The Express.
London, England, 1851-11-13 00:00:00

M. KOSSUTH then rose to address the meeting. The
moment he was upon his legs every person in the room
stood up and hailed with a shout which must have been
heard far beyond the walls of the building. Again and
, again the cheering was repeated, the ladies being quite as
i enthusiastic in their demonstration of sympathy as the gen-
tlemen, but exhibiting it in the quieter way of waving
their handkerchiefs. Silt nee being at length obtained,

the illustrious Magyar proceeded to speak as follows ;
Mr. Chairman, ladies, and gentlemen,—Three' years ago
yonder house of Austria, which had chiefly me to thank
for not having been swept away by the revolution of Vienna
in March, 1348, having in return answered by the most
foul, most sacriligious conspiracy against the chartered
rights, freedom, end national existence of my native land—
it became my share, being then member of the ministry,
with undisguised truth to lay before the parliament of
Hungary the immense danger of our bleeding father land.
(lieu, hear.) Having made the sketch, which, however
dreadful, could be but a faint shadow of the horrible rea-
lity, I proceeded to explain the alternatives which
our terrible destiny left to us, after the failure of
all our attempts to avert the evil. Reluctant to
present the neck of the realm to the deadly snake
which Rimed at its very life, and anxious to bear up against
the horrors of fat:, and manfully to fight the battle of
legitimate defence, scarcely had I spoken the word—
's:arcs:ly had I added the word. that the defence would re-
quire 200,000 men, and eighty millions of florins, when the
spirit of frecelem moved through the hall, and nearly 400
representatives rose as one man, and lifting their right arms
towards God, solemnly said, " We grant it—freedom or
death." (The solemnity of gesture and voice with which M.
Kossuth uttered these words produced a powerful effect on
the meembly.) Thus they spoke, and there they swore, in
a calm and silent majesty, awaiting what further word
might full from my lips. And fur myself: It was my duty
to speak, but the grandeur of the moment, and the rushing
waves of sentiment benumbed my tongue. A burning tear
fell from my eyes, a sigh of adoration to the Almighty Lord
fluttered on my lips; and, hawing low before the majority
of my people, as I how nos before you, gentlemen, I left
the tribunal silently, speechless, mute. (M. Kossuth here
paused for a few moment+, overpowered by his emotion,
with which the company deeply sympathised.) Pardon me
my emotion—the shadows of our martyrs passed before my
eyes; I heard the millions of my native land once more
shouting liberty or death. (Loud cheers.) As I was then,
sirs, so am I now. (Hear, hear) I would thank you,
gentlemen, for the generous sympathy with;which, in my
undeserviug person—(" No, no !")—you have honoured the
bleeding, the oppressed, but nut broken, Hungary.
(Cheers.) I would thank you for the ray of
hope, which the sympathy of toe English people casts
on the night of our fate. t would thank you, gentemen,
warmly .s I feel, and as becomes the dignity of your glo-
rious land. But the words fail me ; they fail me nut
only from want of knowledge of your language, but
chiefly because my sentiments are deeps and fervent, and
true. (Loud cheers.) Could I dare to say something
about my humble self without becoming presump-
tions, I would beg leave to state that it is not only
from to-day, but even from my early youth,
I have been spiritually connected with Britannia.
Sear, hear.) I was yet young, sir, under rigorous
Ireurnatances, almost antialidactically, preparing soy soul
tsr the duty, which is a cominun one to us all—to be useful
se far as possible to Fatherlend and to humanity. (Hear,
bear.) The great things that have since occurred 1 could
met then anticipate. I could nut anticipate that it woo I
mho weeld have by my sufferiugs to break way to the
Maim of thought in my native laud—that it was I who,
by applying to several special objects of association which
hes produced so many wonders in this glorious country—
should have unprecedented influence on my nation's life,
aerobic of leading from the indifference of despondency to
the cheerfulaces of activity, and by activity to
self- confidence (hear, hear) that the libera-
tion of my people from those hereditary burtheus
that have weighed them down for 500 years; that the pulls
the* emaneipation which transformed the close hall of pri-
vileges isle an open temple of common liberty ; that the
modes ef the great principle of equality in duties and
rights, should over be associated with the recollection of
my humble name, or that it should be my lot W reconcile
the stubbornness of past ages with present necessities and
the exigencies of modern times. I could not anticipate that
it was 1 who should at one time of my life be the shield of
protection to the head of the proud house of Hapsburg iu his
sun imperial residence, and that, seeing this service
returned by a war of eetennivation to my native
bad, it shftld be my destiny to lead on Hun.
pry in such • gigantic struggle fur independence—
that struggle which but fur a moment—yes, with un-
shaken trust in the justice of God, 1 swear—ter a moment
only even the combined powers of the despots of two large
empires were able to overcome, by getting for an ally a
traitor in our own ranks—that it should be my destiny to
lead on Hungary in such a contest, which, spite of its mo-
mentary misfortunes, will mill prove the death•blow to
the bundags of feutlality, the turning point in the future
of at least one half the European continent, a cry of
alarm to all nations to unite in the cause of freedom
against the union of absolutism (hear, hear) and
to raise my nation out of the narrow proportion
of a provincial vegetation to such a rank as would
make her an element indispensable to the triumph of
civilisation and liberty, and at last that 1, the insignificant
son of modest Hungary, should be honoured with so much
notice from this shamus land, that such us, since Hungary
was a nation, no Hungarian, or perhaps any other stranger,
was ever honoured with. (Cheery) 'these and many
similar things could never have entered into my early
dreams. (Loud cheers.) The sphere of activity which
was then open to me was narrow as my faculties, and mo-
dest as my condition. Ambition never troubled the peace
of my mind. (Cheers.) I knew that it is not given to
man to choose his position in the world, but I knew it is
given to him honestly to fill the place which Provi-
dence has assigned to him. (hear, hear.) So I rested
contented with the idea that the great architect
above knows best what use to make of the meanest nail,
and endeavoured to prepare myself to become a feeble in-
strument in the hands of Providence to do some little good
work. (Hear hear.) In this endeavour 1 had for my
teacher that (Hen,
of life, history. (Hear, hear.) It was
the great examples of the classical past that warmed the
susceptible young heart to noble aims and instincts; bat the
thirst of scrutiny pushed on the mind to look around for
mew other master than the ruins of vanished greatness, or
these mournful monuments of the fragility of human
*Wm. (Hear, hear.) 1 looked round not for ruins but
foe life, and to be able to teach my nation how to live.
(Cheers.) It was then that my regards turned with admi-
ration ups. the Anglo-Saxon race, this living wonder
of both hamiephstss, the glorious Albion. cheers.)
Hither etmabon was drawn by the striking resemblance
and eoinaidmeo of institutions which the observer cannot
fail te mei in the histories of our past ; hither my atten-
dee wee draws by the fact that the fatal sickness of
Bumpiest stenmenanship, inherited from ambitious con.
queron—tb• ty to centralise every power, and to
govern the like imbeciles, even in their domestic
concerns. is boss. It has nut yet extirpated the germ of
municipal *ilk life, without which—l repeat the word,
which ay bed yeenadation made not quite well under-
stood ea waft" amesion—l mean that without a munici-
clireemirti believe pirzctirca„lpotteitintiescan, exist ; and
fro uter
a pitiful equivalent.
ebeyeer=te my atbtmetation forcibly drawn by
the memisrfei grestaess of your country. And I was
ttestbisti flu Marge of it, and I found it, not alone in your
isaltothiss, because these, as every human thing, can no-
'boo be eatirely perfect, but I found them, together with
Lem meitetiene, la that public spirit which pervades every
Mee epee Belie& air, like the spirit of God, which, on
emirs day spread over the waves, I found it in the
*seism yes enjoy. Yes, sir, 1 found England not free
beeneles mighty, glorious, and great ; but I found her
mliffily,piret, and glorious, because free. (Loud cheer-
io.) Yea will allow me, gentlemen, to state that
is se place of England have I met the el,-
=Ma of = your country's greatness on more solid basis
their activity; in no place I more confidently teen that sympathy which I meet, to have a prac-
deg gegralt, than here in Birmingham. (Loud cries of
"War, bear.") I have not the pretension to tell your own
ideleiy to yen. It is one of your particular glories to call
sMsMis William Hutton your own, and I like to prove
Mint I my, so you will allow me briefly to state the motives
tibia lmsls me look to your city with that mist end that
bap. Ober, hear.) Industry is a chief element of mat-
elots vihre, power, and might. It is industry which
shim ,anneal rake to science. In other branches
friiMeptent, human faculty appears to be a
power, but industry is a creating
pew; awl being so, it is the most efficient locomotive
eiltprignee. Mar, bow.) But industry, highly bene-
kiii"eas a poilemal to the public order of a
cal a babe melee of public and private welfare,
1161M111.1 met only largely diffused, but also connected with
netbdependent madams of the manufacturers, which inde-
grandmiteamming • substeamial position to entire classes,
MEMO ga=llllolll9 alleaniabarisiff man that self-
mmum, pat, awl diet matanteat of proved
dignity Isiah is the mark of a free man, and
the richest sasses of private sad pub& virtues.
I saw with sisairatiou the crystal pause, fiat mag-
nificent hall to humanity. The meeting
was in bat I was lost in a woeilenesst et
aismiesheeil estonishing industrious mew. I maw
sail arlmfrei the crystal fountain, the most ressinfareat
tiefllbe Industry. I know Birmiagbant ta be tie
of the great railway system. I knew Asa bees
ham which preceded by its locale:MS*la the idea
WI Ow weld's Exhibition. (Cheers.) I know dist Is Is Pr
= tb
pevilliii gave, by the genius of its lid
of
(Hear.) I know that man ftswanke
INN bun Irma Were the power-loom was inblielei
*him I Issint that here was the workshop etWallooline
effinm-aughses blot the word " distance' eats else Air
[luny. (Cheers.) But what I the imeefbilmiee is Mae
yes lave even made the steam—this eenelbeene pew of
ass lime—Waservient to the porsliar tismele asst We-
Criamb. of your na
eimirril snick =ditrglheete. .01
'The
dmilliregpe lades*, makes me combite
164= It
eat stromily- spittle/I Istrier_ead
Om it it nisr felt
=it MIT pus*