But how would this affect England?  And how would England be affected by a union of the British North American colonies under one federal government?  Before this question can be answered, he who prepares to answer it must consider what interest England has in her colonies, and for what purpose she holds them.  Does she hold them for profit, or for glory, or for power; or does she hold them in order that she may carry out the duty which has devolved upon her of extending civilization, freedom, and well-being through the new uprising nations of the world?  Does she hold them, in fact, for her own benefit, or does she hold them for theirs?  I know nothing of the ethics of the Colonial Office, and not much perhaps of those of the House of Commons; but looking at what Great Britain has hitherto done in the way of colonization, I cannot but think that the national ambition looks to the welfare of the colonists, and not to home aggrandizement.  That the two may run together is most probable.  Indeed, there can be no glory to a people so great or so readily recognized by mankind at large as that of spreading civilization from east to west and from north to south.  But the one object should be the prosperity of the colonists, and not profit, nor glory, nor even power, to the parent country.

There is no virtue of which more has been said and sung than patriotism, and none which, when pure and true, has led to finer results.  Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.  To live for one’s country also is a very beautiful and proper thing.  But if we examine closely much patriotism, that is so called, we shall find it going hand in hand with a good deal that is selfish, and with not a little that is devilish.  It was some fine fury of patriotic feeling which enabled the national poet to put into the mouth of every Englishman that horrible prayer with regard to our enemies which we sing when we wish to do honor to our sovereign.  It did not seem to him that it might be well to pray that their hearts should be softened, and our own hearts softened also.  National success was all that a patriotic poet could desire, and therefore in our national hymn have we gone on imploring the Lord to arise and scatter our enemies; to confound their politics, whether they be good or ill; and to expose their knavish tricks—­such knavish tricks being taken for granted.  And then, with a steady confidence, we used to declare how certain we were that we should achieve all that was desirable, not exactly by trusting to our prayer to heaven, but by relying almost exclusively on George the Third or George the Fourth.  Now I have always thought that that was rather a poor patriotism.  Luckily for us, our national conduct has not squared itself with our national anthem.  Any patriotism must be poor which desires glory, or even profit, for a few at the expense of the many, even though the few be brothers and the many aliens.  As a rule, patriotism is a virtue only because man’s aptitude for good is so finite that he cannot see and comprehend a wider humanity.  He can hardly bring himself to understand that salvation should be extended to Jew and Gentile alike.  The word philanthropy has become odious, and I would fain not use it; but the thing itself is as much higher than patriotism as heaven is above the earth.