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Call Up the Buried Past Again

My sea green Victorian mansion gleamed dazzingly in the early morning sunshine. Giant peach trees, bursting into bloom before it, hid the roof and cast blue shade on the ground. A fence at the back enclosed a poultry yard, and beyond that were hen houses, the horse stables, and a stall from which the black-and-white cows looked plaintively forth, several gazebos, a greenhouse, water tower, toolshed, a roofed well, a flower garden and vegetable garden. It was an infinitely pleasant-looking estate, and if death had struck there at all, there was no outward sign. All that beautiful wainscot mahogany, as good as the day it was put up, and garlands-like of foliage and fruit, and the lovely gilding work on the coat of arms and the organ pipes really spoke to my soul. However, the season was undoubtedly a very trying one. Many people in the neighbourhood had but little enjoyment of the exquisite sunny days and the calm nights of August and September. To several of the older people—the summer proved downright fatal, but even among the younger, few escaped either a sojourn in bed for a matter of weeks, or at the least, a brooding sense of oppression, accompanied by hateful nightmares. Gradually there formulated itself a suspicion—which grew into a conviction—that Llanada Villa had something to say in the matter. I was visited by dreams, which I retailed to my friends, of a shape that slipped out of the little door of the south transept as the dark fell in, and flitted—taking a fresh direction every night—disappearing for a while in the house, and finally emerging again when the night sky was paling. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8

I could see nothing of it, but that it was a moving form: only I had an impression that when it returned to the mansion, as it seemed to do in the end of the dream, it turned its head: and then, I could not tell why, but I thought it had red eyes. The circumstances involve too much unreconciled grief, too tragic a loss, for me to be willing to fully engage others in the dream. The iron broom he uses to sweep leaves a trail of blood. When I awake, I am exhausted. In the small hours of the morning, I can barely remember the details of the journey I had in my slumber. All I can think of is what he looked like when he caught me in my attempted escape, cold and bedraggled, lost and looking for a servant so that I could make my escape. And after awaking, accompanied by the sounds of Indian drums, chants, whoops, and the cries of what seemed to be hundreds of voices, I was again possessed by the odd feeling of being watched. As vague outlines of people running back and forth in the darkness of the hallways. The high-pitched howls and screams were real. There were the shadows of fifteen people. In the unsure light of dying fire, there were tears in my eyes. I went outside, began to stroll aimlessly along the front of the house, then around the corner and around the side. The certainty had set in me that I would find something. It burned like a small fire in my belly as light from the sky along Winchester Row retreated and deepened the shadows softened, under the threat of advancing rain. With a rasping, grating sound, a section of brickwork like a low, narrow door swung outward; as I entered, a cloud of dust and grit rolled out into the gallery, and settled slowly around me. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8

“Well, I said, coughing, “there’s certainly no one in here—no one living, at any rate.” I lit my lantern, and I saw through the floating dust a narrow stairway of brick, spiralling upward into darkness. I heard a noise from the direction of the library. I stood for a moment listening; the sound was not repeated. I strode to the connecting door. There was no one in the library, and no apparent cause for the sound until I saw that the pages of William’s manuscript, which I had left on the seat of a leather armchair, were now strewn upon the floor beneath, with my journals amongst them. “A draught, perhaps,” I thought. However, the air was completely still. And something else had changed. Outside, where the trees should have loomed a mere fifty yards away, there was nothing to be seen at all; nothing but dense, fleecy vapour, sliding across the glass. With a last worried look around the library, I walked back to the gallery. As I was about to step into the opening, I was seized by panic. With my lantern, I stepped over the threshold, into a cylindrical chamber no more than three feet wide. Dust and grit lay thick upon the stone floor. I shone the beam upward, but could see only the returning spiral of the staircase. Testing each stair as I went, I moved awkwardly upward, afraid of tripping over my shirt. Musty air stung my eyes; there were cobwebs draped about the walls, but they looked old and brittle, and nothing moved when I shone the lantern over them. This, I thought, was how an ancient tomb would smell, a tomb that had been sealed for hundreds of years, where even the spider had died of starvation. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8

I had completed at least two full spirals before the stairs ended at a low wooden door, set into the wall to form a ledge just wide enough to stand upon. My hair brushed against the stone roof of the chamber. I glanced back down the stairs and was seized with a fit of dizziness so that I had to grip the door handle to prevent myself from falling. The handle turned in my grasp; the door creaked open. It was a room I had not seen—or, rather, a cell—perhaps six by four feet, the roof only a few inches above my head. The door opened inward to the left, leaving just enough room for a straight-backed chair and a table placed against the opposite wall. Upon the dusty surface of the table were a decanter, a wineglass, two candlesticks, an inkstand containing half a dozen quill pens, also thickly covered in grime; and a glass-fronted case, two shelves high, containing what looked like thirty or forty identical volumes. There seemed to be no other furniture, but as I stood staring at the desk, I became aware that my lantern was not the only source of illumination. Along the wall to my right were half a dozen dim, narrow strips of light. I took a tentative step forward, felt an icy draught upon my face, and realized that the secret room and its stairwell had been built across the chimney, with slits for ventilation running through the outer wall. Three more steps brought me within reach of the bookcase. Through the dusty glass I saw that the volumes were indeed identical, and that there was no printing on the spines; they were leatherbound manuscript books, labelled only by year, and shelved in order from 1860 through 1866. I set the lantern upon the table, tugged at the right-hand door until it opened with a shriek of hinges, and drew out the last volume. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8

It was a diary, written in a crabbed, shaky hand, but legible enough.
5th December 1860
Beloved, let us love so well, our hearts shall still be better for our love, and still our love be sweeter for our life, and both commended, for the sake of each, by all true kindred souls and true loves born. My heart so potently never spake romance, but when my eyes with thine thereon could dance. My own goddess is past all thing far, I saw far in the concave green of the sea. My nets are spread out, and I at rest. I was a lonely youth on desert shores. But the crown of all my life was utmost quietude: More did I love you than the brightest summer shine. I now dwell whole days in sheer astonishment from far off a crustal pool. When I awoke, ‘twas in a twilight bower; who could resist? Who in this universe?
Eternally yours,
William Wirt Winchester
#RandolphHarris 5 of 8

I read on through entry after entry of meticulously precious moments. There were several more volumes and I found that they were all the same: a tender daily record of magnificent life and love. I think I fainted. When I came to, I aw a bundle of old clothes lying behind the door. Only they were not just clothes, because there was something in them; something with shrivelled claws for hands and a shrunken head no larger than a child’s, to which a few tufts of scanty white hair still clung. The mouth and nostrils and eye socket were choked with cobwebs. I picked up the last volume of the diary and, averting my eyes from the ghastly object behind the door, ran down the shaky stairs and through to the comparative warmth of the library. The fog outside was impenetrable as before. As I made my way back to the main entrance, I thought, I should go mad with fear. Well, that same night I dropped off asleep as sound as a baby does, and all of the sudden Zip woke me up, coming into the bed, and thought I, now we’re going to get it sharp, for he seemed more frightened than usual. After about five minutes sure enough came this cry. I cannot give you no idea what it was like; and so near too—nearer than I had heard it—yet—and a funny thing, you know what this mansion is for an echo. Well, this crying never made no sign of an echo at all. However, as I said, it was dreadful near this night; and on the top of the start I got with hearing it, I got another fright; for I heard something rustling outside in the passage. Now to be sure I thought I was done; but I noticed Zip seemed to perk up a bit, and next there was someone whispered outside the door. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8

I slipped out of bed across to my window, but Zip he bored right down to the bottom of the bed—and I looked out. First go off I could not see anything. Then right down in the shadow under a buttress I made out what I shall always say were two spots of red—a dull red it was—nothing like a lamp or a fire, but just so as you could pick them out of the black shadow. I had not but just sighted them when it seemed we were the only people that had been disturbed, because I saw a window in the left side of the house had become lit up, and the light moving. I just turned my head to make sure of it, and then looked back into the shadow for those two red orbs, and they were gone, and for all I peered about and stared, there was not a sign more of them. Then came my light fright that night—something came against my bare leg—but that was all right: that was my little dog Zip. He had come out of bed, and was prancing about making a great to-do, only holding his tongue, and I saw he was quite in spirits again, and took him back to bed and we slept the night out! The next morning there came the most fearful crash down at the west end of the mansion, as if a whole stack of big timber had fallen down a flight of stairs. There was terrible commotion. I heard the slab fall out, and the crowbar on the floor, and I heard Mr. Hansen say, “Good God!” #RandolphHarris 7 of 8

When I looked down again I saw Mr. Hansen tumbled over on the floor, the men were making off down the hall. Mr. Hansen was very crossed. “I wish to goodness you’d look where you’re coming to,” he said to the carpenters. “Why you should all take to your heels when a stick of wood tumbles down I cannot imagine”; and all Mr. Hansen could do, explaining he was right away on the other side of the staircase, would not satisfy him. Then the butler came back and reported there was nothing to account for this noise and nothing seemingly fallen down, and when Mr. Hansen finished feeling of himself they gather round—except someone lit up a candle and they looked into the hall. “Nothing there,” said Mr. Hansen, “what did I tell you? Stay! here’s something. What’s this? a bit of music paper, and a piece of torn stuff—part of a dress in looks like. Both quite modern—no interest whatever. Another time perhaps you’ll take the advice of an educated man”—or something of that nature, and he went, limping a bit, and out through the north door, only as he went he called back angry to the butler for leaving the door standing open. The butler called out “Very sorry, sir,” but he shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I fancy Mr. Hansen’s mistaken. I closed the door behind me, but he’s a little upset. I asked the butler if he had seen what knocked over Mr. Hansen. “Come, you must have seen it,” he says. “Didn’t you see? A thing like a man, all over hair, and two great eyes to it?” Well, that was all I could get out of him that time, and later on he seemed as if he was ashamed of being so frightened, and he used to put me off when I asked him about it. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8

A tour guide was making the night trip through The Winchester Mystery House. He had been dozing lightly as he secured the rooms when he was awakened by what he later described as a “damned uneasy feeling.” He could not put a figure on what was troubling his, he told a reporter for a Bay Area newspaper in the summer of 2003. There were no strange or unusual noises in the mansion. He could detect nothing that sounded wrong in the steady closing of the windows and doors. For some reason, he decided to lift one of the window shades. That is when he aw the apparition. Outside of the window, so close that is seemed as if he might be able to touch them if he lowered the glass, was a brightly painted Indian brave on his spirited mount. The warrior bent low over the flying black mane of his horse and looked neither to the right nor to the left. He seemed to be mouthing words of encouragement to the phantom mustang as they rapidly dashed off around the estate. “I’ve seen the me six or seven times after that, on different parts of the estate,” the tour guide said. “They seem to be solid flesh, but there’s kind of shimmer around them. It’s like watching a strip of really old movie film being protected onto the prairie.”

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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He is Nothing but an Object of Manipulation

Irony has a sort of disadvantage. As many know, one effect capitalism has had on the process of growing freedom is that it has made the individual more alone and isolated and imbued him with a feeling of insignificance and powerlessness. One of the general characteristics of the capitalistic economy is the principle of individualistic activity. In contrast to the feudal system of the Middle Ages under which everybody had a fixed place in an ordered and transparent social system, capitalistic economy put the individual entirely on his own feet. What he did, how he did it, whether he succeeded or whether he failed, was entirely his own affair. That this principle furthered the process of individualization is obvious and is always mentioned as an important item on the credit side of modern culture. However, in furthering “freedom from,” this principle heled to sever all ties between on individual and the other and thereby isolated and separated the individual from his fellow men. This development had been prepared by the teachings of the Reformation. In the Catholic Church the relationship of the individual to God had been based on membership in the Church. The Church was the link between him and God, thus on the one hand restricting his individuality, but on the other hand letting him face God as an integral part of a group. Protestantism made the individual face God alone. Faith in Mr. Luther’s sense was an entirely subjective experience and with Mr. Calvin the conviction of salvation also had this same subjective quality. The individual facing God’s might alone could not help feeling crushed and seeking salvation in complete submission. #RandolphHarris 1 of 19

Psychologically this spiritual individualism is not too different from the economic individualism. In both instance the individual is completely alone and in his isolation faces the superior power, be it of God, of competitors, or of impersonal economic forces. The individualistic relationship to God was the psychological preparation for the individualistic character of man’s secular activities. While the individualistic character of the economic system is an undisputed fact and only the effect this economic individualism has in increasing the individual’s aloneness may appear doubtful. However, these are some points that contradict some of the most widespread conventional concepts about capitalism. These concepts assume that in modern society man has become the center and purpose of all activity, that what he does he does for himself, that the principle of self-interest and egotism are the all-powerful motivations of human activity. In a sense, we believe this to be true to some extent. Man had done much for himself, for his own purposes, in these last four hundred and seventy-five years. Yet much of what seemed to him to be his purpose was not his, if we mean by “him,” not “the worker,” “the manufacturer,” but the concrete human being with all his emotional, intellectual, and sensuous potentialities. Besides the affirmation of the individual which capitalism asceticism which is the direct continuation of the Protestant spirit. In medieval system capital was the servant of man, but in the modern system it became his master. In the medieval word economic activities were a means to an end; the end was life itself, or-as the Catholic Church understood it—the spiritual salvation of man. #RandolphHarris 2 of 19

Economic activities are necessary, even riches can serve as God’s purposes, but all external activity has only significance and dignity as far as it furthers the aims of life. Economic activity and the wish for gain for its own sake appeared as irrational to the medieval thinker as their absence appears to modern thought. In capitalism economic activity, success, material gains, become ends in themselves. It becomes man’s fate to contribute to the growth of the economic system, to amass capital, not for purposes of his own happiness or salvation, but as an end in itself. Man became a cog in the vast economic machine—an important one if he had much capital, an insignificant one if he had none—but always a cog to serve a purpose outside of himself. This readiness for submission of one’s self to extrahuman ends was actually prepared by Protestantism, although nothing was further from Mr. Luther’s or Mr. Calvin’ mind than the approval of such supremacy of economic activities. However, in their theological teaching they had laid the ground for this development by breaking man’s spiritual backbone, his feeling of dignity and price, by teaching him that activity had no further aims outside of himself. One of Mr. Luther’s teachings was his emphasis on the evilness of human nature, the uselessness of his will and of his efforts. Mr. Calvin placed the same emphasis on the wickedness of man and put in the center of his whole system the idea that man must humiliate his self-pride to the utmost; and furthermore, that the purpose of man’s life is exclusively God’s glory and nothing of hi own. #RandolphHarris 3 of 19

Thus Mr. Luther and Mr. Calvin psychologically prepared man for the role which he had to assume in modern society: of feeling his own self to be insignificant and of being ready to subordinate his life exclusively for purposes which were not his own. Once man was ready to become nothing but the means for the glory of God a God who represented neither justice nor love, he was sufficiently prepared to accept the role of a servant to the economic machine—and eventually a “Fuhrer.” The subordination of the individual as a means to economic ends is based on the peculiarities of the capitalistic mode of production, which makes the accumulation of capital the purpose and aim of economic activity. One works for profit’s sake, but the profit one makes is not made to be spent but to be invested as new capital; this increased capital brings new profits which again are invested, and so on in a circle. There were of course always capitalists who spent money for luxuries or as “conspicuous waste”; but the classic representatives of capitalism enjoyed working—not spending. This principle of accumulating capital instead of using it for consumption is the premise of the grandiose achievements of our modern industrial system. If man had not had the ascetic attitude to work and the desire to invest the fruits of his work for the purpose of developing the productive capacities of the economic system, our progress in mastering nature never could have been made; it is this growth of the productive forces of society which for the first time in history permits us to visualize a future in which the continual struggle for the satisfaction of material needs will cease. #RandolphHarris 4 of 19

Yet, while the principle of work for the sake for the accumulation of capital objectively is of enormous value for the progress of mankind, subjectively it has made man work for extrapersonal ends, made him a servant to the very machine he built, and thereby has given him a feeling of personal insignificance and powerlessness. Therefore, those individuals in modern society who had capital were able to turn their profits into new capital investment. Regardless of whether they were big or small capitalists, their life was devoted to the fulfillment of their economic function, the amassing of capital. However, what about those who had no capital and who had to earn a living by selling their labour? The psychological effect of their economic position was not much different from that of the capitalist. In the first place, being employed meant that they were dependent on the laws of the market, on prosperity and depression, on the effect of technical improvements in the hands of their employer. They were manipulated directly by him, and to them he became the representative of a superior power to which they had to submit. This was especially true for the position of workers up to and during the nineteenth century. Since then the trade-union movement has given the worker some power of his own and thereby is changing the situation in which he is nothing but an object of manipulation. However, aside from this direct and personal dependence of the worker on the employer, he, like the whole of society, has been imbued by the spirit of asceticism and submission to extrapersonal ends which we have described as characteristic for the owner of capital. This is not surprising. #RandolphHarris 5 of 19

In any society the spirit of the whole culture is determined by the spirit of those groups that are most powerful in society. This is partly because these groups have the power to control the educational system, schools, church, press, theater, and thereby to immune the whole population with their own ideas; furthermore, these powerful groups carry so much prestige that the lower classes are more than ready to accept and imitate their values and to identify themselves psychologically. The mode of capitalistic production has made man an instrument for suprapersonal economic purposes, and increased the spirit of asceticism and individual insignificance for which Protestantism had been the psychological preparation. However, this thesis conflicts with the fact that modern man seems to be motivated not by an attitude of sacrifice and asceticism but, on the contrary, by an extreme degree of egotism and by the pursuit of self-interest. How can we reconcile the fact that objectively he became a servant to ends which were not his, and yet that subjectively he believed himself to be motivated by his self-interest? How can we reconcile the spirit of Protestantism and its emphasis on unselfishness with the modern doctrine of egotism which claims, to use Machiavelli’s formulation, that egotism is the strongest motive power of human behaviour, that the desire for person advantage is stronger than all moral considerations, that a man would rather see his own father die than lose his fortune? Can this contradiction be explained by the assumption that the emphasis on unselfishness was only an ideology to cover up the underlying egotism? #RandolphHarris 6 of 19

Although this may be true to some extent, we do not believe that this is the full answer. To indicate in what direction the answer seems to lie, we have to concern ourselves with the psychological intricacies of the problem of selfishness. The assumption underling the thinking of Mr. Luther and Mr. Calvin and also that of Mr. Kant and Dr. Freud, is: Selfishness is identical with self-love. To love others is a virtue, to love oneself is a sin. Furthermore, love for others and love for oneself are mutually exclusive. Theoretically we meet here with a fallacy concerning the nature of love. Love is not primarily “caused” by a specific object, but a lingering quality in a person which is only actualized by a certain “object.” Hatred is a passionate wish for destruction; love is a passionate affirmation of an “object”; it is not an “affect” but an active striving and inner relatedness, the aim of which is the happiness, growth, and freedom of its object. The era of preadolescence is characterized by the appearance of impulses in interpersonal relations which make for a new type of satisfaction in place of the other person (the chum). Love, according to him, is a situation in which the satisfaction of the loved one is exactly as significant and desirable as the lover. It is a readiness which, in principle, can turn to any person and object including ourselves. Exclusive love is a contradiction in itself. To be sure, it is not accidental that certain person becomes the “object” of manifest love. #RandolphHarris 7 of 19

The factors conditioning such a specific choice are too numerous and too complex to be discussed here. However, love for a particular “object” is only the actualization and concentration of lingering love with regard to one person; it is not, as the idea of romantic love would have it, that there is only the one person in the World whom one can love, that it is the great chance of one’s life to find that person, and that love for him results in withdrawal from all others. The kind of love which can only be experienced with regard to one person demonstrates by this very fact that it is not love but a sado-masochistic attachment. The basic affirmation contained in love is directed toward the beloved person as an incarnation of essentially human qualities. Love for one person implies love for man as such. Love for man as such is not, as it is frequently supposed to be, an abstraction coming “after” the love for a specific person, or an enlargement of the experience with a specific “object”; it is premise, although, genetically, it is acquired in the contact with concrete individuals. From this it follows that my own self, in principle, is as much an object of my love as another person. The affirmation of my own life, happiness, growth, freedom, is rooted in the presence of the basic readiness of and ability for such an affirmation. If an individual has this readiness, he has it also toward himself; if he can only “love” others, he cannot love at all. When proposal-making bodies are constituted ad hoc, they usually report their findings and recommendations, and then are disbanded. There is thus little opportunity for them or their professional staffs to accumulate experience as a group. #RandolphHarris 8 of 19

Since proposal-making bodies almost universally try to settle upon a single proposal or integrated body of recommendations, with at most a single minority report rather than several alternatives, their work may be rejected or tabled by the policy-making body. Later, another study committee may therefore have to be set up; or a third or a fourth. In some instances of very complex problem situations, exempli gratia, devising private expenditures of public funds, as in government-sponsored research, a succession of studies may have to be made before a workable scheme can be evolved. In this way, there is some accretion of experience even among ad hoc recommending bodies. On the other hand, expect at the beginning of their existence, most planning agencies utilize permanently constituted advisory committees, which in turn often utilize permanently constituted professional staffs. Under such conditions, the accretion of experience is expedited, with many kinds of desirable consequences in the way of expert proficiency, exempli gratia, the narrowing of estimates or the correct anticipation of opinion. Moreover, as needs to be stressed, the proposal-making or planning group can thus co-operate very closely with the group in charge of the actual execution of programs. The Tennessee Valley Authority, for example, takes pride in the fact that in its administrative structure planning and operation are merged. Such a setup is probably an extreme which is rarely feasible. #RandolphHarris 9 of 19

On the other hand, severe and unnecessary complications develop when an advisory commission plus its staff get so far detached from operating agencies that neither feels responsible toward the other, and communication between them breaks down. There are certain guiding trends of expectation regarding such bodies which are becoming more explicitly defined as time goes on. These trends can be summarized under the general term of “professionalization.” This term not only refers to formal membership of staff members in professional societies and their adherence to professional standards of ethics and competence, but to a subtle though substantial development of respect and support for professionals among the public at large. The development of professional standards has always depended to a large degree upon insistence by the community that the trust which it places in professionals be merited, and not solely dependent on the spontaneous enforcement of professional standards by the professional societies themselves. Formerly, however, the professions were a quite distinct and even segregated group of occupations. In recent times the professional outlook has permeated extensively into many occupations and institutions where it once was absent, and their clientele has come to demand professional standards of conduct where much less used to be expected. #RandolphHarris 10 of 19

This demand for professional conduct plainly applies to the status and role ascribed to the proposal-making bodies we have been discussing. They are expected to observe a steady not-self-interested, expert, responsible concern for the welfare of the public they serve. While their diagnoses and recommendations are not accepted as formally binding, they influence the course of the community’s action to the extent that the community trusts them. Having such influence, there is no reason for the body of recommending experts to possess direct authority over the administrator of an action program or his agency, and certainly never over the clientele the agency serves. Having made their proposals, the members of the recommending body should have no more voice or vote in their adoption or rejection than any other citizens. Often hearings are held in which the knowledge, views, and suggestions of all interested parties are sought. The scope of the problem must be defined and measured; all plausible ways of solving the problem must be canvased or even invented; the resources available and required for each alternative solution must be estimated as closely as possible; reasonable rates of accomplishment for various quantitative goals must be proposed; the barriers set by the vital interests of affected groups must be assessed; and the proposal as a whole must be formulated in such a way as to conciliate, skirt, or dissolve all obstacles. It is not surprising that the intensive fact-finding and deliberation which goes into making a well-formulated proposal far exceeds anything of this sort that the public at large can do, so that the public comes to depend heavily on the integrity and competence of its expert recommending bodies. #RandolphHarris 11 of 19

Also, it is perhaps not surprising that recommending bodies and reports often appear to the inexperienced public as luxuries which cannot be afforded, rather than as necessities for ultimate economy in planning. Relation-based and rule-based systems are conceptual pure categories that mix in different ways in practice. In some situations, the diminishing returns of a relation-based system can be countered without going to a fully centralized rule-based alternative. One such system has a hierarchical structure, with small relation-based self-governing communities, and one or more tiers of more formalized channels of information linking them together. This may be especially helpful to middle-sized communities which would otherwise fare poorly in comparison with smaller self-governing communities or larger ones that have successfully made the transition to full rule-based governance. In a model of such a two-tier system, we found that it can mitigate the diminishing returns of self-governance. It retains the local information advantages of a small community, merely adding a formal network of information transmission among the much smaller number, namely a group of supervisors, one from each local network. Another system that can bridge the gap between relation-based governance in small-scale communities and rule-based governance in large ones is the community responsibility system. This system prevailed in Europe in the pre-modern period. It exploited the fact that in those says the communal identities of people were relatively easily identifiable to outsiders because of differences in language, dress, food, and so on, whereas individuals could be tracked well within a community. #RandolphHarris 12 of 19

Then the system worked by holding a community jointly liable for default by any member of it, leaving the community to track down the individual miscreant and recover the sums from him. This is a different kind of two-tier system, each community being the lower tier and the collectivity of communities the upper tier. Less-developed countries (LDCs) and transition economies confront the most important policy questions related to the themes in this report, namely what kind of institutions they should adopt. The correct answer is likely to be a mixture in most cases, and the details of the mixture will depend on the specifics of the country, its history, and its economic prospects. Theoretical understanding of the country, its history, and its economic prospects. Theoretical understanding of the merits and the drawbacks of conceptually pure systems is essential for good design of the right mixture, as is evidence on the performance of similar systems in other countries at other times. However, these must be supplemented by a lot of local knowledge and experimentation. The transition economies should develop their legal systems in this way, starting with private arrangements, especially arbitration, and building on the knowledge gained in their operation. Opening the system to more minority power and allowing citizens to play a more direct role in their own governance are both necessary, but carry us only part of the way. The third vital principle for the politics of tomorrow is aimed at breaking up the decisional logjam and putting decisions where they belong. This, not simply reshufflings leaders, is the antidote to political paralysis. We call it “decision division.” #RandolphHarris 13 of 19

Some problems cannot be solved on a local level. Others cannot be solved on a national level. Some require action at many levels simultaneously. Moreover, the appropriate place to solve a problem does not stay put. It changes over time. To cure today’s decision logjam, resulting from institutional overload, we need to divide up the decisions and reallocate them—sharing them more widely and switching the site of decision-making as the problems themselves require. Today’s political arrangements violate this principle wildly. The problems have shifted, but the decisional power has not. Thus, too many decisions are still concentrated, and the institutional architecture is most elaborate at the national level. By contrast, not enough decisions are being made at the transnational level, and the structures needed there are radically underdeveloped. In addition, too few decisions are left for the subnational level—regions, states, provinces and localities, or non-geographical social groupings. At the transnational level, we are as politically primitive and underdeveloped today as we were at the national level when the industrial revolution began three hundred and twenty years ago. By transferring some decisions “up” from the nation-state, we not only make it possible to act effectively at the level where many of our most explosive problems lie, but simultaneously reduce the decision burden at the overloaded center—the nation-state. Decision division is essential. However, moving decisions up the scale is only half the task. It is also clearly necessary to move a vast amount of decision-making downward from the center. #RandolphHarris 14 of 19

Again the issues is not “either/or” in character. It is not decentralization versus centralization in some absolute sense. The issue is rational reallocation of decision-making in a system that has overstressed centralization to the point at which new information flows are swamping the central decision-makers. Political decentralization is no guarantee of democracy—quite vicious localist tyrannies are possible. Local politics are frequently even more corrupt than national politics. Moreover, much that passes for decentralization is a kind of pseudo-decentralization for the benefit of the centralizers. Nevertheless, with all these caveats, there is no possibility of restoring sense, order and management “efficiency” to many governments without a substantial devolution of central power. We need to divide the decision load and shift a significant part of it downward. This is not because romantic anarchists want us to restore “village democracy” or because angry affluent taxpayers want to cut back on welfare services to the poor. However, any political structure—even with banks of computers—can handle only so much information and no more, can produce only a certain quantity and quality of decisions, and that the decisional implosion has now pushed governments beyond this breakpoint. Moreover, the institutions of government must correlate with the structure of the economy, the information system and other features of the civilization. Today we are witnessing a fundamental decentralization and regionalism of production and economic activity. Indeed it may well be that the basic unit is no longer the national economy. #RandolphHarris 15 of 19

What we are seeing, as we have already stressed is the emergence of a very large, more and more cohesive regional sub-economies within each national economy. At the corporate level, we not only see efforts at internal decentralization but an actual geographical decentralization as well. All this reflects, in part, a gigantic shift of information flows in society. We are undergoing a fundamental demassification of communications as the power of the central networks wanes. We are seeing a stunning proliferation of cable, cassette, wireless, and private electronic mail systems, all ushing in the same decentralist direction. It is not possible for a society to de-massify economic activity, communications and many other crucial processes without also, sooner or later, being compelled to decentralize government decision-making as well. All this demands more than cosmetic changes in existing political institutions. It implies massive battles over control of budgets, taxes, land, energy, and other resources. Decision division will not come easily, but it is absolutely unavoidable in country after overcentralized country. In fighting back to freedom, the believer must wield Scripture as the divinely provided weapon for victory over evil spirit. The versus used with immediate effect, and giving evidence of relief, indicate the specific nature of any attack. They show by the efficacy of the weapon used the immediate cause of the conflict—as the believer reasons back from the effectiveness of the weapon to the cause of the warfare. For instance, if the text wielded is that the ultimate negative is the “source of lies,” and the believer declares that he refused all his lies, and this brings liberty from the oppression of the enemy, it indicates that the enemy is attacking with some of his or her deceptive workings. Then the believer should not only refuse all his or her lies, but pray, “Lord, destroy all the ultimate negative’s lies to me.” #RandolphHarris 16 of 19

All this simply means is that in the path to freedom the deceived believer must act intelligently. He must know the truth, and when the truth is received and acted upon he is set free. In going down into deception the intelligence is unused, but in recovering freedom he must act with deliberate knowledge; id est, he goes down “passively,” but he must emerge to liberty actively, by the action of his whole being. Force must be used against force. The deceiving spirits may suggest that this is “self-effort,” and attempt to again deceive the man into taking a passive attitude—so beware! A few suggestions for attitude and action may be added here in condensed form, for guidance of any who are seeking freedom from the enemy’s powers: Keep claiming the power of the blood. Pray for light, and face the past. Resist the ultimate negative’s persistently in your spirit Never give up hope. Avoid all introspection. Live and pray for others, and thus keep your spirit in full aggressive and resisting power. Again it may be said: Stand daily on Romans 6.11 at the attitude to sin. Resist the enemy (James 4.7) daily on the ground of the blood of Christ (Rev. 12.11). Live daily for others; live outward, and not inward. The Cross is the symbol of the Christ’s total immersion in the existential situation, and the Resurrection is symbolic of His total victory over it. We do not deny that these meanings are contained in the Cross and Resurrection. Salvation is assured by the manifestation of the New Being within existence, and the Cross is the guarantee that Jesus as the Christ experiences existence to its most terrifying degree. #RandolphHarris 17 of 19

The works of Jesus, including His sacrificial death, do not bring release from sin, but the New Being in Him is the source of salvation. No Christology or soteriology can impugn the Christian’s prerogative to say, “Jesus died for me”—and this statement contains an inescapable sacrificial element. The Resurrection symbolizes the conquest of existence by the manifestation of essential manhood in Jesus as the Christ. The Christ cannot be the Christ unless He is received as such in an act of faith. Before the crucifixion the disciples had faith in the Christhood of Jesus, but the catastrophe of the Cross shattered their faith. After the death and burial of Jesus, in an ecstatic experience of the New Being, they realized that the power of the Christ was still operative, and so their faith was restored. Jesus does nothing in the Resurrection event, for He is dead and buried, and it is the power of the New Being which grasps the disciples in an ecstasy of faith. Apparently the New Being can be separated from Jesus and the Resurrection is an act of the New Bing, but not an act of Jesus. Secondly, the biblical material insists that it is the Resurrection of Jesus which vivifies our faith, that we have risen because He has risen. It is the resuscitation of the disciples’ faith which accounts for the Resurrection event; it is their faith which restores Christhood to Jesus. Resurrection is both event and symbol. The event is the restoration of the disciples’ faith, and the symbolic element is the triumph of essential manhood over the estranged conditions of existence. The rub is that the New Testament presents the reverse of this scheme: the event is the triumphal Resurrection of Jesus which, in turn, symbolizes the rebirth of our life. #RandolphHarris 18 of 19

Christianity and Mormonism teaches unity of the human race. I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all. We all have one Father; one God has created us. God therefore forbids every sort of animosity, envy, or unkindness towards any one of whatsoever race, nationality, or religion. God demands consideration for the life, health, powers, and possessions of one’s neighbour. He therefore forbids injuring a fellowman by force, or cunning, or in any other manner depriving him of his property. God commands holding a fellow’s honour as sacred as one’s own. It therefore forbids degrading him by evil reports, vexing him with ridicule or mortifying him. God commands respect for the religious convictions of others. He therefore forbids aspersion or disrespectful treatment of the customs and symbols of other religions. God commands the practice of charity towards all, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, nursing the sick, confronting those that mourn. He therefore forbids limiting our care to ourselves and our families, and withholding sympathy when our neighbours suffer. God commands respect for labour; each in his own sphere shall strive for the blessings of life by worthwhile creative activity. God therefore demands the cultivation and development of all our power and capabilities. God commands absolute truthfulness; our yea shall be yea, or nay, nay. God therefore forbids the distortion of truth and deceit, and condemns hypocrisy. God commands walking humbly by His side and in modesty among men. God therefore forbids self-conceit, arrogance, and disparagement of the merits of others. God commands chastity and the sanctity of marriage. God forbids infidelity, license and lust. God commands the promotion of welfare of one’s fellowmen. God therefore forbids indifference to the needs of the community. God commands that its adherents shall promote the welfare of the state. God calls upon us to sacrifice property and even life for the highest principles of justice and liberty. God commands sanctification through righteous living. God bids us exert ourselves to hasten the time in which men shall be reunited in love. #RandolphHarris 19 of 19

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Fear is Pain Arising from the Anticipation of Evil

It is probable that everybody who is at all a constant dreamer has had at least one experience of an event or sequence of circumstances which have come to one’s mind in sleep being subsequently realized in the material World. Victorian people were superstitious. Stories like the one about the Angels of Mons were encouraged, even fostered by the High Command because they suggested that the Almighty fought on their side. I had gained my expertise in spiritualism. I had witnessed an exorcism performed in Madagascar. I had studied apparent accounts of demonic possession in Suez and French Equatorial Africa. I knew enough to suspect that the occult was both pernicious and widespread. I believed in the miracles of God. So I could easily believe in the miracles of Satan. November of 1887, the afternoon, like every afternoon, was spent in the parlor. I was unescorted in my home. The stairs were treacherous under my feet as I made my way through the labyrinth. I was half-lost. It was cold, of course. It was a raw November, cold and always damp. I walked the chilly hall which smelled of wood polish and holy water. I closed my eyes and pictured basking in the sun. I opened my eyes. But the mood would not lift from me. The mansion gave that dark word, loneliness, the depth of an abyss. In the reluctant recesses of my soul, I could tell that there was something more dangerous lurking about than my encounter in Africa had been. A smile twitched on my face in mellow firelight. The flames from the grate were fading in their fierceness now. In the coroner was a Victrola phonogram. My mind had been leaping from one conclusion to the next with such rapidity that I had not realized how far I had come. Despite the two candles and the glow of the fire, the shadows behind the furniture—two armchairs, a wooden settle, various other chairs and cabinets of mahogany—were very dark indeed. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8

I shone the lantern around the room, striking more shadows from the Lincrusta-Walton wall covering. And how long would the oil last? Abruptly, the Victrola began to play. It was an obscure song by a Vatican composer, written in praise of the Almighty, rightly infamous as one of the few songs recorded by the last surviving castrato. When Wiliam was trading in Africa, I think he became involved in magic. Powerful magic. He had a hypnotic power. I believe he passed something to me. Let us call it capability. I turned the lantern down as low as I could bear and lay awake for hours, as it seemed, with fear crawling through my veins, until I sank into an exhausted sleep, and woke half-frozen in the gray light of dawn. Two carriages were due to return at eleven—the carpenters had, I gathered, refused to remain at Llanada Villa overnight. There was a crowd breakfasting on tea and toasts, prepared over the kitchen’s fire. Feeling acutely self-conscious, I assured everyone that I was entirely recovered from my faint, and had slept quite well, and allowed for myself to be settled by the fireside and waited upon by Hattie, the parlormaid. A ripple of shock ran through the room. It seemed a few hours passed, but really they were seconds, for time is measured by the quality and not the quantity of sensations it contains. I saw it all with merciless, photographic detail, sharply etched amid the general confusion. No one else stirred, though Hattie clattered noisily with the cups, making some sudden impulsive gesture with her hands. A liquid fear ran all over me, the more effective because unintelligible really. Yet I felt that if I could know all, and what lay behind, my fear would be more than justified; that the thing was awful, full of awe. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8

I could not figure out what had been living within the walls of my home. Sorcerers? Necromancers? Wizards. Practicers of Black Magic. I studied everything. The rhythm. The solar, lunar, stellar rhythm. The sidereal aspect. The astrological significance. It is said that if you offer blood to the dark gods, they grant boons. Yes, if a blood offering is made at the proper time—when the moon and the stars are right—and with the proper ceremonies—they grant boons. Boons of youth. Eternal youth. Sure as the stars, all the hauntings correspond to certain astrological rhythm pattern. Later that evening, I noticed Hattie’s eyes were as red as maraschino cherries. She teetered back and forth regarding us very gravely. This made me wonder about the secret lives of my servants—their secret lives beyond the care of the estate. How many of them were playing a part, concealing something Who here would worship Hecate and grant that goddess the dark doon of blood? Hecate is a mysterious divinity sometimes identified with Diana and sometimes with Proserpine. As Diana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so Hecate represents its in darkness and terrors. She is the goddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and is believed to wander by night along the Earth seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her approach. Even Aeson and Norman could be masquerading. The mood was upon us all, for a moment. I saw questions flicker in the circle of eyes around the room. Aeson stood there, and I could swear he was fully conscious of the situation he had created, and enjoyed it. I wondered idly just what was really wrong with him. Why he had this odd fixation with Hecate. Maybe he was hiding secrets, too. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8

Amanda was glazing at the kitchen, waiting to make a break for another pot of tea. And then it happened—a truly wicked sight—like watching a universe in action, yet all contained within a small square foot of space. Aeson wobbled horribly, then with that queer sideways motion, rapid yet ungainly, he stepped forward into the middle of the room and fell heavily upon his face. His eyes, as he dropped, faded shockingly, and across the countenance was written plainly what I can only call an expression of destruction. He looked utterly destroyed. I caught a sound—from Amanda?—but this time not of laughter. It was like a gulp; it was deep and muffled and it dipped away into the Earth. Again I thought of a troop of small black horses galloping away down a subterranean passage beneath my feet—plunging into the depts—their tramping growing fainter and fainter into buried distance. So far from this being a strange thing, it would be odder if this fulfillment did not occasionally happen. The butler picked Aeson up and carried him to a guest room. He recovered even before the doctor came. However, the queer thing to me is that I was convinced the others all had seen what I saw, only that no one said a word about it; and to this day no one has said a word. And that was, perhaps, the most horrid part of all. From that day to this I have scarcely heard a mention of Aeson. It seemed as if he dropped suddenly out of life. The papers never mentioned him. His activities ceased, as it were. His afterlife, at any rate, became singularly in effective. Certainly he achieved nothing worth public mention. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8

The wind was rising outside, tearing the shroud of fog to ragged shreds. The shadows crept up about listen. Amanda talked about ritual killings and prolonging the life unnaturally—a very fantastic tale. Superstitious dread possessed me; I turned to flee, but my foot slipped on some fallen plaster, and a board creaked loudly. The shadow darkened and seemed to rise up the opposite wall, and Mr. Hansen appeared before me. “Ah, Mrs. Winchester. Forgive me if I startled you—and for taking the liberty of exploring your house. This is, I gather, the room you wanted to extend?” He was not wearing his tinted spectacles, and his eyes gleamed faintly in the light from the doorway. “Yes, sir, it is.” He gestured toward the doorway, as if inviting me to examine something, stepping back as he did so to make room for me to enter. Politeness compelled me to obey against my instinct, and a moment later I was standing by the writing table, with Mr. Hansen between me and the door.” “What was it you wanted to show me, sir?” I asked, unable to suppress the tremor of fear in my voice. His expression was all but concealed by his beard and moustache, but it seemed tome that there was a glint of amusement in his eyes, which were so dark that the irises, as well as the pupils, seemed almost black. “Mrs. Winchester, I can see it glimmer with glass and silver, windows opening to the grade front of the house, and a tower that stands three stories,” Mr. Hasen said. Quite inexplicably, my heart sank at his words. I felt as if I had come up with the design myself. In silence we passed through the hall, and mounted a great mahogany staircase with many corners, and arrived at a small landing with two doors set it in. He pushed one of the doors open for me to enter, and closed it behind me. Now I knew that my conjecture had been right: there was something awful in the mansion, and with the terror of nightmare growing swiftly and enveloping, I laid in bed and closed my eyes. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8

The next morning, I felt that indefinable sense of ominous apprehension that I am accustomed to before thunder. However, tea pursued its cheerful course. I looked round the room with a certain sense of proprietorship, and found that nothing had changed. And then with a sudden start of unexplained dismay, I saw a life-sized oil painting of a man I did not recall. A rather secret and evil-looking man of about thirty. His picture hung between the windows, looking straight across the room to the other portrait, which hung at the side of the sofa. At that I looked next, and as I looked I felt once more the horror of nightmare seize me. Evil beamed from the narrow, leering eyes: it laughed in the demonlike mouth. The whole face was instinct with some secret and appalling mirth; the hands, clasped together on the knee, seemed shaking with suppressed and nameless glee. There came a tap at the door and Martin enter. “Mrs. Winchester, have everything you want,” he asked. “Rather more than I want,” I said, pointing to the picture. He laughed. “It is scarcely a human face at all. It is the face of some warlock, some devil.” He looked at it more closely. “Yes; it isn’t very pleasant,” he agreed. “Scarcely a something to look at, eh? I’ll have it taken down if you like.” “I really wish you would,” I said. He used the annunciator, and with the help of another servant, they detached the picture and carried it out on to the landing, and put it with its face to the wall. “By Joke, the picture is heavy,” Martin said, mopping his forehead. “I wonder if he had something on his mind.” When Martin looked at his hand, there was blood on it, in considerable quantities, covering the whole palm. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8

“I’ve cut myself somehow,” he said. Martin gave a little startled exclamation. “Why, I had too,” said John. Zip, had come out of the house, as the servants and I were in the garden. The door behind us into the hall was open, and a bright oblong of light shone across the lawn to the iron gate which led on to the road outside, where a mahogany tree stood. I saw that Zip had all his hackles up, bristling with rage and fright; his lips were curled back from his teeth, as if he were ready to spring at something, and he was growing to himself. He took not the slightest notice of me or the servants, but stiffly and tensely walked across the grass to the iron gate. There he stood for a moment, looking through the bars and still growling. Then of a sudden his courage seemed to desert him: he gave one long howl, and scuttled back to the house with a curious crouching sort of movement. I walked to the gate and looked over it. Something was moving on the grass outside. There was a thunder in the air, as I shivered and brooded on the casting of that brain-blasting shadow, something creeped out of the Earth’s supreme horrors. It had come down from horribly ancient eons before the World was made. The beast had a humanoid head, large teeth, globular eyes, and was covered with scales. His hands were claws like a lion. Some bright light had been flashed in my face, though it was now pitch dark. Overheard the thunder cracked roared, and when it ceased and the deathly stillness succeeded, I heard the rustle of movement coming nearer me, and more horrible corruption and decay. My galloping heart had no reassurance. And then a hand was laid on the side of my neck, and close beside my ear, I heard quick-taken breathing. I ran back to my house as fast as I could. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8

But the breathing still came closer to me. At that, the terror, which I think had paralyzed me for the moment, gave way to the wild instinct of self-preservation. I hit wildly with both arms, kicking out at the same moment, and heard a little animal squeal, and something soft dropped with a thud beside me. I took a could of steps, put my right hand on the wall which was nearest to me, and noticed that there were Sumerian markings and occult symbols all over the walls and ceilings of the darkened parlor. One of the kitchens was adored with demonic imagery. Martin, the butler, said “I was looking for you—Good heaven there’s blood on your shoulder.” I stook there, so he told me afterwards, swaying from side to side, white as a sheet, with the mark on my shoulder as if a hand covered with blood had been laid there.” Then there was silence; he had passed out of my sight behind the open door. Next moment he came out again, as white as myself, and instantly shut it. How I got to the basement I hardly know. An awful shuddering and nausea of the spirit rather than of the flesh had seized me, and more than once he had to place my feet upon the steps, while every now and then he cast glances up the stairs. The air was still, but so bitterly cold that breathing felt like inhaling splinters of ice. Finally upstairs, I sat with Martin in the library by the fire, wondering if I should ever feel warm again. It was the art of all devilry that had been done here. The mist, I noticed uneasily, had grown much thicker—and so we returned to the gallery. The echoes of the ghosts sounded horribly. I wished there was something I could do, other than wait and shiver, and try to shake off the sensation of being watched. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8


Thomas Edison theorized that energy, like matter, is indestructible. He became intrigued by the idea of developing a radio that would be sensitive enough to pick up the sounds of times past—sounds that were only audible to the psychically sensitive. Mr. Edison hypothesized that the vibrations of every word ever uttered still echoed in the ether.

If this theory should be established, it would explain phenomena such as the restoration of scenes from the past. Just as the emotion of certain individuals permeate a certain room and cause a ghost to be seen by those possessing similar telepathic affinity, so it might be that emotionally charged scenes of the past become imprinted upon the psychic ether of an entire landscape.

An alternate theory maintains that souls or energy emotionally held to an area may telepathically invade the mind of a sensitive person and enable one to see the scene as “they” one saw it. At The Winchester Mystery House, some say that they have seen a dark shadow following them into the place; still others say they hear things in the back room—things like silverware moving about with an odd tinkling sound. A young employee, who was playing videos games during his break, ran back into the lobby screaming that he had seen a woman in the garden half in and half out of the ground.

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase. https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

If you forget to purchase something during your visit, you can order any gift item by calling 408-247-2000 and charging them to your credit card. You can also place an order through the mail. Be sure to include a daytime telephone number with area code.




























































































































