mbine these hostile and divergent elements into a united party for
the resurrection of Russia seemed impossible to me, as it did to one
other Britisher, Mr. David Frazer, the _Times_ Pekin correspondent; but
the "politicals" thought otherwise. That they were guided by the highest
motives and that they gave of their very best in the interest of the
Russian people no one who has the slightest knowledge of the high
personal character of our representatives could doubt for a moment, but
they tried to accomplish the unattainable. The most that could be said
of their policy is that it was worth attempting. Try they did, and under
the influence of the Bolshevik guns booming along the Urals and of
Royalist conspiracies at Chita a piece of paper was produced with a
number of names upon it which seemed to bear the resemblance of a
working arrangement between these two opposites.

I am writing this within three weeks of the occurrence, and may modify
my views later, but for the life of me I cannot understand the
satisfaction of our "politicals" with their work. They "downed tools" at
once and disappeared from the scene of their triumph as though the few
names on a piece of paper had solved the whole problem of the future of
Russia. It would be mighty interesting to know the nature of their
communications to their respective Governments. One thing, however, had
been done which was fated to have important after-effects. Vice-Admiral
Koltchak had been brought into the new Council of Ministers with the
title of Minister for War. I had never met the officer, and knew nothing
about him or his reputation, and merely lumped him in with the rest as
an additional unit in an overcrowded menagerie. Frazer and I had many
talks about these events, but we could fasten on to nothing real in the
situation except danger.

On November 6, 1918, we were all invited to a banquet in honour of this
new All-Russian Government. It was to be the climax of all our efforts
and a tangible evidence of the successful accomplishment of a great
diplomatic task. I was rather late, and the ante-rooms were already
filled with soldiers and diplomats in grand uniforms with glittering
swords and decorations.

I watched this peculiar and intensely highly-strung crowd with the
greatest interest, and except for one figure--a sort of cross between a
Methodist parson and a Plymouth Brother--was struck by the complete
absence of personality amongst the people present. The p