Russia in 1905 had apparently disintegrated. Her enormous and far-famed army had been repeatedly crushed by the highly organized yellow ants of Japan; her navy had been sunk by these same ants, unexpectedly become amphibious. In Moscow and St. Petersburg masses of stolid workingmen had become sufficiently aroused to barricade the streets and force the government to abandon, in an orgy of ambiguity, its autocratic insolence, if not the autocracy itself.
Nevertheless, with the maternal support of France, even then seeking security, the awkward Russian giant was soon again admitted to the diplomatic drawing-rooms of Europe. The wounds of 1905 had not healed, nor were they over to heal, but the pallor of the collosus was easily forgotten at the sound of his booming voice. Even Mother France continually pumping her own financial blood into his arteries, was charmed and deceived by roars of rage and hunger. From Mongolia and Afghanistan and Bulgaria these cries came. Tomorrow at ten Professor Karpovitch will classify and interpret them in Harvard 2.