red lightning scathe, or the lava
flood desolate? And who shall tell the day or the hour when the people,
in their majesty and might, shall rise to avenge their wrongs? The
snow-flake falls fleecily on the mountain's top through many a long and
silent night; a land green as Eden smiles over the volcano; through many
a calm and sunny day the electric flame gathers in the firmament! At
length, when least expected, the avalanche sweeps, the volcano bursts,
the red bolt strikes. France is the victim of many wrongs. Which one of
them shall prove the last drop in her cup of bitterness we know not.
France is divided into many political sects, and all but one aim at
revolution. Which one of all shall it be to set the ball of revolution
in motion? The Legitimists, who consider the Duke of Bordeaux the
rightful heir, and Louis Philippe a usurper; the Bonapartists, who think
they evoke the great shade of Napoleon in the person of his unworthy
descendant; or the old Republicans? As for the Conservatives, let them
with Guizot at their head, uphold themselves if they can, and let the
dynasties under Barrot and Thiers overthrow and succeed their factional
foes. Their petty quarrels we care not for. Nor shall we, the
Communists, ever suffer ourselves to be deemed the revolutionary party;
but the revolution once commenced, let us throw ourselves into its
torrent, and with our thorough, perfect and secret organization, we
cannot fail to shape it most successfully to our own, our righteous
ends. The hour when revolution may commence we cannot predict, as it is
not our policy to start or precipitate it; but that hour may come
quickly. It must come on the demise of Louis Philippe, which event
cannot be long delayed, and it may be precipitated before. Nor will
France alone be convulsed. As the news of that old man's death, on the
lightning's wing, spreads over Europe, the electric wire will prove but
a train passing through repeated mines, which, one after the other, will
explode with awful devastation. Berlin, Vienna and St. Petersburg, the
strongholds of despotism in Europe, each will totter--all but the last
will fall. The press is powerless on the Russian serf. Russia will be
the tyrant's last citadel. Italy will throw off the Austrian yoke and be
free. Gregory XVIII. will shortly die. A wise, far-seeing and benevolent
priest, named Giovanni Maria Mastai Ferretti, born at Sinigaglia, and
now a cardinal, with the title of SS. Peter and Mar