lutely deserve. The poem which
he published on his returns from his travels[63] was, on the other
hand, extolled far above its merits. At twenty-four he found himself
on the highest pinnacle of literary fame, with Scott, Wordsworth,
Southey, and a crowd of other distinguished writers, beneath his feet.
There is scarcely an instance in history of so sudden a rise to so
dizzy an eminence.

Everything that could stimulate, and everything that could gratify the
strongest propensibilities of our nature--the gaze of a hundred
drawing-rooms, the acclamations of the whole nation, the applause of
applauded men, the love of the loveliest women--all this world, and
the glory of it, were at once offered to a young man, to whom nature
had given violent passions, and whom education had never taught to
control them. He lived as many men live who have no similar excuses to
plead for his faults. But his countrymen and his countrywomen would
love him and admire him. They were resolved to see in his excesses
only the flash and outbreak of the same fiery mind which glowed in his
poetry. He attacked religion; yet in religious circles his name was
mentioned with fondness, and in many religious publications his works
were censured with singular tenderness. He lampooned the Prince
Regent; yet he could not alienate the Tories. Everything, it seems,
was to be forgiven to youth, rank, and genius.

Then came the reaction. Society, capricious in its indignation as it
had been capricious in its fondness, flew into a rage with its froward
and petted darling. He had been worshiped with an irrational idolatry.
He was persecuted with an irrational fury. Much has been written about
those unhappy domestic occurrences which decided the fate of his life.
Yet nothing ever was positively known to the public but this--that he
quarreled with his lady, and that she refused to live with him. There
have been hints in abundance, and shrugs and shakings of the head, and
"Well, well, we know," and "We could if we would," and "If we list to
speak," and "There be that might an they list." But we are not aware
that there is before the world, substantiated by credible, or even by
tangible evidence, a single fact indicating that Lord Byron was more
to blame than any other man who is on bad terms with his wife. The
professional men whom Lady Byron consulted were undoubtedly of the
opinion that she ought not to live with her husband. But it is to be
remembered that they f