Chapter Ten.
Kossuth. “The Times.”
During the year 1852 a strong friendship had sprung up between Captain Mayne Reid and Louis Kossuth, the ex-governor of Hungary, who was at that time living in London. Captain Reid entered enthusiastically into the Hungarian cause and attended many public meetings on behalf of the refugees.
In February, 1853, when the ill-fated insurrection at Milan took place, Kossuth was anxious to join the insurgents as soon as possible.
Captain Reid proposed that Kossuth should travel across the Continent disguised as his servant. A passport was actually got from the Foreign Office for this purpose, and bears date 24th February, 1853, “for the free passage of Captain Mayne Reid, British subject, travelling on the Continent with a man-servant, James Hawkins, British subject.” All was in readiness for their departure, when a telegram in cipher was received by Kossuth that the rising had proved only an émeute.
Fortunately for Captain Reid, who was thus spared risking his life on the altar of friendship, as he was quite prepared to do. Capture in Austria would have been certain death for one, if not both of them.
He remained a staunch friend to Louis Kossuth during the latter’s residence in England, ever ready to defend him with the pen, as he had been with the sword.
The Times of February 10th, 1853, contained these lines at the head of its Notices to Correspondents: “At 2 o’clock this morning we received a letter, signed ‘Mayne Reid,’ denying, in absurdly bombastic language, the genuineness of the proclamation which we published on the 10th inst., and which we introduced as ‘professing to be addressed by M. Kossuth to the Hungarian soldiers in Italy.’ Such documents are seldom very formal, but we had good reason for believing it to be genuine, and shall certainly not discredit it without better authority than that of ‘Mayne Reid.’”
The letter to which The Times refers—or rather a copy of it—was sent by its author to the Sun.
“Louis Kossuth and the Italians.
“The following note has been addressed to ourselves by Captain Mayne Reid, inclosing, as will be seen, a somewhat remarkable communication addressed to one of our morning contemporaries. In our leading columns of this evening we have referred more directly to the very curious documents here subjoined:
“To the Editor of the Sun.
“30, Parkfield Street, Islington.
“February 16th, 1853.
“Sir,—I regret that I am a stranger to you, but I have a confidence that your sense of ‘fair play’ will influence you to insert the accompanying letter in your journal of to-morrow. I need hardly add that the facts which it states have been drawn from an authentic source.
“With high respect, sir,
“I am, etc,
“Mayne Reid.”
“To the Editor of The Times.
“Sir,—In your journal of the 10th inst. appears a telegraphic dispatch announcing an insurrection in Milan; and underneath, in the same column, a document which you state ‘purports to be from Kossuth,’ and to which is appended the name of that gentleman.
“Now, sir, M. Kossuth either did write that document, or he did not. If he did, and you have published it without his authorisation, you have committed, by all the laws of honour in this land, a dishonourable act. If he did not write it, you have committed, by the laws of justice in this land, a criminal act. I charge you with the committal of both. You are guilty of the latter; and the latter, like a parenthesis, embraces the former.
“You have published that document without any authorisation from the man whose name is subscribed to it; and upon the day following, in an additional article, you have declared its authenticity, as a proclamation addressed by M. Kossuth, from Bayswater, for the purpose of engaging the Lombard and Hungarian patriots in the late insurrection at Milan.
“As such, sir, in the name of M. Kossuth, I disavow the document. I pronounce it to be a forgery.
“It remains with M. Kossuth to bring you before the bar of the law. It has become my duty to arraign you before the tribunal of public opinion.
“I charge you, then, with having given utterance to a forged document, which was calculated to reflect with a damning influence upon the fame of its reputed author. Such conduct is in any case culpable. In yours it is inexcusable, since you daily tell us that ‘whatever is intended for insertion must be authenticated by the name and address of the writer.’
“But this is not all, sir. In the editorial referred to, you take occasion to speak of the man whose name has been thus abused in a tirade of vengeful invective, whose epithets I, as a gentleman, shall not condescend to reproduce.
“Calling the false proclamation ‘bombastic fustian,’ you have charged M. Kossuth with aiding to incite the late insurrection in Milan, and thereby causing the wanton shedding of blood—of ‘hallooing on the wretched victims to certain destruction, while he himself enjoys the most perfect personal security under the guardianship of British law.’
“This is a serious charge, and, if not true, a slander which, by the mildest construction, must be termed most cruel and atrocious. It is not true. It is a slander, and I feel confident that all who read will pronounce it, as I have done, cruel and atrocious.
“With regard to its first clause, I here affirm that M. Kossuth had not only no part in inciting the Italians to a revolution at this time; but, that up to the latest moment, he opposed such an ill-judged and premature movement with all the might of his counsel. He had weighty reasons for so doing. Perhaps you, sir, may know what these ‘weighty reasons’ are; but whether you do or not, I am not going to declare them for the benefit of Austrian ears. This is not the question now, but your charge is; to which I oppose the affirmation that it is not true. With regard to the latter clause of your quoted assertion, I have thus to answer; that the moment in which M. Kossuth received the news of the insurrection in Milan—and which came upon him as unexpectedly as upon any man in England—upon that moment he hurried to make preparation for his departure to the scene of action. Although filled with a prophetic apprehension that the affair would turn out to be an émeute, and not a national revolution, he, nevertheless, resolved to fling his body into the struggle. I, who was to have had the honour of sharing his dangers, can bear testimony to the zeal with which he was hurrying to face them, when he was frustrated by the news that the insurrection was crushed. Were I to detail, as I may one day be called upon to do, the sacrifices which he made to effect that object, the slanders, sir, which you have uttered against him would recoil still more bitterly upon yourself. For the present I content myself with the assertion of the fact; but should you render it necessary I am ready with the proofs.
“But no such explanation was needed to shield Louis Kossuth from your unmanly accusation. Shall I recall a circumstance in the life of that heroic man to refute you? You, sir, must know it well. It has been recorded in the columns, and engraven in the tablets, of history. In August, 1849, upon the banks of the Danube stood Louis Kossuth. On one side was the avenging Austrian, thirsting for his blood; on the other his weak and wavering protector, who had declared that unless he—Kossuth—and his associates would consent to abandon the religion of their fathers they must be yielded up, to what? On the part of Kossuth, to death—certain death—upon the ignominious scaffold. In this perilous crisis, others, less compromised, accepted life upon the terms proposed. What did Kossuth, when it came to his turn to speak? He uttered these words of glory: ‘Death, death upon the scaffold, in preference to such terms for life! Accursed be the tongue that could make to me such an infamous proposal.’
“In such language, at such a time, there is no ‘bombastic fustian.’ I could believe that there were men incapable of comprehending the sublime courage, the heroic virtue of such an act; but I did not believe there existed a man in all England who would have the effrontery—the positive and palpable meanness—to stigmatise the hero of that act with a charge of cowardice.
“Such, sir, are the facts connected with this affair. I may at some future time treat you to a few opinions, and review more copiously the history of your conduct in relation to M. Kossuth. Meanwhile, I leave you to purify your soiled escutcheon as you best may.
“I am, sir, yours obediently,
“Mayne Reid.
“February 15th.
“P.S.—February 16th. Sir,—In your journal of this morning, instead of publishing the above letter, you have noticed it in a short paragraph, worthy of the pen that would malign a patriot. But do not imagine that you are to escape thus easily from the unpleasant position in which you have placed yourself. In this country the character of a gentleman, though he be a stranger, is not to be wantonly assailed with impunity, and you, sir, shall be as amenable to the laws of honour and justice as the meanest citizen in the land.
“You say, in relation to your pseudo proclamation, that you ‘had good reason for believing it to be genuine, and shall certainly not discredit it without better authority than that of Mayne Reid.’
“If you had no better authority for publishing it than what is implied by the tenor of the above paragraph, I fancy you will have some difficulty in explaining to your readers why you published it at all, and to your countrymen why—so long as a doubt existed in your mind as to its genuineness—you took advantage of the sentiments expressed by it to defame the character of its reputed author. You take occasion to characterise my letter as ‘absurdly bombastic language.’ It is before the public as above. Let them be the judges; and the only favour I should ask of them would be, to read your editorial article upon the same subject. Having given yours a prior perusal, I feel satisfied that their ears will not be so delicately attuned as to be jarred by the ‘absurdly bombastic’ of mine.
“‘Bombastic’ seems to be a favourite phrase with you, and for the style itself no writer in England is more accustomed to its usage than that mythical personage—the editor of The Times.
“Your sneer at the ‘authority of Mayne Reid,’ is equally characteristic. It is true I am but a plain gentleman, who make my living, like yourself, by literature. But I did not calculate upon the statement of a plain gentleman having any weight with you. In my letter I offered you full proof of my assertions. You do not seem inclined to call them forth.
“And now, sir, one word more. If you flatter yourself that by means of bold swagger and personal invective you can cover your misdeeds, you are sadly mistaken. You may insult the understanding of Englishmen, as you repeatedly do, with your wordy sophistry, and mystify the masses, who ‘run as they read.’ I, sir, have a higher faith in the intelligence of my countrymen, and a full confidence that the majority of them have heads clear enough to understand, and hearts pure enough to repudiate, an unprovoked and unproven slander.
“I am, sir, etc,
“Mayne Reid.”
In the Morning Advertiser of February 19th, 1853, appeared the following:
“M. Kossuth and ‘The Times.’
“To the Editor of the Morning Advertiser.
“Sir,
“Your kindness in giving a place in your widely circulated journal to my former communication in relation to M. Kossuth leads me to hope that you will also publish the inclosed document.
“I am, sir,
“With high respect,
“Truly yours,
“Mayne Reid.
“301, Parkfield Street, February 17th.”
“To the Editor of The Times.
“Sir,
“You have refused to disavow the pseudo proclamation which you published over the name of M. Kossuth, without better authority than that of Mayne Reid. Perhaps you will be satisfied with the authority of the gentleman whose name is in autograph appended to the communication I now inclose you.
“I am, sir, etc,
“Mayne Reid.”
“To Captain Mayne Reid.
“London, February 18, 1853.
“My Dear Sir,
“I feel myself under high obligations for the generous and chivalric manner in which you stepped forth to do me justice, when you knew me to be wronged in that ‘proclamation’ matter; as also I feel bound to lasting gratitude towards you for the noble readiness with which you gave me at once your helping hand, at my request, to aid me to reach the field of that action which I did not approve, but which, of course, I must have been anxious to join.
“Your generous assistance, which you so readily granted me, I can the more appreciate, as I am sorry to say with us there are many difficulties, even in reaching any field of honourable danger at all. We are not free to move. Evidence of it: That when not long ago my departed dear mother was on her death-bed in exile, a certain ‘constitutional’ government would allow me to go to imprint the parting kiss of filial devotion on her brow upon the condition only that I should submit to the disgraceful profanation of being accompanied by a ‘gendarme’ to my dying mother’s bed.
“I thank you, sir, most affectionately, for that your assistance, as well as your chivalric defence. I was just about myself to publish a formal disavowal of that ‘Proclamation to the Hungarian Soldiers.’ I hope you, as well as every Englishman, will appreciate my motive for not having done it earlier.
“My motive, sir, was this: that my disavowal would, of course, have been telegraphed to Austrian quarters; and, supposing the fight in Italy still pending, might have possibly done some harm to my beloved brethren in oppression, the Italians. So I took it to be my simple duty rather silently to submit to any virulent indignity than to harm the chances of the struggling patriots at Milan, who, though inconsiderately and at an ill-chosen moment, risked their life and blood and their sacred honour to free their country from insupportable oppression, and that a foreign one, too; just as England once rose and risked blood and life and sacred honour—nay, more, sent one king to the scaffold and one other into eternal exile—to free herself from oppression, though it was not a foreign one.
“The history of past revolutions is but too readily forgotten by those who now reap their fruits in peace and happiness. But I would like to recall it to memory now, when men will be but too ready to add bitter blame to the misfortune of the vanquished.
“I certainly, sir, did highly disapprove of any idea of rising in Italy now; but the failure of the unfortunate victims I will consider but as a new claim upon my compassion and sympathy. Men, in the peaceful enjoyment of freedom and prosperity, can scarcely imagine what aspirations and what thoughts can and must cross the hearts of a people suffering what Italy does. That should be borne in mind before we cast the stone of blame upon those who fell.
“I, sir, am so much penetrated by this sentiment, that, were it not for higher motives—which are entirely of no personal susceptibility that I am not permitted to take upon myself the imputation of an imprudent act which I did not commit—I, perhaps, would have preferred to be injured by letting pass in silence the whole proclamation matter, and all the venomous slander connected with it.
“But for those higher motives I feel infinitely obliged to you for having so generously undertaken to vindicate my prudence, and my plain but honest character. May be that this, your chivalry, will entirely release me from the necessity of any further public steps in that respect. That I shall see, and leave in the meantime my ready disavowal where it is.
“However, as following the generous impulse of your heart, you may, perhaps, feel inclined to fight on the battle, if required, in which you so nobly engaged, I thought it would perhaps be as well to state to you some particulars.
“I think any intelligent reader of that purported proclamation may have at once become aware of its not being genuine on reading it. Because, to say in one and the same, document something to this effect: ‘I send the bearer to you that he may inform me who amongst you are faithful and true, and inform me how you should organise;’ and to say in the same document, as it were with the same breath: ‘Rise! Strike! The moment is at hand,’ which, is as much as to say, ‘Don’t organise’—this is, indeed, too absurd a blunder in logic to be believed.
“Do I then disavow the sentiments contained in that document? No, sir; all my life is, and will be, summed up in this idea: my country’s freedom—my country’s rights; and consistently with this, I am, and will remain, an irreconcilable enemy to Francis Joseph of Austria, who stole by perjury from my country sacred rights, freedom, constitution, laws, and national existence; and beaten back in his criminal attack, robbed it by treason and by foreign force—and now murders it. Yes, sir, I avow openly these my sentiments, and trust in God that the day of justice and retribution will soon come. And why should I not avow them? I am not bound to any allegiance to Francis Joseph of Austria. Not I; not my exiled countrymen; not our dear Hungary. He is no lawful sovereign of Hungary. Justice is at home in England, sir; and, therefore, I defy any man to get up a jury, or to point out a court in all England which would find a verdict for Francis Joseph being a lawful sovereign of Hungary—or I and my country owing him allegiance.
“Nor do I desire to be understood that I have never written anything like the contents of that apocryphal document. I, indeed, sir, never thought to have any claim to the reputation of a classical authorship. Bad as it is, sir, I have written worse things in my life. I may have written every sentence of it; some of them at one time, some at another on different occasions—probably when I was a prisoner at Kutayah, for different exigencies, all past, long past, years ago, out of which writings the present document might have been patched up without my knowledge, and used on the present occasion without my consent.
“All this is not the question. The question, sir, is—have I addressed this (or whatsoever else) proclamation from English soil for the purpose of engaging the Hungarian soldiers, or whomsoever else, in the late insurrection at Milan, or wherever else, in Italy?
“That is the question. Answering to this question, you disavowed the document as such, and pronounced it to be a forgery—and you are perfectly right. I neither invited, nor gave any authority to any one to invite, the Hungarian soldiers to join in any insurrection in Italy now. Nay, whenever I heard anything said about the Lombard patriots being incapable of enduring longer their oppression, and that perhaps they might feel inclined to break forth at any risk, I condemned the very idea of thinking now upon an insurrection in Italy, declaring that, for the present, no revolutionary movement would succeed in Lombardy, but ‘would turn out to be but a deplorable émeute;’ and I, for one, declared every émeute, however valiantly fought, would but render impure the well-founded, legitimate prospects of the cause of liberty.
“All this, sir, you have known, when you gave your chivalric démenti to that purported proclamation of mine. You have known more yet; you have seen a letter from one of the most renowned Italian patriots, dated on the 10th of February, from the field of action, in which he categorically confesses that ‘I in my views was perfectly right, and they have been wrong;’ and in which he further, giving me the first notice of my name having been used ‘clandestinely’ at Milan, gives me himself full evidence that it was done without my knowledge, without my consent.
“You have known all this, sir; but one thing you may not yet know, and that is:
“I came to England about the end of June, 1852. Since that time I have been always on English soil; and since I have been on English soil, I never addressed any proclamation to the Hungarian soldiers in Italy.
“But stop. Yes, I have addressed a proclamation to them. A single one, dated February 15th, a copy of which I beg leave to send to you; and remain with the highest regards and sincere gratitude,
“Dear sir,
“Yours affectionately and obediently,
“L. Kossuth.
“P.S.—You may make any public or private use of this my letter, and of the annexed proclamation, you may think proper.—Kossuth.”
“To the Hungarian Soldiers quartered in Italy.
“Gallant Countrymen!—It is with indignation I learn that on the occasion of the troubles of February 6th, at Milan, an appeal has been circulated there in my name, calling on you to join in that abortive movement.
“Soldiers! that document was not genuine. I have not approved of an insurrection in Italy for the present moment. I issued no appeal calling on you to take a part in it.
“Once the time will come—and come it shall, undoubtedly—when I, in the name of our country, will desire you, wheresoever you may then be, to side with the people around the banner of liberty. That is a sacred duty. Our enemy is the same everywhere, and the people’s cause is one and the same; alike as there is but one God, one honour, and one liberty.
“But this one I shall do at the right time. The present time was not the right one.
“Of one thing you may rest assured, and that is, that I shall never play with your blood a wanton play.
“Whensoever I shall say to you, ‘Ye braves, the time is at hand!’ I will tell you this neither from London, nor from any distant safe place, but from headquarters. In person will I lead you on, and claim the first share in your glorious dangers.
“Never shall I invite you to risk any danger in which I myself do not share.
“And as no one can be present in two places at once, should I, for that reason, not place myself, at the head of your heroic ranks—because duty will call on me to do that in our own dear country, where I shall have to fight for freedom and right in Hungary, while you will be fighting for it in Italy—my appeal will reach you by the hand of a gallant Hungarian commander, whom I will charge to lead you on to the field of glory—fighting forward home to join the banner which I shall hold there.
“Of this you may rest assured. Until then be prepared—but wait. Don’t play your blood wantonly. The Fatherland, the world, is needing it.
“For freedom and Fatherland!
“L. Kossuth.
“London, February 15, 1853.”
The “forged proclamation” correspondence elicited numerous editorials from the Press, all warmly in praise of Captain Mayne Reid’s able defence of Kossuth.
From the Morning Advertiser of February 19 the following is extracted:
“The Times—we say it with regret, because the character of the entire newspaper press is more or less affected by the misdeeds of one of its leading members—has earned for itself an unenviable notoriety by the frequency with which it gives circulation to calumnies against those to whom it is opposed, and then refusing to allow the parties affected to prove that they are calumniated.
“A striking case, illustrative of this, has occurred within the last few days. The Times, by some means or other, becomes possessed of a document purporting to be a proclamation from Kossuth, addressed to the Hungarian soldiers in that portion of the Austrian army employed to put down the insurrection in Milan. We do not charge our contemporary with publishing this proclamation knowing it not to be genuine. We are willing to give The Times credit for believing in the perfect genuineness of the document when it opened its columns to its insertion. Nor do we blame that journal for inditing a leading article, in which the proclamation in question was made the groundwork of a furious onslaught on Kossuth, because we are still assuming that The Times all this while believed the document to be an emanation from the pen of the illustrious Magyar.
“But farther than this, in our allowances for our contemporary, we cannot go. The Times is told that the proclamation to the Hungarian soldiers in the Austrian army was not the production of Kossuth’s pen, and that he was in no wise responsible for its sentiments or its exhortations. Captain Mayne Reid writes to The Times, not only denying the genuineness of the document but producing facts and assigning reasons, which ought to have satisfied that journal that it had preferred a charge against Kossuth as groundless as it was injurious. But instead of giving a ready insertion to Captain Mayne Reid’s vindication of the character of the Hungarian chief from the calumnies which The Times put into circulation, that journal, without assigning, or being able to assign, any reason for still believing that the document was genuine, reiterates the assertion of its having proceeded from Kossuth’s pen.
“Fortunately for the character of the English press, there is not another journal of any reputation in the country that would act in this matter as The Times has done. However much a paper may chance to be opposed to a particular individual, we know of no instance, with this solitary exception of The Times, in which an editor, having preferred a groundless charge against a man whose character is everything to him, would refuse to allow a contradiction and disproof of the accusation. The force of injustice could no further go. To act in this way is to play the part of a moral assassin, and ought to draw down on the head of the journalist who could play so criminal a part the indignation and abhorrence of the public.
“The Times has not yet forgotten its old grudge against the Magyar chief, nor is it likely it ever will. It not only greatly damaged its commercial interests by the system of calumny which it pursued towards the Hungarian exile, but it had also to endure the mortification of finding that all its efforts to injure Kossuth’s character, or to diminish the interest felt in the cause of Hungary, were entirely unsuccessful. Never was the utter powerlessness of a journal more thoroughly demonstrated than was that of The Times on the arrival of Kossuth in this country, and the mortification of its signal failure to prevent the tide of popular feeling from flowing in favour of the ex-governor of Hungary, still rankles in the heart of The Times. The gross act of injustice which we have sought to expose, and which we have so unsparingly denounced, is the consequence of that intolerable mortification.
“The character of Kossuth needed not the able and unanswerable defences which Captain Mayne Reid, a popular author as well as gallant officer, published in the columns of this journal on Thursday. Least of all was it necessary to vindicate the Hungarian chief from the charge of want of courage. The entire conduct of Kossuth, during the most troublous and perilous period of the struggle for the national independence of his country, proved him to be a man possessed of courage, of heroism, and of a disregard of all considerations of personal safety, as his civil administration of the affairs of Hungary showed him to be a statesman of consummate capacity.
“Afterwards came the other, and, in some respects, still nobler display of lofty heroism, which Kossuth made when a prisoner in Turkey. Those are indeed heartless calumniators who would seek to brand with the guilt of cowardice one of the bravest of men, overwhelmed with sorrow and an exile from his country—a country dearer to him than life itself. But for the credit of English journalism be it spoken, there is only one paper amidst the entire press of this country of which he can complain. We need not name that journal. Every one knows we allude to The Times—a journal whose name has for some time past been everywhere regarded as synonymous with all that is unprincipled and ungenerous.
“Since the above was in the printer’s hands, we have received another communication from Captain Mayne Reid, inclosing a letter from Kossuth himself, which completely settles the question of the forged proclamation. No one can read the letter of the illustrious Hungarian without blushing to think that he should be systematically assailed in the most savage manner, and be made the victim of a series of the grossest calumnies by a paper arrogating to itself the title of ‘the leading journal of Europe.’ Captain Mayne Reid deserves, and will receive, the thanks of every lover of justice for his spirited and triumphant defence of the character of Kossuth.”
The Times afterwards stated that Kossuth was storing arms at Rotherhithe. In the issue of that journal on April 18th, 1853, appeared the following editorial note:
“We have received another highly complimentary letter from Mr Mayne Reid—we mean a whole sheet full of abuse—and so long as we continue what we are, and Mr Mayne Reid continues what he is, we shall consider his abuse the greatest praise it is in his power to bestow. A feeling of regard for the English language induces us, however, to refrain from giving publicity to Mr Mayne Reid’s balderdash, which we dare say may be read in another place.”
A copy of this letter had been forwarded to the Morning Advertiser, and appeared in full in its columns on April 18th. It is as follows:
“To the Editor of The Times.
“Sir,—It is written—‘Whom the gods would destroy, him they make mad.’ Your doom then seems inevitable; for if an utter abandonment of the laws of morality, a reckless disregard of the laws of honour, a desperate determination to court the contempt of your countrymen—if these be symptoms of madness, then are you mad indeed—mad as moon can make you.
“But the gods are guiltless of the act. The demons have done it. Your own vile passions have crazed you.
“Once more you have assailed M. Kossuth; once more you have shot your envenomed shaft; and once more, glancing back from the pure shield of that gentleman’s honour, your poisoned arrow has recoiled upon yourself. Unscathed stands he. His escutcheon is unstained. Even your foul ink has not soiled it. It is pure as ever; spotless as the pinions of the swan, as the wing of the wave-washed albatross.
“You have created an abyss of infamy. Into this you designed to drive M. Kossuth. You essayed to push him from the cliff. Headlong you rushed upon him; but, blinded by bad passions, you missed your aim. You have staggered over yourself; and your intended victim stands triumphantly above you.
“From the declarations of the gentleman himself, from my own personal knowledge of facts, I pronounce your whole statement regarding M. Kossuth and his Rotherhithe arsenal a web of wicked falsehoods. But the cold-blooded audacity, the harlotic abandon, with which you have uttered these falsehoods, and commented upon them, are positively astounding. It is difficult to believe you in earnest; and one is inclined to fancy you the dupe of some gross deception.
“But the palpable animus that guides your pen will not permit this charitable construction, and we are prevented from giving you even the benefit of a doubt. We have no alternative but to believe you guilty, with deliberate forethought, with ‘malice prepense.’
“But, sir, if you are to be suffered to drag innocent men from the privacy of their hearth to charge them with imaginary crimes—to support your charges with not a shadow of evidence, but, upon the contrary, to substitute coarse calumny and vengeful vituperation—if all this be permitted you with impunity, it is full time that we inquire, in what consists English freedom?
“There are other tyrannies besides that of despotic governments. There is the tyranny of a licentious press; and, for my part, I would rather submit me to the rule of the sabre and the knout, than live at the mercy of a conclave of dissipated adventurers who sneak around the purlieus of Printing House Square.
“I shall not condescend to repeat the slanders you have lately uttered. I am saved the necessity of refuting them. The pen and the tongue have already accomplished this. Higher names than mine have endorsed the refutation. In the House of Commons, Duncombe, Walmsley, Bright and Dudley Stuart, have nailed the lie to the wall.
“I know not what course M. Kossuth may pursue towards you. Doubtless he may treat you with that dignified silence he has hitherto observed. He can well afford it. He need not fear to be silent. He shall not lack defenders.
“You may double your staff of facile scribes, and arm each of them with a plume plucked from the fetid wing of the Austrian eagle. You will find among the champions of truth, brains as clear and pens as clever as your own; and though you may stuff your columns with wordy sophistry, it will be scattered like chaff before the heaven-born wind.
“I repeat it, M. Kossuth can afford to treat you with sublime silence; but I, who am gifted neither with the divine endurance nor Christian forbearance of that noble man—I cannot help telling you the contempt I feel for you and yours. I feel the paucity of language to express it, and I doubt not but that every Englishman will experience a similar difficulty. True, we might get over that by borrowing a little from your vocabulary, but I shall not condescend to do so. Even now I feel that I am sinking the gentleman in coming thus forward a second time to call you to account.
“But as the citizen of a country by you disgraced—as the friend of a man by you injured—I cannot submit myself to silence. When you charge M. Kossuth and other Hungarian leaders with a violation of our hospitality, I cannot do otherwise than pronounce your statements false. You perhaps do not know how much you yourself are indebted to the high respect which these gentlemen have for the laws of English hospitality. But for that, sir, I can assure you that you would long since have been dragged from your incognito, and treated in a manner I will not describe; and although I for one should not approve of such a proceeding, I could not deny that you have done all in your power to deserve it. But if the laws of our country protect you, they also protect the stranger from personal insult. The host has duties as well as the guest, and may equally violate the laws of hospitality. You, sir, have been guilty of that violation.
“I call upon you, then, to make some atonement for the wrong you have done, to apologise to the man you have wronged, to your countrymen, whose honour you have compromised, whose intelligence you have insulted. I counsel you to this course, which you will find the most prudent. Do not affect to despise my counsel. Do not imagine, like Macbeth, that by ‘becoming worse,’ and keeping up a meretricious swagger, you may extricate yourself from your unhappy position. This, be assured, you can never do. Powerful as you fancy yourself, you are not strong enough to defy public opinion. You may flounce about the lobbies of a theatre—you may frown upon the manager, and frighten the trembling débutante—you may, now and then, make merit for yourself by holding up to public execration some unfortunate wretch who, having miscalculated the amount of black-mail, has made you an inadequate offer; but fancy not, for all this, that you are omnipotent: you cannot annihilate one atom of truth. The humblest gentleman in England may condemn and defy you.
“Mayne Reid.
“14, Alpha Road, Regent’s Park.
“April 16, 1853.”
The language of this letter seems now somewhat inflated. Allowance must be made for the feelings of the writer, which, naturally sensitive, were then strongly stirred by his friendship for Kossuth and his enthusiasm for a popular cause.
A week later Kossuth wrote to Mayne Reid complaining of the espionage to which he had been subjected during his residence in England, giving certain facts. The communication, along with a letter from his own pen, was forwarded by Captain Mayne Reid to the Daily News, in the columns of which it appeared, April 25th, 1853.
The following letters from Kossuth to Mayne Reid may be here conveniently inserted:
“28th March, 1856.
“My Dear Sir,
“Here I am again to torment you eternally. I send you the second half of my second lecture for revision; the first half I am just a little cutting to the proper length, inasmuch as this second half, as you shall see, scarcely does admit of much abbreviation.
“How long can a lecture be?
“Yours affectionately,
“Kossuth.
“Captain Mayne Reid.”
“Friday evening, June 6, 1856.
“My Dear Sir,
“Sick, exhausted and outworn, I have had to prepare a new lecture for Glasgow, whither I travel next Monday.
“Hard work this lecturing, but they promise to be remunerative; and I have debts to pay, and my children want bread.
“I am greatly under obligation for your many kindnesses and assistance. I am not unmindful of my obligation, and I hope soon to testify it; but do me the favour once more to revise my grammar and syntax, I pray you.
“With the most sincere assurance of gratitude,
“Yours in truth and affection,
“Kossuth.
“Captain Mayne Reid.”
“12, Regent’s Park Terrace,
“March 4th, 1861.
“My Dear Friend,
“Very sorry to hear of the illness of Madame Reid and of your own indisposition. Bronchitis—that curse of the London climate—is a very trying affair; we know only too much of it.
“Many, many thanks for your kind offer, which I gladly accept as far as your powerful pen is concerned. I am indeed in need of it, the more so as I have no time to write myself—have scarcely time to breathe.
“We must try and make this Chancery suit a glorious triumph to my country’s rights and to the great principles involved in it, and I think we may if only the press is not allowed to relax its support.
“The papers—at least most of them—are well disposed—even The Times—only think!
“So write! write! write! is the word now more than ever.
“The Daily News will, I think, accept any good article on the subject—at least I expect them to do so—the Morning Star still more, and of the Morning Advertiser I feel perfectly sure.
“I shall try to see you in the course of to-morrow, if possible—if not, then after to-morrow for certainty.
“Yours very faithfully,
“Kossuth.
“Captain Mayne Reid.”
In October, 1853, a meeting was held at the London Tavern, under the presidency of Lord Dudley Stuart, to express sympathy with Turkey. Captain Mayne Reid was present, and spoke effectively against secret diplomacy.
“Secret diplomacy! There was not a phrase in the language that was more repugnant to the hearts and the ears of Englishmen. Secret diplomacy! There was dishonour in the sound—there was positive and palpable meanness in the thought.
“What has secret diplomacy done for England? Was it by secret diplomacy that this mighty nation had been built up? If they looked back upon their former history they would find that the tricksters of foreign countries had always out-tricked the tricksters of England. He could understand some mean and petty nation having resort to secret diplomacy; but he could not understand why England should have recourse to it. Their first duty was to know what was right; and having ascertained that, to demand it in the most open and straightforward manner. He was no lover of war; he would be glad to see the sword turned into the plough share; but he believed the time had come when war was not only just, but a strict and holy necessity. They were bound by treaty to protect the integrity of Turkey. Throw interest to the winds, their honour called upon them.”
A week later, on the 22nd of October, the British and French fleets entered the Bosphorus, determined to prevent the dismemberment of Turkey, although it was not until the following March that war was declared against Russia.
At Christmas 1853 “The Young Voyageurs,” a sequel to “The Boy Hunters,” was published. The dedication was:
“Kind Father, Gentle and Affectionate Mother, Accept this tribute of a Son’s gratitude.
“Mayne Reid.”
Of this book the Nonconformist says:
“As a writer of books for boys, commend us above all men living to Captain Mayne Reid.
“We venture to add, that we should like to see men of any age who could deny that its perusal gave them both pleasure and instruction.”