rs? Will there be any frontiers in twenty years? Victories?
France counts in her past victories of war, and in her future victories
of peace. The future belongs to Voltaire, and not to Krupp; the future
belongs to the book, and not to the sword. The future belongs to life,
and not to death. There is in the policy opposed to France a certain
amount of the tomb; to seek life in the old institutions is a vain task,
and to feed upon the past is to bite the dust. France has the faculty of
giving light; no catastrophe, political or military, will deprive her of
this mysterious supremacy. The cloud passes away, the star is seen once
more.

The star possesses no anger; the dawn bears no malice. Light is
satisfied in being light. Light is everything; the human race has no
other love. France knows herself beloved because she is good, and the
greatest of all powers is to be loved. The French revolution is for all
the world. It is a battle perpetually waged for Right, and perpetually
gained for Truth. Right is the innermost part of man; Truth is the
innermost part of God. What can be done against a revolution which has
so much right on its side? Nothing. To love it. That is what the nations
do. France offers herself, the world accepts her. The whole phenomenon
lies in these few words. An invasion of armies can be resisted; an
invasion of ideas cannot be resisted. The glory of barbarians is to be
conquered by humanity; the glory of savages is to be conquered by
civilization; the glory of darkness is to be conquered by the torch.
This is why France is desired and assented to by all. This is why,
having no hatred, she has no fear; this is why she is fraternal and
maternal; this is why it is impossible to lessen her, impossible to
humiliate her, impossible to irritate her; this is why, after so many
ordeals, after so many catastrophes, after so many disasters, after so
many calamities, after so many falls, incorruptible and invulnerable she
holds out her hand to all the peoples from above.

When our glance rests on this old continent, stirred to-day by a new
breath, certain phenomena appear, and we seem to gain a glimpse of that
august and mysterious problem, the formation of the future. It may be
said, that in the same manner as light is compounded of seven colors,
civilization is compounded of seven peoples. Of these peoples, three,
Greece, Italy, and Spain, represent the South; three, England, Germany,
and Russia, represent the nor