the Eighteenth Century. Finally, as De Quincey, both as translator and writer, made attempts in the way of romance-writing and indulged also in an extravagance which overleaps ordinary classification, writings of this sort have been brought together into one volume, while the more orderly narratives have been given a place in the latest volume, and with them have been placed the few papers which were either crowded out of their proper place, or had indistinct claims of relationship to any of the titles of previous volumes.

This explanation is made in justification of the new titles given to most of the volumes. De Quincey himself did not choose the titles of all the volumes constituting the edition which he partially superintended, and the liberty now taken is forced upon the editor by the exigencies of his work. He has not in any case disturbed the titles originally given by the author to the several articles. It is hoped that this edition will remain as the standard edition, as it supersedes in this country at least the earlier edition. There is given, for the convenience of the literary student, a list of the writings of De Quincey as contained in this series, with the date and original appearance of publication, except in a few instances, not yet ascertained by the editor. The Index is the first full index which has been published.

CAMBRIDGE, MASS., June, 1877.

NARRATIVE AND MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS.

FLIGHT OF A TARTAR TRIBE.

THERE is no great event in modern history, or, perhaps it may be said more broadly, none in all history, from its earliest records, less generally known, or more striking to the imagination, than the flight eastwards of a principal Tartar nation across the boundless steppes of Asia in the latter half of the last century. The terminus a quo of this flight and the terminus ad quem are equally magnificent- the mightiest of Christian thrones being the one, the mightiest of pagan the other; and the grandeur of these two terminal objects is harmoniously supported by the romantic circumstances of the flight. In the abruptness of its commencement and the fierce velocity of its execu tion we read an expression of the wild, barbaric character of the agents. In the unity of purpose connecting this myriad of wills, and in the blind but unerring aim at a mark so remote, there is something which recalls to the mind those almighty instincts that propel the migrations of the swallow or the life-withering marches of the locust. Then, again, in the gloomy vengeance of Russia and her vast artillery, which hung upon the rear and the skirts of the fugitive vassals, we are reminded of Miltonic images — such, for instance,

as that of the solitary hand pursuing through desert spaces and through ancient chaos a rebellious host, and overtaking with volleying thunders those who believed themselves already within the security of darkness and of distance.

We shall have occasion, farther on, to compare this event with other great national catastrophes as to the magnitude of the suffering; but it may also challenge a comparison with similar events under another rela tion viz., as to its dramatic capabilities. Few cases, perhaps, in romance or history, can sustain a close collation with this as to the complexity of its separate interests. The great outline of the enterprise, taken in connection with the operative motives, hidden or avowed, and the religious sanctions under which it was pursued, give to the case a triple character: 1st. That of a conspiracy, with as close a unity in the incidents, and as much of a personal interest in the moving characters, with fine dramatic contrasts, as belongs to Venice Preserved or to the Fiesco of Schiller. 2dly. That of a great military expedition, offering the same romantic features of vast distances to be traversed, vast reverses to be sustained, untried routes, enemies obscurely ascertained, and hardships too vaguely prefigured, which mark the Egyptian expedition of Cambyses; the anabasis of the younger Cyrus, and the subsequent retreat of the ten thousand to the Black Sea; the Parthian expeditions of the Romans, especially those of Crassus and Julian; or (as more disastrous than any of them, and in point of space, as well as in amount of forces, more extensive) the Russian anabasis and katabasis of Napoleon. 3dly

That of a religious exodus, authorized by an oracle ven. erated throughout many nations of Asia an exodus therefore, in so far resembling the great scriptura. exodus of the Israelites under Moses and Joshua, as well as in the very peculiar distinction of carrying along with them their entire families, women, children, slaves, their herds of cattle and of sheep, their horses and their camels.

This triple character of the enterprise naturally invests it with a more comprehensive interest; but the dramatic interest which we ascribed to it, or its fitness for a stage representation, depends partly upon the marked variety and the strength of the personal agencies concerned, and partly upon the succession of scenical situations. Even the steppes, the camels, the tents, the snowy and the sandy deserts, are not beyond the scale of our modern representative powers, as often called into action in the theatres both of Paris and London; and the series of situations unfolded, beginning with the general conflagration on the Wolga; passing thence to the disastrous scenes of the flight, (as it literally was in its commencement ;) to the Tartar siege of the Russian fortress Koulagina; the bloody engagement with the Cossacks in the mountain passes at Ouchim; the surprisal by the Bashkirs and the ad. vanced posts of the Russian army at Torgau; the private conspiracy at this point against the khan; the long succession of running fights; the parting massacres at the Lake of Tengis under the eyes of the Chinese ; and, finally, the tragical retribution to Zebek-Dorchi at the hunting lodge of the Chinese emperor, all these situations communicate a scenical animation to the wild

romance, if treated dramatically; whilst a higher and a philosophic interest belongs to it as a case of authentic history, commemorating a great revolution, for good and for evil, in the fortunes of a whole people — a people semi-barbarous, but simple hearted, and of ancient descent.

On the 21st of January, 1761, the young Prince Oubacha assumed the sceptre of the Kalmucks upon the death of his father. Some part of the power attached to this dignity he had already wielded since his fourteenth year, in quality of vice khan, by the express appointment, and with the avowed support, of the Russian government. He was now about eighteen years of age, amiable in his personal character, and not without titles to respect in his public character as a sovereign prince. In times more peaceable, and amongst a people more entirely civilized or more humanized by religion, it is even probable that he might have discharged his high duties with considerable distinction; but his lot was thrown upon stormy times, and a most difficult crisis amongst tribes whose native ferocity was exasperated by debasing forms of superstition, and by a nationality as well as an inflated conceit of their own merit absolutely unparalleled; whilst the circumstances of their hard and trying position under the jealous surveillance of an irresistible lord paramount, in the person of the Russian czar, gave a fiercer edge to the natural unamiableness of the Kalmuck disposition, and irritated its gloomier qualities into action under the restless impulses of suspicion and permanent distrust. No prince could hope for a cordial allegiance from his