Chapter XXVII

Having promised early in this volume to identify our island with the Insula Hyperboreorum of antiquity, I shall, without further tarrying, produce the extract referred to, from Diodorus; and, lest I may be suspected of adapting it to my own peculiar views, it shall appear minutely in Mr. Booth’s translation, viz.:--

“Amongst them that have written old stories much like fables, Hecatæus and some others say, that there is an island in the ocean, over against Gaul, as big as Sicily, under the arctic pole, where the Hyperboreans inhabit, so called because they lie beyond the breezes of the north wind. That the soil here is very rich and very fruitful, and the climate temperate, insomuch as there are two crops in the year.

“They say that Latona was born here, and therefore that they worship Apollo above all other gods; and because they are daily singing songs in praise of this god, and ascribing to him the highest honours, they say that these inhabitants demean themselves as if they were Apollo’s priests, who has here a stately grove and renowned temple of round form, beautified with many rich gifts. That there is a city likewise consecrated to this god, whose citizens are most of them harpers, who, playing on the harp, chant sacred hymns to Apollo in the temple, setting forth his glorious acts. The Hyperboreans use their own natural language, but, of _long_ and ancient time, have had a special kindness for the Grecians; and more especially for the Athenians and them of Delos; and that some of the Grecians passed over to the Hyperboreans, and left behind them divers presents[446] inscribed with Greek characters; and that Abaris formerly travelled thence into Greece, and renewed the ancient league of friendship with the Delians.

“They say, moreover, that the moon in this island seems as if it were near to the earth, and represents, on the face of it, excrescences like spots on the earth; and that Apollo once in nineteen years comes into the island; in which space of time the stars perform their courses and return to the same point; and therefore the Greeks call the revolution of nineteen years the Great Year. At this time of his appearance they say that he plays upon the harp, and sings and dances all the night, from the vernal equinox[447] to the rising of the Pleiades,[448] solacing himself with the praises of his own successful adventures. The sovereignty of this city and the care of the temple, they say, belong to the Boreades, the posterity of Boreas, who hold the principality by descent in the direct line from that ancestor.”

When copying this narrative from the writings of Hecatæus, it is evident that Diodorus did not believe one single syllable it contained. He looked upon it as a romance; and so far was he from identifying it with any actual locality, that he threw over the whole an air of burlesque. We are, therefore, not at all obliged for the services he has rendered--yet shall we make his labours subservient to the elucidation of truth. Little did he dream that Ireland, which he, by and by, expressly mentions by the name of Irin, and which he calumniates as cannibal, was one and the same with that isle of which he read such encomiums in the writings of former antiquaries; and, most unquestionably, it did require no small portion of research to reconcile the contradiction which the outline involves, and which is now further enhanced by his scepticism.

Unable to solve this difficulty, Mr. Dalton--wishing to retain, by all means, the _Hyperborean isle_, which, indeed, he could not well discard, yet not bring it in collision with the _Iranian libel_--does not hesitate to throw at once overboard into the depth of the Atlantic the island of Irin (alias _Ireland_), and affirm that it never was the place which the historian had specified. “It is not quite certain,” says he, “what place Diodorus means by Iris;[449] from the turn of the expression it would _rather appear to be a part of Britain_,--perhaps the Erne, for which Mr. James M’Pherson contends in another place,--while the island which Diodorus does mention in the remarkable pages cited above, and which so completely agrees with Ireland, is never called Iris by him, nor does the name occur again in all his work, nor is it by any other author applied to Ireland.”[450]

Mind, now, reader, how easily I reconcile the conflicting fact of Diodorus’s incredulity with his positive defamation.

At the period when he flourished as an accredited historian, the occupancy of Ireland had passed into new hands. The Scythians were the persons then possessed of the soil; and they being a warlike tribe, averse to letters, to religion, and to refinement,[451]--but overwhelming in numbers,--obliterated every vestige of that primeval renown in which the island had once gloried, and which afforded theme and material to the learned of all countries for eulogy and praise.

Hecatæus was one of those who depicted in glowing colours the primitive splendour and the ethereal happiness of Ireland’s first inhabitants. He belonged to an age which was well called antiquarian, even in the day in which Diodorus wrote, viz. B.C. 44; and when, therefore, this latter, looking over the pages of his venerable predecessor, saw them so replete with incidents,--at variance with our condition in his own degenerate day,--he did not only not dream of considering Ireland as the place described, but looked upon the whole story as the fiction of a dotard.

Let us, however, despite of Diodorus, establish the veracity of the antiquarian Hecatæus. Then behold the situation of this island, just opposite to France,--in size as large as Sicily,--at once corresponding to the locality and size of Ireland, and subversive of the claims of those who would fain make England, Anglesea, or one of the Hebrides, the island specified.

Considering further the prolificacy of its soil, and with that compare what the old poet has affirmed,--and what we know to be true,--of our own country, viz.:--

“Illic bis niveum tondetur vellus in anno
Bisque die referunt ubera tenta greges.”

Then bring its propinquity to the “arctic pole,” and the high northern latitude which Strabo[452] and other ancients have assigned to Ireland, into juxtaposition with “Hyperborean,” the name given to its inhabitants from the very circumstance of their lying so far to the north, and the identity of the isle with that in which each true Irishman exults is infallibly complete when I quote from Marcianus Heracleotes--who wrote in the third century, and who, as he himself avows, only drew up a compendium from the voluminous works of Artemidorus, who flourished in the hundred and sixty-ninth Olympiad, or 104 years before Christ--the following description of this sacred island, viz. “Iuvernia, a British isle, is bounded on the north (ad Boream) by the ocean called the Hyperborean; but on the east by the ocean which is called the Hibernian; on the south by the Virginian ocean. It has sixteen nations and eleven illustrious cities, fifteen remarkable rivers, five remarkable promontories, and six remarkable islands.”

Here the sea, encompassing Ireland on the north, is called the Hyperborean Ocean;[453] and when we are told that the priests officiating at the round temples of Apollo were called Boreades, we can readily understand the origin of the name, as derived from _Boreas_, the deity who presided over the north-east wind, to which they offered their vows,--just as we find the Emperor Augustus erecting a temple at Rome, many centuries after, to the wind called Circius.

To this deification of the energies of nature, which, as before affirmed, was but part and parcel of that form of worship called Sabaism, the author of the Book of Enoch has alluded in the following mysterious episode:--

“Then another angel, who proceeded with me, spoke to me; and showed me the first and last secrets in heaven above, and in the depths of the earth: in the extremities of heaven, and in the foundations of it, and in the receptacle of the winds. _He showed me_ how their Spirits were divided; how they were balanced; and how both the springs and the winds were numbered according to the force of the Spirit. _He showed me_ the power of the moon’s light, that its power is a just one; as well as the divisions of the stars, according to their respective names; _that_ every division is divided; that the lightning flashes; that _their Host_ immediately obey; and that a cessation takes place during thunder, in the continuance of its sound. Nor are the thunder and the lightning separated; neither do both of them move with one Spirit; yet are they not separated. For when the lightning lightens, the thunder sounds, and the Spirit, at a proper period, pauses, making an equal division between them; for the receptacle of their times is what sand is. Each of them at a proper season is restrained with a bridle, and turned by the power of the Spirit; which thus propels them according to the spacious extent of the earth.”

Yet beautiful as is the above, it is not much more so than an almost inspired little poem, which appeared some time ago, in one of the public prints, as emanating from the pen of an American lady, named Goold, personifying this element, viz.:--

“We come! we come! and ye feel our might,
As we’re hastening on in our boundless flight;
And over the mountains and over the deep,
Our broad invisible pinions sweep.
Like the Spirit of Liberty, wild and free!
And ye look on our works, and own ’tis we;
Ye call us the _winds_; but can ye tell
Whither we go, or where we dwell?

Ye mark as we vary our forms of power,
And fell the forest or fan the flower,
When the hare-bell moves, and the rush is bent,
When the tower’s o’erthrown and the oak is rent,
As we waft the bark o’er the slumbering wave,
Or hurry its crew to a watery grave:
And ye say it is we! but can ye trace
The wandering _winds_ to their secret place?

And whether our breath be loud and high,
Or come in a soft and balmy sigh,
Our threat’nings fill the soul with fear,
As our gentle whisperings woo the ear
With music aërial, still ’tis we,
And ye list, and ye look; but what do ye see?
Can ye hush one sound of our voice to peace,
Or waken one note when our numbers cease?

Our dwelling is in th’ Almighty’s hand,
We come and we go at His command;
Though joy or sorrow may mark our track,
His will is our guide, and we look not back;
And if, in our wrath, ye would turn us away,
Or win us in gentlest air to play,
Then lift up your hearts to Him who binds,
Or frees, as He will, the obedient _winds_!”

And now, as to those “temples” themselves, “of round form,” sacred to Apollo, where will Borlasse in his championship for England, or Rowland in his claims for the island of Anglesea, or Toland and Carte for the little Hebrides isles, find a single vestige of a _rotund edifice_ of antiquated consecration, appertaining to the age which Hecatæus described?--whereas, in Ireland, of the two hundred and upwards, with which its surface was, at one time, adorned, we have not only _vestiges_ of each and all to this day; but, out of the sixty that _survive_,--after an interval of more than three thousand years standing,--about twenty still display their Grynean devotion and their Hyperborean tranquillity, and are likely so to do for three thousand years more, should this world, or our portion of it, but last so long!

To give soul to the solemnisation of this religious pomp, the Irish have ever cultivated the mysteries of music. The harp more particularly had enlisted the energies of their devotional regard, and their eminence in its management made Hecatæus well observe, that “the inhabitants were almost exclusively harpers.” This was a very suitable accompaniment to their worship of Apollo, who was himself the reputed inventor of this instrument; and accordingly we find that, even in the twelfth century, broken down and obliterated as every vestige of the _real Irish_ then was, by the ungenial amalgamation of the Scythian and Danish intruders, the _harp_ was still preserved as the last remnant of their glory; while the elegance of their compositions and performance upon it extorted this reluctant acknowledgment from the prejudiced Cambrensis:--

“The attention,” says he, “of this people to musical instruments, I find worthy of commendation; their skill in which is, _beyond comparison, superior_ to that of _any nation_ I have seen. For in these the modulation is not slow and solemn, as in the instruments of Britain, to which we are accustomed, but the sounds are rapid and precipitate, yet, at the same time sweet and pleasing. It is wonderful how, in such precipitate rapidity of the fingers, the musical proportions are observed, and, by their art, faultless throughout.

“In the midst of their complicated modulations and most intricate arrangement of notes, by a rapidity so sweet, a regularity so irregular, a concord so discordant, the melody is rendered harmonious and perfect, whether the cords of the diatesseron or diapente are struck together. Yet they always begin in a soft mood, and end in the same, that all may be perfected in the sweetness of delicious sounds. They enter on, and again leave, their modulations with so much subtlety, and the tricklings of the small notes sport with so much freedom under the deep note of the bass; they delight with so much delicacy, and soothe so softly, that the excellency of their art seems to be in concealing it.”[454]

Clarsech and Cruit were both names which the Irish gave their harp, from the musical board and the warbling of the strings respectively. But the favourite designation was that of Orphean, an evident derivation from Orpheus, the divine musician of the ancients, who is said to have stayed the course of rivers, and lulled the listening woods,--to have moved the stones into prescribed positions, and tamed the savage propensities of man--all by the instrumentality of his speaking lyre!

“As regards Orpheus himself,” says the learned Barker, “he is stated by some ancient authorities to have abstained from eating of flesh, and to have had an abhorrence of eggs, considered as food, from a persuasion that the egg was the principle of all being. Many other accounts are given of him, which would seem to assimilate his character to that of the ancient priests of India, or Brachmani. The ancients, however, unable to discover any mode by which he could have obtained his knowledge from any other source, pretended that he had visited Egypt, and had there been initiated in the mysteries of Isis and Osiris. This appears, however, to be a supposition purely gratuitous on the part of the ancient writers, since a careful examination of the subject leads directly to the belief that Orpheus was of Indian origin; that he was a member of one of those _Sacerdotal Colonies, which professed the religion of Buddha_; and who being driven from their home, in the northern parts of India, and in the plains of Tartary, by the power of the rival sect of Brahma, moved gradually onwards to the west, dispensing, in their progress, the benefits of civilisation and the _mysterious tenets of their peculiar faith_.”

We know little or nothing at this remote day of the ancient music of the Bardic order; that it was eminent, however, and transcendently superior to that of all other countries, is evident from the fact of its having maintained its character when all our other attributes had notoriously vanished. Caradoc admits that his countrymen, the Welsh, borrowed all their instruments, tunes, airs, and measures, from our favoured island. Carr additionally says, that “although the Welsh have been for ages celebrated for the boldness and sweetness of their music, yet it appears that they were much indebted to the superior musical talents of their neighbours, the Irish.” Selden asserts “that the Welsh music, for the most part, came out of Ireland with Gruffydh ap Tenan, Prince of North Wales, who was cotemporary with King Stephen.” I know not whether our brethren of Scotland will be so ready to acknowledge the loan. But if anyone will compare the spirit of their music with that which pervades the melodies of our country, the identity will be as obvious as the inference is irresistible.

Fuller, in his account of the Crusade, conducted by Godfrey of Boulogne, says, “Yea, we might well think that all the concerts of Christendom in this war would have made no music if the _Irish harp_ had been wanting.”

And _this_ is the instrument which Ledwich asserts we borrowed from the Ostmen! Insolent presumption! Neither Ostman nor Dane ever laid eyes upon such, until they saw it in the _sunny_ valleys of the Emerald Island. And had they the shadow of a claim either to it or to the Round Towers, to which its services were consecrated, Cambrensis could not fail ascertaining the fact from any of the stragglers of those uncouth marauders, who--having survived the carnage inflicted upon their army, in the plains of Clontarf, under the retributive auspices of the immortal Brien--were allowed to cultivate their mercantile avocations in the various maritime cities, where they would naturally be proud to perpetuate every iota of demonstrative civilisation which they could pretend to have imported. Alas! they _imparted_ none, but _exported_ a great deal; and, what is more to be lamented, annihilated its evidences!

But it is not alone of the _property_ of this national organ that the _moderns_ would deprive us, but the very _existence_ of the instrument they affirm to be of recent date! Why, sir, it is as old as the hills. Open the fourth chapter of the Book of Genesis, and you will find it there recorded that “Jubal was the father of all such as handle the _harp_ and organ.”

And now to the empirics of the “Fine Arts,”[455] and the deniers of their antiquity, I shall quote the next verse, namely, “Zillah, she also bare a son, Tubal-Cain, an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron.”[456] And in Job xxviii. 2 it is said that “iron is taken out of the earth, and brass is molten out of the stone.”

“In the _north of Europe_,” says Herodotus, “there appears to be by far the greatest abundance of gold; where it is found I cannot say, except that _the Arimaspians, a race of men having only one eye_, are said to purloin it from the griffins.[457] I do not, however, believe that there exists any race of men born with only one eye!”

Had this esteemed author known the allegorical import of the word Arimaspians (from _arima_, one, and _spia_, an eye), such as it has been explained at page 86, he would not have committed himself by the observation with which the above extract has terminated. No doubt he thought it extremely _philosophical_, because it is _sceptical_! but let us see if another instance of his _scepticism_ will redound more to his _philosophy_:--“I cannot help laughing,” says he elsewhere, “at those who pretend that the ocean flows round our continent: no proof can be given of it.... I believe that Homer had taken what he believes about the ocean from a work of antiquity, but it was without comprehending anything of the matter, repeating what he had read, without well understanding what he had read!”[458]

Now, without disputing with Siberia the honour of possessing all this _ancient_ gold, I will take the liberty of inserting an extract from one of Mr. Hamilton’s letters on the Antrim coast, which will show, at all events, the antiquity of our mining.

“About the year 1770,” says he, “the miners, in pushing forward an adit toward the bed of coal, at an unexplored part of the Ballycastle cliff, unexpectedly broke through the rock into a narrow passage, so much contracted and choked up with various drippings and deposits on its sides and bottom, as rendered it impossible for any of the workmen to force through, that they might examine it farther. Two lads were, therefore, made to creep in with candles, for the purpose of exploring this subterranean avenue. They accordingly pressed forward for a considerable time, with much labour and difficulty, and at length entered into an extensive labyrinth, branching off into numerous apartments, in the mazes and windings of which they were completely bewildered and lost. After various vain attempts to return, their lights were extinguished, their voices became hoarse, and exhausted with frequent shouting; and, at length, wearied and spiritless, they sat down together, in utter despair of an escape from this miserable dungeon. In the meanwhile, the workmen in the adit became alarmed for their safety, fresh hands were incessantly employed, and, in the course of twenty-four hours, the passage was so opened as to admit some of the most active among the miners; but the situation of the two unhappy prisoners, who had sat down together in a very distant chamber of the cavern, prevented them from hearing altogether the noise and shouts of their friends, who thus laboured to assist them.

“Fortunately, it occurred to one of the lads (after his voice had become hoarse with shouting), that the noise of miners’ hammers was often heard at considerable distances through the coal works; in consequence of this reflection, he took up a stone, which he frequently struck against the sides of the cavern; the noise of this was at length heard by the workmen, who, in their turn, adopted a similar artifice; by this means each party was conducted towards the other, and the unfortunate adventurers extricated time enough to behold the sun risen in full splendour, which they had left the morning before just beginning to tinge the eastern horizon. On examining this subterranean wonder, it was found to be a complete gallery, which had been driven forward many hundred yards to the bed of coal: that it branched off into numerous chambers, where miners had carried on their different works: that these chambers were dressed in a workmanlike manner: that pillars were left at proper intervals to support the roof. In short, it was found to be an extensive mine, wrought by a set of people at least as expert in the business as the present generation. Some remains of the tools, and even of the baskets used in the works, were discovered, but in such a decayed state, that on being touched, they immediately crumbled to pieces. From the remains which were found, there is reason to believe that the people who wrought these collieries anciently, were acquainted with the use of iron, some small pieces of which were found; it appeared as if some of their instruments had been thinly shod with that metal.”

There is no question but that the era when those collieries were before worked, was that in which the Tuath-de-danaans were masters of this island. _Had it been at any later period, we could not fail having some traditions relating thereto._ Iron, therefore, the last discovered of the metals, as stated at page 115, must have been known to this people: and the absence of any name for it in our vernacular language is accounted for on the same principle as that by which those excavations themselves had been so long concealed, namely, the distaste of their successors to such applications, or the reluctance entertained to make them acquainted with their worth.

It is probable, however, that the little minikin fineries of life were not then in fashion--that our loaves were not baked in tin shapes, as at present, nor our carriages constructed in so many different varieties of form, excluding altogether those worked by steam; that our gunlocks were not prepared with percussion caps, nor our sofas furnished with air-blown cushions; that the routine of etiquette was differently negotiated, and that twenty, or more, several hands were not employed in the finish of a common pin, before it could be dignified with the honour of acting a useful part in adjusting the habiliments of a modern dandy:--but in all the grand essentials of life--in all its solid refinements and elegant utilities,--the scholar will confess that those who have gone before us have been fully our equals; and traces, too, are not wanting to countenance the belief that even those knick-knack frivolities on which we so pique ourselves in the present day, have not been at some period without a prototype,--so that the majority of those boasted patents for what are considered _discoveries_ or inventions of something new, should more properly be for _recoveries_, or unfoldings of something old, and illustrative of the adage, as remarkable as it is correct, “that there is nothing new under the sun.”[459]