Altogether, taking into consideration the various points I have here enumerated, it may be asserted, that never did there exist before, and it is most probable never will exist again, a combination of such vast mental power and surpassing genius, with so many other of those advantages and attractions, by which the world is, in general, dazzled and captivated.  The effect was, accordingly, electric;—­his fame had not to wait for any of the ordinary gradations, but seemed to spring up, like the palace of a fairy tale, in a night.  As he himself briefly described it in his memoranda,—­“I awoke one morning and found myself famous.”  The first edition of his work was disposed of instantly; and, as the echoes of its reputation multiplied on all sides, “Childe Harold” and “Lord Byron” became the theme of every tongue.  At his door, most of the leading names of the day presented themselves,—­some of them persons whom he had much wronged in his Satire, but who now forgot their resentment in generous admiration.  From morning till night the most flattering testimonies of his success crowded his table,—­from the grave tributes of the statesman and the philosopher down to (what flattered him still more) the romantic billet of some incognita, or the pressing note of invitation from some fair leader of fashion; and, in place of the desert which London had been to him but a few weeks before, he now not only saw the whole splendid interior of High Life thrown open to receive him, but found himself, among its illustrious crowds, the most distinguished object.

The copyright of the poem, which was purchased by Mr. Murray for 600_l._, he presented, in the most delicate and unostentatious manner, to Mr. Dallas[46], saying, at the same time, that he “never would receive money for his writings;”—­a resolution, the mixed result of generosity and pride, which he afterwards wisely abandoned, though borne out by the example of Swift[47] and Voltaire, the latter of whom gave away most of his copyrights to Prault and other booksellers, and received books, not money, for those he disposed of otherwise.  To his young friend, Mr. Harness, it had been his intention, at first, to dedicate the work, but, on further consideration, he relinquished his design; and in a letter to that gentleman (which, with some others, is unfortunately lost) alleged, as his reason for this change, the prejudice which, he foresaw, some parts of the poem would raise against himself, and his fear lest, by any possibility, a share of the odium might so far extend itself to his friend, as to injure him in the profession to which he was about to devote himself.