Note 21 — Front matter

This was the first time the theatre was opened during the revolution. A patriotic piece was performed, viz. 'The Krakovians and Guralians,' or 'The Union of the two Tribes.' This play had been prohibited before. As early as six, P.M. the theatre was crowded. No distinction was observed in regard to places. Before the play began, one of the patriots addressed the audience with a speech, in which he called to memory all the outrages by which the revolution had been rendered necessary, and informed them what measures the National Assembly had taken to insure the success of the good cause. 'Poles! Brethren!' he said, 'we have sent deputies to the Emperor, to represent our sufferings for fifteen years—our oppressions—which drew neither attention nor relief from Russia, while our rights were trampled upon, and our innocent brethren tortured. Perhaps the Emperor, surrounded by bad men, has been kept in ignorance of our wrongs, and will be astonished to hear of all this injustice from the mouths of our deputies. Perhaps he will take measures to redress all these villanies without delay. If the grace of God has granted him to reign over Poland, he may follow the steps of our good kings of old; of whom no one ever tarnished the throne with tyranny. As for us, brethren, let us forget past dissensions, and unitedly and patiently strive with one accord for the redemption of our country.' After this speech, which was joyfully received, the orchestra played Kosciusko's march, which had not been heard for fifteen years. At first, the music was drowned in the shouts of the audience—'Hail, our country—our father Kosciusko! France, and Lafayette the friend of Kosciusko, forever!' After this, the Marseilles hymn was played, and then the Mazur of Dombrowski. The play was full of patriotic songs, and the audience joined their voices to those of the actors. But when, at the end of the play, three standards, with the armorial bearings of the ancient provinces of Poland, were brought in, and were folded into one in the embraces of the actors who represented the three chief tribes, the exultation of the audience surpassed all bounds. One of the favorite actors addressed the spectators in these words—'The monster tyranny, terrified by the sudden light of liberty, which he could not endure, has left the den from which he has hitherto spread death and affright. Oh that, scared by this light, he may be driven farther and farther, nor be suffered to rest on any of the fields of Poland. May he retire to the dark, icy regions of the north, whence he came, and God grant that he may never return to us.'

After this, those of the patriots who had been most actively distinguished on the first night of the revolution and after, and those who had suffered in dungeons for their love of country, were presented to the assemblage. They were received with infinite joy, and carried about on the shoulders of the people with shouts. Many ladies were then brought forward, who had followed the patriots in arms on the first night, or had sacrificed their wealth on the altar of patriotism. At first sight, these beautiful and noble beings might have been taken for angels sent down for the redemption of unhappy Poland.

These scenes surpass description—they can only be felt by hearts truly free. These were moments to unite the whole nation. Persons who had shunned each other for years, each fearing a spy in the other, explained themselves and embraced. These scenes will live eternally in the memory of every Pole. Beholding his countrymen in this ecstasy of joy, there was none who did not weep—none who did not feel ready to die on the morrow, having seen them thus happy. The prisoner condemned to death, when unexpectedly rescued, and permitted to breathe the free air, laughs, weeps, endeavors to express his gratitude, and cannot. Such was the feeling of Poland in these blessed moments.