Carlyle published seems to have been on Werner,
followed the same year, 1828, by one on Goethe's "Helena,"--a
continuation of his "Faust." This transcendent work of German art, which
should be studied rather than read, is commented on by the reviewer with
boundless admiration. If there was one human being whom Carlyle
worshipped it was the dictator of German literature, who reigned at
Weimar as Voltaire had reigned at Ferney. If he was not the first to
introduce the writings of Goethe into England, he was the great German's
warmest admirer. If Goethe had faults, they were to Carlyle the faults
of a god, and he exalted him as the greatest light of modern times,--a
new force in the world, a new fire in the soul, who inaugurated a new
era in literature which went to the heart of cultivated Europe, weary of
the doubts and denials that Voltaire had made fashionable. It seemed to
Carlyle that Goethe entered into the sorrows, the solemn questionings
and affirmations of the soul, seeking emancipation from dogmas and
denials alike, and, in the spirit of Plato, resting on the certitudes of
a higher life,--calm, self-poised, many-sided, having subdued passion as
he had outgrown cant; full of benignity, free from sarcasm; a man of
mighty and deep experiences, with knowledge of himself, of the world,
and the whole realm of literature; a great artist as well as a great
genius, seated on the throne of letters, not to scatter thunderbolts,
but to instruct the present and future generations.

The next great essay which Carlyle published, this time in the Edinburgh
Review, was on Burns,--a hackneyed subject, yet treated with masterly
ability. This article, in some respects his best, entirely free from
mannerisms and affectation of style, is just in its criticism, glowing
with eloquence, and full of sympathy with the infirmities of a great
poet, showing a remarkable insight into what is noblest and truest. This
essay is likely to live for style alone, aside from its various other
merits. It is complete, exhaustive, brilliant, such as only a Scotchman
could have written who was familiar with the laborious lives of the
peasantry, living in the realm of art and truth, careless of outward
circumstances and trappings, and exalting only what is immortal and
lofty. While Carlyle sees in Goethe the impersonation of human
wisdom,--in every aspect a success, outwardly and inwardly, serene and
potent as an Olympian deity,--he sees in Burns a highly