PREFACE TO KOSSUTH'S SPEECHES. (continued 9)

Let me exemplify the difference between that noble beneficent spirit of commerce and the merely material money hunting, which falsely usurps the name of commerce.

Since the fatal arithmetical skill of Rothschilds has found out how to gain millions by negotiating, out of the pockets of the public, loan after loan for the despots, to oppress the blind-folded nations, a sort of speculation has gained ground in the Old World, worthy of the execration of humanity—I mean the speculation in loan shares;—the paper commerce called stock-jobbing. It is the shame-brand upon our century's brow, that such a commerce is become a political power on earth; and unscrupulous gamesters, speculating upon the ruin of their neighbours, hold the political thermometer of peace and war in their criminal hands. But it is not commerce—it deserves not the name of commerce—it does not contribute to public welfare—it does not augment the elements of public prosperity—it is but immoral GAMBLING, which transfers an unproductive imaginary wealth from one hand into another, without augmenting the stock of national property:—that is not commerce: and it is a degradation of the character of a nation, when the interests of that speculation have the slightest influence, or are made of the slightest consideration in the regulation of a country's policy. Such an example has its full weight with every other kind of mere money-hunting. It would be the greatest fault to regulate a country's policy according to the momentary interests of worshippers of the almighty dollar, who look but for a momentary profit, not caring for their fatherland and humanity—nothing for the principles—nothing about the tears and execration of millions, if only that condition remains intact which gives them individual profit—though that condition be the misfortune of a world. Wherever that class of money-hunters is influential, there is a disease in the constitution of the community. It is vain to complain against the dangerous doctrines of socialism, so long as such money-hunters have any influence upon politics. The genus of Rothschilds has done more for the spread of socialism than its most passionate sectarians.

Take on the other side the contrasting fact of the Erie Canal. I remember well that some were terrified, when in the councils of the Empire State first was started the idea of that gigantic enterprise. And now when we hear that its nett proceeds amount to about three millions of dollars a year—when we see the almost unbroken line of boats on it—when we see Buffalo becoming the heart of the West, the pulsation of which conveys the warm tide of life to the East; and by the communication of that artery, bringing the wonderful combination of the great western lakes into immediate connection with the Atlantic, and through the Atlantic with the Old World—when we see Buffalo, though at four hundred miles distance from the ocean, without a navigable river, living, acting, and operating like a seaport; and New York, situated on the shores of the Atlantic, acting as if it were the metropolis of the West—when we consider how commerce becomes a magic wand, and transforms a world of wilderness into a garden of prosperity, and spreads the blessing of civilization where some years ago only the wild beasts and the Indian roamed—then indeed we bow with reverential awe before the creating power of that commerce. We feel that the spirit of it is not a mere money-hunting, but a mighty instrumentality of Providence for the moral and social benefit of the world; and we at once feel that the interests of such a commerce underlie so much the foundation of your country's future, that not only are they entitled to enter into the regulating considerations of your country's policy, but they must enter—they must have a decisive weight—and they will have it, whatever be the declamations of learned politicians who have so much looked to the authority of past times that they have found no time to see the imperious necessity of present exigencies.

There are still some who advise you to follow the policy of separation from Europe, which Washington wisely advised in his days—wisely, because it was a necessity of those times. I have on many occasions adduced arguments against this, which to me are quite convincing. Yet to some minds custom is of so much more power than argument, that I could not forbear to feel some uneasiness. But to-day, gentlemen, I no longer feel such uneasiness. I am entirely tranquillized. I want no more arguments, because I have the knowledge of facts, and to those who still advocate the policy of separatism I will say, "Have you seen the city of Buffalo? Go! and look at it; when you have seen what Buffalo is, consider what are the interests which created that city, and are personified by that city; then trace those interests back to New York, and from New York across the Atlantic to the Old World; and again, the returning interests of intercourse from the Old World to New York and hence to Buffalo, and from Buffalo to the West, and then speak of the wisdom of separatism!"—What exists, exists. The facts will laugh at your reflections; they will tell you that, they cannot be undone. They will tell you that you are like Endymion, whom Diana made sleep until the twig on which he leaned his head had become a tree. They, will tell you that you could as well reduce Buffalo to the log-house of MIDDEAU and LANE; the mighty democrat the steam-engine to the horse on the back of which EZRA METCALF brought the first public mail to the sixteen dwelling-houses, which some forty years ago composed all Buffalo; you could as well reduce the Erie Canal to where it was when GOVERNOR MORRIS first mentioned the idea of tapping Lake Erie, or reduce the West to a desert, and western New York to the condition in which Washington saw it when journeying towards the Far West.

All this you could as easily do as adhere any longer to the policy of separatism, or persuade the people of the United States not to take any part in the great political transactions of the Old World.

In that respect, gentlemen, I am entirely tranquillized; and tranquillized also I am in this respect, that it is impossible the active sympathies of your people should not side with freedom and right against oppression and violence. That will be done. I want no assurance about it,—being an imperative corollary of existing facts. Public opinion is aroused to the appreciation of these facts and of their necessary exigencies. The only thing which I in that respect have yet to desire, is, to see the people of the United States persuaded that it is time to prepare already to meet those exigencies; and that it is wise not to let themselves be overtaken by impending events.

[Kossuth then proceeded to speak of subjects elsewhere very fully treated, and continued:]

Once more, I repeat, a timely pronouncement of the United States would avert and prevent a second interference of Russia. She must sharpen the fangs of her Bear, and get a host of other beasts into her menagerie, before she will provoke the Eagle of America. But beware, beware of loneliness. If your protest be delayed too long, you will have to fight alone against the world: while now, you will only have to watch, and others will fight.

Allow me to ask, are the United States interested in the laws of nations? can they permit any interpolation in the code of these laws without their consent? I am told by some that America had best not intermeddle with European politics, and that you have always avoided to meddle with them. But it is not so. Those who make this assertion forget history—they forget that the United States have always claimed and asserted the right to have their competent weight and authority about the maritime law of nations—it was one of your Presidents who held this emphatic language to the Potentates of Europe:

"We cannot consent to interpolations in the maritime code of nations at the mere will and pleasure of other Governments—we deny the right of any such interpolation, to any one or all the nations of the earth without our consent—we claim to have a voice in all alterations of that code."

Thus spoke the United States, at a time when they were not yet so powerful as they are now. And they thus spoke not for themselves only, but for all the nations on earth. And to what purpose did they speak these words so full of dignity and full of effect? For the maintenance of the laws of nations, or one part of them, the maritime code. Dauntless and full of resolution, they alone vindicated natural rights for every nation on earth, while Europe sacrificed them. They vindicated for every nation the proud motto they have emblazoned on their banner—"Free Trade and Sailors' Rights," and free ships and free goods:

Now who can any longer charge me that I advance a new policy, with that precedent before your eyes? Would you be willing to resign, now that you are powerful, in respect to other parts of the laws of nations, that which you have boldly taken in respect to one part of them, when you were yet comparatively weak? Or would you do less for the end than you have done for the means?

The maritime part of the international code is no end, but only a means to an end. No ship takes sail for the purpose merely of sailing on the ocean, but for the purpose of arriving somewhere. The ocean is but the highway, and not the intended terminus. Russian intervention in Hungary has blocked up your terminus: and the maritime code would be of no avail, if the other provisions of international law are to be still blotted out from the code of nations by Russian ambition. Let the slightest eruption of the political volcano in Europe take place, and you will see. You might have seen already during our past struggle, that your proud principle of "free ships, free goods" is a mere mockery unless the other parts of the laws of nations are also maintained.

That is what I claim from the young and dauntless nation of America. I claim that she shall not abandon that position in the proud days of her power, which she so boldly took in the days of her feebleness. Or are you already declining? Has your prodigious prosperity weakened instead of strengthening your nation's nerves? So young! and a Republic! and already declining! when its opposing principle, Russia, rises so boldly and so high! Oh, no! God forbid! That would be a sorrowful sight, fraught with the grief of centuries for all humanity!

* * * * *

XLIX.—RUSSIA AND THE BALANCE OF POWER.

[Syracuse.]

At Syracuse, in New York State, Kossuth was received with an address of the usual cordiality by the ex-Mayor, Harvey Baldwin. Of his ample reply a portion may here be presented to the reader. After alluding to Dionysius and Timoleon, he came back to the subject of Russian interference in Hungary, and declared that he would not appeal to their passions, but to their calm reason, although he approved of excitement in a good cause, and at any rate trusted that Truth and Hope would never be out of fashion at Syracuse. He continued:—

Gentlemen, as the destination of laws in a well-regulated community is to uphold right, justice, and security of every individual, rich or poor, powerful or weak, and to protect his life against violence and his property against the encroachments of fraud and crime—so the destination of the laws of nations is to secure the independence even of the smallest States, from the encroachments of the most powerful ones. Force will prevail instead of right, so long as all independent nations do not unite for the maintenance of those laws upon which the security of all nations rests.

I say all nations, because weakness is always comparative, not absolute. A combination of several leagued powers can reduce to the condition of comparative weakness even the strongest power on earth. Without the law of nations there is therefore no security for nations. But the European powers have long ago substituted for the rule of justice the so-called balancing system—that is to say, the political balance of power among nations. That system is iniquitous, for it is founded, not upon the national right even of the smallest nation to be maintained in its independence, but upon the natural jealousy of the great powers. With this system the independence of the smallest States is not sure by right and by law, but only depends on the consideration that the absorption of such smaller States might aggrandize one of the great powers too much. In this system humanity is taken for nothing—the mutual jealousy of the powerful is all, and the implicit guarantee for the security of the weaker ceases, wherever the powerful can devise a plan of spoliation which leaves the relative forces of the spoliators the same as before. It is thus the world has seen the partition of Poland—that most iniquitous—most guilty spoliation ever witnessed.

The balancing system would have protected Poland from absorption by one power, but it has not protected it from partition between these rival powers. Formerly, separate leagues between several States have been as a protecting barrier against the ambition of a single powerful oppressor. In the case of Poland, the world saw with consternation a confederacy of great powers formed to perpetrate those very acts of spoliation which hitherto had been prevented by similar means. I therefore am certainly no advocate of this false system of political balance of power, and I believe the time will come when that idol will be thrown down from the place which it usurps, and law and right will be restored to their sovereign sway. But still I may say, it is an imperious necessity for all the world in general, as also for the United States, that something should be done to prevent the measureless territorial aggrandizement of one single power, chiefly when that power is the mighty antagonist of your own Republic, as indeed Russia is.

I have on many occasions spoken of the necessary antagonism between despotic Russia and republican America. Allow me here to recapitulate some facts concerning Russia.

No man familiar with the history of the last hundred years is ignorant that the Czars of Russia take it for their destiny to rule the world. It is their hereditary policy, in which they are brought up from generation to generation, till that infatuation becomes a point of their character. To come to that aim—Russian preponderance steps forth alike with protocols, with emissaries, and with war—in two directions westward and eastward, against Europe and against Asia.

As to Europe, after having completed her arrondisement on the Baltic—her earnest aim is partly direct conquest, and partly sovereign preponderance. Direct conquest, so far as the Sclave race is spread; which the Czars desire to unite under their despotic sceptre. To attain that end, the house of Romanoff has started the idea of Pansclavism, the idea of union of the Sclavish nationality under Russian protectorate.—Protectorate is always the first step which Russia takes when desiring to conquer.

She has styled that ambitious design the regeneration of the Sclave nationality; and to blindfold those deluded nations that they may not see that without independence and freedom no nationality exists, she has flattered their ambition with the prospect of dominion over the world. The Latin race had its turn, and the German race had, and now it is the Sclave race which is called to rule and master the world. Such was the Satanic temptation of pride, by which Russia advanced in that ambitious scheme. I will not now speak of the mischief she has succeeded to do in that respect: I will only mark the fact that the ambition of Russia aims at the direct dominion of Europe, so far as it is inhabited by the Sclave race. The slightest knowledge of geography is sufficient to make it understood that this would be such an accession to the power of Russia, that, were they united under one man's despotic will, the independence of the rest of Europe, should even Russia prudently decline a direct conquest of it, would be but a mockery. The Czar would be omnipotent over it, as indeed he is near to be already, at least on the Continent.

Yet, without the conquest of Constantinople, Russia could never carry the idea of Pansclavism: for in European Turkey a vast stock of the Sclavonic race dwells, from Bulgaria over Servia and Bosnia down to Montenegro, and across through Rumelia. Moreover, the conquest of Constantinople is the hereditary leading idea of Russian policy. Peter, called the Great, the founder of the Russian Empire, in making it from a half-Asiatic a European State, bequeathed this policy as a sacred legacy to all his posterity, in his political testament, which is the Magna Charta of Russian power and despotism. All his successors have energetically followed that inherited direction. Alexander movingly avowed that Constantinople is the key to his own house, and his brother did and does more than all his predecessors to get that key.

When the Empress Catharine visited the recently conquered Krimea, Potemkin raised to her honour a triumphal arch, with the motto—"Hereby is the road to Constantinople." Czar Nicholas has since learned that it is by Vienna, rather. Russia therefore decided to get rid of this obstacle, and to convert it out of an obstacle into a TOOL. A direct conquest would have been dangerous, because it would have met the opposition of all Europe. Russia therefore tried it first by monetary influence, and had pretty well advanced in it. Metternich himself was a pensioner to Russia. But the watchful, independent spirit of constitutional Hungary still hindered the practical result of that bribery.

And, mark well, gentlemen, in consequence of the geographical situation of her dominions, and being also sovereigns of Hungary, it was chiefly the house of Austria which was considered to be and cherished as the great bulwark against Russia—charged especially with a jealous guardianship of Turkish rights. And indeed had the house of Austria comprehended the conditions of her existence, attached Hungary to herself by respecting her independence and her constitutional rights, and developed the power of her hereditary dominions, and placed herself upon a constitutional basis, she could have maintained her respectable position of guardianship for centuries. Russia was aware of that fact.

It is the intrigue of Russia, which by money and emissaries for years before infused the notion of Pansclavism among the Bohemians, Poles, Croats, Serbs, under the crown of Austria, equally as among the Sclave population of Turkey; which encouraged Austria to attack Hungary, by promising her aid in case of need. If Austria succeeded, the constitutional life of Hungary, in many ways so offensive to Russia, was overthrown: if Austria failed, she became a dependency of Russia. And by the unwarrantable carelessness of some powers, the complicity of others, the latter alternative is achieved. Austria, who was to have balanced Russia, is thrown into her scale: instead of being a barrier, she is her vanguard, and her tool—her high road to Constantinople, her auxiliary army to flank it.

It would be not without interest to sketch the history of Russia step by step, advancing towards that aim by war and by emissaries, and by diplomatic corruption and corrupted diplomacy, from the time of Mahomet Baltadji, of cursed memory, through all subsequent wars—at the treaties of Kutsuk Kaynardje, Balta Liman, Jassy, Bucharest, Ackierman, Adrianople, Unkhiar Iskelessi, down to the treaty as to the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus, and to the treaty of commerce which made two-thirds of Constantinople itself in their daily bread dependent upon Russian wheat, to the amount of thirty-five millions of piastres a year, while Turkish wheat was rotting in the stores of Asia Minor. By each of these treaties Russia advanced its frontiers, and pressed Constantinople more closely within its iron grasp; with such perseverant consistency pursuing her aim, that even in other political transactions, apparently unconnected with Turkey, it was constantly this which she kept in view.

As for instance, at the conference of Tilsit, when she surrendered continental Europe to the momentary domains of Napoleon, provided Turkey were consigned to her. And still she did not succeed—and still Stamboul stands a barrier to her dominion over the world. And why did she not succeed? Because the European powers, conscious of the fact that the conquest of Constantinople involves their own submission to Russia, have in the last instant always prevented it, by uniting to treat the Eastern question as one of life and death for their own independence.

The whole Anglo-Saxon race are bound by every consideration of policy to check the ambitious encroachments of Russia. It is not in Europe only, but in Asia, that you meet her. She knows that her dominion over the world must be short, while the Anglo-Saxon race bold a mighty empire in India. Moreover, you yourselves, by the extension of your territory to the Pacific Ocean, are drawn by a thousand natural ties of activity to Asia. Your expedition to Japan has a world of meaning in it. Great powers must have broad views in their policy: you cannot contain your activity, nor therefore your policy, within a domestic circle of your own. You are for the world what Germany is for Europe. As without the freedom of Hungary, Europe cannot become free, so without the freedom of Germany, Europe cannot remain free; for Germany is the heart of Europe. You, by having extended your dominion to the Pacific, become the heart of the world. You are brought into the compass of Russian hatred and Russian ambition. Either you or Russia must fall.

The balance of power, and thereby the independence of the world, has been overthrown by the connivance of the great powers at the overthrow of Hungary; and it can only be restored by the restoration of Hungary. As for Austria, she never more can be restored—she is not only doomed, she is dead. No skill, no tending can revive her. Having previously broken every tie of affection and of allegiance, she cannot maintain even a vegetable life, but by Russian aid. Let the reliance upon that aid relax, and there is no power on earth which could prevent the nations who groan under her oppressive and degrading tyranny from shattering to pieces the rotten building of her criminal existence. And as to my nation, I declare solemnly, that should we be left forsaken and alone to fight once more the battle of deliverance for the world, and should we in consequence of it fail in that honourable strife, we will rather choose to be Russians than subject to the house of Austria—rather submit to open, manly force of the Czar, than to the heart-revolting perjury of the Hapsburg—rather be ruled directly by the master, than submit to the shame of being ruled by his underlings. The fetters of force may be broken once, but the affection of a morally offended people to a perjurious dynasty can never be restored. Russia we hate with inconceivable hatred, but the House of Hapsburg we hate and we despise.

I have been often asked, what may be, amidst the present conjunctures, an opportunity to renew our struggle for liberty? and I have answered that the very oppression of our country, the heroism of my people, our resolute will, and the intolerable condition of the European Continent, is an opportunity in itself; but if too cautious men, having too little faith in the destiny of mankind, desire yet another opportunity, there is the prospect of a war between Turkey and Russia. This is a fatality, pointed out by the situation of Russia, and by the pressing motives, heaped up since the time of Peter the Great: and Russia will hasten to try the decisive blow, since she knows that Turkey becomes more powerful every day. Now, gentlemen, that will be an imperious opportunity to raise once more the standard of freedom in Hungary; and, so may God bless us, we are prepared for it. We cannot allow that our natural ally, Turkey, be flanked from the frontiers of Hungary at the order of the Czar. Turkey, by curious change of circumstances, having become necessary to European freedom and civilization, will find the kindred race of the Magyars to aid her, and by aiding her, to save the world.

The only question is, will the United States remain indifferent at the overthrow of the balance of power on earth? No, they will not, they cannot remain indifferent. Their position on the coast of the Pacific answers "No." Their Republican principle answers "No." The voice of the people, clustering in thundering manifestations around my own humble self, answer "No." You yourself, Sir, in the name of the people of Syracuse, which is but one tone in the mighty harmony of all the people's voice, have told me "No."

Before these assurances, and upon the conditions of your destiny, I rely; and I venture humbly to advise you to strengthen your fleet in the Mediterranean. Sir, look for a port of your own, not depending upon the smiles of petty Italian despots, but one where the stripes and stars of America will be able to protect the principles of FREE SHIPS, FREE GOODS. Determine the character of your country's future administration from a broad American view, and not from any petty considerations of small party follies. With these humble suggestions I cordially thank you for your sympathy, and bid you an affectionate farewell!

* * * * *

L.—RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT.

[Utica.]

At Utica, in New York State, the elegant Saloon of the Museum was arranged for Kossuth's reception: and the Hon. W. Bacon made a powerful address to him. Kossuth in the course of his reply, said:—

Ladies and gentlemen,—The history and the institutions of the United States were not only the favourite study of my life, from my early youth, strengthening my conviction that with centralization and with parliamentary omnipotence, which absorb all independence of municipal life, there is no practical freedom possible:—but the history and institutions of the United States exerted also a real influence upon the resolution of my people to resist oppression, and not to shrink before the dangers and sacrifices of a terrible conflict.

Never yet was there a people against which all the arts of hell had been combined worse than against the people of Hungary in 1848. Neither dreaming to attack any, nor suspecting to be attacked, never yet was a people less prepared for a war of defence, or more surprised by the danger than my country was.

In those frightful days, when many of the stoutest hearts prepared mourningly to submit to the imperious necessity, I called Hungary to arms; and while on the one side I pronounced a curse against those who would forsake the fatherland, and were willing to bow cowardlike before a sacrilegious violence, and accept the degradation of servitude,—on the other side, in order to cheer up the manly resolution of my countrymen, I pointed to the heart-raising example of your history. And that history became the guiding star to us, from the lustre of which we have drawn self-reliance and resolution to bear up against all danger and all adversities.

But while we on our part readily yielded to the heart-ennobling influence of your history, we were disappointed in some expectations which we derived from it. We saw that you were not forsaken in the hour of need; yet your grievances were by far less heart-stirring than ours, and should you have failed in the noble enterprize of independence, such a failure, at that time, would by no means have teemed with such immediate results of positive mischiefs to the world outside of you, as every considerate mind might have foreseen from our fall.

I therefore confess that I trusted to that instruction also of your history, and hoped that should we prove worthy of the attention of the world, that attention would not be restricted to a mere looking at our contest with barren sympathies. But allow me to mention that it was not from America alone that I hoped our struggle would not be regarded with indifference: the example of former political transactions in Europe entitled me to just expectations from other quarters also in that respect.

When Greece heroically rose to assert its independence, Great Britain, France, and even Russia herself, interposed together to pacify the two contending parties, on the basis of the establishment of an independent Greece. And so very anxious were those great powers to stop the effusion of blood, that they solemnly declared they would insist upon the pacification, should even the conflicting parties decline to consent to the proposed arrangements. And thus Greece took its seat among the independent States, though that was possible only by reducing the territory of the Ottoman Empire, the integrity of which was considered essential to the equilibrium of political power on earth.

Besides, what were those powers which interposed their mediation in favour of bleeding Greece? It was Russia, despotical as she is: it was legitimist France, then scarcely to be called constitutional; for it was before the revolution of 1830: and it was the ministry of Great Britain, then, if I am not mistaken, a Tory one.

Now was I not entitled with this precedent before my eyes, to hope that the bloody struggle in Hungary would not be regarded with indifference? We had not risen from any reckless excitement to assert new rights, or to experiment on new theories; we should have been contented to keep what we lawfully possessed. It was not we who broke the peace; we were assailed with a perjury more sacrilegious than the world has ever seen:—we merely took up arms to defend ourselves against national extermination, against the nameless cruelties inflicted upon our people,—men, women, children,—by fire, murder, war, and royal perjury. And besides, when we took up arms in legitimate defence, it so happened that in France there was a republic established which proclaimed the principle of universal fraternity; and there was in England a ministry claiming to be liberal, which on a former occasion had solemnly vouched its word to the British parliament, that constitutional independence of any country, great or small, would never be a matter of indifference to the English government; adding emphatically, that whoever might be in office, conducting the affairs of Great Britain, he would not perform his duty if he were inattentive to the interests of such States. Am I to blame for having thought that there is and should be morality in politics?

And besides, there was republican America, quite in another shape than she was twenty years before, at the time of the war of independence in Greece. Then she had not yet extended her sway to the Pacific, and was not yet exposed to be so much affected by the political issues of Europe and Asia as she now is: then she had not yet a population of more than twenty millions, who now are in the necessity to claim the position of a power on earth: then she was indeed a new world teeming with the mysteries of the future, but yet was far from being what she is to-day; nay, even the Erie Canal, the great artery which now acts as a miraculous link between Europe and the interior of your republic, was only about to be completed at the time. And still what mighty sympathy! a sympathy warm in expression, and not barren in facts, thrilled through all America, much like that which I now meet, and pervaded even your national councils:—would I were entitled to say, much like as now! Although the question of Greece was of course worthy of all interest (as the cause of liberty always and everywhere is), yet it was only an isolated cause, and by no means of such surpassing influence upon the condition of the world as the cause of Hungary was, and is.

And yet I was disappointed in the expectation which I derived from your own history, that a just cause will find supporters and never will be forsaken by all. Oh, we were forsaken, gentlemen! We were forsaken even at the crisis, when, single-handed, we had defeated our cruel enemy. And Russia, that personification of despotism, stepped in with its iron weight, tearing to pieces the law of nations, and overthrowing upon our ruins the balance of power on earth.

That Russia, if invited, would snatch at the opportunity to gain preponderance amongst the powers on earth—of this I entertained not the slightest doubt; but I must confess, I did not believe either that Austria would claim, or that the other powers of the earth, and chiefly Great Britain and America, would permit the intervention of Russia. I could not believe that Austria would resort to this desperate remedy, because (and it is a remarkable circumstance which I mention now for the first time) it was Austria which but a few years before, when, in the transactions with Turkey, the question of foreign interference for the maintenance of the integrity of the Turkish empire was agitated in the councils of the world (and from which you of course were excluded, as to the present day you always yet have been, as if you were nothing but a patch of earth); yes, it was Austria, which objecting that the guarantee of interference should be even claimed, pronounced in a solemn diplomatic note these memorable words:—

"A State ought never to accept, and still less request, of another State, a service for which it is unable to offer in return a strict reciprocity; else by accepting such favour she loses the flower of her own independence—a State accepting such a favour becomes a mediatized State: it makes an act of submission to the will of the State which takes the charge of its defence; this State becomes a protector, and to be dependent upon a protector is insupportable."

Thus spoke Austria. How then could I imagine that the same Austria which thus spoke would accept the degradation of Russian interference? And should even the house of Austria, ruled by a guilty woman, under the name of a witless, cruel child, be willing thus to ruin itself; how could I imagine that England, that America, that the World, would allow such a preponderance to Russia as makes her almost the mistress over the world; at least opens the way to become such? No, that indeed I could not imagine.

And still it was done. We fell, not "unwept, unhonoured, and unsung," but still we fell. Well: sad though be our fate, it is but a trial, and no death. Perhaps it was necessary that the destinies of mankind should be fulfilled. I have an unbroken faith in Him, the Heavenly Father of all; the heart of mortal men may break, but what he does, that is well done.

The ways of Providence are mysterious. The car of destiny goes on unrestrained, and the weight of its wheels often crushes the happiness of generations; floods of tears and of blood often mark its track. Mankind looks up to heaven, and while measuring eternity with the rule of the passing moment, sometimes despairs of the future, and believes the sun of Freedom sunk for ever! It is a delusion: it is the folly of anxiety! Night is the darkest before dawn, and the misfortune of the moment often leads to the happiness of eternity.

Yes, gentlemen! the ways of Providence are miraculous. Let me cast a look backwards into the last struggles for freedom in Europe, that their history may become the book of future, and that, when we perceive the salutary action of Providence even in our misfortunes, we may be strengthened in our faith in the future freedom, and that you may see that for us, down-trodden but not broken, there is full reason to pursue our way, not only with the resoluteness of duty, but also with the cheerfulness of a sure success, courageous as strength, untired as perseverance, unshaken as religious faith, self-sacrificing as maternal love, cautious as wisdom, but resolute as desperation itself.

But where is the action of Providence visible in the failure of 1848? is your question. Gentlemen, I will tell you. The continent of Europe was afflicted with three diseases in 1848—monarchical inclination, centralization, and the antagonism of nationalities. With such elements and in such direction, deception was unavoidable, lasting liberty was not to be achieved.

It was the lot of the peoples to be freed from these diseases, because God had designed the peoples to freedom and not to deception; therefore the revolution of 1848 had to fail, but it was still not a mere accident in history; it was a necessary step in the development of mankind's destiny, and it will shine for ever in history as a glorious preparation for the ultimate triumph of liberty, to carry which a positive, practical direction is necessary. And that now exists.

France, Germany, and Italy are no more to fight for the deception of monarchical principles, not for the triumph of dynasties, but for republics. Hungary took this direction already in 1849, by dethroning the Hapsburgs. France, Germany, and Italy will not follow in the track of centralization. Hungary never followed it. And the governments may ally themselves for the oppression of the world's liberty;—they have already allied themselves—but nations will no more rise in arms against one another. They will rise, not to dominate, but to be independent and free. Instead of the antagonism of nationalities, it is now the idea of the solidarity and fraternity of nations, which is become the character of our times. And this is to be the source of our success in future; this explains the fear of the tyrants which manifests itself in such blind rage. This is the direction which I pursue; this is the secret of the sympathy of the people, unparalleled yet in history, which I met in both hemispheres, and of the coalition of despots, aristocrats, and ambitious intriguers, to persecute me.

I hope, gentlemen, with these considerations before your eyes, you will not share in the opinions of those who despair of the cause of freedom in Europe, because the revolution of 1848 has failed.

* * * * *

LI.—THE TRIPLE BOND.

[Address before the German Citizens of New York.]

At the Broadway Tabernacle, on Wednesday evening, Kossuth delivered a farewell address, before the German citizens of New York. It was spoken in the German language, and was received with the hearty plaudits of an immense assemblage. A small portion only of it can here find place.

Dear friends,—Allow me to address you with this sweet name of brotherly love, hallowed by deep feeling, by the power of principles, and by the combination of circumstances,—but likewise weighty in regard to the determination linked to it in my grateful heart, in life as in death, to serve the cause faithfully which you honour by such generously noble sympathy.

To me this moment is one of solemn importance. I stand at the close of my wanderings in America. My words are those of farewell.

In these six months I have been enriched by many an experience. I had much to unlearn, but I have likewise learnt much.

Whatever be the result of my exertions, so much is sure, that they have linked more closely the hearts of the Germans and Hungarians, and have matured the instinct of solidarity into self-conscious conviction. This result alone is worth a warm utterance of thanks; it will heavily weigh in the future of the world.

And this result, dear friends, is it not achieved? The hearts of the German and the Hungarian are linked more closely; they throb like the hearts of twins which have rested under the same mother's breast; they throb like the hearts of brothers, who, hand in hand, attain the baptism of blood; they throb like the hearts of two comrades, on the eve of the battle, decided to hold together like the blade and the handle.

The echo of this harmony of German song fills yet the air of this hall; it thrills yet through the soul of the ladies and through the bosom of the resolute men. Let the word harmony between the Germans and Hungarians be the consecration of the present moment, which melts together our feelings, in order that, self-conscious of the sublime aim, which unites our nations and us all in brotherhood, we may unite in intention, unite in resolution, unite in endurance, unite in activity for the aim which fills your souls and mine.

And what is this aim which thrills through our bosoms like a magnetic current? The aim is the solidarity and independence of nations;—the freedom of our people—their liberation from the yoke of tyranny.

With this aim before my eyes and decided resolution in my heart, I feel here amidst you as Werner Stauffacher felt, when, in the hour of the night, on the Rüttli, God above him and the sword in his hand, he made the covenant with his two friends against tyrannical Austria.

Let this meeting here become the symbol of a similar covenant; three[*] were the men who made it, and Switzerland became free. Let us three nations make a similar covenant, and the world becomes free. Germany, Hungary, and Italy! hurrah for the new Rüttli-covenant! God increase the number of them, as he increased the number of those on the Rüttli, and our triune band, strong in itself, will readily greet every one, and meet him as a brother, having the same rights in the great council of the Amphictyons, where the nations will give their verdict against tyrants and tyranny, on the battle-field, with the thunder of the cannons and the clashing of swords; and will put the independence of every nation under the common guarantee of all, in order that every one of them may regulate her own domestic affairs, without foreign interference, and every people may govern itself, not acknowledging any master but the Almighty. They, will increase the members of this covenant, but Germany, Hungary, and Italy, they are neighbours, and have the same enemy. Hurrah! for the new covenant of Stauffacher!

[Footnote *: Werner Stauffacher, Walter Fürst, and Arnold of the Melchthal; November 11th, 1307.]

Now, by the God who led my people from the prairies of far Asia to the banks of the Danube—of the Danube, whose waves have brought religion, science, and civilization from Germany to us, and in whose waves the tears of Germany and Hungary are mingled; by the God who led us, when on the soil watered by our blood we were the bulwark of Christendom; by the God who gave strength to our arm in the struggle for freedom, until our oppressor, this godless House, which weighed so heavily on the liberties of Germany for centuries, was humbled, and sunk down to be the underling of the Muscovite Czar; by the ties of common oppression which tortures our nation—by the ties of the same love of liberty, and of the same hatred of tyranny which boils in the veins of our people—by the remembrance of the day[*] when the Germans of Vienna rose to bar the way toward Hungary against the hirelings of despotism—and by the blood which flowed on the plain of Schwechat[**] from Hungarian hearts for the deliverance of Vienna; by the Almighty Eye which watches the fate of mankind—by all these, I pledge myself, I pledge that the people of Hungary will keep this covenant honestly, faithfully, and truly, in life and death.

[Footnote *: October 5th, 1848] [Footnote **: October 30th, 1848]

I tender the brother-hand of Hungary to the German people, because I am convinced that it is essentially necessary for the freedom and independence of my country. Destined as we are to be the vanguard of freedom, I know well that as long as Germany remains enslaved, even the victory of our liberty would remain insecure; as long as Germany remains an army, whose power is wielded by the criminal hand of the house of Hapsburg; as long as Russia has nothing to fear from Germany, because the two masters of Germany are but underlings of Russia—obeying the command of their master, because he maintains them on their tottering thrones against their own people; so long Russia will always have the arrogance to throw her despotic sword into the scale against the freedom of the world.

I am not the first who say it, that the freedom of Germany is the condition of the liberty of the world; history tells it with a thousand tongues, every statesman acknowledges it, and all the despots know it.

Twenty years past, when the German Princes recovered from the stunning blow of the July Revolution, by finding out that LOUIS PHILIPPE was not in earnest with his phrases of liberty, when, in the year 1832, they united to enslave the German people, and to retract the concessions which they had given in the fright of their hearts; when they curtailed all the Constitutional guarantees, then HENRY LYTTON BULWER, the same who was Ambassador in Washington during the last year, rose in the English Parliament, and claimed that England should not permit the liberty and independence of the German people to be crushed. He claimed the attention of the world to the great truths that the peace of Europe cannot be secured without a strong Germany, and that Germany cannot be strong without freedom. A free Germany is a bulwark against the encroachments of France and the arrogance of Russia. Germany enslaved, is either the prey of the former or the tool of the other. His prophecy is fulfilled; Germany is become half the prey and wholly the tool of Russia. Who then can calculate on security and peace and freedom, as long as Germany is thus enslaved.

You see, dear friends, that the brotherly union with Germany must be of sacred importance to me, and that my heart must beat as fervently for Germany's freedom, as for that of my own people. Therefore, I necessarily wished to bequeath the care of the seed which I have sown, to men urged to this task of love, not only by enlightened American patriotism—not only by the conscience of right and duty and prudence, but likewise especially by love for their old German fatherland. And do I not express only the sentiments of your own hearts, when I say, "The German may wander from his father's house, and may build for himself a new home in a distant country, yet he ever loves truly and faithfully his own old German fatherland"?

I request you to exert your influence, that the idea of the solidarity of the struggle for European liberty may be well understood, and that preparations be made to support the revolution, whenever it breaks out. There is nothing more dangerous than to say: "The Hungarian, the Italian, or the German fights; let us see whether he succeeds; if he succeeds, we too will try the same." By the isolation of the nations the combined despots become victorious. Let everybody support Liberty, wherever she struggles. But, on the other side, the forces of the revolution cannot so pledge and tie themselves, as to be thrown into the abyss by every ill-combined premature outbreak. Not an "EMEUTE," but a REVOLUTION is our aim; and therefore the leaders of the movement of the different nations must combine either in a simultaneous outbreak, or to mutual support; and in this combination there must be absolute freedom and equality.

There are persons in this country who did me the honour to mention that I would lead the German movement. No! gentlemen; that would be a presumptuous arrogance, even if it were practical, which it is not. This idea itself is the most antagonistical to my principles. No!—No! No foreign interference with the domestic affairs of a nation. I will not bear it in Hungary, nor obtrude it abroad. Full independence is my watchword.

But you will ask who are, or who were, the leaders of Germany, with whom I still combine? The question is easily answered; you will acknowledge them from their works. Whoever comes to tender me his hand as a confederate, I do not ask who he is, where he comes from?—but I ask, "What do you weigh? what power do you command? what forces have you organized? or what are your prospects or means of organization?" and then I inquire into the truth myself. I judge the vitality of the intention, and accept or decline the proffered brotherly alliance of mutual support.

This is my way. I do not think that Germany will ever combine under the leadership of one man; but there are many Germans in the different parts of Germany who enjoy the confidence of their countrymen, and have a leading influence. Every one of these can act in his sphere. I, my friends, will be always ready to combine with every one who does, and who has some forces to tender to the league. I do not care for names, for petty party disputes, or for those which belong to the domestic questions.

[Kossuth proceeded, in assent to a special request, to give his advice as to the method of proceeding suitable to the German voters in America; and closed by saying:]

Those are the principles, my dear friends, which should lead you, according to my humble opinion, in the present crisis. And if you take into kind consideration my bequest, and exert your influence and active aid on behalf of the movement for freedom in Europe, I can but assure you, for my grateful farewell, that there are hundreds of thousands in Europe who take those words for their device, which the other day, the German singers sang, as if from the depth of my heart.

"And never shall rest the shield and the spear, Till destroyed we see, and laid in the dust, The enemies all."

May God help me! This is my oath, and this oath my farewell!

* * * * *

LII.—THE FUTURE OF NATIONS.

[A Lecture in New York.]

The following Lecture was delivered at the Broadway Tabernacle by request of a large number of ladies and gentlemen of New York, for the purpose of obtaining the means necessary to secure to the exiled family of Kossuth, consisting of his aged mother, his sisters and their children, an establishment by which they might earn an independent livelihood.

The New York 'Evening Post' says of the Lecture:—

"Kossuth appears nowhere greater than in this able discourse. His comprehensive politics, his beautiful sympathies, his power over language, his poetic imagination, his magnetic and melting earnestness of purpose, are blended with that depth of religious feeling which gives to his character as a patriot the sanctity and unction of the prophet. His moral and intellectual faculties are shown in harmony, working out the great and beneficent purposes of his commanding will.

"It would be difficult to select any portion of this speech as better than another, and we therefore commend the whole to the reader's careful examination."

Ladies and gentlemen,—During six months I appeared many times before the tribunal of public opinion in America. This evening I appear before you in the capacity of a working man. My aged mother, tried by more sufferings than any living being on earth, and my three sisters, one of them a widow with two fatherless orphans, together a homeless family of fourteen unfortunate souls, have been driven by the Austrian tyrant from their home, that Golgotha of murdered right, that land of the oppressed, but also of undesponding braves, and the land of approaching revenge. When Russian violence, aided by domestic treason, succeeded to accomplish what Austrian perjury could not achieve, and I with bleeding heart went into exile, my mother and all my sisters were imprisoned by Austria; but it having been my constant maxim not to allow to whatever member of my family any influence in public affairs, except that I intrusted to the charitable superintending of my youngest sister the hospitals of the wounded heroes, as also to my wife the cares of providing for the furniture of these hospitals, not even the foulest intrigues could contrive any pretext for the continuation of their imprisonment. And thus when diplomacy succeeded to fetter my patriotic activity by the internation to far Asia, after some months of unjust imprisonment, my mother and sisters and their family have been released; and though surrounded by a thousand spies, tortured by continual interference with their private life, and harassed by insulting police measures, they had at least the consolation to breathe the native air, to see their tears falling upon native soil, and to rejoice at the majestic spirit of our people, which no adversities could bend and no tyranny could break.

But at last by the humanity of the Sultan, backed by American generosity, seconded by England, I once more was restored to personal freedom, and by freedom to activity. Having succeeded to escape the different snares and traps which I unexpectedly met, I considered it my duty publicly to declare that the war between Austrian tyranny and the freedom of Hungary is not ended yet, and swore eternal resistance to the oppressors of my country, and declared that, faithful to the oath sworn solemnly to my people, I will devote my life to the liberation of my fatherland. Scarcely reached the tidings of this my after resolution the bloody Court of Vienna, than two of my sisters were again imprisoned; my poor old mother escaping the same cruelty only on account that bristling bayonets of the bloodhounds of despotism, breaking in the dead of night upon the tranquil house, and the persecution of my sisters, hurried away out of Hungary to the prisons of Vienna, threw her in a half-dying condition upon a sick bed. Again no charge could be brought against the poor prisoners, because, knowing them in the tiger's den, and surrounded by spies, I not only did not communicate any thing to them about my foreign preparations and my dispositions at home, but have expressly forbidden them to mix in any way with the doings of patriotism.

But tyrants are suspicious. You know the tale about Marcius. He dreamt that he cut the throat of Dionysius the tyrant, and Dionysius condemned him to death, saying that he would not have dreamt such things in the night if he had not thought of it by day. Thus the Austrian tyrant imprisoned my sisters, because he suspected that, being my sisters, they must be initiated in my plans. At last, after five months of imprisonment, they were released, but upon the condition that they, as well as my mother and all my family, shall leave our native land. Thus they became exiles, homeless, helpless, poor. I advised them to come to your free country—the asylum of the oppressed, where labour is honoured, and where they must try to live by their honest work.

They followed my advice, and are on their way; but my poor aged mother and my youngest sister, the widow with the two orphans, being stopped by dangerous sickness at Brussels, another sister stopped with them to nurse them. The rest of the family is already on the way—in a sailing ship of course, I believe, and not in a steamer. We are poor. My mother and sisters will follow so soon as their health permits.

I felt the duty to help them in their first establishment here. For this I had to work, having no means of my own.

Some generous friends advised me to try a lecture for this purpose, and I did it. I will not act the part of crying complainants about our misfortunes; we will bear them. Let me at once go to my task.

* * * * *

There is a stirring vitality of busy life about this your city of New York, striking with astonishment the stranger's mind. How great is the progress of Humanity! Its steps are counted by centuries, and yet while countless millions stand almost at the same point where they stood, and some even have declined since America first emerged out of an unexplored darkness which had covered her for thousands of years, like the gem in the sea; while it is but yesterday a few pilgrims landed on the wild coast of Plymouth, flying from causeless oppression, seeking but for a place of refuge and of rest, and for a free spot in the wilderness to adore the Almighty in their own way; still, in such a brief time, shorter than the recorded genealogy of the noble horse of the wandering Arab; yes, almost within the turn of the hand, out of the unknown wilderness a mighty empire arose, broad as an ocean, solid as a mountain-rock, and upon the scarcely rotted roots of the primitive forest, proud cities stand, teeming with boundless life, growing like the prairie's grass in spring, advancing like the steam-engine, baffling time and distance like the telegraph, and spreading the pulsation of their life-tide to the remotest parts of the world; and in those cities and on that broad land a nation, free as the mountain air, independent as the soaring eagle, active as nature, and powerful as the giant strength of millions of freemen.

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 patés 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 Cannaê 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 Thulé, 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.