"Constantine and the constitution for ever," thought that the
constitution was the wife of Constantine. It must be admitted that
such ignorance presents but a poor qualification for republican
institutions.

At the close of this bloody day, one of the leading conspirators, a
general of high position in the army was led a captive into the
presence of Nicholas. The heroic republican met, without quailing, the
proud eye of his sovereign.

"Your father," said Nicholas sternly, "was a faithful servant, but he
has left behind him a degenerate son. For such an enterprise as yours
large resources were requisite. On what did you rely?"

"Sire," replied the prisoner, "matters of this kind can not be spoken
of before witnesses."

Nicholas led the conspirator into a private apartment, and for a long
time conversed with him alone. Here the tzar had opened before him, in
the clearest manner, the intolerable burdens of the people, the
oppression of the nobles, the impotency of the laws, the venality of
the judges, the corruption which pervaded all departments of the
government, legislative, executive and judiciary. The noble
conspirator, whose mind was illumined with those views of human rights
which, from the French Revolution, were radiating throughout Europe,
revealed all the corruptions of the State in the earnest and honest
language of a man who was making a dying declaration. Nicholas
listened to truths such as seldom reach the ears of a monarch; and
these truths probably produced a powerful impression upon him in his
subsequent career.

Many of the conspirators, in accordance with the barbaric code of
Russia, were punished with awful severity. Some were whipped to death.
Some were mutilated and exiled to Siberia, and many perished on the
scaffold. Fifteen officers of high rank were placed together beneath
the gibbet, with ropes around their necks. As the drop fell, the rope
of one broke, and he fell to the ground. Bruised and half stunned he
rose upon his knees, and looking sadly around exclaimed,

"Truly nothing ever succeeds with me, not even death."

Another rope was procured, and this unhappy man, whose words indicated
an entire life of disappointment and woe, was launched into the world
of spirits.

We have before spoken of the palace of Peterhoff, a few miles from St.
Petersburg, on the southern shores of the bay of Cronstadt. It is now
the St. Cloud of Russia, the favorite rural retreat of the Russian
tzars.