To mark the centenary of Anzac, I thought I’d re-publish this proposal for a symphonic concert drama that Andrew Schultz and I pitched to several organisations some years ago.
An all-day long symphony of discord rang out, and
through it all strode Simpson, walking along next to his donkey, forever
singing and whistling as he held on to his passenger, scorning the danger, in
sweet defiance of all the explosions, the barking of rifle fire and the harsh
machine-gun chatter, clutching on to one small piece of reality, of nature [his
donkey], in a mechanised world gone mad all around him.
- Tom Curran, Across
the Bar
Proposal for Simpson and His Donkey - Andrew Schultz and Gordon Kalton Williams
Simpson is
Australia’s ‘common soldier’. His story is recounted to unite Australians in a
common appreciation of the sacrifices made by our past generations of soldiers.
But there are some odd facts that confound the two-dimensional portrait presented
to the public – Simpson was English; he was a non-combatant (Field Ambulance),
and he decided on using donkeys in the field because, admittedly, they ran out of
stretchers on the first day of the landing at Anzac Cove, but donkeys possibly
reminded him of summer holidays as a donkey boy on South Shields beach in the
UK. In the terror of war Simpson reached back to childhood. So there are richer
aspects to the Simpson story than are apparent in the propounding of a
national myth – and let’s not forget: Australians invaded Turkey; Kaba Türkçe was spoken in the trenches
opposite.
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| The Sphinx, the iconic landmark at Gallipoli, as seen from the sea where the Anzacs landed on that first day in April 1915. |
The sad fact is
that Simpson’s heroic deeds were eventually often dragooned to serve chauvinistic ends, and may in fact undermine Simpson’s true heroism, which was, in Inga
Clendinnen’s words: ‘staunchly maintaining civilian virtues in the face of war.’
We’d like to
explore that full tragedy of his portrayal in another symphonic cantata,
following-up Journey to Horseshoe Bend
in scale and prospect, this time comprising orchestra and children’s chorus (and possibly soloists). Once again, we would
envisage some elements of staging and surtitles.
This proposal came out of
Andrew’s idea for a children’s song cycle-cum-opera on Simpson and His Donkey
(Sydney Children’s Choir were enthusiastic). Including the SCC would bring up
instant opposites: innocence hitting the hard experience of war; metal vs flesh
- but also bowdlerisation vs fact. The subject suggests a surprising sonority
of war. Simpson died on the morning of the Turkish offensive, 19 May 1915 (in
fact, just after!). According to some reports, a band had been heard in the Turkish trenches
playing The Turkish March from Beethoven’s Ruins
of Athens! It would need to be substantiated but what musical suggestion there is in that!
We’re suggesting a work which
traces Simpson’s career both in the three weeks he served on the Gallipoli peninsula
and in a public afterlife, framed by the expression of children. We’re saying
something about innocence, pressure, spin, good humour, civilian virtues,
military juggernauts, great odds. We’ll draw on a variety of sources (including
Simpson’s own letters), keeping to a dramatic sequence, though maintaining some
of the original idea of a song-cycle. Children’s story-telling may encourage
the use of pungent nursery rhymes.
No War Requiem, the emotional
complex will consist of close scrutiny of mythmaking, while at
the same time telling a tragic tale of a loveable larrikin. That said, we want a full gamut of emotions: tears
through laughter and laughter through tears – and not just for us. ‘Gözyaşlarınızı
dindirniz’ (Dry your tears) Atatürk told
ANZAC mothers when they visited the battlefield in the 1930s, for their sons now slept in the soil of a
friendly country.
Gordon Kalton
Williams, ©30 Apr. 08
