in philosophical discussion since the time of Luther. We figure his motionless look, had he heard this charge of mysticism. For the man rises before us, amid contradiction and debate, like a granite mountain amid clouds and wind. Ridicule of the best that could be commanded has been already tried against him; but it could not avail. What was the wit of a thousand wits to him? The cry of a thousand choughs assaulting that old cliff of granite: seen from the summit, these, as they winged the midway air, showed scarce so gross as beetles, and their cry was seldom even audible. Fichte's opinions may be true or false; but his character, as a thinker, can be slightly valued only by such as know it ill; and as a man approved both by action and suffering, in his life and in his death, he ranks with a class of men who were common only in better ages than ours.'[1]
The praise is the more honourable because, from Carlyle, it was so rare. In one sense, it is the praise of the disciple. In another and a truer sense, it is the praise that can be offered only by equal to equal. And it is well that, in closing, we should remind ourselves that this is so. Carlyle may have learned from Fichte, he may have learned from Goethe. But, in the last resort, he is the man who has seen the vision with his own eyes; who has drawn the water not from the pitchers of other men, but direct from the source.
- ↑ State of German Literature: Miscellanies, i. pp. 89-90.
