with Scott and with others
whom he had abused without provocation; and it is interesting to note, in
view of his own romantic poetry, that he denounced all masters of romance
and accepted the artificial standards of Pope and Dryden. His two favorite
books were the Old Testament and a volume of Pope's poetry. Of the latter
he says, "His is the greatest name in poetry ... all the rest are
barbarians."

In 1809 Byron, when only twenty-one years of age, started on a tour of
Europe and the Orient. The poetic results of this trip were the first two
cantos of _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, with their famous descriptions of
romantic scenery. The work made him instantly popular, and his fame
overshadowed Scott's completely. As he says himself, "I awoke one morning
to find myself famous," and presently he styles himself "the grand Napoleon
of the realms of rhyme." The worst element in Byron at this time was his
insincerity, his continual posing as the hero of his poetry. His best works
were translated, and his fame spread almost as rapidly on the Continent as
in England. Even Goethe was deceived, and declared that a man so wonderful
in character had never before appeared in literature, and would never
appear again. Now that the tinsel has worn off, and we can judge the man
and his work dispassionately, we see how easily even the critics of the age
were governed by romantic impulses.

The adulation of Byron lasted only a few years in England. In 1815 he
married Miss Milbanke, an English heiress, who abruptly left him a year
later. With womanly reserve she kept silence; but the public was not slow
to imagine plenty of reasons for the separation. This, together with the
fact that men had begun to penetrate the veil of romantic secrecy with
which Byron surrounded himself and found a rather brassy idol beneath,
turned the tide of public opinion against him. He left England under a
cloud of distrust and disappointment, in 1816, and never returned. Eight
years were spent abroad, largely in Italy, where he was associated with
Shelley until the latter's tragic death in 1822. His house was ever the
meeting place for Revolutionists and malcontents calling themselves
patriots, whom he trusted too greatly, and with whom he shared his money
most generously. Curiously enough, while he trusted men too easily, he had
no faith in human society or government, and wrote in 1817: "I have
simplified my politics to an utter detestation of all existing