How wonderful! What a present—and what a future yet!

Future?—then let me stop at this mysterious word—the veil of unrevealed eternity!

The shadow of that dark word passed across my mind, and amid the bustle of this gigantic bee-hive, there I stood with meditation alone.

And the spirit of the immovable Past rose before my eyes, unfolding the misty picture-rolls of vanished greatness, and of the fragility of human things.

And among their dissolving views, there I saw the scorched soil of Africa, and upon that soil Thebes with its hundred gates, more splendid than the most splendid of all the existing cities of the world; Thebes, the pride of old Egypt, the first metropolis of arts and sciences, and the mysterious cradle of so many doctrines which still rule mankind in different shapes, though it has long forgotten their source. There I saw Syria with its hundred cities, every city a nation, and every nation with an empire's might. Baalbec, with its gigantic temples, the very ruins of which baffle the imagination of man, as they stand like mountains of carved rocks in the desert where for hundreds of miles not a stone is to be found, and no river flows, offering its tolerant back to carry a mountain's weight upon, and yet there they stand, those gigantic ruins; and as we glance at them with astonishment, though we have mastered the mysterious elements of nature, and know the combination of levers, and how to catch the lightning, and to command the power of steam and of compressed air, and how to write with the burning fluid out of which the thunderbolt is forged, and how to drive the current of streams up the mountain's top, and how to make the air shine in the night like the light of the sun, and how to dive to the bottom of the deep ocean, and how to rise up to the sky—though we know all this, and many things else, still, looking at the temples of Baalbec, we cannot forbear to ask what people of giants was that, which could do what neither the efforts of our skill nor the ravaging hand of unrelenting time can undo, through thousands of years. And then I saw the dissolving picture of Nineveh, with its ramparts now covered with mountains of sand, where Layard is digging up colossal winged bulls, huge as a mountain, and yet carved with the nicety of a cameo; and then Babylon, with its wonderful walls; and Jerusalem, with its unequalled temple; Tyrus, with its countless fleets; Arad, with its wharves; and Sidon, with its labyrinth of work-shops and factories; and Ascalon, and Gaza, and Beyrout, and farther off Persepolis, with its world of palaces.

All these passed before my eyes as they have been, and again they passed as they now are, with no trace of their ancient greatness, but here and there a ruin, and everywhere the desolation of tombs. With all their splendour, power, and might, they vanished like a bubble, or like the dream of a child, leaving but for a moment a drop of cold sweat upon the sleeper's brow, or a quivering smile upon his lips; then, this wiped away, dream, sweat, smile—all is nothingness.

So the powerful cities of the ancient greatness of a giant age; their very memory but a sad monument of the fragility of human things.

And yet, proud of the passing hour's bliss, men speak of the future, and believe themselves insured against its vicissitudes!

And the spirit of history rolled on the misty shapes of the past before the eyes of my soul. After those cities of old came the nations of old. The Assyrians, the Chaldeans, the war-like Philistines, the commercial republics of Phoenicia and the Persians, ruling from the Indus to the Mediterranean, and Egypt becoming the centre of the universe, after having been thousands of years ago the cradle of its civilization.

Where is the power, the splendour, and the glory of all those mighty nations? All has vanished without other trace than such as the foot of the wanderer leaves upon the dust.

And still men speak of the future with proud security!

And yet they know that Carthage is no more, though it ruled Spain, and ruled Africa beyond the pillars of Hercules down to Cerne, an immense territory, blessed with all the blessings of nature, which Hannon filled with flourishing cities, of which now no trace remains.

And men speak of the future, though they know that such things as heroic Greece once did exist, glorious in its very ruins, and a source of everlasting inspiration in its immortal memory.

Men speak of the future, and still they can rehearse the powerful colonies issued from Greece, and the empires their heroic sons have founded. And they can mark out with a finger on the map, the unparalleled conquests of Alexander; how he crossed victoriously that desert whence Semiramis, out of a countless host, brought home but twenty men; and Cyrus, out of a still larger number, only seven men. But he (Alexander) went on in triumph, and conquered India up to the Hydaspes as he conquered before Tyrus and Egypt, and secured with prudence what he had conquered with indomitable energy.

And men speak of the future, though they know that such a thing did exist as Rome, the Mistress of the World—Rome rising from atomic smallness to immortal greatness, and to a grandeur absorbing the world—Rome, now having all her citizens without, and now again having all the world within her walls; and passing through all the vicissitudes of gigantic rise, wavering decline, and mournful fall. And men speak of the future still with these awful monuments of fragility before their eyes!

But it is the sad fate of Humanity that, encompassing its hopes, fears, contentment, and wishes, within the narrow scope of momentary satisfaction, the great lesson of history is taught almost in vain. Whatever be its warnings, we rely on our good fortune; and we are ingenious in finding out some soothing pretext to lull down the dreadful admonitions of history. Man, in his private capacity, consoles the instinctive apprehension of his heart with the idea that his condition is different from what warningly strikes his mind. The patriot feels well, that not only the present, but also the future of his beloved country, has a claim to his cares; but he lulls himself into carelessness by the ingenious consolation that the condition of his country is different—that it is not obnoxious to those faults which made other countries decline and fall; that the time is different; the character and spirit of the nation are different, its power not so precarious, and its prosperity more solid; and that, therefore, it will not share the same fate of those which vanished like a dream. And the philanthropist, also, whose heart throbs for the lasting welfare of all humanity, cheers his mind with the idea that, after all, mankind at large is happier than it was of yore, and that this happiness ensures the future against the reverses of olden times.

That fallacy, natural as it may be, is a curse which weighs heavily on us. Let us see in what respect our age is different from those olden times. Is mankind more virtuous than it has been of yore? Why, in this enlightened age, are we not looking for virtuous inspirations to the god-like characters of these olden times? If we take virtue to be love of the laws, and of the Fatherland, dare we say that our age is more virtuous? If that man is to be called virtuous, who, in all his acts, is but animated by a regard to the common good, and who, in every case, feels ready to subordinate his own selfish interest to public exigencies—if that be virtue (as indeed it is), I may well appeal to the conscience of mankind to give an impartial verdict upon the question, if our age be more virtuous than the age of Codrus or of Regulus, of Decius and of Scaevola. Look to the school of Zeno, the stoics of immortal memory; and when you see them contemning alike the vanity of riches and the ambition of personal glory, impenetrable to the considerations of pleasure and of pain, occupied only to promote public welfare and to fulfil their duties toward the community; when you see them inspired in all their acts by the doctrine that, born in a society, it is their duty to live for the benefit of society; and when you see them placing their own happiness only upon the happiness of their fellow-men—then say if our too selfish, too material age can stand a comparison with that olden period. When you remember the politicians of ancient Greece, acknowledging no other basis for the security of the commonwealth than virtue, and see the political system of our days turning only upon manufactures, commerce, and finances, will you say that our age is more virtuous? When, looking to your own country—the best and happiest, because the freest of all—you will not dissimulate in your own mind what considerations influence the platforms of your political parties; and then in contra-position will reflect upon those times when Timon of Athens, chosen to take part in his country's government, assembled his friends and renounced their friendship, in order that he might not be tempted by party considerations or by affections of amity, in his important duties toward the commonwealth. Then, having thus reflected, say, "Take you our own age to be more virtuous, and therefore more ensured against the reverses of fortune, than those older times?"

But perhaps there is a greater amount of private happiness, and by the broad diffusion of private welfare, the security of the commonwealth is more lasting and more sure?

Caraccioli, having been ambassador in England, when returned to Italy, said, "that England is the most detestable country in the world, because there are to be found twenty different sorts of religion, but only two kinds of sauces with which to season meat."

There is a point in that questionable jest. Materialism! curse of our age! Who can seriously speak about the broad diffusion of happiness in a country where contentment is measured according to how many kinds of sauces we can taste? My people is by far not the most material. We are not much given to the cupidity of becoming rich. We know the word "enough." The simplicity of our manners makes us easily contented in our material relations; we like rather to be free than to be rich; we look for an honourable profit, that we may have upon what to live; but we don't like to live for the sake of profit; augmentation of property and of wealth with us is not the aim of our life—we prefer tranquil, independent mediocrity to the incessant excitement and incessant toil of cupidity and gain. Such is the character of my nation; and yet I have known a countryman of mine who blew out his brains because he had no means more to eat daily pates de foi gras and drink champagne. Well, that was no Hungarian character, but, though somewhat eccentrically, he characterized the leading feature of our century.

Indeed, are your richest money-kings happier than Fabricius was, when he preferred his seven acres of land, worked by his own hands, to the treasures of an empire? Are the ladies of to-day, adorned with all the gorgeous splendour of wealth, of jewels, and of art, happier than those ladies of ancient Rome have been, to whom it was forbidden to wear silk and jewelry, or drive in a carriage through the streets of Rome? Are the ladies of to-day happier in their splendid parlours, than the Portias and the Cornelias have been in the homely retirement of their modest nurseries? Nay; all that boundless thirst of wealth, which is the ruling spirit of our age, and the moving power of enterprising energy, all this hunting after treasures, and all its happiest results, have they made men nobler, better, and happier? Have they improved their soul, or even their body and their health, at least so much that the richest of men could eat and digest two dinners instead of one? Or has the insatiable thirst of material gain originated a purer patriotism? has it made mankind more devoted to their country, more ready to sacrifice for public interest? If that were the case, then I would gladly confess the error of my doubts, and take the pretended larger amount of happiness for a guarantee of the future of the commonwealth. But, ladies and gentlemen! a single word—the manner in which we use it, distorting its original meaning, often characterizes a whole century. You all know the word "idiot;" almost every living language has adopted it, and all languages attach to it the idea that an "idiot" is a poor, ignorant, useless wretch, nearly insane. Well, "idiot" is a word of Greek extraction, and meant with the Greek a man who cared nothing for the public interest, but was all devoted to the selfish pursuit of private profit, whatever might have been its results to the community. Oh! what an immense, what a deplorable change must have occurred in the character of Humanity, till unconsciously we came to the point, that by what name the ancient Greeks would have styled those European money-kings, who, for a miserable profit, administer to the unrelenting despots their eternal loans, to oppress nations with, we now apply that very name to the wretched creatures incapable to do any thing for themselves. We bear compassion for the idiots of to-day, but the modern editions of Greek idiotism, though loaded with the bloody scars of a hundred thousand orphans, and with the curse of millions, stand high in honour, and go on, proudly glorying in their criminal idiotism, heaping up the gold of the world.

But I may be answered, after all, though our age be not so virtuous, and though the large accumulation in wealth has in reality not made mankind happier; still, it cannot be denied, you are in a prosperous condition, and prosperity is a solid basis of your country's future. Industry, navigation, commerce, have so much developed, they have formed so many ties by which every citizen is linked to his country's fate, that your own material interest is a security to your country's future.

In loving your own selves you love your country, and in loving your country you love your own selves. This community of public and private interest will make you avoid the stumbling-block over which others fell. Prosperity is, of course, a great benefit; it is one of the aims of human society; but when prosperity becomes too material, it does not always guarantee the future. Paradoxical as it may appear, too much prosperity is often dangerous, and some national misfortune is now and then a good preservative of prosperity. For great prosperity makes nations careless of their future; seeing no immediate danger, they believe no danger possible; and then when a danger comes, either by sudden chance or by the slow accumulation of noxious elements, then, frightened by the idea that in meeting the danger their private property might be injured or lost, selfishness often prevails over patriotism, and men become ready to submit to arrogant pretensions, and compromise with exigencies at the price of principles, and republics flatter despots, and freemen covet the friendship and indulgence of tyrants, only that things may go on just as they go, though millions weep and nations groan; but still, things should go on just as they go, because every change may claim a sacrifice, or affect our thriving private interest. Such is often the effect of too great, of too secure prosperity. Therefore, prosperity alone affords yet no security.

You remember the tale of Polycrates. He was the happiest of men; good luck attended every one of his steps; success crowned all he undertook, and a friend thus spoke to him: "Thou art too happy for thy happiness to last. Appease the anger of the Eumenides by a voluntary sacrifice, or deprive thyself of what thou most valuest among all that thou possessest." Polycrates obeyed, and drew from his finger a precious jewel, of immense value, dear to his heart, and threw it into the sea. Soon after a fish was brought to his house, and his cook found the precious ring in the belly of the fish; but the friend who advised him hastened to flee from the house, and shook the dust of its threshold from his shoes, because he feared a great mischief must fall upon that too prosperous house. There is a deep meaning in that tale of Polycrates.

Machiavel says, that it is now and then necessary to recall the constituting essential principles to the memory of nations. And who is charged by Providence with this task? Misfortune! It was the battles of Cannae and of Thrasymene which recalled the Romans to the love of their fatherland; nations had till now, about such things, no other teacher than misfortune. They should choose to have a less afflicting one. They can have it. To point this out will be the final object of my remarks, but so much is certain, that prosperity alone is yet no security for the future, even of the happiest commonwealth. Those ancient nations have been also prosperous. They were industrious, as your nation is; their land has been covered with cities and villages, well-cultivated fields, blessed with the richest crops, and crowded with countless herds spread over immense territories, furrowed with artificial roads; their flourishing cities swarmed with artists, and merchants, and workmen, and pilots, and sailors, like as New York does. Their busy labourers built gigantic water-works, digged endless canals, and carried distant waters through the sands of the desert; their mighty, energetic spirit built large and secure harbours, dried the marshy lakes, covered the sea with vessels, the land with living beings, and spread a creation of life and movement along the earth. Their commerce was broad as the known world. Tyre exchanged its purple for the silk of Serica; Cashmere's soft shawls, to-day yet a luxury of the wealthiest, the diamonds of Golconda, the gorgeous carpets of Lydia, the gold of Ophir and Saba, the aromatic spices and jewels of Ceylon, and the pearls and perfumes of Arabia, the myrrh, silver, gold dust, and ivory of Africa, as well as the amber of the Baltic and the tin of Thule, appeared alike in their commerce, raising them in turn to the dominion of the world, and undoing them by too careless prosperity. The manner and the shape of one or the other art, of one or other industry, has changed; the steam-engine has replaced the rowing-bench, and cannon replaced the catapult; but, as a whole, even your country, which you are proud to hear styled "the living wonder of the world"—yes, even your country in the New World, and England in the Old—England, that gigantic workshop of industry, surrounded with a beautiful evergreen garden; yes, all the dominions of the Anglo-Saxon race, can claim no higher praise of its prosperity, than when we say, that you have reproduced the grandeur of those ancient nations, and nearly equal their prosperity. And what has become of them? A sad skeleton. What remains of their riches, of their splendour, and of their vast dominions? An obscure recollection; a vain memory. Thus fall empires; thus vanish nations, which have no better guardians than their prosperity. But "we have," will you say, "we have a better guardian—our freedom, our republican institutions; our confederation uniting so many glorious stars into one mighty galaxy—these are the ramparts of our present, these our future security."

Well, it would ill become me to investigate if there be nothing "rotten in the state of Denmark," and certainly I am not the man who could feel inclined to undervalue the divine power of liberty; to underrate the value of your democratic institutions, and the vitality of your glorious Union. It is to them I look in the solitary hours of meditation, and when, overwhelmed with the cares of the patriot, my soul is groaning under nameless woes, it is your freedom's sunny light which dispels the gloomy darkness of despondency; here is the source whence the inspiration of hope is flowing to the mourning world, that down-trodden millions at the bottom of their desolation still retain a melancholy smile upon their lips, and still retain a voice in their bleeding chest, to thank the Almighty God that the golden thread of freedom is not yet lost on earth. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, all this I feel, and all this I know, reflecting upon your freedom, your institutions, and your Union; but casting back my look into the mirror of the past, there I see upon mouldering ground, written with warning letters, the dreadful truth, that all this has nothing new; all this has been; and all this has never yet been proved sufficient security. Freedom is the fairest gift of Heaven; but it is not the security of itself. Democracy is the embodiment of freedom, which in itself is but a principle. But what is the security of democracy? And if you answer, "The Union is;" then I ask, "And where is the security of the Union?" Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Freedom is no new word. It is as old as the world. Despotism is new, but Freedom not. And yet it has never yet proved a charter to the security of nations. Republic is no new word. It is as old as the word "Society." Before Rome itself, republics absorbed the world. There were in all Europe, Africa and Asia Minor, but republics to be found, and many among them democratic. Men had to wander to far Persia if they would have desired to know what sort of thing a monarch is. And all they have perished; the small ones by foreign power, the large ones by domestic vice. And union, and confederacy, the association of societies—a confederate republic of republics, is also no new invention. Greece has known it and flourished by it, for a while. Rome has known it; by such associations she attacked the world. The world has known them; with them it defended itself against Rome. The so-called Barbarians of Europe, beyond the Danube and the Rhine, have known it; it was by a confederacy of union that they resisted the ambitious mistress of the world. Your own country, America, has known it; the traditionary history of the Romans of the West, of those six Indian Nations, bears the records of it, out of an older time than your ancestors settled in this land; the wise man of the Onondaga Nation has exercised it long before your country's legislators built upon that basis your independent home. And still it proved in itself alone no security to all those nations who have known it before you. Your own fathers have seen the last of the Mohawks burying his bloody tomahawk in the namesake flood, and have listened to the majestic words of Logan, spoken with the dignity of an Aemilius, that there exists no living being on earth in the veins of whom one drop of the blood of his race did flow. Well, had history nothing else to teach us, than that all what the wisdom of man did conceive, and all that his energy has executed through the innumerable days of the past, and all that we take to be glorious in nations and happy to men, cannot so much do as to ensure a future even to such a flourishing commonwealth as yours; then weaker hearts may well ask, What good is it to warn us of a fatality which we cannot escape; what good is it to hold up the mournful monuments of a national mortality to sadden our heart, if all that is human must share that common doom? Let us do as we can, and so far as we can, and let the future bring what it may. But that would be the speech of one having no faith in the all-watching Eye, and regarding the eternal laws of the universe not as an emanation of a bountiful Providence, but of a blind fatality, which plays at hazard with the destinies of men. I never will share such blasphemy. Misfortune came over me, and came over my house, and came over my guiltless nation; still I never have lost my trust in the Father of all. I have lived the days when the people of my oppressed country went along weeping over the immense misfortune that they cannot pray, seeing the downfall of the most just cause and the outrageous triumph of the most criminal of all crimes on earth; and they went along not able to pray, and weeping that they are not able to pray. I shuddered at the terrible tidings in the desolation of my exile; but I could pray, and sent the consolation home, that I do not despair; that I believe in God, and trust to His bountiful providence, and ask them who of them dares despair when I do not? I was in exile, as I am now, but arrogant despots were debating about my blood, my infant children in prison, my wife, the faithful companion of my sorrows and my cares, hunted like a noble deer, and my sisters in the tyrant's fangs, red with the blood of my nation, and the heart of my aged mother breaking, about the shattered fortunes of her house, and all of them at last homeless wanderers, cast to the winds, like the yellow leaves of a fallen tree; and my fatherland, my dear, beloved fatherland, half murdered, half in chains, and humanity nearly all oppressed, and those who are not yet oppressed looking with compassion at our sad fate, but taking it for wise policy not to help, and the sky of freedom dark on our horizon, and darkening fast over all, and nowhere a ray of hope; a lustre of consolation nowhere; and still I did not despair; and my faith to God, my trust to Providence has spread over my down-trodden land.

I therefore, who do not despair of my own country's future, though it be overwhelmed with misfortunes, I certainly have an unwavering faith in the destinies of Humanity; and though the mournful example of so many fallen nations instructs us, that neither the diffusion of knowledge, nor the progress of industry, neither prosperity, nor power, nay, not even freedom itself, can secure a future to nations, still I say there is one thing which can secure it; there is one law, the obedience to which would prove a rock upon which the freedom and happiness of nations may rest sure to the end of their days. And that law, ladies and gentlemen, is the law proclaimed by our Saviour; that rock is the unperverted religion of Christ. But while the consolation of this sublime truth falls meekly upon my soul like as the moonlight falls upon the smooth sea, I humbly claim your forbearance, ladies and gentlemen; I claim it in the name of the Almighty Lord, to hear from my lips a mournful truth. It may displease you; it may offend; but still truth is truth. Offended vanity may blame me; power may frown at me, and pride may call my boldness arrogant, but still truth is truth, and I, bold in my unpretending humility, will proclaim that truth; I will proclaim it from land to land and from sea to sea; I will proclaim it with the faith of the martyrs of old, till the seed of my word falls upon the consciences of men. Let come what come may, I say with Luther: God help me, I cannot otherwise. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the law of our Saviour, the religion of Christ, can secure a happy future to nations. But, alas! there is yet no Christian people on earth—not a single one among all. I have spoken the word. It is harsh, but true. Nearly two thousand years have passed since Christ has proclaimed the eternal decree of God, to which the happiness of mankind is bound, and has sanctified it with His own blood, and still there is not one single nation on earth which would have enacted into its law-book that eternal decree. Men believe in the mysteries of religion, according to the creed of their church; they go to church, and they pray and give alms to the poor, and drop the balm of consolation into the wounds of the afflicted, and believe they do all that the Lord commanded to do, and believe they are Christians. No! Some few may be, but their nation is not—their country is not; the era of Christianity has yet to come, and when it comes, then, only then, will be the future of nations sure. Far be it from me to misapprehend the immense benefit which Christian religion, such as it already is, has operated in mankind's history. It has influenced the private character of men, and the social condition of millions; it was the nurse of a new civilization, and softening the manners and morals of men, its influence has been felt even in the worst quarter of history—in war. The continual massacres of the Greek and Roman kings and chiefs, and the extermination of nations by them—the all-devastating warfare of the Timurs and Gengis Khans—are in general not more to be met with; only my own dear fatherland was doomed to experience once more the cruelties of the Timurs and Gengis Khans out of the sacrilegious hands of the dynasty of Austria, which calumniates Christianity by calling itself Christian. But though that beneficial influence of Christianity we have cheerfully to acknowledge, yet it is still not to be disputed that the law of Christ does yet nowhere rule the Christian world.

Montesquieu himself, whom nobody could charge to be partial for republics, avows that despotism is incompatible with the Christian religion, because the Christian religion commands meekness, and despotism claims arbitrary power to the whims and passions of a frail mortal; and still it is more than 1,500 years since the Christian religion became dominant, and through that long period despotism has been pre-eminently dominant; you can scarcely show one single truly democratic republic of any power which had subsisted but for a hundred years, exercising any influence upon the condition of the world. Constantine, raising the Christian religion to Rome's imperial throne, did not restore the Romans to their primitive virtues. Constantinople became the sewer of vice; Christian worship did not change the despotic habits of Kings. The Tituses, the Trajans, the Antonines, appeared seldom on Christian thrones; on the contrary, mankind has seen, in the name of religion, lighted the piles of persecution, and the blazing torches of intolerance; the earth overspread with corpses of the million victims of fanaticism; the fields watered with blood; the cities wrapped in flames, and empires ravaged with unrelenting rage. Why? Is it Christian religion which caused these deplorable facts, branding the brow of partly degraded, partly outraged Humanity? No. It was precisely the contrary; the fact that the religion of Christ never yet was practically taken for an all-overruling law, the obedience to which, outweighing every other consideration, would have directed the policy of nations—that fact is the source of evil, whence the oppression of millions has overflowed the earth, and which makes the future of the proudest, of the freest nation, to be like a house built upon sand.

Every religion has two parts. One is the dogmatical, the part of worship; the other is the moral part.

The first, the dogmatic part, belonging to those mysterious regions which the arm of human understanding cannot reach, because they belong to the dominion of belief, and that begins where the dominion of knowledge ends—that part of religion, therefore, the dogmatic one, should be left to every man to settle between God and his own conscience. It is a sacred field, whereon worldly power never should dare to trespass, because there it has no power to enforce its will. Force can murder; it can make liars and hypocrites, but no violence on earth can force a man to believe what he does not believe. Yet the other part of religion, the moral part, is quite different. That teaches duties toward ourselves and toward our fellow-men. It can be, therefore, not indifferent to the human family: it can be not indifferent to whatever community, if those duties be fulfilled or not, and no nation can, with full right, claim the title of a Christian nation, no government the title of a Christian government, which is not founded upon the basis of Christian morality, and which takes it not for an all-overruling law to fulfil the moral duties ordered by the religion of Christ toward men and nations, who are but the community of men, and toward mankind, which is the community of nations. Now, look to those dread pages of history, stained with the blood of millions, spilt under the blasphemous pretext of religion; was it the intent to vindicate the rights, and enforce the duties of Christian morality, which raised the hand of nation against nation, of government against government? No: it was the fanaticism of creed, and the fury of dogmatism. Nations and governments rose to propagate their manner to worship God, and their own mode to believe the inscrutable mysteries of eternity; but nobody has yet raised a finger to punish the sacrilegious violation of the moral laws of Christ, nobody ever stirred to claim the fulfilment of the duties of Christian morality toward nations. There is much speaking about the separation of Church and State, and yet, on close examination, we shall see that there was, and there is, scarcely one single government entirely free from the direct or indirect influence of one or other religious denominations; scarcely one which would not at least bear a predilection, if not countenance with favour, one or another creed—but creed, and always creed. The mysteries of dogmatism, and the manner of worship, enter into these considerations; they enter even into the politics, and turn the scales of hatred and affection; but certainly there is not one single nation, not one single government, the policy of which would ever have been regulated by that law of morality which our Saviour has promulgated as the eternal law of God, which shall be obeyed in all the relations of men to men. But you say, of the direct or indirect amalgamation of Church and State, proved to be dangerous to nations in Christian and for Christian times, because it affected the individual rights of men, and among them, the dearest of all, the liberty of conscience and the freedom of thought. Well, of this danger, at least, the future of your country is free; because here, at least, in this, your happy land, religious liberty exists. Your institutions left no power to your government to interfere with the religion of your citizens. Here every man is free to worship God as he chooses to do.

And that is true, and it is a great glory of your country that it is true. It is a fact which entitles to the hope that your nation will revive the law of Christ, even on earth. However, the guarantee which your Constitution affords to religious liberty is but a negative part of a Christian government. There are, besides that, positive duties to be fulfilled. He who does no violence to the conscience of man, has but the negative merit of a man doing no wrong; but as he who does not murder, does not steal, and does not covet what his neighbour's is, but by not stealing, not murdering, not coveting what our neighbour's is, we did yet no positive good; a man who does not murder has not yet occasion to the title of virtuous man. And here is precisely the infinite merit of the Christian religion. While Moses, in the name of the Almighty God, ordered but negative degrees toward fellow-men, the Christian religion commands positive virtue. Its divine injunctions are not performed by not doing wrong; it desires us to do good. The doctrine of Jesus Christ is sublime in its majestic simplicity. "Thou shalt love God above all, and love thy neighbour as thou lovest thyself."

This sublime doctrine is the religion of love. It is the religion of charity. "Though I speak with the tongues of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass and tinkling cymbals. Though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." Thus speaks the Lord, and thus speaking He gives the law, "Do unto others as thou desirest others to do unto thee." Now, in the name of Him who gave this law to humanity, to build up the eternal bliss and temporal happiness of mankind, in the name of that Eternal Legislator, I ask, is in that charity, in that fundamental law of Christianity, any limit of distinction drawn in man in his personal, and man in his national capacity? Is it but a law for a man where he is alone, and can do but little good? Is it no law more where two are together, and can do more good? No law more when millions are together? Am I in my personal adversities; is my aged mother in her helpless desolation; are my homeless sisters whom you feed to-day, that they may work to-morrow; are we your neighbours, unto whom you do as you would others in a similar position do unto yourself? And is every one of my down-trodden people a neighbour to every one of you? but all my people collectively, is it not a neighbour to you? And is my nation not a neighbour to your nation? Is my down-trodden land not a neighbour to your down-trodden land? Oh! my God, men speak of the Christian religion and style themselves Christians, and yet make a distinction between virtue in private life and virtue in public life; as if the divine law of Charity would have been given only for certain small relations, and not for all the relations between men and men.

"There he is again, with his eternal complaints about his country's wrongs;" may perhaps somebody remark: "This is an assembly of charity, assembled to ease his private woes of family; and there he is again speaking of his country's wrongs, and alluding to our foreign policy, about which he knows our views to be divided." Thus I may be charged.

My "private family woes!" But all my woes and all the woes of my family, are concentrated in the unwarrantable oppression of my fatherland. You are an assembly of charity, it is true, and the Almighty may requite you for it; but being a charitable assembly, can you blame me that the filial and fraternal devotion of my heart, in taking with gratitude the balm of consolation which your charity pours into the bleeding wounds of my family, looks around to heal those wounds, the torturing pains of which you ease, but which cannot be cured but by justice and charity done to my fatherland. Shall this sad heart of mine be contented by leaving to my homeless mother and sisters the means to have their bread by honest labour, their daily bread salted with the bitter tears of exile; and shall I not care to leave them the hope that their misfortune will have an end; that they will see again their beloved home; that they will see it independent and free, and live where their fathers lived, and sleep the tranquil sleep of death in that soil with which the ashes of their fathers mingle? Shall I not care to give the consolation to my aged mother, that when her soon departing soul, crowned with the garland of martyrdom, looks down from the home of the blessed, the united joy of the heavens will thrill through her immortal spirit, seeing her dear, dear Hungary free? Your views are divided on the subject, it may be; but can your views be divided upon the subject that it is the command of God to love your neighbours as you love yourselves? That it is the duty of Christians, that it is the fundamental principle of the Christian religion, to do unto others as you desire others to do unto you? And if there is, if there can be no difference of opinion in regard to the principle; if no one in this vast assembly—whatever be the platform of his party—ever would disclaim this principle, will any one blame me that in the name of Christ I am bold to claim the application of that principle? I should not speak of politics! Well, I have spoken of Christianity. Your politics either agree with the Law of Christ, or they do not agree with it. If they don't agree, then your politics are not Christian; and if they agree, then I cause no division among you.

And I shall not speak of my people's wrongs! Oh! my people—thou heart of my heart, thou life of my life—to thee are bent the thoughts of my mind, and they will remain bent to thee, though all the world may frown. To thee are pledged all the affections of my heart, and they will be pledged to thee as long as one drop of blood throbs within this heart. Thine are the cares of my waking hours; thine are the dreams of my restless sleep. Shall I forget thee, but for a moment! Never! Never! Cursed be the moment, and cursed be I in that moment, in which thou wouldst be forgotten by me!

Thou art oppressed, O my fatherland! because the principles of Christianity have not been executed in practice; because the duties of Christianity have not been fulfilled; because the precepts of Christianity have not been obeyed; because the law of Christianity did not control the policy of nations; because there are many impious governments to offend the law of Christ, but there was none to do the duties commanded by Christ.

Thou art fallen, O my country, because Christianity has yet to come; but it is not yet come—nowhere! Nowhere on earth! And with the sharp eye of misfortune piercing the dark veil of the future, and with the tongue of Cassandria relating what I see, I cry it out to high Heaven, and shout it out to the Earth—"Nations, proud of your momentary power; proud of your freedom; proud of your prosperity—your power is vain, your freedom is vain, your industry, your wealth, your prosperity are vain; all these will not save you from sharing the mournful fate of those old nations, not less powerful than you, not less free, not less prosperous than you—and still fallen, as you yourself will fall—all vanished as you will vanish, like a bubble thrown up from the deep! There is only the law of Christ, there are only the duties of Christianity, which can secure your future, by securing at the same time humanity."

Duties must be fulfilled, else they are an idle word. And who would dispute that there is a positive duty in that law, "Love thy neighbour as thou lovest thyself. Do unto others as thou wouldst that others do unto thee." Now, if there are duties in that law comprised, who shall execute them, if free and powerful nations do not execute them? No government can meddle with the private relations of its millions of citizens so much as to enforce the positive virtue of Christian charity, in the thousand-fold complications of private life. That will be impossible; and our Saviour did not teach impossibilities. By commanding charity toward fellow-men in human relations, He commanded it also to governments. It is in their laws toward their own citizens; it is in their policy toward other nations, that governments and nations can fulfil those duties of Christianity; and what they can, that they should. How could governments hope to see their own citizens and other nations observing toward them the positive duties of Christian morality, when they themselves do not observe them against others; when oppressed nations, the victims, not of their own faults, but of the grossest violation of the law of Christ, look in vain around to find out a nation among Christian nations, and a government among Christian governments, doing unto them, in the hour of their supreme need, as the Saviour said that it is duty to do unto others in every case?

Yes, gentlemen, as long as the principles of Christian morality are not carried up into the international relations—as long as the fragile wisdom of political exigencies overrules the doctrines of Christ, there is no freedom on earth firm, and the future of no nation sure. But let a powerful nation like yours raise Christian morality into its public conduct, that nation will have a future against which the very gates of hell itself will never prevail. The morality of its policy will react upon the morality of its individuals, and preserve it from domestic vice, which, without that prop, ever yet has attended too much prosperity, and ever yet was followed by a dreadful fall. The morality of its policy will support justice and freedom on earth, and thus augmenting the number of free nations, all acting upon the same principle, its very future will be placed under the guarantee of them all, and preserve it from foreign danger—which is better to prevent than to repel. And its future will be placed under the guarantee of the Almighty himself, who, true to His eternal decrees, proved through the downfall of so many mighty nations, that He always punished the fathers in the coming generations; but alike bountiful as just, will not and cannot forsake those to whom He gave power to carry out His laws on earth, and who willingly answered His divine call. Power in itself never yet was sure. It is right which makes power firm; and it is community which makes right secure. The task of PETER'S apostolate is accomplished—the Churches are founded in the Christian world. The task of PAUL'S apostolate is accomplished—the abuses of fanaticism and intolerance are redressed. But the task of him whom the Saviour most loved, is not yet accomplished. The gospel of charity rules not yet the Christian world; and without charity, Christianity, you know, is "but sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal."

Oh! Charity, thou fairest gift of Heaven! thou family link between nations; thou rock of their security; thou deliverer of the oppressed; when comes thy realm? Where is the man whom the Lord has chosen to establish thy realm? Who is the man whom the Lord has chosen to realize the religion, the tenets of which the most beloved disciple of the Saviour has recorded from his divine lips? who is the man to reform, not Christian creeds, but Christian morality? Man! No; that is no task for a man, but for a nation. Man may teach a doctrine; but that doctrine of Charity is taught, and taught with such sublime simplicity, that no sectarist yet has disputed its truth. Historians have been quarrelling about mysteries, and lost empires through their disputes. The Greeks were controversially disputing whether the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father alone, or from the Father and Son; and Mahomet battered the walls of Byzantium, they heard it not; he wrested the cross from Santa Sophia; they saw it not, till the cimeter of the Turk stopped the rage of quarrel with the blow of death. In other quarters they went on disputing and deciding with mutual anathemas the question of transfiguration and many other mysteries, which, being mysteries, constitute the private dominion of belief; but the doctrine of charity none of them disputes; there they all agree; nay, in the idle times of scholastical subtility, they have been quarrelling about the most extravagant fancies of a scorched imagination. Mighty folios have been written about the problem, how many angels could dance upon the top of a needle without touching each other? The folly of subtility went so far as to profane the sacred name of God, by disputing if He, being omnipotent, has the power to sin? If, in the holy wafer, He be present dressed or undressed? If the Saviour would have chosen the incarnation in the shape of a gourd, instead of a man, how would he have preached, how acted miracles, and how had been crucified? And when they went to the theme of investigating if it was a whip or a lash with which the angels have whipped St. Jerome for trying to imitate in his writings the pagan Cicero, it was but after centuries that Abbot Cartaut dared to write that if St. Jerome was whipped at all, he was whipped for having badly imitated Cicero. Still, the doctrine of Christian charity is so sublime in its simplicity, that not even the subtility of scholasticism dared ever to profane it by any controversy, and still that sublime doctrine is not executed, and the religion of charity not realized yet. The task of this glorious progress is only to be done by a free and powerful nation, because it is a task of action, and not of teaching. Individual man can but execute it in the narrow compass of the small relations of private life; it is only the power of a nation which can raise it to become a ruling law on earth; and before this is done, the triumph of Christianity is not arrived—and without that triumph, the freedom and prosperity even of the mightiest nation is not for a moment safe from internal decay, or from foreign violence.

Which is the nation to achieve that triumph of Christianity by protecting justice out of charity? Which shall do it, if not yours? Whom the Lord has blessed above all, from whom He much expects, because He has given her much.

Ye Ministers of the Gospel, who devote your lives to expound the eternal truths of the book of life, remember my humble words, and remind those who, with pious hearts, listen to your sacred words, that half virtue is no virtue at all, and that there is no difference in the duties of charity between public and private life.

Ye Missionaries, who devote your lives to the propagation of Christianity, before you embark for the dangers of far, inhospitable shores, remind those whom you leave, that the example of a nation exercising right and justice on earth by charity, would be the mightiest propagandism of Christian religion.

Ye Patriots, loving your country's future, and anxious about her security, remember the admonitions of history—remember that the freedom, the power, and the prosperity in which your country glories, is no new apparition on earth; others also had it, and yet they are gone. The prudence with which your forefathers have founded this commonwealth, the courage with which you develop it, other nations also have shown, and still they are gone.

And ye ladies; ye fairest incarnation of the spirit of love, which vivifies the universe, remember my words. The heart of man is given into your tender hands. You mould it in its infancy. You imprint the lasting mark of character upon man's brow, You ennoble his youth; you soften the harshness of his manhood; you are the guardian angels of his hoary age. All your vocation is love, and your life is charity. The religion of charity wants your apostolate, and requires your aid. It is to you I appeal, and leave the sublime topic of my humble reflections to the meditations of your Christian hearts.

And thus, my task of to-day is done. Man shall earn the means of life by the sweat of his brow. Thus shall my family. Your charity of to-day has opened the way to it. The school which my mother, if God spares her life, will superintend, and in which two of my sisters will teach, and the humble farm which my third sister and her family shall work, will be the gift of your charity to-day.

A stony weight of cares is removed from my breast. Oh! be blessed for it, be thanked for it, in the name of them all who have lost every thing, but not their trust to God, and not the benefit of being able to work. My country will forgive me that I have taken from her the time of one day's work—to give bread to my aged mother and to my homeless sisters, the poor victims of unrelenting tyranny. Returning to Europe, I may find my own little children in a condition that again the father will have to take the spade or the pen into his hand to give them bread.

And my fatherland will again forgive me, that that time is taken from her. That is all what I take from her; nothing else of what is given, or what belongs to her. And the day's work which I take from my country, I will restore it by a night's labour. To-day, the son and the brother has done his task; you have requited his labour by a generous charity; the son and brother thanks you for it, and the patriot, to resume his task, bids you a hearty, warm farewell.



APPENDICES TO KOSSUTH'S SPEECHES.

Appendix I.—Extracts from a Letter to the 'Daily News,' dated January 17th, 1852, by Sabbas Vucovics, late Minister of Justice in Hungary, in answer to Count Casimir Bathyanyi.

So early as the commencement of the Serbian insurrection, the popular suspicion gained ground that the insurrection had been stirred up by the secret intrigues of the court, and confidence in the truth and good faith of the King disappeared accordingly. The nation, however, still indulged the hope that a weak King, though betrayed into ambiguous proceeding, would not permit himself to be carried away into a flagrant breach of the constitution. This was the time when the King, in the opinion of the people, was kept distinct from the Camarilla. But when the Austrian ministry openly attempted to deprive Hungary of its ministries of war and finance, when the base game of the degradation and restoration of Jellachich was played, and when the Hungarian army, fighting in the name of the King against the insurrections of the Serbians and Croats, became aware that the balls of that same King thinned their ranks from the hostile camp, the nation arrived at the universal conviction that the Hapsburg dynasty were only pursuing their old absolute tendencies, and that they wanted to force Hungary into self-defence, in order, under the pretext of rebellion, to deprive it of all its constitutional rights and guarantees. It needs no proof that a loud indignation, and even hatred of the dynasty, spread far and wide in the country, in consequence of these intrigues and proceedings. In spite of this natural excitement, and of the war itself, carried on by the nation with an increasing enthusiasm of hatred of the House of Austria, no party in the country urged a declaration of decheance or forfeiture against the dynasty. Even all the faithless acts recorded in the letter of Count Casimir Bathyanyi, and the cruelties committed in the name of that court in Lower Hungary and Transylvania, did not turn the scales in this direction. The Pragmatic Sanction was still considered as good in law; and the many precedents of our history, when the nation and its kings went to war with each other, and ultimately settled their disputes by solemn pacts confirming the constitution of the land, conveyed the notion that a reconciliation was even then not impossible.

Without these precedents and reminiscences of history, and only guided by the universal feeling of the country against the dynasty, the Hungarian parliament would have pronounced the forfeiture of the House of Austria so far back as October, 1848, when Jellachich was appointed absolute plenipotentiary of the King in Hungary, with discretionary power of life and death; or in December, 1848, when in Olmuetz the succession of the Hungarian throne was changed and determined, without the concurrence of the nation through the Diet. To force the nation and its parliament to the last step in this momentous crisis, the court itself broke the dynastic tie.

This was done by the imposition of the constitution of the 4th of March, 1849, by which the House of Austria itself annihilated the Pragmatic Sanction, treating free and independent Hungary with the arrogance of a conqueror. The nation, more irritated by this act than by any preceding event, saw that the hour was come, beyond which further to defer the dethronement of the dynasty would be alike incompatible with the laws and the honour of Hungary. All the channels of public opinion, the public press, the popular meetings, and even the head quarters of the army, resounded with emphatic declarations of the impossibility of reconciliation with the dynasty. The garrison of Komorn—the most important fortress of the country—petitioned the government for the declaration of forfeiture. Most assuredly no party manoeuvres were wanted in this universal excitement, caused by the constitution of the 4th of March, to carry a parliamentary resolution of forfeiture.

When the proposition of forfeiture was made on the 14th of April, 1849, in the House of Representatives, only eight members voted against it, in a house never attended by less than from 220 to 240 members. The House of Magnates adopted this resolution without opposition. The press of all shades of opinion, though enjoying the most unlimited freedom, also declared for the resolution of the Diet. It was moreover received throughout the whole country with patriotic assent and determination. If there was a party opposed to the forfeiture, how came it that it did not hold it to be a duty to declare its opposition in the Diet or through the press?

When the intelligence of the unfortunate battle of Temeswar reached the Governor Kossuth, who was then in the fortress of Arad, he immediately summoned a council of the ministry to deliberate on measures of public safety still possible. At this council, in which all the ministers took part, it was resolved to invest Goergei, who stood alone at the head of an unconquered army, with full powers for negotiating a peace. It was, moreover, resolved to dissolve the government, which could not be carried on in any fixed place of safety under the existing circumstances. We did not, however, insert in the instrument investing Goergei with full power (and despatched to him immediately) the abdication of the government. On the same day—it was the 11th of August, 1849—Goergei declared in the presence of some of the ministers who had assembled at Csanyi's (who was one of them), that he could not accept the commission because the resignation of the government was not contained in it, while he was sure that the enemy would enter into no negotiations with him, so long as Kossuth and his ministry were thought to be behind him. The ministers who were present, after a short deliberation, considering it to be their duty not to stand in the way of the negotiation which had been resolved on as necessary, accordingly sent their resignation to the governor, whom they requested to resign as well. The governor soon after sent his abdication for countersignature by these members of the ministry, and accordingly the government formally dissolved itself, after having done so de facto in the previous council of ministers. I must mention the circumstance that in the governor's instrument of abdication conditions were proscribed to Goergei, which were not inserted in the original instrument of authorization, issued by the full council. These conditions were, the preservation of the nationality and the autonomy of Hungary. Four ministers took part in this resignation of the governor, as above stated, Aulich, Csanyi, Horvath, and I. Two of the ministers, Szemere and [Casimir] Bathyanyi, were absent when the formal declaration of the abdication was discussed at Csanyi's residence. I have not mentioned among the ministers our late colleague, the finance minister Dushek, because his treachery, which was afterwards brought to light, excludes him from our ranks. From all these circumstances, it will be manifest how unjust the reproaches of Count Casimir Bathyanyi are, that no new cabinet council was held.

It is notorious that Goergei abused the full powers with which he was entrusted, instead of procuring the preservation of Hungary by a negotiation for peace, by an ignominious treachery to his native country. From that very moment the power conferred on him by the above-mentioned instrument, and the conditional abdication of the government, consequently and legally reverted to him who had invested him with it. To deny this, would be to recognize in the foreign rule which crushed Hungary, in consequence of that treachery, legitimate right and lawful power.

I, however, perfectly agree with the noble count, that the nation, once more restored to its constitutional existence, and free from foreign yoke, will have the unlimited right to dispose of all the affairs of the country, and consequently of the executive power. To assert a contrary opinion would be a crime against the nation. Not over a liberated nation (which, of course, would have the right to choose whom it will), but over a nation crushed by an usurping power, the claims of Kossuth, as elected Governor of Hungary, are, I submit, lawful.

Republican principles have not been proclaimed at Kossuth's dictation as the aim of our national exertions. They were, during our struggle, the well-ascertained and deep-rooted sentiment of the country, and Kossuth could only faithfully represent the proclaimed will and feeling of the nation, by inscribing them on his banner. Immediately after the declaration of independence, all the manifestations of the national will were unanimous in the desire for a republic. The ministry, which was nominated by the Governor as a consequence of that legislative act, declared in both houses of the Diet, that its efforts would be directed to the establishment of a republic. Both houses joined in this declaration, and in the government no opposition whatever was manifested against it. One of the first acts of the new government was to remove the crown from all national scutcheons, and from the great seal of Hungary. The press in all its shades developed republican principles. The new semi-official paper bore the name of The Republic. It is true that the government was only provisional, for the war continued, and the definite decision of this question depended on unforeseen circumstances. We should have preferred almost any settlement to the necessity of a subjection to the Austrian dynasty; and at the price of emancipation from that detested power, the nation would even have been prepared, for the sake of aid, to choose a king from another race; but certainly if it had been the unaided victor in the struggle, never. Monarchical government would have been for us the resort of expediency. The government of our wishes and principles was "The Republic."

I do not feel at all convinced, as the noble count asserts, that the institutions and habits of Hungary are incompatible with a democratic republic. I find, on the contrary, traits in them which lead me to an opposite conclusion. The aggregate character of the numerous nobility which resigned its privileges in the Diet of 1847-48 of its own accord, and which was in its nature more a democratic than an aristocratic body, because neither territorial wealth nor rank interfered with or disturbed the equality of its rights,—the national antipathy to the system of an upper house, which was considered as a foreign institution, because it had been introduced under the Austrian dynasty,—the immemorial custom of periodically electing all officials, and even the judges,—the detestation in which bureaucracy and all the instruments of centralization were held in all ages, while the attachment to the municipal self-government was ineradicable,—the fact that, in consequence of the laws which had been sanctioned in April, 1848, the county authorities, formerly only elected from the "nobility," were democratically reconstituted, and exercised their functions in this form till the catastrophe of Vilagos, without the slightest collision between the different classes of society,—the peaceful election of the representatives of the last Diet conducted almost on the principle of universal suffrage,—all these facts unmistakeably prove that the germ of democracy lay in our institutions, and that these could receive a democratic development without any concussion. Those characteristic traits of our nation, which have been so often misrepresented as signs of an aversion to a republic, and which may be more properly called civic virtues; as, for example, our respect for law, our antipathy to untried political theories, our attachment to traditional customs, and our pride in the history of our country, are no obstacles to, but rather guarantees, and even conditions of a republic, which is to be national and enduring. It would indeed be an unprecedented event in history, if staunch royalism could be the characteristic of a country which, like Hungary, has found in its kings for three hundred years the inexorable foes of its liberties, and which in that time, for its defence, had to wage six bloody wars against the dynasty.

As to the criticisms by the noble count of the personal character of Kossuth, I take leave to assert that a great majority of the Hungarian nation do not share his opinion. It is not my task to appear as a personal advocate, and I wish, therefore, to advert only to one point of his attack, which may seem to be based on facts. The noble count asserts that Kossuth has attained to power by doubtful means. I am amazed at this assertion, knowing, as I do, that Kossuth was proposed by Count Louis Bathyanyi, and nominated by the King, with the universal applause of the nation, to the Ministry of Finance. After the resignation of the first Hungarian ministry, he was freely and unanimously elected by the Diet to the Presidency of the Committee of Defence, and after the declared forfeiture of the dynasty to the Governorship of the country. I know no more honourable means by which a man can be raised to power.

S. VUKOVICS,

Late Minister of Justice of Hungary.

London, January 17, 1852.

* * * * *

Appendix II.—Extracts from a Letter to the 'Times,' dated December 9th, 1851, by Bartholomew Szemere, late Minister of the Interior in Hungary; in answer to Prince Esterhazy.

I shall now proceed to give a succinct account of what took place from April 14, when the new acts received the Royal sanction, to December, 1848. You may be assured that I shall conceal nothing that tended to change the relations between Hungary and Austria.

The Prime Minister was already nominated when Jellachich was raised to the dignity of Ban of Croatia by a Royal decree which the Premier was not even asked to countersign. The Hungarian ministers, nevertheless, for the sake of peace, overlooked this irregular proceeding.

By a decree, dated June 10, 1848, the King made known to all whom it might concern, that all the troops stationed within the kingdom of Hungary, whether Hungarians or Austrians, were placed under the orders of the Hungarian Minister of War, and that all the Hungarian fortresses were under the jurisdiction of the said Minister. Yet at this very time officers of the Imperial and Royal army were taking an active part in the rebellion of the Serbs and Valachs, while General Mayerhofer was enlisting recruits in the principality of Servia, and sending them to assist the rebels. The people thus beheld with astonishment civil war break out, and saw with still greater astonishment that Imperial officers were fighting on both sides.

Jellachich, as a functionary of the Hungarian Crown, refused to obey the Hungarian ministry, and illegally summoned a Croatian Diet to meet at Agram on June 5. In consequence of these proceedings, Ferdinand V., by a decree dated June 10, 1848, deprived him, as a rebel, of all his civil and military offices and dignities, but at the same time sent him, through his Minister of War, Latour, field officers, artillery and ammunition.

The troubles increased daily. The Hungarian ministry requested the Archduke John to act us mediator. He accepted the office, but did nothing.

The Diet met on July 2. The Palatine, as the representative of the Sovereign in the speech from the Throne, said that, as several districts were in a state of open rebellion, the principal objects to which, in the name of His Majesty, he should direct the attention of the Diet were the finances and the defences of the country, and that bills relating to these objects would be brought in by the Ministers. He then proceeded as follows:—"His Majesty has learned with painful feelings, that although he only followed the dictates of his own gracious inclination, when, at the request of the faithful Hungarian people, he gave his sovereign sanction to the laws enacted by the last Diet—laws which the common weal, according to the exigencies of the present age, rendered imperatively necessary—there are, nevertheless, a number of seditious agitators, especially in the annexed territories and the Hungarian districts of the Lower Danube, who, by false reports and terrorism, have excited the different religious sects and races speaking different languages against each other, and, by mendaciously affirming that the above-mentioned laws are not the free expressions of His Majesty's Royal will, have stirred up the people to offer an armed opposition to the execution of the law, and to the legally constituted authorities. And, moreover, that some of these agitators have even proceeded so far in their iniquitous course as to spread the report that this armed opposition has been made in the interests of the dynasty, and with the knowledge, and connivance of His Majesty or of the members of His Majesty's Royal house. I therefore, in order that all the inhabitants of the kingdom, without distinction as to creed or language, may have their minds set at rest, hereby declare, in conformity with the sovereign behest of His Majesty our most gracious King, and in his sovereign name and person, that it is His Majesty's firm and steadfast determination to defend with all his Royal power and authority the unity and integrity of His Royal Hungarian crown against every attack from without, and every attempt at disruption and separation that may be made within the kingdom, and at the same time inviolably to maintain the laws which have received the Royal sanction. And while His Majesty will not suffer any one to curtail the liberties assured to all classes by the law, His Majesty, as well as all the members of His Royal dynasty, strongly condemns the audacity of those who venture to affirm that any illegal act whatsoever or any disrespect of the constituted authorities can be reconcileable with His Majesty's sovereign will, or at all compatible with the interests of the Royal dynasty."

It thus clearly appears that the King acknowledged the validity and the inviolability of the acts passed by the Diet of 1847-8 three months after they had been sanctioned.

Relying on the sincerity of the Royal asseverations, the Diet humbly requested that His Majesty would be graciously pleased to render the country happy by his presence. It was, in fact, the general wish that the King should come to Hungary; even the most radical journals loudly declared that if he came he would be received with enthusiasm bordering on madness.

Meanwhile the rebellion of the Croats, Serbs, and Valachs, was spreading daily, and that, too, in the name of the Sovereign. Generals, colonels, and other field officers of the Imperial army were at the head of it, without any one of them being summoned by the King to answer for his conduct. The eyes of the too credulous natives were now opened, and still more when the King refused to sanction the acts for the levying of troops and raising of funds for the suppression of the rebellion, although the Diet had been convened chiefly for this purpose.

I must here observe that at this period nothing whatever had occurred that could serve as a pretext for the dynasty to support the rebellion. The Diet, it is true, would not consent that the troops that were to be levied should be draughted into the old regiments; but it was obviously impossible for the Diet to consent to any such measures at a period when the rebels were everywhere led by Imperial officers, when the Austrian troops stationed in Hungary, although they had been placed under the orders of the Hungarian Ministry, refused to fight against those rebels, and the commanders of fortresses to receive orders from the Hungarian War-office.

On the 8th of September a deputation from the Hungarian Diet earnestly entreated His Majesty to sanction two acts relating to the levying of troops and taxes. The King refused; but in his answer to the address of the deputation said, "I trust that no one will hereby suppose that I have the intention to set aside or infringe the existing laws. This, I repeat, is far from my intention. On the contrary, it is my firm and determined will to maintain, in conformity with my coronation oath, the laws, the integrity, and the rights of the kingdom, under my Hungarian crown."

The King made this solemn declaration on the 8th of September, and on the 9th of September Jellachich crossed the Drave with 48,000 men to wage war in the King's name on the Hungarian Diet and Ministry. The King had, moreover, on the 4th of September, affixed his sign manual to a letter or Royal mandate addressed to Jellachich, and revoking the decree by which he had been deprived of his civil and military offices and dignities. His Majesty, in this letter, also expressed his high approbation of the Ban's conduct. By a Royal decree, dated October 3, the constitution was suspended, martial law proclaimed, and Jellachich, the rebel, appointed His Majesty's Plenipotentiary Commissary for the kingdom of Hungary, and invested with unlimited authority to act, in the name of His Majesty, within the said kingdom.

Hungary, so far from commencing the revolution, was not even prepared to meet the invasion of the Croatian Ban. He was defeated near Stuhlweissenburg by the Landsturm. The Hungarian Government only began to organize regular troops in October.

That the Diet did not recognize a decree that suspended the constitution and invested Jellachich with the dictatorship, will be found quite natural, if not by you, at least by every Englishman who cherishes constitutional freedom, the more so as its proceedings on this occasion were founded on legal right, viz., on act 4, sect. 6, of 1847-8, which expressly ordains that "the annual session of the Diet shall not be closed, nor the Diet itself dissolved, before the budget for the ensuing year has been voted."

From this short but faithful account of what actually occurred, it clearly appears that the Hungarian nation had not recourse to arms until the Ban of Croatia entered the Hungarian territory with an Austrian-Croatian army. It is also an undeniable fact that until the promulgation of the Austrian Charter in March, 1849—by which, with a stroke of the pen, the independence of Hungary was destroyed, its constitution abolished, and its territories dismembered—the Hungarian nation never demanded anything else than the maintenance of the laws and institutions which its Sovereign had sanctioned and sworn to maintain inviolate. It was however precisely for the purpose of destroying these laws and institutions that the dynasty began the war. This, of course, they did not venture to avow. It was necessary to conceal the real motives of their perfidious conduct from the civilized world. Hence in their public proclamations they always alleged some pretext or other—all of them equally groundless. At the commencement they said that it was only an insignificant faction they had to deal with; but when they saw that the whole nation was arrayed in arms against them, they declared it was for the suppression of demagogueism, propagated by foreigners, chiefly Poles, that their armies had entered Hungary; and to give a colour to this pretext they industriously spread the report that there were 20,000 Poles in the ranks of the Hungarians. When however it became notorious that no more than 1,000 Poles were fighting under our national standard, the Austrian dynasty appeared as the soi-disant champion and judge of the various nationalities or races. This answered well enough until the system of centralization showed too clearly that an attempt would be made to Germanize these nationalities; when the dynasty again veered about, and, leaving "nationalities" in the lurch, took up the peasantry. We consequently find the Austrian Government assuring the Washington Cabinet (in the note of July 4, 1851) that they had waged war on Hungary in order to crush a turbulent aristocracy that "preach democracy with their tongues, while their whole lives consist in the daily exercise over their fellow-men of arbitrary power in the most repugnant form." This last pretext, so ostentatiously put forth, loses, however, even its plausibility when contrasted with the policy of the dynasty in 1848, for it is an undoubted fact that, although the reforms effected in our political institutions at that period were consented to by the dynasty without much hesitation, it required the most energetic remonstrances on the part of the Diet to obtain the Royal sanction to the act for the liberation of the peasants from feudal bondage.

It is precisely to the fact of all classes, without distinction, being equally aware of the cabals of the dynasty, that may be ascribed the success of the Hungarian insurrection. It was not one man, nor a party, nor a conspiracy, nor terrorism, that awakened that spontaneous enthusiasm with which the people rushed to arms. Kossuth may have been the rallying cry; but he was not the cause of the war. For several months the people had witnessed the equivocal conduct of the dynasty; had seen that its words were belied by its deeds; had seen that the rebels were everywhere led by Imperial officers; and finally beheld Jellachich, a high functionary of the Hungarian Crown, invade the country at the head of an Austro-Croatian army. It was then, and not till then, that the nation cried, as with one voice—the King is a traitor. From that day began the Hungarian revolution. On that day the monarchical feeling was extinguished. What no one had thought it possible to accomplish was accomplished by the dynasty itself.

* * * * *

APPENDIX III.—Extracts from a Letter to the 'Daily News,' in February, 1852, by a, "HUNGARIAN EXILE," in reply to a Letter from SZEMERE, to the 'London Examiner.'

[I am personally acquainted with the accomplished and intelligent "Exile;" but as he is absent from England, I cannot obtain permission to publish his name.]

It was more than two months after the civil war had been raging in the Banat and Transylvania that the question of giving fresh troops for the suppression of the Italian war was brought before the Assembly at Pesth, July 22, 1846. Now, what are the accusations M. Szemere brings forth against Kossuth in reference to the Italian question? The pith of M. Szemere's reasoning is, that the ministry agreed, in the protocol of July 5, upon construing the Pragmatic Sanction as binding Hungary to protect the integrity of Austria; "yet that Kossuth, as the organ of the ministry, spoke in a way as if he did not approve of the policy, and sought to make the public believe that the protocol was merely a moral demonstration:" further, that when the opposition denied the obligation of Hungary to defend Austria, the ministry refused to enter into any discussion on an acknowledged principle of constitutional law.

In order to show the utter hollowness of this attack, it may be sufficient to look at the date and circumstances M. Szemere talks of. The protocol in question was agreed upon on July 5th, the day when the parliament met to provide for the defence of the country. The members, inexperienced in foreign politics and ignorant of the cabals of courts, although presuming that the civil war was kindled in Vienna, were at first blinded by the royal convocation of the Diet to provide for the safety of the country; putting, moreover, implicit confidence in the sagacity and goodwill of the ministry. When however Kossuth opened the debate on the Italian question, July 22, affairs looked quite different from what they appeared to be when the protocol was drawn up. The treachery of the dynasty broke upon the mind of the most careless, and its connexions with the leaders of the rebellious tribes had become undeniable facts. It was during that short time, from July 5 to July 22, that our national forces met in the Serbian entrenchments of St. Thomas, Foeldvar, and Turia, regular Austrian soldiers: Meyerhofe, the Austrian consul at Belgrade, was openly recruiting bands of Servians to reinforce the insurgents; nay, it became even evident that General Bechtold, appointed by His Majesty to lead the faithful Hungarians against the rebellious Serbs, led them on in order to get them the sooner decimated and broken. Some members of the opposition, headed by General Perczel, declaimed loudly against the cowardly and fallacious policy of the ministry, resolving to compel ministers to resign or to induce them to take some more efficacious measures. In short, during this space of time, the government and people found themselves in quite a new position. Kossuth, in concert with the ministry, moved a levy of 200,000 men (July 11), which motion the Assembly hailed with unparalleled enthusiasm, and which the people witnessed with approval, as affording a guarantee of their liberties. It was in the midst of these moments of excitement and temporary distress that Kossuth, as the most popular member of the cabinet, was pointed out as the person most fitted to undertake the very difficult task of speaking on the Italian question alluded to by M. Szemere. Public opinion, aided by the opposition of the house, was convinced that Austria, after having subjugated the Lombard-Venetians with Hungarian troops, would then turn to Hungary, the enslavement of which might more easily be executed by the country's being bereft of a number of stout arms indispensable to her own defence. Kossuth therefore, as a man of true liberal principles, while acknowledging the ground to be right upon which the opposition moved, professed in the speech alluded to that he had agreed then with his colleagues in respect to the Italian question, on the ground that the moral power of the protocol would suffice, although as a private individual he could not help rejoicing at the victories of the Italian people. Now, I submit it to every enlightened Englishman to decide whether Kossuth evinced a want of civic virtue in declaring that, as a man who wished freedom for himself, he could not rejoice in the sending of troops to subjugate another people struggling against the same tyrant?

Referring to the policy of the ministry, M. Szemere says "that Count Louis Bathyanyi declared, on the 31st March, that the obligation enjoined by the Pragmatic Sanction was such that Hungary was bound thereby to defend the territorial integrity of the Austrian monarchy, but that they (the ministers) would carefully avoid interfering in the internal affairs of the states that constituted this monarchy." Irrespective of this—that Count Bathyanyi explained the policy in March, when Hungary enjoyed perfect peace, whereas the debate on the Italian question happened in the midst of most threatening civil wars carried on directly by Austria—it must be remembered that if by the 1st article of the Pragmatic Sanction Hungary was bound to afford aid to Austria etiam contra vim externam, that same article provided that the States composing the realm of Hungary were to be preserved by the monarch aeque indivisibiliter as his hereditary estates; and that by the 3d article of that celebrated law the Sovereign promised, for himself and his successors, to compel his subjects of every state and degree to observe the laws and rights of Hungary. It is therefore evident that the infraction of this law, by the countenance and aid furnished to the Serbs (as also to Jellachich), fully exonerated the Hungarians from sending troops to Italy before they had provided for the safety of their country, and fully justified them and their responsible minister for drawing the attention of their Sovereign to it in the address to the Crown. M. Szemere talks of protecting the integrity of the Austrian empire, and carefully avoiding to interfere with the internal affairs of other states. The Czar may indeed exclaim, with M. Szemere, that in sending his Cossacks into Hungary he never intended to interfere in our internal affairs.

The second charge, as to Kossuth's striving to concentrate in his person all power and authority, is, I fear, indicative of the animus which prompted M. Szemere to write these letters, namely, jealousy of his great countryman. The charge, however, is entirely without foundation: and the only question is, as to how Kossuth acquired such unbounded influence over his countrymen of every rank and station. The means by which Kossuth gained such an ascendancy over his colleagues, M. Szemere himself must own, were, the implicit confidence the country placed in his patriotism, and the conviction it had acquired of his genius and indefatigable activity. In moments of extreme danger no name was heard but that of Kossuth. I am far from asserting that all Kossuth has done is exempt from censure; but it must, on the other hand, be admitted that all that was grand in our revolution happened by his instrumentality. His mere appearance, as, for instance, in Debreczin, January, 1849, when the second danger seemed to overwhelm the country, roused the frightened people of the Thesis, who crowded under the national standard and shattered to pieces the Austrian forces.

The fall of Hungary can only be traced to the following three circumstances:—1st. That it was not believed that European diplomacy would allow Russian intervention. 2d. That our plan of warfare, directed by the council of war, and not by Kossuth, wanted that concentration which could alone have ensured success. 3d. That the character of Goergei, whom our generals never accused of treacherous designs, was a mystery: nay, the patriotic General Perczel, who proclaimed loudly Goergei's treachery from the very beginning, had the satisfaction to be laughed at and hooted down. To impute these disastrous circumstances to Kossuth alone, is to render one's self guilty of the greatest perversion of generally acknowledged and incontrovertible facts.

A HUNGARIAN EXILE.

THE END