Condolatory Address To

Sarah, Countess Of Jersey

On The Prince Regent’s Returning

Her Picture To Mrs. Mee

b

Cast

Sarah, Countess of Jersey 

Lord Byron

JC Hobhouse

Tom Moore

‘Cheeks’ Chester

b

​

 SCENE 1

 

1814, a reception for the Regent - the friends are bored, their glasses empty, and they'd rather be in an after-hours alehouse for a sing-song and some non-competitive conversation

 

M: May the devil break my bones (shakes head) - I need the Ton for my very bread, but how I heartily wish them all in the pit of Acheron!

B: Never mind the vain triumph of that Imperial Lord sequestering the punch bowl!

H: Forsooth - we are not much of an improvement on servile Rome, who obey’d, and yet abhorr’d (sighs)

 

Into the crowded, hot room bounds the exceptional commoner and noted brewer, Cheeks Chester - a manly drinking companion of Byron

 

CC: Evening my fellow elbow-crookers! - snuck in with the pastry chefs I did, ha! - (looking around) - has the sumptuous Regal ass left anything to drink - or eat

B: By God - ‘tis deuced good to see you Cheeks - yon punch-bowl is empty

CC(nervously looks around): I feel a patrician scowl waft toward my vulgar bust 

B(angry): It's possible, certainly - until this eve there existed no need to search for beauty

CC: Why? What was most admired by each scrutinising eye? the passing pageantry? (laughs - but is somewhat revolted) - these peruked and powdered prehistoric Peers?   

​

B points to a faded patch of flocked wallpaper where a painting once hung

 

B: In yon damned spot - (lads hang their heads in sorrow) - hung Fair Jersey!

CC(shrugs): Dashed if we're staying for a hanging - to the business of this eve! - shall we leave this den of respectability and depart for the inns of Chelsea - where perchance Byron, you can store some picturesque flash for future use, in a poem of sorts

B: A minute please Cheeks – I must seek out Fair Jersey - she must be raging like a Spanish bull - have you ever been to a bullfight? - damned cruel sport methinks - your tweeds would be remarked upon

​

B searches through the overstuffed rooms for the form of  Sarah, Countess of Jersey

​

J(pleased to see B): Lord Byron!

 

J and B bow and curtsey and avert their gazes and mumble for a bit as per good breeding

 

B: I was desirously seeking your form, Jersey - I presumed in vain - and in mute amaze - that I’d have any luck at all 

J: Whatever for Byron? 

B: That Brutus, that oafish Golden Colossus, hath removed your picture! (Jersey is somewhat embarrassed)

J: Aye, he is disagreeable like that - a favourite one week – relief from such attention the next – a vain old man, heir of his father’s crown, and of his wits! (both laugh surreptitiously) You may be assured my Lord,  that the only prickles that sting from the Royal hedgehog are those which possess a torpedo property, and may only benumb some of my friends
B: With his corrupted eye, and wither’d heart, ‘tis no wonder he can not appreciate painting and other sort of - type things - as such - as it were - of art

J: Shh! - we shall be heard, Byron (covers wonderous face with fan)

​

Cheeks comes a-bounding through the refined crowd – his tweeds - rightly enough - causing somewhat minor ructions

​

CC: Knock me side-ways Byron (scans J) - is this the gentle image with whom you cannot bear to part? Quite the roguish eye! (leers a bit)

​

J and B somewhat astounded by the mercantile rascal's overtures

​

B: Cheeks! - er - Lady Jersey, this is Mr. Chester - a brewer of note 

​

CC bows excessively

​

J(astonished): Yes - indeed - Sir, have you been at a shooting party? In the metropolis? Do you have a brace about your person - mayhap? - we are all quite hungry, not to say thirsty

 

M & H make their way to the Countess - the usual formalities ensue

​

M: I have a new ode - in a quasi-oriental manner - to you Countess of Jersey (bows) and a stirring four-part harmony to premiere at your next soirée, my Lady (bows)

J: I shall look forward to it, Mr. Moore - pray, will you honour us with your presence - and partridges - Mr. Chester?

CC: By the Foot of the Pharaoh I shall! (kisses J's equally astonished hand)

H: We have appointments to keep with wassailing company in the outer suburbs, my fair Countess - adieu

J(sighs): Good eve - my much more interesting friends - heigh ho! (sighs, again)

 

The lads depart - Byron cursing under his breath - steps on Caroline Lamb's toe quite accidentally - she swears everlasting revenge

​

 b

SCENE 2

​

A tavern - Moore and Hobhouse have joined forces and are leading ‘Here’s to you Tom Browne’ - a favourite amongst street hawkers and professional mourners

 

CC: I know - and be damned to you Byron – that tune is one of your favourites! – why are you sulking? We have ale, singing, undemanding company, willing company - what in the name of Scrope Davies - who is now heavily in debt -  troubles you?

B: Poor, poor Jersey! I feel it in my very pudding

CC(mixes a cocktail of Ale, Gin and Soot - known as ‘The Chester’): Let that tasteless shame be his - that sad whining example to our future Conquerors - and ours the grief, i.e. to gaze on Beauty’s band without its chief!

B: Damn his eyes! In truth, I am quite the connoisseur of fine painting - I have my dog and wolf - old Joe - not to say myself - painted by the most superexcellent daubers resident on this Isle - what can his vaulted gallery now disclose? A garden with all the flowers - except the rose?! A fount that only wants its living stream; A night, with every star, save Dian’s beam?

CC: Lost to our eyes that stunner shall be, yet we can still may recall her resemblance and pause - God forbid! he shall not force our applause! 

B: Deucedly well said Chester – your ruddiness belies a heart of  near upper middle-class feeling - long may thy yet meridian lustre shine, with all that Virtue asks of homage to thine sensitive reaction to my sorrow (hugs Cheeks)

CC: Byron, it’s our round - to the counter-top! - and to the ladies for some fuff-fuff

 

B and CC head into the good-hearted company. M and H discover they have been the victims of several crimes

​

b

 SCENE 3

 

H: I am unexpectedly bereft of funds - and breeches - and firearms

M(sulking): When you consider how famous and requisite I am to the salons of the Ton on any given night - it is damnable that I should be hissed at by these cloth-eared innkeepers

CC: Open your eyes dear Tom, we are in ‘The Hunted Irishman’ 

M: Ah! I will have to change my tune - (starts singing ‘God Save the King’  - is quickly carried aloft and showered with coins and other valuables)

B(regains good spirits): What a boozy ken this is! Where is my black-eyed Sal?

CC: What think you of  ‘The Chester’?

B(takes the froth off): mmm and oons!  - so swell, so nutty and SO knowing!

M: Loving the high Toby!

H(sniffs the bouquet): All swell, full flash, all fancy!

CC: Sales of  ‘The Chester’ will move me up rungs, RUNGS! on the social ladder

 

A gentle voice speaks from within a heavy veil which is tumbling over his tweedy shoulder

 

J(whispers into Cheeks’ ear): It has a spell which will not let our thirst re­pose, but turn to drink again, and find anew some charm that well rewards another glass

ALL: Sarah, Countess of Jersey!!!

J: Whisht lads!! I have come in disguise as I detest being in a room without an artwork dedicated to me  - also I do enjoy a boozy ken the odd time

B: You are not lessen’d, are still as bright, albeit too dazzling for a dotard’s sight! Stay Jersey - we shall keep your admirable secret (pushes Tom onto Hobhouse's lap to make room)

J(to B - she’s after a few at this stage): The glossy darkness of your clustering hair, which shades, yet shows that forehead more than fair! Each glance that wins me, and the life that throws a spell which will not let my husband re­pose!

B: Jersey - you perchance are unaccustomed to ‘The Chester’ (whispers) - it pleases only the paltry heart that pleases none - a crucifying hangover awaits thee yet fair Jersey

J: 'Tis an escape from those dull cold sensualists,  i.e. those sickly eyes, and envious dimness who'd pass my portrait by! (rattles emerge from under J's evening coat - hands a parcel to B) - this is from the Regent, who rack’d his little spirit to recompense the insult  - and to your honour in sticking up for me

​

J hands B her portrait, covered in butcher's paper

​

B: Fair play Jersey - splendidly good of you!- the POW's hate of Freedom’s loveliness is now mine and will hang discreetly in my bachelor pad - not next to the parrot - Jenny is given much to jealousy

CC: A round of  ‘The Chester’ for all still standing! (cheers) 

​

Evening ends with the Watch confusing J for a Covent Garden milliner - B settles the matter by promising they will feature as exotic policemen in his next poem - J quite thrilled at the new fund of drinking stories which will last well into her dotage

​

b

​

END

​