LORD BYRON
BICENTENNIAL TRIBUTE
Amusing Poetical Anecdotes for Byronic Theatricals
by Jed Pumblechook
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The Devil’s Drive:
An Unfinished Rhapsody
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Cast
The Devil
Lord Byron
PB Shelley
Mary Shelley
Robert Southey
Henry Brougham
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​SCENE 1
The balcony of the Villa Diodati, 1816
PBS(in despair): I can't believe we left a middling English summer for this dashed - do pardon me -galvanic air!- why we can barely see the sun! (looks frightedly to Byron) - pray, can you? - can you see the sun?
B: Yes, I have seen it - more particularly during daytime, my dear Shelley
PBS: I feel we are cursed - odious visions and vapours follow us 'ere we go!
B: In truth, Shelley - we are not the sole partakers of these violent volcanic effusions
PBS: I have waking dreams, Byron - dreams most ghastly
B: Perhaps scribbling down a few inexpert doodles will enable some professional analysis - better still, have Mary take notes
PBS: The Devil - god bless him - is hot on my tail
B: Do you believe in the Devil, my dear Shelley? - how is that possible?
PBS: Oh! I’ve seen him - at Godwin’s - at Hunt’s - at Southey’s - he hid in the candle flames
B(sighs): I would sincerely love to see that hornéd man - for I am more or less ennui'd with the human tribe
PBS: Bored! - by whom? - surely not your present company
B: Goodness no, Shelley - by soireés, riveting conversation, fainting dames, Polidori (looks around) - there must be delights undiscovered - but how - and where - to find them?
PBS: From my experience at Southey’s - the Devil stays at home till five - he dines on some homicides done in Ragout
B: ew!
A puff of smoke appears on the balcony
PBS: Oh this damned - apologies - volcanic dust!
D(smoking a contraband cigar): Apologies are unnecessary, my dear Shelley
Shelley screams - Byron asks Devil for a cigar
D: Certainly, I know your favourite mixture - I have watched you exhale
B: I don’t believe we’ve been introduced (observing the Devil closely) - you are something of a disappointment - your nose - it's true - is somewhat alike to Southey's (to Shelley) - sap my vitals, Shelley! I feel little magnetic allurement towards this saucy jade - e'en with his superb taste in tobacco - I doubt he can proffer any directions to delights undiscovered
Shelley is hiding behind the wisteria
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D: Lord Byron - ah! such a familiar name! shall we take a drive? I walk in the morning - I ride at night - in darkness my children take most delight, for that’s when I see how my favourites thrive
B: The axles on my coach keep breaking - be damned to Baxter!!
D: I’ll see what I can do - back to me - at present my purpose is speed, to see my manor as much as I may - and watch that no souls shall be poach’d away
B: If we follow’d my taste, indeed, I should mount in a wagon of my past loves - and smile to see them coo like doves
D: mmm - this could prove a challenge (rubs pointed chin) - well - I do possess a splendid state-coach at Carlton House - and a chariot in Seymour Place
B: From the workshop of Baxter, one hopes (chuckles) - they are hardly formidable temptations - however - it is time for supper, would you care to join us?
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B relieves Shelley of his wisteria - the Devil smirks and follows
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SCENE 2
Mary brings out plates of beef stew
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M: What have you bought home, Shelley? Am I imagining that pointed tail - is it a Swiss custom? Why has he brought outsize cutlery?
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PBS is rocking himself and chewing on Wisteria buds
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D(to Mary): Hello, I am the Devil, Lucifer or Satan - what you will - and I must say the lavish reports of Satanic activity which I've received re. this establishment have been somewhat exaggerated - I expected more from you all
B: The night is young, Monsieur (B and F cackle) - pray tell, Devil, who informed you of our innocuous little party? As you see, we observe the strictest attention to decorum and are free from all offense to either God or Man or Woman
D(is now boiled-lobster red): As it happens, tales of irredeemable scurrility were lent by two friends to make amends, tales of certain robes and small cloathes flouncing wantonly on his Lordship’s balcony
M: I can assure you, Satan, that the petticoats were in the imagination rather of the spectator than in the actual company of his Lordship, (with impressive conviction) for he has given no cause for scandal!
PBS(to Mary): So sweet his eye and its sulphury glare - so soft to his ear the cry of despair
D(overhears, is angry): I sprang up from the earth for this! (holds up Swiss-embroidered placemat) - made a jump from Moscow to France? stepp’d across the sea? I even had to rest my hoof on one of your deuced turnpike roads (fire begins to exit his nose and ears) why, my sources are habitually sound (tail is swishing wildly)
B: Perchance I may assist in your quandary - I am as familiar with slanderers, libellers and pond-worshippers as, I wager, you are
M: humph! Look at him - perch’d on a mountain of my slain beef-cheeks without taking a bite
D: I've had better on the Leipsic plain (trying to frighten Mary) - for the field ran so red with the blood of the dead - that it blush’d like the waves of hellllll!!!
B: My dear Devil - perhaps you should read Mary's book (M beams)
D(mumbling to himself): I will have their souls! They live no very great way from a bishop’s abode
B: I will venture a guess as to your confidential sources (smirks) - this affair has Robert Southey's spleen splattered all over it
PBS: I get a whiff of Henry Brougham
B(ponders): He has never openly attacked me - that I know or could possibly have guessed at - so perhaps, no
D: Why, these are the softest notes that could soothe my ear, as sweet as the sound of a widow sighing or a maid by her lover lying - as round her fell her long fair hair - she look’d to heaven with that frenzied air - which seem‘d to ask if a God were there
B(yawns): That you don't know your berry spoon from your plovers egg spoon, appalls​ - your abominable tailoring, aggrieves - and your acidic body paint, which is ruining my upholstery, antagonises! - moreover, it would appear that wit, capital conversation and quirky observations are gifts from the heavens. I must ask you, as a Gentleman, to leave - and perhaps take the twaddling Italian doctor with you
D(outraged): I need not your soul my ancient peer - I leave you to your brothel and your beer, your council board and your Westminster (haughtily) I - as a “quondam aristocrat" will walk up to your House so like one of your own! Ha!
B(laughs): Good luck - you will be somewhat outnumbered (opens door). We have no further need of your company - I have been subject to worse devilment at Melbourne House
D: Amateurs! I have urgent business in the Lake District
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Disappears in a puff of smoke - PBS is spread-eagled on a fine Brussels tapestry - Mary is taking notes - B throws his copy of “The Monk" into the fire
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SCENE 3
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An overly cosy library - Southey and Brougham are chuckling over tobacco-free cigars
S: Admirable job of work my dear Brougham - so much more impressive than chasing out-of-your-league aristocratic crumpet
HB: I consider it the pinnacle of my crusade against that dog Byron - which began when he was but a teenager and which has - impotently - carried on to this day
S: Better to bring the devil down before he pens an epic masterpiece
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D appears in a puff of smoke
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D: No need to summon me, good Gentlemen - I was on my way
S(not taken aback): How did you reach our cliffs so white - and what are you doing here I pray?
D: My eyes are good, I can see by night what you see every day
HB (becoming nervous): Have you made a tour, and kept a journal of all the wondrous sights nocturnal?
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HB and S quietly inhale
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D: Devil if I have you Men of the Row - I've been pretty well cheated, haven't I though!
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Instead of a pistol - the D cocks his tail and seizes HB and S by the throat
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D: Firstly, those badly-parented ladies are not even sisters! - secondly, the poets spend most of their time faffing around on the lake writing about snow - thirdly, I'm not convinced if one - the one with a countenance from heaven (nose turns blue) - does not possess something of a reverence for the Almighty
HB: Oh, but I have cracking stories about their lives back home - just let me get the Courier and the Morning Post
D: What the deuced good is that to me now!! Nature - in the form of waterfalls and chirping crickets - has redeemed their souls - and, although the strange man-child with the undressed hair is still an atheist, he would not survive long in Hell - which isn't much fun for me
HB: That Byron is a near relation of yours - I swear it - look, read this (hands D “Hours of Idleness") - it is Satanic!!
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D flips through the book - fire is again coming out of his ears and nose
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D(sneering majestically): It is in fact quite sweet - You! - my proboscisly-enhanced poet - will go with me - for I find we have much better manners below - (to HB) If you harangue me when you pass my border, I shall hint to my friend Moloch to call you to order!
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HB & S(snivelling): But we have long careers of puffery ahead of us!
D: I am aware of that - I am only taking your souls - what remains on earth is what you will be remembered by! (laughs and carries the two souls away on his pitchfork)
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S(to HB, shivering in a corner): Zounds Brougham, forget your prayers! - I've just had a stupendous vision about a little girl and three bears...
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END