god of battles, or exulting in the achievements of arms; but the
sympathies of Him who was touched with the feeling of our infirmities
answer to the wants and woes of the race, and every thoughtful mind
ecstatically encores. The inexorable Fate of the Greeks does not appear,
but a good Providence interferes, and Heaven smiles graciously upon the
scene. There is passion, indeed, grief and sorrow, sin and
suffering,--but the tempest-stiller is here, who breathes tranquillity
upon the waters, and pours serenity into the turbid deep. The Niobe of
humanity, stiff and speechless, with her enmarbled children, that used
sometimes to be introduced on the Athenian stage for purposes of terror
or pity, is here restored to life, and she renders thanks for her
deliverance and participates in the general joy to which the piece gives
birth. No murderers of the prophets are hewn in pieces before the Lord;
but from the agonies of the cross and the depths of a preternatural
darkness, the tender cry is heard, on behalf of the murderers of the Son
of God, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!" No
Alcestis is exhibited, doomed to destruction to save the life of her
husband,--but One appears, moving cheerfully, voluntarily, forwards, to
what may be termed the funeral pile of the world, from which,
phoenix-like, he rises, and gloriously ascends, drawing after him the
hearts, the love, the worship of millions of spectators. The key of the
whole piece is Redemption, the spirit that actuates is Love. The chief
actors, indeed, are Christ and Man; but innumerable subsidiary
personages are the Charities. The elements of a spiritualized existence
act their part. Humanity is not changed in its substance, but in its
tendencies; the sensibilities exist, but under a divine culture. Stephen
is as heroic as Agamemnon, Mary as energetic as Medea. Little children
are no longer dashed in pieces,--they are embraced and blessed.

But let us select for attention, and for a conclusion to these remarks,