We had arrived in time to witness a complete reversal of the Communistic system by what Lenin called the “New Economic Laws.” On October 17, 1921, while we were there, Lenin made an historic speech in which he admitted, with amazing frankness, the complete breakdown of the Communistic way of life which he had imposed upon the people. He explained, with a kind of vigorous brutality of speech, that owing to the hostility and ignorance of the peasants, who resisted the requisition of their food stuffs, and the failure of world revolution which prevented any international trade with Russia, industry had disintegrated, factories were abandoned, transport had broken down, and the system of rationing which had been in force in the cities, could no longer be maintained.
The cardinal theory of Communism was that in return for service to the State, every individual in the State received equal rations of food, clothes, education, and amusements. That was the ideal, but it could no longer be fulfilled, for the causes given.
“We have suffered a severe defeat on the economic front,” said Lenin. “Our only safety lies in a rapid retreat upon prepared positions.”
He then outlined the “New Economic Laws,” which abolished the rationing system, re-established the use of money, permitted “private trading” which had been the unpardonable crime, and even invited the introduction of foreign capital.
We saw the immediate, though gradual and tentative effect of this reversal of policy. It was visible in the market places of Moscow, where peasants freely sold the produce of their farms under the eyes of Red soldiers who previously would have seized and flung them into prison for trading in that way.
Among these peasants stood long lines of men and women who as I saw at a glance were people of the old régime—aristocrats and intellectuals. Shabby as most of them were, haggard and wan, unshaven and unwashed (how could they wash without soap?), their faces, and above all their eyes, betrayed them. They stood, those ladies and gentlemen of Imperial Russia, holding out little articles which they had saved or hidden during the time of revolution. The women carried their underclothing, or their fur coats, tippets, and caps, embroidered linen, old shoes and boots, their engagement rings, brooches, household ornaments. The men—mostly old fellows—held out woollen vests, socks, pipes, rugs, books, many odds and ends of their ancient life. Who bought these things I could never tell, though I saw peasant women and old soldiers fingering them, and asking the price, and generally shrugging their shoulders and walking away.
I spoke to some of the ladies there in French or German, and at first they were very much afraid and would not answer, or left the market place immediately, lest this were some police trap which would endanger their liberty or life. Almost all of them, as I found afterward, had been imprisoned for doing secretly the very thing which they now dared to do in the open market place, but with trembling fear at first.
In the same way, timidly, with nervous foreboding, little groups of families or friends opened a few shops in the Arbat, furnishing them with relics of their old homes, and stocking them with a strange assortment of goods.