London is the headquarters of the intellectualism
and of the literary and historical culture of the Empire. It is the
sole dispenser of fame. It alone influences the mind of the country
and guides thought and sentiment. It can make and mar reputations.
What it scorns or ignores, the world, too, ignores and scorns. How
then has the native literature of Ireland been treated by the
representatives of English scholarship and literary culture? Mr.
Carlyle is the first man of letters of the day, his the highest
name as a critic upon, and historian of, the past life of Europe.
Let us hear him upon this subject, admittedly of European
importance.
Miscellaneous Essays, Vol. III., page 136. "Not only as the oldest
Tradition of Modern Europe does it--the Nibelungen--possess a high
antiquarian interest, but farther, and even in the shape we now see
it under, unless the epics of the son of Fingal had some sort of
authenticity, it is our oldest poem also."
Poor Ireland, with her hundred ancient epics, standing at the door
of the temple of fame, or, indeed, quite behind the vestibule out
of the way! To see the Swabian enter in, crowned, to a flourish of
somewhat barbarous music, was indeed bad enough, but Mr. MacPherson!
They manage these things rather better in France, _vide passim_ "La
Revue Celtique."
Of the literary value of the bardic literature I fear to write at
all, lest I should not know how to make an end. Rude indeed it is,
but great.
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