rnational insults or
international courtesies, as the case may be. Nothing sound or definite
has been gained by such speculations, and in an age that prides itself on
the careful observance of the rules of inductive reasoning, nothing is
more surprising than the sweeping assertions with regard to national
character, and the reckless way in which casual observations that may be
true of one, two, three, or it may be ten or even a hundred individuals,
are extended to millions. However, if there is one safe exponent of
national character, it is language. Take away the language of a people,
and you destroy at once that powerful chain of tradition in thought and
sentiment which holds all the generations of the same race together, if we
may use an unpleasant simile, like the chain of a gang of galley-slaves.
These slaves, we are told, very soon fall into the same pace, without
being aware that their movements depend altogether on the movements of
those who walk before them. It is nearly the same with us. We imagine we
are altogether free in our thoughts, original and independent, and we are
not aware that our thoughts are manacled and fettered by language, and
that, without knowing and without perceiving it, we have to keep pace with
those who walked before us thousands and thousands of years ago. Language
alone binds people together, and keeps them distinct from others who speak
different tongues. In ancient times particularly, "languages and nations"
meant the same thing; and even with us our real ancestors are those whose
language we speak, the fathers of our thoughts, the mothers of our hopes
and fears. Blood, bones, hair, and color, are mere accidents, utterly
unfit to serve as principles of scientific classification for that great
family of living beings, the essential characteristics of which are
thought and speech, not fibrine, serum, coloring matter, or whatever else
enters into the composition of blood.

If this be true, the inhabitants of Cornwall, whatever the number of
Roman, Saxon, Danish, or Norman settlers within the boundaries of that
county may have been, continued to be Celts as long as they spoke Cornish.
They ceased to be Celts when they ceased to speak the language of their
forefathers. Those who can appreciate the charms of genuine antiquity will
not, therefore, find fault with the enthusiasm of Daines Barrington or Sir
Joseph Banks in listening to the strange utterances of Dolly Pentreath;
for her langua