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Cast

Lord Byron

Robert Southey

H.M. King George VI

PB Shelley

Leigh Hunt

John Murray

W Gifford

Fletcher

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SCENE 1

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Early 1822, Palazzo Lanfranchi, Pisa - curiosity surrounds Byron's lack of response to Southey's attack

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H: Morning - my Lord of the diseased heart and depraved imagination (chuckles and pockets an orange)

B: Hunt 

H: Breakfast with your Lordship is oft characterized by a Satanic spirit of pride and audacious impiety

B: Getting a tad old Hunt

H: Still no answer to the renegado's insolence - the impious cant of an ode by the old enemy?-  eh Byron! The Liberal is always at your disposal whenever you find your oats

B: Have you not a family of ten to feed? - I have my morning ablutions to attend to

H: Bath? - certainly - heh heh - would I dare delay the Pasha of Pisa?! (thinks himself elegantly insulting)

B: If you'd tell your wife to stop watching me in the bath - I would be most grateful

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H storms off - scribbles unreliable notes - PBS enters

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PBS: Byron (bows)

B: My dear Shelley

PBS(hysterically gnawing a piece of bread): Have you seen this filth?! (shows him Southey's trash) - “The metre, thus constructed, bears the same analogy to the ancient hexameter that our ten-syllable or heroic line does to iambic verse”!! - Who does he mean to insult with this? is it me?

B: Read on my friend 

PBS: “..their productions breathe the spirit of Belial in their lascivious parts, and the spirit of Moloch in those loathsome images of atrocities and horrors which they delight to represent !”(sits, in a flurry) Moloch? I'm a deuced atheist! also, Mary would not appreciate talk of my “lascivious parts”- (lies down on cool marble floor) - and since when is a Skylark loathsome?!

B(laughs snarkily): pfft! - his preface is revolting to every good feeling - not to worry dear Shelley, the rascally turncoat has quite landed in my lap

PBS: How? The insults are pointed - everyone back home will know to whom they are directed  - Father will cut off what's left of my allowance

B: Perchance the sally of my foil in the letters pages of  the Courier caught our Bob off-guard - and foolishly led him to challenge me with my own weapon of choice - the Highland Broadsword of my poesy 

PBS: You mean to issue a challenge? 
B: Of sorts, my dear Snake - I rebutted the pond-dwelling pantisocract almost immediately - although Murray has long refused to hatch it

PBS: I must agree with the Admiralty man on this occasion - you cannot insult the King - yea, nor his rancorous renegado Laureate

B: Tough - I'm where no royal sceptre - or outsized beak - can knock me on the head for my troubles

PBS: Galignani's a rogue - perhaps he would dare..

B: No, Shelley - we have a jailbird under our noses here at Lanfranchi - one who, along with his admirable brother, has already done time for lobbing fireworks at the throne  - we are safe, and we will - my friend - be avenged

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PBS and B breakfast on green bananas and green tea

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SCENE 2

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Pisa - excitement mounts at the publication of the 1st edition of  The Liberal

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B(opens letter, rolls eyes -which are Portals of the Sun): Hobby and Murray's councils are against me as per usual - I wanted to journalize with Moore - they hated that too -(lights cigar) - mmm if I were a cockney lad - I would have been the best of the Grub-Street hacks - getting the scoop on juicy Crim.Con controversies (sighs)

F: Mr. Hunt is here - shall I get the cash tin?

B: I suppose it's inevitable - send him in 

H: Morning my Lord - have you a squib perchance - or anything that could push sales along for our first edition?

B: Morning Hunt - to kick it all off,  I'll donate the copyright of my “Vision of Judgement”- the rebuttal you were so keen to extract. Murray will be snubbed (frowns) - but he has been sitting on that - and many others for months

H: He is in thrall to the Grandees of the Admiralty

B: Off and read it Hunt - let me have your opinion - I believe it to be one of my best things

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H trots off to the orange-tree-filled courtyard - and listens while B sings in the bath

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H(reading): “Tis true, he was a tool from first to last (I have the workmen safe); but as a tool, So let him be consumed” - Sweet mother! If we publish this my brother will land in jail - again

B(yells from his bath): The King is not named, mind - anyway I will travel to England to defend himself and myself in person in such an eventuality (geese jump into the bath) - Fletcher!!

F: My Lord?

B: Wash the geese and fetch my robe

F: Yes my lord

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B joins H in the courtyard - PBS strolls in

 

B: We shan't fuss, my dear Hunt - besides, it's signed “Quevedo Redivivus”- heh heh - a non-material being - unprosecutable in any jurisdiction since the signing of the Magna Carta

PBS: It's both heavenly and unsurpassable my dear Byron

H: I fear The Literary Gazette will find it abhorrent, heartless and beastly - (mops brow) - The Courier will heap coals on our heads - they already think you (outrageously squeezing B on shoulder) have a brain from heaven and a heart from hell! - and there'll be no gold crowns for me and my litter!

B: There will always be crowns, Hunt (thumps his shoulder)  just ask Fletcher for a refill

H: We're agreed so, my Brethren of the Quill - you (pointing to B) to bail out my brother if and when - he to get the MS in full - complete with dedication - from Murray - The Liberal to pocket the proceeds

B: Murray shall be expecting him (winces) - does he possess a morning coat? no - no matter - brothers in trade what (to himself, oons)

PBS(to himself): How long can the alliance between the Wren and the Eagle last?

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SCENE 3

 

Murray is on fire - George IV contemplates battle - Byron is supervising the gilding of his boat, in Pisa

 

M(shaken): Have you seen the Courier (to Gifford) -  “he riots in thoughts that fiends might envy”! (sits and weeps)

G: “He seems to have lived only that the world might learn from his example how worthless and how pernicious a thing is genius, when divorced from religion, from morals, and from humanity” - Humph! I blame the apolitical Italians and their easy-going attitudes toward libel and rebellion

M: Holy mother! - but it is out of my hands - (looks at portrait) though I will bitterly miss my boy - (gets angry) John Hunt is it?! Hunt! A cockney felon (weeps some more) - I shall be reduced to travel guides and outlandish theorising Tomes re. evolution from that Darwin maniac

G: Our noble friend has sealed his fate - we shall never see him more on his native shore, for he'd have at least three Mantons, that sordid gossip-ferret Robert Wilmot and the Royal Courts trained on him

M: I kept back the Dedication - at least I can call that my own

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Things are even less rosy at the Court of St. James - George IV is in session

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GIV: Southey!!

S: Yes your Majesty

GIV: What and who is this?? (waves The Liberal ) my poor Father! the Viceroy of the Sky! Why, a better farmer ne'er brushed dew from lawn - nay, a worse king never left a realm undone! (S shifts)  - he never warr'd with freedom and the free - he was too busy holding Mama's winding wool!

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GIV paces

 

GIV: There is not a gentleman in the country who will not hold their author in contempt as unworthy of the character of a gentleman - it is ribaldry of the most beastly kind - (stamps foot) can I not have a few short years of hollow peace?  - I shall sue!

S: Yes, well - I feel certain their author is indeed no Gentleman - but, as he has not signed his name, a lawsuit  - even one instigated by your Majesty - would most certainly fail

GIV: I can sue the publisher - a street vendor not unknown to this House 

S: That would work nicely - perhaps such action may also draw out the poisonous author heh heh

GIV: You don't do too well out of it either Southey - he has fairly disassembled your poesy and courage - I shall be surprised if  the Courier keeps up the pretence of admiration for your talents

S(livid): I - and my genius - are unassailable as long as I wear your laurels, your Majesty!!

GIV(waves The Liberal again): I wouldn't be so smug Bob (S winces) - if this - this! - can attack two Kings at once - it plainly has no fear of you - or this Wat Tyler person - who is that?

S: Er (thinking on his feet) - if memory serves - he has written praises of a regicide - and then against - bitterer than ever - then grew a hearty anti-jacobin - has turn'd his coat - and would have turn'd his skin (looks for his hat)

GIV: Sounds like I should be suing him! Anyhow - we shall leave it up to our courts and public opinion - via the spineless Tory press - to put this opprobrious matter to rest 

S: Yes your Majesty - be assured, that miscreant's goose is cooked - and I shall have a bust in the Abbey

GIV: Very well - (sighs) - I require some soothing bedtime reading Southey - what would you recommend?

S: I would heartily recommend the hundredth psalm, your Majesty

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END

Part 3 of 3