LORD BYRON
BICENTENNIAL TRIBUTE
Amusing Poetical Anecdotes for Brief Byronic Theatricals
by Jed Pumblechook


Sally in our Alley:
an Impromptu Ode to
Henry Gally Knight
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Cast
Lord Byron
John Murray
Henry Gally Knight
William Gifford
JC Hobhouse
La Fornarina
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SCENE 1
1818, Albemarle Street - Murray is holding Council re. a recent letter of B's
M(to H): Does his Lordship actually wish to enter the balladeering business and compete with Moore?
H: If that's news from Venice, Murray - I would ignore it, he is probably contagious
G(shakes head): Such promise! Such waste! a common Balladeer - a pie-wrapper - a bumper-clinker! We will never get him into the Abbey now (head in hands)
M: I simply cannot believe it! (is woeful) - he has degraded himself enough, reducing a fine English spaniel to mere maritime cuisine! - but balladeering yet! - why, it's too plebeian to contemplate - though not for Mr. Moore, of course (all chuckle)
G: What is it exactly he sent you, Murray? Is it obscene and not fit to be printed? Should we consign it to the flames?
M(to H): I do not believe that to be necessary - do you, Mr. Hobhouse?
H(scans letter): Oh! this is but a tepid attempt by Byron at lampooning Gally Knight - to the tune of “Sally in our Alley"- pfft! - many a time we have sung the saucy ode whilst wassailing in the outer suburbs - why, if he lampooned me in a like fashion, I would certainly never dream of taking offense! hmm - it's quite catchy (whistles) - would do for humming in the bath
M and G splutter at such a notion issuing from the soap-shy Hobhouse
H: Zounds!- are ye both quite well? Will I ring for a hot toddy?
M(clears throat ): Quite well, thankyou Mr. Hobhouse
H(pacing): I do agree with you, gentlemen - songwriting is distinctly Gally's and not Byron's turf to be trodding! - from Grub Street to Fop's Alley, the world - and his Lordship - must own, there's none like pretty Gally
M: Aye, certainly - although a wishy-washy bore, he writes as well as any blue-stockinged Miss or man-at-law
G(wryly): Indeed, Murray? I suppose it is that he buys two thousand pounds worth of books in a year which makes you so tender of him! - but he won’t do! - he’s Middling, and writes like a Country Gentleman for the County Newspaper on a whim
M(sighs): The man has ten thousand pounds a year - now, I do not mean to vally - but his songs at sixpence would be dear
H: Frankly - he should give them gratis, that Gally
Murray hands Byron's attempt at song-writing to Gifford
M: It is not my custom to parade his Lordship's epistles in my drawing room - on a little easel - for any and every guest to gawp over - but Gifford, you must read it before you condemn it - mind the filthy language - he is all but Italian at this stage
Hobhouse gets the fire going
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SCENE 2
A pause in proceedings as the astounding artifact is analysed - H has minutely examined the composition and is in portentous mode
H: With respect Murray - I believe you to have misinterpreted His Lordship's intent
M: Thanks be to God!
G: Heaven be praised!
H: Of all the twice ten thousand bards that ever penned a canto, whom Pudding or whom Praise rewards for lining a portmanteau - our Byron offers mere encouragement to that oriental country gentleman, Mr. Gally Knight, in his much-laboured literary efforts - in the form of a popular bawling ballad
M(shaking head): Damned odd - damned odd! - how can I trade on that? There is nothing in it for the ladies!
H: The “ten thousand a year" might work
M: Be damned it might! With, perchance, a new frontispiece engraving of his Lordship and Gally astride fabulous steeds
Servant knocks - enters Mr. Gally Knight - Dandy, Literatoor, and Parliamentarian
M(nervously): Ah! Gally - er -
GK: Murray, I am aware of what that tone-deaf Satanist has written about me - the insolent ballad has somehow found its way into the Courier of this morning
M: Fear not Gally, we have solved the riddle! His Lordship means not to compete with you on your own ground - but offers mere encouragement in your - somewhat conspicuous - strife amongst the Muses
GK(outraged): Murray - come, say, how many of mine have been sold, and don't shilly-shally, of bound and lettered, red and gold, well-printed works of me, Gally?
G(interrupts): Keep your peruke on! You surely cannot forget the reviews for “Hannibal in Bithynia" when your style was compared to an ox stuck mewling in a bog? Or “Phrosyne, a Grecian Tale" where doubts were raised whether a precocious wood turner on the isle of Eig had penned same whilst floating on a log?
H: Enough with the jibes, gentlemen! (attempts to soothe GK) - Gally, the greatest poet once resident in our Isles - who has yet to become a favourite amongst pie-wrappers - has, in truth, complimented you by his notice
M: Indeed - I remember before the dear man left for Italy - how he'd roar in that chair (points to the room's most comfortable chair) perusing your latest poesy
GK: This will NOT be tolerated! I am retaining Brougham as counsel! (pointing) - You! Murray! - you are responsible for this lampoon - What am I? - an entertainer in Astley's circus? a thing no better than Miss Holford's Peg, or Sotheby's Saul? (fretting and pacing) - his Lordship has no lease on The East!
H: Gally - I shall extract either an apology from his Lordship - or, nay, perhaps preferable - a libretto to a composition more to your taste, more (ponders) - senatorial
GK: By Byron? - mmm - deuced acceptable that would be! (brightening) It could be sung before I rise in the House - at meals - yea, e'en at my decease
M: An excellent notion, Hobhouse - Gally, will you see reason and call off the execrable hound Brougham?
GK (puffed): I shall - it is agreed - deuced acceptable, I must say (continues to be puffed) - I will inform the Courier - Good day t'ye gentlemen
ALL: Good day, Gally
H gulps, M bites nails, and G pours a stiff one
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SCENE 3
Byron's palazzo, la Fornarina is opening the letters with her teeth
LaF: This handwriting looks like a she-thing's! Who is this puttana? I will throw her and all belonging to her into the lagoon
B examines seal
B: Ah! Hobby! - I am in sad want of correspondence from home - I write to all my acquaintance at least twice a day - and rarely is the honour returned
LaF: Bastardi! Li morderò!
B: Grazie my bell'animale! - I'll let my dogs do the biting. Now - what does my oldest friend have to say?
Walks the salon, reading letter - LaF watches his complexion pale, teeth clench and dressing-gown fall to the ground - in anger
B: The devil be in it!! That wretch Murray !!- I MUST break with the shuffling tradesman at last!! Showing my letters - as though they were novellas fit for aught but an abnormally dull journey across the west midlands!! Novellas!! (seeks the comfort of LaF)
Momentarily
B: They want me to atone musically for a squib on Gally - who is some seasons my Senior - and (reads) so “amiable”?!! pfft! such fellows should be flung into Fleet Ditch! Be damned! I would rather be a Galley Slave than a Galley Knight, so utterly do I despise the middling Mountebank’s mediocrity in every thing - except his income, of course (rips up letter)
LaF: Ah! milord - see what we do? - we smear veleno - si, poison, yes? on a letter - when he open! vittoria!! this Wally - he is dead!!
B(distracted, pacing ferociously): No - piccola colomba, we shall not omicidio him (LaF sulks - B laughs) That he - who has a Seat in Parliament! - is fat and passing healthy - surely he should be content?! - heigh ho! great ambition will misrule, and men at all risks to sally - now makes a poet - now a fool! (to LaF) As it is, some folks like rowing on the Thames - some rowing in an Alley - but all the row my fancy claims (dryly) is rowing with my Gally
LaF smirks - slaps a housemaid who is changing the flowers
B: The Devil's cinders to their threats of legal action if I don't librettize! (is struck with a plan - to LaF) Have you an obscene Italian folk tune to mind by any chance, my love?
LaF: Si - I will sing it and throw my hair wildly about the place for effect
B: Excellento!
LaF starts singing “Lo Spazzacamin"
B: That is superbly disgusting! Gally will be delighted at the goings-on of a decrepit old man and his exceptionally long chimney-brush (roars) - in Latin - for I know his limited education was strictly veterinary
Keeping the tune of “The Chimney Sweep" in his head - B composes
Albemarle Street re-convenes
H: Now Gally! - your fears allayed (hands over auspicious document) here is Byron's tribute - a moving paean to your talents, in a Classical context
GK: Oh! - but can it be translated?
ALL: No!!
M: That soft bastard Latin, which melts like kisses from a female mouth - and sounds as if it should be writ on satin - would be lost upon translation
H: Gally - you will keep to His Lordship's wishes - and graciously accept the homage you deserve
GK (delighted with himself): Fear not gentlemen - such directions from my noble friend I shall strictly observe! (bows and departs, flourishing the Ode proudly)
The lads watch as the troublesome “Sally in our Alley - with Gally" burns in the grate
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END
