However surely it may be the inevitable lot of small Nationalities to
become merged in larger and neighbouring Empires, we cannot but
sympathise with their yearnings for independence. We instinctively
admire the patriotic devotion of their noblest sons, who, at the call
of duty, or what they believe to be such, arise as avengers of their
country's wrongs, too frequently only to die in her service.
The history of Hungary is tragic, and her lot is sad. As an Austrian
dependency Hungary has from time to time possessed a powerful internal
government, only to have her growing liberties curtailed and her
aspirations crushed, and the proceedings of her Senate disregarded by
despotic sovereigns.
No small portion of her troubles have arisen from the fact of her
being peopled by distinct races. After the stirring times of 1847 and
the early part of 1848, the position of Hungary seemed better than it
had been for centuries. Their just claims had been tardily recognised,
liberty of the Press and annual Diets conceded. It was then in the
first instance the act of their countrymen, the Croatians, that led to
the sanguinary quarrels afterwards adopted by Austria and joined by
Russia, which resulted so disastrously to the Magyar race.
In these sanguinary struggles Louis Kossuth, the eloquent and
enthusiastic patriot, occupied a commanding position. His
distinguished services not only in the Senate, but also on the field
of battle, were so greatly aided and stimulated by his helpful and
devoted sister Susanne, that a brief notice of her in these pages
cannot be out of place.
Hers is not an example of early influence, for Susanne Kossuth, the
youngest member of the family, was born in the year 1820, at a time
when her brother, the future patriot, was already verging upon
manhood.
In her earlier years she received a careful training at the hands of a
private tutor, the prevalent custom among the higher class of
Hungarians. The education given to girls in that country is, or was,
one friendly to the development of an intellectual and thoughtful
character--music, drawing, the art of composition, modern languages,
and literature forming essential parts. History, also, so stimulating
to a thoughtful patriotism, is especially cultivated. The girls are
also early trained in habits of industry, and, even in the highest
circles, to become capable household managers.
The knowledge of history acquired by Susanne not only drew out and
disciplined her young intellect, but roused in her that love of
country which was so characteristic in her family, and which was such
a dominant power in her own life. "The private tutors in Hungary are
men of high standing, not only socially and morally, but
intellectually; cherished guests and friends of the families in which
they reside, who consort with the parents in a frank and noble way,
and hence the high character and tone of education among their women."
The parents of Susanne removed to Pesth whilst she was young, which
had the effect of somewhat shortening her scholastic training. But her
best education did not, therefore, cease. Her father, who, assisted
by her brother, conducted the _Pesth Hirlap_, having a rheumatic
affection of the hand, Susanne acted as his amanuensis, and became his
fellow-labourer and active helper. And when the printing of the
_Hirlap_ was suppressed, she herself took a considerable share in
the tedious task of copying it. It was not conducted on the ordinary
lines of a newspaper, either political or business, but was patriotic
in its character and aim. "Its object was to develop the national
constitution, by peaceable reform and construction, from within
outward." It has been said: "From the fifty-two countries into which
Hungary was divided were regularly received letters upon every
national interest--material, social, and intellectual. It was the
part of the younger Kossuth to answer these by leading articles,
elaborating principles, while his father and sister would make a
digest, and put into form the correspondence itself. Such labours
were a fitting occupation for her honest and magnanimous soul, and
a providential preparation for the duties of the last years of her
life."
When Susanne was about twenty years of age she married Rudolf
Meszlenyi, an untitled gentleman whose sister had married Louis
Kossuth. He was possessed of an estate which afforded a sufficient
income. The marriage appears--so far at any rate as regards its
highest purposes, a true union of heart and life--to have been a
singularly happy one. We have lately read of a distinguished English
lady who, on receiving a proposal of marriage after her own heart,
knelt down on the green turf and thanked God for the happiness brought
into her life. Susanne Meszlenyi, in speaking during her sad and
lonely widowhood of the high character of her husband, used to tell
how she loved, in after years, to go to pray in the chapel at Buda in
which she was married, and would kiss the very stones on which she
stood at the altar.
Madame Meszlenyi shared her husband's hopes and aspirations--rather,
they were her own. Her married life was, however, destined to be of
short duration. Two little daughters and a son were added to the
number of her loved ones; but a short time afterwards, in the early
part of 1847, her husband sacrificed his life through an act of
patriotic devotion. As a member of County Sessions, a question of
great interest, and thought by Meszlenyi to be one of great importance
affecting certain judiciary privileges, having arisen, he, desiring to
secure the interest of another member, at the last moment, rode day
and night for the purpose of seeing and influencing him. Congestion of
the brain and delirium followed upon the self-forgetful exertion.
Madame Meszlenyi being at the time herself very ill at home, her
husband not wishing to expose her to the fatigues of a long journey,
managed to send daily despatches in the hope of hiding from her his
serious condition. But, as is so frequently the case, the eye of love
read between the lines, and the heart of love divined the distant
trouble. Madame Meszlenyi went to her husband, only arriving in time
to see him die.
It was about this time--March, 1847--that, chiefly in return for the
services of Louis Kossuth in connection with the rescue of certain
members of the Imperial family during recent revolutionary troubles at
Vienna, certain valuable constitutional rights were allowed to
Hungary. These concessions went very far towards satisfying the
national yearning, and were the occasion of great rejoicing. This
following so closely after the sad bereavement of Madame Meszlenyi
again made her ill, prostrating her with violent spasms of neuralgia.
This has been mentioned as showing her highly strung nervous
temperament and "exquisite sensibility."
But war came to this unhappy country all too swiftly in the wake of
the much-prized privileges. The claims of Hungary had no sooner been
acknowledged than it would seem that the Austrian Court repented their
magnanimity, and, by holding out certain hopes to the Croatians,
induced them to commence hostilities against the Magyars, who
constituted the principal part of the Hungarian nationality.
Kossuth, as a foremost member of the Hungarian Diet, took a prominent
part in the preparations for the campaign. In one important respect
he knew where to look for sympathy and help. He has spoken of his
sister Susanne as his twin soul. "He knew," it is said, "of what
extraordinary action she was capable. His conviction that her health
and strength, like his own, being mainly spiritual in its source,
would come at the call of the patriot's hope and humanity's cause, was
justified by all he knew of her antecedent life, and all we know of
her subsequent action. It was not the great work of a great sphere
that was unhealthy for her. She could sink only when she was not
allowed scope for her soul's expansion, or when means failed her to
carry out her plans."
It was no small thing for Kossuth to be able to say to her, "Upon you
I must depend to see to the wounded. Proceed in your own way, and call
for means as you need them."
Finding herein work for her womanly heart and active mind, she rose
above her sorrow in her country's need. She began her task by
inserting in the organ of the new Government an eloquent and
passionate appeal for the help of her countrywomen, in alleviating the
wounded, by combining their efforts and forming small societies and
temporary hospitals throughout the country. The call from the sister
of the patriot to whom all eyes were turned was not in vain, but met
with a general response. Madame Meszlenyi herself took journeys
throughout the country, "organising, arranging, watching for
everything, keeping all accounts, making all disbursements." In this
way she had under management in different parts of the country no less
than seventy-two hospitals. So great was the enthusiasm which her
brother's name and her country's call aroused, that during her
journeys she frequently came to places from which all the able-bodied
men had gone to the war.
It is stated that on one occasion at Erlau Madame Meszlenyi found it
necessary to apply for the use of a monastery for the purposes of a
hospital. She went to the Superior and urged her request. In answer
she was informed that the monastery was full. She thereupon urged that
the inmates should crowd, so as to make room for the accommodation of
the wounded. On the Superior still objecting to having the monastery
turned into a hospital, Madame Meszlenyi desired to be allowed to see
the rooms and suggested how the needful alterations could be made. At
length her earnestness and energy prevailed with the lethargic
ecclesiastics, the Superior not only consenting that everything should
be done as she wished, but at once set about doing it. When the
wounded were brought she did not allow her love of her countrymen to
quench her humanity, but cared for Magyar and Croatian and Austrian
alike, showing, however, her inborn delicacy and thoughtfulness in
directing that they should be put into different rooms. Such was her
careful attention to the needs and wishes of the poor sufferers that
they said they were enveloped by the atmosphere of a mother's
tenderness.
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.
Emilie and part of her family only, however, proceeded forthwith,
Madame Meszlenyi and Madame Ruttkai, with their children, remaining
behind at the risk of being given up to the Austrian Government.
While in Brussels, in writing to a friend in England she concludes as
follows: "I can write but little and seldom; of our country I cannot;
of foreign affairs I shall not; of myself--what could I write of my
own self? My head and my spirits have grown grey! My heart is become
old, decrepit, and age is sterile! You must not make any mention of
even these short epistles.
"My sick mother, Louise, and myself will stay here. Emily will in
a short time leave for America with her whole family. My children
have grown in these adverse circumstances, with less favourable
developments than I once expected. The loss may, however, be still
recovered; there is as yet time for it. They, too, send you their
love. How could you have supposed of me that I could have loved
my children to forget my friend? You say you are not changed. God
be praised for it! I, too, can say that I am not changed in
anything--no not even in respect to my faith in mankind. I have a
strong will, in spite of so many bitter disappointments. And so I
address you in the open-hearted voice of old friendship, and I
expect your letters written in the same spirit. Let me not wait
long for them. God bless you, and may He extend over your life all
the good which is contained in the best wishes of your dear
friend,
"MESZLENYI."
During her enforced stay at Brussels Madame Meszlenyi sought amongst
the lace manufacturers to obtain work as a means of support of herself
and those dependent upon her. She set about learning to make the lace,
and, having learnt, worked with such constant industry that she was
not only able to maintain the family, but at the end of about eighteen
months, when her mother died, she had saved a small sum of money,
which she invested in lace to be used when she arrived in the New
World.
With the death of her mother the necessity for any longer stay in
Brussels came to an end. Madame Meszlenyi, and her sister, Madame
Ruttkai, accordingly proceeded to the land of their exile.
Arriving at New York, Madame Meszlenyi found it necessary at once to
take steps for the maintenance of the party. Her reply to an enquiry
whether anything could be done for her was, "Give me work." And in her
endeavours she was as fertile as in her labours she was indefatigable.
She not only started a store for the sale of lace, which she
superintended and took a place at the desk, but finding further
exertion necessary, added to her business that of dressmaking, which
she had also, with a thoughtful eye to the future of the children,
learnt at Brussels.
But while carrying on business in the manner in which her sense of
duty required it, Madame Meszlenyi's days were numbered. Never strong,
the trials and exposure of the night of her last arrest had effected
their work of ravage in her constitution. Had she been able to have
succeeded the leisure and refreshment of the sea voyage by rest and
care, the course of disease might have been arrested and her life
spared for many years. But she felt that necessity was laid upon her
for work, for immediate and constant work. And having undertaken any
duty, she would perform it at whatever cost to herself. The
requirements of her dressmaking business would often, in the absence
of sufficient help, find this heroic and high-born lady burning the
midnight oil, to herself finish a dress which had been promised by a
certain time.
The knowledge of her condition no doubt stimulated her exertion. She
knew that her days were numbered; and she had an object to accomplish.
She wished to leave behind her sufficient means to provide a good
education for her little girls, so that they might thus be put into
the way of earning their own livelihood as teachers. And although it
was often represented to Madame Meszlenyi that in the event of her
dying her children would be taken care of, the independence of her
spirit would flash into her face while she declared that she only
desired that her children should have the opportunity of working as
she had done herself.
As may, however, be imagined, the difficulties and trials of these
Hungarian women were many. But, notwithstanding all discouragements,
the growing feebleness of the moving spirit of all, the spark of life
burning but dimly, the well-being of her children kept the flickering
flame alive. But the finely-strung spirit was strained to the utmost.
Friends were not wanting; but, like many another whose soul has been
touched to its finest issues, Madame Meszlenyi could not endure the
thought of either herself or her children being dependent on charity.
Upon her physician saying that she must have rest and change apart
from the scene of her labours, a lady, who had been her friend from
the first, offered her an old family mansion. Other friends came to
her with offers of money, and provided a fund for a period of rest. It
went much against her inclination to accept help so willingly offered.
She said with a flood of tears: "We did not come to this country
counting upon sympathy, but to work, as we heard everybody here could
do. Heretofore in no distressing circumstances have I lost my courage,
nor have I lost it now. But this illness is the hand of God; to Him I
now yield in accepting charity."
Madame Meszlenyi endeavoured vainly to recruit her strength
sufficiently to enable her to make a voyage to Belgium in order to
engage lace workers, and to found a permanent and prosperous business,
in which she might before her own death obtain a partner who might
provide the means of accomplishing what lay so near her own heart, the
completion of the education of her daughters when she should be taken
from them.
As the winter of 1853 thus passed, and the succeeding spring opened,
difficulties arose which had not been anticipated, while the exertion
which was attendant upon explanations and negotiations was more than
the feeble spirit was able to bear. Even after arrangements had been
made for her voyage to Europe in the hope that success in her
endeavours might stimulate her energies, and yet prolong her life, it
became evident that nothing in this world could avail further--that if
her earthly hopes were to be brought to fruition it would be by other
hands than hers.
It is some satisfaction for us to know that when Madame Meszlenyi
learnt at last that it would be impossible for her to accomplish the
desire of her heart, the friend in whose house she had resided during
the winter cheered her by an assurance that her children would be
provided for, and that the education so wisely begun under the eye of
the mother would be completed according to her desire. As this desire
was fully known to her beloved sister Emilie, this assurance proved to
be a great consolation to the dying mother.
The last scene should be told in the words of one who speaks with
authority.
"In the course of June she called for the administration of the Lord's
Supper, which she took for the last time from the hands of the
Lutheran clergyman, and continually afterwards expressed that she was
ready and anxious to go. On the afternoon of the 28th of that month
she said to those around her that the hour was approaching, and
summoned her sister Ruttkai and the children to the leave-taking, at
which was also present one of her family physicians, the sister of her
heart and soul being far away.
"Having said the last tender words, and embraced them, she looked at
the doctor earnestly, and inaudibly pronounced the words 'How long?'
'Not long,' he replied gently, and she brilliantly smiled. She
breathed some hours after, but said nothing more except to give a
negative when asked if she were in pain. A humble Hungarian friend who
sat by her bedside, watching her last breath, and at last closed her
eyes, has said that an hour before she died so brilliant a look came
into her face she thought she was going to rally, and perhaps recover.
She then attempted to give her a message to Emilie, of which she
uttered not words enough to be wholly understood by the auditor; then
the wonderful expression faded, and hardly had done so when the last
breath came. It was on the 29th June, 1854, when this noble and gifted
being, at the early age of thirty-four, ascended to the Father of
Spirits."
The aged brother and patriot yet lives in the neighbourhood of Turin,
where his last years are being spent in the society of his surviving
sister, Madame Ruttkai.