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

heard far beyond the walls of the building. Again and
again the cheering was repeated, the ladies being quite
as enthusisatie in their demonstration of sympathy as
the gentlemen, but exhibiting it in the quieter way of
waving their handkerchiefs. Silence at length then ob-
tained, the illustrious Magyar proceeded to speak as
follows:—Mr. Chairman, ladies, and gentleman,—Three
years ego yonder house of Austria, which had chiefly
me to thank for not having been swept away by the re-
volution of Vienna in March, 1848, having in return
answered by the most foul, most sacrilegious conspiracy
against the chartered rights, freedom, and 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 fatherland.—(Hear, hear.)
Having made the sketch, which, however dreadful,
could be but a faint shadow cf the horrible reality, I
proceeded to explain the alternations which our terrible
destiny left to us, after the failure of all our attem?ts
to avert the evil. Reluctant to present the neck
of the realm to the deadly snake which aimed
at its very life, and anxious to bear up against
the horrors of fate, and manfully to fight the battle of
legitimate defence, scarcely had I spoken the word—
scarcely had I added the words that the defence would
require 200,000 men, and eighty millions of florins,
when the spirit of freedom 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 Kossuth uttered these words produced
a powerful effect on the assembly.) Thus they spoke,
and there they swore, in tacalm and silent majesty,
awaiting what further word might fall from my lips.
And for myself : it was my duty to speak, but the
grandeur of the moment and the rushing waves of senti-
ment benumbed my tongue. A burning tear fell from
my eyes, a sigh of adoration to the Almighty Lord
fluttered on my lips; and, bowing low before the majo-
rity of my people, as I bow now before you, gentlemen,
I left the tribunal silently, speechless, mute. (Kossuth
here paused for a few moments, 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.—(Cheers.)
As I was then, sirs, so am I now.—(Hear.) I would thank
you, gentlemen, for the generous sympathy with which, in
my undeserving person.—(No—you have honoured the
bleeding, the oppressed, but not broken, Hungary.)—
(Cheers.) I would thank you for the ray of hope,
which the sympathy of the English people casts on the
night of our tate. I would thank you, gentlemen,
warmly as I feel, and as becomes the dignity of your
glorious land. But the words fail me—they fail me not
only from want of knowledge of your language, but
chiefly because my sentiments are deep, and fervent, and
true.—(Cheers.) The tongue of man is powerful enough
to render the ideas which the human intellect conceives;
but in the realm of true and deep sentiments it is but a
weak interpreter. These are inexpressible, like the end-
less glory of the Omnipotent.—(Cheers.) But could I
dare to say something about my humble self without be
coming presumptuous, 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.—
(Hear, hear.) I was yet young, Sir, under rigorous
circumstances, almost anti-didactically, preparing my
soul for the duty, which is a common one to us all
—to be useful so far as possible to fatherland and
to humanity.—(Cries of " Hear, hear.") The great
things that have since occurred I could not then
anticipate. I could not anticipate that it was I
who would have by my sufferings to break way to the
freedom of thought in my native land—that it was I
who, by applying to several special objects of associa-
tion which has produced so many wonders in this glori-
ous country—should have unprecedented influence on
my nation's life, capable of leading from the indifference
of despondency to the cheerfulness of activity, and by
activity to aelf•confidence—(Hear)—that the liberation
of my people from those hereditary burthens that have
weighed them down for 500 years ; that the political
emancipation which transformed the close hall of pri-
vileges into an open temple of common liberty ; that the
sanction of the great principle of equality in duties and
rights, should ever be associated with the recollection
of my humble name, or that it should be my lot to re-
concile the stubbornness of past ages with present ne-
cessities and the exigencies of modern times. I could
not anticipate that it was I who should at one time of
my lite be the shield of protection to the head of the
proud house of Hapsburg in his own imperial residence,
and that, seeing this service returned by a war of exter-
mination to my native land, it should be my destiny to
lead on Hungary in such a gigantic struggle for indepen-
dence, that struggle which but for a moment, yes, with un-
shaken trust in the justice of God, I swear—for a mo-
ment 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 momentary mistortunes, will still prove the
death-blow to the bondage of feudality, 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 civiliza-
tion and liberty, and at last that I, the insignificant son
of modest Hungary, should be honoured with so much
notice from this glorious land, that such as, since Hun-
gary was a nation, no Hungarian, or perhaps nay
other stranger, was ever honoured with.—(Cheers.)
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 modest as my
condition. Ambition never troubled the peace of my
mind.—(Cheers.) I know that it is not given to
man to choose his position in the world, but I know it is
given to him honestly to fill the place which Providence
has assigned to him.—(Hear, hear.) So I rested con-
tented with the idea that the great Architect above knows
best what use to make of the meanest nail, and endea-
voured to prepare myself to become a feeble instrument
in the hands of Providence to do some little good work.
—(Hear, hear.) In this endeavour I had for my teacher
that book 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; but
the thirst of scrutiny pushed on the mind to look around
for some other master than the ruius of vanished great-
ness, or those mournful monuments of the fragility of
human things.—(Hear, hear.) I looked round not for
ruins but for life, and to be able to teach my nation how
to live.—(Cheers.) It was then that my regards turned
with admiration upon the Anglo-Saxon race, this
living wonder of both hemispheres, the glorious
Albion.—(Loud cheers.) Hither my attention was
drawn by the striking resemblance and coinci-
dence of institutions which the observe r cannot
fail to mark in the histories of our past; hither my at-
tention was di awn by the fact that the fatal sickness of
European statesmanship, inherited from ambitious con-
querors—the propensity to centralise every power, and
mt o
egs
toiveeerhnhtehelt
e r
sp,eiosphl e e
rlei.k e
jab eacsi lheaseven in
t,
yet e
xti r
pt ha
teie dr do
the
-
tgheer mw oo
rf
dm,
wu nhiicei
hp, anal
yp uhbal
di c
plife,
uwhietiha ot
iuetn wmh iacd I
notrepeat
well understood on another occasion—l mean that with-
out a municipal public life, I believe no practical free-
dom can exist; and for the loss of it all Ministerial re-
t
as ppo
int si
fi
ab
ei ea si
v,
aallel
nt.
But Parliamentary
above
all o n
hi pi
go
ht eenrc i
we sa, s are bu
at-
tention forcibly drawn by the wonderful greatness of
your country. And I was searching the source of it,
and I ,found it, not alone in your institutions, because
these, as every human thing, can nowhere be entirely
perfect, but I found them, together with your institu-
tions, in that public spirit which pervades every fibre of
your nation. Sir, like the spirit of God, which, on
creation's day spread over the waves, I found it in the
freedom you enjoy. Yes, Sir, I found England not free
because mighty, glorious, and great; but I found her
mighty, great, and glorious, because free.—(Loud
cheering.) So was England to me the book of life which
led me out of the fluctuation of wavering thoughts to
unshakeable principles.—(Hear, hear.) It was to me
the fire which steeled my feeble strength with that iron
perseverance which the adversities of fate can break,
but never bead.—(Cheers.) My heart and my soul
will as long as I live bear on itself the seal of this book
of life.—(Bear, hear.) And so has England long ago
become the honoured object of my admiration and re-
spect; and so great was the image of Britannia which
I cherished in my bosom that, lately, when the strange
play of fate led me to your shores, I could scarcely
overcome some awe in approaching them, because I re-
membered that the harmony of great objects wants the
perspective of distance, and my breast panted at the idea
that the halo of glory with which England was sur-
rounded in my thoughts would perhaps not stand to
the touch of reality, the more because I am well
aware all what is human, and every age, has its own
tragilities. I know that every society which is not a
fervent
elaeromsrutoenntsothttenrdajeoo,Twyfe,ahlrtayastol, besides its own fragilities, to bear also
the burdens of the sins of the past, and I know it to be
joy—that
aietgtirchoa.snl lawo
large r in mankind
ma ashnakdinhdw'sih the
e st
eh
na
tt
and
in the future, that to dispel it entirely the sun must be
Butthe wsoholmeutchhe
ilmamgeuswt
hisethatreeawliittyh
in England
fip,tamrhreeinsseutgnhrtpiwsnaigstbhseearsrs at every step such a seal of
mg rienae t.
thatnesAs
nittde
whichi
ecvh enl life, and
teahhne
expectations
soid midst
to loi of your
yino founda-
tion,uars
gwree
were
nation
of
a
t‘rikceosnmtinousat tl
he mind ofthe
towards
observerperfe perfection;
andathe
meets in moral, material, and social respects, such ele-
ments
these elments display such a mighty, free, and cheerful
activity, and this activity is so lively pervaded by the
public spirit of the people, that however gigantic those
triumphs of civilization may be which England has al-
ready proudly to show to the astonished world, and
great they are—they are things called wonders by his-
tory which shrink to pigmies before them. Neverthe-
less, one feels by instinct all this to be but a degree
gigantic one to be sure, but still only a degree
to what posterity will have the lot to admire here.
But, having the honour to dine in Birmingham, sur-
rounded by you here in the Town-hall, which, like your
free schools, your Market-hall, and several of your hos-
pitals, all raised without any external assistance, are so
many proofs of the lofty public spirit, self-confident
force, and perseverance of Birmingham. You will allow
me gentlemen, to state that in no place of England have
I met the elements of your country's greatness on more
solid basis displaying their activity; in no place I more
confidently hoped to see that sympathy which I meet, to
have a practical result, than hero in Birmingham.—
(Loud cries of " Hear, hear.") I have not the preten-
sion to tell your own history to you. It is one of your
particular glories to call men like William Hutton your
owu, and kiii9 $9 NM what 4 ou, IV you will allow

me briefly to state the motives which make mo look to
your city with that trust and that hope.—(Hear, hear.)
Industry is a chief element of greatness, welfare,
power, and might. It is industry which gives
practical value to science. In other branches
of employment, human faculty appears to be a
developing power, but industry is a creating power;
and being so, it is the most efficient lccomotiee of pro
gress.—( Hear.) But industry, highly beneficial in it-
self, becomes a pedestal to the public order of a country,
and a lasting source of public and private welfare, when
it is not only largely diffused, but also connected with
an independent condition of the manufacturers, which
independence, securing a substantial position to entire
classes, cannot fail to impart to the manufacturing man
that self-esteem, that noble pride, and that sentiment
of proved dignity which is the mark of a free man,
and the richest source of private and public virtues.
It is so that we see in the historical period of the
middle ages the cities to be the last stronghold of liberty,
when all around them was feudal bondage. And what
were the cities of old? Almost nothing else but corpo-
rations of manufacturers, independent in their situa-
tion, working at the fire of their own domestic hearth,
working for themselves—men whom we might charac-
terize as small masters, not overwhelming in wealth, but
independent in their position.—(Cheers.) So became
industry the last stronghold of political freedom, as it
was precisely the means of personal independence. The
development of science and wealth must have led, of
course, to large, mighty industrious establishments,
where the secret powers of nature are made subservient
to the creating power of industry; and these mighty
establishments are even as beneficial to every country,
where a large population works for employment, as they
are glorious in the history of the development of man's
faculties, but requiring large capital, and therefore more
subjected to the fluctuations of commerce. Being ex-
posed to great losses, as well as to great gains, they
have more of a personal character, whereas industry,
largely diffused, and founded on a substantial indepen-
dent situation of those who work, has more a public and
political character, and constitutes a lasting public ele-
ment of the condition of the country. Now, this is pre-
cisely the happy condition and the glory of Birmingham.
It is this basis upon which Birmingham rose from the
time of Julius Csesar; always a seat of industry, it be-
came the centre and the heart of a large manufacturing
district, bringing the combination of the lime, iron, and
coal of that district in suitable forms to become the com-
mon benefit of the world; giving arms to those who
had the lot to fight for their liberation, the pen
to fix the idea of thinking men, the cable to the wander-
ing sailor, as also the fine neck chain to the fair beauties
of the world. I saw with admiration the Crystal Palace,
that magnificent meeting hall to humanity. The meet-
ing was in London, but I was lost in a wonderment at
Birmingham's astonishing industrious energy. I saw
and admired the crystal fountain, the most magnificent
work in glass industry. I know Birmingham to be the
metropolis of the great railway system. I know that it
was Birmingham which preceded by its local exhibition
the idea of the world's Exhibition.—(Cheers.) I know
that it is Birmingham which gave, by the genius of its
Elkingtoa, the electrotype to us.—(Hear.) I know that
machine weaving was here used before the power-loom
was introduced elsewhere. 1 know that here was the
workshop of Watt, whose steam-engines blotted the
word " distance" cut of the dictionary.—(Cheers.) But
what I the most admire is that you have even made the
steam—this omniferous power of our times—subservient
to the peculiar domestic and independent character of
your largely-diffused industry, so as to be almost an
article of domestic use.—(Cheers.) The character of
your industry makes me consider Birmingham as a
real seat of that strongly-felt spirit of independence
and freedom which makes your glory and my hope.—
(Hear, hear.) Myself, the wandering son of a bleeding
nation, feels, after two hard years, for the first
time, my heart flushed with joy, because on
seeing the English people, and on inhaling their
public spirit to my vexed soul, I can't forbear to believe
that the freedom of such a nation must be the pulsation
of mankind's approaching liberty, and that the part of
the world where such a pyramid of civilization stands
cannot be doomed to be the prey of Russian or Austrian
despots.—(Cheers.) You remember Paulus Amitius,
whose triumph by a whim of fate was placed between
the tombs of his two sons. You remember his quite
Roman words—" Cladum domus med vestra jelicitas
consolatur." Were there anything in the world able to
console a Magyar for the misfortunes of his fatherland,
here is the place where I would repeat the words of
yonder Roman son!—(Hear, hear.) But alas! (and
who would blame me for it?) even here where I am, and
so surrounded as I urn, still I feel myself a homeless
exile—(Hear, hear)—and all that I see carries back my
memory to my down-trodden land.—(Hear, hear.)
Sorrow takes deeper root in human breasts than joys;
one must be an exile, and the home of the poor exile
must be suffering as mine is that the heart of man can
feel the boundless intensity of the love of home.—
(Hear, hear.) And, however strange it may appear to
you, the roots of my life are not within myself, my
individuality is absorbed in this thought, "Freedom
and Fatherlaud."—(Cheers.) What is the key of
that boundless faith and trust my people bear to
me, their plain, unpretending brother a faith
and confidence seldom to be met in like manner in his
way. What is the key of it—that this faith, this confi-
dence, stands still fast, neither troubled by the deluge of
calumnies, nor broken by adversities? It is that my
people took, and take me still, for the incarnated perso-
nification of their wishes, their sentiments, their affec-
tions, and their hopes.—(Cheers.) Is it not then quite
natural that the woes of my people also shoeld be em-
bodied in myself? I have the consentrated woes of
millions of Magyars in my breast.—(Hear, hear.) And
allow me, gentlemen, a sort of national self esteem in
that respect. The people—that mighty basis of the
pyramid of mankind—the people is everywhere highly
honourable, noble, and good. Some few may ho selected
to be the honoured of humanity; they may, by the pow-
erful soar of their genius, rise to the very height whence,
as Halley or your Newton, said, " Man is forbidden
nearer to approach God." But they are exceptions, and
because so, they are not the manifestations of the eternal
law. And you know the development to which mankind
is called in going on according to steady eternal laws.—
(Hear, hear.) Those selected few stand on the top of
humanity, so they are not the basis of it. The basis is
the people; they aro steady and lastiug.—(Hear.) My
belief, therefore, is that it is the instict of the people
which is the true revelation of mankind's divine origin.
It is therefore, I was sits ing, that the people is
everywhere highly honourable, noble, and good. But
though to me, as to a Hungarian, that sort of sentiment
may not be becoming which befits a British man, who,
whatever be his personal merits, puts—and with right—
bis greatest pride in the idea to be a citizen of Great
Britain; still allow me to prostrate myself in spirit, be-
fore the memory of my suffering people ' • allow me to
bear witness before you that the people of Magyars can
take with noble self-esteem a place in the great family of
nations ; allow me, even in view of your greatness, to
proclaim that I feel proud to be a Magyar.—(Great
cheering.) While, during our holy struggle, we were
secluded from the world, our enemies, wanting to cover
saenllfi.es,
insignificanttol
Well,d ylofueeti
party,he talean
proudd a
this
tthhimas typwacreot
ayanritaerny,ai,ns.
tHt
iheuei
sni regdca rrniyym [bei' su
myself.
,
strength.—(Hear, hear.)eivii
wTarheeyurstcirrrneadr,uipvbaynafeolni,l delu-
sionsand Slovack brethren against us. It did not sulliScee.r±
(Hear, hear.) The house of Austria poured all his
forces uposs us ; still it would not do.—(Cheers.) We
best them down.—(Cheers.) The proud dynasty was
to stop at the foot of the Cain Ile thrust his legions
upon us, and still we could have been a match for
them. One thing there was which we, the plain
children of straight uprightedness, could not match—that
is the intrigues of Russian diplomacy, IN hich knew how
to introduce treason into our ranks.—(Cries of "Shame.")
This caused us to fall, combined with Russian arms. But
still we were styled to be only a party fanaticised by me.
Well, "I thank them for the word." You may judge
by this what will then be, when not a mere party but
together all the Magyars, also all the Croats, Wallachs,
lec
Serbs, and Slovacks melted in one body, will range under
the standard of freedom and right.—(Hear, hear.) And
be sure they will.—(Cheers.) Humanity, with its child-
ish faith can be deluded for a moment, but the bandage
soous falls from its eyes, and it will be cheated no more.
And yet, though we are oppressed, they are oppressed
and deceived.—(Hear, hear.) Afterwards the scorned
party turned out to be a nation, and a valiant one. But
still they said, it is I who inspired it. Perhaps there
might be some glory in inspiring such a nation, and to
such a degree.—(Cheers.) But I cannot accept the
praise. No; it is not I who inspired the Hungarian
people—it was the Hungarian ;people who inspired me.
garrehethdean lgauerreltshey
of
—(Loud cheers.) Whatever I thought, and still think
—whatever I felt, and still feel—is but a feeble pulsa-
tion of that heart which in the breast of my people
beats.—(llear, hear.) The glory of battles is ascribed
knewt immortality. the
eeaat d
peoplee rs n
for history—theirseon meeting
eve r
iy e. How different, how
tin
ale
And
iv y
or dead, their name will upon the
lips of tthhl
purer, is the light spread on the image of thousands of
freedom and fatherland, went on calmly, singing na-
tional tthheey will lay ow
peoples'
sons, who,
knowing that where they fall
their names .unhonoured and
unsung, but who, nevertheless, animated by the love of
anthems, against the batteries whose cross-fire
vomited death and destruction on them, and took them
without firing a shot—(Hear, hear)—they who fell, fall-
ing with the shout, "Hurrah for Hungary 1"
(Great
cheering.) And so they died
by thousands, the un-
named demi-gods.—(More cheering.) Such is the
people of Hungary.—(Hear.)
Still, they say it is I who
have inspired them. No; a thousandthastute cheering.) times, no ; It is
they who have inspired me.—(
Even the features of Cato partook of the impression of
this dreariness. A shadow passed over the brow of
Socrates on drinking the hemlock cup. With us, those
who beheld the nameless victims of the love of coun-
try,smile on the frozen lips
of the dead, and the dying
answered those who
lying on the death-field beneath Buds's
met but the impression of a
would console but by the words, Never mind; Buda is
ours. Hurrah for the fatherland I" So they spoke and
n spontaneity;
died. He who witnessed each scenes, not as an excep-
tion, but as a constant rule, he who saw the adolescent
young oto die for his
land; weep when
h e
told
who hea
awwa s
he who beard what a fury spread over
hearing of the catastrophe; he who marked his
behaviour
towards the victors, after all was lost; he who knows
what sort of curse is mixed in the prayers of the
Magyar, and knows what sort of sentiment is burning
they e t sacrificeste o
alike in the breast of the old and of the young, of the
strong man and of the tender wife—and ever will be
burning on, till the hour of national resurrection strikes
—he who is aware of all this, will surely bow before this
people with respect, and will acknowledge with me, that
such a people wants not to be inspired, but that it is an
everlasting
This is the people of Hungary.—(Cheers,) And for me,
source of inspiration itself.—(Great cheers.)
my only glory is, that this people found in myself the
PMonificutivn of their (Ma swAiments.—(Hear.) This ,

EVENING,

NOVEMB

is ell ho can tell of himself, whom you are honouring
with so many tokens of your sympathy. Let me,
therefore, hold the consoling faith that, in honour-
ing me by your sympathy, you were willing to give
your sympathy to the people of the Magyars. But
let me ask what can be the meaning of this
sympathy of the English people ? Is it but a
funeral feast, offered to the memory of a noble
dead ? God forbid ! The people of England are the
people of life ; their sympathy belongs to the life. The
hurrah which greeted me on your shores—the warm,
sincere cheering of the hundred thousands in your
streets, so generous and still so modest, so loud and so
sincere, so free and still so orderly—l take for the
trumpet-sound of the triumph of freedom, justice, and
popular rights. To be sure, deep is the sorrow which
weighes on me—it is, as I have said, the concentrated
woe of millions ; but do not think, I pray, this sorrow
to be that of despondency, which knows nothing better
than hopeless complaint. No, this sorrow is such a one
as enlarges the horizon of hope and of perseverance,
getting. like the Anteus of the fable, new strength from
every fall. Let me, therefore, assure you, gentlemen,
that the people of Hungary has a future yet ; let me
confidently state that the people of England have not
spent their sympathy to a corpse.—(Hear.) But, well
may you ask, " What are the motive s of this hope ?"
The first basis of my hope is the Almighty himself—
the God of Justice who cannot grant a lasting victory to
wickedness. History has to be sure recorded the down-
fall of mighty empires, of nations, to whom compared,
we Magyars can scarcely claim a name. But the fall
of those nations was precisely the revelation of the
eternal justice of God. They fell by their own crimes.
Nations die, but by suicide.—(Hear.) That is not
our case. Hungary is not the sacrifice of its own crimes.
In Austria, a woman vainly dreams that she can raise
her blood-stained child upon the ruins of liberty. Well,
she knew that God is not with her, but she knew that
the Czar was with her; and what cares she for God if
only the Czar be with her ?—(Hear, hear.) But God is
just, and will not permit this atrocity. And look, do
you not already see his justice mark? She said that in
the dominions of Hungary the house of Hapsburg
should rule as he pleased; and, to accomplish this sacri-
legious plot, she called on the Czar to help her; and
look, she is already in bondage to the Czar. Austria
longed to be the sun, that different nations, like moons,
should move around her, and now she has herself be-
come an obedient moon to a frail mortal,—(Cheers.) Let
them rely upon the Czar—his hour will also come.—
(Cheers.) The millions of Russians are not doomed to
be nothing more than the blind victims of a single de-
spot. The destiny of man is nobler—freedom's sun will
also rise upon Russia, and in the choir of liberated
humanity in praise to Almighty God, the name even
of Russia will not be wanting.—(Loud cheers.) So
let the house of Hapsburg trust in the Czar.
My people and myself, we trust in God—(Load
cheers)—and the anchor of that faith is an
unfaltering faith in the destinies of humanity. The
realisation of these destinies can have no bases but in
the people. However arrogant may be the policy of
despots on the Continent, the gracious Queen of these
isles takes the destinies of the people for the end of go-
vernment, the people also as the instrument. I am
firmly convinced that every state is organised on a per-
verse system, and is doomed to be turned up where a
single individual or a single class pretends to be the broad
basis of society. That man rebels against God who
believes that the glorious pyramid of humanity exists
only that they should stand at the top—a single shower,
and they will shake him off, and hurl him to the dust.
There let him lay.—(Loud cheers.) Regard the greatest
part of the European Continent—Germany, Austria,
and Hungary; look at the indignities offered to Rome
and to Naples, which Mr. Gladstone has lately, with
such generous indignation, exposed—(Loud cheers);—
look at the great French nation, where the fairest fruits
of three Revolutions—glory outside and freedom within
—have all been absorbed in the mire of centralisation;
and it must be manifest to every unprejudiced observer
that such a situation is unnatural, and contrary to the
laws of nature, and that it is utterly impossible for it to
endure. Besides, see these tyrants, how they have paid
the people for being merciful to them, when they might
have been but just; see how they have nothing forgot
and nothing learned—(Cheers)—and see, on the other
hand, how nations have learned by their common suffer-
ings that their fate is bound together by a perfect soli-
dity; and it is impossible not to feel that we are on the
eve of days when the oppressed nations on the continent
are about to hold the greatest court that was ever seen,
and that before their bar every artificial and every un-
natural system will be brought, and will be condemned.
My third anchor of hope is the past history of my
nation; our country has seen many a storm, but still
the Maygar is alive.—(Cheers.) There was a time
when one-half of Hungary was under Turkish domi-
nion, and when the other half was ruled by the Bastos
and the Coraffos of old—the models, or rather I should
say, the masters from which such men has Haynau
are formed. There has been more than one bloody
league formed against Hungary in the history of the
house of Hapsburg, :and still the Maygar is alive.
The house of Hapsburg has for three centuries excited
against us open force, as well as all sorts of craft.
It has fomented our discords, it has opened our
wounds, it has undermined our national character, and
still my nation has not perished. The single genius
which the house of Hapsburg has produced—the Em-
peror Joseph IL—not the present blood-stained child
Francis Joseph—(Cheers)—he bent all the powers of hie
mind to Germanize Hungary, and melt the empire into
one form; but my countrymen, though already weak-
ened by the preparatory measures that were adopted, did
but renew its strength as it rose out of the ordeal. So
it was two years ago, when we were desiring nothing
but peace—peace that the ant-like industry of the people
might change the face of the country into a paradise—
then when we not only did not suspect treachery, but
we did not believe it when we should have believed it,
and were unprepared to meet the danger when it gathered
in a frightful manner over our heads—we were attacked,
you know how. We were secludtd from the whole
world. Alas! we were abandoned of the whole world—
without friends, without ammunition, without money—
still we beat our unjust assailants—nay we beat him so
that he flew to meudicate to the Czar for his existence,
which he gave, but for which Austria had to pay all
her future. But who could think that the Hungarian
nation has no future. Even the wrongs by which it
was oppressed did its future but insure. The house
of Hapsburg by its victory, and still more by the use
which it had made of its victory, had drowned centu-
ries of disturbance in Hungary, and by its very fall my
nation has revealed to Europe that she is necessary to
Europe's safety, as her glorious defence revealed that she
is full of vitality. While the house of Hapsburg has
caused dissatisfaction in every country in Europe, from
Schleswig-Holstein to Rome, and from Hesse to Con-
stantinople, my nation has earned the respect and esteem
of them all, and to hope for the dawn of their deliver-
ance from our struggles. Could anybody think that the
Magyar, the German, the Bohemian, the Pole, the Slo-
vach, the Dalmatian, the Serb, and even the Lombard
and the Venetian—that Lombardy which Austria beat
with iron glove dares not touch—(Cheers)—that Venice
which sheds tears of blood as she looks on her deserted
Rialto—could anybody think that all these nations are
to be melted by any alchemist in Vienna into one com-
mon slavery?—(Cheers.) Other and abler alchemists
have tried it before. Joseph 11. tried it, but all in
vain; though ho offered us the rights of conscience,
and the liberty of the serf; but Francis Joseph,
that blood-stained child, what has he to offer?
He has offered to his nation shame abroad—
oppression at home—heavy stamp duties—consumption
taxes—and all those glorious inventions which drain the
life-sweat of a people, these are the gifts that he offers;
and when the people's murmers are heard at the Imperial
Palace, do you know what the answer is? These are hie
very words—We are told that the Magyars are discon-
tented. We know it well.—(Cheers.) But it is not our
intention to see them contented; it is our intention to
see them pay.—(hear, hear.) These words give a key
to the future. The house of Hapsburg does not desire
to be loved, but to be paid. Well, Hungary will pay
all it owes.—(Great cheering.) The people are, indeed,
Merciful and generous; they will forgive much to their
governors so long as their sense of morality is nut
wounded. But where faith has once been broken there
is no power more to knit that broken tie. That is the
case with Hungary, so that they believe the rule of com-
mon justice and common law is quite and entirely im-
possible. The house of Hapsburg has been brought back
to Hungary as the Stuarts wore in former times brought
back to your country; but all faith was lost in their mo-
rality, and where are they now?—(Cheers.)
For restored dynasties there is no future in Hungary
After the experience we have had even Monarchy has no
future. But the house of Hapsburg has no future even
beyond Hungary. It is worn out, and that is a bad
reason to claim further life.—(Hear, hear.) Had the
house of Hapsburg, in 1848, been just to nations it ruled,
it might have had a future. But now the historical
basis of tradition it has lost—the new era it has refused
to accept. How then can it continue to live ? It had
formerly one artificial prop to its existence. Its exist-
ence was believed to be necessary for Europe against
Russian preponderance. But where is that feeling now?
Austria has become the mere vanguard of Russian pre-
ponderance; its existence is therefore not only not ne-
cessary to Europe, but dangerous to Europe. The house
of Hapsburg leans now for its existence on three things
—on loans, on bayonets, and on the Czar. But those
loans must lead to inevitable bankruptcy. Her armies
are composed of men who hate her as men hate those
who have spilt the blood of their mother. And as to the
Czar—l hope that the Anglo-Saxon race will not allow
the Czar to rule on the Upper Danube and on the Rhine.
—( Loud cheers.) Let the house of Austria, proudly re-
lying on her bayonets and the Czar, trample upon op-
pressed nations. I know that armies of-day are not
the condiottieri of old. I know that light has spread,
and that even bayonets think.—(Hear, and loud cheers.)
I know that all the Czars of the world are but mere dust
in the hand of God, and so I am sanguine enough to
hope I shall yet live to see Hungary independent and
free.—(Cheers.) But there is still another ground of
hope—the last, not the least, important of all. It is
your sympathy, gentlemen—the sympathy which the
generous people of England take in the fate of my
country.—(Cheers.) It would be an insult to the people
of England if I were to consider that sympathy as no-
thing
mare than the passing emotion of noble heart;
Full well I know that the sympathy of the
people of
England is no idle thing. Has the public mind of Eng-
land ever taken any direction—has it ever bent its sym-
pathy to any great ohject—it will carry
it
out of it some practical result.—(L. ch—leersw.)ll This
firmness of character—this untiring perseverance in
every great and noble mind—is the true key of your
country's greatness; so I rely u 0
rely upon us the practical re-
(Cheers.) What is it I ' P it confidently.—
(Cheery.)
of the generous sympathy f E
land? Let me first of all see whether
n the form
Hungarian
gnaart native
or reproach. Jr js a
matter of fact that we praise
madehavee no revolution. Take
.
a man who, confiding in the protection of the law, is
resting;rilyiu his house, and the slight watch, in-

E It 13, 1851

stead of taking care that his tranquillity shall not be
disturbed, give tho torch to an incendiary, and induces
him, by false promisee, to burn hie house and to murder
him; and he, roused from his quiet rest, rushes out of
his room to put out the fire, and preserve his life, end
calls on the night watch to help him in his legitimate
defence, and this very night watch brings an armed
guard with him, and, instead of defending the injured
man calls him a traitor and a conspirator, for daring to
oppose tho honest incendiary and the faithful murderer.
—(Laughter.)
rushes on the injured Nay, more, he joius the incendiary, and
guard.
night s o sous, t
clahe,a
andts d
hie
the
man with his armed guards, and
pia
poor injured man, calling together his brethren and
incendiary,ls
there thean miutt:pdreer,
jeurd,
ct he
de
man in the world who would h c arge the injured man
with hating
committed au assault
theon legitimate
authority of the night watch ?__(Cheers.)the In this po-
pular sketch you have the historyof• Hungarian war.
But I beg not to be misunderstood, It is not t heear of the
revolutionary reproach which makes me say fI
man of justice, right, and liberty; will continue so
am
a'
•
ic u t e
and little do I care what names the enemies of
right, and liberty may call me. Your
gampdens
and
your Sydneys were also called revolutionists in their
day; and so may God bless nao as I never long for
a
brighter fame than theirs.—(Loud and prolonged cheer
ing.) So be sure I take a revolution for a very great
misfortune; but highly I own that an oppressed people,
seeing every other means of aggression fail, has a right
to make a revolution.—(Loud cheers.) Highly I own
that my oppressed people was in this very case—(Re-
newed cheers)—but, I state it as a matter of fact, that in
Hungary we had no revolution. The people of Eng-
land may reduce the calumnies of tyrants and their
satellites in this country to their true nature.—(Cheers.)
All the other gossip about anarchy—about our being
licentious demagogues, seeking to introduce con-
fusion into neighbouring states—about my keeping
up my dictatorship in Hungary by a system of ter-
rorism—all have the same consideration.--(Cheers.)
Though the reign of the house of Austria in Hungary
was for three centuries a continued series of perjury,
and though it encroached incessantly upon our rights,
still we conserved, in our municipal institutions, some
shadow of constitutional liberty. And so the Hunga-
rian soil was not the soil of conspiracy—my nation had,
and has still, neither the will nor the occasion to share in
the movement of those new doctrines which disturb the
sleep of the mighty of the earth. We have struggled
fairly and openly for our social rights, as you struggled
for all those mighty reforms which have succeeded to
preserve your country from all those dreadful concus-
sions which never fail to arrive where progressive re-
forms have no fair course—we carried our reforms
peacefully, availing ourselves of the reforms which God
has given, not we made. We knew how to be just to the
people, without regarding what tongue he speaks or in
what church he prays; but— the Hungarian people, be-
comiug master of his fate, was moderato enough to re-
serve his part to time.--(Cheers.) With us there was
nothing done by violent commotion—no equitable in-
terest trodden down. We generously spared even those
which, though unjust in their origin, were interlaced
with the private fortunes of a whole class. There was
with us no trace of anarchy, even in the
midst of our war. In every part of Hungary which
our victories brought back under our rule, order and
security of person and property were far greater than
that of which the order-making Austria can boast even
now.—(Cheers.) And this was not my merit, Sir, but
the people's. Struggling on different sides, often the
storm of battle passed over one region, and sometimes
it was not for weeks within the reach of my govern-
ment; but the moral sense of the people, and their noble
instincts safeguarded order and security.—(Cheers.)
Very seldom I was in the case to use command, and
when so, it was not the people, but others who required
it.—(Cheers.) The greatest part of our army was com-
posed of volunteers; the stock of my financial operation
was made out of free offerings—our cannon were cast
out of bells, which the people offered in embarrassing
quantity.—(Cheers.) We defended ourselves, but at-
tacked nobody, and secret designs were far from the
straight spirit of my land. Austria and Russia took the
neighbouring Turkish province for a basis of operation
against ns •' whole armies of them have we thrown back
over their frontiers. We had but to follow, as we had a
right to do, and the theatre of war might have been
brought home to Russia herself. But yet we stopped—
we respected international rights, though towards our-
selves nobody respected them. Galicia was at one time
entirely denuded of troops by Austria concentrating
her forces against us. I had but to throw a feeble force
into that district, and the flame of revolution would
have been blown up among that heroic but unhappy
people. But I took it for a crime to play with the blood
of nations, and I scrupulously avoided to afford
the slightest pretext to the ambitious views of the
Autocrat of the North. Vain effort to count on
morality in those quarters.—(Loud cheers.) They
knew full well, that the heroic Poles desired to flock in
thousands of thousands to join us; but I told them we
had already a thousand times more hands than arms.—
(Cheers.) The Czar knew full well that the heroes of
Poland who fought so valiantly in our ranks scarcely
amounted to 4,000 men. But still he styled the Hun-
garian struggle a Polish conspiracy, and charged us
with plotting against the security of his empire. Well,
he raged at the idea that it was a Polish hero, now
lying in the cold grave of far Aleppo. who beat down
his bands in Transylvania. He wanted a pretext to set
his impious foot on Europe's neck, and not finding a
pretext, he took it, Sir.—(Laughter and cheers.) So it
was with Hungary, gentlemen, which the despots of
Austria and Russia, and their numerous satellites, ca-
lumniated as the focus of disorder and of anarchy. But
why was I dwelling upon these particulars? The reason
is, that I have to attribute to these calumnies and misre-
presentations that, during our past struggles, we were
not happy enough to meet that assistauce from England
which .1 readily confess I hoped to meet; and, consider-
ing the interests as well as the position which this coun-
try so gloriously holds in the world, as also the known
public spirit of the people, I dare to say I was entitled
to hope for.—(Cheers.) Unhappily the people as well
as the Government of England has not been well in-
formed about the true nature of the Hungarian war—its
high importance to Europe and to that Orient, which
in so many respects enters into the dearest interests of
Britannia, so as to be nearly its Achilles' heel.
We were hermetically secluded, and chiefly so at the
very time when our struggles grew to European height;
so either we were not in the case to afford the wonted
expectations, or the effect of those we could give was
paralysed by the adopted rules of diplomatic formality.
The people of England and public opinion here were not
wont to be much occupied with foreign affairs till now.
There might have been sufficient reasons for that. The
people of England has grown up from within, but it has
fully grown up already. This great empire has no moro
to fear danger from within. Your fate is not depending
upon any mortal's whims. Hero you are the masters of
your own fate. But in respect to foreign relations, things
are somewhat different. Every question has its own con-
ditions—every time has its wants; and I confidently
affirm that there is not a single question in your internal
relations which outweighs in importance your external
relations. Nay, more, I am persuaded that all your great
internal questions aro dependent upon your Foreign-
office. Danger can gather over England only from
abroad. Do not object, gentlemen, that Albion, in its
insular position, and with the self-confident knowledge
of its immense power, does but laugh at the ambition
of all the emperors of the earth. I know that Britannia,
with the mighty trident in her powerful hands, is en-
titled, even more than of yore, to proclaim with the
greatest of your poets—
" This England never did, nor ever shall
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror."
—(Cheers.) I know all this very well. But give me
leave to say that that glorious thing which we call the
greatness of Britannia is not bounded within these ma-
terial shores. Freedom, civilization—your Parliament
being the representative of whole nations—the principle
of tree trade your due influence in Europe—are not all
these as so many arteries on which its life depends?
Let but ono of these arteries be cut and Britannia will
not only not be more what she is, but it will powerfully
react even upon your internal questions.---(Hear, hear.)
The catastrophe of freedom abroad cannot fail to bring
about concussions which may seriously endanger your
own tranquillity, your own freedom, your own happi-
ness. To break Britannia it is not necessary to conquer
these glorious walls. The very moment that Britannia
should not weigh so much in the world as it now weighs,
Britannia would be broken.—(Loud cheers.) ahe finger
of God is over Europe now stretched out. One may
dissemble to see it, but nobody can stop it. And there
are but two cases possible. One is, that the mass of ap-
proaching events will force established governments in
Europe one against another. In this case England
cannot be indifferent. Should the fate of Eu-
rope be decided without England's vote England
would be a European power no more. And
should, in this case, reaction and despotism
be the victors on the continent, it were not necessary to
see the Cossacks watering their horses in the Thames in
order that England should no more bo great, glorious,
and free. Because the question will be not upon parti-
cular points—the question will be, what principle is over
Europe to rule—liberty or despotism. I know the
people of England in that case will not side with des-
potism, but that they will side with liberty; only I
humbly wish that England should pronounce her will in
time, that her silence may not be taken for irresolution
or indifference.—(Cheers.) The second case is, that the
struggle may be not of states against states, but that the
people of Europe may make up accounts • with their o
rulers, and Settle their own domestic affairs.
What wn
is it
humanity expects in that case from England? It i
England shall not only respect--that out of d sbthat
but shall make respected the principle of non-interfer-
ence by foreign countries, and the
independent right of
every people to settle its own affairs, for that cannot
alter the matter should the Czar once more be willing to
violate the sovereign independence of nations. Hu-
manity expects from the people of England that it will
shake the mighty trident, and shout out a powerful
stop. —(Cheers.) Be sure, gentlemen, that word,
followed up with the manly resolution to be as good
as your word, will suffice. It will cost you ;neitheried
money nor blood; but by it you will have
saved
the
the lives of myriads, averted many
L cheers.)a
and given liberty to the world.—(Loud bloodshed,
A glorious mission, a glorious calling—
almost Divine.
—(Continued cheering.) Tho short moral of my long
speech, gentlemen, then .
is—(Renewed cheers)—Russia,
uu ss. ia,
by her intervention in Hungary, has Hungary—as
put her foot on the
Italy
w
neck of Europe. As long as.
long as
ill not become free, that foot will rest on Europe's
neck. Yet it will pass from the neck to the head, cn
there will be in Europe neither peace nor tranquillity,
but a continual boiling up volcano, end Europe a great
larrsck and a great blood field.—(Cheers,) The cause
of Hungary is the cause of civil and religious liberty. I
am myself a Protestant—(Cheers)--not only by birth
but by conviction. But I declare that I would struggle
with equal enthusiasm for the rights of my Catholic
countrymen as for the Protestants.' (Cheers.) my
principle is that the chureli bhould not meddle with

politics—(TremendousFlieering)—and that Governments
should not meddle with religion.—(leanewed cheers.)
( Even with regard to Church property 1 difier from the
views of some reformers, for I hold ell property to be
sacred, and I would not deprive the Catholic Church
of the property which our former kings have given
her, while I would leave the Church to distribute
it =wag her clergy as she pleased. Now as
to the moans of obtaining a practical result, I
frankly confess that I look to public opinion as the means
of benefiting my native land and every country in
Europe. Ad here, perhaps, I may make a remark or
two relative to the resources of Hungary as an indepen-
dent nation. Hungary has no debts at all, because it is
in no way obliged to share in the debts of the house of
Hapsburg. We carried on the war by means of paper
money; but the house of Hapsburg burnt the greater
part of it, and we are quit of that debt,—(Laughter and
cheers.) Hungary, independent and free, will be rich in
resources; because if the principles of social order be
diffused throughout Europe, Hungary will not want to
keep up:large armies, and will have no great national
expenditure. Hungary, by means of municipal institu-
tions, is accustomed to cheap government. With a sur-
face of 4,000 geographical square miles, a population of
15,000,000, and a rich soil, she is naturally rich. Her
revenue amounts to 1,000,0001. annually, and her salt
mines are so productive that they cannot be consumed
for 1,000 years, if we should have all the nations of the
world to supply with salt. Besides, Hungary has large
national estates. Whilst the house of Austria is very
nearly bankrupt, Hungary has considerable resources.
I trust you will pay greater attention to the foreign
affairs of the country, by which means you will
be able to regulate the direction of all your public
concerns. lily humble request is, that you will be
tplueraospeed,ainndthe
every meeting, whenever the question may
arise, to remember that the question of Hungary is con-
nected with the victory of the principle of freedom in
e
principle of self-government, and, there-
fore, whether on the question of free-trade or any other
question, I beg the people of
England to declare that
me veertyi c nation
r • shall
have
—that publiceOp.—ini(oCnb, whichers.) i This is my the regulation of her own do-
s now roused, not b m
y ,
but by the incident of my being the opportunity for the
manifestation of that principle,
will be expressed still
humble prayeer
more strongly. I ask the people of •
Birmingham, who
by their pulitical demonstration
carried the Reform Bill
—(Cheers)—and who have alwa •e s supported the princi-
ples of liberty, to give their
(Cheers.) Members of that greatsufapmpoiri port t
my people.—
of mankind, the
tie of brotherhood is strengthened betwey
suffering. My sufferings and the numebneurls by common
my unhappy land entitle me to intreat ess
woes
of
tention to the feeble words which I addresysetu to pay at-
the bottom of my own desolation. Take the 10 ou from
cry of oppressed humanity, crying out to you bas the
stuttering tongue. People of England, do not forgYetmiy thy happiness our suffering—mind in thy freedom thee:
who are oppressed—mind in thy proud security the
dignity of other countries—remember the fickleness of
human fate—remember that the wounds inflicted en the
nations abroad are so many wounds inflicted on the
principles of liberty, which are your boast, your glory,
and your happiness—remember that with every down-
trodden nation a rampart of thy liberty falls—remember
that there is a community in the destiny of humanity, be
thankful for the freedom you enjoy, and lend your
brethren a helping hand for the future.
The Honourable Gentleman resumed his seat amidst
the most enthusiastic cheering and waving of hats and
handkerchiefs.

At the termination of Kossuth's speech he was
succeeded by one from Mr. Toulmin Smith upon Hun-
garian wrongs, who expressed a hope that all parents
present that night would teach their children next mor-
ning that Kossuth was the Alfred of Hungary. He
concluded by proposing " The Future of Hungary."
The toast was drunk with Creat enthusiasm, and was
acknowledged by M. Pulszky.
Mr. SCHOLEFIELD, M.P., proposed " The Health of
Mr. George Dawson."
Mr. DAwsoN, in returning thanks, said that whatever
any person might say to the contrary, Birmingham was
the most democratic town in England.—(Loud cheers.)
That would ever be the case from the first to the last of
the chapter.—(Cheers.) They might rely upon it that
the proceedings of that day would teach them to look in
the first place to themselves. A man's salvation was
never worked out but by wormwood and gall—it was
the cause of man against despotism, the cause of God
against the devil.

'Mr. Dawson was succeeded by Mr. Douglas, Mr.
Weston, and others. The meeting, however, became
very impatient, and about eleven o'clock the ladies left
the gallery. Mr. blunts, in the course of a long speech,
abused the Times most heartily. The meeting broke up
about twelve o'clock.

FAREWELL TO KOSSUTH ON HIS DE-
PARTURE FOR. AMERICA.
Farewell to thee, Kossuth! with fervent emotion
Our English hearts bid thee God-speed on thy way.
In Freedom's fair cause may thy weal and devotion
Still shine as resplendent and clear as the day!
And though for the present the tyrants prove stronger,
Their glory shall soon in the dust be laid low.
Have courage, despair not, a little while longer,
And again thou shalt triumph o'er each haughty foe!
Yes! Russia and Austria's hireling bands
Will combine all their arms and their legions in vain ;
The weapons of freedom shall gleam in the hands
Of men who have sworn their best rights to maintain,
And the good cease will ever ut last be victorious.
Although fur a time the oppressor may boast,
A day dawns for Hungary, speedy and glorious,
When her sons may defy the imperial bost!
And still may thy voice speak in Liberty's name,
And still may thine arm strike her foes with suocesi,
Till the despots are covered with terror and shame,
And Victory's laurels thy brow wreathe and ►less!
Farewell to thee, Kossuth! with fervent emotion
Our English la, arts bid thee God-speed o❑ thy way,
And when thou in safety hast crossed the wide ocean,
Oh, think of the friends who now greet thee to-day!
WILLIAM G WINER.

DRURY-LANE THEATRE.
JULLIEN'S CONCERTS.
Signor Sivori made his first appearance at these
concerts last evening, and performed a new fantasia
of his own composition, entitled " The Carnaval de
Cuba," in which he has adroitly contrived to concen-
trate all the difficulties of violin playing as though for
the sole purpose of proving how easily he can over-
come them. Several of his tours de force are perfectly
marvellous, and as pleasing as they are marvellous.
His right hand has not forgotten its cunning since
the recess, and he still, in spite of all rivals, main-
tains his position as the greatest violin-
ist who has appeared since Paganinni.
He was applauded to the echo. Bottesini was the
other solo player of the evening, and he created quite
a; furore by his exquisite management of that un-
wieldy instrument, the contra basso, which under his
inspiration "discourses most excellent music." It
would he an act of injustice to close this notice with-
out giving the highest praise to the band for the ad-
mirable manner in which they performed the andante
movement from Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony. We
have never heard it more exquisitely rendered. The
house was crowded to suffocation.

MR. IVIUGHT AT SHEFFIELD.
We are rejoiced to learn that Wright is himself
ngain, and we hope soon to see him at the Adelphi.
He has completely recovered his voice ; as he himself
would phrase it, his voice " is as it used to was"—in
short, Wright is " all right." He is now starring it
at Sheffield, and has by his performance of Manna-
duke Magog, in The IVrech Ashore, and Mr. Bobtail,
in illy Precious Betsey, drawn crowded houses every
night.