The Seven Who Were Hanged. Леонид Андреев

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       Leonid Andreyev

      The Seven Who Were Hanged

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664647016

Table of Contents

       FOREWORD

       INTRODUCTION

       THE SEVEN WHO WERE HANGED

       CHAPTER I AT ONE O’CLOCK, YOUR EXCELLENCY!

       CHAPTER II CONDEMNED TO BE HANGED

       CHAPTER III WHY SHOULD I BE HANGED?

       CHAPTER IV WE COME FROM ORYOL

       CHAPTER V KISS—AND SAY NOTHING

       CHAPTER VI THE HOURS ARE RUSHING

       CHAPTER VII THERE IS NO DEATH

       CHAPTER VIII THERE IS DEATH AS WELL AS LIFE

       CHAPTER IX DREADFUL SOLITUDE

       CHAPTER X THE WALLS ARE FALLING

       CHAPTER XI ON THE WAY TO THE SCAFFOLD

       CHAPTER XII THEY ARE HANGED

      Leonid Andreyev

      DEDICATION

       To Count Leo N. Tolstoy

       This Book is Dedicated

       by Leonid Andreyev

       The Translation of this Story

       Is Also Respectfully Inscribed to

       Count Leo N. Tolstoy

       by Herman Bernstein

      FOREWORD

       Table of Contents

      Leonid Andreyev, who was born in Oryol, in 1871, is the most popular, and next to Tolstoy, the most gifted writer in Russia to-day. Andreyev has written many important stories and dramas, the best known among which are “Red Laughter,” “Life of Man,” “To the Stars,” “The Life of Vasily Fiveisky,” “Eliazar,” “Black Masks,” and “The Story of the Seven Who Were Hanged.”

      In “Red Laughter” he depicted the horrors of war as few men had ever before done it. He dipped his pen into the blood of Russia and wrote the tragedy of the Manchurian war.

      In his “Life of Man” Andreyev produced a great, imaginative “morality” play which has been ranked by European critics with some of the greatest dramatic masterpieces.

      The story of “The Seven Who Were Hanged” is thus far his most important achievement. The keen psychological insight and the masterly simplicity with which Andreyev has penetrated and depicted each of the tragedies of the seven who were hanged place him in the same class as an artist with Russia’s greatest masters of fiction, Dostoyevsky, Turgenev and Tolstoy.

      I consider myself fortunate to be able to present to the English-reading public this remarkable work, which has already produced a profound impression in Europe and which, I believe, is destined for a long time to come to play an important part in opening the eyes of the world to the horrors perpetrated in Russia and to the violence and iniquity of the destruction of human life, whatever the error or the crime.

       New York.

      HERMAN BERNSTEIN.

      INTRODUCTION

       Table of Contents

      [Translation of the Foregoing Letter in Russian]

      I am very glad that “The Story of the Seven Who Were Hanged” will be read in English. The misfortune of us all is that we know so little, even nothing, about one another—neither about the soul, nor the life, the sufferings, the habits, the inclinations, the aspirations of one another. Literature, which I have the honor to serve, is dear to me just because the noblest task it sets before itself is that of wiping out boundaries and distances.

      As in a hard shell, every human being is enclosed in a cover of body, dress, and life. Who is man? We may only conjecture. What constitutes his joy or his sorrow? We may guess only by his acts, which are oft-times enigmatic; by his laughter and by his tears, which are often entirely incomprehensible to us. And if we, Russians, who live so closely together in constant misery, understand one another so poorly that we mercilessly put to death those who should be pitied or even rewarded, and reward those who should be punished by contempt and anger—how much more difficult is it for you Americans, to understand distant Russia? But then, it is just as difficult for us Russians to understand distant America, of which we dream in our youth and over which we ponder so deeply in our years of maturity.

      The Jewish massacres and famine; a Parliament and executions; pillage and the greatest heroism; “The Black Hundred,” and Leo Tolstoy—what a mixture of figures and conceptions, what a fruitful source for all kinds of misunderstandings! The truth of life stands aghast in silence, and its brazen falsehood is loudly shouting, uttering 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