glories. Says Schiller's Pater in the second act: 'And you, pretty
captain! Duke of cutpurses! King of scoundrels! Great Mogul of all
rogues under the sun!' To which Moor replies: 'Very true. Very true.
Just proceed.' In comparison with such a daredevil Goethe's hero seems
to roar like a sucking dove. In his own mind Goetz never really burns the
bridge behind him. He is at heart a loyalist who recognizes the
emperor's claim to his allegiance. As a free imperial knight he feels
himself within his right under the feudal system. In resisting his
enemies he does not set himself in opposition to governmental authority
_per se_, but only to the abuse of authority by subordinates who
disgrace their master and his. And in assuming the leadership of the
insurgent rabble he thinks to restrain their ferocity and thus earn the
thanks of the supreme authority.--It remained for Schiller to convert
this rude self-helper in the age of expiring feudalism into a savage
anarchist in the boastful age of enlightenment.

It was a bold idea to be conceived by a youth in a school where every
third word was of virtue and philanthropy. Not that there was anything
particularly audacious in a strong presentation of the spirit of revolt.
For some time past this spirit had been nourished by the writings of
Rousseau and those who followed in his wake, until attacks upon the
social order, in some phase of it, had come to be almost the staple of
literature. But the attacks had not been very dangerous. Either they
were veiled by a distant setting of the scene, or the indictment of the
age was presented incidentally in connection with some lacrimose tragedy
of the individual. People had learned to sigh and weep that things
should be so, but there the matter ended. The German princeling could
look on with equanimity, assured that the rhetoric and the tears did not
mean him, or that if they did it did not matter. In real life those who
felt themselves oppressed by the civilization of Europe could emigrate,