An immature personality, no doubt--in these two cantos of "Childe Harold" the essential Byron is not yet revealed. A personality, too, it might be, with a good deal of paste board theatricality about it--sincerity and clarity of insight were later Byronic developments. But that did not matter--least of all did it matter to the women. Melodrama is often more instantaneously effective than drama; and "twopence coloured" has obvious immediate advantages over "penny plain." The pose might be apparent, but it was not ridiculous--or, at all events, it did not strike people as being so; and the power of posing without making himself ridiculous is one of the tests of a man's value. Moreover no pose which makes an impression is ever entirely insincere. The great posturer must put a good deal of himself into his postures, just as the great painter puts a good deal of himself into his pictures. Matter-of-fact persons like Hobhouse might not think so; but women, with their surer instinct, know better. Hobhouse, glancing at the manuscript of "Childe Harold," might say, with perfect candour, that he saw no points in that poem different from any other poem; but to the women it was, and was bound to be, a revelation. A revelation, too, of just such a personality as the women liked to think that they understood--and with just such gaps in the revelation as they liked to be puzzled by! One may almost say that the hearts of Englishwomen went out with a rush to Byron for the same reason for which the hearts of the Frenchwomen, two generations earlier, had gone out to Rousseau--because he gave them sentiment in place of gallantry. He had, in fact, given them both; but the note of sentiment predominated; and it was easy to believe that the sentiment was sincere, and the gallantry merely the consoling pastime of the stricken heart. The women took that view, as they were bound to, agreeing that Byron was the most interesting man of their age and generation. He certainly was infinitely more interesting, from their point of view, than Rousseau. He was younger, better born, and better looking, with more distinguished manners--one of themselves and not, like Jean-Jacques, a promoted lackey. So, in a day and a night, they made him famous, and ensured that, whatever else his career might be, it should be spectacular. The world, in short, was placed, in a sudden instant, at his feet. It was open to him to stand with his foot on its neck, striking attitudes--to step at a stride into a notable position in public life, or to ride, in his own way, with his own haste, to the devil.