The Native Races [of the Pacific states], Volume 2, Civilized Nations / The Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, Volume 2

by Hubert Howe Bancroft

CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME.

CHAPTER I.
SAVAGISM AND CIVILIZATION.

Definition of the Terms—The Universal Soul of Progress—Man the Instrument and not the Element of Progress—Origin of Progressional Phenomena—The Agency of Evil—Is Civilization Conducive to Happiness?—Objective and Subjective Humanity—Conditions Essential to Progress—Continental Configurations—Food and Climate—Wealth and Leisure—Association—War, Slavery, Religion, and Government—The Development of Progressional Law

CHAPTER II.
GENERAL VIEW OF THE CIVILIZED NATIONS.

The American Civilization of the Sixteenth Century—Its Disappearance—The Past, a New Element—Dividing line between Savage and Civilized Tribes—Bounds of American Civilization—Physical Features of the Country—Maya and Nahua Branches of Aboriginal Culture—The Nahua Civilization—The Aztecs its Representatives—Limits of the Aztec Empire—Ancient History of Anáhuac in Outline—The Toltec Era—The Chichimec Era—The Aztec Era—Extent of the Aztec Language—Civilized Peoples outside of Anáhuac—Central American Nations—The Maya Culture—The Primitive Maya Empire—Nahua Influence in the South—Yucatan and the Mayas—The Nations of Chiapas—The Quiché Empire in Guatemala—The Nahuas in Nicaragua and Salvador—Etymology of Names

CHAPTER III.
GOVERNMENT OF THE NAHUA NATIONS.

System of Government—The Aztec Confederacy—Order of Succession—Election of Kings among the Mexicans—Royal Prerogatives—Government and Laws of Succession among the Toltecs, and in Michoacan, Tlascala, Cholula, Huexotzinco, and Oajaca—Magnificence of the Nahua Monarchs—Ceremony of Anointment—Ascent to the Temple—The Holy Unction—Address of the High-Priest to the King—Penance and Fasting in the House called Tlacatecco—Homage of the Nobles—General Rejoicing throughout the Kingdom—Ceremony of Coronation—The Procuring of Sacrifices—Description of the Crown—Coronation Feasts and Entertainments—Hospitality extended to Enemies—Coronation Speech of Nezahualpilli, King of Tezcuco, to Montezuma II. of Mexico—Oration of a Noble to a Newly elected King

CHAPTER IV.
PALACES AND HOUSEHOLDS OF THE NAHUA KINGS.

Extent and Interior of the Great Palace in Mexico—The Palace of Nezahualcoyotl, King of Tezcuco—The Zoölogical Collections of the Nahua Monarchs—Montezuma's Oratory—Royal Gardens and Pleasure-Grounds—The Hill of Chapultepec—Nezahualcoyotl's Country Residence at Tezcozinco—Toltec Palaces—The Royal Guard—The King's Meals—An Aztec Cuisine—The Audience Chamber—After-dinner Amusements—The Royal Wardrobe—The King Among his People—Meeting of Montezuma II. and Cortés—The King's Harem—Revenues of the Royal Household—Policy of Aztec Kings

CHAPTER V.
THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES AMONG THE NAHUAS.

Titles of the Nobility and Gentry—The Power of the Nobles—The Aristocracy of Tezcuco—The Policy of King Techotlalatzin—Privileges of the Nobles—Montezuma's Policy—Rivalry between Nobles and Commons—The Knightly Order of Tecuhtli—Ceremony of Initiation—Origin of the Order—The Nahua Priesthood—The Priests of Mexico—Dedication of Children—Priestesses—Priesthood of Miztecapan—The Pontiff of Yopaa—Tradition of Wixipecocha—The Cave of Yopaa—The Zapotec Priests—Toltec Priests—Totonac Priests—Priests of Michoacan, Puebla, and Tlascala

CHAPTER VI.
PLEBEIANS, SLAVES, TENURE OF LANDS, AND TAXATION.

Influence of the Commoners—Oppression by Nobles—Deprived of Office by Montezuma II.—Classes of Slaves—Penal Slaves—Voluntary Slavery—Slave Market at Azcapuzalco—Punishment and Privileges of Slaves—Division of Lands—Crown Lands—Lands of the Nobles—Municipal Property—Property of the Temples—Tenure of Lands in Zapotecapan, Miztecapan, Michoacan, Tlascala, Cholula, and Huexotzinco—Similarity to Feudal System of Europe—System of Taxation—Municipal Taxes—Lice Tribute—Tribute from Conquered Provinces—Revenue Officers—Injustice of Montezuma II. 216

CHAPTER VII.
EDUCATION, MARRIAGE, CONCUBINAGE, CHILDBIRTH, AND BAPTISM.

Education of the Nahua Youth—Manner of Punishment—Marriage Preliminaries—Nuptial Ceremony—Observance after Marriage—Mazatec, Otomí, Chichimec, and Toltec Marriages—Divorce—Concubinage—Ceremonies Preliminary to Childbirth—Treatment of Pregnant Women—Proceedings of Midwife—Superstitions with regard to Women who Died in Childbed—Abortion—Baptism—Speeches of Midwife—Naming of Children—Baptism among the Tlascaltecs, Mixtecs, and Zapotecs—Circumcision and Scarification of Infants

CHAPTER VIII.
NAHUA FEASTS AND AMUSEMENTS.

Excessive Fondness for Feasts—Manner of Giving Feasts—Serving the Meal—Professional Jesters—Parting Presents to Guests—Royal Banquets—Tobacco Smoking—Public Dances—Manner of Singing and Dancing—The Neteteliztli—The Drama among the Nahuas—Music and Musical Instruments—Nahua Poetry—Acrobatic Feats—The Netololiztli, or 'Bird Dance'—Professional Runners—The Game of Tlactli—Games of Chance—The Patoliztli, or 'Bean Game'—Totoloque, Montezuma's Favorite Game

CHAPTER IX.
PUBLIC FESTIVALS.

Frequent Occurrence of Religious Feasts—Human Sacrifices—Feasts of the Fourth Year—Monthly Festivals—Sacrifice of Children—Feast of Xipe—Manner of Sacrifice—Feasts of Camaxtli, of the Flower Dealers, of Centeotl, of Tezcatlipoca, and of Huitzilopochtli—Festival of the Salt Makers—The Sacrifice by Fire—Feast of the Dead—The Coming of the Gods—The Footprints on the Mat—Hunting Feast—The Month of Love—Hard Times—Nahua Lupercalia—Feasts of the Sun, of the Winter Solstice—Harvest and Eight-Year Festivals—The Binding of the Sheaf

CHAPTER X.
FOOD OF THE NAHUA NATIONS.

Origin of Agriculture—Floating Gardens—Agricultural Products—Manner of preparing the Soil—Description of Agricultural Implements—Irrigation—Granaries—Gardens—The Harvest Feast—Manner of Hunting—Fishing—Methods of procuring Salt—Nahua Cookery—Various kinds of Bread—Beans—Pepper—Fruit—Tamales—Miscellaneous Articles of Food—Eating of Human Flesh—Manufacture of Pulque—Preparation of Chocolatl—Other Beverages—Intoxicating Drinks—Drunkenness—Time and Manner of Taking Meals

CHAPTER XI.
DRESS OF THE NAHUA NATIONS.

Progress in Dress—Dress of the Pre-Aztec Nations—Garments of the Chichimecs and Toltecs—Introduction of Cotton—The Maxtli—The Tilmatli—Dress of the Acolhuas—Origin of the Tarascan Costume—Dress of the Zapotecs and Tabascans—Dress of Women—The Huipil and Cueitl—Sandals—Manner of Wearing the Hair—Painting and Tattooing—Ornaments used by the Nahuas—Gorgeous Dress of the Nobles—Dress of the Royal Attendants—Names of the Various Mantles—The Royal Diadem—The Royal Wardrobe—Costly Decorations

CHAPTER XII.
COMMERCE OF THE NAHUA NATIONS.

The Main Features of Nahua Commerce—Commerce in Pre-Aztec Times—Outrages Committed by Aztec Merchants—Privileges of the Merchants of Tlatelulco—Jealousy between Merchants and Nobles—Articles used as Currency—The Markets of Anáhuac—Arrangement and Regulations of the Market-Places—Number of Buyers and Sellers—Transportation of Wares—Traveling Merchants—Commercial Routes—Setting out on a Journey—Caravans of Traders—The Return—Customs and Feasts of the Merchants—Nahua Boats and Navigation

CHAPTER XIII.
WAR-CUSTOMS OF THE NAHUAS.

Importance of the Military Profession—Indications of Rank—Education of Warriors—Rewards for Valor—Military Orders and their Dress—Gorgeous War-Dresses of Montezuma and the Aztec Nobility—Dress of the Common Soldiers—Armor and Defensive Weapons—Offensive Weapons—Standards—Ambassadors and Couriers—Fortifications—The Military Council—Articles of War—Declaration of War—Spies—Order of March and Battle—War Customs of the Tlascaltecs and Tarascos—Return of the Conquering Army—Celebration of Feats of Arms

CHAPTER XIV.
NAHUA LAWS AND LAW COURTS.

General Remarks—the Cihuacoatl, or Supreme Judge—the Court of the Tlacatecatl—Jurisdiction of the Tecuhtlis—the Centectlapixques and Topillis—Law Courts and Judges of Tezcuco—Eighty-Day Council—Tribunal of the King—Court Proceedings—Lawyers—Witnesses—Remuneration of Judges—Justice of King Nezahualpilli—He orders his Son's Execution—Montezuma and the Farmer—Jails—Laws against Theft, Murder, Treason, Kidnapping, Drunkenness, Witchcraft, Adultery, Incest, Sodomy, Fornication, and other Crimes—Story of Nezahualcoyotl and the Boy

CHAPTER XV.
NAHUA ARTS AND MANUFACTURES.

Metals Used and Manner of Obtaining Them—Working of Gold and Silver—Wonderful Skill in Imitating Gilding and Plating—Working in Stone—Lapidary Work—Wood Carving—Manufacture of Pottery—Various Kinds of Cloth—Manufacture of Paper and Leather—Preparation of Dyes and Paints—The Art of Painting—Feather Mosaic Work—Leaf-Mats—Manner of Kindling Fire—Torches—Soap—Council of Arts in Tezcuco—Oratory and Poetry—Nezahualcoyotl's Odes on the Mutability of Life, and the Tyrant Tezozomoc—Aztec Arithmetical System

CHAPTER XVI.
THE AZTEC CALENDAR.

Astronomical Knowledge of the Aztecs—Contradictions of Authors respecting the Calendar—Value of the Researches of Various Writers—The First Regular Calendar—The Mexican Cycle—The Civil Year—The Aztec Months—Names of the Days and their Signification—The Commencement of the Aztec Year—The Ritual Calendar—Gama's Arrangement of the Months—The Calendar-Stone—The Four Destructions of the World—The Calendar of Michoacan—Reckoning of the Zapotecs

CHAPTER XVII.
THE AZTEC PICTURE-WRITING.

Hieroglyphic Records—The Native Books—Authorities—Destruction of the Native Archives by Zumárraga and his Confrères—Picture-Writings used after the Conquest for Confession and Law-Suits—Value of the Records—Documents sent to Spain in the Sixteenth Century—European Collections—Lord Kingsborough's Work—Picture-Writings retained in Mexico—Collections of Ixtlilxochitl, Sigüenza, Gemelli Careri, Boturini, Veytia, Leon y Gama, Pichardo, Aubin, and the National Museum of Mexico—Process of Hieroglyphic Development—Representative, Symbolic, and Phonetic Picture-Writing—Origin of Modern Alphabets—The Aztec System—Specimen from the Codex Mendoza—Specimen from Gemelli Careri—Specimen from the Boturini Collection—Probable future Success of Interpreters—The Nepohualtzitzin

CHAPTER XVIII.
ARCHITECTURE AND DWELLINGS OF THE NAHUAS.

Architecture of the Ancient Nations—General Features of Nahua Architecture—The Arch—Exterior and Interior Decorations—Method of Building—Inclined Planes—Scaffolds—The use of the Plummet—Building Materials—Position and Fortification of Towns—Mexico Tenochtitlan—The Great Causeways—Quarters and Wards of Mexico—The Market Place—Fountains and Aqueducts—Light-houses and Street-work—City of Tezcuco—Dwellings—Aztec Gardens—Temple of Huitzilopochtli—Temple of Mexico—Other Temples—Teocalli at Cholula and Tezcuco

CHAPTER XIX.
MEDICINE AND FUNERAL RITES AMONG THE NAHUAS.

Mexican Contributions to Medical Science—The Botanical Gardens—Longevity—Prevalent Diseases—Introduction of Small-Pox and Syphilis—Medical Treatment—The Temazcalli—Aboriginal Physicians—The Aztec Faculty—Standard Remedies—Surgery—Superstitious Ceremonies in Healing—Funeral Rites of Aztecs—Cremation—Royal Obsequies—Embalming—The Funeral Pyre—Human Sacrifice—Disposal of the Ashes and Ornaments—Mourners—Funeral Ceremonies of the People—Certain Classes Buried—Rites for the Slain in Battle—Burial among the Teo-Chichimecs and Tabascans—Cremation Ceremonies in Michoacan—Burial by the Miztecs in Oajaca

CHAPTER XX.
GOVERNMENT, SOCIAL CLASSES, PROPERTY, AND LAWS OF THE MAYA NATIONS.

Introductory Remarks—Votan's Empire—Zamná's Reign—The Royal Families of Yucatan, Cocomes, Tutul Xius, Itzas, and Cheles—Titles and Order of Succession—Classes of Nobles—The Quiché-Cakchiquel Empire in Guatemala—The Ahau Ahpop and Succession to the Throne—Privileged Classes—Government of the Provinces—The Royal Council—The Chiapanecs—The Pipiles—Nations of Nicaragua—The Maya Priesthood—Plebeian Classes—Slaves—Tenure of Lands—Inheritance of Property—Taxation—Debtors and Creditor—Laws and the Administration of Justice

CHAPTER XXI.
EDUCATION AND FAMILY MATTERS AMONG THE MAYAS.

Education of Youth—Public Schools of Guatemala—Branches of Study in Yucatan—Marrying-Age—Degrees of Consanguinity allowed in Marriage—Preliminaries of Marriage—Marriage Ceremonies—The Custom of the Droit du Seigneur in Nicaragua—Widows—Monogamy—Concubinage—Divorce—Laws Concerning Adultery—Fornication—Rape—Prostitution—Unnatural Crimes—Desire for Children—Childbirth Ceremonies—Rite of Circumcision—Manner of Naming Children—Baptismal Ceremonies

CHAPTER XXII.
FEASTS AND AMUSEMENTS OF THE MAYAS.

Special Observances—Fixed Feasts—Sacrifice of Slaves—Monthly Feasts of the Yucatecs—Renewal of the Idols—Feast of the Chacs—Hunting Festival—The Tuppkak—Feast of the Cacao-Planters—War Feast—The Maya New Year's Day—Feasts of the Hunters, Fishers, and Apiarists—Ceremonies in honor of Cukulcan—Feast of the Month of Mol—Feasts of the Years Kan, Muluc, Ix, and Cauac—Yucatec Sacrifices—The Pit of Chichen—Sacrifices of the Pipiles—Feast of Victory—Feasts and Sacrifices in Nicaragua—Banquets—Dances—Musical Instruments—Games

CHAPTER XXIII.
FOOD, DRESS, COMMERCE, AND WAR CUSTOMS OF THE MAYAS.

Introduction of Agriculture—Quiché Tradition of the Discovery of Maize—Maize Culture—Superstitions of Farmers—Hunting and Fishing—Domestic Animals, Fowl, and Bees—Preservation and Cooking of Food—Meals—Drinks and Drinking—Habits—Cannibalism—Dress of the Mayas—Maxtlis, Mantles, and Sandals—Dress of Kings and Priests—Women's Dress—Hair and Beard—Personal Decoration—Head-Flattening, Perforation, Tattooing, and Painting—Personal Habits—Commerce—Currency—Markets—Superstitions of Travelers—Canoes and Balsas—War—Military Leaders—Insignia—Armor—Weapons—Fortifications—Battles—Treatment of Captives

CHAPTER XXIV.
MAYA ARTS, CALENDAR, AND HIEROGLYPHICS.

Scarcity of Information—Use of Metals—Gold and Precious Stones—Implements of Stone—Sculpture—Pottery—Manufacture of Cloth—Dyeing—System of Numeration—Maya Calendar in Yucatan—Days, Weeks, Months, and Years—Indictions and Katunes—Perez' System of Ahau Katunes—Statements of Landa and Cogolludo—Intercalary Days and Years—Days and Months in Guatemala, Chiapas, and Soconusco—Maya Hieroglyphic System—Testimony of Early Writers on the Use of Picture-Writing—Destruction of Documents—Specimens which have Survived—The Dresden Codex—Manuscript Troano—Tablets of Palenque, Copan, and Yucatan—Bishop Landa's Key—Brasseur de Bourbourg's Interpretation

CHAPTER XXV.
BUILDINGS, MEDICINE, BURIAL, PHYSICAL PECULIARITIES, AND CHARACTER OF THE MAYAS.

Scanty Information given by the Early Voyagers—Private Houses of the Mayas—Interior Arrangement, Decoration, and Furniture—Maya Cities—Description of Utatlan—Patinamit, the Cakchiquel Capital—Cities of Nicaragua—Maya Roads—Temples at Chichen Itza and Cozumel—Temples of Nicaragua and Guatemala—Diseases of the Mayas—Medicines used—Treatment of the Sick—Propitiatory Offerings and Vows—Superstitions—Dreams—Omens—Witchcraft—Snake-Charmers—Funeral Rites and Ceremonies—Physical Peculiarities—Character

NATIVE RACES OF THE PACIFIC STATES showing the location of THE CIVILIZED NATIONS
[View larger map.]

THE NATIVE RACES
OF THE
PACIFIC STATES.

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CIVILIZED NATIONS.

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CHAPTER I.
SAVAGISM AND CIVILIZATION.

Definition of the Terms—Force and Nature—The Universal Soul of Progress—Man the Instrument and not the Element of Progress—Origin of Progressional Phenomena—The Agency of Evil—Is Civilization Conducive to Happiness?—Objective and Subjective Humanity—Conditions Essential to Progress—Continental Configurations—Food and Climate—Wealth and Leisure—Association—War, Slavery, Religion, and Government—Morality and Fashion—The Development of Progressional Law.

The terms Savage and Civilized, as applied to races of men, are relative and not absolute terms. At best these words mark only broad shifting stages in human progress; the one near the point of departure, the other farther on toward the unattainable end. This progress is one and universal, though of varying rapidity and extent; there are degrees in savagism and there are degrees in civilization; indeed, though placed in opposition, the one is but a degree of the other. The Haidah, whom we call savage, is as much superior to the Shoshone, the lowest of Americans, as the Aztec is superior to the Haidah, or the European to the Aztec. Looking back some thousands of ages, we of to-day are civilized; looking forward through the same duration of time, we are savages.

Nor is it, in the absence of fixed conditions, and amidst the many shades of difference presented by the nations along our western seaboard, an easy matter to tell where even comparative savagism ends and civilization begins. In the common acceptation of these terms, we may safely call the Central Californians savage, and the Quichés of Guatemala civilized; but between these two extremes are hundreds of peoples, each of which presents some claim for both distinctions. Thus, if the domestication of ruminants, or some knowledge of arts and metals, constitute civilization, then are the ingenious but half-torpid Hyperboreans civilized, for the Eskimos tame reindeer, and the Thlinkeets are skillful carvers and make use of copper; if the cultivation of the soil, the building of substantial houses of adobe, wood, and stone, with the manufacture of cloth and pottery, denote an exodus from savagism, then are the Pueblos of New Mexico no longer savages; yet in both these instances enough may be seen, either of stupidity or brutishness, to forbid our ranking them with the more advanced Aztecs, Mayas, and Quichés.

We know what savages are; how, like wild animals, they depend for food and raiment upon the spontaneous products of nature, migrating with the beasts and birds and fishes, burrowing beneath the ground, hiding in caves, or throwing over themselves a shelter of bark or skins or branches or boards, eating or starving as food is abundant or scarce; nevertheless, all of them have made some advancement from their original naked, helpless condition, and have acquired some aids in the procurement of their poor necessities. Primeval man, the only real point of departure, and hence the only true savage, nowhere exists on the globe to-day. Be the animal man never so low—lower in skill and wisdom than the brute, less active in obtaining food, less ingenious in building his den—the first step out of his houseless, comfortless condition, the first fashioning of a tool, the first attempt to cover nakedness and wall out the wind, if this endeavor spring from intellect and not from instinct, is the first step toward civilization. Hence the modern savage is not the pre-historic or primitive man; nor is it among the barbarous nations of to-day that we must look for the rudest barbarism.

DEFINITION OF THE TERMS.

Often is the question asked, What is civilization? and the answer comes, The act of civilizing; the state of being civilized. What is the act of civilizing? To reclaim from a savage or barbarous state; to educate; to refine. What is a savage or barbarous state? A wild uncultivated state; a state of nature. Thus far the dictionaries. The term civilization, then, popularly implies both the transition from a natural to an artificial state, and the artificial condition attained. The derivation of the word civilization, from civis, citizen, civitas, city, and originally from cœtus, union, seems to indicate that culture which, in feudal times, distinguished the occupants of cities from the ill-mannered boors of the country. The word savage, on the other hand, from silva, a wood, points to man primeval; silvestres homines, men of the forest, not necessarily ferocious or brutal, but children of nature. From these simple beginnings both words have gradually acquired a broader significance, until by one is understood a state of comfort, intelligence, and refinement; and by the other, humanity wild and bestial.

Guizot defines civilization as an "improved condition of man resulting from the establishment of social order in place of the individual independence and lawlessness of the savage or barbarous life;" Buckle as "the triumph of mind over external agents;" Virey as "the development more or less absolute of the moral and intellectual faculties of man united in society;" Burke as the exponent of two principles, "the spirit of a gentleman and the spirit of religion." "Whatever be the characteristics of what we call savage life," says John Stuart Mill, "the contrary of these, or the qualities which society puts on as it throws off these, constitute civilization;" and, remarks Emerson, "a nation that has no clothing, no iron, no alphabet, no marriage, no arts of peace, no abstract thought, we call barbarous."

Men talk of civilization and call it liberty, religion, government, morality. Now liberty is no more a sign of civilization than tyranny; for the lowest savages are the least governed of all people. Civilized liberty, it is true, marks a more advanced stage than savage liberty, but between these two extremes of liberty there is a necessary age of tyranny, no less significant of an advance on primitive liberty than is constitutional liberty an advance on tyranny. Nor is religion civilization, except in so far as the form and machinery of sacerdotal rites, and the abandonment of fetichism for monotheism become significant of intenser thought and expansion of intellect. No nation ever practiced grosser immorality, or what we of the present day hold to be immorality, than Greece during the height of her intellectual refinement. Peace is no more civilization than war, virtue than vice, good than evil. All these are the incidents, not the essence, of civilization.

That which we commonly call civilization is not an adjunct nor an acquirement of man; it is neither a creed nor a polity, neither science nor philosophy nor industry; it is rather the measure of progressional force implanted in man, the general fund of the nation's wealth, learning, and refinement, the storehouse of accumulated results, the essence of all best worth preserving from the distillations of good and the distillations of evil. It is a something between men, no less than a something within them; for neither an isolated man nor an association of brutes can by any possibility become civilized.

CIVILIZATION A WORKING PRINCIPLE.

Further than this, civilization is not only the measure of aggregated human experiences, but it is a living working principle. It is a social transition; a moving forward rather than an end attained; a developing vitality rather than a fixed entity; it is the effort or aim at refinement rather than refinement itself; it is labor with a view to improvement and not improvement consummated, although it may be and is the metre of such improvement. And this accords with latter-day teachings. Although in its infancy, and, moreover, unable to explain things unexplainable, the science of evolution thus far has proved that the normal condition of the human race, as well as that of physical nature, is progressional; that the plant in a congenial soil is not more sure to grow than is humanity with favorable surroundings certain to advance. Nay, more, we speak of the progress of civilization as of something that moves on of its own accord; we may, if we will, recognize in this onward movement, the same principle of life manifest in nature and in the individual man.

To things we do not understand we give names, with which by frequent use we become familiar, when we fancy that we know all about the things themselves. At the first glance civilization appears to be a simple matter; to be well clad, well housed, and well fed, to be intelligent and cultured are better than nakedness and ignorance; therefore it is a good thing, a thing that men do well to strive for,—and that is all. But once attempt to go below this placid surface, and investigate the nature of progressional phenomena, and we find ourselves launched upon an eternity of ocean, and in pursuit of the same occult Cause, which has been sought alike by philosophic and barbaric of every age and nation; we find ourselves face to face with a great mystery, to which we stand in the same relation as to other great mysteries, such as the origin of things, the principle of life, the soul-nature. When such questions are answered as What is attraction, heat, electricity; what instinct, intellect, soul? Why are plants forced to grow and molecules to conglomerate and go whirling in huge masses through space?—then we may know why society moves ever onward like a river in channels predetermined. At present, these phenomena we may understand in their action partially, in their essence not at all; we may mark effects, we may recognize the same principle under widely different conditions though we may not be able to discover what that principle is. Science tells us that these things are so; that certain combinations of certain elements are inevitably followed by certain results, but science does not attempt to explain why they are so. Nevertheless, a summary of such few simple thoughts as I have been able to gather upon the subject, may be not wholly valueless.

FORCE AND MATTER.

And first, to assist our reflections, let us look for a moment at some of the primal principles in nature, not with a view to instruct in that direction, but rather to compare some of the energies of the material world with the intellectual or progressional energy in man; and of these I will mention such only as are currently accepted by latter-day science.

Within the confines of the conceivable universe one element alone is all-potential, all-pervading,—Force. Throughout the realms of space, in and round all forms of matter, binding minutest atoms, balancing systems of worlds, rioting in life, rotting in death, under its various aspects mechanical and chemical, attractive and repulsive, this mighty power is manifest; a unifying, coalescing, and flowing power, older than time, quicker than thought, saturating all suns and planets and filling to repletion all molecules and masses. Worlds and systems of worlds are sent whirling, worlds round worlds and systems round systems, in a mazy planetary dance, wherein the slightest tripping, the least excess of momentum or inertia, of tension or traction, in any part, and chaos were come again. Every conceivable entity, ponderable and imponderable, material and immaterial, is replete with force. By it all moving bodies are set in motion, all motionless bodies held at rest; by it the infinitesimal atom is held an atom and the mass is held concrete, vapory moisture overspreads the land, light and heat animate senseless substance; by it forms of matter change, rocks grow and dissolve, mountains are made and unmade, the ocean heaves and swells, the eternal hills pulsate, the foundations of the deep rise up, and seas displace continents.

One other thing we know, which with the first comprises all our knowledge,—Matter. Now force and matter are interdependent, one cannot exist without the other; as for example, all substance, unless held together—which term obviously implies force—would speedily dissolve into inconceivable nothingness. But no less force is required to annihilate substance than to create it; force, therefore, is alike necessary to the existence or non-existence of matter, which reduces the idea of a possible absence of either force or matter to an absurdity; or, in other words, it is impossible for the human mind to conceive of a state of things wherein there is no matter, and consequently no force.

Force has been called the soul of nature, and matter the body, for by force matter lives and moves and has its being.

Force like matter, is divisible, infinitely so, as far as human experience goes; for, though ultimates may exist, they have never yet been reached; and it would seem that all physical phenomena, endlessly varied and bewildering as they may appear, spring from a few simple incomprehensible forces, the bases of which are attraction and repulsion; which may yet, indeed, derive their origin from One Only Source. In the morphological and geometrical displays of matter these phenomena assume a multitude of phases; all are interactive and interdependent, few are original or primary,—for example, heat and electricity are the offspring of motion which is the result of attractive and repulsive force.

What is force and what matter, whether the one is the essence of a self-conscious Creator and the other his handiwork, or whether both are the offspring of a blind chance or fate—which latter hypothesis is simply unthinkable—it is not my purpose here to consider. I propose in this analysis to take things as I find them, to study the operations rather than the origin of phenomena, to determine what man does rather than what he ought to do, and to drop the subject at the confines of transcendentalism. When, therefore, I speak of force as the life of matter, it no more implies a self-existant materialism in man, than the soul of man implies a pantheistic self-existant soul in nature. Omnipotence can as easily create and sustain a universe through the media of antagonistic and interdependent forces as through any other means, can as easily place nature and man under the governance of fixed laws as to hold all under varying arbitrary dispensations, and can reconcile these laws with man's volition. Wells of bitterness are dug by disputants under meaningless words; scientists are charged with materialism and religionists with fanaticism, in their vain attempts to fathom the ways of the Almighty and restrict his powers to the limits of our weak understanding.

It has been said that, in the beginning, the sixty and odd supposed several elements of matter were in a chaotic state; that matter and force were poised in equilibrium or rioted at random throughout space, that out of this condition of things sprang form and development; regular motion and time began; matter condensed into revolving masses and marked off the days, and months, and years; organization and organisms were initiated and intellectual design became manifest. The infinitesimal molecules, balanced by universal equilibrium of forces, which before motion and time were but chaotic matter and force, were finally supposed to have been each endowed with an innate individuality. However this may be, we now see every atom in the universe athrill with force, and possessed of chemical virtues, and, under conditions, with the faculty of activity. As to the Force behind force, or how or by what means this innate energy was or is implanted in molecules, we have here nothing to do. It is sufficient for our purpose that we find it there; yet, the teachings of philosophy imply that this innate force is neither self-implanted nor self-operative; that whether, in pre-stellar times, infinitesimal particles of matter floated in space as nebulous fluid or objectless vapor without form or consistence, or whether all matter was united in one mass which was set revolving, and became broken into fragments, which were sent whirling as suns and planets in every direction; that in either case, or in any other conceivable case, matter, whether as molecules or masses, was primordially, and is, endowed and actuated by a Creative Intelligence, which implanting force, vitality, intellect, soul, progress, is ever acting, moving, mixing, unfolding, and this in every part and in all the multitudinous combinations of matter; and that all forces and vitalities must have co-existed in the mass, innate in and around every atom.

THEORIES OF NEWTON AND LAPLACE.

Thus, in his great theory of the projectile impulse given to heavenly bodies in counteraction of the attractive impulse, Sir Isaac Newton assumes that both impulses were given from without; that some power foreign to themselves projected into space these heavenly bodies and holds them there. So, too, when Laplace promulgated the idea that in pre-planetary times space was filled with particles and vapors, solar systems existing only in a nebulous state and this nebula set revolving in one mass upon its own axis from west to east, and that as the velocity of this mass increased suns and planets were, by centrifugal force, thrown off and condensed into habitable but still whirling worlds, some impulse foreign to the revolving mass setting it in motion is implied.

With organization and motion, the phases of force, called heat, light, electricity and magnetism, hitherto held dormant in molecules are engendered; composition and decomposition ensue; matter assumes new and varying forms; a progressional development, which is nothing but intelligently directed motion, is initiated, and motion becomes eternal.

It is a well-established principle of physics that force cannot be created or lost. The conservation of force is not affected by the action or energies of moving bodies. Force is not created to set a body in motion, nor when expended, as we say, is it lost. The sum of all potential energies throughout the universe is always the same, whether matter is at rest or in motion. It is evident that so long as every molecule is charged with attractive force no atom can drop out into the depths of unoccupied and absolute space and become lost or annihilated; and so long as force is dependent on matter for its perceivable existence, force cannot escape beyond the confines of space and become lost in absolute void.

Not only are forces interdependent, but they are capable of being metamorphosed one into another. Thus intellectual energy invents a machine which drives a steamship across the ocean. This invention or creation of the mind is nothing else than a vitalization or setting at liberty of mechanical forces, and without this vitalization or applied intellectual force such mechanical force lies dormant as in so-called dead matter. Gravitation is employed to turn a water-wheel, caloric to drive a steam-engine, by means of either of which weights may be raised, heat, electricity, and light produced, and these new-created forces husbanded and made to produce still other forces or turned back into their original channels. And so in chemical and capillary action, the correlation of forces everywhere is found.

INTIMACY OF MIND AND MATTER.

Between mind and matter there exists the most intimate relationship. Immateriality, in its various phases of force, life, intellect, so far as human consciousness can grasp it, is inseparable from materiality. The body is but part of the soil on which it treads, and the mind can receive no impressions except through the organs of the body. The brain is the seat of thought and the organ of thought; neither can exist in a normal state apart from the other. As a rule, the power of the intellect is in proportion to the size and quality of the brain. Among animals, those of lowest order have the least brains; man, the most intellectual of animals, has relatively, if not absolutely, the largest brain. True, in some of the largest animals the cerebral mass is larger than in man, but, in its chemical composition, its convolutions, shape, and quality, that in man is superior; and it is in the quality, rather than in the quantity of the nervous tissues, that their superiority consists. Intelligence enters the brain by the organs of the senses, and through the nervous system its subtle influence radiates to every part of the body. All human activities are either mental or mechanical; nor will it be denied that mental activity is produced by mechanical means, or, that mechanical activity is the result of mental force. Corporeal motion is mental force distributed to the various parts of the body.

The action of immaterial forces on the material substances of the human body manifestly accords with the action of immaterial forces elsewhere. All the physical and mechanical actions of the human body accord with the physical and mechanical forces elsewhere displayed. Man, we are told, was the last of all created things, but in the making of man no new matter was employed; nor in setting the body in motion can we discover that any new force was invented. Thus the heart beats upon mechanical principles; the eye sees, and the voice speaks in accordance with the general laws of optics and acoustics.

To the observer, organic activity is but the product of combined inorganic forces. The same processes are at work, and in the same manner, in living and in so-called dead matter. Life, to all appearance, is but the result of combined chemical and mechanical processes. Assimilation, digestion, secretion, are explainable by chemistry, and by chemistry alone. The stomach is a chemical retort, the body a chemical laboratory. Carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, combine and separate in the body as out of the body. The blood circulates upon purely mechanical principles; all muscular action is mechanical. In the phenomena of life, the only perceptible difference is in the combinations of fundamental elements; yet chemistry and mechanics cannot produce a live body.

With the foregoing well-recognized principles before us, let us now notice some few parallelisms between mechanical and social energetics.

Man, like every other natural substance, is a compound of force and matter. "Respiration," says Liebig, "is the falling weight, the bent spring, which keeps the clock in motion; the inspirations and respirations are the strokes of the pendulum which regulates." Atoms of matter, through the instrumentality of living force, cohere and coalesce under endless complex conditions into endless varieties of form and substance; so also the activities of man, corporeal and intellectual, result in vast accumulations of experiences, which accumulations become the property of the whole society. Society, like matter, is composed of units, each possessing certain forces, attractive and repulsive; societies act upon each other, like celestial bodies, in proportion to their volume and proximity, and the power of the unit increases with the increase of the mass. In association there is a force as silent and as subtle as that which governs atoms and holds worlds in equipoise; its grosser forms are known as government, worship, fashion, and the like; its finer essence is more delicate than thought. It is this social force, attractive and repulsive, that binds men together, tears them asunder, kneads, and knits, and shapes, and evolves; it is the origin of every birth, the ultimate of every activity. Mechanical forces are manifest in machines, as the lever, the wheel, the inclined plane; professional force is manifest in intellectual ingenuity, literature, art, science, which are the machines of human progress.

MATERIALITY ACTING ON THE MIND.

How many of all our joys and sorrows, our loves and hates, our good and evil actions, spring from physical causes only? Even material substances display moods and affections, as when heated, electrified, decomposed, or set in motion; the sea at rest presents a different mood from the sea raging. Jean-Jacques Rousseau's idea that the soul might be governed for its good by material things working through the media of the senses, is not so extravagant after all. "The gospel according to Jean-Jacques," as Carlyle puts it, runs as follows on this point—and, indeed, the great Genevan evangelist at one time intended to devote a book to the subject under the title of La Morale Sensitive:—"The striking and numerous observations that I had collected were beyond all dispute; and, in their physical origin, they appeared to me proper for furnishing an exterior regimen, which, varied according to circumstances, should be able to place or maintain the soul in the state most favorable to virtue. How many wanderings one might save the reason, how many vices might be hindered birth, if one could but force the animal economy to favor the moral order that it troubles so often. Climates, seasons, sounds, colors, darkness, light, the elements, food, noise, silence, movement, repose, all act on our bodily frame, and, by consequence, on our soul; all offer us a thousand firm holds to govern, in their origin, those sentiments by which we allow ourselves to be dominated."

In contemplating the numerous activities by which we are surrounded, again and again we are called upon to wonder at the marvelous regularity which characterizes all their movements. So regular are these movements, so sure are certain conditions to accompany certain results, that in physics, in chemistry, in physiology, and even in society, facts are collected and classified, and from them laws are discovered as fixed and irrevocable as the facts themselves, which laws, indeed, are themselves facts, no less than the facts from which they are deduced.

Highly cultivated nations frame laws that provide for many contingencies, but the code of nature has yet finer provisions. There are conditions that neither political nor social laws reach, there are none not reached by physical law; in society, criminals sometimes evade the law; in nature, never. So subtle are the laws of nature, that even thought cannot follow them; when we see that every molecule, by virtue of its own hidden force, attracts every other molecule, up to a certain point, and then from the same inherent influence every atom repels every other atom; when by experiments of physicists it has been proved that in polarization, crystallization, and chemical action, there is not the slightest deviation from an almost startling regularity, with many other facts of like import, how many natural laws do we feel to be yet unrevealed and, from the exquisite delicacy of their nature, unrevealable to our present coarse understanding.

It would be indeed strange, if, when all the universe is under the governance of fixed laws—laws which regulate the motion of every molecule, no less than the revolutions of suns—laws of such subtle import, as for instance, regulate the transformations of heat, the convertibility and correlation of force; it would be strange, I say, if such laws as these, when they reached the domain of human affairs should pause and leave the world of man alone in purposeless wanderings.

ANALOGIES BETWEEN MAN AND NATURE.

To continue our analogies. As, latent in the atom, or in the mass, there are energies releasable only by heat or friction,—as in charcoal, which holds, locked up, muriatic acid gas equivalent to ninety times its volume; or in spongy platinum, which holds in like manner oxygen, equal to eight hundred times its volume; so, latent in every individual, are numberless energies, which demand the friction of society to call them out.

Force comprises two elements, attraction and repulsion, analagous to the principles commonly called good and evil in the affairs of human society; take away from mechanical force either of these two oppugnant elements, and there could be neither organism nor life, so without both good and evil in human affairs there could be no progress.

If none of the forces of nature are dissipated or lost, and if force can no more be extinguished than matter, and like matter passes from one form into another, we may conclude that intellectual force is never dissipated or lost, but that the potential energies of mind and soul perpetually vibrate between man and nature.

Or, again, if, as we have seen, energy of every kind is clothed in matter, and when employed and expended returns again to its place in matter; and if the mind draws its forces from the body, as it appears to do, both growing, acting, and declining simultaneously; and if the body draws its energy from the earth, which is no less possible; then may not intellectual and progressional force be derived from man's environment, and return thither when expended? Every created being borrows its material from the storehouse of matter, and when uncreated restores it again; so every individual born into society becomes charged with social force, with progressional energy, which, when expended, rests with society. Winslow's opinion on this subject is, that "all electric and magnetic currents originate in—are inducted from—and radiate either directly or indirectly out of the globe as the fountain of every form and constituency of mechanical force, and that abstract immaterial mechanical energy, as we have thus far discussed and developed its dual principles, is absolutely convertible through molecular motion into every form and expansion of secondary force, passing successively from heat through electricity, magnetism, etc., and vice versa, it follows that this same mechanical energy itself, as hypostatical motive power, must proceed out of the globe also."

Thus is loaded with potential energy the universe of matter, generating life, mind, civilization, and hence we may conclude that whatever else it is, civilization is a force; that it is the sum of all the forces employed to drive humanity onward; that it acts on man as mechanical force acts on matter, attracting, repelling, pressing forward yet holding in equilibrium, and all under fixed and determined laws.

From all which it would appear that nothing is found in man that has not its counterpart in nature, and that all things that are related to man are related to each other; even immortal mind itself is not unlike that subtle force, inherent in, and working round every atom.

In this respect physical science is the precursor of social science. Nature produces man; man in his earlier conception of nature, that is in his gods, reproduces himself; and later, his knowledge of intrinsic self depends upon his knowledge of extrinsic agencies, so that as the laws that govern external nature are better understood, the laws that govern society are more definitely determined. The conditions of human progress can be wrought into a science only by pursuing the same course that raises into a science any branch of knowledge; that is, by collecting, classifying, and comparing facts, and therefrom discovering laws. Society must be studied as chemistry is studied; it must be analyzed, and its component parts—the solubilities, interactions, and crystallizations of religions, governments and fashions, ascertained. As in the earlier contemplations of physical nature, the action of the elements was deemed fortuitous, so in a superficial survey of society, all events appear to happen by chance; but on deeper investigation, in society as in physics, events apparently fortuitous, may be reduced to immutable law. To this end the life of mankind on the globe must be regarded as the life of one man, successions of societies as successions of days in that life; for the activities of nations are but the sum of the activities of the individual members thereof.

PHYSICAL LAWS AND SOCIAL LAWS.

We have seen that man's organism, as far as it may be brought under exact observation, is governed by the same processes that govern elemental principles in inorganic nature. The will of man attempting to exert itself in antagonism to these laws of nature is wholly ineffectual. We are all conscious of a will, conscious of a certain freedom in the exercise of our will, but wholly unconscious as to the line of separation between volition and environment. Part of our actions arise from fixed necessity, part are the result of free will. Statistics, as they are accumulated and arranged, tend more and more to show that by far the greater part of human actions are not under individual control, and that the actions of masses are, in the main, wholly beyond the province of the human will.

Take the weather for a single day, and note the effect on the will. The direction of the wind not unfrequently governs one's train of thought; resolution often depends upon the dryness of the atmosphere, benevolence upon the state of the stomach; misfortunes, arising from physical causes, have ere now changed the character of a ruler from one of lofty self-sacrifice, to one of peevish fretfulness, whereat his followers became estranged and his empire lost in consequence. In the prosecution of an enterprise, how often we find ourselves drifting far from the anticipated goal. The mind is governed by the condition of the body, the body by the conditions of climate and food; hence it is that many of our actions, which we conceive to be the result of free choice, arise from accidental circumstances.

It is only in the broader view of humanity that general laws are to be recognized, as Dr Draper remarks: "He who is immersed in the turmoil of a crowded city sees nothing but the acts of men; and, if he formed his opinion from his experience alone, must conclude that the course of events altogether depends on the uncertainties of human volition. But he who ascends to a sufficient elevation loses sight of the passing conflicts, and no longer hears the contentions. He discovers that the importance of individual action is diminishing as the panorama beneath him is extending; and if he could attain to the truly philosophical, the general point of view, disengage himself from all terrestrial influences and entanglements, rising high enough to see the whole at a glance, his acutest vision would fail to discern the slightest indication of man, his free will, or his works."

Let us now glance at some of the manifestations of this progressional influence; first in its general aspects, after which we will notice its bearing on a few of the more important severalties intimately affecting humanity, such as religion, morality, government, and commerce,—for there is nothing that touches man's welfare, no matter how lightly, in all his long journey from naked wildness to clothed and cultured intelligence, that is not placed upon him by this progressional impulse.

MANI­FESTATIONS OF PRO­GRESSIONAL IMPULSE.

In every living thing there is an element of continuous growth; in every aggregation of living things there is an element of continuous improvement. In the first instance, a vital actuality appears; whence, no one can tell. As the organism matures, a new germ is formed, which, as the parent stock decays, takes its place and becomes in like manner the parent of a successor. Thus even death is but the door to new forms of life. In the second instance, a body corporate appears, no less a vital actuality than the first; a social organism in which, notwithstanding ceaseless births and deaths, there is a living principle. For while individuals are born and die, families live; while families are born and die, species live; while species are born and die, organic being assumes new forms and features. Herein the all-pervading principle of life, while flitting, is nevertheless permanent, while transient is yet eternal. But above and independent of perpetual birth and death is this element of continuous growth, which, like a spirit, walks abroad and mingles in the affairs of men. "All our progress," says Emerson, "is an unfolding, like the vegetable bud. You have first an instinct; then an opinion, then a knowledge, as the plant has root bud and fruit."

Under favorable conditions, and up to a certain point, stocks improve; by a law of natural selection the strongest and fittest survive, while the ill-favored and deformed perish; under conditions unfavorable to development, stocks remain stationary or deteriorate. Paradoxically, so far as we know, organs and organisms are no more perfect now than in the beginning; animal instincts are no keener, nor are their habitudes essentially changed. No one denies that stocks improve, for such improvement is perceptible and permanent; many deny that organisms improve, for if there be improvement it is imperceptible, and has thus far escaped proof. But, however this may be, it is palpable that the mind, and not the body, is the instrument and object of the progressional impulse.

Man in the duality of his nature is brought under two distinct dominions; materially he is subject to the laws that govern matter, mentally to the laws that govern mind; physiologically he is perfectly made and non-progressive, psychologically he is embryonic and progressive. Between these internal and external forces, between moral and material activities there may be, in some instances, an apparent antagonism. The mind may be developed in excess and to the detriment of the body, and the body may be developed in excess and to the detriment of the mind.

The animal man is a bundle of organs, with instincts implanted that set them in motion; man intellectual is a bundle of sentiments, with an implanted soul that keeps them effervescent; mankind in the mass, society,—we see the fermentations, we mark the transitions; is there, then, a soul in aggregated humanity as there is in individual humanity?

The instincts of man's animality teach the organs to perform their functions as perfectly at the first as at the last; the instincts of man's intellectuality urge him on in an eternal race for something better, in which perfection is never attained nor attainable; in society, we see the constant growth, the higher and yet higher development; now in this ever-onward movement are there instincts which originate and govern action in the body social as in the body individual? Is not society a bundle of organs, with an implanted Soul of Progress, which moves mankind along in a resistless predetermined march?

Nations are born and die; they appear first in a state of infancy or savagism; many die in their childhood, some grow into manhood and rule for a time the destinies of the world; finally, by sudden extinction, or a lingering decrepitude, they disappear, and others take their place. But in this ceaseless coming and going there is somewhere a mysterious agency at work, making men better, wiser, nobler, whether they will or not. This improvement is not the effect of volition; the plant does not will to unfold, nor the immature animal to grow; neither can the world of human kind cease to advance in mind and in manners. Development is the inevitable incident of being. Nations, under normal conditions, can no more help advancing than they can throw themselves into a state of non-existence; than can the individual stop his corporeal growth, or shut out from the intellect every perception of knowledge, and become a living petrification. And in whatever pertains to intellectual man this fundamental principle is apparent. It underlies all moralities, governments, and religions, all industries, arts, and commerce; it is the mainspring of every action, the consequence of every cause; it is the great central idea toward which all things converge; it is the object of all efforts, the end of all successes; it absorbs all forces, and is the combined results of innumerable agencies, good and evil.

Before the theory of Dr von Martius and his followers, that the savage state is but a degeneration from something higher, can become tenable, the whole order of nature must be reversed. Races may deteriorate, civilized peoples relapse into barbarism, but such relapse cannot take place except under abnormal conditions. We cannot believe that any nation, once learning the use of iron would cast it away for stone. Driven from an iron-yielding land, the knowledge of iron might at last be forgotten, but its use would never be voluntarily relinquished. And so with any of the arts or inventions of man. Societies, like individuals, are born, mature, and decay; they grow old and die; they may pause in their progress, become diseased, and thereby lose their strength and retrograde, but they never turn around and grow backward or ungrow,—they could not if they would.

BRUTES CANNOT PROGRESS.

In the brute creation this element of progress is wanting. The bird builds its nest, the bee its cell, the beaver its dam, with no more skill or elaboration to-day, than did the bird or bee or beaver primeval. The instinct of animals does not with time become intellect; their comforts do not increase, their sphere of action does not enlarge. By domestication, stocks may be improved, but nowhere do we see animals uniting for mutual improvement, or creating for themselves an artificial existence. So in man, whose nature comprises both the animal and the intellectual, the physical organism neither perceptibly advances nor deteriorates. The features may, indeed, beam brighter from the light of a purer intellectuality cast upon them from within, but the hand, the eye, the heart, so far as we know, is no more perfect now than in the days of Adam.

As viewed by Mr Bagehot, the body of the accomplished man "becomes, by training, different from what it once was, and different from that of the rude man, becomes charged with stored virtue and acquired faculty which come away from it unconsciously." But the body of the accomplished man dies, and the son can in no wise inherit it, whereas the soul of his accomplishments does not die, but lives in the air, and becomes part of the vital breath of society. And, again, "power that has been laboriously acquired and stored up as statical in one generation" sometimes, says Maudsley, "becomes the inborn faculty of the next; and the development takes place in accordance with that law of increasing speciality and complexity of adaption to external nature which is traceable through the animal kingdom; or, in other words, that law of progress, from the general to the special, in development, which the appearance of nerve force amongst natural forces and the complexity of the nervous system of man both illustrate." On the other side John Stuart Mill is just as positive that culture is not inherent. "Of all vulgar modes," he remarks, "of escaping from the consideration of the effect of social and moral influences on the human mind, the most vulgar is that of attributing the diversities of conduct and character to inherent natural differences;" and, says Mr Buckle, "we cannot safely assume that there has been any permanent improvement in the moral or intellectual faculties of man, nor have we any decisive ground for saying that those faculties are likely to be greater in an infant born in the most civilized part of Europe, than in one born in the wildest region of a barbarous country."

Whether or not the nervous system, which is the connective tissue between man's animality and his intellectuality, transmits its subtle forces from one generation to another, we may be sure that the mind acts on the nerves, and the nerves on every part of the system, and that the intelligence of the mind influences and governs the materialism of the body, and the consequences in some way are felt by succeeding generations; but that the mind becomes material, and its qualities transmitted to posterity, is an hypothesis yet unestablished.

IMPROVE­MENT PURELY INTEL­LECTUAL.

Moreover we may safely conclude that the improvement of mankind is a phenomenon purely intellectual.

Not that the improvement of the mind is wholly independent of the condition of the body; for, as we shall hereafter see, so intimate is the connection between the mind and the body, that the first step toward intellectual advancement cannot be taken until the demands of the body are satisfied. Nervous phenomena are dependent upon the same nutritive processes that govern physical development; and that this nerve force, through whose agency the system is charged with intellectuality, as the molecule is charged with mechanical force, does exist, is capable, to some extent, of transmitting acquirements or artificial instincts from parent to child, we have every reason to believe; but, so far as we know, intellectual force, per se, is no more a transmittable entity than is the flesh-quivering of the slain ox life.

The strangest part of it all is, that though wrought out by man as the instrument, and while acting in the capacity of a free agent, this spirit of progress is wholly independent of the will of man. Though in our individual actions we imagine ourselves directed only by our free will, yet in the end it is most difficult to determine what is the result of free will, and what of inexorable environment. While we think we are regulating our affairs, our affairs are regulating us. We plan out improvements, predetermine the best course and follow it, sometimes; yet, for all that, the principle of social progress is not the man, is not in the man, forms no constituent of his physical or psychical individual being; it is the social atmosphere into which the man is born, into which he brings nothing and from which he takes nothing. While a member of society he adds his quota to the general fund and there leaves it; while acting as a free agent he performs his part in working out this problem of social development, performs it unconsciously, willing or unwilling he performs it, his baser passions being as powerful instruments of progress as his nobler; for avarice drives on intellect as effectually as benevolence, hate as love, and selfishness does infinitely more for the progress of mankind than philanthropy. Thus is humanity played upon by this principle of progress, and the music sometimes is wonderful; green fields as if by magic take the place of wild forests, magnificent cities rise out of the ground, the forces of nature are brought under the dominion of man's intelligence, and senseless substances endowed with speech and action.

It is verily as Carlyle says; "under the strangest new vesture, the old great truth (since no vesture can hide it) begins again to be revealed: That man is what we call a miraculous creature, with miraculous power over men; and, on the whole, with such a Life in him, and such a World round him, as victorious Analysis, with her Physiologies, Nervous Systems, Physic and Metaphysic, will never completely name, to say nothing of explaining."

Thus, to sum up the foregoing premises: in society, between two or more individuals, there is at work a mysterious energy, not unlike that of force between molecules or life in the organism; this social energy is under intelligent governance, not fortuitous nor causeless, but reducible to fixed law, and capable of being wrought into a science; is, moreover, a vital actuality, not an incident nor an accident, but an entity, as attraction and repulsion are entities; under this agency society, perforce, develops like the plant from a germ. This energy acts on the intellect, and through the intellect on the organism; acts independently of the will, and cannot be created or destroyed by man; is not found in the brute creation, is not transmittable by generation through individuals, is wrought out by man as a free-will agent, though acting unconsciously, and is the product alike of good and evil.

CAUSES OF MAN'S DEVELOP­MENT.

As to the causes which originate progressional phenomena there are differences of opinion. One sees in the intellect the germ of an eternal unfolding; another recognizes in the soul-element the vital principle of progress, and attributes to religion all the benefits of enlightenment; one builds a theory on the ground-work of a fundamental and innate morality; another discovers in the forces of nature the controlling influence upon man's destiny; while yet others, as we have seen, believe accumulative and inherent nervous force to be the media through which culture is transmitted. Some believe that moral causes create the physical, others that physical causes create the moral.

Thus Mr Buckle attempts to prove that man's development is wholly dependent upon his physical surroundings. Huxley points to a system of reflex actions,—mind acting on matter, and matter on mind,—as the possible culture-basis. Darwin advances the doctrine of an evolution from vivified matter as the principle of progressive development. In the transmution of nerve-element from parents to children, Bagehot sees "the continuous force which binds age to age, which enables each to begin with some improvement on the last, if the last did itself improve; which makes each civilization not a set of detached dots, but a line of color, surely enhancing shade by shade." Some see in human progress the ever-ruling hand of a divine providence, others the results of man's skill; with some it is free will, with others necessity; some believe that intellectual development springs from better systems of government, others that wealth lies at the foundation of all culture; every philosopher recognizes some cause, invents some system, or brings human actions under the dominion of some species of law.

As in animals of the same genus or species, inhabiting widely different localities, we see the results of common instincts, so in the evolutions of the human race, divided by time or space, we see the same general principles at work. So too it would seem, whether species are one or many, whether man is a perfectly created being or an evolution from a lower form, that all the human races of the globe are formed on one model and governed by the same laws. In the customs, languages, and myths of ages and nations far removed from each other in social, moral, and mental characteristics, innumerable and striking analogies exist. Not only have all nations weapons, but many who are separated from each other by a hemisphere use the same weapon; not only is belief universal, but many relate the same myth; and to suppose the bow and arrow to have had a common origin, or that all flood-myths, and myths of a future life are but offshoots from Noachic and Biblical narratives is scarcely reasonable.

It is easier to tell what civilization is not, and what it does not spring from, than what it is and what its origin. To attribute its rise to any of the principles, ethical, political, or material, that come under the cognizance of man, is fallacy, for it is as much an entity as any other primeval principle; nor may we, with Archbishop Whately, entertain the doctrine that civilization never could have arisen had not the Creator appeared upon earth as the first instructor; for, unfortunately for this hypothesis, the aboriginals supposedly so taught, were scarcely civilized at all, and compare unfavorably with the other all-perfect works of creation; so that this sort of reasoning, like innumerable other attempts of man to limit the powers of Omnipotence, and narrow them down to our weak understandings, is little else than puerility.

SOCIETY ESSENTIAL TO INTELLECT.

Nor, as we have seen, is this act of civilizing the effect of volition; nor, as will hereafter more clearly appear, does it arise from an inherent principle of good any more than from an inherent principle of evil. The ultimate result, though difficult of proof, we take for granted to be good, but the agencies employed for its consummation number among them more of those we call evil than of those we call good. The isolated individual never, by any possibility, can become civilized like the social man; he cannot even speak, and without a flow of words there can be no complete flow of thought. Send him forth away from his fellow-man to roam the forest with the wild beasts, and he would be almost as wild and beastlike as his companions; it is doubtful if he would ever fashion a tool, but would not rather with his claws alone procure his food, and forever remain as he now is, the most impotent of animals. The intellect, by which means alone man rises above other animals, never could work, because the intellect is quickened only as it comes in contact with intellect. The germ of development therein implanted cannot unfold singly any more than the organism can bear fruit singly. It is a well-established fact that the mind without language cannot fully develop; it is likewise established that language is not inherent, that it springs up between men, not in them. Language, like civilization, belongs to society, and is in no wise a part or the property of the individual. "For strangely in this so solid-seeming World," says Carlyle, "which nevertheless is in continual restless flux, it is appointed that Sound, to appearance the most fleeting, should be the most continuing of all things." And further, as remarked by Herbert Spencer: "Now that the transformation and equivalence of forces is seen by men of science to hold not only throughout all inorganic actions, but throughout all organic actions; now that even mental changes are recognized as the correlatives of cerebral changes, which also conform to this principle; and now that there must be admitted the corollary, that all actions going on in a society are measured by certain antecedent energies, which disappear in effecting them, while they themselves become actual or potential energies from which subsequent actions arise; it is strange that there should not have arisen the consciousness that these higher phenomena are to be studied as lower phenomena have been studied—not, of course, after the same physical methods, but in conformity with the same principles."

We may hold then, a priori, that this progressional principle exists; that it exists not more in the man than around him; that it requires an atmosphere in which to live, as life in the body requires an atmosphere which is its vital breath, and that this atmosphere is generated only by the contact of man with man. Under analysis this social atmosphere appears to be composed of two opposing principles—good and evil—which, like attraction and repulsion, or positive and negative electricity, underlie all activities. One is as essential to progress as the other; either, in excess or disproportionately administered, like an excess of oxygen or of hydrogen in the air, becomes pernicious, engenders social disruptions and decay which continue until the equilibrium is restored; yet all the while with the progress of humanity the good increases while the evil diminishes. Every impulse incident to humanity is born of the union of these two opposing principles. For example, as I have said, and will attempt more fully to show further on, association is the first requisite of progress. But what is to bring about association? Naked nomads will not voluntarily yield up their freedom, quit their wanderings, hold conventions and pass resolutions concerning the greatest good to the greatest number; patriotism, love, benevolence, brotherly kindness, will not bring savage men together; extrinsic force must be employed, an iron hand must be laid upon them which will compel them to unite, else there can be no civilization; and to accomplish this first great good to man,—to compel mankind to take the initial step toward the amelioration of their condition,—it is ordained that an evil, or what to us of these latter times is surely an evil, come forward,—and that evil is War.

EVIL AS A STIMULANT OF PROGRESS.

Primeval man, in his social organization, is patriarchal, spreading out over vast domains in little bands or families, just large enough to be able successfully to cope with wild beasts. And in that state humanity would forever remain did not some terrible cause force these bands to confederate. War is an evil, originating in hateful passions and ending in dire misery; yet without war, without this evil, man would forever remain primitive. But something more is necessary. War brings men together for a purpose, but it is insufficient to hold them together; for when the cause which compacted them no longer exists, they speedily scatter, each going his own way. Then comes in superstition to the aid of progress. A successful leader is first feared as a man, then reverenced as a supernatural being, and finally himself, or his descendant, in the flesh or in tradition, is worshiped as a god. Then an unearthly fear comes upon mankind, and the ruler, perceiving his power, begins to tyrannize over his fellows. Both superstition and tyranny are evils; yet, without war superstition and tyranny, dire evils, civilization, which many deem the highest good, never by any possibility, as human nature is, could be. But more of the conditions of progress hereafter; what I wish to establish here is, that evil is no less a stimulant of development than good, and that in this principle of progress are manifest the same antagonism of forces apparent throughout physical nature; the same oppugnant energies, attractive and repulsive, positive and negative, everywhere existing. It is impossible for two or more individuals to be brought into contact with each other, whether through causes or for purposes good or evil, without ultimate improvement to both. I say whether through causes or for purposes good or evil, for, to the all-pervading principle of evil, civilization is as much indebted as to the all-pervading principle of good. Indeed, the beneficial influences of this unwelcome element have never been generally recognized. Whatever be this principle of evil, whatever man would be without it, the fact is clearly evident that to it civilization, whatever that may be, owes its existence. "The whole tendency of political economy and philosophical history," says Lecky, "which reveal the physiology of society, is to show that the happiness and welfare of mankind are evolved much more from our selfish than what are termed our virtuous acts." No wonder that devil-worship obtains, in certain parts, when to his demon the savage finds himself indebted for skill not only to overthrow subordinate deities, but to cure diseases, to will an enemy to death, to minister to the welfare of departed friends, as well as to add materially to his earthly store of comforts. The world, such as it is, man finds himself destined for a time to inhabit. Within him and around him the involuntary occupant perceives two agencies at work; agencies apparently oppugnant, yet both tending to one end—improvement; and Night or Day, Love or Crime, leads all souls to the Good, as Emerson sings. The principle of evil acts as a perpetual stimulant, the principle of good as a reward of merit. United in their operation, there is a constant tendency toward a better condition, a higher state; apart, the result would be inaction. For, civilization being a progression and not a fixed condition, without incentives, that is without something to escape from and something to escape to, there could be no transition, and hence no civilization.

Had man been placed in the world perfected and sinless, obviously there would be no such thing as progress. The absence of evil implies perfect good, and perfect good perfect happiness. Were man sinless and yet capable of increasing knowledge, the incentive would be wanting, for, if perfectly happy, why should he struggle to become happier? The advent of civilization is in the appearance of a want, and the first act of civilization springs from the attempt to supply the want. The man or nation that wants nothing remains inactive, and hence does not advance; so that it is not in what we have but in what we have not that civilization consists. These wants are forced upon us, implanted within us, inseparable from our being; they increase with an increasing supply, grow hungry from what they feed on; in quick succession, aspirations, emulations, and ambitions spring up and chase each other, keeping the fire of discontent ever glowing, and the whole human race effervescent.

The tendency of civilizing force, like the tendency of mechanical force, is toward an equilibrium, toward a never-attainable rest. Obviously there can be no perfect equilibrium, no perfect rest, until all evil disappears, but in that event the end of progress would be attained, and humanity would be perfect and sinless.

Man at the outset is not what he may be, he is capable of improvement or rather of growth; but childlike, the savage does not care to improve, and consequently must be scourged into it. Advancement is the ultimate natural or normal state of man; humanity on this earth is destined some day to be relatively, if not absolutely, good and happy.

The healthy body has appetites, in the gratification of which lies its chiefest enjoyment; the healthy mind has proclivities, the healthy soul intuitions, in the exercise and activities of which the happiest life is attainable; and in as far as the immaterial and immortal in our nature is superior to the material and mortal, in so far does the education and development of our higher nature contribute in a higher degree to our present benefit and our future well-being.

LABOR A CIVILIZING AGENT.

There is another thought in this connection well worthy our attention. In orthodox and popular parlance, labor is a curse entailed on man by vindictive justice; yet viewed as a civilizing agent, labor is man's greatest blessing. Throughout all nature there is no such thing found as absolute inertness; and, as in matter, so with regard to our faculties, no sooner do they begin to rest than they begin to rot, and even in the rotting they can obtain no rest. One of the chief objects of labor is to get gain, and Dr Johnson holds that "men are seldom more innocently employed than when they are making money."

Human experience teaches, that in the effort is greater pleasure than in the end attained; that labor is the normal condition of man; that in acquisition, that is progress, is the highest happiness; that passive enjoyment is inferior to the exhilaration of active attempt. Now imagine the absence from the world of this spirit of evil, and what would be the result? Total inaction. But before inaction can become more pleasurable than action, man's nature must be changed. Not to say that evil is a good thing, clearly there is a goodness in things evil; and in as far as the state of escaping from evil is more pleasurable than the state of evil escaped from, in so far is evil conducive to happiness.

The effect of well-directed labor is twofold; by exercise our faculties strengthen and expand, and at the same time the returns of that labor give us leisure in which to direct our improved faculties to yet higher aims. By continual efforts to increase material comforts, greater skill is constantly acquired, and the mind asserts more and more its independence. Increasing skill yields ever increased delights, which encourage and reward our labor. This, up to a certain point; but with wealth and luxury comes relaxed energy. Without necessity there is no labor; without labor no advancement. Corporeal necessity first forces corporeal activity; then the intellect goes to work to contrive means whereby labor may be lessened and made more productive.

EVIL TENDS TO DISAPPEAR.

The discontent which arises from discomfort, lies at the root of every movement; but then comfort is a relative term and complete satisfaction is never attained. Indeed, as a rule, the more squalid and miserable the race, the more are they disposed to settle down and content themselves in their state of discomfort. What is discomfort to one is luxury to another; "the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain"; in following the intellectual life, the higher the culture the greater the discontent; the greater the acquisition, the more eagerly do men press forward toward some higher and greater imaginary good. We all know that blessings in excess become the direst curses; but few are conscious where the benefit of a blessing terminates and the curse begins, and fewer still of those who are able thus to discriminate have the moral strength to act upon that knowledge. As a good in excess is an evil, so evil as it enlarges outdoes itself and tends toward self-annihilation. If we but look about us, we must see that to burn up the world in order to rid it of gross evil—a dogma held by some—is unnecessary, for accumulative evils ever tend towards reaction. Excessive evils are soonest remedied; the equilibrium of the evil must be maintained, or the annihilation of the evil ensues.

Institutions and principles essentially good at one time are essential evils at another time. The very aids and agencies of civilization become afterward the greatest drags upon progress. At one time it would seem that blind faith was essential to improvement, at another time skepticism, at one time order and morality, at another time lawlessness and rapine; for so it has ever been, and whether peace and smiling plenty, or fierce upheavals and dismemberments predominate, from every social spasm as well as fecund leisure, civilization shoots forward in its endless course. The very evils which are regarded as infamous by a higher culture were the necessary stepping-stones to that higher life. As we have seen, no nation ever did or can emerge from barbarism without first placing its neck under the yokes of despotism and superstition; therefore, despotism and superstition, now dire evils, were once essential benefits. No religion ever attained its full development except under persecution. Our present evils are constantly working out for humanity unforeseen good. All systems of wrongs and fanaticisms are but preparing us for and urging us on to a higher state.

If then civilization is a predestined, ineluctable, and eternal march away from things evil toward that which is good, it must be that throughout the world the principle of good is ever increasing and that of evil decreasing. And this is true. Not only does evil decrease, but the tendency is ever toward its disappearance. Gradually the confines of civilization broaden; the central principle of human progress attains greater intensity, and the mind assumes more and more its lordly power over matter.

The moment we attempt to search out the cause of any onward movement we at once encounter this principle of evil. The old-time aphorism that life is a perpetual struggle; the first maxim of social ethics 'the greatest happiness to the greatest number'; indeed, every thought and action of our lives points in the same direction. From what is it mankind is so eager to escape; with what do we wrestle; for what do we strive? We fly from that which gives pain to that which gives pleasure; we wrestle with agencies which bar our escape from a state of infelicity; we long for happiness.

IS CIVILIZATION CONDUCIVE TO HAPPINESS?

Then comes the question, What is happiness? Is man polished and refined happier than man wild and unfettered; is civilization a blessing or a curse? Rousseau, we know, held it to be the latter; but not so Virey. "What!" he exclaims, "is he happier than the social man, this being abandoned in his maladies, uncared for even by his children in his improvident old age, exposed to ferocious beasts, in fear of his own kind, even of the cannibal's tooth? The civilized man, surrounded in his feebleness by affectionate attention, sustains a longer existence, enjoys more pleasure and daily comforts, is better protected against inclemencies of weather and all external ills. The isolated man must suffice for himself, must harden himself to endure any privation; his very existence depends upon his strength, and if necessity requires it of him, he must be ready to abandon wife and children and life itself at any moment. Such cruel misery is rare in social life, where the sympathies of humanity are awakened, and freely exercised."

Continue these simple interrogatories a little farther and see where we land. Is the wild bird, forced to long migrations for endurable climates and food, happier than the caged bird which buys a daily plentiful supply for a song? Is the wild beast, ofttimes hungry and hunted, happier than its chained brother of the menagerie? Is the wild horse, galloping with its fellows over the broad prairie, happier than the civilized horse of carriage, cart, or plow? May we not question whether the merchant, deep in his speculating ventures, or the man of law, poring over his brain-tearing brief, derives a keener sense of enjoyment than does the free forest-native, following the war-path or pursuing his game?

As I have attempted to show, civilization is not an end attained, for man is never wholly civilized,—but only the effort to escape from an evil, or an imaginary evil—savagism. I say an evil real or imaginary, for as we have seen, the question has been seriously discussed whether civilization is better or worse than savagism. For every advantage which culture affords, a price must be paid,—some say too great a price. The growth of the mind is dependent upon its cultivation, but this cultivation may be voluntary or involuntary, it may be a thing desired or a thing abhorred.

Every nation, every society, and every person has its or his own standard of happiness. The miser delights in wealth, the city belle in finery, the scholar in learning. The Christian's heaven is a spiritual city, where they neither marry, nor are given in marriage; the Norse-man's a Valhalla of alternate battle and wassail; the Mahometan's, a paradise of houris and lazy sensuality. The martyr at the stake, triumphant in his faith, may be happier than the man of fashion dying of ennui and gout; the savage, wandering through forest and over plain in pursuit of game, or huddled in his hut with wives and children, may be happier than the care-laden speculator or the wrangling politician. Content, the essence of all happiness, is as prevalent among the poor and ill-mannered, as among the rich, refined and civilized. Ubi bene, ibi patria, where it is well with me, there is my country, is the motto of the Indian,—and to be well with him signifies only to be beyond the reach of hunger and enemies. Ask the savage which is preferable, a native or a cultured state, and he will answer the former; ask the civilized man, and he will say the latter. I do not see any greater absurdity in the wild man saying to the tamed one: Give up the despotisms and diseases of society and throw yourself with me upon beauteous, bounteous nature; than in the European saying to the American: If you would find happiness, abandon your filth and naked freedom, accept Christianity and cotton shirts, go to work in a mission, rot on a reservation, or beg and starve in civilized fashion!

Of all animals, man alone has broken down the barriers of his nature in civilizing, or, as Rousseau expresses it, in denaturalizing himself; and for this denaturalization some natural good must be relinquished; to every infringement of nature's law, there is a penalty attached; for a more delicate organism the price is numberless new diseases; for political institutions the price is native freedom. With polished manners the candidate for civilization must accept affectation, social despotism; with increasing wealth, increasing wants; civilization engenders complexity in society, and in its turn is engendered thereby. Peoples the most highly cultured are moved by the most delicate springs; a finer touch, the result of greater skill, with a finer tone, the result of greater experience, produces music more and yet more exquisite.

SUBJECTIVE AND OBJECTIVE HUMANITY.

Were man only an animal, this denaturalization and more, would be true. The tamed brute gives up all the benefits of savagism for few of the blessings of civilization; in a cultured state, as compared to a state of wild freedom, its ills are numberless, its advantages infinitesimal. But human nature is twofold, objective and subjective, the former typical of the savage state, the latter of the civilized. Man is not wholly animal; and by cultivating the mind, that is, by civilizing himself, he is no more denaturalized than by cultivating the body, and thereby acquiring greater physical perfection. We cannot escape our nature; we cannot re-create ourselves; we can only submit ourselves to be polished and improved by the eternal spirit of progress. The moral and the intellectual are as much constituents of human nature as the physical; civilization, therefore, is as much the natural state of man as savagism.

Another more plausible and partially correct assertion is, that by the development of the subjective part of our nature, objective humanity becomes degenerated. The intellectual cannot be wrought up to the highest state of cultivation except at the expense of the physical, nor the physical fully developed without limiting the mental. The efforts of the mind draw from the energies of the body; the highest and healthiest vigor of the body can only be attained when the mind is at rest, or in a state of careless activity. In answer to which I should say that beyond a certain point, it is true; one would hardly train successfully for a prize fight and the tripos at the same time; but that the non-intellectual savage, as a race, is physically superior, capable of enduring greater fatigue, or more skillful in muscular exercise than the civilized man is inconsistent with facts. Civilization has its vices as well as its virtues, savagism has its advantages as well as its demerits.

The evils of savagism are not so great as we imagine; its pleasures more than we are apt to think. As we become more and more removed from evils their magnitude enlarges; the fear of suffering increases as suffering is less experienced and witnessed. If savagism holds human life in light esteem, civilization makes death more hideous than it really is; if savagism is more cruel, it is less sensitive. Combatants accustomed to frequent encounter think lightly of wounds, and those whose life is oftenest imperiled think least of losing it. Indifference to pain is not necessarily the result of cruelty; it may arise as well from the most exalted sentiment as from the basest.

Civilization not only engenders new vices, but proves the destroyer of many virtues. Among the wealthier classes energy gives way to enjoyment, luxury saps the foundation of labor, progress becomes paralyzed, and with now and then a noble exception, but few earnest workers in the paths of literature, science, or any of the departments which tend to the improvement of mankind, are to be found among the powerful and the affluent, while the middle classes are absorbed in money-getting, unconsciously thereby, it is true, working toward the ends of civilization.

That civilization is expedient, that it is a good, that it is better than savagism, we who profess to be civilized entertain no doubt. Those who believe otherwise must be ready to deny that health is better than disease, truth than superstition, intellectual power than stupid ignorance; but whether the miseries and vices of savagism, or those of civilization are the greater, is another question. The tendency of civilization is, on the whole, to purify the morals, to give equal rights to man, to distribute more equally among men the benefits of this world, to melioriate wholesale misery and degradation, offer a higher aim and the means of accomplishing a nobler destiny, to increase the power of the mind and give it dominion over the forces of nature, to place the material in subservience to the mental, to elevate the individual and regulate society. True, it may be urged that this heaping up of intellectual fruits tends toward monopoly, toward making the rich richer and the poor poorer, but I still hold that the benefits of civilization are for the most part evenly distributed; that wealth beyond one's necessity is generally a curse to the possessor greater than the extreme of poverty, and that the true blessings of culture and refinement like air and sunshine are free to all.

Civilization, it is said, multiplies wants, but then they are ennobling wants, better called aspirations, and many of these civilization satisfies.

If civilization breeds new vices, old ones are extinguished by it. Decency and decorum hide the hideousness of vice, drive it into dark corners, and thereby raise the tone of morals and weaken vice. Thus civilization promotes chastity, elevates woman, breaks down the barriers of hate and superstition between ancient nations and religions; individual energy, the influence of one over the many, becomes less and less felt, and the power of the people becomes stronger.

Civilization in itself can not but be beneficial to man; that which makes society more refined, more intellectual, less bestial, more courteous; that which cures physical and mental diseases, increases the comforts and luxury of life, purifies religions, makes juster governments, must surely be beneficial: it is the universal principle of evil which impregnates all human affairs, alloying even current coin, which raises the question. That there are evils attending civilization as all other benefits, none can deny, but civilization itself is no evil.

CONDITIONS ESSENTIAL TO PROGRESS.

If I have succeeded in presenting clearly the foregoing thoughts, enough has been said as to the nature and essence of civilization; let us now examine some of the conditions essential to intellectual development. For it must not be forgotten that, while every department of human progress is but the unfolding of a germ; while every tendency of our life, every custom and creed of our civilization finds its rudiment in savagism; while, as man develops, no new elements of human nature are created by the process; while, as the organism of the child is as complex and complete as the organism of the man, so is humanity in a savage state the perfect germ of humanity civilized,—it must not be forgotten in all this, that civilization cannot unfold except under favorable conditions. Just as the plant, though endowed with life which corresponds to the mind-principle in progress, requires for its growth a suitable soil and climate, so this progressional phenomenon must have soil and sunshine before it yields fruit; and this is another proof that civilization is not in the man more than around him; for if the principle were inherent in the individual, then the Hyperborean, with his half year of light and half year of underground darkness, must of necessity become civilized equally with the man born amidst the sharpening jostles of a European capital, for in all those parts that appertain solely to the intrinsic individual, the one develops as perfectly as the other. A people undergoing the civilizing process need not necessarily, does not indeed, advance in every species of improvement at the same time; in some respects the nation may be stationary, in others even retrograde. Every age and every nation has its special line of march. Literature and the fine arts reached their height in pagan Greece; monotheism among the Hebrews; science unfolded in Egypt, and government in Rome.

In every individual there is some one talent that can be cultivated more advantageously than any other; so it is with nations, every people possesses some natural advantage for development in some certain direction over every other people, and often the early history of a nation, like the precocious proclivities of the child, points toward its future; and in such arts and industries as its climate and geographical position best enable it to develop, is discovered the germ of national character. Seldom is the commercial spirit developed in the interior of a continent, or the despotic spirit on the border of the sea, or the predatory spirit in a country wholly devoid of mountains and fastnesses. It cannot be said that one nation or race is inherently better fitted for civilization than another; all may not be equally fitted for exactly the same civilization, but all are alike fitted for that civilization which, if left to itself, each will work out.

Mankind, moreover, advances spasmodically, and in certain directions only at a time, which is the greatest drawback to progress. As Lecky remarks: "Special agencies, such as religious or political institutions, geographical conditions, traditions, antipathies, and affinities, exercise a certain retarding, accelerating, or deflecting influence, and somewhat modify the normal progress." Perfect development only is permanent, and that alone is perfect which develops the whole man and the whole society equally in all its parts; all the activities, mental, moral, and physical, must needs grow in unison and simultaneously, and this alone is perfect and permanent development. Should all the world become civilized there will still be minor differences; some will advance further in one direction and some in another, all together will form the complete whole.

Civilization as an exotic seldom flourishes. Often has the attempt been made by a cultivated people to civilize a barbarous nation, and as often has it failed. True, one nation may force its arts or religion upon another, but to civilize is neither to subjugate nor annihilate; foreigners may introduce new industries and new philosophies, which the uncultured may do well to accept, but as civilization is an unfolding, and not a creation, he who would advance civilization must teach society how to grow, how to enlarge its better self; must teach in what direction its highest interests lie.

Thus it appears that, while this germ of progress is innate in every human society, certain conditions are more favorable to its development than others,—conditions which act as stimulants or impediments to progress. Often we see nations remain apparently stationary, the elements of progress evenly balanced by opposing influences, and thus they remain until by internal force, or external pressure, their system expands or explodes, until they absorb or are absorbed by antagonistic elements. The intrinsic force of the body social appears to demand extrinsic prompting before it will manifest itself. Like the grains of wheat in the hand of Belzoni's mummy, which held life slumbering for three thousand years, and awoke to growth when buried in the ground, so the element of human progress lies dormant until planted in a congenial soil and surrounded by those influences which provoke development.

This stimulant, which acts upon and unfolds the intellect, can be administered only through the medium of the senses. Nerve force, which precedes intellectual force, is supplied by the body; the cravings of man's corporeal nature, therefore, must be quieted before the mind can fix itself on higher things. The first step toward teaching a savage is to feed him; the stomach satisfied he will listen to instruction, not before.

Cultivation of at least the most necessary of the industrial arts invariably precedes cultivation of the fine arts; the intellect must be implanted in a satisfied body before it will take root and grow. The mind must be allowed some respite from its attendance on the body, before culture can commence; it must abandon its state of servitude, and become master; in other words, leisure is an essential of culture.

As association is the primal condition of progress, let us see how nature throws societies together or holds them asunder. In some directions there are greater facilities for intercommunication (another essential of improvement) than in other directions. Wherever man is most in harmony with nature, there he progresses most rapidly; wherever nature offers the greatest advantages, such as a sea that invites to commerce, an elevated plateau lifting its occupants above the malaria of a tropical lowland, a sheltering mountain range that wards off inclement winds and bars out hostile neighbors, there culture flourishes best.

OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE STIMULANTS.

So that humanity, in its twofold nature, is dependent for its development upon two distinct species of stimulants, objective and subjective. Material causations, or those forces which minister to the requirements of man's material nature but upon which his intellectual progress is dependent, are configurations of surface, soil, climate, and food. Those physical conditions which, when favorable, give to their possessors wealth and leisure, are the inevitable precursors of culture. Immaterial causations are those forces which act more directly upon man's immaterial nature, as association, religion, wealth, leisure, and government. Continuing the analysis, let us first examine physical stimulants. Admitting readily two of M. Taine's primordial humanity-moving forces, 'le milieu' or environment, and his 'le moment' or inherited impulse, we will pass over the third force 'la race';—for inherent differences in race, in the present stage of science, are purely hypothetical; it remains yet to be proved that one nation is primarily inherently inferior or superior to another nation. That man once created is moulded and modified by his environment, there can be no doubt. Even a cursory survey of the globe presents some indications favorable and unfavorable to the unfolding of the different forms of organic being.

Great continents, for instance, appear to be congenial to the development of animal life; islands and lesser continents to the growth of exuberant vegetation. Thus, in the eastern hemisphere, which is a compact oval, essentially continental, with vast areas far removed from the influence of the ocean, flourish the elephant, the hippopotamus, the rhinoceros, the courageous lion, the fierce tiger, the largest and lordliest of animal kind, while in the more oceanic western hemisphere inferior types prevail. Cold and dryness characterize the one; heat and humidity the other; in one are the greatest deserts, in the other the greatest lakes and rivers. Warm oceanic currents bathe the frosty shores of the northern extremities of the continents and render them habitable; the moisture-laden equatorial atmosphere clothes the adjacent islands and firm land in emerald verdure. Upon the same parallel of latitude are the great Sahara Desert of Africa, and the wilderness of luxuriant billowy foliage of the American Isthmus. In warm, moist climates, such species of animal life attain the fullest development as are dependent upon the aqueous and herbous agencies. In tropical America are seen the largest reptiles, the most gorgeous insects,—there the inhabitants of warm marshes and sluggish waters assume gigantic proportions, while only upon the broad inland prairies or upon elevated mountain ranges, away from the influences of warm waters and humid atmospheres, are found the buffalo, bear, and elk. The very complexion and temperament of man are affected by these vegetative and umbrageous elements. Unprotected from the perpendicular rays of the sun, the African is black, muscular, and cheerful; under the shadow of primeval forest, man assumes a coppery hue, lacking the endurance of the negro, and becomes in disposition cold and melancholy.

And again, if we look for the natural causes which tend to promote or retard association, we find in climates and continental configurations the chief agencies. The continent of the two Americas, in its greatest length, lies north and south, the eastern continental group extends east and west. Primitive people naturally would spread out in those directions which offered the least change of climate from that of the primitive centre. Obviously, variations of climate are greater in following a meridian than along a parallel of latitude. Thus, the tropical man passing along a meridian is driven back by unendurable cold, while a continent may be traversed on any parallel, elevations excepted, with but little variation in temperature. A savage, exposed and inexperienced, not knowing how to protect himself against severe changes of climate, could not travel far in a northerly or southerly direction without suffering severely from the cold or heat; hence, other things being equal, the inhabitants of a country whose greatest length lay east and west, would intermingle more readily than those whose territory extended north and south.

CLIMATE AND MOUNTAIN RANGES.

That the eastern hemisphere attained a higher degree of civilization than the western, may be partly due to the fact, that the former presents wider spaces of uniform climate than the latter. The climatic zones of the New World, besides being shorter, are intersected by mountain barriers, which tend to retard the intercourse that would otherwise naturally follow. Thus the Mexican table-land, the seat of Aztec civilization, is a tierra fria situated above the insalubrious tierra caliente of either coast and the healthful tierra templada of the slopes, but below the mountain ranges which rise from this table-land, forming a tierra frígida, a region of perpetual snow. To this day, the natives of the Mexican plateau cannot live on the sea-coast, though less than a day's journey distant.

Between the climatic zones which extend through Europe and Asia, there are contrasts as marked and changes as sudden, but these differences are between the different zones rather than between longitudinal sections of the same zone. Hence, in the old world, where climatic zones are separated by mountain ranges which make the transition from one to the other sudden and abrupt, we see a greater diversity of race than in America, where the natural barriers extend north and south and intersect the climatic zones, thereby bringing the inhabitants along a meridian in easier communication than those who live in the same latitude but who are separated by mountains, table-lands and large rivers. That is, if color and race are dependent on climate, America should offer greater varieties in color and race than Europe, for America traverses the most latitudes; but the mountain barriers of America extend north and south, thereby forcing its people to intermingle, if at all, in that direction, while the chief ranges of the eastern continent extend east and west, parallel with climatic zones, thereby forming in themselves distinctly marked lines between peoples, forcing the African to remain under his burning sun, and the northmen in their cooler latitudes; so that in the several climatic zones of the old world, we see the human race distinctly marked, Aryan, Semitic, and Turanian—white, black, and yellow—while throughout the two Americas, from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego, type and color are singularly uniform.

Who can picture the mighty tide of humanity, which, while the eastern hemisphere has been developing so high a state of culture, in America has ebbed and flowed between barbarisms and civilizations? Through what long and desperate struggles, continuing age after age through the lives of nations, now advancing, now receding, have these peoples passed? Asia, from its central position and favorable climate, would seem naturally to encourage a redundant population and a spontaneous civilization; the waters of the Mediterranean invite commerce and intercommunication of nations, while the British Isles, from their insular situation and distance from hypothetical primitive centres, would seem necessarily to remain longer in a state of barbarism. In the Pacific States of North America we find the densest population north along the shores of the ocean, and south on the cordillera table-land, from the fact that the former offers the best facilities for food and locomotion until the latter is reached, when the interior presents the most favorable dwelling-place for man.

Climate affects both mental and moral endowments, the temperament of the body, and the texture of the brain; physical energy, and mental vigor. Temperate climates are more conducive to civilization, not for the reason given by Mr Harris, "as developing the higher qualities, and not invigorating the baser feelings", for the Hyperborean is as unchaste and as great a slave to passion as the sub-equatorial man—but because a temperate climate, while it lures to exertion, rewards the laborer.

THE INFLUENCE OF FOOD.

Next, let us consider the agency of food in human development. The effect of food is to supply the body with caloric, which is essential to its life, and to repair the muscular fibres which are constantly undergoing waste in our daily activities. These two effects are produced by two different kinds of diet; carbonized food, such as animal flesh, fish, oils and fats, and oxidized food, which consists chiefly of vegetables. In hot climates, obviously, less carbonized food is required to keep up the necessary temperature of the body than in cold climates. Hence it is, that hyperborean nations subsist on whale's blubber, oil, and flesh, while the tropical man confines himself almost exclusively to a vegetable diet.

It is not my purpose here to enter into the relative effects of the different kinds of food on physiological and mental development; I desire, however, to call attention to the comparative facility with which carbonized and oxidized food is procured by man, and to note the effect of this ease or difficulty in obtaining a food supply, upon his progress. In warm, humid climates vegetation is spontaneous and abundant; a plentiful supply of food may, therefore, be obtained with the smallest expenditure of labor. The inhabitants of cold climates, however, are obliged to pursue, by land and water, wild and powerful animals, to put forth all their strength and skill in order to secure a precarious supply of the necessary food. Then, again, besides being more difficult to obtain, and more uncertain as to a steady supply, the quantity of food consumed in a cold climate is much greater than that consumed in a hot climate. Now as leisure is essential to cultivation, and as without a surplus of food and clothing there can be no leisure, it would seem to follow naturally that in those countries where food and clothing are most easily obtained culture should be the highest; since so little time and labor are necessary to satisfy the necessities of the body, the mind would have opportunity to expand. It would seem that a fertile soil, an exuberant vegetation, soft skies and balmy air, a country where raiment was scarcely essential to comfort, and where for food the favored inhabitant had but to pluck and eat, should become the seat of a numerous population and a high development. Is this the fact? "Wherever snow falls," Emerson remarks, "there is usually civil freedom. Where the banana grows, the animal system is indolent, and pampered at the cost of higher qualities; the man is sensual and cruel;" and we may add that where wheat grows, there is civilization, where rice is the staple, there mental vigor is relaxed.

Heat and moisture being the great vegetative stimulants, tropical lands in proximity to the sea are covered with eternal verdure. Little or no labor is required to sustain life; for food there is the perpetually ripening fruit, a few hours' planting, sometimes, being sufficient to supply a family for months; for shelter, little more than the dense foliage is necessary, while scarcely any clothing is required.

But although heat and moisture, the great vegetative stimulants, lie at the root of primitive progress, these elements in superabundance defeat their own ends, and in two ways: First, excessive heat enervates the body and prostrates the mind, languor and inertia become chronic, while cold is invigorating and prompts to activity. And in tropical climates certain hours of the day are too hot for work, and are, consequently, devoted to sleep. The day is broken into fragments; continuous application, which alone produces important results, is prevented, and habits of slackness and laxity become the rule of life. Satisfied, moreover, with the provisions of nature for their support, the people live without labor, vegetating, plant-like, through a listless and objectless life. Secondly, vegetation, stimulated by excessive heat and moisture, grows with such strength and rapidity as to defy the efforts of inexperienced primitive man; nature becomes domineering, unmanageable, and man sinks into insignificance. Indeed the most skillful industry of armed and disciplined civilization is unable to keep under control this redundancy of tropical vegetation. The path cleared by the pioneer on penetrating the dense undergrowth, closes after him like the waters of the sea behind a ship; before the grain has time to spring up, the plowed field is covered with rank weeds, wild flowers, and poisonous plants no less beautiful than pernicious. I have seen the very fence-posts sprouting up and growing into trees. So destructive is the vegetation of the Central American lowlands, that in their triumphal march the persistent roots penetrate the crevices of masonry, demolish strong walls, and obliterate stupendous tumuli. The people whose climate makes carbonized food a necessity, are obliged to call into action their bolder and stronger faculties in order to obtain their supplies, while the vegetable-eater may tranquilly rest on bounteous nature. The Eskimo struggles manfully with whale, and bear, and ice, and darkness, until his capacious stomach is well filled with heat-producing food, then he dozes torpidly in his den while the supply lasts; the equatorial man plucks and eats, basks in the open air, and sleeps.

UNMANAGE­ABLENESS OF REDUNDANT NATURE.

Here we have a medley of heterogeneous and antagonistic elements. Leisure is essential to culture; before leisure there must be an accumulation of wealth; the accumulation of wealth is dependent upon the food-supply; a surplus of food can only be easily obtained in warm climates. But labor is also essential to development, and excessive heat is opposed to labor. Labor, moreover, in order to produce leisure must be remunerative, and excessive cold is opposed to accumulation. It appears, therefore, that an excess of labor and an excess of leisure are alike detrimental to improvement. Again, heat and moisture are essential to an abundant supply of oxidized food. But heat and moisture, especially in tropical climates, act as a stimulant upon other rank productions, engendering dense forests, tangled brush-wood, and poisonous shrubs, and filling miasmatic marshes with noxious reptiles. These enemies to human progress the weaponless savage is unable to overcome.

It is, therefore, neither in hot and humid countries, nor in excessively cold climates, that we are to look for a primitive civilization; for in the latter nature lies dormant, while in the former the redundancy of nature becomes unmanageable. It is true that in the tropics of America and Asia are found the seats of many ancient civilizations, but if we examine them one after the other, we shall see, in nearly every instance, some opposite or counteracting agency. Thus, the Aztecs, though choosing a low latitude in proximity to both oceans, occupied an elevated table-land, in a cool, dry atmosphere, seven or eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. The river Nile, by its periodic inundations, forced the ancient Egyptians to lay by a store of food, which is the very first step toward wealth. The rivers of India are, some of them, subject to like overflowings, while the more elevated parts are dry and fertile.

Egypt was the cradle of European development. Long before the advent of Christianity, the fertile banks of the Nile, for their pyramidal tombs, their colossi, their obelisks and catacombs and sphinxes and temples, were regarded by surrounding barbarians as a land of miracles and marvels. Thence Greece derived her earliest arts and maxims. The climate of Egypt was unchangeable, and the inundations of the Nile offered a less uncertain water-supply than the rains of many other districts, and thus agriculture, while offering to the laborer the greater part of the year for leisure, was almost certain to be remunerative. Common instincts and common efforts, uniformity of climate and identity of interests produced a homogeneous people, and forty centuries of such changeless coming and going could not fail to result in improvement.

MR BUCKLE'S THEORY.

Mr Buckle, in his attempt to establish a universal theory that heat and moisture inevitably engender civilization, and that without those combined agencies no civilization can arise, somewhat overreaches himself. "In America, as in Asia and Africa," he says, "all the original civilizations were seated in hot countries; the whole of Peru, proper, being within the southern tropic, the whole of Central America and Mexico within the northern tropic." The fact is, that Cuzco, the capital city of the Incas, is in the cordilleras, three hundred miles from and eleven thousand feet above the sea. For the latitude the climate is both cold and dry. The valley of Mexico is warmer and moister, but cannot be called hot and humid. Palenque and Copan approach nearer Mr Buckle's ideal than Cuzco or Mexico, being above the tierra caliente proper, and yet in a truly hot and humid climate.

The Hawaiian Islands,—an isolated group of lava piles, thrown up into the trade winds on the twentieth parallel, and by these winds deluged on one side with rain, while the other is left almost dry, with but little alluvial soil, and that little exceedingly fertile,—at the time of their discovery by Captain Cook appeared to have made no inconsiderable advance toward feudalism. Systems of land tenure and vassalage were in operation, and some works for the public weal had been constructed. Here were the essentials for a low order of improvement such as was found there, but which never, in all probability, would have risen much higher.

Again, Mr Buckle declares that, "owing to the presence of physical phenomena, the civilization of America was, of necessity, confined to those parts where alone it was found by the discoverers of the New World." An apparently safe postulate; but, upon any conceivable hypothesis, there are very many places as well adapted to development as those in which it was found. Once more: "The two great conditions of fertility have not been united in any part of the continent north of Mexico." When we consider what it is, namely, heat and humidity, upon which Mr Buckle makes intellectual evolution dependent, and that not only the Mexican plateau lacked both these essentials, in the full meaning of the term, but that both are found in many places northward, as for instance, in some parts of Texas and in Louisiana, a discrepancy in his theory becomes apparent. "The peculiar configuration of the land," he continues, "secured a very large amount of coast, and thus gave to the southern part of North America the character of an island." An island, yes, but, as M. Guyot terms it, an "aerial island;" bordered on either side by sea-coast, but by such sea-coast as formed an almost impassable barrier between the table-land and the ocean.

"While, therefore," adds Mr Buckle, "the position of Mexico near the equator gave it heat, the shape of the land gave it humidity; and this being the only part of North America in which these two conditions were united it was likewise the only part which was at all civilized. There can be no doubt, that if the sandy plains of California and Southern Columbia, instead of being scorched into sterility, had been irrigated by the rivers of the east, or if the rivers of the east had been accompanied by the heat of the west, the result of either combination would have been that exuberance of soil, by which, as the history of the world decisively proves, every early civilization was preceded. But inasmuch as, of the two elements of fertility, one was deficient in every part of America north of the twentieth parallel, it followed that, until that line was passed, civilization could gain no resting place; and there never has been found, and we may confidently assert never will be found, any evidence that even a single ancient nation, in the whole of that enormous continent, was able to make much progress in the arts of life, or organize itself into a fixed and permanent society." This is a broad statement embodying precipitate deductions from false premises, and one which betrays singular ignorance of the country and its climate. These same "sandy plains of California" so far from being "scorched into sterility", are to-day sending their cereals in every direction—to the east and to the west—and are capable of feeding all Europe.

WHY WERE CALIFORNIANS NOT CIVILIZED?

I have often wondered why California was not the seat of a primitive civilization; why, upon every converging line the race deteriorates as this centre is approached; why, with a cool, salubrious seaboard, a hot and healthful interior, with alternate rainy and dry seasons, alternate seasons of labor and leisure which encourage producing and hoarding and which are the primary incentives to accumulation and wealth, in this hot and cool, moist and dry, and invigorating atmosphere, with a fertile soil, a climate which in no part of the year can be called cold or inhospitable, should be found one of the lowest phases of humanity on the North American continent. The cause must be sought in periods more remote, in the convulsions of nature now stilled; in the tumults of nations whose history lies forgotten, forever buried in the past. Theories never will solve the mystery. Indeed, there is no reason why the foundations of the Aztec and Maya-Quiché civilizations may not have been laid north of the thirty-fifth parallel, although no architectural remains have been discovered there, nor other proof of such an origin; but upon the banks of the Gila, the Colorado, and the Rio Grande, in Chihuahua, and on the hot dry plains of Arizona and New Mexico, far beyond the limits of Mr Buckle's territory where "there never has been found, and we may confidently assert never will be found" any evidence of progress, are to-day walled towns inhabited by an industrial and agricultural people, whose existence we can trace back for more than three centuries, besides ruins of massive buildings of whose history nothing is known.

Thus, that California and many other parts of North America could not have been the seat of a primitive civilization, cannot be proved upon the basis of any physical hypothesis; and, indeed, in our attempt to elucidate the principles of universal progress, where the mysterious and antagonistic activities of humanity have been fermenting all unseen for thousands of ages, unknown and unknowable, among peoples of whom our utmost knowledge can be only such as is derived from a transient glimpse of a disappearing race, it is with the utmost difficulty that satisfactory conclusions can in any instance be reached.

It is in a temperate climate, therefore, that man attains the highest development. On the peninsulas of Greece and Italy, where the Mediterranean invites intercourse; in Iran and Armenia, where the climate is cold enough to stimulate labor, but not so cold as to require the use of all the energies of body and mind in order to acquire a bare subsistence; warm enough to make leisure possible, but not so warm as to enervate and prostrate the faculties; with a soil of sufficient fertility to yield a surplus and promote the accumulation of wealth, without producing such a redundancy of vegetation as to be unmanageable by unskilled, primitive man—there it is that we find the highest intellectual culture.

It sometimes happens that, in those climates which are too vigorous for the unfolding of the tender germ, cultivation is stimulated into greater activity than in its original seats. It sometimes happens that, when the shell of savagism is once fairly broken, a people may overcome a domineering vegetation, and flourish in a climate where by no possibility could their development have originated. Even in the frozen regions of the north, as in Scandinavia, man, by the intensity of his nature, was enabled to surmount the difficulties of climate and attain a fierce, rude cultivation. The regions of Northern Europe and Northern America, notwithstanding their original opposition to man, are to-day the most fruitful of all lands in industrial discoveries and intellectual activities, but in the polar regions, as in the equatorial, the highest development never can be reached.

The conditions which encourage indigenous civilization are not always those that encourage permanent development, and vice versa. Thus, Great Britain in her insulation, remained barbarous long after Greece and Italy had attained a high degree of cultivation, yet when once the seed took root, that very insulation acted as a wall of defense, within which a mighty power germinated and with its influence overspread the whole earth.

Thus we have seen that a combination of physical conditions is essential to intellectual development. Without leisure, there can be no culture, without wealth no leisure, without labor no wealth, and without a suitable soil and climate no remunerative labor.

Now, throughout the material universe, there is no object or element which holds its place, whether at rest or in motion, except under fixed laws; no atom of matter nor subtle mysterious force, no breath of air, nor cloudy vapor nor streak of light, but in existing obeys a law. The Almighty fiat: Be fruitful and multiply, fruitful in increase, intellectual as well as physical, was given alike to all mankind; seeds of progress were sown broadcast throughout all the races human; some fell on stony places, others were choked with weeds, others found good soil. When we see a people in the full enjoyment of all these physical essentials to progress yet in a state of savagism, we may be sure that elements detrimental to progress have, at some period of their history, interposed to prevent natural growth. War, famine, pestilence, convulsions of nature, have nipped in the bud many an incipient civilization, whose history lies deep buried in the unrecorded past.

ASSOCIATION AN ELEMENT OF PROGRESS.

The obvious necessity of association as a primary condition of development leaves little to be said on that subject. To the manifestation of this Soul of Progress a body social is requisite, as without an individual body there can be no manifestation of an individual soul. This body social, like the body individual, is composed of numberless organs, each having its special functions to perform, each acting on the others, and all under the general government of the progressional idea. Civilization is not an individual attribute, and though the atom, man, may be charged with stored energy, yet progress constitutes no part of individual nature; it is something that lies between men and not within them; it belongs to society and not to the individual; man, the molecule of society, isolate, is inert and forceless. The isolated man, as I have said, never can become cultivated, never can form a language, does not possess in its fullness the faculty of abstraction, nor can his mind enter the realm of higher thought. All those characteristics which distinguish mankind from animal-kind become almost inoperative. Without association there is no speech, for speech is but the conductor of thought between two or more individuals; without words abstract thought cannot flow, for words, or some other form of expression, are the channels of thought, and with the absence of words the fountain of thought is in a measure sealed.

At the very threshold of progress social crystallization sets in; something there is in every man that draws him to other men. In the relationship of the sexes, this principle of human attraction reaches its height, where the husband and wife, as it were, coalesce, like the union of one drop of water with another, forming one globule. As unconsciously and as positively are men constrained to band together into societies as are particles forced to unite and form crystals. And herein is a law as palpable and as fixed as any law in nature; a law, which if unfulfilled, would result in the extermination of the race. But the law of human attraction is not perfect, does not fulfill its purpose apart from the law of human repulsion, for as we have seen, until war and despotism and superstition and other dire evils come, there is no progress. Solitude is insupportable, even beasts will not live alone; and men are more dependent on each other than beasts. Solitude carries with it a sense of inferiority and insufficiency; the faculties are stinted, lacking completeness, whereas volume is added to every individual faculty by union.

COÖPERATION AND THE DIVISION OF LABOR.

But association simply, is not enough; nothing materially great can be accomplished without union and coöperation. It is only when aggregations of families intermingle with other aggregations, each contributing its quota of original knowledge to the other; when the individual gives up some portion of his individual will and property for the better protection of other rights and property; when he entrusts society with the vindication of his rights; when he depends upon the banded arm of the nation, and not alone upon his own arm for redress of grievances, that progress is truly made. And with union and coöperation comes the division of labor by which means each, in some special department, is enabled to excel. By fixing the mind wholly upon one thing, by constant repetition and practice, the father hands down his art to the son, who likewise, improves it for his descendants. It is only by doing a new thing, or by doing an old thing better than it has ever been done before, that progress is made. Under the régime of universal mediocrity the nation does not advance; it is to the great men,—great in things great or small, that progress is due; it is to the few who think, to the few who dare to face the infinite universe of things and step, if need be, outside an old-time boundary, that the world owes most.

Originally implanted is the germ of intelligence, at the first but little more than brute instinct. This germ in unfolding undergoes a double process; it throws off its own intuitions and receives in return those of another. By an interchange of ideas, the experiences of one are made known for the benefit of another, the inventions of one are added to the inventions of another; without intercommunication of ideas the intellect must lie dormant. Thus it is with individuals, and with societies it is the same. Acquisitions are eminently reciprocal. In society, wealth, art, literature, polity, and religion act and react on each other; in science a fusion of antagonistic hypotheses is sure to result in important developments. Before much progress can be made, there must be established a commerce between nations for the interchange of aggregated human experiences, so that the arts and industries acquired by each may become the property of all the rest, and thus knowledge becomes scattered by exchange, in place of each having to work out every problem for himself. Thus viewed, civilization is a partnership entered into for mutual improvement; a joint stock operation, in which the product of every brain contributes to a general fund for the benefit of all. No one can add to his own store of knowledge without adding to the general store; every invention, and discovery, however insignificant, is a contribution to civilization.

In savagism, union and coöperation are imperfectly displayed. The warriors of one tribe unite against the warriors of another; a band will coöperate in pursuing a herd of buffalo; even one nation will sometimes unite with another nation against a third, but such combinations are temporary, and no sooner is the particular object accomplished than the confederation disbands, and every man is again his own master. The moment two or more persons unite for the accomplishment of some purpose which shall tend permanently to meliorate the condition of themselves and others, that moment progress begins. The wild beasts of the forest, acting in unison, were physically able to rise up and extirpate primitive man, but could beasts in reality confederate and do this, such confederation of wild beasts could become civilized.

THE SAVAGE HATES CIVILIZATION.

But why does primitive man desire to abandon his original state and set out upon an arduous never-ending journey? Why does he wish to change his mild paternal government, to relinquish his title to lands as broad as his arm can defend, with all therein contained, the common property of his people? Why does he wish to give up his wild freedom, his native independence, and place upon his limbs the fetters of a social and political despotism? He does not. The savage hates civilization as he hates his deadliest foe; its choicest benefits he hates more than the direst ills of his own unfettered life. He is driven to it; driven to it by extraneous influences, without his knowledge and against his will; he is driven to it by this Soul of Progress. It is here that this progressional phenomenon again appears outside of man and in direct opposition to the will of man; it is here that the principle of evil again comes in and stirs men up to the accomplishment of a higher destiny. By it Adam, the first of recorded savages, was driven from Eden, where otherwise he would have remained forever, and remained uncivilized. By it our ancestors were impelled to abandon their simple state, and organize more heterogeneous complex forms of social life. And it is a problem for each nation to work out for itself. Millions of money are expended for merely proselyting purposes, when if the first principles of civilization were well understood, a more liberal manner of teaching would prevail.

Every civilization has its peculiarities, its idiosyncrasies. Two individuals attempting the same thing differ in the performance; so civilization evolving under incidental and extraneous causes takes an individuality in every instance. This is why civilizations will not coalesce; this is why the Spaniards could make the Aztecs accept their civilization only at the point of the sword. Development engendered by one set of phenomena will not suit the developments of other circumstances. The government, religion, and customs of one people will not fit another people any more than the coat of one person will suit the form of another. Thought runs in different channels; the happiness of one is not the happiness of another; development springs from inherent necessity, and one species cannot be engrafted on another.

Let us now examine the phenomena of government and religion in their application to the evolution of societies, and we shall better understand how the wheels of progress are first set in motion,—and by religion I do not mean creed or credulity, but that natural cultus inherent in humanity, which is a very different thing. Government is early felt to be a need of society; the enforcement of laws which shall bring order out of social chaos; laws which shall restrain the vicious, protect the innocent, and punish the guilty; which shall act as a shield to inherent budding morality. But before government, there must arise some influence which will band men together. An early evil to which civilization is indebted is war; the propensity of man—unhappily not yet entirely overcome—for killing his fellow-man.

GOVERNMENT AND RELIGION.

The human race has not yet attained that state of homogeneous felicity which we sometimes imagine; upon the surface, we yet bear many of the relics of barbarism; under cover of manners, we hide still more. War is a barbarism which civilization only intensifies, as indeed civilization intensifies every barbarism which it does not eradicate or cover up. The right of every individual to act as his own avenger; trial by combat; justice dependent upon the passion or caprice of the judge or ruler and not upon fixed law; hereditary feuds and migratory skirmishes; these and the like are deemed barbarous, while every nation of the civilized world maintains a standing army, applies all the arts and inventions of civilization to the science of killing, and upon sufficient provocation, as a disputed boundary or a fancied insult, no greater nor more important than that which moved our savage ancestors to like conduct, falls to, and after a respectable civilized butchery of fifty or a hundred thousand men, ceases fighting, and returns, perhaps, to right and reason as a basis for the settlement of the difficulty. War, like other evils which have proved instruments of good, should by this time have had its day, should have served its purpose. Standing armies, whose formation was one of the first and most important steps in association and partition of labor, are but the manifestation of a lingering necessity for the use of brute force in place of moral force in the settlement of national disputes. Surely, rational beings who retain the most irrational practices concerning the simplest principles of social life cannot boast of a very high order of what we are pleased to call civilization. Morality, commerce, literature, and industry, all that tends toward elevation of intellect, is directly opposed to the warlike spirit. As intellectual activity increases, the taste for war decreases, for an appeal to war in the settlement of difficulties is an appeal from the intellectual to the physical, from reason to brute force.

Despotism is an evil, but despotism is as essential to progress as any good. In some form despotism is an inseparable adjunct of war. An individual or an idea may be the despot, but without cohesion, without a strong central power, real or imaginary, there can be no unity, and without unity no protracted warfare. In the first stages of government despotism is as essential as in the last it is noxious. It holds society together when nothing else would hold it, and at a time when its very existence depends upon its being so held. And not until a moral inherent strength arises sufficient to burst the fetters of despotism, is a people fit for a better or milder form of government; for not until this inherent power is manifest is there sufficient cohesive force in society to hold it together without being hooped by some such band as despotism. Besides thus cementing society, war generates many virtues, such as courage, discipline, obedience, chivalrous bearing, noble thought; and the virtues of war, as well as its vices, help to mould national character.

Slavery to the present day has its defenders, and from the first it has been a preventive of a worse evil,—slaughter. Savages make slaves of their prisoners of war, and if they do not preserve them for slaves they kill them. The origin of the word, servus, from servare, to preserve, denotes humane thought rather than cruelty. Discipline is always necessary to development, and slavery is another form of savage discipline. Then, by systems of slavery, great works were accomplished, which, in the absence of arts and inventions, would not have been possible without slavery. And again, in early societies where leisure is so necessary to mental cultivation and so difficult to obtain, slavery, by promoting leisure, aids elevation and refinement. Slaves constitute a distinct class, devoted wholly to labor, thereby enabling another class to live without labor, or to labor with the intellect rather than with the hands.

Primordially, society was an aggregation of nomadic families, every head of a family having equal rights, and every individual such power and influence as he could acquire and maintain. In all the ordinary avocations of savage life this was sufficient; there was room for all, and the widest liberty was possessed by each. And in this happy state does mankind ever remain until forced out of it. In unity and coöperation alone can great things be accomplished; but men will not unite until forced to it. Now in times of war—and with savages war is the rule and not the exception—some closer union is necessary to avoid extinction; for other things being equal, the people who are most firmly united and most strongly ruled are sure to prevail in war. The idea of unity in order to be effectual must be embodied in a unit; some one must be made chief, and the others must obey, as in a band of wild beasts that follow the one most conspicuous for its prowess and cunning. But the military principle alone would never lay the foundation of a strong government, for with every cessation from hostilities there would be a corresponding relaxation of government.

GOVERNMENT FORCED UPON MAN.

Another necessity for government here arises, but which likewise is not the cause of government, for government springs from force and not from utility. These men do not want government, they do not want culture; how then is an arm to be found sufficiently strong to bridle their wild passions? In reason they are children, in passion men; to restrain the strong passions of strong non-reasoning men requires a power; whence is this power to come? It is in the earlier stage of government that despotism assumes its most intense forms. The more passionate, and lawless, and cruel the people, the more completely do they submit to a passionate, lawless, and cruel prince; the more ungovernable their nature, the more slavish are they in their submission to government; the stronger the element to be governed, the stronger must be the government.

The primitive man, whoever or whatever that may be, lives in harmony with nature; that is, he lives as other animals live, drawing his supplies immediately from the general storehouse of nature. His food he plucks from a sheltering tree, or draws from a sparkling stream, or captures from a prolific forest. The remnants of his capture, unfit for food, supply his other wants; with the skin he clothes himself, and with the bones makes implements and points his weapons. In this there are no antagonisms, no opposing principles of good and evil; animals are killed not with a view of extermination, but through necessity, as animals kill animals in order to supply actual wants. But no sooner does the leaven of progress begin to work than war is declared between man and nature. To make room for denser populations and increasing comforts, forests must be hewn down, their primeval inhabitants extirpated or domesticated, and the soil laid under more direct contribution. Union and coöperation spring up for purposes of protection and aggression, for the accomplishment of purposes beyond the capacity of the individual. Gradually manufactures and commerce increase; the products of one body of laborers are exchanged for the products of another, and thus the aggregate comforts produced are doubled to each. Absolute power is taken from the hands of the many and placed in the hands of one, who becomes the representative power of all. Men are no longer dependent upon the chase for a daily supply of food; even agriculture no longer is a necessity which each must follow for himself, for the intellectual products of one person or people may be exchanged for the agricultural products of another. With these changes of occupation new institutions spring up, new ideas originate, and new habits are formed. Human life ceases to be a purely material existence; another element finds exercise, the other part of man is permitted to grow. The energies of society now assume a different shape; hitherto the daily struggle was for daily necessities, now the accumulation of wealth constitutes the chief incentive to labor. Wealth becomes a power and absorbs all other powers. The possessor of unlimited wealth commands the products of every other man's labor.

But in time, and to a certain extent, a class arises already possessed of wealth sufficient to satisfy even the demands of avarice, and something still better, some greater good is yet sought for. Money-getting gives way before intellectual cravings. The self-denials and labor necessary to the acquisition of wealth are abandoned for the enjoyment of wealth already acquired and the acquisition of a yet higher good. Sensual pleasure yields in a measure to intellectual pleasure, the acquisition of money to the acquisition of learning.

Where brute intelligence is the order of the day, man requires no more governing than brutes, but when lands are divided, and the soil cultivated, when wealth begins to accumulate and commerce and industry to flourish, then protection and lawful punishment become necessary. Like the wild horse, leave him free, and he will take care of himself; but catch him and curb him, and the wilder and stronger he is the stronger must be the curb until he is subdued and trained, and then he is guided by a light rein. The kind of government makes little difference so that it be strong enough.

THE SUPERNATURAL IN CIVILIZATION.

Granted that it is absolutely essential to the first step toward culture that society should be strongly governed, how is the first government to be accomplished; how is one member of a passionate, unbridled heterogeneous community to obtain dominion absolute over all the others? Here comes in another evil to the assistance of the former evils, all for future good,—Superstition. Never could physical force alone compress and hold the necessary power with which to burst the shell of savagism. The government is but a reflex of the governed. Not until one man is physically or intellectually stronger than ten thousand, will an independent people submit to a tyrannical government, or a humane people submit to a cruel government, or a people accustomed to free discussion to an intolerant priesthood.

At the outset, if man is to be governed at all, there must be no division of governmental force. The cause for fear arising from both the physical and the supernatural must be united in one individual. In the absence of the moral sentiment the fear of legal and that of spiritual punishments are identical, for the spiritual is feared only as it works temporal or corporal evil. Freedom of thought at this stage is incompatible with progress, for thought without experience is dangerous, tending towards anarchy. Before men can govern themselves they must be subjected to the sternest discipline of government, and whether this government be just or humane or pleasant is of small consequence so that it be only strong enough. As with polity so with morality and religion; conjointly with despotism there must be an arbitrary central church government, or moral anarchy is the inevitable consequence. At the outset it is not for man to rule but to obey; it is not for savages, who are children in intellect to think and reason, but to believe.

And thus we see how wonderfully man is provided with the essentials of growth. This tender germ of progress is preserved in hard shells and prickly coverings, which, when they have served their purpose are thrown aside as not only useless but detrimental to further development. We know not what will come hereafter, but up to the present time a state of bondage appears to be the normal state of humanity; bondage, at first severe and irrational, then ever loosening, and expanding into a broader freedom. As mankind progresses, moral anarchy no more follows freedom of thought than does political anarchy follow freedom of action. In Germany, in England, in America, wherever secular power has in any measure cut loose from ecclesiastical power and thrown religion back upon public sentiment for support, a moral as well as an intellectual advance has always followed. What the mild and persuasive teachings and lax discipline of the present epoch would have been to the Christians of the fourteenth century, the free and lax government of republican America would have been to republican Rome. Therefore, let us learn to look charitably upon the institutions of the past, and not forget how much we owe to them; while we rejoice at our release from the cruelty and ignorance of mediæval times, let us not forget the debt which civilization owes to the rigorous teachings of both Church and State.

MORALITY AND CREED.

Christianity, by its exalted un-utilitarian morality and philanthropy, has greatly aided civilization. Indeed so marked has been the effect in Europe, so great the contrast between Christianity and Islamism and the polytheistic creeds in general, that Churchmen claim civilization as the offspring of their religion. But religion and morality must not be confounded with civilization. All these and many other activities act and react on each other as proximate principles in the social organism, but they do not, any or all of them, constitute the life of the organism. Long before morality is religion, and long after morality religion sends the pious penitent to his knees. Religious culture is a great assistant to moral culture as intellectual training promotes the industrial arts, but morality is no more religion than is industry intellect. When Christianity, as in the early settlement of Mexico and Central America, falls into the hands of unprincipled adventurers or blind zealots who stand up in deadly antagonism to liberty, then Christianity is a drag upon civilization; and therefore we may conclude that in so far as Christianity grafts on its code of pure morality the principle of intellectual freedom, in so far is civilization promoted by Christianity, but when Christianity engenders persecution, civilization is retarded thereby.

Then Protestantism sets up a claim to the authorship of civilization, points to Spain and then to England, compares Italy and Switzerland, Catholic America and Puritan America, declares that the intellect can never attain superiority while under the dominion of the Church of Rome; in other words, that civilization is Protestantism. It is true that protestation against irrational dogmas, or any other action that tends toward the emancipation of the intellect, is a great step in advance; but religious belief has nothing whatever to do with intellectual culture. Religion from its very nature is beyond the limits of reason; it is emotional rather than intellectual, an instinct and not an acquisition. Between reason and religion lies a domain of common ground upon which both may meet and join hands, but beyond the boundaries of which neither may pass. The moment the intellect attempts to penetrate the domain of the Supernatural all intellectuality vanishes, and emotion and imagination fill its place. There can be no real conflict between the two, for neither, by any possibility, can pass this neutral ground. Before the mind can receive Christianity, or Mahometanism, or any other creed, it must be ready to accept dogmas in the analysis of which human reason is powerless. Among the most brilliant intellects are found Protestants, Romanists, Unitarians, Deists, and Atheists; judging from the experiences of mankind in ages past, creeds and formulas, orthodoxy and heterodoxy, have no inherent power to advance or retard the intellect. Some claim, indeed, that strong doctrinal bias stifles thought, fosters superstition, and fetters the intellect; still religious thought, in some form, is inseparable from the human mind, and it would be very difficult to prove that belief is more debasing than non-belief.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE RELIGIOUS IDEAL.

Religion at first is a gross fetichism, which endows every wonder with a concrete personality. Within every appearance is a several personal cause, and to embody this personal cause in some material form is the first effort of the savage mind. Hence, images are made in representation of these imaginary supernatural powers. Man, of necessity, must clothe these supernatural powers in the elements of some lower form. The imagination cannot grasp an object or an idea beyond the realms of human experience. Unheard-of combinations of character may be made, but the constituent parts must, at some time and in some form, have had an existence in order to be conceivable. It is impossible for the human mind to array in forms of thought anything wholly and absolutely new. This state is the farthest remove possible from a recognition of those universal laws of causation toward which every department of knowledge is now so rapidly tending. Gods are made in the likeness of man and beast, endowed with earthly passions, and a sensual polytheism, in which blind fate is a prominent element, becomes the religious ideal. Religious conceptions are essentially material; all punishments and rewards are such as effect man as a material being; morality, the innate sense of right and wrong, lies stifled, almost dormant.

Thrown wholly upon himself, without experience to guide him, the savage must, of necessity, invest nature with his own qualities, for his mind can grasp none other. But when experience dispels the nearer illusions, objects more remote are made gods; in the sun and stars he sees his controlling destinies; the number of his gods is lessened until at last all merge into one God, the author of all law, the great and only ruler of the universe. In every mythology we see this impersonation of natural phenomena; frost and fire, earth and air and water, in their displays of mysterious powers, are at once deified and humanized. These embodiments of physical force are then naturally formed into families, and their supposed descendants worshiped as children of the gods. Thus, in the childhood of society, when incipient thought takes up its lodgment in old men's brains, shadows of departed heroes mingle with shadows of mysterious nature, and admiration turns to adoration.

Next arises the desire to propitiate these unseen powers, to accomplish which some means of communication must be opened up between man and his deities. Now, as man in his gods reproduces himself, as all his conceptions of supernatural power must, of necessity, be formed on the skeleton of human power, naturally it follows that the strongest and most cunning of the tribe, he upon whom leadership most naturally falls, comes to be regarded as specially favored of the gods. Powers supernatural are joined to powers temporal, and embodied in the chieftain of the nation. A grateful posterity reveres and propitiates departed ancestors. The earlier rulers are made gods, and their descendants lesser divinities; the founder of a dynasty, perhaps, the supreme god, his progeny subordinate deities. The priesthood and kingship thus become united; religion and civil government join forces to press mankind together, and the loose sands of the new strata cohere into the firm rock, that shall one day bear alone the wash of time and tide.

Hence arise divine kingship, and the divine right of kings, and with the desire to win the favor of this divine king, arise the courtesies of society, the first step toward polish of manners. Titles of respect and worship are given him, some of which are subsequently applied to the Deity, while others drop down into the common-place compliments of every-day life.

Here then, we have as one of the first essentials of progress the union of Church and State, of superstition and despotism, a union still necessarily kept up in some of the more backward civilizations. Excessive loyalty and blind faith ever march hand in hand. The very basis of association is credulity, blind loyalty to political powers and blind faith in sacerdotal terrors. In all mythologies at some stage temporal and spiritual government are united, the supernatural power being incarnated in the temporal chief; political despotism and an awful sanguinary religion,—a government and a belief, to disobey which was never so much as thought possible.

See how every one of these primary essentials of civilization becomes, as man advances, a drag upon his progress; see how he now struggles to free himself from what, at the outset, he was led by ways he knew not to endure so patiently. Government, in early stages always strong and despotic, whether monarchical, oligarchical, or republican, holding mankind under the dominion of caste, placing restrictions upon commerce and manufactures, regulating social customs, food, dress,—how men have fought to break loose these bonds! Religion, not that natural cultus instinctive in humanity, the bond of union as well under its most disgusting form of fetichism, as under its latest, loveliest form of Christianity; but those forms and dogmas of sect and creed which stifle thought and fetter intellect,—how men have lived lives of sacrifice and self-denial as well as died for the right to free themselves from unwelcome belief!

RELATION OF GOVERNMENT TO CIVILIZATION.

In primeval ages, government and religion lay lightly on the human race; ethnology, as well as history, discloses the patriarchal as the earliest form of government, and a rude materialism as the earliest religious ideal; these two simple elements, under the form of monsters, became huge abortions, begotten of ignorance, that held the intellect in abject slavery for thousands of years, and from these we, of this generation, more than any other, are granted emancipation. Even wealth, kind giver of grateful leisure, in the guise of avarice becomes a hideous thing, which he who would attain the higher intellectual life, must learn to despise.

Government, as we have seen, is not an essential element of collective humanity. Civilization must first be awakened, must even have passed the primary stages before government appears. Despotism, feudalism, divine kingship, slavery, war, superstition, each marks certain stages of development, and as civilization advances all tend to disappear; and, as in the early history of nations the state antedates the government, so the time may come in the progress of mankind when government will be no longer necessary. Government always grows out of necessity; the intensity of government inevitably following necessity. The form of government is a natural selection; its several phases always the survival of the fittest. When the federalist says to the monarchist, or the monarchist to the federalist: My government is better than yours, it is as if the Eskimo said to the Kaffir: My coat, my house, my food, is better than yours.

The government is made for the man, and not the man for the government. Government is as the prop for the growing plant; at first the young shoot stands alone, then in its rapid advancement for a time it requires support, after which it is able again to stand alone. What we term the evils of government are rather its necessities, and are, indeed, no evils at all. The heavy bit which controls the mouth of an untamed horse is to that horse an evil, yet to the driver a necessity which may be laid aside as the temper of the animal is subdued. So despotism, feudalism, slavery, are evils to those under their dominion, yet are they as necessary for the prevention of anarchy, for the restraint of unbridled passions, as the powerful bit to the horse, and will as surely be laid aside when no longer required. Shallow-minded politicians talk of kingcraft, arbitrary rule, tyrants, the down-trodden masses, the withholding of just rights; as though the government was some independent, adverse element, wholly foreign to the character of the people; as though one man was stronger than ten thousand; as though, if these phases of society were not the fittest, they would be tolerated for a moment. The days of rigorous rule were ever the best days of France and Spain, and so it will be until the people become stronger than the strength of rulers. Republicanism is as unfit for stupid and unintellectual populations, as despotism would be for the advanced ideas and liberal institutions of Anglo-Saxon America. The subject of a liberal rule sneeringly crying down to the subject of an absolute rule his form of government, is like the ass crying to the tiger: Leave blood and meat; feed on grass and thistles, the only diet fit for civilized beasts! Our federal government is the very best for our people, when it is not so it will speedily change; it fits the temper of American intelligence, but before it can be planted in Japan or China the traditions and temper of the Asiatics must change.

We of to-day are undergoing an important epoch in the history of civilization. Feudalism, despotism, and fanaticism have had each its day, have each accomplished its necessary purpose, and are fast fading away. Ours is the age of democracy, of scientific investigation, and freedom of religious thought; what these may accomplish for the advancing intellect remains to be seen. Our ancestors loved to dwell upon the past, now we all look toward the future.

LATTER-DAY PROGRESSION.

The sea of ice, over which our forefathers glided so serenely in their trustful reliance, is breaking up. One after another traditions evaporate; in their application to proximate events they fail us, history ceases to repeat itself as in times past. Old things are passing away, all things are becoming new; new philosophies, new religions, new sciences; the industrial spirit springs up and overturns time-honored customs; theories of government must be reconstructed. Thus, says experience, republicanism, as a form of government, can exist only in small states; but steam and electricity step in and annihilate time and space. The Roman republic, from a lack of cohesive energy, from failure of central vital power sufficient to send the blood of the nation from the heart to the extremities, died a natural death. The American republic, covering nearly twice the territory of republican Rome in her palmiest days, is endowed with a different species of organism; in its physiological system is found a new series of veins and arteries, the railway, the telegraph, and the daily press,—through which pulsates the life's blood of the nation, millions inhaling and exhaling intelligence as one man. By means of these inventions all the world, once every day, are brought together. By telegraphic wires and railroad iron men are now bound as in times past they were bound by war, despotism, and superstition. The remotest corners of the largest republics of to-day, are brought into closer communication than were the adjoining states of the smallest confederations of antiquity. A united Germany, from its past history held to be an impossibility, is, with the present facilities of communication, an accomplished fact. England could as easily have possessed colonies in the moon, as have held her present possessions, three hundred years ago. Practically, San Francisco is nearer Washington than was Philadelphia when the foundations of the Capitol were laid. What is to prevent republics from growing, so long as intelligence keeps pace with extension? The general of an army may now sit before his maps, and manœuvre half a score of armies a hundred or a thousand miles apart, know hourly the situation of every division, the success of every battle, order an advance or a retreat, lay plots and make combinations, with more exactness than was once possible in the conduct of an ordinary campaign.

MORALS, MANNERS, AND FASHION.

A few words about morals, manners, and fashion, will further illustrate how man is played upon by his environment, which here takes the shape of habit. In their bearing on civilization, these phenomena all come under the same category; and this, without regard to the rival theories of intuition and utility in morals. Experience teaches, blindly at first yet daily with clearer vision, that right conduct is beneficial, and wrong conduct detrimental; that the consequences of sin invariably rest on the evil-doer; that for an unjust act, though the knowledge of it be forever locked in the bosom of the offender, punishment is sure to follow; yet there are those who question the existence of innate moral perceptions, and call it all custom and training. And if we look alone to primitive people for innate ideas of morality and justice I fear we shall meet with disappointment. Some we find who value female chastity only before marriage, others only after marriage,—that is, after the woman and her chastity both alike become the tangible property of somebody. Some kindly kill their aged parents, others their female infants; the successful Apache horse-thief is the darling of his mother, and the hero of the tribe; often these American Arabs will remain from home half-starved for weeks, rather than suffer the ignominy of returning empty-handed. Good, in the mind of the savage, is when he steals wives; bad, is when his own wives are stolen. Where it is that inherent morality in savages first makes its appearance, and in what manner, it is often difficult to say; the most hideous vices are everywhere practiced with unblushing effrontery.

Take the phenomena of Shame. Go back to the childhood of our race, or even to our own childhood, and it will be hard to discover any inherent quality which make men ashamed of one thing more than another. Nor can the wisest of us give any good and sufficient reason why we should be ashamed of our body any more than of our face. The whole man was fashioned by one Creator, and all parts equally are perfect and alike honorable. We cover our person with drapery, and think thereby to hide our faults from ourselves and others, as the ostrich hides its head under a leaf, and fancies its body concealed from the hunter. What is this quality of shame if it be not habit? A female savage will stand unblushingly before you naked, but strip her of her ornaments and she will manifest the same appearance of shame, though not perhaps so great in degree, that a European woman will manifest if stripped of her clothes. It is well known how civilized and semi-civilized nations regard this quality of propriety. Custom, conventional usage, dress and behavior, are influences as subtle and as strong as any that govern us, weaving their net-work round man more and more as he throws off allegiance to other powers; and we know but little more of their origin and nature than we do of the origin and nature of time and space, of life and death, of origin and end.

Every age and every society has its own standard of morality, holds up some certain conduct or quality as a model, saying to all, Do this, and receive the much-coveted praise of your fellows. Often what one people deem virtue is to another vice; what to one age is religion is to another superstition; but underlying all this are living fires, kindled by Omnipotence, and destined to burn throughout all time. In the Spartan and Roman republics the moral ideal was patriotism; among mediæval Churchmen it took the form of asceticism; after the elevation of woman the central idea was female chastity.

In this national morality, which is the cohesive force of the body social, we find the fundamental principle of the progressional impulse, and herein is the most hopeful feature of humanity; mankind must progress, and progress in the right direction. There is no help for it until God changes the universal order of things; man must become better in spite of himself; it is the good in us that grows and ultimately prevails.

As a race we are yet in our nonage; fearful of the freedom given us by progress we cling tenaciously to our leading-strings; hugging our mother, Custom, we refuse to be left alone. Liberty and high attainments must be meted out to us as we are able to receive them, for social retchings and vomitings inevitably follow over-feedings. Hence it is, that we find ourselves escaped from primeval and mediæval tyrannies only to fall under greater ones; society is none the less inexorable in her despotisms because of the sophistry which gives her victims fancied freedom. For do we not now set up forms and fashions, the works of our own hands, and bow down to them as reverently as ever our heathen ancestors did to their gods of wood and stone? Who made us? is not the first question of our catechism, but What will people say?

ORIGIN AND SIGNIFICANCE OF DRESS.

Of all tyrannies, the tyranny of fashion is the most implacable; of all slaveries the slavery to fashion is the most abject; of all fears the fear of our fellows is the most overwhelming; of all the influences that surround and govern man the forms and customs which he encounters in society are the most domineering. It is the old story, only another turn of the wheel that grinds and sharpens and polishes humanity,—at the first a benefit, now a drag. Forms and fashions are essential; we cannot live without them. If we have worship, government, commerce, or clothes, we must have forms; or if we have them not we still must act and do after some fashion; costume, which is but another word for custom, we must have, but is it necessary to make the form the chief concern of our lives while we pay so little heed to the substance? and may we not hope while rejoicing over our past emancipations, that we shall some day be free from our present despotisms?

Dress has ever exercised a powerful influence on morals and on progress; but this vesture-phenomenon is a thing but imperfectly understood. Clothes serve as a covering to the body of which we are ashamed, and protect it against the weather, and these, we infer, are the reasons of our being clothed. But the fact is, aboriginally, except in extreme cases, dress is not essential to the comfort of man until it becomes a habit, and as for shame, until told of his nakedness, the primitive man has none. The origin of dress lies behind all this; it is found in one of the most deep-rooted elements of our nature, namely, in our love of approbation. Before dress is decoration. The successful warrior, proud of his achievement, besmears his face and body with the blood of the slain, and straightway imitators, who also would be thought strong and brave, daub themselves in like manner; and so painting and tattooing become fashionable, and pigments supply the place of blood. The naked, houseless Californian would undergo every hardship, travel a hundred miles, and fight a round with every opposing band he met, in order to obtain cinnabar from the New Almaden quicksilver mine. So when the hunter kills a wild beast, and with the tail or skin decorates his body as a trophy of his prowess, others follow his example, and soon it is a shame to that savage who has neither paint, nor belt, nor necklace of bears' claws. And so follow head-flattenings, and nose-piercings, and lip-cuttings, and, later, chignons, and breast-paddings, and bustles. Some say that jealousy prompted the first Benedicks to hide their wives' charms from their rivals, and so originated female dress, which, from its being so common to all aborigines, is usually regarded as the result of innate modesty. But whatever gave us dress, dress has given much to human progress. Beneath dress arose modesty and refinement, like the courtesies that chivalry threw over feudalism, covering the coarse brutality of the barons, and paving the way to real politeness.

ETIQUETTE, MORALITY, LAWS.

From the artificial grimaces of fashion have sprung many of the natural courtesies of life; though here, too, we are sent back at once to the beginning for the cause. From the ages of superstition and despotism have descended the expressions of every-day politeness. Thus we have sir, from sieur, sire, seigneur, signifying ruler, king, lord, and aboriginally father. So madam, ma dame, my lady, formerly applied only to women of rank. In place of throwing ourselves upon the ground, as before a god or prince, we only partially prostrate ourselves in bowing, and the hat which we touch to an acquaintance we take off on entering a church in token of our humility. Again, the captive in war is made a slave, and as such is required to do obeisance to his master, which forms of servility are copied by the people in addressing their superiors, and finally become the established usage of ordinary intercourse. Our daily salutations are but modified acts of worship, and our parting word a benediction; and from blood, tomahawks, and senseless superstitions we turn and find all the world of humanity, with its still strong passions and subtle cravings, held in restraint by a force of which its victims are almost wholly unconscious,—and this force is Fashion. In tribunals of justice, in court and camp etiquette, everywhere these relics of barbarism remain with us. Even we of this latter-day American republicanism, elevate one of our fellows to the chieftainship of a federation or state, and call him Excellency; we set a man upon the bench and plead our cause before him; we send a loafer to a legislature, and straightway call him Honorable,—such divinity doth hedge all semblance of power.

Self-denial and abstinence lie at the bottom of etiquette and good manners. If you would be moral, says Kant, you must "act always so that the immediate motive of thy will may become a universal rule for all intelligent beings," and Goethe teaches that "there is no outward sign of courtesy that does not rest on a deep, moral foundation."

Fine manners, though but the shell of the individual, are, to society, the best actions of the best men crystallized into a mode; not only the best thing, but the best way of doing the best thing. Good society is, or ought to be, the society of the good; but fashion is more than good society, or good actions; it is more than wealth, or beauty, or genius, and so arbitrary in its sway that, not unfrequently, the form absorbs the substance, and a breach of decorum becomes a deadly sin.

Thus we see in every phase of development the result of a social evolution; we see men coming and going, receiving their leaven from the society into which by their destiny they are projected, only to fling it back into the general fund interpenetrated with their own quota of force. Meanwhile, this aggregation of human experiences, this compounding of age with age, one generation heaping up knowledge upon another; this begetting of knowledge by knowledge, the seed so infinitesimal, the tree now so rapidly sending forth its branches, whither does it tend? Running the eye along the line of progress, from the beginning to the end, the measure of our knowledge seems nearly full; resolving the matter, experience assures us that, as compared with those who shall come after us, we are the veriest barbarians. The end is not yet; not until infinity is spanned and eternity brought to an end, will mankind cease to improve.

Out of this conglomeration of interminable relationships concordant and antagonistic laws are ever evolving themselves. Like all other progressional phenomena, they wait not upon man; they are self-creative, and force themselves upon the mind age after age, slowly but surely, as the intellect is able to receive them; laws without law, laws unto themselves, gradually appearing as from behind the mists of eternity. At first, man and his universe appear to be regulated by arbitrary volitions, by a multitude of individual minds; each governs absolutely his own actions; every phenomenon of nature is but the expression of some single will. As these phenomena, one after another, become stripped of their mystery, there stands revealed not a god, but a law; seasons come and go, and never fail; sunshine follows rain, not because a pacified deity smiles, but because the rain-clouds have fallen and the sun cannot help shining. Proximate events first are thus made godless, then the whole host of deities is driven farther and farther back. Finally the actions of man himself are found to be subject to laws. Left to his own will, he wills to do like things under like conditions.

As to the nature of these laws, the subtle workings of which we see manifest in every phase of society, I cannot even so much as speak. An infinite ocean of phenomena awaits the inquirer; an ocean bottomless, over whose surface spreads an eternity of progress, and beneath whose glittering waves the keenest intellect can scarcely hope to penetrate far. The universe of man and matter must be anatomized; the functions of innumerable and complex organs studied; the exercise and influence of every part on every other part ascertained, and events apparently the most capricious traced to natural causes; then, when we know all, when we know as God knoweth, shall we understand what it is, this Soul of Progress.

CHAPTER II.
GENERAL VIEW OF THE CIVILIZED NATIONS.

The American Civilization of the Sixteenth Century—Its Disappearance—The Past, a New Element—Dividing line between Savage and Civilized Tribes—Bounds of American Civilization—Physical Features of the Country—Maya and Nahua Branches of Aboriginal Culture—The Nahua Civilization—The Aztecs its Representatives—Limits of the Aztec Empire—Ancient History of Anáhuac in Outline—The Toltec Era—The Chichimec Era—The Aztec Era—Extent of the Aztec Language—Civilized Peoples outside of Anáhuac—Central American Nations—The Maya Culture—The Primitive Maya Empire—Nahua Influence in the South—Yucatan and the Mayas—The Nations of Chiapas—The Quiché Empire in Guatemala—The Nahuas in Nicaragua and Salvador—Etymology of Names.

In the preceding volume I have had occasion several times to remark that, in the delineation of the Wild Tribes of the Pacific States, no attempt is made to follow them in their rapid decline, no attempt to penetrate their past or prophesy a possible future, no profitless lingering over those misfortunes that wrought among them such swift destruction. To us the savage nations of America have neither past nor future; only a brief present, from which indeed we may judge somewhat of their past; for the rest, foreign avarice and interference, European piety and greed, saltpetre, steel, small-pox, and syphilis, tell a speedy tale. Swifter still must be the hand that sketches the incipient civilization of the Mexican and Central American table-lands. For although here we have more past, there is still less present, and scarcely any future. Those nations raised the highest by their wealth and culture, were the first to fall before the invader, their superior attainments offering a more shining mark to a rapacious foe; and falling, they were the soonest lost,—absorbed by the conquering race, or disappearing in the surrounding darkness. Although the savage nations were rapidly annihilated, traces of savagism lingered, and yet linger; but the higher American culture, a plant of more delicate growth and more sensitive nature, withered at the first rude touch of foreign interference. Instead of being left to its own intuitive unfoldings, or instead of being fostered by the new-comers, who might have elevated by interfusion both their own culture and that of the conquered race, the spirit of progress was effectually stifled on both sides by fanatical attempts to substitute by force foreign creeds and polities for those of indigenous origin and growth. And now behold them both, the descendants of conquerors and of conquered, the one scarcely less denaturalized than the other, the curse inflicted by the invaders on a flourishing empire returning and resting with crushing weight on their own head. Scarce four centuries ago the empire of Charles the Fifth, and the empire of Montezuma the Second, were brought by the force of progress most suddenly and unexpectedly face to face; the one then the grandest and strongest of the old world as was the other of the new. Since which time the fierce fanaticism that overwhelmed the New World empire, has pressed like an incubus upon the dominant race, and held it fast while all the world around were making the most rapid strides forward.

THE PAST, A NEW ELEMENT.

No indigenous civilization exists in America to-day, yet the effects of a former culture are not altogether absent. The descendant of the Aztec, Maya, and Quiché, is still of superior mind and haughtier spirit than his roving brother who boasts of none but a savage ancestry. Still, so complete has been the substitution of foreign civil and ecclesiastical polities, and so far-reaching their influence on native character and conduct; so intimate the association for three and more centuries with the Spanish element; so closely guarded from foreign gaze has been every manifestation of the few surviving sparks of aboriginal modes of thought, that a study of the native condition in modern times yields, by itself, few satisfactory results. This study, however, as part of an investigation of their original or normal condition, should by no means be neglected, since it may furnish illustrative material of no little value.

Back of all this lies another element which lends to our subject yet grander proportions. Scattered over the southern plateaux are heaps of architectural remains and monumental piles. Furthermore, native traditions, both orally transmitted and hieroglyphically recorded by means of legible picture-writings, afford us a tolerably clear view of the civilized nations during a period of several centuries preceding the Spanish conquest, together with passing glances, through momentary clearings in the mythologic clouds, at historical epochs much more remote. Here we have as aids to this analysis,—aids almost wholly wanting among the so-called savage tribes, antiquities, tradition, history, carrying the student far back into the mysterious New World past; and hence it is that from its simultaneous revelation and eclipse, American civilization would otherwise offer a more limited field for investigation than American savagism, yet by the introduction of this new element the field is widely extended.

Nor have we even yet reached the limits of our resources for the investigation of this New World civilization. In these relics of architecture and literature, of mythology and tradition, there are clear indications of an older and higher type of culture than that brought immediately to the knowledge of the invaders; of a type that had temporarily deteriorated, perhaps through the influence of long-continued and bloody conflicts, civil and foreign, by which the more warlike rather than the more highly cultured nations had been brought into prominence and power. But this anterior and superior civilization, resting largely as it does on vague tradition, and preserved to our knowledge in general allusions rather than in detail, may, like the native condition since the conquest, be utilized to the best advantage here as illustrative of the later and better-known, if somewhat inferior civilization of the sixteenth century, described by the conqueror, the missionary, and the Spanish historian.

Antique remains of native skill, which have been preserved for our examination, may also be largely used in illustration of more modern art, whose products have disappeared. These relics of the past are also of the highest value as confirming the truth of the reports made by Spanish writers, very many, or perhaps most, of whose statements respecting the wonderful phenomena of the New World, without this incontrovertible material proof, would find few believers among the sceptical students of the present day. These remains of antiquity, however, being fully described in another volume of this work, may be referred to in very general terms for present purposes.

ORIGIN OF AMERICAN CIVILIZATION.

Of civilization in general, the nature of its phenomena, the causes and processes by which it is evolved from savagism, I have spoken sufficiently in the foregoing chapter. As for the many theories respecting the American civilization in particular, its origin and growth, it is not my purpose to discuss them in this volume. No theory on these questions could be of any practical value in the elucidation of the subject, save one that should stand out among the rest so preëminently well-founded as to be generally accepted among scientific men, and no one of all the multitude proposed has acquired any such preëminence. A complete résumé of all the theories on the subject, with the foundations which support them, is given elsewhere in connection with the ancient traditionary history of the aboriginal nations. It is well, however, to remark that our lack of definite knowledge about the origin of this civilization is not practically so important as might appear at first thought. True, we know not for certain whether it is indigenous or exotic; and if the former, whether to ascribe its cradle to the north or south, to one locality or many; or if the latter, whether contact with the old world was effected at one or many points, on one occasion or at divers epochs, through the agency of migrating peoples or by the advent of individual civilizers and teachers. Yet the tendency of modern research is to prove the great antiquity of the American civilization as well as of the American people; and if either was drawn from a foreign source, it was at a time probably so remote as to antedate any old-world culture now existing, and to prevent any light being thrown on the offspring by a study of the parent stock; while if indigenous, little hope is afforded of following rationally their development through the political convulsions of the distant past down to even a traditionally historic epoch.

I may then dispense with theories of origin and details of past history as confusing rather than aiding my present purpose, and as being fully treated elsewhere in this work. Neither am I required in this treatment of the civilized races to make an accurate division between them and their more savage neighbors, to determine the exact standard by which savagism and civilization are to be measured, or to vindicate the use of the word civilized as applied to the American nations in preference to that of semi-civilized, preferred by many writers. We have seen that civilization is at best only a comparative term, applied to some of the ever-shifting phases of human progress. In many of the Wild Tribes already described some of its characteristics have been observed, and the opposite elements of savagism will not be wanting among what I proceed to describe as the Civilized Nations. There is not a savage people between Anáhuac and Nicaragua that has not been influenced in its institutions by intercourse, warlike, social, or commercial, with neighbors of higher culture, and has not exerted in its turn a reflex influence on the latter. The difficulty of drawing division-lines between nations thus mutually acting on each other is further increased in America by the fact that two or three nations constitute the central figure of nearly all that has been observed or written by the few that came in actual contact with the natives. This volume will, therefore, deal rather with the native civilization than with the nations that possessed it.

While, however, details on all the points mentioned, outside of actual institutions found existing in the sixteenth century, would tend to confusion rather than to clearness, besides leading in many cases to endless repetition, yet a general view of the whole subject, of the number, extent, location, and mutual relations of the nations occupying the central portions of the continent at its discovery, as well as of their relations to those of the more immediate past, appears necessary to an intelligent perusal of the following pages. In this general view I shall avoid all discussion of disputed questions, reserving arguments and details for future volumes on antiquities and aboriginal history.

HOME OF THE AMERICAN CULTURE.

That portion of what we call the Pacific States which was the home of American civilization within historic or traditionally historic times, extends along the continent from north-west to south-east, between latitudes 22° and 11°. On the Atlantic side the territory stretches from Tamaulipas to Honduras, on the Pacific from Colima to Nicaragua. Not that these are definitely drawn boundaries, but outside of these limits, disregarding the New Mexican Pueblo culture, this civilization had left little for Europeans to observe, while within them lived few tribes uninfluenced or unimproved by contact with it. No portion of the globe, perhaps, embraces within equal latitudinal limits so great a variety of climate, soil, and vegetation; a variety whose important bearing on the native development can be understood in some degree, and which would doubtless account satisfactorily for most of the complications of progressional phenomena observed within the territory, were the connection between environment and progress fully within the grasp of our knowledge. All the gradations from a torrid to a temperate clime are here found in a region that lies wholly within the northern tropic, altitudinal variations taking the place of and producing all the effects elsewhere attributable to latitude alone. These variations result from the topography of the country as determined by the conformation given to the continent by the central cordillera. The Sierra Madre enters this territory from the north in two principal ranges, one stretching along the coast of the Pacific, while the other and more lofty range trends nearer the Atlantic, the two again uniting before reaching the isthmus of Tehuantepec. This eastern branch between 18° 40´ and 20° 30´ opens out into a table-land of some seventy-five by two hundred miles area, with an altitude of from six to eight thousand feet above the sea level. This broad plateau or series of plateaux is known as the tierra fria, while the lower valleys, with a band of the surrounding slopes, at an elevation of from three to five thousand feet, including large portions of the western lands of Michoacan, Guerrero, and Oajaca, between the two mountain branches, constitute the tierra templada. From the surface of the upper table-land rise sierras and isolated peaks of volcanic origin, the highest in North America, their summits covered with eternal snow, which shelter, temper, and protect the fertile plateaux lying at their base. Centrally located on this table-land, surrounded by a wall of lofty volcanic cliffs and peaks, is the most famous of all the valley plateaux, something more than one hundred and sixty miles in circuit, the valley of Mexico, Anáhuac, that is to say, 'country by the waters,' taking its name from the lakes that formerly occupied one tenth of its area. Anáhuac, with an elevation of 7,500 feet, may be taken as representative of the tierra fria. It has a mean temperature of 62°, a climate much like that of southern Europe, although dryer, and to which the term 'cold' can only be comparatively applied. The soil is fertile and productive, though now generally presenting a bare and parched surface, by reason of the excessive evaporation on lofty plains exposed to the full force of a tropical sun, its natural forest-covering having been removed since the Spanish conquest, chiefly, it is believed, through artificial agencies. Oak and pine are prominent features of the native forest-growth, while wheat, barley, and all the European cereals and fruits flourish side by side with plantations of the indigenous maize, maguey, and cactus. From May to October of each year, corresponding nearly with the hot season of the coast, rains or showers are frequent, but rarely occur during the remaining months. Trees retain their foliage for ten months in the year, and indeed their fading is scarcely noticeable. Southward of 18°, as the continent narrows, this eastern table-land contracts into a mountain range proper, presenting a succession of smaller terraces, valleys, and sierras, in place of the broader plateaux of the region about Anáhuac. Trending south-eastward toward the Pacific, and uniting with the western Sierra Madre, the chain crosses the isthmus of Tehuantepec at a diminished altitude, only to rise again and expand laterally into the lofty Guatemalan ranges which stretch still south-eastward to Lake Nicaragua, where for the second time a break occurs in the continental cordillera at the southern limit of the territory now under consideration. From this central cordillera lateral subordinate branches jut out at right angles north and south toward either ocean. As we go southward the vegetation becomes more dense, and the temperature higher at equal altitudes, but the same gradations of 'fria' and 'templada' are continued, blending into each other at a height of 5,000 to 6,000 feet. The characteristics of the cordillera south of the Mexican table-land are lofty volcanic peaks whose lower bases are clothed with dense forests, fertile plateaux bounded by precipitous cliffs, vertical fissures or ravines of immense depth torn in the solid rock by volcanic action, and mountain torrents flowing in deep beds of porphyry and forming picturesque lakes in the lower valleys. Indeed, in Guatemala, where more than twenty volcanoes are in active operation, all these characteristic features appear to unite in their highest degree of perfection. One of the lateral ranges extends north-eastward from the continental chain, forming with a comparatively slight elevation the back-bone of the peninsula of Yucatan.

THE TIERRA CALIENTE.

At the bases of the central continental heights, on the shores of either ocean, is the tierra caliente, a name applied to all the coast region with an elevation of less than 1,500 feet, and also by the inhabitants to many interior valleys of high temperature. So abruptly do the mountains rise on the Pacific side that the western torrid band does not perhaps exceed twenty miles in average width for its whole length, and has exerted comparatively little influence on the history and development of the native races. But on the Atlantic or gulf coast is a broad tract of level plain and marsh, and farther inland a more gradual ascent to the interior heights. This region presents all the features of an extreme tropical climate and vegetation. In the latitude of Vera Cruz barren and sandy tracts are seen; elsewhere the tierra caliente is covered with the densest tropical growth of trees, shrubs, vines, and flowers, forming in their natural state an almost impenetrable thicket. Cocoa, cotton, cacao, sugar-cane, indigo, vanilla, bananas, and the various palms are prominent among the flora; while the fauna include birds in infinite variety of brilliant plumage, with myriads of tormenting and deadly insects and reptiles. The atmosphere is deadly to all but natives. The moist soil, enriched by the decay of vegetable substances, breathes pestilence and malaria from every pore, except during the winter months of incessant winds, which blow from October to March. Southern Vera Cruz and Tabasco, the tierra caliente par excellence, exhibit the most luxuriant display of nature's prodigality. Of alluvial and comparatively recent formation this region is traversed by the Goazacoalco, Alvarado, Usumacinta, and other noble rivers, which rise in the mountains of Guatemala, Chiapas, and Tehuantepec. River-banks are crowded with magnificent forest-trees, and the broad savanas farther back marked off into natural plantations of the valuable dye-woods which abound there, by a network of branch streams and canals, which serve both for irrigation and as a medium of transport for the native products that play no unimportant rôle in the world's commerce. Each year inundations are expected between June and October, and these transform the whole system of lagoons into a broad lake. Farther up the course of the rivers on the foothills of the cordillera, are extensive forests of cedar, mahogany, zapote, Brazil, and other precious woods, together with a variety of medicinal plants and aromatic resins.

The whole of Yucatan may, by reason of its temperature and elevation above the sea, be included in the tierra caliente, but its climate is one of the most healthful in all tropical America. The whole north and west of the peninsula are of fossil shell formation, showing that at no very distant date this region was covered by the waters of the sea. There are no rivers that do not dry up in winter, but by a wonderful system of small ponds and natural wells the country is supplied with water, the soil being moreover always moist, and supporting a rich and vigorous vegetation.

THE NAHUA AND MAYA ELEMENTS.

Notwithstanding evident marks of similarity in nearly all the manifestations of the progressional spirit in aboriginal America, in art, thought, and religion, there is much reason for and convenience in referring all the native civilization to two branches, the Maya and the Nahua, the former the more ancient, the latter the more recent and wide-spread. It is important, however, to understand the nature and extent of this division, and just how far it may be considered real and how far ideal. Of all the languages spoken among these nations, the two named are the most wide-spread, and are likewise entirely distinct. In their traditional history, their material relics, and, above all, in their methods of recording events by hieroglyphics, as well as in their several lesser characteristics, these two stocks show so many and so clear points of difference standing prominently out from their many resemblances, as to indicate either a separate culture from the beginning, or what is more probable and for us practically the same thing, a progress in different paths for a long time prior to the coming of the Europeans. Very many of the nations not clearly affiliated with either branch show evident traces of both cultures, and may be reasonably supposed to have developed their condition from contact and intermixture of the parent stocks with each other, and with the neighboring savage tribes. It is only, however, in a very general sense that this classification can be accepted, and then only for practical convenience in elucidating the subject; since there are several nations that must be ranked among our civilized peoples, which, particularly in the matter of language, show no Maya nor Nahua affinities. Nor is too much importance to be attached to the names Maya and Nahua by which I designate these parallel civilizations. The former is adopted for the reason that the Maya people and tongue are commonly regarded as among the most ancient in all the Central American region, a region where formerly flourished the civilization that left such wonderful remains at Palenque, Uxmal, and Copan; the latter as being an older designation than either Aztec or Toltec, both of which stocks the race Nahua includes. The civilization of what is now the Mexican Republic, north of Tehuantepec, belonged to the Nahua branch, both at the time of the conquest and throughout the historic period preceding. Very few traces of the Maya element occur north of Chiapas, and these are chiefly linguistic, appearing in two or three nations dwelling along the shores of the Mexican gulf. In published works upon the subject the Aztecs are the representatives of the Nahua element; indeed, what is known of the Aztecs has furnished material for nine tenths of all that has been written on the American civilized nations in general. The truth of the matter is that the Aztecs were only the most powerful of a league or confederation of three nations, which in the sixteenth century, from their capitals in the valley, ruled central Mexico. This confederation, moreover, was of comparatively recent date. These three nations were the Acolhuas, the Aztecs, and the Tepanecs, and their respective capitals, Tezcuco, Mexico, and Tlacopan (Tacuba) were located near each other on the lake borders, where, except Mexico, they still are found in a sad state of dilapidation. Within the valley, in general terms, the eastern section belonged to Tezcuco, the southern and western to Mexico, and a limited territory in the north-west to Tlacopan. At the time when the confederation was formed, which was about one hundred years before the advent of the Spaniards, Tezcuco was the most advanced and powerful of the allies, maintaining her precedence nearly to the end of the fifteenth century. Tlacopan was far inferior to the other two. Her possessions were small, and according to the terms of the compact, which seem always to have been strictly observed, she received but one fifth of the spoils obtained by successful war. While keeping within the boundaries of their respective provinces, so far as the valley of Mexico was concerned, these three chief powers united their forces to extend their conquests beyond the limits of the valley in every direction. Thus under the leadership of a line of warlike kings Mexico extended her domain to the shores of either ocean, and rendered the tribes therein tributary to her. During this period of foreign conquest, the Aztec kings, more energetic, ambitious, warlike, and unscrupulous than their allies, acquired a decided preponderance in the confederate councils and possessions; so that, originally but a small tribe, one of the many which had settled in the valley of Anáhuac, by its valor and success in war, by the comparatively broad extent of its domain, by the magnificence of its capital, the only aboriginal town in America rebuilt by the conquerors in anything like its pristine splendor, and especially by being the people that came directly into contact with the invaders in the desperate struggles of the conquest, the Aztecs became to Europeans, and to the whole modern world, the representatives of the American civilized peoples. Hence, in the observations of those who were personally acquainted with these people, little or no distinction is made between the many different nations of Central Mexico, all being described as Aztecs. Indeed, many of the lesser nations favored this error, being proud to claim identity with the brave and powerful people to whose valor they had been forced to succumb. While this state of things doubtless creates some confusion by failing to show clearly the slight tribal differences that existed, yet the difficulty is not a serious one, from the fact that very many of these nations were unquestionably of the same blood as the Aztecs, and that all drew what civilization they possessed from the same Nahua source. I may therefore continue to speak of the Aztecs in their representative character, including directly in this term all the nations permanently subjected to the three ruling powers in Anáhuac, due care being taken to point out such differences as may have been noticed and recorded.

THE AZTECS THE NAHUA REPRE­SENTATIVES.

To fix the limits of the Aztec Empire with any approximation to accuracy is exceedingly difficult, both by reason of conflicting statements, and because the boundaries were constantly changing as new tribes were brought under Aztec rule, or by successful revolt threw off the Mexican yoke. Clavigero, followed by Prescott, gives to the empire the territory from 18° to 21° on the Atlantic, and 14° to 19° on the Pacific, exclusive, according to the latter author, of the possessions of Tezcuco and Tlacopan. But this extent of territory, estimated at nearly twice that of the state of California, gives an exaggerated idea of Anáhuac, even when that term is applied to the conquered territory of the whole confederacy. The limits mentioned are in reality the extreme points reached by the allied armies in their successful wars, or rather, raids, during the most palmy days of Aztec rule. Within these bounds were several nations that were never conquered, even temporarily, by the arms of Anáhuac, as for example the Tlascaltecs, the Tarascos, and the Chiapanecs. Many nations, indeed most of those whose home was far from the central capitals, were simply forced on different occasions by the presence of a conquering army to pay tribute and allegiance to the Aztec kings, an allegiance which they were not slow to throw off as soon as the invaders had withdrawn. Such were the nations of northern Guatemala and Soconusco, whose conquest was in reality but a successful raid for plunder and captives; such the nations of Tehuantepec, such the Miztecs and Zapotecs of Oajaca, the latter having completely regained their independence and driven the Aztecs from their soil before the coming of the Spaniards. Other nations were conquered only in the years immediately preceding the Spanish conquest; instance the Matlaltzincas just west of Anáhuac, and the Huastecs and Totonacs of Vera Cruz. By their successful raids among these latter peoples, the Aztecs only sealed their own doom, making inveterate foes of the coast nations, whose services would have been most efficacious in resisting the fatal progress of the Castilian arms. But other tribes less warlike and powerful, or nearer the strongholds of their conquerors, were, by means of frequent military expeditions made to check outbreaking rebellion, kept nominally subject to the Aztecs during fifty years, more or less, preceding the coming of the Spaniards, paying their annual tribute with some regularity. Outside the rocky barriers of their valley, the Mexicans maintained their supremacy only by constant war; and even within the valley their sway was far from undisputed, since several tribes, notably the Chalcas on the southern lake, broke out in open rebellion whenever the imperial armies were elsewhere occupied.

EXTENT OF THE AZTEC EMPIRE.

The Aztec empire proper, not restricting it to its original seat in the valley of Mexico, nor including within its limits all the nations which were by the fortunes of war forced at one time or another to pay tribute, may then be said to have extended from the valley of Mexico and its immediate environs, over the territories comprised in the present States of Mexico (with its modern subdivisions of Hidalgo and Morelos), Puebla, southern Vera Cruz, and Guerrero. Of all the nations that occupied this territory, most of them, as I have said, were of one blood and language with their masters, and all, by their character and institutions, possessed in greater or less degree the Nahua culture. Of many of the multitudinous nations occupying the vast territory surrounding the valley of Mexico, nothing is known beyond their names and their likeness, near or remote, to the Aztecs. For a statement of their names and localities in detail, the reader is referred to the Tribal Boundaries following the chapter on the Central Mexicans in the first volume of this work. Let it be understood, therefore, that the description of Aztec institutions contained in this volume applies to all the nations of the empire as bounded above, except where special limitation is indicated; besides which it has a general application to a much wider region, in fact to the whole country north of the isthmus of Tehuantepec.

THE NAHUAS IN ANÁHUAC.

In this connection, and before attempting a description of the Mexican nations beyond the limits of the empire, nations more or less independent of Aztec sway, a glance at ancient Mexican history seems necessary, as well to throw light on the mutual relations of the peoples of Anáhuac, as to partially explain the broad extent of the Nahua civilization and of the Aztec idiom. The old-time story, how the Toltecs in the sixth century appeared on the Mexican table-land, how they were driven out and scattered in the eleventh century, how after a brief interval the Chichimecs followed their footsteps, and how these last were succeeded by the Aztecs who were found in possession,—the last two, and probably the first, migrating in immense hordes from the far north-west,—all this is sufficiently familiar to readers of Mexican history, and is furthermore fully set forth in the fifth volume of this work. It is probable, however, that this account, accurate to a certain degree, has been by many writers too literally construed; since the once popular theory of wholesale national migrations of American peoples within historic times, and particularly of such migrations from the north-west, may now be regarded as practically unfounded. The sixth century is the most remote period to which we are carried in the annals of Anáhuac by traditions sufficiently definite to be considered in any proper sense as historic records. At this period we find the Nahua civilization and institutions established on the table-land, occupied then as at every subsequent time by many tribes more or less distinct from each other. And there this culture remained without intermixture of essentially foreign elements down to the sixteenth century; there the successive phases of its development appeared, and there the progressional spirit continued to ferment for a period of ten centuries, which fermentation constitutes the ancient Mexican history. During the course of these ten centuries we may follow now definitely now vaguely the social, religious, and political convulsions through which these aboriginals were doomed to pass. From small beginnings we see mighty political powers evolved, and these overturned and thrown into obscurity by other and rival unfoldings. Religious sects in like manner we see succeed each other, coloring their progress with frequent persecutions and reformations, not unworthy of old-world mediæval fanaticism, as partisans of rival deities shape the popular superstition in conformity with their creeds. Wars, long and bloody, are waged for plunder, for territory, and for souls; now, to quell the insurrection of a tributary prince, now to repel the invasion of outer barbarian hordes. Leaders, political and religious, rising to power with their nation, faction, city, or sect, are driven at their fall into exile, and thereby forced to seek their fortunes and introduce their culture among distant tribes. Outside bands, more or less barbarous, but brave and powerful, come to settle in Anáhuac, and to receive, voluntarily or involuntarily, the benefits of its arts and science.

I have no disposition unduly to magnify the New World civilization, nor to under-rate old world culture, but during these ten centuries of almost universal mediæval gloom, the difference between the two civilizations was less than most people imagine. On both sides of the Dark Sea humanity lay floundering in besotted ignorance; the respective qualities of that ignorance it is hardly profitable to analyze. The history of all these complicated changes, so far as it may be traced, separates naturally into three chronologic periods, corresponding with what are known as the Toltec, the Chichimec, and the Aztec empires. Prior to the sixth century doubtless there were other periods of Nahua greatness, for there is little evidence to indicate that this was the first appearance in Mexico of this progressive people, but previous developments can not be definitely followed, although affording occasional glimpses which furnish interesting matter for antiquarian speculation.

At the opening then, of the historic times, we find the Toltecs in possession of Anáhuac and the surrounding country. Though the civilization was old, the name was new, derived probably, although not so regarded by all, from Tollan, a capital city of the empire, but afterward becoming synonymous with all that is excellent in art and high culture. Tradition imputes to the Toltecs a higher civilization than that found among the Aztecs, who had degenerated with the growth of the warlike spirit, and especially by the introduction of more cruel and sanguinary religious rites. But this superiority, in some respects not improbable, rests on no very strong evidence, since this people left no relics of that artistic skill which gave them so great traditional fame; there is, however, much reason to ascribe the construction of the pyramids at Teotihuacan and Cholula to the Toltec or a still earlier period. Among the civilized peoples of the sixteenth century, however, and among their descendants down to the present day, nearly every ancient relic of architecture or sculpture is accredited to the Toltecs, from whom all claim descent. In fact the term Toltec became synonymous in later times with all that was wonderful or mysterious in the past; and so confusing has been the effect of this universal reference of all traditional events to a Toltec source, that, while we can not doubt the actual existence of this great empire, the details of its history, into which the supernatural so largely enters, must be regarded as to a great extent mythical.

THE TOLTEC EMPIRE.

There are no data for fixing accurately the bounds of the Toltec domain, particularly in the south. There is very little, however, to indicate that it was more extensive in this direction than that of the Aztecs in later times, although it seems to have extended somewhat farther northward. On the west there is some evidence that it included the territory of Michoacan, never subdued by the Aztecs; and it probably stretched eastward to the Atlantic, including the Totonac territory of Vera Cruz. Of the tribes or nations that made up the empire none can be positively identified by name with any of the later peoples found in Anáhuac, though there can be little doubt that several of the latter were descended directly from the Toltecs and contemporary tribes; and indeed it is believed with much reason that the semi-barbarous Otomís of Anáhuac, and several nations beyond the limits of the valley, may date their tribal history back to a period even preceding the Toltec era. During the most flourishing period of its traditional five centuries of duration, the Toltec empire was ruled by a confederacy similar in some respects to the alliance of later date between Mexico, Tezcuco, and Tlacopan. The capitals were Culhuacan, Otompan, and Tollan, the two former corresponding somewhat in territory with Mexico and Tezcuco, while the latter was just beyond the limits of the valley toward the north-west. Each of these capital cities became in turn the leading power in the confederacy. Tollan reached the highest eminence in culture, splendor, and fame, and Culhuacan was the only one of the three to survive by name the bloody convulsions by which the empire was at last overthrown, and retain anything of her former greatness.

Long-continued civil wars, arising chiefly from dissensions between rival religious factions, resulting naturally in pestilence and famine, which in the aboriginal annals are attributed to the direct interposition of irate deities, gradually undermine the imperial thrones. Cities and nations previously held in subjection or overshadowed by the splendor and power of Tollan, take advantage of her civil troubles to enlarge their respective domains and to establish independent powers. Distant tribes, more or less barbarous, but strong and warlike, come and establish themselves in desirable localities within the limits of an empire whose rulers are now powerless to repel invasion. So the kings of Tollan, Culhuacan, and Otompan lose, year by year, their prestige, and finally, in the middle of the eleventh century, are completely overthrown, leaving the Mexican table-land to be ruled by new combinations of rising powers. Thus ends the Toltec period of ancient Anáhuac history.

The popular account pictures the whole Toltec population, or such part of it as had been spared by war, pestilence, and famine, as migrating en masse southward, and leaving Anáhuac desolate and unpeopled for nearly a half century, to be settled anew by tribes that crowded in from the north-west when they learned that this fair land had been so strangely abandoned. This account, like all other national migration-narratives pertaining to the Americans, has little foundation in fact or in probability.

The royal families and religious leaders of the Toltecs were doubtless driven into perpetual exile, and were accompanied by such of the nobility as preferred, rather than content themselves with subordinate positions at home, to try their fortunes in new lands, some of which were perhaps included in the southern parts of the empire concerning which so little is known. That there was any essential or immediate change in the population of the table-land beyond the irruption of a few tribes, is highly improbable. The exiled princes and priests, as I have said, went southward, where doubtless they played an important part in the subsequent history of the Maya-Quiché nations of Central America, a history less fully recorded than that of Anáhuac. That these exiles were the founders of the Central American civilization, a popular belief supported by many writers, I cannot but regard as another phase of that tendency above-mentioned to attribute all that is undefined and ill-understood to the great and wonderful Toltecs; nor do I believe that the evidence warrants such an hypothesis. If the pioneer civilizers of the south, the builders of Palenque, Copan, and other cities of the more ancient type, were imbued with or influenced by the Nahua culture, as is not improbable, it certainly was not that culture as carried southward in the eleventh century, but a development or phase of it long preceding that which took the name of Toltec on the Mexican plateaux. With the destruction of the empire the term Toltec, as applied to an existing people, disappeared. This disappearance of the name while the institutions of the nation continued to flourish, may indicate that the designation of the people—or possibly of the ruling family—of Tollan, was not applied contemporaneously to the whole empire, and that in the traditions and records of later times, it has incidentally acquired a fictitious importance. Of the Toltec cities, Culhuacan, on the lake border, recovered under the new political combinations something of her old prominence; the name Culhuas applied to its people appears much more ancient than that of Toltecs, and indeed the Mexican civilization as a whole might perhaps as appropriately be termed Culhua as Nahua.

THE CHICHIMEC EMPIRE.

The new era succeeding the Toltec rule is that of the Chichimec empire, which endured with some variations down to the coming of Cortés. The ordinary version of the early annals has it, that the Chichimecs, a wild tribe living far in the north-west, learning that the fertile regions of Central Mexico had been abandoned by the Toltecs, came down in immense hordes to occupy the land. Numerous other tribes came after them at short intervals, were kindly received and granted lands for settlement, and the more powerful of the new comers, in confederation with the original Chichimec settlers, developed into the so-called empire. Now, although this occupation of the central table-lands by successive migrations of foreign tribes cannot be accepted by the sober historian, and although we must conclude that very many of the so-called new comers were tribes that had occupied the country during the Toltec period,—their names now coming into notice with their increasing importance and power,—yet it is probable that some new tribes, sufficiently powerful to exercise a great if not a controlling influence in building up the new empire, did at this time enter Anáhuac from the immediately bordering regions, and play a prominent part, in conjunction with the rising nations within the valley, in the overthrow of the kings of Tollan. These in-coming nations, by alliance with the original inhabitants, infused fresh life and vigor into the worn-out monarchies, furnishing the strength by which new powers were built up on the ruins of the old, and receiving on the other hand the advantages of the more perfect Nahua culture.

If one, and the most powerful, of these new nations was, as the annals state, called the Chichimec, nothing whatever is known of its race or language. The Chichimecs, their identity, their idiom, and their institutions, if any such there were, their name even, as a national appellation, were merged into those of the Nahua nations that accompanied or followed them, and were there lost. The ease and rapidity with which this tribal fusion of tongue and culture is represented to have been accomplished would indicate at least that the Chichimecs, if a separate tribe, were of the same race and language as the Toltecs; but however this may be, it must be conceded that, while they can not have been the wild cave-dwelling barbarians painted by some of the historians, they did not introduce into Anáhuac any new element of civilization.

NO SUCH NATION AS THE CHICHIMEC.

The name Chichimec at the time of the Spanish conquest, and subsequently, was used with two significations, first, as applied to the line of kings that reigned at Tezcuco, and second, to all the wild hunting tribes, particularly in the broad and little-known regions of the north. Traditionally or historically the name has been applied to nearly every people mentioned in the ancient history of America. This has caused the greatest confusion among writers on the subject, a confusion which I believe can only be cleared up by the supposition that the name Chichimec, like that of Toltec, never was applied as a tribal or national designation proper to any people, while such people were living. It seems probable that among the Nahua peoples that occupied the country from the sixth to the eleventh centuries, a few of the leading powers appropriated to themselves the title Toltecs, which had been at first employed by the inhabitants of Tollan, whose artistic excellence soon rendered it a designation of honor. To the other Nahua peoples, by whom these leading powers were surrounded, whose institutions were identical but whose polish and elegance of manner were deemed by these self-constituted autocrats somewhat inferior, the term Chichimecs, barbarians, etymologically 'dogs,' was applied. After the convulsions that overthrew Tollan and reversed the condition of the Nahua nations, the 'dogs' in their turn assumed an air of superiority and retained their designation Chichimecs as a title of honor and nobility.

The names of the tribes represented as entering Anáhuac after the Chichimecs, but respecting the order of whose coming there is little agreement among authors, are the following: Matlaltzincas, Tepanecs, Acolhuas, Teo-Chichimecs (Tlascaltecs), Malinalcas, Cholultecs, Xochimilcas, Chalcas, Huexotzincas, Cuitlahuacs, Cuicatecs, Mizquicas, Tlahuicas, Cohuixcas, and Aztecs. Some of these, as I have said, may have entered the valley from the immediate north. Which these were I shall not attempt to decide, but they were nearly all of the same race and language, all lived under Nahua institutions, and their descendants were found living on and about the Aztec plateau in the sixteenth century, speaking, with one or two exceptions, the Aztec tongue.

In the new era of prosperity that now dawned on Anáhuac, Culhuacan, where some remnants even of the Toltec nobility remained, under Chichimec auspices regained to a great extent its old position as a centre of culture and power. Among the new nations whose name now first appears in history, the Acolhuas and Tepanecs soon rose to political prominence in the valley. The Acolhuas were the Chichimecs par excellence, or, as tradition has it, the Chichimec nation was absorbed by them, giving up its name, language, and institutions. The capitals which ruled the destinies of Anáhuac down to the fifteenth century, besides Culhuacan, were Tenayocan, Xaltocan, Coatlychan, Tezcuco, and Azcapuzalco. These capitals being governed for the most part by branches of the same royal Chichimec family, the era was one of civil intrigue for the balance of power and for succession to the throne, rather than one of foreign conquest. During the latter part of the period, Tezcuco, the Acolhua capital under the Chichimec kings proper, Azcapuzalco the capital of the Tepanecs, and Culhuacan held the country under their sway, sometimes allied to meet the forces of foreign foes, but oftener plotting against each other, each, by alliance with a second against the third, aiming at universal dominion. At last in this series of political manœuvres Culhuacan was permanently overthrown, and the Chichimec ruler at Tezcuco was driven from his possessions by the warlike chief of the Tepanecs, who thus for a short time was absolute master of Anáhuac.

But with the decadence of the Culhua power at Culhuacan, another of the tribes that came into notice in the valley after the fall of the Toltecs, had been gradually gaining a position among the nations. This rising power was the Aztecs, a people traditionally from the far north-west, whose wanderings are described in picture-writings shown in another part of this volume. Their migration is more definitely described than that of any other of the many who are said to have come from the same direction, and has been considered by different writers to be a migration from California, New Mexico, or Asia. Later researches indicate that the pictured annals are intended simply as a record of the Aztec wanderings in the valley of Mexico and its vicinity. Whatever their origin, by their fierce and warlike nature and bloody religious rites, from the first they made themselves the pests of Anáhuac, and later its tyrants. For some centuries they acquired no national influence, but were often conquered, enslaved, and driven from place to place, until early in the fourteenth century, when Mexico or Tenochtitlan was founded, and under a line of able warlike kings started forward in its career of prosperity unequaled in the annals of aboriginal America. At the fall of Culhuacan, Mexico ranked next to Tezcuco and Azcapuzalco, and when the armies of the latter prevailed against the former, Mexico was the most powerful of all the nations that sprang to arms, and pressed forward to humble the Tepanec tyrant, to reïnstate the Acolhua monarch on his throne, and to restore Tezcuco to her former commanding position. The result was the utter defeat of the Tepanecs, and the glory of Azcapuzalco departed forever.

THE AZTEC ERA.

Thus ended in the early part of the fifteenth century the Chichimec empire,—that is, it nominally ended, for the Chichimec kings proper lost nothing of their power,—and, by the establishment of the confederacy already described, the Aztec empire was inaugurated. Under the new dispensation of affairs, Mexico, by whose aid chiefly Azcapuzalco had been humbled, received rank and dominion at least equal to that of Tezcuco, while from motives of policy, and in order, so far as possible, to conciliate the good will of a strong though conquered people, Tlacopan, under a branch of the Tepanecs, with a less extensive domain, was admitted to the alliance. The terms of the confederacy seem, as I have said, never to have been openly violated; but in the first years of the sixteenth century the Aztecs had not only excited the hatred of the most powerful nations outside the bounds of Anáhuac by their foreign raids, but by their arrogant overbearing spirit had made themselves obnoxious at home. Their aim at supreme power was apparent, and both Tezcuco and the independent republic of Tlascala began to tremble at the dangerous progress of their mighty neighbor. A desperate struggle was imminent, in which the Aztecs, pitted against all central Mexico, by victory would have grasped the coveted prize of imperial power, or crushed as were the Tepanecs before them by a coalition of nations, would have yielded their place in the confederacy to some less dangerous rival. At this juncture Cortés appeared. This renowned chieftain aided Montezuma's foes to triumph, and in turn fastened the shackles of European despotism on all alike, with a partial exception in favor of brave Tlascala. The nations which formed the Aztec empire proper, were the tribes for the most part that have been named as springing into existence or notice in Anáhuac early in the Chichimec period, and the names of most of them have been preserved in the names of modern localities. It will be seen, in treating of the languages of the Pacific States, that the Aztec tongue, in a pure state, in distinct verbal or grammatical traces, and in names of places, is spread over a much wider extent of territory than can be supposed to have ever been brought under subjection to Anáhuac during either the Toltec, Chichimec, or Aztec phases of the Nahua domination. To account for this we have the commercial connections of the Aztecs, whose traders are known to have pushed their mercantile ventures far beyond the regions subjected by force of arms; colonies which, both in Toltec and Aztec times, may be reasonably supposed to have sought new homes; the exile of nobles and priests at the fall of the Toltec empire, and other probable migrations, voluntary and involuntary, of princes and teachers; the large detachments of Aztecs who accompanied the Spaniards in the expeditions by which the continent was brought under subjection; and finally, if all these are not sufficient, the unknown history and migrations of the Nahua peoples during the centuries preceding the Toltec era.

THE TARASCOS OF MICHOACAN.

I will now briefly notice the civilized nations beyond the limits of Anáhuac, and more or less independent of the Aztec rule, concerning whose institutions and history comparatively little or nothing is known, except what is drawn from the Aztec annals, with some very general observations on their condition made by their Spanish conquerors. Westward of the Mexican valley was the flourishing independent kingdom of Michoacan, in possession of the Tarascos, whose capital was Tzintzuntzan on Lake Patzcuaro. Their country, lying for the most part between the rivers Mexcala and Tololotlan, is by its altitude chiefly in the tierra templada, and enjoys all the advantages of a tropical climate, soil, and vegetation. Topographically it presents a surface of undulating plains, intersected by frequent mountain chains and by the characteristic ravines, and well watered by many streams and beautiful lakes; hence the name Michoacan, which signifies 'land abounding in fish.' The lake region of Patzcuaro, the seat of the Tarasco kings, is described as unsurpassed in picturesque beauty, while in the variety of its agricultural products and in its yield of mineral wealth, Michoacan was equaled by few of the states of New Spain.

If we may credit the general statements of early authors, who give us but few details, in their institutions, their manners, wealth, and power, the Tarascos were at least fully the equals of the Aztecs, and in their physical development were even superior. That they successfully resisted and defeated the allied armies of Anáhuac is sufficient proof of their military prowess, although they yielded almost without a struggle to the Spaniards after the fall of Mexico. With respect to their civilization we must accept the statements of their superiority as the probably correct impression of those who came first in contact with this people, notwithstanding which I find no architectural or artistic relics of a high culture within their territory. All that is known on the subject indicates that their civilization was of the Nahua type, although the language is altogether distinct from the Aztec, the representative Nahua tongue. The history of Michoacan, in the form of any but the vaguest traditions, does not reach back farther than the thirteenth century; nevertheless, as I have said, there is some reason to suppose that it formed part of the Toltec empire. The theory has even been advanced that the Tarascos, forming a part of that empire, were not disturbed by its fall, and were therefore the best representatives of the oldest Nahua culture. Their reported physical superiority might favor this view, but their distinct language on the contrary would render it improbable. A careful study of all that is known of this people convinces me that they had long been settled in the lands where they were found, but leaves on the mind no definite idea of their earlier history. Their later annals are made up of tales, partaking largely of the marvelous and supernatural, of the doings of certain demi-gods or priests, and of wars waged against the omnipresent Chichimecs. Branches of the great and primitive Otomí family are mentioned as having their homes in the mountains, and there are traditions that fragments of the Aztecs and other tribes which followed the Chichimecs into Anáhuac, lingered on the route of their migration and settled in the fertile valleys of Michoacan. Between the Tarascos and the Aztecs, speaking a language different from either but allied more or less intimately with the former, were the Matlaltzincas, whose capital was in the plateau valley of Toluca, just outside the bounds of Anáhuac. This was one of the tribes that have already been named as coming traditionally from the north-west. For a long time they maintained their independence, but in the last quarter of the fifteenth century were forced to yield to the victorious arms of Axayacatl, the Aztec warrior king.

Immediately below the mouth of the Mexcala, on the border of the Pacific, were the lands of the Cuitlatecs, and also the province or kingdom of Zacatollan, whose capital was the modern Zacatula. Of these two peoples absolutely nothing is known, save that they were tributary to the Aztec empire, the latter having been added to the domain of Tezcuco in the very last years of the fifteenth century.

The provinces that extended south-westward from Anáhuac to the ocean, belonging chiefly to the modern state of Guerrero and included in what I have described as the Aztec empire proper, were those of the Tlahuicas, whose capital was Cuernavaca, the Cohuixcas, capital at Acapulco, the Yoppi on the coast south of Acapulco, and the province of Mazatlan farther inland or north-east. The name Tlapanecs is also rather indefinitely applied to the people of a portion of this territory in the south, including probably the Yoppi. Of the names mentioned we have met those of the Tlahuicas and Cohuixcas among the tribes newly springing into notice at the beginning of the Chichimec period. It is probable that nearly all were more or less closely allied in race and language to their Mexican masters, their political subjection to whom dates from about the middle of the fifteenth century.

MIZTECS AND ZAPOTECS.

The western slope of the cordillera still farther south-west, comprising in general terms the modern state of Oajaca, was ruled and to a great extent inhabited by the Miztecs and Zapotecs, two powerful nations distinct in tongue from the Aztecs and from each other. Western Oajaca, the home of the Miztecs, was divided into Upper and Lower Miztecapan, the latter toward the coast, and the former higher up in the mountains, and sometimes termed Cohuaixtlahuacan. The Zapotecs in eastern Oajaca, when first definitely known to history, had extended their power over nearly all the tribes of Tehuantepec, besides encroaching somewhat on the Miztec boundaries. The Miztecs, notwithstanding the foreign aid of Tlascaltecs and other eastern foes of the Aztec king, were first defeated by the allied forces of Anáhuac about 1458; and from that date the conquerors succeeded in holding their stronger towns and more commanding positions down to the conquest, thus enforcing the payment of tribute and controlling the commerce of the southern coast, which was their primary object. Tehuantepec and Soconusco yielded some years after to the conquering Axayacatl, and Zapotecapan still later to his successor Ahuitzotl; but in the closing years of the fifteenth century the Zapotecs recovered their country with Tehuantepec, leaving Socunusco, however, permanently in Aztec possession. The history of the two nations takes us no farther back than the fourteenth century, when they first came into contact with the peoples of Anáhuac; it gives a record of their rulers and their deeds of valor in wars waged against each other, against the neighboring tribes, and against the Mexicans. Prior to that time we have a few traditions of the vaguest character preserved by Burgoa, the historian of Oajaca. These picture both Miztecs and Zapotecs as originally wild, but civilized by the influence of teachers, priests, or beings of supernatural powers, who came among them, one from the south, and others from the direction of Anáhuac. Their civilization, however received, was surely Nahua, as is shown by the resemblances which their institutions, and particularly their religious rites, bear to those of the Aztecs. Being of the Nahua type, its origin has of course been referred to that inexhaustible source, the dispersion of the Toltecs, or to proselyting teachers sent southward by that wonderful people. Indeed, the Miztec and Zapotec royal families claimed a direct Toltec descent. It is very probable, however, that the Nahua element here was at least contemporaneous in its introduction with the same element known as Toltec in Anáhuac, rather than implanted in Oajaca by missionaries, voluntary or involuntary, from Tollan. I have already remarked that the presence of Nahua institutions in different regions is too often attributed to the Toltec exiles, and too seldom to historical events preceding the sixth century. The Oajacan coast region or tierra caliente, if we may credit the result of researches by the Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg, was sometimes known as Anáhuac Ayotlan, as the opposite coast of Tabasco was called Anáhuac Xicalanco. Both these Anáhuacs were inhabited by enterprising commercial peoples, whose flourishing centres of trade were located at short intervals along the coast. Material relics of past excellence in architecture and other arts of civilization abound in Oajaca, chief among which stand the remarkable structures at Mitla.

NATIONS OF TEHUANTEPEC.

Although Tehuantepec in the later aboriginal times was subject to the kings of Zapotecapan, yet within its limits, besides the Chontales,—a name resembling in its uncertainty of application that of Chichimecs farther north,—were the remnants of two old nations that still preserved their independence. These were the Mijes, living chiefly by the chase in the mountain fastnesses of the north, and the Huaves, who held a small territory on the coast and islands of the lagoons just east of the city of Tehuantepec. The Mijes, so far as the vague traditions of the country reveal anything of their past, were once the possessors of Zapotecapan and the isthmus of Tehuantepec, antedating the Zapotecs and perhaps the Nahua culture in this region, being affiliated, as some believe, in institutions and possibly in language, with the Maya element of Central America. While this connection must be regarded as somewhat conjectural, we may nevertheless accept as probably authentic the antiquity, civilization, and power of this brave people. The Huaves were traditionally of southern origin, having come to Tehuantepec by sea from Nicaragua or a point still farther south. In navigation and in commerce they were enterprising, as were indeed all the tribes of this southern-coast Anáhuac, and they took gradually from the Mijes, whom they found in possession, a large extent of territory, which as we have seen they were finally forced to yield up to their Zapotec conquerors.

Crossing now to the Atlantic or Gulf shores we have from the past nothing but a confused account of Olmecs, Xicalancas, and Nonohualcas, who may have been distinct peoples, or the same people under different names at different epochs, and who at some time inhabited the lowlands of Tehuantepec and Vera Cruz, as well as those of Tabasco farther south. At the time of the conquest we know that this region was thickly inhabited by a people scarcely less advanced than those of Anáhuac, and dotted with flourishing towns devoted to commerce. But neither in the sixteenth nor immediately preceding centuries can any one civilized nation be definitely named as occupying this Anáhuac Xicalanco. We know, however, that this country north of the Goazacoalco River formed a portion of the Aztec empire, and that its inhabitants spoke for the most part the Aztec tongue. These provinces, known as Cuetlachtlan and Goazacoalco, were conquered, chiefly with a view to the extension of the Aztec commerce, as early as the middle of the fifteenth century, notwithstanding the assistance rendered by the armies of Tlascala.

THE TLASCALTECS.

The plateau east of Anáhuac sometimes known as Huitzilapan was found by the Spaniards in the possession of the independent republics, or cities, of Tlascala, Huexotzinco, and Cholula. The people who occupied this part of the table-land were the Teo-Chichimecs, of the same language and of the same traditional north-western origin as the Aztecs, whom they preceded in Anáhuac. Late in the thirteenth century they left the valley of Mexico, and in several detachments established themselves on the eastern plateau, where they successfully maintained their independence of all foreign powers. As allies of the Chichimec king of Tezcuco they aided in overturning the Tepanec tyrant of Azcapuzalco; but after the subsequent dangerous development of Aztec ambition, the Tlascaltec armies aided in nearly every attempt of other nations to arrest the progress of the Mexicans toward universal dominion. Their assistance, as we have seen, was unavailing except in the final successful alliance with the forces of Cortés; for, although secure in their small domain against foreign invasion, their armies were often defeated abroad. Tlascala has retained very nearly its original bounds, and the details of its history from the foundation of the city are, by the writings of the native historian Camargo, more fully known than those of most other nations outside of Anáhuac. This author, however, gives us the annals of his own and the surrounding peoples from a Tlascaltec stand-point only. Before the Teo-Chichimec invasion of Huitzilapan, Cholula had already acquired great prominence as a Toltec city, and as the residence of the great Nahua apostle Quetzalcoatl, of which era, or a preceding one, the famous pyramid remains as a memento. Outside of Cholula, however, the ancient history of this region presents but a blank page, or one vaguely filled with tales of giants, its first reputed inhabitants, and of the mysterious Olmecs, from some remaining fragments of which people the Tlascaltecs are said to have won their new homes. These Olmecs seem to have been a very ancient people who occupied the whole eastern region, bordering on or mixed with the Xicalancas in the south; or rather the name Olmec seems to have been the designation of a phase or era of the Nahua civilization preceding that known as the Toltec. It is impossible to determine accurately whether the Xicalancas should be classed with the Nahua or Maya element, although probably with the former.

The coast region east of Tlascala, comprising the northern half of the state of Vera Cruz, was the home of the Totonacs, whose capital was the famous Cempoala, and who were conquered by the Aztecs at the close of the fifteenth century. They were probably one of the ancient pre-Toltec peoples like the Otomís and Olmecs, and they claimed to have occupied in former times Anáhuac and the adjoining territory, where they erected the pyramids of the sun and moon at Teotihuacan. Their institutions when first observed by Europeans seem to have been essentially Nahua, and the abundant architectural remains found in Totonac territory, as at Papantla, Misantla, and Tusapan, show no well-defined differences from Aztec constructions proper. Whether this Nahua culture was that originally possessed by them or was introduced at a comparatively late period through the influence of the Teo-Chichimecs, with whom they became largely consolidated, is uncertain. The Totonac language is, however, distinct from the Aztec, and is thought to have some affinity with the Maya.

North of the Totonacs on the gulf coast, in the present state of Tamaulipas, lived the Huastecs, concerning whose early history nothing whatever is known. Their language is allied to the Maya dialects. They were a brave people, looked upon by the Mexicans as semi-barbarous, but were defeated and forced to pay tribute by the king of Tezcuco in the middle of the fifteenth century.

NATIONS OF CENTRAL AMERICA.

The difficulties experienced in rendering to any degree satisfactory a general view of the northern nations, are very greatly augmented now that I come to treat of the Central American tribes. The causes of this increased difficulty are many. I have already noticed the prominence of the Aztecs in most that has been recorded of American civilization. During the conquest of the central portions of the continent following that of Mexico, the Spaniards found an advanced culture, great cities, magnificent temples, a complicated system of religious and political institutions; but all these had been met before in the north, and consequently mere mention in general terms of these later wonders was deemed sufficient by the conquerors, who were a class of men not disposed to make minute observations or comparisons respecting what seemed to them unimportant details. As to the priests, their duty was clearly to destroy rather than to closely investigate these institutions of the devil. And in the years following the conquest, the association between the natives and the conquerors was much less intimate than in Anáhuac. These nations in many instances fought until nearly annihilated, or after defeat retired in national fragments to the inaccessible fastnesses of the cordillera, retaining for several generations—some of them permanently—their independence, and affording the Spaniards little opportunity of becoming acquainted with their aboriginal institutions. In the south, as in Anáhuac, native writers, after their language had been fitted to the Spanish alphabet, wrote more or less fully of their national history; but all such writings whose existence is known are in the possession of one or two individuals, and, excepting the Popol Vuh translated by Ximenes as well as Brasseur de Bourbourg, and the Perez Maya manuscript, their contents are only vaguely known to the public through the writings of their owners. Another difficulty respecting these writings is that their dependence on any original authority more trustworthy than that of orally transmitted traditions, is at least doubtful. The key to the hieroglyphics engraved on the stones of Palenque and Copan, and painted on the pages of the very few ancient manuscripts preserved, is now practically lost; that it was possessed by the writers referred to is, although not impossible, still far from proven. Again, chronology, so complicated and uncertain in the annals of Anáhuac, is here, through the absence of legible written records, almost entirely wanting, so that it is in many cases absolutely impossible to fix even an approximate date for historical events of great importance. The attempts of authors to attach some of these events, without sufficient data, to the Nahua chronology, have done much to complicate the matter still further.

The only author who has attempted to treat of the subject of Central American civilization and antiquity comprehensively as a whole is the Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg. The learned abbé, however, with all his research and undoubted knowledge of the subject, and with his well-known enthusiasm and tact in antiquarian engineering, by which he is wont to level difficulties, apparently insurmountable, to a grade which offers no obstruction to his theoretical construction-trains, has been forced to acknowledge at many points his inability to construct a perfect whole from data so meagre and conflicting. Such being the case, the futility must be apparent of attempting here any outline of history which may throw light on the institutions of the sixteenth century. I must be content, for the purposes of this chapter, with a mention of the civilized nations found in possession of the country, and a brief statement of such prominent points in their past as seem well-authenticated and important.

THE ANCIENT MAYA EMPIRE.

Closely enveloped in the dense forests of Chiapas, Guatemala, Yucatan, and Honduras, the ruins of several ancient cities have been discovered, which are far superior in extent and magnificence to any seen in Aztec territory, and of which a detailed description may be found in the fourth volume of this work. Most of these cities were abandoned and more or less unknown at the time of the conquest. They bear hieroglyphic inscriptions apparently identical in character; in other respects they resemble each other more than they resemble the Aztec ruins—or even other and apparently later works in Guatemala and Honduras. All these remains bear evident marks of great antiquity. Their existence and similarity, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, would indicate the occupation of the whole country at some remote period by nations far advanced in civilization, and closely allied in manners and customs, if not in blood and language. Furthermore, the traditions of several of the most advanced nations point to a wide-spread civilization introduced among a numerous and powerful people by Votan and Zamná, who, or their successors, built the cities referred to, and founded great allied empires in Chiapas, Yucatan and Guatemala; and moreover, the tradition is confirmed by the universality of one family of languages or dialects spoken among the civilized nations, and among their descendants to this day. I deem the grounds sufficient, therefore, for accepting this Central American civilization of the past as a fact, referring it not to an extinct ancient race, but to the direct ancestors of the peoples still occupying the country with the Spaniards, and applying to it the name Maya as that of the language which has claims as strong as any to be considered the mother tongue of the linguistic family mentioned. As I have said before, the phenomena of civilization in North America may be accounted for with tolerable consistency by the friction and mixture of this Maya culture and people with the Nahua element of the north; while that either, by migrations northward or southward, can have been the parent of the other within the traditionally historic past, I regard as extremely improbable. That the two elements were identical in their origin and early development is by no means impossible; all that we can safely presume is that within historic times they have been practically distinct in their workings.

There are also some rather vague traditions of the first appearance of the Nahua civilization in the regions of Tabasco and Chiapas, of its growth, the gradual establishment of a power rivalling that of the people I call Mayas, and of a struggle by which the Nahuas were scattered in different directions, chiefly northward, to reappear in history some centuries later as the Toltecs of Anáhuac. While the positive evidence in favor of this migration from the south is very meagre, it must be admitted that a southern origin of the Nahua culture is far more consistent with fact and tradition than was the north-western origin, so long implicitly accepted. There are no data by which to fix the period of the original Maya empire, or its downfall or breaking-up into rival factions by civil and foreign wars. The cities of Yucatan, as is clearly shown by Mr Stephens, were, many of them, occupied by the descendants of the builders down to the conquest, and contain some remnants of wood-work still in good preservation, although some of the structures appear to be built on the ruins of others of a somewhat different type. Palenque and Copan, on the contrary, have no traces of wood or other perishable material, and were uninhabited and probably unknown in the sixteenth century. The loss of the key to what must have been an advanced system of hieroglyphics, while the spoken language survived, is also an indication of great antiquity, confirmed by the fact that the Quiché structures of Guatemala differed materially from those of the more ancient epoch. It is not likely that the Maya empire in its integrity continued later than the third or fourth century, although its cities may have been inhabited much later, and I should fix the epoch of its highest power at a date preceding rather than following the Christian era. A Maya manuscript fixes the date of the first appearance in Yucatan of the Tutul Xius at 171 A. D. The Abbé Brasseur therefore makes this the date of the Nahua dispersion, believing, on apparently very slight foundation, the Tutul Xius to be one of the Nahua fragments. With the breaking-up of this empire into separate nations at an unknown date, the ancient history of Central America as a whole ceases, and down to a period closely preceding the conquest we have only an occasional event preserved in the traditions of two or three nations.

MAYA NATIONS OF YUCATAN.

Yucatan was occupied in the sixteenth century by the Mayas proper, all speaking the same language, and living under practically the same institutions, religious and political. The chief divisions were the Cocomes, Tutul Xius, Itzas, and Cheles, which seem to have been originally the designations of royal or priestly families, rather than tribal names proper of the peoples over whom they held sway. Each of these had their origin-traditions of immigrating tribes or teachers who came in the distant past to seek new homes, escape persecution, or introduce new religious ideas, in the fertile Maya plains. Some of these stranger apostles of new creeds are identified by authors with Toltec missionaries or exiles from Anáhuac. The evidence in favor of this identity in any particular case is of course unsatisfactory, but that it was well-founded in some cases is both probable,—commercial intercourse having undoubtedly made the two peoples mutually acquainted with each other,—and is supported by the presence of Nahua names of rulers and priests, and of Nahua elements in the Yucatec religion, the same remark applying to all Central America. The ancient history of Yucatan is an account of the struggles, alliances, and successive domination of the factions mentioned. To enumerate here, in outline even, these successive changes so vaguely and confusedly recorded would be useless, especially as their institutions, so far as can be known, were but slightly affected by political changes among people of the same blood, language, and religion.

The Cocomes were traditionally the original Maya rulers of the land, and the Tutul Xius first came into notice in the second century, the Itzas and Cheles appearing at a much later date. One of the most prosperous eras in the later history of the peninsula of Yucatan is represented to have followed the appearance of Cuculcan, a mysterious stranger corresponding closely in his teachings, as in the etymology of his name, with the Toltec Quetzalcoatl. He became the head of the Cocome dynasty at Mayapan, and ruled the country as did his successors after him in alliance with the Tutul Xius at Uxmal, the Itzas at Chichen Itza, and the Cheles at Izamal. But later the Cocomes were overthrown, and Mayapan destroyed by a revolution of the allies. The Tutul Xius now became the leading power, a position which they held down to the time, not long before the conquest, when the country was divided by war and civil dissensions into numerous petty domains, each ruled by its chief and independent of the rest, all in a weak and exhausted condition compared with their former state, and unable to resist by united effort the progress of the Spanish invaders whom individually they fought most bravely. Three other comparatively recent events of some importance in Yucatec history may be noticed. The Cocomes in the struggle preceding their fall called in the aid of a large force of Xicalancas, probably a Nahua people, from the Tabascan coast region, who after their defeat were permitted by the conquerors to settle in the country. A successful raid by some foreign people, supposed with some reason to be the Quichés from Guatemala, is reported to have been made against the Mayas with, however, no important permanent results. Finally a portion of the Itzas migrated southward and settled in the region of Lake Peten, establishing their capital city on an island in the lake. Here they were found, a powerful and advanced nation, by Hernan Cortés in the sixteenth century, and traces of their cities still remain, although it must be noted that another and older class of ruins are found in the same region, dating back perhaps to a time when the glory of the Maya empire had not wholly departed.

CHIAPAS AND GUATEMALA.

Chiapas, politically a part of the Mexican Republic, but belonging geographically to Central America, was occupied by the Chiapanecs, Tzendales, and Quelenes. The Tzendales lived in the region about Palenque, and were presumably the direct descendants of its builders, their language having nearly an equal claim with the Maya to be considered the mother tongue. The Chiapanecs of the interior were a warlike tribe, and had before the coming of the Spaniards conquered the other nations, forcing them to pay tribute, and successfully resisting the attacks of the Aztec allies. They also are a very old people, having been referred even to the tribes that preceded the establishment of Votan's empire. Statements concerning their history are numerous and irreconcilable; they have some traditions of having come from the south; their linguistic affinity with the Mayas is at least very slight. The Quelenes or Zotziles, whose past is equally mysterious, inhabited the southern or Guatemalan frontier.

Guatemala and northern Honduras were found in possession of the Mames in the north-west, the Pocomams in the south-east, the Quichés in the interior, and the Cakchiquels in the south. The two latter were the most powerful and ruled the country from their capitals of Utatlan and Patinamit, where they resisted the Spaniards almost to the point of annihilation, retiring for the most part after defeat to live by the chase in the distant mountain gorges. Guatemalan history from the Votan empire down to an indefinite date not many centuries before the conquest is a blank. It recommences with the first traditions of the nations just mentioned. These traditions, as in the case of every American people, begin with the immigration of foreign tribes into the country as the first in the series of events leading to the establishment of the Quiché-Cakchiquel empire. Assuming the Toltec dispersion from Anáhuac in the eleventh century as a well-authenticated fact, most writers have identified the Guatemalan nations, except perhaps the Mames by some considered the descendants of the original inhabitants, with the migrating Toltecs who fled southward to found a new empire. I have already made known my scepticism respecting national American migrations in general, and the Toltec migration southward in particular, and there is nothing in the annals of Guatemala to modify the views previously expressed. The Quiché traditions are vague and without chronologic order, much less definite than those relating to the mythical Aztec wanderings. The sum and substance of the Quiché and Toltec identity is the traditional statement that the former people entered Guatemala at an unknown period in the past, while the latter left Anáhuac in the eleventh century. That the Toltecs should have migrated en masse southward, taken possession of Guatemala, established a mighty empire, and yet have abandoned their language for dialects of the original Maya tongue is in the highest degree improbable. It is safer to suppose that the mass of the Quichés and other nations of Guatemala, Chiapas, and Honduras, were descended directly from the Maya builders of Palenque, and from contemporary peoples. Yet the differences between the Quiché-Cakchiquel structures, and the older architectural remains of the Maya empire indicate a new era of Maya culture, originated not unlikely by the introduction of foreign elements. Moreover, the apparent identity in name and teachings between the early civilizers of the Quiché tradition and the Nahua followers of Quetzalcoatl, together with reported resemblances between actual Quiché and Aztec institutions as observed by Europeans, indicate farther that the new element was engrafted on Maya civilization by contact with the Nahuas, a contact of which the presence of the exiled Toltec nobility may have been a prominent feature. After the overthrow of the original empire we may suppose the people to have been subdivided during the course of centuries by civil wars and sectarian struggles into petty states, the glory of their former greatness vanished and partially forgotten, the spirit of progress dormant, to be roused again by the presence of the Nahua chiefs. These gathered and infused new life into the scattered remnants; they introduced some new institutions, and thus aided the ancient people to rebuild their empire on the old foundations, retaining the dialects of the original language.

NICARAGUANS AND PIPILES.

In addition to the peoples thus far mentioned, there were undoubtedly in Nicaragua, and probably in Salvador, nations of nearly pure Aztec blood and language. The former are known among different authors as Nicaraguans, Niquirans, or Cholutecs, and they occupied the coast between lake Nicaragua and the ocean, with the lake islands. Their institutions, political and religious, were nearly the same as those of the Aztecs of Anáhuac, and they have left abundant relics in the form of idols and sepulchral deposits, but no architectural remains. These relics are moreover hardly less abundant in the territory of the adjoining tribes, nor do they differ essentially in their nature; hence we must conclude that some other Nicaraguan peoples, either by Aztec or other influence, were considerably advanced in civilization. The Nahua tribes of Salvador, the ancient Cuscatlan, were known as Pipiles, and their culture appears not to have been of a high order. Both of these nations probably owe their existence to a colony sent southward from Anáhuac; but whether in Aztec or pre-Aztec times, the native traditions, like their interpretation by writers on the subject, are inextricably confused and at variance. For further details on the location of Central American nations I refer to the statement of tribal boundaries at the end of Chapter VII., Volume I., of this work.

I here close this general view of the subject, and if it is in some respects unsatisfactory, I cannot believe that a different method of treatment would have rendered it less so. To have gone more into detail would have tended to confuse rather than elucidate the matter in the reader's mind, unless with the support of extensive quotations from ever-conflicting authorities, which would have swollen this general view from a chapter to a volume. As far as antiquity is concerned, the most intricate element of the subject, I shall attempt to present—if I cannot reconcile—all the important variations of opinion in another division of this work.

In the treatment of my subject, truth and accuracy are the principal aim, and these are never sacrificed to graphic style or glowing diction. As much of interest is thrown into the recital as the authorities justify, and no more. Often may be seen the more striking characteristics of these nations dashed off with a skill and brilliance equaled only by their distance from the facts; disputed points and unpleasing traits glossed over or thrown aside whenever they interfere with style and effect. It is my sincere desire, above all others, to present these people as they were, not to make them as I would have them, nor to romance at the expense of truth; nevertheless, it is to be hoped that in the truth enough of interest will remain to command the attention of the reader. My treatment of the subject is essentially as follows: The civilized peoples of North America naturally group themselves in two great divisions, which for convenience may be called the Nahuas and the Mayas respectively; the first representing the Aztec civilization of Mexico, and the second the Maya-Quiché civilization of Central America. In describing their manners and customs, five large divisions may be made of each group. The first may be said to include the systems of government, the order of succession, the ceremonies of election, coronation, and anointment, the magnificence, power, and manner of life of their kings; court forms and observances; the royal palaces and gardens. The second comprises the social system; the classes of nobles, gentry, plebeians and slaves; taxation, tenure, and distribution of lands; vassalage and feudal service; the inner life of the people; their family and private relations, such as marriage, divorce, and education of youth; other matters, such as their dress, food, games, feasts and dances, knowledge of medicine, and manner of burial. The third division includes their system of war, their relations with foreign powers, their warriors and orders of knighthood, their treatment of prisoners of war and their weapons. The fourth division embraces their system of trade and commerce, the community of merchants, their sciences, arts, and manufactures. The fifth and last considers their judiciary, law-courts, and legal officials. I append as more appropriately placed here than elsewhere, a note on the etymological meaning and derivation, so far as known, of the names of the Civilized Nations.