and worship me." The Portuguese were nothing loath. They were, in the expressive language of a great historian, "all on fire for plunder and the propagation of their religion!" Away, therefore, they hastened, following the sinuous guidance of those African coasts which they had already traced out—on which they had already commenced that spoliation and traffic in men which for three centuries was to grow only more and more extensive, dreadful, and detestable—"those countries where," says M. Malte Brun, "tyranny and ignorance have not had the power to destroy the inexhaustible fecundity of the soil, but have made them, down to the present times, the theatre of eternal robbery, and one vast market of human blood."
They landed in Calicut, under Gama, in 1498, and speedily gave sufficient indications of the object of their visit, and the nature of their character. But in India they had more formidable obstacles to their spirit of dominance and extermination than they and the Spaniards had found in the New World. They beheld themselves on the limits of a vast region, inhabited by a hundred millions of people—countries of great antiquity, of a higher civilization, and under the rule of active and military princes. Populous cities, vast and ancient temples, palaces, and other public works; a native literature, science handed down from far-off times, and institutions of a fixed and tenacious caste, marked them as a people not so easily to be made a prey of as the Mexicans or Peruvians. Peaceful as were the habits, and bloodless as were the religion and the social principles of a vast body of the Hindoos, their rulers, whether the de-
