Generous, for when the storm burst his first thought wuz to save his master’s family.
Wise and prudent, he founded and ruled over a peaceful and prosperous republic till he wuz betrayed to his ruin—not by the black race, but by the cupidity, and treachery, and envy of the white race.
Perished by starvation in a dungeon for the sole fault of bein’ superior and nobler than the white people who envied his success and sought his overthrow.
Victor thought if one of his own race could do this marvellous thing, amidst such warrin’ and diverse elements and opposin’ races, what would it not be possible for his people to do in a new and free country, in a state of peace and quiet, with only the interests and advancement of this one race to look after.
He dreamed in his hopeful visions of a fresh new civilization springin’ up anew in the soil that had nurtured the first civilization.
For in the East, where the star had first shone and travelled on to the West, then back agin to the mystical wonder-laden East—thither did Victor’s rapt eyes follow it. And Genieve, too, how she dreamed and longed for that new kingdom!
All through their dreary servitude, tortured and wretched, it seemed as if God gave to the believers amongst this people songs in the night, as if His spirit breathed through the simple hymns they sung to lighten the hours of bondage.
Some spirit, some inspiration seemed to breathe through their songs that brought tears to eyes unused to weepin’.
The most cultured, the most refined found, in spite of themselves, that they had wet cheeks and beatin’ hearts after listenin’ to these simple strains.
It could not have been for their musical worth—for they had little; it could not have been for their literary value—for they had none.