Count Gamba’s name comes upon our ears, associated with some very disagreeable recollections; and his book is—as a book—but a poor one. It contains, however, quite enough of facts to satisfy all mankind that Lord Byron in Greece was everything that the friends of freedom, and the friends of genius, could have wished him to be. Placed amidst all the perplexities of most vile and worthless, intriguing factions—at the same time exposed to and harassed by the open violence of many utterly irreconcilable sets of mere barbarian robbers—the equally barbarous chiefs of whom were pretending to play the parts of gentlemen and generals—and, what was perhaps still more trying, perpetually annoyed, interrupted, and baffled by the ignorance, folly, and obstinate drivelling, of his own coadjutors, such as Colonel Stanhope and the German Philhellenes—he, and he alone, appears to have sustained throughout the calmness of a philosopher, the integrity of a patriot, and the constancy of a hero. If anything could have done Greece real good, in her own sense of the word, at this crisis, it must have been the prolongation of the life he had devoted to her service. He had brought with him to her shores a name glorious and commanding; but, ere he died, the influence of his tried prudence, magnanimous self-denial, and utter superiority to faction, and all factious views, had elevated him into a position of authority, before which, even the most ambitiously unprincipled of the Greek leaders were beginning to feel the necessity of controlling their passions, and silencing their pretensions. The arrival of part of the loan from England—procured, as it unquestionably had been, chiefly through the influence of his name—was, no doubt, the circumstance that gave such commanding elevation to his personal influence in Greece, during the closing scenes of his career. But nothing except the visible and undoubted excellence of his deportment on occasions the most perplexing—nothing but the moral dignity expressed in every word and action of his while in Greece—nothing but the eminent superiority of personal character, resources, and genius which he had exhibited—could possibly have reconciled the minds of those hostile factious to the notion of investing any Foreigner and Frank with the supreme authority of their executive government. We have no sort of doubt, that if Byron had died three months later, he would have died governor of all the emancipated provinces of Greece. This is a melancholy thought, but it is also a proud one. . . .