Upon turning over the Codex, we find that whereas on the side we have been considering the scribe limited himself to the conventional red numerals and backgrounds, with here and there a touch of brown, upon this other side we have a wealth of color united with a harmony of composition and structure that marks a very high degree of artistic skill. It is not alone the accuracy of the drawing and the writing, such as we have noted in connexion with the study of the glyphs, but the whole manuscript as it lies open before us shows that sense of proportion, that ability to unify without seeming effort a multitude of details into a perfectly balanced whole, which is the positive mark of developed and genuine culture. When we remember the exceeding difficulty of combining primary colors into a brilliancy that is not garish, and the equal difficulty of achieving artistic mastery in a conventional treatment of forms, we are simply forced to recognize that we have here the evidence of an advanced school of art with full rights of independent citizenship. If the figures look strange and sometimes distorted, we must remember that our whole training has been in the realistic school, by which we are prone to judge all others, but by which they must not be judged. We have no more right to weigh these compositions in the scales of our art motifs than we have to weigh Greek rhythm of quantity or Saxon of alliteration against our weights by which we measure rhythm of rhyme and stress. In fact it is impossible for us even to judge concerning the true harmonic effect of these other measures, and it may well be doubted whether the very soul itself of our meter is not empty and tinny as compared with these others—quality for quality.
There is one great broad line that divides the nations and civilizations of the earth, past and present, in all their arts of expression. We may call it that of the ideographic as against the literal. It controls the inner form of language and of languages; it manifests in the passage of thought from man to man; it determines whether the writing of the people shall be hieroglyphic or alphabetic; it gives both life and form to the ideals of their art. It is a distinction that was clearly recognized by Wilhelm von Humboldt, when he laid down that the incorporative characteristic essential to all the American languages is the result of the exaltation of the imaginative over the ratiocinative elements of mind.
The time has passed when we think that the absence of our perspective drawing in Japanese pictures is due to the fact that these “children of nature” never happened to recognize that a thing looks smaller in proportion to its distance, so that they ought to come to us to learn. We have come, in some measure if not yet fully, to recognize that whereas we show a thing to the eye, these other peoples suggest a thought to the mind, by their pictures. And we should remember, and remember always, that while our modern art having won its technical and artistic skill within the past few hundred years, is now beginning to emancipate itself from the materialism of the eye by efforts towards the “impressionist” methods, these ancient peoples had long since arrived at the ability to convey “impressions” through the medium of harmonious compositions of the most rigid conventional elements—an artistic achievement which those who know its difficulties can alone begin to appreciate.
It may be quite easily forgiven to one trained with Western, modern eyes, who at first sight of these monuments, in total ignorance of their meanings, sees them as strange or grotesque. But when, as their strangeness wears away, one comes to see the unfailing accuracy with which the glyphs are drawn, one’s opinion of their makers has to change. And when, with this familiarity gained, one advances to an appreciation of the work in its bearings as a whole, one has to acknowledge himself facing the production of craftsmen who had the inheritance of not only generations, but ages of training. Such a combination of complete mastery in composition, perfect control of definite and fixed forms, and hand technique, can grow up from barbarism in no few hundred years. I would hesitate to think it could even come in a few thousands, unless they were years of greater settledness and peaceful civilization than our two thousand years of disturbed and warring European Christendom have yet had an example of to show us. It is easy enough in the absence of definite historical records, and in our general ignorance of human evolution, to theorize and speculate about it all; but the commonly accepted picture in our minds of a few savage wandering tribes settling and growing up in this country some several hundred or a thousand years after the Christian era, simply will not fit in with the fact of their ability to produce such works a few hundred years later. Had we nothing but the Perez Codex and Stela P at Copan, the merits of their execution alone, weighed simply in comparison with observed history elsewhere, would prove that we have to do not with the traces of an ephemeral, but with the remains of a wide-spread, settled race and civilization, worthy to be ranked with or beyond even such as the Roman, in its endurance, development and influence in the world, and the beginnings of whose culture are still totally unknown. As to the Codex before us, we can only imagine what the beauty, especially of the pages we now come to discuss, must have been when the whole was fresh and perfect.
The second side of the Codex has to be treated in four divisions or chapters, the first of which includes pages 15 to 18. For numerical reasons which will appear, this chapter must probably have begun, however, at least one page further to the left.
These four pages are laid out with three main divisions, upper, middle and lower. Too much of the upper section is erased for any comment other than that its arrangement seems to have been parallel in all respects with the middle section. This latter shows three subsections, the backgrounds in some cases being red,[24-*] containing each a picture (probably of a god or a human figure in every instance), surmounted by a black and a red numeral and by six glyphs, in double column. This gives 12 subsections for the four pages, which we may refer to respectively as 15-a, b, c, etc. Of the initial pairs of glyphs in each subsection many are complete, and no section is left without the correct traces of the corresponding glyph for one or other of the positions; so that although 5 of the 24 glyphs are totally erased, we may safely restore them all. Other features of the comparative use and frequency of the glyphs on these pages have already been given.
At the top of each picture is found a black and a red numeral. These form the consecutive black “counters” or interval numbers, and the corresponding red day numbers of subdivided tonalamatls, so common in Dres. and Tro.-Cort. It is customary to find these tonalamatls divided into fifths or fourths, 52 or 65 days respectively—four or five trecenas. At the 53rd or 66th day the initial red number is again reached, and the calculation is (by hypothesis) repeated, starting again at the left with a new day-sign below the first. Such a column is seen in the lower part of page 17, where we find 6 Oc, Ik, Ix; these are to be completed by restoring below an erased Cimi and Ezanab, completing the 260 days and bringing us around again to 6 Oc. The total of all the black “counters” in any series must always be some multiple of 13, usually 52 or 65, as stated. And since each “counter” is the interval between its adjoining red numbers, wherever a red and a black number are given, the other red number, whether before or after, can always be filled in.
No traces of this initial column appear for the series in the middle division, and several of the numerals are also erased. Two obscurities must be cleared up before trying to fill out the series. On page 16 right is a partly erased black numeral, which from the traces may be either 10 or 11. Taking it as 10, we have 13 plus 10 equals an erased red 10; plus 5 (on page 17) equals the red 2 below the 5. This verifies so far. But we next find—plus 5 equals 8, which is of course incorrect. An inspection of the MS. and the photographs reveals a reddish spot (or perhaps even three such spots) in the extreme upper right corner of the picture space, 17-a, and also a dark spot under the black 5 in 17-b. It is possible that the separated red dots (one doubtful) are to be read together as 3; or that the red dots under the 5 are to be disregarded in the count (just as is the red 8 on the next page, 18-a), and the red number for 17-a found in the upper right, above the seated figure. If the red number in 17-a is 3, the two numbers in 16-c must be 11. Or it may be assumed that the spot under the 5 in 17-b belongs to it, making 6 instead of 5, which figures out. The final result is the same, as we have either 10 and 6, or 11 and 5, in these two places, and either reaches properly the clear red 8 in 17-b.
In 18-a we find black 26, with a small red 8 below, and a large red 13 in the usual place at the side. The red 8 will have to be disregarded, as not part of the series, which requires 13, and nothing else.
We may now possibly set down the series as follows, using small figures above the the line for the black counters, and putting in parentheses all numbers restored: