and always found them of the most undaunted courage and resolution. *

Two circumstances, however, will unequivocally shew, the high degree of reputation in which the Celtic bravery was held. The first is, that the Roman republic, which on no occasion was forbearing, unless driven to it by necessity, for centuries continued to act upon the defensive, and never once ventured to attack those Celtic tribes, who were their nearest neighbours to the north. The second was the law, which exempted the aged, and those employed in the service of religion, from bearing arms on any account whatever, except in cases of hostility with the Gauls. In such event, every citizen indiscriminately was to be enrolled. "And thus," says Salust, "though the Roman arms have been successful in every other corner of the universe, they yet in every struggle with the Gauls have not only a contest for glory, but a contest for existence." Polybius tells us, the Greeks had a dread and horror of the Gallic valour. Justin, in speaking of those who ravaged Greece, and afterwards passed into Asia Minor, says, "the terror they occassioned in every country was so great, that kings and nations sent them embassies and

• Putarch + Cicero

↑ Appian

and presents to court their friendship and alliance. But what still, perhaps, adds more to their reputation, is the reliance the emperors of Rome implicitly had on their fidelity, as well as bravery. The body guards were generally Celtic. Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Nero, would be served by no others.

LETTER LXXII.

IT has been said that northern climates, especially those of high latitudes, have a tendency to depress the energy of the human mind. The assertion is erroneous. Many instances might be produced to prove it absolutely false. For example; the cold of Iceland is extreme, yet we know what genius it has given birth to. The Norwegians have in every age been remarkable for the vigour of their understandings.

No penetration and vivacity can be more subtile and acute. So far from excessive cold being injurious to their intellects, it is remarked, that the more one advances to the north in Norway, the more is brilliancy of understanding found to prevail. Drontheim, the city of Europe nearest to the Pole, and, next to Archangel, the town the least remote from the frozen regions, is nevertheless remarkable for the intelligence of its inhabitants. The same

4

may

may be said of the whole province, even where it immediately touches upon Lapland. *

So early as the ninth century, a colony of these Norwegians found their way into Iceland, and there settled themselves in tranquillity. Who has not read or heard of their Sagas, their ancient poetry and mythology? In the eleventh century, when almost every other European country was shrouded in ignorance, the Icelanders had enlightened writers. The historians of Iceland preceded those of Denmark and Sweden. The chronicle of Snorro Sturleson, who was born in Iceland, in 1178, is, above all, an inestimable work. But if, in this dreary, but monstrous mass of eternal fire and frost, Iceland, where, in a forlorn insulated state, nature seems to indulge in desolation and horror, men of extraordinary mental endowments could have been found, why are we to doubt that other northern kingdoms, even Siberia itself, might have had its brighter moments, its æra of refinement? The wild, rude, and uncultivated state of a country, is no proof that it was always in that state. Look, for instance, at the neighbourhood, even to the very gates, of the imperial city of Rome, and recollect the accounts

which are handed down to us of it; where human nature has acted every part; where every vice and every virtue has had its unlimited career; where heroes have proudly flourished; and where monsters have execrably satiated their wickedness. A Nero, and a Marcus Aurelius, have here trodden upon the same ground. Not a stone but speaks. Interrogate them, they will tell you each a disastrous tale. Yet, could the approach to Tadmor, in the desert, be more barren or more melancholy? From Tuscany, through the whole of the patrimony of St. Peter, there is scarcely, if I remember right, a vestige of the tillage of man, except in a few almost obliterated furrows. Yet this is the spot whither the kings and nations of the earth heretofore hurried in crowds; where Cæsar, Pompey, and Augustus rolled their innumerable myrmidons; and now, save a few monks, and here and there a group of sickly beggars, where the human face is rarely to be seen.

Form, for a moment, the supposition, that an earthquake, or the undermining by subterraneous fires, should suddenly cause this famous city to tumble in, and to leave nothing but a lake, as is so frequently exemplified in Italy; what would a traveller, uninformed of its former

glory,