“I have read in most Public Libraries,” says he, “including those of Constantinople and Samarcand:  in most Colleges, except the Chinese Mandarin ones, I have studied, or seen that there was no studying.  Unknown Languages have I oftenest gathered from their natural repertory, the Air, by my organ of Hearing; Statistics, Geographics, Topographics came, through the Eye, almost of their own accord.  The ways of Man, how he seeks food, and warmth, and protection for himself, in most regions, are ocularly known to me.  Like the great Hadrian, I meted out much of the terraqueous Globe with a pair of Compasses that belonged to myself only.

“Of great Scenes why speak?  Three summer days, I lingered reflecting, and even composing (dichtete), by the Pine-chasms of Vaucluse; and in that clear Lakelet moistened my bread.  I have sat under the Palm-trees of Tadmor; smoked a pipe among the ruins of Babylon.  The great Wall of China I have seen; and can testify that it is of gray brick, coped and covered with granite, and shows only second-rate masonry.—­Great Events, also, have not I witnessed?  Kings sweated down (ausgemergelt) into Berlin-and-Milan Customhouse-Officers; the World well won, and the World well lost; oftener than once a hundred thousand individuals shot (by each other) in one day.  All kindreds and peoples and nations dashed together, and shifted and shovelled into heaps, that they might ferment there, and in time unite.  The birth-pangs of Democracy, wherewith convulsed Europe was groaning in cries that reached Heaven, could not escape me.

“For great Men I have ever had the warmest predilection; and can perhaps boast that few such in this era have wholly escaped me.  Great Men are the inspired (speaking and acting) Texts of that divine BOOK OF REVELATIONS, whereof a Chapter is completed from epoch to epoch, and by some named HISTORY; to which inspired Texts your numerous talented men, and your innumerable untalented men, are the better or worse exegetic Commentaries, and wagon-load of too-stupid, heretical or orthodox, weekly Sermons.  For my study, the inspired Texts themselves!  Thus did not I, in very early days, having disguised me as tavern-waiter, stand behind the field-chairs, under that shady Tree at Treisnitz by the Jena Highway; waiting upon the great Schiller and greater Goethe; and hearing what I have not forgotten.  For—­”

—­But at this point the Editor recalls his principle of caution, some time ago laid down, and must suppress much.  Let not the sacredness of Laurelled, still more, of Crowned Heads, be tampered with.  Should we, at a future day, find circumstances altered, and the time come for Publication, then may these glimpses into the privacy of the Illustrious be conceded; which for the present were little better than treacherous, perhaps traitorous Eavesdroppings.  Of Lord Byron, therefore, of Pope Pius, Emperor Tarakwang, and the “White Water-roses” (Chinese Carbonari)