it might prove impossible to restdre later, and which in fact, were only so 
easy to create in the days of bloody gambols and golden dreams. No one 
would venture to renounce this propaganda, nor can the Bolsbevies risk 
doing it. 
And not only their position in the world, but also their condition in 
the subdued country induces them to make propaganda in the first place! 
The time, when the Bolshevics impetuously, merrily, rapturously broke and 
destroyed and trampled under foot everything they got hold of, when each 
one of them felt as an unrestrained master over people and their property, 
over man and his work, — this time has passed away long ago. By 
unspeakable sacrifices, by torrents of blood, by hunger and murrain, the 
many millions of peasants have refuted the open impudent importunate 
violence; though almost daily stifled anew the small private commerce 
has revived itself and still perseveres; handicrafts have resuscitated to some 
extent or other. Thus the field for immediate Bolshevic activity has shrunk 
considerably. Also in regard to the intensity left for their activity, there 
too the former freedom of action no longer exists: the old robber-like 
swashery raids that were normal in the first years of the revolution when 
the Bolshevics were appropriating everything — taking stock of everything, 
sealing-up, transporting, scattering, plundering, — are now no longer 
possible. State economy and State money needs to be counted as carefully as 
bourgeois money and bourgeois economy; the only difference being that the 
Bolshevic economy is hopelessly unprofitable, does not hold its own, in fact, 
falls to bits. So there is no reason for any rapture about it; and even if an 
occasional theft does succeed, it brings but small comfort. The more so, since 
the Bolshevic, in spite of retaining the command, owing to his profound igno- 
rance is obliged to trust himself into the hands of hired men, who, in this 
monstrous economy, fulfil a sort of serf-work, but are possessed of know- 
ledge and education. The result is — a dull existence, boredom, distress. 
Life in present-day Russia is colourless, faded, tedious. The Bolshevic 
experiences it in his own way, and his sentiment has already found its 
reflection in Soviet literature. Only yesterday he drank warm alive blood, — 
to-day he devours carrion; from am eagle he degenerated into a vulture. 
This state of affairs is pregnant with disasters to the Communistic Olympus, 
and to the whole Bolshevic regime. And the only remedy for it is the 
mirage of a world revolution. Behold! — the Southern army in China, 
armed and trained by Moscow, is pressing northwards; one more effort, 
and all these Chang-Tso-Lins, Japanese, English, Americans will be swept 
off the face of the earth: hurrah! — we have prevailed! Behold! — in 
America they are about to carry out the death-sentence on two robbers 
and murderers, — let us arouse the mob throughout the whole world, raise 
the dust and show the bourgeoisie our strengh! Without this hashish the 
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