well, i'm at the end of the holograph of humboldt. it was a good read albeit kind of monotone. it ends with muir in a cabin he built in yosemite with a streamlet running through and frogs and ferns and mosses. an i think humboldt would be humbly pleased.
but humboldt, in his eighties, a star of the earth, after roaming the world and publishing massive volumes he lived and died in a little room in his hated berlin unable to afford his own books.