Spies.
The friendship between Kossuth and Captain Maynard was of no common character. It had not sprung out of a mere chance acquaintance, but from circumstances calculated to cause mutual respect and admiration.
In Maynard, the illustrious Magyar saw a man like himself—devoted heart and soul to the cause of liberty.
True, he had as yet done little for it. But this did not negative his intention, fixed and fearless. Kossuth knew he had ventured out into the storm to shake a hand with, and draw a sword in, his defence. Too late for the battle-field, he had since defended him with his pen; and in the darkest hour of his exile, when others stood aloof.
In Kossuth, Maynard recognised one of the “great ones of the world”—great not only in deeds and thoughts, but in all the Divine attributes of humanity—in short, goodly great.
It was in contemplating Kossuth’s character, he first discovered the falsity of the trite phrase, “Familiarity breeds contempt.” Like most proverbs, true only when applied to ordinary men and things. The reverse with men truly great.
To his own valet Kossuth would have been a hero. Much more was he one in the eyes of his friend.
The more Maynard knew of him, the more intimate their relationship became, the less was he able to restrain his admiration.
He had grown not only to admire, but love him; and would have done for him any service consistent with honour. Kossuth was not the man to require more. Maynard was witness to the pangs of his exile, and sympathised with him as a son, or brother. He felt indignant at the scurvy treatment he was receiving, and from a people boastful of its hospitality!
This indignation reached its highest, when on a certain day Kossuth, standing in his studio, called his attention to a house on the opposite side of the street, telling him it was inhabited by spies.