When, in 1879, W. S. Gilbert had his Pirate King of Penzance advise the unhappy hero, “Frederic, if you conscientiously feel that it is your duty to destroy us, we cannot blame you for acting on that conviction. Always act in accordance with the dictates of your conscience, my boy, and chance the consequences,” the Pirate Apprentice who expected soon to be out of his indentures found himself in a world as generally obsessed with the sense of duty as he was himself. It is true that only with considerable difficulty did he find “one maiden breast” which felt the moral beauty “Of making worldly interest/Subordinate to sense of duty,” but the Pirate King had plenty of other support for his conscientious philosophy. Not only was he joined by the somewhat weathered Ruth, but even the Sergeant of Police, remembering his own obligations when constabulary duty's to be done, forgave Frederic his tergiversation when reminded that the undependable young man, however queerly he behaved, had always been actuated by his sense of duty. And even Mabel, faced with the loss of her lover, announced proudly to the police force, “Dearly as I loved him before, his heroic sacrifice to his sense of duty has endeared him to me tenfold. He has done his duty. I will do mine. Go ye and do yours.” Nevertheless, poor Frederic remained the victim rather than the master of his convictions; he suffered ceaseless spiritual tortures under the admonitions of the Stern Daughter of the Voice of God, and at one critical point exclaimed:

Oh joy unbounded !
Oh sweet relief ! oh rapture unexampled !
At last I may atone, in some slight measure,
For the repeated acts of theft and pillage
Of which, at a sense of duty's stern dictation,
I, circumstances' victim, have been guilty.