, carried out by a man
who combines insight into the subject with the gift of presenting it as
the times require, deserves full recognition. Only that criticism which
knows how to make itself respected, can regain for the muse of the drama
her temple, the stage; this cannot be done by the muse herself, who,
every time she seeks to enter, is, with the politest of bows, shoved
into the corner again by her noble priesthood. Criticism must, in view
of the voluntary poverty of our repertory, draw attention to the
neglected riches of our dramatic literature; it must, by
characterization and analysis, act as mediator between the genius of the
poet and the talent of the actor, and it sins heavily against the
present when it turns its attention chiefly to the recent past which has
not yet been canonized. It can, as a general rule, never look back often
enough.

Wienbarg begins with Uhland. From the point of view he has chosen he was
quite right to leave unnoticed for the present Heinrich von Kleist's
magnificent _Hermann's Battle_ and _Prince of Homburg._ Of all our poets
Uhland has unearthed in the purest form the treasure of German
nationality: all the dreaming and longing, the hoping and enduring, but
also all the courage, all the strength which steps into the first rank
only in battle, not on the parade ground. One cannot blame Uhland
without blaming Germany at the same time, but one can praise Uhland
without at the same time praising Germany; for all poetry idealizes
because it frames as in a mirror, but on account of its limits it
compresses scattered details into a seemingly well ordered whole, which,
however, does not by any means exist so harmoniously in nature. Uhland's
poetry is a tear, forced from the flashing dark eye by the intolerable
pain which dilates the heart and finds no more room there; but how much
more beautiful is the pain than the wound, and how much more beautiful
is the tear than the pain! Such tears are suffocated deeds. If our
supineness and sentimentality only did not so often degrade holy water
to the base uses of ablution!

Wienbarg introduces his characterization of Uhland with some excellent
remarks. We cannot take enough to heart what he says on page 17: "Our
literature is a ghost, most of the species of poetry are spectres, and
faith or unbelief in them is called esthetics. Fresh young life is
sucked out, architectonic powers are misused in order to spiritualize
and propagate lifeless forms