He knows it. The very man who sent for the Hungarian
exile, condemned to hopeless bondage hundreds who, but for that law, might have been saved.
Why, if you had stood, as some of us have done, by the domestic fireside of hundreds of fugitive slaves who had been happy at the North
for ten, fifteen, aye, twenty years, and had seen the utter wretchedness of those persecuted men when they felt that father or mother or wife or child must be borne away to the Southern
plantation, or must make themselves exiles by going to Canada
, or even to England
, and reflected that these scenes are wrought by the very men who have welcomed the great Hungarian
to this country, and then, when he came, that he had no words but words of eulogy,--how should you judge his spirit?
Bear with me in yet one illustration more.
Men are known by the company they keep.
It seems to me right to judge Kossuth
so in this instance.
Suppose a friend of liberty had gone across the water six months ago. Would he have sought the society of the illustrious free spirits that were the apostles of the great ideas of that country, or would he have gone to the court of the Caesar?
Would he have gone to the palace of Vienna
, or to Metternich?
Would he have gone to the country-seat of Haynau
, or to any other name recognized the world over as an apostate to principle, to humanity, to equal rights?
Or would he have gone to that Kossuth
, that Dembinski,--to the men who are now exiles or imprisoned throughout the length of the Austrian empire
, to the graves of those who have been murdered on battlefield or in Haynau
Would not their prisons have been the first scenes of his visit, that he might give his sympathy to the men who were suffering in a cause so dear to his heart?
Certainly. We go where we are magnetically drawn;