enter readily into the most complicated
questions of minute critical scholarship; but he always wanted to see
daylight; he could not bear mere groping for groping's sake. When he
suspected any scholar of shallowness, pettiness, or professorial conceit,
he would sometimes burst forth into rage, and use language the severity of
which he was himself the first to regret. But he would never presume on
his age, his position, or his authority. In that respect few men remained
so young, remained so entirely themselves through life as Bunsen. It is
one of the saddest experiences in life to see men lose themselves when
they become ministers or judges or bishops or professors. Bunsen never
became ambassador, he always remained Bunsen. It has been my good fortune
in life to have known many men whom the world calls great,--philosophers,
statesmen, scholars, artists, poets; but take it all in all, take the full
humanity of the man, I have never seen, and I shall never see his like
again.

The rule followed in editing these letters has been a very simple one. I
have given them as they were, even though I felt that many could be of
interest to scholars only or to Bunsen's personal friends; but I have left
out whatever could be supposed to wound the feelings of any one. Unless
this rule is most carefully observed, the publication of letters after the
death of their writers seems to me simply dishonorable. When Bunsen speaks
of public measures and public men, of parties in Church and State, whether
in England or in Germany, there was no necessity for suppressing his
remarks, for he had spoken his mind as freely on them elsewhere as in
these letters. But any personal reflections written on the spur of the
moment, in confidence or in jest, have been struck out, however strong the
temptation sometimes of leaving them. Many expressions, too, of his kind
feelings towards me have been omitted. If some have been left, I hope I
may be forgiven for a pride not altogether illegitimate.

[1.]

LONDON, _Thursday, December 7_, 1848, 9 o'clock.

MY DEAR M.,--I have this moment received your affectionate note of
yesterday, and feel as if I must respond to it directly, as one would
respond to a friend's shake of the hand. The information was quite new to
me, and the success wholly unexpected. You have given a home to a friend
who was homeless in the world; may you also have inspired him with that
energy and stability, the want of which so evid