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.
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.