The sentry, I was told later by the friends who wit- nessed the scene from the gray house, ran after me, followed by three soldiers who had been sitting on the doorsteps. The sentry was so near to me that he felt sure of catching me. Several times he flung his rifle forward, trying to give me a blow in the back with the bayonet. One moment my friends in the window thought he had me. He was so convinced that he could stop me in this way that he did not fire. But I kept my distance, and he had to give up at the gate.
Safe out of the gate, I perceived, to my terror, that the | carriage was occupied by a civilian who wore a military cap. He sat without turning his head to me. “Sold!” wag my. first thought. The comrades had written in their last letter, | ‘Once in the street, don’t give yourself up: there will be | friends to defend you in case of need,” and I did not want: to jump into the carriage if it was occupied by an enemy. | However, as I got nearer to the carriage I noticed that the | man in it had sandy whiskers which seemed to be those of a warm friend of mine. He did not belong to our circle, but we were personal friends, and on more than one occasion I had learned to know his admirable, daring courage, and — / A DASH FOR FREEDOM 373 how his strength suddenly became herculean when there was danger at hand. ‘‘ Why should he be there? Is it possible?”” I reflected, and was going to shout out his name, when I caught myself in good time, and instead clapped my hands, while still running, to attract his atten- tion. He turned his face to me —and I knew who it was.
“ Jump in, quick, quick!” he shouted in a terrible voice, calling me and the coachman all sorts of names, a revolver in his hand and ready to shoot. ‘ Gallop! gallop! I will kill you!” he cried to the coachman. The horse — a beautiful racing trotter, which had been bought on pur- pose — started at full gallop. Scores of voices yelling, “Hold them! Get them!’ resounded behind us, my friend meanwhile helping me to put on an elegant overcoat and an. opera hat. But the real danger was not so much in the pursuers as in a soldier who was posted at the gate of the hospital, about opposite to the spot where the carriage had to wait. He could have prevented my jumping into the carriage, or could have stopped the horse, by simply rushing a few steps forward. A friend was consequently commis- sioned to divert this soldier by talking. He did this most successfully. The soldier having been employed at one time in the laboratory of the hospital, my friend gave a scientific turn to their chat, speaking about the microscope and the wonderful things one sees through it. Referring to a certain parasite of the human body, he asked, ‘ Did you ever see what a formidable tail it has?’ ‘‘ What, man, a tail?” ‘Yes, it has; under the microscope it is as big as that.’”’ “Don’t tell me any of your tales!” re- torted the soldier. “I know better. It was the first thing I looked at under the microscope.” This animated dis- cussion took place just as I ran past them and sprang into the carriage. It sounds like fable, but it is fact.
The carriage turned sharply into a narrow lane, past the same wall of the yard where the peasants had been piling 874 MEMOIRS OF A REVOLUTIONIST wood, and which all of them had now deserted in their run after me. The turn was so sharp that the carriage was nearly upset, when I flung myself inward, dragging toward me my friend; this sudden movement righted the carriage.
We trotted through the narrow lane and then turned to the left. Two gendarmes were standing there at the door of a public house, and gave to the military cap of my com- panion the military salute. “Hush! hush!” I said to him, for he was still terribly excited. «All goes well; the gendarmes salute us!”? The coachman thereupon turned his face toward me, and I recognized in him another friend, who smiled with happiness.
Everywhere we saw friends, who winked to us or gave us a Godspeed as we passed at the full trot of our beautj- ful horse. Then we entered the large Nevsky Prospekt, turned into a side street, and alighted at a door, sending away the coachman. I ran upa staircase, and at its top fell into the arms of my sister-in-law, who had been wait- ing in painful anxiety. She laughed and cried at the same time, bidding me hurry to put on another dress and to crop my conspicuous beard. Ten minutes later my friend and I | left the house and took a cab.
In the meantime, the officer of the guard at the prison and the hospital soldiers had rushed out into the street, doubtful as to what measures they should take. There was not a cab for a mile round, every one having been hired by my friends. An old peasant woman from the crowd was wiser than all the lot. “‘ Poor people,” she said, as if talk- ing to herself, “they are sure to come out on the Prospekt, and there they will be caught if somebody runs along that lane, which leads straight to the Prospekt.” She was quite right, and the officer ran to the tramway car that stood close by, and asked the men to let them have their horses to send somebody on horseback to intercept us. But the men obstinately refused to give up their horses, and the officer did not use force, ELUDING THE POLICE 378 As to the violinist and the lady who had taken the gray house, they too rushed out and joined the crowd with the old woman, whom they heard giving advice, and when the crowd dispersed they went away also.
It was a fine afternoon. We drove to the islands where all the St. Petersburg aristocracy goes on bright spring days to see the sunset, and called on the way, in a remote street, at a barber’s shop to shave off my beard, which operation changed me, of course, but not very much. We drove aim- lessly up and down the islands, but, having been told not to reach our night quarters till late in the evening, did not know where to go. ‘“‘ What shall we do in the mean- time?’ Jasked my friend. He also pondered over that question. “To Donon!” he suddenly called out to the cabman, naming one of the best St. Petersburg restaurants. “No one will ever think of looking for you at Donon,” he calmly remarked. ‘They will hunt for you everywhere else, but not there; and we shall have a dinner, and a drink too, in honor of the success of your escape.”
What could I reply to so reasonable a suggestion? So we went to Donon, passed the halls flooded with light and crowded with visitors at the dinner hour, and took a sepa- rate room, where we spent the evening till the time came when we were expected. The house where we had first alighted was searched less than two hours after we left, as were also the apartments of nearly all our friends. No- body thought of making a search at Donon.
A couple of days later I was to take possession of an apartment which had been engaged for me, and which I could occupy under a false passport. But the lady who was to accompany me there in a carriage took the precaution of visiting the house first by herself. It was thickly sur- ‘rounded by spies. So many of my friends had come to ‘inquire whether I was safe there that the suspicions of the police had been aroused. Moreover, my portrait had been 376 MEMOIRS OF A REVOLUTIONIST printed by the Third Section, and hundreds of copies had been distributed to policemen and watchmen. All the detectives who knew me by sight were looking for me in the streets; while those who did not were accompanied by soldiers and warders who had seen me during my imprison- ment. ‘The Tsar was furious that such an escape should have taken place in his capital in full daylight, and had given the order, ‘‘ He must be found.”
It was impossible to remain at St. Petersburg, and I con- cealed myself in country houses in its neighborhood. In company with half a dozen friends, I stayed at a village frequented at this time of the year by St. Petersburg people bent on picnicking. Then it was decided that I should go abroad. But from a foreign paper we had learned that all the frontier stations and railway termini in the Baltic provinces and Finland were closely watched by detectives © who knew me by sight. So I determined to travel in a | direction where I should be least expected. Armed with the passport of a friend, and accompanied by another friend, | I crossed Finland, and went northward to a remote port on the Gulf of Bothnia, whence I crossed to Sweden. | After I had gone on board the steamer, and it was about to sail, the friend who was to accompany me to the frontier — told me the St. Petersburg news, which he had promised | our friends not to tell me before. My sister Héléne had | been arrested, as well as the sister of my brother’s wife, who — had visited me in prison once a month after my brother and his wife went to Siberia. | My sister knew absolutely nothing of the preparations for | my escape. Only after I had escaped a friend had hurried | to her, to tell her the welcome news. She protested her | ignorance in vain: she was taken from her children, and | was kept imprisoned fora fortnight. As to the sister of | my brother’s wife, she had known vaguely that something | was to be attempted, but she had had no part in the prepa- _ ON AN ENGLISH STEAMER YT rations. Common sense ought to have shown the authori- ties that a person who had officially visited me in prison would not be involved in such an affair. Nevertheless, she was kept in prison for over twomonths. Her husband, a well-known lawyer, vainly endeavored to obtain her re- lease. ‘ We are aware now,” he was told by the gendarme officers, “‘ that she has had nothing to do with the escape; but, you see, we reported to the Emperor, on the day we arrested her, that the person who had organized the escape was discovered and arrested. It will now take some time to prepare the Emperor to accept the idea that she is not the real culprit.”
I crossed Sweden without stopping anywhere, and went to Christiania, where I waited a few days for a steamer to sail for Hull, gathering information in the meantime about the peasant party of the Norwegian Storthing. As I went to the steamer I asked myself with anxiety, ‘‘ Under which flag does she sail, — Norwegian, German, English?”” Then I saw floating above the stern the union jack, — the flag under which so many refugees, Russian, Italian, French, Hungarian, and of all nations, have found an asylum. I greeted that flag from the depth of my heart.
PART SIXTH WESTERN EUROPE I A storm raged in the North Sea, as we approached the. coasts of England. But I met the storm with delight. I enjoyed the struggle of our steamer against the furiously | rolling waves, and sat for hours on the stem, the foam of. the waves dashing into my face. After the two years that. I had spent in a gloomy casemate, every fibre of my inner self seemed to be throbbing and eager to enjoy the full in-- tensity of life. | _ My intention was not to stay abroad more than a few weeks or months: just enough time to allow the hue and | cry caused by my escape to subside, and also to restore my health a little. I landed under the name of Levashéff, the: name which I had used in leaving Russia; and avoiding | London, where the spies of the Russian embassy would soon > have been at my heels, I went first to Edinburgh.
It has so happened, however, that I have never returned | to Russia. I was soon taken up by the wave of the an- archist movement, which was just then rising in Western Europe; and I felt that I should be more useful in helping © that movement to find its proper expression than I could _ possibly be in Russia. In my mother country I was too | well known to carry on an open propaganda, especially among the workers and the peasants; and later on, when | the Russian movement became a conspiracy and an armed | struggle against the representative of autocracy, all thought | SETTLED IN EDINBURGH 379 fa popular movement was necessarily abandoned; while ny own inclinations drew me more and more intensely oward casting in my lot with the laboring and toiling aasses. ‘To bring to them such conceptions as would aid hem to direct their efforts to the best advantage of all the vorkers; to deepen and to widen the ideals and principles vhich will underlie the coming social revolution; to de- elop these ideals and principles before the workers, not as n order coming from their leaders, but as a result of their wn reason; and so to awaken their own initiative, now hat they were called upon to appear in the historical arena s the builders of a new, equitable mode of organization of ociety, — this seemed to me as necessary for the develop- aent of mankind as anything I could accomplish in Russia t that time. Accordingly, I joined the few men who were rorking in that direction in Western Europe, relieving hose of them who had been broken down by years of hard truggle.
_ When I landed at Hull and went to Edinburgh, I in- ormed but a few friends in Russia and in the Jura Fed- ration of my safe ‘arrival in England. A socialist must lways rely upon his own work for his living, and conse- uently, as soon as I was settled in the Scotch capital, in small room in the suburbs, I tried to find some work. _Among the passengers on board our steamer there was Norwegian professor, with whom I talked, trying to re- vember the little that I formerly had known of the Swedish nguage. He spoke German. * But as you speak some ‘orwegian,” he said to me," ra and are trying to learn it, let 3 both speak it.” | “You mean Swedish?” I ventured to ask. TI speak wedish, don’t I?” ria “Well, I should say it is rather N orwegian; surely not wedish,” was his reply.
d80 MEMOIRS OF A REVOLUTIONIST Thus happened to me what happened to one of Jule Verne’s heroes, who had learned by mistake Portuguese ir stead of Spanish. At any rate, I talked a good deal wit the professor, —let it be in Norwegian, —and he gay me a Christiania paper, which contained the reports of th Norwegian North Atlantic deep-sea expedition, just returne home.
As soon as I was at Edinburgh I wrote a note in Englis about these explorations, and sent it to “ Nature,’”’ which m brother and I used regularly to read at St. Petersburg fror its first appearance. The sub-editor acknowledged the not with thanks, remarking with an extreme leniency, which | have often met with since in England, that my Englis! was ‘all right,” and only required to be made “a littl’ more idiomatic.” J may say that I had learned English ij Russia, and, with my brother, had translated Page’s “ Phi losophy of Geology” and Herbert Spencer’s “ Principles 0 Biology.” But I a learned it from books, and pronouncei it very badly, so that I had the greatest difficulty in mak ing myself understood by my Scotch landlady; her daughte and I used to write on scraps of paper what we had to sa to each other; and as I had no idea of idiomatic English I must have made the most amusing mistakes. I remem ber, at any rate, protesting once to her, in writing, that i was nota “cup of tea” that I expected at tea time, bul many cups. Jam afraid my landlady took me for a glutton but I must say, by way of apology, that neither in th. geological books I had read in English nor in Spencer’ “Biology ” was there an¥ allusion to such an importan} matter as tea-drinking. | I got from Russia the Journal of the Russian Geographi| cal Society, and soon began to supply the “Times” also with occasional paragraphs about Russian geographical explora tions. Prjevdlsky was at that time in Central Asia, ant his progress was followed in England with interest.
AT WORK IN LONDON 381 _ However, the money I had brought with me was rapidly disappearing, and all my letters to Russia being intercepted, I could not succeed in making my address known to my relatives. So I moved in a few weeks to London, thinking Icould find more regular work there. The old refugee, P. L. Lavroff, continued to edit at London his newspaper “Forward;” but as I hoped soon to return to Russia, and the editorial office of the Russian paper must have been slosely watched by spies, I did not go there.
I went, very naturally, to the office of “ Nature,” where I was most cordially received by the sub-editor, Mr. J. Scott Keltie. The editor wanted to increase the column of Notes, and found that I wrote them exactly as they were required. A table was consequently assigned me in the office, and scientific reviews in all possible languages were piled upon it. ‘‘Come every Monday, Mr. Levashoff,” I was told, “look over these reviews, and if there is any article that strikes you as worthy of notice, write a note, or mark the article; we will send it to a specialist.” Mr. Keltie did not know, of course, that I used to rewrite each note three or four times before I dared to submit my English to him; but taking the scientific reviews home, I soon managed very nicely, with my “ Nature” notes and my “Times” paragraphs, to get a living. I found that the weekly payment, on Thursday, of the paragraph contribu- tors to the “ Times’? was an excellent institution. To be sure, there were weeks when there was no interesting news rom Prjevalsky, and news from other parts of Russia was not found interesting; in such cases my fare was bread and fea only.
One day, however, Mr. Keltie took from the shelves several Russian books, asking me to review them for “Nature.” I looked at the books, and, to my embarrassment, saw that they were my own works on the “ Glacial Period” and the “ Orography of Asia.”” My brother had not failed to send 382 MEMOIRS OF A REVOLUTIONIST them to our favorite “‘ Nature.” I was in great perplexity and, putting the books into my bag, took them home, t reflect upon the matter. ‘ What shall I do with them?” I asked myself. ‘I cannot praise them, because they ar mine; and I cannot be too sharp on the author, as I hold the views expressed in them.” I decided to take them back next day, and explain to Mr. Keltie that, although I had introduced myself under the name of Levashéff, I was the author of these books, and could not review them.
Mr. Keltie knew from the papers about Kropétkin’s escape, and was very much pleased to discover the refugee safe in England. As to my scruples, he remarked wisely that I need neither scold nor praise the author, but could simply tell the readers what the books were about. From that day a friendship, which still continues, grew up be- tween us.
In November or December, 1876, seeing in the letter-box of P. L. Lavréff’s paper an invitation for “ K.” to call at the editorial office to receive a letter from Russia, and think- ing that the invitation was for me, I called at the office, and soon established friendship with the editor and the younger people who printed the paper. | When I called for the first time at the office — my beard shaved and my ‘‘top” hat on—and asked the lady who opened the door, in my very best English, “Is Mr. Lavroff in?”? J imagined that no one would ever know who I was, as I had not mentioned my name. It appeared, however, that the lady, who did not know me at all, but well knew my brother while he stayed at Ziirich, at once recognized. me and ran upstairs to say who the visitor was. “I knew. you immediately,” she said afterwards, “by your eyes, which have much in common with those of your brother.”
That time I did not stay long in England. I had been in lively correspondence with my friend James Guillaume, REMOVAL TO SWITZERLAND 383 of the Jura Federation, and as soon as I found some per- manent geographical work, which I could doin Switzerland as well as in London, I removed to Switzerland. The let- ters that I got at last from home told me that I might as well stay abroad, as there was nothing in particular to be done in Russia. A wave of enthusiasm was rolling over the country, at that time, in favor of the Slavonians who had revolted against the age-long Turkish oppression, and my best friends, Sergh¢i (Stepnidk), Kelnitz, and several others, had gone to the Balkan peninsula to join the insur- gents. ‘‘ We read,” my friends wrote, “ the correspondence of the ‘ Daily News’ about the horrors in Bulgaria; we weep at the reading, and go next to enlist either as volunteers in the Balkan insurgents’ bands or as nurses.” I went to Switzerland, joined the Jura Federation of the International Workingmen’s Association, and, following the advice of my Swiss friends, settled in La Chaux-de-Fonds.
il Tue Jura Federation has played an important part in the modern development of socialism.
It always happens that after a political party has set be- fore itself a purpose, and has proclaimed that nothing short of the complete attainment of that aim will satisfy it, it divides into two factions. One of them remains what it was, while the other, although it professes not to have changed a word of its previous intentions, accepts some sort of com- promise, and gradually, from compromise to compromise, is driven farther from its primitive programme, and becomes a party of modest makeshift reform. | Such a division had occurred within the International. Workingmen’s Association. Nothing less than an expro- | priation of the present owners of land and capital, and a. transmission of all that is necessary for the production of. wealth to the producers themselves, was the avowed aim of | the association at the outset. The workers of all nations | were called upon to form their own organizations for a di- | rect struggle against capitalism; to work out the means of socializing the production of wealth and its consumption; and, when they should be ready to do so, to take possession of the necessaries for production, and to control production with no regard to the present political organization, which must undergo a complete reconstruction. The association — had thus to be the means for preparing an immense revolu- | | tion in men’s minds, and later on in the very forms of life, | —a revolution which would open to mankind a new era of | progress based upon the solidarity of all. That was the ideal which aroused from their slumber millions of Euro- THE SOCIAL DEMOCRACY 3895 pean workers, and attracted to the association its best intel- lectual forces.
However, two factions soon developed. When the war of 1870 had ended in a complete defeat of France, and the uprising of the Paris Commune had been crushed, and the Draconian laws which were passed against the association excluded the French workers from participation in it; and when, on the other hand, parliamentary rule had been ‘introduced in “ united Germany,” — the goal of the radieals since 1848,— an effort was made by the Germans to ‘modify the aims and the methods of the whole socialist movement. The “conquest of power within the existing states’? became the watchword of that section, which took ‘the name of ‘‘ Social Democracy.” The first electoral suc- ‘cesses of this party at the elections to the German Reichs- tag aroused great hopes. The number of the social democratic deputies having grown from two to seven, and next ‘to nine, it was confidently calculated by otherwise reason- ‘able men that before the end of the century the social demo- -erats would have a majority in the German parliament, and ‘would then introduce the socialist “‘ popular state add 3g ‘means of suitable legislation. The socialist ideal of this party gradually lost the character of something that had to ‘be worked out by the labor organizations themselves, and ‘became state management of the industries, — in fact, state ‘socialism; that is, state capitalism. To-day, in Switzerland, the efforts of the social democrats are directed in poli- ‘tics toward centralization as against federalism, and in the ‘economic field to promoting the state management of rail- “ways and the state monopoly of banking and of the sale of ‘spirits. The state management of the land and of the lead- ‘ing industries, and even of the consumption of riches, would ‘be the next step in a more or less distant future.
Gradually, the life and activity of the German social democratic party was subordinated to electoral consider- .
386 MEMOIRS OF A REVOLUTIONIST ations. ‘Trade unions were treated with contempt an, strikes were met with disapproval, because both diverte: the attention of the workers from electoral struggles. Ever’ popular outbreak, every revolutionary agitation in an: country of Europe, was received in those years by the socia democratic leaders with even more animosity than by th capitalist press. | In the Latin countries, however, this new departur found but few adherents. The sections and federations 0 the International remained true to the principles which ha prevailed at the foundation of the association. Federalis by their history, hostile to the idea of a centralized state and possessed of revolutionary traditions, the Latin work ers could not follow the evolution of the Germans.
The division between the two branches of the socialis movement became apparent immediately after the Franco German war. The association, as I have already men tioned, had created a governing body in the shape of: general council which resided at London; and the leadify spirits of that council being two Germans, Engels and Marx the council became the stronghold of the new social demo. cratic direction; while the inspirers and intellectual leader af the Latin federations were Bakunin and his friends. __ The conflict between the Marxists and the Baktnists wa! not a personal affair. It was the necessary conflict betweer the principles of federalism and those of centralization, the free commune and the state’s paternal rule, the free actior of the masses of the people and the betterment of existing capitalist conditions through legislation, —a conflict betweer the Latin spirit and the German Geist, which, after the defeat of France on the battlefield, claimed supremacy ir science, politics, philosophy, and in socialism too, represent ing its own conception of socialism as “ scientific,” while all other interpretations it described as ‘“ utopian.” | At the Hague Congress of the International Association, \ CONFLICT IN THE INTERNATIONAL 387 _ which was held in 1872, the London general council, by means of a fictitious majority, excluded Bakunin, his friend ' Guillaume, and even the Jura Federation from the Interif i national. But as it was certain that most of what remained then of the International —that is, the Spanish, the Italjan, and the Belgian federations — would side with the _ Jurassians, the congress tried to dissolve the association.
\!
OA new general council, composed of a few social democrats, was nominated in New York, where there were no work- men’s organizations belonging to the association to control it, and where it has never been heard of since. In the “meantime, the Spanish, the Italian, the Belgian, and the _ Jura federations of the International continued to exist, and to meet as usual, for the next five or six years, in annual international congresses.
The Jura Federation, at the time when I came to Swit- zerland, was the centre and the leading voice of the International federations. Bakunin had just died (July 1, 1876), but the federation retained the position it had taken under his impulse. The conditions in France, Spain, and Italy were such that only the maintenance of the revolutionary spirit that had developed amongst the Internationalist workers previous to the Franco-German war prevented the governments from taking decisive steps toward crushing the whole labor move- ment, and inaugurating the reign of White Terror. It is well known that the reéstablishment of a Bourbon monarchy ‘in France was very near becoming an accomplished fact.
Marshal MacMahon was maintained as president of the republic only in order to prepare for a monarchist restora- tion; the very day of the solemn entry of Henry V. into Paris was settled, and even the harnesses of the horses, adorned with the pretender’s crown and initials, were ready.
And it is also known that it was only the fact that Gam: 388 MEMOIRS OF A REVOLUTIONIST betta and Clémenceau — the opportunist and the radical = | had covered wide portions of France with committees, armed and ready to rise as soon as the coup d’état should, be made, which prevented the proposed restoration. But the real strength of those committees was in the workers, many of whom had formerly belonged to the International and had retained the old spirit. Speaking from personal knowledge, I may venture to say that the radical middle- class leaders would have hesitated in case of emergency, while the workers would have seized the first opportunity! for an uprising which, beginning with the defense of the republic, might have gone farther on in the socialist direc- tion.
The same was true in Spain. As soon as the clerical and, aristocratic surroundings of the king drove him to turn the screws of reaction, the republicans menaced him with a movement in which, they knew, the real fighting element} would be the workers. In Catalonia alone there were over one hundred. thousand men in strongly organized trade} unions, and more than eighty thousand Spaniards belonged to the International, regularly holding congresses, and punctually paying their contributions to the association ie | a truly Spanish sense of duty. I can speak of these organ- ‘zations from personal knowledge, gained on the spot, and I know that they were ready to proclaim the United States, of Spain, abandon ruling the colonies, and in some of the! most advanced regions make serious attempts in the direc- tion of collectivism. It was this permanent menace which} prevented the Spanish monarchy from suppressing all the| workers’ and peasants’ organizations, and from inaugurating) a frank clerical reaction. | Similar conditions prevailed also in Italy. The trade unions in north Italy had not reached the strength they have now; but parts of Italy were honeycombed with International sections and republican groups. The monarchy } REVOLUTIONARY PAPERS 389 was kept under continual menace of being upset, should the middle-class republicans appeal to the revolutionary elements among the workers.
In short, looking back upon these years, from which we. are separated now by a quarter of a century, I am firmly | persuaded that if Europe did not pass through a period of/ stern reaction after 1871, this was mainly due to the spirit which was aroused in Western Europe before the Franco-/ German war, and has been maintained since by the anar- chist Internationalists, the Blanquists, the Mazzinians, and the Spanish “ cantonalist ’’ republicans.; Of course, the Marxists, absorbed by their local electoral struggles, knew little of these conditions. Anxious not to draw the thunderbolts of Bismarck upon their heads, and fearing above all that a revolutionary spirit might make its appearance in Germany, and lead to repressions which they were not strong enough to face, they not only repudiated, _ for tactical purposes, all sympathy with the western revolu- _ tionists, but gradually became inspired with hatred toward _ the revolutionary spirit, and denounced it with virulence _ wheresoever it made its appearance, even when they saw its first signs in Russia.