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and in war, they have followed our great example; they wrong none—they fear none. And now, bound by equal treaties to some of the greatest empires of the earth, they have been received into the family of nations, and their new banner, like another star set in the sable brow of night, flashes along the coast of their fatherland? Yes, it is a child of our country !—outcast it may be—but still a child! And the day will come, when it will vindicate in glory, all that it has won in tears.
In this, as in every analogous case, a! change in the condition of these men has wrought a corresponding change in their character. The good that is in them finds ample scope for exercise, and adequate motive for exertion; the evil is no longer pressed with ceaseless temptation, and aggravated by a constant sense of wrong. So it would be, as to all their brethren, situated as they once were. And the simple and truthful recital of what has actually occurred, seems to me to present to every benevolent and enlightened mind, an overwhelming argument in favor of the similar removal of the whole free black race from the United States. This, at least, is within the compass of our means and our authority—this, every view of our duty, and their interest, would seem to suggest.
In the long annals of the human race, there has never existed a powerful and highly civilized state in those immense and fervid regions which lie under the equator — and which, encircling the globe, and extending northward and southward to the tropics, embrace so vast a portion of the earth's surface. Forty-seven degrees of latitude in the central portions of the earth, covering fivesixths of the African continent, three-quarters of South America, the extreme southern portions of Asia and North America, and multitudes of the islands of the sea—amongst them some of the most extensive and fertile of all—have been condemned, since the creation of the world, to be the abode of the ignorant and scattered—for the most part feeble and semi-barbarous—and to a deplorable extent, savage and brutal tribes of men. And yet there was never an era in those protracted annals when the existence of a power of the first class, in any portion of that vast circumference, would not have been an event Bo decisive in the history of the human race, as to have altered the whole current of their history, and modified the subsequent destiny of the whole race. The grand necessity, this day, oi the human family, considered as one great brotherhood—the overpowering want which human progress, considered in its scope, this day exhibits, is the reclamation of that immense circumference, from the reign of ignorance and barbarism, and the
THIRD SERIES. I.IVIM.: AGE. 539
establishment throughout its vast extent of the triumphs which man, elsewhere has won. If it had pleased God to erect, in the central regions of South America, extending from ocean to ocean, a confederacy like ours —or if he had planted it across the bosom of Africa, under the equator—or if he had made Australia the theatre of its glory; how universal and how immeasurable M'ould have been the influence which would have penetrated and pervaded the inter-tropical world —an influence which must have been felt in some degree by the remotest tribes of men! Alas! alas! what would it not have presented —what would it not. have achieved!
The imagination is lost in the contemplation of the magnitude and grandeur of the good which, it seems to us, must have followed—and the heart is smitten with astonishment, as it glances over the unfathomable misery which, it would seem, must have been averted! What a lesson of God's patience, and man's folly!
To us has been reserved a portion of this sublime work, on one of its widest theatres. We have planted a civilized State in Africa, under the equator. We have laid the foundations of an empire, whose priceless heritage is a free constitution and an open Bible.
We have done, by God's mercy, what all past ages needed, but could not achieve. Will our country and our age at last comprehend and complete our work? The central continent of the earth, so long buried in darkness, is at length invaded by the true light. Let heaven and earth bear witness against all who may seek to extinguish it.
There is a surprising grandeur in every result to which this work tends. Each of the (Treat divisions of the human family seems destined to a development, in many respects peculiar to itself; and each one has been led through a pupilage, at once fitted to conduct it to the destiny which awaited it, and to prepare it for it. And this pupilage of nations and races has been painful and protracted in the double ratio of their ignorance and degradation when that pupilage began, and the height and duration of the renown to which it was to conduct them. Israel groaned in bondage for more than four centuries, and then pined and expired, under forty years of pilgrimage. But Israel crossed Jordan at last—with a nationality the most marvellous that the world ever saw—which has survived through eighteen centuries, ! without a country or a government, and I under a conspiracy of the human race against it. This is a miraculous nationality, and we look not for the like again. But it was, nevertheless, a nationality created as to second causes, by the events through which Israel passed, and sustained by the hopes
•which Israel has cherished. And so every nationality is thus created and thus sustained. And so God leadeth every race onward through its own destiny, till the highest summit any portion of mankind can reach will exhihit the combined result of the highest development that each part had attained. Beyond that there remaineth only, that the kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdom of the Lord and his Christ!
The largest, the most enduring, and in all respects the most remarkable example, which history affords us of a race without nationality, and therefore without what could be properly called a distinct civilization, is this black race. And surely the pupilage through which it has passed has been without exam-1 pie bitter and protracted. How much has it not required to prepare it for its final destiny? Shall we therefore say, nothing awaits it? We cannot say this without contradicting all that is true in detail, or profound in conception, in the history of the past. Let us rather believe, that an exalted destiny may be in the career to which it tends. Unto this are all the testimonies of the past —unto this are all the indications of the present. The principles which are at work throughout the earth can scarcely fail to produce it. The exigencies which control all human things, present a combination which can hardly allow it to fail. Slowly— perhaps remotely, yet inevitably—there appear to await the black race a nationality, a civilization, and consequently a share in the affairs of this world, immeasurably different from any thing it has hitherto exhibited.
To us have been reserved, again, an immense, perhaps a controlling portion of this great work. Our colonies in Africa occupy the central portion of that sea-coast of the negro's fatherland, which, so to speak, faces inward to civilization. Behind them, stretching across the continent, are four thousand miles of fertile territory, inhabited, though not densely, in chief part by the black race, in the first stages of an opening civilization. North and south, for at least a thousand miles in each direction, is also a fertile country, inhabited mainly by the same race in a condition similar to that already stated. A land four thousand miles long from west to east, and two thousand miles broad from north to south—larger, by far, than the Roman Empire—the home of the black man, and the grave of all besides—now peopled with more than a hundred millions of inhabitants. All things conspire to the same grand result. The state we have planted is precisely so situated as to receive from without and to propagate within the best influences which all other nations can exert. The immense
race and the vast continent behind this state, and around it, are placed exactly in those circumstances most favorable to the exercise of all such influences from such a quarter. And the state itself has bcsn created, and will be indefinitely augmented, from those materials, which, of all that existed, are the best fitted for this, as well as for all the other great objects connected with African colonization. It is impossible to avoid the conviction, that such causes must be followed by corresponding results. Already they have manifested themselves, and the native population which has voluntarily sought the protection of the colonists, and subjected themselves to the genial control of their laws, is represented to be about twenty times more numerous than' the colonists themselves. We have sent out ten thousand colonists; but their laws and institutions are respected, and to a good degree obeyed by 200,000 persons. Imagine a like result— but even in a much lower degree—produced by every ten thousand additional colonists sent out—or, if it be thought more rational, by every twenty-five years of effort. How manifest is it, that before we shall have removed the mass of our free black population, or before a single century shall have elapsed, a powerful nation will have been created, and the ultimate redemption of the black race in Africa placed on a footing as secure as that on which the prosperity of any existing state rests! Or, it any one thinks proper to do so, let him double, triple, quadruple the time, the toil, and the risk. In the creation of an empire—in the redemption of a race—in the regeneration of a continent—in the consummation of a work whose benefits all nations will reap, and from which no evil can arise to any human being, we can well afford to toil long, to risk much, and wait God's time. We set before our hearts sublime ends; and rejoicing in our day, over such fruits as our works may bear, we point to the luminous track, in which they who arc to follow us should tread, and rejoice the more, that they shall reap far more abundantly than we.
The slavery of two millions of human beings is a question of awful magnitude, and invests all that can be supposed to bsar upon it, even indirectly, with an importance which no thoughtful mind can disregard. The fate of five hundred thousand free blacks, and their posterity forever, is a matter which no one—and especially no one situated as we are—can lightly pass over. The destiny of one hundred and fifty millions of blacks, concentrated chiefly in Africa, and abiding still in heathen degradation, if not barbarism, cannot be contemplated with indifference bv'
any pious heart. The duty, the interests, the danger, and the glory of our own country, as connected with all these great questions, challenge the consideration of every wise and patriotic man. And the general influence of them all, and the effects of any course ho may take in regard to them—ill the consequences of all that may befall us, for good or ill, by reason of them—all these things, considered in their bearings upon the career and destiny of the human race, present subjects of inquiry, whose very magnitude oppresses us. The kingdom of God in the world—the salvation of at least the eighth part of the human race, and that a part most peculiarly committed in trust to us—these are topics which ought to lie immediately upon the Christian heart. Now, every one of these thrilling subjects enters more or less into every fair and complete consideration of the question of the black race, and of the cause and claims of African colonization, as bearing upon that question. Surely, they do not err who say, that taken in all its extent, the question of African colonization is one of the grandest and most fruitful which this generation has been required to determine.
Thirty-two years ago—before I had arrived at man's estate—I had occasion to examine this great topic, at the period of its first presentation for public patronage, and before ulterior steps had been very decisively taken. Struck with the grandeur, the simplicity, tho completeness, and tho feasibility of the great and humane conception, I have never ceased to cherish tho profoundest interest and confidence in this cause. I
have witnessed all the vicissitudes, all the changes of opinion, all the varying aspects of the question, during those two and thirty years, and am somewhat familiar with what has been done, both in this country and Africa, during that long period, and with the public and personal history of most of the principal actors, in all that has occurred. Fortified by an experience of this description, and by the observations and reflections of so many years, I solemnly declare that the more I have examined the principles which are involved, and the more I have observed their practical results, the more has the subject seemed to me to bo invested with unanswerable reasons challenging our cordial support, and exalted motives, commanding our earnest sympathy. I deem such a testimony more valuable than any argument from me, and therefore give it. 'And whatever weight it may be thought to have, deserves to be increased by the fact, that I have never had a constant or an intimate connection with any of the societies organized to promote this cause, and have seen much to disapprove in much that has been done. It is the great cause—and not all the modes of its manifestation, nor all the methods of its advocacy, nor all the acts of its chief managers — that I have vindicated through good report and ill report. And it is that I now avouch, from my inmost soul, to be the cause of justice, humanity, and wisdom—the cause of living hope to a vast and suffering race—the cause of my country's prosperity and renown—and, above all, of my Master's glory!
Can anv of your correspondents kindly inform mo where I may find the following lines ? — "She took tbo cup of life to sip;
Too bitter 'twas to drain;
And fell to sleep again." Tho following words, or at least words of similar meaning, I heard quoted as from an old divine. Where may they bo found ?—
"Humility deepens through nil eternity, and Is greater before the glory of the throne, than in tho dust of the footstool."
In tho Bible we rend, " Perfect love castcth out fear." dm any of your readers help mo to any passage of similar import in our English poets, showing that as love increases, jealousy and suspicion decrease '—Notes and Queries.
From The Examiner.
Lucile. By Owen Meredith, Author of " The Wanderer," "Clytemnestra," etc. Chapman and Hall.
Three narrative poems have appeared during the season now closing, namely, Lucile, by the writer signing himself Owen Meredith, Virginia's Hand, by Miss Power, and A Man's Heart, by Dr. Mackay. Of the numerous volumes of minor poetry few have risen above the monotony of undistinguished Cleverness; two or three, however, including Mr. Stigant's Vision of Barbarossa, have been worth reserving for a word of welcome. Add to the list the poem of St. Stephen's, some of Mrs. Browning's poems on Italy, ond the new matter in Mr. Landor's Hellenics, and in this branch of literature the chief gains of the season are enumerated. But the gain is great that includes a work like Lucile, rich in the overflow of a luxuriant fancy, and, more than any of its author's former works, ripe with a sense of what is true in character and life.
Until the book has been read fairly through, however, its right to the praise of truth may appear somewhat questionable. The story is defined, at the close of its first part, as a drama in which the actors are the Heart and the World. It is
"The chnnt of man's heart, with its ceaseless
endeavor; As old as the song which the sea sings forever."
It is the author's purpose, in the earlier portion of the poem, to show under the conventionalities of the world of fashion hearts panting and pining; and, perhaps inseparable from such a plan, there are many indications at the outset of a feeling not altogether sound or true. It is not until we have advanced far enough to enter into the whole spirit of the design, in spite of some fine strains of healthy feeling which should serve to reassure us, that we find it easy to be quite free from distrust. Everybody is n demonstrator of his or her own moral anatomy. Lucile, while •we know her only as a fascinating French widow, with the lover of her youth engaged to marry some one else, and falling into difficult relations with the polished and worldly duke who is her suitor, suggests an old French friend whom we perpetually meet in comedy and novel, and do not greatly esteem. When Lucile says
"I have burned out within me the fuel of life. Wherefore lingers the flame? Rest is sweet
after strife. I would sleep for a while. I am weary."
and when the hero and his innocent wife are represented as having
"Grown weary ere half thro" the journey of life,"
we are tempted to feel in the poem what its author condemns in a society without freshness of enjoyment:
"—Wherever we torn, and whatever we do, "Still, that horrible sense of the d<?ja connu!"
So, when Lucile re-appears in the second part of the poem, we are told that under her pale beauty
"There yawned an insatiate void, and there
heaved A tumult of restless regrets unrelieved."
—but we read on and the void is filled, the restless regrets are still forever. The hearts of the young husband and wife, prematurely old and weary, become fresh and warm again; the conventional duke, gay leader of fashion outwardly, and inwardly moral volcano, becomes through honest work and noble suffering a hero; and in Lucile herself, developed with all the riches of the author's feeling and fancy, we have his highest and purest embodiment of intellect and virtue. First subduing her own nature, she is content to spend all the treasures of her life and genius in offices of well doing, and from the heart of a woman thoroughly true and good, and ever ready for self-sacrifice, she finally diffuses health and strength into the hearts of all around her. Her story, told with a wealth of imagery and a charm of language that only a very few poets of our century have equalled, is of a woman's conquests in their grandest sense. Hers was
"The mission of genius on earth! To uplift, Purify, and confirm by its own gracious gift, The world in despite of the world's dull endeavor To degrade, and drag down, and oppose it
The mission of genius: to watch and to wait,
To the mercy of Heaven descending on earth.
nurse, And to soothe, and to solace, to help and to
The sick world that leans on her. This wai Lucilo."
It is a story-meant to tell us that
Can be pure in its purpose and strong in its strife
And all life not be purer and stronger thereby. The spirits of just men made perfect on high, The army of martyrs who stand by the Throne, And gaze into the face that makes glorious their
own, Know this, sorely, at last. Honest love, honest
sorrow, Honest work for the day, honest hope for the
morrow, Are these worth nothing more than the hand
they make weary, The heart they have saddened, the life they leave
dreary 1 Hush! the sevenfold heavens to the voice of the
Echo: He that o'crcometh shall all things inherit."
A little too much stress may probably be laid to the last upon the weariness of life, but the true cure for it is also manfully asserted. The poem opens with such pictures of the world as might have been presented by Lord Byron, and in verse bright with a richness of fancy and a facility of expression Tvhich Byron himself has rarely surpassed; but it rises to liieghts of its own, when, in its later scenes, it responds to empty plaints of sentiment with a brave call to Christian duty. The lightness and persiflage of the earlier cantos, in which there is yet a lightness and vividness of touch, joined to a keenness and truth of observation and character, which we should vainly look for in any other living poet, are more than counterbalanced by the solemn feeling and earnest teaching into which the poem deepens at its close. Over the bed of the wounded and heart-broken soldier—Alfred Vargrave's son —whom she is nursing and comforting, thus Lucile teaches:—
"' Trust to me!' (His two feeble hands in
her own She drew gently.) 'Trust to me!' (she said,
with soft tone):
'I am not so dead in remembrance to all
The shadows are many, the sunlight is one.
our lot. Looking up to this light, which is common to
all, And down to these shadows, on each side,
In time's silent circle, so various for each,
So far, but what light lies beyond them forever?
Trust to me! Oh, if in this hour I endeavor
To trace the shade creeping across the young life
Which, in prayer till this hour, I have watched through in strife.
With the shadow of death, 'tis with this faith alone,
That, in tracing the shade, I shall find out tho sun.
Trust to me!'"
As to other poets of our day, so to the author of Lucile, the rough trials of war are not without their healthfulness and use. His poem closes on the battle field of the Crimea, whose heroes it apostrophizes :—
"And you Whom this song cannot reach with its transient
breath, Deaf cars that arc stopped with the brown dust
of death, Blind eyes that arc dark to your own deathless
Silenced hearts that are heedless to praise murmured o'er ye,
Sleep deep 1 Sleep in peace! Sleep in memory ever! Wrapt, each soul in the deeds of its deathless
endeavor, Till that great final peace shall be struck through
the world; Till the stars be recalled, and tho firmament
In the dawn of a daylight undying; until
"Till then, while the ages roll onward, through war,
Toil, and strife, must roll with them this turbulent star.
And man can no more exclude wnr, than he can
Exclude sorrow; for both arc conditions of man,
And agents of God. Truth's supreme revelations •
Como in sorrow to men, and in war come to nations.
Then blow, blow the clarion! and let the war roll!
And strike steel upon steel, and strike soul upon soul,
If, in striking, we kindle keen flashes and bright
From the manhood in man, stricken thus into light."
And again, in the same wholesome strain, this doctrine is taught by Lucile:—
"' I am but a woman, and Franco Has for me simpler duties. Largo hope, though,
Eugene Do Luvois, should be yours. There is pnrpose