR : Escape has obviously been on your mind?

JELKA : Recently? Oh yes. I look at Fred now and see a wreck of a man, where once he was so agile and powerful. Now look at him, asleep and dribbling like a baby. Blind and paralysed.

ELGAR : Do you see that as some sort of punishment for the…

JELKA : Excesses of youth? Now come on, Edward. I don’t think any of us can deny that as young people we dipped our toes into the pot of excess, that is the privilege the young are given. It is only when one is young that one has the energy surely.

ELGAR : And it is when we are young that we often lack the courage to act on the impulse of love.

JELKA : Or are deprived the ability to act.

ELGAR : That is where the courage is required…

JELKA : Fred was unlucky. He could not deprive himself of love. He most certainly did not lack courage in that department. Women were drawn to him, he to them. ( PAUSE ) He was just unlucky… so was I.

ELGAR : It is…

JELKA : Syphilis? Yes. ( Pause ) He may have caught it in America, at least that is the excuse we most often use, when we talk about it at all. I suppose it puts a distance between us and the cause, turns it into an inevitability – the infliction of the new world upon the old - that it is the fault of society and not the individual. Useful at times I can assure you. But we don’t have much to do with society, and most people think Fred is suffering from one of many ailments old men succumb to. Best left at that I think. And Fred won’t have anything to do with doctors, considers them all to be charlatans.

Pause

ELGAR : Do you think marriage a worthy institution? You and Fred have been married many years.

JELKA : Worthy? They have been thirty devoted years…

Delius awakens

DELIUS : Thirty six, surely.

JELKA : We lived together for six years before marrying, remember?

DELIUS : Of course. How stupid of me. ( To Elgar ) Over the brush. What do you make of that, Edward?

ELGAR : I don’t know. This is certainly not Worcestershire. That would have been frowned upon in Broadheath I can assure you.

JELKA : As you say, this is not Worcestershire, it is France, but believe me things are no different, not in reality, they just appear so on the surface. And Germany is very much like Worcestershire. Is that not so, Fred?

DELIUS : Indeed. And Yorkshire too. But it goes on, people live together, people have children outside of marriage. It is only when religion gets its grubby little fingers into the pie that things go wrong – then one is either ostracised, and you become an outsider, or you conform, and forever have to live it down - conformity and punishment side by side forever.

ELGAR : But society does require that people conform. Where would we be without conformity? Anarchy. George has just come back from Russia and he was saying…

DELIUS : But hasn’t Russia been in a state of anarchy since the revolution, a complete breakdown…

ELGAR : But surely, Russia is now one of the most stable and organised states on earth, and example to us all of state control blending with a caring attitude towards its people…

DELIUS : But millions died from starvation in the civil war.

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JELKA: Perhaps you should write an opera based upon your friend’s book, Edward?

ELGAR: I fear not, Jelka. Fred is the musical poet. I am just a journeyman in comparison. Fred! You must write it. You have it in you. A Village Romeo and Juliet was sublime.

DELIUS: I fear there is not enough time, Edward.

ELGAR: Time, that ghostly light about our heads.

JELKA: Shaw?

ELGAR: No, Elgar. Just thought of it. But I’ll tell you something, audiences do love good tunes, this is why popular music is so…well, popular.

JELKA: Absolutely.

We hear the opening bars of Noel Coward’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen, which continues…

ELGAR: And I’ll tell you something else, popular composers use leitmotiv all the time. One must of course accentuate the rhythm, make the beat the dominant factor. Add to this what the jazz musician I believe calls the riff, which is a repetition that builds up tension and creates dynamics, and you have something quite magical. The nearest I came to it was in Pomp and Circumstance, and Land of Bloody Hope and Glory. Oh, how I wish I could write tunes like Gershwin and Ellington. Jelka, you really must take Fred to see Showboat, George and I did so enjoy it. Paul Robeson has the finest voice I’ve ever heard.

DELIUS: Very fond of Noel Coward.

Lights down, just a spot on Elgar and Delius. Elgar is now standing behind Delius. They now mime to Coward’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen…

ELGAR:

In tropical climes there are certain times of day,
When all the citizens retire,
To take their clothes off and perspire.
It’s one of those rules
That the greatest fools obey,
Because the sun is far too sultry
And one must avoid its ultry violet ray.

DELIUS:

The natives grieve when the white man leaves
Their huts,
Because they’re obviously, definitely nuts!
BOTH: Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.

ELGAR:

The Japanese don’t care to,
The Chinese wouldn’t dare to.
Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly
From twelve to one.
But Englishmen detest a siesta.
Etc…

At the end of the mime Elgar and Delius take a bow. Jelka is laughing

JELKA: Bravo, bravo.

ELGAR: I wish I could write such tinkling tunes. Fred, isn’t there a line in on of Coward’s plays about the power of cheap music?

DELIUS: Private Lives.

ELGAR: That’s it…

DELIUS: Very flat, Norfolk.

General laughter

DELIUS: More champagne, Jelka.

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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…

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