tarily placing its neck under the yoke of despotism, teach us to despair of any present success for liberal institutions in Europe. They give us an impressive warning not to rely upon others for the vindication of our principles, but to look to ourselves, and to cherish with more care than ever the security of our institutions and the preservation of our policy and principles. Far better is it for ourselves, for Hungary, and for the cause of liberty, that, adhering to our wise, pacific system, and avoiding the distant wars of Europe, we should keep our lamp burning brightly on this Western shore, as a light to all nations, than to hazard its utter extinction amid the ruins of fallen and falling republics in Europe.”
This was not what Kossuth had come to hear. But it was what the American people really thought when sobered from the fascination of Kossuth's presence, and what other American statesmen would have said to him had they frankly expressed their sentiments.
The excitements preceding the presidential election, too, invaded the sick-chamber to draw from the dying man an expression of opinion which might be used in the contest then going on between various aspirants to the Whig nomination for the presidency. Clay's views as to the prospects of the Whig party were not sanguine. In June, 1851, he had written to Ullmann: “I think it quite clear that a Democrat will be elected, unless that result be prevented by divisions in the Democratic party. On these divisions the Whigs might ad-
