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Chapter 8

The Golden Age

THE RISE OF MAYA CIVILIZATION

As the wave of urbanization swept over the peninsula of
Yucatán in the centuries following the founding of Edzná, the flat and
featureless landscape of the low, limestone plateau afforded the Maya
with few opportunities to orient their incipient cities to topographic
features of any significance. At El Mirador, in northernmost
Guatemala, for example, evidence is just now coming to light regarding
its impressive proportions, its age, and its configuration. Dating to
just about the beginning of the Christian era, this site appears to
have followed the pattern of Edzná in its layout, for its dominating
structure -- a lofty pyramid called by its excavators Danta ("tapir")
-- is squarely oriented toward the setting sun on August 13 over the
Tigre pyramid, some 2 km (1.25 mi) to the west (Matheny, 1987,
334-335). This does not mean, however, that the principle of
solsticial orientation had been either forgotten or totally abandoned,
because that was definitely not the case. Where the topography
permitted -- and among the lowland Maya, this was in very few
instances indeed -- locating a ceremonial center with respect to a
solsticial sunrise or sunset was still most probably the preferred
principle to employ. Thus, when the ceremonial center of Uaxactún in
the Petén region of northern Guatemala was founded -- most likely
about the first or second century A.D. -- its site represented the
point on the watershed between the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean
from which the winter solstice sunrise could be calibrated over Baldy
Beacon (1020 m, 3346 ft) in the Maya Mountains of Belize. (However,
this did not prevent the local priests from "reinforcing" the azimuths
of both the summer and winter solstices architecturally, for one of
the earliest illustrations of archaeoastronomic alignments ever
reported -- by Frans Blom in 1924 -- was the relationship of the
structures in Group E at Uaxactún. He noted that sight-lines from
Building VII to the northern corner of Building I and to the southern
corner of Building III mark the sunrise positions on the summer and
winter solstices, respectively, while a sight-line through the middle
of Building II commemorates the equinoctial sunrise [Rojas, 1983, 25,
281.)

Ironically, when the so-called Maya capital of Tikal was
founded just 25 km (16 mi) to the south of Uaxactún about a century
later, along the same height of land between the Caribbean and the
Gulf of Mexico, its site marked the point where the winter solstice
sunrise could be seen over Victoria Peak,, which is the highest peak
in the Maya Mountains (1122 m, 3681 ft). Indeed, one is tempted to
speculate that the Maya may initially have thought that the
culminating peak of that range was Baldy Beacon, but upon discovering
some years later that this was not true, they felt obliged to build a
second and larger ceremonial center to commemorate the critical
calendrical event over the higher mountain. Otherwise, there is
certainly little reason for having located two major ceremonial
centers so close to one another -- a matter which, it may be pointed
out, has long puzzled most archaeologists (see Figure 39).

Because the oldest Long Count inscription found at Tikal
traces back to A.D. 292, archaeologists have chosen this general time
frame as the commencement point of the so-called Classic Period. Thus,
depending on the source consulted, the Classic Period of Mesoamerica's
cultural evolution is usually considered to have begun in A.D. 250 or
300.

Figure 39.

Solsticial alignment to mountains was, of course, impossible in
regions like the Yucatán, so El Mirador built its orientation into its
architectural monuments as Edzná had done earlier. Both Uaxactún and
Tikal, on the other hand, were close enough for the peaks of the Maya
Mountains to be utilized as winter solstice sunrise azimuths, but
priests at both ceremonial centers likewise reinforced their
calendrical alignments by incorporating them into the layout of their
buildings as well.

During the following two to three centuries, civilization
spread through the jungles of Petén like a tidal wave. In what has to
have been the greatest crescendo of land clearing and city building
that the Mesoamerican world had ever witnessed, the Maya peoples rose
to unparalleled heights of political organization, economic
prosperity, and social sophistication. Although several writers have
labeled this the "Old Empire" period of the Maya, Frans Blom more
accurately defined it as the "Petén period," for most of this feverish
expansion was geographically concentrated in the rain forests of what
is today northern Guatemala, Belize, and the southern Yucatán. Only in
later Classic times (after 600 A.D.) did a similar wave of development
occur farther north, giving rise to what the same writers called the
"New Empire" of the Maya, but which Blom has characterized as the
"Yucatán period" (Blom, 1983, 309 - 310).  The preferability of Blom's
terminology derives not only from his insistence on the difference in
geographic focus, but also because the Maya seem never to have
developed anything like a unified empire. Indeed, most likely because
of the environment in which they lived, their most extensive political
unit did not evolve beyond the level of the city-state. The most
unfortunate consequence of this fact, in turn, was an ongoing rivalry
between adjacent political dynasties which manifested itself in an
almost endemic state of warfare. A strikingly frequent subject of both
Maya art and inscriptions are dynastic struggles and slave raids,
whereas fortifications were an integral part of many of their early
urban centers, such as Edzná, Tikal, and Becán.

Throughout the Classic Period, literally scores of major
ceremonial centers were erected, and each of these in turn probably
served as the "central place" for a cluster of as many as a dozen
other subsidiary settlements. In each instance, the location of the
ceremonial centers was dictated by the presence of water, in the form
of either a cenote (Spanish for "sinkhole," derived from the Mayan
word tzonot) or an aguada such as that which gave rise to Edzná. As
populations grew, however, additional measures were undertaken to
impound or store water during the rainy season, including the
construction of chultunes, or underground reservoirs, cut out of the
limestone bedrock and plastered with clay. Nevertheless, to suggest
that the resultant settlement pattern of the Maya approximated that
which would have theoretically developed on an isotropic (or
homogeneous) plain, as some writers have done, is to ignore totally
the fact that the availability of water was neither ubiquitous nor
uniform throughout the region.

On the other hand, it is probably safe to say that during
the entire Classic Period not a single major Maya ceremonial center
was erected without preserving in at least one of its key structures
an alignment either to a solstice or to the sunset on August 13.
Denied the option of using a topographic feature for such a purpose,
the Maya incorporated these sacred precepts into the very façades of
their buildings. The palaces at Sayil and Labná, the Codz Pop at
Kabáh, the Temple of the Inscriptions at Palenque, the Temple of the
Magician at Uxmal, El Castillo at Chichén Itzá, and the main pyramid
at Toniná are but a few examples of such alignments. All Maya
ceremonial centers likewise employed the Long Count in the dating of
their monuments.

Figure 40.

The principle of solsticial orientation was developed as early as the
fourteenth century B.C., and diffused as widely as was practicable in
terms of local topography. Its heyday was definitely limited to
Formative times.

IN QUEST OF ORIGINS

If there ever was such a period as a golden age among the
peoples of Mesoamerica, it occurred during the late fifth and early
sixth centuries A.D. By that time a relatively homogeneous cultural
landscape extended from the southern margins of the region in El
Salvador and Guatemala through Soconusco and the Gulf coastal lowland
of Mexico as far westward and northward as the uplands of Oaxaca and
the high basins of the plateau and as far eastward as the jungles of
Petén and the outer reaches of the Yucatán Peninsula. Here was a
culture region characterized by organized political entities with
hierarchical social and economic systems dominated by priestly castes;
great ceremonial centers laid out according to carefully executed
plans and adorned with imposing structures of monumental architecture;
an elaborate and extensive trading network which linked its every
corner and penetrated even the adjacent areas of present-day Central
America and the southeastern United States; and an essentially uniform
religious philosophy. Although the names of the deities differed from
one language area to another, it is clear from the manner in which
they were artistically depicted that the rain-god, for example, be he
known as Tlaloc, Chac, Cocijo, or Pije, was really one and the same.
Moreover, the calendars with which the different peoples of the region
recorded their history and scheduled their rituals were likewise but
variations on a common theme. Indeed, by this time the cultural
influences which had given "Mesoamerica" its regional distinctiveness
had been diffused to all but the farthest reaches of its geographic
frontiers.

Figure 41.

The principle of orientation to the August 13th sunset was probably
first utilized about 800 B.C. and continued well into Classic times.
Its use implies an enhanced level of sophistication over and above the
basic principle of solsticial orientation. The extent of its
geographic diffusion is a good approximation of the limits of the
Mesoamerican cultural realm as it existed at the peak of Teotihuacán's
influence.

Figure 42.

"El Caracol" at Chichén Itzá has long been recognized as an
astronomical observatory whose foundations are Maya and whose
subsequent embellishments are Toltec. Perhaps the most significant
alignments of this structure are those of its front door and its
principal window, located just above it, both of which look out at the
western horizon toward the sunset position on August 13.

It was during this relatively peaceful and harmonious
period that a couple of what appear to have been Mesoamerica's most
intriguing intellectual quests were undertaken. And because it was at
precisely this juncture that the great metropolis of Teotihuacán had
its greatest influence over the region as a whole -- as witnessed both
in artistic motifs and architectural innovations -- there can be
little doubt that the impetus for these quests stemmed from the
priests who lived and worked in this bustling highland city.

We have already seen how their "obedience" to the sun-god
seems to have led to the founding of a "relay station" on the ridge
that visually separated Orizaba from the Valley of Mexico and how they
had laid out their city in the valley to align both with the winter
solstice sunrise over Mexico's highest mountain and with the sunset on
August 13 (see Figure 23). Somewhat later, their preoccupation with
the movements of Venus had prompted them to establish an astronomical
observatory in the northeastern hills at Xihuingo to mark the planet's
extreme rising and setting positions (Wallrath and Ruiz, 1991, 297).
Therefore, it was probably only a question of time before their
curiosity would send them off on a couple of more distant expeditions
to answer two of the most fundamental questions posed by their
cultural heritage.

Figure 43A. This screen display produced by the VOYAGER computer
program recreates the sky at sunset in late April in the year A.D.
1000, as it would have appeared through the main window of "El
Caracol" at Chichén Itzá in the Yucatán. From the information inset at
the top of the display, it will be noted that the sun is directly
overhead at the latitude of Izapa (declination 14º.47) and that it is
setting at an azimuth of 285º.5 -- which would have been precisely in
the middle of the observatory window. Although the Pleiades set within
minutes of the sun -- at the right-hand edge of the window -- they
were not visible in the bright afterglow of the sun. Such a
reconstruction proves with dramatic eloquence the author's thesis that
the sunset on August 13 -- the only other day of the year that the sun
is vertically overhead at the latitude of Izapa -- constituted one of
the key astronomical events in ancient Mesoamerican timekeeping. (The
VOYAGER program is a product of Carina Software, San Leandro, CA
94577.)

Figure 43B.
A reconstruction of a late April sunset in the year A.D. 1000 with a
photograph of the window
of El Caracol superimposed over the dome of the Griffiths Observatory
planetarium. It clearly
shows the setting sun in the middle of the window and the Pleiades to
the upper right.
On August 13th, when the sun is again overhead at Izapa, the same
phenomenon may be
observed, but without the presence of the Pleiades. (Photograph
courtesy of E. C. Krupp.)

The first question had to do with the 260-day sacred
almanac. Inasmuch as it had begun with the southward passage of the
zenithal sun, it must be possible, they reasoned, to find a place
where such an interval could be measured. Naively enough, they
probably assumed that if they could locate that place, then they would
have discovered the birthplace of their cultural forefathers.

Figure 44.

For some inexplicable reason, the Long Count either never diffused
into the highlands of Oaxaca or onto the Mexican plateau, or if it
did, it was never appreciated and adopted by the peoples of these
regions. As a result, its use was restricted to the Maya, for whom it
became a tool of inestimable value in furthering their knowledge of
complex astronomical cycles, such as those of Venus and of solar and
lunar eclipses.

The second question was related to the 365-day secular
calendar. Its count was initiated when the sun reached its farthest
northerly point in the sky. Every year the priests watched as the sun
made its annual "pilgrimage" from far to the south -- over Orizaba --
to far to the north -- somewhere in the northern desert. Would it be
possible, they wondered, to find out where "the sun stands still"?
(Expressed in terms of Western geography, they were asking where the
Tropic of Cancer was located.) And, perhaps if they discovered where
this happened, maybe they would even find out why it happened.

These, of course, were two very sound geographic questions
and to answer them fieldwork would be required. Expeditions would have
to be sent out to determine physically where the sun passed vertically
overhead on the equivalent of August 13 and where the sun "stood
still" on the equivalent of June 22. In the first instance they
realized that the quest would take them southward, no doubt to the
fabled paradise of Tamoanchan. (According to the legends of
Teotihuacán, their forebears had come from a lush, green forested
region so named, replete with exotic birds and butterflies, far to the
south.) Much as they may have been tempted to undertake this journey
themselves -- and who knows, perhaps one or more priests from
Teotihuacán formed part of the expedition's personnel -- this was a
task best left to someone nearer at hand, so this assignment they
allocated to their Maya subordinates in Tikal. The mandate was clear:
keep going southward until a place was found where a 260-day interval
exists between zenithal sun positions.

For carrying out the second expedition, the Teotihuacanos
themselves were the best situated of any people in Mesoarnerica, for
the vast expanses of the northern desert began almost within sight of
their own city. This was not to be an easy mission, however, for it
would take the explorers directly out into the barbarous, unforgiving
country of the "Chichimecs" -- the nomadic hunters and gatherers who
somehow scavenged a living from the meager resources of this desolate
region. But again, the goal was not in doubt: keep going northward
until a place was found beyond which the sun does not venture (beyond
the zenith).

For an expedition starting southward out of Tikal, the
choice of routes was a relatively clear-cut one. Even before the
journey had started, the rainforest had closed in on every side. If
their course veered too far to the southeast they would find
themselves encumbered in the granite ridges of the Maya Mountains,
whereas if it turned too far to the southwest they would soon get
mired down in the swampy lowlands in the headwaters of the Usumacinta
drainage system. To avoid these obstacles, they found it best to
follow the height of land on which Tikal was situated (i.e., the
drainage divide between the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico)
almost due south, at least until the final ridges of the Maya
Mountains were passed. By that time, however, the folded ranges of the
Cuchumatanes were looming up on the southern horizon, arcing into ever
higher crests toward the southwest. Now they opted to swing east
around the end of Lake Izabal, then across the Río Dulce, and over the
low eastern spurs of the Sierra de las Minas into the broad
fault-valley of the Motagua River.

By this time they had put more than 150 km (90 mi) of
forest trail behind them, but the priests who were leading the
expedition knew that many more days of travel still lay ahead. Back in
Tikal the zenithal sun passed overhead on the equivalent of August 5
and did not again cross the zenith until May 8. Although the former
date was only 8 days before the "day that time began," the sun was
also 8 days too late in its second passage over Tikal, resulting in an
interval of 276 days between the two zenithal passages. Now, as they
entered the Motagua Valley, the priests checked the interval between
vertical suns again, and found that it had narrowed to about 265 days.
Its southward passage took place on the equivalent of August 10 and
its northward transit occurred on May 2. There was no option now but
to follow the Motagua upstream until the correct interval could be
located.

As the expedition moved up along the river, it found a
place where two tributaries joined the Motagua, one from each side of
the valley. There, in this nexus of valleys, they also discovered that
the bedrock changed dramatically from the white limestone with which
they were so familiar in the Petén to a fine-grained rosy beige
sandstone. It may well have been that the priests thought that their
quest was over, because they erected here a ceremonial center which
has become known to us as Quiriguá. Certainly, its location was a
strategic one, for it ultimately came to dominate the trade routes
which led from the Caribbean into the Guatemalan highlands. But if
they thought they had found the "birthplace of time," they were wrong,
because the closest interval they could measure between zenithal sun
passages was 262 days. The sun was still moving southward a day too
early and returning northward a day too late!

Figure 45.

The golden age of Mesoamerica came about A.D. 500 when the Maya wave
of urbanization was spreading rapidly through the Petén, Yucatán, and
into the highlands of western Honduras. The Zapotecs and Mixtecs
constituted a localized pocket of urbanization in the valleys of
Oaxaca, while on the Mexican plateau the metropolis of Teotihuacán was
a flourishing city of some 200,000 inhabitants.

No doubt heartened by the fact that they must be drawing
near to their goal, the priests probably sent scouts ahead to assess
what results their continued journey up the Motagua Valley would
produce. The report that came back may have been somewhat
disappointing, for the scouts would have noted that the countryside
quickly began to deteriorate into an environment the Maya had never
experienced before. The forest thinned out and disappeared, becoming
first an area of low scrub trees bristling with thorns, and finally,
where not even these would grow, patches of cactus took over. Here, in
the middle of the Motagua Valley, the Maya had stumbled into
Guatemala's only region of semidesert, ensconced in the rain-shadow of
the Sierra de las Minas -- surely not the earthly paradise described
in the creation myths.

Another bit of information which the scouts brought back
must have unsettled the priests equally as much, for they reported
that upstream, beyond this uninviting pocket of desert, the Motagua
Valley curved to the west. Therefore, it would no longer provide a
convenient corridor to "the birthplace of time," which still lay about
one day of "sun travel" to the south. (At the time of year the
zenithal sun passes over this region in its apparent north-to-south
"migration" it is moving about 16 km [10 mi] per day.) The only
reassuring news with which they returned was that, in the
desert-pocket itself, a tributary river joined the Motagua from the
south. Perhaps by following that to its headwaters a "green oasis"
might be found where the sacred 260-day interval could be measured.

Thus, in the heart of the cactus-covered valley of the
Motagua the Maya turned up the tributary valley of the Río Copán,
following it first southward and then eastward into the mountains
whence it came. As they climbed higher into the mountains, they
watched as the desert browns were exchanged with forest greens as the
scrub-thorn trees disappeared and stands of pine and oak took their
place. Finally, where the valley widened out and the river slowed its
pace in a series of sweeping meanders, the priests jubilantly
announced that "this is the place!" The zenithal sun passed overhead
on the equivalent of August 13, and 260 days later it passed over
again on its way northward. It was not the tropical paradise that most
of them had probably visualized when the expedition began, but it did
meet the criteria of the "place where time began." In a sense, for the
Maya it represented a "homecoming" in an otherwise alien land, for
they had discovered a place where the sacred almanac -- the very
essence of their preoccupation with time -- could be calibrated as it
had "in the beginning" but in an environment with which they were
quite unfamiliar. Copán, the ceremonial center which they founded
here, was to become not only the southernmost major center of the
lowland Maya civilization, but ultimately one of its most important
astronomical centers as well. Its earliest Long Count stela dates to
the year A.D. 426.

About the same time that the Maya priests were beginning
their southward probe for the "birthplace of time," the priests of
Teotihuacán were setting off into the northern desert to determine
where the sun stopped on its annual migration. Like the Maya
expedition, they were confronted with a choice of three possible
routes. The first led out onto the plateau along the inner side of the
Sierra Madre Oriental, the great eastern wall of the Mexican meseta.
Shaped by the westward thrust of the North American plate, the Sierra
Madre Oriental was made up of a jumble of contorted limestone ridges.
By staying in the foothills, the explorers could avoid the rugged
terrain of the folded mountain crests, but along the backslopes of
this range they would forever be in the rainshadow of the
moisture-bearing winds from the Gulf of Mexico; hence, water would be
almost impossible to find.

Figure 46.

About the first half of the fifth century A.D., it appears that the
priests of Teotihuacán dispatched an expedition into the northern
desert to determine the place where "the sun stood still" -- in other
words, the Tropic of Cancer. The astronomical site which the
expedition founded was Chalchihuites, where sight-lines marking the
summer solstice sunrise were perpetuated as trenches in the earth.
About the same time, and perhaps under the influence of Teotihuacán,
the priests at Tikal may have sent off an expedition to locate the
parallel of latitude at which the 260-day sacred almanac could be
calibrated --the astronomical site of Copán.

A second possibility would be to strike out through the
middle of the plateau, though along this route water would likewise be
at a premium. Furthermore, out of sight of the principal mountain
chains, even finding recognizable landmarks by which to mark their
trail would be difficult, for amid the "swells" of this desert sea it
was very easy to lose one's way. The third possibility lay along the
foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental, the massive basaltic barrier
which formed the western edge of the Mexican plateau. The result of
extensive outpourings of lava during earlier movements of the North
American plate, the Sierra Madre Occidental rose in many places to
even higher elevations than its counterpart range on the east of the
plateau. As a result, its crests intercepted whatever moisture escaped
being squeezed out on the windward side of the Sierra Madre Oriental,
and therefore they supported extensive forests of pine. Indeed, these
cooler, damper uplands gave rise to several rivers of considerable
size which descended to the floor of the plateau and in some instances
even managed to snake their way for a distance out into the desert
basins before disappearing into the sand or evaporating in a temporary
salt lake. Surely, of the three alternatives this latter route was the
most promising, because along it the occurrence of water would
definitely be the most dependable.

When the expedition left Teotihuacán, the priests were
probably under no illusion that they would find their goal quickly or
easily, because in the sky above the pyramids of their home city the
sun consumed no less than 69 days between its zenithal passages. Their
journey would continue until they found a place either where the sun
moved no farther north at all or where it stood still for a day or two
and then turned southward once more.

It is, of course, conceivable that the expedition itself
was timed to coincide with the sun's journey, for the sun's daily
northward movement as it passed over Teotihuacán averaged only about
11 - 12 km (7- 8 mi). Keeping pace with its migration would have been
no real problem in a latitudinal sense, but finding a suitable route
in terms of terrain and access to water posed more of a challenge --
perhaps doubling the actual distance covered in a given day.

In any event, whether the journey was accomplished in one
season or in many, it resulted in the founding of a ceremonial center
at what is now known as either Alta Vista or Chalchihuites in the
state of Zacatecas. Located at an elevation of 2200 in (7200 ft) in
the eastern foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental, it has access to
a stream just below it and a sweeping view over the mountains to the
east. Situated within 2 km (1.25 mi) of the Tropic of Cancer (Aveni,
1977, 5), it is aligned with Cerro Picacho, a notably sharp peak on
the northeastern horizon, at the summer solstice sunrise. To reinforce
this alignment the builders of the site dug trenches about 2.5-3.0 m
(7- 10 ft) into the hillside and plastered them with adobe. Nearby, a
temple with 28 irregular columns apparently replicates the changing
size of the moon as it advances from one phase to another, and on an
adjacent hilltop, two pecked crosses of unmistakable Teotihuacano
vintage have been found (Aveni, 1977, 5). Dating to the late fifth or
early sixth century A.D., Chalchihuites provides clear-cut evidence of
the active astronomical concerns of the priestly elite of the great
Mesoamerican metropolis at the apogee of its economic, political, and
cultural existence.

Figure 47. The ceremonial center of Chalchihuites, or Alta Vista,
Zacatecas, appears to have been founded early in the fifth century
A.D. by an expedition sent out from Teotihuacán to mark the
northernmost limit of the vertical sun. From this place, located a
short distance south of the Tropic of Cancer, the summer solstice
sunrise could be calibrated over Cerro Picacho, the sharp peak in the
middle background.

THE TRIUMPH OF TIKAL: THE ASTRONOMICAL MATRIX

Although it is difficult to visualize Tikal without its
five soaring skyscraper pyramids, archaeologists tell us that they
were a relatively late embellishment to the Maya capital. Indeed, in
the first centuries of its existence it was under strong influence
from Teotihuacán, and following a war in A.D. 562 it was eclipsed by
the rival city-state of Caracol to which it remained subject for over
a hundred years. Not until it was freed from such foreign domination
did Tikal blossom into the grandiose center that its spectacular ruins
reveal today. Radiocarbon samples from the lintels of the doorways of
the five skyscraper pyramids prove that all of them date to about the
middle of the eighth century, plus or minus 50 years. This fact alone
suggests that their construction was part of an integrated plan, no
doubt conceived and directed by a single priest or group of priests.

But was this monumental effort simply a vain-glorious
attempt to enhance the impressiveness of the city -- a dramatic
example of the urban renewal of a ceremonial center which had already
flourished, albeit in much less spectacular form, for over four
centuries? Or was it just another grandiose public-works project that
served to reinforce the authority of the priestly caste, while at the
same time testing the patience of the laboring masses?

Unfortunately, the discovery that one or more of the
pyramids contain the tombs of nobles and/or their consorts has tended
to confuse some scholars who have been reluctant to lift their gaze
out of the holes they have excavated in the ground and look skyward
instead. As the loftiest creations of the Maya, the five pyramids of
Tikal represent an earthly fixation with a celestial concern, for in
1979 1 discovered that they had been constructed as an astronomical
matrix whose purpose it was to calibrate the most important dates in
the Maya year.

While it may be of interest to know that some of the
pyramids also served as the final resting place of members of the
Mayan elite, their primary function was to serve as observation
platforms for priests working with the calendar. When first attempting
to explain why it was necessary to construct pyramids that were the
equivalent height of a modern 20-story building, I argued that it took
a structure at least some 60 m (200 ft) in elevation to get above the
canopy of the surrounding rain forest, which averages from 45-50 m
(150-180 ft) in height in the area of Tikal. To this argument the
reply was made that at the time Tikal was at its peak, the rain forest
had all but been cut down and the city was surrounded instead by
rolling fields of maize. Naturally, this may well have been the case,
but it leaves us, then, still asking why it was necessary to build
such high structures.

The true explanation most probably lies in a microclimatic
condition which I first observed during field studies near Tikal, but
about which one never finds mention in a standard physical geography
textbook. It works as follows: in a rain forest region such as that
which blankets the Petén of northern Guatemala, both the temperature
and humidity are high during the day. After sunset, as the temperature
begins to fall, even the drop of a few degrees results in the moisture
in the air beginning to condense, and during the night the wisps of
ground fog become thicker and thicker. Not until an hour or two after
sunrise, as the temperature once more begins to rise, is the moisture
reabsorbed into the air and the ground fog dissipates. Indeed, it is
this condition which prompts Aviateca, the national airline of
Guatemala, to radio Tikal each morning to inquire if the ground fog
has lifted enough to allow the scheduled tourist flights from
Guatemala City to land. It may very well have been this same condition
which prompted the Maya priests to elevate their observation platforms
to the point where the sky always remained visible to them.

The erection of five great pyramids, all of them more than
60 m (200 ft) in height and all of them constructed without benefit of
the wheel or crane, has to be one of the most impressive
accomplishments of any early people in any part of the world. The
spectacular grandeur of Tikal is in large part a result of this
remarkable engineering triumph. But what makes this accomplishment
even more impressive is that all five of these pyramids were conceived
and built with such exacting precision that they continue to function
as a giant astronomical matrix to this day!

Whereas we have already described how the siting of Tikal
caused the ceremonial center to be built on the height of land between
the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico drainage systems at precisely
that point where the winter solstice sunrise could be calibrated over
the highest point in the Maya Mountains, the internal spatial
arrangement of the city itself is our concern now. It would appear
that while all five of the pyramids were conceived as a functional
unit, the sequence of their construction was of fundamental importance
to the final layout of Tikal.

Figure 48. The western horizon at Tikal as seen from Temple I. The
low, squat structure in the middle foreground is Temple II, which
serves not only as an architectural counterweight to Temple I as seen
across the plaza of Tikal but also as a horizon marker for the
enigmatic "8º west of north" orientation when viewed from Temple V.
The latter orientation was present at La Venta about 1000 B.C., but
also shows up at the Maya capital about A.D. 800. Farther to the left,
Temple III defines the equinoctial sunset position as seen from Temple
I, while the highest of the skyscraper pyramids -- Temple IV, on the
right -- fixes the sunset position on August 13 as seen from Temple I.

Thus, as will become apparent from the discussion to
follow, there is good reason to believe that the highest pyramid of
the five -- that labeled by the archaeologists as Temple IV -- was
actually the first to have its site established. It was constructed on
the water-divide directly in line with the sunrise position over
Victoria Peak on December 22. (It should be kept in mind that staking
out the site of a pyramid and completing its construction are two very
different things; the lintel of Temple IV was not put into place until
after A.D. 741.)

However, because Victoria Peak is not easily visible on
the southeastern horizon, the Maya erected a second pyramid to mark
this alignment as seen from Temple IV (no doubt following the pattern
of architecturally reinforcing key astronomical alignments which seems
to have already been established at Uaxactún). This was Temple III,
which was constructed on somewhat lower ground about 400 m (1300 ft)
to the southeast. In order that it actually serve as a horizon marker,
it was necessary to surmount the pyramid with a massive roof-comb, an
architectural embellishment which the Maya frequently used to give
their otherwise squat-looking structures more impressive height. And,
in the case of Temple III, the roof-comb was a full three tiers high
-- not just for aesthetic reasons but quite obviously for the
practical one of intersecting the horizon. Thus, as viewed from the
top of Temple IV, the middle of the triple-tiered Temple III will be
seen to just intersect the distant horizon at the azimuth (i.e., 115º)
where the winter solstice sunrise occurs over Victoria Peak.
(Radiocarbon dating reveals that the finishing touches were not put on
Temple III until after A.D. 810.)

Figure 49.

The eastern horizon at Tikal as seen from Temple IV.  While neither
Temple I nor II intersects the horizon as seen from this highest of
the pyramids in the Maya capital, Temple III (on the right), by virtue
of being surmounted by a triple-tiered roof comb, does just touch the
southeastern horizon at the azimuth of the winter solstice sunrise
(115º).

With the location of Temples IV and III now worked out,
the position of Temple I was automatically fixed. It would be located
directly east of Temple III so that priests standing atop the latter
structure could calibrate the equinoctial sunrises (i.e., on March 21
and September 21) over Temple I. (Of course, once both pyramids were
in place, priests standing atop Temple I could use the backsight to
Temple III to calibrate equinoctial sunsets as well.) Temple I's exact
distance from Temple III, about 300 m (1000 ft), would be determined
by the intersection of the equinoctial sunrise line with the point
from which the August 13 sunset could be viewed against the midline of
Temple IV's doorway. In other words, priests standing atop Temple I
could calibrate their most important day -- "the day the world began"
-- by sighting to the middle of the doorway of the highest pyramid the
Maya ever constructed.

After the positions of the first three pyramids had been
worked out, the siting of a fourth structure (Temple V) could now be
established. For this a hill about 250 in (800 ft) to the southwest of
Temple I was chosen. The exact position of Temple V, however, forms an
alignment which makes a perfect right angle with that of Temples I and
IV Ironically, Thompson, for all his fascination with and love for the
Maya, was not terribly impressed with their architecture, and candidly
makes the claim that they were incapable of constructing a right angle
(Thompson, 1974, 94). However, the alignments between Temples IV, I,
and V at Tikal convincingly prove him wrong (Hartung, 1977, 114).

But what was the purpose of Temple V, oriented as it was
to Temple I in the same way as the axis of the "Street of the Dead"
was aligned at Teotihuacán? It is unlikely that a line of sight to the
horizon was intended at an azimuth of 15º'.5 from Temple V or at an
azimuth of 195º.5 from Temple I, because such alignments could only
have served to mark the positions of stars. Due to precession, the
rising and setting positions of stars would have changed all too
rapidly to give them anything other than a transitory value. However,
because Temple V is clearly oriented toward the north, there
definitely seems to have been an alignment in that direction which the
Maya sought to mark, and if it was not with Temple I, one is tempted
to suggest that it must have been with its lower, more squat
counterpart across the central plaza, Temple II.

Figure 50.

The five major pyramids of Tikal were all constructed within a 40-year
period beginning in the mid-eighth century A.D., apparently as part of
an ingeniously designed astronomical matrix. The sight-line between
Temple I and Temple IV (the highest of the pyramids) marks the sunset
position on August 13, whereas the sunrise position at the winter
solstice is perpetuated in the sight-tine between Temple IV and Temple
III. Because Temple I and Temple III are sited due east-west of each
other, they mark sunrise and sunset alignments at the equinoxes.
Although there was no star located directly above the earth's pole of
rotation in Maya times, a sight-line from Temple V to Temple II
appears to have marked the most westerly position of the Maya's
equivalent to a polestar, Kochab.

The latter is the lowest and most unpretentious of the
five skyscraper pyramids. Indeed, when one stands atop Temple I and
views the western horizon, the equinoctial sight-line to Temple III
and the August 13 sightline to Temple IV bracket Temple II on either
side. Although it might seem that Temple II's function was merely to
serve as an architectural counterweight to Temple I, its construction
for such a purpose would have represented a sizable commitment of both
manpower and resources solely for aesthetic reasons. Moreover, the
site of Temple II -- offset slightly to the south, allowing
unobstructed sight-lines between Temples I, III, and IV -- suggests
that aesthetics alone did not dictate its placement. Furthermore, when
the azimuth of Temple II as viewed from Temple V is found to be 352º,
or 8º west of north, one cannot help but remember that the Olmecs had
used that same orientation for the layout of La Venta nearly 1800
years earlier.

In the case of La Venta we had argued that the point in
the heavens toward which its central axis was aligned was the closest
thing to a pole star that existed for the Olmecs in 1000 B. C.
Naturally, any point so close to the north celestial pole would be
circumpolar and therefore have no rising or setting position which
could be marked against the horizon. On the other hand, the star
Kochab (magnitude 2.07), with a declination of 83º.5 in the year 1000
B.C., was only about 6º.5 away from the pole of rotation in that year
and was thus the celestial body with the smallest radius of movement.
However, in the intervening 1800 years, precession had caused Kochab
to shift its declination to just under 79º, so by the year A.D. 800 it
was 11º away from the pole. But, in the same time period, the star
Polaris (magnitude 2.02) had precessed from being just over 17º away
from the pole in 1000 B.C. to the point where its declination was
82º.7, or just under 8º away from the pole in the year A.D. 800. Thus,
by the time the Maya were reaching their apogee, Polaris had replaced
Kochab as being the closest bright star to the pole of rotation but
even then it was still a good 8º away from where it is today. In fact,
the present generation of humanity is one of the few which can
actually think and speak in terms of a "polestar," for at no other
time in recorded history has a highly visible celestial body stood so
close to the pole of rotation as Polaris does now.

THE MOON FINALLY BEHAVES

The discovery of the Dresden Codex in the Yucatán speaks
to much of the Maya's lunar research having been carried out in that
region, most likely at places like Edzná and Uxmal. However, it would
appear that the ultimate breakthrough for the Maya came at their
astronomical site of Copán, in the mountains of western Honduras, some
eight years after the base dates recorded in the Codex, for in 763 an
event of singular importance took place there. For well over half a
century debate has centered on what this remarkable event must have
been, for the date of its occurrence is engraved no fewer than eight
times on seven different altars, stelae, and buildings (Carlson, 1977,
105). Initially, Herbert Spinden proposed that an astronomical
congress must have taken place on that occasion, for the date is
accompanied by portraits of what seem to be important personages
seated on pillows (Spinden, 1924). Epigraphers have more recently
suggested that the much-repeated date commemorates the accession to
power of an important king. Although I cannot evaluate the merits of
either of these arguments, I can point out that on the date in
question a total lunar eclipse, visible from Copán, took place just
after sunset. When the difference of longitude between Honduras and
London is factored in, the Maya Long Count date (using Thompson's
original correlation value) and Oppolzer's date agree perfectly. (The
multiply recorded Maya Long Count date is 9.16.12.5.17 6 Caban 10 Mol,
which equals Maya day-number 1,415,637. Adding the GMT correlation
factor of 584,285 yields Julian Day number 1,999,922, which equates to
June 29, A.D. 763. Since the midpoint of totality occurred at 7:10
P.M. Honduras time, it was then 1:10 A.M. in London, where a new
Julian Day had begun at midnight. Thus, the lunar eclipse in question,
listed as number 3050 in Oppolzer's catalog, is recorded as having
taken place on Julian Day number 1,999,923, which is, of course, what
the date then was in Europe.) It would appear, therefore, that coming
so shortly after the "near misses" which had been calculated in the
Dresden Codex (see Chapter 6), the eclipse at Copán may well have been
the first such event which the Maya successfully predicted. Indeed, it
may well be that they were so certain of their success, that for the
occasion they had convened an astronomical congress to witness it.

In pointing out that a lunar eclipse visible at Copán did
in fact occur on this oft-repeated date, I am left wondering why an
event of such transcendental importance, coming so shortly after the
debacle the Maya astronomers had experienced with the Dresden Codex,
was not given more prominence than it was. David Stuart, one of the
leaders of the new epigraphy movement, not only states that the
"astronomical conference" hypothesis has long since been refuted
(1992, 170), but goes on to describe the accession to power of Ruler
16 on that date (178). In the discussion which follows, we also learn
that a mysterious "Personage A" was likewise "seated" on that date, as
well as a chieftain known as Yax K'am Lay (180). Stuart admits that he
is not certain to what these "seatings" refer, but cautions us that a
"seating" event does not necessarily imply a ruler's inauguration, nor
do they point to patterns of co-rulership. Thus, at least we can be
assured that Copán did not acquire three new chieftains on the day the
eclipse took place.

Figure 51.

This screen display produced by the VOYAGER computer program recreates
the total lunar eclipse of June 29, A.D. 763, as seen from the major
Mayan astronomical center of Copán in present-day Honduras. The sky
has been 'whitened' for ease of reproduction and the author has
superimposed upon it explanations of the various symbols. As explained
in the text, the author's identification of this eclipse as the event
which occasioned the multiple recordings of the Mayan date of
9.16.12.5.17 6 Caban 10 Mol at Copán strongly argues for the validity
of the initial Thompson correlation rather than for his "revised" one.
(The VOYAGER program is a product of Carina Software, San Leandro, CA
94577.)

Of course, in pointing out my uneasiness with even this
one result obtained by the epigraphers who, in Coe's words, have
"broken the Maya code," I realize that I have already defied one of
the most outspoken professional warnings that I have ever seen in
print, to wit this quote from Linda Schele: "The decipherment has
occurred. There are two ways to react to it. One is to embrace it, and
if you can't do it yourself, get someone on your side who bloody well
can. The other is to ignore it, to try and destroy it, to basically
dismiss it" (Coe, 1992, 273). On the other hand, if anyone has any
doubts about the solsticial and other alignments which figure so
prominently in the exposition presented here, he or she can either
replicate my observations in the field or make the required
measurements on large-scale maps for themselves.

The much-recorded lunar eclipse at Copán seems to have
represented the triumphal solution to a problem which had first begun
to intrigue Olmec priests nearly eight centuries earlier. It is
therefore all the more ironic that this climactic breakthrough came as
late as it did, for in little more than another half century, the Maya
went into a decline from which they never totally recovered. One can
only wonder whether they might have gone on to even greater
intellectual achievements had their civilization not collapsed so
abruptly in the ninth century. Surely, no other native people or
culture within the Mesoamerican region would ever reach the same
levels of sophistication or attainment again.

THE ROLE OF VENUS IN MAYAN ASTRONOMY

After the sun and the moon, the planet Venus is the
brightest object in the heavens. Small wonder, then, that for the
peoples of pre-Columbian Mesoamerica it figured prominently in both
their mythology and religious rituals. Unlike the ancient Greeks who
only belatedly realized that the "morning star" and the "evening star"
were one and the same body, the Mesoamericans recognized it as a
single celestial object which passed through a cycle having four
distinct phases, even though they did so without ever truly
understanding what occasioned these respective changes. Among the
Maya, who formalized their observations of Venus in the Dresden Codex,
it was described as a morning star for a period of 236 days, followed
by a 90-day period of invisibility when it was assumed to be in the
"underworld." This, in turn, was followed by a 250-day period when the
planet was seen as an evening star, after which there was another
8-day period when it again "disappeared" into the underworld. Although
the lengths of the individual phases were certainly not as precise as
suggested by the above numbers, the complete Venusian cycle according
to the Maya totaled 584 days, a value which is remarkably close to the
planet's 583.92 day synodic period recognized by modern astronomers.
(As David Kelley has pointed out, however, the Venusian interval
varies from 579.6 days to 588.1 days within a given five-year period,
so the 584 value is really a mean [Kelley, 1977, 58].)

The mysterious disappearances of Venus into the underworld
were, of course, the result of its conjunctions with the sun. In other
words, as the planet revolves around the sun on an orbit which is
inclined at 3º.4 to the plane of the ecliptic, there are two positions
in its path when it comes visually so close to the sun that it can no
longer be seen. One of these is when Venus is directly in line between
the Earth and the sun -- a position which astronomers call inferior
conjunction. In this position it can approach to within 24 million
miles of the Earth, reaching its maximum brightness just before it
visually disappears. At the reduced radius of its inferior
conjunction, Venus moves very rapidly through its invisible phase --
indeed, as we have seen above, in what the Maya measured as a period
of eight days. On the other hand, when the orbit of Venus takes it
behind the sun -- a position which astronomers call superior
conjunction -- it may be as distant as 162 million miles from the
Earth. Its daily horizontal motion is then so small that it took 90
days, according to the Maya, between the time it disappeared as a
morning star and when it reappeared as an evening star.

These differences can perhaps best be understood by
examining the following tables which present critical data relating to
two of Venus's most recent conjunctions with the sun. In both tables,
the rising and setting times of the sun and Venus are as they would
have been experienced from the major ceremonial site of Cholula on the
Mexican plateau. Cholula was chosen for this example because (1) it is
known to have been a key center for the worship of Quetzalcóatl, the
god-king who was believed by the Nahuatl-speaking peoples of the
meseta to have been reincarnated as the planet Venus, and (2) it is
considered by many anthropologists to have been the source of the
Codex Borgia, the primary indigenous account of the planet's movements
stemming from the Mexican plateau (Krickeberg, 1982, 193). In the
first table, the superior conjunction of June 13, 1992, is presented
statistically, whereas in the second, the inferior conjunction of
April 1, 1993, is displayed in the same manner.

Table 4 - Superior Conjunction, Venus / Sun -June 13, 1992

Time of              Time of                   Angular
Date      Sun Rise    Sun Set    Venus Rise   Venus Set   Separation
4/15      5:15 A.M.   5:50 P.M.   4:30 A.M.   4:43 P.M.   15º43'
4/30      5:05 A.M.   5:54 P.M.   4:30 A.M.   5:02 P.M.   11º52' (D)
5/5       5:02 A.M.   5:56 P.M.   4:30 A.M.   5:09 P.M.   10º33' (B)
5/15      4:58 A.M.   6:00 P.M.   4:33 A.M.   5:24 P.M.   7º54'
6/13      4:55 A.M.   6:10 P.M.   4:56 A.M.   6:10 P.M.   0º12'
7/1       4:48 A.M.   6:14 P.M.   5:21 A.M.   6:35 P.M.   4º59'
7/15      5:03 A.M.   6:13 P.M.   5:43 A.M.   6:49 P.M.   8º51'
7/22      5:06 A.M.   6:11 P.M.   5:54 A.M.   6:54 P.M.   10º47' (B)
7.28      5:08 A.M.   6:09 P.M.   6:04 A.M.   6:57 P.M.   12º26' (D)
8/1       5:09 A.M.   6:07 P.M.   6:10 A.M.   6:58 P.M.   13º31'
*B -- Limit of invisibility according to the Codex Borgia.
D -- Limit of invisibility according to the Dresden Codex.

Although no Mesoamerican observer could have known when
the actual moment of conjunction took place, had he been privy to the
calculations contained in the Dresden Codex he would have expected the
planet's disappearance on April 30 and its reappearance on July 28. As
can be seen from Table 4, this meant that the Maya were essentially
unable to distinguish the planet's position any closer than about 12º
from the sun at the time of superior conjunction. Someone employing
the calculations of the Codex Borgia would have anticipated the
planet's disappearance on May 5 instead, when its angular separation
from the sun had narrowed to about 10º.5, and its reappearance on July
22, when its angular distance had once more widened to about the same
value. In other words, using the naked-eye astronomy available at the
time, there was an angular discrepancy of at least 1º.5 -- equivalent
to about 6 days in time -- in the two observational records, revealing
how difficult it was to actually pinpoint the planet's location with
any degree of accuracy. However, recent calculations by Anthony Aveni
have demonstrated that the 8-day period of invisibility used in the
Dresden Codex at inferior conjunction can actually vary from as few as
3 days to as many as 16, depending on the ecliptic's orientation to
the horizon (Aveni, photocopy preprint, 8).

In contrast to the very slowly changing positions of the
sun and Venus during superior conjunction, it will be seen from Table
5 how rapidly they move first toward one another and then away from
one another at the time of inferior conjunction. Again, the
Mesoamerican observer would not have been able to precisely establish
the time of their closest passage, but anyone employing the Codex
Borgia would have anticipated the planet's disappearance on March 26
and its reappearance about 12 days later on April 7. In this instance,
the angular separation of the two bodies would have diminished to just
under 12º. Using the Dresden Codex, the disappearance of Venus would
have been calculated as occurring on March 28 and its visual return
would have been anticipated some 8 days later on April 5.
Interestingly, in this instance the visual extinction of Venus would
occur when the angular distance between the sun and Venus fell below
10º. Though the angular values are identical to what they were at the
time of superior conjunction, they have here been reversed in the two
indigenous sources, again reinforcing the difficulty which the early
Mesoamericans had in pinpointing the planet's true position during its
supposed absence in the underworld.

According to Lucrecia Maupomé (1986, 44), most scholars
believe that the ancient Mesoamericans used the inferior conjunction
of Venus to define the length of its cycle, although both Eduard Seler
and Martínez Hernández are dissenters to this view. In any event,
Aveni's findings concerning the variable length of Venus's
disappearance at inferior conjunction scarcely makes that any more
reliable an indicator of the planet's location in the sky than any of
the other longer phases.

Table 5 - Inferior Conjunction, Venus / Sun -April 1, 1993

	        Time of                 Time of                  Angular 
Date        Sun Rise    Sun Set     Venus Rise  Venus Set  Separation
3/20        5:36 A.M.   5:43 P.M.   6:13 A.M.   6:56 P.M.   20º 00'
3/24        5:33 A.M.   5:44 P.M.   5:51 A.M.   6:32 P.M.   15º02'
3/26        5:31 A.M.   5:45 P.M.   5:40 A.M.   6:20 P.M.   12º36' (B)
3/28        5:29 A.M.   5:45 P.M.   5:28 A.M.   6:07 P.M.   10º23' (D)
4/1         5:26 A.M.   5:46 P.M.   5:06 A.M.   5:40 P.M.   7º52'
4/5         5:23 A.M.   5:47 P.M.   4:44 A.M.   5:14 P.M.   9º44' (D)
4/7         5:21 A.M.   5:48 P.M.   4:33 A.M.   5:02 P.M.   11º49' (B)
4/10        5:19 A.M.   5:48 P.M.   4:18 A.M.   4:44 P.M.   15º23'
4/14        5:16 A.M.   5:49 P.M.   4:00 A.M.   4:22 P.M.   20º16'
*B -- Limit of invisibility according to the Codex Borgia.
D -- Limit of invisibility according to the Dresden Codex.

Despite their difficulties in defining the phases of Venus
with any precision, the Mesoamerican skywatchers could not have failed
to havebeen intrigued by the striking reinforcement which the planet's
cycle provided to their numerological and calendrical systems. They
seem to have been relatively quick to realize that five revolutions of
Venus around the sun (5 x 584 days = 2920) equaled eight similar
revolutions by the Earth (8 x 365 days = 2920). Thus, on the eve of
every eighth of their "Vague Years" -- the name which astronomers have
given to the 365-day interval used throughout Mesoamerica -- Venus
could be expected to appear in virtually the same place in the sky
that it had eight years earlier. For a people seeking order in nature,
this realization of such a completed cycle must have been reassuring
indeed, especially with respect to a celestial body whose cosmic
importance was so great and whose behavior otherwise seemed so
erratic.

Before leaving this point, however, it should be
emphasized how important it is to "get the horse before the cart" in
our thinking on this matter. Some researchers, most recently Maupomé
(1986), have argued that the Mesoamerican calendars are based on the
phases of Venus. If true, this would mean that one of the most
difficult of all celestial cycles was worked out first, and into this
the interlocked 365-day "Vague Year" and 260-day sacred almanac were
then fitted. (An explanation of how the latter interval came into
being is not even attempted.) Such an explanation defies common sense,
for only after a meaningful interval of time like a "Vague Year" has
been defined will it even be possible to recognize that eight such
intervals correspond to five of the longer and less precise cycles of
Venus. In other words, you begin with a "yardstick" of known units to
determine the length of something unknown, and not the other way
around.

(To be sure, there were other numerological "twists" to
the Venusian cycle which must have excited the priests equally or more
so than the correspondence of five Venusian years with eight "Vague
Years." If a Venusian year is divided by eight it yields an interval
of 73 days, which is the same result which one obtains when dividing a
"Vague Year" by five. Eight plus five yields the sacred number of 13,
and this multiplied by the other key numeral, 20, corresponds to the
length of their sacred almanac, or "Calendar Round" [260 days].
Seventy-three Calendar Rounds in turn equal 18,980 days, which equate
with 52 "Vague Years" -- the length of the Maya "century," and the
interval between "the binding of the years" as practiced by the
Nahuatl-speaking peoples of the Mexican plateau. And although 52 is
not evenly divisible by 8, a double "century" of 104 years is, meaning
that 146 Calendar Rounds equate not only to 104 "Vague Years" but to
65 Venusian cycles as well.)

However, the fact that the details of Venus's movements
were not defined by the Maya until the early seventh century -- to
wit, the base date of the Dresden Codex, which is 9.9.9.16.0 1 Ahau 18
Kayab = February 6, A.D. 623 -- reveals how elusive the solution of
this riddle must have been, even for a people with such a
sophisticated mathematical system as the Long Count. Even so, as
Michael Closs observes (1977, 97), they chose a nonastronomical base
for their count, suggesting to him that the Maya sought to correlate
the movements of Venus to its supposed "birthday" on 1 Ahau, in order
to facilitate their computations using the Long Count. On the other
hand, for those peoples living on the Mexican plateau who were not the
cultural beneficiaries of the Long Count, the answer seems to have
come even later still, judging from the fact that the Codex Borgia
dates to Aztec times.

To be sure, in both instances the Venusian cycle could
only have been worked out by long and patient counting. Having the
Long Count against which to tally such a lengthy series of
observations would surely have helped the Maya to expedite record
keeping and insure its overall accuracy, but it would not have been
essential to the process itself. Indeed, the major purpose of the
"Venus table" in the Dresden Codex seems to have been to assist the
Maya priests in making periodic corrections to their calculations, for
in any 104-year period the planet got 5.2 days out of phase with the
table (Kelley, 1977, 58). (For a detailed discussion of how the Maya
shifted the base of their calculations to keep Venus "on track," see
Closs, 1977, 89-99.)

Of critical importance, however, was finding a
well-defined starting point from which the cycle could be calibrated.
(The difficulty of using the planet's disappearances we have already
discussed.) But what, after all, is fixed about a "star" that shows up
in the eastern sky before dawn for nearly eight months, disappears for
about two and a half to three months, then reappears in the western
sky shortly before sunset for something over eight months, and
disappears again for between 8 and 12 days? Indeed, as Aveni has
shown, the Maya appear to have incorporated lunar observations into
the Dresden Codex in an effort to pin down the movements of Venus,
assuming somewhat naively that the motions of one celestial body
probably controlled or influenced those of another (Aveni, photocopy
preprint, n.d., 11). Kelley, on the other hand, makes the reverse
argument, stating that there are indications that Venus's movements
were "somehow used in predicting eclipses" (1977, 70). As Thompson has
pointed out, "Both phenomena [solar eclipses and the heliacal risings
of the planet Venus] were greatly feared by the Maya" (1972, 111).

In any event, if the times of Venus 's appearance and
disappearance were so difficult to pin down, might one have found it
easier to fix its places of appearance and disappearance instead?
Surely in a society accustomed to horizon-based astronomy like that of
Mesoamerica, the movements of Venus might have been more convincingly
calibrated against some static feature in the landscape than against
some nebulous temporal formula. Certainly such a model was already in
place for most Mesoamericans with respect to the movements of the sun
-- save for the Maya in the featureless expanses of the Yucatán -- so
why not, by extension, apply the same "principle" to Venus? Indeed, as
we have seen, it was the Maya, alone of all the Mesoamerican cultures,
who managed to pin down the eclipse cycle of the moon. What they
lacked in horizon landmarks they more than made up for with the Long
Count and the construction of their own survey markers in the
landscape (as we have seen with their construction of "La Vieja" at
Edzná). That is why Horst Hartung's discovery of the alignment between
Uxmal and the pyramid of Nohpat out in the featureless plain of
northern Yucatán is so important: It marks the extreme southerly
rising point of the planet Venus (Hartung, 1971). (We shall return to
the subject of the horizon observation of Venus later on.)

If the Maya's efforts to accurately predict eclipses were
crowned by success so late in their history (i.e., A.D. 763), then
their struggle to define the phases of Venus appears to have come even
later still. Indeed, Floyd Lounsbury (1983) argues that the Maya
"Venus table" was historically set in motion on the Long Count date of
10.5.6.4.0 1 Ahau 18 Kayab, which equates to November 20, A.D. 934. On
that morning, a heliacal rising of Venus occurred which Lounsbury has
called "a unique event in historical time," because it came exactly
three Great Cycles (146 x 260 days) after the base date of the Dresden
Codex. Lounsbury believes that the Maya astronomers did not recognize
the need to shift bases (i.e., correct their calculations) until a
full Great Cycle had elapsed. Ironically, attaining such precision at
such a late date must have been small consolation indeed for a society
whose very foundations were already crumbling beneath them.

(Return to Table of Contents)
(Continue to Chapter 9)