The capture of Sokolow, known as “The Bear” (a man whom I knew intimately), on the Nevsky Prospekt in St. Petersburg, was beautifully characteristic. The Bear was five and twenty. He was more than six feet tall, deep-chested, light hair, small light beard, and deep-blue eyes. The Bear was a leader in the Moscow insurrection of December, 1905. A spy who had successfully played the rôle of a revolutionist had arrested a number of the Moscow leaders. Sokolow had quit Moscow immediately after the insurrection and worked only in other places. Sokolow was the soul and spirit of a certain group of the Moscow and St. Petersburg fighting organization. Some of the most daring plots were conceived by him. Now that he is dead there can be no harm in my confessing that it was he who arranged for the blowing up of the ministers in the first Duma, and it was he who forestalled the plan, as I shall describe presently. During the year he had dressed differently than when he lived in Moscow. There he was a workman, wearing a blouse and cap. In St. Petersburg he dressed as a fop, a coxcomb, an exquisite of the court. I knew him well, and was by no means unaffected by his gracious personality, his winning smile, his fine intensity. Ten months had passed since the Moscow affair. So many things had happened during those ten months that Sokolow had ceased to think of any danger from that old affair. One bright afternoon as he was hurrying along the Nevsky a beggar, clad in utter rags, stuck a dirty hand in front of him and whined a pitiful plea—“a copeck, sir, for Christ’s sake!” Sokolow drew out his purse and handed the creature a coin. As he did so, the “beggar,” who was scrutinizing the young man’s features, emitted a shrill whistle and Sokolow was instantly pounced upon by spies. The “beggar” was the old Moscow provocateur. A day or two later, Sokolow met the death of a soldier of the revolution.
During the first week in November there were fourteen executions, including two girls, at Kronstadt alone, and all of these had to be shot because no one could be
Horse killed by small bomb thrown to stop the carriage in which state money was being conveyed
found to serve as hangman. The convicts in the prisons declined the task even on the promise of their immediate liberty and money. The two girls who were included in this execution were both students of the University of St. Petersburg. They had been convicted of complicity in a conspiracy against a military tribunal at Kronstadt.
The two women were confined in the same cell; they met their fate bravely, and spent a great part of the night in singing. Mamaieff wrote a telegram to her mother, asking her to come to Kronstadt for a last farewell, but the message was not despatched by the authorities.
Venediktoff’s mother, an old seamstress, living at Tamboff, traveled to Kronstadt when her daughter was arrested, but in spite of all entreaties did not succeed in getting an interview with her. Both women refused services of the priest who came to offer last consolations of the church. In her final letter written to her mother, Venediktoff said: “I can hear a noise in the passage, the tramp of soldiers. I am now, perhaps, about to die. Good-by, good-by, my dear mother.”