-wheel which drives the universe seized him with tremendous power and
flung him mockingly into an abyss. He felt that he had sinned, and
did not know in what way. He found himself justified in his earthly
relations and yet could not shake off the oppressive nightmare of a
secret monstrous guilt. Then he shudderingly divined that sin can go
further than knowledge, that in things and in events, as well as in
human thought and feeling, there lies a mysterious final something,
which, of whatever nature it may be and whatever its effect, must be
regarded as holy. Let us remember Oedipus and the way in which in this
drama one riddle is always solved by another riddle.

In the modern drama, on the contrary, the suffering as a rule first
begets action. The hero gets into the whirlpool, he does not himself
know how, but when near destruction he shows himself to be a brave,
fearless swimmer. This comes from the attempt, not so much to reconcile,
as to compare the idea of Freedom with the idea of Necessity. Modern
tragedy has, therefore, when placed beside the ancient, a sickly hue,
which is still further intensified by the circumstance that its point of
departure is the individual. I should like to have time to indicate all
the consequences of these opposite conceptions.

If I should be asked to express in brief the fundamental idea of modern
tragedy I should find it in the harsh fetters that bind the highest
nobility of human nature, in suffering and death, and in the resistance
of the world--occasioned thereby, nay presupposed as a necessity--which
the world offers to all greatness as it strives for self-realization.

Wienbarg, after his general preliminary remarks, proceeds to make an
analysis of Uhland's drama, _Louis the Bavarian._ It is excellent and
accomplishes everything that it should accomplish, by combining the
characterization of the poet with the characterization of the German
drama in its totality, of which totality the individual drama is an
organic part. Of course every reader will wish that Wienbarg had
rendered the tragedy, _Duke Ernest_, the same friendly service, of which
Uhland's dramas, in their unostentatious simplicity, stand so much in
need, if they are ever to receive the appreciation which they deserve.
Were it fitting to prolong the criticism of a criticism to such an
extent, I should myself attempt to elucidate this most German of
tragedies in all its ramifications; perhaps this will be done in anot