LORD BYRON
BICENTENNIAL TRIBUTE
Amusing Poetical Anecdotes for Byronic Theatricals
by Jed Pumblechook
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To Thomas Moore
Written The Evening Before His Visit To
Mr. Leigh Hunt In Horsemonger Lane Gaol
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Cast
Lord Byron
Thomas Moore
Leigh Hunt
Henry Brougham
Fletcher
Charles Lamb
Hunt Kraal
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SCENE 1
1813, Hunt has landed in chokey for slandering the POW
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Byron and Moore are relaxing at Bennet Street - Byron's London HQ - reading the notorious article
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B: “This Adonis of loveliness - a corpulent man of fifty" - lands a man in jail for two years?! Sunburn me!
M: The Examiner - ha! - a “Nest of Villains" - that unstable quack Wm. Blake was right, (nods approvingly) 'tis fine strategising from those Hunt brothers - the Morning Post and the Courier will be forced into even more pukesome paean-izing of the “Glory of the people"- the “Exciter of Desire" - bravo Messieurs of the Post!! (both laugh heartily) - although incarceration is preferable to base flattery, it is a bold step
B: “Breather of eloquence - who cannot say a few decent extempore words if we are to judge, at least, from what he said to his regiment on its embarkation for Portugal"- I say, I can't help but admire the verve and venom of Hunt - it takes a sturdy pudding to challenge the Regent's capricious hate speech laws
M: He's a scrapper - and a good hater - certainly no “conqueror of hearts" - although, extending his disgust to the very top crusts of society is foolish whilst the poor man is in need of scraps - very foolish, too, to befriend that law-bothering carcass of envy Henry Brougham
B(shudders): Brougham!! 'ere the name is a toe-curler yet! (inhales fine Turkish tobacco) - as to Hunt, mmm - he is very officious in using my title - no! - I feel sure he harbours no grudge for his lack of ready money - besides, detention to a man always in want can but save on sea-coal and excessive Kraal propagation in Hampstead
M: Yes, well my dear Byron - I must pack a basket of billiard balls, shuttlecocks and dynamite for Hunt
B(pats M on the back): Admirable Tom - admirable indeed to abandon the sylvan sequestration of Mayfield Cottage - and your beautiful Bess - for Hunt and the Surrey jail!
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B and M shake hands and part - B sulks with intent around the sopha
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B: mmm - 'twould seem the Surrey jail is the place to be at the moment - Holland House is empty - you could whistle up the wind in Carlton House - perchance I should pay the cockney stoic a visit
F: Jail - my Lord - what vestments to wear? - mourning - crepe and black gloves?
B: Hang it, Fletcher! - (broods) - why is Tommy going? why isn't he taking me? How I do love that five-foot man! (wistfully) - his Quarto two-pounds, his Twopenny Post Bag - why! he is as much a member of my menagerie as Jenny (Jenny the parrot flies into a rage) - for God's sake Jenny! I must have my own Life! - Fletcher!!!
F: Yes my Lord
B: Prepare a sombre outfit for the morn - I am going to jail
F: With or without crepe my lord
B: Without - Fletcher - look to it!! (muses) - I will take fine Moroccos of my latest best-sellers, soap? - sweetmeats - fine woollen blankets - the suffering of the poor man! - Fletcher!!!
F: Yes my Lord
B: Fill one of my travelling trunks with an assortment of goods as one in jail might require for a civilised level of comfort
F: Yes my Lord
B: But not my white Brandy - or pale Champagne
B: Of course - my Lord
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B returns to look for more generalised insults in Hunt's article
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SCENE 2
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Hunt's suite in the Surrey jail is jiving with visitors
H: Lord Byron! My best friend - what excellent timing (with something of malice) - How often I have turned my head round to the door, hoping that the knock might be yours (shakes hand) - Fletcher not with you? You'll have to pour your own, my Lord - heh
B(disgusted by the lack of formality, but carries on sympathetically): Hunt - Mr. Lamb - how very good to see you both looking so well - I say, is that a badminton court? and a billiards table? Do I smell fresh geraniums?
H: All of the above my dear Byron - all of the above! - I am as pandered to as if I were an about-to-be-decapitated French queen
B: By the Pharoh's feet! I feel a fool - being unfamiliar with the penal code - for I have sent you a large trunk of gentlemen's necessities - Is that an original Shakespeare folio?
CL: Oh - that - yes - I made the same mistake as yourself Lord Bryon - if you'll permit me (B is again astounded by the lack of formality in the prison system) - I, too, was taken aback by the décor - for it is something not found outside a fairy tale
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Moore is announced by the screw
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H: Moore - my best friend! I have heard of your new residence - please do not be so outrageous as to talk of groves and moral prospects whilst I am deprived of same
M(nods deeply): Hunt - Lamb - (delighted) why Byron! we shall all stand behind our plucky friend - shall we not?
B: Deuced if we won't! I have a thorough esteem for the independence of spirit - (to Hunt) and I wish our friendship may be permanent (H eyes B's watch chain - and acquiesces) I must say this is a fine set-up - (walking around the many rooms - spies tennis court) - of course, I but narrowly scrimped prison after my squib on the Princess's tears
H(rocks on heels): An old English baron is free of legal consequences - therefore of His Majesty's hospitality - no! - the luxury of martyrdom is for the common-folk only - my Lord
M: Flattery in any shape is unworthy of a man or gentleman - political flattery is almost a request to be made slaves
CL: The spake of a fighting Irishman! - be careful Moore - and pray Phobus at length your political malice may not get you lodgings within the same palace!
H: Let's have music and dancing! (rings for his maid) - Nancy, a song! (Nancy commences a lively air and pirouettes around the assembled gentlemen) Byron - you will stay, won't you?
B: I would be delighted - but by all the gods - Hindoo, Scandinavian, and Hellenic - Hunt, you are hardly head over ears in disgrace (Nancy lands in B's lap)
H: You will all stay for supper my friends - we're having Ortolans with white truffles
All: With pleasure
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SCENE 3
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The party wakes up slowly the next morning - Nancy has fled with Charles Lamb
B(fresh from bath): By the Hair of Herod - what is that godawful noise??!!
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A pack of wild children come screaming into Hunt's cell - and proceed to prod and poke his hungover guests
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M: What in all the saints?!
H: Now children - don't jump on our guests in such a manner! Here are some left-over Ortolans - out to the tennis court and throw balls at the screws
Children: Yes papa!
H: Thousand apologies - now, your Lord-ship and Mr. Moore - our betters in the spheres of literature and investiture - I have pre-arranged a treat for you (curls toes)
B(groans): Fletcher?! a raw egg and pepper
H: Ha! - there is no Fletcher here now my Lord - no, for a friend of mine - who is also irked to the very nethers by the upper classes - is to pay us a visit (looks at Ormolu clock) In about 10 minutes, Mr. Brougham will be taking coffee with us
B: Brougham! That despiser of domestic ties, the companion of gamblers and demireps - a violator of his word - that aspiring coxcomb?!
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Brougham enters
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HB: I shall grow egotistical upon the strength of your Lordship’s good opinion
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H - a hack in his element - revels in the tension and rocks on his heels - again
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H: 'Twould seem to have escaped your notice, Byron, that I - with my all my domestic adhesions - I should be in prison for putting our atrocious Regent to the sword - whilst you - my Lord - who would not lose your liberty - perhaps at most your title - powders a peruke daily in the hope of receiving a shuddering Royal glance
B(pale with rage): Holy fires, I'll Manton you yet Hunt! (H sneers and pockets B's watch chain) - although, be damned if you won't leave what's left of your wits in this dungeon
H: How very feudal indeed, Byron (swinging his watch-chain) - violence by means of equipment which a man of middling to zero income - with ten children and one and a half wives to support - couldn't possibly obtain
M: His Lordship and I will ignore this ignoble reversal of power dynamics - and will take our leave, gentlemen
HB(scoffing): Anacreon! Tom Little! Tom Moore, or Tom Brown! - how you excel at tickling the Ton - I suppose that to-night you’re engaged with some codgers - and for Sotheby’s Blues have deserted Sam Rogers - but must you always play the Scurra?
B: I'm sure your wife will agree - Brougham - an Infidus Scurra is a much, much worse thing to be​
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HB faints - M and B depart to find the faithful yeoman Fletcher waiting outside with a tray of eggs and pepper
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END