Part 19

“In this moment of distress Joseph found no resource. He in vain appealed to the empire; he in vain obtained a circular letter from the pope to the prelates of the Netherlands recommending them to return to obedience. Embarrassed by the Turkish war, deriving no assistance from the courts of Versailles and Petersburgh, his sole allies on the Continent, he was reduced to the alternative of courting the interposition of Prussia, his inveterate enemy, England, whom he had betrayed and insulted, and Holland, whom he had despised and humbled. His haughty spirit was broken by calamity and disease; he grasped even at the shadow of a hope, and was eager to embrace any measure, however degrading, for the recovery of the Netherlands, even though he should reduce them again to that dependence on the Maritime Powers from which it had been his boast to emancipate them. He hoped to conciliate Prussia by cessions on the side of Poland; he trusted that England would gladly tender her assistance to obtain the renewal of the Barrier Treaty; he relied on the jealousy which the independence of the Netherlands would excite in Holland; he flattered himself that the chiefs of the different provinces would return to their allegiance, and accept a free constitution under the guaranty of the triple alliance. But he was again deceived. England refused to interfere in a cause which was opposed by her great continental ally; Holland beheld his distress with indifference, if not with satisfaction; Frederic William, who was maturing a grand system for the reduction of Austria, fomented the discontents in the Netherlands, and exerted all his efforts to inflame that hostile spirit which pervaded every part of the hereditary dominions, and was rising against Joseph in the different courts of Europe.”

We have preferred taking this account from Coxe, not only because we wish to strengthen our argument for the justice of the title of our book by giving, whenever it is possible, the testimony of the conservative historian, who cannot be suspected of colouring too darkly the acts of what he considers the legitimate government; but because we think Mr. Grattan has not done justice to the Netherlanders in his account of the same transactions. In his sympathy with the special reforms of Joseph, (his toleration acts, and abolition of old evils,) he overlooks the fact that all along he was breaking the highest of all laws, and that which entered in to the very fountains of the nation’s life, by setting aside the _constitutional rights_ which were born with their birth, and which can never be arbitrarily abolished by any foreign power without fatal effects. Constitutional reform must be always a Phœnix death-birth. All Joseph’s political philosophy was a mere maggot of his brain, fevered into being by the exciting atmosphere of the eighteenth century, an influence wholly external; it had no part or lot with that eternal progressive force, which develops itself through the heart of men, and acts because it must, in spite of all individual fancies, being rarely understood in full by the very individuals by whom it manifests itself the most strongly. George Washington indeed seems to have acted in sight of his principle in his majestic self-abnegations, although we are unable to pronounce with entire certainty on those secrets of the individual heart and soul, which, in his case, were covered with such a veil of natural and habitual reserve, as no friend was intimate enough to dare lift up. Was it that there was too much of the future there, to be appreciable in those days, by eyes profane?

It may be that as the race makes progress, there is a growing recognition between those irresistible impulses of humanity, which are deeper than all selfish emotions or volitions, and those higher ideas, which correspond to them in the intellectual spheres; and hence a consciousness, which is not weakening but strengthening, (inasmuch as it repudiates all personalities,) may show itself in the great men of the present and future. When Washington, risking everything upon a certain battle, and being asked what was to be done if it was lost, calmly replied, ‘it will then be necessary to retreat (he meant the people and not merely the army) behind the Alleghanies, and defend ourselves there;’ there was in his heart, if not in his head, the truth, that there is nothing impossible to him that wills the right. Kossuth, sixty years later, carries this grand will into the intellectual sphere, and explains the coincidence of absolute justice, not only with this instinct of the brave, but with interest—well understood, yet without lowering the first to the limitations of the last, and thereby losing the power to remove mountains, which comes only from the principle which is the evidence of things unseen.

Reform is a great thing. It must work from within outward. If it commences on the outside, while the principle that made all the abuses is unchanged, as in the case of Joseph II., the bad is made worse, and the futile agent is the first victim of the inevitable reaction. But there is some reason to believe that the day of reform is dawning,—when the old world—and the old world’s law—is brought face to face with the new world, almost unconscious of any principle but self-help, and the thorn-crowned martyr of the one, who represents the outraged individuality and rights of nations, explains the meaning of the hour to the other, by the words: ‘Thou hast as much religion as humanity—_and no more_,’ adding, with the supreme grace of self-abnegation, ‘the works which I do, and the words that I speak, are not mine, but His who sent me.’ It is indeed an era in the political world, when not only the experienced victim of the old system, but the nonchalant, unsentimental, self-asserting politician of the new, unite in _seeing_, to say nothing of declaring that nations have the same interest in international law, which individuals have in the laws of their country.

When the individuality of nations, and the law that at once individualizes and unites them, is promulgated in the light of reason,[7] in which flourish all the ‘humanities’ of science, art, virtue, and love, as well as in the dark depths of instinctive feeling, whose issues are war, and all terrible retributions—there is some ground for hope that the nations may

“keep the heights Which they are competent to gain.”

We will here observe that it is plain from the foregoing and the subsequent pages, that the Anglo-Saxon race is not the only one whose life has blossomed out into constitutional liberty. Other races have put forth the same forms of life quite as vigorously, and as broadly, and if we are to escape the same disastrous chances as have for three hundred years sunk them into a _life-in-death_, it will be from no inherent superiority in the germs of ours, but because the age of the world is come which corresponds to that period of the life of man, when thought meets feeling, and, recognising each other, instinct may become for evermore one with wisdom.

Is it not possible that this national integrity and international justice and love, is the ultimate attainment of humanity on earth; the fullest realisation in this sphere of the prophetic vision, and the poet’s dream; while the individual men which compose the nations, are ever to exhibit that personal imperfection which is but the necessary correlative of a sublimer destiny than may be within the scope of the finite mind to comprehend? Could this be established, a vast deal of the finest intellect and character, whose energies are now dissipated in visionary theories of personal perfection, would be concentrated to organise a perfect political system, which can only be just for each when it is for all; and without which in each nation, no personal integrity can be unfolded to become the subject of culture.

In considering the crimes of the house of Austria, we must not forget Poland, although here the guilt is shared by the Brandenburgs and Romanoffs.

Ruthière’s, “Anarchie de Pologne” gives, in an entertaining form, a tolerably fair picture of its character, and the working of what an absolutist calls its _no-government_. That a civilized country, he says, should go on for centuries, improving in all human culture, _without a government_, shows the extraordinary goodness of the people. It were well if this pleasant book, which contains also the most authentic account of Catherine II.’s accession to the Russian throne, were translated into English. But a grave work, and the highest authority respecting Poland, is Lelewel’s history, also yet untranslated. We are sorry that our limits allow us to give but a few observations to correct some current errors. It has been the policy of the European governments around Poland, to misrepresent, as well as to interfere with, the operations of its constitution. This necessarily arose from a principle of self-protection; nothing was so disastrous for them, as the peace, prosperity, and progress of a republican country in their midst. All the motives which impelled to the League of Cambray, would operate to this end respecting Poland, whose partition was the supreme act of the diplomacy which, as Sismondi said, began in Europe in 1508.

Poland was never a feudal country. The nobles and peasants are of the same race; and service in war, or a university education availed to give nobility to the child of the meanest peasant. The veto power, by the abuse of which the country was made weak, when it needed to be strongest against foreign influence, was only developed into disastrous action through foreign influence, brought to bear upon the Diet; because, as has been already intimated, it was a life and death interest of the surrounding despotisms to prevent the national progress and purification of a government in their midst, essentially republican, although its chief magistrate was named king. The same veto power existed in the Arragonese constitution, and never seemed to have had any irregular action. Of course, this, or almost any other safety-valve of liberty, may be used for the worst end, as soon as a nation is vitiated by bad faith within, whether of indigenous growth, or of foreign planting. In the case of Poland, it is obvious, from Ruthière, that it was of foreign planting.

But our object is not political disquisition, but history. When the Poles first began to elect kings from foreign nations, it was partly in order that the equality of their own families should be preserved, and some should have the prestige of sovereignty connected with them. At the first election, after the death of the last Jagellon, Maximilian II. endeavoured to obtain the crown for his son Ernest, but Henry of Anjou was chosen. After the latter abandoned Poland, to succeed his brother in France, Maximilian made new efforts for Ernest, and was himself chosen by one party. This was no great gratification to him, for the limited monarchy of Poland had few charms for him. While he hesitated about the _pacta conventa_, his more active opponent, Stephen Batory, hastened into Poland, and signed this capitulation, which so greatly increased his party that he was forcibly chosen, although Maximilian did at length accede to the _pacta conventa_, and, secure of the Czar, appealed to the empire, and endeavoured to excite the kings of Denmark and Sweden against his rival, “whom he stigmatized,” says Coxe, “as a vassal of the Turks.” But death interrupted his operations on the 12th of October, 1576, and Stephen Batory was elected.

The next Polish election, in which the house of Austria interfered, was in the beginning of the eighteenth century, when the Emperor, Charles VI., with the aid of the Czarina, placed Augustus II. upon the throne, on condition of his giving his sanction to the Pragmatic Sanction. By this intrigue, the choice of the nation, Stanislaus Leczynski, was set aside. This was in 1720.

In 1763, on the death of Augustus II., Maria Theresa encouraged his son Xavier to become a candidate for the crown of Poland, in opposition to Stanislaus Poniatowski and other Polish noblemen. Through the powerful influence of Catherine II., Stanislaus was certain of success. But Maria Theresa, seeing that by this a preponderance was given to Russian influence in Poland, published a manifesto, declaring that the Poles had the right of appointing a sovereign by a free and voluntary election, and, with the aid of France, prepared to second the claims of the Saxon house. Catherine, on the other hand, gained the king of Prussia, and the Porte, and they jointly issued a proclamation exhorting, “or rather,” says Coxe, “commanding the Poles to elect none but a Piast for their king.” A Russian army enforced this, and Stanislaus Augustus was elected. Maria Theresa, ill-seconded by France, concluded to push the matter no further.

The wrongs of Poland are due not wholly to the House of Austria. Prussia and Russia were indeed the principal aggressors. Frederic the Great undoubtedly first projected the partition, but his first step was to gain Austria, because he was aware that Russia was so sure of the whole of the prey, she would oppose dismemberment. The emperor Joseph I. went to Neiss, to negotiate with him upon the subject. Two years after, a second interview took place, and the map of Poland was laid out before them, when the limits of the respective portions were adjusted, the largest share being assigned to Russia, in order to secure her concurrence. The Austrian and Prussian troops entered Poland on the pretence of preventing the plague, and Maria Theresa first presented her vague claims on certain Polish districts, on the specious pretext of protecting them from Russia and Prussia. The Austrian troops first occupied sixteen towns of the county of Zips; and upon this, Frederic proposed to Catherine the dismemberment; and the respective portions were specified at St. Petersburgh, in February, 1772. “Maria Theresa felt or _affected to feel_,” says Coxe, “great scruples of conscience, in participating in the disgrace of this infamous transaction; but she was not the less exorbitant in her demands, and extended her claims almost to the half of Poland.” She afterwards made a merit of yielding something, but retained Red Russia, Galicia, and parts of the palatinates of Cracow, Sandomir, Lublen, Bezk, Volhynia, and Podolia, a fertile and extensive country, with a population of ten millions and a half, and the valuable salt mines of Wieliczka, whose revenue to the republic was 90,000 pounds a year. This territory was consolidated and annexed to the Austrian dominions under the ancient appellation of the kingdoms of Galicia and Lodomeria.

The plunder of these countries by Maria Theresa’s troops was immense. Even Catherine of Russia reproached the Court of Vienna for the exactions of their troops, and extorted from the emperor a humiliating disavowal of their conduct. When we read of the wagon-loads of gold, among which were the spoils of churches, candelabras of the size of a grown man, of solid gold, carried into Austria, we are led to ask, whence came this prodigious wealth? and this question leads us to remember that from time immemorial there had been a land trade extending into Persia and other rich Asiatic territories, and that the constitutional law, prohibiting Poles from engaging on either side in a sectarian war, had made the fertile plains of Poland the granary of Europe, during the terrible religious wars that raged over the West of Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Poland, too, from its constitutional laws of toleration, was the asylum for the persecuted merchants and mechanics of the Jewish and Protestant sects, driven for many centuries from other more bigoted countries.

In giving an account of the state of the several parts of Poland, after the partition, Lelewel, having enumerated oppressions common to all of them, makes the following remarks:

“There was, however, this difference between the Austrian government and the Prussian, that the latter, more fond of peace, more economical, favoured the propagation of knowledge, augmented the number of primary schools, carried instruction to the poorest, and tolerated the manifestations of national sentiments, that the Poles did not know how to repress. Without speaking of liberty, the Prussian government respected individual liberty and property. Justice was equally administered to nobles and peasants, without distinction of class; both were subjected to military service. No exception was made except in favour of the Jews. At Warsaw they were permitted to have a national theatre; the polytechnic society, founded by some patriots for the end of conserving the Polish nationality, was authorised by the king of Prussia. It was not so in Galicia. There the emperor proclaimed the liberty of the peasants, forgetting or ignoring that long before the fall of Poland, the quatriennial or constituent diet had guaranteed it to them. But he erected it into a principle that everything belonged to the emperor, property and persons, and that he could dispose of them according to his good pleasure, as of things that were his. Occupied by continual wars with France, the emperor exhausted his estates, and especially Galicia, by exactions. Whoever could bear arms, whether Gipsies, Jews, or Christians, were enrolled, and forced to serve as soldiers, under German counts and barons. His enormous imposts not only took away their money, but forced them to give up their landed property. To repair the immense losses of his campaigns, he had recourse to paper money of which he reduced the value afterwards, or suppressed it altogether; and he circulated copper money qualified with silver, and forced it to be received as silver. In short, it was an odious spoliation and a degrading slavery. In order to attach the magistrates and principal inhabitants to himself, he sold to them titles of counts and barons; as the price of this imperial complaisance they were obliged to pay very dear.

“There were many who did not blush to buy these honours, and to disgrace their posterity with them, forgetting that the ancient laws of the republic deprived of the rights of citizenship, and declared infamous those who accepted titles from foreign powers.

“That the dismemberment of Poland, by Austria, Prussia, and Russia, did not destroy it, Lelevel’s faithful history proves. Not only Kosciusko’s struggles, and the revolution of 1831, suppressed mainly through the perfidy of Louis Philippe, acting in combination with the generous confidence of Skrzynecki, but the previous educational efforts of Czartoryski at the university of Wilna, and the energy with which the Poles repulsed the archduke Ferdinand from Warsaw in 1809; and generally fought for Napoleon, in the vain confidence that he would restore their republic. It may be that had Napoleon justified their long cherished hopes, and kept the faith he promised by the agents whom he sent to Warsaw to negotiate for assistance, previous to his Russian campaign, the result of that extraordinary movement would have been far different, and when he fell back into Lithuania, he would have found himself sustained; but his cold-blooded evasions, when he had passed through Warsaw, after it had risked Alexander’s fury for his sake, had finally convinced the Poles that they should ‘put no trust in princes;’ and they left him to the elements which were as humane as himself. The republicanism which is to be established by autocracy is as futile as the reforms which come from the same quarter; and Napoleon Bonaparte’s history is as clear a lesson upon the former pretence, as Joseph II.’s was upon the latter.”

We must leave, however, the history of Poland, so illustrative of our subject, in order to come to the history of Hungary. There is no complete work on this subject extant in the English language. In the Spring of 1850, there was republished in Boston, by Ticknor, Fields and Co., from the London edition, a pamphlet by J. Toulmin Smith, called “Parallels of the Constitutional History of England and Hungary,” which should be studied by those persons who fancy and assert that Anglo-Saxons are the only people to whom constitutional liberty is natural. In the May of the same year, there appeared also in the Christian Examiner of Boston, an article upon Hungary, referring to a recent publication of A. de Gerando, _De l’Esprit publique en Hongrie depuis la Revolution Française_, and intended to rectify the false statements made in an article in the N. A. Review of January, 1850, where the Hungarian movement of 1848–9, as well as all the past history of Hungary, were vilified. This article in the Examiner, which exhibited a wonderful familiarity with the Hungarian language and literature, as well as a profound and accurate knowledge of the history of modern Europe in general, and an extraordinary acquaintance with the periodical literature of the day, and the influences under which each individual contributor to it had written, when the subject matter touched the politics of Hungary, contains a masterly treatment of the misrepresentations which despotism makes of the history of freedom; and this part of the subject was pursued still farther in two successive articles in the same periodical, one published in November, 1850, and the other in March, 1851, from which also may be gathered an authentic account of the actual transactions in Hungary during 1848–9. All three articles, together with those in the N. A. Review which called them forth, would make a valuable volume, if for nothing else, to show the difference between writing history as a gossip, and writing it as a critic.

We confine ourselves now to extracting a portion of the first article, which carries the history up to the time that the war between Hungary and Austria began. It was from the same article, that Mr. Secretary Webster quoted the Hungarian statistics with which he illustrated the speech he made at the congressional dinner given at Washington in honour of Kossuth, January, 1852.

“The Hungarian nation has been distinguished, from its first appearance in history, for uniting to a passionate love of liberty a scrupulous reverence for law. The Magyars did not enter the plains of Dacia an undisciplined rabble. From the first, they possessed a fixed form of government, and were distinguished for their subordination to their leaders and their laws. To these habits of discipline in which the Magyars were trained,[8] to their love of order, and regard for law, it is to be ascribed, that they did not pass away, like the common hordes of barbarian adventurers, but established a permanent kingdom in the country they invaded. To these qualities, not less than to their courage, is to be ascribed their successful maintenance of their constitutional rights against all the attacks of a power before which the liberties of so many other nations have fallen.