of Massachusetts, breathing into the
nation that breath of life out of which American Independence was born;
down to the Declaration of Independence, first moved by a son of
Massachusetts;--I often believe I read of Hungary when I read of
Massachusetts. But next, when the kind cheers of your generous-hearted
people rouse me out of my contemplative reveries, and looking around me
I see your prosperity, a nameless woe comes over my mind, because that
very prosperity reminds me that I am not at home. The home of my
fathers--the home of my heart--the home of my affections and of my
cares, is in the most striking contrast with the prosperity I see here.
And whence this striking contrast in the results, when there exists such
a striking identity in the antecedents? Whence this afflicting
departure from logical coherence in history?

It is, because your struggle for independence met the good luck, that
monarchical France stipulated to aid with its full force America
struggling for independence, whereas republican America delayed even a
recognition of Hungary's independence at the crisis when it had been
achieved. However! the equality of results may yet come. History will
not prove false to poor Hungary, while it proves true to all the world.
I certainly shall never meet the reputation of Franklin, but I may yet
meet his good luck in a patriotic mission. It is not yet too late. My
people, like the damsel in the Scriptures, is but sleeping, and not
dead. Sleep is silent, but restores to strength. There is apparent
silence also in nature before the storm. We are downtrodden, it is true:
but was not Washington in a dreary retreat with his few brave men,
scarcely to be called an army, when Franklin drew nigh to success in his
mission?

My retreat is somewhat longer, to be sure, but then our struggle went on
from the first on a far greater scale; and again, the success of
Franklin was aided by the hatred of France against England; so I am
told, and it is true; but I trust that the love of liberty in republican
America will prove as copious a source of generous inspiration, as
hatred of Great Britain proved in monarchical France. Or, should it be
the doom of humanity that even republics like yours are more mightily
moved by hatred than by love, is there less reason for republican
America to hate the overwhelming progress of absolutism, than there was
reason for France to hate England's prosperity? In fact, that prosperity
has n