The Prehistoric World: or, Vanished Races | Page 9

it we must seek new methods of inquiry. Discouraged by the difficulties in the way, many have supposed it hidden from the present by a veil which only thickens as time passes. In the remains of prehistoric times they have failed to recognize the pages of history. They saw only monuments of ancient skill and perseverance: interesting sketches, not historical portraits. Some writers have held that we must give up the story of the past, "whether fact or chronology, doctrine or mythology--whether in Europe, Asia, Africa, or America--at Thebes, or Palenque--on Lycian shore, or Salisbury plain--lost is lost and gone is gone for evermore." Such is the lament of a gifted writer,<2> amongst the first to ponder over the mysteries of the past. At the present day, with better means at hand, a more hopeful view is taken. But here a caution is necessary; for, in attempting to reconstruct the history of primitive times, such is the interest which it inspires, that many allow imagination to usurp the place of research, and write in terms too glowing for history.<3>
The human mind is sleepless in the pursuit of knowledge. It is ever seeking new fields of conquest. It must advance: with it, standing still is the precursor of defeat. If necessary it invents new methods of attack, and rests not until it gains its objective point, or demonstrates the hopelessness of its quest. The world needs but be informed that on a given point knowledge is dim and uncertain, when there are found earnest minds applying to the solution of the mystery all the energies of their natures. All the resources of science are brought to bear; every department of knowledge is made to contribute of its store: and soon a mass of facts is established and a new science is added to the department of human knowledge.
Thus, with our knowledge of prehistoric times, what so seemingly vain as to attempt to roll back the flight of time, and learn the condition of primeval man? All the light of ancient history makes but little impression on the night of time. By its aid we can but dimly see the outlines of the fortieth century back; beyond is gloom soon lost in night. But a few short years ago, men did not think it possible to gain further information. With the materials at hand this could not be done. The triumph of the intellect was simply delayed, not hopelessly repulsed. Geology was but just beginning to make good its claim to a place among the sciences. This unfolded to man the physical history of the world as read from the rocks, and deals with times so vast and profound that we speak no longer of years, but of ages. And with the aid of Geology grand secrets were wrung from the past, and new light was thrown on the manners and customs of primitive man. Thus the foundation for still another science was laid, called Archaeology, or the science of Human Antiquities. These two sister sciences are the keys by whose aid we have not only acquired much information of a past that seemed a hopeless enigma--but, as Columbus on the waste of waters could perceive traces of land as yet invisible, so can the present seekers after knowledge trace the signs of a satisfactory solution of many of the great questions relating to the origin and history of the vanished races of mankind.
In whatever land we commence our investigations, we quickly come upon the evidences of an ancient life long antedating all historical information. Ancient Egypt has been a fruitful theme for the antiquarians pen. The traveler has moralized over the ruins of her past greatness, and many pointed illustrations of national growth and decay have been drawn from her history.
Here was the seat of an ancient civilization, which was in the zenith of its power many centuries before Christ. The changes that have passed over the earth since that time are far more wonderful than any ascribed to the wand of the magician. Nations have come and gone, and the land of the Pharaohs has become an inheritance for strangers; new sciences have enriched human life, and the fair structure of modern civilization has arisen on the ruins of the past. Many centuries, with their burden of human hopes and fears, have sped away into the past, since "Hundred-gated Thebes" sheltered her teeming population, where now are but a mournful group of ruins. Yet to-day, far below the remorseless sands of her desert, we find the rude flint-flakes that require us to carry back the time of man's first appearance in Egypt to a past so remote that her stately ruins become a thing of yesterday in comparison to them.
In the New World, mysterious mounds and gigantic earth-works arrest our