Mexican Copper Tools: The Use of Copper by the Mexicans Before the Conquest; and the Katunes of Maya History, a Chapter in the Early History of Central America, With Special — Reading Notes

Copper Implements: Between Tribute Records and Archaeology

Valentini’s first essay assembles evidence for copper use among the Mexicans from two main sources: pictorial tribute rolls and surviving artifacts. He reproduces illustrations of copper axes from the arms of Tepoztla, Tepoztitla, and Tepozcolula, and notes that the tribute of Chilapa included “copper axes” while Chala contributed “copper axes and bells.” These records, however, do not specify whether the metal was native or smelted. Valentini turns to archaeological finds—a copper chisel from Oaxaca and a tool discovered by Dupaix—to argue that the objects were functional tools, not mere ornaments. He compares them to a Mexican carpenter’s hatchet and an Indian battle axe from Oviedo, emphasizing similarities in form. Yet he acknowledges that the absence of smelting sites or slag in Mexico leaves the manufacturing process uncertain. The essay thus balances documentary and material evidence without overreaching.

Maya Katuns: Reconstructing a Cyclical Calendar

The second essay tackles Maya chronology through the Pio Perez manuscript, a translation of which is included. Valentini focuses on the katun cycle—periods of twenty years named after Ahau idols. He critiques Diego de Landa’s description of the temple ritual, noting that Landa “left out something which a more careful writer would have expressed.” Valentini deduces that thirteen idols, not two, must have been worshipped, based on the sequence of numbers 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, 1, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2. He proposes that the naming of katuns followed a rotation where each idol presided for twenty years, but the order recorded by Landa may reflect a backward reckoning from the Spanish conquest in 1542. This hypothesis, while speculative, is grounded in the manuscript’s own statement that the Mayas declared the 13th Ahau period ended in 1542.

Textual Gaps and Scholarly Inference

Throughout both essays, Valentini confronts the limitations of his sources. In the copper section, he notes that the tribute lists do not indicate whether the axes were used as currency or tools, and that no pre-Conquest mining sites had been identified. In the Maya section, he repeatedly supplements Landa’s “awkwardness and literary negligence” with logical reconstruction. For example, he infers that the combination of two idols in the temple repeated every twenty years, forming the basis of the katun name. He also acknowledges that the order of Ahau numbers in the manuscript differs from his own derived sequence, attributing this to an unknown historical epoch when chroniclers counted backward. These moments of methodological transparency—where Valentini distinguishes between what the texts say and what he infers—give the work its scholarly character.

Readers should approach Valentini’s arguments as products of late-nineteenth-century scholarship, when many primary sources were still being edited and debated. The value of this edition lies in its juxtaposition of two distinct lines of inquiry—material culture and chronology—and in its inclusion of the Pio Perez manuscript in translation. Those interested in the history of Mesoamerican studies will find here a clear example of how early researchers navigated fragmentary evidence, combining colonial accounts, native documents, and archaeological finds to build coherent narratives.

That rainy afternoon, I kept returning to the gaps in Maya chronology, the missing pieces the text couldn’t quite fill. The copper tools felt tangible, but the dates slipped away. Later, almost without thinking, I picked up Indians of the Mesa Verde — Edition Insights. Its quiet attention to everyday dwelling, to pots and walls, somehow grounded that same elusive sense of time.