an Australian opera by Barry Conyngham | libretto: Murray Copland Victoria State Opera Orchestra conducted by John Hopkins Luigi Maria D’Albertis, naturalist totalling 13 minutes. Both the composer John Wood and the librettist were closely involved Clarence Wilcox, protégé of D’Albertis in this editing process and are satisfied Robert Korosy that the resulting recording loses nothing Clergyman Malcolm Robertson as a listening experience. What little action is lost is more than made up for by Recording produced by the Australian the creation of a continuous piece with Broadcasting Corporation flowing transitions from scene to scene. ABC producer Paul Petran ABC technical production Peter Thorp and Lou Szabolics 1 The kite 4’36” Post production and preparation for CD 2 The parcel 4’04” an Australian opera by Barry Conyngham Martin Wright (Move Records) libretto by Murray Copland 3 The marriage 4’08” Cover painting (from the first performance 4 The picture 0’31” © 1984 Australian Broadcasting Corporation poster) Shaun Gurton P 1987 Move Records Photographs David Parker 5 The flight 2’15” and Ok Tedi Mining 6 The waltz 4’21” move.com.au Publisher Universal Edition 7 The goal 3’31” (in Australia: Boosey & Hawkes) Premiere performance 8 The hat 4’07” FLY This project is assisted by the Australia 9 D’Albertis 4’48” an opera by Barry Conyngham Council, the Federal Government’s arts 10 The blame 4’05” Victoria State Opera Orchestra funding and advisory body. conducted by John Hopkins 11 Geoffrey 1’55” director and librettist: Murray Copland 12 The explorer 4’22” designer: Shaun Gurton 13 The course 4’04” lighting designer: John Beckett Fly was first performed at the State vocal preparation: Graham Cox Theatre, Victorian Arts Centre on 14 The plunder 6’00” assisted by Helen English 25 August 1984. On 29 August, the 15 The undertaking 4’43” stage manager: Ann Reid Australian Broadcasting Corporation 16 Darwin 2’51” produced by the Victoria State Opera presented Fly in a direct broadcast on ABC FM. The present recording was edited 17 The sunset 4’50” Lawrence Hargrave Anthony Roden from the 27 and 29 August performances. 18 The clergyman 5’15” Maggie Hargrave Margaret Haggart The complete opera, in two Acts runs 19 The shears 5’33” Margaret and Olive (their children) for 86 minutes; in order to contain it on Val Mills and Christine Ferraro compact disc, ten cuts were necessary move.com.au A note on the opera genesis of all the linear elements of Fly, even where the lines are partitioned Claims for musical or structural into small two- and three-note motives, uniqueness in a recent opera are not and presented in a free rhythmical or commonplace these days. Usually opera speech rhythmical way. For example, is seen as a conservative form bounded by the relationship between the set the expectations of its public, a public that “songs” (mostly sung by Hargrave) has apparently rejected the considerable and the material of the dialogue and experimentation of the first half of this group moments may be obscure at first century. True, the content and theatricality hearing against the continuous and often of opera has been extended by recent tangential orchestral flow. works, but here the change is propelled Finally, while the colour and texture by the theatre and its development. The of the orchestra owe much to recent pursuit of spectacle on one hand, with developments (particularly the work works involving elements of circus and of the Polish School and of my teachers entertainment, and complex modes and friends Peter Sculthorpe and Toru COMPOSER of presentation on the other — dream, BARRY Takemitsu), they are used here in a fantasy and other non-narrative methods CONYNGHAM technique of layering, harnessing streams — are the usual means of extending the of musical imagery beyond the familiar to boundaries of opera. security of the “set piece”. Aims are not a continuous flow, supporting the text but Thus, rather than speaking of the always results, dreams not always made always tantalisingly ambiguous. many ways in which Fly absorbs the real, but I wish to point the listener to BARRY CONYNINGHAM existing tradition, in this short note I the particular musical texture and the would like to focus on those unusual relationship between voice and orchestra aspects of the piece that are very much that evolved in an attempt to encompass conscious attempts to extend the form. all the above elements. From the beginning, Murray Copland The orchestra and the voice in Fly are and I wished to pace the drama of the often in a very free temporal relationship: piece close to real life, to approach real the instruments pursuing a particular speech rhythms. Not an original aim by gesture or texture, the voice guided by any means — but it was also my desire to the drama and the rhythm of the text avoid the urgency and relentlessness of suspended above it. This relationship was the declamatory style, and the barrenness to enable control of the mood on the one of continuous recitative. I wished to hand, and preserve the natural pace and capture some of the melodic freshness of richness of human drama on the other. the “popular” song, the dramatic impact Melody, with its magical ability to of post-serial rhythmic fluidity, the formal communicate and reverberate, is the A note on Lawrence Hargrave

Familiarity breeds, if not contempt, a kind of invisibility. A picture of Lawrence Hargrave, alongside a few examples of his delicate aeronautical draughtsmanship, embellishes one side of the Australian twenty-dollar banknote; but his personality and achievements can hardly be said to form a vivid image in the minds of many Australians. The blame for this state of affairs may arguably be said to be Hargrave’s own. There was a streak of self-defeating waywardness in his nature which, over and over again, stood in the way of his longing for fame and recognition. THE ORIGINAL DESIGN FOR THE AUSTRALIAN $20 NOTE, ISSUED 1966, BUT NO LONGER IN CIRCULATION Contributing, as he did, to so many fields of endeavour, his refusal ever to patent his inventions, his insistence on many commentators who have failed tell Hargrave’s story with truthfulness staying stranded in the comparative to fall under the spell of Hargrave’s and clarity, and to imply a coherent isolation of Australia, and a perverse considerable charm, his titanic energy, and interpretation of his sometimes quirky unwillingness to push certain lines of the unmistakable signs of originality and but always fascinating personality. The scientific enquiry all the way to their downright genius evident at every turn in libretto is obviously very indebted to logical fruition, have combined to his career. Hargrave’s various biographers, yet may impart a certain nebulous quality to his One still, from time to time, stumbles itself make claim to a certain originality, in achievements: it is not always easy to across the assumption that only silly that it seeks to explain clearly the probable estimate their intrinsic excellence, or stories will do for opera — as if Da Ponte, emotional nexus between Hargrave’s early the extent of their influence, or even Boito, and Hofmannsthal had lived experiences on the D’Albertis expedition exactly what they are supposed to have and laboured for nothing. Lawrence up the Fly River and his later refusal to been. Thus one recent biographer has Hargrave’s story is anything but a silly cash in on his inventions by taking out felt himself justified in pooh-poohing one. Properly understood, his life was patents. Hargrave’s aeronautical contribution as one of extraordinary inner heroism Every attempt has been made to make of far less worth and significance than his and moral integrity. Selective as this the opera self-explanatory — able to stand earlier explorations in New Guinea. opera has obviously had to be in the by itself, even for those who have never That is an extreme and exceptional number of specific incidents it could heard of Hargrave. However, it may be view, however. There have not been hope to dramatise, it does attempt to convenient here to set out a few of the basic biographical facts. Navigation Company, where for the adherence to it, have puzzled some of One of the main motives that induced next five years he acquired an invaluable the biographers. Yet there is no lack of Hargrave’s father to migrate from England practical groundwork in engineering and evidence as to the complex characters to Australia was, without a doubt, an various maritime skills. of the two men, nor as to the nature of intense desire to put as much distance as Then, in his early twenties, the tensions that built up between them possible between himself and his wife, there began a period of restless during their long ordeal. These tensions Hargrave’s mother. As a struggling young adventurousness. He joined one after may never actually have exploded in the barrister, hardly able to support his wife another of the expeditions, which kind of verbal show-down dramatised and children, John Hargrave had suffered happened to be proliferating just at that in this opera; this scene may be, strictly some form of breakdown which led his time, aimed at opening up the unexplored speaking, as apocryphal as the encounter, wife, on her own initiative, to have him interior of New Guinea. This culminated in Schiller and Donizetti, between Mary admitted to a new public lunatic asylum in 1876 in his spectacularly successful Stuart and Elizabeth. Yet Hargrave and at Colney Hatch in Middlesex. In a very trip up the desperately hazardous, D’Albertis were at least actually present short time, he was released, completely malaria-ridden Fly River as engineer and in the same place together, cooped up in cured — but he never forgave his wife cartographer to the flamboyant Italian the same claustrophobic little steamer, and for what she had done to him. Within a naturalist, Luigi Maria D’Albertis. They some of the things the libretto has them year he had sailed for Sydney, taking only penetrated 580 miles upstream from say to each other’s face they were later to Lawrence’s elder brother with him. It was the mouth of the river, and there is no say on paper in a bitter exchange of letters. 1856. Lawrence was six. doubt whatever that they would never Two years later, Hargrave passed Nine years were to pass before John have got there without the skills, and the out of this phase of restless travelling Hargrave sent for his younger son. personal courage and physical strength, and adventure, marrying a Sydney Already on the voyage out, we find the of Lawrence Hargrave. The point they girl and settling down to a post at the youthful Lawrence fascinated by the reached was so far beyond any hitherto Sydney Observatory, where he was apparently effortless motion of the great, considered possible by Europeans that, soon to cover himself with glory by his tireless albatrosses that flew beside the fourteen years after the event, Sir William brilliant hypotheses on the origin of the ship, as if to pace her. McGregor, the then Administrator of New meteorological effects caused by the John Hargrave had done very well Guinea, publicly questioned D’Albertis’s explosion of Krakatoa, which brought for himself in the Colony. He was now a estimate of the distance. This provoked him to the notice of the Royal Society in judge — and had been Solicitor-General. Hargrave to break, at long last, the silence London. He was also turning out to have a he had so puzzlingly maintained all these It was at this point that Hargrave’s life considerable flair for land-speculation. years on the subject of the D’Albertis of intensive private experimentation really It soon became clear, however, that expedition. Producing his own map of established itself, never to abate until his young Lawrence’s heart was not in the the river in corroboration, he revealed death thirty-five years later. The fields of legal studies to which his father had that D’Albertis had extracted from him a his enquiry were far too numerous and automatically destined him. Instead, at promise never to publish his own account varied to go into here — a few of them are the age of seventeen, he obtained a post of the journey. mentioned in the opera — but perhaps in the workshops of the Australian Steam This promise, and Hargrave’s his dominant obsession, to which he was to return again and again, even to the son Geoffrey’s boat-race win is ruefully extent of allowing it to divert and distract recounted by Hargrave himself in a letter him from more promising paths, was to his eldest daughter. the attempt to analyse the principles of There is no doubt that the failure of motion and flight in the natural world. To his experiments to achieve greater world- his dying day, he was convinced that the wide recognition was a bitter pill for underlying secret of all such motion was a Hargrave to swallow. He was a passionate wavelike manner of progression which he Darwinian, of the old-fashioned optimistic dubbed “trochiodal”. kind, finding in Evolution a sure We may leave to the experts the debate guarantee of future Human Progress, over the exact extent to which Hargrave a Progress he was utterly dedicated to positively contributed to the eventual forwarding. It was essentially out of achievement of human flight. There was this determination to make his findings certainly no shortage of scoffers in his accessible to posterity that, towards the own day to dismiss him as a crank. Yet it end of his life, he took the much criticised is equally certain that such an undisputed step of donating nearly two hundred of authority as Chanute in the United States his experimental models to the Deutsches had the greatest respect for Hargrave’s Technological Museum in Munich: he did abilities and kept in constant touch with so only after he had been turned down by him. New South Wales, Victoria, England, the A degree of initial success with his United States, and France. By a terrible aviation experiments tempted Hargrave irony, in less than five years, Australia to move with his wife and children to was at war with Germany, and Geoffrey, London: this proved to be one of his Hargrave’s beloved son, on whom he more disastrous experiments. Rightly counted to bring his life’s work to fruition, or wrongly, he considered himself to died with so many others at Gallipoli. The have been slighted and humiliated in news broke Hargrave’s heart. London. In high dudgeon, he dragged Two months later he collapsed, was his protesting family back to Australia admitted to hospital, and died. He had and never afterwards budged from his kept working up to the very last. self-imposed exile and amateur status in Sydney. The London episode no doubt MURRAY COPLAND exacerbated the growing tensions, amply documented, between Hargrave and his wife. The little incident, built into the opera, when Mrs. Hargrave refused to waltz with him in honour of their q Scene 1 awfully famous and rich? longer every year! 1906. The back verandah of Hargrave’s house, Margaret: We? Famous and rich? Not if Margaret (attacking the package with a large with wooden steps to the garden below, which father can help it. pair of scissors): Open, Sesame! Open, stretches down to the foreshore of Sydney Olive: Wouldn’t Daddy want to be Sesame! Open! Harbour. A screen door leads from the famous, then? Like in those Milton The package contains a stack of overseas verandah into the house at street level; and lines I had for homework: newspapers and magazines. there is a door from the garden into Hargrave’s “Fame is the spur that the clear spirit Mrs Hargrave: Bags I The Illustrated workshop in the basement. Someone (unseen) doth raise, That last — ” London News ! is flying a kite down on the foreshore. Olive, a (She can’t remember the noun.) Margaret (unwrapping): Let’s see schoolgirl, is watching from the verandah. “That last — ” ...... Country Life, The Ladies Field ... Margaret: “Infirmity.” (Finding The Illustrated London News she Olive: Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly ... ! (holding out her hand) dangles it tantalisingly.) Margaret (from inside the house): Olive! Come, Olive. Mother needs us. Aa-ah! Ah-ha-ha! Ha-ha! Olive! Olive gives Margaret her hand. Mrs Hargrave: Give it here! Give it here! Olive: Coming! Olive (reminding herself): “That last Margaret: Paper, Lady? Latest from Lovely kite, you believe you’re free; infirmity.” lovely London! You dream you can fly on — endlessly, “That last infirmity.” Mrs Hargrave: Meg, I declare! tirelessly — As they go in, the stage lights fade to darkness. Mrs Hargrave snatches The Illustrated Margaret (as before): Olive! London News. Margaret searches quickly Olive (moving reluctantly towards the door): 2 Scene 2 through several papers, as if checking up on a But when they pull your string, down The same, a few months later. At an upstairs particular story. you must come! window Olive is using a telescope to watch her Margaret: Now we shall see ... Now we Margaret (coming out through the screen brother, Geoffrey, in a boat-race out on the shall see ... door): There you are! harbour. Margaret, followed closely by Mrs Mrs Hargrave: If it is true ... Olive: I’ve been watching Daddy play Hargrave, hurries out through the screen door If your father sees the race is won and with his kite on the foreshore. carrying high in mock processional a large lost — Look! It keeps itself so steady in the postal package. If he accepts he’ll never be the first — wind! Oh, Margaret! I would so love I think he might resign himself ... to be able to fly! Margaret: Ta-ra-ta-ta! Might leave it ... Margaret: Yes. So would father. Mrs Hargrave: At last! At last! Might give us all some peace ... Olive: Daddy says in America for years Margaret: A lifeline! A lifeline! Margaret: To be the first? Is that, for him, They’ve used his kites to tell about the Mrs Hargrave: I thought they’d never the spur? weather. Can it be true do you think? come. “To scorn delights and live laborious Margaret: Don’t you believe your father, Margaret (setting the package down on the days ... ” Olive? verandah table): Now to catch up with the To be the first man to fly ... Olive: Oh, yes, I do, of course! Only ... real world again! Father never seems to care for glory. only ... If it is true ... Won’t we soon be Mrs Hargrave: I swear the ships take Mrs Hargrave: Not care? Of course he cares! It was just after his New Guinea time Hesperides ... Of course he cares, of course he does ... The time he never speaks of ... I saw myself the wife of a celebrity — What you see is only pride. I knew he’d sailed far up some In fashionable gowns, a house in Why, that day down at the coast — desperate river: Kensington, The day the great kite hoisted him To me he was an Argonaut, Renowned for my at-homes — oh, high — Laughing at fever — my brave Meg! How magical! You don’t recall, you were too young, astronomer! Margaret (thoughtfully, to herself): But I remember! Ah, Meg! It was our best time — “Fame is the spur that the clear spirit The way he was, the light in his face ... Oh, Margaret, Margaret! — that magic doth raise He thought it was beginning: summer, (That last infirmity of noble mind) “At last! At last! It is beginning” — That summer of weird sunsets: To scorn delights and live laborious That’s what he said. Such colours, changing, changing ... days; But it wasn’t beginning ... Unheard-of hues! But the fair guerdon when we hope to All these nine long years, all this Folk marvelled. But, as for Laurie’s find labour, notions, And think to burst out into sudden All this money poured down the Why, he was “crank” and “crackpot”! blaze ... ” drain, A veil of dust and ashes — that’s what Mrs Hargrave: I soon came down to All his worthless junk in there ... he said — earth. To earth in Sydney. We stayed (She is indicating the workshop in the Of ashes, out in Earth’s farthest in Sydney. Wife of the crank inventor. basement.) atmosphere ... Shoes to walk on water, adding All my empty days, left on my own ... Margaret, Mrs Hargrave: Krakatoa ... machines, a sun’s-rays water heater. No, no ... Mrs Hargrave: It was Krakatoa. I couldn’t step outside the door That one short lift into the air back Margaret, Mrs Hargrave: without people then Was no beginning ... Krakatoa’s cloud-wrack ... pointing: “She’s the wife of the mad Olive (encourages her brother from the Krakatoa’s dusty smithereens ... kite-flyer — upstairs window): Mrs Hargrave: When the world heard of that prodigal fool who’s —” Sun-sparkle, harbour-swell, that exploded island, They wiped the Margaret’s attention has been suddenly caught Seagull and spray ... grins from their mouths quick- by something in one of the newspapers now Margaret: It seems unfair ... smart, I’ll tell you! scattered around the verandah. (Olive leaves Olive: Geoffrey ... ! Margaret: London ... ! the upstairs window at this point.) Margaret: He does work so hard. Mrs Hargrave: The Royal Society Margaret: Mother! Mother! Look! Olive: Sail ... ! Resounded at that time with Lawrence 4 This paper’s more recent: Margaret: And still with all the vigour of Hargrave’s name! A perfectly successful flight in Paris — a boy. And in those days, although we never Not just speculation, nor a rumour — 3 Mrs Hargrave: Indestructible. spoke of it, Ever so many details. And a picture. I was so proud of him, when we were We were like Argonauts — Oh, Mother! Look at the picture! married ... And Fame and Fortune our Mrs Hargrave takes the paper and stares at the illustration. Fly ... ! True ... ! dance! Mrs Hargrave: If this is true ... Mrs Hargrave: You mean to tell me Come along, Olive! Let’s waltz! Hargrave comes hurriedly out through the Men have finally found out how to fly Olive runs to him and they waltz boisterously. screen door, holding the telescope which he is And you never even mentioned it? Margaret: Father! You’re supposed to be opening. Olive is with him. Not to me ? ill! 5 Mrs Hargrave (holding out the paper): Hargrave: I didn’t think you’d care — Throughout the dance Mrs Hargrave stands Laurie, have you seen this? No one else in Australia seems to! motionless and unsmiling. Hargrave and Hargrave gives the telescope to Olive and takes Margaret: But, father, this French plane — Olive separate. Hargrave turns to his wife. the paper. Hargrave: Yes, Margaret? Hargrave: Madam, will you honour me Hargrave: Ah-ha! The elegant and Margaret: Look at it! with a waltz? ingenious — the inventive-Monsieur You can’t tell me it isn’t like your Mrs Hargrave: Thank you, no. Santos-Dumont in his kites? Hargrave: Surely to honour our goggles Taking champagne beside his Hargrave: True, I can’t. outstanding son? apparatus! Mrs Hargrave: Then why are you not Mrs Hargrave: I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve a (He hands the paper back.) mentioned? headache. Thank you, my dear. Clever chap. Margaret: Not one word! She goes and sits with her back to the others. Margaret: But these papers have only just Olive (who has been watching the boat-race At a loss, Olive sinks into a rocking chair arri— ... You knew! through the telescope): and flicks over a magazine. Hargrave stands Father, you knew all this had Geoffrey’s winning! Geoffrey’s deflated. Margaret goes to him and takes his happened. winning! arm. Hargrave: Of course I did. Praise be, I Geoffrey’s winning! Daddy! Margaret: Father, was it very terrible for still have contacts: Mrs Hargrave: You’ve no one to blame you? Chanute wrote me screeds about it but yourself! Hargrave: Terrible? Was what terrible? pronto. I’ve told you and told you — Margaret: Hearing that it had happened: He’s very faithful — he keeps me up Hargrave: Yes, and I’ve told you how I men had flown — to date. feel about patents. (taking the telescope But far away — without you ... Margaret: Then, it is true? A man did from Olive) You must have been disappointed. truly fly? How are they doing? You must have hoped — Hargrave: Oh, absolutely! Didn’t you 6 Olive: I think it’s all over. I think Hargrave: I? Here in Australia? know, Meg? we’ve won. Without support? Without funds? He has. Hargrave: We did! We won it easily! And With not a And the Wrights, of course, in private. our boy Geoffrey — Single assistant? Dear me, yes — becoming quite the He was the clever helmsman! Ah, he’s You bewail the weary months of thing. a good boy! waiting Margaret (gazing at the boats out on the (He closes the telescope and sets it down on the Just for the London papers — how water): verandah floor.) much more How strange ... ! To lift and fly ... ! What an occasion! I feel inclined to My strange materials, Demanding such precision, delicate Of our species: Mummy, try it on! Yes, try it on, thicknesses, Where once we wriggled, crawled, Mummy! Unheard-of lengths and shapes? then walked — to fly! Put it on! Oh, I raced! To fly ... ! To fly ... ! Mrs Hargrave: She does do a good job I even led them for a leg or two! The front door bell rings inside the house. doesn’t she? Very nice. But — oh, daughter! — Olive (jumping up from the rocking chair): A good job, yes ... In this isolation, with no helpers, That was the bell. There’s someone at Margaret: Oh, it’s enchanting! Really It was no race that I could ever win. the door. exquisite! Seeming suddenly older, Hargrave broods Mrs Hargrave: Well, can’t you answer it? Go ahead, try it, Mother. gloomily. Margaret, in silent sympathy, sits We’re not in. Hargrave (going up on to the verandah): on the verandah steps and draws him down to Olive goes into the house. Hargrave gets up, May I see it? May I see it? sit beside her. Margaret helping him. Olive comes back May I see it? Hargrave: But these are boyish feelings! through the screen door carrying a hat-box. May I look at it, please? Racing is fun for growing lads, but sub Olive (to her mother): I’ll be very careful. Specie aeternitatis not very dignified. It was Miss MacVey. I told her you Mrs Hargrave reluctantly hands Hargrave the Margaret: So are you going to leave were out. hat. He very delicately touches and strokes the racing now She got this done sooner than she feathers. To the growing lads, Father? expected. 8 Hargrave: Paradisaea Raggiana. Hargrave: What do you take me for? She thought you might like it for the Named for the Marquis Raggi. 7 These foreign flights weekend. One of the Signor’s noble-blooded Are merest baby steps towards the Mrs Hargrave has risen quickly. She looks cronies ... future: embarrassed. Mrs Hargrave: The Signor? Tomorrow’s wings will all be jointed, Mrs Hargrave: All right, Olive. Put it in Hargrave: Such a passionate crimson! beating, my room, please. Colours of love! Undulating wings, wings of the Olive: But, Mummy, aren’t you going to You see, Meg? albatross! Mrs Hargrave: In my room, Olive. Margaret: The feathers? Yes, wonderful! I’m on the way — I’ll get there ... ! Smiling and shaking her head at her mother, Hargrave: Feast your eyes, Olive: one of Think of what the gift of flight can do Margaret runs up the verandah steps, takes New Guinea’s loveliest for Man: the hat-box from Olive, opens it and lifts out Birds of Paradise! Distance divides our proud and the new hat. It is strikingly trimmed with There were myriads in that jungle scattered species — feather-tufts of deep red and tawny gold. thirty years ago: But what if, shortly, peace-arches of Mrs Hargrave forgets her doubts; she and Lord knows how many may be left ... flight her daughters gasp and sigh with admiration. Mrs Hargrave: It’s too bad of you Laurie! Should link all in friendship? Hargrave, in contrast, gives a start of It’s not fair! That’s what I call a noble goal to aim recognition and surprise. I’ve got to have something to wear! for — Olive: Mummy, it’s scrumptious! Try it She is not expensive — An impulse in the ever-upward effort on! Try it on! Not really expensive — but of course you cannot rest through dark New Guinea’s with exaggerated precautions, taking aim with Till you’ve spoiled it for me. Most impenetrable jungle — the telescope as “gun”. I don’t ask them to slaughter all these A magnificent team of sturdy Olive: Say who you are, Daddy! birds. explorers Hargrave: Ssssh! I don’t set fashion. No one sets That intrepidly thread the treacherous, Margaret: I’d like to know! fashion here — trackless gloom! Hargrave: Zitti, zitti! Not here, not likely, not in Australia! But, hush! Don’t move! What’s that Mrs Hargrave: D’Albertis. Signor But if millions of women out there in among those branches? D’Albertis. It’s a name the real world It is! The rarest of rare, He’s hardly spoken once these thirty Are going to wear feathers, I’ll wear The ultimate Bird of Paradise, years. feathers too — There, preening his breast in pride! Olive: D’Albertis ... And I won’t feel guilty either! 9 Hargrave has taken the telescope, fully Who is this D’Albertis? She holds out her hand for the hat, but extended, from Olive; and has hung the hat on Who is D’Albertis? Hargrave whisks it out of her reach. the end of it, holding it aloft. Is he a real man? Hargrave: But I agree! Olive: Hooray! We found it! Does Daddy know him? We should always have the courage of Mrs Hargrave: Laurie, you’ll spoil it! Won’t someone tell me? our pretensions. Margaret: Father, you’re feverish! Signor D’Albertis Anything is better than hypocrisy — Hargrave has passed the telescope-with-hat to Sounds like a swell! Than hypocrisy ...and sentimentality ... Olive who, teetering on tiptoe, continues to Mrs Hargrave: D’Albertis ... (suddenly catching up the telescope and hold it aloft. Why should he suddenly offering it to Olive) Hargrave (staggering back melodramatically): Bring up D’Albertis? How d’ye feel, young Hargrave? Gran Dio! Non è vero! Madre mia! I can’t imagine: Plucky enough to join my intrepid A hitherto unknown-a species! Just a few feathers band Olive: Daddy, who are you? Daddy, who Can’t be the reason ... In the exploit of the Hypocrite in the are you? Too long a silence Jungle? Mrs Hargrave: Olive, do stop that! Olive, For a feather to dispel ... Olive (quick on the uptake, taking the do stop that! Margaret: D’Albertis ... telescope and saluting): Margaret: Father, what nonsense! Father, I might have guessed it. Yours to command, Sir! Do or die! what nonsense! I have observed, Hargrave: Good show! Hargrave: Basta! Basta! Basta! Basta! If anyone mentions He crouches low with the hat hidden behind Silencio! Everyone standa-a back! D’Albertis, his back and waves to Olive to come and (He shoos the women back up the steps.) Father grows restive, crouch behind him. As she moves into Io non voglio anyone else-a to shoot! As at the passage position, she opens the telescope. Together Zees prize ees mine! Zee gun, please! Of some dark wing ... they “stalk”, crouching, down the wooden Olive: Sir! Hargrave: What ‘ave you done? I ‘ave-a steps into the garden. She hands him the telescope, retaining the hat tell you not to spik! Hargrave: Now here we come, slogging which she holds high. He circles the “bird” Olive careers around the lawn holding the hat high. ends the lesson — Margaret, comforting Olive, hurries her inside Hargrave: Fly, little bird! Save your skin! The lesson of the hypocrite in the the house. Fly! Fly! jungle! q0 Mrs Hargrave (advancing on her Fly from our human vanity and greed! (He closes the telescope and casually hands the husband): Fly! hat up to his wife.) You blame me, don’t you? Blame me Hargrave simulates firing. Thank you, my dear. for all your failures? Olive, Mrs Hargrave, Margaret (startled): You did well, For Paradisaea Raggiana Because I insist we live up to our class! Aaaah! Four guineas is not bad. Well, I won’t be blamed — I won’t! Hargrave: A wisp of smoke curls upward (He sets the telescope down on the verandah If you really wanted, from the gun floor we could live in London, Of our unerring Leader: and turns away from his wife.) London, London! — And like a shooting star the jewelled Olive, what is fifty times four guineas? we could live in London, innocent Up there in New Guinea Where you could be in touch Plummets to the earth! With fifty such poor corpses a with all this flying, Olive, still holding the hat, swoops it good hunter Where you could make your mark, groundward. Could buy a wife. And there And I could have things elegant Mrs Hargrave (leaning over the verandah The women are as loving as the birds for once — rail): Margaret takes the hat from her mother’s Be in the swim, show a dash of style! Olive, don’t dirty it! That hat cost four hands and lays it back in the box. We could live in London ... guineas! Margaret: Come upstairs, Mother. show a dash of style ... Hargrave bends just in time to take the hat You still haven’t tried it on. We could live in London ... from Olive’s hand before it reaches the ground. Olive: Fifty times four guineas. you could make your mark ... Hargrave: Four guineas. Fifty times four guineas. Hargrave: I blame you only when I get no He kneels, cradling the hat his arms. Fifty times four guineas. quiet! Hargrave: O, poveretto! Leetle-a blame-e- Fifty times four guineas is two How can my thoughts take wing, less veecteem! hundred and ten pounds. how can they soar, See how zee poor expiring eyelids-a Mummy! (She runs up the verandah When in my home my mind finds flutter, steps to her mother.) no tranquillity Weeping ze teardrop for ze life so Did Daddy pay two hundred and ten For the buzzing of a pestilential fly fleeting! pounds for you? Fevering me with “London! Troppo crudel D’Albertis! O, il mio Mrs Hargrave (striking Olive across the London!”? rimorso! mouth): We ought to thank our stars for the To end zees tiny life — for what? For Hold your silly little tongue! Judge, my father; money? Olive bursts into tears. Contrite, her mother We ought to thank our stars for the No, no! To serve la filosofia naturale! makes a move to comfort her. Olive rejects it. coal they quarry She is ze cruel mistress — I ze slave! Mrs Hargrave (to Hargrave): In the land he left, that we can live in Oimè! Oimè! Oi — (getting up) So Now see what you’ve made me do! Sydney In an ample style. In an ample style! Hargrave: A patentee is just a licensed How will you ever learn — Mrs Hargrave: Ample? Ample? What do thief! How will you ever believe me when I you know of ample? Mrs Hargrave: Laurie, sometimes tell you Dare you deny, if you had ample, you I do believe you’re mad! The only thing of worth I have to teach Too would have built and flown some Hargrave: Mad? Oh, yes — you women! The Lesson of the Hypocrite in the crazy machine? That’s what you’d all relish if you Jungle? Hargrave: Ample? How could a man dared — The Jungle ... ! have ample To shut up all your men The light fades on Hargrave. Darkness. Both to supply each new demand As my mother did my father: from you “Mad!” she said, qs Scene 3 And to have built and flown “I do believe you’re mad!” When the lights return Hargrave has gone some crazy machine? Well, mad or not, back in memory to the deck of the steam Mrs Hargrave: Easily! Easily! he ended up with fame, launch Neva, at anchor on the Fly River, New Your kites, your engine, that French Power, and wealth — Guinea. Hargrave, aged twenty-six, is leaning plane — you could be he ended up with on the bulwarks, surveying river and jungle Famous, if only you had taken patents. Fame, power, and wealth! — with relaxed good humour. Hargrave: Patents? Never! So thank your lucky stars Hargrave: Fly ... ! Fly ... ! Fly ... ! If every little screw and bolt be Judge Hargrave proved so mad! Primeval, feverous, devious, patented, So thank your lucky stars dawdling river ... What will the total cost be? Judge Hargrave proved so mad! Why is the countenance you Who could afford to fly in such Mrs Hargrave: Mad? show today machines? No, you’re not mad! So closed, so un-responding ... ? Governments! Armies! Hypocrites! How I wish you were as mad as the Come on, old Fly! What is wanted in Australia Judge! Don’t be ungracious! Is a cheap and handy job — He ended up with fame! You have so much up your sleeve A gadget that a jackaroo can haul I’d thank my lucky stars a man might learn from: With one hand from the shed. The day you proved so mad! You teem, you spawn, you burgeon! I’ll not clamp I’d thank my lucky stars You could show me A patent on my mate. Not I! The day you proved so mad! One supple undulation, A patentee is just a licensed thief! qa Geoffrey will soon be home, tired and one muscular impulse — Mrs Hargrave: And what of all your hungry. I have work to do. A cockatoo’s wing, effort? What of you? She goes into the house. a crocodile’s languid tail? Hargrave: A patentee is just a licensed Hargrave (looking out blindly over the (He spots something in the water.) thief! water): Ah, yes indeed! Mrs Hargrave: The labourer is worthy of Geoffrey will be home soon. Gramercy, courteous Fly! his hire. Geoffrey! Oh, my boy! My only son! Uno molto gentile watersnake — The labourer is worthy of his hire! Caught in our shameful crossfire, very much to the point! (He whips out a small leather-bound diary and larynx Take bearings, set her course, pencil and starts to sketch and notate.) Cannot but parody the dulcet tones make charts, Yes, yes, it’s right! It’s right! Of a native Mediterranean. See that she isn’t swept into a Always the same — D’Albertis: You mock at my singing! whirlpool, The same wavelike, Singing ... Battered against the over-hanging wavelike progression ... Hargrave: Indeed I don’t, Signor! bank, Thank you, snake! Mille grazie, Fly! D’Albertis: And I these many days too Rammed through by floating It is well with a man when his sick to sing ... tree-trunks, mind sparks to life Hargrave: Sir ... ! Run aground on drifting islands ... And things begin to shape themselves. D’Albertis: We are not all When the propeller fouls, He continues sketching, whistling “Largo al So merrily impervious to fever. Who goes into the evil slime to factotum”. Faithful young Wilcox has been in fear free her, Hargrave (singing): La, la, la, la, la, la, la, for me. When the niggers won’t for fear la, la! So you enjoy Rossini? of crocodiles? “Fortunatissimo per verità, bravo!” Hargrave: Well, Signor. I’ve thrust her up this haphazard river Hargrave whistles the phrase again, unaware As I do seem, this trip, (crawling, fetid river ... ) — that through the bead-curtain of the cabin-door To have been voted general Jack-of- I’ve thrust her up this haphazard river behind him D’Albertis is slowly and painfully All-Trades, Virtually single-handed — emerging, leaning heavily on the shoulders of It seems appropriate to sing the song And grand work it has been! his English protégé, Clarence Wilcox. Wilcox Of the omnicompetent Figaro. D’Albertis (indicating Hargrave’s diary): is little more than a boy, weakly good -looking D’Albertis: You complain of the work? And that? Is that book also work? and obsequious in demeanour. Hargrave: Indeed, no! I enjoy it. Hargrave: My own work, yes. Hargrave: (singing): La, la! Ergo, I sing! I have been struck by certain patterns (He chuckles to himself, then sings again.) Also, it frightens the flies! of movement, “Fortunatissimo per verità!” D’Albertis: And you look upon yourself Modes of animal locomotion ... D’Albertis: You are jocund, Mr Hargrave. as “omnicompetent”? These are my jottings. Hargrave (whirling round): Hargrave: I have to be, Signor. D’Albertis: Your aspirations know no Signor D’Albertis! Should you be up? qd This funny crate we sail in is a most bounds! Are you recovered? Demanding female. So many talents — D’Albertis: You are melodious, Keeping her content and now a naturalist! Mr Hargrave. Puts a man on his mettle. Clary Wilcox, you must look to Hargrave: Singing as I worked, Sir. She’s crying out for higher bulwarks, your laurels: D’Abertis: You sing in Italian? so I build them. You are not the only apprentice Your song may be satirical? She’s hungry-mad for fuel: I have on board! Hargrave: Satirical? No, Signor. I’m the stoker. Hargrave: Signor D’Albertis — ! Only so far as She fancies pushing beyond the map, D’Albertis: Where are the rest of my One saddled with an Anglo-Saxon so I men? Have they deserted? Who is this we? D’Albertis! Hargrave: No, no — of course not. qf Hargrave: Your scientific voyage of Hargrave: I am aware you are deranged Where would men desert to in this discovery by fever. jungle? I, at your invitation, Signor D’Albertis, If you were not — They are foraging. Gladly and proudly joined as your D’Albertis: No, no, no! Oh, yes — In all that mad profusion of life companion — You are a strong young English bully, out there, Gratefully, humbly — and I — There is so little edible by man ... these I freely grant — I am ill, with no one to protect me — And we dare not start downstream Respecting both your greater age Though faithful Clary Wilcox here till we’ve replenished. and experience: would try. D’Albertis: What did you say? But still, Sir, as a colleague and So I must bow to your incompetence, Downstream? a gentleman. or is it Upstream, you mean! D’Albertis: A gentleman! A gentleman Timidity? And let you turn us back ... Hargrave: Signor! Signor! Signor! engineer! Let you tear me from this land I love ... Signor! Signor! Signor! You are my boiler-master — This virgin land that yearns to yield D’Albertis: On, on to the mountains — my mechanical! herself The mighty inland ranges I have You signed it on paper! And all her secrets to me ... dreamed of, Hargrave: A legal fiction! It will be hard to part from so much The proud virgin fastnesses A favour that I did you as a friend, beauty ... I must enter! To help you over harbour Hargrave: To part from so much plunder! Hargrave: Signor, we’ve had this out technicalities! You have not loved this land, before your fever. D’Albertis: A friend! A friend! you have raped it! We’ve thrust her up this First, a gentleman — Your only interest in coming here haphazard river, now he’s a friend! Is selfish greed — This mad, meandering Fly, You Englishmen are all mad greed for gold and glory — Far higher than man ever dreamed. with arrogance. Gold for D’Albertis! But the steamer won’t go one D’Albertis is no common name Glory for D’Albertis! more inch — in Italy; Every scientific find you make Believe me, Sir! And though your mad old father You’ll hide and hoard and hawk We have achieved wonders: may be crafty round all the world’s We need not feel ashamed to turn In land speculation and by Richest museums to the around. hobnobbing highest bidder: D’Albertis: We! We! What is this we? With the New South Welsh politicos I doubt if you would publish This is the D’Albertis expedition: may have wheedled one result Luigi Maria D’Albertis is its Leader — A judgeship for himself, Were it not that you crave the Italy’s son, Italy’s pride, and soon that does not make you — adulation. The most famous naturalist alive! And never will — the equal of Love this land! You blaze a trail to massacre its birds, D’Albertis nods to Wilcox who goes into the D’Albertis (laughing): You are a poor You terrorise the natives, cabin. creature — mine the rivers, D’Albertis: And the book? You, an admirer of Darwin! Blow up their fish — Hargrave: My personal journal? Hargrave: Sir, I revere Darwin. your answer to all problems Sir, you go too far! What of it? Is firecrackers! D’Albertis: On possession of it physically D’Albertis: It is not by such niminy- A rare Italian mountebank! — well, piminy ethics Instead of making white men loved I don’t insist ... That the fittest shall survive: and honoured, But I will trouble you to give Where are your file-sharp teeth? You rob whole villages of all they own; your word — Your whetted claws? (He laughs.) You even desecrate their burial sites Your word “as a gentleman” — qh In a greedy world And leave a few cheap beads That you will never publish it, Of predatory, jostling kites and hawks, behind for a tip! Nor ever take it on yourself to The man of noble soul And I, God help me, promulgate Must owe it to himself to be an eagle, I have plundered too — Any account of this Fly River voyage. To spread his wings — All in the name of science! This is the D’Albertis Expedition: And, rising high above the common I have allowed myself to be infected: Let no one but Luigi Maria D’Albertis flock, I have my souvenirs, Presume to tell the world of it — Proudest predator of all, I have my specimens ... The world of it! Your word — Fly ... ! Fly ... ! Fly ... ! D’Albertis: Have you, indeed? Have I your word? Have I your word? Hargrave: That’s not Darwinism! All samples gathered on my Hargrave: This is not fever — That’s D’Albertism! expedition this is madness! If Man is most evolved of all Should have been reported and You are mad with self-love — things living, resigned to me. Insane with greed! Insane with greed! It’s not because of sharper teeth Why was I not informed? D’Albertis: Give me your word! and claws: Hargrave (looking with distaste at Wilcox): Hargrave: You have my word. In a greedy world I assumed you knew What’s more, I give my word Of predatory, jostling kites and hawks Through your usual private channels That if I ever come before the world The creature with a soul Clarence Wilcox, It will be modestly serving the world, Must owe it to himself to be be so good as to go in to my bunk: Not dazzling it with squibs, the Phoenix: Under it you will find three forcing its love! To spread his wings — packing-cases. If I have anything to publish, But, utterly unlike all other birds, Transfer their contents to the It will be scattered free, for all to share Be no predator at all, Signor’s area. Not profit from! I give my word Only fly ... ! Empty the lot. I will not lower myself to ogle Fame — Fly ... ! Maybe they will fetch the Signor Flaunt myself at her, like a gaudy In a greedy world A few extra lire. Paradise bird on heat! Of predatory, jostling kites and hawks, The creature with a soul qj Scene 4 Mrs Hargrave: That Laurie is a traitor? Must owe it to himself to be the 1915. When the lights return we are back at Yes, I know. Phoenix: the house on Sydney Harbour. It is sunset. They all say it. To spread his wings — There is a light in the basement workshop. They don’t really mean it. But, utterly unlike all other birds, Mrs Hargrave is standing in the garden It’s only something to take their minds Be no predator at all, gazing out over the water. Behind her, off — worse things ... Only fly ... ! Margaret comes out of the house and stands I feel so sorry for your Father, Fly ... ! for a moment on the verandah observing her Margaret. D’Albertis: In a greedy world mother with an expression of compassion and As if his fear for Geoffrey weren’t Of predatory, jostling kites and hawks, concern. Then she comes quietly down the enough, The man of noble soul steps and joins her. He blames himself far more than they Must owe it to himself to be an eagle, Margaret: The harbour is so beautiful at ever could. To spread his wings — sunset. The only one I blame is myself. And, rising high above the Mrs Hargrave: Such beauty can be very I was as bad — I was worse — common flock, cruel ... than those museums! Proudest predator of all, I don’t suppose that beach a And why should great museums Fly ... ! Fly ... ! Fly ... ! world away take an interest Fly ... ! Fly ... ! Is any less radiant at sunset When his own wife declares They stand glaring at each other for a moment. For being littered with Australian boys his models junk? Then D’Albertis, exhausted, hauls himself All dead! qk Ah, poor man! He so badly needed slowly along the bulwarks to the cabin-door. Margaret: We don’t know that, Mother! One word of thanks and recognition ... D’Albertis (turning at the cabin-door): We don’t know the extent ... Well, Margaret — If and when you get me back to Mrs Hargrave: I’m so afraid for Geoffrey! even now, even not knowing Sydney, Margaret: Don’t, Mother! Don’t! What’s happening to Geoff — Will you expect payment for what No news is good news. I can’t quite bring myself you’ve done? Mrs Hargrave: That poor woman next To hate the Germans. Hargrave: Signor D’Albertis, door, Mrs Templeton, They gave him thanks, May I remind you, you engaged Hearing about her boy so they gave him recognition — my service — horribly wounded ... Even sent a medal! Why not? My service as ... mechanical — Margaret: I’ve just come back from there. He damn well deserved one! At one shilling a month. She’s much calmer. And now they say his models You signed it on paper. Olive’s gone in to sit with her. taught the Germans D’Albertis: One shilling a month? Mother, Mrs Templeton apologised — How to make planes to bomb Good. So be it. You know — Australian boys! D’Albertis goes inside. The lights fade to For what she said in her first burst Margaret (indicating the workshop): darkness. of grief Is he still working? About Father — Mrs Hargrave: Of course. Does he ever stop? Margaret: This gentleman lowered or averted, given up to the tumult of But he’s so weary, Margaret! Has come to have a private word with their emotions. At last, one after another, they Exhausted! Father. look up, revealing faces profoundly gripped by It’s too much for him now: The clergyman gives a little bow. Mrs thought — meditative, almost detached. he should have Geoffrey. Hargrave can do no more than nod wordlessly. Mrs Hargrave, Margaret, Hargrave: Geoff was so splendid those last Margaret shows the clergyman into the “Fame is the spur that the clear spirit few months, workshop, then returns to her mother. doth raise Easing the burden on to his Margaret: What on earth? (That last infirmity of noble mind) own shoulders ... I thought the church had given To scorn delights and live laborious I hated it at first: I fought against it. Father up ... days; But I’ll admit it, Meg — Mrs Hargrave: Margaret! Margaret! But the fair guerdon when we hope to yes, I could see Don’t you know what it means? find That same fire that has devoured They always send a clergyman. And think to burst out into sudden your father Mrs Templeton told me. blaze, Kindling again in Geoff ... Always a clergyman! Comes the blind fury with th’abhorred The front door bell rings inside the house. Margaret: Mother, it can’t be! shears Mrs Hargrave: Who could that — ? You just imagine it! And slits the thin spun life ... ” At this hour? There could be so many reasons — Mrs Hargrave breaks down. Margaret begins We’re not expecting — Hargrave and the clergyman come out of the to lead her into the house. Margaret: I’ll go. (She goes up the steps on workshop. Hargrave is holding an opened, Mrs Hargrave (pausing, looking back from to the verandah.) Coming! (She goes into official-looking letter. The clergyman looks the steps): Laurie ... ? the house.) helplessly at the stricken faces of the women. Hargrave: It would be merciful Mrs Hargrave, wringing her hands in Clergyman: I can see myself out: Never to speak ... our dear son’s name agitation, turns again to gaze over the water. please don’t trouble. ... again Mrs Hargrave (recalling the boat-race): (with a gesture toward the workshop) In my presence! Sunset and harbour-swell, I’ve left my card. How else am I to hope Seagull and spray ... If I can be of any small assistance, To finish all the work ... ? Breezes, breezes, Please don’t hesitate ... Mrs Hargrave breaks down again. Margaret Blow for Geoffrey ... God be with you! leads her into the house. Help him fly ... The clergyman goes quickly up the steps and Hargrave, gripped with visionary fervour, is Help him ... into the house. unaware that they have gone. Margaret returns from the house, leading a Mrs Hargrave: Laurie! Hargrave: There is so much still worth dignified but troubled-looking clergyman. Margaret: Father! doing! They come down the verandah steps, Hargrave: Mother, our dear boy is dead. The future waits for Nature’s beating Mrs Hargrave (turning and seeing the They only say: he died doing his duty. wing: clergyman): ql For a long pause all three remain with Flight must evolve towards the mighty Ah! positions essentially unchanged, their heads wave Articulated in the albatross Becoming aware that the others have gone, he That lets it fly ... and fly ... turns toward the workshop. and never tire! Hargrave: The way ... ! This morning, for the very first time, He goes into the workshop. The lights fade to I think I just glimpsed the way ... darkness.