THE BLUES

a LITERARY PROLOGUE

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KL

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Cast

Lord Byron

JC Hobhouse

Fletcher

Miss Lilac

Lady Charlemont

Miss Lydia White

Sir G Beaumont

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KL

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SCENE 1

 

 

1813, Bennet Street - Byron's HQ

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F: More - yet more - invitations my Lord

B(sighs): Show me

F: They are all sealed with blue wax (looks closer) cupids, swans, hearts, harps, and the muse Calliope, my Lord

B: A deuced swarm of Bluebottles, ay Fletcher! - mmm - at least they don't force nine courses of grouse, pike, and other coarse game on one 

F: Here is one from their chief, Lady Charlemont

B(starts): Say nothing of her! - Oh that face!—by ‘te, Diva potens Cypri’ - I would, to be beloved by that woman, build and burn another Troy

F: er, Lydia White?

B: Yes, Miss White - a Tory Virgin, apparently (muses) - to the Cocoa Tree tonight Fletcher? - or re-commence my Italian lessons? - challenge the Bold Webster for my thousand guineas? - perchance, sweet lobster salad and saucy French literature, what heh heh

F: heh - lobsters are quite out in Piccadilly at the moment my Lord (B frowns - severely) - they have been detained by HM's tax collectors at Walthamstowe (shuffles invites) - not to fear my Lord - look here's a very pretty one from Mrs. Wilmot

B: My cousin's wife? Lucky dog - have doubts as to his commitment re. familial ties - however, she, at least, is a swan  - perhaps I might frequent that purer stream

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Hobhouse strolls in

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B: Hobby! - stuck between invitations - there is a Party of Purple at Sir George Beaumont's -  Shall I go? um!

H: I don’t much affect your blue-bottles - but one ought to be civil 

B: Just so - will you go? I will endure fewer fainting fits if you are by my side - there will be - ‘I guess now’ - as the Americans say - (both chortle in amazement) - the Staëls and Mackintoshes - good (H nods) - the Lilacs and Diddle's - not so good - the  Botherby's, and the rest - good for nothing!

H: We may look forward - may we not - to the presence of that blue-winged Kashmirian butterfly of book-learning, Lady Charlemont? - I hope so, for it is a pleasure to look upon that most beautiful of faces

B(starts): Yes - perhaps we shall go - to be ornamental if nowt else - Fletcher!!

F: Yes my Lord

B: Myself and Mr. Hobhouse require a dousing of tea-tree oil to fend off  Sir George's literary mosquitoes - Hobby - you first (H strips down to his chain-mail small cloathes)

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KL

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SCENE 2

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The drawing room of  Sir George Beaumont 

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GB: Why, Lord Byron (bows) - and Mr. Hobhouse (nods) how very good you are to attend our soirée of talented, fleetingly fêted people - I presume you are here to provide risqué oriental tales and disturb the ladies 

B: Certainly, Sir George(scans room) - er, where is the bar? Is there a particle of  Lobster to be had at all? - paw or claw?

GB: None of it - we've been excised to the very vertebrae! (motions forward) now, we have all of London here tonight my Lord, the room will be as hot as hell, take some ices instead - oh! Scamp the Lecturer wants me - anon gentlemen - stay away from Lady Charlemont - we're not in Italy after all, hah hah!

H: pshaw! who else are we meant to look at! Rogers? Good lord he has actually turned yellow

B: Dull - very dull - oh dear - what is that drone? (is affright) the swarm descends!

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H and B are surrounded by expounding females

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B: How very kind of you (times ten) - yes, my iambics could do with more polish - the Latin is sluggish to be sure - certes, the Giaour will find the Lord in The Giaour 2 - well, I am an avid vulgarian, though only when bored, however I..

Miss White: You shall attend my morning parties - your Lordship - where we shall - with red pencils - point out your errors - grammatical, synoptical and, needless to say, moral - over tea and crumpets

B: Mornings?  - Miss White - my blood is all post-meridian, consequentially I do not rise until after 2pm - I shall be only too delighted to accommodate you in my rooms any evening after 11

Miss White(turns from blue to red): Quite erm - I'm sure - erm - oh! Miss Lilac - over here (a dowdy little woman waddles over) - Lord Byron, Mr. Hobhouse - this is Miss Lilac - of the Durham Lilacs - a dynasty of cobblers, you know

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The lads bow

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Miss Lilac: Gentlemen (stares steadily at B) - How in need of the reforming company of female scribes you both are - as Miss White has often pointed out to us in her morning parties - your spondaics are regularly out of tune - a well-intentioned lecture - from me - would be invaluable

B: Well, you certainly look a lecture  Miss Lilac! ha ha

H: Is Lady Charlemont here - do you know - at all?

Miss White: Of course - she is our Littérateuse-in-Chief - though- beware! no man's library is safe from her (laughs - Miss Lilac does not)

Miss Lilac: Mr. Hobhouse - you will join our morning parties, no? His Lordship would seem to possess an aversion to crumpets - having read your thoroughgoing work on Albania, I feel sure you at least would appreciate a dose of early-morning pedantry

H: I thank you Miss Lilac - but I fear I am, yet, less civilised - in the a.m. than his Lordship!

Miss Lilac: hmmph! - 'twould seem neither of them is for reforming Miss White - Thomas Moore is here - his spondaics are all over the place - good evening gentlemen (smiles, she imagines seductively, at B - and waddles off)

B: sheesh - Blue as Ether! - and much, much too good for either of us Hobby

H(stares): Byron - sometimes I wonder if you know women at all!

GB(swoops): Gentlemen, I believe you wanted to meet Lady Charlemont - she is holding forth this a-way

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KL

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SCENE 3

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An imposing convocation of ladies arranged in a circle, sitting on straight-backed wooden chairs 

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LC: Lord Byron - and Hobhouse - welcome to our Coterie - we seldom have male guests - Lord Charlemont cannot bear to be away from his stamps in HM's Excise office - we must rely on Mr. Sotheby you know - he is a bustling little bumbling blue-bottle isn't he? 

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H and B continue in their awe of Lady C

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LC: ah - but - naturallment - a notable oracle of  Littérateur

GB: 'Twould seem our guests are somewhat overawed by your company my dear Lady - why they are quite lost for words!

B: ahem - please do excuse our slack-jawed aspects - we were just bombarded with complaints re our grammatical shortcomings

LC: Oh  - Misses White and Lilac? - they need to be married - and quick - to improve the scope of their conversation if nothing else (stands) now, gentlemen - what shall you partake in? - tea, hot chocolate - we have no coffee - do we? - no, that would overstimulate the superfluous parts of the brain - crumpets - yes - crumpets - jam or honey? mmm?

H: We have had an ample sufficiency of ices this evening your Ladyship - our exquisite throttles are well moistened

B: I am stuffed like a pike

LC: Sit, anyway - here's a plump cushion Mr. Hobhouse (puts cushion under him - H pales) - we Blues are quite tall aren't we? (B glaring at H) - now being scholars, and men of even greater learning, what books have you in your libraries? - here is a pen  and paper each - take your time - we are discussing the latest edition of  “My Grandmother's Review”

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Hands articles to H and B - who start scribbling

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H(whispers to B): Zounds my dear B - the head of Lady Charlemont seems to possess all that sculpture requires for its ideal

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B is too busy underlooking at LC

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GB: Ahem - ladies - can we expect a little improv poesy (smiles annoyingly at B) from his Lordship tonight? - he who likes nothing more than being 'on the spot' for such conceptions eh what?! (ladies titter excitedly)

LC: Sir George! This is unsupportable - my Lord - I do apologise 

B: Sir George - I thank you for treating me like a rented pineapple, or a motley drowning comically in your moat - but I can not concede to your request - I shall however, attempt a theatrical paean to your noted Purple Parties 

LC & GB: Marvellous! (ladies clap)

LC(whispers to B): At two hours past midnight we will meet again - for sandwiches, hock, and champagne 

B: I'll let Fletcher know 

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H and B attempt to leave - GB whispers to B

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GB: Be very wary my friend - has she promised champagne? does she have a list of your books? - similar happened to Walter Scott - fine man - and didn't she - while Sir Walter was in the cellar - sweep away a whole row of his library - carrying them hidden in her apron. She passed him in the gallery in this state - and what could she do but curtsy low - and what was to come of the books - for they must curtsy too - be damned if she didn't break their spines!

B(laughs): Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye? By dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes? No, Sir George - for although she is the finest beauty on my Roster - I'll gladly swap an apron of Gibbon - 'ere yet, tied up in a ribbon - if she can lift Lord C's taxes on my Lobster!

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KL

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END

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