It is not enough that the great part of the Slavic world lies in ruins as a consequence of these far from trivial divisions and splinterings, above which the genius of Slavdom broods sadly, for ages now, weeping like Isis over the dismembered limbs of Osiris. Above and beyond this horrid dissection, to add to their misfortune, the Slavs themselves, as Tomasseo justly notes, have forgotten their common generation, and as a consequence, have allowed all the ties of their common blood, their fraternal unity, to sink into the dark night of oblivion. Now, in this lonely night, in this barren, sad time for the Slavs, when their body lies as if without sense or feeling and foreigners all the more rend and tear at the ligatures that bind their limbs together, drawing ever closer to the beating hea
