I know, gentlemen, that here the question is entirely matter of time.  But in regard to time, I am permitted to say so much.

The outbreak of the unavoidable, decisive struggle between the two opposite principles of freedom and despotism is hurried on in Europe by two great impulses.  The first is the insupportability of oppression connected with the powerfully developed organization of the oppressed, which by its very progress imposes the necessity of no delay.  Be pleased earnestly to reflect upon what I rather suggest than explain.  And be pleased also to read between the lines.  I, of course, speak not of anything relating to your country.  I state simply European fact, of which every thinking man, the Czars and their satellites themselves, are fully aware, though the how and the where they cannot grasp.

The second impulse, hurrying events to a decision, is that very combined scheme of activity which the despots of Europe too evidently display.  They know full well that they are on the brink of an inevitable retribution; that their crimes have pushed them to the point, where either their power will cease for ever to exist, or they must risk all for all.  In former times they relied at the hour of danger upon the generous credulity of nations.  By seemingly submitting, when the people arose irresistible, they conjured the fury of the storm They saved themselves by promises, and when the danger was over, they restored their abused power by breaking their oath and by deceiving their nations.  By this atrocious impiety you have seen several victorious revolutions in Europe deprived of their fruits and sinking to nothing by having made compromise with royal perjury.  I am too honest, gentlemen, not to confess openly, that I myself shared this error of the Old World—­I myself plead guilty of that fatal European credulity.  The tyrants who by falsehood have gained their end, are aware that they have no security; that the nations have lost faith in their oaths, and will never be cheated again.

Hence, gentlemen, a very essential novelty in the present condition of Europe.  Formerly every revolution was followed by some slight progress in the development of constitutionalism.  A little more liberty to the press, some sort of a trial by jury, a nominal responsibility of ministers, or a mockery of popular representation in the Legislature—­something of that sort always resulted, momentarily, out of former revolutions; and then the consciousness of being deceived by vile mockery led to new revolutions.

But when in 1848 and 1849, our victories in Hungary had shaken to the very foundation the artificial building of oppression, so that there was no more hope left to tyranny, but to shelter itself under the wings of Russia, the Czar told them—­well, I accept the part of becoming your master, ye kings, and I will help you, but you must be obedient You, yourselves have encouraged revolutions, by making concessions