sufficient latitude for the play of gratitude or grief. A Napoleon
exiled by the French or a Ney shot down by Frenchmen is unthinkable
today. In like manner, when the revolutionary passions of Russia have
subsided, there may be men and women of the humblest estate who
will wonder how it happened that their Emperor, whose darkest sin,
apparently, was loyalty to Russia, could have been murdered by their
countrymen in cold blood.

It will never be believed.

In reflecting on the experiments of their Revolution, finding much
to be admired and more to be condemned, they will not accept without
resentment an accusation from posterity that they lacked both
gratitude and pity when the test of national manhood came. In
exculpation of such an imputation they will doubtless reverence the
tradition of a House that fell only with the ruins of their native
land. Viewing as they may the fragments of their once majestic Empire
annexed to alien States in compensation of successful perfidy and
neglect, they will lament the lot of Nicholas II while reflecting
on their fate. If their democracy shall survive their own
self-amputation, the lightness of their governmental burdens will
stimulate the flow of mercy through their social institutions and
direct their thoughts toward pity for the useless sacrifice.

In simple justice, therefore, "Rescuing the Czar" is offered in
extenuation of this doubtful charge against the entire Russian race.
For nothing is better calculated to sanctify a martyrdom and make a
race abhorred than a belief in its injustice. Nothing is more potent
to dissolve a race and scatter its suspected members from the altar of
their fathers than the fable of their unrepentant hostility to the cry