APPENDIX: THE EGYPTIAN YEAR.
Upon the quite peculiar Egyptian time-reckoning I have only a few remarks to make by way of addition to the clear and convincing account of its origin given by Eduard Meyer; as to the disarrangement of the names of months familiar to us, which are borrowed from festivals, I must admit I am not quite clear, but this matters little for our present purpose since these names are more than two thousand years younger than the introduction of the year. The Egyptian year consists of three seasons—time of inundation, seed-time, and harvest—each of four months containing thirty days each, together with five additional days, the epagomena, standing outside the year and theoretically not included in it. The month is therefore the round month and the year the round year, which by multiplying the round number of the months in the year by the round number of days in the month gives a total of 360 (12 × 30) days. The use of round numbers in the arithmetical application of the calendar is familiar in all quarters of the world and has been known at all times; it is continued in the practice of our modern banks in calculating interest à l’usance. The surprising thing is that in Egypt no notice should have been taken of the moon, and that the month should have been carried through as a mere numerical unity. For at the stage of knowledge presupposed by the regulation of the calendar the Egyptians must have known that the number of days in the moon-month varies between 29 and 30. I am therefore inclined to think that this form of year was first introduced as a means of counting in administration and the making of returns, and then by degrees established itself as the civil calendar because the rural life was so closely dependent upon the administration and its accounts. We may compare the fact that the lunisolar calendar of Greece was introduced as an ecclesiastical calendar, and succeeded in establishing itself as the civil calendar owing to the close connexion between the religious and the political life; but the old reckoning from the phases of the stars persisted alongside of it. In the same way we must suppose that in Egypt alongside of the numerical calendar the old method of reckoning by the concrete appearance of the moon originally persisted, but since by this time it had lost its practical importance it vanished without leaving any other traces than the length of the arithmetical month (as a round number) and the name ‘month’.
On the other hand it must have been intended to give to the year the length of the solar year: the five extra days were accordingly introduced outside the series of months. Hence the same word wepet ronpet means both the first day of the civil shifting year and also the day of the actual morning rising of Sirius; hence too the three four-month divisions of the shifting year are called after the seasons. The first of these, the time of inundation, began exactly with the morning rising of Sirius when the Nile began perceptibly to rise. Here the Egyptians went wrong because they did not realise that the year does not consist of exactly 365 days, but contains an additional fraction of a day. The consequence was that the Egyptian year got out of place in relation to the solar year, but so slowly that no inconvenience was caused in practical life: the linguistic difficulty, that wepet ronpet acquired two different meanings and that e. g. the season called the time of inundation might fall in the actual seed-time or harvest, the conservative minds of the Egyptians enabled them to tolerate. A contributing factor was the practical convenience of the calendar. The dislocation must however very soon have been recognised, since the actual morning rising of Sirius, so far as we know, was always celebrated, i. e. it was a movable feast in relation to the calendar. The error is included in the well-known formula of the Sothic period (1461 Egyptian = 1460 Julian years).
The knowledge of the closest approximation that can be made to the correct number of days in the year, reckoning only whole days, can only be arrived at in one of two ways, either by the observations of the solstices and equinoxes, which is the method adopted e. g. by the Hopi, or by means of the rising of a star. The duration of the solar year is not reached by way of the lunisolar year. Which of the two methods the Egyptians adopted is not in doubt. No notice has come before me which suggests that the Egyptians observed the position of the sunrise or sunset on the horizon, while the stars on the other hand were accurately observed by them. There are calendars which give the position of the constellations in accordance with which the hours of night were determined and proclaimed[982], and in particular the morning rising of Sirius was at all times observed and celebrated. This is primitive[983], but not so the counting of the days between two risings. The latter process would be facilitated if the reckoning was previously carried out in numerical months of 30 days (naturally as a round number, not as an actual month); perhaps this was the first stage. The calendar therefore, as Ed. Meyer has specially pointed out, must have begun to run its course in a year in which the rising of Sirius and New Year’s Day coincided, i. e. it began with a Sothic period.
The months within each season are numbered from I to IV. Among primitive peoples it frequently happens that a season gives its name to two months, which are distinguished as the first and second, but a numbering such as that of the Egyptian calendar is unexampled and shews once more a desire to get away from the moon-month. The so-called ‘months’ are rather subdivisions of the seasons.
The breach—and it can be considered no less—with the primitive time-reckoning is part negative, part positive. Positively, the length of the solar year in whole days has been astonishingly early recognised, but the greatest advance is in the negative direction. The calendar has been detached from the concrete phenomena of the heavens: thereby it acquires a numerical character, and only so is the genuine time-reckoning created. For in practice it is more necessary to be able to reckon conveniently than to remain in accurate agreement with the incommensurability of the motions of the heavenly bodies. Hence the Egyptian calendar held good, although its year was a shifting year and in spite of the fact that the ideal year underlying it was a sidereal and not the actual solar year, and the Greek astronomers reckoned by it on account of its convenience, just as our astronomers still reckon by the Julian calendar. The Egyptian year therefore lies at the bottom of our year, which has been altered so as to remain in agreement with the seasons,—this being necessary in view of the spread of the historic sense among the people—but has also unfortunately been spoiled in the division into months, owing to the influence of the Roman months. The Egyptian calendar is the greatest intellectual fact in the history of time-reckoning; like all the greatest achievements of this nature, e. g. the alphabet, it was attained through a radical simplification, in which also practical convenience played a great part. It should not be forgotten that astronomy and the calendar are not identical. In matters of the calendar practical utility is more welcome than refined astronomical calculation.
CHAPTER XI.
POPULAR MONTHS OF THE EUROPEAN PEOPLES.
In ancient times, and even at the present day in lands which lie outside the path of the great leveller, civilisation, the months taken over with the Roman calendar are not numbered divisions of the year, the names of which are a matter of indifference, but are concretely conceived and named as seasons. They are, in fact, nothing but seasons, the number and duration of which are determined by the conventional calendar. The striving after concreteness which characterises not too highly civilised man leads to the abolition of the obscure and unintelligible Roman names of months, and the substitution of other names describing the season, or more rarely taken from some great festival falling within the month. Only the Hungarian months are entirely named after ecclesiastical festivals[984]. It is also found that the Latin names are as far as possible rendered intelligible by popular etymology.
These statements are well illustrated by the names given to the months by the Greek peasants of Macedonia. It is said of the latter that they measure time not so much by the conventional calendar as by the labours and the festivals characteristic of the different seasons. Seed-time, harvest and vintage, the feast of Saint George, the midsummer fires are some of the notable occasions in the life of the peasant, and these have impressed themselves upon the names of the months. The names are:—1, Γεννάρης, derived from γεννοῦν, also called μεγάλος or τρανὸς μῆνας in opposition to February, and Κλαδευτής on account of the pruning of the vines; 2, Φλεβά ρης, ‘Vein-sweller’, the veins (φλέβες) of the earth are swollen with water (cf. the English folk-name for this month, ‘February fill-dyke’), or μικρὸς μῆνας, κουτσοφλέβαρος; 3, Μάρτης, ὁ φουσκοδενδρίτης, ‘the tree-sweller’, Γδάρτης, ‘the flayer’, on account of the bitterly cold wind; 4, Ἀπρίλης, Ἁγιογεωργίτης, from the feast of Saint George on the 23rd; 5, Μάης; 6, Θεριστής, harvest month; 7, Ἁλωνιστής, Ἁλωνάρης, threshing-floor month; 8, Αὔγουστος; 9, Τρυγητής, vintage month, Σταυριώτης, from the Feast of the Exaltation of the Precious Cross, held on the 14th; 10, Ὀχτώβριος, Ἁγιοδημητριάτης, from the feast of Saint Demetrios on the 26th; 11, Σποριᾶς, sowing month, Ἀντρεάς, from the feast of Saint Andrew on the 30th; 12, Νικολαίτης, from the feast of Saint Nicholas on the 6th[985].
The Albanian names of months are similar:—1, T(osk) Ϳεννάρι, G(heg) Καλενδούρι, New Year month (Kalendae); 2, Σκουρτι, i. e. ‘short’; 3, T. Μαρσι, G. Φρουρι; 4, Πριλι; 5, Μαϳι; 6, Κορρίκου, harvest month; 7, T. (Ἀ)λονάρι, ‘threshing-floor month’ (a Greek loan-word), G. Κϳέρσουρι, probably ‘cherry month’; 8, Γόστι; 9, Βϳέστεα, autumn month, literally ‘bare month’, also βϳέστ’ επάρε, first autumn; 10, σε Μίτρε, month of Saint Demetrius, also βϳεστ’ ε δύτε, second autumn; 11, T. σε Μεχίλ, month of St. Michael, G. σε Μερί ε Στρούγες, month of the Virgin of Struga, also βϳεστ’ ε τρέτε, third autumn; 12, σε Νδερέ, month of St. Andrew[986].
The various Celtic series I omit[987], since they are very obscure and no new material is at my disposal; I shall only remark that they shew a mixture of distorted Latin and of native names, the latter being taken, at least in part, from the phenomena of the vegetation. The Basque names of months are:—1, New Year month or black month; 2, bull or wolf month; 3, tepid month; 4, weeding or fasting-bread month; 5, leaf month; 6, seed-time (sic!), bean or barley month; 7, harvest or wheat month; 8, month of drought; 9, fern or ear month; 10, gathering month; 11, sowing month or forest-clearing; 12, binding up of vegetation (?). They refer therefore throughout to the vegetation and to agriculture. For four months the Latin names are also in use[988].
I have purposely placed in the foreground these mingled series arising in modern times, since they shew how little the people can reconcile themselves to the unintelligible Latin names, and how the latter are crowded out by native names which by their relation to seasons, occupations, and festivals offer points of reference easy to remember. The months are nothing but seasons, the length and situation of which are regulated by the Julian calendar.
The Lithuanian and Lettish names of months refer exclusively to natural phenomena and the occupations of agriculture. The Lithuanian series is:—1, unexplained; 2, jackdaw month; 3, dove month; 4, birch month, or birch water-flowing; 5, cuckoo month; 6, fallow or sowing month; 7, linden month; 8, hot month or rye-cutting; 9, autumn month; 10, leaf-fall; 11, month of clods; 12, month of dryness (frost). The Lettish names are:—1, winter month; 2, snow or fasting-month; 3, dove or snow-crust month; 4, birch-sap month; 5, leaf month; 6, fallow or blossoming month; 7, hay or linden month; 8, rye month or dog (-days); 9, heath-blossom month; 10, autumn month; 11, frost month; 12, wolf month or Christmas[989].
Very similar but much more numerous and fluctuating are the names of months among the Slavonic peoples, collected by Miklosich along with the names of months of a number of other peoples. Yermoloff in his great work on the popular Russian calendar gives only a limited number of names, and these are rarely translated: with a few exceptions these names will be found in Miklosich. The latter writer has classified and discussed the names under their proper headings as follows:—(1) names taken from the vegetable kingdom, 18 in number; (2) from the animal kingdom, 9; (3) from natural phenomena in general, 17; (4) from periodically recurring actions, 10; (5) from customs and festivals, 25; in addition to which there are a few unexplained and three Latin names. Since it is my purpose to give an idea not only of the variety of the names but also of the fluctuating relationship with the Julian months, I arrange the material of Miklosich’s first four groups according to the months, omitting isolated and uncertain names. If the statement as to the corresponding Julian month in Miklosich is not clear, I add a mark of interrogation. I am also indebted to Prof. G. Kazarow of Sofia for detailed information as to the Bulgarian names of months, and for extracts from the Bulgarian work of Kovatschev on popular astronomy and meteorology; these sources are referred to respectively as Kaz. and Kov. An asterisk prefixed to the name of a month means that the same name is given to another month also; if prefixed to the abbreviation denoting the country, the asterisk shews that the name is given to two different months in that country. The names refer to:—1, January, *‘month of clods’, Czech, since the hard frost turns the earth into clods; ‘ice month’, Czech; *‘increasing of the day-light’, Old Bulg., Slovak, Croat.; ‘cold month’, Pol., Bulg.; *‘the Cutter’, Slovak, Bulg., Serb., which Miklosich rightly refers to the felling of trees, Yermoloff and others less well to the piercing cold; ‘the Great Cutter’, Bulg.; *‘kindling of the wheel’, *Bulg. (Kaz.)[990]. 2, February, ‘the Side-warmer’, Russ. (Yermoloff), latera calefaciens, i. e. the time when the cattle leave their stalls in order to warm themselves in the open (Miklosich); ‘the savage month’, Ruthen., Pol.; *‘the dry month’, *Slovak; ‘the snowy month’[991]; ‘wedding month’, Old Russ.[992]; *‘the Cutter’, Old Bulg., Croat.; ‘the Little Cutter’, Bulgarian. 3, March, *‘birch month’, Slovak, Ruthen., refers to the sap of the birch which now begins to flow; *‘grass month’, *Slovak; ‘time of deceitful weather’, Bulg.? Serb.? Old Bulg.; *‘the dry month’, Old Bulg., *Slovak, Croat.; ‘beginning of summer’ (lêtnik, Kaz.). 4, April, *‘birch month’ (in three different forms), *Old Bulg., Ruthen.; *‘blossoming month’, *Croat., Ruthen., Pol.; ‘oak month’, Czech, because the oak comes into leaf; *‘grass month’, *Slovak, *Croat., *Serb.; ‘the Liar’, or ‘the month that deceives the grass’, Bulg., (lǎžko, lǎži-trev, Kaz.); ‘the Fleecer’, ‘the Fleece-seller’, Bulg. (Kov., cf. Greek γδάρτης). 5, May, *‘blossoming month’, Slovak, *Croat., Czech, Bulg. (Kov.); *‘rose-blossoming month’, High Sorb.; *‘grass month’, Old Bulg., *Slovak, *Croat., Ruthen., Czech, Bulg.; ‘cornel month’, Sloven.; ‘maize-hoeing’, Bulg. (Kov.); *‘cherry month’, Bulg. (Kov.); *‘cochineal month’, Bulg. (červenijat, Kov.). 6, June, ‘bean-blossoming month’, Slovak; *‘cherry month’, Serb., *Bulg. (Kov., cf. the Albanian July); ‘month of ears’, Slovak; *‘linden month’, Slovak, Serb., since the linden blossoms then; *‘rose-blossoming month’, Low Sorb., Czech; ‘Mower’, Bulg. (Kov.); ‘hay-cutting’, Bulg. (Kaz.); *‘cochineal month’, Ruthen., Bulg., Czech, because the cochineals used for red dye are then collected; ‘grasshopper month’, Old Bulg.; ‘milk month’, Slovak; ‘fallow month’, Slovak, High Sorb. 7, July, *‘linden month’, Ruthen., Pol.; *‘cochineal month’, Old Bulg., Pol., Czech[993]; ‘the hot (month)’, Serb., Slovak, Bulg.; ‘hay month’, Ruthen., Bulg., Russ.; *‘cutting month’, Czech, refers to the hay-cutting; *‘harvest month’, Low Sorb.; ‘the Harvester’, Bulg. (Kaz.); *‘sickle month’, Old Bulg., Slovak, Serb., Bulg. (Kov.). 8, August, ‘month of ripeness’, Russ.; *‘sickle month’, Ruthen., Czech, Pol.; *‘cutting month’, in Moravia and among the Slovaks; ‘barley month’, Low Sorb.; *‘harvest month’, High Sorb., Bulg. (Kaz.); ‘threshing-floor month’, Bulg. (Kov., cf. Greek-Albanian Ἁλωνάρης); ‘fruit month’, Bulg. (Kov.); *‘gadfly month’, *Slovak, Ruthen.; ‘beginning of the lowing’ (i. e. the rutting of the deer, zarev), Old Bulg.; ‘time when people are carting’ (no doubt on account of the bringing in of the harvest), Slovak, Serb.; ‘dryer up of the rivers’, Bulg. (Kov.). 9, September, ‘sowing month’, Bulg. (Kov.); ‘month of gathering’, Bulg. (Kov.); *‘heath-plant month’, Old Bulg., Pol., Ruthen., (Czech, July or August); *‘time when the goats rut’, *Slovak; *‘gadfly month’, *Slovak; ‘the gloomy month’, Old Russ.[994]; *‘month of lowing’, ‘of rutting’, (záži) *Czech, (rujan, and kindred words) Old Bulg., Serb., Bulg., Old Russ., Czech (earlier); ‘gathering of the clusters’, Bulg.; ‘month of the (winter-)sowing’, Ruthen.; ‘old women’s summer’, Ruthen., Pol. (?); ‘autumn’, Russ., Slovak. 10, October, *‘leaf-fall’, Old Bulg., Serb., *Bulg. (Kaz.); ‘the yellow (month)’, Ruthen.; *‘time when the goat ruts’, *Slovak; *‘month of the lowing’ (řijen), Czech (present day); ‘time of flax-preparing’ (the name comes from a term for the waste products of the flax), Ruthen., Pol.; ‘vine month’, Slovak, Serb.; ‘gathering of the maize’, Bulg. (Kov.); ‘month of dirt’, Russ.; ‘the autumnal (month)’, Bulg. (Kaz.). 11, November, *‘leaf-fall’, Slovak, Ruthen., Czech, Pol., *Bulg. (Kov.); *‘time when the goat ruts’, *Slovak; *‘month of clods’, Old Bulg., Russ.; ‘threshing month’, Low Sorb. 12, December, ‘wolf month’, Czech, High Sorb. (rutting-time of the wolves); *‘month of clods’, Slovak, Croat., Ruthen. (?), Pol.; *‘increasing of the day-light’ (?), Serb., Russ.(?), Czech; ‘month of the snow-storm’, Ruthen.; ‘winter month’, Bulg. (Kov.); *‘kindling of the wheel’, *Bulg. (Kov., see above). More rarely the festivals give their names to the months. This is the case with Christmas, Candlemas, All Saints’ Day, the festival of the birth of the Virgin, and the feast of the Rosalia (= Whitsun), Slovak, Bulg. (Kaz.), and with 14 saints’ days, e. g. Martinzi, November, Bulg. (Kov.). With regard to Bulg. gorêštnik (= July) Kazarow writes to me: “gorêšt = ‘hot’; in July the people celebrate a fire-festival of three days’ duration, viz. the 15th, 16th, and 17th of July, gorêštnici”. Of the Latin names of months only three have been borrowed:—May (common), Slovak, Croat., Ruthen., Russ., Czech, Pol., Sorb.; more rarely April, Old Bulg., Sorb.; and March, Croat., Serb., Ruthen., Pol., High Sorb.
The great majority of the names refer to natural phenomena and country occupations. The variety of the series need not be specially pointed out, the numerous asterisks shew the fluctuation and variation of the nomenclature between two or even three months. Much is explained, as is indicated by the mention of the countries in which the names originate, by the extremely various climatic conditions prevailing in the countries occupied by the Slavs, and a further explanation of the variety is to be sought in the well-known phenomenon that when the seasons correspond only imperfectly with the months, the equalisation is carried out sometimes with one month, sometimes with another. It must be so, since among the same people the same name describes various months. Pairs of months are however rare: ‘the big’ and ‘the little’ sêčko (January and February), Bulg.; ‘the little grass-month’ (March) and the ‘big’ one (April or May), Slovak; the little and big ‘cochineal’ months (June and July), Czech, distinguished in the calendar of to-day as červen and červenec (diminutive), so that the names have changed places; and žătvar, ‘reaper’ (July) and žătvarskijat, ‘harvest-month’ (August), Bulgarian (Kazarow). Here also must be placed zarev and cognates, Old Bulg., Russ., Czech, which is inchoative and means ‘beginning of the lowing (the rutting)’, and rjujin and cognates, Old Bulg., Slovak, Serb., Old Russian, Czech, ‘the lowing’, i. e. the full rutting and therefore the second rutting-month. The character of all these names is only too obvious. Hence the fact that the word for month is very rarely added, though it appears in the translation. These names have proved so vigorous that in Czech and Polish they have ousted the Latin names (with the exception of May).
In the same way I give a summary of the German names of months, from the abundant compilations more particularly of Weinhold and Ebner. Here too I make no claim to completeness,—some names have been deliberately omitted—my purpose being only to give an idea of the variety and instability of the names. To this end I choose the forms which are most easily intelligible.
1, January:—bare month (the bare, naked month), *hard month, *winter month, ice month, *wolf month, threshing month, month of calves, ‘Great Horn’, *Volborn, Lasmaend, Laumonat (the last three unexplained). 2, February:—last winter month, wood month, fox month, ‘Little Horn’, Hornung, *Volborn, Rebmaend, Redmaend, Selle(maend), Sporkel, Sprokkelmaend. 3, March:—(first) ploughing month, drying month, *spring month, sowing month, pruning month, vernal month, spring. 4, April:—second ploughing month, *spring month, grass month, shepherds’ month, cuckoo month, the rough month (Rûmaend). 5, May:—ass month, month of joy, month of flowers, bean month. 6, June:—fallow month, *dog month, rose month, pasture month, Lusemaend (Luse probably = modern German Schildlaus, ‘cochineal’), summer month, fallow. 7, July:—(first) *Augst, hay month, *dog month; Heuet (hay-harvest), *Arne (harvest), *cutting (i. e. of the hay). 8, August:—(second) *Augst, harvest month, Arnemaend, cutting month, Kochmaend, month of fruit, Bîsmaend (when the cattle, tormented by the heat and the flies, run about (biset) the fields as if mad), *Arne, *cutting. 9, September:—second Augst, Augstin, cutting of oats, (*first) *autumn month, *sowing month, spelt month, barley month, boar month, *Fulmaend, Laeset, Hanfluchet, bean-harvest, first autumn, over-autumn, autumn sowing. 10, October:—(*first or *second) *autumn month, first winter month, *sowing month, *slaughtering month, *Folmaend, Aarzelmaend (since the year turns back), (second) autumn, *Laupreisi (leaf-fall). 11, November:—(*second or third) *autumn month, *winter month, Laubryszmaend, leaf month, month of rime, month of winds, month of dirt, *hard month, *slaughtering month, Smeermaend, *full month, *wolf month, acorn month, *Laupreisi. 12, December:—fourth autumn month, (second) *winter month, *hard month, *slaughtering month, month of bacon, *wolf month, hare month, second winter. There are also many names borrowed from feasts and saints’ days, such as (New) Year month and the synonymous Kalemaend = Calends month (January), Fassnachtmaend or Olle Wiwermaend (February), Klibelmaend (Conception of the Virgin, March), Holy Month or Christ Month. The Latin names March, April, May, and August have also become very popular; the last-named has for special reasons been included in the above list[995].
The history of the German names of months has been elucidated by Weinhold and for the Alemannic district by the work of Ebner, who bases his researches upon extensive information collected among the people. As early as the time of Charlemagne a German series of months had been created in order to bring the Julian months more closely home to the people, so that the list was based largely upon a popular foundation. The names are:—Wintarmânoth, Hornunc, Lenzinm., Ostarm., Wunnim., Brâchm., Hewim., Aranm., Witum., Windumem., Herbistm., Heilagm. This series attained great influence, but did not become universal; on the contrary it was subjected to alteration under the pressure of the agricultural terms. In spite of this early attempt at unity the German names for the months shew once more the variety and fluctuation with which the reader is now sufficiently familiar. A special interest attaches to the fact that the sources make it possible to follow how the names of months arise from the simple terms for the seasons. On this point Weinhold says, p. 2:—“In our sources the general statement in der erne (‘in the harvest’) preponderates over the month-name ernemanot (‘harvest-month’); im brâchet (‘in the fallow’), im höuwet (‘in the hay-harvest’) hold their own alongside of brâch- and höu-monat (‘fallow-, hay-month’), im wimmot (‘in the vintage’) persists, since windumemânot (‘vintage-month’) had long since died out. From the phrases in der sât, in dem snite (‘in the sowing’, ‘in the cutting’) are painfully evolved a sâtmân and a schnitmonat (‘sowing-, cutting-month’). We find autumn and winter as names of months, and also the non-German augst, divided into three; we can see the uncertainty with which laubbrost and laubrîse (‘sprouting and falling of the leaves’) contract into names of months.” Accordingly the above list shews that alongside the names compounded with ‘month’ the simple terms from seasons and occupations of the year are frequently found as names for the months. March = Lenz (spring), June = Brachet (fallow), July = Heuet (hay-harvest), August = Arne (harvest), September = Bonenarve, Hanfluchet, erst Herbst, Herbstsaat, Überherbst, Laeset (Lesezeit) (bean-harvest, hemp-gathering, first autumn, autumn-sowing, late autumn, harvest time), October = ander Herbst, Herbst, Laupreisi (second autumn, autumn, leaf-fall), December = ander Winter. Of great significance is the state of affairs found in the Alemannic sources of the 14th century[996]; side by side with the compound forms the simple often appear, but always as definite names of months. Towards the end of the century they then begin to have a loose connexion with the conception ‘month’, e. g. brachot der manod (‘fallow the month’). This shews the method by which these names have become names of months, and Ebner judges the process quite correctly when he says that the definite names of months were only secondarily evolved from the general time-indications. He adds:—“This observation can often be made in the sources, viz. that alongside of the month-name which exactly circumscribes a lunar period (sic!, must be ‘a Julian month’) a simple conception of time also appears. These simple terms, such as ‘autumn’ for September, also appear as general time-indications, especially in the old laws. They originally have this character, and they shew it even to-day. Little by little they become stereotyped into fixed names of months, and enter into association with the conception ‘month’. In this sense as definite names of months the simple terms live for a long time in the sources alongside of the full terms (those with ‘month’), but in the end lose their force as definite names of months; to-day they are in dialects general time-indications”[997]. There is therefore an attempt to render popular the unfamiliar Julian divisions of the year by giving them popularly intelligible names; Charlemagne by his series of months had already tried to systematise the process. The same phenomenon shews itself in the single fragment of a Gothic calendar which has come down to us, where November is equated to fruma jiuleis.
The fact that the people regarded the months as seasons, and did not clearly distinguish them from the latter as divisions of time with a definite number of days, has sympathetically affected those Latin names which became really popular. When we hear of a ‘first’ and a ‘second’ May, the name is evidently loosely regarded as a general term for the early summer. Augst comes to mean simply ‘harvest’[998]; hence July is called ‘the first Augst’ and August ‘the second Augst’, or the latter is named Augst and September is called Ander Augst, Augstin, or Haberaugst (oat-harvest).
This explanation is opposed by the statement of Tille that in primitive Germanic times there were sixty-day divisions[999] from which the pairs of months have arisen, and that the fluctuation in the names of months is due to the fact that these divisions of time began in the middle of the Julian month[1000]. The fluctuation in the names of months is shewn by the frequent asterisks in the above list, and the pairs of months are:—big and little Horn[1001], the first and second ploughing month, the first and second May, the first and second Augst, or Augst and Augstin or Haberaugst, and first and second autumn. Our researches ought to make a special refutation of Tille’s thesis unnecessary. Obviously the seasons never had a definite number of days before they became names of months; both phenomena find their explanation in the indeterminate length and position of the seasons upon which the scheme of the Julian months was superimposed. Accordingly, where the name of the month was taken from a longer season, the people counted three or four months with the same name. Thus October and November are called respectively third and last autumn month, December is fourth autumn month, February third or last winter month.
The German names of months were in great measure genuinely popular,—their very multiplicity, which has its roots in the life of the people, suffices to prove that—but they have had to give way to the Latin names in spite of the attempts made in modern times in the popular calendars, and especially under the influence of Romanticism, to establish them throughout. In our own day they persist in popular usage chiefly in Switzerland.
The Anglo-Saxon months are preserved in a well-known passage of Bede[1002]. I give each name with the explanation. 1, giuli; 2, solmonað: mensis placentarum, quas in eo diis suis offerebant; 3, hreðmonað: a dea illorum Hreða; 4, eosturm.: a dea illorum, quae Eostre vocabatur; 5, þrimilci: quod tribus vicibus in eo per diem pecora mulgebantur; 6, liða; 7, liða: blandus sive navigabilis; 8, weodm.: mensis zizaniorum (‘weeds’), quod ea tempestate maxime abundent; 9, halegm.: mensis sacrorum; 10, wintirfyllið: composito novo nonune hiemeplenilunium; 11, blotm.: mensis immolationum; 12, giuli: a conversione solis in auctum diei. Of the explanations of Bede some are obvious, others doubtful. For instance one would rather connect February with the word sol = ‘sun’, or perhaps with sol = ‘dirt’ (on account of the melting of the snow), since no word sol = ‘cake’ is known. The goddesses Hreða and Eostre, who formerly played a great part in mythological discussions, are now with reason suspected as being an explanation of Bede’s. Hreðmonað is ‘the rough month’[1003], hreðness is ‘roughness’, especially of the weather; the name is therefore equivalent to the second term for the same month, hlyda (see below). In the case of eostur one might think of some lost name of a season which, like giuli, was transferred to a Christian festival. For halegmonað and wintirfyllið see below; blotmonað is the slaughtering month; the explanation of giuli is fatally wrong.
A calendar in Bibl. Cottoniensis, assigned by Hickes to the year 1031, has the same names, but unfortunately, on account of damage caused by the great fire, nos. 1, 7, 9, and 12 are missing[1004]. The Menologium Poeticum[1005] does not translate all the names. The series is:—Januarius, Februarius or solmonað, Martius or hlyda, Aprelis monað, Maius, Junius or ærra liða, Julius monað, Augustus or weodmonað, September or haligmonað, October or winterfylleð, November or blotmonað, December or ærra jula. There are missing therefore, probably not by accident, eostermonað and the second month of each of the pairs. Finally I give the list compiled by Hickes:—1, æftera geola; 2, solmonað; 3, hlyda or hlydmonað (‘the loud, blustering month’, on account of the storms); 4, easterm.; 5, maiusm.; 6, serem., midsumorm., ærra liða, Juniusm.; 7, meðm., ædm. (hay-harvest month), æftera liða, Juliusm.; 8, weodm., Augustusm.; 9, haligm., harvæstm.; 10, se teoðam., haligm.; 11, blotm.; 12, midvinterm., ærre geola[1006]. Of these variants upon Bede’s list harvestm., hærfestm. occurs frequently and indeed is attested from the year 1000. In Robert of Gloucester (1297 A. D.) the word means August[1007]. The two others are doubtful: they appear in the first edition of Bosworth’s Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, which Weinhold used, but are absent in the second, doubtless because the sources are unknown. As far as I can see they come from Hickes, they are missing in Hampson’s Glossary. The Oxford Dictionary says, s. v. meadmonth: “an alleged O. E. name for July”. Of seremonth it gives a late example, where the word is equivalent to August[1008]. It is possible that Hickes used sources which have perished in the fire at the Bibliotheca Cottoniensis. The form searmonað, so far as I know, appears only in Bosworth, and is perhaps a normalising of the spelling. The name ‘dry month’ (mod. Eng. ‘sear’, ‘sere’) corresponds as badly as possible to June, and is not much more suitable for August. A satisfactory explanation would be given if, as Prof. Ekwall proposes to me, we assume that seremonað = sceremonað, s being often written for sc from the 12th century onwards; the name would then mean ‘sheep-shearing month’. Fluctuation in the names of months is seen here also: haligmonað means September or October, harvest-monað both August and September. So far the Anglo-Saxon months present the usual characteristics in the nomenclature, and in the fluctuation of the names. A point worthy of note is the agreement in name with the Gothic fruma jiuleis but difference in position: this is explained by the fact that jiuleis, giuli, jul is an old word for a shorter season.
Bede’s further statements as to the Anglo-Saxon year are very important and have been much disputed. He represents it as a lunisolar year with lunar months. It began on Dec. 25th; this night the heathens called modra nect, id est matrum noctem ob causam, ut suspicamur, ceremoniarum quas in ea pervigiles agebant (“that is the night of the mothers, because, as we suppose, of some ceremonies which they performed in the night”). In an ordinary year each season had three months, in leap-year the thirteenth month was intercalated in the summer, it was a third liða and a year of this kind was called annus thri-lidi. Further, the year was divided into two halves, winter and summer, of six months each, and winter began with the month wintirfyllið. Here and here alone have we an account of a heathen Germanic lunisolar year. A priori such an account contains nothing surprising. Tacitus, Germ. XI, had already stated that the Germans observed the lunar month. The question is whether they also named the months and arrived at a fixed series, whereby the empirical intercalation of a month would arise of itself. In the last centuries of heathen times they were certainly not at a lower stage of civilisation than many other peoples in various parts of the world among whom this form of year did arise, but the trustworthiness of the report is far from being established by this general consideration.
Bilfinger has subjected the account to severe criticism, and on internal evidence states it to be a construction of Bede’s[1009]. The account, he says, fluctuates between the solar and the lunar year; for instance Bede says in one place that the year begins on December 25th, and in another that winter begins with the lunar month wintirfyllið. But this is done in any description of a lunisolar year that does not choose expressions with pedantic accuracy. Even in modern scientific handbooks we read e. g. that the Attic year began with the summer solstice, which is an abbreviated and incorrect expression for ‘at the first new moon after the summer solstice’. The learned chronologist, Bede, has, according to Bilfinger, elaborated his system upon the following points of departure: the derivation of the word ‘month’ from ‘moon’, the phrase annus thri-lidi, which really means ‘a year so favourable that three sea-voyages can be made in it’, and the beginning of the year on Dec. 25th, which is assumed by Bilfinger to be the ecclesiastical beginning of the year on Christmas Day, at that time used in England. The Anglo-Saxon names of months, he concludes, are accordingly nothing more than native terms for the Julian months, and therefore first became names of months on the introduction of the Roman calendar. The criticism is acute, but is not without its weak points. Bede knew quite well that the Latin mensis is connected with μήν and properly means lunar month, and had a very good knowledge of matters chronological; why then should he claim lunar months for the Anglo-Saxons if to his knowledge only solar months existed among them? In regard to the explanation of thri-lidi we require to know from documents that two sea-voyages were usually made in summer, and what was the goal of these voyages that there should be only two of them. Such evidence is not forthcoming. And further, as Prof. Ekwall informs me, Bilfinger’s explanation is linguistically improbable. Such a formation would presuppose a word *līð, ‘journey’, and no such word exists; on the other hand þriliði, ‘with three liða’, is perfectly regular[1010]. Further ‘the holy month’, halegmonað, cannot be explained by Christian influence, since there is no great Christian festival in September: the origin must be sought in the heathen cult, but is obscure. It is not improbable that the festival of harvest was intended. However this carries the name back to pre-Christian times. Wintirfyllið means, according to Bede, ‘(first) full moon of the winter’. With this is connected Gothic fulliþ, translated by ‘full moon’[1011]. By this parallel the lunar character of this month is also proved. In opposition to Bilfinger’s theory it therefore appears that there are a couple of facts, arising out of the months themselves, which point to the heathen origin and lunar character of the months.
The difficulties lie elsewhere. The beginning of the year is according to Bede Dec. 25. But where a fixed series of twelve months exists, with a fixed intercalary month, it lies in the nature of things that the month which is doubled in the intercalation should be the beginning of the year, since this month is regulated by a fixed point or season of the year; the month in question is in this case liða, in summer. Now the beginning of the year in the sense mentioned [above, p. 276], does not necessarily coincide with the beginning of the series of months. The beginning of the year in this case, however, is on Bede’s own testimony the beginning of winter, as among the Scandinavians. We are therefore driven to the conclusion that Bede erroneously substituted the ecclesiastical beginning of the year at the Christmas festival, and that the cause of his error was the fact that at this time the heathen Anglo-Saxons celebrated a Feast of the Mothers, which corresponded to the Scandinavian Yule festival celebrated at the same time of the year; whereas in reality the Anglo-Saxons, like most peoples, had no sharply defined beginning of the year.
Although, therefore, Bede’s account presents great difficulties, they are not diminished by the assumption that the scheme is a construction of his own. In my opinion there is no denying the trustworthiness of the account or the probability that the heathen Anglo-Saxons had arrived at a fixed series of months with empirical intercalation in the summer. But even if this was so, the case is isolated, and does not advance our knowledge of the form of the year among the other Germanic peoples. This only may be pointed out, that the Icelanders inserted their intercalary week in the summer just as the Anglo-Saxons, according to Bede, did with their intercalary month. But since the form of the year is so entirely different in each case, this agreement cannot be made to support further conclusions, any more than the two cases of agreement with the Gothic calendar.
The Icelandic months, in conformity with the peculiar arrangement of the year, do not coincide with the Julian, but begin either shortly before or in the middle of these. The series is:—1, þorri; 2, Goi; 3, Einmánaðr, because one month is left before the beginning of summer; 4, Gaukmánaðr (cuckoo month) or Sáðtið (seed-time) or Harpa (unexplained); 5, Eggtið or Stekktið or Skerpla (unexplained); 6, Sólmánaðr (sun month) or Selmánaðr (cowherd’s hut month); 7, Miðsummar, or Heyannir (hay-time); 8, Tvímánaðr, since two months are left to the beginning of winter, or Kornskurðmánaðr (barley-cutting month); 9, Haustmánaðr; 10, Gormánaðr (slaughtering month, gor is the refuse thrown away in the slaughtering); 11, Frermánaðr (frost-month) or Ylir (cognate with Yul); 12, Jólmánaðr (Yule-month) or Hrútmánaðr (ram month, on account of the pairing of the sheep) or Mörsugr (‘the fat-sucker’)[1012]. Some of these names are also used to describe seasons and have been explained [above, p. 74]. With the exception of þorri, Goi, and Einmánaðr, however, these months are not used in practical life, where the reckoning is performed in weeks. In modern times the Icelandic months have other names but keep the same position in the year:—1, Miðsvetrarm. (midwinter month); 2, Föstu(in)gangsm. (beginning of fasting); 3, Jafnðøgram. (month of the equinox); 4, Sumarm. (beginning of summer); 5, Farðagam. (because it is the legal time for moving); 6, Nottleysum. (the nightless month); 7, Stuttnættism. (month of the short nights) or Maðkam. (as in Denmark, month of worms); 8, Heyannam. (month of the hay-time); 9, Addrattam. (m. necessitatum apportandarum); 10, Slatrunarm. (slaughtering month), older Garðlagsm. (m. sæpium struendarum); 11, Riðtíðarm. (spawning month); 12, Skamdegism. (month of the short days) or Jólam[1013].
In Norway, according to Finn Magnusson[1014], January is sometimes called Thorre, February sometimes Thorre, now and again also Gjö, March sometimes Gjö, here and there also Krikla, June Gro (sprouting month); I shall return [below, p. 302], to the explanation of the variation. Weinhold gives a complete list:—1, Torre; 2, Gjö; 3, Krikla or Kvine; 4 and 5, Voarmoanar; 6 and 7, Sumarmoanar; 8 and 9, Haustmoanar; 10 and 11, Vinterstid; 12, Jolemoane or Skammtid (time of the short days)[1015].
Of the Danish months the learned Olaus Worm in the 17th century gives two series[1016]. The months of the first series are lunar months, he says, and begin with the first new moon of the new year:—1, Diur Rey or Renden, on account of the pairing of the animals (at løbe i Rhed); 2, Thormaen; 3, Faremaen, on account of the journeys; 4, Maymaen; 5, Sommermaen; 6, Ormemaen (month of worms); 7, Hoemaen (hay month); 8, Kornmaen; 9, Fiskemaen; 10, Sædemaen (seed month); 11, Pølsemaen (sausage month); 12, Julemaen. The intercalary month is called Sildemaen, ‘the late month’. The Julian months are called:—1, Glugmanet; 2, Blidem. (the mild month); 3, Torm.; 4, Farem.; 5, Maym.; 6, Skærsommer; 7, Ormem.; 8, Høstm.; 9, Fiskem.; 10, Sædem.; 11, Slagtem.; 12, Christm. The northern Danes and the inhabitants of Skåne are said to call the first four months: 1, Glug, 2, Gøje, 3, Thor, 4, Blidel. Blidel was until our own time in popular use in southern Skåne, but it denoted February and in this position it appears in Hickes[1017]. The same series is found in Finn Magnusson[1018], but with certain variants:—1, Ism. (ice month); 2, Dyrem.; 4, Faarem. (sheep month); 6, Sommerm.; 7, Madkem.; 8, Høm.; 10, Ridem. (riding month); 11, Vinterm.; 12, Julem.[1019]. Feilberg in his well-known Dictionary of the popular speech of Jylland gives some characteristic modern popular names. Helmisse (‘holy mass’) really means All Souls’ Day, and then an old worn-out horse, whose last strength is exhausted in the autumn ploughing and who dies in consequence; hence September or October obtains the name helmissemåned. March is called kattemåned, from the pairing of the cats, or prangermåned (pranger = ‘dealer’), because most business is transacted then. These are evidently more in the nature of by-names, but it is precisely names of this sort that oust the Latin names, since they are intelligible.
In the Swedish almanac, until it was modernised in the year 1901, Swedish names stood beside the Latin. They ran:—Torsmånad, Göjem., Vårm. (spring month), Gräsm. (grass month), Blomsterm. (month of flowers), Sommarm., Höm. (hay month), Skördem. (harvest month), Höstm. (autumn month), Slaktm. (slaughtering month), Vinterm., Julm. It is true that these names were never used. The series has arisen from an older one which is first attested for the year 1538. In the latter three months have Latin names, Marsmånad, Aprilmånad, Majmånad, October is named Winmånad (vine-month), December Christmånad. These names shew that the series is of German origin; in Sweden vines are not cultivated, and December 24th is never called Christmas Eve but Yule Eve. The list agrees with one given by Weinhold, p. 8, which as early as the 15th century was common to all Germany, and the agreement is shewn also in this point that, as is often the case in German lists, the months 3, 4, and 5 retain their Latin names. When it is further remembered that Augst means ‘harvest’, the variations will be seen to consist only in the substitution of the old names Tor and Göje for Jenner and Hornung and the renaming of ‘the fallow month’ (Brachmonat) from midsummer, which is in Sweden a great popular festival. The more suitable Slakt- and Julmånad were substituted for Win- and Christmånad in 1608 by the almanac-maker Forsius: the three Latin names were first exchanged for Swedish in 1734 by the almanac-maker Hiorter[1020]. There is moreover one Swedish name which is still very popular and which falls outside the usual series, viz. rötmånaden (‘the rotten month’), so named because it falls in the most sultry time of the summer, when it is very difficult to keep meat and other food from going bad. It is fixed at the time in which the sun stands in Leo (July 22-Aug. 23; about July 13-Aug. 14, old style). Formerly it was known as ‘the Dog-days’,—a translation of dies caniculares—and the position varied considerably. The period descends from the period of the Etesian in the ancient Greek calendar, and it was not till the 17th century that it was generally equated to the time during which the sun stands in Leo[1021].
The Swedish list of months is therefore largely of foreign or learned origin. The only popular names are Tor and Göje, which also often occur without the addition of ‘month’. The Icelanders have made Thorri and Goi into mythological figures[1022]. In Sweden the people have personified these names. When it snows, Goja shakes her robe. Thor (= March), with the long beard, entices the children outside the wall, they say in the north of Skåne,—in the south the same thing is said of Bliel (Blidel = February)—and then Far Fäjeskinn (= April) comes and drives them in again. The latter month is conceived of as ‘Father Sweep-skin’: but it is possible that in far the month-name Fare-maaned (= April) appears. In Norway the names of the same three months—Thorre, Gjö, and Krikla—were the only ones in common use, and so in Iceland, þorri, Goi, and Einmánaðr. The beginning of these three months was hailed with popular celebrations both in Iceland and elsewhere in Scandinavia[1023]. And now attempts have been made to prove that these Norwegian months are old lunar months. In Aasen’s Norwegian Dictionary it is stated that the country people even to-day still count and name the moons, so that e. g. the moon which is in the heavens during the Yuletide-festival is termed the Yule moon if it continues until the end of the festival, the day of Epiphany: and if it does not last till the end of this period, then the next following moon is the Yule moon, i. e. the Yule moon is in reality the moon which is in the heavens on the day of Epiphany. The terms and the calculation of the following moons are regulated accordingly. Certainly the heathen Germans must have been acquainted with the lunar month, and the existence of the lunisolar calendar among the Anglo-Saxons is not to be denied, but in this case we must unreservedly agree with Bilfinger[1024] that this lunar reckoning is of Christian origin. Then in order to fix the date of the important movable festivals the most convenient practical means was to begin from the first new moon after the day of Epiphany, i. e. after the Yule moon. The old rule says:—“Count the moon which is in the sky on the day of Epiphany as long as it lasts, and then ten days onward from the new moon, and you have the terminus Septuagesimæ.” Hence is derived the Swedish peasant rule:—“The moon which is in the sky at the day of Epiphany shall be the Christmas moon, whether it be young or old.” After this follows the disting-moon[1025]. On account of the ecclesiastically prescribed period of Lent and the Easter festival it was absolutely necessary to be able to calculate this time, and the calculation was most simply performed in the fashion just described, although the phenomena of the heavens did not exactly agree with the rule of computation. The third of these moons was followed by the Easter festival. For this reason these three months have stamped themselves upon the minds of the people in all the Scandinavian countries. It is because they are lunar months, and not because they began, like the Icelandic months, in the middle of the Julian months, that the relationship of the first three Norwegian names of months to the Julian varies in the manner shewn [above, p. 298]. A further question, however, is the age of the names þorri (Tor) and Göje. Since in spite of many ingenious attempts these words remain etymologically unexplained, and moreover are not borrowed, the names must originate in an older period. What they meant before they received their present application we do not know, but there is nothing to shew that they are not old names of months. There is a possibility, certainly somewhat remote, that their use as names of months is pre-Christian, although the computation is Christian. There would be nothing surprising in this, if it were the case, since the Germans were acquainted with lunar months, and they had attained a much higher stage of civilisation than many peoples who were familiar with the lunisolar year as regulated by empirical intercalation.
A sure indication of an Old Swedish heathen reckoning in lunar months has been acutely pointed out by Beckman[1026] in the rule, attested from the time of the Reformation, for fixing the date of the fair at Uppsala known as the disting, which is a direct continuation of the great sacrificial festival at the heathen temple in Uppsala, the disablot. The rule, as has already been indicated (p. 302), says that the disting shall be held at the full of the moon following the Epiphany moon, and therefore exactly two months before the Easter full moon. This rule certainly goes back to ancient times and cannot arise from the Christian computation of Easter, since there would be no reason for arranging with reference to Easter the date of a fair so long before Easter and originating in heathen times[1027]. Rather is the explanation given in the words of Tacitus, that the Germans held their assemblies at new or full moon, which would also apply to the great sacrificial festival and the popular assembly of the Svear. This however presupposes that the insertion of the intercalary month was fixed in some way, so that no error might arise in regard to the moon of the disting. After Christianity was introduced, and with it the computation of the three moons before Easter, the computation of the disting-moon was also modified in accordance with these. A statement of Snorre[1028] however causes difficulty. Snorre says that the disablot was celebrated in Goe, but that after the introduction of Christianity the date of the fair was altered to Candlemas (Feb. 2). The latter statement contradicts the rule, and is ingeniously explained by Beckman. In the year 1219, when Snorre was staying in Sweden, the full moon of the disting fell on the first of February, and Snorre has generalised the single case. Goe, as has been seen above, is the name of the month, but the Göje new moon has been shewn to be the second after Epiphany, and therefore the moon following the disting-moon, which is identical with the Tor new moon. Herein lies an unexplained difficulty. It is to be presumed, however, that the arrangement of the heathen lunar months must have been different from that of the Christian Easter moons, and that this must have been the cause of the difference in the position of the moons. The heathen disting-moon, called Goe, did not entirely correspond either to the Christian þorre or to Goe: Snorre has made Goe equivalent to it, otherwise it has been made equivalent to þorre. The necessity of computing the Christian Easter has very often caused the new moons to fall after the period (Yule, Tor, Goe) from which they are named. On the contrary the disting-moon is the very moon in which the disting is held. This is certainly a survival of an older pre-Christian computation, which was later fitted into the Christian computation of the new moons before Easter, and was re-arranged accordingly.
In the other Scandinavian countries also the enumeration of the moons between Christmas and Easter was neglected after the Reformation had made the observation of the fast superfluous, or rather it was replaced by another: the New Year’s Day appears as the regulating point instead of Epiphany.
The Swedish almanacs of the 16th and 17th centuries give the new moons in words, the practice ceasing in the second half of the 17th century. In accordance with the custom of the ecclesiastical computation the new moon is (nearly always) named after the following month, that in which the moon ceases: Ny Göijemånat, the new moon of Göje, therefore falls in Torsmånad (January), and so on. Sometimes, doubtless inadvertently, the new moon is named after the month in which it falls, i. e. Ny Göijemånat falls in February. Now certain years receive 13 new moons, and therefore one intercalary moon, for which the computers give rules. But the almanac-makers never follow these rules. In two or three of the oldest almanacs[1029] the intercalary moon is certainly described as such[1030], but its position in the year does not correspond to the rule of the computers: in 1603 it is simply placed in the Julian month in which two new moons fall. Otherwise the difficulty is got over by leaving uncounted the intercalary moon or some of the new moons. Another way out is chosen by Herlicius, 1630 and 1641, and Thuronius of Åbo, 1660: Torsmånadsny, the new moon of January, is contrary to the rule placed in January; in the further enumeration the new moons run over into the month preceding that after which they are named, and the thirteenth and last new moon is again called Torsmånadsny, i. e. this is doubled and serves as an intercalary moon. Here, therefore, the insertion of the intercalary moon depends upon the position of the new moon in relation to the beginning of the year, i. e. to the first of January.
This method has become popular, and its popularity has been assisted by the fact that the people, through the use of the rune-staves recording the golden numbers, were accustomed to the calculation of the new moon. Above all the first moon of the year (nykung = ‘new king’) played a very important part. The men took off their hats and the women curtseyed when they saw it; from it were taken oracles for the new year. The question is whether a popular name was also given to the new moons. Apart from the almanacs, which use the names of months introduced into them, I find in Swedish only one example: Torretungel (tungel, dialect for ‘new moon’)[1031]. The Danish chronologist Worm gives both a lunar and a solar series of names of months[1032]. The names are for the most part equivalent or similar to those of the solar series, but in the first half of the year they occupy an earlier position, which fact certainly has something to do with the naming of the new moons according to the usual computation. Worm expressly states that these lunar months were still in use and began with the first new moon of the new year.
An account of connected lunar months among the East Finns has been translated and communicated to me by Professor Wiklund. The authority makes a man of the people speak as follows[1033]:—“The moon which is born while the winter day is still in his house (December 18–22), or after that, is the first heart- (middle-)moon. In this way the Christmas festival sometimes falls in the first heart-moon, and then we hope for a good harvest. But when the first heart-moon is born late, e. g. after Twelfth Day, there is no second heart-moon in this year, but there follow the foam-moon (so called because the snow looks like foam), the snow-crust moon, the melting moon, the sprouting moon, etc.... When we reckon the moons of the year, beginning with the first heart-moon, we sometimes get thirteen months in the year, although there are only twelve book-months.” At first sight it is very tempting to see in this account old Finnish moon-months regulated by the winter solstice, as e. g. among the Siberian peoples, which would be quite conceivable so far north. However this is not so. The heart-moon is in the given instance doubled, i. e. it is an intercalary moon. Now it is a familiar fact that the intercalary month, i. e. the first of the two months with the same name, gets in front of the regulating-point; it is therefore ‘forgotten’, and a second moon with the same name is inserted after it. We must therefore ask:—Within what limits, under the given conditions, will the moon fall which in ordinary years is the heart-moon, in leap-year the second heart-moon? The following tables give the answer: the limits begin at the two extremes of new moon on the first and on the twenty-ninth of January; we must of course reckon one day for the solstice, December 21, and not the whole ‘house’.
The regulating-point is therefore New Year’s Day: the heart-moon, and in leap-year the second heart-moon, begin with the first new moon after this. This rule however makes it impossible for the first heart-moon ever to begin before the winter solstice. It will be found that in regard to the position of the heart-month, and in leap-years of the first heart-month, this regulation leads to such a position of these months as is given in the account. The calendar is therefore not a native lunar one, but the already mentioned adaptation of the lunar reckoning in accordance with the new year of the Julian calendar[1034]. The Finns, who from the earliest times have owed their culture to the Scandinavians, have taken this process from them also, but in Finland it has not been driven out by the influences of later civilisation, just as in Norway, which long remained comparatively untouched by these influences, the Catholic lunar reckoning has been preserved.
The above-quoted source unfortunately does not preserve all the names of months. A similar but somewhat different complete list has been drawn up by Lönnrot in Karelia:—1, heart-month; 2, heart-month; 3, foam-month; 4, tree-felling month; 5, melting or sowing month; 6, summer month; 7, hay month; 8, pus month (cf. the Swedish ‘rotten month’, above, p. 300); 9, harvest month; 10, autumn month; 11, dung or dirt month; 12, month of clods; 13, Christmas month[1035]. Here too the heart-month appears doubled.
The Lapps also have taken their reckoning from the Scandinavians: of the reckoning in weeks we have spoken above. In Old Scandinavian times they borrowed the word mānō, Lapp manno (moon). The Lapp word means both ‘moon’ and ‘month’; only among the southern Lapps is there found a native word aske, ‘moon’, which one dictionary also uses as a term for ‘month’. Therefore at the time when the Lapps adopted the word manno for ‘moon’ and ‘month’, the month of the Scandinavians must have been a lunar month, and so also among the Lapps. In some authors the form mannod occurs, i. e. modern Swedish månad, ‘month’. The Lapp names of months were not collected until last century. They appear sometimes with, sometimes without, the addition ‘month’. They are:—1, new month, new year (month), new day (month), New Year’s Day month; 2, Göjem. (knowa, a loan-word therefore), rarely *‘swan month’; 3, *‘swan month’, because the swan comes in March, rarely marasm. (mars, loan-word), rarely *‘crow month’; 4, *‘crow month’, on account of the coming of these birds, rarely *‘snow-crust month’; 5, ‘(hard) *snow-crust month’, since the surface of the snow, which melts in the day-time in the bright sunshine, freezes at night into a hard crust, *‘month of calves’, ‘calf month’, when the reindeer bring forth their calves; 6, *‘month of calves’, *‘fir month’, since the sap rises in the firs, ‘flesh month’, ‘(mid)summer month’; 7, rarely *‘fir month’, *‘month when the reindeer has shed its hair’; 8, called *the same, also *‘month when the hair has grown thick again’; 9, has *the same name as 8, or *‘rutting month’ (the rutting-time covers the end of September and the beginning of October), or *‘month when the male reindeer are powerless’ (after the rutting); 10, has *the same name as 9, or else *‘rutting month’, or ‘autumn month’; 11, is also generally called *‘month when the male reindeer are powerless’, rarely *‘Advent month’; 12, *‘Advent month (passatis(m.), p. means the first Advent Sunday and the first week in Advent), ‘Yule month’[1036]. Qvigstad[1037] calls the twelfth week-month of the Lapps bâse-tæbme manno, ‘the month without a feast’, the thirteenth basse m. or juowla m.
The Lapps were also acquainted with the ‘rotten month’ (mieska manno, Swedish rötmånad)[1038]. A Lapp woman mentioned by Wiklund gave this month the position of the ninth in the series, and explained it as the month in which the grass begins to fade and rot. On the strength of this Wiklund assumes a thirteen-month year, but the statement is inconclusive, the ‘rotten month’ having certainly been placed erroneously as a separate month in the series. That this is so is supported not only by Qvigstad but also by Högström in his description of Lapland of the year 1746, in which he speaks of thirteen week-months of the Lapps. According to this authority the Lapps drew their rune-calendar on seven discs of reindeer-horn, but only one side of the seventh was written on, so that there were 13 sides of four weeks each, which they called a month, and so their reckoning was 13 months, he says. Wiklund has accepted this four-week month. It is quite possible that the Lapps called a period of four weeks a month: we also often do the same when an approximation will serve; but that the names of months mean periods of four weeks seems very questionable. It would be a quite isolated case: everywhere else the months are either the Julian or lunar months, with which last the Lapps were acquainted, at least in ancient times. The statement that on the basis of the reckoning by weeks a four-week month could have arisen is certainly not absolutely to be denied,—if this is so, it must be a secondary and late development—but the fluctuation of the names of months is no evidence for this. It is only the fluctuation found everywhere when names of seasons are transformed into names of months. Only the names of the first two months are quite fixed, and these are either essentially or literally loan-words: the Latin name even appears in one instance for March. There is consequently borrowing in the case of the three names which alone, as also among the Scandinavians, have become really popular. If the Lapps really had thirteen months, it might then be supposed that these, as in Denmark and Finland, were lunar months which began at the first new moon of the new year. But we find no trace of lunar months in Lapland in historical times. We must therefore content ourselves with the fact that the Lapp names of months shew the same fluctuation as is shewn by all names taken from natural objects or phenomena and applied to the months.
This brief survey of the popular months of the European peoples is instructive from the point of view of a comparison with the names of months among primitive peoples. Although the Julian months have a fixed position in the solar year, and do not fluctuate to and fro like the lunar months, yet the names of the months are unstable and fluctuating. This is due to the fact that in the desire for concrete observations the names of the seasons and of their occupations have been kept, and the seasons have neither fixed position nor duration: these names of months derived from natural phenomena and occupations have not therefore in themselves the precision which the chronological system demands. Such precision will only be introduced by an external factor, in the one case by the lunar months, in the other by the Julian months to which the names of the seasons are transferred.
CHAPTER XII.
SOLSTICES AND EQUINOXES. AIDS TO THE DETERMINATION OF TIME.
We have seen in the foregoing pages how the phases of Nature, with their somewhat variable dates, are everywhere employed in the determination of time; how in the moon there lies ready to hand a clear, stable (at least within very narrow limits), and constant unit of time which could be turned to account in calculating; and how out of the fusion of natural phases and moons there arose a roughly empirical lunisolar year. For the more accurate fixing both of the seasons and of the months the phases of the stars are employed; these, being dependent on the sun, keep pace with the natural year, but, unlike the phases of Nature, are not subject to climatic variations but are astronomically fixed.
It is however possible astronomically to fix the solar year by a second method, viz. the observation of the annual course of the sun, especially of the solstices: the observation of the equinoxes is a much more difficult matter. The observation of the solstices can be performed in a way similar to that mentioned [above, p. 21], in which noon is determined by the position of the sun, but is much more difficult to carry out and requires far more accurate and delicate methods. Two fixed points at least are necessary—a standing-ground and in the simplest case a mark on the horizon; other methods are still more complicated. An observation of the annual course of the sun, therefore, unlike that of the stars,—which everywhere, no matter where, can be performed immediately—demands a fixed place and special aids to determination. It follows that the observation of the solstices and equinoxes belongs to a much higher stage of civilisation than does that of the stars. It can only arise among a people with a fixed dwelling-place, since a race which leads a nomadic life and changes dwellings and camps is without the necessary fixed points of observation. After all it is only natural—and this actually is the case—that the observation of the course of the sun should be in use only among certain specially gifted peoples.
It is used by the Eskimos, who have a very highly developed sense of place, and know how to make good maps. Moreover where the sun in winter stands very low on the horizon, and for a time altogether disappears beneath it, the conditions are very favourable for the observation of its return. Older authors say that by the rays of the sun on the rocks the Eskimos can tell with tolerable accuracy when it is the shortest day[1039]; more recently we have been told of the Ammasalik that they can calculate beforehand the time of the shortest day—and that accurately to the day—not only from the solstitial point, but also from the position of Altair in the morning twilight[1040]. They begin their spring when the sun rises at the same spot as Altair[1041]. This is a quite isolated, but an accurate, determination of the course of the sun from the fixed stars. The Hudson Bay Eskimos of Labrador recognise the arrival of the solstices by the bearing of the sun with reference to certain fixed landmarks[1042]. The Central Eskimos must do the same, since they are acquainted with the winter solstice and when this and new moon coincide they omit their intercalary month[1043].
The tribes of Arizona observed the course of the sun, more particularly to determine the dates of their religious ceremonies, but also to decide the time of secular occupations. Among the Zuñi the winter solstice begins when the rising sun strikes a certain point at the south-west end of ‘Corn Mountain’, and a great feast is then celebrated. Then the sun moves to the north, passes the moon at ayonawa yälläne, and continues round to a point north-west of Zuñi, which is called ‘Great Mountain’, where it sets consecutively for four days at the same point. The last day is the summer solstice. On this occasion also a great festival is celebrated[1044]. The Hopi determine the time for their religious ceremonies, for planting, and for sowing by observing the points on the horizon where the sun rises or sets. The winter ceremonies are determined by the position of the sunset, the summer by the position of the sunrise. The two points of the solstices are called the ‘houses’ of the sun. There are 13 landmarks, by means of which the seasons are determined from the ecliptic. The number suggests that there is some connexion with the months. It would in that case be a quite isolated example of the regulation of the months by the observation of the sun’s position[1045].
The Incas erected artificial marks. There were in Cuzco sixteen towers, eight to the west and eight to the east, arranged in groups of four. The two middle ones were smaller than the others, and the distance between the towers was eight, ten, or twenty feet. The space between the little towers through which the sun passed at sunrise and sunset was the point of the solstices. In order to verify this the Inca chose a favourable spot from which he observed carefully whether the sun rose and set between the little towers to east and west. For the observation of the equinoxes richly ornamented pillars were set up in the open space before the temple of the sun. When the time approached, the shadow of the pillars was carefully observed. The open space was circular and a line was drawn through its centre from east to west. Long experience had taught them where to look for the equinoctial point, and by the distance of the shadow from this point they judged of the approach of the equinox. When from sunrise to sunset the shadow was to be seen on both sides of the pillar and not at all to the south of it, they took that day as the day of the equinox. This last account is for Quito, which lies just under the equator. At the spring equinox the maize was reaped and a feast was celebrated, at the autumn equinox the people celebrated one of their four principal feasts[1046]. The months were calculated from the winter solstice.
Among the Amazulu, we are told, the path of the sun in winter is different from its summer path: for it travels northward till it reaches a certain place,—a mountain or a forest (where it rises and sets)—and it does not pass beyond these two places; it comes out of its winter house; when it comes out it goes southward to its summer place. We say that when it quits its winter place it is fetching the summer, until it reaches a certain mountain or tree; and then it turns northward again, fetching the winter, in constant succession. These are its houses; we say so, for it stays in its winter house a few days: and when it quits that place we know that it has ended the winter and is now fetching the summer; and indeed it travels southward until, when the summer has grown, it enters the summer house a few days, and then quits it again, in constant succession[1047]. The Basuto also call the summer solstice the house of the sun, and intelligent chiefs adjust the reckoning of the months by it[1048].
For the Bismarck Archipelago the following details are given. On the island of Vuatam there is celebrated some time after the solstice and usually at the beginning of January—the exact date depends on the weather—a festival the object of which is to regulate the course of the sun and to secure good weather. In the whole of the north-eastern part of the Gazelle Peninsula the fact of the solstice is known, although no festival is celebrated. When the sun had its greatest southern amplitude it rose over Birar on St. George’s Channel. A native magistrate, To Kakao, explained how the sun would turn again and would finally attain its greatest northern amplitude on the horizon when it sank between the volcanic mountains ‘South Daughter’ and ‘Mother’. In Valaur the view is completely cut off to the east, and so the sun is observed at its setting, the turning-point in the south being formed by two mountain peaks situated close together. Another southern turning-point is furnished by still another mountain. The spot denoting the turning-point in the Baining mountain is chosen rather far off, and the observation is therefore not very accurate. The solstices are brought into connexion with the variation of the monsoons. To Kakao said that the north-east trade-wind blew all the time the sun was in the south (November to February), but during the time when it was situated in a northerly direction (May to August) the south-east monsoon prevailed. In Valaur the south-east monsoon blows as long as the sun sets WNW (May to August): but from November to February, when the sun sets WSW, the north-west trade blows[1049]. The Moanu of the Admiralty Islands name the divisions of the year according to the position of the sun. If it stands north of the equator the division in question is called morai im paün (‘war sun’), since it is during this time more particularly that wars are carried on. When the sun stands above the equator this division is named morai in kauas (‘sun of friendship’): this is the time of peace and of mutual visits. When the sun turns southward the colder season, morai unonou, begins[1050].
One would suspect that this Melanesian science, like the knowledge of the stars, is borrowed from the Polynesians: for the latter understood the annual course of the sun. In Tahiti the place of the sunrise was called tataheita, that of the sunset topa-t-era. The annual movement of the sun from the south towards the north was recognised, and so was the fact that all these points of the daily approach to the zenith lay in a line. This meridian was called t’era-hwattea, the northern point of it tu-errau, and the opposite point above the horizon, or the south, toa[1051]. According to other sources the December solstice was called rua-maoro or rua-roa, the June solstice rua-poto. The Hawaiians called the northern limit of the sun in the ecliptic ‘the black, shining road of Kane’, and the southern limit ‘the black, shining road of Kanaloa’. The equator was named ‘the bright road of the spider’ or ‘the road to the navel of Wakea’, equivalent to ‘the centre of the world’[1052]. How the Polynesians came to recognise the tropics and the equator is unfortunately unknown, but certainly they did it like other peoples by observing the solstices and equinoxes at certain landmarks.
That the Greeks also recognised the solstices by means of the observation of certain landmarks may be gathered from a passage in Homer. In the Odyssey Eumaeus says of his native land: “A certain island Syrie ... above Ortygia, where the sun turns”[1053]. Wherever Syrie lay, even though in the realm of fable, the idea is that it lies in the direction of the spot at which the sun at its turning rises or sets. It therefore serves as a landmark, it is ‘the house of the sun’. Hesiod is so familiar with the winter and summer solstices that he reckons time from them in days[1054].
A much discussed question is whether the ancient Germans were acquainted with the solstices and equinoxes, an assumption which must be adopted by anyone who regards the Yule festival as a solstitial festival. Their acquaintance with these points has been denied and with this view I myself have concurred[1055]. After my researches in primitive time-reckoning, however, I can no longer maintain this opinion for the later heathen times of the north. For it has been shewn that primitive peoples—and especially those living far north, e. g. the Eskimos—observed the solstices well from certain points on the horizon. Now it has already been seen that the northern peoples observed the times of day in the same manner[1056], and this observation was also extended to the annual course of the sun. It is said, for example, that autumn lasts from the equinox until the sun sets in eyktarstað, i. e. the position in which it stands in the eykt[1057]; and that south of Iceland and Greenland the sun at the time of the shortest days inhabits eyktarstað and dagmálastað (that is to say at 9 a. m.)[1058]. The evidence, it is true, comes down from Christian days: but the method of determining time is of native origin and certainly goes back into heathen times. Hence it should not be denied that, although nothing of the kind has transpired, the solstices and equinoxes might have been approximately determined in the same way, and it may be that the regulation of the calendar profited by this.
Any other day of the year can be fixed by observation in the same way, though the observation of the solstices is probably the oldest. As late as the beginning of the 19th century this method was adopted in Norway as a check to the prime-staff. On certain farms there was a definite stone, buried in the earth, to which the people repaired for these observations. They noticed when the sun rose and shone out above certain mountain peaks, or when its last rays touched this or that summit. They also observed the length of the shadow on the face of a cliff, or noted when it touched the brow of a mountain or a certain stone. Thence they were able to give the important days of the year, e. g. the festival of St. Paul or Candlemas. Our authority says that the observation was very inaccurate, so that the Christmas Day of the people might fall on January 2. But it was not so bad as that, since they still followed the old style. The sun-mark for the first summer day (April 14) agreed with the 23rd of April[1059].
Agricultural peoples in particular have developed various methods of this kind. The rice-cultivating peoples of the East Indies use various methods in order to determine the important time of sowing. Of the observation of the stars we have already spoken[1060]. Among the Kayan of Sarawak an old priest determines the official time of sowing from the position of the sun by erecting at the side of the house two oblong stones, one larger and one smaller, and then observing the moment when the sun, in the lengthening of the line of connexion between these two stones, sets behind the opposite hill. The sowing-day is the only one determined by astronomical methods. In other respects the time-reckoning is a more or less arbitrary one and is dependent on the agriculture[1061]. Of the hollows in a block of stone at Batu Sala, in the river-bed of the upper Mahakam, it is said that they originated in the fact that the priestesses of the neighbouring tribes used formerly to sit on the stone every year in order to observe when the sun would set behind a certain peak of the opposite mountain. This date then decided the time for the beginning of the sowing[1062].
In the first example we have artificially erected marks instead of the usual natural landmarks: compare also the towers at Cuzco. The pillars of Quito were a kind of gnomon, an instrument of immense importance for the scientific astronomy and accurate time-determination of antiquity. In this case the observation was much simplified on account of the situation just below the equator. The method is used again in Borneo, where it is very important to determine the right time for sowing the seed, and the approach of the short dry season before it in which the timber from the clearings must be dried and burnt. The Kenyah observe the position of the sun. Their instrument is a straight cylindrical pole of hardwood, fixed vertically in the ground and carefully adjusted with the aid of plumb-lines; the possibility of its sinking deeper into the earth is prevented. The pole is a little longer than the outstretched arms of its maker and stands on a cleared space by the house, surrounded by a strong fence. The observer has further a flat stick on which lengths measured from his body are marked off by notches. The other side has a larger number of notches, of which one marks the greatest length of the midday shadow, the next one its length three days after it has begun to shorten, and so on. The shadow is measured every midday. As it grows shorter after reaching its maximal length the man observes it with special care, and announces to the village that the time for preparing the land is near at hand[1063]. In Bali and Java the seasons are determined by the aid of a gnomon of rude construction, having a dial divided into twelve parts[1064].
The Kayan use a somewhat different method. The weather-prophet lets in a beam of light through a hole in the roof of his chamber in the long-house, and measures the distance of the patch of light from the point vertically below the hole. Thus they obtain a measurement similar to that given by the shadow on a sun-dial[1065]. Still more elaborate is the method used by some of the Klementan by which time is determined from the position of a star. A tall bamboo vessel is filled with water and then inclined until it points directly towards a certain star. It is set upright again, and the level of the water left in the vessel is measured. In order to determine the seed-time the vessel is provided with an empirically given mark at a certain height, and when the level of the water coincides with the mark after the inclining of the vessel towards the star, it is the time for sowing[1066]. The writers omit to say that the observation must take place at a certain time of day, e. g. morning or evening twilight. Then it becomes possible to determine the season by the height of the star above the horizon.
All this is neither primitive nor native. In Bali and Java the Brahmin and Islamite priests observed the sun-dial, and from there the practice came to Borneo. Where the idea of using a vessel of water for measurement originated I am unable to determine, but it is much too refined to be a primitive invention. The only genuinely primitive method is the observation of the annual course of the sun and the solstices by the aid of certain landmarks on the horizon. This method is found in all parts of the world, but only among certain peoples. It has never attained real importance for the regulation of the calendar: the development of the calendar to greater accuracy proceeds by the indirect way of the lunisolar time-reckoning.
By way of appendix a few notices of the aids used in calculating may be collected. They are almost always quite simple—knots in a string, the tally, or the joints of the body.
The use of the tally in counting the years has already been dealt with above[1067]; this use is certainly later, each stick attaining so to speak an individual life. It is otherwise with the counting of the days, where the question usually is to determine the number of days which will elapse before an assembly or some other undertaking previously agreed upon, so that all may arrive together. The same reckoning may also occasionally serve a second purpose.
The Peruvian quipos mark the culminating-point of the method of counting by knots in a cord. Something similar existed among the Nahyssan of Carolina. Time was measured and a rude chronology was arranged by means of knots of various colours. This system proved so convenient in dealing with the Indians that it was adopted for that purpose by a governor of South Carolina[1068]. When a chief of the Miwok of California decides to hold a dance in his village, he dispatches messengers to the neighbouring rancherias, each bearing a string wherein is tied a number of knots. Every morning thereafter the invited chief unties one of the knots, and when the last one is reached, they joyfully set forth for the dance—men, women, and children[1069]. Sticks serve the same purpose. Once when the Natchez and the Chocktaw wished to attack the French in Louisiana, each tribe received a bundle of sticks, one of which was to be withdrawn and destroyed each day, so that they might strike their blows at the same time[1070]. The Pawnee used the tally for counting nights, months, and years, but had advanced so far as to employ picture-writing in doing so. * means day or sun, × star or night, ☾ moon, month[1071]. This is the forerunner of the Indian picture-calendar already mentioned[1072].
According to Barrow the Caffres assist their memories by means of a tally, although this authority did not himself find this custom among them; but the Hottentot servants of the colonists, among whom were several Caffres, used this method in counting the number of the cattle earned[1073]. Among the Wagogo if it was desired to count the days, e. g. in connexion with the sitting of a court of justice, as many knots were tied in a string as there were nights to elapse before this date. In Nigeria palm-nuts are used in counting[1074], just as in southern Brazil the years are counted by means of acajou nuts[1075], and as the tribes of Bolivia count with grains of maize[1076]. The Baganda, in order to keep in mind the days of the month, tie knots in a piece of plant-fibre and afterwards count the knots[1077]. In New Guinea the months were counted by means of notches cut in trees: the New Zealanders are said to have added every month a little piece of wood or a small stone to a heap[1078].
In the Nicobars notched sticks in the form of a scimitar-blade are in use. They have notches on the edge and on the flat, the former denote months, the latter the days of the waning and waxing moon. They are used e. g. in finding out when a child of the owner learned to walk. The Shompen take a piece of bamboo and make as many bends in it as they mean to reckon days[1079]. The Negritos of Zambales in order to count the days make knots in a cord of bejuco and cut off one of these knots every day[1080]. On the Solomon Islands also knotted cords are used for the same purpose[1081]. The counting is particularly necessary for the celebrating of the great feast of the dead at the proper time. The eating the death, gana matea, begins with the burial; they eat first, as they say, ‘his graves’, after that they eat ‘his days’—the 5th, 10th, and after that every ten up to the hundredth, and it may be, in the case of a father, wife, or mother, even so far as the thousandth. For counting the days, so that the guests from distant villages may arrive on the proper days, they use cycas fronds, one in the hands of each party, on which the appointed days are marked by the pinching off or turning down of a leaflet as each day passes[1082]. According to another authority the moons are counted. At the coming of the young moon after the death of a man either a knot is made in a thread or a notch is cut in a piece of wood. Up to thirty moons are then counted. The object is to calculate the time up to the great funeral wake of dead chiefs. For young people it takes place from 20 to 30 months afterwards, for old people after 10 months, for an unimportant person as soon as 3 or 4 months afterwards[1083]. In Nauru, west of the Gilbert Islands, knots were tied in a string when days were to be counted, e. g. the 15 days of the confinement of a woman[1084].
Only seldom is it mentioned that the months are counted on the fingers, although obviously this must often happen; the Klamath and the Modok used to do so formerly[1085]. Certain very primitive peoples use not only fingers and toes but also other parts of the body in counting. The day of an assembly is determined in this fashion by an Australian tribe which in words can seldom count more than four. The people touch various parts of each other’s bodies—the wrist, the arm, the head—each of which stands for a special day, until the intended day is reached. Thus two or more groups can accurately determine the lapse of time and can meet on the day agreed upon[1086]. The curious names of months of the Tunguses of the Sea of Okhotsk[1087] are similarly to be explained, as is shewn by the method of counting the year used by the Yukaghir. They call the year n-e’ -malgil, which means ‘all the joints’. The reckoning of the months by the joints is done in the following manner. They bend the third row of phalanges of the fingers on both hands, and put them together. The line of the joining they call July. Then the knuckles of the second row of phalanges on the right hand will be August. The joints between the phalanges and metacarpals represent September; the wrist-joint is October; the elbow-joint is November; the shoulder-joint, December; between the head and the backbone will be January; the shoulder-joint on the left arm will be February; the elbow-joint, March; the wrist-joint, April; the joint between the fingers and the palm, May; and the knuckles of the second row of phalanges on the left hand, June[1088].
These examples may suffice. The subject is monotonous and is of little importance for the calendar, since the days are counted independently of the latter, beginning at an arbitrary starting-point. The counting that is important for the calendar is that according to the days of the lunar month, but in this the primitive peoples hold to the concrete phenomenon of the moon. The habit of reckoning in this fashion may however be partly responsible for the fact that among certain peoples every day of the month has not been given a name, but the days are counted from certain points of departure, such as new moon, full moon, etc. Very rarely do we meet with a genuinely calendrical use of the tally. The Wa-Sania of East Africa, who as subjects of the Galla and later since the invasion of the Somali have been exposed to all kinds of civilising influences, make a notch for each day, and at the end of the month the stick is laid aside and a new one comes into use[1089]. Similarly at the southern end of Lake Nyassa pieces of wood strung on a cord are used in counting the days of the month that have passed[1090].
The Kiwai Papuans count the months by means of little sticks, which are tied into two bundles corresponding to the two seasons of the year. One end is pointed, the other oblique, and when a month has passed, the stick corresponding to it is turned round. The stick belonging to the month keke is provided with a top-knot and feather, that of karongo has a mark cut in it and a top-knot like that of keke, but no feather[1091].
CHAPTER XIII.
ARTIFICIAL PERIODS OF TIME. FEASTS.
In the more fully developed calendar there are not seldom found periods of time which are reckoned without reference to any of the factors given by Nature. Such are, for example, our months, which, though historically arising from the lunar month, are now only periods of time with a definite number of days, independent of the moon. Such also is our shifting seven-day week, which, chiefly through the agency of Mohammedanism, has also been widely extended among peoples of a lower stage of development. These artificial periods, arising often from a natural period which for purposes of the calendar has been detached from its natural basis, belong to a highly developed stage of time-reckoning. Only among certain comparatively far-advanced, semi-primitive peoples does an artificial period of the simplest kind first appear, and then only one, the market-week, the origin of which it is very easy to understand.
The market-week appears in two widely separated districts—in West Central Africa, and in certain of the East Indian islands. Among the Bakongo the markets are four, viz. konzo, nkenge, nsona, and nkandu. These have given their names to the four days that comprise the Congo week. All the markets held on a certain day all over the Lower Congo are called konzo, all on the next day nkenge, etc. These markets are held at different places, e. g. all the konzo markets are held on different sites from all the markets held on the three successive days, and are so arranged that one in four will be within two or three miles of a town, the next day’s market may be ten miles away from the first town, but near some other town or towns, the next from 15 to 20 miles, the next perhaps 25 miles away from the first town. Thus every village has at least one market during the week within a reasonable distance of its doors. In order to describe the markets the place-names are sometimes added, e. g. nsona Ngungu. Each market has its special wares[1092]. The Babwende have the same names[1093]. Three Bantu tribes of the Congo State have the four-day week, but in certain cases with different names; one of the days is market-day[1094]. This is a very practical arrangement, which must gradually have regulated itself. There are also greater markets which are held every eight days[1095]—a doubling of the period, therefore. The same is the case among the Edo-speaking peoples, among whom the week is everywhere a recognised period of time, and is, properly speaking, 4 days long, this being the interval between the two markets at any given spot. Occasionally, as in the Ida district, eight-day markets are found, but the names applied to the intervening days clearly shew that a four-day week was the primary one. One of the four days is commonly known as the rest-day, and on this day men frequently stop at home, though farm-work is not absolutely forbidden. Women, on the other hand, go to market as usual[1096]. Among the Ibo-speaking peoples the names of the four days are eke, oye, afo, and nkwo. These are the same names as those of the Bini, but afo and oye are in the inverted order; it is idle to speculate on the origin of the names[1097]. In Loango the four days are variously named, but principally they are called nssona, nduka, ntono, nsilu, which names are also often applied to the open spaces where markets are held on the days in question; nssona corresponds to our Sunday[1098], i. e. it is a day of rest.
The Yoruba have, besides the market-week, a longer one of 16 (or 17) days. Of these two periods Ellis says:—The Yoruba week consists of five days, and six of them are supposed to make a lunar month, which however always begins with the new moon. (This is therefore the familiar round number.) The days are:—1, ako-ojo, the first day, day of general rest, considered unlucky; the temples are swept and water is brought in procession for the use of the gods. No business of importance is ever undertaken on this day. 2, ojo-awo, ‘day of the secret’, sacred to Ifa. 3, ojo-Ogun, 4, ojo-Shango, 5, ojo-Obatula, i. e. the name of a god, added to the word ‘day’. Each of these four days is a day of rest for the followers of the god to which it is dedicated, and for them only, but ako-ojo is a day of rest for all. Markets are held every fifth day in different townships, but never on the ako-ojo. From this custom has arisen another mode of computing time, namely by periods of 17 days, called eta-di-ogun (‘three less than twenty’). This is the outcome of the Esu societies, the members of which meet every fifth market-day. The first and fifth market-days are counted in, and thus the number 17 is obtained. For instance, supposing the second day of a month to be a market-day, the second market would fall on the 6th, the third on the 10th, the fourth on the 14th, and the fifth on the 18th. The fifth market-day, on which the members meet, is counted again as the first of the next series. These clubs are so common that the 17-day period has become a kind of auxiliary measure of time[1099]. The account contains an inward contradiction. Ellis enumerates five days and says that the market is held every fifth day, but when he reckons the days again below, the periods are four-day periods. We must probably assume that the word ako-ojo is applied to one of the four days, denoting it to be a day of rest, and that Ellis, when he says that the market is held every fifth day, is counting inclusively according to the linguistic usage of the natives, as the Greeks also did. This is the opinion of another authority, who writes as follows:—Some say the Yoruba week is composed of four days, and some of five. This same mystification recurs in the number of days said to complete one of their months. Some say there are sixteen and others seventeen days in a month. The natives rest on the fifth day, that is to say, having counted four days, they really rest on the first day of the next week, counting that day as one. So in their next great division of time they say that they rest on the seventeenth day, which is a great market-day, and this is, of course, the first day of what is their second so-called month. Fourteen of these months complete the ancient Yoruba so-called year of 224 days[1100].
But there are also periods of time of other durations. The Adeli of the hinterland of Togo divide the lunar month into five weeks of six days[1101]; unfortunately the brief account tells us nothing of the nature of this six-day week. The Tshi-speaking peoples usually reckon time in periods of 40 or 42 days, every fortieth or forty-second day being a festival termed the great adae, 18 or 20 days after which is the little adae. The great adae is always celebrated on a Sunday, and the little adae on a Wednesday[1102]. Once again the statements are not clear. If the last condition must be absolutely fulfilled, the period of the great adae must always embrace 42 days and the little adae must fall 18 days after it. The natives consider the number 40 particularly lucky and always endeavour to connect it with some important event[1103]. The probable explanation is that 40 is used as a round number instead of 42. But among the Edo-speaking peoples also, at one point in Northern Nigeria, a twenty-day month seems to be used[1104]. The former mode of reckoning is connected with the seven-day week adopted by the Tshi-speaking peoples, though this, in order that it may cover the lunar month, is reckoned in a curious fashion so that each week consists of 7 days 9 hours; each so-called day is therefore somewhat longer than the natural day and consequently also begins at a different hour of the natural day. Hence the two adae also begin at different hours of the day. The same curious reckoning is found among the Gã-tribes. This mode of computation is a far from primitive refinement, the real object of which is the fitting of the seven-day week into the lunar month, the natural day however being abandoned. There is connected with it a strong day-superstition. The first day of the ‘week’ is rest-day, and that on which the new moon falls is an absolute rest-day, the following being days of rest only for certain trades, e. g. the second for the fishermen, the third for the agriculturalists[1105]. It is clear that the only period which can pass as native is the four-day market-week, with its development the 16-day period, and perhaps also the too little known 6-day week.
In Java, Bali, and Sumatra there is a five-day market-week called pasar, in Bali also a four-day tjaturwara[1106]; alongside of these the seven-day week is in use. But wherever among heathen tribes a ‘week’ is spoken of, this is always the market-week[1107]. In Java and Bali the pasar-week is combined with the 7-day week in divisions of 35 days. Six of these periods form a wuku, a kind of year of 210 days. Besides these there are still other divisions, which are of importance for the sooth-sayers. The non-Islamite Lampong of Sumatra combine the pasar-week with the lunar month, which is counted as 30 days[1108]. We have here nothing to do with the highly developed time-reckoning of those peoples that drew up their systems under Indian and Islamite influence. This five-day week has a very extensive use in Further India: we meet it in Tonkin, in the Lao states of northern Siam, in Upper Burma among the Shan; further in Celebes and in certain parts of New Guinea. In the Malay Peninsula there is a five-day period for the determination of lucky and unlucky days. In other parts of New Guinea and in the Gazelle Peninsula of New Pommern the market takes place every third day. Of market-days in Polynesia there are unfortunately only uncertain accounts[1109].
In ancient Mexico a market was held every fifth day at every important place, just as in Africa on different days in neighbouring districts; the day was a rest-day, and with the market games and amusements were associated. This five-day market-week appears also in other parts of Central America. The Muysca of Bogota in Columbia, on the other hand, held markets every third, and the Inca peoples every tenth, day, when the country-folk ceased from labour, assembled in the towns, and engaged in traffic and games[1110]. These three- and ten-day periods are said to be brought into connexion with the month; if this statement be correct, they are not continuous periods, and the market-day must sometimes have been pushed out of place in order to secure the agreement with the moon; but the certainty cannot be ascertained.
The market-week exists therefore, as we should expect, only among peoples with a more fully developed commerce and trade. The rule attains greater importance for the time-reckoning only when, as in the East Indies, it is introduced into an already existing calendarial system. In Africa larger divisions of time have arisen on the basis of it, and in one case, that of the Yoruba, the agricultural year has been thus divided. The market-weeks, however, may also occur independently, alongside of the calendar, like the Roman nundinae, which were held every eighth day and took their name (from novem) from the inclusive reckoning.
The question of the Israelitish sabbath is complicated and has been much discussed as a point of connexion with the Babylonian civilisation. In Babylonia one day in the month was called shabattu, and the seventh day was specially distinguished. The statement that there the seven-day week existed, but as a fixed subdivision of the month, is often heard, but is an invention. I borrow the material from Landsberger’s section on the month in religious worship. A cylinder of Gudea already mentions a festival of the opening of the month in Lagash, festivals in honour of the goddesses Bau and Nina are celebrated in special new-moon houses. At all times, and later too, the day of the new moon is a great festival-day. At the time of the dynasty of Ur, under the empire of Khammurabi, and later, sacrifices were offered on the fifteenth day, the day of full moon. This is called shabattu, which word in the time of Assurbani-pal also denotes the full-moon day without any religious implication. We also find at the time of the dynasty of Ur occasional sacrifices on the day of the ‘going to sleep’, i. e. of the disappearance of the moon. These are the three days marked out by the great phases of the moon. According to them the month is divided into two halves. A Babylonian peculiarity is that the seventh day of the month, as at the time of the dynasty of Ur and under the empire of Khammurabi, becomes a day of special sacrifices. It is called sibutu, ‘the seventh’, cp. Assyrian sibittu, ‘seven’ (fem.). The 1st, the 7th, and the 28th are therefore of religious importance; for a similar emphasising of the 21st testimony is as yet lacking; instead of the 14th we have the 15th. Later, after ancient Babylonian times, the 7th becomes a day of taboo, the number 7 is made an unlucky number, and the schematic series 1, 7, 14, 21, 28, and 19 of the following month is formed (30 + 19 = 49 = 7 × 7). Hence the 14th is also sometimes designated as the day of full moon. Thus, for example, in the Creation epic, tablet 5, vv. 12 ff.:—“At the beginning of the month shine in the land. Beam with thy horns, to make known six days. On the seventh day halve thy disc. On the fourteenth day thou shalt reach the half of the monthly (growth);” in what follows the indications of the days are unfortunately missing. It is clear that the septenary division has not arisen from the phases of the moon, but on the contrary the phases of the moon have been arranged in accordance with the septenary scheme. They might also be arranged according to a quintuple scheme. Thus the tablet III R 55, no. 3[1111]:—“Sin at his appearance from the first to the fifth day, five days, is crescent,—Anu; from the sixth to the tenth day, five days, he is kidney,—Ea; from the eleventh to the fifteenth, five days, he covers himself with the shining royal cap.” It is significant of the phases of the moon that have arisen on genuinely primitive grounds that, since they are originally concrete, they do not divide themselves into symmetrical groups of days. Here the numerical scheme has been at work, and this cannot be referred to the phases, since these give no other naturally grounded divisions than the halves of the month.
The derivation of the Israelitish sabbath from Babylonia therefore offers two difficulties:—1, in regard to the word, Babylonian shabattu means the day of full moon, in fact the fifteenth day of the lunar month, and Hebrew shabbat, so far as we know, the seventh day of a period that is shifting in relation to the lunar month; 2, in regard to the period of time, in Babylonia the septenary scheme is a fixed division of the lunar month; among the Israelites it is, so far as we know, shifting, continuous, and independent of the lunar month.
I have emphasised the phrase ‘so far as we know’ since in reality our sole knowledge in this direction of the Israelitish times before the Exile is that a festival and rest-day called the sabbath existed: of its nature we know nothing. The earliest evidence we have of it is the story of one of the miracles of Elisha[1112], from which it appears that the adherents of the prophet were accustomed to gather round him on this day and at new moon, doubtless since both were rest-days. In the same way sabbath and new moon are mentioned together as festival days in Amos VIII, 5, Hosea II, 11, Isaiah I, 13. The writers during and after the Exile are the first to mention the sabbath as the seventh day of a continuous seven-day week. It has at that time the character of an ascetic rest-day, where the rest is not a joy but a duty.
Any further advance can only be made by way of hypothesis. Thus the sabbath of the times before the Exile was either, as later, the last day of a seven-day period that was shifting in relation to the lunar month, or else it was something different. Both statements are hypotheses. And if it was something different we are driven to a still further hypothesis in order to decide what it was. The suggestion most in favour is that it was the day of full moon. The sabbath is said to be the second principal day of the course of the moon simply because sabbath and new moon are always mentioned together in the days before the Exile. But this obviously proves nothing. It has further been stated that the sabbath must be a fixed day of the lunar month, since otherwise it would sometimes coincide with the day of new moon; but evidently the expression ‘new moon and sabbath’, however formally interpreted, does not in itself exclude such a coincidence. Further sabbath and shabattu are the same word, and consequently a second hypothesis is that ‘sabbath’ as well as shabattu means the day of full moon. The proof is only binding if the word in itself must mean ‘full moon’; the etymology however is disputed, so that it gives no help. It is not difficult to establish a general fundamental sense which will fit in both with the festival-day of full moon and of the seven-day period.
On the ground of the researches here carried out, however, we may put a question a satisfactory answer to which is demanded by the hypothesis just mentioned:—How is it possible for a period which forms a fixed subdivision of the lunar month to become detached from the moon and be made into an independent period shifting in relation to the lunar month? And there will still be a preliminary question to get rid of, viz. how has the septenary period arisen from the day of full moon, the 15th day of the month? The answer will be, I suppose, that the 14th, not the 15th, was taken as the day of full moon and that Babylonian influence introduced the septenary division, so that the name of one of the septenary days, the 14th, has been carried over to the rest. But since in the legislation of the Exile the great festivals were appointed for the 15th, it is clear that this day, and not the 14th, was at that time taken as the day of full moon. The question whether any late Babylonian speculation in numbers may have exercised a determinative influence upon the Jewish legislation must be decided by experts. From the unsatisfactory answer to the preliminary question I return to the main question. A shifting reckoning of this kind can only be understood chronologically as a breaking away from the concrete phenomena of Nature, an incomplete calculation being established instead of the empirical observation, as was the case, for instance, with the Egyptian shifting year, put in place of the solar year, and bringing with it months of thirty days in the place of lunar months. Now the Israelites have always had the lunar month. That a day determined by the moon should be detached from the living lunar month and made into a shifting seven-day week is quite incomprehensible and entirely without analogy. The Babylonian septenary days do not help us here, since they always remained days of the lunar month. In the light of the foregoing investigations into primitive chronology such a process would be a sheer miracle.
It remains therefore to regard the creation of the seven-day week as an act of pure volition on the part of the makers of the refined exilian legislation, who took the name of the ancient sabbath, a festival-day of uncertain position, and applied it to the seventh day of a shifting period. And this is equally difficult either to prove or disprove. It is seldom found that a new creation proceeds entirely from nothing, and no analogy to the shifting seven-day period is anywhere to be met with—except in one case to be mentioned presently, the market-week. Especially in matters chronological would it appear that the Jewish legislation did not radically break with antiquity, but systematised and cultivated already existing tendencies, if we may judge by the few points of departure handed down from the earlier period; hence the numbered months, hence the fixing of the great festivals on the day of full moon. We are speaking here not of the changed religious character of the sabbath, but of the chronological question. If therefore fundamental grounds are lacking for the creation of a shifting seven-day period by the legislation of the Exile, we must cling to the other hypothesis, viz. that in pre-exilian times also the sabbath was the seventh day of a shifting period, which the legislation has transformed in its own fashion.
But if the shifting sabbath is old, the question arises whether analogous periods exist in primitive time-reckoning. Certainly they do, and they are periods of a quite definite nature,—the market-weeks. There are market-weeks of three, four, five, six, eight, and ten days: that seven does not appear in any example must therefore be an accident. The market-week is spread over the whole earth at a more advanced stage of civilisation. The market-day is a rest-day, since the people go to the market: since they rest and gather together it is therefore a festival day. So also with the Roman nundinae, on which no public meetings were held and the schools were closed. The dispute of Roman scholars as to whether the nundinae were religious festival-days or business-days is significant[1113]. Since the market-day is a day of rest, however, it is also, as in West Africa, made a taboo day on which work is forbidden. The connexion between the market and religion is universal and appears particularly clearly in heathen Arabia[1114]. It is true that no market-day is attested for ancient Canaan, but even in pre-Israelitish times the land was already covered with towns, so that the conditions for regular markets were the same as in ancient Greece and Rome. From post-Biblical times at least three great annual markets are known; one was held at the terebinth of Hebron, which was at the same time the object of a cult. In Midrash it is allowed to visit a heathen yearly market at the half-holidays of the Passover and of the feast of Tabernacles[1115]. Since the day was a rest-day, the command for rest might gradually, through a new interpretation, be applied to the original purpose of the market, viz. trade. In Amos VIII, 5 the traders complain:—“When will the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn? And the sabbath, that we may set forth wheat? making the ephah small,” etc., but the command for the absolute sabbath’s rest was certainly not carried out at that time, nor yet in the time of Jeremiah[1116]; after the overthrow of the Jewish monarchy the trade of the markets on the sabbath revived, if indeed it had ever perished. Nehemiah, three centuries after Amos, has to give the injunction:—“ ... and if the peoples of the land bring ware or any victuals on the sabbath day to sell, that we would not buy of them on the sabbath, or on a holy day[1117],” and the breach of this law is sternly reprimanded:—“In those days saw I in Judah some treading wine-presses on the sabbath, and bringing in sheaves, and lading asses therewith; as also wine, grapes, and figs, and all manner of burdens, which they brought into Jerusalem on the sabbath day.... There dwelt men of Tyre also therein, which brought in fish, and all manner of ware, and sold on the sabbath unto the children of Judah, and in Jerusalem.” Nehemiah reproves the nobles:—“Did not your fathers thus, and did not our God bring all this evil upon us, and upon this city?”, and he has the gates shut and guarded when it grows dark before the sabbath. When, notwithstanding this, the merchants once or twice encamped outside the walls on the sabbath, he drove them away with threats[1118]. At this time work was performed and trade carried on on the sabbath, though certainly it does not follow that the sabbath was the principal market-day of the week: we are speaking of a large town, where no doubt there was a market every day. But it would be quite in keeping if in smaller matters the sabbath had once been the proper market-day.
The work of Webster culminates in an attempt to explain the sabbath. The author brings together abundant material for the practice of assigning certain taboos to certain days, partly notable days in the experience of human life, such as birth, death, etc., and partly those regularly recurring days which are dependent on superstitious and religious ideas. Among these days are found both the market-day and the days of the principal phases of the moon,—the day of new moon, in a lesser degree the day of full moon, and further also the days of the darkness, of the moon’s invisibility. He rightly distinguishes the continuous Israelitish week from the ‘unlucky days’ of the Babylonians, but is nevertheless of the opinion that the sabbath is really the day of full moon, which in this character was overlaid with certain taboos and has become independent of the moon. How this separation was effected, Webster does not explain: he merely makes the statement. He has not felt the decisive difficulty, which lies just in this point, because he has not attacked the problem from its chronological side. There is no reason to suppose that the day of full moon could become detached from the genuine lunar month, and such a process would seem still more strange since the day of new moon remained a genuine new-moon day. On the other hand the development of market and rest-day into a day of taboo is everywhere natural, and is attested in the above examples from Africa; this taboo character was emphasised and inculcated by the late Jewish and exilian legislation in opposition to the old festive merry-making. The new-moon day, which had fallen out of the scheme, was at the same time rejected and proscribed. The suggestion that the sabbath arose from the market-day is certainly only a hypothesis, since a definite market-day is not demonstrated for Canaan; but it has the advantage of remaining within the limits of primitive time-reckoning, which knows no other continuous periods than the market-weeks.
Festivals and time-reckoning are from the beginning inseparably bound together. Some of the former have already been dealt with, e. g. the festivals of the new moon, the full moon, and the beginning and end of the year. It remains briefly to sketch the development of this connexion and to illustrate it with a few examples. A detailed discussion would lead us too far away from the main theme into the domain of the history of religion. How many pages have been written about the New Year festival alone!
The connexion between festivals and time-reckoning is grounded in the fact that both are originally dependent on the phases of Nature. Festivals are already held at definite times of the year by peoples who know nothing of a proper time-reckoning, e. g. the much-discussed Intichiuma ceremonies of the aborigines of Australia. They are closely associated with the breeding of the animals and the flowering of the plants with which each totem is respectively identified, and as the object of the ceremony is to increase the number of the totemic animal or plant, it is most naturally held at a certain season. In Central Australia the seasons are limited, so far as the breeding of animals and the flowering of plants is concerned, to two—a dry one of uncertain and often great length, and a rainy one of short duration and often irregular occurrence. The latter is followed by an increase in animal life and exuberance of plant growth. In the case of many of the totems it is just when there is promise of approach of the good season that it is customary to hold the ceremony. The exact time is fixed by the alatunja (the chief of the local group)[1119]. The ripening of a plant which is an important article of food is often accompanied by certain ceremonies by which the eating of the fruit is first made lawful. These so-called sacrifices of the first-fruits, which have been touched upon above[1120], are therefore dependent upon a definite natural phase, and there may be several of them in the course of the year.
At seed-time a festival is celebrated in order to secure the good growth of the seed. The Bahau of Borneo, who have the agricultural year[1121], celebrate two great festivals, one at the sowing (tugal, from nugal, ‘to sow’), and one after harvest, the festival of the new rice-year, dangei, which however is not held if the harvest has failed; it is the climax of the year. At both festivals the people gorge themselves to the full, rice being given even to the animals. But during the period of growth also the plants need protection and blessing, various plants require and obtain different festivals, so that a cycle of agricultural festivals arises[1122]. The southern tribes of the Malay Peninsula celebrate three great agricultural festivals in the year, one after the transplanting of the young rice-plants, another after the formation of the fruit, and a third after the harvest[1123]. As an example of a fully developed festival-cycle of this kind I give the festivals of the Bontoc Igorot, with which should be compared the section on the agricultural year of this tribe[1124]. After the conclusion of the time when rice-seed is put in the germinating beds, pa-chog, the festival po-chang is held, after the transplanting of the rice the festival chaka (held on Feb. 10 in 1903), and after that an unexplained festival su-wat; on the day on which the first ‘fruit-heads’ have shown themselves on the growing rice there is the festival ke-eng, and on the following day tot-o-lod; sa-fo-sab, before the beginning of harvest, introduces the harvest. At the end of the rice-harvest and the beginning of the period called li-pas (‘no more rice-harvest’) lislis is celebrated; at the time of the planting of camotes loskod; in the same division of the year, called bali-ling, the festival o-ki-ad, when black beans are planted. Finally at the end of this division we have ko-pus, a three day’s rest, just before the work of rice-culture is begun again[1125]. An African example from the neighbourhood of the Lower Niger will shew how in this agrarian festival-cycle other feasts arise which may in part be older. The cycle consists of the following festivals:—1, sacrifices and adoration to the great spirit or creator, always made in anticipation of the new crop, to ensure that it is good; 2, communion of first-fruits, a festival to the house-hold gods; 3, communion of the new yam; 4, the feast of hunters; 5, ofala, a celebration to Ofo, god of justice and right, in honour of the public appearance of the king; 6, the crumbo, or remnants of yam, reserved for the king only; 7, the feast of roast yam at the close of the year, the termination of this marking the end of the native year and the feast also serving as a form of public notice that farming has to recommence. This is a festival in honour of Ifejioku, god of the crops, as a token of gratitude on the part of the community for a fruitful and prosperous year. It is usual for the king to give a month’s notice before each ceremony takes place[1126].
A pastoral people may also have a well-developed festival-cycle marking the points of the year which are important for their herds. I quote as an example the main festivals of the Reindeer Koryak of Eastern Siberia. There is a ceremony on the Return of the Herd from the summer pastures, when the first snow covers the ground. In spring, when the fawning period is over and the reindeer have lost their antlers, the fawn festival is celebrated. The fire in the house is put out and a new one started by means of the sacred fire-board. Some tribes pile up the antlers of the slaughtered reindeer. Other festivals are observed:—1, when the sun marks the approach of summer after the winter solstice: a sacrifice is then offered to the sun; 2, in the month of March, when the does commence to fawn: a sacrifice is offered to The-One-on-High; 3, in spring, when the grass commences to sprout and the leaves appear on the trees; 4, when mosquitoes put in their appearance—reindeer are then slain as an offering to The-One-on-High, lest the mosquitoes scatter the herd[1127].
Here the development is simple and clear, but not so among many peoples where agriculture or the raising of cattle does not occupy so important a place. The Maidu of northern California have four seasons and four festivals founded by the hero Oankoitupeh:—‘the open air festival’ in the spring, ‘the dry season festival’ about the first of July, ‘the burning to the dead’ about the first of September[1128], and ‘the winter festival’ about the last of December[1129]. The connexion with the seasons is clear, but we do not even know whether the names are of genuine native origin. This example clearly shews that the great difficulty lies in the fact that the real nature of the festivals is unknown. But often where detailed accounts of a festival exist, the original reason for it becomes obscured in the course of the development, so that the original connexion between festival and season cannot be established. This is especially the case with peoples among whom the religious life has had an especially strong development.
A phenomenon peculiar to the peoples of the far North is that the winter is the time of the festivals. The summer is the good season, when supplies for the winter must be collected; it is therefore a very busy time, when each family has to work for itself and has no leisure for festivals. The winter is the time of rest, in which the people live on the supplies already collected; they naturally crowd closer together, and have much leisure, which is used for religious ceremonies and for games. Hence the winter is the time of the religious ceremonies among the Eskimos, the Tlinkit, and other Indians of N. W. America[1130], and hence the Yule festival celebrated in the winter becomes the greatest festival of the Scandinavian peoples[1131].
When a festival takes place, people assemble together who often have to come long distances. We have spoken above[1132] of the devices adopted in order to ensure that the day of an appointed non-periodic festival shall not be missed. Periodically recurring festivals, which are connected with a natural phase or some occupation, particularly if this is agricultural, are determined as to time, but not accurately. Hence it is already found among the Central Australians that the exact day is fixed by the chief. Such festivals, appointed within certain limits assigned by Nature, are found also among peoples with a fixed calendar, e. g. the Roman feriae conceptivae. Significantly enough, these are agricultural festivals which, on account of the change of position of the lunisolar year in relation to the natural year, could not well be regulated by the former. But where a calendar exists, this is the given means of regulating the festival dates so that preparations can be made and the people can assemble at the right time. In the natural and agricultural years the festivals are in the proper sense conceptivae; the question is properly to find a means of accurately fixing the day within the short periods given by Nature. This purpose is served by the calculation from the moon. The moon herself has her festivals, especially that of the new moon and, though more seldom, that of the full moon[1133]. Thus the festival times are regulated by the moon. In itself any suitable day of the month can be appointed as a feast-day, but custom and superstition cause certain days to be preferred. Thus the day of new moon, since it was often already a feast-day in itself, was bound to be preferred. The Natchez of Louisiana, for instance, celebrated at each day of new moon a feast which took its name from the animals and plants which the preceding month had principally brought forth, but the greatest festival was that held at the new moon of the first month.[1134]
It is a very wide-spread idea that things which are to prosper and grow should be undertaken during the time of the waxing moon, and that anything begun when the moon is on the wane will dwindle and die. Hence the proper time for a festival is the bright half of the moon, and especially the time at which the moon has attained her full shape. It is not only on account of the fair light which costs them nothing that the negroes dance on the nights of full moon. In Dahomey the festivals take place at the full of the moon, and the days are determined by the native government[1135]. In Burma all religious festivals with the exception of the New Year festival, the date of which is regulated in a special manner, take place at the time of full moon[1136]. Throughout Australia, Tasmania, and Melanesia the festivals begin either at full or new moon[1137].
In regard to the Israelitish festivals, the antiquity and great importance of the new moon festival has already been pointed out[1138]. The Jews here follow a wide-spread custom. Whether they, like many other peoples, also preferred the time of full moon for their festivals, is a more difficult question. A fixed day for the Passover and Feast of Unleavened Bread and for the Feast of Tabernacles is first prescribed during and after the Exile, the last-named on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the Feast of Unleavened Bread on the fifteenth day of the first month, and the Passover on the evening of the day before (the fourteenth of the first month)[1139]. The only other information we have from ancient times as to the date of the Feast of Tabernacles is contained in the earlier name ‘Feast of Vintage’; it was celebrated after the conclusion of the fruit-harvest and vintage. In regard to the Feast of Unleavened Bread—since it is with this chiefly that we have to do, not with the preliminary Feast of the Passover associated with it, which was a feast of a different nature—the order of the Yahwist runs ‘at the time appointed in the month Abib’[1140]; as a motive is adduced the fact that the Jews came out from Egypt in this month. The Deuteronomist[1141] transfers this to the preliminary festival. The time therefore, like that of the Feast of Vintage, is determined by an event in agriculture, but at the same time by the moon. Linguistically chodesh can here mean ‘new moon’; in that case we could also translate ‘at the time appointed after the new moon of Abib’; but since the sense ‘month’ is so old and the original sense ‘new moon’ appears unequivocally only where monthly new moon festivals are in question[1142], it seems reasonable to translate the word here simply by ‘month’. Now it is often stated that the festive seasons both of the Unleavened Bread and of the Feast of Vintage were regulated purely by natural circumstances: the former was celebrated when the first ears ripened, and the latter when the fruit-harvest was at an end, each according to local conditions. But the Feast of Vintage at least was a general festival even in Canaanitish days[1143], and moed properly means ‘determined, appointed time’. It was therefore not accidental circumstances but a rule that in early times called the people together to the festival. Chronological regulation is proved by the name of the festival of harvest (chag haq-qazir), ‘Feast of Weeks’, chag shabuot in the Yahwist[1144]. The regulation by the weeks, however, is late and artificial in comparison with that by the moon.
Now if we know what part was played by the time of full moon in the festivals of other peoples, and indeed for the agrarian peoples also, in spite of the differences in date resulting from the observation of the time of full moon, it seems always probable that the regulation of post-exilian times for the fifteenth originated in an old tradition in accordance with which the time of full moon was specially favoured for the feast. Earlier the date was not so accurately observed; the time of full moon was prescribed so that those who were prevented from celebrating the Feast of the Passover at the proper time might do so on the fourteenth of the following month[1145]. Unfortunately the date of the passage in I Kings (XII, 32), according to which Jeroboam celebrated the Feast of Tabernacles on the 15th day of the eighth month, is doubtful; if the passage is old, it affords valuable evidence that the time of full moon was the proper time for holding agrarian festivals[1146].
Among the Greeks all the ancient festivals with the exception of the feasts of Apollo, which always took place on the seventh of the month, were concentrated in the period shortly before and during full moon[1147]. The selection of days is organically connected with the lunar reckoning, and the superstition of days has arisen independently among different peoples. As an example the sacrifices of the Toba Batak of Sumatra may serve. At the felling of a tree for house-building sacrifices must be offered during the waxing moon; this is in general the favourable time, since everything undertaken then increases with the moon. The huntsman sacrifices to his god at noon-tide about the time of new moon, the fisherman at noon while the moon is waxing; before a military expedition a certain sacrifice is offered (preferably in the early morning) at the time of full moon, and another at the waxing moon[1148].
This superstition, which involves the accurate knowledge and observation of the days, and the injunction, to which great religious importance is attached, to celebrate the festivals on the proper days, lead to the result that the time-reckoning, which arose in the first place from the events and necessities of practical life, has among certain peoples passed completely under the influence of religion and has been further developed from ecclesiastical standpoints in the service of the religious cult.
There are however other ways of exactly fixing a day, viz. by observation of the stars and of the solstices and equinoxes. The former method is hardly ever used directly as a means of determining religious dates, and this fact is very significant for the practical character of the observation of the stars. No religious ideas are associated with the phases of the stars, although star-myths innumerable are related. The reason is not easy to discover. A contributory factor may be that although the observation of the stars is wide-spread, it is yet not a matter which concerns every man, and also that the stars always give only a single point of time and do not form cyclical periods within the year, though on the other hand they are intimately connected with the phases of the natural year and with agriculture. The principal reason may be conjectured to be that the reckoning of months, on account of its connexion with the popular festival seasons and with the selection of days, has been from the beginning chiefly carried out with a view to religious considerations.
It is only among certain peoples that the observation of the solstices and equinoxes plays any great part, and that consequently the religious importance of the sun is also great. But the festivals of the solstices and equinoxes, recurring at regular intervals in the course of the year, are far from being able to compare with those of the phases of the moon. It has already been mentioned that the Eskimos were able accurately to observe the winter solstice[1149]. At this time, about the 22nd of December, they held a festival to rejoice over the return of the sun and the good hunting weather. They collected together from all over the country in great parties, entertained one another in the best possible manner, and when they had gorged themselves to the full they got up to play and to dance[1150]. Certain Indian peoples have made quite a special custom of the observation of the solstices and equinoxes. Thus for instance did the Inca people, but they had lunar months also, and even the great festival of the sun in December was regulated by the days of the lunar month[1151]. The Zuñi determine the festival times by the observation of thirteen different positions of the sun on the horizon, but they have also lunar months, five of which are named from natural phases, and six from colours borrowed from certain rites[1152]. The ceremonies are therefore still distributed among the months, and the most obvious explanation is that the observation of the thirteen positions of the sun really serves to determine the thirteen months, and with them the times of the rites. The old Mexican calendar seems to have no connexion with the moon, but in Ginzel’s opinion this does not exclude the possibility of an earlier development on the basis of a relationship with the course of the moon[1153]. In any case the regulation of the festivals by the positions of the sun is a comparatively isolated separate development among certain peoples; the regulation by the moon, on the contrary, is found all over the world.
Because the calendar is principally looked upon as the concern of religion, the months appear in such close association with the festivals held in them that it is sometimes found that the relationship to the phases of Nature falls into the background. Among peoples who have no names of months, like the Greeks of the Homeric period, or among those who name only some of them, it may therefore happen that the months become named from the festivals or perhaps that such names supersede those which refer to natural phases. Thus, as has been mentioned above, six months of the Zuñi year are named from the colours of the prayer-sticks. Of the Inca months one is named from a moon festival, two from provincial festivals, and one from the great sun festival; the rest take their names from the occupations of agriculture[1154]. Of the tribes of Bolivia it is stated that their knowledge of the calendar is not according to days, but according to the principal festivals[1155]. In Africa two examples have been given[1156], those of the Hausa states and the Edo-speaking peoples. In the Babylonian calendar the names of months derived from festivals spread more and more, at the expense of names of other kinds[1157]. The phenomenon is therefore comparatively rare and is found only among peoples who have a highly developed religious cult, and even in the examples here given the process is not consistently carried out.
Consistency is found only in one case, the calendar of ancient Greece, and is all the more striking since in the hundreds of varying calendars of the town-states no names which do not refer to festivals have been with certainty demonstrated; the few calendars with numbered months are of more recent origin[1158]. The certain conclusion is that the Greek calendar was entirely regulated from the point of view of the religious cult. Where on the other hand the place of the lunisolar year is taken by another reckoning, it is found that the lunar reckoning is still used in the establishing of certain festivals, as for instance in Bali[1159], and by the Christians in the matter of Easter and the festivals depending thereon.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CALENDAR-MAKERS.
As long as the determination of time is adjusted by the phases of Nature which immediately become obvious to everyone, anybody can judge of them, and should different people judge differently there is no standard by which the dispute can be settled, because the natural phases run into one another or are at least not sharply defined. The accuracy in determination demanded by time-reckoning proper is therefore lacking. Accuracy becomes possible as a result of the observation of the risings of stars, and this observation begins even at the primitive stage, but it is not a matter that concerns everyone. It requires a refined power of observation and a clear knowledge of the stars, so that the heavens can be known. This is especially the case with the commonest observations, those of the morning rising and evening setting. The observer must be able to judge, by the position of the other stars, when the star in question may be expected to twinkle for a moment in the twilight before it vanishes. The accuracy of the time-determination from the stars depends therefore upon the keenness of the observation. In this the individual differences of men soon come into play, along with a regular science which introduces the learner to the knowledge of the stars and its uses. Thus Stanbridge reports of the natives of Victoria that all tribes have traditions about the stars, but certain families have the reputation of having the most accurate knowledge; one family of the Boorung tribe prides itself upon possessing a wider knowledge of the stars than any other[1160]. An account has been given above[1161] according to which an old chief instructed the young people of the tribe in the knowledge of the stars and the occupations which these announce. Of the Torres Straits tribes Rivers says:—When the rising of a star is expected, it is the duty of the old men to watch; they rise when the birds begin to call and watch until daybreak. As in the case of kek (Achernar, the most important star), so also probably in the case of other important stars and constellations the appearance of certain other stars is a sign that the star expected will soon appear. For kek the stars in question are two named keakentonar; when they appear on the horizon at dawn, it is known that in a few days kek will shew himself, and the observation becomes especially keen. The setting of a star is observed in the same way[1162].
By the phases of the stars both occupations and seasons are regulated, and thus a standard is furnished by which to judge, and a limit is set to the indefiniteness of the phases of Nature. An old missionary relates of the Orinocese that it is incredible how confused their minds become if they neglect to observe the signs which make known the approach of winter; they may then say in winter that one or two months are yet wanting, and in the height of summer they sometimes spread the report among their countrymen that the winter will soon be upon them; the evening setting of the Pleiades announces the coming of winter and therefore affords a means of correcting the time-reckoning[1163].
The moon strikes the attention of everyone and admits of immediate and unpractised observation; at the most there may sometimes be some doubt for a day as to the observation of the new moon, but the next day will set all right. But because the months are fixed in their position in the natural year through association with the seasons, the indefiniteness and fluctuation of the phases of Nature penetrate into the months also, and are there even increased, for the reasons stated above. Cause for doubt and disagreement is given, the problem of the regulation of the calendar arises. Hence in the council meetings of the Pawnee and Dakota it is often hotly disputed which month it really is. So also the Caffres often become confused and do not know what month it is; the rising of the Pleiades decides the question. The Basuto in determining the time of sowing are not guided by the lunar reckoning, but fall back upon the phases of Nature; intelligent chiefs however know how to correct the calendar by the summer solstice[1164].
The differences in intelligence already make themselves felt at an early stage, and are still more plainly shewn when we come to a genuine regulation of the calendar. Some of the Bontoc Igorot state that the year has eight, others a hundred months, but among the old men who represent the wisdom of the people there are some who know and assert that it has thirteen[1165]. The further the calendar develops, the less does it become a common possession. Among the Indians, for example, there are special persons who keep and interpret the year-lists illustrated with picture-writings, e. g. the calendrically gifted Anko, who even drew up a list of months[1166]. It is very significant that even where a complete calendar does exist, it will be found that this is not in use to its fullest extent among the people. The Masai days of the month have already been given[1167]; but the nomenclature of the days is not so popular throughout that any Masai on any day could determine that day with perfect accuracy. Only the following days and groups of days are in regular use:—The 1st day, as the beginning of the counting and of the brightness of the moon (sic!), the 4th as the new moon, the 10th as the final day of the first decade, the 15th as the final day of the moon’s brightness, the 16th as the beginning of the dark half of the month, the 17th as the chief of the unlucky days, 18–20 as es sobiain, the 20th as the final day of the second decade, 21–23 as nigein, the 24th as the beginning of ‘the black darkness’, and from the 24th on to the disappearance of the moon. Of these days the 4th, 10th, 17th, 24th, and 1st are especially common. The people therefore count in a more concrete fashion than those who are learned in the calendar.
It follows that the observation of the calendar is a special occupation which is placed in the hands of specially experienced and gifted men. Among the Caffres we read of special ‘astrologers’[1168]. Among the Kenyah of Borneo the determination of the time for sowing is so important that in every village the task is entrusted to a man whose sole occupation it is to observe the signs. He need not cultivate rice himself, for he will receive his supplies from the other inhabitants of the village. His separate position is in part due to the fact that the determination of the season is effected by observing the height of the sun, for which special instruments are required. The process is a secret, and his advice is always followed[1169]. It is only natural that this individual should keep secret the traditional lore upon which his position depends; and thus the development of the calendar puts a still wider gap between the business of the calendar-maker and the common people.
Behind the calendar stand in particular the priests. For they are the most intelligent and learned men of the tribe, and moreover the calendar is peculiarly their affair, if the development has proceeded so far that value is attached to the calendar for the selection of the proper days for the religious observances. We are not told that the Kenyah who has charge of the calendar is a priest, but among the Kayan (also of Borneo) it is a priest who determines the seed-time from the observation of the ecliptic, and on the upper Mahakam a priestess[1170]. In Bali the Brahmins, in Java the village priests, determine the seasons by observing a crude sun-dial[1171]. Of the Tshi-speaking peoples it is said that the priests keep a reckoning of the time, using different methods for the purpose, and make known the approach of the annual festivals[1172]. Among the Hausa the priests determine the time of the festivals according to the position of the moon[1173]; here also the months are named after the festivals. To a very general extent it is true among peoples like the Indians of Arizona, where the religious ceremonies are the centre of the life of the tribe, that the priests are the calendar-makers. Among the Hopi the priests determine from the observation of the solstices and equinoxes the time for the religious ceremonies and for the agricultural labours[1174]. Among the Zuñi the priest of the sun is alone responsible for the calendar. He takes daily observations of the sunrise at a petrified tree-stump east of the village, which he sprinkles with meal when he offers his matins to the rising sun. When the sun rises over a certain point of the Corn Mountain he informs the elder brother Bow priest, who notifies a certain religious body, the members of this society come together and the great feast of the winter solstice is then celebrated. The summer solstice and its festival are determined in similar fashion[1175].
Among the priests there is formed a special class whose duty it is to make observations and keep the calendar in order. Among the Hawaiians ‘astronomers (kilo-hoku) and priests’ are mentioned[1176]; they handed down their knowledge from father to son; but women, kilowahine, are also found among them[1177]. Elsewhere the nobles appear alongside of the priests; thus in Tahiti it is the nobles that are responsible for the calendar, in New Zealand the priests. In the latter country there is said to have been a regular school, which was visited by priests and chiefs of highest rank. Every year the assembly determined the days on which the corn must be sown and reaped, and thus its members compared their views upon the heavenly bodies. Each course lasted from three to five months[1178].
For Loango it is reported that the king’s star-gazers apparently took observations from a little wood; further that they sometimes knew how to arrange matters to suit their own convenience, for they gave out (probably when the sky was clouded) that the moon was several days old, and thus gained a couple of hours for the rising of Sirius and could postpone the dreaded thirteenth month until the end of the next year[1179]. In these districts, where a strong day-superstition prevails, external influence is doubtless probable, but the account is significant in that it speaks for an artificial retardation of the calendar. Such a manipulation is characteristic of the professed calendar-maker.
The king himself also takes charge of the calendar. The Inca observed the solstices in person, and was assisted in so doing by the cleverest of his people; the priests assembled to determine the equinoxes[1180]. The calendar of the Society Islands was fixed by King Pomare and his family[1181]. That the Inca appeared in a priestly office for this purpose is certain; that Pomare did the same is doubtful, since European influence has no doubt been brought to bear upon this case.
The examples just given are not numerous, and this corresponds to the actual state of affairs, since we have here to do with the treatment of a genuine calendarial science by certain peoples,—only at a quite undeveloped stage can questions of the time-reckoning be dealt with in a deliberative assembly—and our researches are concerned with primitive peoples. The end which the calendar-maker has in view is the establishing of an ordered series of days marked out into divisions, the series being kept in place by certain fixed points, and recurring cyclically. First of all the regulation of the lunisolar calendar is his principal task, and it is one which everywhere takes the chief place. For this purpose the calendar-maker must become accurately acquainted with the course of the sun and with the stars. Here the four solstices and equinoxes are distinguished by their recurrence at tolerably regular intervals of time; the stars however cannot of themselves be brought into a system with equal intervals of time, but are only applied to such a system in order to fix it. Hence it follows that the observation of the solstices and equinoxes has, at least in single cases, been erected into a calendric system, but the observation of the stars not so—except in Babylon—although they also are observed, so that they come to be accurately known, and the planets are even discovered, e. g. by the Polynesians. The calendar and practical life become to some degree separated from each other; the first lays the principal emphasis upon the correct ordering of the series of days, which is of especial importance on religious grounds for the selection of days and the fixing of the right day for the religious observances; in practical life, however, the point of chief importance is to determine the times when the various occupations may be begun and sea-voyages undertaken, both of which depend upon the solar year, and for this the stars afford the best aid. Hence it happens that sometimes the reckoning by the stars appears, as one more profanely determined, in a certain opposition to the lunisolar reckoning, which has a more religious character. This happened in ancient Greece, where the stars served for the time-reckoning of sailors and peasants while the lunisolar calendar was developed and extended under sacral influence; the festival calendar, which was regulated and recorded by the moon, became the official civil calendar. It was only later that the stellar calendar was systematically brought under the influence of the fully developed astronomy and of the Julian calendar.
In sailing, the stars afford to the primitive sea-faring peoples the only means of finding their way when the land can no longer be seen. From the necessities of sea-faring the greatly advanced knowledge of the stars possessed by the South Sea peoples has arisen; this is because practical ends are served not by a priestly wisdom, but by a profane. Nevertheless the knowledge of the stars is a secret which is carefully guarded in certain families, and kept from the common people—as is reported of the Marshall Islands[1182]. Among the Moanu of the Admiralty Islands it is the chiefs who are initiated by tradition into the science of the stars[1183]. On the Mortlock Islands, where the science of the stars is very highly developed, there was a special astronomical profession; the knowledge of the stars was a source of respect and influence, it was anxiously concealed, and only communicated to specially chosen individuals[1184]. Only a few can determine the hours of night by the stars. The Tahitian Tupaya, who accompanied Cook on his first voyage, was a man of this kind, specially distinguished for his nautical knowledge of the stars[1185]. The elements of the science, however, seem to have been pretty generally known, and from the Caroline Islands comes a curious account of a general instruction therein. It was first mentioned by the Spanish missionary Cantova in the year 1721, and was later confirmed by Arago. In every settlement there were two houses, in one of which the boys were instructed in the knowledge of the stars, and in the other the girls; only vague ideas were imparted, however. The teacher had a kind of globe of the heavens on which the principal stars were marked, and he pointed out to his pupils the direction which they must follow on their various journeys. One native could also represent on a table by means of grains of maize the constellations known to him[1186]. This is a nautical, non-priestly astronomy, which has really little to do with calendarial matters in general, although as a matter of fact in the Carolines and the Mortlock Islands it has led to the naming of all months from constellations, and therefore to a systematic sidereal regulation of the calendar[1187].
On the other hand the priests also have observed the stars and used their stellar science principally for sooth-saying, as e. g. in Hawaii and in Babylonia. But neither does this lead to any improvement of the calendar, since the religion must keep to the existing lunisolar calendar, although in one case of the most far-reaching importance the astrology arose from it. The improving of the calendar, the object of which must be, after the full development of the lunisolar, to return to the solar calendar, in order that the calendar may be better adapted to the needs of practical life, becomes henceforth the task of the lay scientific astronomer.