52 — To John M. B. Pigot 1
16, Piccadilly, August 9, 1806.
My Dear Pigot
, — Many thanks for your amusing narrative of the last proceedings of my amiable Alecto, who now begins to feel the effects of her folly. I have just received a penitential epistle, to which, apprehensive of pursuit, I have despatched a moderate answer, with a
kind
of promise to return in a fortnight; — this, however (
entre nous
), I never mean to fulfil. Her soft warblings must have delighted her auditors, her higher notes being particularly musical, and on a calm moonlight evening would be heard to great advantage. Had I been present as a spectator, nothing would have pleased me more; but to have come forward as one of the
dramatis personae
— St. Dominic defend me from such a scene! Seriously, your mother has laid me under great obligations, and you, with the rest of your family, merit my warmest thanks for your kind connivance at my escape from "Mrs. Byron
furiosa
."
Oh! for the pen of Ariosto to rehearse, in epic, the scolding of that momentous eve, — or rather, let me invoke the shade of Dante to inspire me, for none but the author of the Inferno could properly preside over such an attempt. But, perhaps, where the pen might fail, the pencil would succeed. What a group! — Mrs. B. the principal figure; you cramming your ears with cotton, as the only antidote to total deafness; Mrs. — — in vain endeavouring to mitigate the wrath of the lioness robbed of her whelp; and last, though not least, Elizabeth and
Wousky
, — wonderful to relate! — both deprived of their parts of speech, and bringing up the rear in mute astonishment. How did S. B. receive the intelligence? How many
puns
did he utter on so
facetious
an event? In your next inform me on this point, and what excuse you made to A. You are probably, by this time, tired of deciphering this hieroglyphical letter; — like Tony Lumpkin, you will pronounce mine to be "a damned up and down hand." All Southwell, without doubt, is involved in amazement.
Apropos
, how does my blue-eyed nun, the fair ——? Is she
"robed in sable garb of woe?"
Here I remain at least a week or ten days; previous to my departure you shall receive my address, but what it will be I have not determined. My lodgings must be kept secret from Mrs. B. You may present my compliments to her, and say any attempt to pursue me will fail, as I have taken measures to retreat immediately to Portsmouth, on the first intimation of her removal from Southwell. You may add, I have proceeded to a friend's house in the country, there to remain a fortnight.
I have now
blotted
(I must not say written) a complete double letter, and in return shall expect a
monstrous budget
. Without doubt, the dames of Southwell reprobate the pernicious example I have shown, and tremble lest their
babes
should disobey their mandates, and quit, in dudgeon, their mammas on any grievance. Adieu. When you begin your next, drop the "lordship," and put "Byron" in its place.
Believe me yours, etc.,
Byron
.
Footnote 1:
J. M. B. Pigot, eldest brother of Miss E. B. Pigot (see
of August 29, 1804, page 32,
1). To him Byron addressed his "Reply" (
Poems
, vol. i. pp. 53-56) and verses "To the Sighing Strephon" (
Ibid
., pp. 63-66). In 1805-6 Pigot was studying medicine at Edinburgh, and in his vacations saw much of Byron. He died at Ruddington, Notts., November 26, 1871, aged 86. It would appear that Byron had, with the connivance of the Pigots, escaped to London, after a quarrel with his mother; but the caution to keep his lodgings secret gives a theatrical air to the letter, as the rooms, kept by Mrs. Massingberd, were originally taken by Mrs. Byron, and often occupied by her, and she was at the time corresponding with Hanson about her son's debt to Mrs. Massingberd, who seems to have been both landlady and money-lender to Byron.
