What is Truth?


                – H. P. Blavatsky

“What is truth?” asked Pilate of one who, if the claims of the Christian Church are even approximately correct, must have known it. But he kept silent. And the truth which He did not divulge remained unrevealed, for his later followers as much as for the Roman Governor. The silence of Jesus, however, on this and other occasions, does not prevent his present followers from acting as though they had received the ultimate and absolute Truth itself, and from ignoring the fact that only such Words of Wisdom had been given them as contained a share of the truth, itself concealed in parables and dark, though beautiful, sayings. * (* Jesus says to the “twelve” – “Unto you is given the mystery of the kingdom of God; but unto them that are without, all things are done in parables,” etc, Mark, iv, 11.)

This policy led gradually to dogmatism and assertion. Dogmatism in churches, dogmatism in science, dogmatism everywhere. The possible truths, hazily perceived in the world of abstractions, like those inferred from observation and experiment in the world of matter, are forced upon the profane multitudes, too busy to think for themselves, under the form of Divine revelation and Scientific authority. But the same question stands open from the days of Socrates and Pilate down to our own age of wholesale negation: is there such a thing as absolute truth in the hands of any one party or man? Reason answers, “there cannot be.” There is no room for absolute truth upon any subject whatsoever, in a world as finite and conditioned as man is himself. But there are relative truths, and we have to make the best we can of them.

In every age there have been Sages who had mastered the absolute and yet could teach but relative truths. For none yet, born of mortal woman in our race, has, or could have given out, the whole and final truth to another man, for every one of us has to find that (to him) final knowledge in himself. As no two minds can be absolutely alike, each has to receive the supreme illumination through itself, according to its capacity, and from no human light. The greatest adept living can reveal of the Universal truth only so much as the mind he is impressing it upon can assimilate, and no more. Tot homines, aquot sententiae – – is an immortal truism. The sun is one, but its beams are numberless; and the effects produced are beneficent or maleficent, according to the nature and constitution of the objects they shine upon. Polarity is universal, but the polarizer lies in our own consciousness. In proportion as our consciousness is elevated towards absolute truth, so do we men assimilate it more or less absolutely. But man’s consciousness again, is only the sunflower of the earth. Longing for the warm ray, the plant can only turn to the sun, and move round and round in following the course of the unreachable luminary: its roots keep it fast to the soil, and half its life is passed in the shadow.

Still each of us can relatively reach the Sun of Truth even on this earth, and assimilate its warmest and most direct rays, however differentiated they may become after their long journey through the physical particles in space.. To achieve this, there are two methods. On the physical plane we may use our mental polariscope; and, analyzing the properties of each ray, choose the purest. On the plane of spirituality, to reach the Sun of Truth we must work in dead earnest for the development of our higher nature. We know that by paralyzing gradually within ourselves the appetites of the lower personality, and thereby deadening the voice of the purely physiological mind – that mind which depends upon, and is inseparable from, its medium or vehicle, the organic brain – the animal man in us may make room for the spiritual; and once aroused from its latent state, the highest spiritual senses and perceptions grow in us in proportion, and develop pari passu with the “divine man.” This is what the great adepts, the Yogis in the East and the Mystics in the West, have always done and are still doing.

But we also know that with a few exceptions, no man of the world, no materialist, will ever believe in the existence of such adepts, or even in the possibility of such spiritual and psychic development. “The (ancient) fool hath said in his heart, there is no God”; the modern says, “There are no adepts on earth, they are figments of your diseased fancy.”

… It thus follows that, though “general abstract truth is the most precious of all blessings” for many of us, as it was for Rousseau, we have, meanwhile, to be satisfied with relative truths. In sober fact, we are a poor set of mortals at best, ever in dread before the face of even a relative truth, lest it should devour ourselves and our petty little preconceptions along with us. As for an absolute truth, most of us are as incapable of seeing it as of reaching the moon on a bicycle. Firstly, because absolute truth is as immovable as the mountain of Mohammed, which refused to disturb itself for the prophet, so that he had to go to it himself. And we have to follow his example if we would approach it even at a distance. Secondly, because the kingdom of absolute truth is not of this world, while we are too much of it. And thirdly, because notwithstanding that in the poet’s fancy man is

“…..the abstract
Of all perfection, which the workmanship
Of heaven hath modeled ……”

in reality he is a sorry bundle of anomalies and paradoxes, an empty windbag inflated with his own importance, with contradictory and easily influenced opinions. He is at once an arrogant and weak creature, which, though in constant dread of some authority, terrestrial or celestial, will yet –

“….like an angry ape,
Play such fantastic tricks before high Heaven
As make the angels weep.”

Now, since truth is a multifaced jewel, the facets of which it is impossible to perceive all at once; and since, again, no two men, however anxious to discern truth, can see even one of those facets alike, what can be done to help them to perceive it? As physical man, limited and trammeled from every side by illusions, cannot reach truth by the light of his terrestrial perceptions, we say – develop in you the inner knowledge. From the time when the Delphic oracle said to the enquirer “Man, know thyself,” no greater or more important truth was ever taught. Without such a perception, man will remain ever blind to even many a relative, let alone absolute, truth. Man has to know himself, i.e., acquire the inner perceptions which never deceive, before he can master any absolute truth. Absolute truth is the symbol of Eternity, and no finite mind can ever grasp the eternal, hence, no truth in its fullness can ever dawn upon it. To reach the state during which man sees and senses it, we have to paralyze the sense of the external man of clay. This is a difficult task, we may be told, and most people will, at this rate, prefer to remain satisfied with relative truths, no doubt. But to approach even terrestrial truths requires, first of all, love of truth for its own sake, for otherwise no recognition of it will follow. And who loves truth in this age for its own sake? How many of us are prepared to search for, accept, and carry it out, in the midst of a society in which anything that would achieve success has to be built on appearances, not on reality, on self-assertion, not on intrinsic value?

We are fully aware of the difficulties in the way of receiving truth. The fair heavenly maiden descends only on a (to her) congenial soil – the soil of an impartial, unprejudiced mind, illuminated by pure Spiritual Consciousness; and both are truly rare dwellers in civilized lands. In our century … when man lives at a maddening speed that leaves him barely time for reflection, he allows himself usually to be drifted down from cradle to grave, nailed to the Procrustean bed of custom and conventionality. Now conventionality – pure and simple – is a congenital LIE, as it is in every case a “simulation of feelings according to a received standard” (F.W. Robertsons definition); and where there is any simulation there cannot be any truth. How profound the remark made by Byron, that “truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of this world all things are weighed by the false scales of custom,” is best known by those who are forced to live in the stifling atmosphere of such social conventionalism, and who, even when willing and anxious to learn, dare not accept the truths they long for, for fear of the ferocious Moloch called Society.

Look around you reader; study the accounts given by world known travelers, recall the joint observations of literary thinkers, the data of science and of statistics, Draw the picture of modern society, of modem politics, of modern religion and modern life in general before your mind’s eye. Remember the ways and customs of every cultured race and nation under the sun. Observe the doings and the moral attitude of people in the civilized centres of Europe, America, and even of the far East…. everywhere where the white man has carried the “benefits” of so-called civilization. And now, having passed in review all this, pause and reflect, and then name, if you can, that blessed Eldorado, that exceptional spot on the globe, where TRUTH is the honoured guest, and LIE and SHAM the ostracized outcasts? YOU CANNOT. Nor can anyone else, unless he is prepared and determined to add his mite to the mass of falsehood that reigns supreme in every department of national and social life.

“Truth!” cried Carlyle, “truth, though the heavens crush me for following her, no falsehood, though a whole celestial Lubberland were the prize of Apostasy.” Noble words, these. But how many think and how many will dare to speak as Carlyle did, in our… day? Does not the gigantic appalling majority prefer to a man the “paradise of do-nothings,” the pays de Cocagne of heartless selfishness? It is this majority that recoils terror-stricken before the most shadowy outline of every new and unpopular truth, out of mere cowardly fear, lest Mrs. Harris should denounce, and Mrs. Grundy condemn, its converts to the torture of being rent piece-meal by her murderous tongue.

SELFISHNESS, the first-born of Ignorance, and the fruit of the teaching which asserts that for ever newly-born infant a new soul, separate and distinct from the Universal Soul, is “created” – this Selfishness is the impassable wall between the personal Self and The Truth. It is the prolific mother of all human vices, Lie being born out of the necessity for dissembling, and Hypocrisy out of the desire to mask Lie. It is the fungus growing and strengthening with age in every human heart in which it has devoured all better feelings. Selfishness kills every noble impulse in our natures, and is the one deity, fearing no faithlessness or desertion from its votaries. Hence, we see it reign supreme in the world and in so-called fashionable society. As a result, we live, and move, and have our being in this god of darkness under his trinitarian aspect of Sham, Humbug, and Falsehood, called RESPECTABILITY.

…… To sum up the idea, with regard to absolute and relative truth, we can only repeat what we said before. Outside a certain highly spiritual and elevated state of mind, during which Man is at one with the UNIVERSAL MIND – he can get nought on earth but relative truth, or truths, from whatsoever philosophy or religion. Were even the goddess who dwells at the bottom of the well to issue from her place of confinement, she could give man no more than he can assimilate. Meanwhile, every one can sit near that well – the name of which is Knowledge and gaze into its depths in the hope of seeing Truth’s fair image reflected, at least, on the dark waters. This, however, as remarked by Richter, presents a certain danger. Some truth, to be sure, may be occasionally reflected as in a mirror on the spot we gaze upon, and thus reward the patient student. But, adds the German thinker, “I have heard that some philosophers in seeking for Truth, to pay homage to her, have seen their own image in the water and adored it instead.”

(“Lucifer,” Feb., 1888)


A Short Christmas Parable


From the New York Herald, about Christmas, 1878:

An aged man, presiding at a public meeting, said he would avail himself of the opportunity to relate a vision he had witnessed on the previous night.

“He thought he was standing in the pulpit of the most gorgeous and magnificent cathedral he had ever seen. Before him was the priest or pastor of the church, and beside him stood an angel with a tablet and pencil in hand, whose mission it was to make record of every act of worship or prayer that transpired in his presence and ascended as an acceptable offering to the throne of God. Every pew was filled with richly-attired worshippers of either sex. The most sublime music that ever fell on his enraptured ear filled the air with melody. All the beautiful ritualistic Church services, including a surpassingly eloquent sermon from the gifted minister, had in turn transpired, and yet the recording angel made no entry in his tablet! The congregation were at length dismissed by the pastor with a lengthy and beautifully-worded prayer, followed by a benediction, and yet the angel made no sign!

“Attended still by the angel, the speaker left the door of the church in rear of the richly-attired congregation. A poor, tattered castaway stood in the gutter beside the curbstone, with her pale, famished hand extended, silently pleading for alms. As the richly-attired worshippers from the church passed by, they shrank from the poor Magdalen, the ladies withdrawing aside their silken, jewel-bedecked robes, lest they should be polluted by her touch.

“Just then an intoxicated sailor came reeling down the sidewalk on the other side. When he got opposite the poor forsaken girl, he staggered across the street to where she stood, and, taking a few pennies from his pocket, he thrust them into her hand, accompanied with the adjuration, ‘Here, you poor forsaken cuss, take this!’ A celestial radiance now lighted up the face of the recording angel, who instantly entered the sailor’s act of sympathy and charity in his tablet, and departed with it as a sweet sacrifice to God.”

– from “The Theosophist,” Dec, 1879, “Christmas Then and Christmas Now,” by H. P. Blavatsky


Theosophy and Death


Most of us when the time comes will have a “natural” death from old age in our beds, or from illness complications the result of age, or keel over on the back patio from a heart attack or something such. For loved ones it is sore loss and great grief, but at least in Theosophical teachings, those dying are unaware of loss and are subject to the kind hand of Nature in relief of hardships and compensation after death for the heartbreaks and sufferings of the past life. It is all part of the cyclic processes of Nature – day and night, Spring and Winter, waking and sleeping, physical Life and Death, to be repeated again ultimately in a new incarnation among friends left behind. The following is a general outline of what happens at natural death according to Blavatsky Theosophy.

(1) At the death of the body, the brain or at least mental process continue for a short time in a review of scenes and details of the previous life. (This is often reported in people having a near-death experience.)

In the Theosophical system Human objective and subjective Nature is divided into seven aspects or principles, from the first principle, the physical body (sthula-sairira) to the seventh principle, an individual aspect of the Universal spirit of all – Atman. The physical body begins to immediately decay at death, and along with it the second and third principles also begin to disintegrate – the astral or pattern body (which is what is sometimes reported as a spook or ghost) and the 3rd principle or individual aspect of Nature’s Life-energy or Prana.

After sloughing off the most physical aspects of our nature, we have left our desire-nature (Kama), our mental-nature (Manas) and our spiritual or universal nature (Buddhi and Atman. Buddhi is an individual aspect of Universality, Atman, or the Absolute, Brahman, the Godhead, or whatever name is used.)

(2) After physical death the Theosophical teaching is that in our subjective nature (which is really another form of matter objective in its own sphere) – we enter the Kama-loka, or “desire-realm”, and a process starts of the separation of the higher and lower parts of our subjective nature from the last life-time. This might last from a few hours to a few years. The mind principle or Manas becomes duel in this process. The lower mind in its cruder aspects identifies with Kama or desire, forming the “shell” or Kama-manas bereft of any spiritual aspects and directed toward the earth-earthly of the past life. This gradually disintegrates unless unlucky enough to be attracted to a medium. All one’s spiritual aspects – unselfish love for family or others, unfulfilled higher aspirations, – say, maybe to study music and be a musician, or impulses of charity, or perhaps love of objective study of science, and maybe wisdom gleaned from the last life – these coalesce in what Theosophy calls the Monad, or the “Reincarnating Ego” – and it is this that goes on to the next stage of what the Tibetans call the “Bardo” or “between death and rebirth.”

(3) The next stage for the “reincarnating ego” or Human Soul between lives described by Theosophical teachings (and echoed in many of the world’s ancient religious and philosophic literature) is the Deva-chan, which in Sanscrit means loosely “land of the gods.” It is a dream-world* of sorts and a self-made paradise in which one is rapt in fulfillment of all one’s unfulfilled aspirations of the past life, filled with one’s friends perhaps and lost loved ones – whatever is in most need of by the Soul experiencing it. Perhaps also there is an incorporation of lessons from the past life. It may last a short time to thousands of year, depending on the degree of spiritual nature of the person’s last lifetime, yet there is no more experience of the passage of time than there is experienced in the dreams of a night’s sleep. When the person becomes fulfilled on this side of his nature in Deva-chan, attraction toward earth life begins again to arise, eventually resulting in rebirth, and the forming of a new personality. The new person is formed by the attraction of the “skandhas” or tendencies and character belonging to oneself from the previous life, and we continue a new cycle in our evolutionary journey.

– M.R.J.

* While Deva-chan is called a “dream” it is as real as it can be, as nightly dreams are experienced as real, and a needed purpose is being fulfilled. Eastern religions say that our world is Maya, or a mental illusion, and a relative world is the only possibility for Individual experience of any nature. In the “One,” or the Absolute, or Godhead there are no parts, so to speak, or individuals to have experience.

In Theosophical teachings we are held to be part of our “Higher Self” or a Manasaputra, or perhaps “Guardian Angel” in another tradition. During Deva-chan we are at one spiritually with this Higher Self or Manasaputra in whatever world it lives in, and rapt in our own Deva-chanic experiences.

One might ask when reading this “How can men know such things? – isn’t it just speculation and a bunch of air-castles!” By saying that men, or some men, _can’t_ know such things as what happens after death, one is also claiming omniscience in knowing human limits. “Upon the shoulders of a million men, Buddha entered the Gates of Gold” I believe is in a Mabel Collins book, which means Buddha built on the discoveries of a million searchers before himself.

A large portion of the world’s population believes in Evolution, for ages in the East based on Religious propositions and reincarnation, and more recently in the west based scientifically on the observed gradually developing complexity of life. We assume that man is the top of the pyramid of evolution of plant, animal, humans, but in this billions of years of Earth and the Universe there is no guarantee that there aren’t evolved forms of life higher than humans, that may keep hidden for their own reasons (and perhaps for us). Cultures are full of myths of gods, heroes, and god-kings, and if such superiorly evolved beings exist we might consider they have had a hand in the nursery education of humanity, and the origins of philosophy.


“After Death – What?,” Leoline Wright http://www.theosociety.org/pasadena/gdpmanu/death/death-1.htm

“The Mahatma Letters to A.P. Sinnett,” edited by Trevor Barker

Mother Shipton’s Prophecy


In the air men shall be seen
In white, in black, in green.
Fire and water shall more wonders do.
England shall at last admit a Jew,
The Jew that was held in scorn
Shall of a Christian be born, and born.

When pictures look alive with movements free,
When ships, like fishes, swim beneath the sea,
When men, outstripping birds can soar the sky,
Then half the world, deep-drenched in blood
Shall die.

Women will dress like men and trousers wear,
And cut off all their locks of hair.
They will ride astride with brazen brow,
And love shall die and marriage cease,
And nations wane, and babes decrease,
And wives shall fondle cats and dogs,
And men shall live much as hogs,
Just for food and lust.

Iron in the water shall float,
as easily as a wooden boat.
Through hills shall man ride,
And no horse be at his side.
Carriages without horses shall go,
And accidents fill the world with woe.
Around the world thought shall fly,
in the twinkling of an eye.
Under water men shall walk,
Shall ride, shall sleep, shall talk.


I don’t know the origin of this version or compilation of Mother Shipton’s prophecies (Ursula Southeil, c. 1488–1561), but it is pretty straight-forward, without all the vague mumbo-jumbo subject to any interpretation of most “prophecies.” The lines about a Jew is unclear, unless it could refer to Benjamin Disraeli, twice Prime Minister of Britain and of Italian Jewish Descent. Until 1858 a Jew could not serve in Parliament, but Disraeli was baptized Christian. Sequentially, there are predictions at least of motion pictures, submarines, airplanes, a world-war, women’s liberation (?), descent of moral standards, iron ships, automobiles, and radio. Not bad for the 16th century! It is hard to see how a peasant woman in the 1500’s could even have such thoughts.

The Mass Mind


by Ely Culbertson


…. In the notes below, I shall outline some of my concepts of the psychology of the mass mind which may prove to be of interest to those who have dealings with the masses. I will make no attempt here to present a complete picture. This tremendously complicated subject requires a book, which I hope to write someday.

Early in my youth, as a revolutionist I ran up against the blank wall of the mystery of the mass mind. I then realized that one may have the noblest and the most practical ideals [for] levers [to] move the masses; that propaganda is often more powerful than the truth. All around me I saw political charlatans and demagogues drench the people with lies and the spit of hatred and yet carry them off their feet; while my teachers floundered, although they understood the truth and were sincere. I rushed to libraries to find out about this wonderful science of influencing people. But there was very little information.

The practical application of the knowledge of the mass mind, which is based on crude trial and-error methods, has been known since earliest times. The structure of armies and churches is unconsciously based on these little-known laws; the Communists and Fascists have perfected the methods; and the American advertising industry has brought in a wealth of practical discoveries. But even today, there are no scientific definitions or acceptable theories on the anatomy of the mass mind, how it behaves, and why.

The Individual and the Crowd

It is already known that there is a certain difference between a person taken singly and the same person taken as part of a crowd. Actually, the difference is tremendous. A crowd is something very much more than the sum total of the individuals that comprise it. It is a new entity, personality, possessing its own emotional and thinking organs.

I define a crowd as consisting of five or more individuals. One of these individuals is always the leader. The moment several individuals get together to form a crowd, a number of their usual emotional reactions become atrophied, while other emotional reactions, theretofore dormant, become intensified. In a crowd, the individual loses most of his initiative; his fears and doubts are dissipated, and his reasoning faculties are narrowed down to one or two simple issues; he acquires new emotions of a religious or mystic nature; he feels a compelling sense of communal responsibility and a confidence that borders on omnipotence. Under the spell of the crowd emanations, he is capable of acts of supreme heroism or of dastardly cowardice – acts which he might not perform as an individual. Thus, a crowd is always composed of demigods who are at the same time savage beasts; of heroes who are simultaneously cruel cowards.

The basic fact from which all study of the mass mind must start, is this; every crowd possesses its own anatomy, its own brain, and its own nervous system, as distinct from the psychology of the individuals who comprise it.

This mass mind operates not only when people are gathered together in physical crowds – in auditoriums or on street corners – but continuously. Every individual is endowed, from time immemorial, with a number of instincts that make him a part of the herd and subject to reactions of the herd. He is dominated by crowd influences and crowd emotions wherever he is – whether he talks to other people, listens to the radio, or reads a newspaper in front of his own fireplace. Besides, in the course of the day most individuals are at some time or other in contact with different physical crowds, where they easily pick up the highly contagious germs of crowd emotions.

Thus, the mass mind functions even when there is not a physical crowd, except that then its emotions are not so intense and its psychological reactions do not occur so rapidly.

All the observations in this appendix, therefore, apply not only to physical crowds, but to all individuals who have social contact with the world around them.

The Structure of the Crowd or Mass Mind

If the crowd does have a mind of its own, just what is its structure, and how does it operate?

The crowd is made up of two elements: the mass and the leaders. Its structure is somewhat analogous to that of a cell, with its protoplasm and nucleus. The mass element in the crowd is nameless and passive, its essential function is to provide “nourishment” for the active principle, which is the nucleus. The crowd’s nucleus is composed of the crowd’s leaders, in whom practically the entire activity of the crowd is concentrated. And here the analogy between a cell and a crowd ceases. For a crowd is not comparable to one gigantic cell, but is actually made up of a great number of units, or crowd-cells. Each of these crowd-cells consists of five, six, or seven individuals, and each has its group leader. Thoughts and emotions are communicated from one unit or crowd cell to another through these group leaders, who act in the double capacity of transmitters and initiators of action.

The important point is that, of the individuals who make up a crowd-cell, only the leader is active; the others, so to speak, have delegated to him not only most of their authority, but a great part of their emotional and intellectual mechanisms. They leave to their leader the task of making decisions, and even the emotional function of becoming cruel or loving, heroic or cowardly. This process of delegation is, in my opinion, one of the underlying principles in the structure of the crowd. The group leader stands at the front of the stage, and his six or seven followers stand in the background, imitating his every gesture, thought, or emotion. It is the group leader who organizes a bridge game, selects a brand of cigarettes, decides that Roosevelt is a hero or a monster, throws rice and old shoes at the newlyweds, or lynches ….. He counts; his followers are but shadows in his image.

The Leaders

The group leaders in turn are organized into special leader-cells, each of which is controlled by a higher leader. Finally, there is a still higher leader-cell, composed of leaders of the leaders, and controlled by the supreme leader. At each intermediate stage the lower group of leaders transmits a large part of its authority and will to the higher leaders.

Thus, the structure of a crowd can be compared to a skyscraper built like a pyramid: its skeleton of steel is the leadership factor, its backbone and brain; the bricks that fill in this framework to complete the building make up the passive element, or the mass of the crowd. The higher “stories” of this tapering skyscraper are made up entirely of the higher leaders, where most of the power is concentrated; while the foundation is cemented and held together by the group leaders incrustated within the mass.

These leaders are always potentially present in any crowd. They spring up from the mass spontaneously. In a theater someone shouts, “Fire!” There are a few seconds of hesitation, during which the leaders crystalize. If the leaders are panicky, the crowd is panicky; if the leaders walk calmly to the nearest exit, so does the crowd. It may happen that the struggle of opposing leaders neutralizes the action of the crowd, leaving it temporarily leaderless; then there is a stampede.

This leadership structure is the characteristic organ of any crowd – its brain, its nervous and muscular systems, all in one. It is common to masses, crowds, and even herds of animals. These leaders are to be found among males and females, and in every conceivable human activity. Their presence, and not the so-called “tribal inheritance,” is the true explanation for the transmission of innumerable customs, traditions, and learned aptitudes of society.

The structure of a crowd of one hundred people is exactly the same as that of one hundred thousand; and its dynamics are the same, whether it be a crowd of Chinese, Russians, or Americans, and whether it be a crowd of delegates to the Republican convention or a lynching mob. The same laws apply to all crowds or masses of people, and most of these laws deal with the leadership factor. The essential difference, for instance, between a mob and an army does not lie in the structure, but in the difference between trained and spontaneous leadership. The army has discipline; that is, the leaders have been trained how to command, and the masses, how to obey. Thus, discipline merely intensifies the leadership principle in the structure of the mass mind.

The Mass

In a crowd, the mass never acts of its own volition, never takes any initiative, never attacks or runs. I am not attempting a paradox when I say that for all practical purposes of initiative or action, the mass does not exist!

The mass, however, does have one basic function, other than serving as “roughage”: it furnishes the raw material from which the leaders are produced.

The number and quality of the leaders, however, depends upon the mood, the climate of the mass. For want of a better word, I use the word “climate” to indicate the combination of physical, economic, and psychological conditions which influence the mass. It is this mass-climate which determines whether the mass accelerates or retards the formation and the acceptance of leaders. If the mass-climate is favorable to a movement, then the mass easily produces new leaders and the movement is accelerated. But if the climate is unfavorable, then the mass forms but few leaders, or forms leaders who are in opposition to the movement; as a result, the movement is either retarded or stopped…..

These two basic principles of leadership and mass apply not only to the psychology of crowds, but also to the structure of societies, as well as to the dynamics of social movements – be they wars, migrations, or an advertising campaign to launch a new kind of soap. In the preceding pages I have tried to explain a little of the theoretical background of the structure of the mass mind. These theories are of great practical value when applied to the technique of advertising, publicity, showmanship, and general mass appeal…..

…..There is another fallacy, caused by ignorance of the structure of the mass mind, which is costing the motion-picture industry alone many millions of dollars and which explains some of the monstrosities which they produce. It is the belief that the average intelligence of the masses is that of a twelve-year-old. Taken individually this may be true. But taken as a level at which to produce movies, it is a serious mistake, for every individual who sees a movie is part of a crowd. And the intelligence level of every crowd is that of its group leaders. If the intelligence level of the group leaders equals that of a college graduate, then the intelligence of the crowd, for all practical purposes, equals the college graduate; if, on the other hand, the intelligence level of the crowd’s group leaders is that of a twelve-year-old (which is relatively rare), then even a crowd of senators would be on the same level (and sometimes is). The important fact about any crowd is that the level of the group leaders’ intelligence is usually several notches higher that the average of the individuals which comprise the crowd. Here I am sharply at variance with Le Bon and modern students of the crowd, who believe that a crowd is per se stupid, cruel, and cowardly, and is of lower mentality than the individuals comprising it.

The group and higher leaders are the censors and sentinels of the masses. It is at them advertising and motion pictures should be aimed…..

Intellectually, it is quite possible to fool most of the people most of the time, and they are being so fooled continuously through various political doctrines and war propaganda, for instance; emotionally, however, it is much more difficult to fool the crowds. For a crowd, like a woman, follows intellectual arguments only superficially; all its attention is concentrated on feeling whether or not the speaker is sincere…..

Dictatorship and Democracy

….. A democracy – even at its worst, with the waste, stupid greed, and sloppiness we see in our country today – offers the best chances for initiative and fruitful struggle among rival groups of leaders in every walk of life. Its very instability and apparent disorganization insure the indispensable freedom for the maximum application of initiative and the correction of errors. And whatever a democracy may lose temporarily through less efficiency, it more than regains through greater initiative and freedom. The best safeguard of democracy is to be found in the education of both the masses and the leaders, so as to favor the maximum development of superior and freely competing leaders in all walks of life…..

There is also the principle of velocity in social movements; it results from the physical factor of tremendously increased facilities for communication and transportation. The masses are subject to thousands of influences from all sides, through radio, motion pictures, newspapers, books, automobiles; the mass-climate can be changed in the course of months or years, instead of generations. Group leaders are produced more quickly, and movements spread at terrific speed… The greater the velocity of social movements, the greater the instability and strife in the world. It follows that we are entering upon an era of great wars and revolutions, when classes and nations will be reshuffled, and the earth divided anew. Peace will come, perhaps several generations later, with the progress of science and the development of a system whereby the new leaders of the world will be technicians, specialists, and philosophers.

[From The Strange Lives of One Man, by Ely Culbertson, 1940.]


Manifold Man


      – by Alexander Wilder

(from “The Later Platonists and Other Writings of Alexander Wilder” at Lulu.com)

“One newly dead, wafted on winds of space,
Felt clustering shapes he knew not and yet knew.
‘Who are ye?’ cried he, scanning face by face.
‘Your self!’ they laughed; ‘We all have once been you!'”
– Arlo Bates, in Scribner’s Magazine

It is said that the late Robert Louis Stevenson had a dream the curious incidents of which enabled him to produce the strange story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. In this tale he has described one of the characters as an amiable and truly worthy gentleman, and another as being totally the reverse. It transpires that these two persons who are so represented are actually the same individual. He is manifest at times as the man of superior worth, and on other occasions as fit only to consort with the vile. A certain practice of drugging produces these transformations. The evil result, finally predominates over normal condition and the degradation becomes permanent.

A recent number of the London Lancet narrates a case of multiple personality, far more extraordinary. The individual was a girl of twelve years old. She was apparently in good health till she was attacked with influenza. The changes then became manifest. Some were complete and others partial, some were sudden and others gradual. In some cases she was totally blind, and in all of them she was partially ignorant of what she had been in other states. In some of them her acquirements, such as drawing and writing and other normal faculties, were present; in others, they seemed to be lost. When she was in the blind condition she developed the faculty of drawing, aided by touch only. This sense was then enormously increased in delicacy. Her character and behavior were widely different in some of the peculiar states, from what they were in others. There were ten of these phases, and they varied in length from a few minutes to ten weeks. They have lasted about three years.

These descriptions, it appears to me, are little else than examples of human experience in conditions more distinctly marked than is common in every-day life. Indeed we need only to take note of our own motives and impulses, to perceive that there are periods in our temper quite in analogy with those which have been described. The celebrated preacher of the Eighteenth Century, Whitfield, once observed a wretched man making his way with difficulty, disgrace in every motion and feature. “There,” he exclaimed, “there goes George Whitfield, but for the grace of God.” A physiognomist is said to have described Sokrates as addicted to low vices, drunken and sensual. The philosopher checked those who were about to protest. Such had been his disposition, but he had been restrained by philosophy. So true it is that the greatest virtue is developed above the darkest vice, as the beautiful water-lily grows from filthy mud.

Holmes suggests that perhaps there are co-tenants in this house of which we had thought we were the sole occupant. He brings to confirm this the dream or revery of a budding girl in which several of her remoter ancestors seemed in turns to blend their being with hers. This takes us a step further. The lessons of experience are slowly learned, but they bring the deeper facts to view.

Many years have passed, but I remember it well. There had been worry and vexatious disappointment in several matters to which I was attending. To intensify the trouble, a severe influenza was developed, affording no opportunity for repose. It was in May, and the Columbian Exposition was about to open at Chicago as a memorial celebration of the third centenary of the discovery of the Western Continent. I must make ready for a week of service in a World’s Congress Auxiliary and could not pass my duties over to another. The matter was successfully carried through, after which followed months of work and responsibility. When December came I was prostrated by my fifth visitation of pneumonia.

The exacerbations were severer than they had been of aforetime, and were accompanied by hallucinations that were curious from their novelty. For several days there seem to be some half dozen persons in the bed with me sharing my personality, suffering as I did, and making the pain harder to endure because each of them was adding to it a spectral contribution of his own. I had the impression very vividly that if they should be removed elsewhere, the distress which I was suffering would then become easier to bear. This anticipation, however, was not realized. After a few days they did seem to go, but there was no such amelioration. There was, perhaps, an exchange of one form of sensation for another that was equally disagreeable, and with it possibly some change of hallucination.

An individual unable to leave his bed has abundant opportunity to speculate upon what he observes. The field is large; it may be larger than when he is in normal condition. Vagary and new sensation are added to memory and imagination, and all of them are busy with their contributions. Nor is it well to be contented with any flippant explanation, such as that it was mere phantasm that had its origin from the fever. I must be permitted to doubt the power of a fever to generate alone even a phantasm. It is by no means a producing cause. It may destroy, but it cannot create. It can only display something that really exists. If we are so disposed, we may call the manifestation abnormal and even morbid, but it is none the less real, and further enquiry must be made.

The subjective nature of the manifestations requires to be examined. The fever brought them to view; but whence did they come? In some way they were projected from the thought and personality of the individual sufferer. They were not mere phantoms external to him, but actual facts and qualities issuing forth from him into an apparition of objective reality. The several sufferers that apparently participated in my pain and uneasiness were portions of myself that were, as it were, individualized. The fever which was disturbing my body had caused them to seem as separate personalities, each of which might possibly be contemplated by itself. I did not think to count them, but thought of them as six or more. Accordingly I am not able to tell, or even to suggest, what or whether any specific quality or characteristic any or each of them may have personified. Though thus seemingly apart and distinct from me, they were all in a manner myself; and with that conclusion I must be content. Each of them, I was conscious, had an intimate relationship with the others.

This sense of complexity in a personality has been noticed by different writers, and explanations have been offered, which widely vary. Oliver Wendell Holmes tells us autocratically of an unconscious action of the brain and a distinct correspondence between every process of thought or feeling and some corporeal phenomenon. Emmanuel Kant carries the idea still further, and propounds that the soul is acted upon by the nonmaterial natures of the spiritual world, and receives impressions from them. Professor Tyndall is also philosophic in his deductions. “It was found,” says he, “that the mind of man has the power of penetrating far beyond the boundaries of his full senses; that the things which are seen in the material world would depend for their action upon the things unseen; – in short, that besides the phenomena which address the senses, there are laws, principles and processes which do not address the senses at all, but which need be and can be spiritually discerned.”

These assumptions do not quite solve the matter satisfactorily, but they afford valuable help. I readily acknowledge the presence and influence of spiritual essences in my own thinking, and also that these influences may extend to illumination and seeming intuition. Everything, Goethe declares, everything flows into us, so far as we are not it ourselves. Doctor Holmes has further suggested, and in this I am ready to agree with him, that other spirits, those of ancestors in particular, and other persons who are in rapport with us, have a place of abode in our personality, and so may qualify our action, even inspiring it sometimes. I am not alone in my body, or with it, for everyone is with me whose nature, disposition or proclivity I share. This universe is an ocean of mind, and my interior essence may permeate it in every part as a drop of alcohol will diffuse itself over an immense body of water. For the body does not contain the soul, but is itself surrounded by it, as well as permeated and enlivened.

The apparent personifications were so completely in and of me that I was fully conscious that each of them felt every pain that I suffered. Each one of us is a complex personality in which an assemblage of living entities are grouped and allied together as parts of a single whole. As my body is a one, that is composed of a plurality of members – muscles, bones, membranes and nerve-structure all depending on one another in this totality, so my selfhood is constituted in an analogous manner, of qualities, characteristics, impulses, passions, tastes and other peculiarities.

We may follow the subject further, and explore into the recesses of our selfhood in order to ascertain somewhat more definitely in relation to the qualities and characteristics that make it up as an entirety. “The proper study of mankind is Man,” and the proper way to pursue this study is for each of us to endeavor to know himself. Metaphysical speculation is not a study of what is outside of our nature, but rather of that which is superior to nature – the mind or spirit by which it is animated.

I remember that even in earlier boyhood I was of a serious, thoughtful turn. I was thus led to contemplate my personality as a two-fold entity composed of the body and the living principle. Naturally I considered the body as the principal object, but early teaching assured me that there was a soul that would continue after the body had perished. I was also told that according as I was good or bad, this soul of mine would enjoy delight in heaven or suffer excruciating torment in hell after its separation from the body. All this impressed me that the soul was a something distinct from me and not that it was my actual self. That I had to learn afterward.

Yet in this period of imperfect knowing there came forth many thoughts spontaneously, that did not harmonize well with these cruder notions. I could sit and contemplate my limbs as things that were distinct from my real self. When by some accident, a leg or an arm was temporarily benumbed, I noticed that it was apparently dead, and that though I myself was alive and in full possession of my faculties, no impulse of my will could move the paralyzed organ. This showed that the selfhood was myself from which the body was essentially distinct. This self was the being that thought, reasoned, willed, and impelled to action; and however closely the corporeal structure was allied to it, yet it was nothing more than its instrument. Speaking in more explicit terms: I am soul, and this body of mine is only my shadow, my objective manifestation. It may therefore be declared without further evidence or argument, that this soul, this ego, myself, has its being substantially distinct from the body, and accordingly, that it is superior to the body, and older.

Following this exploration into the subjective nature, I perceive that in the soul there are varieties of faculty and function that can be distinguished from one another. Thus I love, desire, feel and enjoy, and also experience the reverse of these in one department of my being; but think, observe and reason, in another. Designating these two departments after the fashion of the time, we term the one, soul, and the other, the understanding or reasoning faculty. It may be remarked, however, that these are so intimately close to the corporeal structure and functions, that it is not altogether clear from what has been here set forth that both soul and mind are not participant with it, rather than coordinate. By an instinctive consciousness I associate the thinking faculties with my head, and the affectional, sensitive and appetitive qualities, with the central ganglionic region of the body. If now, I push the investigation no further, I may be ready to say that life and existence itself can be no more than an illusion of the senses, and therefore, that death, ending it all, is the only thing genuine and real. Animals seem to possess all the traits to which reference has been made, in a less or greater degree; and from this analogy I can be little more than they.

Not so. My thought is not circumscribed by their limitations. This reasoning faculty which I am able to perceive and contemplate in myself is really itself two-fold, and perhaps manifold. It certainly is a receptacle of something else than the facts that have been observed, lessons that have been learned, and the various deductions and conclusions. It is far more than a storehouse or encyclopedia of former thoughts and observations that may be classified, labeled and put away as in pigeon-holes. There is a faculty of apperception transcending all this sort of thing. This is the faculty that renders us conscious of our selfhood, of our moral and reflective nature, and of all that is in us, of us, and about us. We are by no means hurrying too fast with the argument when we summarize the description of this faculty with the apothegm attributed to Elihu in the book of Job: “Certainly, there is a spirit in mankind, and the inspiration of the Almighty maketh them intelligent.” Superior to the soul and understanding, and yet both surrounding and permeating them is this inspiration or influx, and it makes human beings intelligent because it is itself an extension and projecting of the divine Intelligence. Our minds are made luminant by the apperception which has been thus established. We have the earth at our feet, and God at our head.

The Apostle Paul defines man as being an entirety, made up of “spirit and soul and body.” Plato had already described him as triune, consisting of body, soul and the mind or superior intellect. In the Timaeus he assigns the mind, the noetic and absolutely immortal part of the soul, to a seat in the summit of the head; while the mortal part is placed in the body – the better portion above and the lower part below the diaphragm.

“With the mind (noos) I myself serve the law of God,” Paul writes, using the philosophic term. . . .

The concept of the “double,” or “astral” body, has been universally entertained. The Egyptian sages used to teach that there was a corporeal structure and an aetherial body that was like and yet distinct from the soul. After the death of the body, the soul was supposed to go directly to the gods, but the double remained on the earth and was nourished from the aetherial principle that was in the offerings of food made to it by friends. It was believed that food after this principle had been thus partaken, had no further nourishing quality. The manes of the dead, that we read of in Roman literature, was a similar personification, and its peculiar rites are described by Virgil in the fifth book of the Aeneid.

But the Egyptian diviners held that man was really a complex personality. There was the khat or body; also the ba or soul, the khu or reasoning faculty, ka or eidolon, the khakit or shade, the ren or name, the ab or heart, and the sahu or corporeal framework. Of this last, divested of the entrails, the mummies were made. All these parts were supposed to sustain an intimate vital relation to one another; and it was believed that there could be no perfect life ultimately, except these were again joined. The eidolon or double, the ka being of divine origin, survived the body, and hence was subject to innumerable vicissitudes. It needed the funeral offerings to relive hunger and sufferings. If the sahu or mummy chanced to be destroyed, this astral form would unite itself with some image or simulacrum of the deceased person. In this way phallicism was integral in the Egyptian rites; and the serpent as representing the soul and intelligence was borne aloft at festivals, and worn on the sacerdotal tiara.

These notions undoubtedly came from older peoples. Bunsen conjectured that Egypt derived her learning from the country of the Euphrates and Lamartine declared his full conviction that that country received it from India. We may expect accordingly to find there the whole dogma of component principles, in the human form. The Sankhya philosophy is accordingly thus explicit. We are told of the body, the atma or soul, the buddhi or intelligent principle, the consciousness, the understanding, the senses, the manas or passional nature, etc. The whole theory is there. We conceive of these principles as separate entities and describe them as such. Yet, to borrow the words of Pope for the purpose:

“All are but parts of one stupendous whole.”

In conclusion, I am certain that the troublesome bedfellows which have been described as causing me so much annoyance were only so many constituents of my individual self, which the excitement of fever had brought into consciousness as so many personalities. That they were not mere phantoms created by hallucination is almost demonstrated by the fact that I seemed to feel in myself that what I was suffering at the time they were suffering along with me. I suppose that they were those principles of soul that are more commonly described as qualities and sentiments. Perhaps they are capable of being brought into consciousness so as to be recognized by the external sensibility, as living beings, because they are actually endowed with life. “Every thought is a soul,” the philosophic Mejnour declares to his pupil in Bulwer’s famous novel “Zanoni.” What we denominate qualities and principles are animate realities, which may be apprehended as such; not, however, as things apart from us, but as constituent elements of our being.

(Metaphysical Magazine, Vol. 21, no. 3, July, 1907)


Peruvian Antiquities


by E. R. Heath, M.D.

(From “Kansas City Review of Science and Industry,” November, 1878)

On the Peruvian coast in ancient times, as now, nearly every structure was made of adobes or sun-dried brick, while in the mountains stone was used instead. The adobe ruins present nothing of beauty, architecturally. The subject for wonder is their immensity and number. Go where you will, relics of the past meet your eye either in ruined walls, water-courses, terraces, or extensive lands covered with the debris of pottery.

Take for example the Jequetepeque valley. In 7′ 24′ south latitude you will find on recent maps the port of Pacasmayo. Four miles north, separated from it by a barren waste, the river Jequetepeque empties into the sea. The bottom lands of the river are from two to three miles in width, with a southern sloping bank and the northern a perpendicular one nearly eighty feet high. Beside the southern shore, as it empties into the sea, is an elevated plat one fourth of a mile square and forty feet high, all of adobes. A wall fifty feet wide connects it with another, a few hundred yards east and south, that is 150 feet high, 200 feet across the top, and 500 at the base, nearly square. This latter was built in sections of rooms ten feet square at the base, six feet at the top and about eight feet high. These rooms were afterward filled with adobes, then plastered on the outside with mud and washed in colors.

All of this same class of mounds – temples, to worship the sun, or fortresses, as they may be – have on the north side an incline for an entrance or means of access. Treasure-seekers have cut into this one about half way, and it is said $150,000 worth of gold and silver ornaments were found. In the sand, banked up behind the wall and mound, many were buried, as the thousands of skulls and bones now exposed prove; thrown out by the hunter of huacos, as the pottery is called, huaca being the came given to these cemeteries. Each body has buried with it a vessel or water craft and a pot with grains of corn or wheat, and it is supposed the drinking vessel was filled with “chicha,” a fermented drink made from corn or peanuts. Beside these were many ornaments of gold, silver, copper, coral and shell beads and cloths.

On the north side of the river, on the top of the bluff, are the extensive ruins of a walled city, two miles wide by six long. Within the enclosure are the relics of two large reservoirs for fresh water. The clay from which these adobes were made was found at least six miles distant.

Follow the river to the mountains. All along you pass ruin after ruin and huaca after huaca. At Tolon, a town at the base of the mountains, the valley is crossed by walls of boulders and cobble stones, ten, eight and six feet high, one foot to eighteen inches wide at the top and two to three feet at the base, enclosing ruins of a city one-fourth of a mile wide and more than a mile long. The upper wall has projecting parts at the entrances, with port-holes, evidently serving as sentry boxes.

At this point the Pacasmayo Railroad enters the Jequetepeque valley. For eight miles back it crosses a barren sand plain of more than fifteen miles in length, covered with ruined walls, water courses, dead algaroba and espino trees, with fragments of pottery and sea shells, even to nine feet in depth mixed with the sand. The base of the mountains have, in good state of preservation, many thousand feet of an old water course, while their sides to the perpendicular parts are lined with terraces. This water course took its head from a ravine now dry, and, even beyond the memory of the oldest inhabitants, except in one or two cases, never carried water. It can be traced as far as Ascope, forty-five miles south.

Five miles from Tolon, up the river, there is an isolated boulder of granite, four and six feet in its diameters, covered with hieroglyphics. Fourteen miles further, a point of mountain at the junction of two ravines is covered to a height of more than fifty feet with the same class of hieroglyphics: Birds, fishes, snakes, cats, monkeys, men, sun, moon and many odd and now unintelligible forms. The rock on which these are cut is a silicated sandstone, and many of the lines are an eighth of an inch deep. In one large stone there are three holes, twenty to thirty inches deep, six inches in diameter at the orifice and two at the apex, and although polished as porcelain, these markings extend even to the bottom. The locality is of no importance; the stones as nature placed them; why, then, was so much labor and time expended upon them?

At Anchi, on the Rimac river, upon the face of a perpendicular wall two hundred feet above the river bed, there are two hieroglyphics, representing an imperfect B and a perfect D. In a crevice below them, near the river, were found buried twenty-five thousand dollars worth of gold and silver. When the Incas learned of the murder of their chief, what did they do with the gold they were bringing for his ransom? Rumor says they buried it, and many places are pointed out and thousands of dollars spent in useless search for the lost treasure. May not these markings at Yonan tell something, since they are on the road and near to the Inca city?

Eleven miles beyond Yonan, on a ridge of mountain seven hundred feet above the river, are the walls of a city of 2,000 inhabitants. A perilous ascent on hands and knees is now the only way to reach it; however, on the opposite side of the river are similar ruins, but easy of access. A remnant of a stone wall, ten and twelve feet high, built of small flat stones and without mortar, probably at one time served as river protection and against the tribe on the other side, there being a tradition that two powerful chiefs occupied these cities and were ever at war. The dead were buried in sepulchres, using large boulders as the top, while stone walls divided the space beneath into compartments.

Six and twelve miles further are extensive walls and terraces. Three miles north of the latter place are the rich silver mines of Chilete, formerly worked by the Indians, who left excavations two and three hundred feet deep, and must have taken out quantities of silver. A company with a paid-up capital of half a million is now working them.

Leaving the valley at seventy-eight miles from the coast, you zigzag up the mountain side 7,000 feet, then descend 2,000, to arrive at Cajamarca, or Coxamalca of Pizarro’s time. Here and there all the way you find relics of the past. In a yard off one of the main streets, and near the center of the city, is still standing the house made famous as the prison of Atahualpa, and which he promised to fill with gold as high as he could reach, in exchange for his liberty. Like all their stone work, the walls are slightly inclined inward, uncemented, built of irregular stones, each exactly faced to fit the next. The floor and porch are cut out of the solid stone, two and three feet deep, as the still intact remnants of stone pillars of the same rock show.

The hill from which the stone for the walls was taken is near by. On its top a large stone in the shape of a chair bears the name of “Inca’s chair,” and the Indians say it was the king’s custom to sit here every morning and salute the sun as it rose above the horizon. The two large places excavated out of the rock on the hillside, and now used as reservoirs for the city, were of ancient make. Three miles distant, and across the valley, are the hot springs, where the Inca was encamped when Pizarro took possession of Cajamarca. Part of the wall is of unknown make, (that encloses the baths.) Cemented, the cement is harder than the stone itself.

At Chocofan, nine miles from Pacasmayo, on the line of the railroad, a barren, rocky mountain, 1,200 feet high, is encircled four hundred feet from its top by a stone wall eight or ten feet high. From its northern side, running nearly northwest, is about five miles of the coast road of the Incas. Perfectly straight, it is twenty feet wide, and walled on both sides by round stones piled to a height of three and four feet, three feet wide at the base and two at the top, uncemented.

At Chepen, a station near the terminus of the branch of the Pacasmayo Railroad, is a mountain with a wall in many places twenty feet high, the summit being almost entirely artificial. In the sand at its base is one of Peru’s most extensive “huacas,” and from which some of the finest pottery and ornaments have been taken.

Fifty miles south of Pacasmayo, between the seaport of Huanchaco and Truxillo, nine miles distant, are the ruins of “Chan Chan,” the capital city of the Chimoa kingdom, which extended, when conquered by the Incas, from Supe to Tumbez, or over nearly the northern half of the coast of modern Peru. The road from the port to the city crosses these ruins, entering by a causeway about four feet from the ground, and leading from one great mass of ruins to another; beneath this is a tunnel. Be they forts, castles, palaces, or burial mounds called “huacas,” all bear the name “huaca.” Hours of wandering on horseback among these ruins give only a confused idea of them, nor can old explorers there point out what were palaces and what were not. To the right is the “Huaca of Toledo;” to the left, “Bishop’s Huaca.” The large square enclosures, shut in by wedge-shaped walls of adobe, twenty to twenty-five feet high, have nothing of an entrance into them that would be defined as a palace gate. A half a dozen of these, at least, are among the ruins. Within some of them are large square mounds or burying chambers, many of which have been opened and rifled of their contents. These are plastered at the ceilings.

Beside the so-called “huacas” already mentioned, there is another on the left side of the road called by the Spaniards “the Mass.” On many of the walls is some excellent stucco work. Excellent as regards the material of which it is made, more than with reference to its style of art. There is not a single grain of disintegration in the parts that surround the walls of the chamber, although it is half an inch high above the ordinary plaster in which it is done, nor the slightest impairment in its integrity during the many centuries it has stood exposed to the elements.

The highest enclosures – those of adobe brick, up to thirty feet, with a base of fifteen feet, on the right hand of the city as you advance toward Truxillo, between that town and the “Toledo huaca” – must have cost an immense amount of labor, and needed a large number of hands for their erection. Inside some of them, besides the square mounds, are narrow passages, not more than a yard in width. In others are squares, wherein are visible, though now filled with clay, the outlines of water tracks. On this side are the principal burial mounds, some having stairs of adobe.

In the city of Truxillo there exists in the records of the municipality a copy of the accounts that are found in the book of Fifths of the Treasury, in the years 1577 and 1578, referring to the “Huaca of Toledo.” The following is a condensed inventory:

First – In Truxillo, Peru, on the 22d of July, 1577, Don Garcia Gutierrez de Toledo presented himself at the royal treasury, to give into the royal chest a fifth. He brought a bar of gold nineteen carats ley and weighing two thousand four hundred Spanish dollars, of which the fifth, being seven hundred and eight dollars, together with one and a half percent to the chief assayer, were deposited in the royal box.

Second – On the 12th of December he presented himself with five bars of gold, fifteen and nineteen carats ley, weighing eight thousand nine hundred and eighteen dollars.

Third – On the 7th of January, 1578, he came with his fifth of large bars and plates of gold, one hundred and fifteen in number, fifteen to twenty carats ley, weighing one hundred and fifty-three thousand, two hundred and eighty dollars.

Fourth – On the 8th of March he brought sixteen bars of gold, fourteen to twenty-one carats ley, weighing twenty-one thousand one hundred and, eighteen dollars.

Fifth – On the 5th of April he brought different ornaments of gold, being little bells of gold and patterns of corn-heads and other things, of fourteen carats ley, weighing six thousand two hundred and seventy-two dollars.

Sixth – On the 20th of April he brought three small bars of gold, twenty carats ley, weighing four thousand one hundred and seventy dollars.

Seventh – On the 12th of July he came with forty-seven bars, fourteen to twenty-one carats ley, weighing seventy-seven thousand, three hundred and twelve dollars.

Eighth – On the same day he came back with another portion of gold and ornaments of cornheads and pieces of effigies of animals, weighing four thousand seven hundred and four dollars.

The sum of these eight bringings amounted to 278,174 gold dollars or Spanish ounces. Multiplied by sixteen gives $4,450,784 silver dollars. Deducting the royal fifth $985,953.75 – left $3,464,830.25 as Toledo’s portion.

Even after this great haul, effigies of different animals of gold were found from time to time. Mantles also, adorned with square pieces of gold, as well as robes made with feathers of divers colors, were dug up. There is a tradition that in the huaca of Toledo there were two treasures, known as the great and little fish. The smaller only has been found.

Between Huacho and Supe, the latter being one hundred and twenty miles north of Callao, near a point called Atahuanqui, there are two enormous mounds, resembling the Campana and San Miguel, of the Huatica valley, soon to be described.

About five miles from Patavilca (south and near Supe) is a place called “Paramonga,” or the fortress. The ruins of a fortress of great extent are here visible, the walls are of tempered clay, about six feet thick. The principal building stood on an eminence, but the walls were continued to the foot of it, like regular circumvallations; the ascent winding round the hill like a labyrinth, having many angles, which probably served as outworks to defend the place. In this neighborhood much treasure has been excavated, all of which must have been concealed by the pre-historic Indian, as we have no evidence of the Incas ever having occupied this part of Peru after they had subdued it.

From Lima north along the coast the Ancon & Chancay Railroad is built. Ancon, eighteen miles from Lima, is a favorite summer seaside resort. Just before reaching Ancon, the railroad runs through an immense burying-ground or “huaca.” Make a circuit of six to eight miles, and on every side you see skulls, legs, arms, and the whole skeleton of the human body, lying about in the sand. Legs attached to pelvis, and bent up, still with mummified skin on them; arms in the same state; relics of plaited straw, forming coffin swathes; pieces of net, of cloth, and many other such accompaniments of funeral accessories. Some water crafts of very superior quality have been obtained from these graves. Of these there are three different forms, in places separated a short distance from each other, but each style having its defined outline of locale. As to the shape of the graves, there are some of an inverted cylinder form, like that of a lime-kiln, the insides of which are lined with masonry work. In these the body is placed in the upright position. There is also the ordinary longitudinal grave, in which the corpse is right in contact with the earth. Likewise the grave cut square to a depth of six to eight feet, at the top of which, or within one or two feet of the surface of the ground, is a roofing or covering of mat work, placed on wooden rafters. In one of these Dr. Hutchinson, her Britannic Majesty’s Consul at Callao, found three bodies, all wrapped up together – being a man, woman and child their faces being swathed with llama wool instead of cotton, as is usually seen in ordinary ones. He also turned out relics of fishing nets, with some needles for making them, varieties of cloth, tapestry, and work-bags resembling ladies’ reticules. Not a vestige of vegetation about, nor sign of relic of the terraces mentioned by Prescott.

Whence came these hundreds and thousands of people who are buried at Ancon? How did they make out a living while on the earth? Time and time again the archaeologist finds himself face to face with such questions, to which he can only shrug his shoulders and say with the natives, “Quien sabe?” Who knows? At Pasamayo, 14 miles further “down north,” and on the sea shore, is another great burying ground. Thousands of skeletons lie about, thrown out by the treasure-seekers. It has more than a half mile of cutting through it for the Ancon & Chancay R. R. It extends up the face of the hill from the sea-shore to the height of about 800 feet, and being from a half to three-fourths of a mile in breadth, some idea may be formed of its extent.

Dr. Hutchinson, in two days, from these burial grounds, gathered 384 skulls, which, with specimens of pottery, he presented to Professor Agassiz and he to the Cambridge University, near Boston. Between the teeth he found pieces of copper as if for the Charon obolus, and one or two had plates of copper on their heads.

Crossing the brow of the hill, entering Chancay, and stretching toward the sea, are the remains of a six feet adobe wall. On the face of this hill, pointing to the line of the railway from Ancon, are two stone ditches, perfectly parallel and symmetrical, about 100 yards apart, and running from bottom to top to a height of about 300 yards. Between these are other lines of stone displaced, perhaps the ruins of some old terraces. All about this place, at the base of the hill, looking towards Chancay, as well as on the side in front of the sea, is full of graves; some are built up with stone walls, others lined inside with mudbricks, of no formation more than a heap of clay and water molded up in the hands and dried in the sun.

Over the hills of Chancay are quantities of small stones of different geological formation from the rock there. Dr. Hutchinson writes, under date of Oct. 30th, 1872, in an article to the Callao and Lima Gazette, now the South Pacific Times:

“I am come to the conclusion that Chancay is a great city of the dead, or has been an immense ossuary of Peru; for go where you will, on mountain top or level plain, or by the sea side, you meet at every turn, skulls and bones of all descriptions.”

Lima, the capital of Peru, is situated seven miles inland from Callao. Nine miles on the sea shore “up south,” is the city of Chorillos, the Long Branch of Peru. A railway connects Lima with these two cities, forming with the coast nearly a right angled triangle. This triangular ground is known as the Huatica Valley, and is an extensive ruin. Between Callao and Magdalena, four miles distant, there are seventeen mounds called “huacas,” although they present more the form of fortresses, residences or castles, than burying grounds. ‘Tis difficult to make out anything but fragments of walls, as the ground is mostly under cultivation. However, at various points, one can see that a triple wall surrounded the ancient city. These walls are respectively one yard, two yards, and three yards in thickness, being in some parts of their relics, from fifteen to twenty feet high.

To the east of these is the enormous mound called Huaca of Pando; and to the west, with the distance of about half a mile intervening, are the great ruins of fortresses, which natives entitle Huaca of the Bell. La Campana, the huacas of Pando, consisting of a series of large and small mounds, and extending over a stretch of ground incalculable without being measured, form a colossal accumulation. The principal large ones are three in number; that holding the name of the “Bell” is calculated to be 108 to 110 feet in height. At the western side, looking towards Callao, there is a square plateau with an elevation of about twenty-two to twenty-four feet, 95 to 96 yards north and south, east and west. At the summit it is 276 to 278 yards long, and 95 to 96 across.

On the top there are eight gradations of declivity, each from one to two yards lower than its neighbor; counting in direction lengthwise, the 1st plateau is 96 to 97 yards; 2nd plateau, 96 to 26 yards [sic]; 3rd plateau, 23 to 24 yards; 4th plateau, 11 to 12 yards; 5th plateau, 11 to 25 yards; 6th plateau, 23 to 24 yards; 7th plateau, 35 to 36 yards; 8th plateau, 35 to 37 yards; making the total of about 278 yards. For these measurements of the Huatica ruins I am indebted to the notes of J. B. Steere, Professor of Natural History and Curator of the Museum at Ann Arbor, Michigan.

The square plateau first mentioned, at the base, consists of two divisions, one six feet lower than the other, but each measuring a perfect square 47 to 48 yards; the two joining form the square of 96 yards. Beside this, and a little forward on the western side, is another square 47 to 48 yards. On the top, returning again, we find the same symmetry of measurement in the multiples of twelve, nearly all the ruins in this valley being the same, which is a fact for the curious. Was it by accident or design?

In its breadth from north to south, three levels are found. The first lower down, 17 to 18 yards wide; the second or highest summit, 59 to 60 yards across; and the third descent again, 23 to 24 yards. The mound is a truncated pyramidal form, and is calculated to contain a mass of 14,641,820 cubic feet of material. For the most part, this great work is composed of adobes, each six inches long, four inches wide, and two and a half inches thick, many having the marks of fingers on them. But this does not consist of more than one-third of the Pando huaca.

Walking down past the southern corner, where the adobes are tumbled into a conglomerate mass by some earthquake, we see skulls with bones of arms and legs, cropping up in many places. The same adobe work is visible throughout, and the whole length of these structures ranges between seven and eight hundred yards.

The “Fortress” is a huge structure, 80 feet high, 148 to 150 yards in measurement. Great large square rooms show their outlines on the top, but are filled with earth. Who brought this earth here, and with what object was the filling up accomplished? The work of obliterating all space in these rooms with loose earth must have been almost as great as the construction of the building itself.

About two miles south of the last named large fort, and in a parallel line with it as regards the sea, we find another similar structure, probably a little more spacious and with a greater number of apartments, or divisions by walls, on the top of which we can now walk, as it is likewise filled up with clay. This is called “San Miguel.” It is nearly 170 yards in length, and 168 in breadth, and 98 feet high.

The whole of these ruins, big fortress, small forts and temples, were enclosed by high walls of adobones, but all of wedge-shaped form, with the sharp edge upward. Adobones are large mud bricks, some from one to two yards in thickness, length and breadth.

The huaca of the “Bell” contains about 20,220,840 cubic feet of material, while that of “San Miguel ” has 25,650,800. These two buildings were constructed in the same style – having traces of terraces, parapets, and bastions, with a large number of rooms and squares – all now filled up with earth.

Near Lima, on the south, is another mound, 70 feet high and 153 yards square. Near the residence of Par Soldan, the Geographer of Peru, is a mound called “Sugar Loaf,” or “San Isidro,” 66 feet high, 80 yards broad at the base, and 130 yards long. Professor Raimondi, the naturalist, chemist and scientist, who is doing for Peru what Gay did for Chili, said he found nothing in it but bodies of ordinary fishermen, relics of nets, and some inferior specimens of pottery. Prof. Steere and Dr. Hutchinson turned out about forty skulls, some bits of red and yellow dyed thread, being relics of cloth; a piece of string made of woman’s hair, plaited, about the size of what is generally used for a watch guard; and pieces of very thick cotton cloth, bits of fish nets, portions of slings, and two specimens of crockery ware of excellent material.

About a mile beyond, in the direction of “Mira Flores,” is Ocharan, the largest burial mound in the Huatica valley. This mound presents, as it is approached, the appearance of an imposing and enormous structure. It has 95 feet of elevation in its highest part, with an average width of 55 yards on the summit and a total length of 428 yards, or 1,284 feet, another multiple of twelve. It is inclosed by a double wall 816 yards in length by 700 across, thus enclosing 117 acres.

Between Ocharan and the ocean are from 15 to 20 masses of ruins, like those already described.

Fifteen miles south of Lima in the valley of Lurin, and near the sea, are the ruins of Pacha Camac, the Inca temple of the sun. Like the temple of Cholula on the plains of Mexico, it is a sort of made mountain or vast terraced pyramid of earth. It is between two and three hundred feet high, and forms a semi-lunar shape, that is beyond a half mile in extent. Its top measures about ten acres square. Much of the walls are washed over with a red paint, probably ochre, and are as fresh and bright as when centuries ago it was first put on. In these walls in three or four places, are niches, apparently of the same shape and size as we see in the ruins of Pagan temples. From one side, going toward the north, are the relics of a wall, which is covered with soot, possibly the remnant of fires to make sacrifices, and nothing can better illustrate the conservative tendency of the Peruvian climate than the fresh appearance of the soot. Prescott says of Pacha Camac, that it was to the Peruvians what Mecca is to the Mahometan, and Cholula was to the Mexican.

In the Canete valley, opposite the Chincha Gaano Islands, are extensive ruins. In that region a terra-cotta mask was found similar to that of which there is a drawing in Mr. Squiers’ report of his explorations in the State of New York, and discovered while excavating for the St. Lawrence canal. From the hill called “Hill of Gold,” copper and silver pins were taken like those used by ladies to pin their shawls; also, tweezers for pulling out the hair of the eye-brows, eye-lids and whiskers, as well as silver cups. Buried 62 feet under the ground on the Chincha Islands, stone idols and water pots were found, while 35 and 33 feet below the surface were wooden idols.

Beneath the Guano on the Guanapi Islands, just south of Truxillo, and Macabi just north, mummies, birds and bird’s eggs, gold and silver ornaments were taken. On the Macabi the laborers found some large valuable golden vases, which they broke up and divided among themselves, even though offered weight for weight in gold coin, and thus have relics of greatest interest to the scientist been forever lost. He who can determine the centuries necessary to deposit thirty and sixty feet of guano on these islands, remembering that, since the conquest three hundred years ago, no appreciable increase in depth has been noted, can give you an idea of the antiquity of these relics.

The coast of Peru extends from Tumbez on the north to the river Loa on the south, a distance of 1,235 miles. Scattered here and there over this whole extent, there are thousands of ruins beside those just mentioned, and similar, only not so extensive; while nearly every hill and spur of the mountains have upon them or about them some relic of the past; and in every ravine from the coast to the central plateau, there are ruins of walls of fortresses, cities, burial vaults, and miles and miles of terraces and water courses. Across the plateau and down the eastern slope of the Andes to the home of the wild Indian, and into the unknown, impenetrable forest, still you find them.

In 1861, Mendoza, in the Argentine Republic, a beautiful city on the plain, 45 miles from the foot of the Andes, in the short space of five minutes was a complete ruin, and 15,000 out of her 20,000 inhabitants, or 75 percent, were in the arms of death. In 1871 it was still exactly as on the evening of her destruction; the miles of skeletons lying uncovered where they perished, and the streets yet obstructed with the debris of the fallen walls of the houses. A new city has been built beside the old one. Seeking a photograph of the ruins, I was told there were none. Persuading one of the artists to take some views of them, and going to see the proof, he told me he had been out all day and had done nothing, as he could find nothing to take “but a pile of dirt.” Thus, also, you might, as most do, style these coast ruins, and those who live among them understand and appreciate them no better than did the Mendoza artist the ruins of that ill-fated city.

In the mountains, however, where storms of rain and snow with terrific thunder and lightning are nearly constant a number of months each year, the ruins are different. Of granitic, porphyritic, lime and silicated sandstone, these massive, colossal, cyclopean structures have resisted the disintegration of time, geological transformations, earthquakes, and the sacrilegious, destructive hand of the warrior and treasure-seeker. The masonry composing these walls, temples, houses, towers, fortresses, or sepulchres, is uncemented, held in place by the incline of the walls from the perpendicular, and adaptation of each stone to the place destined for it, the stones having from six to many sides, each dressed, and smoothed to fit another or others, with such exactness that the blade of a small pen knife cannot be inserted in any of the seams thus formed, whether in the central parts entirely hidden, or on the internal or external surfaces. These stones, selected with no reference to uniformity in shape or size, vary from one-half cubic foot to 1,500 cubic feet solid contents, and if, in the many, many millions of stones you could find one that would fit in the place of another, it would be purely accidental.

In “Triumph street,” in the city of Cuzco, in a part of the wall of the ancient house of the virgins of the sun, is a very large stone, known as “the stone of the twelve corners,” since it joins with those that surround it, by twelve faces, each having a different angle. Beside these twelve faces it has its external one, and no one knows how many it has on its back that is hidden in the masonry. In the wall of the center of the Cuzco fortress there are stones 13 feet high, 15 feet long, and eight feet thick, and all having been quarried miles away.

Near this city there is an oblong smooth boulder 18 feet in its longer axis, and 12 in its lesser. On one side are large niches cut out, in which a man can stand, and by swaying his body cause the stone to rock. These niches apparently were made solely for this purpose.

One of the most wonderful and extensive of these works in stone, is that called Ollantay-Tambo, a ruin situated thirty miles north of Cuzco, in a narrow ravine on the bank of the river Urubamba. It consists of a fortress constructed on the top of a sloping, craggy eminence. Extending from it to the plain below, is a stone stairway. At the top of the stairway are six large slabs, twelve feet high, five feet wide, and three feet thick, side by side, having between them and on top narrow strips of stone about six inches wide, frames as it were to the slabs, and all being of dressed stone.

At the bottom of the hill, part of which was made by hand, and at the foot of the stairs, a stone wall ten feet wide and twelve feet high extends some distance into the plain. In it are many niches, all facing the south.

The ruins on the islands in Lake Titicaca, where Incal history begins, have often been described. At Tiahuanaco, a few miles south of the lake, there are stones in the form of columns, partly dressed, placed in line at certain distances from each other, and having an elevation above the ground of from eighteen to twenty feet. In this same line there is a monolithic doorway, now broken, ten feet high by thirteen wide. The space cut out for the door is seven feet four inches high, by three feet two inches wide. The whole face of the stone above the door is engraved. Another, similar, but smaller, lies on the ground beside it. These stones are of hard porphyry, and differ geologically from the surrounding rock, hence, we infer they must have been brought from elsewhere.

At “Chavin de Huanca,” a town in the province of Huari, there are some ruins worthy of note. Entrance to them is by an alley-way six feet wide and nine feet high, roofed over with sand-stone partly dressed, of more than twelve feet in length. On each side there are rooms twelve feet wide, roofed by large pieces of sandstone one and a half feet thick and from six to nine feet wide. The walls of the rooms are six feet thick, and have some loop-holes in them, probably for ventilation. In the floor of this passage there is a very narrow entrance to a subterranean passage that passes beneath the river to the other side. From this many huacos, stone drinking vessels, instruments of copper and silver, and a skeleton of an Indian sitting, were taken. The greater part of these ruins are situated over aqueducts. The bridge to these castles is made of three stones of dressed granite, twenty-four feet long, two feet wide by one and a half thick. Some of the granite stones are covered with hieroglyphics.

At Corralones, twenty-four miles from Arequipa, there are hieroglyphics engraved on masses of granite, which appear as if painted with chalk. There are figures of men, llamas, circles, parallelograms, letters, as an R and an O and even remains of a system of astronomy. At Huaytar, in the Province of Castro Virreina, there is an edifice with the same engravings.

At Nazca, in the Province of Ica, there are some wonderful ruins of aqueducts, four to five feet high and three feet wide, very straight, double walled, of unfinished stone, flagged on top.

At Quelap, not far from Chochapayas, there have lately been examined some extensive works. A wall of dressed stone 560 feet wide, 3,660 long, and 150 feet high. The lower part is solid. Another wall above this has 600 feet length, 500 width, and the same elevation of 150 feet. There are niches over both walls, three feet long, one and a half wide and thick, containing the remains of those ancient inhabitants, some naked, others enveloped in shawls of cotton of distinct colors, and well embroidered. Their legs were doubled so that the knees touched the chin, and the arms were wound about the legs.

The wall has three uncovered doors, the right side of each being semicircular, and the left angular. From the base an inclined plane ascends almost insensibly the 150 feet of elevation, having about mid-way a species of sentry box in stone. In the upper part there is an ingenious hiding place of dressed stone, having upon it a place for an outlook from which a great portion of the Province can be seen. Following the entrances of the second and highest wall, there are other sepulchres like small ovens, six feet high and twenty-four in circumference, in their base are flags, upon which some cadavers reposed.

On the north side there is, on the perpendicular rocky side of the mountain, a brick wall, having small windows 600 feet from the bottom. No reason for this, nor means of approach, can now be found. The skillful construction of utensils of gold and silver that were found here, the ingenuity and solidity of this gigantic work of dressed stone, make it, also, probably pre-Incal date.

To support the inhabitants, it became necessary to cultivate every part of the land possible, and since the greater portion is mountainous, they could make no use of that land except by such means as they adopted, i.e., by terraces. Along the side, at the base of a hill or mountain, a stone wall is laid from one to eight feet high, according to the slope, and earth filled in between it and the side of the mountain, till even with the wall. Having this level for a base, another wall is laid, and again earth tilled in, and so on, tier above tier, as high as the place will permit. These are terraces.

The summits of the mountains are saturated with water from the melting snow or winter rains. This, forming little streams, is guided over these terraces. Each terrace is divided into patches by making a little ridge of earth a few inches high all around them, enclosing places two feet by six, or eight feet by ten, and so on according to the size of the terrace. The top terrace is first flooded, the ridge of earth serving as a dam. When it is considered wet enough, a channel is made by taking out a part of the ridge (with the hand or a little paddle about the size of a pancake turner) permitting the water to escape to the part below, flowing over the wall to the next terrace, which is similarly treated.

But there are thousands of terraces where the mountains and hills are so low and near the rainless portion that snow never, and rain, very seldom, moistens their summits, and where no one could expect water for irrigation unless carried there by hand. Starvation alone would compel people to undertake so fatiguing and laborious a work, especially in a country where the evenness of the climate tends to relax the energy of both mind and body.

Estimating five hundred ravines in the twelve hundred miles of Peru, and ten miles of terraces of fifty tiers to each ravine, which would only be five miles of twenty-five tiers to each side, we have 250,000 miles of stone wall, averaging three to four feet high – enough to encircle this globe ten times. Surprising as these estimates may seem, I am fully convinced that an actual measurement would more than double them, for these ravines vary from thirty to one hundred miles in length, and ten miles to each is a low estimate.

While at San Mateo, a town in the valley of the river Rimac, seventy-seven miles from the coast, where the mountains rise to a height of fifteen hundred or two thousand feet above the river bed, I counted two hundred tiers, none of which were less than four and many more than six miles long. Even at four miles, there would be at that point alone eight hundred miles of stone wall, and that only on one side of the ravine.

Who, then, were these people, cutting through sixty miles of granite, transporting blocks of hard porphyry, of Baalbic dimensions, miles from the place where quarried, across valleys thousands of feet deep, over mountains, along plains, leaving no trace of how or where they carried them; people ignorant of the use of iron, with the feeble llama their only beast of burden; who, after having brought these stones together and dressed them, fitted them into walls with mosaic precision; terracing thousands of miles of mountain side; building hills of adobes and earth, and huge cities; leaving works in clay, stone, copper, silver, gold and embroidery, many of which cannot be duplicated at the present age; people apparently vying with Dives in riches, Hercules in strength and energy and the ant and bee in industry?

Callao was submerged in 1746 and entirely destroyed. Lima was ruined in 1678, in 1746 only twenty houses out of three thousand were left standing – and again injured in 1764, 1822 and 1828, while the ancient cities in the Huatica and Lurin valleys still remain in a comparatively good state of preservation. San Miguel de Piura, founded by Pizarro in 1531, was entirely destroyed in 1855, while the old ruins near by suffered little. Arequipa was thrown down in August, 1868, but the ruins near show no change.

Spanish writers refer all to Incal make, but Incal history only dates back to the eleventh century, and from that time to the Conquest is insufficient, nor do they speak of many of these works. It is granted that the Temple of the Sun, at Cuzco, was of Incal make, but that is the latest of the five styles of architecture visible in the Andes, each probably representing an age of human progress; therefore we are pretty certain that the imperial glories of the Incas were but the last gleam of civilization that mounted up to thousands of years; that long before Manco Capac, the Andes had been the dwelling place of races whose beginnings must have been coeval with the savages of Western Europe.

The gigantic architecture points to the Cyclopean family, the founders of the Temple of Babel and the Egyptian Pyramids. The Grecian scroll found in many places, borrowed from the Egyptians; the mode of burial and embalming their dead, points to Egypt as their similar, while the distaff, plow, manner of threshing and of making brick the same as when the Israelites were captives.

The hieroglyphics, to none of which as yet a key has been found, cannot be referred to the Incas, since they apparently had no knowledge of characters, but kept their records and accounts by means of a quippus, or knots and different colored threads, as did those in Asia, China, Mexico and Canada, in ancient times, and they kept in each city an official whose business it was to keep and decipher their quippus. It was made of twisted wool, and consisted of a thread or thick string, from one to eighteen feet long, as a base upon which other threads or strings were attached. The different colors had different significations: the red, soldier or warrior; the yellow, gold; the white, silver or peace; the green, wheat or corn, and so on. In numerals, one knot signified ten; two simple knots, twenty; the knot doubly interlaced, one hundred; trebly interlaced, one thousand; two interlacings of this latter, two thousand.

By setting apart a quippus for the military, another for laws and decrees, another for historic events – i.e., a separate quippus for distinct classes of ideas – the same knots could be used many times over, but to read them one must know to which class they belonged. Certain signs were affixed to the beginning of each “mother-thread,” as the base or principal string was called, by which the official could distinguish each; however, should an official visit another locality, these signs had to be explained verbally, also the signs representing local events, names of rivers, mountains, ships, cities, etc. Hence, a quippus was only intelligible, for the most part, in the place it was kept.

Many quippus have been taken from the graves, in excellent state of preservation in color and texture, but the lips that alone could pronounce the verbal key have forever ceased their function, and the relic seeker has failed to note the exact spot each was found, so that the records which could tell so much we want to know, will remain sealed till all is revealed at the last day.

The skulls taken from the burial-grounds, according to craniologists, represent three distinct races. The first, to which the name “Chinchas” has been given, occupied the western part of Peru from the Andes to the Pacific, and from Tunebez on the north to the desert of Atacama on the south. The second, called “Aymaras,” dwelt in the elevated plains of Peru and Bolivia, on the southern shore of lake Titicaca, where they reside even to this day, being the only race that did not give up their language for the Inichua, or language of the Incas, when conquered by them. The third, called “Huancas,” occupied the plateau between the chains of Andes north of lake Titicaca to the 9th degree of south latitude.

This race were supposed to have caused the peculiar shape of their heads by mechanical means, as the Flat head Indians with us, and the Combos, a tribe that now live on the banks of the Ucayali near Sarayacu, but the taking from a mummy of a foetus of seven or eight months having the same configuration of the skull, has placed a doubt as to the certainty of this fact.

How changed! How fallen from their greatness must have been the Incas when a little band of 160 men could penetrate uninjured to their mountain homes, murder their worshiped kings and thousands of their warriors, and carry away their riches, and that, too, in a country where a few men with stones could resist successfully an army! Who could recognize in the present Inichua and Aymara Indians their noble ancestry?

Their songs are typical of their condition, and are called “tristes,” or sad songs. Always a duet in a minor key, and at night as you hear it, it seems rather the expiring wail of some lost spirit than a human voice. It begins with a full inspiration of the lungs and at the highest pitch of the voice, and ends with the expiration of the breath in a low, long drawn out “andante pianissimo.” The words are chanted and often made up for the occasion.

These are the words heard by a traveler from the lips of a young Indian mother, in the wild recesses of the Andes:

“My mother begat me amid rain and mist, To weep like the rain and be drifted like the clouds. You are born in the cradle of sorrow, Says my mother; and she weeps as she wraps me around.

“If I wander the wide world over, I could not meet my equal in misery. Accursed be the day of my birth, Accursed be the night I was born, From this time, for ever and ever!”

Three times the Andes sank hundreds of feet beneath the ocean level, and again were slowly brought to their present height. A man’s life would be too short to count even the centuries consumed in this operation. The coast of Peru has risen eighty feet since it felt the tread of Pizarro. Supposing the Andes to have risen uniformly and without interruption, seventy thousand years must have elapsed before they reached their present attitude.

Who knows, then, but that Jules Verne’s fanciful idea regarding the lost continent Atlanta may be near the truth? Who can say that where now is the Atlantic ocean, formerly did not exist a continent, with its dense population, advanced in the arts and sciences, who, as they found their land sinking beneath the waters, retired, part east and part west, populating thus the two new hemispheres? This would explain the similarity of their archaeological structures and races and their differences, modified by and adapted to the character of their respective climates and countries. Thus could the llama and camel differ, although of the same species; thus the algoraba and espino trees; thus the Iroquois Indians of North America and the most ancient Arabs call the constellation of the “Great Bear” by the same name: thus various nations, cut off from all intercourse or knowledge of each other, divide the Zodiac in twelve constellations, apply to them the same names, and the northern Hindoos apply the name Andes to their Himalayan mountains, as did the South Americans to their principal chain.

Must we fall in the old rut and suppose no other means of populating the Western Hemisphere except “by way of Behring’s strait?” Must we still locate a geographical Eden in the East, and suppose a land equally adapted to man and as old geologically, must wait the aimless wanderings of the “lost tribe of Israel” to become populated?

Beside dead and speechless relics of the past, there exists a living antiquity. In 7′ south latitude, a couple of miles from the sea, there is a town of about 4,000 inhabitants called Eten. They speak, besides the Spanish, a language that some of the recently brought over Chinese laborers understand, but differ in all other respects. They intermarry brothers and sisters, uncles and nieces, nephews and aunts, i.e. promiscuously, with no apparent curse of consanguinity. They are exclusive, permitting no intermarriage into their number or with the outside world. They have laws and customs and dress of their own, and live by braiding hats, mats, and weaving cloths. They will give no account of when they came or from whence, nor does history mention them as existing before the Spaniards came, nor does it record their arrival since.

Among them you will find no sick or deformed people, their custom being to send a committee to each sick or old person, and if they judge the patient past recovery or the aged past usefulness, the public executioner is sent and they are strangled. Eten orders it, they say, and none ever interfere with these orders.

Thirteen thousand years ago, Vega, or a. Lyrae, was the north polar star. Since then how many changes has she seen in our planet? How many nations and races spring into life, rise to their zenith splendor and then decay; and when we shall have been gone thirteen thousand years, and once more she resumes her post at the north, completing a “Platonic, or Great Year,” think you that those who shall fill our places on the earth at that time will be more conversant with our history than we are of those that have passed? Verily might we exclaim in terms almost Psalmistic, Great God, Creator and Director of the Universe, – what is man that Thou art mindful of him!