Ancient Chinese account of the Grand Canyon, or course of the Colorado

In Short

This book presents a unique, speculative argument that ancient Chinese scholars possessed intimate knowledge of North American geography. By cross-referencing linguistic roots, mythology, and early explorers' reports, the author asserts that the "Great Canyon" and "Mulberry Land" described in classical texts are not mere fantasy, but literal depictions of the Colorado River and the North American continent. Through a blend of etymology, historical conjecture, and accounts from 19th-century expeditions, the work attempts to bridge the gap between Eastern antiquity and the natural landmarks of the American Southwest.

The Story

The narrative begins with a challenge to modern skepticism regarding ancient texts. The author highlights Chinese records mentioning "Ten Suns," "Seven Moons," and a land of the "Fu-Sang" or Mulberry Tree. Rather than dismissing these as flights of fancy, the author argues they are accurate, albeit symbolic, geographical descriptions. The continent of North America is identified as this Mulberry Tree, with the Isthmus of Tehuantepec serving as its trunk. The "Ten Suns" and "Seven Moons" are interpreted as atmospheric phenomena—parhelia—witnessed by ancient travelers navigating the northern reaches of the continent.

The arc of the argument then shifts to the American Southwest. The author contends that the Chinese Shan Hai King and other ancient documents identify the Colorado River as a "Great Canyon" (Ta-Hoh) flowing toward a "Charming Gulf," which is identified as the Gulf of California. The text claims that the "bottomless" nature of parts of the Colorado—specifically references to Grand Lake—aligns perfectly with descriptions in Chinese manuscripts. From here, the narrative moves to the inhabitants of this region. The author introduces a "baby ruler," the Chwen Suh, a child-king associated with these canyons. This figure is linked to the "Golden Heaven" family and is described as having abandoned his lute in the chasm. The author interprets this "lute" as a poetic reference to the musical, echoing waters of the gorge, and the child-king himself as a messianic figure in indigenous traditions.

The final phase of the book connects these ancient travelers to the Toltec civilization. The author suggests that the Toltecs, who disappeared from Mexico in the 11th century, were the "refined gentlemen" described in Chinese texts. These people, seeking refuge from encroaching tribes, allegedly moved north into the canyons, constructing the cliff dwellings that fascinate modern archaeologists. The author concludes by asserting that the "Sun-Prince" or "Messiah" of Pueblo tradition is the same figure mentioned in the Chinese records. The book ends by drawing a direct line between these ancient, pale-skinned builders and the broader history of North American migration, framing the ruins of the Southwest as the final, silent witnesses to a forgotten, trans-Pacific cultural link.

How It Unfolds

The celestial geography The author establishes that "Ten Suns" and other multiply-luminaried skies are not myths, but documented optical phenomena called parhelia. By measuring distances in le, the author argues that the "Fu-Sang" land 30,000 le east of China aligns precisely with the dimensions of North America.

The canyon identified The text turns to the Colorado River, arguing that Chinese terms for "Great Canyon" and "bottomless" riverbeds match the physical realities of the Grand Canyon and Grand Lake. It presents geological features and turbulent waters as the real-world counterparts to ancient, poetic descriptions.

The legend of the child-king The narrative examines the figure of the infant ruler, the Chwen Suh, who supposedly left his lute in the canyon. This section reinterprets the "lute" as the sound of water and links the child to divine figures in indigenous Southwestern lore.

The Toltec connection The book links the migration of the Toltecs to the cliff-dwelling builders of the Southwest. It proposes that the "refined gentlemen" of ancient Chinese records were these displaced people, leaving behind etchings and ruins as their only historical trace.

The People

The book is less a character-driven narrative than an assembly of historical and mythological figures used to support its thesis. Mu, also known as the Shao Hao or "Little Sun-Child," stands at the center of the argument. He is presented as a messianic, royal figure whose birth and reign in the canyons link ancient Chinese records to the oral traditions of the Pueblo and Pimo peoples. The author frames him as a "demigod" whose name is still whispered in regional legend.

The Toltecs are the secondary figures, characterized as "refined gentlemen," architects, and artists who were forced to flee Mexico during the 11th century. The author portrays them as the "builders" of the cliff-dwellings, a cultured people whose tragic disappearance from the historical record is mirrored in the crumbling stones of the Southwest. Finally, the modern explorers—such as those quoted from the Powell expeditions—serve as unwilling, objective witnesses. Their descriptions of the "roaring" river, the "scorched" soil, and the "pictorial" cliffs are treated as modern validations of the ancient Chinese accounts, serving to ground the author's speculative history in empirical, 19th-century geographical reporting.

In Its Own Voice

"What Liars those Chinese writers are!"

The author opens the book by adopting a skeptical tone, mocking the perceived absurdity of ancient texts before systematically dismantling the premise of that doubt.

"And some are entranced by strains of music arising from the mouth of the Canyon and declare that it holds an 'orchestra.'"

This observation bridges the gap between the ancient Chinese claim that a "lute" was left in the canyon and the modern experience of hearing echoes within the chasm.

"The roar of the river has never ceased since the ancient scribe, or his informant, passed that way."

The author uses this statement to argue that the physical reality of the Colorado River acts as a persistent, unchanging witness to the accuracy of ancient travelogues.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an attempt to rewrite the history of American discovery by asserting that the East and West were connected long before the age of European exploration. It explores the tension between traditional history and the potential for a deeper, older narrative hidden within mythology. The author is preoccupied with the idea that the "barren" ruins of the Southwest are actually the final chapters of a sophisticated civilization that the world has forgotten. By treating ancient records as scientific data rather than folklore, the book asks whether we have been blind to evidence of pre-Columbian contact, framing the Grand Canyon not just as a natural wonder, but as an ancient repository of human history.

Why Read It Today

This book is a fascinating artifact of early 20th-century amateur scholarship, written with a confident, idiosyncratic voice that rarely appears in modern academic texts. Readers interested in the history of ideas, alternative archeology, or the long-standing American obsession with pre-Columbian origins will find much to engage with here. It is a dense, repetitive read, often relying on linguistic leaps that a modern linguist would find tenuous; the author’s tendency to force Chinese characters to align with English phonetics or specific canyon features is a significant hurdle for the reader.

However, the experience of reading the book is uniquely atmospheric. The author’s warmth toward the "patient and intelligent reader" creates a sense of partnership in discovery. The vivid, albeit dated, quotes from 19th-century explorers offer a stark, dramatic view of the Grand Canyon as it was first being mapped by Westerners. You will not come away with a verified historical account, but you will be left with a sense of the wonder that early researchers felt when staring into the depths of the Colorado, attempting to reconcile their own limited knowledge with the vast, ancient silence of the landscape. It is a period piece of intellectual ambition, rewarding for those who enjoy the process of speculative deduction.