Nor were her qualifications for the skilled nursing of wounded soldiers less than those which distinguished her as an administrator. Her moral influence was great. The enthusiastic eloquence of her conversation with the sufferers, as they could endure it, went far to rob the pillow of its weariness and the wound of its pain. "She understood the importance of ministering to the imagination and heart when the excitements of the battlefield were exchanged for the bed of suffering."

The enthusiastic and grateful people strove in many ways to show their appreciation of the unselfish devotion of Madame Meszlenyi. It is recorded that during one of her journeys, having one night reached a village from which all the men had gone to the war, and being at the inn for the night, she was surprised by hearing music, whereupon she went to the window, and was astonished at seeing the village girls, dressed in white, carrying a rustic banner and baskets of flowers. Having heard of her presence in the village, they had come in procession to the house where she was staying to express in the best way they could their gratitude for the loving devotion shown by the sister of Kossuth towards their brothers and fathers in the war. Madame Meszlenyi kindly received her young admirers, and was much affected by the sense of their love. She accepted the little token of their gratitude, but took care to impress upon them strongly that she wished for no thanks; that she was doing no more than they themselves; that it was actual pain for her to receive any marks of personal honours in the time of their country's peril and need, when self should be lost sight of. This desire to sink and forget herself and her achievements for the sake of the principles which governed her actions was characteristic of her throughout. Sympathy in the cause for which she laboured, in the motives which animated her, she welcomed, whilst she invariably shrank from praise for individual exertion.

Although brilliant successes attended the efforts of the Magyars, who might have subdued the insurgent tribes, and even held their own against the Austrians, it might have been apparent that the struggle was hopeless when the aid of Russia was obtained, and Hungary invaded from all quarters. But no one appears to have been prepared for the surrender of the Hungarian General to the Russian forces at Grosswardein. Upon this Kossuth and some of his immediate friends found refuge in Turkey which honourably refused to give them up, and from where they subsequently made their way to England, and eventually to the New World.

Madame Meszlenyi was not so fortunate in misfortune as her brother. She had followed the army in the hope of joining her brother, and had on this journey the additional misfortune of losing her only son. She and the other members of her family, including the aged mother, and the ten children of herself and sister, fifteen in all, were arrested at Grosswardein. Notwithstanding her mother's illness, they were all for a time kept confined in one room. The Russian Commander on being appealed to proved more humane than the Austrian. Madame Meszlenyi eloquently urged that, being prisoners of war, and that a war for their country, they ought not to be treated as criminals; and the officer placed at her disposal a deserted house. Although the place was carefully guarded, they were for the period of two months (during which the Russians occupied Grosswardein) protected from all danger and insult. Upon the withdrawal of the Russians, the General informed Madame Meszlenyi that although he would do what he could on her behalf he could not undertake to tell what course might be adopted. And no sooner had the Russian forces withdrawn than they were informed that they must immediately prepare to be taken to Pesth. Notwithstanding the fact that Madame Meszlenyi informed the officer that one of her children was suffering from scarlet fever and would die if removed, which was corroborated by the doctor who was in attendance upon her, her plea was of no avail. They were compelled to go. Madame Meszlenyi afterwards said: "God saw that I could not have borne to lose her." And her child did not die.

At Pesth they were subject to much privation. Their prison quarters were comfortless, destitute of furniture, with only straw for the invalids, and open to the gaze of the soldiery. This continued for many months. When, at last, Madame Meszlenyi was brought to trial she pleaded her own cause, maintaining "that she had done only what womanly duty and Hungarian right imposed on her conscience and sense of honour." So eloquently did she plead for her own and her children's liberty, and exhibit such a wide knowledge of the constitution of the country, and a power of grasping every detail, and meeting every difficulty of the position, that the judge before whom she was tried said, in astonishment: "What shall I do with this woman?" The principal ground of Madame Meszlenyi's skilfully-argued defence was that she had nothing to do with the war, which was entirely the result of the deliberations and actions of those who had the conduct of state matters, but her own conduct had been in the service of humanity only, that she had not been engaged in making war, but only in succouring the wounded in war. But the eloquent pleading of Madame Meszlenyi was in vain; and had not help come from an unexpected quarter, her heroic soul would have flashed out from the scaffold. At the last moment, however, officers of the Austrian army petitioned the Court and urged in her favour her humane action towards the wounded of their own army. "We," they said, "and multitudes of Austrians owe our lives to the magnanimity of this woman." And this truthful plea prevailed. She had seen only fellow creatures in suffering, and directing all the wounded on the field to be brought to her hospitals, she had tenderly nursed and cared for friend and enemy alike. "The poor fellows are often on our side in their hearts," she would say. The result of this disinterested interposition on her behalf was that, instead of the prisoner being condemned to the scaffold, she was, for the time being, honourably acquitted.

After her release Madame Meszlenyi continued to reside in Pesth with her mother. The confiscation of her property rendered it necessary that she should have recourse to some means of livelihood, although, had she been willing to live on bounty, the sister of Kossuth would have known no want. She consequently engaged in the, to her, congenial task of the education of the young; and so thorough and conscientious and loving was the manner of her work in this, as in everything to which she put her hand, that success began to crown her endeavours. Her movements were, however, strictly under the eye of the Austrian Government, who became afraid that her school might be the means of promulgating the obnoxious principles of patriotism. It was accordingly required of her that she would undertake that she would not teach history. Her answer was that she could not give an undertaking contrary to her principles, and the school had accordingly to be abandoned.

Her freedom itself proved to be only of short duration. Notwithstanding every caution and endeavour to keep herself aloof from anything of a public character, Madame Meszlenyi was rudely aroused on a stormy midnight in December, 1851, and hurried away by Austrian soldiers, being compelled to leave the terrified and afflicted members of her family. In response to her urgent inquiries as to the fate of her mother and children no information could she gain, except that they were also under arrest. This delicate lady was once again cast into a common prison, where she was attended only by soldiers, and suffered such privation from exposure and cold that she became seriously ill, and was seized with a protracted fever, the effects of which, and of an affection of the lungs, then contracted, never left her.

The aged mother had also meanwhile been placed under arrest, but, having her grandchildren about her, the scene of confusion which arose rendered her insensible. Her daughter Emilie having been arrested and brought by another company of soldiers, and seeing her mother apparently lifeless on the ground, broke from her guard, and kneeling beside her mother begged for medical aid to be summoned to her. The sickness which followed also in the case of Madame Kossuth rendered it impracticable for her to be removed, and she was accordingly allowed to remain in the house with Emilie and the grandchildren, though all remained under strict guard.

Madame Meszlenyi herself was kept in confinement on this occasion for a period of five months, day and night exposed to the eyes of the guard. What she suffered during this period none may know. Rigorous means were taken to prevent any communication with the outer world.

At length proposals were made by the Austrian Government that they should all be set at liberty on condition that they should forthwith leave the Continent, proceeding in secrecy and disguise. Had the determination of Madame Meszlenyi affected herself alone she would have refused to accept freedom on such terms, but for the sake of her children, as well as that of her sister, she determined to accept the terms of banishment from her native country, which she loved so well, and for which she had suffered so much. Without having the opportunity of bidding farewell to many whom they loved, the exiled party proceeded as far as Brussels, where they were obliged to wait in consequence of the condition of Madame Kossuth. Meanwhile, on it becoming known that the mother and sisters of Kossuth intended to proceed to America, it was suggested to Kossuth (who was then in New York) that he should deliver a lecture to raise funds on their behalf. This resulted in about 1,000 dollars.