s​

Cast
Lord Byron

John Polidori

JC Hobhouse

Fletcher

Vincenzo Monti

Marchese di Breme

Marie-Henri Beyle (aka Stendhal)

Captain Großerkopf

Police Chief Spoonelli

​

s

 

Scene  1

​

Milan, 1816  - H & B enjoy some pre-Opera gossip

​​

H: I must say, Society here is very oddly carried on - the state of morals in these parts is - in many ways - somewhat lax

B: 'pon my soul, if a mother and son weren't pointed out at the theatre to me the other night (checks for presence of third parties) - pronounced by the Milanese in our box to be of the Theban dynasty! (is all admiration) - moreover, they seemed to be not sufficiently scandalized either by the taste or the tie!​

​

H splutters - Fletcher enters

​

F: Mr. Monti (reads from visitors card) - “ the immortal author of the Basvigliana" - wishes to be introduced, my Lord

B: Show him in Fletcher - by the way, do use the ‘Onorevole Signore' for ‘Mr' whilst we sojourn in Italy, if you would

F: Onvrole? - vole - sig nowt - pfft (keeps mumbling - departs, disgusted)

​​

Monti, the most celebrated of the living Italian poets, enters

​​

M: Buonasera, milord Byron (bows) - how I enjoyed your ‘Hours of Idleness' - so many caresses! so many sighs! - so many glowing breasts and damp blue eyes! (mops brow) dio! - did I not think you were a young Italian cavaliero in disguise!

B: How very kind (frowns) - are you aware that I have penned many others since? - although, not so much caresses - and be damned to it! (growls) - as stresses

M: Ah! the sorrows of life yet burden even ‘us youth' - pray, who is your charming little friend?

B: Mr. Hobhouse, a man of dry wit and even drier soap, who is vastly curious re. the tolerant recreational customs by which the Milanese abide

M: Indeed? (to H) - to explain, Signore Hobhouse - all society in Milan is carried on at the opera and the theatre solely - we meet there as at a rout? a rut? no? - in your country - but in very small circles - no conversationes, parties, balls - just private boxes - where we play at cards, compare stilettos, or any thing else (smirks at B) - except for the Casino, there are no - what you Londoners enjoy so - ‘open houses'

H: But where do you meet your future spouses?​

M: Our matriarchs are responsible for those (shrugs) - as in most countries, they wear the trowsers

​

F brings in a tray of spiritous substances

​

B: Ah! Fletcher! - finally! Signore Monti, what is your usual recourse before the Opera? An aperitivo?

M: Grazie, most excellent (regards B with some deliberation) - if I may remark, milord - you are quite as graceful as a wildcat and as mild as a new May morning - so unlike the mostruoso great Inglese devil ‘Gagliani's Messenger' would have us believe

H: I'll pour (dashes to B) - you should pay no heed, Monti, to those scabrous hacks who are paid but to deceive

M: Any man of sense would not believe a word of it (gulps his Campari) - why, anyone who's been married to a Unitarian would recognise the handiwork of an accomplished slanderer immediately

H(mixes a triple): Here - drink that up Monti - quick as you can

M: We shall depart, shall we not my friends? The ballet is first on the bill tonight - our host, the Marchese de Breme, has a somewhat chippy, hovering Frenchman who also wishes to be introduced milord - our apologies - in advance

B: Your apologies (grunts) I will regard - you capisci, my most esteemed Signore Monti? - somewhat askance

​

s

Scene  2

​

Milan Opera House

​

MdeB: Most welcome my Lord Byron - and Mr. Hobhouse - Monti - please, sit wherever you please - the pit is usually full of Austrians (spits, discretely) Milord - perhaps you would prefer the divan next to the drapery, the favoured nestling place for an exhausted ballarina (B is not displeased) - more particularly, those plucky veterans beset by oedema  

B: If you could kindly keep introductions to a minimum, my dear Marchese - although I understand Italian - I speak it with more readiness than accuracy

MdeB: Certainly, milord, I have but one pressing obligation (a looming presence is detected) - please, let me introduce you to Signore Marie-Henri Beyle - a Frenchman - the ingenious author of  ‘ L’Histoire de la Peinture en Italie'

​​​

Bows all round

​​​

Beyle(whispers to MdeB): Mon dieu!! - I have never seen anything more beautiful or more expressive in my life - in future, if I think of the expression that a great painter should give to genius, that sublime head will suddenly reappear before me 

MdeB: er, quite - and this is Mr. Hobhouse - an author too, fond of public works and pedantry

Beyle(inattentive, and haughty): Milord Byron - pardon my hesitation (bows) - you understand, I feel a just repugnance that every Proud Frenchman must have at being introduced to a Peer from England

B(unruffled): Monsieur Beyle - it will be my very great pleasure to keep our acquaintance as incidental as possible - as a Frenchman, I presume you sense the revulsion my outward manner belies 

Beyle: (to self:  heh heh - I well may, my lord - but I shall ensure posterity believes otherwise)

​​

Orchestra starts up - ballarinas thump their way onto the stage ​​

​​​

MdeB(enraptured): Che meraviglia! so pretty our little... (gasps) - dio!! - there would appear to be a dust-up in the pit!

Monti: Che emozione! (claps hands) - an over-avid collector of ballet slippers, maybe?

​

Much off-stage scuffling and raised voices are heard - all - except B - desert their cards, ices and flirtations to enjoy this superior, though common, form of entertainment

​​​

H(agape): Good god - it's Polly!!! Sweet mother of Divine - the eternal nonsense, and tracasseries, and emptiness of that young person!! Byron? (looks for B - in vain) Dr. Polidori! (screams) - take your hands off that large Hussar-looking gentleman!

P(absorbed in his new spat): Remove your hat, Captain Großerkopf - I cannot see the stage, thou feathered Vandal!! (jumps on CG's back and tears off plumes) - I shall smash your external occipital protuberance if you attempt to dislodge me sir!!

CG: Mein Gott!! Get off me - you shoeless vagrant! (grabs P's naked ankle) - buffoon! (bites ankle) - Italienischer Idiot!!

H(panicking): Marchese di Breme- have you seen his Lordship? He alone can assuage the tantrums of that blockheaded man of medicine

MdeB(looks around): Why is the champagne missing? - oh! (grins paternally) milord appears to be occupied, Mr. Hobhouse - somewhere in yon drapery

​​​​​​

H takes charge and rushes to the pit - finds Police Chief Spoonelli and his grenadiers in the process of arrest

​​​​​

​H: My card, Chief Spoonelli (it's actually B's) - that unshod doctor is an ersatz Englishman - I will answer for his apparition in the morning

S(reads card): You? the Lord Byron? no! you do not look like an alabaster vase lit up from within - no offence - your tumultuous countryman will be ordered from the territory within 24 hours (slaps cuffs on P) our Governor does not allow himself by forbearance to be beguiled (glares at P) - it will be a lucky dog who is but exiled!

P: Why, you razor-faced villain! Do you know who I am?! where are my shoes? Hobhouse, find and repair them and bring a change of linen to my cell - and tell George - his Lordship to you (unconvincingly curls lip) - to pay off this plodding son of a clock-winder (sneers at S)

S: Right, testo douro! (hauls P quite violently by collar) to the guard room!

CG: Gute nacht, thou Englischer schwächling! heh heh (puts hat back on and searches for the ballarinas)

​​​​

A paroxysmal P is marched off to chokey​​

​​

s

Scene  3

​​​

Next morning, Hobby - in the hope of getting P off the hook - is introduced at the Governor's residence 

 

H: Your excellency, Count Sauran (bows) - I have come to beg off a rogue resident of your fine city's lock-up, a Dr. Polidori

CS: Ah yes! I witnessed last night's bloodshed, Signore Hobhouse - the ballarinas fled the stage in fright - we had to make do with card-tricks, contortionists and a dexterous wheelwright! (shakes head in despair) - certs, though no Italian can hate an Austrian more than I do - they seem to me the most obnoxious race under sky and sea - the doctor deserves his detention, having begun a row for a row’s sake - now, will you take a cigar with me? 

H: Charmed (puffs) - mmm Turkish? marvellous - well, 'twould seem this distant acquaintance of ours walked over the Alps from Geneva after Lord Byron gave him his congé - made some footing at Milan practicing Medicine - found very good society, fell in with Monsieur Beyle - but his childish temper has yet again landed him in jail

CS(feigns disinterest): Is milord Byron to join you in your ministration on behalf of the hot-headed youth? (fails disinterestedness) In truth, I do hope so, for I have been imploring an invitation to meet with England's greatest poet - so many hours have I spent cross-referencing my English and Italian Manfreds - by the time I arrive at the second act, I have forgotten how I got there - but ah! - a sublime genius, in fact

H: To be sure, we are delighted with his progress towards Abbey-level immortality - now, Excellency - is it possible we can transport the doctor away from Milan with no penalty to his passport? I feel sure myself, and the Lord Byron, would be most grateful if we could keep him out of an Austrian court

CS: Si? (ponders) - mmm, Officer Spoonelli is welded to his prison keys and Captain Großerkopf  is vowing to avenge the denial of his ballarinas - and his hat - but we shall try

​​

CS and H finish their cigars, and head off

​​​​​​​

s

Scene  4

​​​​​​

The Milan guard-room - P is begirt with grenadiers

​​​​

P: Mr. Hobhouse! where are my shoes? where is milord? (stamps feet) - have you sent for him?

​​​​

B merrily strides in

​​​​

B: What now, saucy Tom? 

H: Byron! - where have you been? 

B: Sink me - can't remember where I was! - at any rate, I was nowhere near this deuced altercation - in sooth, when Fletcher put me to bed, 'twould seem I was inexplicably wrapped in a fine velvet curtain-cape - albeit in a state of outrageous intoxication

H: Well, that mortifying human production, Dr. Pollydolly, has yet again disturbed the peace with his ill-humour and vanity 

CS: Milord Byron? (bows) why - how serendipitous to obtain an introduction thus-aways! (plucks up courage) - scusi, but could you spare six of your curls - one each for my enthralled wife and five girls?

B: Count Sauran? (nods) why, most certainly - my sister will be delighted to hear of my rampant mane being shorn of it's continental superfluidity (smiles incandescently) 

​​​

CS blushes and bows

​​​

B: Now, you understand this felon was once in my employ - he has an alacrity of getting into scrapes - is not a bad fellow and more likely to incur diseases than to cure them (stares darkly at P) in truth - his faults are but the faults of a pardonable vanity and youth

​P: Oh my cranium foramen magnum(holds said head) - ow! I think I've dislodged a tooth

​​​​​

​​CG enters in a temper

​​​​​​​​

CG: Nein! - ze Englischer must be punished - I had to endure langweilig circus tricks last night! (is enraged) - my kopf was cold - and I was deprived of my ballarinas by this delinquent show-off - why they ran away in fright!

P: Did they now, Barbarian?- I can tell you - they did not - they preferred the company of a soothing Englishman to the gawpings of your oversized ultramontane skull!

B: Ah yes! - now I remember (is delighted with himself) - Captain Großerkopf, 'tis but too true - the poor fluttering creatures sought refuge in the Marchese's box - somewhat from habit it would seem - and, with the help of champagne and my supernatural stanzas - ah! what bliss supreme!

CS: Come now, Captain Großerkopf - your prancing ladies shall return to the stage this eve - Spoonelli is expelling the improbable doctor from the territory...

P: Expelled?! Dio!

B: Polly, you are to return to England - I have arranged for the Danish consul to ship you to the Brazils on a medical speculation

P(is dejected): E' vero - here, alas! - I have no more patients (sighs)

H: Because your patients are no more

B: Spoonelli - release that convict! - Count Sauran, we apologise for the troubles of this (glances at P) jaded beau - Großerkopf - will you return these slippers to Signora Taglioni? - the lady most especially requested I do so..

​​​

CG gasps and nervously reaches for slippers - P intervenes, ties them on and prances towards the Opera House, followed at speed by Großerkopf and an immigration official - Spoonelli regales the remaining party with the more lurid of the week's opera-box arrests

​​​​​​​​

​

s

END