JANUARY.
Then came old January, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away;
Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell,
And blow his nayles to warm them if he may;
For they were numb’d with holding all the day
An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood,
And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray;
Upon a huge great earth-pot steane he stood,
From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romane flood.
Spenser
Laus Deo!—was the first entry by merchants and tradesmen of our forefathers’ days, in beginning their new account-books with the new year. Laus Deo! then, be the opening of this volume of the Every-Day Book, wherein we take further “note of time,” and make entries to the days, and months, and seasons, in “every varied posture, place, and hour.”
January, besides the names already mentioned,[1] was called by the Anglo-Saxons Giuli aftera, signifying the second Giul, or Yule, or, as we should say, the second Christmas.[2] Of Yule itself much will be observed, when it can be better said.
To this month there is an ode with a verse beautifully descriptive of the Roman symbol of the year:[3]
’Tis he! the two-fac’d Janus comes in view;
Wild hyacinths his robe adorn,
And snow-drops, rivals of the morn
He spurns the goat aside,
But smiles upon the new
Emerging year with pride:
And now unlocks, with agate key,
The ruby gates of orient day.