conservative magnates of Hungary passed
across the anteroom in gloomy procession;
like Macbeth's ghastly kings. The
first, in silence, made a sign to Zichi
indicative of despair and disgust. The second
exclaimed, "All is lost! That man is
betraying us," pointing to the door of the
archbishop's room. The third said, "We
are wading knee-deep in mud." And a
fourth added, "To-morrow it will be
neckdeep in blood."

At last came Stephen Szechenyi, who
beckoned to Zichi, and said, "Well, son,
what is your opinion?"

Zichi rapidly explained to Szechenyi
the advice which, three days before, he had
vainly urged on the Palatine. "To-day,"
he added, "I am aware that all such
measures would be too late: and I now
propose the immediate arrest of Batthiany,
Kossuth, and Teleky."

Szechenyi mused a moment and then
answered with a sigh, "That also is too
late. Go, my son. You will see." At
the same moment, Zichi was called to the
archduke's presence.

"Well, count, and what do you advise
to-day?" asked his highness. Zichi
repeated to the archduke what he had just
been saying to Szechenyi. "A grave step,"
said his highness. "I must think it over.
Call again to-morrow."

On the morrow, the men who issued
from the audience chamber were
Batthiany, Kossuth, and Teleky. Batthiany,
pale with rage, went up to Zichi and said:
"Yesterday, thou wouldst have arrested us.
Take care we do not arrest thee to-morrow,
for shouldst thou fall into our hands we
will hang thee." The Palatine had betrayed
his own minister; by whom the foregoing
scene was related to the present writer.

All that now happened Szechenyi had
predicted, and vainly endeavoured to avert.
He knew that Austria was as necessary to
Hungary as Hungary to her; and he had
the common sense to perceive that Austria
had the additional advantage of being
necessary to the equilibrium of Europe, and
that Europe would not passively assent to
the annihilation of the Austrian Empire.
He foresaw that war with Austria could
have but one result for Hungary: utter
defeat and prostration. He knew that such
a defeat would involve the loss, perhaps for
ever, of all he had lived, and laboured, and
hoped for. It was in the bitterness of this
knowledge that he exclaimed to many, by
whom his words will never be forgotten:
"My life is defeated, my work is destroyed,
this nation is doomed, and all is lost!"

Haunted, daily and nightly, by the
visions of this fearful clairvoyance, he
persuaded himself that it was he who stood
alone responsible to God and man for the
misery he foresaw. It was not Kossuth;
for Kossuth wished what he was bringing
about. Kossuth was an irresponsible
monomaniac. It was not the cabinet of Vienna
which had good cause to complain of the
Hungarians, and was now struggling for
its very existence. It was not the
Hungarians themselves; for who but a dreamer
would expect a whole people, and a singularly
impulsive people, to outspeed time, and
pass at one stride, without stumbling, from
centuries of feudalism into the most experimental
and complex form of modern society?
It was not the Croats, who had been
wronged by his countrymen. Nor was it
Jellachich, who, whilst avenging the wrongs
of his race, remained loyal to his sovereign,
and stood forth before Europe as the saviour
of a great and ancient empire. It was
Szechenyi himself; he only who had
"murdered sleep." He was the culprit, for he it
was who first disturbed the lethargy of the
past, without being able to control the
activities of the present; and who roused
the demon whom he could not command.
So he reasoned. The reasoning was erroneous;
but its error was that of a noble nature,
and he pursued it with unflinching self-
torture to its horrible conclusion.

MR. DICKENS'S NEW WORK.
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THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD.
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