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of changes according to the circumstances in which it is placed, nowhere departs so far from its original as not to preserve its essential features. In like manner, language, which depends upon the combined constitution of both mind and body for its form and character, while it changes as they change, preserves under every varying condition a unity of feature, and exhibits evident marks of its primitive pattern. Moreover, it is one of the most distinguishing and universal characteristics of human nature that it recognises, and voluntarily submits itself to, inherent laws of order and harmony; and hence, in all the processes of transmutation through which languages pass, they never entirely lose sight of the principles of euphony, but, as if forced by necessity, they regulate by them the form which their various changes shall assume, and they thus receive an artistical consistency and symmetry by which they continue ever after to be characterised. We see, then, that, in the midst of an endless variety of languages and dialects, a constant tendency in the individual to assimilate itself to the universal; and, on the other hand, while language everywhere preserves an essential unity of form, it is always controlled and changed according to the wants or wishes of the individual. It is this principle of order in variety of agreement in difference-of similitude in dissimilitude-which constitutes the great and never-failing source of pleasure and instruction that we feel in contemplating the works of the Creator, and which makes us bow in reverence before the power and wisdom of Him who so orders all His laws that they can satisfy the wants of the individual, while every passing change bodies forth its dependance upon, and agree ment with, some grand original.

There is a limit within which language may change its forms and structure. There is a principle of freedom which enables the individual to suit his speech to the occasions on which he gives utterance to his thoughts. But there is a limit beyond which language cannot pass, and which it has never attempted to overstep. It may suffer loss or it may gain additions in its vocabulary; it may lose its inflections, and, like the trees of autumn, it may be bereft of its foliage-its beauty and its strength; but the trunk will still remain, its vitality will not have perished, and in the spring season it will be ready to bud forth again, and to crown itself with new glory and honour.

The rigorous and scientific investigation which has been made of all the members of the Indo European family, has enabled philologists to distinguish two stages through which languages naturally pass, and which are characterised by the presence or absence of inflection. All languages in their primary stage are highly inflected. They have their roots clothed with a rich garniture of prefixes and suffixes, of initial and final increments, by which case, gender, person, state, and time are clearly and fully expressed. They have, moreover, a living power of framing at will, new compounds, by which they can, out of their own resources, keep pace with every enlargement of the national mind. Their structure is, in consequence, very complicated, and their sentences are supplied with a large power of inversion. They are, in general, more adapted to that condition of society when the imagination delights to bring forth the exuberance of its stores, and lay them at the feet of external nature-before internal reflection has moulded the intellectual faculties into a systematic method of thinking. The ancient Greek is, however, in that stage of development when, to a highly etymological structure, it adds a clear and copious syntax; and it presents the picture of a nation which has given itself to the cultivation of the rational powers, without the loss of a brilliant fancy and rich imagination. It is the transition language between the primary state, which may be considered to be represented by the Sanscrit, and that more modern form of which English may be mentioned as a type.

In the course of time languages begin to lose their inflections and their power of composition, and to substitute in their stead circumlocutions, by means of auxiliary verbs and prepositions, together with a more regular and uniform syntax. This passage from a primary to a secondary state generally succeeds the introduction of some foreign nation, either by conquest or by immigration, and takes place upon the amalgamation of the two peoples. It cannot, however, with any degree of justice be alleged that languages in this condition are in any way inferior to the others. Both stages are natural and both are necessary. The first is suited to that period in a nation's history when the imagination tinges with its pencil of light every passing object, and when the intellect goes forth to seek the materials of its

thought almost exclusively in the objective world. The secondary stage is the concomitant of large advances in scientific research and social improvement; when the abstract comes to exercise more power over the mind than the concrete; when man endeavours to comprehend the principles of things and the laws by which all are regulated. Our own language furnishes a striking proof of the height of excellence which an uninflected and composite tongue can attain; for it combines, within the compass of its literature, a poetry never excelled in the solemnity and nervousness of its diction, and a philosophy which speaks with an eloquent enthusiasm to the inmost depths of the soul. The Italian, for the purposes of poetry, is

sweeter and more graceful than the Latin; the French, as the language of society, has been unequalled in either ancient or modern times, and its prose literature is eminently distinguished for precision and distinctness of expression; while the Spanish has always been celebrated for the dignity of its prose writings and the sonorous richness and fulness of its poetic vocabulary. It would thus be an ungrateful task to make a preference of one condition of a language over the other. Both form a reflection of the thought of the people; both have their own purposes to effect, and both are adapted to the state of society to which they belong.

LINES WRITTEN IN REPLY TO A SUGGESTION THAT AN OLD IRISH HARP SHOULD BE RE-STRUNG.

SAY-if the envious hand of Time,
On some fair canvas, made divine
By Rafaëlle's will,

Had left its trace,-wouldst thou profane
Its holiness, and hide the stain

By modern limner's skill?

Since, then, the Hand once clasped so near
To Erin's heart-the Voice so clear

In tones of poesy—

Can never more awake the strain
Which o'er his native island's plain
Poured forth its minstrelsy,

Let the harp mourn; its broken strings,
That wafted oft on viewless wings
His magic songs on high,

Like withered tendrils strew the earth,
Nor can again be waked to mirth,
Nor tell their misery.

Wake it not now!-be none so bold
To mock its grief with strings of gold,
Let slumbers soothe its pain,
Until, 'midst angels' raptured throng,
The sainted minstrel raise his song,
And wake its chords again.

APRIL 11th, 1852.

CAMPANA.

ON THE CONDITION OF THE BRITONS UNDER THE ROMAN DOMINATION.

PART III.-DRUIDISM.

WHO were the Druids? This question is, like a great many others, far more easily asked than answered. The amount of satisfactory information regarding the origin and character of the Druids, which has come within our reach, is very limited indeed. But one thing is certain: the more we know of them, the more we are inclined to consider them the most remarkable class of men to be met with in all pagan antiquity. The conjectures as to their origin are various. As usual, the resources of philology have been largely drawn upon, to furnish a satisfactory explanation of the term Druid. The Hebrew, that is contemplatores, (the latter word signifying strictly, according to the generally received etymology, one who studies or is conversant in sacred matters,) has been thought by some to be the origin of the term Druid. Others think the Druids have had their name from Druis, or Dryïus, their leader. This is a simple and easy mode of settling the question, which possesses this peculiar advantage, that it is equally available in all cases. Others, again, think with Pliny that the name Druid is from dgus, quercus, oak, because of their dwelling chiefly and teaching in forests and thus author after author might be quoted till a long essay could be written, not on Druidism, but on the origin of the name; and the worst of all would be the usual conclusion in such investigations-a profound antiquarian shake of the head, and "much uncertainty, however, hangs over the whole subject."

But, what says history on the point? Not much on which we can implicitly rely, and a great deal upon which we cannot. Mr. Maurice, author of "A Dissertation on the Origin of the Druids," supposes them to be of Oriental origin. He writes thus concerning them :-"The celebrated order of the Druids, anciently established in this country, were the immediate descendants of a tribe of Brahmins situated in the high northern latitudes bordering on the vast range of the Caucasus;

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Although we are totally incompetent to form an opinion on this very difficult question, still, we confess this theory has an air of truth about it that almost wins our assent. It clears away difficulties—a circumstance which goes very far to produce assent to any theory. The cast of Druidical thought appears to us, on the whole, decidedly Oriental; but it is wanting in the warmth, feebleness, and monstrous extravagance which characterise Oriental speculations.— Druidism, viewed as a complete system, is simple, majestic, commanding, and severe. It is either Oriental thought, cooled down and tempered by being made to pass through minds whose speculative tendencies were kept in check and variously modified by the influence of a northern climate, or else it is all this, together with a mixture of northern gloom and ferocity.

However, the Druids in Britain were the sole repositories of all literature and science, the executors as well as the propounders of the law, and the ministers of religion; so that a short notice of them in each of these capacities will be, at the same time, an account of the Britons in these respects.

First, then, as regards literature and science, their attainments were, considering the age in which they lived, of no mean kind. Poetry, eloquence, medicine, and astronomy are mentioned as having received their special attention. They communicated their instructions orally, either for the purpose of preventing the general diffusion of their principles among the masses of the people, or, as has been more charitably

:

supposed, for the sake of strengthening the faculty of memory in their pupils the method, no doubt, effectually answered both purposes. Nevertheless, it seems certain that they made use of letters on ordinary occasions. It has been remarked as a singular circumstance, that, in the number and power of letters, the Celtic alphabet, which has been in use time immemorial in Ireland, is exactly similar to the Greek alphabet, said to have been brought over by Cadmus from Phoenicia.

Poetry, and its most intimate sister, Music, were, no doubt, assiduously cultivated by a particular class of the Druids, called the Bards. If their poetry and music were at all similar to the ancient Irish productions of this kind, with which we happen to be in some degree acquainted (especially music), they must have been of a very interesting character, and calculated to produce a powerful effect on those who were capable of appreciating them. Nothing can be more exquisite than some of the very ancient Irish airs, which have escaped the ravages of time, and have come down to our day, we have every reason to believe, comparatively pure.

These relics of the musical genius of our Celtic forefathers, which are to be had from our peasantry as abundantly as wild-flowers in summer, and like them, too, for the gathering, will bear comparison with the finest productions, in the same style, of either Italy or Germany. We have been told that the great and good Haydn had such a fondness for our Irish and Scotch airs, that he had some of them framed and hung up in his bed-room. We know that he admired them exceedingly, and attempted to clothe some of them in his own immortal harmonies; but, somewhat like their authors, not a few of them disdained the trammels of art, and put to defiance even the fertile genius of Haydn-one of the instances we now and then meet with, in works of imagination, where Nature stands, not in opposition to, but above art.

Among the Druids, eloquence received a high degree of attention; and they also had very creditable pupils in this branch of literature, if we may judge from the harangues of Galgacus and Queen Boadicea, as preserved by the Roman writers.

Their views on medicine seems to have been of a very medley description. All sorts of fantastic notions, theological, astrological, and magical, were interwoven with the leaves, sterns, and flowers of various plants; but the healing virtue was considered to reside chiefly in the imaginary supernatural qualities which they attributed in such profusion to these simple natural objects. The ingenious and intricate mysticism which their healing art presents, bears a striking analogy to the secret sciences to be met with among many ancient people-such as the mys teries of the Pythagoreans or the Jewish Cabala. Can the various silly quackeries called charms, which are so much in use among the lower classes in Ireland, even in the present day, be remnants of the teachings of this singular race of beings?

What were the exact notions of the Druids on the subject of astronomy, it is difficult to say; but there is every reason to believe that they were aware of all the important astronomical truths known in those times. If this be so, it forms strong presumptive evidence of their Eastern origin.

The form of government among the Britons was, according to Cæsar, monarchical. But this opinion cannot be received as near the truth unless with considerable modification. It is, we think, manifest that the Britons, like all other Celtic people, always exhibited a strong tendency to centralize power; but that this tendency invariably assumed a monarchical form appears very doubtful. In all probability the appointment of kings or chiefs, and all the other important state regulations, were entirely under the control of the Druids.

The religion of the Druids was the religion of the Britons. The following account of this remarkable order of men, in respect of their religion, is extracted from a modern work, to which we are chiefly indebted for all we know of the present subject:-"The Druids," according to Cæsar, "formed throughout the whole of Gaul one of the two honourable classes of the population, the Equites, or military order, forming the other. The office of the Druids was that of presiding over sacred things, of performing all public and private sacrifices, and generally of directing all re

ligious matters. They were also the teachers of great numbers of youth who resorted to them for instruction in their discipline. But the function which procured them the highest honour was that which they discharged as the judges, by whom were determined almost all disputes or litigation, both public and private.

"Cæsar goes on to state that the Druids were not accustomed to take part in war, nor did they pay any taxes, enjoying both exemption from military service and freedom from all other public burdens.

"He then proceeds to give an account of the doctrines taught by the Druids. The chief doctrine which they inculcated was that commonly known by the name of the metempsychosis, or transmigration of souls-a favourite principle of some of the most ancient religious and philosophical creeds, both of the east and of the west. They asserted that when a man died, his spirit did not perish, but passed immediately into another body; and this article of faith, by its power of vanquishing the fear of death, they considered to be the most efficacious that could be instilled into the minds of men for the excitement of heroic virtue. They also discussed and delivered to their pupils many things respecting the heavenly bodies and their motions, the magnitude of the universe and the earth, the nature of things, and the force and power of the immortal gods." Offerings of fruits and animals were made to the gods on ordinary occasions; but when sudden calamity, individual or national, came upon them, then recourse was had to that horrible climax of pagan superstition-human sacrifice. There, in the dim religious light of the deep forest, in the magic circle of oaks, amid the shrieks and groans of immolated human beings, and the yells of fanatic worshippers, the gloomy priest offered up his prayers, and from the agonies of human beings "disclosed the fates."

The foregoing is a rude, and we are but too conscious, imperfect account of the theatre on which the Roman power, very shortly after, played so conspicuous a part, and of the materials with which it came in contact. In the remainder of our article, it will be only necessary to notice any remarkable

changes which the Roman invasion produced upon the British people, of whose individual, social, and national characteristics we have just been treating.

2. We shall now state, as briefly as possible, the most important events which took place in Britain from the invasion of Cæsar till the period of Agricola.

The great Roman commander, Julius Cæsar, by means of extraordinary skill, perseverance, and prudence, at the head of a powerful and well-disciplined Roman army, had succeeded in completely subduing the Gauls, an old and frequently dangerous enemy of Rome. During the course of the war, Cæsar, in various ways, became acquainted with Britain, and either from motives of personal ambition, or advantage, or both, resolved upon adding Britain to his other conquests. On the 26th of August, fifty-five years before the birth of Christ, Cæsar set sail from Calais with the infantry of two legions. The strait was soon crossed; and he found himself before the chalk cliffs of Old England, and in the presence of swarms of armed men, from whom he clearly saw he was to have a very unpleasant reception. He tried to effect a landing near the place now occupied by the town of Deal, and at last succeeded. British valour and patriotism soon gave way to the superior discipline of the Roman legions. The conqueror, however, was not long in perceiving that he could not, with safety, proceed farther. So, having extorted a promise of submission from the Britons, which was not meant to be kept, he immediately returned to Gaul.

In the following spring he again invaded Britain with an immense army; he defeated the natives everywhere; but still Britain could not be said to be conquered. He concluded a peace with one of his most formidable enemies, and one of the bravest of the British kings, Cassivelaunus, King of the Cassii, and again returned to Gaul. Britain remained unmolested for a period of ninety-seven years after the departure of Cæsar. The Emperor Claudius resolved upon making himself master of the island. He sent against Britain, under the command of Aulus Plautius, a powerful army, amounting, it is thought, to fifty thousand men. Romans succeeded in conquering seve

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