The History of Ancient America, Anterior to the Time of Columbus: Proving the Identity of the Aborigines with the Tyrians and Israelites

In Short

This work is an ambitious, nineteenth-century attempt to synthesize archeology, biblical prophecy, and classical history to reframe the origins of the American continent. By drawing parallels between the architectural ruins of Central America—specifically those at Copan and Palenque—and the ancient monuments of the Levant, the author argues that the indigenous peoples of the Americas share a common heritage with the people of Tyrus and Israel. It remains a fascinating artifact of its time, illustrating how Victorian-era scholars utilized romanticized historical inquiry to reconcile burgeoning archeological discoveries with deeply held religious and Eurocentric worldviews.

The Story

The narrative arc begins with an audacious premise: that the "New World" is a misnomer, and that America was, in fact, an ancient extension of the Eastern Mediterranean. The author builds this argument by examining the ruins of Central America, which he views through the lens of a "Tyrian Æra." He posits that Tyrian mariners, possessing advanced nautical and architectural skills, were driven across the Atlantic by the same prevailing easterly winds that would later guide Columbus. Once these explorers reached the "untouched Floridian Shore," they established a society that flourished in relative isolation for centuries.

The text moves systematically to compare the physical and cultural evidence of these ruins with the known history of the ancient world. The author describes these structures not as primitive piles of stone, but as deliberate architectural manifestations of a people who brought with them the traditions of the Canaanites and the Phoenicians. He argues that the pyramidal structures of Palenque and the altar-tables of Copan serve as "oracular witnesses" to a shared heritage, mirroring the temples of Tyre and the sacred architecture of the Israelites. Central to this claim is the belief that the "Sun-worship" practiced by the aborigines was a direct lineage from the ancient Apollo-worship of the Tyrian people, who were themselves descendants of the family of Noah.

As the narrative progresses, the author contrasts the "noble Northerns"—the indigenous tribes of North America—with the Mexican civilizations encountered by Cortez. He characterizes the northern tribes as possessing a "god-like love of perfect freedom" and a Hebrew-like eloquence, while portraying the Mexican nations as having drifted into darker religious practices, such as human sacrifice, which he views as a perversion of their original, purer faith. The argument reaches a theological crescendo when the author introduces the mission of St. Thomas the Apostle, who he claims brought Christianity to the Western Hemisphere, effectively uniting the ancient Tyrian arrival with a divine, evangelizing purpose.

The book concludes by framing these archeological findings as the fulfillment of ancient prophecies found in the books of Isaiah and Ezekiel. The downfall of Tyrus in the Old World is presented as a tragic necessity that compelled its people to carry their legacy into the "virgin land" of the West. By framing the discovery of these ruins as a providential unveiling, the author attempts to strip away the "atheistical" doubts of contemporary skeptics, firmly rooting the history of the Americas in a tradition that links the oldest civilizations of the East with the destiny of the West.

How It Unfolds

The rejection of the "New World" label The argument commences by challenging the foundational assumption that the Americas were unknown until 1492. The author asserts that the continent is actually an ancient land, visited by a greater conqueror than those of Europe, and that the ruins discovered in Central America are the key to unlocking this long-lost past.

The architectural comparison The author analyzes the ruins of Copan and Palenque, methodically matching their pyramidal bases and altar-sculptures to those found in Egypt and Phoenicia. He insists that the structural similarities—such as the pyramidal shapes and the use of "hewn" stone—are not coincidental but point to a deliberate, shared craftsmanship derived from Tyrian builders.

The religious and cultural parallels The text shifts to comparing the spiritual life of the indigenous peoples with the ancient Canaanite and Tyrian worship of Baal and Apollo. By highlighting the use of purple dyes, specific shell ornaments, and burial customs, the author seeks to prove that these cultural traits are the indelible marks of a people transplanted from the Levant.

The fulfillment of prophecy The concluding sections interpret the biblical prophecies of Ezekiel and Isaiah as historical blueprints for the migration of the Tyrian people. The author argues that the desolation of ancient Tyrus necessitated a diaspora, which ultimately led these ancient voyagers to establish a new, monumental civilization on American soil.

The People

Central to the narrative is the figure of the Tyrian builder, a collective, idealized persona representing the ancient mariners. This individual is depicted as a master of both ship-building and masonry, whose primary motivation is the expansion of commercial and religious influence. Standing in his way is not merely the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean, but the "unconquerable" forces of nature and the inevitable decline of their home city, Tyrus. By the end of the work, this figure is transformed from a forgotten exile into the foundational ancestor of the American aboriginal civilizations.

Hiram, King of Tyre, serves as the historical prototype for these builders. He represents the peak of Tyrian engineering and cultural reach, providing the "cunning men" and architects necessary to build the palaces of David and Solomon. His legacy is the bridge between the biblical Levant and the eventual, hidden history of the American continent.

Alexander the Great appears as the antagonist of the Tyrian narrative. His conquest and subsequent destruction of Tyre serve as the catalyst for the forced migration that drives the Tyrian people toward the West. The author views Alexander with deep suspicion, contrasting his "Macedonian" obsession with conquest against the more enduring, constructive legacy of the Tyrians.

Finally, the indigenous chief—the "Northern" warrior—is cast as the heroic custodian of this inherited culture. He possesses the spirit of Judas Maccabæus, defined by an unyielding commitment to freedom and a refusal to bow to oppressors. He ends his story as a tragic but defiant figure, the last guardian of a history that the author believes is finally being brought to light.

In Its Own Voice

"If these Ruins can be identified with a nation of the ancient world,--ancient world?--the first word is superfluous now, for these discoveries have destroyed the opposite phrase,--new world."

The author emphasizes that the existence of ancient ruins in America renders the concept of a "New World" historically obsolete.

"Every chief was a Judas Maccabæus, or an Eleazer Savaran!"

This comparison highlights the author's belief that the northern indigenous chieftains possessed the same chivalric, combative spirit as the great heroes of Jewish history.

"The Phœnicians had in their several capitals a Temple erected to a tutelary, or National God,--and that became the chief object of worship."

This serves as the basis for the author's argument that the temple-centric society of the ancient Maya is an extension of the Phoenician religious model.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an investigation into the concept of historical continuity. The author is deeply concerned with the idea that no civilization exists in a vacuum; by linking the American ruins to the Tyrians, he is attempting to assert that the Western Hemisphere is a fundamental, integrated part of the human story. The questions underneath the argument involve the nature of cultural diffusion, the reliability of biblical prophecy as a historical record, and the moral status of ancient conquerors. It is a work that seeks to find order and divine purpose in the scattered fragments of history, insisting that the "Ruins of Antiquity" are not merely stone and mortar, but a testament to a grand, interconnected human design.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the history of ideas or the study of Victorian-era intellectual traditions will find this book particularly rewarding. It provides a window into a period when scholars were eager to "prove" the legitimacy of their own cultural origins by mapping them onto every corner of the globe. The writing is passionate, often poetic in its descriptions of nature and the "phosphoric sparkles" of the sea, making it an engaging, if unconventional, read.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the book's significant challenges. The author writes from a perspective of extreme period bias, and his reliance on nineteenth-century archeological speculation will strike today’s reader as deeply flawed. The prose is dense, filled with elaborate footnotes, digressions on politics, and intense theological rants against "sceptics." Furthermore, the author’s treatment of indigenous cultures is heavily filtered through a lens that values them only insofar as they reflect European or Near Eastern archetypes. Approached as a historical document—a testament to how the past was understood, romanticized, and mythologized in the 1840s—it remains a compelling, if complex, example of the era's grand, totalizing historical ambitions. It is not a guide to accurate history, but a profound illustration of how one author attempted to weave the entire world into a single, cohesive narrative.