Select Speeches of Kossuth · Chapter 17Preface to Kossuth's Speeches. (17)
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Indeed I can wish nothing more than that the principles of Washington should be followed. And I may also be permitted to say, that not every word of Washington is a principle, and that what he recommended as a policy according to the exigencies of his time, he never intended to recommend as a rule for ever to be followed even in such circumstances which he, with all his wisdom, could neither foresee nor imagine. And I may be perhaps permitted to wish the people of the United States should take for a truth, even in respect to the writings of Washington, what we are taught by the ministers of the Gospel in respect to the Holy Scriptures—that, by the discretion of private judgment, a distinction must be made between what is essential and what is not, between what is substantial and what is accidental, between what is a principle and what is but a history.
[Kossuth proceeded to argue concerning the just interpretation of Washington's words, as in his New York speech; and continued:]
But what is the present condition upon the basis of which I humbly plead? Allow me, in answer, to quote the words of one of your most renowned statesmen, the present Secretary of State. You will find then, gentlemen, that every word he then spoke, is yet more true and more appropriate to-day.
"The holy alliance," says Mr. Webster, "is an alliance of crowns against the people—of sovereigns against their own subjects;—the union of the physical force of all governments against the rights of all people, in all countries. Its tendency is to put an end to all Nations as such. Extend the principles of that alliance, and the nations are no more. There are only kings. It divides society horizontally, and leaves the sovereigns above, and all the people below; it sets up the one above all rule, all restraint, and puts down the others to be trampled beneath our feet."
This is the condition of things to which I claim the attention of Republican America: moreover, for its own interest's alike, I claim its attention to the following words from the same statesman, worthy of the most earnest consideration precisely now-a-days to every American.
"The declaration of —— says: the powers have an undoubted right to take a hostile attitude in regard to those states in which the overthrow of the government may operate as an example."
Mark! oh! mark! gentlemen, how this abominable doctrine is carried out in Hungary, in Prussia, in Schleswig Holstein, and in Hesse Cassel.
Now, the American statesman proceeds to maintain, that every sovereign in Europe who goes to war to repress an example, is monstrous. Indeed, if this principle be allowed, what becomes of the United States? Are you not as legitimate objects for the operation of that principle as any we attempt to set an example on the other side of the Atlantic. You thought that when oppressed you might lawfully resist oppression. We, in Hungary, thought the same; but against us is that monstrous principle of armed intervention against setting up an example. So let me therefore ask with Mr. Webster: Are you so sick of your liberty and its effects, as to be willing to part with that doctrine upon which your very existence rests? Do you forget what you, as a people, owe to lawful resistance? and are you willing to abandon the law and rights of society to the mercy of the allied despots, who have united to crush them everywhere? Neutrality? Why, indeed, that would be a strange explanation of neutrality, if you would sanction by your indifference, the hostile alliance of all despots against republican, nay, against constitutional principles on earth.
But suppose Hungary rises once more to do what Washington did (and be sure it will), and Russia interferes again and you remain again (what some of you call) neutral—that is, you remain indifferent—what is the consequence? Czar Nicholas and Emperor Francis-Joseph may buy and carry away arms, ammunition, armed ships—nay, even armed sympathizers (if they find them)—to murder Hungary with and you will protect that commerce, and consider it a lawful one. But if I buy the same, you don't protect that commerce; and if I would enlist an "armed expedition," for what the Czar may do against Hungary, you would send me to prison for ten years.
Is that neutrality? The people of Hungary crushed by violence, shall be nothing, its sovereign right nothing; but the piracy of the Czar, encroaching upon the sacred rights of mine and many other nations, shall be regarded as legitimate, against which the United States, though grown to mighty power on earth, able without any risk of its own security to maintain the law of nations and the influence of its glorious example, should still have nothing to object, only because Washington, more than half a century ago, declared neutrality appropriate to the infant condition of his country then; and was anxious to gain time, that your country might settle and mature its recent institutions, and progress to that degree of strength, when it would be able to defy any power on earth in a just cause.
No, gentlemen, my principles may be rejected by the United States, but never will impartial history acknowledge that by doing thus the United States followed the principles of Washington. The ruling policy of Washington may be summed up in the word "national self-preservation," to which he, as the generous emotions of his noble breast prompted, was ever inclined to subordinate everything.
And he was right. Self-preservation must be the chief principle of every nation. But the means of this self-preservation are different in different times. To-day, I confidently dare state, the duty of self-preservation commends to the United States, not to allow that the principle of absolutism should become omnipotent by having a charter guaranteed to violate the laws of nature and of nature's God, which Washington and his heroic associates invoked, when they proclaimed the independence of this Republic.
A second principle of Washington, and precisely in regard to foreign nations, is, to extend your commercial relations. That is, again, a principle, gentlemen, which I boldly can invoke to the support of my humble claims; because if the league of despots becomes omnipotent in Europe, it is certain that the commerce of Republican America will very soon receive a death blow on the other side of the Atlantic; whereas, the maintenance of the law of nations, by affording a fair field to Hungary, Italy, and Germany, to settle their accounts with their own domestic oppressors, would open a vast field to your commercial relations, larger than imagination can conceive.
The third principle of Washington is to steer clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world. Well, sir, I do not solicit alliances; I solicit the maintenance of the laws of nations, that the unholy alliance of despots may not interfere with the natural right of nations, upon which yourselves have established the lofty hall of your national independence.
It is on the stream of these rights that you are borne on in a rapid and irresistible course of prosperity. Believe me, gentlemen, that course you cannot check—you could not abandon the privileges upon which you embarked, without exposing to a shipwreck the glorious future of your existence and allow me to state that my poor country has some particular claim to be protected by the consistency of your principles, because we are the first nation towards which you have not exercised your principles. You say you recognize every de facto government. Well, why was this not done with Hungary? We shook off the yoke of the Austrian dynasty, we declared our national independence, and did thus not in an untimely movement of popular excitement, but after we became de facto independent, after we had, by crushing our enemy in our struggle of legitimate defence and driving him out from our country, proved to the world that we have sufficient strength to take our position amongst the independent nations of the earth.
And still the United States (which they never yet have done) withheld the benefit of their recognition, which we have full reason to believe would have been immediately followed by other recognitions, and thus would have prevented the foreign interference of Russia, by encouraging our national independence within those boundaries of diplomatic communication which no isolated power dared yet to disregard.
Sir, I have studied the history of your immortal Washington and have, from my early youth, considered his principles as a living source of instruction to statesmen and to patriots.
I now ask you to listen to Washington himself.
When, in that very year, in which Washington issued his Farewell Address, M. Adet, the French Minister, presented him the flag of the French Republic, Washington, as president of the United States, answered officially, with these memorable words:
"Born in a land of liberty, having early learned its value, having engaged in a perilous conflict to defend it, having devoted the best years of my life to secure its permanent establishment in my country, my anxious recollections, my sympathetic feelings, and my best wishes, are irresistibly attracted, whensoever in any country I see an oppressed nation unfurl the banner of freedom."
Thus spoke Washington. Have I not then full reason to say, that if he were alive his generous sympathy would be with me, and the sympathy of a Washington never was, and never would be, a barren word. Washington who raised the word "honesty" as a rule of policy, never would have professed a sentiment which his wisdom as a statesman would not have approved.
Sir! here let me end. I consider it already as an immense benefit that your generous attention connected the cause of Hungary with the celebration of the memory of Washington.
Spirit of the departed! smile down from heaven upon this appreciation of my country's cause; watch over those principles which thou hast taken for the guiding star of thy noble life, and the time will yet come when not only thine own country, but liberated Europe also, will be a living monument to thy immortal name.
[Many other toasts, and highly energetic speeches followed, which our limits force us to exclude.]
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[Farewell to Ohio, Feb. 25th.]
Sir,—I am about to bid an affectionate farewell to Cincinnati, and through Cincinnati to the commonwealth of Ohio—that bright morning star of consolation and of hope risen from the West over the gloomy horizon of Hungary's and of Europe's dark night!
Ohio! how that name thrills through the very heart of my heart, with inexpressible pleasure, like the first trumpet sound of resurrection in the ears of the chosen just!
Ohio! how I will cherish that very name, the dearest of my soul, after the name of my beloved own dear fatherland.
How I long for words of flame to express all the warmth of my heartfelt gratitude! And still how poor I feel in words, precisely because my heart is so full; so full, that I can scarcely speak—because every pulsation of my blood is fervent prayer to God for Ohio's glory and happiness.
Let me dispense with empty words—let what Ohio did, does, and will do, for the cause of European freedom, be its own monument!
I have met many a fair flower of sympathy in this great united Republic, but all Ohio has been to me a blooming garden of sympathy. From the first step on Ohio's soil to the last,—along all my way up to Cleveland down to Columbus, and across to Cincinnati, and also beyond the line of my joyful way,—in every city, in every town, in every village, in every lonely farm, I have met the same generosity, the same sympathy.
The people, penetrated by one universal inspiration of lofty principles, told me everywhere that Hungary must yet be free; that the people of Ohio will not permit the laws of nations, of justice, and of humanity, to be trampled down by the sacrilegious combination of despotism; that the people of Ohio takes the league of despots against liberty and against the principle of national self-government, for an insult offered to the great republic of the West; that it takes it for an insult which Ohio will not bear, but will put all the weight of its power into the political scale. Would that all the United States with equal resolution might spurn that insult to humanity.
That is the language which Ohio spoke to me through hundreds of thousands of freemen—that is the language which Ohio spoke to me through her senators and representatives in their high legislative capacity—that is the language which Ohio spoke to me through her chief, whom it has elevated to govern the commonwealth and to execute the people's sovereign will.
The executive power, the legislature, the people, all united in that harmony of generous protection to the just cause which I humbly plead; but that is not all yet. Sympathy and political protection I have met also everywhere; and have met it as well in the public opinion of the people as in the executive and legislative departments of several States, though it is a due tribute of acknowledgment to say, that nowhere to that extent and in equal universality as in Ohio, but that is yet not all.
The sympathy of Ohio was rich in fair fruits of substantial aid—from the hall of the State legislature down to the humble abode of noble-minded working men—and associations of the friends of Hungary, spread through that powerful commonwealth, promise a permanent, noble protection to the cause I plead.
Even the present occasion of bidding farewell to Ohio is of such a nature as to entitle me, by its very organization to the hope that you consider your noble task of aiding the cause of Hungary not yet done; but that you have determined to go on in a practical direction, till the future, developed by your active protection, proves to be richer yet in fruit than the present is.
Considering the almost universal pronouncement of public opinion in this great and prosperous commonwealth—considering the practical character of the people of the West, the natural efficiency of this organization, and who are those who with generous zeal have devoted themselves to carry it out on a large extent,—I may be well excused for entertaining some expectations of no common success—of a success which also in other parts of this great Union, may prove decisive in its effects. No greater misfortune could be met with than disappointment in such expectations, which we have been by the strongest possible motives encouraged to conceive. To be disappointed in hopes we have justly relied on, would be beyond all imagination terrible in its consequences. I shudder at the very idea of the boundless woes it could not fail to be attended with, not for myself—I attach not much value to my own life,—but for thousands, nay for millions of men.
I know, gentlemen, that here the question is entirely matter of time. But in regard to time, I am permitted to say so much.
The outbreak of the unavoidable, decisive struggle between the two opposite principles of freedom and despotism is hurried on in Europe by two great impulses. The first is the insupportability of oppression connected with the powerfully developed organization of the oppressed, which by its very progress imposes the necessity of no delay. Be pleased earnestly to reflect upon what I rather suggest than explain. And be pleased also to read between the lines. I, of course, speak not of anything relating to your country. I state simply European fact, of which every thinking man, the Czars and their satellites themselves, are fully aware, though the how and the where they cannot grasp.
The second impulse, hurrying events to a decision, is that very combined scheme of activity which the despots of Europe too evidently display. They know full well that they are on the brink of an inevitable retribution; that their crimes have pushed them to the point, where either their power will cease for ever to exist, or they must risk all for all. In former times they relied at the hour of danger upon the generous credulity of nations. By seemingly submitting, when the people arose irresistible, they conjured the fury of the storm They saved themselves by promises, and when the danger was over, they restored their abused power by breaking their oath and by deceiving their nations. By this atrocious impiety you have seen several victorious revolutions in Europe deprived of their fruits and sinking to nothing by having made compromise with royal perjury. I am too honest, gentlemen, not to confess openly, that I myself shared this error of the Old World—I myself plead guilty of that fatal European credulity. The tyrants who by falsehood have gained their end, are aware that they have no security; that the nations have lost faith in their oaths, and will never be cheated again.
Hence, gentlemen, a very essential novelty in the present condition of Europe. Formerly every revolution was followed by some slight progress in the development of constitutionalism. A little more liberty to the press, some sort of a trial by jury, a nominal responsibility of ministers, or a mockery of popular representation in the Legislature—something of that sort always resulted, momentarily, out of former revolutions; and then the consciousness of being deceived by vile mockery led to new revolutions.
But when in 1848 and 1849, our victories in Hungary had shaken to the very foundation the artificial building of oppression, so that there was no more hope left to tyranny, but to shelter itself under the wings of Russia, the Czar told them—well, I accept the part of becoming your master, ye kings, and I will help you, but you must be obedient You, yourselves have encouraged revolutions, by making concessions to them. I like not this everlasting resurrection of revolutions; it disturbs my sleep. I am not sure not to find it at my own home some fine morning. I therefore will help you, my servants, but under the condition, that it is not only the bold Hungarians who must be crushed, it is revolution which must be crushed, its very spirit, in its very vitality, everywhere; and to come to this aim, you must abandon all shame as to sworn promises; withdraw every concession made to the spirit of revolution; not the slightest freedom, no privilege, no political right, no constitutional aspirations must be permitted; all and everything must be levelled by the equality of passive obedience and absolute servitude.
"Look to my Russia; I make no concessions, I rule with an iron rod, and I am obeyed. All you must do the same and not govern, but domineer by universal oppression. That is my sovereign will—obey."
Thus spoke the Czar. It is no opinion which I relate. It is a fact, a historical fact, which the Czar openly proclaimed on several occasions, particularly in that characteristic declaration, to which the high-minded General Cass alluded in his remarkable speech on "non-intervention" in the Senate of the United States, on the 10th day of February. The Czar Nicholas, complaining, that "insurrection has spread in every nation with an audacity which has gained new force in proportion to the concessions of the Governments" declares that he considers it his divine mission to crush the Spirit of Liberty on earth, which he arrogantly terms the spirit of insurrection and of anarchy.
By this you have the definition of what is meant by the words of "war for what principle shall rule." The issue must be felt, not only in Europe, but here also and everywhere; the issue will not leave a chance for a new struggle, either to kings or to nations, for a long time perhaps, and probably for centuries.
In that condition you can see the key of the remarkable fact, that when I left my Asiatic prison under the protection of the star-spangled flag—nations of different climates, different languages, different institutions, different inclinations, united in the pronunciation of sympathy, expectation, encouragement, and hope around my poor humble self,—Italians, French, Portuguese, the people of England, Belgians, Germans, Swiss and Swedes. It was the instinct of common danger, it was the instinct of necessary union. It was no mere tribute of recognition paid to the important weight of Hungary in the scale of this intense universal struggle. It was still more a call of distress, entrusted by the voice of mankind to my care, to bring it over to free America, as to the natural and most powerful representative of that "Spirit of Liberty" against which the leagued tyrants are waging a war of extermination with inexorable resolution. Yes, it was a call of distress entrusted to my care, to remind America that there is a tie in the destinies of nations; and that those are digging a bottomless abyss who forsake the Spirit of Liberty, when within the boundaries of common civilization half the world utters in agony the call of universal distress.
That is the mission with which I come to your shores; and believe me, gentlemen, that is the key of that wonderful sympathy with which the people of this republic answers my humble appeal. There is blood from our blood in these noble American hearts; there is the great heart of mankind which pulsates in the American breast; there is the chord of liberty which vibrates to my sighs.
Let ambitious fools, let the pigmies who live on the scanty food of personal envy, when the very earth quakes beneath their feet, let even the honest prudence of ordinary household times, measuring eternity with that thimble with which they are wont to measure the bubbles of small party interest, and, taking the dreadful roaring of the ocean for a storm in a water glass, let those who believe the weather to be calm because they have drawn a nightcap over their ears, and, burying their heads into pillows of domestic comfort, do not hear Satan sweeping in a hurricane over the earth; let envy, ambition, blindness, and the pettifogging wisdom of small times, artistically investigate the question of my official capacity, or the nature of my public authority; let them scrupulously discuss the immense problem whether I still possess, or possess no longer, the title of my once-Governorship; let them ask for credentials, discuss the limits of my commission, as representative of Hungary. I pity all such frog and mouse fighting.
I claim no official capacity—no public authority—no representation; boast of no commission, of no written and sealed credentials. I am nothing but what my generous friend, the Senator of Michigan, has justly styled me, "a private and banished man." But in that capacity I have a nobler credential for my mission than all the clerks of the world can write, the credential that I am a "man,"—the credential that I am "a patriot"—the credential that I love with all sacrificing devotion my oppressed fatherland and liberty; the credential that I hate tyrants, and have sworn everlasting hostility to them; the credential that I feel the strength to do good service to the cause of freedom; good service as perhaps few men can do, because I have the iron will, in this my breast, to serve faithfully, devotedly, indefatigably, that noble cause.
I have the credential that I trust to God in heaven, to justice on earth; that I offend no laws, but cling to the protection of laws. I have the credential of my people's undeniable confidence and its unshaken faith, to my devotion, to my manliness, to my honesty, and to my patriotism; which faith I will honestly answer without ambition, without interest, as faithfully as ever, but more skilfully, because schooled by adversities. And I have the credential of the justice of the cause I plead, and of the wonderful sympathy, which, not my person, but that cause, has met and meets in two hemispheres.
These are my credentials, and nothing else. To whom this is enough, he will help me, so far as the law permits and is his good pleasure. To whom these credentials are not sufficient, let him look for a better accredited man.
I have too lively a sentiment of my own modest dignity, ever to condescend to polemics about my own personal merits or abilities. I believe my life has been public enough to appertain to the impartial judgment of history, but it may have perhaps interested you to hear, how, in a small and inconsiderable circle of the Hungarian emigration, the idea was started that I must be opposed, because I have declared against all compromise with the House of Austria, or with royalty, and because by declaring that my direction will be in every case only republican, I make every arrangement, without revolution, impossible. That I should be thus attacked at this crisis, does look like an endeavour to check a benefit to my country, but I cannot forbear humbly to beseech you, do not therefore think less favourably of my nation and of the Hungarian emigration, for which I am sorry that I can do very little, because I devote myself and all the success I may meet with to a higher aim—to my country's freedom and independence. Believe me, gentlemen, that my country and its exiled martyr sons are highly worthy of your generous sympathy, though some few of the number do not always act as they should.
They are but few who do so, and it would be unjust to measure all of us by the faults of some few. Upon the whole, I am proud to say that the Hungarian emigration was scrupulous to merit generous sympathy, and to preserve the honour of the Hungarian name. Remember that though you are Republicans, still here, in the very metropolis of Ohio, a man was found to lecture for Russo-Austrian despotism, and to lecture with the astonishing boldness of an immense ignorance.
But that good man I can dismiss with silence, the more because it is with high appreciation and warm gratitude that I saw an honourable gentleman, animated with the most generous sentiments of justice and right, take immediately upon himself the task of refutation. I may perhaps be permitted to remark, that that learned and honourable gentleman, besides having nobly advocated the cause of freedom, justice, and truth, has also well merited of his co-religionaries, who belong together with himself, to the Roman Catholic Church.
Gentlemen, I have but one word yet, and it is a sad one—the word of farewell. Cincinnati, Ohio, farewell! May the richest blessings of the Almighty rest upon thee! In every heart, and in the hearts of my people, thy name will for ever live, a glorious object for our everlasting love and gratitude.
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[Speech at Indianapolis.]
Kossuth was received at the State House of Indianapolis by Governor Wright, who, in the course of his address said:
Although I participate with my fellow-citizens in the pleasure occasioned by your presence among us, yet it is not as an individual that I greet you with the words of welcome and hospitality. No, sir,—it is in the name of the people of the State, whom I represent, and whose warrant I feel that I have; and I bid you welcome to-day, and assure you not only of my own but of their sympathy and encouragement in the great cause you so ably represent.
He closed with the words:
If it shall be your fortune to lead your countrymen again in the contest for liberty, be assured that the people of the United States, at least, will not be indifferent, nor, if need be, inactive spectators of a conflict that may involve, not only the independence of Hungary, but the freedom of the world.
Again I bid you a most cordial welcome to the State of Indiana.
Kossuth replied:—
Governor,—Amongst all that I have been permitted to see in the United State's, nothing has more attracted my attention than that part of your democratic institutions which I see developed in the mutual and reciprocal relations between the people and the constituted public authorities.
In that respect there is an immense difference between Europe and America, for the understanding of which we have to take into account the difference of the basis of the political organization, and together with it what the public and social life has developed in both hemispheres.
The great misfortune of Europe is, that the present civilization was born in those cursed days when Republicanism set and Royalty rose. It was a gloomy change. Nearly twenty centuries have passed, and torrents of blood have watered the red-hot chains, and still the fetters are not broken; nay—it is our lot to have borne its burning heat—it is our lot to grasp with iron hand the wheels of its crushing car. Destiny—no; Providence—is holding the balance of decision; the tongue is wavering yet; one slight weight more into the one, or into the other scale, will again decide the fate of ages, of centuries.
Upon this mischievous basis of royalty was raised the building of authority; not of that authority which commands spontaneous reverence by merit and the value of its services, but of that authority which oppresses liberty. Hence the authority of a public officer in unfortunate Europe consists in the power to rule and to command, and not in the power to serve his country well—it makes men oppressive downwards, while it makes them creeping before those who are above. Law is not obeyed out of respect, but out of fear. A man in public office takes himself to be better than his countrymen, and becomes arrogant and ambitious; and because to hold a public office is seldom a claim to confidence, but commonly a reason to lose confidence; it is not a mark of civic virtue and of patriotic devotion, but a stain of civic apostacy and of venality; it is not a claim to be honoured, but a reason to be distrusted; so much so, that in Europe the sad word of the poet is indeed a still more sad fact.—