He now released his connection with the University; his weightiest duties were discharged by proxy; and his historical studies were forsaken.  His mind was being attracted by the philosophy of Kant.  This transcendental system had filled Germany with violent contentions; Herder and Wieland were opposing it vehemently; Goethe alone retained his wonted composure, willing to allow this theory to “have its day, as all things have.”  How far Schiller penetrated its arena we cannot say, but he wrote several essays, imbued in its spirit, upon aesthetic subjects; notably, “Grace and Dignity,” “Naive and Sentimental Poetry,” and “Letters on the Aesthetic Culture of Man.”

The project of an epic poem brought Schiller back to his art; he first thought of Gustavus Adolphus, then of Frederick the Great of Prussia, for his hero, and intended to adopt the ottave rime, and in general construction to follow the model of the “Iliad.”  He did not even begin to execute this work, but devoted himself instead to the tragedy of “Wallenstein,” which occupied him for several years.  Among other engagements were, the editing of the “Thalia,” which was relinquished at the end of 1793; a new periodical, the “Horen,” which began early in 1794; and another, the “Musen-Almanach,” in which the collection of epigrams known as the “Xenien” appeared.  In these new publications Schiller was supported by the co-operation of Goethe.

“Wallenstein.” by far the best work he had yet produced, was given to the world in 1799.  Wallenstein is the model of a high-souled, great, accomplished man, whose ruling passion is ambition.  A shade of horror, of fateful dreariness, hangs over the hero’s death, and except in Macbeth or Othello we know not where to match it.  This tragedy is the greatest work of its century.

Schiller now spent his winters in Weimar, and at last lived there constantly, often staying for months with Goethe.  The tragedy of “Maria Stuart,” which appeared in 1800, is a beautiful work, but compared with “Wallenstein” its purpose is narrow and its result common.  It has no true historical delineation.  The “Maid of Orleans,” 1801, a tragedy on the subject of Jeanne d’Arc, will remain one of the very finest of modern dramas, and its reception was beyond example flattering.  It was followed, in 1803, by the “Bride of Messina,” a tragedy which fails to attain its object; there is too little action in the play and the interest flags.  But “Wilhelm Tell,” 1804, exhibits some of the highest triumphs which Schiller’s genius, combined with his art, ever realised.  In Tell are combined all the attributes of a great man, without the help of education or of great occasions to develop them.  The play has a look of nature and substantial truth, which neither of its rivals can boast of.  Its characters are a race of manly husbandmen, heroic without ceasing to be homely, poetical without ceasing to be genuine.

This was Schiller’s last work.  The spring of 1805 came in cold, bleak and stormy, and along with it the malady returned.  On May 9 the end came.  Schiller died at the age of forty-five years and a few months, leaving a widow, two sons and two daughters.  The news of his death fell cold on many a heart throughout Europe.