* *

On his going abroad, she had conceived a sort of superstitious fancy
that she should never see him again; and when he returned, safe and
well, and wrote to inform her that he should soon see her at Newstead,
she said to her waiting-woman, "If I should be dead before Byron comes
down, what a strange thing it would be!"--and so, in fact, it happened.
At the end of July, her illness took a new and fatal turn; and, so sadly
characteristic was the close of the poor lady's life, that a fit of
rage, brought on, it is said, by reading over the upholsterer's bills,
was the ultimate cause of her death. Lord Byron had, of course, prompt
intelligence of the attack. But, though he started instantly from town,
he was too late,--she had breathed her last.

The following letter, it will be perceived, was written on his way to
Newstead.

LETTER 55. TO DR. PIGOT.

"Newport Pagnell, August 2. 1811.

"My dear Doctor,

"My poor mother died yesterday! and I am on my way from town to
attend her to the family vault. I heard _one_ day of her illness,
the _next_ of her death. Thank God her last moments were most
tranquil. I am told she was in little pain, and not aware of her
situation. I now feel the truth of Mr. Gray's observation, 'That we
can only have _one_ mother.' Peace be with her! I have to thank you
for your expressions of regard; and as in six weeks I shall be in
Lancashire on business, I may extend to Liverpool and Chester,--at
least I shall endeavour.

"If it will be any satisfaction, I have to inform you that in
November next the Editor of the Scourge will be tried for two
different libels on the late Mrs. B. and myself (the decease of
Mrs. B. makes no difference in the proceedings); and as he is
guilty, by his very foolish and unfounded assertion, of a breach of
privilege, he will be prosecuted with the utmost rigour.

"I inform you of this as you seem interested in the affair, which
is now in the hands of the Attorney-general.

"I shall remain at Newstead the greater part of this month, where I
shall be happy to hear from you, after my two years' absence in the
East.

"I am, dear Pigot, yours very truly,

"BYRON."

* * * * *

It can hardly have escaped the observation of the reader, that the
general tone of the noble poet's correspondence with his moth