One afternoon we had a box at the Marinsky Theater. The ballet was “The Hunchback Horse.” The old Russian fairy tale, in its wonderful Bakst setting, was done as it is done in Petrograd and nowhere else. Another night it was a festival performance of Glinka’s opera, “Russlan and Ludmilla,” celebrating the seventy-fifth anniversary of its initial production. Shalyapin sang, and there was a gorgeous ballet with costumes that must have come from the treasure-chests of ancient nobles. Another afternoon I was going with Edgar Sisson, Arthur Bullard, and some other Americans to hear “Boris Gudonof.” I arrived at the theater, and found myself sole occupant of the box. I sat there, wondering what had happened to every one else and turning possible revolutions over in my mind, when a messenger arrived with word that a message from President Wilson was coming over the wires. It was the thing for which we in Petrograd had hoped above everything else in the world. Russia in that hour seemed utterly alone. She had been pleading with the other powers to state their war aims and to come to a peace conference, but they had remained silent. At last America was speaking. The message came in fragments, a bit here and a bit there. It was two days before we had the full text; but we knew from the first paragraph that President Wilson was sounding Russia’s right to the friendship and the protection of our country. There is, moreover, a voice calling for these definitions of principle and of purpose which is, it seems to me, more thrilling and more compelling than any of the many moving voices with which the troubled air of the world is filled. It is the voice of the Russian people. They are prostrate and all but helpless, it would seem, before the grim power of Germany, which has hitherto known no relenting and no pity. Their power, apparently, is shattered, and yet their soul is not subservient. They will not yield either in principle or in action. The conception of what is right, of what is humane and honorable for them to accept, has been stated with a frankness, a largeness of view, a generosity of spirit, and a universal human sympathy which must challenge the admiration of every friend of mankind; and they have refused to compound their ideas or desert others that they themselves may be safe. They call to us to say what it is that we desire, in what, if in anything, our purpose and our spirit differs from theirs; and I believe that the people of the United States would wish me to respond with utter simplicity and frankness. Whether their present leaders believe it or not, it is our heartfelt desire and hope that some way may be opened whereby we may be privileged to assist the people of Russia to attain their utmost hope of liberty and ordered peace.