pressing, painful questions: "With whom shall I sympathize? Whom shall
I trust? Whom shall I love?"

In the story of "The Seven Who Were Hanged" I attempted to give a
sincere and unprejudiced answer to some of these questions.

That I have treated ruling and slaughtering Russia with restraint and
mildness may best be gathered from the fact that the Russian censor
has permitted my book to circulate. This is sufficient evidence when
we recall how many books, brochures and newspapers have found eternal
rest in the peaceful shade of the police stations, where they have
risen to the patient sky in the smoke and flame of bonfires.

But I did not attempt to condemn the Government, the fame of whose
wisdom and virtues has already spread far beyond the boundaries of our
unfortunate fatherland. Modest and bashful far beyond all measure of
her virtues, Russia would sincerely wish to forego this honor, but
unfortunately the free press of America and Europe has not spared her
modesty, and has given a sufficiently clear picture of her glorious
activities. Perhaps I am wrong in this: it is possible that many
honest people in America believe in the purity of the Russian
Government's intentions--but this question is of such importance that
it requires a special treatment, for which it is necessary to have
both time and calm of soul. But there is no calm soul in Russia.

My task was to point out the horror and the iniquity of capital
punishment under any circumstances. The horror of capital punishment
is great when it falls to the lot of courageous and honest people
whose only guilt is their excess of love and the sense of
righteousness-in such instances, conscience revolts. But the rope is