The Books: “Lord Byron’s Love Letter” (Tennessee Williams)

Next on the script shelf:

Next Tennessee Williams play on the shelf is a one-act called Lord Byron’s Love Letter, included in 27 Wagons Full of Cotton And Other One-Act Plays.

A funny sad little play. There are four characters: The Spinster, The Old Woman, The Matron, and The Husband. It takes place in New Orleans during Mardi Gras in the late nineteenth century.

The Old Woman and the Spinster (they are either mother and daughter or grandmother and granddaughter) live in a dilapidated residence and claim to have, in their possession, a love letter from Lord Byron, written to The Spinster’s grandmother. They charge money to anyone who wants to see it, and hear them tell the tale of how this meeting took place. At the very end of the play, it becomes clear that the entire thing is a scam. But, because it’s a Tennessee Williams play, your heart kind of aches for the two con artists – because, yes, they are con artists – but also: for whatever reason, they have constructed this elaborate fantasy – the closeness of their family to the legendary Lord Byron – and they have created this fantasy not just to make money, but to give some meaning to their lives, to touch immortality. It is a fantasy they adore, it makes them feel important, as though their lives were somehow blessed by his presence. The Spinster and The Old Woman are fantasists of the highest order.

A woman (The Matron) shows up to see the letter. She is in town with her husband for Mardi Gras. Her husband tags along, uninterested in the letter – mainly because he is wasted. The Matron politely asks to hear the story of the romance between Lord Byron and their ancestor … so The Spinster and The Old Woman read out loud from their ancestor’s journal (again – you realize at the end of the play that none of this was real) – and then … the big moment … they let the guests SEE the letter. No one is allowed to READ the letter, though. They are only allowed to look at the envelope. Kind of a gyp, if you ask me!

Strange: whenever anyone arrives to see the letter and hear the story, The Old Woman, in some kind of ritual that I don’t understand, goes and stands behind one of the window curtains so she is out of sight. And yet – as The Spinster starts to tell the story, The Old Woman continuously chimes in with corrections, additions, from behind the curtain.

There is a possibility – from reading the play – that the whole thing actually did happen (or something like it) to the Old Woman herself. Not at all the way these two say it, but perhaps she SAW Lord Byron once … and elaborated that sighting of him into an entire love affair — her excuse to retire from the world, and never go out again … her excuse to bury her heart … This would explain why she feels the need to hide behind the curtain … and also would explain why, even though she is hidden, she has to keep chiming in with corrections.

I’ll excerpt a bit from when the two are telling the story, and reading out loud from the journal.

From Lord Byron’s Love Letter, by Tennessee Williams

SPINSTER. Near the end of her tour, my Grandmother and her Aunt went to Greece, to study the classic remains of the oldest civilization.

OLD WOMAN. [correcting] The oldest European civilization.

SPINSTER. It was an early morning in April of the year eighteen hundred and —

OLD WOMAN. Twenty-seven!

SPINSTER. Yes. In my Grandmother’s journal she mentions —

OLD WOMAN. Read it, read it, read it.

MATRON. Yes, please read it to us.

SPINSTER. I’m trying to find the place, if you’ll just be patient.

MATRON. Certainly, excuse me. [She punches her Husband who is nodding] Winston!

SPINSTER. Ah, here it is.

OLD WOMAN. Be careful! remember where to stop at, Ariadne!

SPINSTER. Shhh! [She adjusts her glasses and seats herself by the lamp] “We set out early that morning to inspect the ruins of the Acropolis. I know I shall never forget how extraordinarily pure the atmosphere was that morning. It seemed as though the world were not very old but very, very young, almost as though the world had been newly created. There was a taste of earliness in the air, a feeling of freshness, exhilarating my senses, exalting my spirit. How shall I tell you, dear Diary, the way the sky looked? It was almost as though I had moistened the tip of my pen in a shallow bowl full of milk, so delicate was the blue in the dome of the heavens. The sun was barely up yet, a tentative breeze disturbed the ends of my scarf, the plumes of the marvelous hat which I had bought in Paris and thrilled me with pride whenever I saw them reflected! The papers that morning, we read them over our coffee before we left the hotel, had spoken of possible war, but it seemed unlikely, unreal: nothing was real, indeed, but the spell of golden antiquity and rose-colored romance that breathed from this fabulous city.”

OLD WOMAN. Skip that part! Get on to where she meets him!

SPINSTER. Yes …. [She turns several pages and continues] “Out of the tongues of ancients, the lyrical voices of many long-ago poets who dreamed of the world of ideals, who had in their hearts the pure and absolute image–”

OLD WOMAN. Skip that part! Slip down to where —

SPINSTER. Yes! Here! Do let us manage without any more interruptions! “The carriage came to a halt at the foot of the hill and my Aunt, not being too well–”

OLD WOMAN. She had a sore throat that morning.

SPINSTER. “– preferred to remain with the driver while I undertook the rather steep climb on foot. As I ascended the long and crumbling flight of old stone steps –”

OLD WOMAN. Yes, yes, that’s the place! [The Spinster looks up in annoyance. The Old Woman’s cane taps impatiently behind the curtains] Go on, Ariadne!

SPINSTER. “I could not help observing continually above me a man who walked with a barely perceptible limp–”

OLD WOMAN. [in hushed wonder] Yes — Lord Byron!

SPINSTER. “– and as he turned now and then to observe beneath him the lovely panorama –”

OLD WOMAN. Actually he was watching the girl behind him!

SPINSTER. [sharply] Will you please let me finish? [There is no answer from behind the curtains, and she continues to read] “I was irresistibly impressed by the unusual nobility and refinement of his features!” [She turns a page]

OLD WOMAN. The handsomest man that ever walked the earth! [She emphasizes the speech with three slow but loud taps of her cane]

SPINSTER. [flurriedly] “The strength and grace of his throat, like that of a statue, the classic outlines of his profile, the sensitive lips and the slightly dilated nostrils, the dark lock of hair that fell down over his forehead in such a way that –”

OLD WOMAN. [tapping her cane rapidly] Skip that, it goes on for pages!

SPINSTER. “… When he had reached the very summit of the Acropolis he spread out his arms in a great, magnificent gesture like a young god. Now, thought I to myself, Apollo has come to earth in modern dress.”

OLD WOMAN. Go on, skip that, get to where she meets him!

SPINSTER. “Fearing to interrupt his poetic trance, I slackened my pace and pretended to watch the view. I kept my look thus carefully averted until the narrowness of the steps compelled me to move close by him.”

OLD WOMAN. Of course he pretended not to see she was coming!

SPINSTER. “Then finally I faced him.”

OLD WOMAN. Yes!

SPINSTER. “Our eyes came to gether!”

OLD WOMAN. Yes! Yes! That’s the part!

SPINSTER. “A thing which I don’t understand had occurred between us, a flush as of recognition swept through my whole being! Suffused my –”

OLD WOMAN. Yes … Yes, that’s the part!

SPINSTER. “‘Pardon me,’ he exclaimed, ‘you have dropped your glove!’ And indeed to my surprise I found that I had, and as he returned it to me, his fingers ever so slightly pressed the cups of my palm.”

OLD WOMAN. [hoarsely] Yes! [Her boxy fingers clutch higher up on the curtain, the other hand also appears, slightly widening the aperture]

SPINSTER. “Believe me, dear Diary, I became quite faint and breathless, I almost wondererd if I could continue my lonely walk through the ruins. Perhaps I stumbled, perhaps I swayed a little. I leaned for a moment against the side of a column. The sun seemed terribly brilliant, it hurt my eyes. Close behind me I heard that voice again, almost it seemed I could feel his breath on my –”

OLD WOMAN. Stop there! That will be quite enough! [The Spinster closes the journal]

MATRON. Oh, is that all?

OLD WOMAN. There’s a great deal more that’s not to be read to people.

MATRON. Oh.

SPINSTER. I’m sorry, I’ll show you the letter.

MATRON. How nice! I’m dying to see it! Winston? Do sit up! [He has nearly fallen asleep. The Spinster produces from the cabinet another small packet which she unfolds. It contains the letter. She hands it to the Matron, who starts to open it]

OLD WOMAN. Watch out, watch out, that woman can’t open the letter!

SPINSTER. No, no, please, you mustn’t. The contents of the letter are strictly private. I’ll hold it over here at a little distance so you can see the writing.

OLD WOMAN. Not too close, she’s holding up her glasses! [The Matron quickly lowers her lorgnette]

SPINSTER. Only a short while later Byron was killed.

MATRON. How did he die?

OLD WOMAN. He was killed in action, defending the cause of freedom! [This is uttered so strongly the husband starts]

SPINSTER. When my Grandmother received the news of Lord Byron’s death in battle, she retired from the world and remained in complete seclusion for the rest of her life.

MATRON. Tch-tch-tch! How dreadful! I think that was foolish of her. [The cane taps furiously behind the curtain]

SPINSTER. You don’t understand. When a life is completed, it ought to be put away. It’s like a sonnet. When you’ve written out the final couplet, why go on any further? You only destroy the part that’s already written!