ng on
horseback, masquerades, private theatricals, satirical verse,
improvisation of all sorts, flirtation particularly, filled up day and
night, to the scandal of all worthy folk, who were utterly at a loss to
account for his serene highness saying "_Du_" to this Frankfort
_roturier_. The gay Dowager Duchess, Wieland's firm friend, looked upon
these juvenile freaks with a more lenient eye; for she well knew that
the fermentation once over, a noble, generous wine would remain. "We are
playing the devil here," writes Goethe to Merck; "we hold together, the
Duke and I, and go our own way. Of course, in doing so we knock against
the wicked, and also against the good; but we shall succeed; for the
gods are evidently on our side." Soon Herder was to join them there,
unfortunately not always satisfied with the results of his teaching
about absolute liberty of genius.

The whole generation bore with impatience the yoke of the established
order, of authority under whatever form, whether the fetters were those
of literary convention or social prejudice, of the state or the church.
The _ego_ affirmed its absolute, inalienable right; it strove to
manifest itself according to its caprices, and refused to acknowledge
any check. Individual inspiration was a sacred thing, which reality with
its rules and prejudices could only spoil and deflower. Now, according
to the temperament of each, they rose violently against society and its
laws, or resigned themselves silently to a dire necessity. The one in
Titanic effort climbed Olympus, heaving Pelion on Ossa; the other wiped
a furtive tear out of his eye, and, aspiring to deliverance, dreamed of
an ideal happiness. Sometimes in the same poet the two dispositions
succeed each other.

"Cover thy sky with vapor and clouds, O Zeus," exclaims Goethe's
Prometheus, "and practise thy strength on tops of oaks and summits of
mountains like the child who beheads thistles. Thou must, nevertheless,
leave me my earth and my hut, which thou hast not built, and my hearth,
whose flame thou enviest. Is it not my heart, burning with a sacred
ardor, which alone has accomplished all? And should I thank thee, who
wast sleeping whilst I worked?"

The same young man who had put into the mouth of the rebellious Titan
this haughty and defiant outburst, at other moments, when he was
discouraged and weary of the struggle, took refuge within himself. Like
Werther, "finding his world within himself, he spoils and ca