LORD  BYRON  and  his  TIMES
Documents Biography Criticism

Memoir of Francis Hodgson
Lord Byron to Francis Hodgson, 29 June 1811

Vol. 1 Contents
Chapter I.
Chapter II. 1794-1807.
Chapter III. 1807-1808.
Chapter IV. 1808.
Chapter V. 1808-1809.
Chapter VI. 1810.
Chapter VII. 1811.
Chapter VIII. 1811.
Chapter IX. 1811.
Chapter X. 1811-12.
Chapter XI. 1812.
Chapter XII. 1812-13.
Chapter XIII. 1813-14.
Vol. 2 Contents
Chapter XIV. 1815-16.
Chapter XV. 1816-18.
Chapter XVI. 1815-22.
Chapter XVII. 1820.
Chapter XVIII. 1824-27.
Chapter XIX. 1827-1830
Chapter XX. 1830-36.
Chapter XXI. 1837-40.
Chapter XXII. 1840-47.
Chapter XXIII. 1840-52.
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In a week, with a fair wind, we shall be at Portsmouth, and on the 2nd of July I shall have completed (to a day) two years of peregrination, from which I am returning with as little emotion as I set out. I think, upon the whole, I was more grieved at leaving Greece than England, which I am impatient to see, simply because I am tired of a long voyage. Indeed, my prospects are not very pleasant. Embarrassed in my private affairs, indifferent to public, solitary without the wish to be social, with a body a little enfeebled by a succession of fevers, but a spirit, I trust, yet unbroken, I am returning home without a hope, and almost without a desire. The first thing I shall have to encounter will be a lawyer; the next a creditor; then colliers, farmers, surveyors, and all the agreeable attachments to estates out of repair,
and contested coal-pits. In short, I am sick and sorry; and when I have a little repaired my irreparable affairs, away I shall march, either to campaign in Spain, or back again to the East, where I can at least have cloudless skies and a cessation from impertinence.

I trust to meet or see you, in town, or at Newstead, whenever you can make it convenient. I suppose you are in love and poetry as usual. That husband, H. Drury, has never written to me, albeit I have sent him more than one letter; but I daresay the poor man has a family, and of course all his cares are confined to his circle. I regretted very much in Greece having omitted to carry the ‘Anthology’ with me. What has ‘Sir Edgar’ done? And the ‘Imitations and Translations;’ where are they? I suppose you don’t mean to let the public off so easily, but charge them home with a quarto. For me, I am sick of ‘fops, and poesy, and prate,’ and shall leave ‘the whole Castalian state’ to Bufo, or anybody else. But you are a sentimental and sensibilitous person, and will rhyme to the end of the chapter. Howbeit I have written some 4,000 lines, of one kind or another, on my travels. I need not repeat that I shall be happy to see you. I shall be in town about the
8th, at Dorant’s Hotel in Albemarle Street, and proceed in a few days to Notts, and thence to Rochdale on business.

I am, here and there, yours, &c.