As for the first, we have done our best in the last chapter to show that they have not a leg to stand on. As for the second, they have defeated their efforts by their own vagueness. They have wandered over the earth's surface and chosen in turn any and every country which at any period of its history has been known to possess an architecture of its own. Thus have the Egyptians, the Scandinavians, the Phoenicians, the Chinese, the Japanese, the Tatars, the Polynesians, all in turn been suggested as the originators of America's native architecture; east, west, south, north, races in nearly every continent have been commandeered to act either as the parents of the whole Mayan people or as their foreign tutors in the art of building. The most remarkable of all theories was that advanced by Dr. Le Plongeon, who invited the world to believe that the Mayans--or Mayax, as he insisted upon calling them--were the first of all races in the world to become architects, and that they taught the art to the ancient Egyptians and everybody else. In pursuance of this perfectly lunatic suggestion, he dated the civilisation of Central America 11,500 years back. This preposterous proposition was received with the Homeric laughter it so richly deserved. But really there was something to be said for the poor doctor's point of view. He belonged to the class of theorists who at all hazards wish to give America the glory of having produced the very remarkable building skill shown to have existed in her central territories. The only difference between him and his fellow-theorists was that he had the courage of his convictions, and they had not. A few thousand years were trifles to a man who could theorise so bravely as Le Plongeon; and courage is always admirable. The good doctor was at least no craven, no timorous, afraid-of-his-own-shadow type of theorist; he was a Titan among the theorising minnows, a genius in the art; for he possessed the genius of enthusiasm.