And then—here we find ourselves standing before an entirely new question and a mysterious future. Autocracy, having triumphed over civilization, finds itself face to face with a peasant insurrection, with an enormous revolt in the manner of Pugachev. Half of the strength of the Petersburg government is based on civilization and on the deep divide it has engendered between the civilized classes and the peasants. The government continually leans on the former, and it is primarily in the noble sphere that it finds the means, the people, and counsel. On breaking with his own hands such an essential instrument, the emperor has once again become the
We have seen a monarchy surrounded by republican institutions, but our imagination cannot conceive of an emperor of Russia surrounded by communist institutions.
Before this distant future can be realized, a number of things must occur, and the influence of imperial Russia will be no less pernicious for reactionary Europe than the latter's influence will be for Russia. It is this barracks-room Russia that desires, by means of bayonets, to put an end to the questions that are agitating the world. It is this Russia that is roaring and moaning like the sea at the doors of the civilized world, always ready to overflow its banks, always trembling with a desire for conquest, as if it had nothing to do at home, as if pangs of conscience and bouts of madness disturb the minds of its rulers.
Only reaction can open these doors, with the Hapsburgs and Hohen- zollerns requesting fraternal assistance from the Russian army and leading it into the heart of Europe.
Then the great party of order will see what a
The Russian government, after laboring for twenty years, has managed to link Russia by unbreakable ties with revolutionary Europe.
Of course Europe knows about Poland, this nation that the entire world has abandoned to an unequal struggle, having shed since that time rivers of blood on all the fields of battle where there was any question of winning a people's freedom. Everyone knows this nation, which, having succumbed to numerical superiority, traveled across Europe, more like a conqueror than a victim, and has been dispersed among other peoples in order to teach them—alas, unsuccessfully—the art of bearing defeat without yielding, degrading themselves, or losing faith. One can destroy Poland, but not conquer it, one can carry out the threat made by Nicholas to leave only a sign and a pile of stones where Warsaw once stood, but it is impossible to turn them into slaves like the Baltic provinces.
Having united Poland with Russia, the government has erected an enormous bridge for the solemn passage of revolutionary ideas, a bridge that begins at the Vistula River and ends at the Black Sea.
Poland is thought to be dead, but every time the roll is called it answers "Present," as the speaker of a Polish deputation did in 1848. They should not take a step without assuring themselves of their western neighbors, because they have had enough of Napoleon's sympathy and the celebrated words of Louis-Philippe: "The Polish nationality will not perish."
We have no doubts about Poland or Russia. But we do have doubts about Europe. If we had some confidence in the peoples of Europe, we would enthusiastically tell the Poles:
"Brothers, your fate is worse than ours and you have suffered much, but be patient a little longer; there is a great future at the end of your misfortunes. You will extract a sublime revenge and will bring about the liberation of the people whose hands forged your chains. In your enemies—the tsar and autocracy—you will recognize your brothers in the name of independence and freedom."
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