Built of Mud

Built of Mud

By A. Hyatt Verrill

Scientific American, August 1930; researched by Alan Schenker; digitized by Doug Frizzle, March 2012.

WHEN we think of a mud house we usually visualize a mere hut or shanty, but in many portions of the world, mud, or adobe, is the principal building material. In the Orient, in sections of Europe, and particularly in Spanish America, buildings of adobe construction are the rule rather than the exception. Quite pretentious houses and other edifices are built of mud and, when stuccoed, whitewashed, or gaily painted, give no hint of the material of which they are composed.

In no other part of the world, however, has adobe construction reached such a state of development and attained to such heights as in Peru. Long ages before the Spaniards first set foot on Peruvian soil, the Incans and the pre-Incan tribes had learned the use of mud as a building material. Enormous walls, great mounds, countless dwellings, vast temples, and massive forts were built of the sun-dried mud bricks and blocks, and many of these still remain, little altered by time and the elements.

THE Dons followed their example and used the cheap and easily obtainable adobe in erecting their buildings. Their palaces, forts, homes, and churches were made entirely of adobe mud, and through the centuries these have endured and remain today as imposing and as beautiful as in the days of Pizarro.

It was left to the modern inhabitants of Peru, however, to carry mud adobe construction to the nth degree and literally to glorify mud. In and about the capital, Lima, is this particularly true. Of course, today, many of the business buildings, as well as residences, are of concrete or brick, but adobe still holds its own, and by far the greater number of Lima's homes, as well as a large proportion of its larger edifices, are entirely of mud.

In the days of the Conquistadors, the adobe bricks were merely piled one upon another to form the building walls, but today the usual method is to erect a light wooden framework and build the adobe upon this. In some cases metal frameworks have been used in connection with adobe. This method was employed in erecting the beautiful Rimac Building, perhaps the most elaborate mud building in the world. On the other hand, the world's largest mud building, the old Lima Cathedral, is built of adobe blocks without reinforcement of any kind.

Apparently there are no limits to what may be accomplished with mud in Peru. There are charming, one-storied bungalows with wide verandas, Moorish palaces, imposing colonial mansions, Elizabethan cottages, Spanish mission homes, and even turreted castles, all built of the same sun-dried mud dug from the land on which the edifice is built. So great is the demand for adobe that everywhere, round and about Lima, one sees endless piles and high walls of the mud bricks. At first one thinks these merely boundary walls between properties, but it will be noticed that in nearly every case these walls are marked: "Este pared no es medianera"—"This wall is not a boundary."

Also, wherever there is available mud, one will see the natives industriously engaged in making adobe bricks.

The mud, dug from any convenient spot, is mixed with sand and usually with some chopped straw or dried manure. The resultant pasty mass is then pressed into wooden forms or frames. The shaped blocks are then removed and placed in the sun to dry and in a day or two are ready to use.

Brick making is a most economical and inexpensive business for a man of limited means, or of no means at all. Provided he can secure permission to make use of the land, or a portion of its surface, for brick making—usually an easy matter, for the rental is taken out in completed bricks —the penniless brick-maker needs little more than his bare hands. With his wife and children, and all his worldly goods—which usually amount to nothing more than a few battered tins, and some hand-made stools— he camps upon the selected site. An ancient kerosene tin of water and a dilapidated shovel are produced. The dry earth is trod, dug, stirred, and worked into a thick paste; then some dry manure, gathered anywhere along the road, is added, and with all members of the little family helping, the bricks begin to take form. As soon as they dry they are piled in tiers.

In a few days the brick-maker and his family are surrounded by brick walls and are living quite comfortably and snugly in a little cavity left purposely for their accommodation. Here they remain as long as bricks can be made and sold on the land. And when an adobe building is in process of erection, the laborers invariably dwell within recesses in the piles of accumulated bricks—thus saving house rent—and tramp back and forth to their work.

WHEREVER a Cholo can find a mud-brick wall and employment, is "Home Sweet Home" to him, and often one may find a dozen or more families all dwelling in perfect contentment in their burrows in the piles of bricks where building is in progress.

In a damp or rainy climate, these dried mud-bricks would, of course, be worse than useless; and, should Lima be subjected to a few days of really heavy rains, most of the city and its suburbs would be reduced to the original, elemental mud. Several times within the past few years, various portions of Peru have been visited by unprecedented rains during the winter months, and great has been the havoc wrought. Around and about Trujillo, houses and churches melted like snow exposed to sunshine, and even the prehistoric ruins of the Chimu city of Chan Chan, which has stood unaltered for countless centuries, slumped and dissolved.

To protect buildings from the drip from the eaves, practically all modern adobe buildings have several feet of the wall covered with concrete, while others have the lower portions of the walls built of stone, or stone and concrete. Even the old cathedral, which is not only the largest but one of the finest adobe buildings in the world, has been safeguarded with a concrete coating about the base of its walls.

Originally, too, the adobe buildings were all very much alike. They were massive, thick-walled, square, and usually of moderate height, were typically Spanish with iron-grilled windows, out-jutting carved cedar miradors, immense iron-studded and elaborately carved doors, and open patios. But with the modern improvements in adobe constructive methods, architecture appears to have run wild, and there is scarcely a type or style of buildings known to any part of the world the counterpart of which cannot be seen in or about the Peruvian capital.

Apparently the average Peruvian never has a definite plan in view when he starts building a house. He may start with a Spanish colonial form and by the time the first story is complete, he decides that the English style is better. He then adds a second story with exposed timbers, leaded glass windows, and stucco walls. Then to the steeply-pitched roof, he adds Spanish tiles, and among the chimney-pots erects a cupola where he can loll away many a hot evening.

HIS front door may be a graceful Moorish arch, but to put a finishing touch to the whole he adds the lofty pillars and severe portico of some Virginia mansion, and builds a porte cochere in Japanese style. But with all his architectural failings, he loves color, and so paints his home in brilliant ultramarine, rose-pink, canary-yellow, or a combination of all. And, strange as it may seem, these architectural monstrosities do not strike a discordant note in the scheme of things. Surrounded by glorious flower gardens and magnificent pines and luxuriant palms, their bright hues are delightful, and one forgets their faults in admiration of the masses of roses and geraniums which clamber over walls and droop from the eaves.

And there are countless dwellings which are as charming and as perfect in their architectural features as one could wish.

Truly, the Peruvians have glorified mud, and by the same token, they have attained the utmost in building economy, for what could be more economical than to build one's home from the crude material dug from the land when excavating foundations or grading one's garden?

Mining for Mummies

This may be the last article to be added to the Verrill archives that refers to Peru so it is important to note that the author makes mention of Julio Tello in several of his other writings. Tello is known as ‘the father of Peruvian archeology’ and is mentioned in Verrill’s autobiography. Tello was world renown for his research on mummies.

There were two images with this newspaper article but they did not reproduce well so I have substituted with a modern image./drf

Mining For Mummies

by A. Hyatt Verrill

The Washington Post; Jul 13, 1930; researched by Alan Schenker, digitized by Doug Frizzle, Nov 2011.

Peru's Prehistoric Ruins and Burial Places Teem With Treasure for Archeologists as Well as Gold-Diggers.

EVER since the days of the Spanish conquest mining for mummies has been a steady and lucrative industry in Peru. Not that the mummies are desirable or valuable, but because the Incas and pre-Incas—ancient prehistoric peoples of Peru—interred ornaments, weapons, utensils and implements with their dead, and many of these articles were of gold or silver.

How many tens of thousands of mummies were disinterred by the Spaniards never will be known, for they were searching only for precious metals and stones and destroyed all else. Neither will it ever be known how much treasure they recovered, but the total amount must have been stupendous. According to the old law, one-fifth of all such treasure belonged to the Spanish crown— the king's quinta, as it was called —but unquestionably the Spanish mummy miners paid no more attention to the laws than do their descendants of today and rarely rendered an account of what they found. Yet, despite this, we know from old records in Peru that from 1566 to 1592 over $400,000 in gold and silver obtained from mummies was paid into the king's quinta in one town. In other words, the mummy miners of the vicinity admitted having been successful to the extent of over $2,000,000. Moreover, this was all obtained from one burial mound, the Huaca de Toledo, and only from a portion of the great mound at that. And everywhere throughout the country men were mining for mummies in every cemetery and ruin they could find.

Not every mummy or every grave, of course, contained gold or silver. In fact, not one out of 60 or more mummies is accompanied with precious metal, and countless thousands of mummies must have been destroyed during the early days. In this connection it is of interest to note that despite the fact that although the Incans—and doubtless the pre-Incans as well—possessed incredible numbers of precious stones, yet so far as is known no true gem ever has been found with a mummy in Peru. That the Incans had gems can not be doubted, for not only did the Spaniards bear testimony to this but many of the finest gems they took from the Peruvians were sent to Spain, so that even if the conquerors had mistaken semiprecious stones for true gems experts in Spain would have discovered the fact. Emeralds, rubies, diamonds, sapphires, topazes—all are described by the conquerors. Why then have none of these been found in the graves and tombs? Did the Dons make such a clean sweep that none was left? Hardly. The only solution would seem to be that for some unknown reason, perhaps superstition, gems were never buried but were handed down through generations, perhaps as sacred objects or talismans.

In addition to the countless mummies that have been dug up by the professional treasure-hunters who have been at work for the past 400 years, thousands of bodies have been disinterred by archeologists, curio-seekers and others and thousands more have been destroyed in the course of cultivating land and in carrying on private and public works. One would think that long ago the supply of mummies would have been exhausted. But so vast is the number of dead buried in Peru that despite all those that have been disinterred practically no impression has been made upon the general supply.

There is no more striking evidence of the immeasurable time that Peru must have been inhabited, and the incredible numbers of its ancient population, than the number of burial places. No one would venture even to estimate the number of mummies that were buried or that yet remain. From the borders of Ecuador to the Chilean boundary and beyond, and from the Pacific Coast to far beyond the Andes, there is scarcely a square mile that does not have its graves, its mounds, its cemeteries. Many of the necropolises cover hundreds of acres; many of the burial mounds are mountain-like; and in ancient ruined cities mummies by thousands fill the earth between and beneath the crumbling buildings and one-time streets.

Often the burial mounds appear more like natural hills than the work of humans. The Huaca Juliana, within the suburb of Miraflores, near Lima, is nearly half a mile in length, nearly one-fourth of a mile in width and rises to a height of more than 100 feet, and this is but one of dozens of equally large mounds in the vicinity. At Pachacamac, the ancient holy city, also close to Peru's capital, practically every available foot of earth is filled with relics of the dead. Here for many centuries digging has been carried on unceasingly. Much of the city appears like a battlefield exposed to shell fire.

Everywhere are pits, holes, trenches, craters, piles of sand and stone littered with human skulls and bones, wisps of human hair, shriveled hands and feet, broken, pottery, fragments of textiles, splintered wooden utensils, remains of gourds and baskets, and the cotton, rope and basket-work mummy-wrappings. In many spots the skulls cast aside by the diggers form veritable piles, and in other places one can not walk without trampling on human bones. The once magnificent Temple of Pachacamac, that covers a high artificial hill, and that in the Incan days contained the vast treasure that more than anything else lured Pizarro to Peru, has been specially exposed to desecration. Nothing is sacred to the professional mummy miner, and in their search for treasure these vandals have cut great breaches in the massive stone and adobe walls, have ruthlessly undermined the structure and have destroyed a large portion of what was once the most magnificent of prehistoric temples in Peru. And yet even at Pachacamac there are as many bodies remaining as have been disinterred. One scarcely can dig anywhere at Pachacamac without exposing one or more mummies, and the same is practically true of every ancient necropolis and city in Peru.

The new developments about Lima are surrounded by burial mounds and the homes of the suburbanites are erected over prehistoric graveyards. It is not unusual to see a modern residence with scattered skulls, bones, scalps and mummy wrapplings within a few yards of the front door, and in cultivating flower gardens the residents are as likely to turn up mummies as stones. Probably there is no other country on earth where the inhabitants—both natives and foreigners—so dwell amid countless dead, but no one appears to give it a thought. Perhaps they do not look upon the bodies and bones of men and women over a thousand years old in the same light as they would regard the remains of humans more recently dead.

Even to guess the number of graves in a small section of the burial places is impossible. Oftentimes the graves are in layers four, five or more deep, one ancient race having interred its dead above the remains of its predecessors. But it is certain that, on the coastal plains alone, millions of mummies still remain. Although vast numbers were buried in the loose desert sand and, more interred in bottle-shaped, stone-lined graves, probably twice as many were placed in immense burial mounds. These mounds testify at once to the dense prehistoric population of Peru and to the inhabitants' industry.

Although outwardly they appear like steep-sided hills of sand and loose stones, upon close examination one discovers that they are carefully fortified with adobe bricks. Even in the smaller mounds millions of these bricks were employed, and one's imagination is staggered at thought of the thousands of millions of bricks that must have been used in the construction of some of the really immense mounds. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of men must have been employed for years erecting these miniature mountains, and, while the bricks upon the surface have reverted to their original constituents of dry, mud and pebbles, those beneath are still in perfect condition, and in many places are mined for use in modern buildings.

When the Avenida Progreso, connecting Lima and Calao, was built it was cut through one end of one of these enormous mounds, and the steam shovels ruthlessly destroyed graves, mummies and archaeological treasures. For months the roadside was littered with fragments of bodies and wrappings and yet the portion thus demolished was not one five-hundredth of the entire mound.

Despite all this, despite the hundreds of thousands of specimens of textiles, pottery, mummies and other artifacts in the various museums of the world, the surface—scientifically speaking—has scarcely been scratched. We know really very little of the ancient Peruvian races. We are wholly ignorant of the culture of many ancient races who antedated the Incans, and there are countless unsolved puzzles regarding the Incans, the most recent of all Peruvian civilizations. Great stone cities exist that have never been studied nor excavated, there are vast cemeteries that no archaeologist has seen. The origin, the history, the chronology of the ancient Peruvians all remain shrouded in mystery.

Mummy Mining in Peru

Mummy Mining in Peru

By A. Hyatt Verrill

ART AND ARCHAEOLOGY Volume 29, April 1930

Researched by Alan Schenker; digitized by Doug Frizzle, October 2011.

EVER since the days of the Spanish conquest, mining mummies has been a more or less lucrative industry in Peru. Not that the mummies were desirable or valuable, but because the Incans and pre-Incans interred ornaments, weapons, utensils and implements with their dead, and some of these were of gold or silver. How many tens of thousands of mummies were thus destroyed no one can guess. In addition to the countless mummies dug up by the professional huaqueros, as they are called, thousands of bodies have been disinterred by archaeologists, curio-seekers and others, while thousands more have been destroyed in the course of constructing railways and roads, digging irrigation-ditches, cultivating land and carrying on various public and private works.

One would think that, years ago, the supply of mummies would have been exhausted. But so vast was the number of dead buried in Peru that, despite all that have been disinterred, practically no impression has been made, and what is more, scientists are continually finding mummies and remains of hitherto unknown people and cultures. No one would dare estimate the number of mummies that were buried or that yet remain even in a small area of the country. From Ecuador to Chile and from the coast to beyond the Andes there is scarcely a square mile without its cemeteries, its mounds or its ruins filled with dead. Many cemeteries cover hundreds of acres; many burial-mounds are stupendous, and in many ruined cities every available bit of ground is filled with mummies. The Huaca Juliana, just outside of Lima—nearly half a mile in length, nearly quarter of a mile wide and over one hundred feet in height— is made up of countless brick cubicles containing mummies, and this is but one of dozens of equally huge burial-mounds in the vicinity. The new urbanization developments about Lima are surrounded by burial-mounds; one of the new highways cuts through the centre of an immense mound filled with mummies, and the homes of the suburbanites are erected over ancient graveyards. It is not unusual to see a modern residence with scattered skulls, scalps, mummy-wrappings and bones within a few feet of the front door, and in cultivating their flower gardens the residents are as likely to turn up skulls as stones. I doubt if there is another country on earth where the inhabitants dwell happily and contentedly in the midst of countless dead; but no one gives the matter a thought, or possibly the people do not regard bodies and bones of men and women a thousand or more years old in the same way as they would regard cadavers of people who had died and been buried recently.

Obviously the majority of the mummies are those of poor and humble peasants, for as a rule the mummy-bundles contain very little of value or interest. Stone, shell or clay ornaments, an occasional stone implement, gourds filled with corn, peanuts or other food; baskets of needles, thread and weaving implements, pouches filled with cotton-seeds, llama-hair slings and cotton spindles are the usual objects found, together with pieces of pottery and various kinds of cloth. But if one is fortunate enough to disinter the mummy of a chief, priest or medicine-man a wonderful collection of archaeological treasures may result. At times they are found with elaborate headdresses of feathers; there is usually a mask or false-face of painted inlaid wood or even of silver or gold; there may be bows and arrows, ceremonial staffs, spears with bronze tips, atlatls or spear-throwing-sticks and ornaments of silver and gold. From one grave I obtained a magnificent bronze battle-axe with handle complete, a most effective weapon still capable of slicing a man's head from his shoulders or cleaving his skull; the star-headed maces of stone or bronze, as well as bundles of quipos or message-strings are quite common. In case the mummy is that of a woman there will be work-baskets, looms—often with partly woven textiles upon them— carded and dyed yarn and sometimes gowns and shawls of the most delicate and beautiful lace, all so perfectly preserved that they might have been buried only yesterday instead of thousands of years ago.

In most of the coastal districts—especially in the Rimac Valley—I should say not one in five hundred mummies is accompanied by any objects of intrinsic value, and that not one in a hundred has anything unusual in the line of textiles, pottery, feather-work or utensils. Yet in other parts of Peru the proportion of richly-decorated mummies is very large, and in a few localities they preponderate, while in only one known district are all, so far discovered, of this type.

Despite all the archaeological work that has been done in Peru during many decades we really know little of the ancient cultures. No one positively can say whether they all had a common origin or whether they were distinct and each race developed its independent culture. No one can assert with certainty which is the most ancient. Even the origin and history of the Incas—the most recent of all Peruvian cultures—are shrouded in mystery and uncertainty. All we do know is that in many places one culture is superimposed on another, and by the stratification of the remains we can determine the chronological order in which they were developed. Constantly we are greeted by the most amazing surprises, the most astonishing discoveries that often—I might say usually—result in adding to the mysteries and puzzles we are trying to solve.

This was the case in the Nasca district of southern Peru. Probably no other ancient Peruvian culture was— or was supposed to be—so well known as that of the Nascans. Practically every museum and private collection in the world contains specimens of Nascan ceramics, textiles and feather-work. Of all known aboriginal American pottery the Nascan holds first place for its beauty and perfection. Of equal beauty and perfection are the Nascan textiles and feather-work, and as a rule these are perfectly preserved with colors as fresh as when first made. This is due mainly to the fact that the Nascans buried their dead in genuine tombs instead of in graves. Each body—when of a prominent personage—was wrapped in cloths and swathed in textile until a bundle several times the size of the body was formed. This was then arrayed in the finest of robes, ponchos, belts and textiles, adorned with silver or gold ornaments, and was provided with a mask and false head covered with human hair. It was then crowned with a gorgeous feather headdress, and the whole was enclosed in a cocoon-like wrapping of coarse cloth.

Opening a Nascan tomb is very different from digging up a mummy in a desert or a mound. Fragments of shards, bones and rubbish mark the burial-places, and the tombs are indicated by the tops of vertical posts. Below the loose superficial sand and pebbles is a small platform of sticks under which is more gravel. When this has been removed for a depth of several feet a strong structure of timbers covered with stones is revealed. This is the roof of the tomb, a large square room walled with stone and adobe, and often as large as a good-sized hut. Placed upon the floor are pots, ollas and vessels of the beautiful Nascan ware, and in the corners, resting backs to walls, are the huge shapeless bundles each containing a mummy.

Owing to the beauty of the Nascan objects and to the abundance of precious metals in the tombs, more systematic mummy-mining has been done in the Nascan area than in any other portion of Peru, for Nascan specimens always find a ready sale and professional huaqueros have always been able to turn an honest penny by disposing of the textiles and ceramics, even when no gold or silver rewarded them.

Yet despite this, despite the fact that practically every archaeologist who has ever visited Peru has had a fling at mummy-mining at Nasca, and despite the fact that all agree the culture was unique, that it was confined to a limited area and that no other culture (other than the late Incan) occurred near Nasca, recent discoveries have completely upset all these ideas and have proved that not only was there a pre-Nascan culture, but a pre-pre-Nascan culture totally distinct from the true Nascan.

These discoveries, made by Dr. Julio Tello of the Lima Archaeological Museum, bear out what I have said regarding the ever-present chances of making epochal discoveries, even in the best known districts of Peru.

Not only were the tombs of the pre-Nascans distinct from those of the Nascans, being cylindrical instead of rectangular, but the textiles, the pottery and the mummies were very different. As many of the Nascan burials were above the others there is no question that the Nascans were the more recent. To what extent the latter were influenced by their predecessors it is impossible to say. In some respects there is a similarity in design, in colors and in motifs, both in the textiles and ceramics, yet they are always distinct and easily recognized. No Nascan pottery can compare with that of the pre-Nascan. In one spot countless thousands of potsherds were found—fragments of vessels wantonly destroyed by the Spaniards. These were collected and when, with infinite labor, they were pieced together, they formed jars and bowls several feet in height, often two inches or more in thickness and completely covered, often inside as well as outside, with most intricate and beautiful designs in the colors for which Nascan ware is famed. Even more remarkable and unique were the pottery figures of llamas, two feet or more in height, beautifully modelled and colored and forming hollow vessels the openings to which were in the form of elaborately decorated cup-like vessels upon the animals' backs.

But Dr. Tello was destined to make an even more amazing discovery. In another spot—though still within the Nascan area—indications of burials were found, and excavations brought to light mummies such as no one ever had seen or imagined. Unlike those of the Nascans, these of Parakas were not in tombs, not even in true graves, but had been placed—as many as forty or fifty together—in huge pits or caverns and covered with sand. As the material was removed the mummies appeared more like conical, dun-colored tents than mummy-bundles for they were pyramidal in form and often six feet in height by six feet in diameter at the base, and bore no resemblance to human forms. They were so huge, so bulky and so heavy that several men were required to lift or move them, and even the smallest were larger than any Nascan mummy-bundles. In the open air they could not safely be opened, but glimpses of their contents, exposed through rents in the outer wrappings, revealed textiles of such beauty that even the most staid scientist might have been pardoned had he executed an impromptu dance and yelled with delight.

Aside from these great mummy-bundles there were specimens of pottery as unique as the mummies. Many were ornately decorated with incised designs combined with colors, others were painted in bright yellow, green and blue with some pigment that gave the effect of oil colors; others were in the forms of fruits, vegetables, birds and animals, but all were of a type unlike anything hitherto known.

That these remains were extremely ancient was proved by representations of llamas with five toes instead of two as in the living species, and skeletons of five-toed llamas were found interred in the graves. Whether these people lived so long ago that llamas still retained five toes, or whether these llamas were a special breed is undetermined. But at the lowest possible estimate the Parakas remains are at least two thousand five hundred to three thousand years of age.

It was not until the mummy-bundles were unwrapped in the museum at Lima that anyone realized fully their tremendous archaeological value, the treasures they contained or the epochal discovery that had been made. As Dr. Tello so aptly expressed it: every bundle was a little museum in itself. And with each section of wrappings removed our wonder and amazement increased. No two were alike in contents, and unwrapping them was like undoing a Christmas package or a game of archaeological grab-bag. It was impossible to foretell what might be within the wrappings, for neither the size nor the external appearance of a bundle afforded any guide as to its contents, and very often the largest bundles held less than the small ones.

Moreover, instead of having the textiles, weapons, ornaments and other objects all together, as is the case with other Peruvian mummies, these from Parakas are covered with a series—strata might better express it—of alternate wrappings and magnificent textiles together with the possessions of the deceased. There is no definite number of these wrappings—they vary from six to sixty or more—and as one never knows what the removal of the next wrapping may expose, the unwrapping of a Parakas mummy is downright thrilling—at least to an archaeologist.

As a rule when the outermost covering of rough white cotton cloth is removed, the bundle is found completely shrouded in immense, gorgeously-colored magnificently-fringed robes of fine woolen cloth. These are usually red and black—though sometimes of gray viscacha hair—woven with elaborate checks, stripes or squares, and almost completely covered with symbolic and highly conventionalized designs in yellow, blue and green heavily embroidered upon the surface. Covering the upper portion of the bundle is a short tunic or poncho of brilliant colors, while above this is an elaborate headdress of fox skin or other material and feathers. Often a collar or necklace of shells, stone beads or gold may be below this.

Carefully removing the textiles, the head-covering, the tunic and the robes, a second, a third and sometimes as many as twenty of the great embroidered shawls are revealed. Tucked among their folds are feather-fans, feather-wands, stone-headed maces, wooden ceremonial sceptres, ornaments of gold, carved-stones, turquoise and shell.

This, however, is only the beginning. Under the last immense robe appears a second shroud of white or brown cloth tied securely at the top to form a false neck and head which is covered with a square of cloth, usually blue or brown. Unlacing the twine with which the shroud is held in place, and stripping off the wrapping, another layer of brilliantly-colored textiles is disclosed. Very often these are as perfectly preserved as the first layer, but quite as frequently they are embedded in a mass of fine, dark-brown powder mingled with bits of fur, feathers, etc-all that remain of what, thousands of years ago, were gorgeous robes and trappings.

Yet when this decomposed material is brushed and blown aside, perfectly preserved textiles are found in and beneath it. As nearly as we can determine this peculiar condition is the result of cloths wet with some chemical solution that were wrapped about the bundle as a preservative. But why this was done, why the decomposition affected only one layer of textiles, are unsolved puzzles. Sometimes the decomposed layer is near the surface, at other times deep within the bundle, and at times there are several such strata with perfectly preserved textiles, feather-work, etc., between them. In the case of the mummy illustrated two rolls of unused, beautifully woven cloth of rich carmine heavily embroidered, were found in the midst of the decomposed debris, and yet they were as perfect and bright as when first taken from the loom.

At this stage of unwrapping—provided there are not over eight or ten layers—the indistinct outlines of the body are visible through the coverings. Here also are usually the maté-bowls, the gourds of corn, beans, etc.; yucca-roots, potatoes and other food; stone weapons, pottery, gold ornaments, etc. Finally, when the last covering is removed, the mummy itself appears, seated on its haunches and resting on its left side amid garments, utensils, cloths, etc., and always in an immense shallow basket, while in some cases the basket-lid is found upon the stomach of the mummy. In the majority of cases the body is decked with gold ornaments, such as ear-plugs, necklaces, gorgets, collars, nose-rings, head-ornaments, etc. Of all Peruvian mummies those of Parakas are the best preserved, for un-like the others they were carefully and skillfully embalmed or mummified before burial. All the viscera and softer portions of the anatomy were removed, the larger muscles were dissected out through incisions in the skin, the tendons were severed at the joints, and the entire corpse was apparently immersed in some chemical—probably a saline solution—and afterwards dried and smoked before burial. Very possibly the bodies were preserved for months or even years before burial, for it would require a very long time to weave and embroider the immense burial-robes, and as none of these show any signs of use we must assume they were made solely for burial purposes. If made after a death took place it is obvious that the body must have been preserved elsewhere until the robes were completed; but of course they may have been woven years in advance and laid aside in readiness for the owner's end. Or again they may have been religious or ceremonial-robes kept in temples and intended only for burial-robes. The objection to this theory is that each mummy is surrounded with robes, ponchos, tunics, cloths and turbans all of the same colors and designs, perfectly matched and distinct from those on any other mummy. So it is clear that they must have been designed especially for each individual—a complete burial-outfit, in fact.

No words can do justice to the beauty, the colors or the quality of these textiles, with designs that, repeated over and over again and completely covering a robe eight or ten feet square, never vary by so much as a stitch or a thread in size, color or pattern. So close and even is the embroidery that only by a most painstaking examination with a lens is it possible to determine that it is embroidery and not weaving. Moreover, these people were, apparently, the only ancient Peruvians who possessed a pictured or recorded calendar. On some robes the border is composed of symbolic figures so arranged that, almost beyond question, the design served as a calendar showing days, months and the four seasons of the year.

At every turn, when studying the Parakas material, one comes face to face with insoluble mysteries. Who were these people? We know from their skeletons that they were far larger than other Peruvian races, for many of the men stood over six feet in height, while some of the women were almost as tall. Although an agricultural race, they were no mean warriors, for their stone weapons were beautifully made and trophy-heads—heads artificially preserved, and with lips and eyelids sewn together—are not uncommon.

Why, in a hot desert country, did they require heavy woolen robes that would have been ample protection is regions of perpetual snow? The first answer would be that the climate changed, that in the days when these people lived what is now a hot area was cold. But in that case why did they require fans? And how could they have cultivated the tropical and subtropical fruits and vegetables that are represented on the pottery and are preserved with the mummies? Finally, if the climate was then cold, what about the bright-plumaged birds of tropical species whose bodies and feathers were used in making the ornaments? There are many other inexplicable things about these Parakas mummies. All so far found have been those of chiefs, priests, nobles or kings and their women. Not a single one has been unwrapped that was the body of a poor person or a peasant, and not a child's body has been found. All have been adults swathed in magnificent robes, with rich ornaments and ceremonial objects. Were all the Parakans wealthy, richly-clad nobles? Was the population so enormous that hundreds of chiefs, priests and nobles were necessary? And why are there no tools, no implements that were used in weaving the countless textiles? Where is the immense quantity of plain and ceremonial pottery these people must have possessed? And where are the ruins of their homes, their palaces and their temples?

There is but one answer. That what we have so far found is merely one small group of burials devoted to the most eminent members of the community, and that somewhere, near at hand, we will yet find remains that may solve all these mystifying puzzles.

The Mecca of Ancient America

THE MECCA OF ANCIENT AMERICA

By A. HYATT VERRILL

Scientific American March 1931; researched by Alan Schenker, digitized by Doug Frizzle, October 2011

COVERING hundreds of acres of the desert that stretches from the sea to the Andean foothills, bisected by the modern motor highway from Lima, 15 miles distant, to Pisco, are the ruins of the ancient city of Pacha-Kamak. Everywhere are the massive walls of adobe bricks, the crumbling remains of great palaces, storehouses, and public buildings, the cubicles that mark rows of houses, the extensive plazas and ball courts, the public baths, and the shops, shrines, and market-stalls. Everywhere one may trace the once-busy streets, the broad highways, the narrow paved lanes.

A little apart, and isolated from the other ruins, is the temple of the Mamakunas or Virgins of the Sun, still well preserved with its lofty central altar, its cells that once housed the sacred virgins, its hallways and stairs, and its oddly Egyptian-like niches within which, in the long-forgotten past, stood magnificent images or idols ablaze with gold and jewels. And, dominating all, covering the summit of an immense artificial hill, is the vast temple of Pachakamak, the supreme god, the Creator, the Almighty of the Incan and pre-Incan races.

No ruins in all South America, if indeed in the New World, hold more historic and romantic interest than those of this holy city of Pachakamak. No one can say when the city was first established, no man even can guess at its age. It may be five thousand, ten thousand years old; but we know that, centuries before the days of the first Inca, Pachakamak was an ancient city; that it was a sacred spot, a holy city, the Mecca of the South American races; and that, from far and near, from points as far distant as Colombia and the Argentine, pilgrims journeyed to this Mecca of ancient America to worship at its temple, to pass their last hours within its sacred precincts, and to be buried in its consecrated ground. So firmly established had its sacred character become, so reverenced its temple and its shrines, that the Incas made no attempt to suppress the ancient rites and religions that were followed at Pachakamak, and instead of forcing the people to adopt the Incan faith and worship Inti, the Sun-God, they erected their own Temple-of-the-Sun on a hill adjacent to that of the temple of Pachakamak. Hence the city became a Mecca for the people of the Incan faith as well as for the others, and the immeasurably ancient god of the pre-Incas and Inti, the Sun-God, were worshipped side by side.

NOT only did the people come to Pachakamak to worship; throughout the length and breadth of South America—even in far distant Central America—the image of the supreme god was credited with working miracles and of curing the crippled and the ill. Men and women barely able to crawl up the temple stairs, or so weak with illness or with injuries that they were carried by others, emerged from the holy presence strong, whole, and well. In addition, the image of the god was believed to utter oracles and prophecies, while the faithful desired nothing more than to be interred in the sacred ground of the vast cemeteries about the temple. Hence it is no wonder that through centuries—thousands of years—the desert sands about Pachakamak should have become a vast necropolis literally filled with the mummified bodies of the dead, and that the temple and its shrines should have been enriched by the gifts and offerings of pilgrims until it was reputed—and no doubt rightly—to have contained a greater treasure than even the famed Temple-of-the-Sun at Cuzco, the Incan capital. In fact, it was the stories of the wealth of Pachakamak that lured Pizarro to Peru, for tales of its riches in gold, silver and precious stones had spread northward to Panama and beyond.

A grand and imposing sight the famous temple must have presented before the days of the conquest. And almost incalculable must have been the time and labor devoted to its construction. The hill upon which it stood, a miniature mountain, was built entirely by hand, of adobe bricks and faced with squared blocks of stone. How many centuries went into the making of this gigantic mound, how many men toiled and labored at it, how many millions of bricks and stones went into its construction, are beyond computation. But the probability is that it was erected gradually, little by little, through countless centuries.

UPWARD from the base—more than two miles in circumference—a flagged stone ramp extended in a spiral. At every turn was a shrine or small temple and a short flight of stone steps that led to the next turn. As the pilgrims and worshippers ascended the huge mound they stopped at each of these spots to pray and make offerings. Everywhere rose the massive stone-faced walls, sloping inward toward their tops, rising in tiers like a modern "zoned" skyscraper, and everywhere covered with red or yellow stucco and elaborate frescoes.

Along the topmost wall bordering the last portion of the ramp, facing the Pacific, was a line of immense stone statues rising above niches in which were smaller images of wood covered with plates of gold. At the very summit of the temple was a huge rectangular level court or plaza surrounded by ornately sculptured walls with niches in which were more than one hundred sacred and symbolic figures gleaming with gold and silver and ablaze with gems.

In the center rose the holy of holies, the most sacred of shrines in all the New World, a small rectangular structure of stuccoed and frescoed stone, containing the idol or image of the almighty Pachakamak, Creator of Heaven and Earth, Ruler of the Universe—a wooden image of gigantic size so laden with gold and precious stones that it was scarcely visible. The timbers and woodwork, as well as the doors to the various shrines, were of hardwood fastened together with gold nails, and the massive portals of Pachakamak's shrine were completely covered with magnificent mosaic work of turquoise, mother-of-pearl, rock crystal, coral and semi-precious stones. When the ruthless, destructive Spaniards under Hernando Pizarro reached Pachakamak— having been sent from Cajamarca by Pizarro in order to secure the treasures that were to form a portion of Atahualpa's ransom—they found little of value in the temple. Word of their coming had been carried to the city, and the priests of the temple had hurriedly stripped the idols and images of all precious metals and precious stones and secreted them. To be sure, the idols and images were still there, the magnificent mosaic work adorned the doors, and the Dons found a few bits of gold and two or three emeralds that had been dropped by the priests and overlooked. Still the Spaniards did not return empty-handed. Having torn down and destroyed every image, idol, and statue they could find, after erecting a cross upon the temple's top they piously proceeded to torture the priests in an effort to force them to reveal the hiding place of the temple's riches. In this they were partially successful. One priest, unable to withstand the agonies imposed by his inhuman captors, told of a horde of silver in a storehouse (which still stands) and of gold and silver buried near the temple. But though this treasure was in itself a fortune—so great was the quantity of silver that the Dons shod their horses with that metal—yet it is believed to have been but a drop in a bucket as compared with the riches that had been hastily removed and which never have been found. One of the Spaniards also discovered the gold nails in the woodwork, and when the latter had been burned and the precious spikes had been raked from the ashes, they were found to weigh 32,000 ounces—roughly half a million dollars in value.

From that day Pachakamak was doomed. Deprived of their most venerated deity, with much of their temple and their city wantonly destroyed, and with alien men and an alien faith established in the ancient, holy city, the natives deserted it. As no more pilgrims journeyed over deserts and mountains, through torrid jungles and over arid plains to worship at the desecrated shrine, Pachakamak soon became but a memory of the past, a dead and ruined city tenanted only by the soft-winged burrowing owls, the soaring black vultures, and the desert rats. The thatched roofs of the buildings decayed, fell in and vanished in impalpable dust; the adobe walls, uncared for, exposed to the elements, crumbled and fell apart; the Spaniards tore down the temple walls and used the cut stones to build their tawdry dwellings in the neighboring valley of Lurin, and where once were green, tilled fields and gardens the desert drifted in until today the ruins of the city stand in a glaring, barren waste of sand. Alone with its countless dead the forsaken city lay silent in the shadow of its once magnificent temple, an accusing monument to the ruthless destructiveness of the Spaniards.

BUT even the dead could not be left in peace. Everywhere men dug where, for thousands of years, the bodies of the faithful had been laid to rest, because gold and silver sometimes were buried with the corpses. Ruthlessly the cotton-wrapped mummy-bundles were dragged from the graves, feverishly the cloths, the priceless textiles and the garments were torn from the shrivelled, desiccated bodies and these, torn limb from limb, were scattered about, tossed aside, trodden underfoot. Treasure seekers, archeologists, curio hunters and tourists—all have played their part until there is scarcely a square yard of the sand in or about Pachakamak that has not been turned over. In many places the desert looks as though it had been exposed to shell fire. Everywhere are the great pits, the crater-like depressions where graves have been excavated, and everywhere are the skulls and bones, the human hair, the fragments of textiles, and the broken pottery that have been disinterred and cast aside. In many places the skulls form veritable windrows, and one can scarcely move anywhere without treading at every step upon human remains.

Bad as this was, the worst was yet to come. Up to the past year the great temple upon its artificial hill had remained almost intact. To an extent, time and the elements had left their marks upon it. Most of the frescoes and much of the stucco had disappeared, little of the sculptured stone and adobe remained, and vandals had scribbled their names and had painted advertisements upon it in places. But the walls still stood, solid, massive, impressive. The ramp could still be traced and afforded a pathway to the summit, and one could trace the outlines and details of the shrines and visualize it as it was in its heyday. The stairways were as perfect as on that day when Hernando Pizarro, sword in hand, dashed past the protesting priests and, bursting into the sacred cubicle, with characteristic bigotry hurled the venerated god over the temple walls.

Within the past year this most famous and most historic relic of Peru's ancient civilization, the temple itself, nearly 1800 by 1500 feet in dimensions, has fallen to the insatiable lust for gold that still fills the hearts and minds of many of the descendants of the Spanish conquerors. Some charlatan claimed to possess an ancient document telling of vast treasure buried beneath the temple. A syndicate was formed and a gang of men was put to work tearing it down, undermining its walls, destroying the stone facings and tunneling into the hill itself.

IN vain were the protests of those interested in preserving this magnificent relic of the Incas and pre-Incas. Soon great gaps appeared in the ancient walls, columns and stairways that were ancient when Pompeii was built, fell crashing in clouds of dust down the hillside, and shrines were reduced to piles of debris. It is the greatest pity that the money and the energy expended in this destruction was not devoted to reconstruction, that the government of Peru did not realize the inestimable historic and scientific value of preserving the temple for all time.

The saddest part of this wanton destruction is that the destroyers will have accomplished nothing aside from the destruction of the temple. No gold, no treasure will reward them, for it is beyond the bounds of reason or of credibility to suppose that valuables would have been concealed under the temple in the heart of that stupendous pile of adobe bricks. To have done so would have been practically impossible without leaving obvious traces, and had there been such traces the avaricious and keen-eyed Spaniards would have seen them and would have left no stone upon another until they had unearthed the hidden treasure.

Social Contrasts in Peru’s Capital

Social Contrasts in Peru’s Capital

By A. Hyatt Verrill

Travel magazine, March, 1925. Digitized by Doug Frizzle February 2010.

The Fine Art of Amiability in Lima—Business Methods of the Middle Ages—The Childish Heart of Latin Peru—The Fine Feathers of Lima's First Families—The Saving Undercurrent of Indian Blood

LIMA in summer is very different from Lima in winter, and fortunately for visitors, the Peruvian summer is in full sway at the time when fugitives from our own bleak and slushy winter weather voyage southward to the shores of Latin America. When I returned to Peru's capital a wonderful transformation had taken place. Gone were the dull-gray lowering skies; gone the everlasting drizzle, the muddy streets and the depressing, dreary, chilly air. From a cloudless sky the sun blazed down upon the ancient city and its environs; the air was as balmy and mild as June in the north, and Lima was like a butterfly just emerged from a dull-gray chrysalis. The endless mud walls were flecked with light and shade; the buildings of soft cream, pink, lavender or blue, fairly glowed; the bare, austere brown mountainsides were softly golden in the rays of sunlight or deepest mauve in the deep ravines, and even the people seemed to have thrown off their hopeless, listless expressions and appeared gay, happy and light-hearted. Personally I had come to like the Peruvians, although many Americans I met could not say enough harsh and unpleasant things against them. To be sure, their ways are not our ways, and no doubt there are many things that may be criticised and might be improved. But if all races were alike, if in all lands we found North American methods of business and life, the world would be a dull and uninteresting place for travelers. And no doubt, also, the Peruvians' ways and methods are quite as satisfactory to themselves as are ours to ourselves. Moreover, the people of Inca Land have adapted themselves to no little extent to the ways of other lands and races. And, finding that they must depend largely upon foreigners and foreign capital—and more especially upon North Americans and Yankee capital—for the exploitation and development of their wonderful land, they are becoming more and more imbued with North American ways and habits. But the Peruvian—nor any Latin American—can ever be wholly North American or vice versa, thank God.

Compared to the Latin Americans of the more tropical republics, the Peruvians are, however, a very superior and more admirable race. Perhaps they are a bit behind the Chileans in some ways, but in others they are, in my opinion, preferable.

Compared to their more aggressive southern neighbors they are docile, law abiding, peaceful and democratic, which is exactly what might be expected from their blood and ancestry. The mass of the people are of Indian or mixed Indian blood and whereas the tribes ruled by the Incas were docile, timid and peaceful people, the aborigines of Chile were a haughty, nomadic, warlike race never really conquered by the Spaniards. And these characteristics still among the Peruvian and the Chilean people are still their outstanding features. Moreover, in more recent times considerable European blood has been added to the Indian and Spanish of the natives. In Peru this has mainly been Italian, British, French and North American, whereas in Chile, it has been largely Slavic and Teutonic and, as a result, we find the Peruvians more reserved, more polite and more hospitable than the Chileans with their brusque, suspicious and obtrusive manners. It has been said that one way of distinguishing a Peruvian from a Chilean is to slap his face. If he apologizes he is a Peruvian and if he promptly returns the slap with a blow he is a Chilean.

But I do not advise any one experimentally inclined to try this test. The Peruvian may be quiet and peaceful, but he is no cringing timid man to be insulted with impunity. Much, too, has been said regarding the inferior quality of Peru's fighting men—her army and navy—as compared to those of Chile. But this is problematical. Even though Chile had the best of it in the last unpleasantness between the two countries, I question if it was due so much to the superiority of her forces as men, as to their training. The Peruvian soldiery is under French officers, whereas the Chileans look to Germany for army training, and if the numbers of contestants were equal I imagine the outcome of a land battle between the two would not warrant odds being laid in favor of Chile. As far as the navies are concerned, Chile has the best of it by far. In number of vessels, armament, size of ships and number of men she far outranks Peru, and even though the latter's navy is now under North American naval officers she would stand little chance in a naval battle with Chile. Her police, who, to show the impartial character of the government, are under Spanish supervision, are excellent. They are always neat, snappy, and in their red and blue uniforms add color and picturesqueness to the surroundings, and they are ever polite, courteous and obliging, especially to foreigners.

To be sure, their duties cannot be onerous, for crimes, especially of a serious nature, are not frequent in Peru, which by the way is in striking contrast to Chile where the most revolting and fearful crimes, especially against small children, are common. Most of Lima's police force appears to be engaged in conducting traffic. I say conducting, but that is far from the right word, for Lima's traffic could not be properly conducted even by the entire traffic squad of New York City unless the laws and regulations, if such there be, are completely altered or new ones made. Normally, for example, vehicles are supposed to keep to the right and to pass other approaching vehicles on the right, but on certain streets, where there are trolley tracks, this rule of the road is reversed and vehicles keep to the left and pass approaching vehicles on the left. Cars are allowed to park on either side of the street. Many of the streets are very narrow and congested, and yet there are practically no one-way streets, and while circular traffic is supposed to be in force at the Plaza de Armas one sees vehicles cutting corners and running in the opposite direction to the circular flow of traffic. Indeed, the exceptions to the rule in their traffic are as numerous and as difficult to master as the exceptions to Spanish verbs, and all credit is due Lima's traffic cops for succeeding as well as they do. Why or how any autos escape annihilation, or how passengers survive, is a mystery, for Peruvian chauffeurs are perhaps the most reckless in the world. Accidents nevertheless are few, and serious ones still fewer, and during all my residence in Lima I have never heard the clang of an ambulance gong as the vehicle was rushed to the aid of the victims of an auto mishap. Even easier than the duties of the police are those of the fire department. Fires are not infrequent, but adobe is not an inflammable material, and serious conflagrations are almost impossible in mud-built Lima. As workmen and laborers the Peruvians are not to be despised, and after a long experience in Panama, with its worthless, incompetent, so-called native labor, it did my heart good to watch the toilers in Lima's streets and fields. Not having employed Peruvian labor to great extent I cannot pass upon the endurance or steadiness of the unskilled workman, but from personal observation I can affirm that when the Peruvian works he works with a will and with a strength and energy, as well as with an amount of intelligence totally unknown to the laborer of the more northern South American or the Central American republics. He is also a far more robust, healthy and superior man, and with little training can handle a machine tool, an air drill, concrete mixer, engine or even electrical tools to good advantage and without immediately wrecking them. Possibly, even probably, judging by my own observations and the experiences of others, the laboring class of Peru is superior in its way to the business class. To earn his few soles a day the laborer works like a Trojan during working hours, or if on piece work, as are the adobe brick makers, he works steadily and industriously from dawn to dark, and often on holidays and Sundays as well, in order to increase his income. On the other hand, the business man has short hours, he closes his place of business on the slightest provocation and on every possible holiday, and he never seems to care whether he does business or not. Never have I seen a place where the tradesmen appear to care so little about making a sale. Indeed, the average shopkeeper acts as if it were a great condecension to wait on a customer, and often informs one that he has not the desired article rather than take the trouble to hunt it up or even take it from a shelf. Also, the Peruvian idea of doing business is rather remarkable.

To clean out an old stock at a cut price would be almost heresy, according to Peruvian ideas, and if the stock is limited the shopkeeper takes the point of view that it is better and less trouble to sell a few articles at an exorbitant price than a number at a reasonable price. That the terrific price asked discourages purchasers does not trouble the seller in the least. Rather he prefers it, for in that case he does not need to replenish his stock and he has less work to do waiting on customers. As a result, prices of practically everything are almost prohibitive in Peru, for in order to maintain themselves at all the merchants are forced to make a profit of several hundred per cent.

In addition to all this, the Peruvian has little or no conception of the meaning of a contract, verbal or written. He will, with few exceptions, always try to get more or do less than agreed, though he will usually back down and make the best of things when he finds his bluff is called. Of course this does not apply to the large houses, the established firms of good standing and reputation which conduct their business along very similar lines to our own, as they have been forced to do through their dealings with the outside world of finance and business. In private life the Peruvians have advanced far beyond most of the Latin Americans. Although the old Spanish custom of keeping the women more or less secluded still prevails to some extent, the majority of the women have almost as much freedom as in any European country or the United States. Very many have been educated abroad and have imbibed North American or British ideas, and they mingle freely with friends and acquaintances of the other sex in public and drive about or go shopping unattended and unchaperoned. In dress they follow Paris more than London or New York and the display of sheer hosiery and the contents thereof on Lima's streets would be shocking were it not so altogether admirable. There is no denying that the Limeñas, even of fairly mature years, believe thoroughly that the public should know that they possess legs, but as they are usually most shapely extremities, and as the Peruvian women are as a whole really beautiful creatures, no one should object. It is to be regretted that so many of the handsome girls have adopted henna-dyed hair, rouged and powdered faces, mascara-touched eyes, and carmined lips. Seldom do Peruvian women's eyes need added black, their lips are naturally vivid enough and their complexions are usually flawless. Au naturel a Peruvian girl of the upper class is a sight to make one take more than a second glance, but with dyed hair, powder and rouge, she becomes a mere painted doll, indistinguishable from the demi-mondaine in appearance. But apparently neither the female nor the male of the species cares how ridiculous she or he may appear, provided they are exact counterparts of the impossible beings depicted on the pages of Parisian fashion magazines. The woman, in paint, powder, a skirt skin tight above the knees, and preposterously high-heeled shoes, is no more of a monstrosity than her male relative in belted, short-waisted coat, tight trousers, lavender spats and yellow gloves, with a monocle glued in one eye and a malacca stick that would serve as a baseball bat in one hand. Dress, to the average Peruvian of the middle class, is paramount. He judges the station, family, salary and intelligence of his fellows by their clothes, and he knows he will be judged in the same manner. Of course he or she knows that friends or acquaintances are not hoodwinked in this way, any more than he or she will be fooled by the friend's or acquaintance's raiment, but there is always the hope that strangers will be impressed. A poorly paid clerk will array himself like a stage millionaire prince and will stroll up and down Calle Union, or sip chocolate and smoke high-priced cigarettes in the Palais Concierge, and be absolutely, supremely happy. Likewise, his feminine compeers will parade the street and pause before the windows of the most exclusive shops feeling that they are the observed of all observers, and desiring nothing more.

Indeed, it is doubtful if, by a sort of self-hypnosis, they do not actually believe for the time being that they are what they seem. For the same reason, whenever a steamship arrives or departs, or a train halts at a station, people will flock aboard, crowd aisles or decks and fairly beam with delight, not that they have any intention of going on a journey but merely for the thrill of pretending to be passengers and to make others think they are travelers. But after all it is a most innocent and harmless sort of amusement, and if the Peruvians obtain any satisfaction from it why should any one object?

Childishness, in fact, is rather typical of Latin American people and it is no more marked among Peruvians than among their neighbors. In many ways it is a really delightful and admirable trait. We of the north are ever prone to take life and other matters far too seriously, to grow old—mentally if not physically—too early in life, and to frown upon spontaneity and a juvenile excess of enthusiasm or spirits. But the Latins, though they mature at an early age and appear old at what we would consider the prime of life, remain merely grownup boys and girls in many ways. A man may be a statesman, a merchant, a captain of industry, a jurist or a general; a leader in his line; a man of the soundest and most profound judgment and serious thought, but he will take delight and find joy in incidents and matters which would scarcely amuse a North American or British boy in his teens. One often sees a group of Peruvians talking together, gesticulating excitedly, emphasizing their words; almost shouting one moment, lowering their tones to hoarse whispers the next, until one feels sure they are plotting a revolution or are about to break into open hostilities. But the chances are that they are merely discussing the merits of certain cigars, the proper manner of cooking some national dish, or the features of a movie comedy. They will devote an inordinate amount of time and a vast quantity of breath to discussing some trivial and utterly frivolous matter which, nine times out of ten, can never be settled. Once, when waiting for a friend who was tinkering with his car in a garage on a holiday, I overheard two of the employees talking. They were apparently having a heated argument over some most vital matter and I listened attentively and to my amazement discovered that they were merely discussing my friend.

"Why should he work on a holiday?" demanded one.

"Quien sabe? Perhaps he has to," replied the other.

"But perhaps he doesn't. Pues, it may be he wants to."

"Perhaps he has a wife to support."

"Or children."

"And perhaps he has not and is in debt."

"No, amigo, but I think he has a mamá."

"But it may be he has not."

"At any rate he is a Gringo."

"Maybe he is a Chileño."

"No, he is a German."

"Or perhaps English."

"No, I think him a North American."

'Well, a Gringo at any rate."

"And they are all mad."

This seemed to settle it, and shrugging shoulders expressively, as though to indicate that the ways of Gringos were past understanding, the two began a new argument over an equally trivial matter.

Perhaps it would be well for us to pattern our lives more after the Peruvians, in so far as their temperament is concerned. And then again, it might be a great mistake, for seldom will Latin character and Anglo-Saxon methods go hand in hand. Indeed, it is very largely this very combination that is the trouble with the Peruvians, or rather, I might say, that causes strangers to criticise them and find fault with Peruvian ways. They have tried to follow us in progress and development and business and have failed to qualify in many ways because they are mentally different. With open arms they have welcomed North American capital, have seen North Americans and British develop their resources and build up their cities, construct their roads, increase their prosperity, make fortunes out of industries and business. They have admired, envied, tried to follow in the Gringo's footsteps.

"We have a wonderful country," they say to themselves. "A great city, a chance of big business. The Gringos are making money in our own country, let us do as they do and we too will be rich and up to date."

And so they erect fine buildings, open shops with every modern idea from plate-glass windows to electric signs and alluring display; put up residences and apartments, and invest in mines, farms, factories and other lines of endeavor. But they have overlooked the one great factor in Anglo Saxon progress and success. They do not, cannot, realize that the Gringo mind goes with Gringo energy and inventiveness and progress; that our methods and minds and point of view have developed along with the development of other things; that our brains, our ideas, are as quickly and readily altered by requirements as the models of our motor cars or the designs of our machines. The Gringo's brain is adaptable; he thinks in terms of today—or even tomorrow—while the Peruvian thinks in the manner of yesterday or of generations ago. In a thousand ways he is adaptable. He may alter his houses, his buildings, his army and navy, his transportation, his clothing and customs, even his home life, to meet modern conditions, but he cannot alter his line of thought; his mental processes or his psychology. Though he dwells in a home equipped with American sanitary plumbing and electric lights. Though he drives the latest of motor cars. Though he dresses and eats and lives as much like a Gringo as possible. Though his business is as much with foreigners as with natives, and even though he speaks English fluently and may have visited Europe and the United States, still he thinks like a Peruvian and his mind is fettered by tradition, age-old customs and conventions. It is not his fault. He can no more alter these ingrown ideas than he can alter his stature or the color of his eyes. In short, the mentality, or perhaps better, the mental attitude of Peruvians has not kept pace with the country's material progress and development and while, under foreign capital and supervision, his land has raced onward to keep pace with the twentieth century, he has been left far behind, floundering mentally in the dust of a century ago. Few Peruvian merchants can be made to see the advantage of large sales and small profits as compared with small sales and large profits. Few can understand the principles of keeping stock in trade moving and money in circulation. Few can see the losses entailed by high overhead expenses, a rapidly deteriorating stock unsold, losses of interest on money invested in stock, or the losses of customers by failing to keep goods in demand in stock or overcharging for standard goods. Neither can the average Peruvian, —even of the most intelligent class — realize that the most important member of the community is the husbandman; that a country's true prosperity and place in the world are measured by the status and condition, the thrift and per capita wealth of the farmer and the laborer. Ninety per cent of the farmers and laborers in Peru are Indians, and the comparatively few Peruvians of Spanish blood—pure or mixed— despise the Indian and look down upon him. They disparagingly refer to him as a Cholo—and loudly and assertively deny a taint of Cholo blood, even though features and skin speak eloquently of the Indian strain. It is a point of view inherited from the old Dons, from the men who maltreated, despoiled, massacred, looted and enslaved the aborigines. And yet, today, scarcely a wheel would turn in Peru, not a crop be raised, not a ton of ore mined; hardly a train, trolley car or motor bus be operated; a street cleaned, a pavement laid, a building erected, a burden carried, a store or office swept, were the Indians to refuse to work. Even more, were the Cholos to strike en masse; were they to be suddenly wiped out, there would be scarcely a servant left in the homes, hardly a meal cooked, and the inhabitants would starve for lack of food raised, brought to market, sold and prepared by the Cholos.

Even the personnel of the police, army and navy is mainly Indian, and if Peru is to keep pace with the rest of the world, if her prosperity and progress are to be lasting, and if the Peruvians are not looking for future troubles and calamities, it behooves them to alter their attitude towards the Indian population and place their laborers, their farmers and their artisans on a better footing. Fortunately for the country and the people, the Cholo is a most docile and long suffering individual. He is easily satisfied and asks little, and I doubt if the most eloquent and inimical agitator could organize labor unions or foment a strike among them. From what I have seen of Indians of many tribes and in many places, I am far from being in favor of educating or civilizing them more than is absolutely essential. But in most respects the great majority of Peruvian Indians are already civilized. Many can read and write, most of them are, nominally at least, Christians, and all they need is to be taught cleanliness, sanitation and practical things. There should be manual and agricultural instruction, enforced sanitation in their villages and their quarters in the towns, medical inspection and treatment, and means of entertainment provided. I have been told by many Peruvians and by an equal number of foreign residents in Peru, that it is impossible to better the Indians. That they prefer their filthy, squalid huts and dreary lives to clean houses and good times. That they resent kindness and a helping hand and that it is a waste of time and money to try to do anything for their betterment.

I don't believe this in the least. Wherever I have observed conditions among the Indians in Peru I have noticed that they are only too willing to better themselves. Whenever they are in a position to do so they have built better houses, have adopted doors and windows, have installed cheap but serviceable furnishings and have improved. Where they are employed in the homes of foreigners they soon abandon their filthy ways, take pride in neat, clean clothing and improve in every way. Of course the Indian of Peru cannot be driven or forced to change his ways. No Indian can be driven. We have proved that with our own North American redmen, and Panama discovered the fact at the cost of numerous lives. But the Indian is imitative, he is always anxious to outdo his neighbor, or at least not to be outdone by him, and all that is required is to excite interest, get a few Indians started on the right road and the others will follow.

In Peru, unlike most Latin American countries, politics are not a hampering factor in the country's progress and development. Nominally, Peru is a republic, but practically it is, under the present administration, a dictatorship. To us, the idea of a dictator may seem repugnant, and a republic wherein the elections are a farce, where might is right and the people have little or nothing to say in the matter, is to North Americans all wrong and unthinkable. But we have forever been making grave and costly mistakes by judging Latin Americans by ourselves and sticking our official fingers into Latin American political pies, and it is very doubtful if a dictatorship is not the best form of government for many if not most of our South and Central American neighbors. Of course a great deal depends upon the dictator. If he is a rascal, a grafter, a despot or a narrow-minded bigot or fanatic he most assuredly will play the devil with his country and his people, and no one can blame anyone who dares to put his career to an abrupt and final end. But if, on the other hand, he is a patriotic man, a just, fair-minded, honest fellow who has his country's and his people's good at heart, he may and usually will do far more for his country than half a dozen duly elected presidents who are swayed first one way and then another by politics, who are in office for what they can make, and who feel that whatever they do— aside from their own personal benefit —will be undone by the next man in the presidential chair. At any rate, wherever a really big and strong man had become a dictator of a Latin American country, that country has had more peace, prosperity and progress under his rule than under that of any preceding or succeeding presidents. Mexico was never better off than under Diaz. Guatemala prospered amazingly under Cabrera. Venezuela has been far more peaceful under Gomez than under many a president, and Peru is doing very well, thank you. Of course it takes an exceptional man to be a dictator, and a still more exceptional man to be a good dictator. But Señor Leguia is beyond doubt a most exceptional man. Though undersized physically, he is a giant in intellect, energy and personal magnetism. As one American put it, "he has more pep, horse sense and business ability than all the other Peruvians together." This, of course, is an exaggeration, for no doubt there are others of his countrymen as capable as himself. But there is no doubt that Senor Leguia is the one man in a thousand, in hundreds of thousands, who could have overcome the obstacles he met, could have arisen triumphant from defeat and could have become dictator of Peru and remained alive and respected.

At carnivals, at public functions, at horse races and track games he is always present, but no one has yet attempted his life. Perhaps it is his very bravery that has protected him, for the Latin admires courage, or it may be his personal magnetism, or again it may be that even his political enemies feel that he is doing as well by Peru as anyone could. Of course he has enemies. Not only political opponents, but men who have personal grudges against him, men, and women too, who have suffered at his hands, or at the hands of his underlings. And there is no doubt that there has been much suffering, many injustices and inhumanities and disgraceful acts committed in his name. Countless persons, men of the highest standing, of wealth and attainments, have been arrested without warning, judged without trial, torn from their homes and families in the middle of the night, and exiled to San Lorenzo island to be summarily deported. Of course in every case the charge has been that they were conspiring against the government. But in many cases that have been thoroughly investigated there was not the slightest evidence against them, and one such case happened during my stay in Peru.

And whatever else he may be, whatever he may or may not do, he assuredly has the good of his country uppermost in his mind and is using every effort and every available cent to do all he can for Peru while he has the power. Under his dictatorship, wonderful changes and improvements are taking place in Lima and throughout the country. Buildings are going up, the cobbled city streets are being replaced with concrete, magnificent avenues have been laid out and completed, and a perfect automobile highway has been built from Callao to Lima and from Lima to Miraflores. Even in the interior he has done much. Roads have been improved, lighting systems installed, and an enormous amount of work is under way. At Callao, modern docks are being constructed, shipping facilities increased and the port improved. No one can find fault with the way in which the dictator is expending the public funds and inducing outside capital to come into the country. As long as the bulk of the people are wholly unfit to govern or to choose who is to govern them, and neither know or care, and as long as the presence of a dictator in the palace insures peace and prosperity to the land, then, say I, by all means let Peru remain a republic in name only.