cied them, appeared to me as the last depositories of the hopes of all true friends of humanity. [Applause.]
I say all this, not as though I indulged in the presumptuous
delusion that my personal feelings and experience
would be of any interest to you, but in order to show you
what America is to the thousands of thinking men in the
old world, who, disappointed in their fondest hopes and
depressed by the saddest experience, cling with their last
remnant of confidence in human nature, to the last spot on
earth where man is free to follow the road to attainable
perfection, and where, unbiassed by the disastrous influence
of traditional notions, customs and institutions, he
acts on his own responsibility. They ask themselves: Was
it but a wild delusion when we thought that man has the
faculty to be free and to govern himself? Have we been
fighting, were we ready to die, for a mere phantom, for a
mere product of a morbid imagination? This question
downtrodden humanity cries out into the world, and from
this country it expects an answer.
As its advocate I speak to you. I will speak of Americanism as the great representative of the reformatory age, as the great champion of the dignity of human nature, as the great repository of the last hopes of suffering mankind. I will speak of the ideal mission of this country and of this people.
You may tell me that these views are visionary, that the destiny of this country is less exalted, that the American people are less great than I think they are or ought to be. I answer, ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands. But like the seafaring man on the desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them you will reach your destiny. I invite you to ascend with me the watchtower of history, overlooking the grand panorama of the development of
