rdered his
dragoons to thrust their pikes into the unfortunate man, and raise him
upon them into the air, "in order," said he, "that he may be nearer
the stars." They did this, and then cut him to pieces with their
sabers.

The troops of Catharine pursued the rebels, encountered them in some
intricate passes of the mountains, whence escape was impossible, and
overwhelmed them with destruction. Their vigorous leader, leaping from
crag to crag, escaped, swam the Volga, crossed, in solitude, vast
deserts, and made new attempts to rally partisans around him. But his
last hour was sounded. Deserted by all, he was wandering from place to
place, pursued like a wild beast, when some of his own confederates,
basely betraying him, seized him, after a violent struggle, put him in
irons, and delivered him to one of the officers of the Russian army.
The wretched man, preserving impenetrable silence, was conveyed to
Moscow in an iron cage. Refusing to eat, food was forced down his
stomach. The empress immediately appointed a commission for the trial
of the rebel. She instructed the court to be satisfied with whatever
voluntary confession of his crime he might make, forbidding them to
apply the torture, or to require him to name his accomplices. The
culprit was sentenced to have his hands and feet cut off, and then to
be quartered. By order of the empress, however, he was first beheaded.
Eight of his accomplices were also executed, eighteen underwent the
knout, and were then exiled to Siberia. Thus terminated a rebellion
which cost the lives of more than a hundred thousand men.

Over those wide regions, whose exact boundaries are even now scarcely
known, numerous nations are scattered, quite distinct in language,
religion and customs, and so separated by almost impassable deserts,
that they know but little of each other. These wilds, peopled by
war-loving races, afford the most attractive field for military
adventures. The energy and sagacity with which Catharine crushed this
formidable rebellion added greatly to her renown. Tranquillity being
restored, the empress, in order to crown a general pardon, forbade any
further allusion whatever to be made to the rebellion, consigning all
its painful events to utter oblivion. She even forbade the publication
of the details of the trial, saying,

"I shall keep the depositions of Pugatshef secret, that they may not
aggravate the disgrace of those who spurred him on."

The empress was ambi