To The Countess Of Blessington

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Cast

Lord Byron

Teresa Guiccioli

Henry Fox

Earl of Blessington

Countess of Blessington

Count D'Orsay

Fletcher

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SCENE 1

 

1823, Genoa - there is a deluge, earthquakes

 

B (to T): Zounds! this storm!! - there are perukes and gingerbread in the trees - the preacher looks to be lynched - what think you of removing to Nice? -  I am exhausted with these constant intrusions from autograph hunters - we'd be near Goose and the fam, and her drone of a husband

T: She is tired of London and the six miles of bottom?

B: I think not - but they are constantly caught short - the Drone is without capital - and they have a warren of offspring

T: It is most thoughtful of you mio Byron - your heart is truly noble and great - but you would have to speak Français

B: pfft! I shall let you, my love, and Goose do the talking for me - but I think she will not - there is no racetrack nearby

T: Dio mio my poor Byron! (brushes his hair) - you can keep going with the abominable Don - if such would cheer you

B (gives T the evil eye): The strain would expire on my tongue - and the theme is too soft for my shell (scowls) 

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Fletcher enters

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F: The Bold James Wedderburn Webster to see you, my Lord

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T flees - her abundant curls romantically falling about her shoulders

 

B (shudders): Webster?! Get to the devil! (grinds teeth) what else can catastrophize my life right now! I'm throwing over that cowardly Tory tradesman Murray, the deluge has ceased to amuse me - and I have an unsightly cold sore (shakes out his slightly greying curls) - well, be dashed to it - onwards Fletcher - show him in!

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W comes crashing in

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W: Byron - I owe you a thousand guineas! I also have a favour to ask

B: It is now a ten-year-old bond Webster - with interest - have you come to settle? Deuced if that money wouldn't have saved my marriage!

W: In sooth - I did you let ogle and pass notes to my wife - I am well aware of her infatuation, although she has since transferred her affections to your motley, Scrope Davies - after a non-fling with the Duke of Wellington

B (angry): That butcher! waging war to fatten his own pocket! only the devil's luck could have taken the spotlight away from me

W: To the point - Lady Frances wants to leave me - again - would you mind awfully counselling her against it? 

B: You ask too much - but I shall try. Leave the cash with Fletcher (B shows W the door)

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Fletcher announces Henry Fox, son of Lord Holland

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B: Fox! Oh how I have always liked that boy 

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Noisy ruckus on the marble staircase - Fletcher's voice is raised

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EofB: Byron! Sorry to knuckle my way in - your man seems not to know me - insufferable Northerner! Please let me introduce my smashing - and expensive - wife

LyB (curtsies): My LORD - how very delighted I am to meet you here in Italy where I am so totally appreciated and admired by the highly literary Italian Ton - without your English society ladies attempting to exclude me - me! - a Lady - with my own crown! Do you own this small house - is there room for a pony? What is that boil on your face? You appear to be crying? My naked shoulders have that effect on men. Where is your mistress?

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Henry Fox walks slowly in

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B: Henry Fox! how you have grown! It is a sincere pleasure and honour to see you (the two men shake hands, with feeling) - Welcome my old friend - I have so many unwanted visitors - they exhaust me quite 

H: Byron - how handsome you still are - no wonder every woman you meet falls in love with you!

LyB: Hello (offers hand) I am Lady Blessington - wife of the Earl here - have we met? I am a doyenne of sorts - (winks and whispers) - I can tell you now, I have not fallen in love with Lord Byron - he is somewhat short - I suspect he, au contraire, will find me both fascinating and inspiring

B: Fletcher!!! Brandy!!! - what will you have Fox - you'll have Brandy of course - what for the Blessingtons? - yes, you'll have Brandy too (grinds teeth) - I suspect

LyB: Our mutual aristocrat - you can't know him, he's French - the Count D'Orsay, un Cupidon déchaîné in fact - will be here presently Byron - you must not use crudities of expression around him 

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Fletcher drops tray, shattering precious Venetian brandy glasses

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​SCENE 2

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The Blessingtons join Byron on his daily ride around Genoa

 

EofB: Dashed bad business about the Dublin mortgages eh what?! To compensate Byron - I shall buy that two-master of yours with the politically controversial name - does she sail well?

B: I've not had the heart to sail her - I am ashes where once I was fire, what I loved I now merely admire - and my heart is as grey as my head

LyB: I noticed - it's also quite thin. To the vessel - we can reach a bargain - and rename her - have you met my equally stunning sister Miss Power - she rarely leaves the carriage -  Blessington, it would be quite marvellous for us to locate here - we could buy the Villa Paradiso - and our names, Byron, would be entwined for eternity -I will have our coronets painted on my new Royal Doulton coronation ware

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A loud crash emanates from Byron's palazzo

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EofB: Why - that window has been actually quite ripped off its frame!

B: Yes, my amica is prone to such behaviour

EofB: Damned thrilling - a jealous woman - what? Myself - I am incapable of jealousy 

LyB: You will meet Alfred tonight Byron - he is a mildly talented sketch artist and an aristocrat of the first order - like us - would you like to buy my horse Mameluke? - we could trade you the boat -yes? (spits on hand) - deal?

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Another loud crash emanates from Byron's palazzo

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B: You will excuse me - I have many prior engagements

LyB: Begor! What an unhappy man! His mistress cannot be inspiring enough - perhaps I can help Blessington?

EofB: Marvellous Idea! You will be immortalised and literary men years hence will recognise you as a major player in his Lordship's life

LyB: Shift let you! We must dress for dinner - Alfred will be arriving from his jewellers 

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SCENE 3

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Evening - Byron is in his dressing gown - knackered by the strain of enforced sociability

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F: There is a handsome, beautifully tailored Frenchman without a moustache to see you My Lord

B: All the saints preserve me from these interminable madmen! Send him away Fletcher!!

D'O: Bon Soir Byron! - forgive please the intrusion - I heard you were unwell and have bought you these fresh violets - as I know by careful perusal of your minor poems that they are favourites of yours

B (taken aback): Zounds - but they are! - Please - do come in - D'Orsay, I believe - how very Ancien Regime of you - Fletcher!! - you must stay for supper - I will not change for I am sure you approve of my silk charmeuse 

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Fletcher appears with Champagne, lobster and  lemon granita

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D'O: Exquisite! Piquante! I have been much in high London society - you should satirise it - it is quite,  quite ridiculous

B: Why, I have just been occupied in that very...

EofB: Hallo the House!!

LyB: Bon soir all - Byron have you met Alfred yet? I am much like a mother to him - soon, in fact, I will be a mother-in-law to him (all except B laugh)

B: How so?

Eof B: My child - daughter - is engaged to Alfred - although unmet they are to be married shortly - duns Byron - you understand Byron - duns!! I'm a long way from the glory of gems and snuff-boxes - and uniforms what? (LyB is throwing daggers at EofB) - oh yes, yes my dear - Byron, would you like to be inspired by my wife? Lawrence would be nothing without her you know

B: You have ask’d for a verse?! - the request in a rhymer ’twould be strange to deny, but my Hippocrene was but my breast, and my feelings (its fountain) are dry 

LyB: My beauty does not fail even in daylight - unlike your mistress, and other Continentals

B: Would I dare to say otherwise Milady? - but let the young and the brilliant aspire to sing what I gaze on in vain (eyes lobster claws) - for sorrow has torn from my lyre the string which was worthy the strain 

LyB: Do you suffer from Gout? Is that scurvy (points to his lip)? Is your thinning hair making you triste?

B: You must excuse me - I have had three days of dinners during the last seven days – they have made me so headachy and sulky – that it will take me a whole Lent to subside back into wit and merriment

LyB: Sweet lord above!! You can post the poesy - I can frank if you're short - we are all off to London to get married - are you crying? Blessington - I can torment him no longer - Anon Byron!

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Fletcher attempts to announce yet another visitor..

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B: Fletcher - my life is not dated by years, there are moments which act as plough - and there is not a furrow appears but is deep in my soul as my brow (stirs his melted granita)

F: My Lord - you are not at home - I understand - I shall leave your bear-skin and teeth, and paws and claws by the door

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B is already asleep - and dreams of escaping to a war zone

 

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