At his home at Grez-sur-Loing in France the 71-year old composer, blind and paralysed and with his health gradually deteriorating, was soon pinning his hopes on these records. "Whatever should I do without Beecham", he would say, when the conductor broadcast one of his works. "I should be content with a few superlative performances like these each year, rather than the mediocre ones I too often hear."
Perhaps sensing that he did not have long to live, he sent a heartfelt appeal to Beecham: ‘When am I to have the records? I cannot wait to hear them on my gramophone. This is now my only pleasure. Do not wait too long, dear friend, or it will be too late for me to enjoy them.’ Alas, so it proved. By April 1934, when Beecham was able to begin work on the recordings, the end was not far off.
As soon as they were made the first set of test-pressings was despatched to France but, sadly, they were held up in the customs at Calais; letters and telegrams from the Delius household failed to get them released, and when they did finally arrive it was too late. (Delius died on 10 June 1934.)
