The Sun.
London, England, 1863-12-04 00:00:00

THE POLISH INSURRECTION,

(From the Special Correspondent of the Times.)
ST. PETERSBURG, Nov. 27.
There are few cities in Europe which it is more
agreeable to leave than Warsaw. The position of
an observant stranger in the Polish capital is get-
ting to be very much like what that of a curious
visitor would be in a house occupied by bailiffs. If
you cannot help in any manner to turn the intru-
ders out, why stay ? The inhabitants do not feel
particularly flattered by your anxiety to see "what
is going on," for whatever goes on all you can do is
to stare, and. offer your sympathy, an unavailable
commodity, of which there is already a super-
abundant stock on hand. The bailiffs, too, like to
do their bullying in private. The place is theirs,
and if they are not acting in strict accordance with
law, they are at all events in possession, and no law
is likely to be put in force with a view to their
ejection, Therefore, if you do not like their mode
of (treating the unfortunate people who have got
into their clutches, and who, like most people in
distress, have no doubt been wanting in prudence,
the best thing you can do is to go where you will
not witness it.

Think, too, of the personal inconvenience you are
subjected to as long as you remain in Warsaw. You
are liable to imprisonment if you go out at six in
the afternoon without a lantern, or if you go out at
nine at night with or without a lantern, or if your
lantern goes out at any time during the evening.
Bearing, then, all these considerations in mind, I
could not feel annoyed at receiving, last Monday, a
request from Count de Berg to leave the Polish
capital, and Poland in general, within 24 hours.
The invitation was conveyed to me in the politest
manner by the officer who some weeks before
directed proceedings at the clearing out of the Hotel
de l'Enrope, and who, by the way, on that far more
more important occasion, also distinguished himself
by the considerate manner in which he performed a
very disagreeable task.
aolu knew t getting in
Need I say that I accepted the invitation ? The
my passport vise
forn l yt
h trouble e
that
g the commissioner
of the hotel had gone out. The Colonel, in the
most urbane manner, offered to assist me in this
difficulty, and kindly took charge of the passport
himself, assuring me that I should have it again in
proper order either the same evening or the next
oou ; and b
rney was
morning. He also consulted me as to the route I
proposed to take, and seemed convinced that Vienna,
Berlin, or St. Petersburg would each and all be
nicer places for me to sojourn in than Warsaw. I
was quite of his way of thinking, and being asked
whether I did not wish to go on to St. Petersburg,
replied that I did, and thereupon was promised a
visa for that city, but on the express condition that
I should go straight there, which meant, of course,
that I should not stop at Grodno or Wiina.
On leaving, the Colonel expressed his regret at
having had to be the bearer of what he believed to
be a very disagreeable message, and asked me not
to miss the train. I thanked him for his civility,
and said I would be punctual.

The next morning, while it was yet dark, I was
awoke by the rattling of a scabbard on the floor,
and a voice calling out in French, " Please get up.
I am sorry to disturb you, but I have particular
orders to be at the station by a quarter past seven.
I have just been knocked out of bad myself."
" That is all very well," I answered, " but it is
quite dark, and I have no matches, and the train
does not start until half-past eight."
My orders are very precise," persisted my early
visitor (who was a young officer of the Imperial
Guard engaged temporarily in unmilitary pursuits),
" and we are already behind time. It is very pain-
ful for me to trouble you in this manner," he
added, " but it can't be helped, and I must beg that
you will throw your clothes on anyhow and come
at once. I will put seals on the doors and then all
will be right."
" Why seal up the doors ?" I inquired, hoping
for a moment that I might be suspected of having
papers in my possession calculated to throw a light
on the proceedings of what the Russians call "the
subterranean organisation," and the Poles " the
National Government."
" Only to take care of your things ; I will come
back here and have them sent on to you to St.
Petersburg."
" But I can't go to St. Petersburg without
clothes," I objected.
" And I shall be too late if you stop to pack them
up! However," continued the officer, " if you must
take them let me help you to put them up into the
trunk," and together was stowed away with mar-
vellous rapidity a miscellaneous collection of clothes,
tobacco, boots, books, letters, photographs, shirts,
and cigars. Of course, when everything was ready,
the servants of the hotel made their appearance, and
it was pleasing and instructive to observe that the
manner and circumstances of my departure did not
seem to strike them as in the slightest degree
strange.
" You :have forgotten your watch," said the
officer as I was going out—" and here are some
more papers. Now, if you have left anything else
I must send it after you, for we have not a moment
to lose." I broke my lantern in token of eternal
farewell to Warsaw in a state of siege, and walked
downstairs.

A carriage was waiting in the court-yard, and
into it stepped not only the officer and myself, but
also a man in some kind of uniform, and with a
sabre, who did not speak French, or, indeed, any
other language (perhaps because he was not
spoken to), and who, I fancy, must have been in
the regular police.
_ _

The officer, it appeared, had been engaged in "-
feral affairs with the insurgents, and he conversed
agreeably on a variety of topics, from politics and
war to the merits of the Warsaw corps de ballet.
At the station, my guide, companion, courier, and
protector saved me an immense deal of trouble, not
only by seeing that my passport was properly
stamped for the but t also by
enabling me
to get my ticket without delay, and superintend.,
ing the registration of my luggage' He retained
the passport, fearing, no doubt, that I might lose it,
in which case my ticket, available only for the day
on which it was issued, would have been sacrificed,
and upwards of 30 roubles thrown away.
Nor was the silent attendant inactive, for when I
went from the ticket-office to the waiting-room, and
from the waiting-room to the refreshment bar,
he walked after me and, though remaining at a
certain distance, yet kindly kept me in view. It
was thought possible, I suppose, that my atteehment
to Warsaw might tempt me to leave the station,
and regardless of the purchased ticket and of the
fact that my passport was being taken care of by
the officer, run wildly back to my former quarters.
At last the bell rang and I went to the train. The
officer apologised once more for having disturbed
my rest, and pointed to a compartment where I
should have room to lie down. I, on my part, could
only thank him for having performed his rather un-
gentlemanly work in a very gentlemanly manner.
I received my precious passport from him, and we
shook bands; but it was nut until the train began to