strong positions all round it. He would hardly have left behind him at Mexico 500 faithful Hungarians, whose bodies would have been a rampart round him in the day of battle—whose sabres would have cleared a safe passage for him down to the sea. Notwithstanding his state of prostration from grief and fever, he should have resolutely grasped the-sword of the Hapsburgs which in his youth he had so longed to wield. He capitulated, because his chivalrous character induced him to believe in the magnanimity of others. He forgot, at this supreme moment, when these faithful Austrians were preparing to die for his sake, that he had to answer, and justly so, for all the blood that had been shed for his cause. Ambition is a noble quality when its aim is the happiness of a nation. A prince may be momentarily deceived as to the sincerity of the vote of a nation which, yielding to constraint or to some transient influence, entrusts him with its destinies. But the matter is soon brought to a test. When, after the lapse of two years, conflicting parties are still tearing one another to pieces in every part of the territory, the ambition which still persists in its aim becomes as guilty as the hand which is lifted against the liberty of a people; the responsibility of the convulsions of the country is then to be traced back to rulers, who, though they may evade the judgment of men, cannot escape the strictures of history.
As we finish the sad investigation of this long drama, we feel a consciousness that we have vindicated the truth only, without having either undertaken or accepted any exculpatory office. Fresh documents, which for the truth of criticism it is material should be produced, wherever they may come from, may perhaps seem inconsistent with, but cannot destroy, the authentic writings on which our narrative is based. The future
