their young officers, they were taught by them to repress every slightest sign of discontent which might endanger success by arousing suspicion.
Among the young officers who were most indefatigable in the cause was Lieutenant Wysocki, head master of the Military Academy, whose bravery in the Revolution, and whose long martyrdom at the mines of Nerchinsk, and the far more terrible fortress of Akatoega, have made his name immortal.
The elder generals held aloof from the movement; every means were taken to secure their support and to induce them to assume the direction of the coming struggle; but, though they wished it success, their hopes had grown too faint: they did not betray, but they would not aid the work.
The propaganda was presently commenced throughout the country by the friends and devoted adherents of Wysocki and his brother officers. There needed none: the people but waited the sign to be given to take the field. Scythes were sharpened and kept in readiness, and every peaceful implement of husbandry that could be made into a weapon of destruction was carefully prepared and hidden away. So came and went the first months of 1830.
It has been again and again repeated that the Revolution of 1831 was originated wholly by the aristocratic classes. No idea is more unfounded: not a single workshop throughout the country but had its adherents to the cause; the very shoemakers and cobblers were all as enthusiastic as the proudest noble in the land.
The Minister of Finance, Lubeckoi, warned the Czar of the disaffection existing throughout Poland; but Constantine quieted his brother’s misgivings by the assurance that the secret police, if a little more vigilant, were quite sufficient to secure the loyalty of the country.
Thus November approached. Meantime the Revolution of July had taken place in Paris, and Nicholas at length hoped to put his Prussian convention to profitable account. A detailed list of all the Prussian fortified places and their garrisons had been supplied from Berlin. The Hohenzollern was as conveniently servile as his forebears or descendants, and his great ally was daily engaged in reviewing the troops which were to restore legitimacy to France, and to correct the map of Europe.
No details of the great event in Paris had reached Poland until long after its consummation; but, despite all the vigilance of custom-house and censorship, the truth at length oozed out, and then came intelligence that the Czar was about to call upon his Polish soldiers to complete their degradation by aiding to enslave the nation to which they still fondly looked for sympathy and aid themselves.
This was a depth of infamy to which the country could not sink. A rising had been contemplated in the following spring, but it was now impossible to defer it so long, and the night of the 29th of November was fixed upon for the commencement of the rebellion. Warsaw, during those last four weeks before the Revolution, was strangely tranquil; the spies found even some difficulty in keeping Rozniecki’s lists sufficiently supplied. Now and again some one inconsiderately lost in thought would be arrested for not pulling off his hat with sufficient celerity when the Commander-in-Chief’s carriage appeared, but his Highness met with no open marks of disrespect, except, perhaps, a notice scribbled on the walls of the Belvedere—“This house to be let, the proprietor leaving,”—an intimation which employed all the available forces of the secret service for some days, though they never discovered the author.
The streets of the capital were deserted at night; few idlers stood about by day, except Russian officers and Russian spies. The theatres and cafés found few Polish visitors—all might have indicated some approaching catastrophe; but Constantine was occupied with some new drill regulations, and heeded it not; and the ministers had their heads full of preparations for the French campaign.
On the 28th of November the Insurrectional Committee (Wysocki, Zaliski, Urbanski, Paszcowicz, military officers, and the famous savan, Lelewel) met in an obscure café, the Anusia, and drew up the plan for the next day’s proceedings.
The night of the 29th came at length: it was dark and stormy; great threatening clouds covered the sky, and the streets were deserted even earlier than usual. At six o’clock the military conspirators quietly joined their several companies, and commanded them to their respective posts without loss of time. Orders had been issued by the Grand Duke that the troops should be so centralised in case of any unusual occurrence, such as a fire or a riot, that if the present enterprise failed, even Russian suspicion could not make the troops responsible for a movement which their officers had directed in apparent conformity to orders. The men quickly obeyed, many suspecting the meaning of the nocturnal alarm, the rest quite content to follow mechanically the columns, guided by the young conspirators. The chief points of the capital were secured. The Arsenal, guarded by Russian troops, was to be the first point of attack, and it was secured with little difficulty or bloodshed by a well-concerted surprise. The Russian Infantry Barracks were close to the Arsenal, but the officers were in gaming-houses for the most part, the men quietly asleep. The next object was to seize the person of the Czarowicz. The proximity of the Military College to the Belvedere favoured this design, but the numerical weakness of the boy-heroes who claimed the honour made success doubtful: it was necessary to give them support. So four companies of riflemen, quartered four thousand paces from the Belvedere, and two companies of the line, were appointed to this duty. Only eight companies of the line and Kuratowski’s regiment refused to join the popular movement. Such were the preliminaries of the insurgents. Open hostilities were to follow when Constantine was secured. It was now midnight. The Russian cavalry, quartered a cannon-shot from the palace, gave no sign of alarm, and the Belvedere was wrapped in silence and darkness.
The Czarowicz, wearied by his labours of the