Primitive Time-reckoning - A study in the origins and first development of the art of counting time among the primitive and early culture peoples

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Title: Primitive Time-reckoning - A study in the origins and first development of the art of counting time among the primitive and early culture peoples
Author: Nilsson, Martin Persson
Language: English
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SKRIFTER UTGIVNA AV

HUMANISTISKA VETENSKAPSSAMFUNDET I LUND

ACTA SOCIETATIS HUMANIORUM LITTERARUM LUNDENSIS

_MARTIN P. NILSSON_
PRIMITIVE TIME-RECKONING

PRIMITIVE TIME-RECKONING

A STUDY IN THE ORIGINS AND FIRST DEVELOPMENT
OF THE ART OF COUNTING TIME AMONG
THE PRIMITIVE AND EARLY
CULTURE PEOPLES

MARTIN P. NILSSON

PROFESSOR OF CLASSICAL ARCHÆOLOGY AND ANCIENT HISTORY
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF LUND
SECRETARY TO THE SOCIETY LETTERS OF LUND
MEMBER OF THE R. DANISH ACADEMY

[Illustration]

LUND, C. W. K. GLEERUP
LONDON, HUMPHREY MILFORD PARIS, EDOUARD CHAMPION
OXFORD, UNIVERSITY PRESS LEIPZIG, O. HARRASSOWITZ
1920

LUND 1920
BERLINGSKA BOKTRYCKERIET

PREFACE.

Although in the present study I devote only a few pages to the Greek
time-reckoning, and am engaged for the most part in very different
fields, yet the work has arisen from a desire to prepare the way for
a clearer view of the initial stages of the Greek time-reckoning.
In the course of my investigations into Greek festivals I had from
the beginning been brought up against chronological problems, and
as I widened the circle so as to include the survivals of the
ancient festivals in the Middle Ages, more particularly in connexion
with the origin of the Christmas festival, I was again met by
difficulties of chronology, this time in regard to the earlier
Germanic time-reckoning. In the year 1911 I published in _Archiv für
Religionswissenschaft_ an article on the presumptive origin of the
Greek calendar circulated from Delphi. These preliminary studies
led to my taking over myself, in the projected Lexicon of the Greek
and Roman Religions, the article on the calendar in its sacral
connexions. This article was worked out in the spring of 1914. In it
the emphasis was laid not on the historical chronological systems,
which have little to do with religion, but on the question of
origins, in which religion plays a decisive part. In order to arrive
at an opinion it was not enough to work over once more the extremely
scanty material for the origin of the Greek time-reckoning; I had
to form an idea from my hitherto somewhat occasional ethnological
reading as to how a time-reckoning arose under primitive conditions,
and what was its nature. This idea obviously required broadening
and correcting by systematic research. The war, which suspended the
continuation of the Lexicon at its very beginning, gave me leisure
to undertake this more extensive research. Certainly it has also
imposed some limitations on the work, since I could not make use of
the rich libraries of England and the Continent but had to be content
with what was offered by those of Sweden and Copenhagen. But I am
not disposed to regret this limitation too deeply. The material here
reproduced will probably strike many readers as being copious and
monotonous enough, and the numerous books of travels and ethnological
works which I have ransacked, often to no profit, seem to hold out
little prospect that anything new and surprising will come to light.
In this conviction Webster’s work has strengthened me.

In two or three instances I have derived material of great value
from personal communications. For very interesting details of the
time-reckoning of the Kiwai Papuans I am indebted to Dr. G. Landtman
of Helsingfors, and Prof. G. Kazarow of Sofia has sent me valuable
information as to the Bulgarian names of months. Dr. C. W. von Sydow
of Lund has communicated to me details of the popular time-reckoning
in Sweden.

An exhaustive examination of all the material obtainable would
doubtless lead to a more exact conception of the details of primitive
time-reckoning. Above all, large districts with similar peculiarities
in time-reckoning could be more accurately defined. The Arctic
regions form a district of this nature. South America again differs
characteristically from North America; Africa, the East Indian
Archipelago, and the South Sea Islands all have their peculiarities.
The borrowings which have undoubtedly taken place on a very large
scale would be at least in part pointed out. This working up of the
material is however the task of the ethnological specialist; my
object is simply and solely to attain the above-mentioned goal of a
general foundation.

The observation of chronological matters varies greatly in the
ethnographical literature; I have gone through many books without
result, and in other cases my gains have often been small. It is only
in quite recent times that attention has been paid with any great
profit to this side of primitive life. Among the English authors
Frazer has drawn up a list of ethnological questions (printed in the
_Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 18_, 1889, pp. 431
ff., and also separately), paying due attention to time-reckoning,
which has had a lasting and happy result, as can be seen especially
in many papers in the _JRAI_ of succeeding years.

Of the works of my predecessors only one has had any more elaborate
aims--the ninth chapter of Ginzel’s handbook, which deals with the
time-reckoning of the primitive peoples, divided up according to the
different parts of the world. The significance of the time-reckoning
of the primitive peoples for the history of chronology seems to
have been only gradually grasped by the author in the course of
his work, since it is not until after he has touched occasionally
upon the question of primitive time-reckoning in the course of
his account of the chronological systems of the Oriental peoples
that he inserts the chapter in question between the latter and the
chapters on the chronology of antiquity. Ginzel has in many respects
a sound view of the nature of primitive time-reckoning, and makes
many pertinent remarks, but on the whole his treatment, as is not
seldom the case, is lacking in exactness and depth. I have gratefully
made use of the material collected by him, going back, wherever
possible, to the original sources. Of other previous works must be
mentioned the essays of Andree and Frazer on the Pleiades,--the
latter especially distinguished by its author’s usual extensive
acquaintance with the sources and by its abundance of material--and
the dissertation of Kötz upon the astronomical knowledge of the
primitive peoples of Australia and the South Seas, an industrious
work which however only touches superficially upon the problems here
dealt with, and in regard to the lunisolar reckoning adopts the view
of Waitz-Gerland:--“We can here discover nothing accurate, since
these peoples have conceived of nothing accurately” (p. 22). I think
however that we may fairly say that this is to estimate too meanly
the possibility of our knowledge. Hubert’s paper, _Étude sommaire de
la représentation du temps dans la religion et la magie_, is composed
throughout in the spirit of the neo-scholastic school of Durkheim.
The present work, on the other hand, is based upon facts and their
interpretation.

The book was ready in the spring of 1917, but could not be published
on account of the war. Later I have only inserted a few improvements
and additions. As I was putting the finishing touches to my work,
there came into my hands, after a delay due to the circumstances of
the time, the _Rest Days_ of H. Webster, whose _Primitive Secret
Societies_ has gained him fame and honour. This work deals in detail
with a subject akin to mine, but not from the calendarial and
chronological standpoint here adopted. Only upon the origin of the
lunisolar calendar does the author make a few general remarks (pp.
173 ff.), which however do not advance the subject very far. In the
chapters entitled _Market Days_, _Lunar Superstitions and Festivals_,
_Lunar Calendars and the Week_ he has brought together abundant
material which also concerns some of the phenomena treated by me;
part of this information will not be found here, since it is compiled
from sources inaccessible to me. For the same reason, because I
could not collate it for myself, I have not thought it advisable to
introduce this material into my book, especially since it adds no new
principle of knowledge and does not affect the conclusions I have
drawn. Moreover anyone who wishes to go farther into these matters
must in any case approach Webster’s careful work.

For the popular month-names of the European peoples I have made
use of the well-known extensive collections of Grimm, Weinhold,
Miklosisch, etc. In this chapter my object has not been to make
contributions to our knowledge of the popular months, but only to
bring out, by means of numerous examples, the parallel between the
popular names of the Julian months and the names of the lunar months
among the primitive peoples. More isolated and disputed names are
therefore omitted, and the names are given chiefly in translation. I
have made only one exception, namely in the case of the Swedish lunar
months, which really hardly belong to my subject since they are a
popular development from the ecclesiastical calendar of the Middle
Ages. I hope however to be excused for this, in the first place on
patriotic grounds, and secondly because little attention has hitherto
been paid to the matter. In another place I have dealt fully with the
Swedish names of months, which are in the majority of cases not of
popular origin.

I have made out a list of authorities so that in the foot-notes
reference may be made simply to the name of the author; where an
author is represented by two or more works, the work in question is
denoted by an abbreviation. This list is to be regarded not as an
exhaustive bibliography, but merely as an aid to the quotations.
Where so many quotations have been made it has been thought advisable
not to use inverted commas, except in a few special cases. The fact
that the quotations are nevertheless given as far as possible in
the author’s own words must be held to excuse a certain apparent
inconsistency in the use of tenses.

Since I was obliged to include in my work the preliminary stages
of the time-reckoning of the culture peoples, I had to deal with
languages with which I was altogether unfamiliar, or only imperfectly
acquainted. I have therefore often availed myself of the expert
advice which has been readily given me by friends and colleagues.
For help in the complicated questions belonging to the domains of
the Semitic languages and Anglo-Saxon respectively I am especially
indebted to my colleagues Professors A. Moberg and E. Ekwall. For
occasional advice and information I have to thank Docent Joh.
Pedersen of Copenhagen (for the Semitic languages), Prof. Emil Olson
of Lund, and Prof. H. Lindroth of Gothenburg (for the Scandinavian),
and Docent S. Agrell of Lund (for the Slavonic).

The English translation is the work of Mr. F. J. Fielden, English
Lector in the University of Lund, who has also read the proof-sheets.
I am greatly obliged to him for his conscientious performance of a
lengthy and by no means easy task.

Lund, _May_ 1920. _Martin P. Nilsson._

CONTENTS.

PAGE

PREFACE V

INTRODUCTION 1

Foundation of the inquiry--Units of time-reckoning--Risings
and settings of the stars--Phases of climate, of plant and
animal life--Modes of time-reckoning.

CHAPTER I.--THE DAY 11

The day of 24 hours not primitive--Counting of days or
nights--_Pars pro toto_ reckoning--Indications of the sun’s
position--Indications by means of marks etc.--Names for the
parts of the day--Names derived from occupations--Lists of
names--Homeric expressions--Greek and Latin expressions--
Parts of the night--Night measured by the stars--Measures
of time.

CHAPTER II.--THE SEASONS 45

Seasonal points--Small seasons--Winter and summer--Dry and
rainy seasons--Wind-seasons--Four or five seasons--
Sub-division of seasons--Greater seasons--Cycles of seasons
--Agricultural cycles of seasons--Artificially regulated
cycles of seasons--Indo-European seasons--Seasons of the
Germanic peoples--The division of the Germanic year--The
Scandinavian division of the year--The old Scandinavian
week-year--Smaller wind-seasons.

CHAPTER III.--THE YEAR 86

Half-years--Shorter years--The empirical year--_Pars pro toto_
reckoning--The period of the vegetation and the year--
Ignorance of age--Relative age--Designation of years after
events--Series of years designated after events--Designation
of years in Babylonia and Egypt.

CHAPTER IV.--THE STARS 109

Inaccuracy of time-reckoning--The stars in Homer--Observation
of the stars by the Greeks and Romans--Star-lore: N. America
--S. America--Africa--India--Australia--Oceania--Indication
of time from the stars--Observation of the stars: Bushmen
--Australia--N. America--S. America--Africa--East Indian
Archipelago--Torres Straits--Melanesia--Polynesia--The stars
as causes and omens of the weather.

CHAPTER V.--THE MONTH 147

The moon--Counting of months and their days--Indications of
the position of the moon--Salutations to the new moon--
Celebration of the full moon--Other phases--The greater
phases of the moon--Further phases--Days named after the
phases of the moon--Groups of days named after the phases
of the moon--Days counted from the greater phases--Decades--
African systems--The quarters of the moon.

CHAPTER VI.--THE MONTHS 173

Series of months: N. Asia--Siberia--Eskimos--N. America--S.
America--Africa--East Indian Archipelago--Torres Straits--
Oceania.

CHAPTER VII.--CONCLUSIONS 217

Imperfect counting of the moons--Connexion between moons and
seasons--Multiplicity and absence of names of months--Pairs
of months.

CHAPTER VIII.--OLD SEMITIC MONTHS 226

1. _Babylonia._ Sumerian months--Akkadian months--Babylonian
etc. months--2. _The Israelites._ Canaanitish months--
Israelitish months--New moon and months--3. _The
pre-Mohammedan Arabs._ Arabian months.

CHAPTER IX.--CALENDAR REGULATION. 1. THE INTERCALATION 240

Incomplete series of months--Uncertainty as to the month--
Difficulties in reckoning months--Empirical intercalation--
The Jews--Correction of the months by the stars--Correction
of the Batak year--The pre-Mohammedan intercalation--The
Babylonian months and the stars.--The Babylonian intercalation
empirical--Correction of the year by the solstices and
the stars.

CHAPTER X.--CALENDAR REGULATION. 2. BEGINNING OF THE YEAR 267

Uncertainty as to the beginning of the year--New Year
feasts--Beginning of the year--The Israelitish New Year--
The Pleiades year--. _Appendix_: The Egyptian year.

CHAPTER XI.--POPULAR MONTHS OF THE EUROPEAN PEOPLES 282

Month-names: Albanian--Basque--Lithuanian--Lettish--
Slavonic--German--Anglo-Saxon months--The Anglo-Saxon
lunisolar year--Scandinavian month-names--Old Scandinavian
lunar months--Later Swedish moon-months--Finnish
moon-months--Lapp months.

CHAPTER XII.--SOLSTICES AND EQUINOXES. AIDS TO THE
DETERMINATION OF TIME 311

Observation of the solstices and equinoxes--Observation of
the equinoxes by the Scandinavians--Seed-time determined by
the observation of the sun--Devices for counting days, etc.

CHAPTER XIII.--ARTIFICIAL PERIODS OF TIME. FEASTS 324

The market-week in Africa--Greater periods in Africa--The
market-week in Asia--America--Rome--_Shabattu_ and sabbath--
Origin of the sabbath--The sabbath a market-day--Festivals
and seasons--Cycles of festivals--Regulation of the festivals
by the moon--Full moon the time of festivals--Festivals
determined by the course of the sun--Months named after
festivals.

CHAPTER XIV.--THE CALENDAR-MAKERS 347

Calendrical observations by certain gifted persons--The
priests as calendar-makers--Sacral and profane
calendar-regulation.

CHAPTER XV.--CONCLUSION 355

1. _Summary of results._ The concrete nature of
time-indications--Discontinuous and ‘aoristic’
time-indications--The _pars pro toto_ counting of the
periods--The continuous time-reckoning--Empirical
intercalation of months--2. _The Greek time-reckoning._
Early Greek time-reckoning--The Oktaeteris and the
months--Sacral character of the Greek calendar--Influence
of Apollo and Delphi--Babylonian origin of the Greek
calendar-regulation.

ADDENDUM TO P. 78 NOTE 2 370

LIST OF AUTHORITIES QUOTED 371

INDEX 382

INTRODUCTION.

The ancient civilised peoples appear in history with a
fully-developed system of time-reckoning--the Egyptians with the
shifting year of 365 days, which comes as nearly as possible to the
actual length of the year, counting only whole days and neglecting
the additional fraction; the Babylonians and the Greeks with the
lunisolar, varying between twelve and thirteen months and arranged
by the Greeks from the earliest known period of history in the
cycle of the _Oktaeteris_. It has always been clear that these
systems of time-reckoning represent the final stage of a lengthy
previous development, but as to the nature of this development
the most daring hypotheses have been advanced. Thus, for example,
eminent philologists and chronologists have believed the assertion
of Censorinus, Ch. 18, and have supposed that the _Oktaeteris_ was
preceded by a _Tetraeteris_, even by a _Dieteris_. It may indeed at
once be asserted that such a hypothesis lacks intrinsic probability.
To account for the early development hard facts are needed, and
unfortunately these, especially in the case of the Greeks, are
extremely few. Where they are required they must be sought elsewhere.

Setting aside all ingenious but uncertain speculations, our only
practicable way of proceeding is by means of a comparison with
other peoples among whom methods of time-reckoning are still in
the primitive stage. This is the ethnological method which is so
well-known from the science of comparative religion, but the claims
of which have been so vigorously contested upon grounds of no small
plausibility. Fortunately this dispute need not be settled in order
to prove the validity of the comparative method for an investigation
into the origin and development of methods of reckoning time. The
gist of the dispute may be expressed as follows:--The ethnological
school of students of comparative religion assumes that the
intellect of the natural man can only master a certain quite limited
number of universal conceptions; from these spring more and more
abundantly differentiated and complicated ideas, but the foundation
is everywhere the same. Hence our authority for comparing the
conceptions of the various peoples of the globe with one another in
order to lay bare this foundation. The opponents of the school deny
the existence of these fundamental conceptions, and maintain that the
points of departure, the primitive ideas of the various peoples, may
be as different as the peoples themselves, and that therefore we are
not authorised in drawing general conclusions from the comparison or
from the fundamental conceptions themselves.

In the matter of the indication and reckoning of time, however, we
have not to do with a number of conceptions which may be supposed
to be as numerous and as various as we please. At the basis lies
an accurately determined and limited and indeed small number of
phenomena, which are the same for all peoples all over the globe, and
can be combined only in a certain quite small number of ways. These
phenomena may be divided into two main groups: (1) the phenomena of
the heavens--sun, moon, and stars--and (2) the phases of Nature--the
variations of the climate and of plant and animal life, which on
their side determine the affairs of men; these, however, depend
finally upon one of the heavenly bodies, viz. the sun. The claim that
the comparative ethnological method can be justified only when we are
dealing with a narrowly circumscribed number of factors is therefore
here complied with, owing to the very nature of the subjects treated.
The comparative method does not shew how things have happened in a
special case in regard to one particular people: it only indicates
what _may_ have happened. But much is already gained if we can
eliminate the impossibilities, since from the complete result of the
development, no less than in other ways, we may obtain a certain
basis for our deductions.

For the investigation of primitive methods of time-reckoning no
special astronomical or other technical knowledge is needed: in fact,
such knowledge has rather played a fatal part by causing attention
to be paid exclusively to the system of time-reckoning and leading
to constant attempts to discover older and more primitive systems.
_A priori_, indeed, we might venture to state that a system is
always based upon previous data: unsystematic indications of time
precede the system of time-reckoning. These modest beginnings have
been obscured from view by the prejudice in favour of the systematic
technical and astronomical chronology. The only absolutely necessary
thing is a clear idea of the apparent motions of the heavenly bodies,
i. e. the sun, the moon, and the most important of the fixed stars,
and of the phases of the climate and the life of animals and plants,
which give the units of the time-reckoning.

For a statement of the course and phases of the heavenly bodies and
the units of the time-reckoning given by these I refer to the article
mentioned in the preface, the pertinent sections of which are here
quoted:--

“_The units of the time-reckoning_ are given by the motions of the
heavenly bodies (expressed according to the Ptolemaic system), and
the more intimately these enter into the life of man, the more
important do they become. For this reason only those units which
depend upon the sun have asserted themselves in our calendar, those
depending upon the moon having been dropped, except for the movable
paschal term, which has been kept on religious grounds. The units
are the year, the month, and the day. Other units more convenient
for time-reckoning play no part in the arrangement of the calendar
since they are without importance for practical life. _The day_ (=
24 hours, νυχθήμερον) is determined from the apparent motion of the
heavenly bodies about the earth, which is caused by the rotation of
the earth on its axis; but since the sun also, on account of the
annual revolution of the earth about it, runs through the zodiac
in an opposite direction to its daily movement and completes the
circle of the ecliptic in a year, a day will be a little longer than
a complete rotation of the earth. Or to put it otherwise:--The time
between two successive upper culminations of a star, i. e. between
the moments at which the star passes through the meridian-line of
one and the same place (= attains the zenith), represents an axial
rotation: that is a _stellar day_. The time between two successive
culminations of the sun is, on account of the annual motion of the
sun (really that of the earth), 3 min. 56.=5= secs. longer than
a stellar day: that is a _solar day_. The number of stellar days
in a year is greater by one day than the number of solar days. The
stellar day does not follow the variations of light and darkness
and therefore does not enter into the calendar. The difference
between the actual solar day, which is of slightly varying length,
and the mean solar day abstracted from it for the purposes of our
clock-regulated time-reckoning has no significance for antiquity.
The second unit determined by the sun is the _year_, the period of a
revolution of the earth about the sun. In relation to the apparent
motion of the sun it may be defined as the time which the sun takes
to come back again to the same fixed star. This is a _stellar_ or
_sidereal year_, the length of which amounts to 365 days 6 hrs. 9
min. 9.=34= secs. The _tropic year_ is the time which the sun
takes to come back to the crossing point of the equator, viz. the
vernal equinox. This is the natural year. Its length varies a little;
it is about 20 minutes shorter than the stellar year. The _lunar_
or _moon-month_ is determined from the visible phases of the moon.
This term will be used only when it is necessary to make an express
distinction between the lunar and our Roman month; the latter is a
conventional subdivision of the year which has nothing to do with
the moon, and has the name ‘month’ only because it historically
arose from the lunar month and in its duration comes fairly near
the latter. But when in relation to antiquity--apart from Rome
and Egypt--we speak of months, lunar months are as a rule to be
understood. The moon revolves around the earth twelve times a year
and a little more: consequently it moves backwards in the zodiac
much more rapidly than the sun. The interval between two successive
moments at which the moon culminates at the same spot at the same
time as one and the same star is a _sidereal month_ (cp. the sidereal
year); its length is 27 days 7 hrs. 43 min. 11.=42= secs., but
it does not follow the phases of the moon and is therefore of no
consequence for the calendar. The phases of the moon are dependent
upon the position of the moon in relation to the sun and the earth.
When the three bodies are in a straight line (or rather in a plane
perpendicular to the plane of the ecliptic) in such a way that the
earth is in the middle, the side of the moon turned towards the
earth is completely illuminated and we have full moon: when the moon
is in the middle, the side turned towards the earth is completely
overshadowed, and that is new moon. In between lie the separate
phases of the waxing and waning moon. The _synodic month_ is the
interval between two new moons and comprises on an average 29 days 12
hrs. 44 min. 2.=98= secs. This is the true lunar month: other
varieties of month are of no importance for us.

"_The risings and settings of the stars._ It has already been
remarked that the sun in the course of a year runs through the
zodiac backwards, so that one particular star culminates 3 min. 56
secs. earlier every day. Hence it is evident that if we indicate
the exact interval of time between the culmination of the sun and
that of one particular star, or name the star with which the sun
precisely culminates, we can determine the day of the solar year.
This is the principle of one method of computing time which was very
common among ancient and primitive peoples, but has entirely dropped
out of use in modern times owing to our paper calendar. The stars
are so to speak the stationary ciphers on the clock-face and the
sun is the hand. In practice we naturally have to do not with the
invisible culmination of the stars but with the position of the sun
and certain neighbouring stars on the edge of the horizon, whereby
the matter becomes more complicated on the astronomical side. For
this observation the so-called circumpolar stars are singled out,
that is to say the stars situated so near the pole that they do not
set (e. g. the Great Bear). If the star rises or sets simultaneously
with the rising of the sun, this is called the _true cosmic rising_
or _setting_. If the star rises or sets simultaneously with the
setting of the sun, this is termed the _true acronychal rising_ or
_setting_. These risings and settings of the star are not visible,
since the sun hides them by its light: the rising and setting are
perceptible only when the star stands at some distance from the sun,
i. e. only the so-called apparent rising and setting are practically
observable. We have already seen that the sun every day drops nearly
4 minutes behind a certain star. Assuming that sun and star rise
simultaneously on one day (true cosmic rising), then after a few days
have passed--the period varying somewhat according to the latitude
of the place of observation, the time of the year, the size and
place of the star--there will come a day on which the star rises so
early that it is visible in the morning twilight, immediately before
the sun appears. This is the _heliacal_ or _morning rising_. From
this day the star will rise earlier and earlier, and will therefore
remain visible for a longer and longer period. In the course of half
a year, commonly a little sooner or later, the time of rising will
have been pushed so far back that it will take place in the evening
twilight; when it is pushed still farther back the rays of the
setting sun eclipse the star and its rising is no longer visible.
The last visible rising of the star in the evening twilight is the
_apparent acronychal_ or _evening rising_. After a few more days the
star goes so far back that it rises at the very moment in which the
sun sets--the true acronychal rising. The rising, which is advanced
constantly further into the light of day, is no longer visible,
but on the other hand we now see the setting of the star. If it is
assumed that the star is situated on the western horizon, i. e. sets,
when the sun is on the eastern horizon, i. e. rises--and incidentally
it is to be noted that this position, when the star is not situated
in the ecliptic, may be divided by an interval of a larger or smaller
number of days from the opposite position, viz. star on the eastern,
sun on the western horizon--this is the true cosmic setting. The star
moves forward, i. e. its setting takes place earlier in the morning,
and after a few days it will be noticed in the morning twilight
immediately before it sets, and this is the first visible setting in
the morning twilight, the _apparent cosmic_ or _morning setting_.
From this day the setting moves further and further forward into
the night and approaches the evening twilight. At length it will be
so near sunset that the star no longer sets in the night but in
the evening twilight. The last visible setting of the star in the
evening twilight is the _heliacal_ or _evening setting_. After a few
days the star has approached still nearer to the sun: both set at
the same moment, the true cosmic setting. If the star stands in the
ecliptic, the true cosmic setting coincides in date with the true
cosmic rising, otherwise these are divided by a greater or smaller
number of days (see above). As the star moves on, a heliacal rising
follows again, and so on. Between the day of the heliacal setting and
that of the heliacal rising the star is invisible, since it stands so
near the sun that it is eclipsed by the sun’s rays. It has already
been remarked that we can determine the day of the year by indicating
the true rising and setting of a star at a certain spot. As far
as the apparent rising and setting are concerned this indication
can only be approximate, since the visibility of a star depends on
several variable factors--the size of the star (because a smaller
star, in order to be visible, must move farther from the sun than a
brighter one), the transparency of the atmosphere, the keenness of
vision of the observer, the geographical latitude of the place of
observation (since the farther north or south the sun is, the more
slowly, because more obliquely, will it sink below the horizon). In
this latter respect, for instance, there is a perceptible difference
between Rome and Egypt. Only an approximate indication of time,
therefore, can be derived from the rising and setting of the stars”.

The phases of the climate and of plant and animal life cannot
be particularly described, since they naturally vary so much in
different countries. It can only be remarked that though they depend
upon the course of the sun, yet in certain cases, owing to the
special climatic conditions of the individual years, they may be
to some extent advanced or retarded, and further that the climatic
phenomena of many parts of the earth, especially in the Tropics
but also in the Mediterranean countries, recur with a far greater
regularity than in our northern climes, which are subject to such
uncertain weather. Instances are the trade-winds and monsoons, the
dry and the rainy seasons.

Upon the above-mentioned units the system of time-reckoning will be
based. The days are joined into months and the months into years;
only more rarely are the seasons interposed as regular units of time.
The system is like a chain the links of which run into one another
without gaps: each link is equivalent, or as nearly as possible
equivalent, to every other link of the same class, and therefore need
only be given a name and counted, not necessarily conceived in the
concrete, although this is not excluded. This is the only genuine
system, a system of _continuous time-reckoning_, which excludes
all gaps in the chain and all links of indeterminate length. The
relation between the larger and the smaller units may be treated in
various ways, chiefly on account of the fact that the smaller units
do not divide exactly into the larger. Sometimes the smaller units
may be fitted into the larger as subdivisions of the latter, so that
they constitute the links of the chain formed by the larger unit.
The inequality referred to shews then that the units vary to some
extent in number or size (year of 365 or 366 days, of 12 or 13 lunar
months, lunar month of 29 or 30 days). In that case the beginnings
of the larger unit and of the first of the smaller units coincide.
Thus in our year New Year’s Day and the first day of the first month
coincide, but the length of the months varies somewhat. This is an
inheritance from the lunisolar year, in which also New Year’s Day
and the first day of the first month coincided and the length of
the month varied between 29 and 30 days, but in addition the year
varied between 12 and 13 months. This mode of reckoning, in which the
smaller units are contained in the larger as subdivisions of them,
will be termed the _fixed_ method.

But where the smaller units do not exactly divide into the larger,
both may also be counted independently of one another without being
equalised. A case in point is our week, which is reckoned without
reference to the year, so that every year begins with a different day
of the week. This method of reckoning we shall term the _shifting_
method. It is less systematic than the fixed method, and we shall
therefore expect to find it play a greater part in earlier times than
at the present day.

The system of time-reckoning, the continuous counting of the
time-units, represents the final point of the development. It is
our object to investigate the preceding stages, both systematic
and unsystematic. Certain important ideas which frequently recur
must however first be clearly set down. The _time-reckoning_ in the
proper sense of the term is preceded by _time-indications_ which
are related to concrete phenomena of the heavens and of Nature.
Since these indications depend upon the concrete phenomenon, their
duration fluctuates with the latter, or rather the duration does
not stand out by itself but the phenomenon as such is exclusively
regarded: the time-indication is not durative, like the link in any
system of time-reckoning, but indefinite, or, to borrow a grammatical
term, aoristic. And setting aside these finer distinctions we also
find that the phenomena to which the time-indications are related
are of fluctuating and very unequal duration. Since the duration
is indeterminate and fluctuating, and the time-indications are
not limited one by the other but overlap and leave gaps, they
cannot be numerically grouped together. Here we ought really to
speak not of a time-_reckoning_ in the proper sense, but only of
time-_indications_. But since the word ‘time-reckoning’ has become
naturalised, this method may be described as the _discontinuous_
system of time-reckoning, because the time-indications do not stand
in direct relation to other time-indications but are related only to
a concrete phenomenon, and through that to other time-indications,
so that they are of indeterminate length and cannot be numerically
grouped together.

If the number of dawns, suns, autumns, or snows that has passed since
a certain event took place, or will elapse before a certain event is
to take place, be indicated, the time that has passed or is to pass
will be defined, because the dawn or the sun recurs once in the day,
and an autumn or a snow, i. e. winter, once in the year. This is the
oldest mode of counting time. It is not the units as a whole that are
counted, since the unit as such had not yet been conceived, but a
concrete phenomenon recurring only once within this unit. It is the
_pars pro toto_ method so extensively used in chronology, and by this
name we shall call it[1].

Since it must now be regarded as the natural course of development
that the systematic has gradually arisen out of the unsystematic, and
that the indication of concrete phenomena following one another in
the regular succession of Nature has preceded the abstract numerical
indication of time offered by our calendars, the origin of the
time-reckoning must be sought not in any one system, however simple,
but in the discontinuous or _pars pro toto_ time-indications which
are related to concrete phenomena.

Our task is now to make clear the nature of these discontinuous and
_pars pro toto_ time-indications, since from them proceeds, as order
is ever evolved out of chaos, the continuous time-reckoning, the
calendar.

CHAPTER I.

THE DAY.

For primitive man the day is the simplest and most obvious unit of
time. The variations of day and night, light and darkness, sleeping
and waking penetrate at least as deeply into life as the changes
following upon the course of the year, such as heat and cold,
drought and rainy seasons, periods of famine and plenty. But for
the primitive intellect the year is a very long period, and it is
only with difficulty and at a later stage that it can be conceived
and surveyed as a whole. Day and night, on the other hand, are
short units which immediately become obvious. Their fusion into a
single unit, the day of 24 hours, did not take place till later, for
this unit as we employ it is abstract and numerical: the primitive
intellect proceeds upon immediate perceptions and regards day and
night separately.

Evidence for this fact is furnished by most languages, which are as a
rule without any proper term for day and night together, the circle
of 24 hours. In writing English one sadly misses the Swedish _dygn_,
which has exactly the required significance. The German _Volltag_ is
an artificial and not very happy compound. The Greeks also formed a
learned and rare (though good) compound, νυχθήμερον. The usual method
is to make use of a term according to the _pars pro toto_ principle.
This principle, which we meet here at the outset and shall come
across more and more frequently in the course of the following pages,
is of great importance for the development of time-reckoning since it
shews how the original time-indication is discontinuously related to
a concrete phenomenon, and only slowly and at a later period develops
into a continuous numerical unit of time.

To describe the period of 24 hours, regarded as a single unit for
purposes of calculation, most modern and also the ancient tongues
employ the term that denotes its light part, i. e. ‘day’ etc.
Primitive peoples have no term to express this idea and must describe
the period by means of expressions equivalent to ‘day and night’,
e. g. ‘sun-darkness’ (Malay Archipelago)[2], ‘light and darkness’
(Yukaghir in N. E. Asia)[3]. The day is sometimes described by the
concrete phenomenon which it brings, namely the sun. The Bontoc
Igorot of north Luzon have the same word for sun as for day, _a-qu_,
and the time is reckoned in suns[4]. The Comanche Indians reckon the
days in ‘suns’[5], and in an Indian hieroglyph from the northern
shores of Lake Superior the duration of a three days’ journey
described is expressed by three circles, i. e. three suns[6]. The
western tribe of the Torres Straits reckons time in ‘suns’, i. e.
days[7]. We may compare the well-known primitive idea that the sun
originates afresh for every new day. The same thing is found in the
language of signs. La Billardière in the year 1800 relates of the
very low Tasmanians, now long since extinct, that they had some idea
of regulating time by the apparent motion of the sun. In order to
inform him that they would make a journey in two days, they indicated
with their hands the diurnal motion of the sun and expressed the
number two by as many of their fingers. This, he asserts, is the only
reference that can be found to any knowledge of the movements of the
heavenly bodies[8]. So also according to Homfray the natives of the
Andamans describe a day by making a circle with the right arm, i. e.
a revolution of the sun. We may compare the indication of the time
of day by pointing with the hand to the position of the sun, with
which we shall shortly have to deal. It is not improbable that the
designation of the day by means of an indication of the course of the
sun arose in the first place from the indication of the position of
that planet. The same method of expression is found in the classical
languages as a poetic or hierarchical archaism[9], and also in
medieval Latin. But ἥλιος, _sol_, is also used to denote the yearly
revolution of the sun, i. e. a year, and the year is denoted by φάος,
_lux_. Still more striking and more significant for the discontinuous
method of reckoning is the Homeric use of ἠώς, ‘dawn’, instead of
day, e. g. “this is the twelfth dawn since I came to Ilion”,[10]
“this is the twelfth dawn he lies so”,[11] and elsewhere. Aratus
follows the Homeric use[12]. The nature of this _pars pro toto_
reckoning will be further explained in the chapter dealing with the
year.

The counting of the days from the dawns is unique, and the counting
from the day-time is comparatively rare: the Indo-European peoples
of olden times, and indeed most of the peoples of the globe, count
the days from the nights. For this it will be sufficient to quote
Schrader’s statement:--“Moreover it can hardly be necessary to
give evidence for this well-known custom of antiquity. In Sanskrit
a period of 10 days is called _daçarâtrá_ (:_râtrî_ = ‘night’);
_nîçanîçam_, ‘night by night’ = ‘daily’. ‘Let us celebrate the old
nights (days) and the autumns (years)’, says a hymn. In the Avesta
the counting from nights (_xsap_, _xsapan_, _xsapar_) is carried out
to a still greater extent. As for the Germanic peoples, among whom
Tacitus had already observed this custom,[13] we constantly find
in ancient German legal documents such phrases as _sieben nehte_,
_vierzehn nacht_, _zu vierzehn nachten_. In English _fortnight_,
_sennight_ are in use to-day. That the custom existed among the Celts
is proved by Caesar, _De Bell. Gall._ VI, 18, _spatia omnis temporis
non numero dierum, sed noctium finiunt_ (‘they define all spaces of
time not by the number of days but by the number of nights’). The
Arabians have the same practice. They say ‘in three nights’, ‘seventy
nights long’, and date e. g. ‘on the first night of Ramadan’, ‘when
two nights of Ramadan have gone’, or ‘are left’[14].”

For primitive and barbaric peoples the evidence is equally abundant.
The Polynesians in general counted time in nights. Night is _po_,
to-morrow is _a-po-po_, i. e. the night’s night, yesterday is
_po-i-nehe-nei_, the night that is past[15]. The New Zealanders, in
former times, had no names for days, but only for nights[16], and
so with the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands--and the same is
certainly true of the Polynesians as a whole, since they describe
the ‘days’, or rather the nights, by the phases of the moon. The
Society Islanders reckon in nights; to the question ‘How many days?’
corresponds in their tongue ‘How many nights?’[17] So also do the
inhabitants of the Marquesas[18]. In the Malay Peninsula periods
exceeding a fraction of a day are reckoned in nights[19]. Among the
Wagogos of German East Africa the phases of the moon and the number
of nights serve as more exact determinations of time. The third night
after the appearance of the moon, for example, is the day following
the third night after the moon’s appearance[20]. Sometimes they
say ‘day and night’ when they wish to describe the full day of 24
hours. Occasionally they say that they have worked so many days,
with reference to the day-time only[21]. Except in the case of this
tribe I have found no notes on the African peoples; little attention
seems to have been paid to the point in their case. But the material
for America abounds. The Greenlanders reckon in nights[22], though
certainly we are not told how those who live north of the Polar
Circle reckon in summer. So do the Indians of Pennsylvania[23],
the Pawnees, who often made use of notches cut in a stick or a
similar device for the computation of nights or even of months and
years[24], and the Biloxi of Louisiana[25]. Usually however the night
is denoted not by this word but by ‘sleep’, ‘sleeping-time’. Of the
Kiowas it is expressly stated[26] that they reckon the length of a
journey in ‘darks’, _kon_, i. e. nights, and not in ‘sleeps’. If
the question of the distance of any place arises the answer is ‘so
many darks’. It may even be doubted whether ‘sleep’ is not sometimes
translated ‘night’ by the reporters. The Dakotas say that they will
return in so many nights or sleeps[27]. Among the Omahas the night
or sleeping time marked the division of days, so that a journey
might be spoken of as having taken so many sleeps[28]. The Hupas of
Arizona[29], the tribes of the North-East[30], and the Kaigans of
the North-West[31] also reckon in sleeps. This mode of reckoning
is therefore the common one, that of the Comanches in suns is an
exception. Finally the natives of Central Australia also count time
in ‘sleeps’[32].

To reckon in nights is therefore the rule among the primitive
Indo-European peoples, the Polynesians, and the inhabitants of North
America. For Asia, which however is not so important for primitive
time-reckoning on account of the old and far-reaching influence
of civilisation in that continent, for Africa, and for S. America
evidence is wanting or is forthcoming only in isolated instances.
The reason probably is that in these continents also time is
really reckoned in nights, and our informants have not noticed the
agreement. This however is an _argumentum ex silentio_. Be that as it
may, the fact remains that at least half the globe reckons the days
in nights.

The current explanation of this striking fact is given by Schrader
thus:--“Since the chronometer of primitive times is the moon and not
the sun, the reason for counting in nights instead of days becomes
almost self-evident”[33]. This statement is _a priori_ not perfectly
correct, inasmuch as there is and can have been no people that has
not observed the daily course of the sun as well as the monthly
phases of the moon: as chronometer neither of the two bodies is
older than the other. The difference lies in the development of the
time-reckoning. In point of fact an inner connection seems to exist
between the counting of the days in nights and the designation of
the days, or rather the nights, of the month according to the phases
of the moon, to which we recur further on. Even such low races as
the tribes of Central Australia already have names for the phases of
the moon, from which they reckon time[34], but unfortunately we are
not told how many. The Polynesians have very elaborately developed
these, so that every day has its separate name. The Wagogos also use
the phases of the moon as indications of time. The Arabs speak of ten
phases of the moon, combining three days under each name. The Indians
know the phases of the moon, but seem to have named and made use of
them only roughly: the only tribe that possesses a list of the names
of the days of the moon-month is the Kaigans[35], and unfortunately
this list is incomplete. Moreover there are no indications that the
primitive Indo-European peoples distinguished the phases of the moon
otherwise than roughly. The finer distinction and nomenclature of the
moon-phases, so that in the end each day comes to have its separate
name, is clearly a very far advanced special development: the use of
the word ‘night’ to express the period of 24 hours is much older. A
causal connection, such as Schrader and others have maintained, must
lie in the fact that the period of 24 hours is named after the phases
of the moon and consequently the day itself is reckoned in nights.
But this is only a comparatively isolated and advanced development,
against which must be set the fact that the Indians and so primitive
a people as the Australians use not the word ‘night’ but ‘sleep’,
which has nothing to do with the moon.

The explanation must therefore be sought elsewhere, and is one
which also applies to the use of the word ‘winter’ for year etc.
Primitive man knows only concrete indications of time, and in
reckoning prefers to use a concrete and clearly visible point of
reference. The complete day of 24 hours is unknown to him and so he
_must_ reckon according to the principle of _pars pro toto_, and as
a matter of fact it is possible to reckon just as well from a part
of the whole as from the whole itself, provided that the part chosen
is one that only recurs once every day. The day itself, with its
various occupations, offers no such point of reference unless the
reckoning is based upon the daily appearance of the sun, which is
also actually done in certain cases. However in the daily course of
the sun, as we have already seen, two features, its duration and the
changing position of the sun, stand out prominently: but it is easier
to reckon from points than from lengths, which divert the attention
from the number. Now the sleeping-time is necessarily bound up with
each day, yet it has no separate parts, or acquires them only later
among certain peoples. The time between going to sleep in the evening
and waking in the morning appears as an undivided unit, a point.
It offers for reckoning a convenient basis in which no mistake or
hesitation is possible such as can occur in the various occupations
that fall within the period computed. The method of reckoning
in nights is merely an outcome of the necessity for a concrete
unmistakable time-indication: it is a typical example of the _pars
pro toto_ principle and time-reckoning, which, on the psychological
grounds just mentioned are especially favoured in the counting.

For the indication of a point of time within the day the reference
to the course of the sun is the means that lies nearest to hand,
and the indication can indeed be given quite concretely by means
of a gesture in the direction of the heavens. This language of
signs is especially common in Africa. The Cross River natives of
Southern Nigeria indicate the time by pointing to the position in
the heavens which the sun occupies at that time of the day[36]. When
someone asked a Swahili what time it was, he answered, “Look at the
sun”, although this tribe knew other ways of indicating time[37].
The Wagogo in order to shew the time of day indicate with the hand
the position of the sun in the heavens[38]. In Loango the people
indicate the time satisfactorily enough from the motion of the sun,
in divisions of two hours, by dividing the vault of the sky with
outstretched arm, often using both arms as indicators[39]. Moreover
most peoples have descriptive expressions for parts of the day, as
for instance the inhabitants of the Lower Congo[40], the Masai of
East Africa, who estimate the time of day from the position of the
sun[41], and the Hottentots, who express with certainty and clearness
both points and duration of time by referring to the position of the
sun[42]. In Dahomey the natives tell the hours by means of the sun;
they say that the sun is here or there, in order to give the time
of day[43]. The Caffres are able to give the exact time of day by
pointing with outstretched arm to the spot at which the sun appears
at the time they wish to indicate. So, for example, when the Caffre
wishes to shew that he will come at two o’clock in the afternoon of
the next day, he will say, “I will be here to-morrow, when the sun
is there”,--pointing to the position occupied by the sun at 2 p.
m.[44]. The Waporogo of German East Africa estimate the divisions
of the day from the position of the sun, which they indicate with
outstretched arm. When the arm is vertically raised, that means 12
o’clock noon, and the other hours of the day they are able to give
with a sure instinct by means of a greater or lesser inclination
of the arm towards the body, corresponding to the position of the
sun[45]. In other parts of the world we find the same thing. Thus in
the New Hebrides the hours of the day are indicated by pointing with
the finger to the altitude of the sun[46]. If a native of Australia
is asked at what time anything took place or is going to take place,
his answer will take the form of pointing to the position which the
sun occupied or will occupy in the sky at that particular time[47].
The Bontoc Igorot of Luzon point to the heavens in order to indicate
the position the sun occupied when a particular event occurred[48].
The Kanyans of Sarawak, if asked at what time anyone will arrive,
point to the sun and say, “When the sun stands there”[49]. In the
Dutch East Indies the time of day is given from the position of the
sun[50]. The inhabitants of Java divide the day into ten natural but
vague and unequal subdivisions, and for astrological purposes the
day of 24 hours is divided into five parts. They also determine the
time of day by the length of the shadow and by the working-time, but
the most common method is by pointing to the situations of the sun
in the heavens, when such and such an event took place[51]. In order
to indicate the time the natives of Sumatra also point to the height
in the sky at which the sun stood when the event of which they are
speaking occurred[52]. The natives of the western tribe of the Torres
Straits, though they have learned to tell the time from the clock,
also know how to give it very accurately by observing the height of
the sun[53]. The Tahitians determine the six parts of their day from
the sun’s altitude[54]. Among the Omaha Indians the sun indicates
the time of day. A motion towards the zenith meant noon, midway
between the zenith and the west, afternoon, and midway towards the
east, forenoon[55]. The Karaya of Central Brazil divide up the day
according to the position of the sun. Indications of time are given
by pointing with the hand to the place occupied by the sun at the
time in question[56].

This method of indicating the time of day is quite satisfactory,
especially in the tropics and for primitive needs, and only more
rarely does it give place to other methods, the chief of which is
the observation of the length of shadows. The Javanese know this
latter method but do not often use it. In their old writings we find
a traveller described as setting out on his journey or arriving at
the end of it when his shadow was so many feet long[57]. The Masai
usually estimate the time of day from the position of the sun, but
more rarely from the length of the shadows[58]. When the shadow
measures nine feet, the Swahili say, “It is 9 o’clock (_sic!_)”[59].
To indicate the time of day or to represent a distance the Cross
River natives use the length of shadows. They have however in most
of their houses a curious species of sun-dial, a plant about 50 cm.
high, with violet-white flowers. The flowers gradually begin to open
at sunrise, by noon they are wide open, and they gradually close
again between noon and sunset. One of these plants is placed in every
garden and enclosed within little stones[60]. To the south of Lake
Nyassa the time of day is reckoned either from the position of the
sun or from the length of the shadow thrown by a stick, _nthawe_[61].
The Society Islanders among their numerous expressions for the time
of day include two which have reference to shadows, ‘the shadow
as long as the object’, ‘the shadow longer than a man’[62]. The
Benua-Jahun, a primitive tribe of the Malay Peninsula, indicate the
progress of the day by the inclination of a stick. Early morning is
represented by pointing a stick to the eastern horizon. Placed erect
it indicates noon, inclined at an angle of about 45° to the west it
corresponds nearly with three o’clock, and so on[63]. This practice
is doubtless connected with the common use of a stick in the Indian
Archipelago for observations of time, and is by no means primitive.
The ancient Athenians seem to have indicated time by measuring off
with the foot the length of the shadow cast by their bodies upon the
level ground before them as they stood. At all events the length of
shadows served to indicate time, cp. Aristophanes, _Ekkles._, 652,
“when the staff is ten feet, to go perfumed to dinner”[64]. The
gnomon which, according to Herodotus II, 109, the Greeks borrowed
from the Babylonians was an upright stick the shadow of which was
measured: it was also an important instrument for astronomical
observations[65]. Here however we are already at a highly developed
stage and know nothing about the origins.

The indication of time from the position of the sun is really only
satisfactory in the tropics, where the sun always stands very high
and the length of its daily course is not exposed to too great
variation. Where the sun is much lower in winter than in summer,
and the length of the day varies greatly at different times of the
year, the method ceases to be practicable. If descriptive expressions
of one kind or another are not resorted to, other means must be
found. Above all it is important to determine the fixed point which
divides the day into two parts, i. e. noon. In the living-room of the
houses of the Scanian peasants, which were always built ‘according
to the sun’, i. e. facing east and west, there was in the southern
window-sill, beside the middle shaft of the frame, a line which was
called the ‘noon-line’. When the shadow of the shaft fell parallel
with this line it was noon. This device is not exactly primitive,
since windows in the room, more particularly in the wall, belong
to a quite advanced stage of civilisation. But on the other hand
such customs as the determination of noon and other moments of
the day from the position of the sun above certain points on the
horizon--elevations and hills--are old. In Iceland the divisions of
the day were, and still are, determined from the visible course of
the heavenly bodies. The people imagined that the sun in the course
of a day and a night ran through the eight equal regions of the
heavens (_ættir_, sing. _ætt_). The time of day was determined from
the position of the sun above the horizon by the selection in every
house of certain outstanding points within the range of vision to
serve as ‘day-marks’ (_dagsmǫrk_, sing. -_mark_)--where these were
lacking, small piles of stones were erected for the purpose--so that
when the sun stood above one of these marks a certain time of day
was given. The most important times thus determined were _rismál_ or
_miðr morgin_ (6 a. m.), _dagmál_ (9 a. m.), _hádegi_ (12 o’clock
noon), _míðmundi_ (1.30 p. m.), _nón_ (undoubtedly originally
called _undorn_ and also _eykt_, 3 p. m.), _miðr aptann_ (6 p. m.),
and _nattmál_ (9 p. m.). These indications in hours are however
only approximate, since the time varies according to the position
of the place in question[66]. The word _eykt_ really designates
any of these approximately three-hour divisions; but since the
length of the day varies enormously so far north, the business of
everyday life leads to an attempt at systematising, e. g. _rismál_
= ‘the time of rising’. The spot which the sun has reached at one
of these divisions is therefore called _dagmálastað_, _nónstað_,
_eyktarstað_ etc. This mode of determining time must be old since
it is also found in Scandinavia, where it has given names to many
mountain-peaks. In Baedeker I have only noticed:--_Middagsfjället_
in Jämtland, _Middagshorn_ in Norangdal, _Middagshaugen_ in
Aardal, Sogn, _Middagsnib_ in Oldendal in the Nordfjord district,
_Middagsberg_ on the Nærøfjord in Sogn, _Nonsnib_ above Loen Water
in Nordfjord, _Solbjørgenut_ in the Nærøfjord, Sogn. From Fritzner’s
Old Norwegian Lexicon (s. v. _eyktarstað_) I take:--_Durmaalstind_,
_Rismaalsfjeld_, _Nonsfjeld_, _Natmaalstinden_, _Middagsfjeld_ in
Tromsö ‘amt’ and in Finnmarken, _Eyktargnipa_ and _Undornfjeld_
in Mule Syssel in Iceland; the peak of the latter lies in the
_nonstað_. Such names are common in Norway. In Sweden there are
further:--_Middagsberget_ in Dalecarlia = Gesundaberget, just south
of Mora; the name is found again in Härjedalen, in addition to
_Nonsberget_, _Nonsknätten_ and _Middagshognan_. Lidén[67] instances
similar names in S. Sweden and in England, and also those formed
with _mosse_, ‘swamp’, _vik_, ‘bay’, and _åker_, ‘field’. It is easy
to understand why _middag_, ‘noon’, everywhere predominates as a
nomenclator. The Lapps also indicate time by the position of the sun
in relation to the surrounding natural objects[68].

The gestures may be accompanied by descriptive expressions, as among
the negroes, or replaced by them, which seems to be the rule among
other peoples. The latter practice offers the further advantage of
being available in the night-time, when it is necessary to mention
a point of time after dark. The Kayans denote the time of day by
pointing to the position of the sun, but for morning and evening
they also use the expressions ‘when the sun has risen’ or ‘set’[69].
Expressions for the most important divisions, sunrise and sunset (=
morning and evening) and noon, are found among all peoples. Even the
tribes of Central and Northern Australia have words e. g. for evening
and for morning before sunrise[70]. The richness of the terminology
however varies exceedingly. The Indians divide the day into three
or four rough divisions only. The Seminole of Florida divided up
the day by terms descriptive of the positions of the sun in the sky
from dawn to sunset[71]: unfortunately we are not told what these
words were or how many of them existed. Among the Hopi of Arizona
there is every evidence that the time of day was early indicated by
the altitude of the sun[72]. The Omahas know no smaller divisions
of the day than morning, noon, and afternoon, to which certainly
must be added the transitional periods of sunrise and sunset[73].
The Occaneechi of Virginia measure the day by sunrise, noon, and
sunset[74]. The Algonquins of the same province mention the three
times of the rise, power, and lowering of the sun[75]. Many tribes
however had four divisions[76], e. g. the Natchez of Louisiana, who
divided the day into four equal parts: half the morning, until noon,
half the afternoon, until evening[77]. But there is also a richer
terminology, e. g. the Kiowa words for dawn (‘first-light’), sunrise
(lit. ‘the-sun-has-come-up’), morning (lit. ‘full-day’), noon,
earlier afternoon until about 3 o’clock, late afternoon, evening
(lit. ‘first-darkness’)[78]; and in particular among the Statlumh
of British Columbia: dawn (‘it-just-comes-day’), early morning
(‘just-now-morning’), morning light (‘just-see-things’), full light
(‘just-now-day’), sunrise (‘outside-sun’), early morning (midway
between sunrise and noon), noon (up till about 2 p. m.), middle of
the afternoon, about 4 p. m., ‘three-fourths-of-the-day-have-gone’,
‘sun-sitting-down’, ‘the-sun-gone’,’evening-creeping-up-the-mountain’
(this refers to the line of shadow on the eastern mountains),
‘reached-the-top’, i. e. the line of the shadows, twilight,
‘getting-dark’, night, darkness, pitch dark[79].

Of the Indians of S. America little is reported.
‘The-sun-is-perpendicular’ was the expression for noon on the
Orinoco[80]. The Indians of Chile had words for morning twilight,
dawn, morning, noon, afternoon, evening, evening twilight, night, and
midnight[81].

The terminology for the parts of the day is especially rich
in Africa, a fact which is connected with the refinement of
the observation of the sun’s position resulting from the
custom of indicating this by a gesture in the direction of the
heavens. Such simple indications as those of the Babwende for
noon, ‘the-sun-over-the-crown-of-the-head’, and for midnight,
‘the-silence-of-the-land’[82], are rare. A number of elaborate
time-indications are as a rule employed. The Wadschagga say at six
o’clock in the morning ‘the sun rises’, at twelve o’clock ‘the
sun rests on his cushion’ (like a tired porter), from twelve to
one ‘the sun goes straight on’, about two it ‘bows’, about six it
‘falls down’, or ‘spreads its arms out’, like a man in the act of
falling[83]. The terms used by the Bangala are:--about 2 a. m.,
the lying fowl; 3, the lying bird; 4, the first fowl; 4-5, the sun
is near; 5, not translated; 5.=30=-6, the dawn; 6, the sun is
come; 6.=15=-7, _ntete_; 12 noon, 2-3, 3-4, not translated; 6,
the fowls go in, or the sun enters, or the sun darkens; 6.=30=,
twilight finishes; 11-12, one set of the ribs or one side of a
person, meaning that a person turns from lying on one side over on
to the other; 12 midnight, second division or second half[84]. In
Bornu the expressions for the time of day are formed by the aid of
the word _dinia_ = ‘world’, ‘universe’, ‘sky’. From about 4 to 5 ‘the
world cuts the aurora’; at 6 ‘the world is light’; at 12 ‘the sun
is in the centre of the world’. Afterwards follow ‘it is evening’,
twilight, night, midnight. Since the people are Mohammedans they
also have expressions for the hours of prayer[85]. The expressions
used by the Shilluk of the White Nile are translated[86]:--“The
first morning, twilight becomes visible, morning dawn, morning,
the earth is morning (it is morning)--the difference here is not
evident--noon, the sun is in the zenith, the sun begins to sink
(afternoon), it is afternoon, the sun is setting, the sun has set, it
is night, at night, midnight.” The Yoruba divide the day into early
morning, morning or forenoon, noon (when the day is ‘perpendicular’),
shadow-lengthening or afternoon, evening or twilight[87]. The
Masai distinguish the following parts of the day:--at 4 a. m.
it is ‘not-yet-early’; at 5 it is ‘early’; somewhat later come
dawn, twilight (about 5.=30=, ‘the-sun-is-still-far-off’),
and sunrise (‘the-sun-shews-himself-a-little’ or ‘rises’).
From 8 to 10 it is ‘still-early’, towards 11 they say
‘the-sun-is-not-yet-perpendicular-overhead’, at 12
‘the-sun-is-perpendicular-overhead’. The afternoon is usually
expressed by ‘the-shadow-is-turned-round’. This phrase is often
used for the period from 3 to 5 p. m. In particular, 12-2 =
‘the-sun-is-broken’, 2-4 = ‘afternoon-now’, 4-6 is evening, 5 =
‘the-sun-goes-down’, sunset glow = ‘the-twilight-follows-the-sun’.
With the coming of darkness begins the _tapa_, which lasts until 8
o’clock, when the people usually go to rest[88]. Another authority
gives the following list:--Evening, when the cattle return to the
kraal just before sunset; night-fall, or the hour for gossip, before
the people go to bed about 8 o’clock; then night, midnight, and the
time when the buffaloes go to drink (about 4 a. m.), this latter is
the hour before the sun rises; then ‘the blood-red period’ or ‘the
time when the sun decorates the sky’, this is the hour when the
first rays of the sun redden the heavens; after that morning, when
the sun has risen. There are also hours called ‘the-sun-stands-(or
is-)opposite-to-one’ (midday), and ‘the-shadows-lower-themselves’
(1-2 p. m.)[89]. The Nandi, north-east of the Victoria Nyanza, divide
the day into six parts with separate names: 5-6 a. m., 6-9 a. m.,
9 a. m.-2 p. m., 2-6 p. m., 6-7 p. m., night. They have moreover a
highly developed terminology for the hours of the day, to which we
shall return later. The Baganda distinguish the following times of
day:--night, midnight, cock-crow, early dawn, morning, ‘little sun’
(early morning from 6 to 9), full or broad daylight (9-2), midday,
afternoon, evening[90]. The lower classes sometimes reckon from the
meal-times, breakfast at 7 a. m., dinner at noon, and supper at 6
p. m. Women engaged in rough work in the gardens spoke of the time
at which such and such an event took place as that of the first or
second pipe, the first marking an interval of rest at 8 a. m., the
second being smoked when work ceased at 10 a. m.[91]. The expressions
for the times of day among the Thonga of South Africa have been
translated and explained as follows:--“The dawn is called _nipandju_;
then come _tlhabela sana_, the time when the rays of the sun (_sana_)
are piercing; _hisaka sana_, when they are burning; _nhlekani_, the
middle of the sky, or _shitahataka_, the maximum point of heat;
then _ndjenga_ or _lihungu_, the afternoon; the time when the sun
goes down (_renga_); _ku pela_ or _ku hlwa_, when it reaches the
horizon; and _inpimabayeni_, the twilight, literally ‘the time when
you do not easily recognise strangers coming to your village because
it grows dark’”[92]. It is remarkable here that many indications
are given from the increasing heat and not from the position of
the sun. The Hottentots distinguish morning and evening twilight,
morning brightness, i. e. the time of clear day shortly before
sunrise (the native name is given because about dawn it is usually
most perceptibly cold), and evening brightness, ‘the red twilight’.
‘Little children’s twilight’ was in some places the name given to
the time of the first noticeable diminution of light after sunset,
in accordance with the belief that at this hour most children were
born. Afternoon and morning were only approximate. A distinction
was made between evening and late evening, which extended till long
after sunset[93]. The author just quoted remarks that in this case
one is struck by the fact that while the limits of day and night
are elaborately marked out, of the hours of day itself only noon is
brought into prominence. The same is the case with most peoples who
possess a more highly developed terminology of this nature, and the
circumstance is perfectly natural, since the concrete differences
in the phenomena of light and of the heavens become so great and so
easily visible during the transition from day to night and night
to day. As soon as the sun has risen a little in the heavens these
differences consist chiefly in the position of the sun and in the
increasing heat. Here the language of signs is really more expressive.

The aboriginals of the Andaman Islands have terms for the following
times of day:--dawn, the time between this and sunrise, sunrise,
the time between sunrise and 7 a. m., morning (three different
expressions), noon, the time from noon to 3 p. m., from 3 to 5,
from 5 to sunset, sunset, twilight, from night-fall to midnight,
midnight[94]. In Busang (the common commercial language of the
Bakau) as spoken by the Mendalam Kayan of Borneo the different times
of day are named:--_dow_ (day) _bekang_ (open, split) = 6 a. m.;
_dow njirang_ (to shine) _mahing_ (powerful) = about 9 a. m.; _dow
negrang_ (upright) _marong_ (real) = about 12 noon; _dow njaja_
(great) = about 4 p. m.; _dow lebi_ (little) = about 6 p. m.[95]
The terms used by the Islamite Malayans of Sumatra are mingled
with Arabic loan-words, which I indicate by (Ar.):--6 a. m. (Ar.)
dawn, 9 ‘half of the rising’, 11 ‘close to noon’, 12 ‘middle of
the day’, 12-1 p. m. (Ar.), 1-3 ‘mid-descent’, 3 ‘the time of the
long sinking’, 4 (Ar.) afternoon, 5.=30= ‘time of twilight’, 6
(Ar.) sunset, 8 (Ar.) evening[96]. The Javanese speak of morning,
forenoon, noon, afternoon, fall of the day, sunset, evening[97]. The
Achenese of Sumatra, who have a fully developed calendar influenced
by Arabic, keep the old names for the times of day but with Arabic
words and the Moslem hours of prayer intermingled. About 6 a. m. =
with the breaking forth of the sun; 7-7.=30= = the sun a pole
high, referring to the poles used in propelling craft; 9 = rice
time, i. e. meal time; 10 = the loosening of the ploughing-gear;
11 = the approaching of the zenith; 12 = the zenith; 12.=30=
= the falling from the zenith; 1.=30=-2 = the middle of the
period devoted to obligatory noon-day prayers; 3 = the last part
of this; 3.=30= = the beginning, 4.=30=-5 = the middle,
and 5.=30= = the last part of the time of afternoon prayers;
6 = sunset; 7.=30= = evening, especially referring to the
time of commencement of the evening prayer; then come midnight and
the last third of night, 3 a. m. = the single crowing of the cock,
4-4.=30= = the continuous crowing of the cocks, nearly 5 = the
streaks of dawn[98]. For the Malays of the Peninsula the following
list is given:--just before dawn = before the flies are astir;
after sunrise = the heat begins; about 8 a. m. = when the dew dries
up; about 9 = when the sun is half-way above. Then follow:--when
the plough rests; noon = just noon, right in the middle, when
the shadows are round; afternoon = when the day turns back; about
1.=30= p. m. = after (Friday) prayer; about 3 = when the
buffaloes go to water; about 10 = when the children have gone to
sleep[99].

The natives of the Solomon Islands have a rich terminology. In
Buin the following degrees of brightness in the daylight are
distinguished:--4 a. m., ‘it gradually begins to get light’; 5,
‘the brightness is coming on’; 6, ‘the sun shews himself’; 7, ‘it
is getting sun’, ‘the sun is there’; 10, ‘the sun is over the
side-rafters of the roof’ (i. e. not yet quite overhead); 12 noon,
‘the sun has come overhead’; 2 p. m., ‘with westerly inclination’,
‘turning’; 3.30, ‘it has come to the tying of the knot’ (on the
Gazelle Peninsula they say of this time ‘the sun has sat down to
glow’); 5, ‘darkness is drawing near’; 6, ‘it has begun to get
dark’; 7, ‘it has grown dark’[100]. Moreover there are words and
expressions which mean ‘middle of the heavens’, ‘the sun is over the
ridge’, ‘the sun stands below 70° from the horizon’, ‘the sun is
on the entrance-beam’[101]. A feature of special note here is that
the houses (which must all be built facing the same direction) and
their parts serve as aids in indicating time. The inhabitants of New
Britain (Bismarck Archipelago) divided up the day according to the
position of the sun, and had words for sunrise, noon, afternoon, the
time of the declining sun, nearly sunset, sunset, and presumably some
others[102].

The Polynesians mingle the time-indications based on the position
of the sun with others which are derived from the life of men and
nature. We are told that the Hawaiian day was divided into three
general parts, 1, breaking the shadows, 2, the plain, full day,
3, the decline of the day. But this must be completed by what
follows:--The lapse of night, however, was noted by five stations:
1, about sunset; 2, between sunset and midnight; 3, midnight; 4,
between midnight and sunrise; 5, sunrise[103]. A native Hawaiian
writes:--“When the stars fade away and disappear, it is _ao_,
daylight; when the sun rises, day has come, _la_; when the sun
becomes warm, morning is past; when the sun is directly overhead
it is _awahea_, noon; when the sun inclines to the west in the
afternoon, the expression is _wa ani ka la_. After that come evening,
_ahi-ahi_ (_ahi_, fire), and then sunset, _napoo ka la_, and then
comes _po_, the night, and the stars shine out”. Other expressions
are translated:--‘there comes a glimmer of colour on the mountains’,
‘the curtains of night are parted’, ‘the mountains light up’, ‘day
breaks’, ‘the east blooms with yellow’, ‘it is broad daylight’[104].

These are, poetically regarded, very fine examples of the rich
terminology for the time of transition between night and day.
In Tahiti the day has six divisions which are fairly accurately
determined by the height of the sun. Names are given for midnight,
midnight to daybreak, daybreak, sunrise, the time when the sun begins
to be hot, when it reaches the meridian, evening before sunset, the
time after sunset[105]. The names for the times of day among the
Society Islanders were particularly well developed. For the day
there were two expressions according to its extension either from
morning to evening twilight or from the rising to the setting of
the sun. No division into regular periods was known, nor any means
of establishing these; nevertheless the islanders distinguished a
varying number of points of time, according to recurring physical
changes, at unequal distances from each other. Thus:--the time of
cock-crow, the first breaking of clouds, twilight, the stirring
of the flies, the time at which a man’s face can be recognised,
daylight, the dipping forward of the sun’s edge, sunrise, the sun
above the horizon, the rays broadening over the land, the rays
falling on the crown of the head, the same a little oblique, the
shadow as long as the object, the same longer than the man, the
sun near the horizon, sunset, the time at which the houses are
lit up, twilight, night, midnight[106]. For the Marquesas are
given:--daybreak, twilight, dawn, (‘the day or the red sky, the
fleeing night’), broad day--bright day from full morning to about ten
o’clock--, noon (‘belly of the sun’), afternoon (‘back part of the
sun’), evening (‘fire-fire’, the same expression as in Hawaii, i.
e. the time to light the fires on the mountains or the kitchen fire
for supper)[107]. The Samoans divided the day into first dawn, dawn,
cock-crowing, day-break, the time when the bird _iao_ was heard (_i_
= call, _ao_ = day-break), morning, the time to feed the tame pigeons
(about 9 a. m.), the sun upright (= noon), half-way down (about 3 p.
m.), sunset. After that the night was divided into:--the crying of
the cricket (about 20 minutes after sunset), fire-lighting (about
half-an-hour later), the extinguishing of the lights (about 9 p. m.),
midnight, and _tulna o pa ma ao_, ‘the standing together of night and
day’[108].

Indications of this nature are convenient only in countries in which
the sun is neither too often nor too long hidden by clouds. When the
sun is hidden the inhabitants have to manage as best they can. A
very interesting statement in this connection is made by a Swahili
native. In rainy days his tribe observed the crowing of the cock. At
the first cock-crow they knew that it was 5 or 6 a. m.; when the cock
failed to crow all sense of a division of time was lost to them[109].

The phenomena of Nature afford little basis for the naming of
the times of day, since there is hardly one of them which recurs
regularly every day at a definite time, with the exception of
cock-crow, which is in great favour as an indication of the time
before sunrise. Other exceptional cases are such names as that
mentioned for the Society Islands, ‘the stirring of the flies’; one
given for the Mahakam Kayan of Borneo, _tiling_ (a cricket which
is only to be heard at sunset) _duan_ (to sing)[110]; a couple of
expressions of the Wadschagga, ‘the cry of the partridge’ in the
evening, ‘the turning of the smoke down the mountain’[111]; and one
of the Nandi, ‘the elephants have gone to water’[112]. But a people
which devotes itself to cattle-rearing or to agriculture may borrow
from its regular daily occupations expressions for the times of
day. Thus the Mahakam Kayan, besides the above-mentioned name for
late afternoon and the term for noon (_beluwa dow_, ‘half-day’),
have an expression for about 4 p. m.--_dow uli_, i. e. ‘the time of
the home-coming from work in the fields’. The Javanese are strongly
influenced by civilisation and have, especially for astrological
purposes, a fully developed chronological system; not seldom,
however, the times of day are given in relation to the rural labour.
So they say ‘when the buffalo is sent to the pastures’, ‘when the
buffalo is brought back from the pastures’ or ‘is housed’ etc.; but
for the time of the occurrence of any event the position of the sun
is usually indicated[113]. The Achenese and the Malays of Sumatra
have an expression exactly corresponding to the Greek βουλυτός[114].
The Wadschagga have expressions for the position of the sun, but
also others[115], among which may be mentioned ‘the first going of
the oxen to the pastures in the morning’. This kind of terminology
seems to have been developed into a system among the Banyankole,
a cattle-raising tribe of the Uganda Protectorate. The day is
divided up in the following way:--6 a. m., milking-time; 9 a. m.,
_katamyabosi_, not translated; 12 noon, rest for the cattle; 1 p. m.,
the time to draw water; 2 p. m., the time for the cattle to drink; 3
p. m., the cattle leave the watering-place to graze; 4 p. m., the sun
shews signs of setting; 5 p. m., the cattle return home; 6 p. m., the
cattle enter the kraal; 7 p. m., milking-time[116]. This terminology
is of especial interest since it remains in various Indo-European
languages as a relic of antiquity, and affords a hitherto little
observed piece of evidence for the life of antiquity which agrees
well with others. Compare Sanskrit _sagavás_, the time when the cows
are herded together; βουλυτός, the time when the oxen were unyoked
in the Homeric phrase ἦμος δ’ ἠέλιος μετενίσσετο βουλυτόνδε[117];
and Irish _im-buarach_, morning, ‘at the yoking of the oxen’. With
rest or meal-times are associated Old High German _untorn_, ‘noon’,
the time of the mid-day rest, Sanskrit _abhipitvam_, ‘evening’, and
Lithuanian _piëtus_, ‘noon’, which goes back to Sanskrit _pitus_,
‘meal-time’[118].

Time-indications of various kinds are, as we have seen, used
alongside of one another; when they are fully employed a very highly
organised terminology for the times of day may be arrived at. The
names for the times of day among the Nandi seem almost artificial:--2
a. m., the elephants have gone to the waters; 3, the waters roar;
4, the land (sky) has become light; 5, the houses are opened;
5.=30=, the oxen have gone to the grazing-ground; 6, the sheep
have been unfastened; 6.=30=, the sun has grown; 7, it has
become warm; 7.=30=, the goats have gone to the grazing-ground;
9, the goats have returned from the grazing-ground; 9.=30=,
the goats sleep in the kraal; 10, the goats have arisen, the oxen
have returned; 10.=30=, the oxen sleep; 11, untie the cattle,
i. e. let the calves get their food, the goats feed; 11.=30=,
the oxen have arisen; 12 noon, the sun has stood upright, the goats
sleep in the wood; 12.=30=, the goats have drunk water; 1 p.
m., the sun turns, i. e. goes towards the west, the cattle have
drunk water; 1.=30=, the drones hum; 2, the sun continues to go
towards the west, the oxen feed; 3, the goats have been collected; 4,
the oxen drink water for the second time, the goats have returned;
4.=30=, the goats sleep; 5, the eleusine grain has been cleaned
for us, take the goats home, shut up the calves; 5.=30=, the
goats have entered the kraal; 6, the sun is finished, the cattle have
returned; 6.=15=, milk (sc. the cows); 6.=45=, neither man
nor tree is recognisable, cattle-fold doors have been closed; 7, the
heavens are fastened; 8, the porridge is finished; 9, those who have
drunk milk are asleep; 10, the houses have been closed; 11, those who
sleep early wake up; 12, the middle of the night[119].

As a last example I give the most detailed list of all, from the
neighbourhood of Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar. The
times given are naturally to be taken on the average. 12 midnight,
centre of night or halving of night; 2 a. m., frog-croaking; 3,
cock-crowing; 4, morning also night; 5, crow-croaking; 5.=15=,
bright horizon, glimmer of day, reddish east; 5.=30=, the
colours of cattle can be seen, dusk, diligent people awake, early
morning; 6, sunrise, day-break, broad daylight; 6.=15=, dew
falls, the cattle go out; 6.30, the leaves are dry (i. e. the dew
disappears); 6.=45=, the hoar-frost disappears, the day chills
the mouth (this applies only to the two or three winter months); 8,
advance of the day; 9, (the sun is) over (at a right angle with) the
purlin; 12 noon, over the ridge of the roof.--In the forenoon the
position of the sun nearly square with the eastern purlin of the roof
marked about 9 o’clock; and as noon approached, its vertical position
about the ridge-pole, or at least its reaching the meridian, clearly
indicated 12 o’clock. In regard to the terms for the afternoon we
must bear in mind that the houses in former times were always built
with their length running north and south and with the single door
and window facing the west; the sunlight coming in after midday at
the open door by its gradual progress along the floor gave a fairly
accurate measure of time. The house therefore served, as among the
Dyaks, as a kind of sun-dial.--12.=30= p. m., day taking hold
of the threshold; 1, peeping in of the day (into the room), day less
one step; 1.=30=--2, slipping of the day, decline of the day,
afternoon; 2, (the sun) at the rice-pounding place (i. e. the sunbeam
falls on the rice mortar), at the house-post (there were in the house
three posts supporting the ridge: in the southern one there were
notches, _jinja andry_, from which the advance of the sunlight and of
the day was observed); 3, at the place of tying the calf (as the rays
reached the one of the posts to which the calf was tied at night); 4,
at the sheep- or poultry-pen; 4.=30=, the cow newly calved comes
home; 5, the sun touching (i. e. when the declining sunshine reached
the eastern wall of the house); 5.=30=, the cattle come home;
5.=45= sunset flush; 6, sunset (lit. ‘sun dead’); 6.=15=,
the fowls come in; 6.=30=, dusk, twilight; 6.=45=, the edge
of the rice-cooking pan is obscure; 7, people begin to cook rice; 8,
people eat rice; 8.=30=, finished eating; 9, people go to sleep;
9.=30=, everyone in bed; 10 gun-fire; 12, midnight[120].

Finally I collect the Homeric expressions for the parts of the day.
They are far from being so elaborately organised as the examples
quoted above, and many are incidental periphrases; the terminology is
still at its beginnings. Its character is quite primitive also in the
juxtaposition of terms of different kinds. The day is divided into
the familiar three parts. ‘It will be a dawn, or an afternoon, or a
noon when I am to be killed’, says Achilles[121]. The meaning of ἠώς,
‘dawn’, is also extended so that the word can denote forenoon or at
least morning. Cp. the following phrases:--‘I slept the whole night
and to the dawn and to the noon’,[122] ‘as long as it was dawn and
the holy day increased’[123]; of this the phrase already quoted, ‘as
the sun turned over to the unyoking of the oxen’, is the counterpart.
In this sense appears also the derivative ἠοίη. When Menelaus wishes
to surprise the Old Man of the Sea he goes to the seashore ‘as the
dawn appeared’[124]: the Old Man is said to come ‘as the sun ascends
the middle of the heavens’[125]. Thus ‘we waited the whole dawn’
until ‘the Old Man came up from the sea at noon’[126]. The afternoon,
in which the suitors amuse themselves with dance and song, is also
called eventide[127]; when evening, ἕσπερος, comes, they go home to
sleep[128]. Besides these larger divisions smaller ones were also
indicated, e. g. the morning twilight, ‘when it was not yet dawn
but still the twilight of the ending night’[129]. Before dawn there
appears the morning star, ἑωσφόρος, Il. XXIII, 226, Od. XIII, 93.
ἠώς, ‘dawn’ in the proper sense of the word, is often used as a
time-indication, sometimes in the well-known periphrastic expressions
of Il. XI, 1, XIX, 1, Od. V, 1. XXIII, 347, XXII, 197, sometimes
alone, e. g. ‘at dawn’, ‘at the appearance of dawn’[130]. Sunrise
is always indicated by verbal and often periphrastic expressions,
simply by ἀνιέναι, ‘rise’[131], further ‘the sun, leaving the fair
sea, rose into the all-brazen heaven to shine for the immortal ones’
etc.[132], and ‘neither as he ascends to the starry heaven nor as
he again turns back to the earth from the heavens’[133], similarly
Od. XII, 380 ff., Il. XI, 735 ‘as long as the shining sun rose above
the earth’[134], and Il. VII, 421 ff. ‘the sun thereafter once
more struck the fields, ascending in the heavens from the deep and
soft-flowing ocean’[135]. The expression can therefore also include
the time immediately following after sunrise, but is not applied to
the whole period of the sun’s ascension, i. e. the forenoon. The
culmination of the sun is mentioned in Od. IV, 400 (cp. above) and
in Il. VIII, 68. The decline of the day is thus described, ‘the day
was for the greater part gone’[136]; for the sinking of the sun see
Od. XI, 18, XII, 381 (cp. above), and the already quoted expression
‘the sun turned over to the unyoking of the oxen’. Sunset (Il.
XVII, 454, XVIII, 241, Od. II, 388) is described by the common word
δύνειν, ‘set’, or by ‘goes under the earth’[137], or ‘the bright
light of the sun sank down in the ocean, drawing after himself the
dark night’[138]. The evening star has the same name as evening,
ἕσπερος[139]. The Homeric Greeks therefore do not seem to have
observed the position of the sun in any but the most general fashion.
We may add certain indications taken from the business of daily life.
The word βουλυτός (cp. above p. 31) appears in the twice-recurring
verse ‘as the sun turned over to the unyoking of the oxen’[140].
It is not the sun but the ploughman that unyokes the oxen: the
word has therefore become established as a chronological _terminus
technicus_ which is significant on account of its antiquity. About
the expression ἐν νυκτὸς ἀμολγῷ there has been much dispute. It
occurs:--Il. XI, 173 and XV, 324, where lions surprise a herd, XXII,
28, in the simile of the morning rising of Sirius, 317, of the
shining forth of the evening star, Od. IV, 841 ‘so clear appeared
the dream to her’[141]: it is a well-known fact that we dream for
the most part shortly before waking. The sense ‘beginning or end
of night’ is therefore fully confirmed. As for the etymology I do
not hesitate to pronounce in favour of that lying nearest to hand,
viz. ἀμέλγειν, ‘to milk’, and therefore ‘milking-time’. Compare the
terms of the Banyankole for early morning at 6 o’clock and evening
at 7--‘milking-time’--and those of the Nandi: 6 p. m. ‘the sun is
over, the cattle have come back’; 6.=15=, ‘milk’ (sc. the
cows). That only these two expressions have settled into _termini
technici_ admits of a not unimportant conclusion in regard to
antiquity. The meal-hour as an indication of time occurs Il. XI,
86, ‘when a wood-cutter prepares his meal after having fatigued his
arms by felling large trees’[142], and Od. XII, 439, ‘when a man
rises from the market-place to go home to the meal after having
judged many quarrels’[143],--in the latter instance in connexion
with the market. This time-indication was destined to have a great
future as the social life of the Greeks developed. Phrases such as
the following are of common occurrence:--‘when the market-place is
full’[144], ‘before the market-place has filled itself’[145], ‘the
breaking up of the assembly of the market-place’[146], etc. The night
was divided into the familiar three parts (although the expression
μέση νύξ, ‘middle of the night’, first occurs in the smaller Iliad)
and was judged according to the position of the stars:--‘Let us go,
for the night draws close to an end and the dawn is near. The stars
are far gone. The greater part of night is gone, the two parts, only
the third part remains’[147]; ‘when it was the third part of the
night and the stars had passed’[148]. The morning star serves as a
time-indicator at the nocturnal home-coming of Odysseus[149].

The Latin expressions I merely copy from Censorinus, Ch. 24, and
insert in brackets the additions made by Macrob., _Sat._ I, 3, 16
ff. _Tempus quod huic_--i. e. _nox media--proximum est vocatur de
media nocte (media noctis inclinatio), sequitur gallicinium, cum
galli canere incipiunt, dein conticinium, cum conticuerunt; tunc
ante lucem, et sic diluculum, cum sole nondum orto iam lucet.
Secundum diluculum vocatur mane cum lux videtur sole orto, post
hoc ad meridiem, tunc meridies, quod est medii diei nomen, inde
de meridie (inde--i. e. a meridie--tempus occiduum), hinc suprema
... post supremam sequitur vespera ante ortum scilicet_--this must
be before the appearance of the star--_eius stellae, quam Plautus
vesperuginem ... appellat_. There are also _ortus_ and _occasus
solis_, _crepusculum_. This terminology is poor and applies almost
exclusively to the daylight. In ancient Rome the edifices of the
Forum are said to have served as sun-dials. A servant of the consul
proclaimed noon “when the sun peeped between the Rostra and the
Graecostasis; when the sun sank from the Maenian column to the prison
he proclaimed evening, but only on clear days”[150]. With the advance
of civilisation the Greek terms for the twelve hours of the day, each
of which varied in length according to the time of the year, became
customary, a fact which is connected with the spread of sun- and
water-clocks[151]. Hence arises in the Middle Ages the terminology
derived from the daily mass (_hora canonica_)[152]. In daily life
there was often a recurrence to primitive methods. I borrow a few
examples of a quite primitive character from the early medieval tract
_Peregrinatio Aetheriae_:--‘the hour when people can recognise each
other’[153], ‘when the crow of cocks begins’[154], ‘from the first
cock-crow’[155], etc., but also _hora tertia_, _quinta_, _sexta_
(noon).

An obviously isolated method is the determination of the times of day
from the daily twice-recurring ebb and flow of the tides; the method
is also very unsuitable, since the period of a complete tide is 12
hours 25 minutes, so that the two periods together exceed the day by
nearly an hour. In fact the Eskimos of Greenland are the only people
who reckon by the tides. They divide up the day according to ebb and
flow, although they must always reckon differently on account of the
variations of the moon[156]. Dalsager[157] also points this out and
remarks that their reckoning cannot last for two consecutive days, so
that they have to make a fresh division every day. The rudiments of
this method are however seen among some of the tribes of Polynesia.
Immediately after the above-quoted divisions of the day among the
Society Islanders are mentioned “the longer periods before noon and
midnight during which the sea rises, and the others following these,
in which it falls”[158], and “night or the light quite gone, when the
sea begins to flow towards the land, about 11 at night”[159]. The
Hawaiians called the rising of the tide by such names as the rising,
big, full, and surrounding sea; when the water neither rose nor fell
it was called the standing sea; the ebbing sea they spoke of as the
parted, retiring, and defeated sea[160].

The night is the time of complete darkness and rest, and therefore
the frequently mentioned expression, ‘sleeping-time’, corresponds to
night. Seldom is the whole time during which the sun remains below
the horizon to be understood by it. On the Society Islands there
were two expressions for day according to its extension from morning
to evening twilight or from sunrise to sunset[161]. The Hawaiian
judge, Fornander, follows this mode of speech when he distinguishes
five periods of night, (1) about sunset, (2) between sunset and
midnight, (3) midnight, (4) between midnight and sunrise, and (5)
sunrise[162]. For the times between sunset and night-fall and between
night and sunrise there is a rich terminology which has already been
illustrated. During the night itself time-indications are for obvious
reasons scanty. Often the only point distinguished is midnight, e.
g. by the Kiowa[163], the Masai[164], the Shilluk[165]; ‘the silence
of the land’ among the Babwende[166], ‘the back of night’ among
the Hottentots[167], ‘the time of sleep’ among the Hawaiians[168].
Hence arises of itself a threefold division in which the periods of
night before and after midnight are distinguished, as e. g. by the
Hawaiians[169]. The usual method is to start from the day, i. e. the
limit of the day, and then to proceed on both sides in the direction
of midnight, as in the late evening of the Hottentots, which extends
till long after sunset[170], and the ‘not yet early’ and the _tara_
(beginning at dusk and extending till the time of rest) among the
Masai[171], etc. The Tahitians are credited with six divisions of the
day and as many of the night, this more accurate division of night
being of course determined by the stars[172]; the only expressions
reported however are those for midnight and the time from midnight
to daybreak[173]. On the Marquesas Islands the first night-watch
was ‘the hour of ghosts’; the advanced night was termed ‘black
night’, and midnight ‘great sleep’; the last watch of night was ‘the
coming of day’[174]. The Wadschagga have three night watches:--the
awakening in the evening, that in the middle (midnight), and that in
the morning twilight[175]. The Javanese have night, midnight, and
waning of night[176]. Where the cock is kept, its crow serves as a
sign that the night is drawing to an end, as for instance among the
Swahili[177], and in the Dutch Indies[178]; the Yoruba distinguish
other cock-crowings, such as ‘the cock opening the way’, i. e. the
first cock-crowing, ‘the time of the cock-crowing immediately before
sunset’[179]. Quite exceptional however is the device ascribed to the
inhabitants of the New Hebrides. In order to denote the hours of the
night they make a gesture in the direction of the spot where the sun
would be at the corresponding hour of day[180].

There is only one means of accurately indicating the times of night,
and that is by the observation of the stars. Many peoples judge from
the position of the morning-star the time that has yet to elapse
before sunrise: but this cannot always be done, and in any case the
method is only of use in the early morning. But the fixed stars
are always there. The difficulty however arises that every day the
stars gain about four minutes on the sun; the stars must therefore
be accurately known, and the observer must either be acquainted with
their positions at definite times of the year or else be constantly
choosing a new star as his chronometer. Not many peoples have got
so far as that. Although the science of astronomy was very well
developed among the Polynesians, we are told of the Tahitians that to
distinguish the hours of night by means of the stars was a science
with which very few of them were acquainted[181]. On the Society
Islands the advance of night was determined from the stars[182]; and
so in Hawaii, with as great accuracy as the hours of the day from
the sun[183]. “When the Milky Way passes the meridian and inclines
to the west, people (in Hawaii) say ‘the fish has turned’”[184].
Among the Indians of South America the knowledge of the stars is very
wide-spread. E. Nordenskjöld, who visited the border districts where
Brazil, Bolivia, and the Argentine meet, says repeatedly that the
stellar heavens are the Indian’s clock and compass. When sitting in
their huts they can, without looking out, indicate the positions of
the more important constellations in the sky. If one is out with an
Indian at night he will point to Orion or some other constellation
and shew how far it will have moved on before the end of the journey
is reached[185]. The Eskimos of Greenland, when it is dark, indicate
the time from _nelarsik_ (Vega)[186], or from the Pleiades[187].
Among them the observation of the stars is uncommonly well developed.
The Lapps, who have to tend their reindeer during the long winter
nights, determine the course of time by certain stars. _Sarvon_ is
the largest star in the heavens: when in winter it stands in the
middle of the sky it marks midnight; it is called the night-clock
of the Lapps. The Great Dog, the Old Man, and the Old Woman are
three stars that pursue _sarva_. They rise when the people go to
sleep, and set a little before daybreak. They ascend the heavens
obliquely in front of _sarva_, in the morning they dip downwards.
Another authority states that _sarva_ is the Great Bear; the first
couple of stars in it are the Old Man and the Old Woman, the second
the Dog and the Elk. The reindeer herdsman decides from it how far
night is advanced, and when he may expect to be relieved. _Lovosj_
or _suttjenes_ is the name given to the Pleiades. The constellation
indicates midnight, when the weather is good. A fable tells how this
constellation saved a servant who had been driven out by his master
into the great cold of a winter night. The young men wish the maidens
to tend the reindeer by night and say:--“Go and kiss the _suttjenes_
young men”, but the maidens answer:--“Go yourselves and kiss the
_suttjenes_ maidens”[188]. Of the old Icelanders Kålund writes:--“At
night the moon and certain stars, especially the Pleiades, afford
them the same aid” (i. e. as the signs of day)[189]. The Homeric
Greeks--at least in a general fashion--also judged of the advance of
night by the position of the stars[190]. This more accurate method
is therefore peculiar to a few primitive peoples specially gifted in
astronomy.

From the investigation of the modes of naming and reckoning the day
and its parts it follows for primitive time-reckoning in general
that the time-indications refer to concrete phenomena, and therefore
either they indicate a point of time or, if they are related to
periods, these periods are of different and fluctuating length. They
are accordingly of no use in calculating, they cannot simply be added
together even when a number of such periods together make up the
period of a complete day, i. e. they are fundamentally discontinuous.
When several days are to be counted the _pars pro toto_ method is
used: instead of the whole day a part is counted. Within the day
two phenomena chiefly recur with such unfailing constancy as to be
of use in counting: they are the daily reviving sun and the night or
sleeping-time. The word for sun is often the same as that for day.
Within the day fall a number of occupations which chiefly turn the
attention to its length and varying phenomena, and this is the case
also with the sun itself, for the varying position of the sun in the
heavens affords the most usual mode of indicating the time of day.
For the counting a point of time is best suited, or, which comes to
the same thing, a unit without subdivisions, a blank period. This
is the reason why the counting by ‘sleeps’ or nights predominates.
On the same grounds the quite isolated _pars pro toto_ counting
of the days from the dawns in Homer may be explained. To indicate
the duration of time primitive peoples make use of other means,
derived from their daily business, which have nothing to do with
time-reckoning; in Madagascar ‘rice-cooking’ often means half an
hour, ‘the frying of a locust’ a moment[191]. The Cross River natives
say:--‘The man died in less than the time in which maize is not yet
completely roasted’, i. e. less than about 15 minutes; ‘the time in
which one can cook a handful of vegetables’, i. e. an hour[192]. The
Malays, the Javanese, and the Achenese use the following expressions
for a period of time:--a blink of the eyes (literally), the time
required for chewing a quid of _sirih_ (about 5 minutes), the time
required for cooking a _kay_ of rice (about half an hour), for
cooking a _gantang_ of rice (about an hour and a half), half a day, a
‘sun-dark’, i. e. a complete day and night[193]. The natives of New
Britain (Bismarck Archipelago) measure the time between sunset and
the moon-rise by the smouldering of a torch or the time occupied in
cooking yams, taro, or wild taro. Short divisions of time were also
expressed by comparative terms, e. g. the throwing of a stick for a
short distance, ‘a woman’s crossing’, or the distance a woman would
paddle[194]. Very often duration of time is indicated by reference
to the time needed to traverse a well-known piece of road between
two places. Examples are superfluous. But all these indications of
periods of time are found among more developed peoples: the primitive
peoples pay little or no attention to them.

Both in the case of the day and in that of the other time-units this
clinging to a natural basis long proved a hindrance to a rational
system of time-reckoning, which could only be achieved by breaking
away from natural phenomena. For there are no fixed natural limits
of day, but if morning and evening, or still more clearly sunrise
and sunset, are chosen as the limits, these must change every day
and the days will vary in length. Here the midnight period proved of
assistance, since it facilitated the establishing of a fixed point
of divergence. This was done in Rome, and the practice had its root
in daily life, where in order to indicate the time of occurrence of
events which took place in the night-time the calculation was pushed
forwards on both sides towards midnight, until this became the limit
of divergence. It is however an artificial epoch that must be found
by calculation[195].

In the second place the hour of antiquity is a twelfth part of
the whole time of daylight, and this duodecimal division was also
transferred to the night, which had commonly been divided into four
watches according to the practice borrowed from military life. This
hour therefore varied in length according to the time of the year.
The inconvenience of a varying division of this nature must have
made itself felt in daily life, although in the south it was not so
insupportable as it must have been in the north. It rendered the
construction of the clock difficult, and above all was impracticable
for scientific astronomy. Hence alongside of it appeared even in
antiquity the hour of constant length or the double hour, viz. a
twelfth or a twenty-fourth part respectively of the complete day. The
double hour, notwithstanding Bilfinger’s assertion to the contrary,
arose in Babylon (_kasbu_), and is connected with the duodecimal
division of the zodiac[196]. This hour of constant length was not
generally adopted until very late: the varying hour remained almost
up to the end of the Middle Ages. Our modern hour has only been in
general use since about the 14th century, when it was first spread by
the construction of the striking-clock[197]. Its convenience for the
business of practical life and the construction of the clock together
secured the victory of the hour as 1/24th of the day, originally a
numerical and astronomical division. A condition for its use was the
fusion of day and night into one unit, since as long as these were
kept separate the constant hour could not thrive. Both the complete
day and its regular divisions however only won their way after a very
long time, because men were unwilling to depart from the natural
basis in time-reckoning. The substitution of the artificial for the
natural time-reckoning has also, as far as the day is concerned,
created a rational system of reckoning which has borrowed from the
natural system only one feature, viz. the average length of the
complete day.

CHAPTER II.

THE SEASONS.

The year is for us a numerical quantity of 365 or 366 days. But we
speak of the year in two senses, first as the calendar year beginning
on New Year’s Day, and secondly as the current year, a period of the
same number of days beginning at one chosen day, as for instance in
giving a person’s age. The word ‘year’ may however also represent the
highest chronological unit even independently of the seasons, as in
the case of the Egyptian shifting year of exactly 365 days, and the
Islamite lunar year of 354. These however are exceptional cases. At
the basis lies the natural year conditioned by the course of the sun
and by the natural phases dependent thereon, which penetrate closely
into the life of man. This connexion has necessitated the agreement
of the numerical year with the sun, whence arises a situation very
inconvenient for reckoning, namely that years of a varying number of
days have to be accepted, since the natural year does not contain a
whole number of days.

The year as a numerical quantity is only the tardily attained summit
of development, and the connexion with the natural year has always
been so strongly felt that, except in certain cases such as the
Egyptian and Islamite years, the chronological year has had to adjust
itself accordingly. Here also we see the point of departure, the
natural phenomena which are in the end dependent upon the course
of the sun, such as the variation between heat and cold, verdure
and snow, rainy season and drought, the blooming and withering of
vegetation, between the different trade-winds or monsoons, between
abundance and scarcity of food. With these and similar concrete
phenomena the time-reckoning is from its origin bound up, and is
at first discontinuous, i. e. it fixes the attention solely on the
phenomena in question, and not on the year as a whole. The fusion
of the various seasons into the circle of the year is arrived at
only by degrees: the year is at first counted by the _pars pro toto_
method. The process is therefore similar to that already found in the
discussion of the day.

It must be granted as a premise to our investigation that when we
speak of ‘seasons’ not only the larger divisions of the year are
to be understood by the word--those which alone of all the natural
epochs of the year are current among us to-day--but also smaller
divisions which might perhaps be called seasonal points; for instance
the times of cherry-blossoming and hop-picking are also seasons.
Such short--often very short--seasons are not distinguished in
any important feature from the longer: the difference only arises
from the longer or shorter duration of the phenomena in question.
The Hidatsa Indians describe any period thus marked by a natural
occurrence, be it long or short, the hot season or the season of
strawberries, by the same word, _kadu_, ‘season’, ‘time’ (of the
occurrence), and the longer seasons include shorter[198].

We begin with these shorter seasons since they are more foreign to
us: to primitive man however they are of extreme importance, since in
the absence of a regular calendar they afford the only means he knows
of determining the shortest periods of the natural year, in so far as
they are connected with this. A time-determination of this nature is
important not so much for giving the date of any occurrence as for
establishing beforehand the time of certain occupations, e. g. sowing
or a festival.

The classical instance is afforded by the peasants’ maxims of
Hesiod. The cry of the migrating cranes shews the time of ploughing
and sowing[199]. If one sows too late, the crop may still thrive
if Zeus sends rain upon it on the third day after the cuckoo has
called for the first time in the leaves of the oak (486). Before
the appearance of the swallow, the messenger of spring, the vines
should be pruned (568). But when the snail climbs up the plants
there should be no more digging in the vineyards (571). When the
thistle blossoms and the shrill note of the cicada is to be heard,
summer has come, the goats are at their fattest, and the wine is at
its best (582). The sea can be navigated when the fig-tree shews at
the end of its branches leaves which are as big as the foot-prints
of the crow (679). Especially well-known and beloved as a sign that
the hard winter was over was the swallow: evidence is afforded by
the famous procession of the Rhodian swallow-youths[200], and by a
vase-decoration clearly expressing the delight felt at the appearance
of the herald of Spring[201]. The observation of the birds of passage
was very useful for this kind of time-determination: Homer already
knows it, ‘when the cranes flee the winter’, he says[202], so also
Theognis: “I hear, son of Polypais, the voice of the shrill-crying
crane, even her who to mortals comes as harbinger of the season for
ploughing”[203]. Aristophanes makes his birds boast of it:--

“All lessons of primary daily concern
You have learnt from the Birds, and continue to learn.
Your best benefactors, and early instructors,
We give you the warning of seasons returning.
When the Cranes are arranged, and muster afloat
In the middle air, with a creaking note,
Steering away to the Libyan sands,
Then careful farmers sow their lands;
The crazy vessel is hauled ashore,
The sail, the ropes, the rudder, and oar
Are all unshipped, and housed in store.
The shepherd is warned, by the Kite reappearing,
To muster his flock, and be ready for shearing.
You quit your old cloak at the Swallow’s behest,
In assurance of summer, and purchase a vest”[204].

Similar time-determinations from natural phenomena are still not
entirely neglected by the modern peasant. In Bohuslän (W. Sweden) the
sowing-time was at hand when the swallow had come, it was the right
sowing-time when the juniper flowered. In northern Scania (S. Sweden)
the barley was to be sown when the hawthorn was in bloom. Older
people could not give their birthdays but only knew that they were
born e. g. at the rye- or potato-harvest, when the cattle were first
driven out to pasture (in the spring), etc. My father knew quite
well that his birthday was the fifth of September, but when anyone
asked him when he was born he would generally answer: ‘When they pick
hops’. The Eskimos said that such and such a person was born when
eggs were collected or seals caught[205]. From modern Palestine a
bond is quoted in which a sum of money was to be paid when next the
_fakûs_ (a kind of cucumber) was ripe[206].

We return to the primitive peoples and give first a few examples
in which a natural phenomenon serves as the sign of the beginning
of one of the longer divisions of the year or of some occupation,
generally agriculture. Of the Bushmen we are told that they paid
particular attention to the time at which the first thunder-storm
broke. They hailed it with great joy since they counted it a sure
sign that summer had commenced. In the midst of their excessive
rejoicing they tore in pieces their garments of skins, threw them
into the air, and danced for several nights in succession. The Garieb
Bushmen made great outcries accompanied with dancing and playing
upon their drums[207]. The Banyankole of Uganda used the euphorbia
trees to guide them as to the nearness of the rainy season: when
these trees began to shoot out new growth they knew that the rains
were near[208]. The Indians of the Orinoco took great pains to
determine the approach of the rainy season, as Gilij relates in a
chapter entitled: _De segni, che precedon l’inverno_[209]. The signs
were:--The scream of the Araguato monkeys at midnight or at the
approach of day; the sudden bursting into blossom of certain trees;
the swelling of the brooks, which almost dry up in summer but swell
a few days before the rainy season; the yams which in summer have
lost their leaves suddenly grow green again when the rainy season
is at hand; finally the heliacal setting of the Pleiades. The tribe
of the Bigambul in S. E. Australia reckon the seasons from the
blossoming of certain trees. _Yerra_, for example, is the name of a
tree that blossoms in September: this time of the year is therefore
called _yerrabinda_. The apple-tree blossoms at Christmas time,
which is called _nigabinda_. The iron-bark tree blossoms about the
end of January, and this time is called _wobinda_. The height of
summer however is named by them ‘the time when the ground burns the
feet’: at this time no trees blossom[210]. The natives of New Britain
(Bismarck Archipelago) determine the planting-season from the buds
of certain trees and from the position of certain stars[211]. In Alu
(Solomon Islands) one division of the year is determined from the
bloom on the almond, another from the Pleiades[212]. The time for the
sun-dance of the Kiowa Indians is determined by the whitening of the
down on the cotton-plant[213]. One of the annual festivals of the
Society Islands is regulated by the blossoming of the reed[214].

Instances are numerous in which phenomena like those mentioned
by Hesiod serve as signs for agricultural labour. The Indians of
Pennsylvania say that when the leaf of the white oak, which comes out
in spring, is as large as a mouse’s ear it is time to plant maize:
they note that the whippoorwill has come by then, and is constantly
fluttering round them calling out his Indian name _wekolis_ in order
to remind them of planting-time, just as if he were saying ‘_hacki
heck_’, ‘go and plant maize’[215]. Among the Thonga the period in
July when the warm weather begins is called _shimunu_, ‘the little
heat’: the mahogany and sala trees become covered with leaves,
certain flowers blossom. Winter has passed away, soon the summer
will come. When the Thonga woman notes these signs she picks up her
hoe and sets off for the hills or the marshes to make the fields
ready. In January comes _nwebo_, the time for the first ears of maize
to ripen[216]. Among the Ba-Ronga January is _nuebo_, the time of
the first ripe ears: great pains are taken to keep away the birds
from the _sorgho_ fields, and therefore one period is known as ‘the
time when the birds are driven away’[217]. When a certain mushroom
named _kulat bantilong_ appears in large quantities the Dyaks of S.
E. Borneo regard it as a sign that the time for rice-planting has
come[218]; among the Malgassi the blossoming of the shrub _Vernonia
appendiculata_ in November is regarded in the same way[219]. In
New Zealand plants and birds which appear at regular seasons give
signs of the approach of the time to begin agricultural labours. Two
kinds of migratory cuckoo, _Cuculus piperatus_ and _nitens_, which
appear at Christmas-time on the coasts, mark the period of the first
potato-harvest. The flowering of the beautiful _Clematis albida_
reminds the people to dig over the soil for the planting of potatoes,
which is done in October[220]. According to the communication of a
native, the Basutos reckon time by the changing of the seasons, the
birth-times of animals, the annual variation and growth of plants,
but also by the stars and the moon[221]. The most curious method is
one common among the Hidatsa Indians, who reckon from the development
of the buffalo calf _in utero_[222]. Such signs may also serve to
mark off the longer seasons: the Tunguses begin summer with the time
when the grayling spawns, and winter with the time when the first
good squirrel is caught[223].

The examples hitherto given are only single instances intended
to make clear the manner and signification of this method of
indicating time. Similar starting-points for reckoning are afforded
the whole year through, and as their times are fixed in regard to
each other, they may form a sort of calendar. The statements made
for the extremely primitive Andamanese give a very characteristic
circle of occupations throughout the year, though here we have to
do not with names of seasons but with the phenomena and business
of the year, which our authority gives according to the European
calendar. January: much honey; two kinds of wild fruit ripen and are
gathered. February: two other kinds of wild fruit, also a tuber;
the inhabitants of the coastal districts catch the dujong and also
a few turtles; the older folk make out of bark turtle-nets, cables,
and lines for harpoons. March: still another two kinds of wild fruit
ripen, wild honey is abundant. April: many visits of neighbouring
tribes; fruit is scanty, there is only one kind ripe, the honey is
finished, the bread-fruit has not yet ripened. From May to August
the ripe bread-fruit forms the principal food. In June many cases of
death occur since the men in their boar-hunting expeditions in the
forest sleep without shelter. In August certain white caterpillars
which live in the decaying tree-trunks are a favourite dish. From
August to October boats are built. In November the people are
particularly merry. The turtle-catch is productive, the weather is
pleasantly cool, there is little rain, and shelter is not necessary.
Different tribes visit one another and feast and dance together[224].

How upon such a foundation a number of seasons may be built up is
shewn by a comparison with an instructive account referring to
the Eskimos of the Ungava district of Labrador. The seasons have
distinctive names and are again sub-divided into a great number of
shorter seasons. There are more of these during the warmer weather
than in winter. The reason is obviously that the summer offers so
many changes, and the winter so few. The chief events are the return
of the sun, always a sign of joy to the people, the lengthening
of the day, the warm weather in March when the sun has attained
sufficient height, the melting of the snow, the breaking up of the
ice, the open water, the time of birth of various seals, the advent
of exotic birds, the nesting of gulls, eider, and other native birds,
the arrival of white whales and the whaling season, salmon fishing,
the ripening of salmon-berries and other species of edibles, the time
of reindeer crossing the river, the trapping of fur-bearing animals,
and hunting on land and water for food. Each of these periods has its
special name applied to it, although several may overlap each other.
The appearance of mosquitoes, sandflies, and horseflies is marked by
dates anticipated with considerable apprehension of annoyance[225].
The Eskimos of Greenland reckon from the winter solstice five moons
until the time when the nights become so bright that it is impossible
to reckon any longer from the moon. Then they reckon by the
increasing size of the young of the eider-duck and by the ripening of
berries, or along the sea-coast by the departure of the tern and the
fatness of the seals; when the reindeer shed the velvet from their
horns they know that it is time to move into the winter houses[226].

These smaller seasons have seldom developed into an annual cycle
otherwise than among some agricultural peoples[227], unless they
have been fitted into the larger seasons. This is the case with
the western tribes of the Torres Straits, who also determine the
seasons from the stars. In the counting of the seasons they commonly
begin with _surlal_ (mid-October to the end of November). This name
is given to the turtles when copulating: while in this state they
float on the sea and are readily caught. The constellation known as
the Shark arises. Everything is dried up, the yams are ripe. The
sounding of the first thunder is the sign for planting yams. _Raz_
(December to February) is described as ‘the time of death’, i. e.
the season when the leaves die down. The first part of this season
is called in Mabuiag _duau-urma_, ‘the falling of the cashew nuts’.
There is an interval of fine weather and the wind is shifty: this
coincides with Christmas-time. This is the time when the yams which
have been planted begin to sprout. In Muralug this period is called
_malgui_, which is the exact equivalent of our word ‘spring’.
The next division is called _dob_, ‘the last of growing things’,
or _kusikuki_, ‘medusae of the north-west’, the latter name being
due to the large numbers of jelly-fish that float on the sea. The
runners of the yams now grow. The time immediately after this is
called _purimugo_, in Muralug _apagap_ or _keme_. The longer season
following _raz_ is _kuki_, (March to May), the time when strong winds
blow intermittently from the north-west, accompanied by deluges
of rain, and the time of the damp heat. The appearance of the
constellation _dogai kukilaig_ (Altair, together with β, γ _aquilae_)
heralded the beginning of this season. It has the sub-divisions
_kuki_, _kupa kuki_, and _gugad arai_. The dry season, _aibaud_,
forms the remaining part of the year. The south-west wind, _waur_,
blows steadily: for this reason the first part of this period is
known as _waur_ and perhaps merits a distinctive name as much as
_raz_. It is marked by the appearance of the constellation _magi
Dogai_ (Vega with β, γ _lyrae_). Food is abundant and festivals are
celebrated. The divisions of _aibaud_ are _sasiwaur_ (‘child’, i. e.
lesser south-east), _piepe_, _tati waur_ (‘father’, i. e. greater
south-east), and _birubiru_, a bird which at this time migrates from
New Guinea to Australia[228].

The Kiwai Papuans who dwell on the opposite coast of New Guinea
have the same star myths as the inhabitants of the Torres Straits
Islands: for them, however, no smaller but only two greater seasons
are mentioned[229]; on the other hand they have months[230]. The
smaller seasons have clashed with the reckoning by moons, and have
surrendered their names to describe the latter. They have therefore
in great measure become merged in the counting of the months, which
will be dealt with later. The greater seasons on the other hand, on
account of their length, could not be merged in the reckoning by
months, and these have therefore everywhere remained. The number of
the longer seasons varies considerably, and is of course connected
not only with the climatic conditions but also with the fundamental
phenomena which for one reason or another attract attention; a
larger season may also be divided into two or three smaller ones.

It may be taken for granted that all peoples outside the tropics,
even where it has not been thought necessary expressly to mention
the fact, know the two larger divisions of the year, the warmer
and colder seasons. Where the plants die in winter and the trees
lose their leaves, or where the snow covers the ground, this
great difference becomes especially pronounced and determines the
whole mode of life: but even in the sub-tropical regions it is
obvious enough. To it corresponds in many parts of the tropics and
sub-tropical zones the natural division into a dry and a rainy
season. For the division into the summer period of vegetation and
winter with its snow and ice it is superfluous to give examples:
the above-quoted description of the year of the Labrador Eskimos
is a typical instance. Swanton and Boas state that certain Indian
tribes of N. W. America divide the year into two equal parts of six
months each, summer extending from April to September, and winter
from October to March[231]. The Comanches reckon by the cold and the
warm seasons[232]. I give a few instances from districts in which
a winter of this nature does not exist. Among the Hopi of Arizona
the year has two divisions--there seems to be no equivalent to our
four seasons--which may be termed the periods of the named and the
nameless months: the former is the cold period, the latter is the
warm. They may also be called the greater and the lesser periods,
since the former begins in August and ends in March[233]. The Zuñi
of western New Mexico also divide the year into two periods of six
months each[234]. The Chocktaw of Louisiana have the same number of
seasons[235]. The natives of Central Australia have names for summer
and winter[236].

In the tropics there is often only one rainy and one dry season,
with two divisions of the year corresponding to these. On the
Orinoco there are summer and winter, i. e. the dry and the rainy
seasons. In Maipuri the dry season is called _camoti_, ‘the glowing
splendour of the sun’, and the rainy season _canepó_. Among the
Tamanacho winter is called _canepó_, ‘rain’, ‘rainy season’, summer
is _vannu_, ‘crickets’, since these insects chirp incessantly to
the end of the season[237]. The Tupi have expressions for dry and
rainy seasons but not for the year as a whole. The Bakairi reckon
by the semesters of the dry and the rainy seasons[238]. The Karaya
of Central Brazil reckon the year from one fall of the river to
another. They thereby distinguish two seasons, the dry season when
they live on the sand-banks, and the rainy season when they live on
the upper banks of the river[239]. The Wagogo of E. Africa divide the
year into two halves: _kibahu_, the dry season, about May-October,
and _kifugu_, the rainy season, November to April[240]. So also
the Nandi: _iwotet_, rainy season, March-August, and _kement_, dry
season, September-February[241]; further the tribes of Loango[242],
the Bantu tribes of the Congo State[243], and the Cross River negroes
of the Cameroons[244]. The Tshi-speaking peoples divide the year into
two periods: the smaller _hohbor_, from May to August, and the larger
from September to April[245]. Among the Akamba the year consists
of two rainy seasons separated by two dry periods: _ambua anzwa_,
_ambua ua_[246]. Where this natural division prevails, however, the
half-year is often put in the place of the year[247].

The Javanese have a dry and a rainy period which include six of their
seasons[248], and so have the Islamite Malays of Sumatra[249]. The
Polynesians divide the year throughout into two greater periods.
Their seasons were in general two, the rainy season or winter, and
the dry season or summer, but varied according to the situation of
the particular group of islands north or south of the equator. On
the Society Islands they embraced the months of May-November and
November-May respectively. On the Sandwich Islands the rainy season,
_hooilo_, lasted from about Nov. 20 to May 20, the dry season, _kau_,
from May 20 to Nov. 20[250]. We shall find later that both seasons
were named and regulated according to the visibility or invisibility
of the Pleiades. Other writers also give information for Hawaii.
When the sun moved towards the north, the days were long, the trees
bore fruit, and the heat was prevalent: it was summer; but when
the sun moved towards the south, the nights became longer and the
trees were without fruit: it was winter[251]. _Kau_ was the season
when the sun was directly overhead, when daylight was prolonged,
the trade-wind prevailed, days and nights alike were warm, and the
vegetation put forth new leaves. _Hooilo_ was the season when the
sun declined towards the south, the nights grew longer, days and
nights were cool, and the herbage (lit. vines) died away: each had
six months. On Kauai Island the seasons were called _mahoe-mua_
and _mahoe-hope_[252]. In Tahiti the bread-fruit can be gathered
for seven months, for the other five there is none: for about two
months before and after the southern solstice it is very scarce, but
from March to August exceedingly plentiful. This season is called
_pa-uru_ (_uru_ = ‘bread-fruit’)[253]. The recurring scarcity of
bread-fruit shewed the changes in the course of the year, but the
Pleiades afforded a surer limit[254]. In Samoa one authority gives
the wet season, ending in April, and the dry season, which comes to
an end with the palolo fishing in October[255]; another _vaipalolo_,
the palolo or wet season from October to March, and _toe lau_, when
the regular trade-winds blow, embracing the other months[256]; a
third the season of fine weather--in which however much rain falls in
some localities--and the stormy season, when it rains heavily[257].
The importance of agriculture is so great that the seasons in
following it may sometimes depart from the changes of the climate.
The Bontoc Igorot have two seasons which however do not mark the wet
and dry periods, as might be expected in a country where these two
periods occur: _cha-kon_ is the season of rice or ‘palay’ growth and
harvesting, _ka-sip_ the remaining portion of the year[258]. In
the New Hebrides the year is divided into two parts, the periods of
yam-planting and harvesting[259].

In certain localities the atmospheric conditions are such that two
divisions of the year may be distinguished according to the winds,
as for instance in the Marshall Islands, where there are the months
of calm and the months of squalls[260]. More commonly two seasons
are given by the variation of the monsoons, as on the island of
Bali, east of Java: in each case there were six homonymous months.
The Kiwai Papuans have _uro_, the comparatively dry season of the
south-east monsoon (April-December), and the time of the prevailing
north-west wind, _hurama_, a period of alternating calms, storms of
wind and rain, and thunder[261]. A native judge from the island of
Vuatam in the Bismarck Archipelago remarked that the north-west trade
blew throughout the time when the sun was southerly, that is from
November to February, but during the time in which the sun moved in a
northerly direction, May to August, the south-east monsoon prevailed.
On Valam it is said that the south-east monsoon blows as long as the
sun sets WNW, i. e. from May to August: from the month of November
to February, when it sets WSW, the north-west trade blows[262]. In
Rotuma or Granville Island near the equator periods of six months are
reckoned. The west wind, which blows from October to April, serves
to distinguish these two periods, although it does not affect the
vegetation[263]. The people of the Nicobar Islands reckon by the
south-west monsoon (November to April)[264]. The Benua-Jahun of the
Malay Peninsula distinguish the half-year of the north monsoon and
that of the south monsoon[265].

It would seem that the whole year might easily arise through the
fusion of these two larger periods: that this is not the case will be
shewn in the following chapter.

These half-years are as a rule well defined, but the natural
conditions upon which they depend are subject to fluctuation, and
in particular there are transitional periods the position of which
cannot be certainly decided. Moreover smaller characteristic periods
arise within the larger, and hence more seasons appear. Elsewhere the
natural conditions are such that they directly lead to more than two
seasons, e. g. where there are two different rainy seasons in the
year. From these circumstances it becomes plain that a fluctuation
between a larger or smaller number of seasons is possible, and
indeed it often actually occurs. The seasons that adhere to natural
phenomena are never clearly defined like a division of the calendar:
the limits are uncertain, different seasons may be merged into one
another or in part overlap one another, as has been shewn in the case
of the Eskimos of Labrador.

Among the Eskimos of the Behring Strait the year is often divided
into four seasons corresponding to the usual occupations, but these
divisions are indefinite and irregular in comparison with the
reckoning by months[266]. Of the Indians in general it is said that
as a rule four seasons are recognised and have specific names applied
to them (apart from the tribes that have two). In many cases however
the latter may split up both summer and winter into two subdivisions:
this is stated e. g. for the Chocktaw of Louisiana[267]. The
Siciatl of British Columbia however have three: spring, summer, and
winter[268]. The Thompson Indians of the same province group their
months into five seasons, winter beginning with the first snow that
stays on the ground, and lasting until its disappearance from the
valleys, generally the 2d, 3d, and 4th months, spring beginning with
the disappearance of the snow, and embracing the period of frequent
Chinook winds, 5th and 6th months, summer 7th, 8th, and 9th months,
early autumn (Indian summer) 10th and 11th months, and late fall
which takes up the rest of the year[269]. The neighbouring tribe of
the Shuswap recognise five seasons exactly corresponding to those of
the Thompson Indians[270].

The natural phenomena from which the seasons are determined and
named vary according to the geographical latitude, the nature of
the country, and the mode of life, i. e. according as the tribe
lives by hunting or by agriculture. Certain writers state that the
Indians of Virginia divided the year into five seasons: the budding
of spring, the earing of corn or ‘roasting-ear time’, summer or ‘the
highest sun’, corn-gathering or ‘fall of the leaf’, and winter[271].
The Maida of northern California say that the seasons--the rainy
season, the leafy season, the dry season, and the season of
falling leaves--were instituted by Kodoyampeh, the Creator[272].
The Kiowa distinguished only four seasons: _saigya_ or _säta_,
considered to begin at the first snowfall; _asegya_, spring (the
etymology of the word is unknown, a more recent name is _son-pata_,
‘grass-springing’), which begins when grass and buds sprout and the
mares foal; _paigya_, summer (_pai_, ‘sun’), which begins when the
grass has ceased to sprout and lasts until fires become necessary in
the _tipis_ at night; _paongya_, autumn (the thickening of the coat
or fur, _pa_, of the buffalo and other animals), sometimes called
‘the time when the leaves are red’, begins when the leaves change
colour[273]. It is to be noted that these seasons must be of very
different length. In the same way the Dakota reckon five months each
for winter and summer and only one month each for spring and autumn,
but it is expressly mentioned that this reckoning is not strictly
followed[274]. The Pawnee divided the year into a warm and a cold
period, and also into the four seasons, each of which however was
normalised to three months[275]. The account of the Comanches is
somewhat indefinite: they have no computation of time beyond the
seasons, which are reckoned by the rising height of the grass, the
fall of the leaves, and the cold and the hot season. They very seldom
reckon in new moons[276]. They have the four seasons therefore. The
Indians of Chile have words for our four seasons[277].

The above-mentioned names of the five seasons are those of the
Algonquins of Virginia[278]; the Occaneechi of the same district
call them:--the budding or blossoming, the ripening, midsummer,
harvest or fall, winter[279]. Certain agricultural tribes of the
east divided autumn into early autumn, when the leaves change
colour, and late autumn, when they fall, but denoted the two periods
by entirely different names[280]. Agriculture is responsible for
the adding of a fifth season to the four arising from the warm and
the cold periods and the times of transition between these[281].
But other transitional periods between the longer seasons also
arise independently[282]. The Lapps have names for the four
ordinary seasons, but their language also contains compounds like
‘spring-winter’, i. e. late winter,--a compound also known in Swedish
(_vår-vinter_)--and ‘autumn-summer’, i. e. late summer[283]. The
Lapps of Västerbotten divide the year into _sjeunjestie_, the dark
period, and _tjuoikestie_, the bright period. They also have four
seasons:--_dalvie_, winter, from the freezing of the lakes till the
melting of snow; _geira_, spring, time of snow-melting and spring
floods; _gese_, summer, from the time when the earth becomes visible
to the fading of the grass; _tjatj_, autumn, from this time until the
lakes begin to freeze again. The Lapps speak also of _talve-qvoutel_,
mid-winter, _kese-qvoutel_, midsummer, and _tjaktje-kese_, late
summer[284].

The Yukaghir of N. E. Sibiria use more often the names of periods or
the seasons of the year than the names of the months. They have six
seasons. The limits of these seasons can hardly have corresponded in
former times to fixed dates. Being at present baptized, they reckon
the seasons of the year according to the Greek-Orthodox holidays;
and thus we have the following seasons:--1, _puge_, summer, from St.
Akulina to Mary’s Day, 13th June to 8th September; 2, _nade_, autumn,
from the 8th of September to St. Michael’s Day, 8th of November; 3,
_cieje_, winter, from the 8th of November to Purification, 2d of
February; 4, _pore_, first spring, from Purification to St. George’s
Day, 23d of April; 5, _cille_, the second spring, from the 23d of
April to the beginning of snow-melting, usually to St. Nicholas’
Day, 9th of March; the name denotes the icy surface forming during
the night on the snow, after having melted during the day, and is
also given to a month; 6, _conjile_, the third spring, from the
snow-melting period to St. Akulina’s Day[285].

Africa offers good examples of the fluctuation and further
sub-division of the seasons. The Wagogo of East Africa divide the
year into the dry season, about May to October, and the rainy season,
November to April. In the latter they further distinguish the little
rainy season, _songola_, November and December, and the greater
one, _itika_, about February and March[286]. In the neighbourhood
of Mombasa the great rains begin in April and last approximately
for a month, _mwaka_ or _masika_: _mchoo_ is a week in August, and
_vuli_ a fortnight in November, with showers. Beyond the seasons the
natives have little idea of the lapse of time[287]. The Wa-Sania of
British East Africa have three periods of four months each, _gunu_,
_adolaia_, and _huggaia_, but no explanation whatever of these names
is given[288]. The Masai divide the rainy season into three periods,
and also have four seasons of three months each:--(1) _ol dumeril_,
the time of the lesser rains, preceding that of the great rains. The
latter fall in (2) _en gokwa_, named after the Pleiades, which at
that time _rise_ low on the _western_ horizon (_sic!_). Then follows
(3) _ol airodjerod_, the season of the gentle after-rains, and then
(4) _ol ameii_, the time of hunger and drought[289]. Hollis begins
the list with the months of the showers, and calls the season of the
great rains _l’apaitin le-’l-lengon_, ‘the months of plenty’, stating
that the latter season, in which the setting of the Pleiades takes
place in the evening, is called from these _loo-’n-gokwa_[290]. Among
the Ewe tribes the year has three periods:--_adame_, March to June;
_keleme_, July to October; _pepi_, November to February. In the first
two much rain falls, so that work in the fields is greatly hindered.
Inland the year begins in March with the yam-sowing, and ends in
February. The three principal seasons include four months each.
Inland _keleme_ also includes another period, _masa_, September and
October, the second maize-sowing. Hence the name ‘masa-corn’. _Pepi_
is the harmattan time, in which fall yam-harvesting, grass-drying,
and hunting[291]. The Yoruba divide the year into the dry season, the
season of the harmattan wind, and the rainy season, the last-named
being further divided into the time of the first rains and that of
the last rains or ‘little rainy season’[292]. In Loango a dry and
a rainy season of about 6 months each are distinguished. In many
districts there is also a third season, _tschimuna_, the time of the
ripening of favourite fruits etc., and the hot seasons are then often
simply called _bimuna_[293].

Where two rainy seasons separated by dry seasons occur, a fuller
division of the year presents itself. The Babwende have five
seasons:--_ntombo_, from the first rains at the end of September or
beginning of October to the ceasing of the great rains at the end of
January; _kianza_, the lesser dry season, to the beginning of the
great rains in February; _ndolo_, the latter part of the rainy season
up to _sivu_, the dry season, which begins in June; and _mbangala_,
in August and September, when the grass withers and is burnt up[294].
The Wadschagga count:--the great rainy season, 4 months; the time
of dew, 2 months; the season of heat, about 2 months; the so-called
lesser rainy season, 1-2 months; the great heat, about 3 months[295].
The seasons of the Banyankole are determined by the rains. The longer
period is termed _kyanda_ and usually has six months: the lesser,
_akanda_, has four, and there are two months called _itumba_. During
the six months very little rain falls, then come a few days of rain
followed by four months of dry weather, and after that two other
months of rain[296]. A very striking example of the crossing and
overlapping of the seasons is afforded by the Bakongo. They have
_sivu_, the cold season, at the beginning of the dry season which
commences about May 15; _mbangala_, the dry season with little or
no dew, July to the middle of October, including also _mpiaza_, the
grass-burning season, second half of July, August, and September;
_masanza_, early light rains, latter part of October, November, and
December; _nkianza_, short dry season, most of January and the early
part of February; _kundi_, _nsafu_, fruit season, end of February to
May, including _kintombo_, heavy rains, March, April, and _nkiela_,
the time when the rains cease, from the beginning to the middle of
May[297].

In the inland districts of Madagascar, in the neighbourhood of
Antananarivo, there are properly only two seasons, a hot rainy
period from the beginning of November to the end of April, and
a cold dry period during the other months. However four seasons
are distinguished:--_lohataona_, ‘head of the year’, September
and October, when the rice is planted and a few showers fall;
_fahavaratra_, ‘the thunder-time’, from the early part of November
to the end of February or into March; _fararano_, ‘the last rains’,
from the beginning of March to the end of April; and _ririnina_,
‘time of bareness’, when the grass becomes dry, June to August.
Rice is planted twice, first before the end of October and again in
November or December; the first crop is ripe in January or early
in February, the second about April; the two crops however are not
clearly distinguished and together last about four months[298]. One
name for winter is _maintang_, ‘the earth is dry’[299].

The Hottentots seem to keep in view the vegetation rather than the
climate. Their seasons are four in number. First, early spring. When
with increasing warmth, independently of the rain-fall, trees and
bushes break into leaf, and in good years winter or early spring
rains have revived the grass, spring or blossoming-time has come; it
begins in August and ends in October. The following season, which
in the upland Damara dialect is called ‘the sun-time’, embraces the
first half of the hot period in which, when the year is good, the
so-called lesser rains fall. If these are wanting, or, as is usually
the case, are scanty, the land is for the most part desolate, without
grass or herbage. This time of drought is described by the same
word as the drought itself: it prevails from October to December
inclusive. The season upon the productiveness of which the welfare of
the Hottentots in the main depends may be called the pasture-season:
it includes the period of the greater rains and the time immediately
after this, when the fodder has not yet lost its freshness. It
fills, loosely speaking, the period January-April, and constitutes
summer and early autumn. Winter, or the cold season, May to August,
embraces two-thirds of autumn and the first half of winter[300]. The
Herero also have four seasons:--spring (from September onwards),
summer, autumn or the rainy season, and winter[301].

In Burmah there are three seasons, though certainly they are
regulated by the months: the cold season, the hot season, and the
rainy season[302]. The Polynesians usually have two long seasons, but
three are not unheard of. A native of the island of Molokai, in the
Sandwich group, states that there the year was divided into three
seasons:--_maka-lii_, _kau_, and _hoo-ilo_. _Maka-lii_ was so called
because the sun was then less visible, being obscured by clouds, and
the days were shortened. _Kau_ was so termed because tapa could then
safely be spread out to dry. _Hoo-ilo_ meant ‘changeable’[303]. The
two main seasons are called _kau_ and _hoo-ilo_. It is to be observed
however that in a notice from Hawaii they are called _hoo-ilo_ and
_maka-lii_[304]. This shews that the number is not fixed. On the
Society Islands besides the two seasons regulated by the Pleiades
there were also three seasons: (1) _tetau_, autumn or season of
plenty, the harvest of bread-fruit, commencing with December and
continuing until _faahu_, which corresponded to January and a part
of February, the time of the most frequent rains, comprising three
months; (2) _te tau miti rahi_, the season of high sea, November to
January; (3) _te tau poai_, the longest season, winter, the season
of drought and scarcity of food, which usually extended from July to
October[305]. It will however be seen that these seasons do not fill
up the year, and that the second partly covers the first. Their names
are taken from different phenomena of Nature. The New Zealanders
distinguish four seasons:--spring, _te aro aro_, _mahaua_, _te toru_,
‘the time of growth’, both _toru_ and _aro aro_ signify ‘the shooting
or springing forth of plants’, _mahaua_ is the season of warmth;
summer, _raumati_, _waru_, _rehua_,--_raumati_ means ‘dead leaves’,
and the summer is so called because all the trees with one exception
are evergreen and shed their leaves in summer; autumn, _ngahura
matiti_; winter, _hotoke_, _puanga_, the season when the earth is
damp and gives forth her worms, which were formerly highly prized as
food[306]. The seasons are regulated by the stars, _puanga_ is the
great winter star, _rehu_ the great summer star.

The names of the greater seasons are therefore taken for the most
part from the varying phases of the climate, but very often refer
also to the phenomena of natural life accompanying these. The
climatic phases, on account of their fluctuating duration and their
limited number, afford no means of distinguishing and naming a
greater number of smaller seasons: the phases of plant and animal
life may be used as an equivalent and are much better adapted to this
purpose, especially when to them are added the regular occupations of
agriculture. In the above examples terms referring to natural life
have already been found mingled with those borrowed from the climate.
Where the seasons are numerous this is always the case: direct
references to the climate may even be entirely lacking. These facts
shew moreover that between the largest and smallest seasons there
exists no difference in the main: they pass into one another without
interruption through a series of intermediate stages. Such smaller
seasons may be run together into the circle of the year; but this
seldom occurs, since the ordinary reckoning according to lunar months
has absorbed the smaller seasons, which, on account of their varying
and indeterminate length, are inconvenient for reckoning, whereas the
regular and definite length of the months makes them easy to reckon.
It is however sometimes the case.

The Indians in general have lunar months named from natural
occurrences, but not so the Luiseño of Southern California. According
to P. S. Sparkman in his unpublished Dictionary of their language
the Luiseño year was divided into 8 periods, each of which was
again divided into two parts, distinguished as ‘large’ and ‘small’
or ‘lean’. These divisions did not represent periods of time but
merely indicated when certain fruits and seeds ripened, grass began
to grow, and trees came into leaf in the valley or on the mountain.
The native names are given but are unfortunately not translated. Du
Bois, to whom we are indebted for this information, names the parts
‘months’ (in inverted commas), and adds that the names are all taken
from the physical features of different seasons. _Tausunmal_, about
August, means that everything is brown and sear. _Tovukmal_ refers to
the little streams of water washing the fallen leaves. _Tasmoimal_
means that the rain has come and grass is sprouting. In _nemoimal_
the deer grow fat. The ‘months’ are marked by the rising of certain
stars. The seasons have here developed into a regular calendrical
cycle[307].

In reality this cycle is in no way distinguished from the succession
of seasons given above: it has only been improved and regulated. This
happens more particularly under the influence of agriculture; one can
speak of an agricultural year the seasons of which are determined
and named in accordance with agriculture. Of the Fanti of the Gold
Coast it is said that they divide the year, according to the changes
of the climate, into nine parts with distinct names, beginning with
the harmattan wind in January and ending with the small tornadoes
in December[308]. The periods however are related to agriculture,
as appears from a detailed description for the countries around the
Niger. The end of the rainy season and the beginning of the dry
(about November) forms a kind of season by itself, and is called
_odun_ (year). The farmers go on weeding their farms to give the
crops of their second harvest a chance. The dry season is divided
into two sections of two months each. During the day it is very
hot. The cold wind blowing from the east is called _harmattan_ by
Europeans, _oye_ by the natives. The second crops of corn, beans,
and guinea-corn are now gathered. The land is cleared for the next
season’s crops, and the bush already felled is burnt. This is also
the fishing season. The dry season (_erun_) continues for the next
two months, but during the latter part of the second month the
rumbling of thunder is heard and small rains fall. The preparation of
the ground is continued and yam-planting begins. The rainy season
may be divided into two parts separated by a little dry season: the
first section consists of five lunar months of rain, the latter of
two lunar months, one nearly dry month intervening. The first two
months of this section of the rains are called _asheroh ojo_: it
is the tornado season. At the beginning of this season ground-nuts
and the first crop of corn are planted. In the next two months the
rain-fall reaches its maximum. Towards the end of the second month
it becomes possible to eat new corn. The main crop however is left
standing in the fields until it becomes quite dry, which happens when
the next season, the little dry season, sets in. This sub-division of
the rainy season is called _ago_, probably because the corn has grown
tall during the last month. The season called _awori_ consists of one
month of rain and the little dry season. The first crop of yams, the
corn, the ground-nuts, and the gourds are gathered in. Before long
the rains have ceased, the seed for the second crop of corn is sown.
The two following months are called the _arokuro_ season, and like
the first two months of the rains they are tornado months. Bushes
are felled in order to prepare the land for next year’s sowing, and
weeding is continued[309]. The months mentioned are lunar months.
An interesting feature is that the names of the seasons do not
altogether coincide with the natural divisions of the climate, as the
following comparison clearly shews:--_odun_, end of rains, beginning
of dry season; _erun_, dry season I, II, 4 months; _asheroh ojo_,
season of rains (tornadoes), 2 months; _ago_, rainy season, maximum,
2 months; _awori_, 1 month rain and little dry season; _arokuro_,
season of rains (tornadoes), 2 months. The deviations are brought
about, as the description shews, by the business of agriculture.

The Shilluk know the months but also divide the year into the
following nine seasons:--_yey jeria_, about September, harvest of red
dura; _anwoch_, about October, end of the harvest, people are waiting
for white dura to ripen; _agwero_, about November-December, harvest
of white dura begins; _wudo_, December to January, harvest of white
dura continues; _leu_, January-February, the hot season, _dodin_,
about March, in these two there is no work in the fields; _dokot_,
about April, ‘mouth of rain’, beginning of the rains; _shwer_, about
May-July, time for planting red dura; _doria_, about July-September,
beginning of harvest[310]. A similar but more indefinite mode
of reckoning seems to exist among the Bakairi of S. America, of
whom it is said that they reckon by dry and rainy seasons, and
also distinguish ‘months’ not by the moon but quite vaguely by
the rain and the heat and the phases of the maize-culture[311].
Their months are given as follows:--‘hardest rain’, about January;
‘less rain’, February; ‘rain ceases’, March; ‘it (the weather)
becomes good’, April; ‘wood-cutting’, May and June; July, nameless;
‘end-of-the-day-time’, August; ‘the rain is coming’, September and
October; ‘the maize ripens’, November; December, nameless[312].

The agricultural year is most clearly defined among the
rice-cultivating peoples of the Indian Archipelago, by whom the
seasons are determined according to the state of the rice. It is
said, for example, in speaking of an event, that it happened at the
blossoming or harvesting of the rice[313]. Among the Bahau, a Dyak
tribe of Borneo, the year is divided into eight periods according
to the various kinds of labour carried on in the rice-field:--the
clearing of the brushwood (to prepare the fields for cultivation),
the felling of the trees, the burning of the wood felled, the
sowing or celebration of the seed-time festival, the weeding, the
harvest, the conclusion of the harvest, the celebration of the new
rice-year[314]. The Bontoc Igorot, as has been mentioned, divide the
year into two parts, the period of rice-culture and the other period.
There are however other periods which vary in different villages as
regards name, number, and duration, but are everywhere called after
the characteristic occupations that follow one another in the course
of the year. Eight of these together make up the calendar, and seven
of them have to do with the rice-cultivation. Each period receives
its name from the occupation which characterises its beginning, and
keeps this name until the beginning of the next period, even when
the occupation that characterised it had ceased some time before. To
_cha-kon_ belong:--(1) _i-na-na_, the first period in the year, the
time, as it is said, of no more work in the rice sementeras, when
practically all the fields are prepared and transplanted; in 1903
it began on Feb. 11 and it lasts about 3 months, continuing until
the time of the first rice-harvest in May, in 1903 till May 2; (2)
_la-tub_, the time of the first harvests, lasts about four weeks and
ends about June 1; (3) _cho-ok_, the time when most of the rice is
harvested, fills about 4 weeks, in 1903 till July 2; (4) _li-pas_,
the season of ‘no more palay-harvest’, lasts for about 10 or 15 days.
To the half-year _ka-sip_, belong:--(5) _ba-li-ling_, which takes
its name from the general planting of camotes and is the only one
of the calendar periods not named from the rice industry: it lasts
about 6 weeks, or nearly to the end of August; (6) _sa-gan-ma_, the
time when the sementeras which are to be used as seed-beds for the
rice are put into condition, the earth being turned three several
times, lasts about 2 months: on Nov. 15, 1902 the seed was just
peeping from the kernels; the seed is sown immediately after the
third turning of the earth, which thus ended early in November; (7)
_pa-chog_, the period of seed-sowing, begins about Nov. 10; although
the seed-sowing does not last many days, the period continues for 5
or 6 weeks; (8) _sa-ma_, the last period, in which the sementeras are
prepared for receiving the young plants, and in which these seedlings
are transplanted from the seed-beds, lasts nearly 7 weeks, from about
Dec. 20 to Feb. 10. The Igorot often say e. g. that an event occurred
in _la-tub_ or will take place in _ba-li-ling_; they therefore keep
these periods in mind just as a European thinks of some particular
month in which an event has happened[315]. The greatly varying length
of the periods is once more to be noted, and also the fact that a
vacant season is made into a period (see e. g. under (7)), it being
necessary to fill in the gaps so that the circle shall be continuous.

How such seasons and the year formed out of them may be developed
under the influence of the improved calendar into periods of
definite numbers of days is shewn by the Javanese peasant calendar
which is still used in Bali and Java. The year is an embolimic
year of 360 days and is divided into 12 periods of unequal length.
These are:--_koso_, 41 days; _karo_, 23; _katigo_, 24; _kapat_, 24
(25)[316]; _kalimo_, 26 (27); _kanam_, 41 (43); _kapitu_, 41 (43);
_kawolu_, 26 (in leapyear 27); _kasongo_, 25; _kasapuluh_, 25 (24);
_dasto_, 23; _sodo_, 41. The first ten of these names are the ordinal
numerals of the Javanese vernacular, the last two, according to
Wilken, are corruptions of Sanskrit words. In Bali the year begins
with the eleventh season (April), in Java with the winter solstice.
The different divisions correspond to the following occupations
and natural events:--1, the falling of the leaves, burning of dry
grass, and cutting of trees for the cultivation of mountain rice; 2,
beginning of vegetation; 3, blossoming of wild plants, planting of
yams and other secondary crops; 4, rutting season, high winds, the
rivers swell; 5, preparations for rice-planting; 6, ploughing and
rice-sowing; 7, rice is planted, the canals are repaired; 8, rice
grows and flowers; 9, the seeds form in the rice-plants; 10, rice
turning yellow; 11, the rice-crop is ripe, harvest begins; 12, cold
weather begins, the harvest is finished and the rice housed. This is
almost literally translated from the language of the natives[317].
Wilken gives to certain periods a different number of days (see note
1); according to him the year has 365 days, but every fourth year is
a leapyear with 366 days. The calendar was regulated in 1855 by Pakoe
Boewånå III, naturally according to the Gregorian calendar: hence
the variation from Crawfurd’s statements. This is the only instance
of an attempt to bring a natural calendar into agreement with the
demands of a modern one; it is however unpractical and inconvenient
on account of the varying length of the divisions. It is still used
in eastern Java and in the Tengge mountains[318].

In China, besides the lunisolar type of year, there is a division
of the year into 24 parts, the names of which correspond to the
climatic phenomena but are also borrowed from the phenomena of
natural life. They are:--rain-water, 15 days; moving of snakes, 15
days; spring equinox, 15 days; pure brightness, 15 days; sowing-rain
and dawn of summer, together 31 days; little fruitfulness (Ginzel) or
little rainy season (d’Enjoy), corn in the beard, together 31 days;
summer solstice, 16 days; beginning of heat, 16 days; great heat,
signs of autumn, together 31 days; end of heat, white dew, together
31 days; cold dew, 15 days; autumn equinox, 15 days; hoar-frost,
15 days; signs of winter, 15 days, beginning of snow, great snows,
together 29 days; winter solstice, 15 days; little cold, 15 days;
great cold, 15 days; dawn of spring, 15 days[319]. Of this division
Ginzel says that among the Chinese the seasons are expressed by
a division of the ecliptic: they are therefore astronomical, the
Chinese have no special names for the physical seasons. In former
times they took the length of the astronomical year to be 365¼
days, and assumed an equal period for the course of the sun in the
ecliptic; but they afterwards learnt to calculate the beginning of
the divisions directly. It would be surprising however not to find
underlying the present divisions old seasons which the astronomical
knowledge has drawn within its scope, and which have thus been
systematically developed and regulated. To decide the matter would
require special knowledge which the present writer does not possess.
It is to be noted moreover that the periods are connected in pairs,
the odd numbers (according to Ginzel’s scheme) are called _tsie_, the
even _k’i_, the joint name being _tsie-k’i_.

As far as the Indo-European period is concerned it seems now to
be agreed that there were then three seasons: for only the roots
occurring in the words _hiems_, _ver_, and _summer_ recur in a
greater number of the Indo-European languages. The much criticised
statement of Tacitus about the Germans is therefore corroborated:
“They know and name winter and spring and summer, but are ignorant
of the name and the goods of harvest”[320]. Spring however is not
equivalent to the other two seasons, for Indo-European antiquity
certainly also divided the year into two parts, the cold and the
warm seasons. The question whether the primitive Indo-European tribe
had two or three seasons is therefore pointless, and that this is so
will be readily understood by anyone who has become familiar with
the overlapping and the instability of the seasons of the primitive
peoples. The same phenomenon repeats itself in the addition of a
fourth season. The Greeks complete the circle of the year with the
three seasons winter, spring, and summer (χειμών, ἔαρ, θέρος), but in
Homer the fruit-harvest, ὀπώρη, already appears with the pretensions
of an independent season. Alkman has these four[321]. The principle
of nomenclature is however different: the first three names are
derived from climatic phenomena, ὀπώρα from the fruit-harvest. Now
since four climatic periods are naturally to be distinguished--cold,
warmth, and two transitional periods--the logical consequence is that
the fourth season should also be referred to the climate, and indeed
to the still unnamed period of transition between summer and winter.
This period however does not coincide with ὀπώρα, but follows it.
The latter term is therefore corrected to φθιν- or μετόπωρον; the
ὀπώρα naturally persists as the fruit harvest, and Theophrastus[322]
counts it in addition to the other four and thus gets five seasons.
The same thing seems to have happened in the case of the Latin
_autumnus_, although the process cannot be demonstrated. If the
small seasons are included the circle may be still further extended.
Thus the pseudo-Hippocratean treatise Περὶ ἑβδομάδων[323] gives
seven seasons:--1, seed-time, σπορητός, from the early rising of the
Pleiades to the winter solstice; 2, winter, until the late rising
of Arcturus; 3, tree-planting, φυταλιά, up to the spring equinox;
4, spring; 5, summer, from the early rising of the Pleiades up to
that of Sirius; 6, fruit-harvest, ὀπώρα, until the early rising of
Arcturus; 7, autumn. This arrangement is certainly affected by the
septenary system which pervades the treatise, but is founded on a
popular basis: the smaller seasons, which otherwise pass into the
greater, are given an independent position by the side of these.
The system has not prevailed, it is true, but it affords a typical
example of the instability of the seasons.

Exactly the same process recurs in the Indian seasons. The natural
division of the North Indian year is into three periods--a warm, a
rainy, and a cold season. Three corresponding seasons are the most
usual in the Vedic period, and these are still the popular divisions
in the Punjab. Later two transitional periods are interpolated,
one of an autumnal character between the rainy season and the cold
season, and a warm period between the cold season and the hot.
These five seasons often occur in the Brahmanas. The well-known six
seasons--_vasanta_, spring; _grishma_, hot season; _varsha_, rainy
season; _śarad_, autumn; _hemanta_, winter; _śiśira_, cool season:
the cold season is divided into two periods--are the result of a
systematic comparison with the months, the latter being distributed
in pairs among the seasons. By this arrangement the rainy season is
the loser, since it embraces at least three months. There is also
a second sexpartite division of the year, not indeed mentioned in
the Vedic literature but better corresponding to the course of the
seasons, in which the rainy season is divided into two periods[324].

The splitting up of the seasons persists to this day among the
Germanic peoples; but a systematising of these small seasons is only
found when they are referred to the Julian months. This point will be
dealt with below, in chapter XI. The phenomenon is known to me from
my own native district. The word _höst_, ‘autumn’, still persists
there in the old literal sense of harvest, mowing, and indeed
_höhösten_ is particularly the hay-harvest. Hence the designation of
the autumn season as _höst_ is felt to be insufficiently accurate
and the term is replaced by _efterhöst_, literally ‘after-harvest’,
late autumn. Between summer and _efterhöst_ appears the _skyr_
(dialect for _skörd_), the harvest, as a fifth season; sometimes
there is added a sixth season, _sivinter_, late winter. Little
attention has been paid to this phenomenon, though it is common
enough. The periods of the rural occupations in particular give
rise to such terms. Any period of this nature is described by the
old Swedish word _and_ (_ann_), now obsolete except in dialects.
For the other districts I add from the Dialect Dictionary of
Rietz:--_hobal_, the period on the one hand between the tillage in
spring and the hay-harvest, and on the other between the hay- and
the corn-harvest, the former period being the greater, the latter
the small _hobal_. Elsewhere the word has the form _hovel_, summer
being divided into _hoveln_, _mellan-anna_ and _ann_ (which is here
used pregnantly to mean harvest). Compounds with _and_ are _vår-_,
_säs-_, _gödsel-_, _hö-_, _slått-_, _skår-_, _skyr-_ and _sädes-and_
(periods of spring, sowing, manuring, hay, hay-harvest, harvest,
corn). The North Frisians of Amrum and Föhr for instance mark events
by the periods _um julham_ (‘at Christmas’), _um wosham_ (‘in early
spring’), _pluchleth_ (ploughing-time), _meedarleth_ (hay-harvest),
_kaarskörd_ (corn-reaping). In Norway there are current as general
time-indications:--fishing-time (_fiskja_), springtime (_voarvinna_
or _voaronn_), ploughing-time (_plogen_ or _plogvinna_), midsummer
(_haavoll_ or _haaball_), ‘between time’, i. e. between ploughing and
hay-making, (_mellonn_), early summer (_leggsumar_), haymaking-time
(_høyvinna_, _høyonn_, or _slaatt_), harvest-time (_haustvinna_ or
_skurd_), ‘shortest-days-time’ (_skamtid_)[325]. In Iceland, where
the sheep-farming is the principal industry, we find:--Lamb-weaning
time or Pen-tide, _stekk-tid_, in May; Parting-tide, _fra-faerar_,
when the sheep are driven to the hills; Market-tide, _kaup-tid_,
when all purchases for the year are made; Home-field hay-time
and Out-field hay-time (July and August); Folding-tide, _rettir_
(September), when the sheep are driven off the hill pastures into
folds to be separated into flocks and marked. Again from wild
birds and eider-ducks one calls the spring Egg-tide. The fisherman
uses such seasons as _ver-tid_, Fishing-tide; of these there is
a spring, an autumn, and a winter fishing-month. Flitting-days,
_fardagar_, come in the spring, and _skil-dagar_ in summer, when
servants leave.[326] In the old German laws and elsewhere similar
time-indications are common, e. g. at plough-time, at the second
plough-time, at autumn-sowing, at harvest, at hay-making time, at
hemp-gathering, after harvest and hay-making, at the bean-harvest, at
plough-time, at the grape-harvest, at sowing-time, at harvest-time,
fall of the leaves, sprouting of the leaves, oat-cutting or
harvest[327]. In Anglo-Saxon a similar expression occurs in a law of
King Vihtraed in the year 696, _sexton dæge rugernes_ (rye-harvest).
These periods are in themselves indefinite, they fail to achieve a
definite length or quite fixed position in the year. Where they do
so, this is due to the comparison with the Julian months, of which
more later.

However over the number of the seasons among the Germans or, what has
often been regarded as the same thing,--and this is an evidence of
the false methods by which the problem has been attacked--over the
German division of the year, a long and vigorous dispute has been
carried on. That the year was divided into two parts, summer and
winter, is well known. I refer to the Scandinavian half-years[328],
to the testimony of Bede[329] that the Anglo-Saxons reckoned six
months for winter and six for summer, and to the German expressions
for a year: ‘in bareness and in leaf’, ‘bare and leaf-clad’,
‘in straw and in grass’[330]. No less a scholar than J. Grimm
has cast doubt on the statement of Tacitus that the Germans had
only three seasons, but later he withdrew his doubts in view of
the consideration that the Germans at the time of Tacitus were
acquainted with grain-culture but not with fruit-culture, and that
the word autumn, harvest, referred to the fruit and vine-harvests
and therefore naturally did not appear among the Germans of that
time[331]. In view of the linguistic phenomenon mentioned above, p.
71, it seems now to be agreed that the account of Tacitus is in
the main correct. Weinhold has given the treatment of the question
its direction. According to him the tripartite division to which
reference has been made crowded out the older division into two
parts, the points of division, he maintains, doubtless coinciding
in the first instance with the three _Lauddinge_ or _ungebotene
Gerichte_ (regular courts), which are found as early as the time
of Charlemagne. The beginnings of the four seasons--determined
from saints’ days--in February, May, August, and November are of
foreign origin: on the other hand the quadripartite division of
the year, arising from the fact that mid-winter and midsummer were
added to the beginning of winter and summer as interpolations in the
time-reckoning, is German. This Weinhold tries to prove from the
popular festivals associated with these dates. The attempt however is
a complete failure. No season begins with any of the solstices, on
the contrary these fall right in the middle of a season. His thesis
rests on an erroneous conception of the festivals, viz. that they are
in general calendar-festivals. Under primitive conditions a festival
(the harvest-home in particular) may certainly conclude a division of
time and may thus also indicate the beginning of a new season, but
as a rule the festivals, though regulated by the calendar, are not
so ordered that they coincide with the beginning of a season. We are
therefore not authorised in drawing conclusions as to the beginning
of a division of the year from the existence of an old festival.
Support has been lent to the idea of Weinhold by the fact that in
later times the beginnings of the seasons were indicated by festivals
and saints’ days. The fact of the matter is that the common medieval
calendar was composed of a series of festivals and saints’ days from
among which suitable and well-known days were chosen in the dating
of the beginnings of the seasons also. For the general understanding
it was necessary throughout to bring in popular saints’ days[332].
Tille attacks Weinhold very sharply but remains throughout under the
influence of the method indicated by the latter: his work, however,
has its good points, inasmuch as it refers to economic conditions,
agriculture, the payments of rent, etc. The bipartite division, he
asserts, is primitive Indo-European, the tripartite is of foreign
(Egyptian) origin: both existed for a long time side by side. This
fact is explained by an old sexpartite division of the year, since
the six seasons could be run together either in twos or in threes.
The beginnings of the half-years are given by natural phenomena,
those of the three annual divisions are placed by Tille at March
13, July 10, and Nov. 11, old style: in the north on account of the
climatic conditions they are pushed back a month. Hammarstedt[333]
remarks very pertinently that the beginning of winter in November,
in the north in October, belongs to the reckoning in half-years, and
that hence arises the absurdity that Tille has to give Feb. 10 as the
date for the beginning of spring in the north. But to assign Dec. 13
with Hammarstedt as the beginning of one of the three seasons agrees
just as little with the natural seasons of the year.

The principal error lies in the systematising, the seasons being
regarded as periods of a definite number of days. This is not the
case even to-day, and still less was it so, as we have seen, among
primitive peoples. Still more clearly does the same error of method
appear in Tille’s assumption of a sexpartite division of the year,
or of sixty-day periods, as they are expressly termed. He refers
to the six old Indian seasons, which are a comparatively late and
artificial product called forth by the adoption of the names of the
seasons in the reckoning by months[334], and to the pairs of months
of the Syrian and Arabian calendar. He regards as 60-day divisions
not only the smaller seasons mentioned above, p. 75, the duration of
which was originally no less indefinite than it is to-day, but also
the Germanic pairs of months, which owe their origin to an adaptation
of the Roman months (for this see below, ch. XI). The 60-day periods
are so far from being primitive that they first took their origin
under the influence of the reckoning in months.

In Iceland there still exists a curious calendar, the ‘week-year’.
The year is divided into two halves, _misseri_; the people reckon in
so many _misseri_, not years; it consists of _whole_ weeks, in the
ordinary year 52 (= 364 days), in leapyear 53 (= 371 days). Until
midsummer (or mid-winter) they reckon forwards, so many weeks of
summer or winter have elapsed, after that backwards, so many weeks
of summer (winter) remain[335]. Bilfinger in a penetrating study
has tried to shew that this curious calendar is an outcome of the
ecclesiastical calendarial science of the Middle Ages. He does not
however prove his case: rather, the calendar, as tradition shews,
reaches far back into heathen times[336].

The reckoning in weeks was once common to all Scandinavia. The
Lapps have special names for every week of the year, borrowed from
festivals and saints’ days falling within the weeks; they have
therefore taken from the Scandinavians the reckoning in weeks and
adapted it to the uses of a primitive time-reckoning. From the
same source they have also derived the special significance of the
summer night (April 14, Tiburtius) and of the winter night (Oct. 14,
Calixtus), from which also two weeks are named. The system is better
preserved in certain parts of South Sweden[337]. The people count
in _räppar_, quarter-years--in Öland they are called _trettingar_,
thirteenths, i. e. 13 weeks--beginning with the _räppadagar_: these
are Lady Day, Midsummer Day, Michaelmas Day, and Christmas Day, old
style. Just as in Iceland, they reckon backwards, not however in the
same quarters as there, but in the quarters before Midsummer and
Christmas: in the other two quarters they count forwards. In northern
Scania I have met with a relic of the same type of reckoning, the
‘number of weeks’ (_ugetalet_), which begins on April 6 (Lady Day,
old style), and is reckoned backwards as far as the thirteenth week.
The duration of both rural occupations and natural phenomena is
determined in so many weeks. As the starting-point of this reckoning
in weeks the four great festivals which come nearest to the four
points of the solstices and equinoxes are chosen. There can be no
doubt that these have made their appearance under the influence of
the Christian calendar instead of the four Old Scandinavian points
of division of the year. The people call Calixtus’ day (Oct. 14)
the first day of winter, and Tiburtius’ day (April 14) the first
day of summer; many rune-staves have this division of the year, and
almost all describe the former by a tree without leaves, the latter
by a tree in leaf. They fall in the same weeks as the initial days
of winter and summer in Iceland, which vary there on account of the
peculiar arrangement of the calendar. In Scandinavia, however, they
have been transformed into fixed days under the influence of the
Julian calendar.

It is a natural conclusion that the reckoning in weeks had its origin
in the use of the rune-staff. Since the week-day letters on these
are repeated the whole year through, the weeks offered an easy means
of reckoning. This conclusion is certainly correct, but still we
may venture to ask why the week-day letters were admitted into the
national calendar by the North especially, and why the reckoning in
weeks should be adopted in popular use only there. The reason can
only be that the counting in weeks was already in use before the
rune-staff was introduced. This mode of counting, which in Iceland
had been developed into a curious form of year, was in Scandinavia
adapted to the Julian calendar and remained bound up with this. The
leap-week was therefore unnecessary. The old basis is however still
preserved in the points of departure, the summer and winter nights.
It is the same system as the Icelandic, built up on the week and the
year, but differently modified: the idea of any borrowing cannot be
entertained. The basis of this calendar, therefore, was once common
to all Scandinavia, and the calendar must go back to heathen times.

Under the influence of the popular lay astrology the week was early
spread among the Germanic peoples: on it and on an approximate
knowledge of the length of the year, such as could easily be
acquired in the lively intercourse with Christian lands during the
Viking period, the system of the Icelandic calendar is built up. An
indigenous element however appears, the half-year reckoning, and
indeed the great probability is that the limitation of the half-year
to a fixed number of days was first achieved as a result of this
systematising of the calendar. Winter and summer, like all natural
seasons, had at first no fixed limits. The quarters arose in the
course of the reckoning, the people counting forwards in the first
half of the half-year and backwards in the other half. The middle
points of the half-year, mid-winter and midsummer, fell where both
reckonings met. This agrees with the popular objection to high
numbers. The Germanic tribes of the south, in accordance with their
milder climate, commonly reckoned five months for winter. In the
north the dead season is longer, about six months, and this fact has
contributed to the half-year reckoning which, as has already been
remarked, is widely characteristic of northern peoples. That the
limits between both seasons were unstable and could be moved forward
according to circumstances is in my opinion shewn by the names of the
initial days of the half-year--_sumarmál_ (plural) and _vetrnaetr_,
‘the winter nights’. Where a definitely determined day is in question
the plural is out of place: it is used to describe a period, for
instance _jol_ (plur.) denotes Christmas-time[338].

With the two opening days of the calendar and the one division in
the middle are often combined the three great sacrificial feasts,
the autumn festival at the winter nights, the Yule festival at
mid-winter, and the spring festival at the summer nights. It is
true that the first of these festivals, which was celebrated at the
beginning of a period of rest after the completion of the harvest
and agricultural labour, denoted, as such festivals often do, the
conclusion of the old year and the beginning of the new. That it was
fixed for a definite day cannot be demonstrated any more than that
the festival of victory in spring, celebrated before the Vikings
went forth on their voyages, fell exactly on the summer night. On
the contrary the time probably varied according to circumstances:
the expression of Snorre lacks calendarial accuracy and remains
indefinite:--“They should sacrifice against the winter to get a
good year, and at mid-winter sacrifice for germination; the third
sacrifice in summer, and this was a sacrifice of victory”[339]. In
historical times the Yule festival is regulated by the Christian
calendar; Snorre says that in heathen times it was celebrated
at the _hökku_ night, but of this we have no certain knowledge.
Things happened as in the Middle Ages and later: after a calendar
has arisen the festivals are regulated by this, but they are not
calendar-festivals, and in reconstructing the scheme of the calendar
from the festivals very great caution must be exercised.

Our conclusion is that the Germanic seasons, like the seasons in
general, were not in themselves definitely limited divisions of time,
and that alongside of the greater seasons smaller ones arose without
there being any numerical determination of the relationship between
the two. Seasons only become divisions consisting of a definite
number of days when in the regulation of the calendar they are taken
over as calendar divisions, as winter and summer were in Scandinavia.
Where a calendar has arisen directly out of the seasons, the
divisions, like the seasons, are of varying length[340]. This also
shews that the Germanic seasons first attained a definite number of
days through the calendar-regulation introduced from abroad. Further,
when a calendar existed, the beginning of the seasons could be given
with reference to this: the day varied according to circumstances,
but the choice was limited in this manner, viz. that only a popular
festival or saint’s day was appropriate as a distinguishing day.
Here also, therefore, the calendar was the starting-point for the
regulation of the seasons. A division of the year in the more
accurate sense also first arose through the regulation of the
calendar, since, owing to the method of calculation, the middle
days of the half-year divisions became distinguishing days in
the calendar. When the calendar came, the old festivals were also
regulated by it.

By way of supplement two or three curious exceptional cases may be
noted. A completely isolated instance is offered by the Bangala of
the Upper Congo, who count in lunar months, and, since there is no
dry season, reckon for longer periods by the rise of the rivers[341].
In the monsoon districts however it is frequently a peculiarity to
distinguish the seasons by the winds. Of Sumatra it is reported:--The
principal seasons are named after the quarters of the heavens from
which the wind blows. At the time when we were in Taluk, April to
mid-June, the south monsoon was blowing; the east, the west, and
the north monsoons also come under consideration for the seasons.
Moreover the people also distinguish a dry and a rainy period. The
seasons 4. _tahun djin_, 5. _tahun wou_, 6. _tahun sai_ were regarded
as falling within the rainy period, while the dry season set in
with 1. _t. ali_, and continued with 2. _t. dal awal_, and 3. _t.
dal akhir_. In the two seasons 7. _t. ha_ and 8. _t. ‘am_ dry and
wet weather alternate[342]. In New Britain (Bismarck Archipelago),
between the two greater seasons of the south-east and the north-west
monsoons, each consisting of 5 months, there were two smaller
intermediate seasons of one month each, the period of variable winds
and the period of calm[343]. In Songa (Vellalavella), one of the
Solomon Islands, various seasons are distinguished according to the
direction of the wind:--the time of the west wind, _nanano_; the
time of the almond-ripening, _tovarauru_ (the time of the north
wind); _rari_, the time of the south wind--during this period calm
prevails at night but there is wind in the day-time; _sassa nanamo_,
time of the east wind; _mbule_, time of calm, lasting about a
month. After _mbule_ follow _tovaruru_, lasting about 2 months, and
_sassa nanamo_, one month. In Lambutjo the matter is still further
complicated. The following winds are distinguished:--south wind,
west wind, good wind at the time of almond-ripening, lasting about
one month. Further the east wind, strong or quite weak with squalls,
not good. Three months afterwards comes the west wind, lasting about
2-3 months. After the east wind a south-west wind, very strong, at
that time one cannot sail on the sea: it often comes 5 months after
the east wind. After the south-west wind a SE wind, lasting only 1-2
weeks. Then strong E wind, lasting 1-2 months, during which time
navigation in canoes is impossible. Then again a time of ‘clear
water’, i. e. calm, lasting two months. After this, S wind, NW wind,
and NE wind. Each of these lasts only a short time, altogether they
occupy 3-4 months. Then begins a lighter E wind, lasting 3-4 weeks.
Then about one month of light W wind, then again stronger E wind for
1-2 months. Afterwards S wind for 1½-2 months, lighter SE wind for
1-2 weeks, and then again stronger E wind for 2-3 months. At the time
of the west wind there is much rain, at the time of the east wind
much sunshine[344]. It is very interesting to see how accurately
primitive peoples observe Nature, but these are not indications
of time. On the Gazelle Peninsula it has been observed that when
the SE monsoon blows the sun comes up in the east, and when the NW
monsoon blows it rises in the south: the wind comes from the opposite
direction to that in which the sun rises[345].

CHAPTER III.

THE YEAR.

Following the practice of my authorities I have often in the
foregoing pages made use of the expression that the year is ‘divided’
into so many parts. From a genetic stand-point this expression is
incorrect, because the time-indications, which relate to a concrete
phenomenon of Nature, are older than the year, and, since they are
connected only with the single phenomenon, are discontinuous or even
indefinite. Only through their union does the complete year arise.
Every natural year however offers on the whole the same phenomena
following one another in definite succession, and thus the circle
of the year has its prototype in Nature herself. Nevertheless
the uniting of the different seasons into a complete year only
takes place gradually by means of a selection, systematising,
and regulation of the seasons. It must be carried out according
to a principle--we shall see that this is as a rule the lunar
reckoning--but the occupations of agriculture also serve as a handle.
The present chapter will shew how the uniting of the seasons into
the year is only a late and incomplete development, how originally
the year does not exist as a numerical quantity, the _pars pro
toto_ counting being resorted to, and finally how the years are not
reckoned as members of an era but are distinguished and fixed by
concrete events.

The difficulty of struggling through to the conception of the year
is exemplified by certain peoples who know two seasons but reckon
in half-years without joining them together. Naturally this happens
in the rare case in which there is very little difference--or none
at all--between the two halves of the year. Thus of the Akikuyu of
British East Africa it is reported:--The equatorial year has no
winter or summer. Its passage is marked by two wet seasons, which
occur in what are our spring and autumn. The planting is done in
all cases at the first commencement of the rains, and harvesting as
soon as the crop has ripened after the cessation of the rain. There
are therefore two seed-times and two harvests in twelve months, and
when the native speaks of a year he means six months[346]. This is
very natural, since by ‘year’ a vegetation-period is often to be
understood: the half-year reckoning however also appears where a
difference between the two seasons does exist. In Rotuma or Granville
Island the inhabitants reckon in periods of six months or moons. The
west monsoon, which blows from October to April, doubtless serves
to distinguish these seasons: otherwise the difference between the
seasons is hardly perceptible, the island lying near the equator. The
half-years each contain six months, to which the same names are given
in both halves[347]. The people of the Nicobars reckon in monsoon
half-years, _shom-en-yuh_, the SW monsoon, _sho-hong_, blowing from
May to October, and the NE monsoon, _ful_, from November to April,
so that two of these form one of our years[348]. The half-years are
also said to contain seven months each[349]: in reality they must
vary between 6 and 7 months, as the year varies between 12 and 13. In
New Britain (Bismarck Archipelago) there are monsoon years of five
months: the two intervening periods of the variable winds and of the
calms, each lasting one month, are not counted[350]. It is said that
the Benua-Jahun of the Malay Peninsula have no other division of the
year than the natural one of the north and south monsoons, each of
which they call a ‘wind-year’, _satahun angni_; however a word for
year, _sa taun_, is also ascribed to them[351]. In Bali the year is
divided into two seasons or monsoons, each of which includes six
months; since the months of both halves have the same names it is
evident that originally only half-years existed[352]. The greatest
unit of time among the Orang Kubu of Sumatra is the six-month
_mussim_ (season), which is of Malay origin[353]. The Samoans have a
name for a period of twelve months, but they formerly reckoned years
of six months (_tau-sanga_); each of these corresponded to one of the
two six-month periods, the palolo or rainy season and the monsoon
season[354]. The Moanu of the Admiralty Island name the division of
the year according to the position of the sun. When it stands north
of the equator, the season in question is named _morai in paiin_ (sun
of war), since wars are chiefly fought in this season. When it stands
over the equator, the season is called _morai in houas_ (sun of
friendship), the season of friendship and mutual visits. When the sun
turns towards the south, the cooler season begins[355]. Of the Kiwai
Papuans of the islands in the delta of the Fly River in New Guinea,
Torres Straits, Landtman writes to me that he cannot say if the
people are clear whether they reckon in years or in half-years[356].
The former supposition is really only supported by the fact that they
are aware that the same natural conditions recur after the lapse of
the two half-years. There is no word for year. On the whole it may
be said that they count only the months, and hardly conceive of so
great a unit as the year, nor even (at least not everywhere) of the
half-year, although there may be a hint of this in special cases.

Not seldom the dry and the rainy seasons are counted without being
combined into a year. This is expressly stated of the Tupi of Brazil
and certainly applies also to the Bakairi[357]. In Loango there are
dry and rainy seasons, and in many districts a third season also, the
fruit-ripening. Commonly the people reckon by the two main seasons. A
centenarian is therefore fifty years old[358]. In Uganda there are in
the course of twelve months two rainy and two dry seasons, although
there is hardly a month in which no rain falls at all. The rainy
season from February to June is called _togo mukazi_, since the rain
then falls without much thunder: the second, from August to November,
is called _dumbi musaja_, because of the thunder and the frequent
deaths from lightning. The dry season about December is more intense
than that about June. However the year, _mwaka_, is composed of one
rainy season together with the following dry season, and consists of
six moons or months[359]. Their year, corresponding to a half-year,
consists of five moons, and a sixth in which it rains[360]. In north
Asia the common mode of reckoning is in half-years, which are not to
be regarded as such but form each one separately the highest unit
of time: our informants term them ‘winter year’ and ‘summer year’.
Among the Tunguses the former comprises 6½ months, the latter 5, but
the year is said to have 13 months; in Kamchatka each contains six
months, the winter year beginning in November, the summer year in
May; the Gilyaks on the other hand give five months to summer and
seven to winter. The Yeneseisk Ostiaks reckon and name only the seven
winter months, and not the summer months[361]. This mode of reckoning
seems to be a peculiarity of the far north: the Icelanders reckoned
in _misseri_, half-years, not in whole years, and the rune-staves
divide the year into a summer and a winter half, beginning on April
14 and October 14 respectively. But in Germany too, when it was
desired to denote the whole year, the combined phrase ‘winter and
summer’ was employed, or else equivalent concrete expressions such as
‘in bareness and in leaf’, ‘in straw and in grass’[362].

‘Years’ with less than twelve months are to us the strangest of
phenomena. The Yurak Samoyedes and probably the Tunguses of the Amur
reckon eleven months to the year, the Kamchadales only ten, of which
one is said to be as long as three[363]. The natives of southern
Formosa reckon about eleven months to the year[364]. The inhabitants
of Kingsmill Island, which lies under the equator, reckon periods
of ten months, which are numbered but, in contradistinction to the
other examples, are reckoned in cycles[365]. In the Marquesas 10
months formed a year, _tau_ or _puni_, but the actual year, i. e. the
Pleiades year, was also known[366].

The Yoruba reckon in 16-day divisions. Fourteen of these form
their old year, of 224 days, i. e. in former times attention was
paid to the rainy season only. The first thunder was the signal
for the fishers and hunters to come back to their huts and begin
farming again.[367] The Toradja of the Dutch East Indies reckon in
moon-months: two to three months however compose a vacant period in
which they do not trouble about time-reckoning[368]. The Islamite
Malays of Sumatra distinguish _tahun basar_, the great year, or
_tahun musin_, the year of the seasons, both reckoned as 12 months,
from _tahun padi_, the rice-year, which among them counts only eleven
months[369]. The Dusun of British North Borneo have two methods
of reckoning their longest divisions of time. If the native be a
hill-man he will reckon by the _taun kendinga_ or the hill-_padi_
season, six months from planting to harvest, if a plain-dweller by
the _taun tanau_ or wet _padi_ season, 8 to 9 months[370]. This
incomplete year is therefore a vegetation year in which the vacant
period of no work is simply passed over. In this manner may be
explained the much discussed ten-month year of the Romans[371], if
it really depends upon old tradition and is not a mere creation of
spurious learning. It is not a cyclical year like ours: a complete
explanation will be given below in the investigation of the manner in
which the years were counted.

It is true indeed of most primitive peoples, as is said of the
Hottentots, that they are well acquainted with the conception (_sic!_
I should have said rather: the concrete phenomenon) of the year,
_guri-b_, as a single period of the seasonal variation, but do not
reckon in years in this sense[372]. That is to say the year is by
them empirically given but not limited in the abstract: above all
it is not a calendarial and numerical quantity. Of the Waporogo it
is said:--Somewhat more difficult (than the times of day) is the
conception of the year. Only older, more intelligent people have a
clear idea of it, the sowing-time and the rainy seasons constituting
their points of reference. But they too can only reckon up a few
years (though they certainly do this by counting the seasons, cp.
below, p. 92), and for the great mass of the people the conception
of the year does not exist[373]. The Bontoc Igorot has no idea of
a cycle of time greater than a year, and in fact it is the rare
individual who thinks in terms of a year[374]. The length of the year
consequently varies. Among the Banyankole it begins with the first
heavy rains and lasts until the next heavy rains, so that a year may
be longer or shorter by a few days: it is a matter of no consequence
whether it is a week or even three weeks that are taken off or added
to the length[375].

With the agricultural year it is just the same. For the Dyaks of
Borneo the rice-harvest is a main division of the year (_njelo_);
in September after the conclusion of the harvest the year is at
an end; a definite beginning, a New Year’s Day, is unknown[376].
The translation of a Ho text runs:--“When the inhabitants of the
interior begin to cultivate the yam-fields they begin a new year:
when the yams are dug up and the dry grass is burnt away, a year
has passed”[377]. Among the Thonga the notion of the year (_lembe_,
_dji-ma_) is extremely vague: the year begins at two different
periods, that of tilling and that of harvesting the first-fruits.
They do not make any difference between a lunar and a solar
year[378]. A very significant account comes from Dahomey. The word
for year does not denote any definite number of months: the sense is
rather ‘to plant maize and eat, to plant it again and harvest it’. At
the end of the harvest the year also is at an end[379].

Here therefore we have a natural year quite concretely and
empirically given. Chronologically it is of no use nor indeed is it
used: what method is resorted to will be shewn below. Attention must
first be called, however, to an important point. The purely natural
year is a circle which has no natural division, i. e. no beginning or
end, the seasons following upon each other immediately; not so the
agricultural year, which has both beginning and end. Here therefore
there is a natural point of division, a new year, which appeared in
some of the examples just given, and this is an extremely important
point for time-reckoning. The vacant period between harvest and
sowing presents some difficulty, and so both of these periods can be
used as the beginning, as is done among the Thonga: otherwise the
beginning of the year varies considerably, just because it can be
arbitrarily determined[380].

The contradiction between length or duration of time and
time-reckoning evidently here becomes apparent. The counting is
not performed by means of these fluctuating empirical years, but
the _pars pro toto_ method is employed, the years are counted by
a season. As soon as it is said that some event took place at a
definite time of the previous year, or will take place at some point
in the following year, a counting of the years is thereby implied,
although for an enumeration of this kind the conception of the year
is not necessary. When it is said that something happened at the
previous harvest, or will happen at the next dry season a counting of
the years is no less implied, although seasons are reckoned instead
of years, i. e. the _pars pro toto_ method is used. Thus it is, in
fact, with all primitive and many highly developed peoples, and that
not only when an event that took place at a definite time is spoken
of, but also where the number of years alone is in question: in
the latter case the reckoning is only performed from a favourite,
conventionally selected season. The statement made for the Hottentots
is significant for the kind of reckoning just mentioned. They
keep in mind the age of their cattle from the calving and lambing
periods[381]. Similarly we are told of the modern Arabians that the
female camel is covered for the first time when she is four _rabi_
old (_rabi_ = the pasture-season in spring, when the camel foals), so
that she foals in the fifth rabi[382].

As a basis for the counting either a longer or a shorter season may
serve, or indeed any popular natural phenomenon of regular annual
occurrence. Thus of the Chinhwan of Formosa it is stated that they
have no calendar: they only know that a new year has come when
a certain flower blooms again[383]. The Paez of Columbia have a
word _enzte_, ‘fishing, summer, year’, since a great fishing is
only engaged in once a year, in January or February[384]. In the
language of the Tupi of S. Brazil the year is always called _akayú_,
cashew-tree, which blossoms once a year, and produces a much-prized
reniform stone-fruit which is also often used in the preparation of
wine: the word also means ‘season’. This tree bears fruit only once
a year, whence it comes that the Brazilians reckon their age by the
stones, laying aside one for each year, and keeping them in a small
basket reserved for this purpose[385]. The Algonquin of Virginia
reckoned in _cohonks_, winters; the name refers to the wild geese,
and shews that these have come back to them so many times[386].
In medieval Swiss charters time is often reckoned in _louprisi_,
‘leaf-fall’; _dri_, _nün louprisi_ = when the leaves have fallen
three, nine times, etc.[387].

In a later section on the beginning of the year we shall find
that the appearance of a certain constellation, in particular the
Pleiades, gives the signal for the beginning of the agricultural
labour, whence is developed the importance of this date as the
opening of the year. The time between two like appearances of the
same constellation, e. g. between two heliacal risings, is a year.
In this manner the name of the constellation itself can come to
denote ‘year’. In many parts of S. America the same word means both
‘Pleiades’ and ‘year’[388]. The inhabitants of the Marquesas call the
year of 12 months, as distinguished from the 10-month fruit-year,
by the name of the Pleiades, _mata-iti_[389]. How easily this comes
to pass is shewn by a statement made for the Bangala of the Upper
Congo. The culmination of the constellation _kole_ gave the principal
planting-season. This was so familiar to the natives that the
informant used the word _kole_ as equivalent to the word ‘year’[390].
This is in its very nature a _pars pro toto_ designation, since it
refers to an annually recurring phase of the stars.

More often the years are reckoned by one of the greater seasons.
It is a well-known fact that in Old Norse generally, in Gothic, and
often in Old German and Anglo-Saxon time was reckoned in winters. We
find traces of the same practice in Greek (χίμαρος, ‘a one-year-old
goat’, from the same root as χειμών, winter) and in Latin (_bimus_,
_trimus_ = ‘of two, three years’, from _hiems_): poets often reckon
in _hiemes_[391]. It is almost the rule among all peoples who live
under a climate that has a winter with snow and ice. The Ostiaks
reckon in winters, and so do the Eskimos of Greenland[392] and of the
Behring Straits[393], and the N. American Indians in general, for
instance the Kiowa[394], the Pawnee[395], and the Omaha[396]. The
common method of reckoning is not by the season, ‘the cold time’, but
by the concrete phenomenon that distinguishes it, viz. the snow. So
with the tribes of the N. W. interior[397], the Hupa[398], and the
Dakota, who say that a man is so many ‘snows’ old, or that so many
‘snow-seasons’ have passed since an occurrence[399]. The Siciatl of
British Columbia reckon either by summers, ‘fine seasons’, or by
winters, ‘snows’[400]. For the Algonquin see p. 93. In the tropics to
reckon by the cold season is rare: the Guarini of Paraguay however
reckon in _roi_, i. e. ‘seasons of coolness’, ‘winters’[401], and the
Bakongo occasionally by _sivu_, the cold season, though more often by
_mou_, ‘season’[402]. The reason for the reckoning of the years in
winters is the same as that for the counting of the days in nights.
Winter is a time of rest, an undivided whole, which practically
becomes equivalent to a single point: it is therefore more convenient
for reckoning than summer, which is filled up with many different
occupations. In the south of N. America, in the states on the Gulf of
Mexico, where the snow is rare and the heat of summer is the dominant
feature, the term for year had some reference to this season or to
the heat of the sun[403], e. g. among the Seminole of Florida the
name for the year was the same as that used for summer[404]. Here the
summer is the time of rest, but in Slavonic also time is reckoned in
summers (_leto_ = ‘summer’, plural = ‘years’). We may compare here
the English expressions ‘a maiden of 18 summers’, etc. The reckoning
in springs is only exceptional. The Basuto word _selemo_ means
‘spring, ploughing-time, year’[405]. At the southern end of Lake
Nyassa time is reckoned by ‘rains’, i. e. rainy seasons[406].

Ever since the principal food of man has been the produce of
fruit-trees or the corn, the fruit- and corn-harvests and the whole
period of vegetation in general have been of decisive importance for
his well-being. We have already seen how this circumstance has left
its mark upon the indications of the seasons, and in the same way
the second most important method of counting years is to reckon by
harvests or vegetation-periods. The fellahs of Palestine still do
this. Their usual method is to reckon from one harvest to another,
or, as they put it, ‘from threshing-floor to threshing-floor’[407].
In modern Arabia rents are hardly ever reckoned for a whole year, but
only until the next spring, _rabi_, when the young animals are sold,
or, as by the fellahs, until the next threshing-time, _bedar_, when
the farmer can realise upon his corn[408]. The Negrito of Zambales
determine the year by the planting or harvesting season, but their
minds rarely go back farther than the last season[409]. In Bavaria
in the Middle Ages the years used to be reckoned in autumns. The
ceremonial reckoning in the Sanskrit ritual texts is in autumns,
Sanskrit _çarad_, ‘autumn’[410]. The subjects of the Incas had a word
_huata_, ‘year’, which as a verb meant ‘_attacher_’: but the lower
classes reckoned in harvests[411]. This is also done in the district
around Mombasa[412]. The Arabs sometimes reckon the years as e. g. 40
_charif_, _charif_ being the time of the date-harvest[413].

We have already spoken of the rice-year in the East Indian
Archipelago as a combination of the agricultural seasons; the period
of vegetation of the rice also serves, although seldom, for the
counting of the year. Among the Toradja the time needed for a plant
to come to its full development up to maturity is called _ta’oe_, and
_santa’oe_ accordingly means ‘a year ago’. _Sampae_ is the rice-year
of six months, but _santa’oe_ has practically the same meaning,
since the rice is the most important cultivated plant. In general,
however, the word is seldom used as a time-indication, but the years
are reckoned by well-known events (on this see below, pp. 99 ff.);
nevertheless expressions like the following are heard:--_santa’oe
owi_, ‘when last year’s rice-crops still stood on the field’,
_roeanta’oe owe_, ‘two harvests ago’[414]. In the South Sea Islands
the bread-fruit is the most important article of food: the people,
as we have seen, know a time of abundance of food and a time of
scarcity. We are told:--The Malay word for ‘year’ is _taun_ or
_tahun_. In all Polynesian dialects the primary sense of _tau_ is ‘a
season’, ‘a period of time’. In the Samoan group _tau_ or _tausanga_,
besides the primary sense of season, has the definite meaning of ‘a
period of six months’, and conventionally that of ‘a year’, as on the
island of Tonga. Here the word has the further sense of ‘the produce
of a year’, and derivatively ‘a year’. In the Society group it simply
means ‘season’. In the Hawaiian group, when not applied to the
summer season, the word keeps its original sense of ‘an indefinite
period of time’, ‘a life-time, an age’, and is never applied to the
year: its duration may be more or less than a year, according to
circumstances[415]. So far our authority. It seems however to be
questionable whether the original sense is not the concrete ‘produce
of the seasons’, rather than the abstract ‘period of time’. It is
significant that on the Society Islands the bread-fruit season is
called _te tau_, and the names of the other two seasons, _te tau miti
rahi_ and _te tau poai_, are formed by adding to this name[416].

Of great significance are the accurate reports for the Melanesians.
They have no conception of the year as a definite period of time. The
word _tau_ (a Polynesian loan-word), or _niulu_, which corresponds
most nearly to ‘year’, signifies a season, and so (now) the space of
time between recurring seasons. Thus the yam has its _tau_ of five
moons, from the planting--when the erythrina is in flower--until the
harvest, after the palolo has come and gone. The bread-fruit has its
_tau_ during the winter months: bananas and cocoa-nuts have no _tau_,
since they always bear fruit. The notion of the year as the time from
yam to yam, from palolo to palolo, has been readily received, but it
is very doubtful if such a conception is anywhere purely native[417].
The Melanesians are only interested in the concrete phenomena of the
year, and not in time-reckoning as such, and therefore do not in
practice combine the period from yam-planting to harvest with that
from harvest to planting to form a year. When it is pointed out,
however, it is quite clear to them that this is a single period of
the variation of the seasons. The Polynesians have themselves noted
this fact, and accordingly the sense of the word _tau_ has been
extended from ‘season’ to ‘year’.

Whether the conception of the year was known in the Indo-European
period is not certain: it is however significant that all the words
for ‘year’ of which the etymology is fairly certain either refer
to the produce of the year--as ὥρα and its cognates, and also the
word ‘year’ itself, Old Scand. _ár_--or else come from the _pars pro
toto_ counting of the year. Thus the Slavonic _leto_ means ‘summer’
and ‘year’. Sanskrit _çarad_ means ‘autumn’: that the corresponding
Avestic _sared_ means ‘year’ is explained by the fact that the
years were reckoned in autumns. The Greek ἐνιαυτός is unexplained,
but in Homer, in the law of Gortyn, and in the inscription of the
Labyades it has also the little observed sense of ‘anniversary’[418],
which may be the original sense. Further evidence of the lack of an
acquaintance with the conception of the year is afforded by the fact
that the Germanic peoples render it by periphrases like ‘winter and
summer’, etc.[419].

The _pars pro toto_ counting of the year from shorter or longer
seasons does not however extend beyond the years immediately
following or preceding. It is stated of the tribes living at the
southern end of Lake Nyassa that the years are reckoned in ‘rains’ up
to three or four years: everything beyond that is _kale_, ‘some time
ago’[420]. In the district around Mombasa, in periods not exceeding
five years, the date is usually fixed by the number of harvests
which have been gathered[421]. In general the primitive peoples
reckon only where an immediate practical interest requires them to do
so. The Kiwai Papuans have no word for year, but only for the monsoon
periods: they cannot as a rule state how many years have elapsed
since a certain event, but only whether it took place recently or
long ago[422]. The inhabitants of the islands of the Torres Straits
never count years[423]. Individuals belonging to tribes at a low
stage of civilisation keep no account of their own age. Among the
Waporogo no one can say how old he is[424]. The Edo-speaking tribes
have a calendar, but an enquiry as to the age of a man or the
number of years since a given event will meet with no answer, or a
random one[425]. In Dahomey no negro has the slightest idea of his
age[426]. The Hottentots have no interest in their own age, but are
interested in that of their cattle, which they reckon by the calving
and lambing periods[427]. Few of the Chinhwan of Formosa know their
age[428]. The Negritos of Zambales have no idea of their age[429].
No Marquesas Islander, no Oceanian in general, can give either his
own age or the time of any event[430]; even the Maoris do not know
their age, although they know that the man of forty years is older
than the man of thirty[431]. The statements here made obviously refer
to the absolute age of a man, not to the relative age; for either it
is immediately seen or else easily remembered from childhood who is
older and who younger. The Babwende, for instance, never know how old
they are, but do know quite well who is the oldest[432]. Since the
relative age is thus known, the age of the people and the time of
events can be determined by reference to the speaker’s own relative
age or to that of someone else. On the same page as that from which
the above quotation for the Marquesas Islands is taken, it is stated
that in order to determine the time of any event the people indicate
how tall a person was, or how long his beard was, at the time when
the event took place. The Indians of Pennsylvania temporarily
determined an event by referring to their own age at the time of its
occurrence[433].

From these indications of relative ages there arises of itself a
familiar chronological expedient usually found at the point where
history begins, viz. the reckoning by generations, which is common
e. g. among the Polynesians[434] and in the older Greek historians.
Among the Masai an elaborate system for classifying ages has
exceptionally developed. The circumcision takes place in four-year
periods with intervals of three and a half years. The circumcisions
are known alternately as ‘right-hand’ and ‘left-hand’. Those who
have been circumcised at the same time have a special name, such as
‘those who fight openly or by day’, ‘those who are not driven away’,
etc.; one ‘right-hand’ and one ‘left-hand’ period combine to form a
generation. The ‘those-who-fight-openly’ period is a ‘right-hand’
period, and those who belong to it were circumcised in 1851-5; the
‘those-who-are-not-driven-away’ period is a ‘left-hand’, and its
members were circumcised in 1859-63. The two periods or ages together
form a generation composed of persons born from 1834-1850. Each age
has three divisions, first those known as ‘the big ostrich feathers’,
secondly those called ‘the helpers’, and thirdly those known as ‘our
fleet runners’[435]. It is evident that an excellent basis for the
determination of relative time is hereby given. With time-reckoning
_per se_ the system is not concerned.

Common bases for reckoning are afforded by important and striking
events which have been impressed upon everyone and are present to all
men’s minds: through their relation to the age of some person they
serve as a guide to the chronology. The Aino, for example, do not
count the days, but always refer to events; if it is asked how old
anyone is, the answer will be that he was born after the catching
of the very big fish, or perhaps in the year when there was so much
snow[436]. Here once more we see how concrete time-indications always
precede the abstract numerical counting of time. And where numbers
are known they are not willingly used, but the year is referred
to as one distinguished by a certain noteworthy event, instead of
being regarded as a member of a series. From a year of this kind the
natives can only reckon for a few years at most in either direction.
Where there are many such noteworthy years the time-relationship is
so far recognised that the succession of the events is known, and
perhaps in certain cases also forms the basis of calculation.

In the neighbourhood of Mombasa wars, famines, the arrival of white
men form epochs of this kind: it is impossible to detect the age
of any adult[437]. It is mentioned that the Toradja of the Dutch
East Indies sometimes reckon nearly approaching events or events
of recent occurrence by the rice-sowing: dates at a more distant
past are indicated by mentioning events of most note, such as
the death of a great man, an epidemic of small-pox, an important
military expedition, a conclusion of peace, the payment of a tax,
etc. The people do not reckon their own age, but count that of their
children, saying: “When he was born I had my rice-field there, the
next year there”, and so on[438]. It is amusing and at the same
time instructive to note that precisely the same mode of reckoning
was found in Scania at the beginning of the last century. It was a
very common thing, says a well-known authority on the folk-lore of
this district, for a peasant, when asked how old e. g. his little
girl was, to give some such answer as: “She must be four years old,
for she is the same age as my brown mare, and she was born when our
southern field was a grazing meadow”[439].

The Batak of Sumatra think that a small-pox epidemic returns at
intervals of from nine to twelve years, and make use of this belief
in reckoning time. On questioning a chief, says a traveller, how old
his house was, I was told: “It has existed only for two small-pox
epidemics”, by which he meant that it was somewhat more than 24 years
old[440]. In Borneo there have occurred two eclipses of the sun
during the last half-century. The first of these served as a fixed
date in relation to which other events were dated[441].

The Eskimos of Greenland knew up to about the twentieth year how
many winters a person had lived, but beyond that they could not
go. Sometimes however they used as epochs from which to calculate
_pellesingvoak_, ‘the little priest’, i. e. the arrival of Egede
in the country, or the arrival or departure of other well-known
Europeans, or the founding of Godthaab and other colonies; they would
say that this or that person was born at the coming or departure of
such and such a person, or when eggs were collected, seals caught,
etc.[442].

The Caffres rarely give the proper length of past or future periods
of time, and when they do so the period is never of more than a
few months’ duration. Otherwise it is their custom to determine
the date at which this or that event took place by reference to a
contemporaneous event of greater importance[443].

The Lapps of Västerbotten reckon their age by the reindeer, e. g.
when this or that _aldo_ (= female with calf) was born. Formerly they
never went farther back in counting than the previous year. When they
had to give the date of an important event they referred to the time
at which some specially fine female reindeer was born[444].

The Hottentots, as has been said, have no interest in their own age,
but keep in mind that of their cattle from the calving and lambing
periods. When they wish to date back somewhat farther, well-known
events such as the outbreak of cattle-plague, hostilities with
neighbouring tribes or with the whites, immigrations, etc. furnish
them with satisfactory general indications from which, coupling them
in particular cases with the birth of their children or the stature
of these at the time, they can arrive at a date[445].

Where the political development has advanced so far that a stable
monarchy exists, the succession of rulers offers an excellent means
of chronological orientation, and within every reign certain years
can be distinguished by special events. But this brings us to the
beginning of history, and I desist from following the subject
further. One example only:--The Baganda reckon by the reigns of the
kings and by certain wars in one particular reign. They say ‘It was
in the reign of such a king’, or ‘I was still in arms when such and
such a war was fought in so and so’s reign’[446].

Where no reigns furnish a system of chronological reckoning, the
concrete references may be systematised until each year is named
and distinguished by a definite event. This was the practice of
the Arabians before Mohammed. Mohammed is said to have been born
in the year of the elephant, or, according to other sources, some
years after the year in which the viceroy of Yemen marched against
Mecca with an army in which there were elephants[447]. Another year
is called the year of treason or outrage, because certain garments
which a Himjarite king had sent that year to Mecca were stolen,
whence arose a conflict at the feast of pilgrims, in which the young
Mohammed is said to have taken part[448].

The Wagogo count the years by important events, e. g. ‘the year
when the cattle died’, or ‘two years after the building of Boma
(Kilimatinde Station)’[449]. The Masai do not count the years, but
rather denote them by referring to the most important events that
took place in them, e. g. a murrain, a drought, the death of the
chief, an expedition particularly rich in booty, etc.[450]. A fully
developed calendar of this nature is possessed by the Herero, and
has been published from the year 1820[451]. I give a few years as
examples:--1820, _ojo_ (= year of the) _tjekeue_: from the name
of the Matabele chief who in 1820 came to Okahandja with a white
peace-ox and made peace with Katjamuaha. 1842, _ojohange_, ‘year of
peace’, the Nama and Herero made peace. 1843, _ojomaue_, ‘year of the
stones’: the Herero as the slaves of Jonker Africander had to build
for him a stone wall; or _ojovihende_, ‘year of the stakes’: the
Herero had to build a palisade around Jonker’s dockyard. 1844, 1845,
_ojomukugu_ or _ojombondi_, ‘year of vomiting, of nausea’: the Nama
had poisoned Katjamuaha, and the latter vomited and purged. And so on
up to 1902 inclusive. There are lacking only the years 1854, 1855,
and, significantly, 1891, 1895, 1899, and 1900, towards the end: the
reckoning fails under growing European influence. Several years have
two descriptions, e. g. 1844 and 1845 (see above); these and 1887-8
are run together, the latter as the ‘year of the red murrain among
the cows’.

The same mode of reckoning appears, strongly developed and fixed
by the aid of picture-writing, among the Indians of N. America.
Heckewelder says of the Indians of Pennsylvania:--“They reckon
larger intervals of time by some noteworthy event, e. g. a very
severe winter, a very deep snow-fall, an unusual inundation, a
general war, the building of a new town by the whites, etc. Thus I
have heard more than fifty years ago:--‘When their brother Miqaon
talked to their fathers they were so old or so tall, they could
catch butterflies or hit a bird with an arrow’. Of others I have
heard that they were born in the hard winter (1739-40), or could
then do this or that, or already had grey hair. When they could not
refer directly to any such distinguishing epochs they would say:
‘So many winters after that’”[452]. This method of reckoning seems
to have existed among the Pawnee at an initial stage. Sometimes
they referred to a year that had been marked by some important
event, e. g. a failure of crops, unusual sickness, a disastrous
hunt: this was referred to as a year by itself, but after only a
few years’ remove this mark became indistinct and faded away[453].
Among the Dakota and the Kiowa detailed descriptions were given in
picture-writings, which are well-known and have been published, for
the Dakota by Mallery and for the Kiowa by Mooney. They are painted
on buffalo hide, later also on paper, and represent in painting
the history of the tribe. They were executed by a specially gifted
Indian and were handed down from father to son. When worn out and
obliterated by use they were renewed. In winter they were often
produced before the fire, and the events recounted. Everyone knew
them, however, so that anybody could shew when he was born or when
his father died, and some also knew the meaning of the pictures.
Four copies belonging to the Dakota are known, which go back to
1800, 1786, 1775, and the mythical period, respectively. Every year
is denoted by a picture, without distinction between winter and
summer. Some of the terms used are:--1794-5, the ‘Long-Hair-killed’
winter; 1817-8, the ‘Chozé-built-a-house-of-dead-logs’ winter;
1818-9, the ‘small-pox-used-them-up-again’ winter; 1821-2, ‘the
star (meteor)-passed-by-with-a-loud-noise’ winter; 1825-6, the
‘many-Yanktonais-drowned’ winter (through an inundation); 1833-4,
the ‘storm-of-stars’ winter (so called from the abundance of
shooting-stars), etc. Four Kiowa calendars are known, one of which
is arranged in months, of which it gives 37; two of the others refer
to the years 1833-93, one to the years 1864-93. In the first each
month is indicated by the crescent of the moon, and above is the
picture characteristic of the month. The Kiowa annual calendars are
clearer than the Dakota in that they indicate winter by a thick
black stroke signifying that the vegetation has died, and summer by
the medicine lodge with its figures, which form the central feature
of the religious ceremonies of the summer. Above and by the side of
these signs are the pictures, giving the principal events of the
seasons, so that the reckoning of the year becomes the history of the
tribe. The Indians however were also acquainted with simpler modes of
reckoning. Among the Nahyssan of S. Carolina time was measured and a
rude chronology arranged by means of strings of leather with knots of
various colours, like the Peruvian _quipos_[454]. The Dakota use a
circle as the symbol of time, a smaller one for a year and a larger
one for a longer period: the circles are arranged in rows, thus: ȱȱȱ
or o-o-o[455]. The Pima of Arizona make use of a tally. The year-mark
is a deep notch across the stick. The records of early years are
memorised, and there are a few minor notches to aid in recalling
them. The year-notches are alike, yet when a narrator was asked to go
back and repeat the story for a certain year he never made a mistake.
Taking the stick in his hand, he would rake his thumb-nail across the
year-notch and begin:--‘This notch means etc.’[456].

The development is clear. Often an important event has been
impressed upon the memory and now serves as a landmark from which
the few years that it is possible to count are reckoned. Such events
multiply, and when their succession is known, a longer period can be
mastered. Finally the process is systematised, so that every year
has its event (necessarily even if it be an unimportant one), and
is named from that: hence the reckoning of the years becomes also
the history of the people. This kind of time-reckoning is really
used by every one of us. Whoever looks back over his past life sees
chiefly the more important events, not the dates of the years, and
to these he joins the more peripheral events and so finds his way in
the labyrinth of memory. But we mark the events by the dates, and
thereby obtain an estimation of the course of time, which is the last
acquisition of the human mind in this domain. The mode of reckoning
in question penetrates deeply among the culture peoples.

The same method of distinguishing the years from one another was
employed in ancient Babylonia, in the days of the Sumerian kingdom
of Ur in the second half of the third millenium B. C., and also
later under the first dynasty in Babylon, and was only replaced by
the reckoning according to the years of the king’s reign under the
dominion of the Kassites[457]. For our historical knowledge of the
events these so-called ‘year-formulae’ are of extreme importance.
They vary in each case according to the towns, and shew that these in
some respects maintained an independent position. The adoption of the
year-formulae of the main locality implies the complete subjugation
of the town[458]. No trace of an era or any reckoning by the years
of the reign is to be found. Only the king’s accession to the throne
is utilised for distinguishing the years, the first complete year of
his reign (not the year of accession, therefore,) being described as
the year of King X. As marks of the other years the most important
national events in the domain of the religious cult and of politics
are almost universally employed. Only exceptionally is the year named
after some violent natural catastrophe. Rather, it is a striking
fact that in none of the 66 year-formulae hitherto discovered is
there any mention of an eclipse of the sun, or a comet or meteor.
If no important event has occurred, the year is described as the
one following such and such a year, e. g. the year 49 of king Dungi
is called ‘the year in which the temple of X. was built’; year 50
= ‘the year following that in which the temple of X. was built’;
year 51 = ‘the year following that in which the temple of X. was
built, the year after this’. We see the clumsy method used in order
to avoid counting, instead of simply saying ‘the second year after
etc.’: so firmly is the concrete description adhered to. These
year-formulae were however used for the dating of documents, and not
simply, as among the primitive peoples with whom we have hitherto
been concerned, for the retaining of past events in the memory. Hence
arises the difficulty that often an event of such importance that
the year can be named after it does not occur until well on into the
year, that is, the event from which the year is named does not take
place until a greater or smaller part of the year has already passed
by. Until the event takes place indications of the kind already
mentioned, having reference to the preceding year, are employed, e.
g. the year 17 of Dungi = ‘the year after that in which the ship
of Belit (was launched)’; when a noteworthy event happens it gives
its name to the year: thus the same year is ‘the year in which the
god Nannar was brought from Kar-zi-da into his temple’. Hence arise
twofold descriptions, and they are indeed necessary in this kind
of designation when events of the current year are to be dated by
the year. An example containing a political event is the year 36
of Dungi = ‘the year after that in which Simuru was destroyed’, or
‘the year in which Simuru was destroyed for the second time’. It
is characteristic to count the destructions of a town but not the
years[459]. During the reign of Rimsin of Larsa, a contemporary of
Hammurabi, the years begin to be run together into an era: there are
many datings from the capture of Isin, up to thirty years after that
event,[460] and so under the second king of the first Babylonian
dynasty five years were reckoned after the taking of Kazallu[461].
So also under the first dynasty of Babylon the years were described
by occurrences, by events in the religious and political life,
especially religious acts and buildings of the kings, by wars,
and lastly by natural catastrophes, especially inundations of the
country[462]. Dates given by events of a previous year are also
found. At that period however the year-formula seems to have been
given at the New Year’s Day and therefore to have been determined
beforehand: when important historical events occurred, the year was
given a new name from these[463].

In the older period of Egyptian history each year of the king’s reign
is described by an official name borrowed from the festivals--e.
g. those of the king’s accession, of the worship of Horus, of the
sowing, of the birth of Anubis--from buildings, wars, and the
censuses for purposes of taxation. Gradually the simple counting of
the years of the reign appears alongside of these names, and from
the end of the old empire completely supplants the former method
even in official dates. The years however are not calendar years,
but begin with the day of the king’s accession: they therefore
offer the disadvantage of running from different dates according
to this. At certain periods however the reigns, as in Babylon,
were counted only from the first New Year’s Day. Of an era there
is only a single example[464]. The Egyptians also began with the
concrete descriptions, but passed over, at least within the separate
reigns, to the counting of years which is so much more suitable
for a survey of the course of time. The Assyrian designation of
the year after eponyms, _limmu_, the Greek after archons, ephors,
and other eponymous officials, the Roman after consuls etc. are no
different. For a people with a fully developed political life and
annually changing supreme officials the latter naturally offer a
means of distinguishing the years; the life was too regular and too
well-established for events of such a decisive nature that they
could impress themselves upon the memory of everyone and become
available for time-reckoning to be able to happen to the whole people
in smaller intervals of time. Here however the system shews a weak
point. It is very difficult to keep an arbitrary series of many
names in its right order without confusing the names, and only very
few persons can do it. The system therefore did not provide that
survey over the whole course of time which the awakening historical
sense rendered more and more necessary. So men were led to the only
practical method, that of simply counting the years and marking them
by figures, by which means everyone without more ado became quite
clear as to the dates of earlier or later events, whether these
were expressed in olympiads, in _ab urbe condita_ etc., or in the
countless local eras of antiquity. It was long before it was seen
that the starting-point is a matter of indifference, and that the
only essential is that all should use the same starting-point. In
this respect the old reckoning in epochs long continued to influence
the minds of men.

CHAPTER IV.

THE STARS.

The time-indications from the phases of the climate and of Nature are
only approximate: they themselves, like the concrete phenomena to
which they refer, are subject to fluctuation. Even in the tropics,
where the regularity of the climatic changes is greater than in our
latitudes, the beginning of the rains, the dry season, or monsoons
may be to some extent advanced or retarded. In the temperate zones
the fluctuations are very perceptible. In the year in which I write
this (1916) the corn harvest has been delayed by nearly a month, not
only on account of bad weather in harvest-time but also owing to the
unusually low temperature of the past summer. Even the townsfolk
notice that the days are shorter and the weather is colder than
is usual at the time of harvest. Further, incidents of plant and
animal life--e. g. the blossoming of certain trees and plants, the
arrival of the migratory birds--vary somewhat in different years.
In general primitive man takes no notice of these variations: the
Banyankole, for instance, are indifferent as to whether the year is
one or even three weeks longer or shorter, i. e. whether the rainy
season opens so much earlier or later[465]. The days are not counted
exactly, but the people are content with the concrete phenomenon.
More accurate points of reference are however especially desirable
for an agricultural people, since, although the right time for sowing
can be discerned from the phenomena and general conditions of the
climate, yet a more exact determination of time may be extremely
useful. The possibility of such a determination exists--and that at a
far more primitive stage than that of the agricultural peoples--in
the observation of the stars, and especially in the observation of
the so-called ‘apparent’ or, more properly, visible risings and
settings of the fixed stars, the importance of which has already been
explained (pp. 5 ff.) The observation of the morning rising and the
evening setting is extraordinarily wide-spread, but other positions
of the stars, e. g. at a certain distance from the horizon, are also
sometimes observed[466]. The Kiwai Papuans also compute the time
of invisibility of a star. When a certain star has sunk below the
western horizon they wait for some nights during which the star is
‘inside’; then it has ‘made a leap’, and shews itself in the east in
the morning before sunrise[467].

Any reader of the classics will be familiar with the risings and
settings of the stars: Virgil, for example, mentions them often.
With him however they are pre-eminently a traditional ornament of
poetic style: the richest sources are the peasants’ rules of Hesiod,
in which the stars are mentioned as time-indications along with
phenomena of plant and animal life, and appear just as frequently as
the latter, often in combination with them. But Homer not only knows
several stars but is also acquainted with the rising and setting. A
much quoted passage in the Iliad runs:--

“Him first king Priam saw with his old eyes,
As o’er the plain he lightened, dazzling bright,
Like to the star that doth in autumn rise,
Whose radiant beams, pre-eminent to sight,
Shine with their fellow stars at noon of night:
Orion’s Dog we mortals call its name:
Sign is it of much ill, thought clear its light,
And mighty fever brings to man’s poor frame:
So, as he ran, the brass upon his breast did flame”[468].

The lines refer to the morning rising of Sirius at the beginning
of the fruit-harvest, which about 800 B. C. took place on the 28th
of July (Julian). A modern reader, thinking only of the splendour
of the star as it shines in the sky at night, entirely fails to
understand the darker and more fateful side of the simile. Only
when it is realised that the time of the morning rising of Sirius
is the time of the greatest heat and sickness, a period believed
to be induced by the rising of this star at the beginning of the
fruit-harvest, is the right idea obtained. Like Sirius appearing in
the sky in the morning twilight of later summer, Achilles stands out
upon the battle-field, eclipsing all others and bringing destruction
to the Trojans[469]. A difficulty has been found in the passage in
that Sirius at his rising is only just visible and therefore does
not shine in his brightest splendour. But Sirius is for the poet the
typical brightest fixed star, just as he speaks of the heavens as
‘starry’ even when the sun is ascending in them[470]. On every day
of the _opōre_ Sirius rises higher and shines more brightly--one
must not think only of the actual first rising, the first day of
the star’s appearance. Hence the star becomes the symbol of the
_opōre_, ὀπωρινὸς ἀστήρ[471]. Since it is a star of evil omen it is
also called ‘the disastrous-shining star’[472]. A star-setting is
implied in the words ‘the late-setting Arcturus’[473]. The ‘late’
refers to the fact that the circle which Arcturus describes in the
heavens is great, since he stands so far north. Here belongs also the
observation that the Great Bear alone of the (greater) stars does not
dip down into the ocean[474]. The stars further serve as a guide to
navigation[475]:--

“And treacherous sleep ne’er fell on the eyes that were watchful
still,
For he kept the Pleiads in front, and the Herdman, who slowly
doth gain
His rest, and the Bear,--they are wont to call it moreover
the Wain:
Ever turning at bay, doth it glare on Orion’s falchion-gleam,
And alone it hath no share in the baths of the Ocean-stream:--
For Calypso, the Goddess divine, had bidden him still to keep
Over his left that sign as he fared on the face of the deep”.

The Pleiades, the Hyades, and Orion are also mentioned, but not
in any special connexion with the indication of time[476]. The
morning-star helps to determine time on a night journey[477].

Hesiod says that at the time when the thistle blooms and the cricket
chirps Sirius burns heads and knees[478], and that when the late
autumn rains come men feel relieved, since the star Sirius is not
passing over their heads for so long a time but uses the night
more[479]. Commentators of classical times have indeed here taken
Sirius to mean the sun. But wrongly; for Sirius, whose rising
introduces the time of greatest heat, is for the Greeks the cause of
the heat, just as the Pleiades are for the Australians, and as all
stars are held to be the causes of those climatic changes which are
connected with any of their risings or settings[480]; when Sirius
rises earlier, i. e. remains in the heavens for some hours during
the night-time, the heat declines. The other passages are:--vv. 564
ff., evening rising of Arcturus (60 days after the winter solstice,
Feb. 24, Julian), followed by the coming of the swallow, messenger
of spring, before this time the vines should be pruned; vv. 597 ff.,
the winnowing of the harvested corn at the morning rising of Orion
(July 9); vv. 609 ff., when Orion and Sirius are in the middle of the
heavens and the dawn sees Arcturus (morning rising Sept. 18), it is
the time of the vine-harvest; vv. 615 ff., at the (morning) setting
of the Pleiades (Nov. 3), of the Hyades, and of Orion (Nov. 15) it is
time to think about sowing; vv. 619 ff., when the Pleiades, fleeing
from Orion, fall into the sea, storms rage, and the ship should be
drawn up on land. Alcaeus says:--“Drink wine, for the star (viz.
Sirius) revolves”[481].

The time-indications from the stars are therefore much older in
Greece than the lunisolar calendar, and always existed alongside
of the latter--which was of a religious and civil character--as
the calendar of peasants and seamen, who must hold to the natural
year and its seasons. The watchman who speaks the prologue of the
_Agamemnon_ of Aeschylus says:--

“ ... On elbow bent, watching, as ’twere a dog,
I mark the stars in nightly conclave meet.
And those bright constellations, without peer,
Lords paramount in heaven, that winter bring
And summer in their train for mortal men,
Right well I know them as they come and go”[482].

The discovery of star-observation and of its use in time-reckoning
and navigation is ascribed to the heroes Prometheus and Palamedes.
The latter is regarded by the tragic poets as the founder of all the
elements of intellectual culture, and so also of the science of the
stars[483]. And Prometheus, who glories in having brought to men
every advance in civilisation, includes therein the knowledge of the
risings and settings of the stars:--

“Of winter’s coming no sure sign had they,
Nor of the advent of the flowery spring,
Of fruitful summer none: so fared through each,
And took no thought, till that the hidden lore
Of rising stars and setting I unveiled”[484].

Later, the phases of the stars have become so familiar to everyone
that Sophocles can say, ‘a time of six months from spring to
Arcturus’, i. e. the morning rising of Arcturus on Sept. 18[485].

Whether the Romans made use of time-indications from the stars before
they borrowed them from the Greeks is uncertain; in any case they
had their own names for some constellations:--_vesperugo_, _iubar_
= _lucifer_, the evening star, _septentriones_ or _iugulae_, the
Great Bear, _vergiliae_, the Pleiades. _Suculae_, the Hyades, and
_canicula_, the Dog-star, are translations of the corresponding Greek
names[486].

At a later period the risings and settings of the stars, together
with the climatic phenomena accompanying them or believed to
accompany them, were brought into a calendar, which was then arranged
according to the signs of the zodiac, or later according to the
months of the Julian or Egyptian solar year. The Greek lunisolar
year was unsuitable for the purpose, since it varied in reference to
the sun and the stars. How both were adjusted to practical needs is
shewn by the remains of two stone calendars found at Milet. On the
stone are inscribed the risings and settings of the stars, arranged
according to the signs of the zodiac: by the side of these are holes
into which little tablets containing the days of the lunisolar
calendar could be fitted, these tablets being arranged according to
the relation of every lunisolar year to the solar one[487].

The Arabians also carefully observed the stars, and many of their
proverbs couple the risings of the stars with natural events[488].
Since these constellations are the so-called lunar stations their use
here is not primitive, but must have been added on to a primitive
usage. The Pleiades were observed throughout their course, and about
most of the positions which they take up mnemonic verses were made.
Mohammed swears by the setting Pleiades in the 53rd chapter of the
Koran.

We return once more to the primitive peoples. It may be well first to
show by a few examples how far they were acquainted with the stars
and saw in them images of terrestrial things. The Chukchee give names
to the most important constellations. Among divinities are reckoned
‘the Motionless Star’ or ‘the Nail-star’ or ‘the Pole-stuck Star’,
the Pole-star, ‘the Front Head and the Rear Head’, Arcturus and Vega,
and _pchittin_, a part of Aquilo. Orion is an archer with a crooked
back, who has shot a copper arrow, Aldebaran, against a ‘group of
women’, the Pleiades. His wife is Leo, ‘the Standing Woman’. Capella
is a reindeer-buck which is tied behind the sledge of a man driving
with two reindeer; a fox approaches from the side. Six of the stars
of the Great Bear are men throwing with slings, the seventh is a fox
gnawing at a pair of antlers. The Twins are two elks running from
two hunters who are driving two reindeer-teams. Corona is the paw
of the Polar Bear. Delphinus is a seal, Cassiopeia represents five
reindeer-bucks standing in the middle of a river[489].

The Eskimos of Greenland have a good knowledge of the stars. The
Great Bear is a reindeer, or the little stool on which they fasten
their ropes and harpoons, Aldebaran is the eye of the bull, the twins
are the breast-bone of the heavens, the belt of Orion is composed
of three ‘scattered ones’--Greenlanders who were taken up into the
sky and could not find their way back--Sirius has a man’s name, the
Pleiades are to be regarded as baying hounds with a bear among them,
Cygnus as three kayaks which have been out seal-hunting. Venus is
the follower or man-at-arms of the sun. When one planet crosses the
path of another it is a wife and a concubine who have one another by
the hair, or else it is a visit of two stars[490]. By the Ammasalik
names are given to Vega (‘the Foot of the Lamp’), which, like the
moon, is the brother of the sun, to the Great Bear, the Pleiades
(‘the Barkers’), the belt of Orion, and Aldebaran; Jupiter is the
mother of the sun[491]. Among the Konyag of the island of Kodiak, off
the south coast of Alaska, two months are named after the risings
of the Pleiades and Orion respectively[492]. Of the Thlinkit it is
said that few constellations or stars appear to have been named
by them: those to which names are given are ‘the Great Dipper’,
which by night used to serve as a guide, the Pleiades (_sculpin_),
‘Three-men-in-a-line’ (probably the belt of Orion), Venus as the
morning star (‘Morning-round-thing’), and Jupiter (?) as the evening
star (‘Marten-month’ or ‘Marten-moon’). If the morning star comes up
above a mountain south-east of Sitka, it means bad weather, if well
over in the east, good weather[493]. Otherwise the North American
Indians have paid less attention to the stars: but it is exaggerated
to say[494] that the sum-total of their astronomical knowledge was
the ability to point to the Pole-star from which they took their way
when they travelled at night, which however they did unwillingly.
The tribes of Pennsylvania had names for a few stars, and observed
their motions: the Pole-star shewed them by night the direction they
must take in the morning[495]. The Omaha called the Pole-star ‘the
Not-moving-star’, the Pleiades were called by an old name, ‘the
Deer’s Head’; this name, which had a religious significance, was
not commonly used, the popular name being ‘Little-duck’s-foot’. The
Great Bear was ‘the Litter’, Venus ‘Big-Star’[496]. For the Klamath
are mentioned only the three stars in the belt of Orion[497], for
the Biloxi and Ofo ‘Stars-all-heads’ (?) (three large stars near
the Pleiades), ‘Stars-in-circle’ (the Pleiades), and ‘Big Star’,
the morning star[498]. The Luiseño of southern California name the
most important stars. The associated stars form much larger groups
than those common among us. The stars were chiefs among the first
people. Those most frequently mentioned are Antares and Altair.
Arcturus is the right hand of Antares, it rises before the latter
and announces his coming, the other stars around Antares are his
suite. Other chiefs are Spica, Fomalhaut, and the Pole-star. Orion
and the Pleiades are always mentioned together; the latter were
seven sisters, pursued by Aldebaran. The Diegueño constellations are
altogether different from the Luiseño, and are based upon totally
different ideas: it has not been possible however to obtain an
accurate account of them[499]. Of the natives of Guadeloupe it was
reported at their discovery:--In other places they merely reckon
the day by the sun and the night by the moon; these women however
reckoned by other stars, and said that when the Great Bear rose or a
certain star stood in the north it was time to do this or that[500].

The Indians of South America have observed the stars in much greater
detail. The descriptions of von den Steinen are well known, in
particular for the Bakairi of Central Brazil. Orion is a large frame
on which manioc is dried, the larger stars are the tops of posts,
Sirius is the end of a great cross-beam supporting the frame from
the side. The Pleiades are a heap of grains of meal that have
fallen out at the side: a larger mass, ‘the father of the heap’,
is Aldebaran. Capella is a little capsule such as the Bakairi wear
in their ears, two other stars of Auriga are the ear-rings of the
Kayabi, the feathers of which are stuck backwards. One star, probably
Procyon, is an ear-piercer, or more properly the hole bored in the
ear. Castor and Pollux are the holes of a great flute. Canopus has
no name. The Southern Cross is a bird-snare on a twig, and the two
large stars of the Centaur represent two canes belonging to it. In
the snare a _mutum cavallo_ (_crax_) was taken, and this could be
seen in a dark patch of the Milky Way close beside. A Sokko heron
with a little basket full of fish corresponds approximately to the
stars of Pisces and Argo. The Scorpion is a drag-net for children,
the Milky Way is a huge drum-stick, and the holes in it (the dark
spots) are observed and explained by stories. The Paressi have a
name for the Southern Cross, above which they see an ostrich whose
figure is to be recognised in a dark spot of the Milky Way: other
animals are also found in the sky. To the Bororo the Southern Cross
represents the toes of a great ostrich, the Centaur a leg belonging
to them, Orion is a Jabuti turtle and in the parts verging on to
Sirius a cayman, the Pleiades are the bunches of blossom on the
angico tree. The name of Venus was not translatable[501]. The Karaya
of Central Brazil knew many constellations, and drew some of them
in our informant’s sketch-book. The Southern Cross, for example, is
a ray (the fish), the two stars of the Centaur above it represent
an ostrich, upon which a jaguar, Scorpio, is leaping[502]. Of the
natives of Brazil in general it is stated that there is hardly a
single important constellation which does not explain to them some
event, or represent some idea in connexion with things that happen
upon the earth, though they certainly have no heroes to set in them.
Myths of Orion, of the Pleiades, and of Canopus were related[503]. E.
Nordenskiöld has repeatedly visited the border districts between the
Argentine, Bolivia, and Brazil. Of the Chané and Chiriguano Indians
he says that they do not give names to many constellations, but
they know them very well. The part of the Milky Way lying nearest
to the Southern Cross is called the Ostrich Way, the Southern Cross
together with a few neighbouring stars is the head of the ostrich,
and the two largest stars of the Centaur are its collar. Orion with
his sword is called ‘Birds-meet-each-other’, another constellation
is ‘the Roe-buck’s Horn’, still another ‘the Tapir’; the Pleiades
are the most important constellation, they are called _yehu_, but
the natives do not know the meaning of the name. Venus is called
_coemilla_, ‘morning’. The Guarayu call Orion ‘the Black Vulture’; at
his side lies a heap of snake’s bones (the sword). The Southern Cross
with the stars around it is an ostrich, the two large stars of the
Centaur are a roe-buck, the Great Bear is a road, a cluster of stars
in the south is ‘the Eel’s Nest’. The Pleiades are called _piangi_,
a word of unknown meaning; when, on their return after their period
of invisibility, they are surrounded by a circle, it is a good omen:
if the circle is missing, all men will die. Venus is called ‘the
Big Star’[504]. The Karai tribes called α, β Centauri the ostrich’s
feet, the body is the neighbouring ‘coal-pit’ (the dark spot of the
Milky Way), the Southern Cross is a fresh-water ray, the Pleiades
are a flock of parakeets, Orion is the burning roça, the tail of
the Scorpion is called _unze_. The Ipurina of Rio Purus call Orion
a beetle, the Pleiades a serpent, the Hyades a turtle, the Cross
forest-folk[505]. In a Chilean word-list there are words for star,
constellation, the Pleiades, Orion, planet, Venus[506].

In Africa the comparatively more civilised negro Tribes seem to have
paid less attention to the stars than the more primitive tribes of
the south. The Ho tribe considers the stars to be the children of the
moon: it recognises and names the most important constellations, the
morning star (‘the Clucking Hen’), and the stool-bearer of the moon,
a star always situated in the vicinity of that planet. The Milky
Way is composed of stars forming a cord[507]. Of the Ibo-speaking
tribes we are told that they seem to be singularly incurious about
heavenly bodies and occurrences; however names were got for the
following constellations:--The Pleiades (‘Hen and Chickens’), the
belt of Orion (‘Three and Three’), for the Great Bear two names not
translated were given, Venus (‘the Wise-Man-who-can-talk’)[508]. In
French Guinea η _ursae_ is an ass, and the little star above it is a
thief pursued by the six other stars, members of the tribe to which
the stolen animal belongs. For other peoples the Great Bear is the
star of the camel, Cassiopeia is that of the ass, the Pleiades have
the name ‘murmur’, i. e. a confused thing. Jupiter (?), the companion
and guardian of the moon, is held in particular veneration. The
marabout in the morning awaits the rising of Venus, and announces by
cries, or sometimes by blows on a gong, the hour of prayer. Everyone
has his good and bad stars, which the magician takes carefully into
account[509]. The intrusion of astrology is not striking, since the
people are Mohammedans, while the names of the constellations must
be of native origin. The Bakongo call the three stars in Orion’s
belt ‘the Dog’, ‘the Palm-rat’, and ‘the Chief Hunter’; Venus is
the wife of the moon. The people think that the rain comes from the
Pleiades, who are regarded as the ‘Caretakers-who-guard-the-rain’,
and if, at the beginning of the rainy season, this constellation is
clearly seen, they expect a good rainy season, i. e. rain for their
farms without superabundance[510]. The Bangala call the Pleiades a
group of young women; five stars in Lepus, _kole_, are a man with
head, hands, and feet; the belt of Orion represents three rowers;
five stars in Orion are bundles of thunder and lightning; the evening
star also has a name. From the appearance of the Milky Way they draw
conclusions as to the lack or abundance of rain; when it is bright
and clear there will be much rain[511]. Ten star-names of the Shilluk
are given, but only two are translated: the Pleiades are ‘the Hen’,
and ‘Three Stars’ is Uranus (_sic!_). Venus and a fore-runner of
Venus are known[512]. The Wagogo know the Milky Way, the Pleiades,
and the belt of Orion; the western star of the last-named is to them
a boar, the middle star is the dog, and the eastern the hunter[513].
Of the Thonga it is further stated that the stars play a remarkably
small part in their ideas. Venus is the best known, the Pleiades is
the only constellation with a name; they have no notion whatever
of constellations, their mind seems not to have tried to group the
stars, or to have seen figures of animals or objects in the sky[514].
In Loango the following constellations are distinguished:--the false
Southern Cross (‘the Turtle’), the Scorpion (‘the Serpent’), the
Pleiades (‘Ants’), Orion (‘the Fish’), his belt (‘the Line of the
Hunter’, who leads a dog), Sirius (‘the Rain-star’). The natives are
aware that certain stars move; Jupiter is called ‘the Great Star’,
Venus as the evening star is the wife of the moon, as a morning star
she is the liar, spy of the moon, or false moon, illusory moon[515].

Far greater knowledge is possessed by the Hottentots, who know the
planets accurately. Venus is ‘the Fore-runner of the sun’, or the
star at whose rising men run away (i. e. from illicit intercourse),
Mercury ‘the Dawn-star’, or the star that comes when the udders of
the cows (which are milked morning and evening) are filled again:
as an evening star he is not observed. Venus as an evening star is
recognised to be the same celestial body as the morning star, and
is called ‘the Evening Fugitive’, since it does not remain long in
the sky. Jupiter is known, but is sometimes identified with Venus;
when however he is seen in ‘the middle of the sky’ he is called
‘the Middle Star’. The six stars of the belt and sword of Orion are
grouped together as ‘the Zebras’: δ, ε, ζ are three fugitive zebras
against the middle one of which the hunter ι shoots his arrow θ
and _c_. The Pleiades, on account of their thick cluster of stars,
are called by a name derived from a verb meaning ‘assemble’, or
are otherwise known as ‘the Rime-star’. The Milky Way is called
‘(glowing) Embers’, the Magellanic Clouds ‘Embers’ in the dual. Of
single fixed stars our author heard only Sirius called by a name,
‘the Side-star’[516]. The Bushmen divide the stars into night-stars
and dawn-stars: of the latter they relate very fine and complicated
myths, such as that of the connexion between ‘the Dawn’s Heart’
(Jupiter) and a neighbouring star, his daughter (Regulus or α
_leonis_). Achernar is ‘the Star-digging-stick’s-stone’, or ‘the
Digging-stick’s-stone of Canopus’; the Pointers to the Southern Cross
are three male lions; α, β, γ _crucis_ are lionesses; Aldebaran is
a male hartebeest, α Orion is a female hartebeest, Procyon a male
eland, Castor and Pollux his wives, the Magellanic Clouds a steinbok,
Orion’s sword three male tortoises hung upon a stick, his belt three
female tortoises so hung[517].

The Toda of S. India know the Pleiades, Orion’s sword (‘the
Porcupine-star’), the Great Bear, and Sirius, and relate about them
myths which are probably borrowed from the neighbouring Badaga[518].
The pagans of the Malay Peninsula know the evening and the morning
stars, and the stars of the astrological seasons (_sic!_), or the
Pleiades[519]. In the Indian Archipelago the observation of the
Pleiades as a sign of the arrival of the season for sowing is very
common. Of the Kayan of Borneo it is stated that though they do not
observe the stars or their movements for practical purposes, they
are familiar with the principal constellations, and have fanciful
names for them and relate mythical stories about the personages they
are supposed to represent. The Klementan call Pegasus ‘the padi
store-house’, the Pleiades are ‘a well’, the constellation to which
Aldebaran belongs is ‘a pig’s jaw’, Orion is a man whose left arm is
missing[520].

The natives of Australia have a rich stellar mythology[521]. The
evening star has its name and its myths. The Pleiades are women who
in the Alcheringa period lived at Intitakula: this is believed by
all the tribes whom our authority studied. Orion they regard as an
emu, and the stars in general as camp-fires of natives who live in
heaven. As a general rule, however, the natives appear to pay very
little attention to the stars in detail, probably because these
enter very little into anything which is connected with their daily
life, more especially with their food-supply. By the northern Arunta
and the Kaitish the Magellanic Clouds are supposed to be full of
evil magic, which sometimes comes down to earth and chokes men and
women in their sleep[522]. According to another author acquainted
with the Arunta the Pleiades are seven maidens who had danced at
the circumcision ceremony and then ascended into heaven. Two stars
in the neighbourhood of the Magellanic Clouds are called ‘the two
Gland-poison Men’: the Clouds are the smoke of their fires; the dark
patch in the Milky Way is an article of adornment (_ngapatjinbi_),
the Southern Cross ‘an eagle’s foot’. The morning star is also
known[523]. The tribes of S. E. Australia give names to many stars
and group some of them together in constellations, among which are
the sons of Bunjil. The Wiiambo thought that the stars were once
great men. The Southern Cross is an emu, Mars an eagle, another star
is a crow. The Pleiades, according to the Wotjo-baluh, are some
women, _corona australis_ is ‘the Laughing Jackass’, a small star in
Argo is ‘the Shell Parakeet’[524].

A very high stage of development in stellar science and mythology
is reached among the Euahlayi tribe of the north-west district of
New South Wales; anyone interested in the catasterisms of ancient
mythology should read the full account given for this tribe. Venus
is called ‘the Laughing Star’--the reason for her laughter is a
coarse jest--, the Milky Way is an overflow of water. The stars
are fires which the spirits of the dead have lit in their journey
across the sky, and the dusky haze--i. e. presumably the dark patches
without stars, which interest primitive peoples as much as the stars
themselves--is the smoke of the fires. A waving dark shadow which
you will see along the Milky Way is a crocodile. Two dark spots
in Scorpio are devils who try to catch the spirits of the dead;
sometimes they come down to earth and make whirlwinds. The Pleiades
are seven sisters, ice-maidens; two have been dulled because a man
caught them and tried to melt the ice off them: they succeeded in
escaping to heaven, but do not shine so brightly as their sisters.
The sword and belt of Orion are boys who on earth loved and followed
the Pleiades, but after death were turned into stars. In order to
remind people of them the Pleiades drop down some ice in the winter,
and it is they who make the winter thunderstorms. Castor and Pollux
are two hunters of long ago. Canopus is ‘the Mad Star’: he went
mad on losing his loves. The Magellanic Clouds are ‘the Native
Companions’, mother and daughter, pursued by Wurrawilberoo. ‘The
Featherless Emu’ is a devil of water-holes, who goes every night to
his sky-camp, ‘the Coal-pit’, i. e. the dark spot beside the Southern
Cross. Corvus is a kangaroo, the Southern Crown an eagle-hawk, the
Cross the first spirit-tree, a huge _yaraon_ which was the medium
for the translation to the sky of the first man who died on earth.
The white cockatoos which used to roost in the branches of this tree
followed it and became the Pointers[525].

Ridley has obtained from the former chief of the Gingi tribe a long
series of star-names. Especially noteworthy for the observation
of the risings is the following. The Northern Crown is called
_mullion wollai_, ‘the Eagle’s Nest’, when it stands exactly
north on the meridian. Altair rises, and is called _mullion-ga_,
‘Eagle-in-action’, the eagle springs up to guard his nest. Later Vega
rises, and is also called _mullion-ga_. The ‘holes’ are also well
known. The dark spot at the foot of the Cross (the _zuu_ tree) is
called an emu, the bird sits under the tree[526]. Elsewhere the star
at the head of the Cross is an opossum fleeing from a pursuer--the
‘hole’ between the fore-feet of Centaurus and the Cross[527].

As to the stellar science of the Melanesians we are very variously
informed. The tribes of the Torres Straits have a richly developed
mythology and observation of the stars[528]. They distinguish the
planets from the fixed stars, at least they notice that Venus does
not twinkle[529]. The Banks Islanders never travel by night, and
consequently do not use the stars in navigation; in consequence of
this, says our authority, no definite information about the names
of stars or constellations could be obtained. A native gave a few
names, but could not point out the stars which they were said to
denote[530]. The Moanu of the Admiralty Islands understand the moon
and the stars, but the Matankor know neither stars nor moon[531].
A statement such as this must be received with great reserve,
especially when it comes from a native of another tribe. In any case
it would constitute an exception, since extremely primitive tribes
know the stars quite well, the natives of New Britain and of the
Solomon Islands even very well. The Pleiades and _corona borealis_
play an important part (cp. below, p. 141). The former are called in
Lambutjo _kiasa_, on the Gazelle Peninsula ‘the People-at-the-feast’,
and on Bambatana and Alu the year is reckoned according to them: the
Crown is called in Lambutjo ‘the Fisher’, in Buin ‘Taro-leaf-greens’,
on the Gazelle Peninsula ‘the Thornback’. Further star-names
are:--for the Hyades in Buin ‘Earth-rat’, in Lambutjo _kapet_, a
large net for deep water, on the Gazelle Peninsula _kakapepe_, a kind
of small fish, the star in the middle of the constellation is called
‘Hog-fish’. Cygnus is called in Buin ‘Hog-bearer’, in Lambutjo ‘the
Three Men’. ‘The Dog’ or ‘Shark’ is a large star ‘that pursues the
Fishes’. Many myths are told of the stars[532]. Another authority
remarks that the natives of the Solomon Islands are more concerned
about the stars than the eastern Polynesians, perhaps because of
their longer sea-voyages. The possibility of influence from the
astronomically learned Polynesians must also probably be entertained.
The people of Santa Cruz and the Reef Islands excel all others in
their practical astronomy. The natives of Banks Island and the
northern New Hebrides content themselves with distinguishing only the
Pleiades, by which the approach of the yam-harvest is marked, and
with calling the planets _masoi_ from their roundness, as distinct
from _vitu_, ‘star’. In Florida the early morning star is called
‘the Quartz-pebble-for-setting-off-to-sea’: when it rises later,
however, it is ‘the Shining-stone-of-light’. The Pleiades are ‘the
Company of Maidens’, Orion’s belt is ‘the War-canoe’, the evening
star ‘Listen-for-the-oven’ because the daily meal is taken as evening
draws on. All stars are called dead men’s eyes. At Saa the Southern
Cross is a net with four men letting it down to catch palolo, and
the Pointers are two men cooking what has been caught--because the
palolo appears when one of the Pointers rises above the horizon.
The Pleiades are called ‘the Tangle’, the Southern Triangle is
‘Three-men-in-a-canoe’, Mars is ‘the Red Pig’[533].

The Polynesians are very learned in astronomy, and their bold
and wide sea voyages have helped to make them so, since in these
the stars are their principal guide. The Tahitian, Tupaya, who
accompanied Cook on his first voyage, could always point out to him
the direction in which Tahiti lay[534]. When the Society Islanders
put to sea in the evening, as was most commonly the case in their
voyages, one constellation, preferably the Pleiades, was chosen
as a point to steer by[535]. A detailed report is given for the
Marshall Islands:--In the journey from atoll to atoll the course of
the boat is commonly directed from a certain passage, island, or
promontory to a passage or promontory of the atoll to be reached.
Above this spot stands the star that gives the direction. It is the
sailor’s business to know for how many hours a star can serve him
as compass, so that immediately after the apparent turning of the
star from east to west he may choose another. Of great interest
also is the idea of the connexion between the atmospheric and other
phenomena and the stars. Certain periods of bad weather recur every
year with tolerable regularity, so that the sailors attribute them
to the immediate influence of the stars. When, for instance, at 4
o’clock in the morning--at which time the signs of the weather are
observed--the stars stand just above the eastern horizon, they stop
up the east, so to speak, and prevent the free passage of the wind.
But if the pernicious star in question is at the given time 20° or
30° above the horizon, there is enough space between star and horizon
for the wind to be released. This strong wind will last until another
influential star arises under the first. This lower star acts like
a wind-chute placed against an open hut. The strength of the wind
is therefore reduced. This explains why every storm is followed by
a wind favourable for sailing. For example when Spica is 20° above
the horizon a violent storm is developed, but this only lasts until
Arcturus some time later becomes visible on the eastern horizon.
The most important of the stars that bring bad weather are Spica,
Arcturus, Antares, the claw of the Scorpion, Altair, Delphinus, β,
μ, λ and γ, ξ, π _Pegasi_. With the rising of Cassiopeia the time of
calms begins. Jedada (γ, ζ, π _aquilae_) ‘disembowels the heavens’.
Altair is regarded as a bad fellow. When he rises in the east before
dawn it is commonly a time when food supplies have run low, so
that quarrels arise: only when he rises higher and the hot season
(June-August) brings plenty of food, do reconciliation and goodwill
return. Of ‘King Jäbro’, the Pleiades, long myths are related:
when they emerge from the horizon joy prevails, but tears are shed
when they vanish again into the west[536]. The knowledge of the
stars was often a carefully guarded secret, but through prevailing
European influence it has now fallen entirely into decay. In Samoa
it is now an exception for a native to know the name of this or that
constellation, since an islander engaged in the fishing trade can
only indicate and name this or that star if it marks the beginning of
some important native occupation[537].

The Polynesian material for star-names is exceedingly abundant, and
can here only be represented in outline, so as to give some idea how
far astronomy may advance at this stage of civilisation[538]. The
Marquesas Islanders know and name a great number of constellations
and separate stars, e. g. ‘the Little Eyes’ (the Pleiades), ‘the
Rudder’ (Orion’s belt)[539]. Constellations mentioned as being
known to the Society Islanders are:--the Pleiades, Orion’s belt,
Sirius (‘Big Star’), the Magellanic Clouds (the upper and lower
‘Haze’), the Milky Way (‘the Long-blue-cloud-eating-shark’),
Venus, called sometimes ‘Day-star’ or ‘Herald-of-the-morning’,
and sometimes ‘Taurna-who-rises-at-dusk’, Mars (‘the Red Star’),
Jupiter, and Saturn[540]. The people of Nauru, west of the Gilbert
Islands, observe the stars, chiefly the Pleiades, Orion, Sirius,
and the morning and evening stars[541]. For the Marshall Islands
see above, p. 125. For Tahiti names are given for Venus, Jupiter,
Saturn, the Pleiades (‘Star-of-the-nest’), Sirius (‘Big Star’),
and the belt of Orion, and it is further stated that many other
stars are known by separate names[542]. The Hawaiians had names for
many constellations, and they also knew the five planets[543]. An
apparently distinguished native astronomer, named Hoapili, stated
that he had heard from others (Europeans?) that there was one more
travelling-star, but he had never observed it, and was acquainted
only with the five[544]. The Maoris had names for all the principal
stars and for a great number of constellations. The most important
of the latter is ‘the Canoe of Tamarereti’, which consists of the
following parts:--the three stars of Orion’s belt form the stern,
_matariki_ (the Pleiades) is the prow, _te toke o te waka_ is the
mast, the Southern Cross is the anchor, and the two Pointers are the
cables. Further, Orion’s belt is called ‘the Elbow of Maui’; the
Scorpion is ‘the House-of-Te-Whiu-and-his-slaves’; _Waka mauruiho_
and _Waka mauruake_ are the husbands of _Hurike_ and _Angake_, and
their daughters are _Tioreore_ and _Tikatakata_, the two Magellanic
Clouds, whose husbands are _Taikeha_ and _Ninikuru_. By the position
of the Magellanic Clouds the natives think they can tell from what
quarter the wind will blow. One constellation is called ‘the Garment
of Maru’, which he let fall as he ascended into heaven. Unfortunately
the names corresponding to our star-map are not given, and I have
omitted many which are not translated[545]. Some stars are mentioned
below in the account of the Maori calendar of months[546].

The Micronesians know the stars well; long lists of star-names come
from the Carolines. 18 names are given for Ponape, among them names
for the Pleiades, the Southern Cross, and the Magellanic Clouds;
from Lamotrek come 24, e. g. ‘the Leather-jacket-fish’ (the Southern
Cross), ‘the Broom’ (Ursa Minor), ‘the Virile Member’ (Aldebaran),
‘the Body-of-the-animal’ (Sirius), ‘the Centre-of-the-house’
(Arietes), ‘the Two Eyes’ (Scorpio), ‘the Fowling-net’ (Corona),
‘the Tail-of-the-fish’ (Cassiopeia), etc.; from Mortlock 23, e.
g. (Ursa Minor) _fusa-makit_, ‘the Seven Mice’, or it may mean
‘the Star-that-changes-its-position’ (_sic!_), Leo, ‘the Rat’,
the Southern Cross (perhaps), ‘the Shark’, Delphinus and Cygnus,
‘the Bowl-in-the-midst-of-Sota’, Sirius, ‘the Animal’, Orion and
Aldebaran, ‘The Branch-of-the-tree’, not identified, ‘the Fish-net’;
from Yap 25, unidentified[547]. The Fijians on the other hand knew
little about the stars. They had no names even for the most important
constellations. The evening and morning stars were known, under the
names of ‘Marking-day’ and ‘Marking-night’, but the natives did not
distinguish between the planets and the fixed stars. Their ignorance
is ascribed to the fact that they never undertake voyages beyond
the limits of their groups, and are bad navigators in the technical
sense, although good sailors[548].

Stellar science and mythology are therefore wide-spread among the
primitive and extremely primitive peoples, and attain a considerable
development among certain barbaric peoples. Although this must
be conceded, some people are apt to think that the determination
of time from the stars belongs to a much more advanced stage:
it is frequently regarded as a learned and very late mode of
time-reckoning. Modern man is almost entirely without knowledge of
the stars; for him they are the ornaments of the night-sky, which at
most call forth a vague emotion or are the objects of a science which
is considered to be very difficult and highly specialised, and is
left to the experts. It is true that the accurate determination of
the risings and settings of the stars does demand scientific work,
but not so the observation of the visible risings and settings.
Primitive man rises and goes to bed with the sun. When he gets up at
dawn and steps out of his hut, he directs his gaze to the brightening
east, and notices the stars that are shining just there and are soon
to vanish before the light of the sun. In the same way he observes
at evening before he goes to rest what stars appear in the west at
dusk and soon afterwards set there. Experience teaches him that these
stars vary throughout the year and that this variation keeps pace
with the phases of Nature, or, more concretely expressed, he learns
that the risings and settings of certain stars coincide with certain
natural phenomena. Here, therefore, there lies ready to hand a means
of determining the time of the year, and one which is indeed much
more accurate than a method depending on a reference to the phases
of Nature. However it would seem as if this mode of indicating time
would require a greater knowledge of the stars, such as only few
peoples possess,--as if it would constantly be necessary to observe
a fresh star for each of the smaller divisions of time. This is not
the case, since, as appears from statements already made, for the
purpose of determining the seasons a star may be observed when it is
stationed at other positions in the sky than on the horizon, e. g.,
very conveniently, at its upper culmination, but other positions,
expressed by us in so many degrees above the horizon, may also serve.
Just as the advance of the day is discerned from the position of
the sun, so the advance of the year is recognised by the position
of certain stars at sunrise and sunset. Stars and sun alike are
the indicators of the dial of the heavens. A determination of this
kind, however, is not so accurate as that from the heliacal risings
and settings. Hence the latter pass almost exclusively or at least
pre-eminently under consideration wherever, as in Greece, a calendar
of the natural year is based upon the stars: sometimes however the
upper culmination (μεσουράνημα) is also given. Finally the stars can
also be observed at other times of night than just before sunrise
or after sunset[549]: the Marshall Islanders, for instance, were
accustomed to observe the signs of the weather at 4 a. m. With the
lack of a means of accurately telling the time such an observation is
very uncertain and unpractical, and is therefore seldom found.

In order to determine the time of certain important natural phenomena
it is therefore sufficient to know and observe a few stars or
constellations with accuracy and certainty. The Pleiades are the most
important[550]. It has been asked why this particular constellation,
consisting as it does of comparatively small and unimportant stars,
should have played so great a part, and the answer given is chiefly
that its appearance coincides (though this is true of other stars
also) with important phases of the vegetation. This is correct, but
something else must be added. To create constellations in which
terrestrial objects, animals, and men are arbitrarily seen requires
no inconsiderable degree of imaginative power. The Pleiades however
form themselves into a group without any aid from the imagination,
and can without difficulty be recognised as such. It is because they
are easy to recognise immediately that the observation of these stars
plays so important a part. A similar case is that of the Magellanic
Clouds, which, where they are visible, belong to the best known
phenomena of the heavens, and we may also compare the dark starless
patches which so largely occupy the attention of primitive peoples,
although neither of these two phenomena is used in determining time,
since neither can be observed at the favourable moment, viz. the
twilight.

An account of the Bushmen shews how extremely primitive peoples may
also observe the risings of the stars, may connect them with the
seasons, and--which is indeed somewhat rare--may even worship them.
The Bushmen perceive Canopus; they say to a child:--“Give me yonder
piece of wood that I may put (the end of) it (in the fire), that I
may point it burning towards grandmother, for grandmother carries
Bushman rice; grandmother shall make a little warmth for us; for she
coldly comes out; the sun shall warm grandmother’s eye for us”. About
the same time as Canopus, Sirius appears, and a similar ceremony
takes place. Sirius comes out: the people call to one another:--“Ye
must burn (a stick) for us (toward) Sirius.” They say to one another:
“Who was it that saw Sirius?” One man says to the other: “One
brother saw Sirius.” The other man says to him: “I saw Sirius.” The
other man says to him: “I wish thee to burn a stick for us towards
Sirius, that the sun may shining come out for us, that Sirius may
not coldly come out.” The other man says to his son: “Bring me the
piece of wood yonder, that I may put it in the fire, that I may burn
it towards grandmother, that grandmother may ascend the sky, like
the other one”, i. e. Canopus. The child brings him the piece of
wood, he holds it in the fire. He points it burning towards Sirius,
he says that Sirius shall twinkle like Canopus. He sings; he points
to them with fire that they may twinkle like each other. He throws
fire at them[551]. Canopus and Sirius appear in winter, hence the
cold is connected with them. The ceremony just described is obviously
a warming-incantation. It is said also that it will make the stars
rise higher, for the higher they stand above the eastern horizon
at sunrise and the more brightly they twinkle, the more nearly
winter draws towards an end. The Hottentots connect the Pleiades
with winter. These stars become visible in the middle of June, that
is in the first half of the cold season, and are therefore called
‘Rime-stars’, since at the time of their becoming visible the nights
may be already so cold that there is hoar-frost in the early morning.
The appearance of the Pleiades also gives to the Bushmen of the Auob
district the signal for departure to the _tsama_ field[552].

The Euahlayi tribe also connect the Pleiades with the cold: they call
the stars ‘the Ice-maidens’, imagine them to be covered with ice,
and say that in winter they let ice drop on the earth and also cause
the winter thunderstorms[553]. Another tribe danced in order to win
the favour of the Pleiades; the constellation is worshipped by one
body as the giver of rain, but should the rain be deferred, instead
of blessings curses are apt to be bestowed on it[554]. The Arunta
say that the Pleiades are seven maidens who ascended into heaven,
but after many wanderings came back to Okaralyi, where they again
gathered _ugokuta_ fruit and danced in the women’s dance. During
this period the Pleiades are not to be seen in the sky, i. e. it is
the time between the evening setting and the morning rising. Here
therefore the constellation is connected with a phase of Nature, and
the whole is mythologically explained. According to another Arunta
myth the Pleiades are maidens who had danced at a circumcision
ceremony. After they had taken part in all the ceremonies in which
to-day the assistance of women is still requisite at this festival,
they went back to their native district, whence they ascended to
heaven and are now to be seen as the Pleiades. Not without reason
did the circumcision most frequently take place at the season when
the Pleiades rise at evening in the east and remain in the sky
all night long (this is the case in the summer months), so that
this prominent constellation was regarded as a spectator of the
festivities connected with the rite[555]. The Pleiades therefore
serve to determine the time of the feast, and this circumstance is
again invested with a myth. A tribe of Western Victoria connected
certain constellations with the seasons. The Pleiades are young
maidens playing to a corroboree-party of young men, represented by
the belt and sword of Orion. Aldebaran, ‘the Rose-crested Cockatoo’,
is an old man keeping time for the dancers. This group corresponds
with the months of November and December. As the year advances
Castor and Pollux appear: they are two hunters who pursue and kill
a kangaroo, Capella. The Mirage is the smoke of the fire at which
the kangaroo is cooked by the successful hunters. Those two groups
set forth the period of the summer. The breaking up of a prolonged
drought is thus explained:--Berenice’s Hair, which culminates in
March, is a tree with three big branches. When a shower of rain has
come, every drop is nevertheless sucked up by the dusty earth. A
small cavity formed at the junction of the three branches has however
retained a little water, and here it is imagined some birds drink.
The winter stars are Arcturus--who is held in great respect since
he has taught the natives to find the pupae of the wood-ants, which
are an important article of food in August and September--and Vega,
who has taught them to find the eggs of the _mallee_-hen, which are
also an important article of food in October. The natives also know
and tell stories of many other stars[556]. Another authority states
that they can tell from the position of Arcturus or Vega above the
horizon in August and October respectively when it is time to collect
these pupae and these eggs[557]. An old chief of the Spring Creek
tribe in Victoria taught the young people the names of the favourite
constellations as indications of the seasons. For example when
Canopus at dawn is only a very little way above the eastern horizon,
it is time to collect eggs; when the Pleiades are visible in the
east a little before sunrise, the time has come to visit friends and
neighbouring tribes[558].

The Chukchee form out of the stars Altair and Tarared in Aquila a
constellation named _pchittin_, which is believed to be a forefather
of the tribe who, after death, ascended into heaven. Since this
constellation begins to appear above the horizon at the time of the
winter solstice, it is said to usher in the light of the new year,
and most families belonging to the tribes living by the sea bring
their sacrifices at its first appearing[559].

Among the N. American Indians the determination of time from
constellations is rare. The Blackfeet Indians regulate their most
important feasts by the Pleiades, a feast is held about the first
and the last day of the occultation of these stars. It includes two
sacred vigils and the solemn blessing and planting of the seed, and
is the opening of the agricultural year[560]. According to another
legend of the same tribe, the Pleiades are seven children who
ascended into heaven because they had no yellow hides of the buffalo
calves. Therefore the Pleiades are invisible during the time when the
buffalo calves are yellow (the spring). But when these turn brown, in
autumn, the lost children can be seen in the sky every night[561].
Among the Tusayan Indians of Arizona the culmination of the Pleiades
is often used to determine the proper time for beginning a sacred
nocturnal rite[562].

The S. American Indians have much greater knowledge of the stars, and
in consequence frequently connect stellar phenomena, especially those
of the Pleiades, with phases of Nature. In north-west Brazil the
Indians determine the time of planting from the position of certain
constellations, in particular the Pleiades. If these have disappeared
below the horizon, the regular heavy rains will begin. The Siusi
gave an accurate account of the progress of the constellations,
by which they calculate the seasons, and in explanation drew three
diagrams in the sand. No. 1 had 3 constellations:--‘a Second Crab’,
which obviously consists of the three bright stars west of Leo, ‘the
Crab’, composed of the principal stars of Leo, and ‘the Youths’, i.
e. the Pleiades. When these set, continuous rain falls, the river
begins to rise, beginning of the rainy season, planting of manioc.
No. 2 had 2 constellations:--‘the Fishing-basket’, in Orion, and
_kakudzuta_, the northern part of Eridanus, in which other tribes
see a dancing-implement. When these set, much rain falls, the water
in the river is at its highest. No. 3 was ‘the Great Serpent’, i. e.
Scorpio. When this sets there is little or no rain, the water is at
its lowest[563]. The natives of Brazil are acquainted with the course
of the constellations, with their height and the period and time of
their appearance in and disappearance from the sky, and according
to them they divide up their seasons. In the valley of the Amazon
it is said that during the first few days of the appearance of the
Pleiades, while they are still low, birds, and especially fowls,
roost on low branches or beams, and that the higher the constellation
rises the higher the birds roost also. These stars bring cold and
rain: when they disappear the snakes lose their poison. The canes
used for arrows must be cut before their appearance, or else the
arrows will be worm-eaten. The Pleiades disappear, and appear
again in June. Their appearance coincides with the renewal of the
vegetation and of animal life. Hence the legend says that everything
that has appeared before the constellation will be renewed, i. e. its
appearance marks the beginning of spring[564]. The Bakairi reckoned
by natural phases, but were also well acquainted with astronomical
signs, and spoke of certain constellations which reappeared at the
beginning of the dry season: they referred to stars in the vicinity
of Orion, ‘the Manioc-pole’[565]. The Tamanaco of the Orinoco
called the Pleiades ‘the Mat’. They recognised the approach of
winter from the signs of Nature[566], but also from the fact that
the Pleiades at sunset were not too far distant from the western
horizon: the evening setting falls at the beginning of May[567].
The Lengua Indians of Paraguay connect the beginning of spring with
the rising of the Pleiades, and at this time celebrate feasts which
are generally of a markedly immoral nature[568]. The Guarani of
the same country recognised the time of sowing by the observation
of the Pleiades[569]. The Guarayu call the Pleiades _piangi_; when
they disappear the dry season begins, and when Orion is no longer
visible a period of cold dew begins. The Chacobo of north-eastern
Bolivia regulate the time of sowing by the position of the Pleiades
in relation to the spot where the sun rises[570]. The Chané and
Chiriguano do the same. When the Pleiades rise above the horizon very
early in the morning, the time for sowing has come: it is important
for this to be finished before the rainy season sets in[571]. Still
further tribes, for which I refer to Frazer, relate myths about the
Pleiades, worship them, and celebrate feasts at their appearance. So
did the inhabitants of ancient Peru, who called the Pleiades ‘the
Maize-heap’[572]. It might probably be thought that the observation
of the Pleiades has spread from this ancient civilised people among
the inhabitants of S. America, but it is of so primitive a character
that it rather appears to have been one of the rudiments of the
astronomical knowledge of the people of the Incas.

In Africa also the observation of the stars, and above all of the
Pleiades, is wide-spread. In view of the dissemination of this
knowledge all over the world it is making a quite unnecessary
exception to state that it came into Africa from Egypt. Moreover
this assertion does not correspond with the facts, since among the
Egyptians Sirius, and not the Pleiades, occupied the chief place. The
observation of the appearance of Canopus and Sirius we have already
found highly developed among the Bushmen, that of the Pleiades among
the Hottentots. The Bechuana of Central S. Africa are directed by the
positions of certain stars in the heavens that the time has arrived
in the revolving year when particular roots can be dug up for use,
or when they may commence their labours of the field. This is their
_likhakologo_ (‘turnings’ or ‘revolvings’), at what we should call
the spring-time of the year. The Pleiades they call _selemela_, which
may be translated ‘cultivator’ or ‘the precursor of agriculture’
(from _lemela_, ‘to cultivate _for_’, and _se_, a pronominal prefix,
distinguishing these stars as the actors). When the Pleiades assume
a certain position in the heavens it is the signal to commence
cultivating their fields and gardens[573]. The Caffres determine
the time of sowing by observing the Pleiades[574]; the Bantu
tribes of S. Africa regard their rising shortly after sunset as
indicating the planting-season[575]. The Amazulu call the Pleiades
_isilimela_, which has the same meaning as the Bechuana name, since
they begin to dig up the soil when the Pleiades appear. The people
say: ‘_isilimela_ dies and is not seen’, and at last, when winter is
coming to an end, it begins to appear, one of its stars first and
then three, until, continuing to increase, it becomes a cluster of
stars and is perfectly clearly seen when the sun is about to rise.
Then they say: ‘_isilimela_ is renewed’, ‘the year is renewed’, and
they begin to dig[576]. Among the Thonga the Pleiades are the only
constellation which bears a name--_shirimelo_; it rises in July and
August, when tilling is resumed[577]. At the southern corner of Lake
Nyassa the rising of the Pleiades early in the evening gives the sign
to begin the hoeing of the ground[578]. The Kikuyu of British East
Africa say that this constellation is the mark in the heavens to
shew the people when to plant their crops: they plant when it is in
a certain position early in the night. A dancing-song begins:--“When
the Pleiades meet the moon, the people assemble etc.”[579] The Masai
know whether it will rain or not according to the appearance or
non-appearance of the Pleiades, and the last month of the period
of the great rains, in which their evening setting falls, is named
after them. When they are no longer visible the people know that the
great rains are over, and they are not seen again until the following
season--the season of showers--has come to an end. The Masai call
the sword of Orion ‘the Old Men’, and his belt ‘the Widows’ who
follow them[580].

To the Isubu in Kamerun the constellations, which they combine
in certain groups, shew the course of the seasons; such
constellations are e. g. _tole a nyou_, the _tole_ of the
elephants, in contradistinction to _tole a moto_, the _tole_ of
men; another is ‘the Orphans’. These are summer signs, they are
all found in the eastern part of the sky[581]. In Sierra Leone
the proper time for planting is shewn by the position in which
the Pleiades are to be seen at sunset: the Bullom do not observe
or name any other stars[582]. The Bakongo associate these stars
with the rainy season: the rain comes from them, they are called
‘the Caretakers-who-guard-the-rain’[583]. When the constellation
_kole_[584] reaches the meridian, the Bangala plant more than at any
other time, because the rains, though not infrequent, are then fairly
certain[585]. In Loango Sirius is called ‘the Rain-star’, since as
long as he is visible the rains persist. Alongside of him Orion is
regarded as a sign of the rainy season[586]. In French Guinea the
people know that when the winter constellations appear above the
horizon, indicating that the end of the rains has come, it is the
time of harvest[587].

In the Indian Archipelago the observation of the Pleiades is the most
general and frequent means of determining the time for tillage. Hence
these stars are mythologically regarded as the originators of the
rice-culture. The Dyaks of Sarawak say that Si Jura on a sea-voyage
once found a fruit-tree with its roots in the sky and the branches
hanging downwards. He climbed up into it, and since his comrades
sailed away, he was obliged to climb on and on until he reached
the roots and found himself in a strange land--the country of the
Pleiades. There Si Kira received him kindly, and invited him to eat.
“Those little maggots?” replied Si Jura. Si Kira answered:--“They
are not maggots, but boiled rice”, and he explained to his guest
how the rice was cultivated and reaped, and then let him down by a
long rope near to his father’s house. Si Jura taught the Dyaks how to
cultivate rice, and the Pleiades themselves tell them when to farm;
according to the position of these stars in the heavens, morning and
evening, they cut down the forest, burn, plant, and reap[588]. In
another legend the Pleiades are six chickens which the hen follows,
invisible; formerly there were seven, and at that time men did not
know of rice, but lived on the products of the forest. One of the
chickens had come down to earth, where men gave it to eat: it would
not eat, however, but brought them a fruit with three husks, in which
there were contained three kinds of rice, that would ripen in four,
six, and eight months respectively. The hen was angry, and wished to
destroy both men and the chicken: the former were saved by Orion, but
only six chickens were left. During the time in which the Pleiades
are invisible, the hen is brooding, but the cuckoo calls as long as
they are visible[589]. The Sea-Dyaks determine the time of sowing by
observing the Pleiades. Some tribes determine the approach of the
time of rice-sowing from the observation of the stars. The Kayan of
Borneo know the most important constellations, although they do not
observe them and their motions with a practical end in view[590].
However one of the joint authors just quoted says in another place
that although the Kayan more usually determine the time of sowing
by the observation of the sun, yet both they and many other races
in Borneo sow the rice when the Pleiades at daybreak appear just
above the horizon[591]. When the time to clear fresh land in the
forest draws near, a wise man is appointed to go out before dawn and
watch for the Pleiades. As soon as they are seen to rise while it is
still dark, the people know that the time has come to begin work,
but not until they are at the zenith before dawn is it considered
desirable to burn the fallen timber and sow rice. The Dyaks begin
the rice-planting when the Pleiades reach the same position at about
3 or 4 o’clock in the morning as the sun reaches at 8 o’clock. Old
and experienced men are on the watch to determine the spot exactly.
Then a feast begins[592]. The natives of Nias, an island to the south
of Sumatra, assemble to till their fields when the Pleiades appear,
and regard it as useless to do so before that time[593]. In Sumatra
also the time for sowing was determined in this way. The Batak of the
middle of the island regulate their various agricultural operations
by the position of Orion and the Pleiades. The Achenese of the north
know that the sowing-time has come when the Pleiades rise before
the sun, at the beginning of July[594]. In northern Celebes the
rice-fields are prepared for cultivation when the Pleiades are seen
at a certain height above the horizon[595]. The Kai of German New
Guinea say that the time for labour in the fields has come when the
Pleiades are visible above the horizon at night: the Bukaua of the
same country also follow the Pleiades[596]. When the natives of the
Torres Straits Islands see the Pleiades on the horizon after sunset,
they say that the new yam-time has come[597]. The western tribes of
these straits have names for many stars, which are largely grouped
into constellations. The seasonal appearances of certain stars or
constellations were noted, and their rising regulated particular
dances, and also, as our authority thinks, the planting of yams and
sweet potatoes[598].

Accurate information for these tribes is given by Rivers in the
Reports of the Expedition to the Torres Straits. The most important
constellations are ‘the Shark’ (= the Great Bear together with
Arcturus) and _corona borealis_. Still larger is _Tagai_. This
constellation represents a man, Tagai (= Centaurus, Lupus), standing
in the prow of a canoe (Scorpio); in the stern sits Kareg (Antares).
Tagai holds in his left hand (the Southern Cross) a fishing-spear,
in his right (Corvus) some _kupa_-fruit. Below the canoe is a
sucker-fish, consisting of a part of Scorpio. _Naurwer_ are ‘the
Brothers’--Vega the elder, and Altair the younger--who in their
outstretched arms are holding sticks (β, γ _lyrae_, β, γ _aquilae_).
In Mabuiag this constellation is called _Dogai_. Our Delphinus is
called ‘the Trumpet-shell’, _kek_ is probably Achernar. Others I
omit. The most important star was _kek_, whose rising indicated not
only the beginning of many ceremonies but also the planting-season.
The risings and settings of the stars were observed, and certain
rites and agricultural occupations regulated thereby. In Badu it
was said that when only the tail of the Shark is above the horizon,
the north-west wind begins to blow ‘a little bit’: when the tail
has gone down altogether, the people begin to plant yams, and when
the Shark comes up again, yams, sweet potatoes, and bananas are
ripe. The stars also help to determine the seasons. A native of
Mabuiag gave the following list of the stars relating to the season
called _aibaud_:--_kek_ comes up, he is the sign for everything to
be done: ‘start meeting’, i. e. at the feasts the holding of which
is dependent upon plentiful supplies of food; _gil_, _usal_ (the
Pleiades): at this time the ovaries of the turtles enlarge; _pagas_
and _dede_ (Betelgeuze); _utimal_; _wapil_. Towards the end of the
season the Shark becomes visible, and then the pigeon migrates from
New Guinea to Australia, as does the _birubiru_-bird when _gitulai_
(the Crab) appears. It is expressly noted that when the people speak
of the rising or setting of a constellation or star at a certain
season, they have in mind the time of the year when the star or
constellation in question first appears or disappears on the horizon
at daybreak. Of Tagai a catasterism is related which at the same time
has reference to the phenomena of the seasons at the appearance of
the stars in question. On a fishing expedition the crew stole the
water from him and Koang. They therefore killed them and said:--“Usal
(the Pleiades), you go to New Guinea side, when you come up there
will be plenty of rain. Utimal, you go to New Guinea side, you have
to bring rain. Kwoior, when you come up over Mangrove Island just
before the south-east monsoon sets in, there will be rain in the
morning. Then the wind will shift and it will rain in the afternoon,
and you, Kek, will come up in the south between Badu and Moa and it
will be cold weather. When you go round this way and when you come
up, then the yams and sweet potatoes will ripen. You all have work
to do”[599]. A similar story is told of the Kiwai Papuans, who have
for the most part the same star-names and call most of their months
after stars: the Shark is also implicated in this story. When the
fin sets, there is more wind and high-water; when the tail sets,
more high-water; when the head rises, the copulating-season of the
turtles commences. Another myth tells how Javagi got angry and threw
Karongo up into heaven, where he and his three-pronged spear became
the constellation Antares[600].

The Melanesians of Banks Island and the northern New Hebrides are
also acquainted with the Pleiades as a sign of the approach of
the yam-harvest[601]. The inhabitants of New Britain (Bismarck
Archipelago) are guided in ascertaining the time of planting by the
position of certain stars[602]. The Moanu of the Admiralty Islands
use the stars as a guide both on land and at sea, and recognise the
season of the monsoons by them. When the Pleiades (_tjasa_) appear at
night-fall on the horizon, this is the signal for the north-west wind
to begin. But when the Thornback (Scorpio) and the Shark (Altair)
emerge as twilight begins, this shews that the south-east wind is at
hand. When ‘the Fishers’ Canoe’ (Orion, three fishermen in a canoe)
disappears from the horizon at evening, the south-east wind sets in
strongly: so also when the constellation is visible at morning on
the horizon. When it comes up at evening, the rainy season and the
north-west wind are not far off. When ‘the Bird’ (_canis major_) is
in such a position that one wing points to the north but the other is
still invisible, the time has come in which the turtles lay eggs, and
many natives then go to the Los-Reys group in order to collect them.
The Crown is called ‘the Mosquito-star’, since the mosquitoes swarm
into the houses when this constellation sets. The two largest stars
of the Circle are called _pitui an papai_: when this constellation
becomes visible in the early morning, the time is favourable for
catching the fish _papai_[603]. The natives of the Bougainville
Straits are acquainted with certain stars, especially the Pleiades;
the rising of this constellation is a sign that the _kai_-nut is
ripe: a ceremony takes place at this season[604]. On Treasury Island
a grand festival is held towards the end of October, in order--so far
as could be ascertained--to celebrate the approaching appearance of
the Pleiades above the eastern horizon after sunset. In Ugi, where of
all the stars the Pleiades alone have a name, the times for planting
and taking up yams are determined by this constellation[605]. In
Lambutjo the year is reckoned according to the position of the
Pleiades. When they are in the east, it is said that ‘they are
waiting’, when at the zenith, ‘they stand in the middle’, when in
the west, they are ‘bowed down’. When they stand low, the turtles
come up on land: the people say that they ‘go to play’, i. e. it is
the pairing season. When the Pleiades are high overhead, the white
men celebrate Christmas. When they ‘come up anew’, the people go
to look for fish. At that time ‘the Fishes’ are in the water. ‘The
Fishes’ (_corona borealis_) dip down when the Pleiades come up. When
‘the Fishes’ are in the sky, there are no fish in the water. In both
Alu and Lambutjo one division of the year is reckoned by the return
of the Pleiades, another by the almond-ripening. On the Gazelle
Peninsula the time for good fishing is the time of the appearance
of the Pleiades: at this time the fishing-nets are spread out. It
is said that ‘the Thornback’ (Pisces) and ‘the People-at-the-feast’
(the Pleiades) must not see each other; the former constellation
is called _galial_ (‘fishes’), which at this time are not to be
eaten[606]. On the island of Saa, one of the Solomon Islands, the
Southern Cross is the net with four men letting it down to catch
palolo, and the Pointers are two men cooking what is caught, since
the palolo first comes when one of the Pointers appears above the
horizon[607]. In the list of star-names given for the Carolines there
are also references to the seasons. In Ponape _le-poniong_ is seen
at the time of the variable winds. In Lamotrek Corvus is called ‘the
Viewer-of-the-taro-patches’, since he is visible during the taro
season; the name of Arcturus is formed from _ara_, ‘to conclude’,
and _moi_, ‘to come’, and the star is so called because his rising
indicates the end of the north-east winds, which bring visiting
parties to the island; the appearance of Capella means heavy gales
and bad weather[608].

Among the astronomically learned Polynesians time-estimations
according to stars play an important part: most of these however
belong to the chapters on the months and the year. In Samoa it is at
present an exception if an old fisherman can indicate and name this
or that star which at its entrance into this or that constellation
(_sic!_) announces the beginning of an abundant _bonino_-catch,
the immediate return of the South Sea herring, the _atuli_, to
its accustomed spawning-grounds, or some other similar event of
importance in the life of the natives[609].

When the stars indicate this or that event, the primitive mind, as
so often happens, is unable to distinguish between accompanying
phenomena and causal connexion; it follows that the stars are
regarded as authors of the events accompanying their appearance,
when these take place without the interference of men. So in ancient
Greece the expressions (a certain star) ‘indicates’ (σημαίνει)
or ‘makes’ (ποιεῖ) certain weather were not kept apart, and the
stars were regarded as causes of the atmospheric phenomena[610]. A
similar process of reasoning is not seldom found among primitive
peoples, and a few instances have already been given, such as
the warming-incantation of the Bushmen against Canopus and
Sirius, the name given to the Pleiades among the Bakongo (‘the
Caretakers-who-guard-the-rain’), and the belief that the rain comes
from them, the myth of the Euahlayi tribe that the Pleiades let ice
fall down on to the earth in winter and cause thunderstorms, in
other words send the rain, and the belief of the Marshall Islanders
that the various positions of certain stars cause storms or good
winds[611]. The same idea is very clearly seen in the account of
the Hottentots given by a missionary of the 17th century[612]. At
the return of the Pleiades the natives celebrate an anniversary: as
soon as the stars appear above the eastern horizon the mothers lift
their little ones in their arms, run up to some eminence, and shew to
them these friendly stars, and teach them to stretch out their hands
towards them. The people of the kraal assemble to dance and sing
according to the old custom of their ancestors. The chorus is always:
“O Tiqua, our father above our heads, give rain to us that the fruits
(bulbs etc.), _uientjes_, may ripen and that we may have plenty of
food: send us a good year!”

The natives of Australia (perhaps of Victoria), according to an old
account, worship the heavenly bodies and think that natural causes
are governed by certain constellations. They have names for these,
and sing and dance to win the favour of the Pleiades, which are
worshipped by one group as the giver of rain; should the rain be
deferred, curses instead of blessings are bestowed on them[613].
The Euahlayi tribe thinks that the Pleiades bring frost and winter
thunderstorms, and that the Milky Way by its change of position
brings rain[614]. An old native, chief of the Gingi tribe, when the
rain would not stop, turned to the souls of his dead friends in the
Milky Way with certain charms, until they made the rain cease. The
Milky Way is regarded as a stream with fertile banks[615].

These facts being so, there is nothing strange in an account which
unfortunately comes from a writer whose evidence in other respects
is open to grave doubt. We are told that Andy, a native of New
South Wales, found the statement that the sun is the source of heat
ridiculous, and said:--“If the sun makes the warm weather come in
summer-time, why does he not make the winter warm, for he is seen
every day?” The influence which produces heat, in the belief of
the natives, accompanies the Pleiades. When these are visible at a
certain altitude above the horizon, it is spring, _begagewog_; when
they rise to their highest altitude, it is summer, _winuga_; when
in autumn they sink down again towards the horizon, it is _domda_
(‘autumn’); in winter they are barely visible or are lost to view
altogether; it is then winter (_magur_), and cold. The ordinary
stars have no kind of influence on the seasons, but simply the
Pleiades[616]. The account agrees very well with what is otherwise
known of the stellar science of the Australians, and is perfectly
credible. A precisely similar story comes from the other side of
the globe. At the beginning of the 18th century, when the Lapps
were still heathens, one of the questions which a missionary among
these people put to them about their gods was:--“Have you prayed
the Pleiades to warm the weather?” In accordance with this a Lapp
myth relates that a servant driven out on a very cold night by
a cruel master was saved by the Pleiades. One of the Lapp names
for these stars, which evidently points to this idea, is ‘the
Sheep-skins’[617]. The Greeks had the same belief in Sirius as the
cause of the summer heat.[618]

From this belief in the stars as causes of the natural phenomena
it is but a short step to attempt to draw from the manner of their
appearance conclusions as to the kind of phenomenon caused by them.
To the Bakongo the Pleiades are the guardians of the rain, and when
they are clearly to be seen at the beginning of the rainy season
the people expect a good season, i. e. sufficient but not too much
rain[619]. The Nandi of British East Africa know by the appearance
or non-appearance of the Pleiades whether they may expect a good
or a bad harvest[620]. The Guarayu of S. America believe that when
the Pleiades at their reappearance are surrounded by a circle, it
is a good omen: but if this circle is wanting, all must die[621].
In Macedonia the Pleiades are called ‘the Clucking or Brooding
Hen’ (ἡ κλωσσαριά); their setting announces the advent of winter,
and from the accompanying conditions omens are drawn as to the
quantity of the forthcoming crop and the fertility of the cattle.
If the constellation sets in a cloudy sky, this portends a rich
harvest[622]. Similar weather-rules and prognostications are found
in abundance in modern European folk-lore and in the so-called
peasants’ calendars. The origin in the popular astrological beliefs
of antiquity is usually taken for granted. It is true that astrology,
especially under Mohammedan influence, has penetrated very deeply
even among little civilised peoples such as the negroes of Central
Africa and the Malays of the Indian Archipelago; but I see no cogent
reason for finding in the above-mentioned world-wide examples of
a belief in the influence of the stars upon natural phenomena any
influence of that astrology which derives from ancient Babylon.
Rather do these myths and traditions seem to afford an analogy to
the initial stages of the Babylonian astrology, and to shew that the
whole vast system of astrology had its root in primitive thinking.
And the Babylonian prognostications from stars and sky remained,
until a very late period, quite primitive. These observations cannot
be followed up further: astrology and its origins lie outside the
limits of the present study.

It has been shewn, then, that even among the most primitive peoples
of the globe the stars are known, observed, considered, and used for
the determination of time--the Pleiades, indeed, first and foremost,
but other constellations as well; of the not nearly so frequent
determination of the advance of night from the motions of the stars
we have already spoken in chapter I. There is however a difference
that should not be neglected between this method of determining time
and the time-indications from natural phases. So far as I have been
able to discover, the stars are never used in a narrative, i. e.
where the date of any familiar event is to be given, but only where
practical rules for the constantly recurring occupations and labours
are concerned, and also for the festivals. The method therefore does
not apply to the historical event in the wider sense, but only to the
reiterated event the recurrence of which is empirically known. The
consciousness of a fixed and constant order is therefore impressed
upon the mind of primitive man much more powerfully by the eternal
revolution of the constellations than by the variation of the
seasons.

CHAPTER V.

THE MONTH.

The course of the sun determines the variation between day and night,
and causes the natural phases of the year. From the position of the
sun the times of the day can be given with ease and certainty, but
not so the seasons of the year,--to the exceptions I shall recur
in chapter XII. From the fixed stars the hours of the night can be
determined, and still more frequently are the seasons regulated by
them. But this kind of time-determination necessarily refers to
points of time, and not to periods. Only for one or two days has the
star the position which serves for the determination of time. No
division of the year into parts can be carried out by this method,
the most that can be done is to regulate the already existing
divisions by it.

As well as the sun and the fixed stars the moon appears in the
heavens. It does not entirely vanish before the sunlight like the
fixed stars, in the night-time its light eclipses that of the smaller
stars. Its shape, the strength of its light, and the time of its
appearance vary quite perceptibly from day to day. As long as the
human race has existed, man’s attention must have been drawn to the
moon. The course of the moon, thanks to the rapid revolution of the
planet round the earth, forms a shorter unit, which steps in between
day and year. The shorter interval of time defined by it, unlike the
too lengthy period of the year, is easily kept in mind and taken in
at a glance. This unit has further its peculiar characteristics.
In the first place it has nothing to do with the natural phases
conditioned by the course of the sun: it is in fact incommensurable
with the seasons. In the second place it immediately obtrudes
itself into notice as a unit. The time-reckoning according to the
moon is in its nature continuous. One moon follows another with a
short interruption, to which at first little attention is paid: for
compared with the 27-28 days in which the moon can be seen in the sky
the 1-2 days in which it is invisible are little noticed. The phases
of the moon represent a gradual waxing and waning, a continuous
development. The principle of continuous time-reckoning is therefore
suggested by the moon, in opposition to the time-indications from
natural phases and from the stars.

The observation of the moon is often said to be the oldest form
of time-reckoning. This statement involves a certain danger, viz.
the overlooking of the fact that the time-indications from natural
phases and from the stars--as I hope has been shewn above--are just
as primitive and must be just as old. But if by time-reckoning the
continuous principle and measure of time are implied the statement
is in that sense true. The moon is indeed the first chronometer, and
this fact is due to the nature of its concrete appearance, which
draws attention to the duration, and not to the point, of time.
And this, as always, is the starting-point: practically everywhere
the month as a unit of enumeration or a measure is denoted by the
same word as the moon. The linguistic distinction between ‘moon’
and ‘month’ only follows at a stage which primitive peoples still
living have not yet reached. All peoples know the moon and use it for
time-reckoning. Of the S. American Indians, who observe the stars so
well, it is stated that the month is everywhere the natural division
of time[623].

While the human mind therefore arrives only gradually at the
conception of the year, the month is already given by the natural
phenomenon. Consequently it is only to be expected that it should
be expressly stated that the revolution of the moon determines the
greatest measure of time[624], and that we should find peoples who
can count reckoning by months and not by years. Thus, for example,
it was often said in southern Nigeria: “I sold this canoe to him
eight moons ago”[625]. As in the counting of the years a well-known
event is used as a starting-point, so it is also with the months.
In the New Hebrides they said:--“Two moons have gone since this or
that event took place”[626]. But this principle has not prevailed
in the counting of the months, since it gives too many months in
the course of one human life, and since the months are drawn into
another connexion, to which the following chapter is devoted. Only
in one case is a reckoning of this nature common, viz. in pregnancy.
Examples are superfluous, but I give at least one:--The Samoan woman
looks at the moon and expects the beginning of menstruation at a
quite definite position of that planet, each woman naturally having
a different position of the moon in view. If menstruation does not
take place then, she perceives that she is pregnant, and expects her
confinement after ten moon-months[627].

No attention is paid at first to the number of days in the month:
many primitive peoples cannot even count so far as thirty. A
significant passage in a Ho text originating from a native
runs:--“The months are reckoned from the moon (the same word is used
for both), which stands in the sky. When the moon appears, remains
long in the heavens, and then again for a short time is invisible,
we say that a month has just gone. We know nothing about the number
of days constituting a month. When we see the moon and then it is
lost again a month has gone”[628]. A native Basuto says that little
regard is paid as to counting the number of days in any month,
since the bulky moon itself fills up the deficiency[629]. When men
begin to count the days great uncertainty at first prevails: in
Buin, for example, the statements vary between 15 and 31 days[630];
the Caffre month is said to have 25 days. Apparently only the time
during which the moon is visible is at first counted. So it is said
of the Caffres that they count the month from the phases of the
moon during its visibility, and that the days of its invisibility
are not counted: the moon has gone to sleep[631]. For the Basuto
on the other hand only expressions for the two days of the moon’s
invisibility are mentioned: the first, ‘the moon has gone into
the dark’, the second, ‘the moon is greeted by the apes’, since
this animal can see the moon sooner than man[632]. The Ibo-speaking
peoples also reckon only 28 days to the month[633], and so do the
Dakota[634]. It is only natural that the days of the darkness should
soon be included, so that the following month follows directly upon
the preceding; many peoples say, like the Banyankole, that the
month lasts 29 days: for 28 days the moon is visible, and for one
day hidden[635]. As always, therefore, the concrete phenomenon is
the starting point. Here, however, not only the varying shape of
the moon, not only its phases, are taken into account, but also, as
in the case of the sun and the stars, its position in the sky. On
the analogy of the rising and setting of the stars the new moon can
be described as the evening setting, the full moon as the evening
rising or morning setting, and the disappearing of the moon as the
morning rising of that planet. A description of this nature, of
course without the above scientific terminology, does occur, but in
isolated instances. In the above-mentioned Ho text a further passage
runs:--“When the moon appears and comes nearer, we say ‘it stands
overhead’. After this it stands in the middle (of the sky). When the
moon does not rise until after night-fall we say that it ‘stands on
the edge (of the sky)’. When it does not rise until very long after
night-fall we say ‘it shines unto day-break’. When the moon is once
more on the wane, it will not be long before another appears.” Other
expressions are:--‘the moon falls upon the forest’, i. e. stands low
on the horizon, ‘it sleeps in the open air’, when it is in the sky
at day-break[636]. At the south of Lake Nyassa the day of the month
is denoted by indicating the position of the moon in the sky at
day-break[637]. Of the Seminole of Florida it is reported that the
months seem to be divided simply into days, and that the latter are,
at least in part, described by reference to the successive positions
of the moon in the sky at sunset. When our informant asked a native
how long he would remain at his present camp, he answered by pointing
to the new moon in the west, and sweeping his hand from west to east
to the spot where the moon would be when he should go home. He meant
to answer, “About ten days hence”[638].

To indicate the day by the position of the moon in the sky is however
exceptional, and it is just as exceptional for descriptions of the
day according to the position of the moon to be consistently carried
out. The Ewe tribes also have expressions which refer to the shapes
of the moon. These different shapes have in general attracted most
attention, and serve for time-reckoning. At first the phases of
the moon are distinguished only roughly, but greater and greater
refinement of observation is ever being attained, until every day of
the moon’s revolution is described by a name, and the names not only
refer to the phases of the moon but also indicate its position in the
sky.

Among the different phases of the moon’s light two stand out with
especial prominence--the first appearance of the crescent of the new
moon in the evening twilight, and the full moon. Both events are
joyfully greeted and celebrated among many peoples, in particular the
appearance of the new moon, the full moon also, but not so often.
The explanation of this fact must partly lie in the circumstance
that the full moon does not suddenly appear like the new moon, but
fills its disc gradually, so that the days of full moon are more
numerous, instead of being one exactly determined day like the day
of the new moon. Hence there may be a counting of the months in new
moons instead of a continuous reckoning in moons, as when the natives
of the Solomon Islands count the months which must elapse before the
funeral feast by making a notch in a stick or a knot in a rope at the
appearance of the new moon[639].

The hailing of the new moon with joy is wide-spread[640]. The Dieri
of Australia relate that there was once no moon, so that the old men
held a council and a Mura-mura gave them the moon; in order that they
might know when to hold their ceremonies, he gave them a new moon at
certain intervals[641]. Heathen Eskimos in West Greenland celebrate
at every new moon a feast with a performance of the sorceror, an
extinguishing of lamps, and the barter of women[642]. The Patagonians
welcome the new moon by patting their heads and murmuring an
incantation[643]. Certain tribes of North America at the eagerly
expected appearance of the new moon uttered loud cries and stretched
out their hands towards it[644]. The Natchez of Louisiana at every
new moon celebrated a feast which took its name from the principal
fruits reaped in the preceding moon, or from the animals that were
usually hunted then[645]. In the villages of Port Moresby (British
New Guinea) the people at the first sight of the new moon give a
prolonged somewhat shrill cry which is taken up by all and repeated
in chorus: there is no mention of any time-reckoning[646]. On the
southern side of Dutch New Guinea we learn that the first sight of
the new moon was signalised by a short sharp bark rather than a
shout. Several times on the day following the first sight of the new
moon our authority noticed that a spear decorated with white feathers
was exposed in a conspicuous place in the village. The author states
that he is unable to say whether this custom had any connection with
the calendar[647]. In Buin at the appearance of the quarter (_sic!_)
of the new moon the people immediately utter the ‘war-cry’, ‘so that
the new moon may not break the cocoa-nuts’. When the new moon comes
up, the people of Buin trill with their under-lip, plucking at it
with the forefinger and at the same time sending out a high note
(‘_a_’). In Lambutjo the people howl and strike themselves on the
mouth with their hands, at the same time uttering ‘_a_’, so that a
kind of quacking is heard. On the Gazelle Peninsula the natives put
their forefingers in their mouths and trill a high ‘_u_’, the result
being a gurgling noise[648].

The same custom recurs in Africa. When the Bushmen catch sight of
the new moon they pray:--“Young Moon! Hail, Young Moon, hail, hail,
Young Moon! Young Moon, speak to me, hail, hail, Young Moon! Tell
me of something! Hail, hail! When the sun rises, Thou must speak to
me, that I may eat something. Thou must speak to me about a little
thing, that I may eat. Hail, hail, Young Moon!”[649]. The Bechuana
watch most eagerly for the first glimpse of the new moon, and when
they perceive the faint outline after the sun has set deep in the
west, they utter a loud shout of _kua!_ and vociferate prayers to
it, e. g. “Let our journey with the white man be prosperous!”[650].
The Ba-Ronga always greet the apparition of the new moon with
cheers. The first person who sees it shouts _kengelekezee_ (_kenge_
= ‘half-moon shaped’), and this exclamation is repeated from one
village to another. According to a Nkuma informant the day of the
new moon is _shimusi_, a day of rest. The appearance of the crescent
was carefully examined. If the horns were turned towards the earth,
this shewed that there was nothing to fear, the dangers of the month
had been poured out. If the opposite was the case, it shewed that
the moon was full of weapons and misfortunes[651]. As soon as the
new moon is seen, the Banyankole of Uganda come out of their huts
and clap their hands. Everyone lights a fire in front of his hut and
lets it burn for four days continuously. A number of royal drums are
brought out and beaten without cessation for four days[652]. The
Wadschagga climb a hill in order to see the crescent properly, and
pray at its appearance:--“One, two, three, four (the day of the new
moon is reckoned as the fourth day of the month), give me peace, give
me food, send me blessing, and drive want far away. O my moon, break
him (my enemy) neck and throat!” Since in the evening so many curses
are uttered, this day is also termed an evil day. Its peculiarities
decide the character of the whole month. For this reason no one
should go to rest on this evening hungry or only half-satisfied, or
else he will be hungry the whole month long. The master of the house
admonishes his wife:--“Day of the moon! Honour the moon, and go in
quest of food for the children, that they may not go to sleep hungry
every day.” On this day no legal business is done and no debts are
paid. But whoever can manage to get his debt paid on that day will
have luck and his possessions will increase[653]. This custom is of a
highly developed order and exactly resembles the well-known ancient
Roman and modern New Year superstition, in which moreover the new
moon also plays a prominent part; one can hardly avoid suspecting
foreign influence. At Nibo when the new moon comes out they salute it
with:--“_u-u_, don’t let disease catch me, or a bad moon!”; the Ibo
celebrate a children’s festival at the time of the new moon[654].

The full moon also gives rise to special feasts: half Africa dances
in the light of the nights of full moon. The Bushmen, for example,
never neglected the dance at the time of the new and full moon.
Dancing began with the new moon and was continued at the full
moon[655]. In Dahomey the festivals take place at full moon, the
days being fixed by the native government[656]. This is also the
case elsewhere. The people of Timor on the night of the full moon
dance from night-fall till sunrise: the dancing songs are principally
of an erotic character[657]. On the Nicobars at new and full moon
feasts were celebrated in which great quantities of an intoxicating
beverage prepared from the juice of the cocoa-palm were drunk[658].
The Celtic Iberians of ancient Spain assembled outside their gates on
the nights of full moon and celebrated a feast and danced in honour
of an unknown god[659]. Who can help thinking here of the well-known
words of Tacitus about the Germans?--“Their meetings are, except
in case of chance emergencies, on fixed days, either at new moon
or full moon: such seasons they believe to be the most auspicious
for beginning business”[660]. A fact is here mentioned to which we
shall recur below, viz. that the feasts and religious festivals are
often celebrated during the time of full moon. This is due not only
to the full light of the moon but also to the world-wide idea that
everything which is to prosper belongs to the time of the waxing
moon, and above all to the days when it has reached its complete
phase[661].

New moon and full moon, therefore, by the religious significance
attached to them, prove themselves to have been the two phases which
were first observed. It is certainly no mere accident that in a
word-list of an Australian tribe, the Kakadu of North Territory,
only terms for new moon and full moon exist (_malpa nigeri_ and
_mirrawarra malpa_ respectively)[662]. Starting from these two
phases, the whole period of the moon can be divided into two halves,
formed by the waxing and the waning moon. The phases are the same
in both halves, but follow one another in the inverse order. Hence
they can be described by the same word, with an additional word for
the half of the month: but this is only vouched for in one instance,
viz. for the Mendalam Kayan of Borneo[663]. On the other hand this
division is extremely common, especially among more highly developed
peoples, in the counting of the days of the month, to which I return
below. Quite primitive peoples cannot count so far as 15, or do so
only with difficulty: instead of this they distinguish still further
phases of the moon.

In the next place the crescent of the wasting moon is added, so
that three phases are given: waxing, culmination, and waning.
Thus the Andamanese call the new moon _ogur-lo-latika_, the full
moon _ogur-dah_, and the waning moon _ogur-boi-kal_[664]. Another
writer gives different names, no doubt for another tribe:--New
moon = ‘moon-baby-small’, first quarter = ‘moon-big’, full moon
= ‘moon-body’, last quarter = ‘moon-thin’[665]. The literal
translation shews however that this author wrongly makes these
phases equivalent to our quarters; the full moon and the third
quarter are not identical. In reality, besides the full moon, two
phases are distinguished during the time of the waxing moon, and
only one when the moon is on the wane. The Indians of Pennsylvania
distinguish by special names the new, the round (i. e. the full), and
the waning moon: the last-named they call the half-round moon[666].
The Negritos of Zambales have periods corresponding to the phases
of the moon: the new moon they call _bay’-un bu’-an_, the full moon
_da-a’-na bu’-an_, the waning moon _may-a’-mo-a bu’-an_[667]. In
Wuwulu and Aua there were words for the full moon, the waxing and
the waning moon, and for the time of the moon’s invisibility[668].
This last is not a phase in the proper sense: as soon as it was
recognised, however, it was natural that it should be introduced as
equivalent to the phases and should thus complete the circle of the
month.

In regard to the further development of the phases it is to be noted
that this does not as a rule take place with any regularity, but the
phases are more specialised during the period of the waxing than in
that of the waning moon. The Karaya of Central Brazil were overjoyed
to note the first appearance of the crescent. Apparently five phases
of the moon are distinguished, for which our authority obtained the
following names from an Indian:--First crescent, _ahandu loita_; not
yet quite full moon, _ahandu laläli_; full moon, _djulum läaläli_;
last crescent, _ahandu aluläna_; new moon, _ikona_. Of these _ahandu
laläli_ denotes a phase between half and full moon: ‘there are two
moons’. Probably the bright and the dark moon are meant. This was
confirmed for other Indians, but without its being possible to obtain
any accurate account, says our authority. The theory however fits
badly, since the earth-light disappears in the second quarter, but is
very prominent in the first. The people however were themselves not
clear as to the succession of the phases, they gave different orders
and often corrected themselves[669].

The Hottentots call the just emerging, hardly yet perceptible
crescent by a name which means ‘unripe’ and is also used to denote a
premature fruit. The slender shining crescent, in which the moon as
it were ‘revives’, is called by a name with that significance. The
first two quarters have two names common to both of them, ‘the moon
which becomes great or old’, and ‘the moon which becomes wise’. In
the last quarter only the slender crescent is distinguished: it is
called ‘the dying moon’[670]. In exceptional cases no name for the
full moon is given, but we can hardly conclude that such a name
was wanting. An Australian tribe of the North Territory calls the
full moon _igul_, the half-moon _idadad_, and the crescent of the
new moon _wurdu_[671]. The terminology in Central Australia is far
richer:--_atninja quirka utnamma_ = new moon, _a. q. iwuminta_ =
half-moon, _a. urterurtera_ = three-quarter moon, _a. aluquirta_ =
full moon[672]. No terms whatever are given for the waning moon, but
that they were entirely lacking is doubtful, though it is also to be
doubted whether terms for the half and three-quarter moon cannot also
be applied to the waning moon. It should be noted that in Central
Australia, as the words shew, the new and the full moon are the
original phases.

The observation and naming of the phases of the moon long remain
quite unsystematic. The names are mingled with terms arising
from other circumstances. Of the Thonga of S. E. Africa it is
reported:--When the first quarter appears, the moon is said to
_thwasa_, a Zulu word which corresponds to _tjhama_ in Thonga, and is
very much used in the terminology of possessions. Eight days later
it is said to _basa_, to be white or brilliant; full moon is said
to _sima_ or _lata batjongwana_, to put the little children to bed,
because when it rises it finds them already sleeping on their mats.
The wane is called _kushwela dambo_, the moon is then found by the
rising sun to be still in the sky, not having yet dipped below the
horizon. When at last it disappears, it is _munyama_, the obscurity,
the moon is said to _fa_, to have died[673]. The position of the
moon in the sky is also taken into consideration, but not to such
an extent as among the Ewe tribes[674]; the latter however are also
acquainted with another terminology. Full moon is called ‘the moon
fits’, i. e. nothing of it is wanting, new moon ‘the moon is dead’.
In the first quarter and at the half-moon they say: ‘the moon is half
round’ or ‘falls upon the wood’, i. e. stands low on the horizon;
shortly before full moon ‘the moon is about to become complete’, ‘is
on the increase’; after the full moon ‘the moon is about to wane’;
three days after full moon ‘the moon has cheated some people’, since
it leaves in the lurch those who wish to play in the evening; in
the last quarter ‘the moon is like the tail of the cock’ or ‘sleeps
in the open’, since it stands in the sky at day-break[675]. For
the pagan races of the Malay Peninsula words are given for the new
moon, the crescent of the moon, the half-moon, the end of the waning
moon, no moon[676]. The Bontoc Igorot of Luzon describe three phases
between full moon and the waning moon, and three between new moon and
full moon, eight altogether therefore, and have special names for
them, but rarely make use of them in time-reckoning[677]. The Nabaloi
have other words for the same phases, and also one for the moon
showing a rim of light[678]. The natives of New Britain (Bismarck
Archipelago) observed the phases of the moon (_kalang_), and had
separate terms for them, e. g. ‘moon not visible’, ‘first quarter
of the moon (_sic!_)’, ‘nearly full moon’ (in which they hunted for
the land-crabs), full moon, ‘beginning to wane’, ‘moon when seen
in the morning’, etc. They also measured time between sunset and
moon-rise by the ‘smouldering of a torch’, the time occupied in
cooking yams, taro, and wild taro[679]. In Buin the crescent as it
becomes visible is first called _rubui_, ‘the pupil (of the eye) is
dead’, since the whole moon is often to be seen as a dark disc when
the crescent is first formed. Later they say _motoguba_, ‘a hook is
made’. Still later, _nobele_, ‘a piece’, ‘a bit’. When the moon’s
disc is full, _mairen_, ‘it is ripe’ or ‘old’, and _roukeu_, ‘it
is equal’, i. e. full. When the moon begins to wane, it is called
_ingom_, ‘puffed out’. The ‘puffing out’ becomes weaker, and now the
moon will die, _ekio buagi_. Throughout the period of the waning moon
the expression used is _buan-gubio-eiraubi_, ‘it is on the point of
passing away to die’. During the period of the waxing moon they say
_(ekio) duabegubi-eiraubi_, ‘(the moon) is about to pass away to the
sun(light)-making’. During the time of new moon they say _mamarabui_,
‘the great kobold is dead’, or _ekio buaguro_, ‘the moon is dead’.
When it appears again they say _ekio rukui_, ‘the moon again makes
pupils’, i. e. is in the sky. From the appearance of the moon until
the time of new moon they reckon 25 days. The number however is not
always the same, but is variously given as 30-31 days or sometimes
as only 15. It must be supposed that thick clouds often hinder the
observation. The natives count from the rising of the moon[680].
Of the tribes of the Torres Straits we are told:--In Mabuiag the
following descriptions of the phases of the moon are used:--_dang
mulpal_, ‘tooth-moon’, since the crescent at its first appearance is
described as unmarried: a little later the moon is called _kisai_,
and termed young. The half-moon is _ipi laig_, ‘married person’; the
moon in the third quarter is described as _kazi laig_, ‘person with
child’, and is regarded as having one child, i. e. presumably as
being pregnant; the full moon is _badi_, which is said to mean ‘big
one married’. In Mer the crescent of the moon when first observed was
called _aketi meb_, the moon in the first quarter was _meb digemli_,
in the third _meb zizimi_, almost full _eip meb_, and full moon _giz
meb_[681].

Among the tribes of Central Brazil (the Bakairi), as also elsewhere,
the phases of the moon have found mythological expression. The moon
is represented as a shuttle-cock; the phases start from the full
moon. First a lizard comes and takes hold of it, on the second day an
armadillo, and then a Giant armadillo, whose thick body soon quite
covers the yellow feathers[682]. The phases are similarly explained
among the Paressi[683].

In regard to the more accurate determination of the days of the
moon-month up to the point when each day has its separate name, it
is possible to proceed in two ways, either to develop more and more
elaborately the concrete descriptions from the phases and positions
of the moon, until every day thus takes its name from the shape or
the position of the moon, or else simply to number the days. The
simple counting and numbering of all the days of the month from the
new moon up to 29 or 30 is the most abstract method, and it is only
found among the most highly developed peoples. Commonly a mixed
system obtains, such, for instance, as that of the Romans, so that
within the month, from the starting-points offered by the phases, the
days of a certain smaller division are counted, or a short phase is
distinguished by means of adjectives in the first, the second, and
even the third day of the phase.

The following may serve as an example of a purely concrete system.
Among the Mendalam Kayan of Borneo the different days of the period
of the moon’s visibility have the following names in the Busang
language (the common commercial tongue of the Bukau):--_njina_ (see)
_dang_ (pretty well); _matau_ (eye) _dang_; _lekurdang_; _butit_
(belly) _halab_ (tetrodon, a trunk-fish) _ok_ (little); _butit
halab aja_ (big); _keleong_ (body) _paja ok_; _keleong paja aja_;
_beleling_ (edge) _dija_; and _kamat_ (full moon). The days following
have the same names, but in the inverse order, and with the addition
of _uli_, i. e. to go home. The days of the moon’s invisibility
are not reckoned[684]. The days mentioned amount to only 2 × 8;
others must therefore be lacking, or do the names given apply to
moon-phases of more than one day’s duration? The author’s wording
seems to contradict this. The Batak of Sumatra describe the days by
the names of the planets (borrowed from the Sanskrit), repeated four
times. To distinguish one from another they make use of additions
some of which may probably be referred to original Batak terms[685].
A complete system exists among the Toradja of the Dutch East Indies,
in connexion with a fully developed day-superstition such as so often
accompanies the moon-month. On certain days, here distinguished by
an asterisk, it is forbidden to work in the fields: other work is
however permitted. *1, _eo mboeja_, ‘day of the moon’, from the
evening on which the crescent of the moon was first seen. 2 to 9 have
no special names: they are called altogether _oeajoeeo_, ‘the eight
days’; the people count _ka’isanja oeajoe_, ‘the first of the eight’,
or _oejoeënja_, ‘the beginner’, then the second, the third, etc., and
so on up to _kapoesanja oeajoe_, ‘the end of the eight’. 10, _woeja
mbawoe kodi_, ‘the little pig moon’. *11, _woeja mbawoe bangke_,
‘the great pig moon’; there is a danger that the pigs may break
into the fields. *12, _taoe koi_, 13, _taoe bangke_, ‘the little’
and ‘the great man moon’; 14, _kakoenia_, from _koeni_, ‘yellow’
(among the To Pebato _sompe_, ‘lying’, i. e. on the horizon). *15,
_togin enggeri_, from _gengge_, ‘to run to and fro’ (of animals
seeking food), i. e. one is annoyed by those who run to and fro.
*16, _pombarani_, ‘the burner’, since the moon in the morning shines
on the house-door; or more rarely _pombontje_. 17 to 20, _wani_,
‘dark’. 21, _merontjo_, among the To Pebato _wani of kapoesa mbani_,
the last dark day. *22, _kawe_, ‘to wink’, 23-25, the second, third,
and last _kawe_. *26, _toe’a marate_, ‘the long tree-trunk’ (trunk
of a felled tree). 27, _toe’a rede_, ‘the short stump’, in the east
_ojonja saeo_, ‘with a day in between’, i. e. until the vanishing
of the moon. 28, _polioenja_, ‘passing’, i. e. the moon goes past
the sun. 29, _soea_, ‘going inside’, ‘inside’, because the moon is
then completely inside. Every second month has 30 days; the *30th is
called _soea ma’i_, the _soea_ ‘on this side’, the second _soea_. The
days are named from the position of the moon at sunrise, since only
the agricultural day is of any importance[686].

In Micro- and Polynesia this kind of terminology is best developed.
In Samoa the period of the new moon has few names; the new moon is
called _masina pupula_, the nights after this--when a little of
the moon is once more visible--_mu’a mu’a_. On the other hand the
days up to and after the full moon have separate names, and are of
importance on account of the palolo, which is then eagerly sought
after. Full moon, _masina ’atoa_, ‘full’; 1, night after full moon,
_masina le’ale’a_; 2, _masina fe’etelele_; 3, _masina atatai_, the
sea sparkles at the rising; 4, _fana’ele’ele_, according to Stair
‘paling tide’; 5, _sulutele_, the _mali’o_-crab is caught with
torches (_sulu_), according to Stair _poolesa_, night of the _lesa_;
6, _masina mauna_, according to Stair _popololoa_, ‘long nights’;
7, _masina mauna_; 8 (the first palolo-day), _usunoa_, ‘wandering
about aimlessly’, also called _salefu_, since foam (_lefu_) appears
as the first sign of the palolo; 9, _masina motusaga_ (second
palolo-day), _motu_ ‘fragile’, _saga_ ‘continuing’; 10, _tatelego_,
great palolo-day, which may also begin on the 9th, _ta_ = to fish; 11
(new moon), _masina punifaga_, ‘only a little covered’; 12, _masina
tafaleu_, ‘little cut away’; 13, _masina tafaleu_. The crescent
shortly before new moon is called _masina fa’atoaoina_[687].

In Hawaii the system was very elaborately developed. The month had
thirty days; 17 of these had compound names (_inoa huhui_), and 13
had simple names (_inoa pakahi_). These names were given to the
different nights to correspond with the phases of the moon. There
were three phases--_ano_--, marking the moon’s increase and decrease
of size, (1) the first appearance of the new moon in the west at
evening, (2) the time of full moon when it stood directly overhead
(lit. over the island) at midnight, (3) the period when the moon
was waning, when it shewed itself in the east late at night. It was
with reference to these three phases of the moon that names were
given to the nights that made up the month[688]. In former times
there is said to have been a division of the month into periods of
ten days, corresponding to the increase, the full, and the decline
of the moon[689]. The names of the nights were:--1, _hilo_, ‘to
twist’, because the part then seen was a mere thread; 2, _hoaka_,
‘crescent’; 3, _kukahi_; 4, _kulua_; 5, _kukolu_; 6, _kupua_; 7,
_olekukahi_; 8, _olekulua_; 9, _olekukolu_; 10, _olekupau_. When
the sharp points were lost in the moon’s first quarter, the name of
that night was 11, _huna_, ‘to conceal’; the next, on its becoming
gibbous, was 12, _mohalu_; 13, _hua_, ‘egg’; and when its roundness
was quite obvious, 14, _akua_, ‘God’. The nights in which the moon
was full or nearly so were:--15, _hoku_; 16, _marealaui_; 17,
_kolu_. The night in which the moon’s decrease became perceptible
was called 18, _laaukukahi_. As it continued to diminish the nights
were called:--19, _olaaukulua_; 20, _laaupau_; 21, _olekukahi_; 22,
_olekulua_; 23, _olepau_; 24, _kaloakukahi_; 25, _kaloakulua_; 26,
_kaloapau_; when the moon was very small, 27, _mauli_; the night in
which it disappeared, 28, _muku_. This is Dibble’s list (pp. 24 ff.).
Fornander (p. 126) counts in the same way up to 26, _kaloapau_, and
then continues, 27, _kaue_; 28, _lono_; 29, _mauli_; 30, _muku_. Malo
gives the same names as Dibble, with the following additions:--The
15th night had two names. If the moon set before daylight it was
called _hoku palemo_, ‘sinking star’, but if, when daylight came,
it was still above the horizon, it was called _hoku ili_, ‘stranded
star’. The second of the nights in which the moon did not set until
after sunrise (the 16th) was called _mahealaui_. When the moon’s
rising was delayed until after the darkness had set in, it was called
17, _kulua_, and the second of the nights in which the moon made its
appearance after dark was 18, _laau-ku-kahi_; the moon had now waned
so much as again to shew sharp horns. The night when the moon rose at
dawn of day was _kane_ (the 27th), and the following night, in which
the moon rose only as the day was breaking, _lono_ (the 28th). When
the moon delayed its rising until daylight had come, it was called
_mauli_ (the 29th), ‘fainting’, and when its rising was so late that
it could no longer be seen for the light of the sun, it was called
_muku_ (the 30th), ‘cut off’. Thus were accomplished the thirty days
and nights of the month. A bare list of the thirty names of the days
is given for the Marquesas[690]. Alongside of these a bipartite
division of the month is mentioned--the moon arriving, and the moon
about to be extinguished[691]. In New Zealand there are various lists
of the nights of the moon. The month is also sometimes divided into
halves according to the waxing and waning moon[692].

I give the Tahitian names in order to point out that here, as also
in Hawaii, some days in the middle of both halves of the month have
the same names, which are distinguished from the next following by
additions the sense of which is unfortunately not always given.
Thus:--1, _tirreo_; 2, _tirrohiddi_; 3, _o-hatta_; 4, _ammi-amma_; 5,
_ammi-amma-hoi_; 6, _orre-orre_; 7, _orre-orre-hoi_; 8, _tamatea_; 9,
_huna_; 10, _orabu_; 11, _maharru_; 12, _ohua_; 13, _mahiddu_; 14,
_ohoddu_; 15, _marai_; 16, _oturu_; 17, _ra-au_; 18, _ra-au-hoi_; 19,
_ra-au-haddi_; 20, _ororo-tai_; 21, _ororo-rotto_; 22, _ororo-haddi_;
23, _tarroa-tahai_; 24, _tarroa-rotto_; 25, _tarroa-haddi_; 26,
_tane_; 27, _oro-mua_; 28, _oro-muri_; 29, _omuddu_ (28 and 29
together _matte-marama_, on the Society Islands they say during these
days that the moon is dead)[693]. In the islands just mentioned the
names of three successive days are often formed from _mua_, ‘fore’,
_roto_, ‘in the middle’, and _muri_, ‘hinder’[694], and in the
Carolines names of the days are similarly combined in groups. From
these lists it becomes plain how the names of the separate days have
been first worked out from the phases of the moon. When only 29 names
are given, the thirtieth day occurring only in every other month has
evidently been left out. This must be the case, because the month
always begins with the new moon. We further possess lists of the days
of the month for the Mortlock Islands, and some for the Carolines,
Ponape, Yap, Uleai, Lamotrek[695]; the lists for Lamotrek, Uleai,
and the Mortlock Islands differ only in the dialect. It is to be
noted that in some cases the month falls into smaller subdivisions,
as in Ponape, where it begins after the full moon and consists of
three periods:--1, _rot_, ‘darkness’, i. e. nights when there is
no moon, 13 days; 2, _mach_, new moon, 9 days, which are numbered
consecutively; 3, _pul_, the time of full moon, 5 days. Three days
are therefore lacking (the time of invisibility?). In Yap 1, _pul_,
new moon, 13 days; 2, _botrau_, full moon, 9 days; 3, _lumor_,
‘darkness’, 8 days.

The very fully developed system of the Nandi is curious in that not
the phase but the time of the moon’s rising chiefly gives the name of
the day. 1, ‘the tanners have seen the moon’; 2, ‘the moon is white’
or ‘new’; 3 and 4, ‘the moon has cast a light’; 5 and 6, ‘the moon
has become warm’; 7 and 8, ‘the moon has leisure’; 9 and 10, ‘the
herdsmen play in the moonlight’; 11 and 12, ‘the moon is high in the
evening’; 13, ‘the moon turns’; 14, ‘the moon has accompanied the
goats to the kraal’[696]; 16 (full moon), ‘the moon has passed along
(the heavens)’; 17, (morning) ‘the birds have driven away the moon’,
(evening) ‘the moon has disappeared for a short while’; 18, ‘the
moon has commenced to rise late’; 19 to 21, ‘the moon is late’; 22,
‘the moon has climbed up’ (i. e. stands high in the heavens in the
morning); 23 to 25, ‘the moon is late up above’; 26 and 27, ‘the moon
has turned’ (i. e. goes towards the west); 28, ‘the moon is nearing
death’; 29, ‘the people discuss the moon’ (discuss whether it is
dead), or ‘the sun has murdered the moon’; 30, ‘the moon is dead’,
or ‘the moon’s darkness’[697].

An example of the naming of smaller groups of days after the
phases of the moon is afforded by the old Arabian names for the
nights of the month[698]. The nights are grouped in threes, and
are called:--1-3, _ghurar_, ‘the bright ones’; 4-6, _nufal_, ‘the
overlapping nights’ (?); 7-9, _tusa’_, ‘the nine’; 10-12, _‘ushar_,
‘the ten’; 13-15, ‘the white nights’, lit. _‘ajjam al-lajālī l-bidi_,
‘the days of the white nights’, the time of full moon; 16-18,
_dura’_, ‘the white nights with black heads’, since the moon does
not rise until the night; 19-21, _zulam_, ‘the dark nights’; 22-24,
_hanadis_ or _duhm_, ‘the very dark nights’; 25-27, _da’ādī’_,
perhaps after _mihaq_; 28-30, _mihaq_, from _mhq_, ‘to extinguish’.
The time of the moon’s invisibility, _mihaq_, consists of the
following days:--1, _ad-da’dja_, ‘the black one’; 2, _as-sirār_,
from _srr_, ‘to be hidden’; 3, _al-falta_, ‘sudden event’, ‘attack’.
According to some this last name is used only on the night before,
according to others after, a holy month. This looks like an attempt
to regulate the insertion of the 30th day.

Hitherto we have observed the division of the month into small and
the smallest phases of the moon, in which three or at most four
days have the same name, and are numbered in order that they may
be distinguished. Other peoples count the days beginning at the
principal moon-phases. The Central Eskimos can determine the days of
the month very accurately from the age of the moon[699], the terms
are unfortunately not given. So also for the Kaigan of N. W. America
names of the nights reckoned from the phases of the moon are quoted;
unfortunately only very confused and inaccurate information could
be obtained, and only 14 names are given:--1, new moon; 2, ‘second
sleep’, etc., up to 9, full moon or ‘great moon’, the third night
after which is ‘the first night after the full moon’[700]. For the
inhabitants of southern Formosa the bare and therefore almost useless
statement is made that they reckon according to the age of the
moon[701]. Of the Wagogo of what was formerly German East Africa we
are told that the phases of the moon and the numbers of the nights
serve as more accurate determinations of time. For instance, the
third night after the next appearance of the moon will be the day
following the third night after the moon’s appearance, and therefore
the fourth of a month, since the crescent is visible exactly on the
first day of a month[702]. Unfortunately we are not told what phases,
other than the new moon, serve as starting-points for the reckoning.
The same remark applies to an account for Sumatra. The Central
Sumatran Expedition has proved that names for days of the week and
for months are unknown among the Rawa and the Djambi Kubu of Djipati
Mando. The people count by the phases of the moon, and say e. g. the
1st, 2nd, 3rd day of the moon[703].

These accounts are unfortunately of little use, since they say too
little about the method of the counting. Even when a complete list
of the days or nights of the month does seem to be forthcoming (the
Wagogo, the Kubu), it generally happens that the counting proceeds
from several starting-points, so that the month is divided up into
smaller divisions. This is natural, since primitive peoples not only
possess small capacity for counting but also prefer to keep the
concrete phenomenon in view. It has already been pointed out that
the counting frequently begins at the two most prominent phases,
the new and the full moon; by this means the month is divided into
the two corresponding halves of the waxing and the waning moon, or
in respect of the appearance or non-appearance of the moon in the
evening and early night into the light and the dark halves. The
difference between these halves follows from direct observation of
nature, and they are therefore known even to peoples which do not
count the days, e. g. the inhabitants of Buin[704], the Germanic
tribes, and others. In Swedish the distinction between _ny_ and
_nedan_, i. e. the time of the waxing and of the waning moon, is
still known. The Masai, besides a full list of the days of the month,
have a second reckoning according to the light and the dark halves
of the month[705]. The Hindus and the civilised peoples of S. E. Asia
reckon in the same way: of these systems of time-reckoning the Hindu
has exercised a powerful influence. Avesta shews the same reckoning.
In the old Gallic calendar of Coligny each month is divided into
two sharply distinguished halves. The Romans indeed, in the form of
their calendar known to us, reckoned so many days before the Kalends
(the first day of the month), the Nones (the 5th or 7th), and the
Ides (the 13th or 15th), but before their calendar settled into
its curious and quite irrational historic form the _Kalendae_ must
have been the day of the new moon, which was publicly proclaimed,
and the _Idus_ the day of full moon. The _Nonae_ are secondary: the
word simply means the ninth (day), i. e. before the Ides, which
position the day occupies in the inclusive reckoning employed. The
Greek reckoning in decades is well-known, but in earlier times a
bipartite division of the month appears. Homer divides the month into
ἱστάμενος and φθίνων (‘rising’ and ‘fading’), Hesiod once mentions a
‘thirteenth day of the rising moon’[706].

We have seen above how to the phases of the new and the full moon
that of the waning moon is added as a third. When the gradual
development of the moon is regarded--as is done when numbers are
used--and not the particular shape of it appearing on a certain
day, we also get three periods, since between the waxing and the
waning occurs the full moon, and this, although not in the strictest
sense, lasts longer than a day, and unlike the waxing and the waning
moon remains in the sky the whole night long. The time of full moon
therefore appears as a third independent period between the waxing
and the waning. The impulse to a tripartite division hereby given
clashed with the decimal system of enumeration of most peoples; as
a rule the counting was suspended at the basal series of numbers.
In this manner we may account for the not uncommon phenomenon that
only ten months are numbered, the two others being called by special
names[707]. Thus arises the division of the month into three decades,
in which however the last decade may vary between 9 and 10 days.

The division into decades is not so common as the halving of the
month. The Zuñi of Arizona divide the month into three decades, each
of which is called a ‘ten’[708]. The Ahanta of the western Gold Coast
divide the moon-month into three periods, two of ten days each, the
third--which lasts until the new moon appears--of about 9½ days (more
correctly, no doubt, varying between 9 and 10 days). The Sofalese of
East Africa must have done the same, since de Faria says that they
divided the month into 3 decades and that the first day of the first
decade was the feast of the new moon[709]. The Masai, who number
either the days of the whole month consecutively or the days of its
two halves, nevertheless give special prominence to the initial days
of the decades (alongside of other notable days), and call them
_negera_[710].

Among the Greeks the division into decades displaced the older
bisection. Of the names of the decades the first and third refer to
the concrete form of the moon: μὴν ἱστάμενος, older ἀεξόμενος[711],
literally ‘the appearing, waxing moon’, and μὴν φθίνων, ‘the waning
moon’. For originally μήν must here have had the sense of ‘moon’
which the etymology suggests. The second decade was called μὴν μεσῶν,
‘the month at the middle’: the epithet shews that μήν here means
‘month’, and not ‘moon’. This name is therefore younger than the two
others, which must once have been used to describe the two halves of
the month, and do so still in Homer[712].

The custom of reckoning on the fingers or on a notched stick has
doubtless lent assistance to the counting of the days of the month.
The Wa-Sania make a notch in a stick for every day, and when the
month is ended they put this stick aside and begin a new one[713]. At
the southern corner of Lake Nyassa the days are counted by means of
pieces of wood threaded on a string[714]. A complete enumeration of
the days however only exists among highly developed peoples who have
discarded a more concrete time-reckoning in favour of an abstract
system, just as the civilised peoples of modern Europe abandoned
the Roman system of time-reckoning, which was still often used in
the Middle Ages (though indeed it had long since departed from its
concrete basis), in favour of a simple enumeration of the days of the
month.

Finally a couple of curious East African reckonings of the days of
the month are to be mentioned, although they are not primitive but
have a lengthy development behind them. A common feature of both is
that the day of the new moon is already the fourth day, so that the
counting of the days begins with the moon’s invisibility, which can
hardly have been the original practice. The Wadschagga divide the
month into four parts the days of which are numbered, the first and
third parts consisting of ten days each, and the second and fourth
of five days each. Accordingly they begin to count the new moon at
‘the fourth day, which brings the moon’, the day on which the slender
delicate crescent of the moon first reappears after sunset: for the
rites of this day see above, p. 153. On the fourth day of the second
division (the eleventh after new moon) they say that ‘the moon turns
to the back of the house’: when twilight falls it is already seen
beyond the culmination-point. The fourth day of the third division
(the 16th after new moon) is called ‘the day that brings the moon
up from below’ (i. e. from the eastern horizon), where ‘it appears
like a pot’; the fourth day of the last division is called ‘the four,
which dismisses the moon’, and the first of the first division, when
the moon vanishes, ‘the one, which floats away the moon so that it
is no longer visible’: it ‘tramples into pieces the days of the
God’[715]. The natural phases of the moon therefore make themselves
felt in spite of the counting. With this, as is so often the case,
is connected a fully developed superstition concerning the days of
the month. The Masai in ordinary life reckon their moon-months as
consisting of 30 days, and number the days from 1 to 30 or 29.
Besides this there is a second way of counting which begins at
the 16th and reckons the days of darkness (_en aimen_). Further,
special prominence is given to certain days and groups of days,
e. g. to the 4th, the new-moon day, hence called also _ertaduage
duo olaba_, ‘the moon is to be seen’, to the 15th, _ol gadet_, i.
e. the rising moon ‘looks over’ to the sun which has not yet set,
and to the concluding day, the _eng ebor olaba_, ‘the brightness
of the moon’, but especially to the days of the dark half of the
month, _en aimen_. The 16th is called _ol onjori_, ‘the greenish
day’, the 17th, _ol onjugi_, ‘the red’, 18 to 20, _es sobiaïn_, 21
to 23, _nigeïn_, 27 etc., _en aimen nerok_, ‘the black darkness’.
The people also emphasise the concluding days of the decades[716].
The natural foundation afforded by the phases of the moon therefore
appears very clearly: the only noteworthy feature is that the days of
the moon’s invisibility are included in the division which is called
‘the brightness of the moon’. An outside influence must no doubt be
assumed. Among the Masai also the selection of lucky and unlucky days
is common.

The starting-points in the counting of the days of the month also
afford evidence for the question as to which phases of the moon
are the oldest, and were already utilised for this purpose. Both
the methods of counting and the phases themselves are based upon a
bisection or trisection of the month: to this were then added other
phases, originally quite unsystematically. Among us the quarters
of the moon are common; but of their use among primitive peoples
I have found only a single instance. Of the Papuans of the Indian
Archipelago it is stated that they divide the month into four parts
according to the phases of the moon: _paik baleo_, the new moon,
_paik jouwar_, the first quarter, _paik plejif_, the waning of the
moon, and _paik imar_, the old moon[717]. It must not, of course, be
taken for granted that these phases are of equal length, as ours are.

That the quadripartite division of the month should be practically
non-existent among primitive peoples is easily to be understood in
view of the considerations already mentioned. Unlike the halving it
is not based upon any very clearly distinguishable phases, nor is
there in the phases any such suggestion of a quadripartite division
as is offered for a tripartite. The shape of the moon on the 8th or
the 22nd day differs very little from that of the previous and the
following days, and does not constitute a turning-point like the
full moon. From the phases of the moon no quadripartite division can
arise: the brightest phase of all, the full moon, has an unnatural
position in such a division. It can only be understood as a halving
of the halves of the month, and this presupposes that the moon’s
variation in light is regarded as a unity and divided into parts. The
primitive peoples however start not with the abstract unity but with
the concrete phases, proceeding at first quite unsystematically, and
only subsequently combining them into a system. The quadripartite
division therefore is in its very nature a numerical system. That it
has penetrated so profoundly into our natures that even ethnological
scholars and travellers are not always able to get away from it, is
due to the connexion with the seven-day week, which is regarded as a
division of the month, and also to the fact that we so seldom take
any notice of the concrete phenomena of the heavens.

The quadripartite division must therefore be described as not
original (the case is different when the time of the moon’s
invisibility is added as a fourth phase to the three already
mentioned). To the best of my knowledge it appears first in
Babylonia[718], and gains ground together with the _sabattu_, i.
e. the appointing of every seventh day of the month as tabooed: it
has become common among us on account of the seven-day week, which
was conceived as a division of the month. In reality the tripartite
division is also the natural one, since it arises from the concrete
phenomenon of the moon, and not from any division of the month
into parts consisting of a certain number of days. Here the full
moon takes its proper place, which it misses in the quadripartite
division. The limitation of the divisions to a definite number of
days is secondary throughout.

CHAPTER VI.

THE MONTHS.

The (moon-)month has originally nothing to do with the year and the
seasons: this must be clearly and definitely recognised. The months
may be reckoned independently of the year; nothing hinders us from
counting up to twenty or a hundred months. But most peoples, before
they have developed a definite system of time-reckoning, can count
no farther than ten at most, and in the time-reckoning the counting
is of course always the latest and most abstract stage. Such an
enumeration of the months may commence at any point of the year and
be continued _ad libitum_; in relation to the year it is not fixed
but shifting. Both series, the years and the months, are enumerated
without reference to one another, as our days of the week in relation
to the year, the days of the week falling on different dates in
different years.

The month however is a shorter period easy to survey, and such
divisions are necessary in order to split up the too long period of
the year. In itself the month has nothing to do with the year, nor
does it exactly fit into the year (12 × 29½, about 355 days). It is
impossible to combine the months with the year without doing violence
to the one or the other. The time-reckoning of the modern civilised
peoples has chosen this latter expedient. The month has become a
conventional sub-division of the year; it is quite independent of
the moon, and keeps as reminders of its origin only its name and a
length approximating to that of the moon’s revolution. This has come
about because the moon, unlike the sun and the seasons depending
thereon, has no immediate influence upon the events and occupations
of our lives. We have therefore come back from the reckoning in
moons to the purely solar year. It was quite otherwise with the
primitive peoples, whose time-reckoning was so concrete. For them
the moon afforded the only fixed measure of the duration of time:
its appearance impressed itself firmly upon the mind. These peoples
therefore, even at an advanced stage of development, have tried to
adjust the year by the moon, which could only be done by adopting
years of varying length, of 12 and 13 months respectively. How
this lunisolar reckoning has arisen, it will be the object of the
following chapters to investigate. I begin by setting forth the
somewhat copious material for series of months.

For the peoples of North Asia I have hitherto been able to make
hardly any statements: the works are for the most part written in
Russian, and are for that reason inaccessible to me. For the names of
months, however, abundant material is accessible.

The names given to the months by the Voguls, with variants
from the districts of Tawda, Konda, and middle and lower Loswa
(tributary of the Irtysh), are, beginning from Sept./Oct.:--1,
little autumn-hunting month, little autumn, autumn month; 2, great
autumn-hunting month, month of the naked trees, snow month; 3,
winter month; 4, month of light (lengthening of the days), winter
month; 5, ski month, the little winter month, wind month; 6, month
of the thawing snow-crust; 7, month of thaw, spawning month or
month of corn-sowing; 8, sap-in-firs month, ploughing month; 9,
sap-in-birches month; 10, middle-of-summer month; 11, month of the
young razor-bills, month of young water-fowl; 12, elk-running month.
According to Ahlqvist the midsummer month is distinguished as greater
or smaller. There must therefore, as is so often the case, be 13
months. Three months, nos. 7, 9, and 11, seem to have no special
names in the Tawda district, but this is not very surprising[719].

Schiefner in particular has collected extremely full and detailed
lists of the names of the months among the various races of Siberia.
These lists I here reproduce.

The Tchuvashes have the following thirteen months:--1, thank-offering
month, beginning in the middle of November; 2, very steep month;
3, month of little steepness; 4, spring month; 5, free month; 6,
sowing month; 7, summer month; 8, the maidens’ month; 9, hay month;
10, sickle month; 11, flax month; 12, threshing-floor month; 13,
grave-post month. The maidens’ month, which is said to owe its name
to the custom of celebrating marriages at that time, is also called
‘fallow-land month’; the ‘free’ month is so called because in it no
work is done in the fields; the ‘grave-post’ month takes its name
from the feast of the dead, which is then celebrated on the graves,
with gifts of every kind.

The Ugric Ostiaks have 13 months:--1, spawning month, about April;
2, pine sap-wood month; 3, birch sap-wood month; 4, salmon-weir
month; 5, month of hay-harvest; 6, ducks-and-geese-go-away month;
7, naked tree month (falling of the leaves); 8, pedestrian month,
since men go home on foot while the ice still remains; 9, month in
which men go on horseback; 10, great, 11, little winter-ridge month;
12, wind month; 13, month of crows. Another list gives the following
months:--1, month in which the Obi dies (?), i. e. freezes; 2, month
in which tribute is imposed; 3, month of the little snow-crust, or
first spring month; 4, month of the great snow-crust; 5, month of
the unstable ice; 6, month when the syrok (a kind of salmon) comes;
7, middle-of-summer month; 8, cloudberry month; 9, month in which
the track (the road) of the Obi freezes, or first autumn month; 10,
month in which the Obi freezes; 11, month of the short days or of the
deceptive feet or of the dog’s feet; 12, month in which the tribute
is levied--only twelve months, therefore, but the list shews many
variants and does not seem to be in its right order, compare e. g.
months 1 and 10, referring to the same natural phenomenon, which in
the nature of things is impossible.

The Yeneseisk Ostiaks:--1, summer month, about May; 2, not
translated; 3, month when the ducks moult; 4, month when the garrot
moults; 5, month in which the _njelma_ is caught with great nets;
6, month in which the willow loses its foliage; 7, winter month; 8,
month in which the earth freezes; 9, reindeer-rutting month; 10,
little month; 11, great month; 12, eagle month; 13, squirrel month,
in which the striped squirrel comes out of its nest. The Yeneseisk
Ostiaks of the Sym are said to count only seven winter months, not
the summer months. They are:--1, month in which the earth freezes;
2, reindeer-rutting month; 3, the little, 4, the great month; 5,
eagle month; 6, squirrel month; 7, spawning month, in which the pike
spawns. Another list gives:--1, fall-of-the-leaf month; 2, month in
which the earth begins to freeze; 3, dog month, in which the dogs
pair; 4, the little, 5, the great month; 6, eagle month; 7, squirrel
month; 8, spawning month; 9, month in which the Ostiaks set traps to
catch sturgeon; 10, summer month, when the grass becomes green; 11,
middle-of-summer month; 12, month in which the grass turns yellow, or
month of the white grass-tips; 13, autumn month.

The Tatars of the Minusinsk district of the Yeneseisk government:--1,
the mild, easy month, or forest-month, since the people go hunting,
about September; 2, little cold; 3, great cold; 4, the mottled month,
bald patches of earth appear among the snow; 5, severe cold; 6, high,
when the sun moves high above the horizon; 7, when the birds fly out
in spring; 8, they (i. e. the days) increase; 9, the red month; 10,
(perhaps) little drought; 11, birch-bark month, when birch-bark is
collected; 12, grass month; 13, harvest month. There are also some
variants which are not translated.

The Karagasses, who live next to the Minusinsk Tatars:--1, 1/5-4/6,
month of the low grass; 2, 4/6-2/7, birch-bark month, in which
birch-bark is collected, this being used for the summer houses; 3,
2/7-30/7, month in which the lily-bulb is red, i. e. blossoms; 4,
30/7-27/8, month in which the lily-bulb is dug up; 5, 27/8-24/9,
hammer month, when the cedar is tapped with the hammer in order to
shake down the ripe cones with the nuts; 6, 24/9-22/10, reindeer-buck
rutting month; 7, 22/10-19/11, sable month, when people begin to trap
sables; 8, 19/11-17/12, month of the long rest, such as is taken
during the short days; 9, 17/12-15/1, month of frost; 10, 15/1-12/2,
great frost-month; 11, 12/2-12/3, snow-shoe month, when over the
deep but rotting snow deer and elks are hunted in snow-shoes; 12,
12/3-9/4, month when the snow becomes sticky; 13, 3/4-7/5, month in
which people hunt with dogs; this is the time when, owing to the
night-frosts, a crust forms on the snow, which is not strong enough
to bear deer and elks. The dates given by the author can at most be
applied only to one definite year.

The Buriats, from the new year:--1, month in which the brooks freeze;
2, when the winter stores are seen to; 3, roe moon; 4, deer moon; 5,
sheep moon; 6, when the ice breaks; 7, spring moon; 8, grass moon;
9, bulb moon; 10, milk moon; 11, milch moon; 12, when after-math
comes; 13, when it ripens; the first month is also called the white
month. The Nishne-Udinsk Buriats:--1, roe month, since in this month
horns grow on the roe; 2, deer month, when the deer is caught; 3,
ram month, when the sheep pair; 4, month of the red ridge of land,
when the snow melts and the mountains become red; 5, fish-spawning
month; 6, leek month; 7, the wild month, so called on account of the
fierce heat; 8, roe month, when the roes pair; 9, deer month, when
the deer pair; 10, squirrel month, since this animal is then caught;
11, the little sable month, sables are caught; 12, nest month, since
the animals, on account of the cold, creep into their dens and nests.
Only twelve months, therefore, as also among the Tunkinsk Buriats,
for whom are translated only:--1, the white month; 2, the red
mountain-ridge; 5, the wild month; 11, roe month; 12, deer month.

The year of the Tunguses is divided into summer and winter. The names
of the months are:--Summer: 1, _ilaga_ (fly, gnat), in this the
leaves and the early blossoms come out; 2, _ilkun_, is the proper
flowering moon; 3, _irin_ (from _irim_, to ripen), the wild fruit
grows ripe; 4, _serula sanni_ (perhaps _sonnaja_, cervical vertebra),
in this month the red deer pair; 5, _hukterbi_, brings the red deer
new hair. Winter: 1, _okti_ (perhaps _okto_, road), when the first
snow falls: immediately after that the minever is good; 2, _mira_
(shoulder-joint), has the shortest days; 3, _giraun_ (suggests
_giramda_, bone), has days of noticeably increasing length; 4, _okton
kira_ (time of the road), when the sables are covered; 5, _tura_
(perhaps _turaki_, jackdaw), when the cormorants come; 6, _schonka_,
when the ice becomes porous; 7, the beginning of the _tukun_, in
which the rivers become clear: the last part of this period belongs
to the summer year. Our informant, Georgi, speaks of thirteen months,
but only gives the above twelve names. Schiefner conjectures that he
has counted _tukun_ twice, or else has run two months together. For
the Tunguses of the Sea of Okhotsk only twelve months are enumerated,
and of these are translated:--1, grass month; 3, fish-and-horse
month; 4, ripening month (?); 5, wrist; 6, elbow; 7, shoulder-joint;
8, atlas; nos. 5 to 11 are named from the joints of the human frame,
5-8 following out a suggestion of an ascending, 9-11 that of a
descending order; the name of the twelfth month perhaps means the
back. This is only one method of reckoning: a hint of it is already
found in the preceding list. For the Tunguses of the lower Amur
twelve months are reported, of which nos. 7-10 are simply numbered
and the other names are not explained.

Another traveller could only discover eleven months among the
Tunguses of the Amur, possibly only because of the defective memory
of his informants. But a year of eleven months is said to exist among
the Samoyedes of Yurak. The months are:--1, month of leaf-fall, about
August; 2, reindeer-rutting month; 3, the dark month; 4, sand month,
when the winds drive the snow along like sand; 5, the calm month, no
storms; 6, the good month, the weather is favourable for trapping
animals; 7, eagle month; 8, geese month or month of calves; 9, month
of inundations; 10, spring month, literally _wuenui-jiry_, _wuenui_
is said of fish when they come up-stream in great shoals; 11, the
great month, since the days (or the month) are very long.

The Ostiak Samoyedes have 12 months:--1, leaf-fall month, about
August; 2, month with the long days, or month when the earth freezes;
3, month of the short days; 4, tax month, month when the tax (i. e.
the deer) is caught, or thumb month, since the women, on account of
the shortness of the days, can make only the thumb of a glove; 5,
mid-winter month; 6, month of crows, the crows come; 7, eagle month;
8, month in which the summer animals arrive; 9, month in which the
fish spawn; 10, month in which there is water in the little brooks;
11, month in which fish are dried; 12, _njelma_-month. Another list
of Samoyede months from the Bolshemelsk tundra runs, beginning at our
New Year:--1, middle month, or the cold breaks an axe, must doubtless
be ‘axe-handle month’, the axe-handle splits with the cold; 2, month
of return, when the sun has turned back to summer, or hornless month;
3, eagle month; 4, fish month, when people begin to fish in the
lakes; 5, month of calves, in which the reindeer-does calve; 6, geese
month, the geese begin to moult during the latter days of this month;
7, fledged month, the geese after moulting are again in a condition
to use their wings; 8, maliz month, when the skins obtained from the
reindeer are turned into malizes (an undergarment), or the reindeer
rub the velvet off their horns; 9, reindeer-rutting month, or
sea-fish month, from the catching of the _omulj_; 10, hunting month;
11, the first dark month, in which in the far north the sun does not
rise; 12, the great month of darkness.

Further, the Yakuts have only twelve months:--1, spawning month; 2,
month of pines, the people collect pine-bark which is afterwards
dried and ground into meal; 3, grass month; 4, hay-fork month, or
the fourth month; 5-10 numbered; 11, the month in which the foals
are shut up in the day-time and are kept from the mares, so that the
latter can be milked; 12, month in which the ice floats away.

So also the Itälmen of Kamchatka:--Summer year, beginning in May:
1, wood-cock month, from the arrival of the wood-cock; 2, cuckoo
month; 3, summer month; 4, moonlight month, since people begin to
fish in the moonlight; 5, leaves and plants begin to wither and fall
away; 6, titmouse month, the porus-titmouse appears. The winter year
begins with:--7, nettle month, the nettles are gathered and hung up
to dry; 8, ‘I am rather cold’; 9, ‘touch me not’: it is considered a
crime to drink in this month from springs and brooks with the mouth
or with hollow sticks: it must be done with great wooden spoons or
with shells; 10, ladder month, the ladder leading to the balagans
becomes very brittle owing to the cold; 11, vent-hole month, since
the snow around the vent-hole thaws and the earth again appears;
12, water-wagtail month, when these birds arrive. Two other lists
for Kamchatka contain only ten months. Near the Kamchatka River the
names are:--1, sin-purifying month; 2, axe-handles break owing to the
frost; 3, beginning of the heat (_sic!_); 4, the day becomes long;
5, month of the snow-crust; 6, redfish month; 7, whitefish month; 8,
_kaiko_-fish month; 9, the great whitefish month; 10, month of the
falling leaves, said to last as long as three of our months. Among
the northern Kamchadales the names are:--1, month of the freezing of
the rivers; 2, hunting month; 3, sin-purifying month; 4, axe-handles
burst; 5, time of the long day; 6, birth-time of the sea-beavers;
7, birth-time of the seals; 8, birth-time of the tame reindeer; 9,
birth-time of the wild reindeer; 10, beginning of the fishing. The
winter year begins in November, the summer year in May.

For the Gilyaks two lists are given, each with twelve months. That
for the Amur estuary has two or three variants for some months. The
following are translated:--1, month in which a kind of salmon spawns
(?), or harpoon month (?); 2, month in which another species of
salmon is caught; 3, little month; 4, great month, or month in which
another kind of salmon is caught; 5, moulting-month; 6, half-year
month (?); 8, year month; 9, eagle month; 10, snow-shovel month. On
the island of Sachalin:--3, fish-and-squirrel month; 4, little month;
5, great month; 10, eagle month; 11, snow-shovel month.

The Aino of the Kurile Islands:--1, long days; 2, the snow melts; 3,
coalmouse month; 4, sea-gull’s eggs month; 5, guillemot’s eggs month;
6, foddering month; 7, salmon-catching month; 8, month when the birds
grow fat, or bird-snaring month; 9, the grass withers, or month when
the grass is withered; 10, month of the short days; 11, winter month;
12, the-snow-fills-up.

The Aleuts begin the year in March:--1, the foremost, or the time
when people gnaw belts; 2, the period when people gnaw belts for the
last time, or the time when one is out there (outside the house); 3,
month of flowers; 4, young-of-animals month; 5, month when the young
animals are fat; 6, the warm month; 7, month in which hair grows,
when the feathers and coats of animals grow thick; 8, hunting-month;
9, the month after hunting-month; 10, sea-lion month, when these
animals are caught; 11, the great month, which is longer than any of
the others; 12, cormorant month, when this bird is caught in nets.

Unfortunately the attention paid to these names has not been extended
to the word which means ‘month’. It would be valuable to know if
the same word means ‘moon’: if so, it would be clearly proved that
a moon-month is in question. Except in the lists for the Minusinsk
Tatars and the Tunguses the names end with the same word, which is
translated ‘month’, and in one case (the Buriats) ‘moon’, but this is
doubtless a peculiarity due to the authority; however, isolated names
are interspersed which have not this concluding word, as appears
also from the above translations. The number of days indicated in
the list pp. 176 f. suits only to moon-months. Upon the whole we are
authorised in concluding that we have to do with genuine moon-months.
This is expressly stated by American travellers, to whom we owe
further information about the peoples of eastern Siberia.

The year of the Koryak, north of Kamchatka, is divided into twelve
lunar months (called ‘moons’). The first month begins at the time
of the winter solstice and corresponds to our December. Some months
have different names in different places, but the names of the
months most commonly used are as follows:--1, cold-winds month or
snow-storms month; 2, (growing-of-)the-reindeer’s-spinal-sinew
month; 3, false-making-udder month or reindeer-udder month[720]; 4,
reindeer-does’-calving month; 5, water-month; 6, first summer-month;
7, second summer-month; 8, reddening (of leaves) month; 9,
pairing-season-of-the-reindeer-bucks month or empty (bare)-twigs
month; 10, autumn’s month; 11, rutting-season-of-mountain-sheep
month; 12, itself-head month or month-of-the-head-itself[721].

The Yukaghir names for their lunar months are given in
translation:--1 (July), the middle-of-the-summer month; 2, the small
mosquito month, because the mosquitoes appear; 3, the fish month,
because fishing is then taking place for the winter stock; 4, the
wild-reindeer buck month, the rutting-time of the wild reindeer; 5,
the autumn month; 6, before-the-ridge month; 7, ridge month, i. e.
the ridge of the spinal column--because in reckoning this month is
denoted by the atlas, the first cervical vertebra--, or the great
butterfly month; 8, the little butterfly month; here are meant the
larvae of two species of gadfly which in summer lay their eggs, one
in the skin of the reindeer, and the other in its nostril: during
the winter the eggs develop into larvae; 9, name not translated; 10,
the ancient men _cille_ month: _cille_ means the icy surface formed
during the night on the snow, after having melted during the day:
this commences in April; 11, leaf-month; 12, the mosquito month,
because the mosquito makes its appearance then[722].

The same system recurs in North America. The Eskimos of the Behring
Straits divide up the time according to the moon: by the ‘moons’
all time is reckoned during the year, and dates are set in advance
for certain festivals and rites. Thirteen moons are reckoned to
the year, although our authority could not always obtain complete
series. The list is arranged according to our months:--1, ‘to turn
about’, named from a game with a top; 2, time when the first seals
are born; 3, time of creeping on game (refers to the seal-hunting
on the ice); 4, time of cutting off, from the appearance of sharp
lines of colour on the ptarmigan’s body; 5, time for going in
kayaks; 6, time for fawn-hunting; 7, the time when geese get new
wing-feathers (moulting); 8, time for brooding geese to moult; 9,
time for velvet-shedding (from horns of reindeer); 10, time for
setting seal-nets; 11, time for bringing in winter stores; 12, time
of the drum, the month when the winter festival begins. Very often
several different names may be used to designate the same moon, if
it should chance to be at a season when different occupations or
notable occurrences in nature are observed: our authority has used
the most common terms. For the lower Yukon delta, near Mission, the
following list is drawn up:--1, season for top-spinning and running
round the _kashim_; 2, time of offal-eating (scarcity of food), or
the cold moon; 3, time of opening the upper passage-ways into the
houses (this falls too early and is referred to an earlier, warmer
time); 4, birds come; 5, geese come; 6, time of eggs; 7, time of
salmon; 8, time for red salmon; 9, time for young geese to fly; 10,
time for shedding velvet from reindeer-horns; 11, mush-ice forms; 12,
time of musk-rats; 13, time of the feast. A third list was obtained
just south of the Yukon delta:--1, named from the game of the top; 2,
the time of much moon, i. e. long nights; 3, the time of taking hares
in nets; 4, the time of opening summer doors; 5, arrival of geese;
6, time of whitefish; 7, time of braining salmon; 8, geese moult; 9,
swans moult; 10, the flying away (migration of the birds); 11, time
of velvet-shedding; the names of the twelfth, and doubtless also of
the thirteenth, month were not obtained[723].

The Central Eskimos divide the year into 13 months, the names of
which vary very much according to the tribes and the latitude of
the place. One month, _siringilang_, ‘without sun’--the name covers
the whole period of the year in which the sun does not rise--is of
indeterminate length (_sic!_), and thereby serves to equalise the
length of the year. The name _qaumartenga_ denotes only the days
which are without sun but have twilight, the rest of this month is
called _sirinektenga_; other names of months are not given[724]. The
Eskimos of Greenland begin to count the moons at the winter solstice.
After the third moon they remove from the winter houses into their
summer tents. In the fourth they know that the little birds are again
to be seen and that the ravens lay eggs, in the fifth the _angmasset_
and the seals are once more to be seen with their young, at the end
of this month the eider-ducks begin to brood and the reindeer-does
to calve. From this time on, only those who live on latitude 59° can
reckon by the moon any longer: the others count by the phenomena of
natural life[725].

The Konyag of the island of Kodiak off the southern coast of Alaska
count from August the following months:--1, the Pleiades begin to
rise; 2, Orion rises; 3, hoar-frost covers the grass; 4, snow appears
on the mountains; 5, the rivers and lakes freeze; 6, the sixth month;
7, dried fish is cut in pieces; 8, the ice breaks; 9, the ravens lay
eggs; 10, the birds (e. g. ducks etc.) which stay about the island in
winter lay eggs; 11, the seals pair; 12, the porpoises pair[726]. For
the Thlinkit two lists are given, the first, from Sitka, beginning
with August:--1, takes its name because all birds then come down from
the mountains; 2, ‘small moon’ or ‘moon-child’, so called because
fish and berries then begin to fail; 3, ‘big moon’, because the first
snow then appears, and bears begin to get fat; 4, month when people
have to shovel snow away from their doors; 5, month when every animal
on land and in the water begins to have hair in the mother’s womb;
6, ‘goose month’, because it is that in which the sun starts back
and people begin to look for geese; 7, ‘black-bear month’, the month
when black and brown bears begin to have cubs and throw them out
into the snow; 8, the month when ‘sea-flowers’ and all other things
under the sea begin to grow; 9, ‘real-flower month’, when flowers,
nettles, etc. begin to shew life; 10, ‘tenth month’, when people
know that everything is going to grow; 11, ‘eleventh month’, the
month of salmon; 12, ‘month when everything is born’; 13, ‘month when
everything born commences to fatten’. The second list, from Wrangel,
begins with January:--1, ‘goose month’, perhaps so called because
the geese were then all at the south; 2, ‘black-bear month’, the
month when the black bear turns over on the other side in his den; 3,
‘silver-salmon month’: the reason of the name is unknown, this is not
their proper month; 4, ‘month before everything hatches’; 5, ‘month
when everything hatches’; 6, meaning unknown; 7, ‘month when the
geese cannot fly’; 8, ‘month when all animals prepare their dens’;
9, ‘moon child’ or ‘young moon’; 10, ‘big moon’; 11, ‘moon when all
creatures go into their dens’; 12, ‘ground-hog-mother’s moon’; the
thirteenth month is missing[727]. The author’s report consists in
part of extremely doubtful explanations of the natives, and the
whole seems hardly to be in order: here, as everywhere, the memory of
the old names of the months has begun to fade away. The type to which
the list belongs, however, is well known.

Among the Shuswap of British Columbia the months have two classes of
names. They are called ‘the first month’ etc., or have recognised
names derived from some characteristic. The names among the
Fraser River division, and their special characteristics, are as
follows:--1, or ‘going-in time’. People commence to enter their
winter houses. The deer rut. 2, or (name not translated). First real
cold. 3, or (d:o). Sun turns. 4, or ‘spring (winds) month’. Frequent
Chinook winds. The snow begins to disappear. 5, or ‘(little) summer
(month)’. Snow disappears completely from the lower grounds. A few
spring roots are dug, and many people leave their winter houses at
the end of the month. 6, or (name not translated). Snow disappears
from the higher ground. The grass grows fast. People dig roots.
7, or ‘midsummer (month)’. People fish trout at the lakes. 8, or
‘getting-ripe month’. Service-berries ripen. 9, or ‘autumn month’.
Salmon arrive. 10, or (name not translated). People fish salmon all
month. 11, or (d:o). People cache their fish and leave the rivers to
hunt. Balance of the year, ‘fall time’. People hunt and trap game in
the mountains[728].

The moons used by the Spences Bridge band of the Thompson Indians
in the same country, and their principal characteristics, are:--1,
the deer rut, and people hunt. 2, ‘going-in time’, so named because
most people went into their winter houses during this month. The
weather begins to get cold, and the people go into their winter
houses. 3, bucks shed their antlers, and does become lean. 4,
‘spring (winds) time’, so named because Chinook winds generally
blow in this month, melting all the snow. The weather improves, and
the spring plants begin to sprout. The people come out of their
winter houses. 5, ‘coming-forth time’, so named because the people
come forth from their winter houses in this month, although many
came out in the fourth month. The grass grows. 6, the people catch
trout with dip-nets, and begin to go to the lakes to trap fish. The
trees put forth leaves, and the waters increase. 7, the people dig
roots. 8, ‘they are a little ripe’. The deer drop their young, and
service-berries begin to ripen. 9, ‘middle time’, so named because
of the summer solstice. The sun returns, and all berries ripen. Some
of the people hunt. 10, ‘first of run’, first or ‘nose’ of ascending
fish. The sockeye or red salmon run. 11, the Next Moon, or ‘(poor)
fish’, ‘they reach the source’. The cohoes or silver salmon come, and
the salmon begin to get poor. They reach the sources of the rivers.
12, the Rest of the Year, or ‘fall time’. The people trap and hunt,
and the bucks begin to run[729].

The Lower Thompsons also called the months by numerals up to ten
or sometimes eleven, the remainder of the year being called the
autumn. Their names are as follows:--1, the rutting-time of deer.
2, ‘going-in’. People go into their winter houses. 3, ‘the last
going-in’. 4, ‘little coming-out’, ‘spring or warm wind’. Alternate
cold and warm winds. Some people camp out in lodges for a time. 5,
‘going-in-again’. Last cold. People go into winter houses again for
a short time. 6, ‘coming-out’. Winter houses left for good. People
catch fish in bag-nets. 7, people go on short hunts. 8, people pick
berries. 9, people commence to fish salmon. 10, people fish and cure
salmon. 11, or ‘to boil food a little’, so named because people
prepared fish-oil. Autumn. People hunt large game and go trapping.
The moons are grouped in five seasons[730]. The names of the Lillooet
Indians are similar, eleven moons and the rest of the year, the
fall[731].

From the Kwakiutl of Vancouver Island series have been obtained for
four different tribes, the first and second tribes having identical
names for the months 2-8 and 10. The author states that the knowledge
of the moons seems to be disappearing, and that it was difficult to
obtain quite satisfactory evidence: consequently he does not claim
that his arrangement is perfectly accurate. As a matter of fact some
confusion seems to have crept into the series. The names of the
months, corresponding to our March onwards, are as follows:--

I II III IV

Between the tenth and twelfth the author inserts the winter solstice,
and says that the solstice moons are called by a name which probably
means ‘split both ways’: he adds that the readjustment is made in
mid-winter[732].

Of the Siciatl of British Columbia it is said that they divide the
year into twelve parts corresponding approximately to our months:
in these divisions the moon seems to play a very subordinate part.
In fact they are to be described as seasons, since to their names
is prefixed the same word, _tem_, as to the three main seasons, e.
g. _tem tcim_, ‘cold time’, winter, _tem kaikq_, eagle-time, 1,
January, so called because, as it is asserted, the eagle hatches
its eggs at this time. Further:--2, time when the big fish lay
their eggs; 3, budding time; 4, time of the _lem_, an unidentified
bird of passage which remains about a month; 5, time of the diver,
which in this month builds its nest and lays eggs; 6, ‘salmon-berry’
time; 7, ‘red-cap’ time, a kind of raspberry; 8, sallalberry time;
9, time when the fish stop running; 10, time when the leaves fade;
11, time when the fish leave the streams; 12, time when the raven
lays his eggs[733]. However these divisions are doubtless originally
moon-months, as is suggested by the number twelve. Probably the
native time-reckoning has fallen into decay and been forgotten
under European influence. This is everywhere the case, especially
in regard to the moon-month. The Stselis of the same district begin
the year in autumn at October, and name the months as follows:--1,
spring-salmon spawning season; 2, dog-salmon spawning season; 3,
dancing season; 4, season for putting paddles away--from which they
number from 5 to 10. The time between July and October was denoted
by a word which means the coming together or meeting of the two
ends of the year. The latter part of this division was also known
as the time of the dying salmon, since the creeks were at this time
full of dead and dying salmon[734]. This list of months is curious,
but its peculiarities--the ceasing of the counting at ten,--and
even the naming of the first four months--are to be found among the
Romans[735]. However it bears so little resemblance to all the other
lists known to us from this district that it becomes doubtful whether
it is original or a product of decay.

The name Piskwaus or Piscous is given to a small tribe that lives on
the little river which falls into the Columbia about 40 miles below
Fort Okanagon. Their months, obtained from a chief, shew that their
habits are much the same as those of their neighbours, the Salish,
for the names of many of the months have reference to some of their
most important usages. One of the chiefs (viz. of the Piskwaus)
made only twelve names, while the other (of the Salish) reckoned
thirteen. Both had some difficulty in calling to mind all the names.
In several the Piskwau chief is one moon ahead of the other, which
may arise from a mistake or possibly from some slight difference of
seasons at the two places. The list begins at the time of the winter
solstice:--1, not translated; 2, ‘cold’; 3, a certain herb; 4, ‘snow
gone’; 5, a bitter root; 6, ‘going to root-ground’; 7, _camass_-root;
8, ‘hot’; 9, ‘gathering berries’; 10, ‘exhausted salmon’; 11, ‘dry’;
12 (missing in the Piskwau list) ‘house-building’; 13, ‘snow’[736].

The naming of the months from seasons (in the sense of chapter II) is
wide-spread over the whole of North America; only under the curious
civilisation of Arizona and neighbouring districts does the system
present special features.

The Creek Indians began the year immediately after the celebration of
the _busk_ or ripening of the new corn, in August. The moons are:--1,
big ripening; 2, little, and 3, big chestnut; 4, falling leaf; 5, big
winter; 6, little winter, or big winter’s young brother; 7, windy;
8, little, and 9, big spring; 10, mulberry moon; 11, blackberry
moon; 12, little ripening moon[737]. An early French author relates
of certain tribes in Nouvelle France (western Canada) that they
divide the year into twelve moons which are named from animals but
correspond to our months. January and February are the first and the
second moons in which the bear brings forth its young, March is the
moon of the carp, April that of the crane, May that of the maize,
June the moon in which the bustard moults, July the month of the
rutting of bears, August the rutting-time of bulls, September the
rutting-time of deer, October that of elks, November the rutting-time
of the roebuck, December the moon in which the roe sheds its horns.
The tribes who live by the sea call September the moon in which
the trout spawn, October the moon of the whitefish, November that
of the herring; to the other moons they give the same names as the
inhabitants of the interior[738].

Another traveller at the end of the 18th century relates of the Sioux
and Chippewa that they divide the year into twelve moon-months to
which from time to time an extra month, known as the lost month, is
added. March is the first month of the year, and begins as a rule
at the new moon after the spring equinox: it is called the moon of
the worms, since the worms then leave their holes under the bark of
trees or the other places where they have been hiding during the
winter, April is the moon of the plants, May, the moon of flowers,
June, the warm moon, July, the moon of the roe-buck, August, the moon
of the sturgeon, which are then caught in great numbers, September
is the moon of the maize, since it is then reaped, October is the
moon of journeys, since the people leave the villages and depart to
the district in which they intend to hunt in the winter, November,
beaver’s moon, since this animal then goes back into its lodge after
having collected winter stores, December, hunting-moon, January, cold
moon, February, snow moon, because most snow falls in that month[739].

A fairly contemporary account of the tribes of Pennsylvania
runs:--The months have each a separate name, but not the same name
among all tribes, since the names refer chiefly to the climate of the
district, and the benefits and good things enjoyed in it. Thus the
Lenope, who lived by the Atlantic Ocean, called March the month of
shads, since the shad then came up from the sea into the rivers to
spawn; but since in the district to which they afterwards migrated
this fish is not found, they changed the name of the month and called
it the juice-dripping or the sugar-refining month, since at this
time the juice of the sugar-maple begins to flow. April is called
the spring month, May, the month of plants, June, ‘deer half-month’,
or the month in which the deer bring forth their young, or also the
month in which the hair of the deer is reddish, July, the summer
month, August, corn-ear month, since the ears of corn (cobs of maize)
can then be roasted and eaten, September, autumn month, October,
gathering or harvest month, December, hunting month, which is the
time when all deer have shed their horns, January, mouse and squirrel
month, since these animals then come out of their holes, February,
month of frogs, since on warm days the frogs begin to make themselves
heard. The translator adds in a note:--November, hunting month,
December, month in which the stags shed their horns[740]. Some tribes
give to January a name which signifies ‘the return of the sun to
them’, probably because the days once more become longer. The names
are therefore not the same for all tribes, and those of the Moonsey,
a tribe of the Delaware, do not even agree with one another[741].

The following is very instructive both for the influence of the
natural phenomena upon the terminology and for the fluctuating
character of the terminology itself:--The wild rice is an important
article of food for the tribes of the west by the Great Lakes;
three important branches of the Algonquin, and also smaller
tribes, name one or two months from this plant. The Ojibwa call
August or September the moon of the gathering of wild rice, or
the wild rice moon; the Ottawa, Menomini, and Potawatomi have the
wild-rice-gathering moon, which among the last-named corresponds to
the end of September and the beginning of October; the Dakota call
September ‘ripe rice moon’, October is the moon in which the wild
rice is gathered and laid up for the winter; according to Neill,
September is the moon when the rice is laid up to dry, October the
‘drying-rice moon’; according to Long, September is ‘the beginning’,
October ‘the end of wild rice’; according to Atwater September is
‘the moon when the wild rice is ripe’[742].

A list of the Dakota months gives:--January, the hard moon; February,
the raccoon moon; March, the sore-eye moon; April, the moon in which
the geese lay eggs, or when the streams are navigable,--among the
Teton, moon when the ducks come back; May, the planting moon; June,
the moon when the strawberries are red,--Teton, when the seed-pods
of the Indian turnip mature, or when the _wipazoha_ (berries) are
good; July, the moon when the choke-cherries are ripe, or when the
geese shed their feathers,--Teton, the deer-rutting moon; August, the
harvest moon,--Teton, the moon when the plums are red; September, the
moon when rice is laid up to dry,--Teton, moon in which the leaves
become brown; October, the drying-rice moon,--Teton, moon when the
wind shakes off the leaves, or corn-harvest moon; November, the
deer-rutting moon,--Teton, the winter moon; December, the moon when
the deer shed their horns,--Teton, the midwinter moon[743].

Some of the tribes of the Cheyenne name twelve moons in the year,
but many tribes have not more than six; and different bands of the
same tribe, if occupying widely separated sections of the country,
will have different names for the same moon. Knowing well the habits
of the animals, and having roamed over vast areas, they readily
recognise any special moon that may be mentioned, even though their
name for it may be different. One of the nomenclatures used by the
Teton-Sioux and the Cheyenne, beginning with the moon just before
winter, is as follows:--1, moon when the leaves fall off; 2, when
the buffalo cow’s foetus is getting large; 3, when the wolves run
together; 4, when the skin of the foetus of the buffalo commences to
colour; 5, when the hair gets thick on the buffalo foetus, called
also ‘men’s month’, or ‘hard month’; 6, the sore-eye moon, buffalo
cows drop their calves; 7, moon when the ducks come; 8, moon when
the grass commences to get green and some roots are fit to be eaten;
9, moon when the corn is planted; 10, when the buffalo bulls are
fat; 11, when the buffalo cows are in season; 12, when the plums get
red[744].

The Omaha name the moons as follows, from January on:--1, when the
snow drifts into the tents of the Honga; 2, the moon when geese come
home (back); 3, the little frog moon; 4, the moon in which nothing
happens; 5, the moon in which they plant; 6, the buffalo bulls hunt
the cows; 7, when the buffalo bellow; 8, when the elk bellow; 9,
when the deer paw the earth; 10, when the deer rut; 11, when the
deer shed their antlers; 12, when little black bears are born.
The Oto and Iowa tribes use the same names for the months, except
for January, which is called ‘the raccoon month’[745]. The Kiowa
have twelve months, but some writers give 14 or 15, the names of
which are repetitions of the others. As to the first eight all are
unanimous, for the ninth all informants but one are in agreement,
for the following there is disagreement. The list, which begins
in Sept.-Oct., comes from an Indian specially well versed in the
calendar. 1, the ‘ten-colds moon’: the first ten days are cold,
after the full moon winter and the new year begin; 2, ‘wait until
I come’ (_äganti_ without the word _p’a_, ‘moon’); 3, ‘geese-going
moon’, sometimes ‘sweathouse moon’; 4, ‘real-goose moon’; 5,
‘little-bud moon’, the first buds come out: the first half belongs
to winter, the second to spring; 6, ‘bud moon’, sometimes with
‘great’ prefixed; 7, ‘leaf moon’; 8, summer _äganti_: its full moon
forms the boundary between spring and summer; 9, ‘summer-geese-going
moon’, seems to be placed too late; 10, ‘summer-real-goose moon’;
11, ‘little-moon-of-deer-horns-dropping-off’, the deer begin to shed
their horns; 12, similarly named, or sometimes with the addition of
‘great’: with this full moon autumn begins[746]. The year of the
Pawnee varied between 12 and 13 months; the names are not given[747],
nor are those of the Klamath and Modok[748], or of the Occaneechi
of Virginia[749]. The Bannock call the earlier months:--1, running
season for game; 2, big moon; 3, black smoke (it is cold); 4,
bare-spots-along-the-trail (the snow vanishes in places); 5, little
grass, or the grass first comes up; for the months of the warm season
they have no names[750]. For the Mandan there is a list with twelve
months, which I have been unable to obtain: the ‘seven-cold-days’
month, the pairing month, and the ‘sore eye’ month are quoted[751].

The Seminole of Florida count 12 months, only the following names are
translated:--1, little winter; 2, wind moon; 3, big wind moon; 4,
little, and 5, big mulberry moon; 12, big winter. 7 and 8, 9 and 10
are also paired, the latter in each case being described as ‘big’;
6 and 11 have single names[752]. The Chocktaw of Louisiana have
forgotten their names, only a few could be enumerated:--December,
cold moon; February, moon of snow; March, moon of wind; April,
corn(-planting) moon; July, moon of fire. The women asserted that
the year was divided into twelve moons, but our authority thinks it
highly probable that thirteen is the correct number[753]. The Natchez
had 13 months, and celebrated at each new moon a feast which took
its name from the principal fruits gathered or the animals hunted in
the previous month. Their year began in March. 1, moon of the deer;
2, moon of the strawberries, which are then gathered; 3, moon of the
little corn: this was often awaited with impatience, their harvest
of the great corn never sufficing to nourish them from one harvest
to another; 4, moon of the water-melons; 5, moon of the peaches; 6,
moon of the mulberries; 7, moon of the maize, or great corn; 8, moon
of the turkeys, which at that time come out from the thick woods into
the open woods; 9, moon of the bison, which are then hunted; 10, moon
of the bears; 11, moon of the cold meal; 12, moon of the chestnuts,
although these have long since been collected; 13, moon of the nuts
(which is added to complete the year). The nuts are crushed and mixed
with flour to make bread[754].

The tribes of Arizona, among whom religion and ceremonial rites
have attained a pre-eminent place, occupy a special position; their
time-reckoning has developed into a ceremonial year. However the
natural foundation peeps through. Among the Hopi thirteen names
with the addition _mü’iyawu_, ‘moon’, are given, so that genuine
moon-months must be implied. The second part of _ücü_, October, is
said to be called _tü’hoe_; if this is recognised as a month, there
are 14 of them. Several of the priests say that there are 13 months,
others 12, still others 14. It is to be noted that the seasons and
the festivals are determined by observation of the sun in relation
to certain terrestrial marks; of these sun-points there are 13. The
names of the months are not translated: several recur, but not in
the same order, 1 = 8, 2 = 10, 5 to 7 = 11 to 13. But it is stated
also that the months are divided into ‘named’ and ‘nameless’[755].
The Zuñi divide the year into two seasons, each consisting of six
months. The months are:--December, turning or looking back (of the
sun); January, limbs of trees broken by snow; February, no snow in
the road; March, little wind month; April, big wind month; May, no
name. The same names are said to recur in the second half-year![756]
This can only be an entirely conventional arrangement. But according
to other sources the six later months, though called ‘the nameless’,
have ritualistic names (Yellow, Blue, Red, White, Variegated, Black)
derived from the colours of the prayer-sticks offered up at every
full moon to the gods of the north, west, south, east, zenith, and
nadir, who are represented by these colours[757]. The Pima have 12
months. Two different lists from two natives are given. (I):--1,
saguaro harvest moon; 2, rainy; 3, short planting; 4, dry grass;
5, winter begins; 6, yellow; 7, leaves falling; 8, cottonwood
flowers; 9, cottonwood leaves; 10, mesquite leaves; 11, mesquite
flower; 12, black seeds on saguaros. (II):--1, wheat harvest moon;
2, saguaro harvest; 3, rainy; 4, short planting; 5, dry grass; 6,
windy; 7, smell; 8, big winter; 9, gray; 10, green; 11, yellow;
12, strong[758]. The names of colours recur, but seem here to have
reference to the seasons. That the wheat culture has been newly
introduced does not by any means imply that the series of months is
of recent origin, but only points to the familiar instability of
their names.

For South America I find in the literature accessible to me no
names of months recorded, except for the Inca people alone. Their
series of months, which is collected from various sources, runs
(beginning about January):--1, small growing moon; 2, great growing
moon; 3, flower-growing moon; 4, twin-ears moon; 5, harvest moon; 6,
breaking-soil moon; 7, irrigation moon; 8, sowing moon; 9, moon of
the Moon-feast; 10, moon of the Feast of the province of Uma; 11,
moon of the Feast of the province of Ayamarca; 12, moon of the Great
Feast of the Sun. The ceremonies in connexion with this last festival
were made to approximate to the moon’s phases, the various stages
commencing with the ninth day, full moon, and the 21st day[759].
Nowadays the ability to bring the lunar year into agreement with the
solar is usually denied to this people, although older writers have
claimed this knowledge for them[760]. This is naturally correct, in
so far as a leapyear cycle is meant; but it seems to me unlikely that
the Inca people was unable to bring the moon-months into their proper
position in the year by an occasional intercalation of a thirteenth
month, when this became necessary. The not nearly so highly civilised
Indians of North America could do this, and the Incas observed
the solstices. The first eight names alone shew that. Perhaps the
other months, as among certain tribes of N. American Indians, were
originally nameless (it was no doubt the time when there was no work
in the fields); that the names are of late origin is shewn by the
reference to various provinces of the kingdom. The tribes of Bolivia
also have moon-months[761], and among the Orinoco Indians months are
mentioned[762]. The Karaya of Central Brazil know that the year has
13 full moons[763].

In Africa the lists of months are not so numerous as in the parts of
the world hitherto mentioned. There are however plenty of them, and
that not among the peoples most deeply influenced by civilisation:
among such peoples the Islamite months have gained admission. In
Morocco, southern Algeria, and even in the Sudan the Julian months
are also found. The examples of a reckoning in months which relates
to the seasons come from South and Central Africa, and therefore from
the districts which have been more free from foreign influence.

The Hottentot series of months has fallen into decay. I reproduce
the list of Schulze, who mentions another in Kroenlein, _Wortschatz
der Khoi-Khoin_ (Berlin, 1899), which has only nine names. His
February corresponds to Schulze’s January; only in the position of
the name for July, which Schulze claims for October, do the two
lists differ considerably. The list, the positions of the months,
and other statements come from an old Hottentot woman. The author
however could not be quite sure that the ideas of the whites had not
already influenced the number of months and their succession. The
month begins when the crescent of the moon appears in the western
sky. 1 (corresponds to about January), moon which follows upon the
_salsola_-bush, which is an important pasture-bush and has its
principal flowering-season in spring; 2, not translated; 3, when it
begins to be cold; 4, by older Hottentots explained as the month
of increasing cold: when one sits so near the fire that the legs
blister; 5, the black month, time of drought, the black branches
of the stripped bushes give the landscape this character; 6, not
translated; 7, month of the Pleiades, which become visible in the
latter half of June, and are of importance for the natives journeying
in quest of _tsama_; 8, not translated; 9, the month when the leaves
are curled up by the cold; 10 and 11, not translated; 12, named from
the fact that when, after the first productive rains upon the old and
withered grass, the fresh young green shoots up, the meadows appear
to be dappled[764].

For the Basuto a native gives the following list:--1, _phato_ =
August, begins the year; 2, _loetse_, from _loetsa_, ‘to anoint
wounds with fat, syringe the ear’, since the winter is broken and a
little warmth comes; 3, _mphalane_, _mphalane ’a leshoma_, _leshoma_
a kind of bulb which at that time begins to sprout, perhaps from
_liphalana_, to glitter, the sun glitters, does not warm, or because
of the girl-circumcision, which is announced by means of the blowing
of _liphalana_-flutes by the old women who perform the operation; 4,
_pulungoana_, diminutive of _pulumo_, gnu, which at this time brings
forth its young; 5, _tsitoe_, grasshopper, which is especially to
be heard at this time; 6, _pherekong_, perhaps ‘interjoin sticks’;
7, _tlhakola_ = _hlakola_, to wipe off, _tlhakola molula_, to wipe
off the _molula_: _molula_ is the stage at which the _mabele_ grain
is still completely enveloped in the husk: now the grains shoot
forth and the _molula_ disappear, _molula_ also means a kind of
grass which is used in basket-work; 8, _tlhakubele_, from _thlaku_,
grains: therefore:--the _mabele_ plant has grains; 9, _’mesa_, _’mesa
tseleng_, kindling fire by the roadside, as is done by those who
drive away the birds from the fields, either to warm themselves or to
roast ears of corn; 10, _motseanong_, i. e. ‘bird-laugher’, since the
grains are by now so firmly fixed in the ears that the birds cannot
get them; 11, _phupjoane_, from _phupu_, ‘beginning to swell’, with
reference to a kind of bulb; 12, _phuphu_, ‘bulging out’, i. e. bulbs
and the stems of some hardy plants[765].

Of the Caffres we are told:--They count in the year only twelve
months, and for these they have names: the result is frequent
confusion and difference of opinion as to which month it really is.
There is, for example, the month of the cuckoo, when this bird is
first heard, the month of the erythusia, when this plant blossoms,
the month of much dust, mid-winter. The names of the moons are more
or less descriptive of the season, e. g. _newaba_, green, describes
the first appearance of the vegetation; _furnfu_, September, cattle
licking green grass; _zibandhlela_, October, footpaths being covered
with grass; _hlolange_, January, time to look for first-fruits;
_hlangula_, May, time of falling leaves[766]. Unfortunately the
complete list is not given.

By the Baronga the months or moons are now almost completely
forgotten, at least among the southern clans. The following
statements come from the northern clans, where the names have been
better preserved:--_nhlangula_, the month in which the flowers are
swept from the trees, probably October, in which various trees
blossom; _nwendjamhala_, the month in which the antelope _mhala_
brings forth its young (November?); _mawuwana_, when the _tihuhlu_
are plucked, because the people shout ‘_wuwana, wuwana_’ in their
joy at having plenty of almonds to suck (December); _hukuri_ is said
to be the month when the fruits of the _nkwakwa_ are ripe (December
also?); _ndjati_ or _ndjata_, i. e. ‘I am coming’. It is the time
of _nwebo_, when everyone in his fields is eating the new cobs of
mealies, and if you call, a person will answer:--“I come directly!
Have patience! I am busy”. This may be January or February. _Sunguti_
is also one of the summer months; _sibamesoko_, the moon which closes
the paths, also called _dwebindlela_ or _sibandlela_ (February),
is the time when the grass grows so high that it hides the paths;
_nyenyana_, nywenywankulu are the months of the birds (_nyenyana_),
when one spends the time in chasing them from the fields (March and
April); _mudashini_, i. e. ‘What am I to eat?’ is so named because
in the harvest month there are so many different kinds of food that
you do not know which to choose (May or June); _khotubushika_, i. e.
‘when winter comes’, is probably June or July[767].

For the Herero the following list is given:--1 (January), month of
rain; 2, lambing month; 3, first pools of water; 4, last pools of
water; 5, lily month; 6, month of good luck; 7, rising of the water
in the river beds; 8, month of fog; 9, Pleiades month: the Pleiades
become visible and then _okuni_, spring, begins; 10, first month, and
therefore the first month in the Herero reckoning (_sic!_ probably of
the spring, cp. the following); 11, last moon namely the last month,
of spring; 12, dry, hard moon[768]. Another list has:--1 (January),
Vley water; 2, birth-time of springboks; 3, last Vley water; 4, last
rain-showers; 5, cold days; 6, dry period; 7, dry trees; lambing
season; 9, a lily begins to bud; 10, the milk-bushes become green;
11, the rain begins; 12, wet period[769].

In Loango the names of the months differ considerably according to
the situation of the district and the influence of this upon the
habits of life:--Month of expectation, month of the little rains, of
drought, of the curse, of the great rains, of the water, of men, of
women, of the harvest, of the vanishing water, of fish, of the rice,
of trade, of mist, of salt, of sleep, of the huts, of the burning (of
grass and brushwood), of mirth, of labour, of aid, between-month,
cold month, wood month, bud month, besom-and-dirt month (great
cleaning), and any other terms in popular use[770].

Some of the tribesmen of Upper Wellé give to the months names in
keeping with what is done in them. Thus one month is named as that in
which they sow _maroo_, the chief ingredient used in brewing native
beer; another as the season when _maroo_ must be cut. Following this
comes the ‘bad-water’ month, when the risk of fever is greatest;
then the elephant month, when they catch elephants by burning grass,
and the white-ant month, during which white ants are collected, and
considered a great delicacy; and a second _maroo_ month, when a
second crop is sown. The month next to this has no distinctive name,
and is succeeded by the second _maroo_-harvest month, the hungry or
water-month, when provisions are scarce; the second ant-gathering
month; a late sowing month, and finally another with no particular
title. Altogether 13, therefore[771]. For the Shilluk twelve months
are enumerated without translation: ‘moon’ and ‘month’ are expressed
by the same word[772]. The Akamba of British East Africa assert
that they reckon eleven months to the year, _anzwa_:--1, _mwa_,
planting month; 2, _wima_, time of the autumn rains; 3, _wiu_,
month of sprouting; 4, _mveu_, 5, _onkonono_, both untranslated;
6, _thandatu_, commence reaping; 7, _moanza_, not translated; 8,
_nyanya_, ‘friend’ (sic!); 9, _kenda_, ‘nine’; 10, _ekumi_, ‘ten’
(in 1907 this month began on August 10); 11, _mubiu_, season of
grass-burning. They say that the month has 31 days and that they see
the new moon on the 32nd; they assert that they do not include the
first day on which the moon is seen[773]. The system has evidently
already fallen into decay, so that too great importance must not be
attached to its peculiarities. The Wa-Sania of British East Africa
divide their twelve months into three periods of four: the names
are not given[774]. The Wagogo months are:--1, _mosi_, ‘the first’,
about December; 2, _mhiri_, ‘general’ (i. e. rains everywhere);
3, _mhalungulu_, ‘cessation’ (sc. first rains over); 4, _munye_,
‘possessing’, i. e. enjoying first-fruits; 5, _mwezi we litika_,
month of plenty; 6, _mwezi we lisololela_, month of beginning
reaping; 7, _mwezi we nhwanga_, threshing-month; 8, _mwezi we taga
matoto_, month when the harvest is ended; 9, _mwezi we tutula_, month
of forest-clearing; 10, _mwezi we ndawa mbereje_, month of digging
up the stubbles; 11, _murisimuka_, budding; 12, _muchilanhungo_,
‘partial’ (sc. partial rains, not general)[775]. The Nandi begin
with the last month of drought, about February:--1, _kiptamo_, ‘hot
in the fields’; 2, _iwat-kut_, rain in showers; 3, _wake_, meaning
unknown; 4, _ngei_, the heart pushed on one side by hunger; 5,
_rob-tui_, black rain or black clouds; 6, _puret_, mist; 7, _epeso_,
meaning unknown; 8, _kipsunde_, offering to God in the corn-fields;
9, _kipsunde oieng_, second offering to God; 10, _mulkul_, strong
wind; 11, _mulkulik oieng_, second strong wind; 12, _ngotioto_, the
_Brunsvigia Kirkii_ or pin-cushion plant[776].

The Masai divide their twelve months into four seasons, (I), _ol
dumeril_, time of the scanty rain-fall:--1, _ol gissan_, in which the
sheep and goats bring forth their young; 2, _ol adallo_, the heat
of the sun; 3, _ol golua_ (_loo-’n-gushu_). (II), _en gokwa_, the
Pleiades (_l’apaïtin te-’l-lengon_, the months of superfluity):--4,
_le erat_ (_kuj-orok_), formed from _er rata_, ‘green valley’;
the hitherto scanty rain has been sufficient to cover with fresh
green the valleys and low-lying spots of the otherwise still yellow
withered steppes; 5, _os somisso_ (_oäni-oingok_), ‘the dark’,
‘gloomy’: the sky is overcast, there is much rain, the days are
dark and gloomy; 6, _ol nernerua_ (_loo-’n-gokwa_), formed from
_nerneri_, ‘fat’. (III), _ol airodjerod_, the lesser after-rains:--7,
_le logunja airodjerod_ (_kara-obo_), also called _oieni oinok_,
‘the tied-up bulls’: owing to the abundant fodder of the last months
the bulls have become wild, and would be continually fighting each
other in the meadows, for which reason they are separated; 8, _bolos
airodjerod_ (_kiperu_), or also (but more rarely) _ol dat_; 9,
_kudjorok_ (_l’iarat_), ‘cold’, cold weather distinguishes this
month. (IV), _ol aimeii_, time of hunger, of drought:--10, _kiber_
(_pushuke_), uproar, quarrel. The pasture is thin, the milk scanty,
and people try to steal from other persons’ cows: at last the milk
is not sufficient to satisfy the necessary demands of hunger, and
most of the warriors go off into the forest with some of the oxen to
eat flesh. This lasts not only throughout this month but also during
the next. 11, _ol dongosh_, ‘stretched’, since in this month too the
milk is very scarce. The name seems to be derived from the word _en
gushush_, ‘lack of food’. Only at the beginning of the 12th month,
the _boshogge_ (_ol-oiborare_), do the people come back to the kraal.
I have followed Merker, p. 156. Hollis, pp. 333 ff., gives in some
cases other names, which unfortunately are not translated; they are
here given in brackets. Nos. 4 and 9 have exchanged names. It is
worthy of note that the month of the evening setting of the Pleiades
(_gokwa_) is named from this constellation. A further variation is
that according to Hollis the first month is _kara-obo_. The year
therefore begins with the season of the after-rains.

The Wadschagga of Kilimanjaro have likewise twelve months; ten are
denoted by numerals; the counting begins at the fifth, and the
months are divided into seasons. Nos. 5-8 fall in the season of
the great rains, 9 and 10 in the dancing season. In the ninth the
people say: ‘It is bright’; the rainy season passes away, and for
this reason this month is regarded as the beginning of the year,
sacrifices are offered up at the gates of the country, the chief
‘raises the field-stick’, i. e. gives permission for the beginning
of the ploughing, after having previously ‘let the year open’ by
offering a special sacrifice to the spirits for good fruit and
harvest. The name of the following month, _iyana_, now means ‘a
hundred’, but formerly it probably had the sense of ‘ten’. This, the
10th, month is followed by the first; the 1st and the 2nd months
fall in the first warm season, the 3rd in the little rainy season.
The three months of the great heat are not denoted by numerals. They
are interpolated between the 3rd and the 5th months. The first of
these is called _nsaa_: a month known as the fourth is then said to
be missing, but our authority conjectures that _nsaa_ is perhaps
a mutilated form of an old word for four; the month that follows
_nsaa_ is called _muru_, which is left unexplained, and the next
is _nsangwe_ or _nsango_. Then the 5th month comes again. The name
_nsangwe_ is almost everywhere explained by the people as arising
from _nsana-ngwi_, ‘to collect wood for burning’. The supplies
of wood for the rainy season are collected. The position of this
month immediately before the rainy season misleads them into thus
explaining the similar sound. These last two months are clearly to be
recognised as interpolations in the original scheme of ten months.
But there still exists a name for a thirteenth month, which is of
course necessary for the correcting of the lunar year, and which,
as the old folks say, was formerly actually counted. But now they
say:--“It is a sham month, since it has no companions, no comrades,
and therefore it is superfluous. The year has only twelve months.”
It is called _nkinyambwo_. The people say:--“The _nkinyambwo_ is no
longer necessary, since the rainy season has now only three months,
not four as in olden times.” The practice of beginning an enumeration
of the months with the 5th month _kusanu_ arouses the suspicion that
this may be the actual beginning of the year. To this the other names
of this month also point: ‘on the boundary of the year’, or _maraya a
kisie_, which can now only be translated as ‘the ender of the rain’.
But as a matter of fact this month ushers in the rainy season. It
has therefore been pushed from its former position in the course of
the year after the rainy season to a position before the beginning
of the period of greatest rains, and the practice of beginning the
enumeration with _kusanu_ is now the sole reminder of a time when
_kusanu_ really did introduce the new year at the beginning of the
chief ploughing-season. But the first month _nsi_ must once have been
one of the starting-points of the counting[777]. That the two months
above-mentioned are interpolations does not seem to be correct:
for the _nkinyambwo_ shews that the Wadschagga, like so many other
peoples, have had thirteen months, one of which was omitted when
necessary. The process seems clear from the statements given. When
the thirteenth month (probably under Islamite influence) passed out
of use, in the now strictly lunar year the months got out of place
in reference to the seasons. If the fifth month _kusanu_ keeps the
place in reference to the seasons to which its other names point,
it falls in the ninth month of the author’s list, _kukendu_, which,
according to natural conditions, is the beginning of the year. That
only ten months are numbered and the others named affords independent
evidence, and is in keeping with the system of counting in tens. That
the two months in question are inserted between the third (or fourth)
and the first points to a conventionalising of the system such as
is anything but primitive. Here, as always, numbered months shew
themselves to be a late phenomenon.

Curious names of months, of a kind which we have hardly met with
hitherto, are found in the comparatively highly civilised Hausa
states (Kano, Sokoto), where the Arabic and Julian names for the
months are also known. 1 (January), _wata-n-tshika-n-shekara_, or
_tshiki_, ‘month of the filling of the belly’, since much food
is eaten, especially at full moon, or _wata-n-wauwo_, month of
the _wauwo_-game (with torches); 2, _wata-n-gani_, month of the
_gani_-game; 3, _wata-n-takutika_, month of the _takutika_-game, or
_wata-n-takalufu_; 4, _ware-ware-n-farin_; 5, _ware-ware-n-biu_;
6, _ware-ware-n-aku_. _Ware-ware_ is the name of a small bird
which builds its nest in a hole in the ground; it is therefore
doubtful to which element it belongs. And so it is with these three
months, April, May, June, in which no games take place, so that
it was not known where to place them; for this reason they are
called the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd _ware-ware_. The word also denotes a
person who talks now one way, now another, a doubtful person. 7,
_wata-n-azumi-n-tsofafi_, month of the fast of the old people; 8,
_wata-n-sha rua-n-tsofafi_, month of the old people’s water-drinking;
9, _wata-n-azumi_, month of fasting; 10, _wata-n-karama-n-salla_,
month of the little _salla_ festival; 11, _wata-n-bawa-n-salloli_,
month of the slaves, in this month all (but especially the slaves)
have much work for the festival of the following month; 12,
_wata-n-baba-n-salla_, month of the great _salla_ festival, or
_wata-n-laiya_, month of the slaughtering of the lamb. The festivals,
especially the _salla_ festivals, do not always take place in the
months named after them: the time is determined by the priests
in accordance with the position of the moon (_wata_ = ‘moon,’
‘month’)[778]. This is an artificial system which was probably
created with a leaning towards the Arabic months. In Edo too the
familiar names of months are borrowed from the ceremonies that take
place at different times[779].

Madagascar has a comparatively highly developed civilisation in
which various influences cross. The Merina have the Arabic months.
The history of the native calendar is said to be very complicated:
Grandidier in a detailed discussion seeks to prove that the
Malgassian year, which is commonly held to be a lunar year, is a
solar or lunisolar one, and on the strength of certain resemblances
in the names of the months derives the calendar from S. India. I give
the principal data. Grandidier says that one reason for believing
that the Malgassian calendar is a solar one is the fact that it is in
reality agricultural. In 1638 Cauche says that the Malgassi divide
their year into 4 seasons and 12 lunar months, with some intercalary
days. The year is for them the time which elapses between two phases
of the vegetation; for greater convenience they divide it into twelve
lunar months, without caring much about the number of days composing
these months, as is rightly said of the Antandroy by Vacher[780],
who gives the following list, which is almost identical with that
compiled by Grandidier himself in the south-east, at Iavibola, in
1866. The months have names and epithets: the latter are explained.
1, millet is cut; 2, winter begins; 3, the beans flower; 4, the
tamarinds of the north are ripe; 5, the leaves fall; 6, tamarinds
and beans are ripe; 7, the _Cythere_-tree flowers; 8, the bulls
seek the shade of the _sakoa_; 9, the guinea-fowls sleep; 10, the
rain rots the ropes (with which the calves are fastened); 11, the
gourds flower; 12, the grains of the _fano_ are ripe. Rowlands[781]
had already remarked that the Betsileo months depend more upon the
time of the sowing and reaping of the rice and upon the flowering
of certain plants than upon the phases of the moon, and that the
agreement with the months of the Merina (i. e. the Arabic months) is
only approximate. The same applies to the calendar of the Sakalava,
the Bara, the Tanala, and the Sihanaka, which is identical with
that of the Betsileo. What is here said about the calendars of the
peoples of the south and the centre of the island is also true of the
calendars of the northern and eastern peoples[782]. To me it seems as
though we have here a series of months of the ordinary type, in which
the months are named and at the same time fixed with reference to the
seasons, although I do not presume to decide upon the complicated
question of the Malgassian calendar. There remains one possibility,
viz. that the ‘months’ are seasons with no relation to the moon, but
this possibility does not seem to have been seriously considered by
those who can make use of the sources, which are only to be got at
with extreme difficulty.

Among the primitive peoples of the East Asiatic peninsula the seasons
of the agricultural year are very much employed; in comparison with
them the moon-month plays no important part. Moreover Indian and
Islamite influences have penetrated deeply: the calendar in use
arises from these. The facts are well illustrated by a notice from
the Malay Peninsula. There are three ways of reckoning the months,
(1) the Arabian, 29 and 30 days alternately, (2) the Persian, 30
days, and (3) that of Rum, 31 days; the first is the common method.
Some few, with greater accuracy, calculate their year at 354 days
8 hours, intercalating every 3 years 24 hours, or one day, to make
up the deficiency, and 33 days for the difference between the solar
and the lunar years. But the majority of the lower classes estimate
their year by the fruit seasons and by their crops of rice only.
Many, however, obstinately adhere to the lunar month and plant their
paddy at the annual return of the lunar month[783]. The Guru of
Sumatra know a division of the year into twelve months of 30 days
each; the months, with the exception of the last two, are denoted by
numbers[784]. They are therefore calendar months, not moon-months,
and are a foreign acquisition. Among the Kayan the month, or, as
they say, the moon, plays a greater part than the year: of the latter
hardly anyone knows properly how many moons it contains. Commonly
they reckon 1 to 2 moons for the sowing, five for the time which the
rice needs to ripen, 2 to 3 for the harvest, and three up to the
next sowing. The different months have no special names among the
Bahau[785]. The time-reckoning of Sumatra, Java, and Bali shews a
prevailing foreign (Indian or Islamite) influence. It is to be noted
that among many peoples the first ten months are numbered, while the
last two have names. In Bali these two names are Sanskrit words[786].

For Timor two lists of moon-months are given, the one from Bibiçuçu,
the other from Samoro. The names are in some cases the same, they are
not translated and perhaps cannot be explained, but they indicate
the occupations of the months. 1, _funu_, _leet ali_, about October,
_vater_, maize, is planted and mountain rice sown; 2, _fahi_, the
fields are weeded; 3, _naru_, ‘the great month’, the maize flowers,
heavy rain; 4, _fotan_, _tora_, the former word probably a corruption
of the Malay _potong_, the cutting or harvest month: the maize is
housed and a harvest sacrifice offered; 5, _madauk_, harvest of the
mountain-rice; 6, _wani_, honey and wax are collected; 7, _uhi_,
_uhi böot_, probably a corruption of _ubi_, sweet potato, these are
now dug up and collected; 8, _madai böot_, _uhi kiik_, fogs and
heavy rain; 9, _madai kiik_, _lakubutik_, little rain: during both
these months little work can be done; 10, _lakubutik böot_, _madai_,
still showers; 11, _lakubutik kiik_, _funu_, very hot, only in this
month is gold sought for; 12, _leet_, _leet manuluk_, hot: the grass
is burnt off and the ground prepared for maize-planting[787]. It
is interesting to note how the names have departed from a common
foundation: two names (_funu_, _madai_) denote different months. Note
also the pairs of months in both lists.

The Kiwai Papuans, who are well acquainted with the stars, have
a very interesting list of months, compiled from names of stars
and, as it seems, of natural objects. Accurate information about
this list has very kindly been personally communicated to me by
Landtman[788]. The year is divided into two parts in accordance with
the monsoons[789]. The time of the S. E. monsoon (_uro_) embraces
the months:--1, _keke_ (Achernar, our April); 2, _utiamo_ (the
Pleiades); 3, _sengerai_ (Orion); 4, _koidjugubo_ (Capella, Sirius,
and Canopus together); 5, _wapi_; 6, _hopukoruho_; 7, _abu_; and
8, _tagai_ (Crux). In the transitional period comes 9, _karongo_
(Antares). The time of the N. W. monsoon (_hurama_) includes:--10,
_naramu-dubu_ (Vega); 11, _nirira-dubu_ (Altair); 12, _goibaru_;
13, _korubutu_. Each month, in the language of the natives called
‘moon’, is connected with a definite constellation, as is shewn
above, and it is to be presumed that this constellation is properly
the one that is to sink down to the western horizon during the
month in question. Perfect accuracy does not however prevail in
this nomenclature, but several adaptations have been made. (This
is natural and necessary, on account of the dislocation of the
lunar months with regard to the solar year). Even in the matter
of the succession of the months different statements were made,
this no doubt being due to the fact that all the natives were not
equally masters of the calendar. The statements fluctuate as to
whether _karongo_ is the last month of the _uro_ or the first of the
_hurama_. (The fluctuation is natural, since this month falls in the
time of transition between the two). In any case this month, like
_keke_, the first of the _uro_, comes to have a special meaning.
It seems to be somewhat uncertain whether _koidjugubo_ exists as
the name of a special month or whether the word only denotes a
constellation related to the months _wapi_, _hopukoruho_, and _abu_.
The time of the _koidjugubo_ is that in which the S. E. monsoon blows
hardest. The corresponding middle month in _hurama_ is _goibaru_.
_Baidamu_ (‘the Shark’), the Great Bear, is also related to a certain
period during the S. E. monsoon, particularly to _hopukoruho_, in
which according to certain statements the head sets, and to _abu_,
in which the back fin and the tail set. The setting of each of the
various parts of the body of the Shark in the west is accompanied
by storms and rain, which arise in the period of the S. E. monsoon.
When the Shark is no longer to be seen at evening, and after both
its eyes have emerged in the east at morning, the period of the
_tagai-karongo_ begins, in which the sea-turtles are caught, and the
time of the N. W. monsoon is at hand. The turtles are caught more
particularly during the time of their copulation, and this begins in
_abu_, occasionally in _tagai_, reaches its height in _karongo_, and
finishes in _naramu-dubu_. The planting of tubers also takes place
in definite months. Unfortunately the meaning of the names that do
not refer to constellations is not in all cases clear. _Wapi_ in
one Torres Straits dialect is said to mean ‘fish’, and the name is
said to refer to the fact that this time is especially favourable
for fishing, since the fish are then particularly stupid and easy to
catch with the fish-spear. _Hopukoruho_ is the name of an earth-wasp:
colonies of these insects dig holes in the ground. (Do they appear
in particularly great numbers in this month?). _Hopu_ means ‘earth’,
and _koruho_ ‘to eat’. This month is held to be especially dangerous:
men are exposed to sickness and death and are bitten by serpents, the
canoes suffer shipwreck. It is also expressly stated that the name
of the month refers to death and burial. The sense of _abu_ is quite
uncertain. _Abu_ means ‘ford’ in a creek: the name may perhaps refer
to the beginning of the transition to the period of the following
monsoon. (Or does it refer to the fact that the fords at the end
of the dry season are particularly easy to pass?). The sense of
_goibaru_ is also quite uncertain, even, as it appears, among the
natives. (No statement as to the meaning of _karubuti_ is given).
_Karongo_, according to the meaning of the word, is said to refer
to the transition from _hurama_ to _uro_. _Koidjugubo_ means ‘great
constellation’.

For the Melanesians well developed series of months are given:
the very instructive statement of Codrington will be found in
the next chapter.[790] For the Carolines two lists of names are
given, from Lamotrek and from Yap[791]; but they are of no use
to us, since they only give twelve names without any explanation.
But the list for the Mortlock Islands, a group included in the
Carolines, is of great interest, since every month is named after
a constellation and therefore is also regulated by it. The names
are:--1, _yis_, Leo; 2, _soropuel_, Corvus; 3, _aramoi_, Arcturus;
4, _tumur_, Scorpio; 5, _mei-sik_, ν, ξ, ο Herculis; 6, _meilap_,
Aquila; 7, _sota_, Equuleus; 8, _la_, Pegasus; 9, _ku_, Aries;
10, _mariher_, the Pleiades; 11, _un-allual_, _elluel_, Aldebaran
and Orion; 12, _mau_, Sirius[792]. The same system, with names
in some cases the same, is given for the southernmost group of
the Carolines, the St. David’s Islands[793]. The months of the
Fijians, beginning at February, are:--1, _sese-ni-ngasau lailai_;
2, _s.-n.-n.-levu_; 3, _vulai-mbotambota_; 4, _v.-kelikeli_; 5,
_v.-were-were_; 6, _kawakatangare_; 7, _kawawaka-lailai_; 8,
_k.-levu_; 9, _mbalolo-lailai_; 10, _m.-levu_; 11, _nunga-lailai_;
12, _n.-levu_[794]. The names are not explained, but from the
glossary[795] we learn that _vula_ means ‘moon’ and ‘month’,
_se-ni-ngasau_ ‘flower of the reed’, _mbota_ ‘to share out,
distribute’, _keli_ ‘to dig’, _were_ ‘to till the ground’, _kawa_
‘offspring, posterity’, _waka_ ‘root’, _nunga_ is the name of a fish,
_mbalolo_ is the familiar palolo, which is a favourite delicacy all
over Polynesia, _levu_ = ‘big’, _lailai_ = ‘little’. In so far as
the meaning of the names is to be perceived, therefore, they relate
to the business of agriculture and fishing. Here also we meet the
already familiar phenomenon in which several months have the same
name, and are distinguished by the addition of ‘big’ and ‘little’.

For the Polynesians many series of months are reported: some of these
have 13, others 12 months. The Maoris of New Zealand count 13, and
are distinguished from all others in only numbering, not naming, the
first ten. According to H. Williams the months are counted from the
beginning of the _kumara_-planting, and are only denoted by numbers;
in the tenth month the harvest takes place, and also the feast of the
dead, _ha-hunga_, which for this reason also serves as a designation
of the year, but after that no further months are counted, up to
the first[796]. This last statement must be regarded with suspicion,
since other sources give not indeed numbers but names for the last
three months and the points of reference. As an example of the
nomenclature I give _marama-to-ke-ngahuru_, ‘the tenth month’. The
eleventh has the same name with the addition of _hauhake kumare_,
to dig up, harvest _kumara_; the twelfth and thirteenth are called
respectively _ko-te-paengwawa_ and _ko-te-tahi-o-pipiri_, which
names are unfortunately not translated. _Pipiri_ recurs as the name
of a month in the Society Islands and Tahiti; there it is said that
the name refers to a certain thriftiness or stinginess, perhaps in
the supply of fruit[797]. But the numbering of the names of the New
Zealand months is certainly a later phenomenon, since the cognate
tribes everywhere have proper names, nor do the months on this
account lose their connexion with the phenomena of Nature. Although
they were not named from the latter, they were regulated by them.
Each moon is distinguished by the rising of stars, the flowering of
certain plants, the arrival of migratory birds, etc. I give a list
of these points of reference, beginning at June: unfortunately the
names of stars are not identified by our authority. 1, _puanga_, the
great winter star, rises early in the morning, and also denotes the
beginning of winter: _matariki_, _tapuapua_, _wakaahu te ra o tainu_
are also in the ascendant; 2, _wakaau_, _waakaahu nuku_, _w. rangi_,
_w. papa_, _w. kerekere_, _kopu_, _tautoru_; 3, _taka-pou-poto_,
_mangere_, _kaiwaka_, spring begins, the _karaka_ and _hou_ flower;
4, _taka-pou-tawahi_, it begins to be warm, cultivation commences,
the _kowai_, _kotuku tuku_, and _rangiora_ trees flower, a rainy
month; 5, _kumara_ is planted, the _tawera_ is ripe, the cuckoo,
_koekoea_, arrives, the windy month, corresponding with our March,
hence the name _te rakihi_, the noisy or windy period; 6, _te
wakumu_, the _rewarewa_ flowers; 7, _nga tapuae_, the _rata_ flowers;
8, _uruao rangawhenua_, _rehu_ is the great summer star, the star
_rangewhenua_, an ancestor, is said to rule the days, and _uruao_
the nights of this month, the _karaka_ flowers; 9, _rehua_, _ko
ruruau_, the dry and scarce month; 10, _rehua_, _matiti_ (indicates
the autumn), _ngahuru_, the harvest month for the _kumara_; 11, _te
kahui-rua-mahu_, the days grow cold, the cuckoo leaves; 12, _kai
waka_, _patu-tahi matariki_, the winter-star _koero_ is the chief
star of this month; 13, _tahi ngungu_, the grumbling month, little
food, bad weather, smoky houses, watery eyes, constant quarrels[798].
There are some descriptions of the months which also seem to be
their names. Taylor’s statement that the twelfth month often passes
unnoticed deserves attention.

Of Tonga it is noted that the names of the months are scarcely known
to any except those who work on the plantations: the order of their
succession is not quite clear. The months are often grouped in pairs,
_mooa_ meaning the first, _mooi_ the second. 1, _liha-mooa_, 2,
_l.-mooi_, _liha_ means ‘nit’, but is not connected by the author
with the name of the month; 3, _vy-mooa_, 4, _vy-mooi_, _vy_ =
‘watery’, ‘rainy’; 5, _hilinga gele-gele_: _hilinga_ is said to
be a corruption of _hilianga_, ‘end, termination’, _gele-gele_ =
‘dig’, because in this month they cease digging the ground for
planting yams; 6, _tanoo manga_, _tanoo_ = ‘to overwhelm, to bury’,
_manga_ = anything open, diverging, fork-shaped; 7, _oolooenga_; 8,
_hilinga mea_, ‘the end of things’, the month in which the principal
agricultural work of the season is finished; 9, _fucca afoo moooi_,
_moooi_ = ‘to live, recover’; 10, _fucca afoo mote_, _mote_ = ‘to
die, wither’; 11, _oolooagi mote_, _oolooagi_ = ‘the first’; 12,
_fooa fenike anga_; 13, _mahina tow_, _mahina_ = ‘moon’, _tow_ =
the end of anything[799]. On the Society Islands the people were
not unanimous as to the beginning of the year, nor as to the names
of the months, each island having a computation peculiar to itself.
The series of months adopted by King Pomare and the reigning family
was:--1, _avarehu_, the new moon that appears about the summer
(viz. our winter) solstice at Tahiti; 2, _faaahu_, the season of
plenty; 3, _pipiri_; 4, _taaoa_, the season of scarcity begins;
5, _aununu_; 6, _apaapa_; 7, _paroro mua_; 8, _paroro muri_; 9,
_muriaha_; 10, _hiaia_; 11, _tema_, the season of scarcity ends; 12,
_te-eri_, the young bread-fruit begins to flower; 13, _te-tai_, the
bread-fruit is nearly ripe. Another computation commenced the year
at the month _apaapa_, about the middle of May, and gave different
names to several of the months[800]. Another older list gives the
following series from Tahiti:--1, _o-porori-o-mua_, March, the first
hunger or scarcity; 2, _o-porori-o-muri_, ‘the last scarcity’,
which agrees to some extent with the facts, since the bread-fruit
is scarcest just when it is ripening, as at that time it is used
for _mahei_, sour dough; 3, _mureha_; 4, _uhi-eya_, has certainly a
reference to catching fish with a hook; 5, _hurri-ama_; 6, _tauwa_;
7, _hurri-erre-erre_; 8, _o-te-ari_, probably so called from the
young cocoa-nuts, which just then are very numerous; 9, _o-te-tai_,
contains an allusion to the sea; 10, _wa-rehu_; 11, _wä-ahau_, refers
to the cloth made from the mulberry bark; 12, _pipirri_, refers to a
certain thriftiness or stinginess, perhaps in the supply of fruit;
13, _e-u-nunu_[801]. For the Marquesas Islands (Futuhiwa) I know only
a bare enumeration of 13 names of months[802].

For Samoa there is more information. I give von Bülow’s list:--1
(Oct.-Nov.), _palolo_ or _taumafa mua_, ‘there is for the first
time abundance for all’: bananas, bread-fruit, and taro are ripe,
the month provides much fish; 2, _toe taumafa_, ‘there is once more
abundance’, the harvest is still not ended; 3, _utuvamua_, ‘it is
uninterrupted’, new crops of other fruit have not yet appeared; 4,
_toe utuva_, ‘still uninterrupted’; 5, _faaafu_, ‘the leaves of the
yam plant get dry’, i. e. the root is ripe; 6, _lo_, ‘the staff for
the harvest of the bread-fruit’, sc. ‘is brought into play’; 7,
_aununu_, ‘the making of the arrowroot into starch’, the root is
now ripe; 8, _oloumanu_, ‘the cage of the birds’ (is prepared), in
which to tame the wild pigeons caught in nets, after some of their
wing-feathers have been removed; 9, _palolo-mua_, the first _palolo_
fishing: the appearance of the palolo formerly took place in various
months, since there are still islands in which palolo is found in
the last quarter of every month; 10, _toe palolo_ or _palolomoli_,
‘repeated last palolo fishing’, from the fishing at the end of the
year in October or the end of September, according to the island;
11, _mulifa_, ‘the banana-pole’ (is hewn down), i. e. the bananas
are ripe; 12, _lotuaga_, ‘the _lo_ is laid to rest’, i. e. the
bread-fruit harvest is over[803]. All the lists agree in giving only
twelve months: the seasons are two in number. For the Bowditch Island
a list of twelve names is given without explanation; the names are in
a great measure the same as the Samoan. The author adds:--It seems as
though _vainoa_, month no. 9, is the leapmonth, but there was no name
for the eleventh month, corresponding to our March[804].

For the Sandwich Islands abundant material exists, more particularly
in the work of the native writer, Malo. I give the list commonly
found in other authors also[805], together with the explanations
which Malo has obtained from old Hawaiians well versed in the
calendar, in the first place those of O. K. Kapule of Kaluaha,
Molokai, and secondly, in the case of some months, those of Kaunamoa,
of whose dwelling-place we are told nothing more than that he was a
Hawaiian. 1, _ikuwa_ (January), so named from the frequent occurrence
of thunder-storms, _wa-wa_, ‘to reverberate, to stun the ear’: the
noisy month, clamor of ocean, thunder, storm; 2, _hina-ia-eleele_,
from the frequent over-casting and darkening (_eleele_) of the
heavens; 3, _welo_, because the rays of the sun then begin to shoot
forth (_welo_) more vigorously: the leaves are torn to shreds by the
_enuhe_, a kind of worm; 4, _makalii_ (the Pleiades); 5, _ka-elo_, so
named because the sweet potatoes burst out of the hill, or overflowed
the basket; 6, _kau-lua_, from the coupling together of two canoes
(_kau-lua_): the two stars called _kau-lua_ then rose in the east;
7, _nana_, from the fact that a canoe then floated (_nana_, _lana_)
quietly on the calm sea: the young birds then stir and rustle about
(_nana-na_) in their nests and coverts; 8, _ikiiki_, the hot month
(_ikiki_ or _ikiiki_, ‘hot and stuffy’): ‘hot and sticky’, from
being shut up indoors, by weather; 9, _kaa-ona_, because then the
sand-banks begin to shift in the ocean, _ona_ is said to be another
word for _one_, ‘sand’: (dry) sugar-canes, flower-stalks, etc., which
have been put away in the top of the house, have now become very
dry; 10, _hili-na-ehu_, from the mists that floated up from the sea;
11, _hili-na-ma_, because it was necessary to keep the canoes well
lashed (_hili_); 12, _welehu_, so named from the abundance of ashes
(_lehu_) that were to be found in the fire-places at this time. Malo
gives six other lists, two for Hawaii, one each for Molakai, Oahu,
Kauai, and Maui. The differences in the order of the months already
mentioned are sometimes great, and some new names occur. The former
circumstance is doubtless to be explained by the fact that under
European influence the native months early passed out of use and were
forgotten, and the right order has not been certainly retained in the
memory. Some of these explanations are obvious improvisations, in
some cases one of the two explanations manifestly shews itself to be
the correct one. This proves that the names of the months are so old
that the original meaning has been lost. The forgetting of the native
months is also responsible for the insufficiency of the information
for other islands. Malayan philology might perhaps be able to go
farther, if it took up the matter. But where the meaning is clear,
it everywhere has reference to the seasons, their occupations and
climatic conditions, and to the stars; the Polynesian names of months
are in no way different from those of all other primitive or barbaric
peoples.

The conclusion to be drawn from our investigation of the names
and series of the months is therefore the following. In order
that the month may be distinguished from others it is named after
an occupation or natural phase which takes place while the month
lasts, being described commonly by means of the addition ‘moon of
the --’, but not seldom simply by the name of the natural phase or
the occupation respectively. Any natural phase or occupation can
originally give its name to a month, and hence arises an indefinite
number of such terms. When any period of the year is without
important natural phases and occupations, the months in this period
are not named. At first, therefore, the names of the months are of
an occasional, incidental character: the orientation of them follows
from the general acquaintance with the phases and occupations of the
natural year. As the result of a gradual selection in the daily usage
of the names a less unstable, and in the end quite fixed, series
of months is formed, which on account of the length of the natural
year must comprise 12 to 13 months. The result is a difficulty which
formerly was not felt, owing to the fluctuating character of the
names of months, for the natural phases and the moons are pushed
out of their mutual relationship, and this naturally leads to the
question how many months the year includes, i. e. to the necessity
of the intercalation. For the moon-month, which begins with the new
moon, is a natural unity, which cannot be broken up.

CHAPTER VII.

CONCLUSIONS.

Whoever has had patience to read through the material collected in
the previous chapter will now no doubt be clear as to the process
by which the cycle of months arose. The necessity was felt of
distinguishing the months, of marking them. After the fashion of
primitive man this was done, not by means of an abstract enumeration,
but by some concrete reference. But the relation to a solitary
historical event, by which rather more highly civilised peoples
denote the years, can hardly, or only in isolated instances, be
applied to the month: for the life of primitive peoples is very
monotonous, and is not so rich in events which make an impression
upon the mind that one of these will occur in every month, and even
supposing that such events could be found, the months in a human
life are too numerous for it to be possible to keep a series of
this nature in mind. A second circumstance also proved decisive.
The moon, whose phases always recur with regularity, served better
than anything else to determine the date of any future event within
a shorter period. The primitive peoples, with their undeveloped
faculty of counting, could in this fashion numerically determine
only a couple of months before or after the time of the moon that
was then visible in the heavens. This is what we must understand
by the statement made for the western tribe of the Torres Straits,
viz. that they had no division of the year into months or days and
never numbered the years, in view of the following statement that
they commonly counted time in ‘suns’, i. e. days, and ‘moons’, i.
e. months[806]. That is, they numbered two or three months, but
had no series of months. The same initial stage is found also on
the Australian continent. The natives of Central Australia reckon
time by moon-phases, moons, and in the case of a longer period by
seasons[807]. The Kakadu of Northern Territory reckon in moons
and seasons, otherwise everything is more or less vague with the
exception of the present and the immediate past and future[808].

Primitive man does not get very far in this fashion. In accordance
with his custom and his whole habits of thought he must have some
concrete factor to enable him to conceive of the different moons.
This is found in the fact that the moon covers a part of the natural
year. Herein lies a connexion which constantly recurs. The moons were
therefore distinguished and named with reference to the phenomena of
the natural year, to the phases of nature and to the occupations,
labours, and conditions determined by them, and further to the
risings of the stars. Within the series of from twelve to thirteen
moons the month was determined by these means. Or, expressed somewhat
differently, seasons and moons were mutually connected.

Originally this grouping together of the months was only incidental.
The original state of affairs is well illustrated by the detailed
description given by Codrington for the Melanesians:--

“It is impossible to fit the native succession of moons into a solar
year, months have their names from what is done and what happens when
the moon appears and while it lasts; the same moon has different
names. If all the names of moons in use in one language were set in
order the periods of time would overlap, and the native year would
be artificially made up of 20 or 30 months. The moons and seasons
of Mota in the Banks’ Islands may serve as an example. The garden
work of the year is the principal guide to the arrangement, the
succession of 1, clearing garden ground, _uma_, 2, cutting down the
trees, _tara_, 3, turning over and piling up the stuff, _rakasag_,
4, burning it, _sing_, 5, digging the holes for yams, _nur_, and
planting, _riv_. Then follows the care of the yam plants till the
harvest, after which preparation for the next crop begins again.
At the same time the regular winds and calms are observed, the
spring of grass, the conspicuous flowering of certain trees, the
bursting into leaf of the few deciduous trees. When a certain grass,
_magoto_, springs, the winter, as it must be called, is over; when
the erythrina, _rara_, is in flower, it is the cool season; _magoto_,
therefore, and _rara_ are names of seasons in native use, and answer
roughly to summer and winter. The strange and exciting appearance of
the palolo, _un_, sets a wide mark on the seasons. The April moon
coincides pretty well with the time of the _magoto qaro_, the fresh
grass; clearing, _uma_, of gardens goes on, the trade wind is steady.
This is followed by the _magoto rango_, the withered grass; both are
months of cutting down trees in the gardens, _vule taratara_, and
in the latter the stuff is burnt. In July the erythrina, _rara_,
begins to flower; this is _nago rara_, the face of winter; gardens
are fenced, it is a moon of planting yams, _vule vutvut_. Planting
continues into August, when the erythrina is in full flower, _tur
rara_, the _gaviga_, Malay apple, flowering at the same time; the
S. E. wind, _gauna_, blows, the yams begin to shoot and are stuck
with reeds. In the next month the erythrina puts out its leaves, it
is the end of it, _kere rara_; the yam vines run up the reeds and
are trained, _taur_, upon them; the reeds are broken and bent over,
_ruqa_, to let them run freely; the ground is kept clear of weeds;
the tendrils curl, and the tubers are well formed. Then come the
months of calm, when three moons are named from the _un_, palolo:
first the _un rig_, the little _un_, or the bitter, _un gogona_,
when at the full moon a few of the annelids appear. It is now the
_tau matua_, the season of maturity; yams can be taken up and eaten,
and if the weather is favourable, a second crop is planted. The _un
lava_, the great palolo, follows, when at the full moon for one night
the annelids appear on the reefs in swarms; the whole population
is on the beach, taking up the _un_ in every vessel and with every
contrivance. This is the moon of the yam harvest; the vines are cut,
_goro_, and the tubers very carefully taken up with digging-sticks to
be stored. A few _un_ appear at the next moon, the _werei_, which may
be translated ‘the rump of the _un_’. In this moon they begin again
to _uma_, clear the gardens; the wind blows again from the west,
the _ganoi_, over Vanua Lava. It is now November or December, the
_togalau_-wind blows from the north-west, it is exceedingly hot, fish
die in the shallow pools, the reeds shoot up into flower; it is the
moon of shooting up, _vule wotgoro_. The next month is the _vusiaru_,
the wind beats upon the _casuarina_-trees upon the cliffs, the next
again is called _tetemavuru_, the wind blows hard and drives off
flying fragments from the seeded reeds; these are hurricane months.
The last in order is the month that beats and rattles, _lamasag
noronoro_, the dry reeds; the wind blows strong and steady, work is
begun again, they _rakasag_, dry the rubbish of their clearings, and
make ready the fences for new gardens. By this time the heat is past,
the grass begins to spring again, and the winter months return”[809].

According to another report the natives of New Britain (Bismarck
Archipelago) are still at the initial stage of the development. They
numbered the months of the monsoons, five for each, and gave one
month each to the two intervening periods. They had no names for
each month, but only for the season. However they had terms for the
planting and for the digging-moon, i. e. the harvest[810].

Another example may serve to shew how near to one another lists
of months and seasons may under certain circumstances come. The
Chukchee divide the year into twelve lunar months or ‘moons’. The
year begins with the winter solstice, the time of which is marked
pretty accurately. The dark interval between two moons is called
‘moon interval’. The names are:--1, the old-buck month; 2, cold
udder (month); 3, genuine udder (month); 4, calving month; 5, water
(month); 6, making-leaves month; 7, warm month, or summer month;
8, rubbing-off velvet (antlers) month, or midsummer month; 9,
light-frost month; 10, autumn month, or wild-reindeer rutting month;
11, unexplained, perhaps ‘muscles of the back’, since it is believed
that the muscles in the back of the reindeer become stronger in
winter: also called ‘new-snow cover’; 12, shrinking (days) month. The
Koryak have different names in different localities, but most of
them call the third and the fourth months respectively the ‘false’
and the ‘true reindeer-birth month’. In ordinary speech, however, the
names of months often give place to names of seasons, which are far
more numerous than among us. Those most commonly used are:--1, ‘in
the extending’, sc. of the days, corresponds approximately to the
first month of the year; 2, ‘in the lengthening’, corresponds to the
second month; 3, ‘during (the days) growing long’, lasts about six
weeks, until the reindeer begin to calve; 4, ‘in the calving-(time)’;
5, ‘in the new summer growing’; 6, ‘in the first summer’; 7, ‘in
the second summer’; 8, ‘in the middle summer’; 9, ‘with the fresh
air going out’; 10, ‘with the first light frost’; 11, ‘with the new
snow’; 12, ‘in the fall’; 13, ‘in the winter’[811]. Certainly these
are seasons, and one of them has six weeks, but our authority himself
explains a couple of them by a comparison with the moon-month. There
are just thirteen of them, which, if the number is more than an
accident, is an accurate series of months. In every case the addition
of the word ‘moon’ would make the names descriptive of a month. The
names in both the lists just given are of a similar nature.

Few travellers and scholars have been so unfettered and unprejudiced
by our inherited ideas of the calendar as Codrington; accordingly
they have usually striven to establish a proper series of months,
or at least normal series. How much is lost to view owing to this
tendency can hardly be imagined, but there are sufficient indications
in the reports to point to the fluctuating, manifold, and unstable
nature of the primitive naming of the months.

One of these indications is the great variability of the names. Many
peoples have remained at the stage at which a fixed connexion between
month and season does not exist: every season--taking the word in
its broadest sense--, every natural event and occupation may be
associated with a month. If these relationships are treated as names
of months, there will arise a great number of names of months, which
will vary according to circumstances and to the whim of the speaker.
Thus it is said[812] of the Eskimos of the Behring Straits that very
often different names are used to describe the same month, when this
month occurs at a time at which different occupations or natural
phenomena are in progress. That the situation is, or at least was,
the same among most peoples is shewn by the numerous variants which
are to be found even in the preceding lists, and would certainly be
much more numerous if the authorities, in their efforts to establish
a normal series, had not passed them over. In the same fashion is
to be explained the next surprising phenomenon, viz. that certain
peoples, in the matter of the number of months in the year, give a
far greater number than twelve or thirteen. This is not always to
be set down to the inability to count. That explanation serves when
prominent Igorot declare that the year has a hundred months[813],
but not when the Kiowa number 14 or 15[814]. The Hopi year too may
have 14 months, since the second part of October receives a special
name[815]. Perhaps the month is halved, just as when among the
Central Eskimos the days of a certain month, which has only twilight
and no sun, receive one name, and the rest of the month another[816].
A traveller of the 18th century states that the Tahitians reckon
14 months, and adds that it is a mystery how they count them[817].
But these traces are here seen to be relics of an earlier state of
affairs such as Codrington has clearly described:--“Months have their
names from what is done and what happens when the moon appears and
while it lasts; the same moon has different names. If all the names
of moons in use in one language were set in order, the periods of
time would overlap, and the native year would be artificially made up
of 20 or 30 months”.

This fluctuating character of the nomenclature explains the
instability of the names of the months; when anything new happens
which is of importance for the life of the people, it serves to
describe a month. Thus the Lenope, after they migrated inland, where
no shads were found, renamed the shad-month the sugar-refining
month[818]; and the Pima, after they had learnt to cultivate wheat,
named a month from the wheat harvest[819]. The best evidence is the
multiplicity and diversity of the names of months, which is found
everywhere, even among the most closely related peoples and tribes,
or different groups of the same tribe, as is shewn by the above
series of months from beginning to end. Most significant and by no
means isolated is the case of the Cheyenne, different groups of whom
have separate names for the months. Since they are well acquainted
with the customs of the animals and roam over wide areas, they easily
recognise any name for a month, even if they themselves do not use
it. The reason for this is also that the seasons, which serve as
descriptions of the months, are common to all and at once become
intelligible[820]. They have not been fixed in a conventional series,
as is the case with the months as we conceive them; ours is the final
point of the development, which begins with a chaotic mass of names
of months.

We see that at this stage the number of months is indifferent: the
question how many months the year has simply does not exist, and
consequently there is no need to make the series of moon-months fit
into the solar year. There are peoples who do not even extend the
reckoning by moons to the whole year. There is a time ‘in which
nothing happens’, which is quite without interest and in which no one
takes the trouble to observe or name the moons. Such a period is e.
g. the depth of winter in the far north, when people only vegetate,
as well as they can. Among the tribes of the Kamchatka river the
tenth and last month is said to be as long as three others[821].
The Amansi, one of the Ibo-speaking tribes, reckon ten months and
an _evulevu_ (idiot, nothing, empty month)[822]. More often we find
series of months with less than twelve names. The inhabitants of the
Marquesas Islands had a ten-month year, although as well as this they
knew the complete year, which was reckoned and named according to
the Pleiades[823]. Even the Maoris are said to have counted no more
months after the tenth[824]. The Yurak Samoyedes and the Tunguses
of the Amur count only eleven months, the northern Kamchadales
ten[825]. The Yeneseisk Ostiaks name only the months of one half of
the year, the seven winter months[826], and so do many Indian tribes.
The Bannock have no names for the months of the warm season of the
year[827]. Many Cheyenne tribes have only six months with names[828];
the present condition of the calendar of the Hopi and Zuñi points to
the fact that this was really the case with these tribes also[829].
The Diegueño of S. California have only six months[830]. Even where
a full series of months has arisen, there are traces of this earlier
state of affairs. Thus the Omaha have one month ‘in which nothing
happens’[831]. Of the 13 months of the Upper Wellé those occupying
the 7th and 13th positions have no names[832]. Among the Voguls of
the Tawda three months seem to be unnamed[833].

A further very wide-spread phenomenon of the nomenclature of the
months--the pairs of months, in which two months of the same name
are distinguished as the big and the little, the former and the
latter, etc.--is due to the connecting of the month with somewhat
larger divisions of the natural year, covering a period of about two
months. Thus the Tchuvashes have a very steep month and a month of
little steepness, the Ugric Ostiaks a big and a little winter-ridge
month, the Minusinsk Tatars a little and a big cold, the Karagasses
a frost month and a big frost month, the Samoyedes a first and a
big dark month, the Voguls a little and a big autumn-hunting month,
perhaps also a little and a big mid-summer month, the Thlinkits a
month before, and a month when, everything hatches, the Indians in
De la Potherie a first and a second moon in which the bear brings
forth her young, the Kiowa a little bud-moon and a bud-moon, the
latter sometimes with ‘big’ added, the Creek Indians a little and
a big ripening moon, a little and a big chestnut moon, a big and
a little winter, the latter also called ‘little brother of big
winter’ (note the inverted order in this case), a little and a big
spring. The Seminole have four pairs of months, in three the first
is distinguished as the little, e. g. little and big mulberry moon,
but on the other hand the big winter precedes the little; the Zuñi
have a little and a big wind-month. Somewhat similar are the pairs
of months of the Pima, ‘leaves’ and ‘flowers’ of the cottonwood and
mesquite respectively. The Nandi of British East Africa have two
pairs, ‘sacrifice’ and ‘second sacrifice’, ‘strong wind’ and ‘second
strong wind’. Compare also the two Basuto months _phupjoane_, ‘to
begin to swell’, from _phuphu_, and _phuphu_, ‘to swell’. The two
series of months from Timor shew more pairs. In the Polynesian series
pairs of months are equally frequent. In Tonga there are two pairs,
including a first and a second rainy month, on the Society Islands
there is a first and a second palolo month, and so also in Samoa,
in Tahiti a first and a last hunger. How the pair so frequently
occurring among the Siberian peoples, little and big month, is to be
explained is uncertain (cp. among the Thlinkits ‘moon-child’ or young
month, and big month). It may be that something is to be understood,
or perhaps they are simply two months without names, which are
distinguished by the aid of the common epithets.

Such pairs of months exist where greater seasons are involved in the
determining of the moons, and they are in fact convenient, since
their use obviates the unfortunate circumstance which has been a
source of great confusion to primitive peoples, viz. that a natural
phase from which it is the custom to name a month may fall on the
border-line between two moons. So long as the description of the
months remains quite fluctuating and occasional, this and similar
inconveniences do not make themselves felt, but a very natural
development leads to a conventionalising of the series of months.
In common speech a selection among the various names of months
unconsciously takes place, so that those prevail which relate to more
important occupations and natural phases. Thus arises a fixed, or
tolerably well fixed, series of months, such as appears in most of
the reports handed down to us.

CHAPTER VIII.

OLD SEMITIC MONTHS.

1. BABYLONIA.

In the much disputed questions of the ancient Babylonian astronomy
and calendar the non-expert is in a situation of despair: for whoever
cannot himself make use of the sources is referred to the often
directly contradictory statements of the experts. I cannot however
shirk the task of investigating whether in Babylonian calendric
systems traces of the primitive time-reckoning are not also to be
found. Unfortunately I cannot limit myself to matters upon which a
certain unity of opinion prevails, but must also touch upon burning
questions, such as the intercalation. What is here offered is in
the nature of things only an attempt: but I may perhaps be allowed
to express the hope that competent specialists, not led astray by
chronological hypotheses, may afterwards observe how far the few but
obvious characteristics of the primitive time-reckoning recur also in
the Babylonian system.

The multiplicity and variability of the names of the months are
found once more in ancient Sumer. In so comparatively late a period
as the kingdom of Ur (in the middle of the second half of the third
millenium B. C.) each minor state had its own list of months,
which I here reproduce, together with the suggested explanations,
chiefly from the latest work of Landsberger[834]. At this time there
was in use in Nippur a list of months the terms of which later
served as general ideograms for the months. The names are:--1,
_bar-zag-gar(-ra)_ month of habitation or inhabitants of the
sanctuary; 2, _gu(d)-si-sa_, the name is derived by the Babylonians
themselves from an agricultural occupation, the driving of the
irrigating-machine drawn by oxen: the moderns connect this name with
the _gu(d)-si-su_ festival celebrated in this month at Nippur; 3,
_šeg-ga_, shortened from _šeg-u-šub-ba-gar-ra_, ‘month in which the
brick is laid in the mould’; 4, _šu-kul-na_, probably ‘sowing-month’,
although the time does not fit: for displacements see below p. 261;
5, _ne-ne-gar(-ra)_, named from a festival; 6, _kin-^d Inanna_, named
from an Istar festival; 7, _du(l)-azag(-ga)_, from a festival; 8,
_apin-du-a_, ‘month of the opening of the irrigation-pipes’, which
fits very well with the time of year; 9, _kan-kan-na_, probably
‘ploughing-month’, which also agrees very well with the season; 10,
_ab(-ba)-e(-a)_, from a festival; 11, _aš-a(-an)_, ‘month of the
spelt’; 12, _še-kin-kud-(du)_, ‘month of the corn-harvest’. There are
therefore some names of the familiar kind, taken from agricultural
occupations, but more are borrowed from festivals. It is very natural
that the list of months should be regulated by ecclesiastical points
of view, since Nippur was a great and very ancient centre of the
religious cult.

Most interesting are the months from Girsu (Lagash). From the
pre-Sargonic period about 25 names of months have hitherto been
found, of which only 8 or 9 persisted up to the second and third
periods. These 25 names of months are divided by Landsberger into
the following groups:--(1) occasional names of months, under which
he includes those which are consciously named after the object or
employment mentioned in the document itself, or even improvised from
the domestic occupation in question. Four names are given but are not
translated. (2) isolated and foreign names of months: ‘month in which
the shining (or white) star sinks down from the culmination-point’,
a type familiar to us; ‘month in which the third people came from
Uruk’, doubtless an accidental description. Further, two months
named from festivals at Lagash. (3) agricultural by-names: _itu
še-kin-kud-du_, see above; _itu gur-dub-ba-a_, ‘month in which
the granary is covered with grain’; further a name not explained,
perhaps identical with the foregoing. (4) terms belonging to the
religious cult. Of these no fewer than 17 exist, not counting those
already mentioned: they are nearly all named after festivals. Great
pains have been taken to arrange the months in their position in
the calendar, and the superfluous names have been set down merely
as doublets, since they have been judged by the lists of months
current among ourselves. When we compare the terms with those of
the primitive time-reckoning, it becomes clear that the naming of
the months is here in the same fluctuating state as e. g. among the
Melanesians. According to circumstances, an agricultural occupation,
the rising of a star, a festival, etc., is seized upon in order to
describe the month. Certainly the months can be chronologically
arranged, but to draw up a fixed series from these 25 names is
impossible, even if tendencies towards the formation of such a series
already exist. The development tends in this direction in order to
facilitate a general understanding, and in the second period, at the
time of the kingdom of Akkad in the 28th to 26th centuries, a list of
this nature occurs[835]:--1, _itu ezen gan-maš_, perhaps ‘month of
the reckoning’, i. e. of the profits of the agriculture, or ‘_mois
où la campagne resplendit_’; 2, _itu ezen har-ra-ne-sar-sar_, ‘month
in which the oxen work’; 3, _itu ezen dingir ne-šu_, of uncertain
meaning but connected with the cult; 4, _itu šu-kul_, see above; 5,
_itu ezen dim-ku_, month of the feast in which the _dim_ consecrated
to the deity was eaten; 6, _itu ezen ^{dingir} Dumu-zi_, month of
the Tammuz feast; 7, _itu ur_; 8, _itu ezen ^{dingir} Bau_, month of
the feast of the goddess Bau; 9, _itu mu-šu-gab_, meaning uncertain;
10, _itu mes-en-du-še-a-na_ (?); 11, _itu ezen amar-a(-a)-si_,
_amar_ = ‘young brood’, _a_ = ‘water’, _si_ = _malu_ = ‘to be full’,
and therefore probably ‘spawning month’; 12, _itu še-še-kin-a_,
another form for _še-kin-kud_; 13, _itu ezen še-illa_, ‘_mois où
le blé monte_’, according to Radau ‘grain grow(n)’, according to
de Genouillac, whom Kugler follows, ‘_mois où on lève le blé pour
les moutons_’: i. e. after the corn has been trodden out on the
threshing-floor by the oxen, the stalks are taken up for the cattle.
The list has therefore thirteen months. Further, two points are to
be noted. In the first place only eight months (nos. 1, 2, 3, 5, 8,
11, 12, and 13), or perhaps nine--if _itu ur_ is to be regarded as
an abbreviation of _itu ga-udu-ur-(ra-)ka_--are taken over from the
preceding period. The multiplicity and instability of the names of
months were therefore at an earlier period still greater than the
known names indicate. In the second place the word _ezen_, ‘feast’,
is a secondary addition to the names of the 2nd, 3rd, 13th, and
probably the 4th months, that is to say, the ecclesiastical point
of view has penetrated into the nomenclature of the months to such
an extent that even months with names borrowed from agricultural
occupations are explained anew by festivals. The third period is the
time of Dungi and his successors. The list of months differs only in
that 7, _itu ur_, was re-named as _itu ezen ^{dingir} Dungi_, and
the tenth month of the above list is missing, so that we have 10,
_itu amar-a-asi_; 11, _itu še-kin-kud_; 12, _itu se-illa_; in the
intercalation 11 is doubled, _itu dir še-kin-kud_. The seventh month
takes its name from a festival celebrated in honour of the deified
king Dungi; it is therefore the oldest example of a naming of a
month from deified rulers which originates in the festivals bound up
with the cult; such names are familiar from the Graeco-Roman period
and examples still survive in the words ‘July’ and ‘August’. Still
another version of this list exists in the so-called syllabar of
months, in which six series of names of months are enumerated. This
list is not completely preserved. The most considerable deviation is
that only two months instead of three intervene between the months
_šu-kul-na_ and _ezen ^d Bau_: the order of succession is therefore
broken. Landsberger conjectures that we have to do either with a
later form of the calendar from Lagash, at the time of the kings
of Larsa and Isin--afterwards the Nippur list was used, this being
employed everywhere, at least ideographically--or else with a local
offshoot. In any case the list affords valuable evidence of the
instability of the months.

In modern Drehem there is found a list of months in which each month
is allotted to an official of the cult, so that the result is a
monthly regulation of the cult. The list is assigned to the town of
Ur. 1, _maš-da-ku_, ‘month of the gazelle eating’, from a festival
ceremony; 2, _šeš-da-ku_, and 3, _u-bi-ku_, borrowed from religious
festivals; 4, _ki-sig ^d Nin-a-zu_, month of the mourning festival
of Ninazu; 5, _ezen ^d Nin-a-zu_, month of the (joyful) festival
of Ninazu; 6, _a-ki-ti_, named from a feast; 7, _ezen ^d Dungi_,
see above; 8, _šu-eš-ša_, unexplained, later ousted by _^{itu}
ezen ^d Su- ^d Sin_; 9, _ezen-mah_, ‘month of the high feast’; 10,
_ezen-an-na_, month of the Anu feast; 11, _ezen Me-ki-gal_, doubled
in intercalation; 12, _še-kin-kud_. There are also many variants. The
names, with the exception of that of the old harvest month, are all
taken from feasts: the ecclesiastical nomenclature has therefore been
carried out very fully.

The list of months from Umma:--The months 1, 2, and 6 are borrowed
from the Nippur list. Of undoubted religious origin are:--9, _^d
Ne-gun_; 10, _ezen ^d Dungi_; 12, _^d Dumu-zi_. 11 has the variant
_^{itu d} Pap-u-e_. To none of the four local systems can _^{itu}
azag-šim_ be allotted.

A fifth list is known only from the above-mentioned syllabar, and is
not certainly localised. The names of months refer to festivals and
religious ceremonies, and have not all been completely preserved.

We have seen what a multiplicity prevails among the Sumerian names
of months. At the time of the dynasty of Hammurabi the signs of the
Nippur list are used as ideographic signs of the months. The phonetic
readings are known. The names are the common ones which were also
adopted by the Jews in exile. The explanations are, according to
Muss-Arnolt:--1, _nisanu_, from _nesu_ = ‘to stir, to move on, to
leap’; 2, _airu_, from _aru_, ‘bright’, or _ir_, ‘to send out, to
sprout’, and therefore the month of blossoming and sprouting; 3,
_sivanu_; 4, _duzu_, ‘son of life’; 5, _abu_, ‘hostile’ (on account
of the heat); 6, _ululu_; 7, _tašritu_, ‘origin, beginning’; 8,
_arah-samna_, ‘the eighth month’; 9, _kislivu_; 10, _dhabitu_, ‘the
gloomy month’; 11, _sabadhu_, ‘the destroyer’; 12, _addaru_, ‘the
dark (month)’. The names are therefore borrowed throughout from
natural phenomena. Numerous phonetic writings in legal documents
are alone sufficient to shew that, at least for Sippar, our common
pronunciations of the month-ideograms of this time were not the
only ones in use. Landsberger gives 12 other names, of which
only a few can be explained. _Sibutim_, _sibutu_ is the name for
the 7th day and its festival, as the name of a month therefore,
carrying over the idea to the year, it is the _sibutu_ of the year;
_ki-nu-ni_, ‘oven month’, because the oven must then be heated; _arah
ka-ti-ir-si-tim_, ‘hand of the underworld’, probably something like
‘month of epidemics’. One or two are named from gods. Therefore among
the Semites of Babylonia also a fixed series of months was formed
only gradually, by selection, and indeed under the influence of the
Sumerian calendar from which the ideograms were borrowed.

The Elamite calendar is known partly from the so-called syllabar of
months, and partly from documents[836]: the latter offer 13 names of
which Hrozný tries to explain away the last by identifying it with
another. The names in the two sources sometimes vary considerably,
but are chiefly of Babylonian origin. Several, according to Hrozný’s
interpretations, refer to the seasons: _še-ir(-i)-eburi_, (month
of the) prospering of the harvest; _tam-ti-ru-um_, month of rain;
_tar-bi-tum_ (month of the) growth (of plants). _Pi-te-bâbi_ means
‘opening of the gate’, and probably refers to a religious ceremony.

The ancient Assyrian list of months is partly preserved in the
syllabar of months, and also occurs in the inscriptions of the
early Assyrian kings and in the so-called Cappadocian tablets,
which come from an Assyrian colony of the third millenium at Kara
Eyjuk in Asia Minor. We find:--2, perhaps month of the moon-god; 3,
_ku-zal-li_, shepherd’s month; 4, _al-la-na-a-ti_, also shepherd’s
month; 6, _ša sa-ra-te_, perhaps the name of some employment; 12,
_qar-ra-a-tu_, name of an occupation (?). The other names are
missing or are uncertain. In regard to the interpretation of the
names from occupations a certain caution should be exercised, since
in accordance with all the examples hitherto given a name like
‘shepherd’s month’ ought to refer not to the occupation as such but
to the pasture season. All other explanations are quite problematical.

In the above I have only been able to reproduce the material
collected by Assyriologists and the explanations given by them: but
from this it clearly appears that the development of the series of
months has proceeded in the same fashion here as elsewhere. At the
beginning we find an indefinite number of names of months borrowed
principally from natural phenomena. Among these a selection takes
place, the result of which, however, is different in each city. At
first it seems as though series of 13 months arose. But these series,
as the examples from Lagash shew, were not fixed throughout. New
names penetrate into them, even the position of the month can be
altered. Finally the series becomes quite fixed, and with this seems
to be connected the falling away of the thirteenth month: in the
series of months now fixed at twelve the leapmonth becomes a doubling
of the preceding month. While this development continues, the
calendar takes on more and more an ecclesiastical stamp, since months
named from festivals are constantly ousting those named from natural
phenomena, and finally attain to almost exclusive predominance. This
is easily to be understood in the case of ancient Sumer, since not
only were the priests alone--here as elsewhere--in possession of the
art of writing and the other higher branches of knowledge of the
people, but the temples also had the largest landed property, with
an extensive administration. Occupations and religious ceremonies,
festival seasons and time-reckoning for practical purposes were
more closely connected at that time than at any other. The Semitic
calendars all present the same characteristics as the ancient
Sumerian, a resemblance which is only slightly disguised by the fact
that the signs of the now fixed Sumerian series of months are used as
ideograms of the months. Everyone read the ideograms in accordance
with his custom, so that a variety in the names of months still
existed, as the phonetic writings testify. But the fixed writing
naturally contributed to bring about fixed readings, i. e. a fixed
series of months.

2. THE ISRAELITES.

The Israelites, like all Semitic races, reckoned in lunar months.
I need not discuss the views which ascribe to them a solar year,
or would make the old Canaanitish months divisions of the solar
year. From early times the day of the new moon was celebrated with
general festivities and rest from labour, and the old feasts of the
agricultural year seem to have been postponed till the time of full
moon. Like the Homeric Greeks, the Jews at their immigration had no
names of months. Hence they took over the old Canaanitish names. The
latter appear in the oldest portions of the law, in the regulations
for the feast of the Passover, which is to be celebrated in _chodesh
ha-abib_, the month of ears of corn, and in the history of the
building of Solomon’s temple[837], where three others--_chodesh_ or
_yerash ziv_, _yerash bul_, _yerash ha-etanim_--are mentioned and
compared with the numerical months by which their position is fixed.
Of these _y. bul_ and _y. etanim_ recur among the eleven Phoenician
names of months known from inscriptions. The above-mentioned series
of months, which we possess only in fragments, was therefore at
least in part identical with the Phoenician: hence the term ‘old
Canaanitish’ is justified. The explanations are also clear, having
regard to the position of the months in the year. _Chodesh ha-abib_,
corresponding to the first month, about April, is the month of
the ripening ears. _Yerash ziv_, the second, about May, the month
of brightness (though certainly the etymology is not certain), is
referred to the splendour of the blossoming season, though this falls
earlier. But in May the dry season begins, and so one would think
rather of the splendour of the sun. _Yerash ha-etanim_, corresponding
to the seventh, about September, means month of the flowing, i. e.
of the perennial streams, which now at the end of the dry season are
the only ones that have water. _Yerash bul_, the eighth, cannot be
referred to the gathering of the fruit (_bul_), which has already
taken place, but probably means the rainy month, since the autumn
rains now begin[838]. The descriptions are therefore of the kind
already sufficiently familiar.

But in the writings of the Old Testament the numbering of the
months, beginning at the Feast of the Passover, is the common method
of description, which is only replaced by the Babylonian names
of months after the Captivity. It seems to be fairly generally
recognised that the numbering is later, and according to what has
already been shewn about the numbering of months[839] this is always
a phenomenon of an advanced stage of civilisation. The inclination
of the people towards concrete descriptions of months must also
have prepared the way for the introduction of the Babylonian names.
As to the date of the introduction of the numbered months there is
considerable difference of opinion: at the time of Solomon[840],
about 600 B. C.[841], first demonstrable among the writers of the
Captivity[842]. For our purpose the chief point to note is that the
numbering is more recent than the naming of the months. This question
is again connected with that of the beginning of the year, which will
be dealt with below. For if the series of numbered months begins in
spring, yet there are also indications of an earlier beginning in
autumn[843].

New evidence both for the beginning of the year in autumn and for the
months is found in an inscriptional calendar from Gezer, dating from
about the year 600[844]. It runs:--Two months: bringing in of fruits;
two months: sowing; two months: late sowing; one month: pulling up
of flax; one month: barley harvest; one month: harvest of all other
kinds of corn; two months: vintage; one month: fruit-gathering. This
agrees with the course of the agricultural occupations, reckoning
from about September,--the bringing in of fruit is not the harvest
but the carrying home of the harvest from the fields--but is
naturally systematised so as to cover the months. Whoever drew up
this list knew neither fixed names nor a fixed enumeration of the
months: the question can only be whether this state of affairs must
have been general at the date 600 B. C. The purpose of the list does
not seem to me to have been clearly recognised. It is obvious that
such a list must have been drawn up for practical ends. It helps to
regulate the calendar. From the agricultural work just engaged in the
present month is recognised: and then, with the aid of this calendar,
it becomes possible to calculate how many months will elapse before
some other occupations begin. If this calendar came into general use,
names of months of the usual type would arise from it.

It has been remarked above that the Israelites at their immigration
into Canaan had no names of months. Of course, like all other
primitive peoples, they occasionally reckoned a few months up to
or after this or that event, e. g. pregnancy. This counting was a
shifting one, i. e. it had no reference to the solar year. That
the practice of counting the months was known is proved by the
common word for month, _chodesh_, literally ‘newness’, ‘new moon’,
from _chadash_, ‘new’. The word for moon is _yareach_. Among the
Phoenicians _chodesh_ means only ‘new moon’: ‘month’ is _yerach_.
In the Old Testament this latter word also occurs several times:
in the account of the building of Solomon’s temple[845] (in three
cases characteristically combined with the old Canaanitish names),
in Exodus[846], in Deuteronomy and II Kings (in the expression
_yerach yamim_[847]), and lastly, poetically, in Moses’ departing
blessing[848] and a few times in Job and Zechariah.

When it is remembered that the months are counted not only
continuously but also by the appearance of each new moon[849], it
becomes clear how the word _chodesh_ has come to mean ‘month’, and
this is also a sure evidence for the practice of counting the months,
though not from a definite point of departure. The latter process, i.
e. the numbering of the months, is much later. The earlier books of
the Old Testament provide interesting material for the significance
of the word[850]. _Chodesh_ means ‘new moon’, ‘feast of the new
moon’ in the old narrative of Jonathan and David[851]; in the
combination ‘new moons and sabbaths’[852]; and in the regulations of
the Priestly Code about the burnt offering of the new moon[853].
From the new moon the days of the month can be counted, and this is
done in one case[854]. The number of months is determined by counting
the new moons: thus certain passages can be understood (though not
necessarily so), e. g. in the Yahwist, Gen. XXXVIII, 24, “it came
to pass about three new moons (months) after”, and in Amos IV, 7,
“when there were yet three new moons (months) to the harvest”. Here
‘new moon’ and ‘month’ are essentially identical: in this manner a
change of sense has come about. Another point is whether at the time
in question the word in this connexion had the sense of new moon or
of month: I should be inclined to regard the latter supposition as
correct. In the regulations for the Passover Feast also the sense
is not to be determined definitely[855]. If prominence is given to
the idea of duration of time, the sense ‘month’ clearly appears,
e. g. in the story of Jephthah’s daughter:[856] “Let me alone two
months, that I may depart and go down upon the mountains, and
bewail my virginity.” Thus the word in earlier and later times is
often used in the counting of the months[857]. The sense ‘month’
can be rendered clear by the addition _yamim_[858], which is an
older idiom, for neither with _chodesh_ nor with _shana_, ‘year’,
is _yamim_ originally an empty addition. _Shana_ perhaps means
‘change’, ‘recurrence’, i. e. of the seasons. If the word is used in
a calendarial sense, _yamim_ is a practical explanation. The result
is that _chodesh_ stands for ‘month’, even where the idea of the new
moon is completely excluded, e. g., with numbers of days added, as
early as in the Yahwistic part of the old History of the Kings, II
Sam. XXIV, 8, ‘nine months and twenty days’, or in the history of
Solomon, I Kings V, 14: “And he sent them to Lebanon, ten thousand a
month by courses: a month they were in Lebanon, and two months at
home”. The older senses belong in general to the older writings; it
is however to be presumed that before the beginning of the literary
period the change of sense had already advanced rather far.

In by far the greatest number of cases _chodesh_ stands in
combination with an ordinal numeral, not in Deuteronomy, but in
Jeremiah and the writers of the Exile, in the last Reviser of the
Pentateuch, in the Priestly Code. Hence it follows that these
numbered months are a late innovation, and they will be spoken of
again in connexion with the matter of the beginning of the year[859].

3. THE PRE-MOHAMMEDAN ARABIANS.

The series of months now used by the Arabs is the ancient Meccan
series, which, on account of the importance of Mecca as a centre of
trade, had acquired a more than local extension and was adopted by
Islam. Besides this series others are handed down, partly by Arabian
writers, and partly in the Sabean inscriptions: the latter I pass
over, since there is no translation of them, so that they are of no
use for my purpose[860]. The Meccan series is:--1, _safar I_, now
called _muharram_, ‘the holy’, a re-naming which, according to an
Arabic author, Buchari, first took place under Islam; 2, _safar II_;
3, _rabi I_; 4, _rabi II_; 5, _jumada I_; 6, _jumada II_; 7, _rajab_;
8, _sha’ban_; 9, _ramadan_; 10, _shawwal_; 11, _dhu-l-qa’da_; 12,
_dhu-l-hijja_. These names, in so far as they are explainable, refer
to seasons and festivals. This is best seen from the three pairs of
months which form the first half-year. I quote Wellhausen:[861]--“For
the season Çafar the Lisan 6, 134 gives abundant examples; it gives
a name to plants which grow at that time, animals which are born
then, and rains which fall in it. It falls in the autumn. Gumâda
often occurs in the old poetry and always refers to the worst
winter-cold, the dear time in which the poor must be fed by the
rich. Especially favoured is the description of the evil night in
Gumâda, when the dogs do not bark, the snakes, which are otherwise
out at night-time, remain in their holes, and the traveller eagerly
looks out for a friendly fire. The Rabî’ falls, according to the
calendar, between Çafar and Gumâda, and therefore in late autumn.
But commonly the Rabî’ is the season when, after the autumn and
winter rains, the steppe becomes green and the tribes disperse to
the pastures, where the camels bring forth their young and the rich
milking-season approaches.... The camels are pregnant ‘in the tenth
month’, and bring forth their young in February.” This statement
is supported by the etymology. _Safar_ comes from a root with the
meaning ‘to be empty’. Since two months appear between _safar_ and
the cold season, the two months of _safar_ include the end of the
dry and the beginning of the rainy season, before a more abundant
vegetation has sprung up, and are therefore the worst period of lack
of food. The root from which _jumada_ comes has the sense ‘to grow
stiff’, which suits the time of the sharp cold. _Rabi_ as a season
has a double sense, it is partly used to describe a period in autumn
which is often identified with _charif_, the date-harvest, and partly
to describe the pasture-season in spring. The explanation of this
fact is doubtless that the word refers to the sprouting vegetation,
the pasture-season, partly, indeed, to the vegetation which appears
simultaneously with the autumn rains, but partly to the richer
pasture which springs up with the increasing heat after the winter
rains. Out of these three seasons, according to a familiar precedent,
six months are made. They do not exactly cover the winter half of the
year, but fall somewhat earlier, since the last month, _jumada II_,
belongs to the cold period. As for the other months, the sense of
_ramadan_, ‘the hot’, is certain, and it alludes to the warm season,
in fact to its beginning, since _ramadan_ is the third month after
_jumada II_. The attempted explanations of _sha’ban_ and _shawwal_
are all very uncertain. The other three names refer to festivals.
In _rajab_ a festival was celebrated in all holy places, in which
sacrifices of camels and sheep were offered up. The root means ‘to
fear, to reverence’; the month is therefore called the ‘holy’,
or the ‘deaf and dumb’, since the noise of weapons is stilled.
The names of the last two months refer to the great pilgrimage to
Mecca. _Dhu-l-qa’da_ is ‘the month of sitting’, and the explanation
given for the name--that the month was so called because in it no
expeditions or predatory excursions took place--is doubtless correct.
It is the first month of the holy peace which prevails during the
time of pilgrimage. The second month is named from the feast of
pilgrims itself, _dhu-l-hijja_.

CHAPTER IX.

CALENDAR REGULATION. 1. THE INTERCALATION.

The circumstance that the lunar months are among almost all peoples
named from the phases of Nature involves the necessity of an
agreement between the two really incommensurable periods given by
the sun and the moon. This problem is the central point of the older
scientific chronology. We shall now investigate more closely how
the problem has arisen, and what has been its development among the
primitive peoples.

Where there is only a series of less than twelve months, the problem
of calendar regulation does not exist. The series is begun on the
appearance of the signs from which the first month is named, and is
continued from that point until the end. The vacant period serves,
unconsciously of course, to bring lunar reckoning and solar year into
agreement. Nevertheless the months can be fixed in a more accurate
fashion. The Eskimos of Greenland, for instance, mark the winter
solstice by the position of the sun, and then begin to count the
moons, and continue doing so until the moon can no longer be observed
in the bright summer nights[862]. The Lower Thompson Indians in
British Columbia counted up to ten or sometimes eleven months, the
remainder of the year being called the autumn or late fall. This
indefinite period of unnamed months enabled them to bring the lunar
and solar year into harmony. Also the Shuswap and the Lillooet in the
same country counted eleven months and then the ‘fall-time’, which
was the balance of the year[863].

Among most peoples, however, a series of months covering the
whole year has arisen, and this series has more often 13 than 12
months. Here the difficulties first begin. If a new moon falls on
a certain day of the solar year, in the following year a new moon
will occur about 11 days before or 19 days after this day, and in
the year after that about 21 days before or 9 days after it. Since
the natural phases are bound up with the solar year, they get out
of place in relation to the moon. The situation is still further
complicated by the fact that the phases of Nature, and with them the
occupations, vary somewhat according to the peculiarities of the
climate in different years. Hence doubt arises, and the accustomed
order of succession of the months is broken. And this is not a mere
theoretical piece of reasoning: primitive peoples are not seldom in
perplexity as to which month they are to count. Of the Dakota it is
said that they often have heated debates as to which moon it is. The
raccoons do not come out of their winter holes at the same time every
winter, the conditions which cause inflammation of the eyes do not
appear at the same time every spring, the geese lay their eggs at a
slightly different period according to the character of the year.
Twelve moons do not bring them back to the same point in the season
as that from which their reckoning began; and therefore towards the
end of the winter there is dispute among the Dakota as to the correct
current date[864]. If the people has a thirteenth month, the matter
is no better. Of the Pawnee, who had an intercalary month, it is
stated that they sometimes became inextricably involved in reckoning,
and were obliged to have recourse to objects about them to rectify
their computations. Councils have been known to be disturbed, or
even broken up, in consequence of irreconcilable differences of
opinion as to the correctness of their calculation[865]. The same is
reported of the Caffres. Their months are named e. g. from the first
cry of the cuckoo, the flowering of the erythusia, the dust in the
dry season, midwinter, and since all these phenomena may appear at
somewhat different dates, even the Caffre astrologers do not know
what moon they are really in. The first appearance of the Pleiades
just before sunrise always rectifies the confusion[866]. Even
peoples who have a developed, astronomically regulated, lunisolar
calendar sometimes have recourse to the natural phases in order to
rectify it. In Bali not only were the stars observed but also the
flowering of certain plants, or even the date when the white ants
got their wings, in order to rectify the lunar calendar[867]. The
months of the Bataks of Sumatra are regulated by the constellation
Scorpio[868]: the magicians, who control the calendar, are not
certain as to the position of the months, but look for general points
of reference in the phenomena of Nature. Thus, for instance, the
dates of certain migratory birds are known: they come in the fourth
and go in the first month. In the third month a black flying-ant is
accustomed to appear in great numbers. The presence of the bird of
prey _lali piuan_ makes known the sixth and seventh months. The bird
_sosoit_ sings in the eleventh month, and the turtle-dove is silent
in the eighth. The west monsoon proclaims the third, storms are very
frequent in the eleventh and twelfth[869].

Many peoples slip over the difficulties, they do not properly
know of how many moons the year consists: such peoples are the
Dyaks[870], the Warumbi of Central Africa[871], the Ibo-speaking
peoples[872], the Algonquin[873]. But if a definite series of months
is established, without a vacant interval such as occurs in the case
of some peoples, the number of months naturally becomes 12 or 13.
Even in this case the people sometimes let matters go as they will,
as is reported of the Yukaghir. The people having been christianised,
says our authority, it is now difficult to say whether the ancient
Yukaghir made some adjustment by adding a month to accommodate their
lunar year to the solar one. It seems to me, from the answers which
I received from the Yukaghir to my inquiries, that this point did
not interest them. Generally a month is the time from one new moon
to another, but it did not matter to them whether twelve such months
made up a full cycle of the year or not. When it was necessary they
simply ignored some of the names of months, being far ahead[874].
The Koryak have twelve lunar months, and the first one begins at
the time of the winter solstice and corresponds to our December.
Yet they are very little troubled by the fact that in the interval
between two winter solstices an extra new moon may occur[875]. The
very perplexity described above implies a great advance, viz. the
recognition of the difficulties, which is the first stage towards
mastering them.

Therefore every now and again some month must be left out or a month
added. This necessity, at first not recognised, or not clearly so, is
the chief cause of the above-mentioned disagreement in the reckoning
of the months[876]. For when the counting is performed in accordance
with the series only, it soon happens (apart from the climatic
variations of the years already mentioned) that the months deviate
from the natural phases from which they are named. The arguments in
the dispute as to which month it really is are based on the condition
of the phases of nature: the result is a correction of the counting,
i. e. the months are pushed forwards or backwards according to
circumstances, i. e. the month which should have followed is left
out, or a month is added to the series. Thus an intercalation comes
about without it being suspected what is really done. In general the
whole process is not even so conscious as the desire for theoretical
exactness has led me to represent in using the example of the
Dakota. The series and the number of months were from the beginning
unstable, and the natural conditions have brought it about that this
characteristic has been preserved in at least one particular, viz.
that in certain cases a month could be passed over. Let us, for the
sake of clearness, take a fictitious example from Swedish conditions.
As a rule the rye-harvest falls at the beginning of August, the
oat-harvest at the end of August and beginning of September, the
potato-harvest at the end of September. These occupations might very
well be distributed among three months named after them. But a year
would sometimes come in which the oat-harvest took place about at
the interval between two moons, the rye-harvest at the beginning of
the first moon, and the potato-harvest at the end of the second moon.
There would therefore be no place for a month of the oat-harvest, it
must simply be omitted. That this is the case among the primitive
peoples is proved by the fact that many, in fact most, of them
have a series of thirteen months of which one must according to
circumstances be passed over in certain years.

Experience teaches the peoples who have only a twelve-month series
that this is not sufficient: so we are told of the Mandan and
Minnetaree that they have generally recognised that the year has
more than twelve months[877]. When the intercalary month, as among
certain Indians, is named ‘the lost month’[878], this points to the
fact that it is an addition to a twelve-month series, just as in
Babylonia, where the same method of expression recurs[879]. The Masai
have twelve months[880]. The great rains cease with _loo-’n-gokwa_,
which is named from the evening setting of the Pleiades. Should
the rains still continue at the beginning of the following month,
the Masai say:--“We have forgotten, this is _loo-’n-gokwa_.”
Should the hot season not be over at the beginning of the month
following _ol-oiborare_, they say:--“We have forgotten, this is
_ol-oiborare_”[881]. It is clear that if through the dead reckoning
the months are advanced in relation to the seasons, one month will be
repeated, i. e. intercalated. The preceding month is forgotten.

Thus the necessity for modifying the series of months is felt, and
in response to this an empirical intercalation arises. When this
intercalation is left to itself, conflicting opinions, as we have
already seen, arise as to it. An end is made to these disputes
and order is established when the decision is placed in the hands
of definite persons. This was done among the Jews, the regulation
of whose calendar affords a particularly plain example of this
empirical intercalation, which, out of religious conservatism, they
kept until well into the post-Christian period, in fact until the
necessities of the Dispersion compelled, from the second century, a
mitigation of the original rules, and finally at an uncertain period,
perhaps not until medieval times, led to a calculated regulation.
According to the Talmud the appearance of the crescent of the new
moon was determined by deposition before a court of justice of three
members. After that the beginning of the month was signalised in the
country in earlier times by fires, later by couriers. A suitable
intercalation was absolutely necessary for the celebration of the
feasts, since at the Feast of the Passover on the 14th of Nisan the
first-fruits of the corn were offered, and the two other great feasts
were also of an agrarian character. For this purpose the court of
justice visited the fields. If they saw that the crops were not yet
ripe at the Passover time, and that the fruits also were not so far
advanced as they were accustomed to be at this time of the year,
they intercalated a month in accordance with these two signs: if
only one of these signs was to be observed the decision was made to
depend on other minor circumstances[882]. By way of example I give an
official document of Rabbi Gamaliel II, issued to the inhabitants of
Judaea, Galilaea, and the Dispersion at the date 90-110 A. D.[883].
“We make known to you that the lambs are small and the young of the
birds are tender and the time of the corn-harvest has not yet come,
so that it seems right to me and my brothers to add to this year
thirty days.” The intercalary month was the last month of the year,
_Adar_. On rare occasions _Nisan_, when it had begun, was altered
into _Adar II_. Here the intercalation took place in the interests
of the religious cult, but the cult on its side was dependent on the
natural phenomena. The intercalation is of the same empirical order
as that which we have met among the primitive peoples. It is only
that the development of the ecclesiastical laws has led to a judicial
procedure, and the task of determining the intercalation has been
handed over to a committee of the Sanhedrin.

There exists a possibility of a somewhat different development
among peoples who originally had less than twelve months and also
counted a vacant interval: it is conceivable that the unnamed months
may be named, until at last twelve months have names and the vacant
interval remains only as an intercalary month. This seems to be the
case among the Central Eskimos; they have a ‘sunless’ month, which
covers the time when the sun does not appear and when there is also
hardly any twilight: it is said to be of indeterminate length. After
an interval of a few years this month is left out, if new moon and
winter solstice coincide[884]. When the intercalary month has thus
arisen, its position in the year is fixed. One other example of
this method may exist. The author who gives the list of the months
of the Kwakiutl of the Island of Vancouver, beginning with March,
inserts between the tenth and eleventh months the winter solstice,
and says that the solstice moons are called by a name which probably
means ‘split both ways’, and adds that the readjustment is made
in midwinter[885]. Unfortunately the author does not tell us how
the readjustment is made, whether the winter solstice moon or some
other moon is the intercalary month. If the former be the case, the
explanation is given by the above.

There is rarely any rule for the position of the intercalary month.
Where the sources simply enumerate a thirteen-month series, it is to
be presumed that no fixed position for the intercalary month exists.
But such a month can be found, since naturally a month named from a
natural phase of less importance will be omitted, or an additional
month inserted, at a time when there is little work going on, and
when consequently little attention is paid to the time-reckoning. So
it is said of the Pawnee that the intercalary month was usually put
in after the summer months[886]. On the Society Islands the month
corresponding to our March or our July was commonly omitted[887].

The first regulation of the calendar is therefore roughly empirical,
and in fact is nothing but an occasional and arbitrary deviation,
necessitated by the natural phases, from the existing series of
months. The natural phases, however, as we saw in chapter IV, are
determined in more accurate fashion by the stars, and particularly
by their risings and settings. Consequently the months also can be
named from stars, and a considerable number of such names of months
was found in the lists of chapter VII. This phenomenon has hitherto
been only briefly touched upon; for the regulation of the calendar it
is of supreme importance, since the risings and settings of the stars
accurately determine the date, so that the fluctuation of the natural
phases is excluded. Where only one month is named after a star and
determined by it, the series of months is immovably fixed.

Just as the Pleiades play the most important part in the
determination of time from the phases of Nature, so it is also in
the naming of the months. The Konyag have a month named from this
constellation, which is followed by one named after Orion[888]. Of
the Diegueño of S. California it is stated that they divided the
year into six months and observed the morning rising of five chief
stars. The names of months are given, but unfortunately there is
no information as to the sense[889]. The Hottentots and the Herero
both have a Pleiades month[890]. On the islands of the Pacific
Ocean the practice is carried so far that in some cases every month
is described by the rising of a constellation, as is done by the
Maoris[891], or even named from stars, as among the inhabitants of
Mortlock’s Island[892] and, for most of the months, by tribes of the
Torres Straits[893].

This, however, is an exception. Where only one month is named from
the rising of a star or brought into connexion with it--in this case
the stars in question are usually the Pleiades--the latter furnishes
the means of correcting the reckoning of the months, and the
intercalary month is consequently introduced, as need arises, before
the month in question. The Pleiades month therefore of itself becomes
the starting-point of the reckoning of the months, i. e. becomes the
beginning of the year. Immediately after the discovery of America
it was already reported of certain tribes on the Mexican coast that
they began the year at the setting of the Pleiades and divided it
into moon-months[894]. In Loango the months are counted from new
moons, but Sirius, the rainy star, offers a means of correcting the
reckoning sidereally. With the first new moon which sees Sirius
rising in the east their new cycle of twelve months begins, and
this must run as well as it can until the new year. When the cycle
of months and the year do not fit, which happens about every three
years, a thirteenth month must be inserted. This is the evil time,
when the wandering spirits are at their worst[895]. The Caffres
have twelve moon-months with the usual descriptive names: on this
account uncertainty often arises as to which month it really is. The
confusion is always rectified by the morning rising of the Pleiades,
and the reckoning goes on smoothly for a time, until the months once
more get out of place and it becomes necessary to refer again to the
stars in order to correct them[896]. In Bali the Pleiades and Orion
are observed for the purpose of correcting the calendar of moons by
intercalation: thus the month _kartika_ is doubled, or the month
_asada_ is prolonged until the Pleiades appear at sunset. Moreover
certain natural phenomena are observed[897]. In New Zealand, where
all months were described by stars, the year began with the new moon
following on the rising of the winter star _puanga_ (Rigel)[898];
the thirteenth month often passed unobserved[899], i. e. served as
an intercalary month. Elsewhere we are told that the displacement of
the moon-months in relation to the year was rectified through the
observation of the rising of the Pleiades and of Orion, and that the
most accurate way of calculating the beginning of the year was to
observe the first new moon after the morning rising of Rigel[900].
The Papuans limit the year by the constellation of the Serpent,
_manggouanija_; when it appears again in the north, it is a sign that
the new year is beginning[901]. The people of Nauru, west of the
Gilbert Islands, count by moon-months. The time that elapses until
the Great Bear returns to the same spot is reckoned as a year[902].
The last two reports are so condensed that it is impossible to see
whether the stars serve for the rectifying of the calendar of moons
found among these peoples, or only for the fixing of the beginning of
the year, which, as will be shewn below, may be independent of the
reckoning of months.

About the regulation of the Hawaiian calendar the authorities are not
unanimous. Dibble says (p. 108) that the month _welehu_ completed the
year, and the new year began with the following month, _makalii_.
The year varied between 12 and 13 months. Each month had 30 days;
however he adds that in practice the number of days varied between
30 and 29. This is the phenomenon familiar in other places, e. g. in
Greece, among the Bataks, etc., in which a round number of 30 days is
given to the moon-month, the real length of this being a little more
than 29½ days. Fornander (I, 119 ff.) states that this variation,
though not common, did occur, but asserts that the year of 360 days
was rectified by the intercalation of 5 days at the end of the month
_welehu_: these were _tabu_ days, dedicated to the festival of the
god Lono. Similarly an old woman of Maui stated that eight months had
30 days and four 31, and that these additional days were called _na
mahoe_, ‘the twins’[903]. This statement cannot be correct, since
the month was strictly lunar and must have been wholly disarranged
by these intercalary days, as is pointed out by the historian of the
Sandwich Islands, W. D. Alexander[904]. This writer also remarks that
it is a well-established fact that the ancient Hawaiians intercalated
a month about every third year, but that the rule governing the
intercalation is unknown. Certainly there was no such rule, but
the intercalation was empirically treated, and regulated by the
appearance of the Pleiades. Such contradictory statements as the
above are due to the influence of the European calendar, owing to
which the native calendar has early fallen into disuse. Fornander has
probably mistaken a feast for intercalary days.

The treatment of the calendar among the Bataks of Sumatra is of
great interest. The calendar indeed originates in India: the days of
the months shew the familiar names of planets in corrupted Sanskrit
forms, four times repeated and distinguished by various additions.
Only the 28th and 29th or the 29th and 30th days, as the case may
be, have names of another kind, so as to equalise the number of the
days of the moon-month. The week is therefore not shifting but is
immovably fitted into the month. The months are regulated by Scorpio,
the largest star of which is Antares. The year begins with the new
moon at the morning setting of Orion and the contemporary morning
rising of Scorpio in May. The full moon fourteen days later then
stands in the constellation Scorpio. In the first half of the year
the full moon goes farther from Scorpio every month, and in the
second half gets nearer and nearer to it. In the Batak calendar,
which has 12, sometimes 13, × 30 squares, the sign of Scorpio is
registered at the proper day, and the month is decided by it. As
a means of control the soothsayer uses a buffalo rib with 12 × 30
holes (four times repeated), and every day he draws a string through
one hole in order to keep account of the days. It is clear that the
calendar can give no certain help in the establishing of the month,
and that the means of control must be directly misleading, since
the moon-months vary between 29 and 30 days. For this reason the
soothsayer is often uncertain in his reckoning of the months, and
refers to the natural phases in order to correct it[905]. Hence in
his selection of days he looks not only to the current month, but
also to the preceding. Our authority says that the surplus month is
no intercalary month in the European sense, although it is likely
that to it originally fell the task of equalising the lunar and the
solar years. This is indeed the only correct explanation. When,
presumably in the twelfth month, a following month is involved in the
decision, the thirteenth is also included so that an intercalation
takes place. If the thirteenth month is not available, the first is
taken, we are told. But an intercalation is necessary all the same:
the observation of the natural phases and of the morning rising of
Orion serves for the correction. And this can happen just because
the people are uncertain in the reckoning, and act according to
circumstances. The Batak calendar is a product of decay, and is used
exclusively for divination, not as a genuine calendar[906]; but it
is of great interest to observe how the soothsayers, since they do
not possess the knowledge necessary for a proper management of the
calendar, fall back upon primitive methods. It is significant that
the indispensable thirteenth month has often been lost: the people do
not even understand the difference between the months and the year,
and yet they cannot avoid the necessity of the intercalation.

There are two historically important cases of this empirically
regulated intercalation of months, which must be dealt with in
detail, since they are much debated. The dispute has arisen from a
failure to recognise the empirical intercalation and its workings.
The one case is that of the old Arabian calendar before Mohammed, the
other that of the Babylonian calendar.

The old Arabian names of months depend in great measure, as has
been shewn already[907], upon the seasons. Originally therefore
the months must have been connected with the solar year, and must
have been approximately fixed in their position by the sufficiently
familiar empirical method. The same thing is shewn by the naming
of the last months from the pilgrimage to Mecca. In pre-Mohammedan
times the pilgrimages were at the same time business journeys; trade
and cult were, as so often, united, and commercial intercourse was
first made really possible when by religious sanction a time of peace
was established during which journeys to and fro could be taken in
safety. The first month of the peace of God is _dhu-l-qa’da_, and
_dhu-l-hijja_ is the month of the gathering in Mecca: the following
month, _safar I_, was also included in the time of peace, and was
therefore called _muharram_. During all three months there were
fairs: in the neighbourhood of Mecca there was a whole succession of
them, following upon each other in _dhu-l-qa’da_ and _dhu-l-hijja_;
in _safar_ there was a corn-market in Yemen[908]. The gay life of the
great fair of Mecca is described in detail in old Arabic sources;
it seems to have drawn the people almost more than the religious
ceremonies, and first gave Mecca its real importance. An annual
fair is however dependent upon the seasons, both on account of the
journeys and for the products bought and sold. Sprenger has already
remarked that the winter months are quite unsuitable for merchants’
journeys to Syria, and that in the late summer it was not to be
expected that corn which had been cut at the beginning of March
should be taken in to the markets[909]. Because of the markets that
were held in them, the months must also have had a fixed position
in the solar year. This importance of Mecca explains why the Meccan
months became so wide-spread. The two names _dhu-l-qa’da_ and
_dhu-l-hijja_ are formed with _dhu_, differently from the others, and
were coined at Mecca. This leads to the conclusion that these names
were innovations occasioned by the business intercourse of that city.

For the purpose of determining the time of the peace of God and of
the gathering in Mecca unity must prevail as to the position of the
months, and for this the above-mentioned occasional correction of
the position is quite inadequate. Mohammed prescribed the strictly
lunar year: by this means the time of every month was definitely
fixed, but in about 33 years the months would pass through the circle
of a whole solar year. The question is whether before Mohammed an
ordered intercalation, which he abolished, or the lunar year existed.
For although it lies in the nature of things that the market should
originally be connected with a definite time of the year, it cannot
of course be denied that later, when the fairs had already attained
this predominating position, the date could be fixed by reference to
the purely lunar year. It is certain that in the years just before
the prescription of the lunar year by Mohammed the months were
inverted in relation to the year, so that the spring months fell in
autumn and the autumn months came in the spring[910].

The passage in the Koran 9, 36 ff. is often adduced as evidence
that Mohammed abolished the intercalation:--“Truly the number of
the months with God is twelve months in the book of God, on the
day when He created the heavens and the earth. Of these four (i. e.
_rajab_, _dhu-l-qa’da_, _dhu-l-hijja_, _muharram_) are holy. This is
the right religion. Be not unjust therein towards yourselves, but
fight against the heathen without distinction, since they make no
distinction in fighting against you, and know that God is on the side
of the faithful. The _nasî_ is in truth an addition to unbelief (or,
in unbelief), in which the unbelievers go astray. They allow it one
year, and one year they explain it as unlawful, in order to equalise
(bring into agreement) the number of that (i. e. the months) which
God has commanded to keep holy. But they declare lawful what God has
forbidden.” It is claimed that the emphasis laid upon the fact that
there are twelve months is directed against the intercalation, but
this is no proof. The sense depends entirely upon what is implied by
_nasî_. Etymologically the word is derived from _nasaa_, ‘to push
aside, away’.

On this point there has been from the earliest days of Arabic
literature a dispute which has been still further complicated
by modern hypotheses[911]. According to one view _nasî_ is the
intercalation of a month, which served to bring the months into
agreement with the solar year[912]. Some authors have even attempted
to establish an intercalary cycle, and it has been asserted that
the intercalation was borrowed from the Jews. This opinion may be
left out of account, since the cycles differ among themselves and
are therefore invented, while the intercalation was governed by
a hereditary _nasî_-controller from the tribe of Kinâna, who was
called the _qalammas_, i. e. ‘Sea of Wisdom’. If the intercalation
is controlled by a central authority, as e. g. in Babylonia, an
intercalary cycle is unnecessary: the central authority supplies
its place. According to the other view the _nasî_ consists in the
transferring of the holy character of one month to another, e. g.
the declaring of _muharram_ as free and the pronouncing of _safar_
as holy instead of it. This view is based on the supposition that
the Arabs found a time of peace lasting for three successive months
burdensome, and in order to be able to make predatory excursions
in a holy month, and yet keep the number of holy months unchanged,
they made another month holy instead. The treatment e. g. of the
_karneios_ by the Argives and of the _daisios_ by Alexander the
Great[913] was very similar. Therefore, it is maintained, before
Mohammed the year was a purely lunar one, and Mohammed only forbade
the disarrangement of the holy period. These authorities also ascribe
the right of changing the holy month to the _qalammas_, who at the
end of the feast of pilgrims in _dhu-l-hijja_ rose and in an address
to the assembly arranged the re-distribution. A third view, according
to which the feast of pilgrims was held eleven days later every year,
until after a cycle of 33 years it came back again to the same month,
is certainly incorrect, since the feast was connected with the phases
of the moon. The theory is extracted from the comparison between the
lunar and the solar years[914].

Several sources give the words in which the _qalammas_ made known the
re-distribution: they are affected by later views but must contain
a kernel of truth, since they shew difficulties which are not even
noticed by the authorities. According to Kalby the expression runs
simply:--“The _safar_ of this year is declared holy”, or “free”;
according to Ibn Ishaq:--“O God, I declare one of the two months
called _safar_, namely the first, to be free, and I postpone the
other till next year.” What is meant by postponing _safar II_ until
the next year is unexplained and unexplainable. Since the year begins
with _safar I_, and the proclamation takes place in _dhu-l-hijja_,
_safar II_ already belongs to the next year. _Safar II_ is in itself
not holy, so that here there can be no question of a changing of the
holy character of the month. But if by the expression _safar safar
I_ is understood, matters become clear. _Safar I_ is doubled: _I
a_ is an intercalary month, and therefore not holy, and belongs as
a thirteenth month to the current year; _I b_ begins the new year
and is holy. “I remove _safar_ (viz. _I b_) to next year” is an
incorrect but intelligible way of saying that the new year begins
with this month. In the _Qâmûs_ the expressions runs:--“O God, I am
authorised to move the months or to leave them in their places and
confirm them, and none can blame me or put me to my defence. O God,
I declare the first _safar_ to be free, and the second holy. The
same do I determine in respect of the two _rajab_, namely _rajab_
and _sha’ban_.” The first sentence, if authentic, doubtless refers
to an intercalation, since the words are ‘move the months’, and not
‘the holy character of the months’; but we can hardly insist so far
upon the expression. The last sentence is more conclusive. It shews,
namely, that not only was _safar I_ shifted to _safar II_, but at the
same time _rajab_ was moved to _sha’ban_. This is a system, not an
incidental expedient to render possible a military expedition in a
holy month. Later authorities add that the holy character of _safar_
was moved to _rabi I_, and that the process went on from month to
month until every month in the year had at one time or another been
declared holy. How this is to be understood is shewn by the oldest
report which has been handed down to us. It comes from Modjahid, who
was born in the year 21 of the Hegira. “The heathen were accustomed
in every month of the lunar year to go on pilgrimages for only two
years.” It must be realised that in the course of a cycle of 33
years a month of the lunar year will coincide two to three times,
according to the series, with one and the same month of the lunisolar
year, and that the months of the Mohammedan lunar year and of the
old Arabian lunisolar year, which must once have existed, have the
same names. Modjahid’s statement can only be understood thus: that
the heathen pilgrimage was re-arranged every third year in relation
to the Mohammedan lunar months--two years is a rough approximation
for ‘sometimes two, sometimes three years’--because it was to be kept
in place in regard to the solar year. But the pilgrimage took place
in a definite month, and therefore the months also belonged to a
lunisolar year. If the months of the lunisolar year are compared with
those of the lunar year confusion results, since both series have the
same names. Let us take, for example, a sentence of the distinguished
chronologist Albiruni, who represents the opinion that _nasî_ means
the intercalation of a month: “The first intercalation applied to
_muharram_, in consequence _safar_ was called _muharram_, _rabi I_
was called _safar_, and so on; and in this way all the names of all
the months were changed. The second intercalation applied to _safar_;
in consequence the next following month (_rabi I_, the original
_rabi II_)[915] was called _safar_, and this went on till the
intercalation had passed through all twelve months and returned to
_muharram_.” When other writers, not so well trained in chronology,
say that the hallowing of the month was transferred from _muharram_
to _safar_ and from _safar_ to _rabi I_, this means that, according
to the year, the _safar_ or _rabi I_ of the lunar year corresponds
to the _muharram_ of the lunisolar year. When in the speech of the
_qalammas_, _safar I_ and _rajab_ are simultaneously shifted to the
month following in each case, this involves the shifting of the whole
series of months. A genuine intercalation therefore takes place. The
term _nasî_, ‘to push aside’, resembles the world-wide description of
the intercalation of the month. _Safar I_ is ‘forgotten’, but upon
this it follows that not this month is holy, but the following one,
which is now also called _safar I_ but corresponds to _safar II_ of
the strictly lunar year. The sanctity or non-sanctity of the months
was for the people the all-important point, and the _qalammas_, who
was a religious authority, was obliged to refer to it. Hence he
declared the month as free and the following month as holy without
expressing himself, as we should have wished, in the technical
terms of chronology. The people understood him: if the month after
_dhu-l-hijja_ was free, it followed that not this month but the next
was holy, the month with which the new year began, _safar I_. The
intercalation therefore involves a transference of the sanctity of
the month following the feast of pilgrims to the next but one after
the feast. Hence has arisen the misunderstanding that the _nasî_
consisted _only_ in a transference of the sanctity of the months.

The tribe of Kinana, to which the _qalammas_ belonged, inhabited
the district around Mecca, and the famous tribe of the Koraish, its
most distinguished branch, was supreme in Mecca[916]. The calendar
regulation therefore took place in the interests of Mecca and its
trade, and it is quite ridiculous to say that the sanctity of a month
was transferred to another merely in order to render possible a
predatory excursion. Besides this would make matters no better, since
all the tribes concerned would have to have peace or war in the same
months. A shifting of this nature would only be really effectual if
it offered a means of surprising an unsuspecting neighbour in time of
peace. Probability therefore also points to the view that the _nasî_
was a genuine intercalation carried out by a person appointed for the
purpose, so that the dates of the markets and the pilgrimage might
be fixed at the proper times of the year. For this no intercalary
cycle was employed, any more than elsewhere: the empirical
intercalation sufficed, and it was made known to the people at the
feast of pilgrims, whence the knowledge spread all over. However the
entrusting of such power over the calendar to one individual lends
itself only too easily to abuses with a view to ends which have
nothing to do with the calendar. The stock example is afforded by the
Roman pontifices at the end of the Republic. It is therefore nothing
to wonder at that the calendar should have been disorganised during
Mohammed’s stay in Mecca. Hence also the attempts at determining the
calendar from two or three certainly known dates are vain, for when
a system is lacking or is broken up it is impossible to compute a
calendar systematically from a couple of dates. Mohammed’s action is
thus to be explained:--The misuse of the intercalation had destroyed
the dependence of the pilgrimage upon the time of the year: Mohammed
wished to create order, and did so in radical fashion by forbidding
the intercalation, the misuse of which he saw, but the usefulness of
which he failed to recognise.

It has been pointed out above that the Sumerian months completely
correspond in character to those of the primitive peoples[917].
The establishing of the months in their definite places followed
originally from the reference to the seasons, not from the position
in the series of months. The seasons on their part were, as always,
brought into relation to the phases of the stars. There is indeed
little information as to this point, but what little there is is
sufficient to establish it. It is however much to be desired that
specialists should pay more attention to the matter and if possible
procure more information. The Pleiades are brought into connexion
with the annual inundations, which took place about the time of the
invisibility of these stars, i. e. between their evening setting
and morning rising[918]. The name of the constellation Virgo means
‘root of the sprouting wheat-stalk, or corn’, that of the star Spica
‘proclaimer of the sprouting wheat-stalk’. These names agree with
the evening rising of this constellation, which at the date 2,000
B. C. took place about the 28th of February of our modern calendar,
and with the morning setting, which took place some 16 days later.
Circumstances exclude the ripening, which took place in the second
half of April.[919] Consequently the months were also determined by
the phases of the stars: among the names of months there is one which
points to this fact, ‘the month in which the white star (_bar-zag_)
sinks down from the culmination-point’[920]. The naming of the months
from the stars has not been carried through consistently, but each
month, just as e. g. among the Maoris, was fixed by one or more
risings of stars. There are several lists in which now one, now two,
or even three of the fixed stars are assigned to each of the twelve
months[921]. In the Creation epic, Tablet V, 4 ff., we read:--“For
twelve months he set down three constellations, according to the
times of the year fashioned he the groups of stars.” Among the
Maoris all the stars suitable to the time in question are used in
the fixing of the month: in Babylonia there was probably a gradual
limitation to the stars of the ecliptic, i. e. the 12 signs of the
zodiac, the number of which points to the fact that they owe their
origin to the endeavour to fix the twelve months astronomically[922].
This is an important advance of Babylonian stellar science, that
the constellations of the ecliptic should be separated from the
others. Weidner, p. 21, inverts matters when he says, with reference
to a list in which, instead of the fainter constellations of the
zodiac, neighbouring bright stars are given (e. g. Sirius instead
of Cancer):--“The system of the _paranatellonta_ is also found
already, i. e. the system which allows neighbouring bright stars
or constellations to step in instead of less bright constellations
of the zodiac. But this is no longer primitive astronomy, it marks
rather, as Weissbach has already pointed out with reference to
Newcomb-Engelmann, the beginnings of a scientific astronomy.” On the
contrary, as the examples from the primitive peoples shew, in the
utilising of stars to fix a point of time or a month no notice is
originally taken of the position of the star within or without the
ecliptic, but the most easily recognisable stars and constellations
are naturally preferred, wherever they may be situated. A list of
fixed stars which determine months, including also stars situated
outside the ecliptic, is primitive; it is out of the question that a
constellation outside the ecliptic is referred to instead of a sign
of the zodiac in the proper sense--that in which the constellations
of the zodiac are to be regarded as the _prius_. After the signs
of the zodiac have been fixed, so that a systematic duodecimal
division of the year has been obtained, the stars situated outside
the ecliptic are compared with the signs of the zodiac in order to
indicate with accuracy to which month they belong, or in other words
the system of the _paranatellonta_ is found.

It is indispensable to enter into the all-important question of the
intercalation, but here opinions are so directly opposed to one
another that Weidner establishes a very accurate 38-year intercalary
cycle as early as the time of the dynasty of Ur, while Kugler denies
the existence of any intercalary cycle before the year 528 B. C.;
Kugler again publishes a document in which an intercalary rule is
recognised as dating from a time after 504 B. C.[923], while Weidner
regards this as a copy of a much older original. An impartial opinion
can only be arrived at by working through the material, and this
is impossible for anyone who is not an Assyriologist: I am all the
more compelled, therefore, to limit myself to suggestions and to the
comparison with primitive conditions[924].

Where surplus months exist, there is no intercalation in the proper
sense, although the same name, e. g. the ‘harvest month’, will recur
sometimes after 12, sometimes after 13 months, since owing to the
fluctuating and unstable nature of the naming of the months the
latter are distributed according to circumstances[925]. This covers
the difficulty. Such seems to have been the state of affairs in the
pre-Sargonic period at Lagash. Certainly Kugler (II, 216) has tried
to demonstrate intercalary years: this is possible in the sense given
above, but actually very uncertain, since the starting-points for the
arrangement of the months are anything but certain[926]. Only the
arising of a fixed series of months makes a genuine intercalation
possible, since as a rule the general custom is to intercalate a
definite month (in Babylonia, at least later, there were two such
months, _adarru_ and _ululu_). The process is either an omission
of one month in the series of thirteen, or an intercalation of one
month in the series of twelve. The former appears in Lagash in the
time of Sargon, the latter in the time of Dungi. We have found that
the intercalation among the primitive peoples takes place as need
arises. If the series of months is fixed, but the intercalation
is neglected, the months must get out of place in relation to the
seasons: this can be demonstrated in a couple of cases. So if
the translation of the name of the fourth month in the list from
Lagash is correct--_šu-kul-na_, ‘sowing month’--the harvest month,
_še-kin-kud_, is the twelfth, and is therefore at a distance of eight
months instead of the five which the natural conditions shew[927].
Further the list at the time of Dungi shews a disarrangement of the
months as compared with the Sargonic list, the tenth month having
dropped out and the following months being now pushed one place
forwards. This difference can be explained either by a neglect of the
intercalation, or by the fluctuating nature of the nomenclature: in
the latter case there is really no genuine intercalation.

At the time of Dungi and his successors we have documentary evidence
for a number of years with intercalation.[928] At this date Kugler
stoutly denies and Weidner supports the existence of an intercalary
cycle. Weidner says:--“If we denote Dungi 39 (the 39th year of his
reign) by I, the following years are proved by documents to contain
intercalary months:--II, V, XI, XIV, XVI, XVIII, XX, XXIII, XXVI,
XXIX, XXXII, XXXV, XXXVIII. But between Dungi 43 and 49 there is at
least one more leap-year to be added, most probably Dungi 46, i. e.
VIII. For the period of 38 years we should then have 14 intercalary
months attested. This is therefore an intercalary system that works
quite well. A 19-year intercalary cycle however it cannot be, since
in that case, corresponding to the former part, the years XXI, XXIV,
etc. in the latter would have to be leap-years. _We have therefore
to assume a 38-year intercalary cycle, which in perfection far
surpasses that of 19 years._ It is the half of the well-known
76-year cycle of Callippus.” The conclusion is unwarrantable from
the premises. For the intercalation which takes place just as need
arises keeps the months firmly in their place in the solar year,
and attains the same result as an intercalary cycle. A period of 76
Indian years will contain just as many months as a Callippean cycle.
The only conclusive factor therefore is the periodicity, and this
is not proved. Through an accident of tradition the leap-years are
known for a period of 38 years, and it is obvious that during these
38 years an empirical intercalation, regularly carried out, kept the
lunisolar year in order. The evidence that even under the Hammurabi
dynasty no intercalary cycle existed is given by Kugler[929].

But there is also direct evidence that the intercalation took place
empirically, i. e. as need arose. Ungnad has shewn this from a
comparison of the known leap-years. Best known of all is the letter
of Hammurabi to Siniddinam:--“Since the year has a deficiency, let
the previous month be entered as Elul II. And instead of bringing the
taxes on the 25th Tishritu to Babylon, let them be brought to Babylon
on the 25th Elul II”[930]. For the empirical correcting of the
position of months the stars are used among the primitive peoples,
and so also in Babylonia. A tablet in the British Museum[931]
gives the following injunction:--“The constellation _dilgan_ rises
heliacally in the month _nisan_. As often as this constellation
remains invisible, its month shall be forgotten”. The same injunction
is given in regard to other constellations from which months are
named. The expression that the month Nisan is to be ‘forgotten’
reminds one of the description of the intercalary month as the ‘lost’
or ‘forgotten’ month among certain tribes of N. American Indians,
and of the expression of the Masai. The forgotten month is not the
intercalary month in our sense, i. e. not the second of two months
that have arisen by doubling; it is the first. This month must be
passed over, not counted, forgotten, its name must be transferred
to the following month, so that the year may run properly. The
establishing of the months by means of phases of the stars is so
abundantly demonstrated for primitive peoples in the preceding pages
that no words need be wasted in describing the method of its carrying
out. It is a method that works perfectly well but is entirely
empirical, and where recourse is had to this method we know that the
regulation by a definite intercalary cycle does not exist. With a
more extended development of the method a still better result can be
obtained, and this is the direction that the Babylonians have taken.
The regulation runs:--“If on the first day of the month _nisannu_ the
constellation of the Pleiades and the moon are together, the year
shall be an ordinary one. If on the third day of the month _nisannu_
the constellation of the Pleiades and the moon stand together, the
year shall be a full one (i. e. a leap-year)”[932]. The meaning and
effect of this rule are explained by Schiaparelli. But this too is an
empirical rule, aimed at an empirical, not a cyclical, intercalation.
Where an intercalary cycle exists, no such rule is needed.

Since by the letter of Hammurabi it is indisputably established that
the intercalation took place not in years previously determined but
at the command of the king, those who in spite of this would maintain
the existence of an intercalary cycle hold to the assertion that
the 27-year intercalary period was not a strictly fixed but a free
cycle. In other words the intercalation rule only runs:--“Within a
period of 27 years 10 intercalary months are to be inserted, but
the choice of the leap-years is left open to the astronomer”[933].
But this is nothing less than an abandonment of the intercalary
cycle. The purpose of such a cycle is to render it possible to
compute the calendar beforehand for any number of years to come, and
this purpose is frustrated by a regulation of this kind. It only
says that in _x_ years _y_ intercalary months occur: this is not a
rule for intercalation but an empirical observation, which readily
results from a proper treatment of the empirical intercalation.
Such observations must have been made by the Babylonians. In a
tablet published by Kugler it is said of Saturn and of the fixed
star _kak-si-di_, respectively, “ ... the period of the visibility
of Sirius amounts to 27 years. Turn back and consider day after
day,” according to Weidner, p. 73; according to Kugler I, 47 the
inscription runs, “Day by day ... shalt thou see (the same phenomena
as 59, or 27, years before).” Both Kugler and Weidner find here a
27-year intercalary cycle regulated by the star; the former places
it before 533 B. C., the latter at a considerably earlier period.
But in accordance with what has here been said about the empirical
regulation of the intercalation by phases of the stars it follows
that there is no intercalation at all, but only the empirical
verification of the fact that the new moon and Sirius come back after
27 years into the same mutual relationship: this will actually be the
result with an accurate treatment of the intercalation based on the
observation of this constellation.

Under these circumstances it would have been an easy matter to
establish an intercalary cycle, but the demand for this is an affair
of practical life: astronomy is concerned only with the calculation.
The failure to observe this fact has led the discussion astray. The
calendar is of course the most conservative of all human things;
centuries after the establishment of very accurate calculations of
the course of the moon and the introduction of a good intercalary
cycle, the Jews adhered to the empirical observation of the new
moon, and we know how difficult it is in modern times to introduce
any improvement into the calendar. Because in Babylon there was a
central government which could arrange the intercalation in proper
fashion, the lunisolar year was kept in order, and in practical life
there was no necessity to be able to calculate months and days for
several years in advance. The empirical intercalation worked well,
and there was no need to replace it by an intercalary cycle. The
latter is indeed a simplification undertaken on practical grounds, an
intercalating rule being substituted for the immediate astronomical
observation: astronomy is concerned only with the calculation and
with the further refinement of the rule. In so far as I am able to
pronounce upon the material Kugler is right: no cyclically regulated
intercalation existed before the Persian period; but from this it is
in no way possible to arrive at any decision as to the position of
the Babylonian astronomy. The regulation of the months by the phases
of the stars was a suggestive problem for the astronomers, and it led
to the recognition of the periodicity of the phenomena. This is the
_prius_, not the desired establishment of an intercalary cycle.

A second means of fixing the months in their position in the solar
year is afforded by the regulation by the solstices and equinoxes;
but since, as will be shown in the following chapter, the observation
of these is difficult and is seldom undertaken, a regulation of
this nature is correspondingly rare. It can be demonstrated for the
Eskimos[934], the Kwakiutl[935], and the Hopi, whose 13 ‘sun-points’
doubtless correspond to the 13 months[936]. Of the Basuto it is
said that an attempt is made to determine the time of sowing from
the moon, but that the people commonly go wrong in their reckoning,
and after much dispute are obliged to fall back upon the climatic
conditions and the state of the vegetation as more certain marks for
the time of sowing. Intelligent chiefs, however, rectify the calendar
(i. e. the moon-months) by the summer solstice, which they call the
summer house of the sun[937].

The risings and settings of the stars, as has been shewn above, are
brought into relation with the seasons. There is a possibility of
bringing these sidereally determined seasons into a system. Thus
the year of the Luiseño Indians of S. California consists of 2 × 8
divisions, which are determined by the morning rising of certain
stars[938]. This is however an isolated case, since the reckoning
by months has penetrated almost everywhere, and both seasons and
risings of stars are brought into connexion with this. The most
complete example is seen in the months of the Maoris[939]. Moreover
the creation of such a system was not possible among the primitive
peoples, since for the purpose of determining time they were only
accustomed to observe a few stars, principally the Pleiades. On the
other hand the observation of the stars plays a great part in another
matter not necessarily connected with the reckoning of the months,
viz. the beginning of the year, and to this we shall now turn our
attention.

CHAPTER X.

CALENDAR REGULATION. 2. BEGINNING OF THE YEAR.

The question of the beginning of the year presents some difficulties,
since it is for the most part quite uncertain what meaning is to be
attached to the phrase ‘beginning of the year’. For us the new year
is the great division in the calendar, and one which is emphasised by
a special festival day and by various rites. This is an inheritance
from ancient Rome; in particular the extremely wide-spread and
popular astrology has powerfully contributed to the importance of
New Year’s Day[940]. In ancient Greece the New Year’s Day was of
no great importance: its position varied greatly in each of the
small states; it was little more than the day on which the annually
changing officials entered upon their terms of office. In the case of
the primitive peoples the new year need not in itself be regarded as
a very important division of the calendar: it has however become so
among more highly developed peoples. For instance, the enumeration
of the seasons or the months must begin somewhere; for this reason
a beginning of the year must be supposed, but it is not therefore
certain that the new year acquires any special importance. Of the
inhabitants of the Torres Straits Islands Rivers says that when asked
about the seasons they more than once began their list with _surlal_,
and he is of the opinion that the beginning of this season is for
them practically the beginning of a new year[941]. Of the Kiwai
Papuans Landtman writes to me:--The year has no beginning, since
there is no term to describe this, and it cannot be said that one
season more than another marks an occasion of greater importance.
The people begin their list of months sometimes with _keke_, the
first month of the dry season, sometimes with _karongo_, which marks
the transitional period between the dry and the rainy seasons.

It will be well to begin our investigation with the natural divisions
of the year. The changing seasons give several divisions one or other
of which, according to preference, can be chosen as the beginning of
the year. But this is not the case among the agricultural peoples.
Their year falls into two parts, the period of vegetation and the
time of rest intervening between the harvest and the resumption
of ploughing. There are therefore two natural main divisions, the
beginning of labour and the conclusion of the period of vegetation,
the harvest. Both occur as the beginning of the year, the former
however more rarely, as when among the Wadschagga ‘the raising of
the plough-stick’ is also the ‘opening of the year’[942]. More
frequently the harvest and the great festival associated with it form
the turning-point of the year. Probably however we should rather
speak of an end than of a beginning of the year, as is remarked by
one writer in regard to the Dyaks of south-east Borneo:--For them
the rice-harvest is a principal division of the year (_njelo_). In
September, at the completion of the harvest, the year is at an end.
A definite beginning, a New Year’s Day, is unknown among them[943].
However when the year is reckoned continuously, beginning and end
practically coincide.

In the literature of comparative religion festivals of this nature
are a much-discussed problem which cannot be gone into here, since
it transgresses the limits of this investigation. I shall give only
a few selected examples in order to make clear the relationship with
the beginning of the year. Among the Carolina Indians the feast of
the first-fruits or harvest was the most splendid of all: it appears
to have ended the old year and begun the new. It began in August
when the corn-harvest was completely over. As a preliminary all the
inhabitants provided themselves with new clothes, new pots, pans, and
other household utensils, and then collected all their old clothes
and other worn-out things, swept and cleaned their houses, places
of assemblage, and the whole town, and threw clothes and refuse,
together with all the remaining supplies of food (corn etc.), on to a
heap, to which they afterwards set fire. After this they took physic,
and fasted for three days, and a general amnesty was proclaimed.
On the fourth morning the chief priest kindled fire with pieces of
wood at the public meeting-place, by which means every house in
the town was then provided with fire. Then the women went to the
harvest-field, fetched new corn, prepared it, and brought it with
pomp to the meeting-place, where the whole populace was assembled
in new clothes. Eating went on, especially among the men, and at
night they danced. The festival lasted three days, and on the four
following days visits were paid to neighbouring towns[944]. The New
Year festival of the Konkau of California is a funeral rite which has
undergone transformation. The ‘Dance for the Dead’ took place at the
end of August; from evening until daybreak the people danced around
a fire, into which food, strings of shell-money, and other small
articles were thrown. Our authority does not know how the date was
fixed, but the festival marked the new year, and this opportunity was
taken to wipe out all old debts and settle accounts for the year that
was to come[945]. Among the Amazulu the feast of the first-fruits is
called the ‘New Year’. Medicine staffs are everywhere set up in order
to prevent ‘heaven’ from entering. At the end of the year new staffs
are set up instead of the old ones; then the people know that the old
heaven of the year has passed away with the year that is ended: the
new year has its own heaven[946]. In the neighbourhood of Mombasa the
new year is celebrated with fair regularity in September, after the
maize-harvest; for a whole week there is dancing day and night[947].
Among the Thonga there are several feasts of the first-fruits,
_luma_. When the Caffre corn, _mabele_, is ripe, the wife of the
chief grinds the first grains reaped, and cooks them. The chief eats
a little and offers some to the spirits of his ancestors with the
words: “Here is the new year come”, and prays for fruitfulness. At
the ripening of the Caffre plum, from which a drink is extracted,
some of the drink is poured out on to the graves of dead chiefs
with the words:--“This is the new year. Let us not fight! Let us
eat in peace!” Among the Nkuma the ceremony of the first-fruits is
performed with a special kind of pumpkin, and is called ‘eating the
new year’[948]. On the Lower Niger, among the Owu-Waji, the year
is terminated by the feast of roasted yams, which also serves as a
public announcement that the labours of the field are to be resumed.
Homage is paid to Ifejioku, god of the harvest, in token of gratitude
for a good and fruitful year[949]. On the Society Islands a festival
was celebrated with a great banquet, and this was called ‘the
ripening or consummation of the year’[950]. The greatest feast of the
Dyaks is _dangei_, the celebration of the new rice-year after the
harvest; but if the harvest fails, the festival is suspended[951].
Among the Yoruba _odun_ means year, an annual festival celebrated in
October and the time between two such festivals[952].

The new year is equivalent to the new harvest, the new supplies of
food which through the raising of the taboo are blessed and made
accessible. Where there are several fruits which ripen at different
times there may be several ‘new year festivals’, as among the Thonga,
but usually there is one principal sowing-time and consequently only
one festival. A festival of this nature forms the great division of
the year, and this fact is emphasised by the ceremonies which aim
at clearing away everything old and beginning again. In this way
the change of the year acquires great significance, but this is not
universally the case.

More rarely some other natural phenomenon gives rise to the
celebration of the change of the year, e. g. the appearance of the
palolo, the favourite delicacy of Samoa: but since the palolo appears
at different times near different islands, the turn of the year
varies accordingly[953].

A festival of this nature is originally not a calendar festival,
and only on account of its special significance does it become of
importance for the calendar: it is not a universal phenomenon. In
different districts the position of the beginning of the year varies
greatly. Among the North American Indians many tribes began the year
at the spring equinox, others in the autumn, the Hopi with the ‘new
fire’ in November, the Takulli in January[954]. The Kiowa began the
year at the commencement of winter, which was signalised by the
first snow-fall, or according to other statements a month earlier,
with the first cold, the Pawnee with winter, the Teton-Sioux and the
Cheyenne immediately before the winter[955], the Klamath and Modok in
August, after the _wokash_-harvest[956], the Chocktaw of Louisiana
in December[957], the Natchez in March, when they celebrated a
great festival[958]. As a rule the Thompson Indians of British
Columbia count their moons beginning at the rutting-season of the
deer in November, but some begin with the end of the rutting-season
at the end of November: others, particularly Shamans, with the
rutting-season of the big-horn sheep. Many peoples of the Lytton band
begin when the ground-hogs go into their winter dens. Many of the
Lower Thompsons begin with the rutting-season of the mountain-goats.
Some moons are called by numbers only, but those following the tenth
moon are not numbered[959]. The Shuswap in the same country connected
the year with the same moon as the Thompson Indians, although most
of them entered their winter houses a month earlier[960]. Among the
Hudson Bay Eskimos the year begins when the sun has reached its
lowest position at the winter solstice[961]. The first month of the
Koryak of N. E. Asia begins at the time of the winter solstice, and
corresponds to our December[962]. It has already been mentioned
that the East Greenlanders also began to count their months at the
winter solstice, but later at the morning rising of Altair[963]. It
will be seen that the beginning of the year has no common position
marked out by Nature, although we may perhaps say that it usually
falls somewhere during the period of rest, while the peculiar natural
conditions under which the Eskimos live make it easy to understand
why their year should be begun with the eagerly awaited return of the
sun. Among many peoples little attention seems to have been paid to
the matter, since no special prominence is given to the beginning of
the year, although lists of months are given. But where these lists
exist, and it is desired to enumerate the months, a beginning must be
made somewhere, and a fixed initial month very easily arises.

The dispute already touched upon[964] as to the beginning of the
Israelitish year is very characteristic of the matter in hand[965].
It is easy to understand why no unity has been arrived at, since the
conception of the beginning of the year is fluctuating and capable of
many interpretations. When in the oldest codes of the law it is said
of the feast of in-gathering (namely of fruit, wine, and oil) that
it is to be celebrated at the end of the year or that it marks the
‘turning’ of the year[966], Dillman is right in describing this year
as an economic one. From the very beginning the feast is a feast of
the end of the year[967]. Only as the agricultural year is extended
into a complete year does it become a feast of the turn, and finally
of the beginning, of the year.

The beginning of the agricultural year, however, still does not imply
a calendar year, though certainly it furnishes occasion for the
establishment of the beginning of the year when a calendar arises.
Even in the year 600, at least in Gezer, no fixed series of months
was known[968], the Canaanitish months not having been universally
adopted. The old custom of reckoning the months from an arbitrary
and accidental point of departure prevailed and long sufficed. The
beginning of the year in autumn was no calendrical division, but
only the conclusion of the agricultural year. When a calendar was
introduced, it became obvious that this beginning of the year would
also be available for the calendar. The calendar now consists of
moon-months, its beginning must therefore be a day of new moon.
Since the festival of harvest, according to ancient custom, fell at
the time of full moon, the festival itself could not serve as the
beginning of the year, but only the day of new moon of the month in
which it fell. This was the seventh month, and we do in fact find
indications that the first day of the seventh month was regarded as
New Year’s Day; it was promoted to a feast day and was made known by
the blowing of trumpets[969]. The year therefore could be reckoned
from this point, and this also was done. On the other hand the
numbered months mentioned above, p. 233, begin in spring with the
month in which the Passover is celebrated. The beginning of the year
in spring is therefore associated with the numbered months, and is
contemporaneous with these: it is nothing but the starting-point of
this enumeration of months. The rule for the beginning is given in
Exodus XII, 2:--“This month (i. e. the Passover month) shall be unto
you the beginning of months: it shall be the first month of the year
to you.” This reads like a prescription for a reform of the calendar,
when it is remembered that in all places the Feast of the Passover
was dated in relation to the month of ears (_chodesh ha-abib_).
That the numbered months did not arise till later we have already
seen (p. 234). The systematising tendency which arose at the end
of the kingdom of Judah, and became ever stronger during and after
the Exile, necessitated a calendar. If this tendency was unrelated
to practical life, it was all the more closely bound up with the
religious cult. Since people were now accustomed to numbering
the months, the novelty consisted in the fixing of a calendarial
beginning of the year. This was suggested by the customary succession
of the feasts--Passover and Feast of Unleavened Bread, Feast of
Weeks, Feast of Tabernacles--and was already foreshadowed in the
fixing of the date of the Feast of Weeks by counting the weeks from
the Feast of Unleavened Bread. This calendar can hardly have become
popular, since it must have been supplanted quite early by the
Babylonian names of months, and the popular beginning of the year in
autumn has prevailed right down to the present day.

These two beginnings to the year existed side by side, at least for
some time after the Exile, which is not surprising in view of what
has already been said about the beginning of the year. The one is
the civil beginning of the year, advanced by the structure of the
calendar, the other the beginning of the series of months.

The Jewish calendar therefore arose very late, at the end of the
kingdom of Judah; until that time the Jews were content with a
chronology which was as primitive as that of many primitive peoples.
In matters pertaining to the calendar they have always been very
conservative and backward. In later times, too, they did not succeed
in grasping the idea of the beginning of the year as a solitary
event. König quotes on p. 644 a very significant passage from the
Mishna tractate concerning the beginning of the year:--“On the first
day of Nisan is the beginning of the year for the kings and for the
festivals. On the first day of Elul is the beginning for the tithing
of cattle. On the first day of Tishri is the beginning for the years
(i. e. the civil calendar), and for the Sabbatic year and the Jubilee
years, for the plants and the vegetables. On the first day of the
month Shebat is the beginning for the tree-fruit.”--Four New Year’s
Days, therefore.

Among the Jews, therefore, ecclesiastical conditions gave rise to a
calendarial beginning of the year, which successfully rivalled the
beginning given by the agricultural year. There is still another
important type of beginning, and this depends once more upon the
observation of the stars; cp. pp. 248 f. Where the beginning of the
agricultural labour is determined by the Pleiades, it evidently
follows that they also determine the beginning of the year. It
follows further that the year lasts not only to the end of the period
of vegetation, but also until the next appearance of the Pleiades,
and hence the sidereal year is obtained at once with the greatest
accuracy that is possible without scientific observation. This
Pleiades year is especially common in South America, where there are
no series of months, and in Oceania.

The Lengua Indians of Paraguay connect the rising of the Pleiades
with the beginning of spring, and hold feasts during this time[970].
The Guarani of the same country determine the time of sowing by
the observation of the Pleiades; it is said that they used to
worship this constellation, and they begin their new year at its
appearance in May[971]. In the Amazon valley the rising of the
Pleiades coincides with the revival of Nature, and hence the people
say that everything is renewed by these stars[972]. The Indians of
the Orinoco determined the new year by the evening rising of the
Pleiades[973]. But still further, the year is called by the name of
the Pleiades. Certain tribes of Venezuela reckoned the year by stars,
and in fact by the Pleiades. ‘Year’ is _tshirke_, ‘star’, a year =
a star. The word occurs in various forms among most of the Carib
tribes; among the neighbouring Caribs _tshirika_ is found many times
as a translation of ‘the Pleiades’. The connexion becomes clear in
the wide-spread Carib idiom of the Guaianas: in a Galibi dictionary
‘star’ and ‘year’ are given as _serica_, _siricco_, the Pleiades
as _sherick_, and we read in brackets: “The return of the Pleiades
above the horizon together with the sun forms the solar year of the
natives.” Among the island Caribs the Pleiades are called _chiric_;
these people reckon the years in ‘Pleiades’. Among the Arawak _wijua_
means ‘Pleiades’, ‘star’ in general, and ‘year’, since they reckon
the year from the point at which they see the Pleiades rise after
cock-crow. The Cariay of the Rio Negro call the Pleiades _eoünana_
and the year _aurema-anynoa_, which seems to be a development of the
former word. The Guarani call the Pleiades _eishu_, ‘bee-hive’, and
the year has the same name; in ordinary life however the year is
usually known as _roi_, ‘cold’[974].

The Caffres recognise the time of sowing by the position of the
stars, especially the Pleiades, and reckon the new year from the
morning rising of the latter[975]. Although the Amazulu call the
feast of the first-fruits the new year, they say at the appearance
of the Pleiades: “The Pleiades are renewed, the year is renewed”, and
they begin to dig[976]. In Bali the appearance of the Pleiades at
sunset marks the end of the year[977]. In Bambatana (Solomon Islands)
the year is reckoned by the Pleiades[978]. Among the Polynesians
the Pleiades year was extremely wide-spread. The inhabitants of
the Marquesas Islands had a ten-month year, but were acquainted
with a year of twelve months, which they called by the name of the
Pleiades, _maka-ihi_ or _mata-iti_, ‘the little eyes’[979]. On Hervey
Island the new year was given by the evening rising of the Pleiades
in the middle of December[980]. In the Society Islands there were
two seasons named after the Pleiades. The first, _matarii i nia_,
‘little eyes above’, began at the evening rising of these stars and
continued as long as they were visible in the sky in the evening; the
other _matarii i raro_, ‘little eyes under’, began after the evening
setting and extended over the time during which the stars were not to
be seen in the evening[981].

It follows that a fixed beginning of the year does not exist
universally, and therefore is not the general norm. The beginning
of the year in our sense is the starting-point of the series of the
days of the calendar; among the primitive peoples it is the beginning
of any year, whether the complete year or the phenomena of the time
of vegetation only. There are several such phenomena appearing side
by side, so that there can also be several beginnings to the year,
e. g. several feasts of first-fruits, as among the Thonga, the
rising of the Pleiades and the feast of the first-fruits among the
Amazulu. When one phenomenon of this kind, e. g. the corn-harvest,
prevails over the others and is perhaps brought into prominence by
the greatest festival of the year, it appears more like our New Year,
though the significance of the occasion does not depend, as among
ourselves, upon the position of the day in the calendar, but upon
the natural conditions. And when a phase of the stars, e. g. of the
Pleiades, coincides with the beginning of the agricultural year and
the renewal of Nature, the stellar (Pleiades) year is obtained by
comprising the time between one rising or setting and the next. By
this means we arrive at the pure but undivided solar year. On the
other hand the phases of the stars, like the other natural phases,
were needed to determine the months, and here the result was more
important.

With regard to the intercalation, the equalising of the total number
of moon-months and the solar year, the problem first arose when there
had been developed a fixed series of months which it was desired to
repeat without interruption. Then arose the necessity of introducing
an occasional month into the series of twelve months, or omitting one
from the series of thirteen, so that the months named from natural
phases might remain in their proper places. This difficulty was first
of all blended with that arising from the fluctuation of the natural
phases due to the varying climatic conditions of different years.
The expedient was crudely empirical, the occasional leaping over or
addition of a month. Gradually it became the custom to introduce the
intercalary month at a definite point; it may also be associated with
a so-called ‘vacant period’. Where a month was named from a phase of
a certain star, the correction was given automatically by this phase,
since this month was fixed. The intercalary month obtained its place
before this month, which became the beginning of the year, since the
reckoning started with it. By this means was given a lunisolar year
which was however empirically regulated by occasional intercalation.

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’.

Beginning Beginning
of the first of the second
heart-moon. heart-moon.
I. From Jan. 1. 12 moons to Dec. 22, 13 moons to Jan. 20.
12 » » Jan. 9.
12 » » Dec. 29, 13 » » Jan. 28.
12 » » Jan. 17.
12 » » Jan. 5.
12 » » Dec. 26, 13 » » Jan. 24.
12 » » Jan. 14.
12 » » Jan. 3.
12 » » Dec. 23, 13 » » Jan. 22, etc.

II. From Jan. 29. 12 moons to Jan. 18.
12 » » Jan. 7.
12 » » Dec. 27, 13 moons to Jan. 25.
12 » » Jan. 14.
12 » » Jan. 3, etc.

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.

CHAPTER XV.

CONCLUSION.

1. SUMMARY OF RESULTS.

_The concrete nature of the time-indications._ Any genuine system
of time-reckoning must admit of numerical treatment, i. e. it must
consist of divisions of which the length is strictly limited and
which, when they belong to the same order, are as far as possible
of the same length. A numerical conception is abstract and not
primitive; even the power of counting is little developed among
primitive peoples in general, and among the lowest peoples it is
extremely limited. Counting is abstract, the primitive man clings to
the concrete phenomena of the outer world. In matters of chronology,
therefore, he finds his way not by counting but by referring to the
concrete phenomena the recurrence of which in definite succession
experience has taught him to expect. The first time-indications are
therefore not numerical but concrete. Their character clearly appears
e. g. when ‘a sun’ is said for ‘day’, and ‘a sleep’ for ‘night’; the
hours of day are denoted by the concrete phenomena of the twilight,
dawn, sunrise, etc., and the equally concrete position of the sun
or the occupations of the day. The lunar month is usually called
‘a moon’, and its days are denoted by the phases and position of
the moon. The year is originally neither a period of time nor the
circle of the seasons (which is first gradually developed under the
influence of agriculture in particular), but the produce of the
year: e. g. it embraces the time between sowing and harvest, and
is often not a complete year in our sense. Only gradually does the
year develop into the period of time that elapses between a season
and the recurrence of the same season, or more rarely between a
phase of a star and the return of the same phase. From the latter
period the genuine solar year has arisen. The seasons are composed
of occupations and of climatic and other natural phenomena, and
still preserve this concrete relationship and are therefore not
definitely limited in duration. This relationship is also extended
to the moons, which for their determination are not numbered but are
brought into connexion with a natural phase and named accordingly,
so that the twelve to thirteen months of the year can be fixed as
regards position and succession. Even the Julian months, as they were
introduced among less cultivated peoples such as the ancient Germans,
the Slavs, etc., could not keep their names, since these had no
intelligible meaning or reference to a concrete phenomenon; in order
to provide for this the months were re-christened with indigenous
names which are of the same kind as those given by the primitive
peoples to their lunar months. Or else, but much more seldom, the
Latin name acquired the concrete significance of a season. The years
also are not numbered, but are named from an important event, so that
their succession follows from the historical succession of events, a
method of denoting the year which prevailed throughout antiquity in
the _limmu_, archon, and consular years, etc.

_Discontinuous and ‘aoristic’ time-indications._ The starting-point
for the time-reckoning is therefore afforded by the concrete
phenomena of the heavens and of surrounding natural objects, and the
succession of these, fixed as it is by experience, serves as a guide
in the chronological sequence. These phenomena extend over periods
which are very dissimilar to one another and are individually of
varying length; they cross and overlap in some cases, in others they
leave gaps. The time-indications are not directly connected with each
other, but this connexion is achieved by the phenomena in question.
Hence the indications are not circumscribed by one another, but the
phenomena as such are regarded. The latter are not conceived of as
divisions of time of a definite length; they do not appear as parts
of a larger whole, limited on both sides by their connexion with
other divisions of time. The conception of continuity, the immediate
fusion of the chronological phenomena into one another, is lacking:
the time-indications are discontinuous. We may speak, although not
quite correctly, of a discontinuous time-reckoning. We think, for
example, of the abundant sub-division of the times of day in the
morning and evening, and the small number of sub-divisions in the
night and day-time, of the many very unequal seasons which encroach
upon one another and overlap. General measures for shorter periods
of time are therefore not given by the time-indications proper, but
are derived from actions or occupations, e. g. the time needed to
traverse a well-known piece of road. When a systematising of these
time-indications takes place, e. g. in the matter of the seasons,
where only those of practical importance are rendered prominent and
are circumscribed, there arise divisions of very unequal length,
which are hardly suitable for a genuine time-reckoning.

The times of day are often given by reference to the position of the
sun. In northern countries, where the length of the daily course of
the sun varies so greatly, points on the horizon are sought out as an
aid. Both these methods of indicating the times of day may seem to
afford a foundation for a continuous reckoning, but this is not the
case, since they always refer only to the position of the sun at the
immediate moment: they are--to adopt a grammatical term--‘aoristic’.
The discontinuity is further shewn in the fact that it is only later
and in an imperfect fashion that the complete day and the year are
joined together in continuous circles. Day and night were combined
so late into the period of the complete day of 24 hours that most
languages are without a proper word to express this idea. In the same
way the reckoning was often long carried out in half-years, winters
and summers, or the years were of shorter duration than the solar
year (agricultural years, etc.).

The means of accurately determining the times and occupations of
the year is afforded by the phases of the stars, which always recur
at the same time of the year or at a time subjected to only slight
variations due to the conditions of observation. A time-indication
from phases of stars is properly of the discontinuous and ‘aoristic’
order, since a definite phase of a star belongs theoretically to a
certain day and practically is also kept within very narrow limits.
It is only with great difficulty and some violence that the phases
of the stars can be systematised,--and that at a far-advanced stage:
signs of the zodiac, moon-houses--since they are distributed very
unequally over the year, this being due more particularly to the
limitation in practice to certain specially prominent stars.

_The pars pro toto counting of the periods._ The regular recurrence
of the periods at once impresses itself upon the notice of man: he
may also feel the necessity of counting the periods. As he always
directs his attention to the single phenomenon in itself, and not to
its duration as given by the limitations imposed by other phenomena,
so he does not reckon the periods of time as a continuous whole, but
only counts an isolated phenomenon recurring but once in the same
period. When he has seen ten harvests, he is ten years old: when nine
new moons have risen after conception, the nine months of pregnancy
are at an end: whoever has slept six nights on the way has undertaken
a six days’ journey. As counting-points the times of rest--the nights
and the winters--are especially employed. Linguistically this method
of counting still exists, as when in most languages the complete day
of 24 hours is expressed by the word ‘day’, which also means day
opposed to night, or as in the Hebrew word for month, which really
means ‘new moon’. Popularly and in the language of poetry this usage
is still farther extended.

It is significant of the deep-rooted tendency to the _pars pro toto_
method of counting that when peoples who are at a less developed
stage adopt such a continuous unit of time as our seven-day week,
they do not regard it as a unity, but put the part for the whole.
Weeks have been introduced into the Society Islands, and the word
_hebedoma_ has there been adopted to denote a week; it is however
less frequently used by the people than the word ‘sabbath’. When
a native wishes to say that he has been absent for six weeks
on a journey, he usually says six sabbaths or a moon and two
sabbaths[1188]. Some of the Islamite Malays of Sumatra count
periods of time in Sundays, others in Fridays, others again in
market-days[1189]; these are therefore the Christian, the Islamite,
and the native methods of reckoning weeks that here appear, but still
the counting is performed by the _pars pro toto_ method. The Old
Bulgarian word _nedelja_ really means ‘day without work’, Sunday, but
has come to mean ‘week’[1190].

_The continuous time-reckoning_ arises neither from the daily
course of the sun--which indeed is a unit but has no natural
sub-divisions--nor yet from the year, the consistent length of
which is at first concealed by the variation of the natural phases.
Moreover the year, though sub-divided, is divided into parts (the
seasons) which are indefinite and fluctuating in their number,
duration, and limits. The only natural phenomenon which from the
very beginning meets the demands of the continuous reckoning is the
moon. It is a fact of importance that the course of the moon from
the first appearance of the new moon to the disappearance of the old
is so short a period that it may be surveyed even by the undeveloped
intellect. The decisive factor however is that not only is the lunar
month in itself a limited and continuous period of fixed length, but
it has also a natural sub-division into parts of equal length, viz.
days, each of which is clearly distinguishable from its predecessor
and successor by the shape of the moon and its position in the sky at
sunrise and sunset. However these phases and positions also are at
first described concretely, and not numbered. The months, like other
periods of time, are counted by the _pars pro toto_ method in new
moons, or commonly in ‘moons’, as the days are counted in suns. This
is in itself a shifting mode of reckoning, which proceeds from an
arbitrarily chosen incidental point. With primitive man’s undeveloped
faculty of counting it can only embrace a few months; the months of
pregnancy, which are so frequently counted, form a period which is
quite sufficiently long.

_Empirical intercalation of months._ When a month not lying in the
immediate past or future is to be indicated, the concrete mode of
reckoning comes to the fore in this case also, and since a month
covers a period of time which is relatively long enough for the
natural conditions seen in it to be clearly distinguishable from
those of the preceding and following months, the month is named
after these natural conditions, i. e. it takes the name of a season.
But this is not done without confusion, for both seasons and months
fluctuate in reference to their position in the solar year, and the
seasons are not limited in length and duration, and still less do
they cover the months. Since any season and any natural phenomenon
may be used to determine a month, it follows that the number of names
of months is at first quite an arbitrary and uncertain matter, and is
far greater than that of the months of the year. Linguistic custom
leads to a natural selection in which the names describing phenomena
of special importance are preferred. Thus a fixed series of months
arises; and since the year contains more than twelve and less than
thirteen lunar months, the series sometimes consists of twelve,
sometimes of thirteen months. The period thus arising is nothing else
than the lunisolar year, since the months through their connexion
with the seasons are bound up with the annual course of the sun. The
problem then arises how to make the lunar months fit into the solar
year. Practically the difficulty first appears in a disguised form;
primitive man has no conception, or at most only an extremely vague
idea, of the length of the solar year. If the months are allowed to
follow one another in their traditional order the connexions with the
phases of nature are soon put out of gear, which never happened so
long as the relationship was occasional and fluctuating. This defect
must be corrected. When the series has thirteen months, a month soon
falls behind the natural phenomenon from which it takes its name:
one month must therefore be omitted. This is the extracalation of a
month. When the series has twelve months, a month soon gets in front
of the natural phenomenon from which it takes its name. Then the
month is ‘forgotten’, i. e. it is regarded as non-existent, and its
name is given to the following month, from which point the series
once more runs on correctly for some time. This is the intercalation
of a month. The necessity for the omission or intercalation is
recognised in the first place from the natural phases: their
fluctuation makes matters still worse. Hence there often arise hot
disputes as to which month it really is, i. e. really, theoretically
speaking, as to the inter- or extracalation of a month. A fixed order
arises in this intercalation or omission when its arrangement is
entrusted to the priests, a body of officials, or even to a single
person appointed for the purpose, as among the ancient Semitic
peoples and in Loango.

Since the seasons are regulated by the phases of the stars, the
months can also be named after these phases and regulated by them,
and a very accurate and practical means of regulation is thus
afforded. When a phase of a star does not appear in the month to
which it gives its name, the month is ‘forgotten’, the next month
brings round the phase in question, and takes its name. A series of
twelve months is here assumed; in the series of thirteen the phase
of the star appears too early, consequently the month-name which is
in the series is crowded out by the following month-name, which is
derived from the name of the star in question. Cases of doubt seldom
arise here, since they can only occur in the exceptional instance
when the phase of the star falls on the border-line between two
months.

By means of a properly treated empirical intercalation of this
nature the series of months could be kept in fair agreement with the
phases of nature, and also, especially when the phases of the stars
were used as an aid, with the solar year. Where, as in Babylonia,
the sense of the observation of the heavens was developed, there
thus arose a fruitful problem for the rudimentary and still quite
empirical astronomy, viz. that the astronomical points of regulation
for the arrangement of the lunar months within the solar year had to
be determined by more and more refined observation. So accurate an
empirical regulation must keep the intercalation in very good order,
as it did in Babylonia as early as the time of Dungi in the latter
part of the third millennium B. C. Meanwhile there must have arisen
of itself the knowledge that in a certain number of years a certain
number of intercalations always fell; the simplest relationship is
three intercalary months to eight years. The intercalation might then
very well have been cyclically regulated, but there was no reason for
departing from ancient custom, since the old method worked well and
there was no need to be able to calculate the calendar for a long
period in advance. This is in practice seldom necessary--how often,
for instance, is it necessary to-day to determine years beforehand
the position of Easter?--but for scientific astronomy it is a
necessity to be able thus to calculate in advance. Hence it agrees
very well with the flourishing of the theoretical astronomy in the
time of the Persians that an intercalary cycle should be introduced
about the year 528 B. C.

Seasons and months may also be regulated by points of the annual
course of the sun; but these are difficult to observe, and for
their observation landmarks, and therefore a fixed dwelling-place,
are required. Even then it is only the two solstices that are
accessible to primitive observation, and this is specially easy in
northern latitudes only. Hence the solstices and equinoxes play a
comparatively unimportant part in the history of time-reckoning.

2. THE GREEK TIME-RECKONING[1191].

I pass on finally to speak of the Greek time-reckoning. The problem
is here not only the independent appearance of a time-reckoning
which is in all respects genuinely continuous, but also the cyclical
regulating of the intercalation.

In the Homeric poems the time-reckoning stands at a primitive
stage, and is indeed lower than among many barbaric peoples. Very
few natural times of day are recognised, the days are counted by
dawns, according to the _pars pro toto_ method. Four larger seasons
are known, but also smaller ones, e. g. attention is paid to the
birds of passage. Certain phases of stars are known, and also the
solstices[1192]. The lunar months are counted, e. g. the months of
pregnancy[1193], but not named; the day of new moon is celebrated.
In Hesiod the same time-reckoning appears further developed, a fact
which is due partly to the nature of the contents of his poem, partly
to its later date; in particular, phases of stars and smaller seasons
are frequently mentioned, and it is a great advance that the days
are numerically reckoned; they are counted in one case from the
solstice, and further the days of the month are counted, sometimes
in half-months, sometimes in decades.[1194] In the appendix of the
_Days_ an exceedingly strong day-superstition shews itself.

When history begins, the Greek time-reckoning as we know it appears:
it is a lunisolar year with named lunar months, in which the
intercalation is cyclically regulated, so that in a period of eight
years (Oktaeteris) a month is three times intercalated, viz. in the
3rd, 5th, and 8th years. This appearance of an ordered form of year
and a cyclical intercalation is completely unprepared for. We miss
that association of the months with the seasons and the naming after
these which, as the preceding investigations have shewn, alone gives
rise to an empirical intercalation. The investigation of primitive
time-reckoning has led to the perception that herein lies the crucial
point of the problem of the origin of the Greek time-reckoning. In
my opinion the Greek calendar cannot be explained from premisses
originating in the country itself, and therefore cannot have arisen
of itself in Greece.

The regulation of the Greek calendar has throughout a sacral
character. The idea of the selection of lucky or unlucky days
prevails not only in superstition but also in the official religious
cult. Most of the old festivals fall, according to universal custom,
either during or shortly before the time of full moon; the festivals
of Apollo form an exception and are all celebrated on the 7th, those
of his twin sister Artemis being held on the preceding day, the
6th. The names of months appear in sharp contradistinction to the
world-wide method of nomenclature in that they all, in so far as
they are explainable, are derived from festivals. Several hundred
names are known from the various states of the mother country and
the colonies, and among these there is only a single exception to
the rule just stated, viz. Ἁλιοτρόπιος, i. e. the solstice month,
which belongs to later times, besides a few unexplained names, such
as Γεῦστος, Δίνων; numbered months were first created among the
leagues of states of the period after Alexander the Great, in order
to introduce a means of common understanding such as was necessitated
by the multiplicity of the local calendars. These cases are all quite
isolated and cannot disturb the rule.

The inference that may be drawn in regard to the months from their
names and from the ordering of the religious cult is further
established by other matters in regard to the cyclical intercalation.
The eight-year intercalary cycle cannot be distinguished from the
_Ennaeteris_ period (so called according to the Greek inclusive
method of reckoning, the eight-year period according to our method of
expression) of certain festivals. Such festivals are only known at
Delphi, where three of them were held (Charila, Stepterion, Herois).
The great Pythian games themselves were originally held every eighth
year, and then, after the first holy war (probably in the year 582,
from which the Pythiads were counted), every fourth year. Since eight
years seemed too long an interval, the period was halved in order
to secure a more frequent celebration, and the Isthmian and Nemean
games were even held every second year, i. e. the period was divided
into four. The Olympiad reckoning will go still farther back, if the
traditional starting-point, the year 776 B. C., is to be accepted.
However the authenticity of the older portion of the list of Olympian
victors has been sharply disputed, though the criticism certainly
seems to have weakened a little quite recently. But a peculiarity
attaches to this festival, viz. that it is celebrated alternately in
one of the two consecutive months, Apollonios and Parthenios[1195].
This can only be explained as follows:--The Oktaeteris has 99
months. Originally the Olympic festival was not fixed according to
the calendar, but the date was simply arranged by the numbering
of the months of the Oktaeteris, in which the first half of the
Oktaeteris was given 50 months and the second 49. In the calendarial
Oktaeteris, on the other hand, there is an intercalation once in
the first half and twice in the second, i. e. the first four years
have 49 months and the next four 50; hence it follows that when the
old custom was to be preserved in regard to the date, the month
of the festival necessarily varied in the given manner. When the
chronological arrangement of the Olympic games was introduced, the
Oktaeteris calendar therefore was not known, but only the Oktaeteris
period.

The introduction of the calendar was effected in the form of the
establishment of _fasti_ for festivals and religious cult, in
which the periodically recurring notable events of the cult, viz.
sacrifices and festivals, were noted down in calendrical succession
and in some cases also described. Fragments of these _fasti_ from
later times have in several cases come down to us, and similar
_fasti_ formed part of the legislation of Solon. Solon in the
year 594 arranged the sacral _fasti_ of Athens, and with them the
calendar. That he was the first to introduce the calendar cannot be
stated; there is no evidence to shew that the specific peculiarities
of the Athenian calendar were introduced by him. The evidence is
however valuable as a _terminus ante quem_. Plato in his _Laws_
prescribes that the legislation shall arrange the festivals according
to the decrees of Delphi. Here, as elsewhere in the _Laws_, he
returns to the general Greek custom. The _fasti_ were therefore
arranged under the superintendence of Delphi, and Solon also had
certainly done the same, for he stood in other respects in close
connexion with Delphi. In addition to which Geminos mentions “the
commandment of the laws and the oracular decrees, to sacrifice in
three ways, i. e. monthly, daily, yearly”. At a later period also,
those who superintended the calendar were men learned in sacral
matters. Thus the seer Lampon, at the time of the Peloponnesian War,
brought forward a proposal for the intercalation of a month; he was
an _exegetes_ and perhaps even πυθόχρηστος.

From all this it follows that it was the necessity for the regulation
of the religious cult that first created the calendar in Greece. The
succession of days in the year was in the first place arranged in
the form of sacral _fasti_, and this arrangement was followed by the
official civil calendar, while the peasants and sailors kept to the
reckoning by phases of the stars. All indications--especially the
above-mentioned festivals of Delphi, the dictum of Plato, etc.--seem
to shew that this regulation originated at Delphi; not that it was
actually enjoined by the oracle, but the necessity for the regulation
was aggravated there, and its performance was therefore supported
and superintended. Only in Delphi could the requisites for the
carrying out of such a work be found united. It is the business of
the oracle to maintain peace with the gods, and this is above all
achieved through the proper cult, in which the dates are of the
greatest importance, no less important indeed than the expiation
of murder and the veneration of the heroes. In the _pylagorai_ and
_hieromnemones_, who met twice a year for deliberation, and in the
_exegetai_ there was a circle closely connected with Delphi, each
member of which could spread in his own state the ideas he there
imbibed[1196]. Certain states maintained special officials who
fostered the connexion with Delphi, such as the Pythioi of Sparta,
the ἐξηγηταὶ πυθόχρηστοι of Athens. And, above all, it is only thus
that the consistently sacral character of the Greek calendar and
names of months in general can be satisfactorily explained.

There remains something to be added, viz. that, as has been remarked
above, all the festivals of Apollo of which the date is known--and
they are not few in number--fall on the 7th, on which day also the
birth of the god was celebrated at Delphi and elsewhere. It is clear
that this is a definitely intended regulation. Otherwise, too,
Apollo is the patron of the reckoning in months. Even in Homer the
day of new moon is a feast of Apollo, and later, as Νεομήνιος, i.
e. new-moon god, he receives sacrifices on the first of each month.
The initial day of the third decade was also dedicated to him, for
which reason he was called Εἰκάδιος. He is without a rival in his
importance for the selection of days, which is dependent upon the
reckoning in months.

Now, according to the data given above, the cyclical intercalation
was introduced before the beginning of the 6th century, most probably
in the 7th; at most, on the strength of Hesiod and of Homer (who in
the Odyssey knows only the beginning of the development, viz. Apollo
as the god of the new-moon festival), we may go back to the 8th.
But it has already been pointed out that in Greece the preliminary
conditions for the arising of even the empirical intercalation, and
much more of the cyclical, are lacking. Whence then has the latter
come? This is the real enigma in connexion with the problem of the
origin of the Greek time-reckoning. In my opinion the question can
only be answered in one way: it has come from without, from the east,
and originally from Babylonia. Here we are met with the difficulty
that an intercalary cycle was not introduced into Babylonia before
the 6th century. But, as we have already remarked, the knowledge that
in eight years the lunar months could be brought by the intercalation
of three months to fit into the solar year must have been reached
long before, through a regular administration of the intercalation,
although in Babylonia, where the intercalation was managed by a
central authority, there was no reason for erecting this knowledge
into a rule. In Greece matters were quite different. The land was
split up into a great number of little states in one of which it
might often happen that there was no one who could properly manage
an empirical intercalation. And even if there were, the empirical
intercalation must soon have led to variations in all these different
states, and hopeless confusion must have arisen. Since Delphi was
not a central court which could look after the intercalation, there
must be established, if order was to be created,--and the whole
movement started with this idea--a cycle which should be binding in
the future.

It seems to me a well-authorised view that the god Apollo came to
Greece from Asia, and even apart from this there is reason to suppose
that in the religion of Apollo there is a Babylonian element, viz.
the prevailing importance of the seventh day of the month in the cult
of the god. A similar preference for the seventh day of the month is
seen again in the _shabattu_. And in point of fact it is originally
only the seventh day that is brought into prominence, the other
_shabattu_ being a later development from this[1197]; most of the
Apollo festivals were rites of expiation and purification, and the
_shabattu_ also are distinguished as such. The calendar also shews a
second trace of connexion with Asia Minor. Besides Apollo there is
only one deity, Hecate, that is closely connected with the calendar
and the superstition of the days of the month, and it has been proved
that this goddess too originated in Asia Minor[1198].

When the intercalary cycle was introduced from the East about the 7th
century it did not come alone, but formed part of a mighty stream
of civilisation which poured into Greece from the East at an early
period. This is shewn e. g. in art, where all the styles formed under
Oriental influence displace and transform the native geometrical
style in vase-painting and the minor arts. Even in astronomy Oriental
influence can be demonstrated. Astronomical science begins with
Thales, who foretold the famous eclipse of the sun on May 28, 585 B.
C. According to one isolated notice he also concerned himself with
the lunisolar calendar. But the Ionian astronomy has a Babylonian
foundation; evidences of this are the division of the day into
12 hours, and the signs of the zodiac, of which at least three
can be shewn to be of Babylonian origin, and one is an Old Ionic
transformation of a Babylonian original. But, it is said, the way
from Ionia to the mother country is long, and the development of the
mother country is in arrears. But even with Delphi the Ionians had
early connexions; we may remember Croesus of Lydia. In the sixth
century the eastern Greeks established splendid treasure-houses
at Delphi, and long and intimate connexions must have preceded
buildings of this nature. All the necessary conditions for the
development assumed can therefore be demonstrated, as well as can be
expected from the scanty nature of our sources for this period.

The introduction of the cyclical regulation of the calendar has again
introduced problems of far-reaching significance for scientific
astronomy, though now upon a higher plane. The eight-year cycle
was inaccurate, the problem was to find a more exact one, and how
fruitful this problem became is shewn by such names as Meton and
Kallippos. This difficulty prepared the way for the emancipation of
the time-reckoning from the fetters of the religious cult.

ADDENDUM TO P. 78 NOTE 2 (P. 80).

Prof. Beckman has kindly pointed out to me that according to Are’s
_Islendingabók_, ch. 7 (_þá vas þat mælt et næsta sumar áþr i lǫgum,
at menn scyllde svá coma til alþinges, es X vicor være af sumre,
en þangat til quómo vico fyrr_), the Althing in the year 999 A. D.
was decreed for the time when ten (instead of nine) weeks of the
summer had passed, i. e. it was postponed until a week later in the
calendar. The reason for this is undoubtedly that the calendar (the
week-year), and with it the Althing, had contrived to antedate itself
a little more than a week in relation to the natural year, after
Torsten Surt’s reform of the calendar had been introduced about the
year 965. Here therefore we have an example of the empirical and
occasional correction of the Icelandic calendar which was postulated
above.

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INDEX.

Acronychal risings and settings, 5

Age, classes of, 99;
ignorance of, 98;
relative, 98

Agricultural cycles of seasons, 66;
festivals, 268, 337;
year, 91, 95

Anglo-Saxon seasons, 75;
months and year, 292

Apollo, festivals of, 363;
and the Greek calendar, 366

Arabic lunisolar year, 251;
month-names, 237;
names for days of the month, 165

Astrology, 119;
origin of, 146

Astronomers, primitive, 350, 351

Babylonian designation of years, 105;
intercalation, 258;
months, 226

Beginning of the year, see New Year.

Bilfinger on the Icelandic week-year, 78, n. 1;
on the Anglo-Saxon year, 295

Birds of passage, 46

Calendar, Greek star-c., 114;
Indian picture-writing c., 103

Calendar-makers, 347

Canaanitish month-names, 233

Constellations, 114

Continuous time-reckoning, 8, 359

Counting, 168;
aids in, 319;
of days, 168;
of months, 148, 217

Dagsmǫrk, 21

Dawn = day, 13

Day, of 24 hours, 11;
limits of, 43;
solar, stellar, 3;
as unit of time-reckoning, 3

Day, times of, 17;
expressions for, 22;
indications of, 17

Days, counting of: in dawns, 13;
in days, 14;
in nights, 13;
in sleeps, 15;
in suns, 12

Decades, 168

Delphi, influence on the calendar, 365

Dieteris, 1

Disting, 302

Dry and rainy seasons, 54, 88;
two, 62

Easter, computation of, 301

Ebb and flow, 39

Egyptian designation of years, 107;
year, 277

End of the year, 268

Ennaeteris, 364

Epiphany moon, 301

Eponyms, 107

Equinoxes, observation of, 313

Extracalation, 244, 360

Fasti, Greek, 365

Feriae conceptivae, 340

Festivals, agricultural and new year, 268;
cycles of, 337;
months named after, 345;
regulated by the moon, 341;
by the solstices, 344;
by the stars, 133

First-fruits, 269

Full moon, celebration of, 155;
the time of festivals, 342

Germanic division of the year, 75;
month-names, 288;
seasons, 74

Gestures indicating days, 12;
time of the day, 17

Gezer, calendar of, 235

Gnomon, 20

Greek division of the month, 168;
expressions for times of the day, 34;
observation of the solstices, 316;
of the stars, 110;
seasonal points, 46;
seasons, 72;
calendar, 362

Half-years, reckoning in, 75, 78, 87

Hammurabi, letter of, 263

Heliacal risings and settings, 5

Hesiod, 46, 112

Homer, 34, 110, 316

Hour, origin of, 43

Icelandic (cp. Scandinavian) designation of times of the day, 21;
months, 297;
seasons, 75;
week-year, 78, 370

Indo-European expressions for times of the day, 31;
notion of the year, 97;
seasons, 71

Intercalary cycle, Babylonian, 259;
Greek, 363

Intercalation (cp. month, intercalary,) cyclical, 362;
in Greece, 368;
empirical, 243, 359;
origin of, 240;
pre-Mohammedan, 253;
regulated by the solstices, 265;
by the stars, 247

Israelitish festivals at full moon, 341;
intercalation, 244;
months, 233;
new year, 272

King in charge of the calendar, 352

Knots, 104, 320

Kugler on Babylonian intercalation, 260

Landmarks indicating times of the day, 21;
for observation of solstices and equinoxes, 311

Latin expressions for times of the day, 37;
star-names, 113

Lunar month, see Month.

Lunar months of European peoples, 294, 304, 305

Markets, in Arabia, 251;
in Canaan, 334

Market-week, 324

Measures of time, 42

Monsoons, 57, 87

Month, 147;
division of, 155, 159;
halving of, 166;
tripartite division of, 167;
quarters of, 170;
intercalary, 243;
of the Wadschagga, 203;
lunar, 5;
number of days in, 149;
sidereal, 4;
synodic, 5

Month-names, 174;
from festivals, 345;
from seasons and occupations, 218, 227;
from stars, 227, 247;
absence of, 223;
multiplicity of, 222;
old Greek, 364;
pairs of, 224;
popular European, 282;
variability of, 221

Months, counting of, 148, 217;
numbering of, 188, 233;
series of, 174;
incomplete, 240, 246;
Semitic, 226

Moon (cp. full moon, new moon) course of, 147;
invisibility of, 149;
phases of, 151, 155;
smaller phases, 159;
position of, 150;
time counted by, 16

Mountains as landmarks, 21

Nasi, 253

New moon, celebration of, 151

New moons, counting in, 151, 235

New Year, 8, 91, 267;
Egyptian, 278;
festivals of, 268

Night, parts of, 39;
times of, indicated by the stars, 40

Nights, counting in, 13

‘Noon-line’, 21

Nundinae, 333

Oktaeteris, 1, 363

Olympiads, 364

Pars pro toto counting, 358;
of days, 16;
of weeks, 358;
of years, 92

Picture-writings, 103

Planets, 120, 124

Plant as sun-dial, 19

Pleiades the, as indicating seed-time, 134;
special significance of, 129

Pleiades-year, 275

Priests as calendar-makers, 350

Qalammas, 253

Quarters of the moon, 170

Rainy and dry seasons, 54, 88;
two, 62

Sabbath, 329

Scandinavian (cp. Icelandic, Swedish) divisions of the day, 21;
observation of solstices, 316;
seasons, 74;
week-reckoning, 80

Schools of astronomy, 354

Seasonal points, 46

Seasons, 45;
cycles of, 65;
number: two, 54;
two or three, 72, 75;
three, 64;
four or five, 58, 63;
six, 60;
s. and months, 218;
regulation of, 70;
subdivision of, 61, 72

Sea-voyages, stars a guide to, 125, 353

Shabattu, 329

Shadow, time of day reckoned according to, 19

Shifting method of time-reckoning, 8

Solstices, 220;
festivals regulated by, 344;
months regulated by, 265;
observation of, 311

Stars, 109;
festivals regulated by, 133;
a guide to sea-voyages, 125, 353;
months named after, 227, 247;
new year determined by, 275;
omens of weather, 125, 130, 140, 143;
risings and settings of, 5, 128;
other phases, 129;
time of the night, 40;
time of the year indicated by, 128

Summer and winter, 54, 89

Summer day, the, 81

Sun = day, 13

Sun (cp. solstices and equinoxes), seed-time indicated by, 317;
time of day indicated by the position of, 17

Swedish (cp. Scandinavian) lunar months, 302, 304;
month-names, 299;
quarter-years, 80

Tally, 104, 168, 320

Tetraeteris, 1

Tille on the division of the Germanic year, 77

Time-indications, 9;
concrete, 355;
discontinuous and ‘aoristic’, 9, 356

Time-reckoning, methods of, 8

Units of time-reckoning, 3

Weather, stars as omens of, 125, 130, 140, 143

Webster on the sabbath, 335

Week, seven-day, 333

Week-year, 78, 370

Weidner on Babylonian intercalary cycles, 259

Weinhold on the Germanic seasons, 76

Wind-seasons, greater, 57;
shorter, 85

Winter and summer, 54, 89;
w. the time of festivals, 339

Winter day, the, 81

Winters, years counted in, 9

Year, 86;
agricultural, 91, 95, 96;
Egyptian, 277;
incomplete, 89, 223, 240;
stellar, 4;
stellar, of primitive peoples, 93, 275;
tropic, 4

Years, counting of, 92;
designation of y. after events, 99;
after rulers etc., 101, 107

Yule-moon, 301

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In Swedish (or German) I should use the word _punktnell_ to
denote this mode of time-reckoning, since the calculation is based
upon a _punctum_, a single point, not upon the whole unit of time.
Unfortunately the word ‘punctual’ has quite another sense in English.

[2] Snouck Hurgronje, I. 201.

[3] Jochelson, _Yukaghir_ p. 42.

[4] Jenks, p. 219.

[5] Schoolcraft, II, 129.

[6] _Ibid._ I, 57 B.

[7] Haddon, p. 303.

[8] Ling Roth, p. 133.

[9] See further Usener, _Götternamen_, p. 289. E. g. Pindar, _Ol._
XIII, 37, ἀελίῳ ἀμφ’ ἑνί (‘in one day’), Euripides, _Helena_ 652,
ἡλίους δὲ μυρίους μόγις διελθών (‘with difficulty passing through
thousands of suns’), and in a sacred regulation ἐᾶσαι οὕτως ἔστε κα
τρεῖς ἅλιοι γένωνται (‘to leave so until three suns have passed’),
Blinkenberg, _Die lindische Tempelchronik_, p. 38, Part D, 1. 72,
(Bonn, 1915) etc. In Latin still more frequently, e. g. Silius,
_Punica_, III, 554, _Bis senos soles, totidem per vulnera saevas
emensi noctes, etc._

[10] Il. XXI v. 80 ἠὼς δέ μοί ἐστιν ἥδε δυωδεκάτη ὅτ’ ἐς Ἴλιον
εἰλήλουθα.

[11] Il. XXIV v. 413 δυωδεκάτη οἱ ἠως κειμένῳ.

[12] Otherwise, but in my opinion erroneously, G. Bilfinger, _Der
bürgerliche Tag_, p. 35.

[13] Tacitus, _Germ._ 11, _nec dierum numerum sed noctium computant_.

[14] Schrader, II. 235; Ginzel, I, 243; A. Fischer, p. 744.

[15] Fornander, I, 122.

[16] Taylor, p. 364.

[17] Ellis, _Polyn. Res._³ I, 88.

[18] Mathias G., p. 210.

[19] Skeat and Blagden, I, 393.

[20] Claus, p. 38.

[21] Cole, p. 323.

[22] Cranz, I, 239.

[23] Heckewelder, p. 523.

[24] Dunbar, p. 1.

[25] Swanton, p. 339.

[26] Mooney, p. 365.

[27] Riggs, p. 165.

[28] Fletcher and La Flesche, p. 111.

[29] Powers, p. 77.

[30] Carver, p. 177.

[31] Radloff, p. 308.

[32] Spencer and Gillen, _Centr. Austr._, pp. 25 ff.

[33] Schrader, II, 235.

[34] Spencer and Gillen, _Centr. Austr._, pp. 25 ff.

[35] Radloff, p. 308.

[36] Partridge, p. 244.

[37] Velten, p. 353.

[38] Claus, p. 38.

[39] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, 140.

[40] Hammar, p. 156.

[41] Merker, p. 153.

[42] Schulze, p. 373.

[43] Foa, p. 119.

[44] Alberti, p. 69.

[45] Fabry, p. 223.

[46] Oliveau, p. 343.

[47] Spencer and Gillen, _Across Austr._, II, 270.

[48] Jenks, p. 219.

[49] Hose, p. 169.

[50] Wilken, p. 200.

[51] Crawfurd, I, 287 f.

[52] Marsden, _Sumatra_, p. 194.

[53] Haddon, p. 303.

[54] Forster, pp. 441 ff.

[55] Fletcher and La Flesche, p. 111.

[56] Krause, p. 339.

[57] Crawfurd, I, 287.

[58] Merker, p. 153.

[59] Velten, p. 333.

[60] Mansfeld, p. 244.

[61] Stannus, p. 288.

[62] Wegener, p. 146.

[63] Skeat and Blagden, I, 393.

[64] ὅταν ᾖ δεκάπουν τὸ στοιχεῖον, λιπαρῷ χωρεῖν ἐπὶ δεῖπνον.

[65] G. Bilfinger, _Zeitmesser_, p. 19; art. _Horologium_ in
Daremberg and Saglio, _Dictionnaire des Antiquités_.

[66] Paul, III, 447. See further Finn Magnusson.

[67] _Arkiv för Nord. Filologi_, 23, 1907, pp. 259 ff.

[68] Drake, p. 276.

[69] Hose, p. 169.

[70] Spencer and Gillen, _Northern Tribes_, p. 25; Spencer, pp. 444
ff.

[71] MacCaulay, p. 525.

[72] Fewkes, p 260.

[73] Fletcher and La Flesche, p. 111.

[74] Beverley, p. 4.

[75] _Ibid._ p. 182.

[76] _Handbook_, p. 189.

[77] Du Pratz, I, 223.

[78] Mooney, p. 365.

[79] Hill Tout, p. 155.

[80] Gilij, II, 12.

[81] Molina, pp. 139 ff.

[82] Hammar, p. 156.

[83] Gutmann, p. 241.

[84] Weeks, _JRAI, 39_, p. 417.

[85] Koelle, p. 284.

[86] Westermann, p. 105.

[87] Ellis, _Yoruba_, p. 150.

[88] Merker, p. 153.

[89] Hollis, _Masai_, p. 332.

[90] Roscoe, _JRAI, 32_, p. 71.

[91] Roscoe, _Baganda_, p. 38.

[92] Junod, _Thonga_, II, 282.

[93] Schulze, p. 373.

[94] Man, pp. 336 ff.

[95] Nieuwenhuis, I, 317.

[96] Maass, pp. 511 ff.

[97] Crawfurd, I, 287.

[98] Snouck Hurgronje, I, 199 ff.

[99] Snouck Hurgronje, I, 200 n. 2; translator’s note.

[100] Thurnwald, p. 334.

[101] _Ibid._, p. 346.

[102] Brown, p. 332.

[103] Fornander, I, 121.

[104] Malo, pp. 33 ff.

[105] Forster, pp. 441 ff.

[106] Wegener, pp. 146 ff.; Ellis, _Pol. Res._³, I, 89. The former
quotes the latter from the first edition, but Ellis l. c. leaves out
the translation of the concrete terms for the times later than noon,
and fills up the period from 7 a. m. to 6 p. m. with modern terms, e.
g. ‘about 7’, ‘8 a. m.’ etc.

[107] Mathias G., pp. 210 ff.

[108] Brown, p. 348.

[109] Velten, p. 333.

[110] Nieuwenhuis, I, 318.

[111] Gutmann, p. 241.

[112] Hollis, _Nandi_, p. 96.

[113] Crawfurd, I, 287.

[114] Cp. above, p. 27.

[115] Above, pp. 24, 30.

[116] Roscoe, _Bantu_, p. 140.

[117] ‘As the sun turned over to the unyoking of the oxen’.

[118] Feist, p. 262.

[119] Hollis, _Nandi_, pp. 96 ff.

[120] Sibree, pp. 69 ff.

[121] ἔσσεται ἢ ἠὼς ἢ δείλη ἢ μέσον ἦμαρ--Il. XXI, 111.

[122] εὗδον παννύχιος καὶ ἐπ’ ἠῶ καὶ μέσον ἦμαρ--Od. VII, 288.

[123] ὄφρα μὲν ἠὼς ἦν καὶ ἀέξετο ἱερὸν ἦμαρ--Od. IX, 56.

[124] ἦμος ... φάνη ... Ἠὼς--Od. IV, 431.

[125] ἦμος δ’ ἠέλιος μέσον οὐρανὸν ἀμφιβεβῃκη--Od. IV, 400.

[126] πᾶσαν δ’ ἠοίην μένομεν ... ἔνδιος δ’ ὁ γέρων ἦλθ’ ἐξ ἁλός--Od.
IV, 447-50.

[127] δείελον ἦμαρ--Od. XVII, 606.

[128] Od. I, 422.

[129] ἦμος δ’ οὔτ’ ἄρ πω ἠὼς ἔτι δ’ ἀμφιλύκη νύξ--Il. VII, 433.

[130] ἅμ’ ἠοῖ--Il. VII, 331, Od. XVI, 2; ἅμα δ’ ἠοῖ φαινομένηφιν--Il.
XI, 685; Od. IV, 407.

[131] Il. VIII, 538; Od. I, 24.

[132] ἠέλιος δ’ ἀνόρουσε λιπὼν περικαλλέα λίμνην οὐρανὸν εἰς
πολύχαλκον, ἵν’ ἀθανάτοισι φαείνοι--Od. III, 1 f.

[133] οὔθ’ ὁπότ’ ἂν στείχῃσι πρὸς οὐρανὸν ἀστεροέντα, οὔθ’ ὅτ’ ἂν ἂψ
ἔπὶ γαῖαν ἀπ’ οὐρανόθεν προτράπηται--Od. XI, 17.

[134] εὖτε γὰρ ἠέλιος φαέθων ὑπερέσχεθε γαίης--Il. XI, 735.

[135] ἠέλιος μὲν ἔπειτα νέον προσέβαλλεν ἀρούρας, ἐξ ἀκαλαρρείταο
βαθυρρόου Ὠκεανοῖο οὐρανὸν εἲς ἀνιών--Il. VII, 421 ff.

[136] μέμβλωκε μάλιστα ἦμαρ--Od. XVII, 190.

[137] εἶσ’ ὑπὸ γαῖαν--Od. X, 191.

[138] ἐν δ’ ἔπεσ’ Ὠκεανῷ λαμπρὸν φάος ἠελίοιο ἕλκον νύκτα
μέλαιναν--Il. VIII, 485.

[139] Od. XXII, 318.

[140] ἦμος δ’ ἠέλιος μετενίσσετο βουλυτόνδε--Il. XVI, 779; Od. IX, 58.

[141] ὥς οἱ ἐναργὲς ὄνειρον ἐπέσσυτο νυκτὸς ἀμολγῷ--Od. IV, 841.

[142] ἦμος δὲ δρυτόμος ἀνὴρ ὡπλίσσατο δεῖπνον ... ἐπεί τ’ ἐκορέσσατο
χεῖρας τάμνων δένδρεα μακρά--Il. XI, 86.

[143] ἦμος δ’ ἐπὶ δόρπον ἀνὴρ ἀγορῆθεν ἀνέστη κρίνων νείκεα
πολλά--Od. XII, 439.

[144] ἀγορῆς πληθυούσης--Herod. IV, 181; even in a Delphian sacred
decree, _Syll. inscr. graec._³ 257; περὶ ἀγορὰν πλήθουσαν--Xen.,
_Anab._ II, 1, 7; ἀγωρῆς πληθώρη--Herod. II, 173.

[145] πρὶν ἀγορὰν πεπληθέναι--Pherekr., _Autom._ 9.

[146] ἀγορῆς διάλυσις--Herod. III, 104.

[147] ἀλλ’ ἴομεν· μάλα γὰρ νὺξ ἄνεται, ἐγγύθι δ’ ἠώς. ἄστρα δὲ δὴ
προβεβήκε, παροίχωκεν δὲ πλέων νὺξ τῶν δύο μοιράων, τριτάτη δ’ ἔτι
μοῖρα λέλειπται--Il. X, 251.

[148] ἦμος δὲ τρίχα νυκτὸς ἔην, μέτα δ’ ἄστρα βεβήκει--Od. XII, 312,
and XIV, 483.

[149] Od. XIII, 93.

[150] _cum a curia inter rostra et graecostasin prospexisset solem;
a columna Maenia ad carcerem inclinato sidere supremam pronuntiavit,
sed hoc serenis tantum diebus_--Pliny, _Nat. Hist._, VII, 214.

[151] G. Bilfinger, _Stundenangaben_, _Zeitmesser_. _Hora sexta_ is,
for example, 6 o’clock, not the sixth hour. It seems to me as though
_hora_ refers to the hour-line.

[152] Bilfinger, _Stundenang._, p. 131; Ginzel, III, 89.

[153] _ea hora qua incipit homo hominem posse cognoscere_, XXV, 6.

[154] _cum aperit esse pullorum cantus_, XXXVI, 1.

[155] _de pullo primo_, XXXV, 1.

[156] Crantz, I, 294.

[157] p. 55.

[158] Wegener, p. 147.

[159] Ellis, _Pol. Res._³, I, 89.

[160] Malo, p. 49.

[161] Wegener, p. 146; cp. above, p. 29.

[162] Fornander, I, 121.

[163] Mooney, _Rep._, p. 365.

[164] Merker, p. 153.

[165] Westermann, p. 105.

[166] Hammar, p. 156.

[167] Schulze, p. 373.

[168] Malo, p. 33.

[169] Cp. above, p. 28.

[170] Schulze, p. 373.

[171] Merker, p. 153.

[172] See below, p. 40.

[173] Forster, p. 441.

[174] Mathias G., p. 210.

[175] Gutmann, p. 241.

[176] Crawfurd, p. 271.

[177] Velten, p. 333.

[178] Wilken, p. 200.

[179] Ellis, _Yoruba_, p. 150.

[180] Oliveau, p. 343.

[181] Forster, p. 441.

[182] Wegener, p. 148.

[183] Dibble, p. 107.

[184] Malo, p. 33.

[185] Nordenskjöld, _Indianlif_, p. 273.

[186] Holm, _10_, 142, or _39_, 85 and 106.

[187] Egede, p. 131.

[188] Drake, pp. 277 ff.

[189] Paul, III, 447; cp. above, p. 21.

[190] See above, p. 36.

[191] Sibree, pp. 69 ff.

[192] Mansfeld, p. 244.

[193] Snouck Hurgronje, I, 201.

[194] Brown, p. 332.

[195] Cp. Bilfinger, _Der bürgerliche Tag_, pp. 198 ff., and my
_Entstehung_, p. 13.

[196] Bilfinger, _Doppelstunde_; for the other side see Boll,
_Sphaera_, pp. 311 ff.

[197] Ginzel, III, 93 ff.

[198] Matthews, p. 4.

[199] Hesiod, _Op._, v. 448.

[200] Athenaeus, VIII, p. 360 C; for modern swallow-processions and
songs see Abbot, p. 18.

[201] Baumeister, _Denkm. des klass. Alt._, III, p. 1985, fig. 2128.

[202] αἵτ’ (γέρανοι) ἐπεὶ οὖν χειμῶνα φύγον--Il. III, 4.

[203] ὄρνιθος φωνήν, Πολυπαίδη, ὀξὺ βοώσης ἤκουσ’, ἥτε βροτοῖς
ἄγγελος ἦλθ’ ἀρότου ὡραίου--Theognis, vv. 1197 ff.

[204] Aristoph., _The Birds_, translated by J. H. Frere, vv. 709 ff.

[205] Cranz, I, 293.

[206] Wilson, p. 297.

[207] Stow, p. 112.

[208] Roscoe, _Bantu_, p. 140.

[209] Gilij, II, 20 ff.; ch. VII.

[210] Howitt, p. 432.

[211] Brown, p. 332.

[212] Thurnwald, p. 342.

[213] Mooney, _Rep._, p. 367.

[214] Ellis, _Pol. Res._³, I, 352.

[215] Heckewelder, p. 525.

[216] Junod, _Thonga_, p. 20.

[217] Junod, _Ronga_, pp. 196 ff.

[218] Grabowsky, p. 102.

[219] Sibree, p. 57.

[220] Dieffenbach, II, 122 ff.

[221] Sechefo, p. 931.

[222] Matthews, p. 4.

[223] Schiefner, p. 196.

[224] Homfray, p. 62.

[225] Turner, p. 202.

[226] Dalsager, pp. 54 ff.; cp. Cranz I, 293 ff.

[227] See below, pp. 66 ff.

[228] _R. T. Str._, pp. 226 ff.

[229] Cp. below, p. 57.

[230] Below ch. VI.

[231] _Handbook_, p. 189.

[232] Schoolcraft, II, 129.

[233] Fewkes, _21_ p. 19.

[234] Stevenson, p. 108.

[235] Bushnell, p. 17.

[236] Spencer and Gillen, _Centr. Austr._, p. 25.

[237] Gilij, II, 14; von den Steinen, _Globus_, p. 244.

[238] _Ibid._, p. 245.

[239] Krause, p. 339.

[240] Claus, p. 38.

[241] Hollis, _Nandi_, p. 94.

[242] _Loango Exp._ III: 2, 139.

[243] Torday and Joyce, _35_, p. 413; _36_, pp. 47 and 295.

[244] Mansfeld, p. 244.

[245] Ellis, _Tshi_, p. 215.

[246] Hobley, _Akamba_., p. 53.

[247] Cp. below, p. 88 f.

[248] Wilken, p. 197; cp. below p. 70.

[249] Maass, p. 514.

[250] Fornander, I, 118 ff.

[251] Sheldon Dibble, p. 24.

[252] Malo, pp. 53 and 57, note 2.

[253] Forster, p. 436.

[254] _Ibid._, p. 371.

[255] von Bülow, _72_, p. 239.

[256] Brown, p. 347.

[257] Stair, p. 37.

[258] Jenks, p. 219.

[259] Oliveau, p. 343.

[260] Erdland, p. 21.

[261] Landtman, communicated by letter.

[262] Meier, pp. 708 ff.

[263] Hale, p. 105.

[264] Hastings, p. 132.

[265] Skeat and Blagden, I, 393.

[266] Nelson, p. 234.

[267] Bushnell, p. 17.

[268] Hill Tout, _34_, 33.

[269] Teit, _Thompson_, pp. 238 f.

[270] Teit, _Shuswap_, p. 517.

[271] _Handbook_, p. 189.

[272] Powers, p. 294.

[273] Mooney, _Rep._, p. 370.

[274] Riggs, p. 165.

[275] Dunbar, p. 1.

[276] Schoolcraft, II, 129.

[277] Molina, pp. 319 ff.

[278] Beverley, p. 181.

[279] _Ibid._, p. 4.

[280] Mooney, _Rep._, p. 366.

[281] Cp. below, p. 73.

[282] Below pp. 72 ff.

[283] Wiklund, p. 5.

[284] Drake, p. 278.

[285] Jochelson, _Yukaghir_, p. 42.

[286] Claus, p. 38.

[287] Johnstone, p. 266.

[288] Barrett, p. 35.

[289] Merker, p. 155.

[290] Hollis, _Masai_, pp. 333 ff.

[291] Spieth, p. 312 and note.

[292] Ellis, _Yoruba_, p. 151.

[293] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, 139.

[294] Hammar, p. 156.

[295] Gutmann, p. 240.

[296] Roscoe, _Bantu_, p. 139.

[297] Weeks, p. 308.

[298] Sibree, pp. 53, 57.

[299] _Ibid._, p. 77.

[300] Schulze, p. 369.

[301] Irle, p. 224.

[302] Nisbet, II, 288.

[303] Malo, p. 60, n. 8.

[304] _Ibid._, p. 58, n. 5.

[305] Ellis, _Polyn. Res._³, I, 87.

[306] Taylor, pp. 361 ff., 364 ff.

[307] Du Bois, p. 165.

[308] MacDonald, p. 64.

[309] Dennett, pp. 130 ff.

[310] Westermann, p. 103.

[311] von den Steinen, _Globus_, p. 245.

[312] Hastings, p. 69.

[313] Wilken, p. 199.

[314] Nieuwenhuis, I, 161.

[315] Jenks, pp. 219 ff.

[316] The figures in brackets represent the number of days as given
by Wilken. See below.

[317] Crawfurd, I, 297 ff.

[318] Wilken, p. 197.

[319] D’Enjoy; Ginzel, I, 467. The latter begins the list with the
commencement of spring and gives dates. The number of days is in each
case taken from d’Enjoy.

[320] _Hiems et ver et aestas intellectum et vocabula habent, autumni
perinde nomen et bona ignorantur_--Tac., _Germ._, ch. 26; Schrader,
II³, 223 ff.; Feist, p. 265.

[321] Fragm. 76 Bergk.

[322] _De sign. temp._, 21, 44, 48.

[323] Roscher, p. 84; the limits according to Galen, XVII A, 17.

[324] Thibaut, pp. 10 ff.; Ginzel, I, 315.

[325] Weinhold, _Mon._, pp.2 ff.; cp. I. Aasen, _Norsk Ordbog_.

[326] Vigfusson, I, 431.

[327] _In der brache, in der zwibrache, in der herbst-sat, in
der erne, im houwet, im hanfluchet, ze afterhalme und houwe, in
der bonenarne, im brâchet, im wimmot, in der sât, im dem snite,
laubbrost, laubrîse, haberschnitt, habererndte._ Tille, p. 10; cp.
below, ch. XI.

[328] Cp. below pp. 78 ff.

[329] _De temp. rat._, ch. 13.

[330] _Im rîs und im lôve, im rûwen und im blôten, bî strô und bî
grase._

[331] Grimm, I, 74.

[332] Pfannenschmid, _Germanische Erntefeste_, Hanover, 1878,
maintains that the quadripartite division was developed alongside of
the tripartite, and bases his statement on a study of the principal
festivals.

[333] _Om en nordisk årstredelning_, p. 248. I cannot however agree
with the author in the direction indicated by the sub-title of his
essay: “Is a trace of an old Germanic tripartite division of the year
to be observed in our popular festivals?”

[334] Above, p. 73.

[335] For exceptions see Bilfinger, I, 8 ff.

[336] Bilfinger has brought forward his opinion with great
penetration and wide learning, but his reasoning cannot stand before
a searching criticism such as that amassed by Ginzel, III, 58 ff.,
and Brate, _Nordens äldre tideräkning_, Program of the Södermalm
College, Stockholm, 1908, pp. 17 ff., and in particular developed
and more profoundly based by Beckman, _Alfræði_, Intro. pp. 1 ff.;
cp. an article by the same author in the Norwegian periodical _Maal
og Minne_, 1915, p. 198. I might content myself with a simple
reference to Beckman, since I agree with him on all important points,
but as his article is written in Swedish and is therefore probably
inaccessible to many, I add the following note which in the main was
written long before it now appears, originally in connexion with my
studies in the primitive history of the Christmas festival, worked
out in the year 1914.

In point of fact it seems as though the objection which Bilfinger in
his study of the Yule-tide festival, II, 120, note, makes against the
criticism of Finnur Jonsson has not been answered (before Beckman):
the objection is that no notice is taken of the fundamental idea
of Bilfinger’s work on the Old Icelandic year--the cardinal point
around which his whole demonstration revolves--viz. the relation of
the Old Icelandic calendar to the calculation of Easter. Granting
that the still heathen Icelanders or Norwegians knew the week (the
Germanic peoples took over the week while yet in their heathen
period, see my _Studien zur Vorgeschichte des Weihnachtsfestes_,
Archiv f. Religionswiss., 19, 1918, p. 118) and made use of it in
counting time, and that they later learnt approximately to know the
length of the year--which is very easily conceivable in view of their
lively intercourse with other nations--we have the elements out of
which their calendar was developed, viz. the week and the year.
To these must be added the old-established divisions of the year,
summer and winter, which, on account of their importance for civil
life, were introduced as fixed periods of time into the calendar. As
a result of the adjusting of the reckoning in weeks to the year of
365, in leapyear 366, days, there arose a week-year with periodic
interpolations of an embolimic week. This of necessity agrees with
Bilfinger’s so-called ‘mean Easter year’, since both are constructed
out of the same elements, it being assumed only that the week-days of
the one calendar correspond to those of the other, and this is the
case, since the week came to Iceland from the south. Bilfinger is not
correct in calling (I, 71) the shifting Easter period a fragment of
a week-year: in so doing he shuts his eyes to what he himself terms
the quinary factor, i. e. that Easter Sunday falls varyingly on one
of the five Sundays between March 22 and April 25 (the other days of
the Paschal term being fixed accordingly). This fact, as has long
ago been observed, makes the Easter period a fragment of a lunisolar
year. A further development would lead to a lunisolar year that also
took into account the reckoning in weeks. Bilfinger’s view of the
matter is that the Icelanders for the sake of convenience eliminated
the quinary factor from the Easter reckoning by taking the mean
Easter Thursday as a fixed point of departure instead of letting the
calendar follow the actual variation of this day: this roundabout
method is unnecessary since the same result is arrived at by basing
a system of time-reckoning on the year and the week. The aim of the
Icelandic calendar, according to Bilfinger, was to fix the beginning
of summer, a legally very important term. If this was the object in
view it was, as Brate remarks (p. 21), not attained, for this day,
Thursday of the week April 9-15, may fall in the Passion week so that
it becomes useless for all business purposes. This proves on the
contrary that the fixing of the beginning of summer is pre-Christian.

The last objection to Are’s account of the introduction of the
Icelandic calendar, which Finnur Jonsson and Brate have allowed to
stand, must also fall. According to Are the cyclical interpolation
of a week was introduced by Torsten Surt about 960 A. D., while
previously the year had 52 weeks, i. e. 1¼ days too few. Bilfinger
objects that such a year is unthinkable, since in the course of 40
years it must anticipate itself by 50 days, and therefore in 292
years must have run through the whole circle of the seasons: the
mid-winter festival must therefore for one generation have fallen
in summer. Theoretically the objection is valid, but in practice
not so (cp. the Egyptian shifting year), and the old calendars are
administered practically. In the effort to arrive at an embolimic
cycle mistakes are at first made, and the agreement with the
solar year is once more brought about by means of intercalations
irregularly introduced for practical reasons. How the ancient Roman
calendar was treated we know: by the end of the Republic it had
become thoroughly disorganised as a result of intercalations made
for political purposes. Moreover the Roman year with its average
length of 366¼ days was from the beginning not a whit better than
the year of 364 days ascribed by Are to the Icelanders before
Torsten Surt. We learn from inscriptions that in Athens still more
irregular intercalations were made during the last decades of the
5th century. Such intercalations are the ruin of any system, but
chronology must work with a system, and this fact often blinds the
eye of the chronological student to the irregularity in the practical
treatment of the calendar. Irregular intercalations of this kind are
not indeed attested for Iceland, but it is evident that they must
always appear of themselves in a defective calendar. The possibility
of a treatment of this kind existed, since the spokesman of the laws
had to proclaim publicly every year to the assembled people in the
Althing notices about the calendar for the following year, among
which the announcement of the intercalation held a special place.
In these arguments I find myself in agreement with Beckman: I also
agree with his statement as to the gradual increase in accuracy in
the formation of the Icelandic week-calendar under the influence of
the ecclesiastical calendar.

We conclude then that the cardinal points of the Icelandic calendar,
which recur throughout Scandinavia and fall about three weeks behind
the equinoxes or the solstices, are not of Christian origin: the
agreement with what Bilfinger terms the ‘mean Easter Thursday’ is
accidental. The date is due to climatic conditions. A contributory
factor may have been the circumstance that mid-winter and midsummer
fall just at the places where a shortening or lengthening of the day
becomes observable.

[337] Småland and neighbouring provinces. Communicated by Dr. von
Sydow.

[338] This practice has passed into the Lapp language: _kess idja_ =
week of the summer nights, _talvidja_ = the winter nights. Wiklund,
pp. 16 and 20.

[339] _Þá skylldi blóta i móti vetri til árs, enn at miðjum
vetri blóta til gróðrar; hit þriðja at sumri, þat var
sigrblót_--_Heimskringla_, Ynglingasaga, ch. 8.

[340] See e. g. above, p. 70.

[341] Coquilhat, p. 367.

[342] Maass, p. 314. The names are those of the Arabic letters and
also denote the years of an eight-year cycle, the years of which are
said to be characterised by similar weather. The people are Islamite
Malays. Astrology and the calendar have strongly influenced Sumatra
and in particular Java; primitive modes of thought however recur
under the surface.

[343] Brown, p. 331.

[344] Thurnwald, p. 346.

[345] _Ibid._

[346] Routledge, p. 40.

[347] Hale, p. 105.

[348] Hastings, p. 132.

[349] Swoboda, p. 22.

[350] Brown, p. 331.

[351] Skeat and Blagden, I, 393.

[352] De Backer, p. 406.

[353] Hagen, p. 154.

[354] Brown, p. 347.

[355] Parkinson, p. 378.

[356] Cp. p. 57.

[357] Above, p. 55.

[358] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, 139.

[359] Roscoe, _Baganda_, pp. 37 ff.

[360] Id., _Bantu_, p. 72.

[361] Schiefner, pp. 191 ff.

[362] See above, p. 75.

[363] Schiefner, pp. 198, 201 ff.

[364] Wirth, p. 211.

[365] Hale, pp. 106, 170.

[366] Mathias G., p. 211.

[367] Dennett, pp. 136 ff.

[368] Adriani and Kruijt, II, 264.

[369] Maass, p. 512.

[370] Evans, _JRAI, 42_, p. 395.

[371] Mommsen, _Röm. Chronologie_², pp. 47 ff.; bibliography in
Ginzel II, 221 ff.

[372] Schulze, p. 369.

[373] Fabry, p. 224.

[374] Jenks, p. 219.

[375] Roscoe, _Bantu_, p. 140.

[376] Grabowsky, p. 102.

[377] Spieth, p. 311.

[378] Junod, _Thonga_, II, 282.

[379] Foa, p. 120. In these districts there are two seed-times and
two harvests in the year.

[380] See below ch. X.

[381] Schulze, p. 369.

[382] Musil, p. 256.

[383] Kisak Tamai, p. 97.

[384] von den Steinen, _Globus_, p. 246, n. 1.

[385] _Ibid._, p. 245: the last detail quoted from C. de Rochefort,
_Hist. naturelle et morale des Iles Antilles_, Rotterdam, 1663, p. 56.

[386] Beverley, p. 181.

[387] Grimm, I, 85; Weinhold, _Jahrt._, p. 12.

[388] von den Steinen, _Globus_.

[389] Mathias G., p. 211.

[390] Weeks, _JRAI, 39_, 129.

[391] Schrader, II³, 227; Feist, p. 266.

[392] Cranz, I, 293.

[393] Nelson, p. 234.

[394] Mooney, _Rep._, p. 366.

[395] Dunbar, p. 1.

[396] Fletcher and La Flesche, p. 111.

[397] Carver, p. 175.

[398] Powers, p. 77.

[399] Mallery, _4_, p. 99.

[400] Hill Tout, pp. 34, 33.

[401] von den Steinen, _Globus_, p. 245.

[402] Weeks, _Bakongo_, p. 308.

[403] _Handbook_, p. 189.

[404] MacCauley, p. 524.

[405] Sechefo, p. 932, note 1.

[406] Stannus, p. 288.

[407] Wilson, p. 297.

[408] Musil, p. 227.

[409] Read, p. 64.

[410] Schrader, II³, 227; Feist, pp. 266 ff.

[411] De la Vega, I, 199.

[412] Johnstone, p. 266.

[413] Lane’s Dictionary, s. v.

[414] Adriani and Kruijt, II, 263 ff.

[415] Fornander, I, 124; cp. 119.

[416] Ellis, _Pol. Res._³, I, 87.

[417] Codrington, p. 349.

[418] Prellwitz, in _Festschr. für Friedländer_, pp. 382 ff.; Türk,
_Hermes, 31_, 1896, pp. 647 ff.

[419] See p. 89.

[420] Stannus, p. 288.

[421] Johnstone, p. 266.

[422] Landtman, communicated by letter.

[423] _R. T. Str._, p. 225.

[424] Fabry, p. 224.

[425] Thomas, _Edo_, p. 18.

[426] Foa, p. 120.

[427] Schulze, p. 369.

[428] Kisak Tamai, p. 97.

[429] Reed, p. 64.

[430] Mathias G., pp. 211 ff.

[431] Thomson, I, 198.

[432] Hammar, p. 156.

[433] Below, p. 108.

[434] Ellis, _Pol. Res._³, I, 86.

[435] Hollis, _Masai_, pp. 261 ff.

[436] Holland, p. 234.

[437] Johnstone, _JRAI, 32_, p. 266.

[438] Adriani and Kruijt, II, 263 ff.

[439] Nicolovius, p. 7.

[440] von Brenner, p. 195.

[441] Hose and McDougall, II, 214.

[442] Cranz, I, 293; Dalsager, p. 55; Egede, p. 132.

[443] Alberti, p. 68.

[444] Drake, p. 279.

[445] Schulze, p. 369.

[446] Roscoe, _JRAI, 32_, p. 72; cp. id., _Baganda_, p. 37.

[447] Sprenger, pp. 137 ff.

[448] Ginzel, I, 251.

[449] Claus, p. 39.

[450] Merker, p. 156.

[451] Irle, pp. 222 ff.

[452] Heckewelder, pp. 525 ff.

[453] Dunbar, p. 1.

[454] Mooney, _Siouan Tribes_, p. 32.

[455] Mallery, _4_, p. 88.

[456] Russel, p. 36.

[457] King, p. 215.

[458] Cp. King, pp. 95, 130, 143, 144.

[459] Kugler, _Sternd._ II: 1, pp. 153 ff.; Ed. Meyer, _Gesch._, I:
2², 331, together with the bibliography there given.

[460] Thureau-Dangin, _Journal asiatique, 14_, 1909, p. 337.

[461] King, pp. 146, 95.

[462] Kugler, _Sternd._, II, 236 ff.; King _passim_.

[463] King, p. 190.

[464] Ed. Meyer, _Gesch._, I, 2², 31 and 148, _Chronol._ pp. 185 ff.,
and elsewhere.

[465] See above, pp. 91 ff.

[466] See pp. 129.

[467] Landtman, communicated by letter.

[468] Il. XXII, 25 ff. translated by P. S. Worsley.

[469] Cp. my article in _Arch. f. Religionswiss., 14_, 1911, p. 429.

[470] Od. XI, 17; XII, 380; see above, p. 35.

[471] ἀστέρ’ ὀπωρινῷ ἐναλίγκιον. ὅστε μάλιστα λαμπρὸν παμφαίνῃσι
λελουμένος Ὠκεανοῖο--II. V, 5: ‘bathed in the Ocean’, since Sirius at
his rising emerges like the sun from the ocean.

[472] οὔλιος ἀστὴρ παμφαίνων--II. XI, 62.

[473] ὀψὲ δυόντα Βοώτην--Od. V, 272.

[474] Il. XVIII, 489; Od. V, 275.

[475] οὐδέ οἱ ὕπνος ἐπὶ βλεφάροισιν ἔπιπτεν Πληιάδας τ’ ἐσορῶντι καὶ
ὀψὲ δύοντα Βοώτην ἄρκτον κ. τ. λ.--Od. V, 271 ff., translated by A.
S. Way.

[476] Il. XVIII, 486.

[477] Od. XIII, 93.

[478] _Op._, vv. 528 ff.

[479] vv. 414 ff.

[480] Pfeiffer, pp. 1 ff.

[481] Alcaeus, fr. 28a Matth.:--τέγγε πλεύμονα ϝοίνῳ· τὸ γὰρ ἄστρον
περιτέλλεται. Cp. Theognis vv. 1039 f.

[482] Aeschylus, _Agam._, vv. 4 ff., translated by E. Thring.

[483] Schol. Aesch. _Prom._, 457; Soph. _Palam._, fr. 399 N^2.

[484] Aesch., _Prom._, 453 ff., translated by R. Whitelaw.

[485] Soph., _Oed. Rex_, v. 113,--ἐξ ἦρος εἰς ἀρκτοῦρον ἑκμήνους
χρόνους.

[486] Gundel, pp. 99 ff.

[487] Rehm.

[488] Sprenger, pp. 162 ff.

[489] Bogoras, II, 307 ff.

[490] Egede, pp. 131 ff.

[491] Holm, _10_, 142, and 39, 106 and 85.

[492] Schiefner, p. 204.

[493] Swanton, p. 427.

[494] Carver, p. 253.

[495] Heckewelder, p. 527.

[496] Fletcher and La Flesche, p. 110.

[497] Gatschett, p. 666.

[498] Dorsey and Swanton, p. 203.

[499] Du Bois, pp. 162 ff.

[500] Columbus, p. 635.

[501] von den Steinen, _Zentralbras._, pp. 359 ff., 436, 513.

[502] Krause, p. 340.

[503] Teschauer, pp. 734 ff.

[504] Nordenskiöld, _Indianlif_, p. 273, _Indianer och hvita_, p. 173.

[505] Ehrenreich, pp. 44 f., 72.

[506] Molina, pp. 319 f.

[507] Spieth, p. 557.

[508] Thomas, _Ibo_, p. 127.

[509] Arcin, p. 394.

[510] Weeks, _Bakongo_, pp. 293 ff.

[511] Weeks, _JRAI, 39_, pp. 417 ff.

[512] Westermann, p. 104.

[513] Claus, p. 39.

[514] Junod, _Thonga_, II, 285.

[515] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, pp. 135 ff.

[516] Schulze, pp. 367 ff.

[517] Bleek, p. 108.

[518] Rivers, pp. 593 ff.

[519] Skeat and Blagden, II, 724.

[520] Hose and MacDougall, II, 213 f., 139.

[521] Many names of stars are given, e. g. by Ridley and MacPherson,
others by Kötz, pp. 30 ff. I give only a few examples; cp. also pp.
131 ff. and 144.

[522] Spencer and Gillen, _Central Australia_, pp. 565 f., _North.
Tribes_, pp. 628 ff.

[523] Strehlow, I, 19 f., 21 f., 24; II, 9.

[524] Howitt, pp. 431 f.

[525] Parker, pp. 95 ff.

[526] Ridley, p. 274.

[527] Brough-Smyth, I, 433, quoted by Kötz, p. 37.

[528] See below, pp. 139 ff.

[529] _R. T. Str._, p. 219.

[530] Rivers, _Mel._, I, 173.

[531] _Ibid._, II, 552, quoting Parkinson, p. 376, from the statement
of a native Moanu.

[532] Thurnwald, pp. 340 ff.

[533] Codrington, p. 348.

[534] Forster, p. 442.

[535] Wegener, p. 148.

[536] Erdland, pp. 24 ff.

[537] von Bülow, _72_, p. 238.

[538] See further Kötz, pp. 43 ff.

[539] Mathias G., pp. 209 f.

[540] Wegener, p. 148.

[541] Brandeis, p. 78.

[542] Forster, p. 442.

[543] Fornander, I, 127, note 1.

[544] Dibble, p. 107.

[545] Taylor, p. 363.

[546] Pp. 211 f.

[547] Christians, pp. 388 ff.

[548] Hale, p. 68.

[549] See pp. 123, 125, 132, 136, 138, 139, 144.

[550] On this special point Andree has collected much material, which
has been considerably augmented by Frazer.

[551] Bleek and Lloyd, I, 338 f.

[552] Schulze, p. 367.

[553] Parker, p. 95; cp. above, p. 122.

[554] McKellar, quoted by Frazer, p. 307; cp. Ridley, p. 279; below,
p. 144.

[555] Strehlow, pp. 9 and 19 ff.

[556] Stanbridge, in MacPherson, pp. 71 ff.

[557] Brough-Smyth, in Kötz, p. 43.

[558] Dawson, quoted by Frazer, p. 308.

[559] Bogoras, II, 307.

[560] L’Heureux, _JRAI, 15_, 301.

[561] Wilson, quoted by Andree, p. 364; McClintock, quoted by Frazer,
p. 311.

[562] Fewkes, quoted by Frazer, p. 312.

[563] Koch-Grünberg, II, 203 ff.

[564] Teschauer, pp. 734 ff.

[565] von den Steinen, _Globus_, p. 245.

[566] Cp. above p. 49.

[567] Gilij, II, 21.

[568] Grubb, quoted by Frazer, p. 309.

[569] De Angelis; Frazer, p. 309.

[570] Nordenskiöld, _Indianer och hvita_, pp. 173, 113.

[571] Id., _Indianlif_, p. 169.

[572] Frazer, p. 310, with references.

[573] Moffat, quoted by Frazer, p. 316.

[574] Kidd: Frazer, p. 116.

[575] McCall Theal: Frazer, p. 316.

[576] Callaway, p. 39.

[577] Junod, _Thonga_, II, 286.

[578] Stannus, p. 289.

[579] Hobley, _JRAI, 41_, 442.

[580] Hollis, _Masai_, pp. 275 ff.; cp. below, pp. 201 f.

[581] _Globus, 82_, 1902, p. 177.

[582] Winterbottom, quoted by Frazer, p. 318.

[583] Weeks, _Bakongo_, pp. 293 ff.

[584] See above, p. 93.

[585] Weeks, _39_, p. 129.

[586] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, pp. 135 and 138.

[587] Arcin, p. 394.

[588] St. John, I, 213 ff.

[589] Schaank, quoted by Andree, p. 364.

[590] Hose and McDougall, I, 109; II, 139, 213.

[591] Hose, _JRAI, 23_, p. 168.

[592] Schaank, quoted by Andree, p. 364.

[593] Nieuwenhuisen, quoted by Frazer, p. 315.

[594] Marsden: Frazer, p. 315.

[595] von Spreeuwenberg: Frazer, p. 313.

[596] Neuhauss: Frazer, p. 313.

[597] Haddon: Frazer, _ibid._

[598] Haddon, p. 303.

[599] _R. T. Str._, pp. 218 ff.

[600] Landtman, pp. 482 ff.

[601] Codrington, p. 348.

[602] Brown, p. 332.

[603] Parkinson, pp. 377 ff.

[604] Wheeler, p. 37.

[605] Guppy, quoted by Frazer, p. 313.

[606] Thurnwald, pp. 340 ff.

[607] Codrington, p. 348.

[608] Christians, pp. 388 ff.

[609] von Bülow, _72_, p. 238; the author expresses himself
erroneously, as if it were a case of the entrance of a planet into a
constellation, instead of the position of a fixed star.

[610] Pfeiffer, pp. 1 ff.

[611] See above, pp. 130 f., 137, 131, 125 f.

[612] G. Schmidt, quoted by Frazer, p. 317.

[613] Ridley, p. 279.

[614] Parker, pp. 95 ff.; cp. above, p. 131.

[615] Ridley, p. 273.

[616] Manning, p. 168; cp. Frazer, p. 308.

[617] Reuterskiöld, pp. 72 and 119.

[618] Above, p. 112.

[619] Weeks, _Bakongo_, pp. 293 ff.

[620] Hollis, quoted by Frazer, p. 317.

[621] Nordenskiöld, _Indianer och hvita_, p. 173.

[622] Abbot, p. 70.

[623] Nordenskiöld, _Kulturhist._, p. 219.

[624] The Caffres--Alberti, p. 68; probably also among the ‘wild’
Kubu of Sumatra--Hagen, p. 155.

[625] Partridge, p. 244.

[626] Oliveau, p. 343.

[627] von Bülow, _93_, 251.

[628] Spieth, p. 311.

[629] Sechefo, _4_, p. 931.

[630] Below, pp. 158 f.

[631] Macdonald, p. 291.

[632] Sechefo, p. 932.

[633] Thomas, _Ibo_, p. 127.

[634] Schoolcraft, II, 177.

[635] Roscoe, _Bantu_, p. 140.

[636] Spieth, p. 556.

[637] Stannus, p. 288.

[638] MacCaulay, p. 525.

[639] Thurnwald, p. 331.

[640] See further Frazer, IV: 2, 140 ff.

[641] Howitt, p. 428.

[642] Hanserak, p. 44.

[643] Musters, p. 203.

[644] Carver, p. 175.

[645] Du Pratz, II, 354 ff.

[646] Seligmann, p. 193.

[647] Wollaston, p. 132.

[648] Thurnwald, pp. 332 ff.

[649] Bleek and Lloyd, I, 415.

[650] Livingstone, p. 235.

[651] Junod, _Thonga_, I, 51; II, 283.

[652] Roscoe, _Bantu_, p. 139 f.

[653] Gutmann, p. 238.

[654] Thomas, _Ibo_, p. 127.

[655] Stow, p. 112.

[656] Foa, p. 120.

[657] _Arch. f. Anthropol., 12_, 1913, p. 152.

[658] Møller, p. 50.

[659] Strabo, III, 4, 16 (p. 164).

[660] _Coeunt, nisi quid fortuitum et subitum inciderit, certis
diebus, cum aut inchoatur luna aut impletur: nam agendis rebus hos
auspicatissimum initium credunt_--Tac., _Germ._, XI.

[661] With this section cp. Webster, ch. V, _Lunar Superstitions and
Festivals_.

[662] Spencer, p. 456.

[663] Cp. below, p. 160.

[664] Homfray, p. 61.

[665] Man, p. 337.

[666] Heckewelder, p. 527.

[667] Reed, p. 64.

[668] Hambruch, p. 57.

[669] Krause, p. 339.

[670] Schulze, p. 370.

[671] Spencer, p. 333.

[672] Spencer and Gillen, _Centr. Austr._, p. 565.

[673] Junod, _Thonga_, II, 283.

[674] Cp. above, p. 150.

[675] Spieth, p. 556.

[676] Skeat and Blagden, II, 660.

[677] Jenks, p. 219.

[678] Scheerer, p. 158.

[679] Brown, p. 332.

[680] Thurnwald, pp. 330 ff.

[681] Ray, in _R. T. Str._, p. 225.

[682] von den Steinen, p. 358.

[683] _Ibid._, p. 435.

[684] Nieuwenhuis, I, 317.

[685] Adriani, quoted by Winkler, p. 440.

[686] Adriani and Kruijt, II, 264 ff.

[687] von Krämer, I, 356 ff.

[688] Malo, pp. 54 ff.

[689] Fornander, I, 120 ff.

[690] Fornander, p. 126.

[691] Mathias G., p. 211.

[692] Tregear, _JRAI, 19_, p. 114.

[693] Forster, pp. 439 ff.; cp. Tregear, _Maori Dictionary_, App. A.

[694] The names of the days (Ellis, _Polyn. Res._³, I, 88) are very
similar to those of Tahiti; cp. also Wegener, p. 147, n. 1.

[695] Collected by Christians, pp. 387 ff.

[696] These expressions give the time of day, cp. above, p. 150.

[697] Hollis, _Nandi_, pp. 95 ff.

[698] Ginzel, I, 243.

[699] Boas, p. 648.

[700] Radloff, p. 308.

[701] Wirth, p. 364.

[702] Claus, p. 38.

[703] Hagen, pp. 154 ff.

[704] Above, p. 158.

[705] Merker, p. 156, n. 1.

[706] The twice-recurring verse τοῦ μὲν φθίνοντος μηνὸς τοῦ δ’
ἱσταμένοιο in Homer, _Od._ XIV, 162 and XIX, 307; Hesiod, _Op._, v.
780. Cp. my _Entstehung_, pp. 27 and 30 f.

[707] Below, pp. 188 and 206 f.

[708] Stevenson, p. 108.

[709] Ellis, _Yoruba_, p. 144.

[710] Merker, pp. 154 ff.

[711] Hesiod, _Op._, v. 773.

[712] See my remarks in _Arch. f. Religionswiss., 14_, p. 432.

[713] Barrett, p. 35.

[714] Stannus, p. 288.

[715] Gutmann, pp. 238 ff.

[716] Merker, pp. 154 ff.

[717] De Backer, p. 407; for the Andamanese cp. above, p. 155.

[718] See the passage from a Babylonian Creation epic quoted by Boll
in Pauly-Wissowa’s _Realcykl. der klass. Altertumswiss._, VII, 2551.

[719] Mausser, p. 222.

[720] Compare the corresponding Chukchee months cited by Bogoras,
below p. 220.

[721] Jochelson, _Koryak_, p. 428.

[722] Jochelson, _Yukaghir_, p. 41.

[723] Nelson, pp. 234 ff.

[724] Boas, _Eskimo_, pp. 644 ff.

[725] Dalsager, pp. 54 ff.; cp. Cranz, I, 293 ff.

[726] Schiefner, p. 204.

[727] Swanton, _Tlingit_, pp. 425 ff.

[728] Teit, _Shuswap_, pp. 517 ff.

[729] Teit, _Thompson_, pp. 237 ff.

[730] _Ibid._, pp. 238 ff.

[731] Teit, _Lillooet_, pp. 223 f.

[732] Boas, _Kwakiutl_, pp. 412 ff.

[733] Hill Tout, _JRAI, 34_, p. 34.

[734] _Ibid._, pp. 334 ff.

[735] Cp. the lists from the Yakuts p. 179 and the Tunguses p. 178.

[736] Hale, pp. 210 ff.

[737] Hastings, p. 66.

[738] De la Potherie, II, 331.

[739] Carver, pp. 175 ff.

[740] The translator quotes Loskiel, _Gesch. der Mission der
evangelischen Brüder unter die Indianer in Nordamerika_, Barby, 1789.

[741] Heckewelder, p. 524.

[742] Jenks, _Wild Rice_, pp. 1089 f.

[743] Riggs, _Dict._, s. v. _wi_, ‘moon’.

[744] Clark, p. 16.

[745] Fletcher and La Flesche, p. 111.

[746] Mooney, _Kiowa_, pp. 368 ff.

[747] Dunbar, p. 1.

[748] Gatschet, p. 1.

[749] Beverley, p. 4.

[750] Clark, p. 372.

[751] Matthews, p. 4.

[752] MacCauley, p. 524.

[753] Bushnell, p. 17.

[754] Du Pratz, II, 354 ff.

[755] Fewkes, _15_, p. 256.

[756] Stevenson, p. 108.

[757] _Handbook_, p. 189, from Cushing.

[758] Russel, p. 36.

[759] Hastings, p. 69.

[760] E. g. Garcilasso de la Vega, I, 200.

[761] Chervin, p. 229; Nordenskiöld, _Kulturh._, p. 219.

[762] Gilij, II, 233.

[763] Krause, p. 339.

[764] Schulze, p. 370.

[765] Sechefo, _4_, 931 ff., _5_, 71 ff.

[766] Macdonald, _JRAI, 19_, p. 291.

[767] Junod, _Ronga_, II, 284 ff.

[768] Irle, p. 224.

[769] François, _Nama und Damara_, Magdeburg, 1895, p. 185 f., quoted
from Ginzel, II, 142.

[770] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, 139.

[771] Burrows, p. 56. The land extends from 23° W. long., and runs
eastwards to the Nile at the most northerly point of the Congo Free
State.

[772] Westermann, pp. 103 and 299.

[773] Hobley, _Akamba_, pp. 52 ff.

[774] Barret, _JRAI, 41_, p. 35.

[775] Cole, p. 323.

[776] Hollis, _Nandi_, pp. 94 ff.

[777] Gutmann, pp. 239 ff.

[778] Mischlisch, p. 127.

[779] Thomas, _Edo_, p. 18.

[780] _Etudes ethnogr., Rev. de Madag._, août 1904, p. 148 f.

[781] _Antan. Annual_, 1886, p. 237.

[782] Grandidier, pp. 384 ff.

[783] Newbold, II, 356 ff.

[784] von Bremer, p. 233.

[785] Nieuwenhuis, I, 317.

[786] Ginzel, I, 422 ff.; Friederich, p. 87.

[787] Forbes, p. 429.

[788] Cp. Landtman, p. 482. My additions are in brackets.

[789] See above, p. 57.

[790] Below, pp. 218 ff.

[791] Christians, pp. 389, 394.

[792] Christians, p. 393, after Kubary.

[793] Kubary, pp. 107 ff.

[794] Hale, p. 68.

[795] _Ibid._, pp. 391 ff.

[796] Meineke, p. 105.

[797] Cp. pp. 212, 213.

[798] Thomson, I, 198, Taylor, p. 362. The list is Taylor’s:
Thomson’s is not so full, and is distinguished from the other in
assigning a later position to the phases of the vegetation; it must
therefore come from a more southerly district.

[799] Martin, II, Vocabulary, s. v. _mahina_, ‘moon, month’.

[800] Ellis, _Polyn. Res._³, I, 86.

[801] Forster, pp. 438 ff.

[802] Fornander, I, 125.

[803] von Bülow, _Globus, 72_, p. 239; G. Turner, _A hundred years
ago and long before_, London, 1884, makes the same statement, Krämer
(I, 356) differs very little from it; cp. also Hale, pp. 169 ff.
A quite different list is to be found in a work inaccessible to
me--Pratt and Frazer, _Some Folk-songs and Myths from Samoa_, R. Soc.
of New S. Wales, XXIII, 1891, p. 121. It is worth noting that here
two names of months are said to mean a demon, another a forest spirit.

[804] Lister, p. 53.

[805] Dibble, pp. 24 ff.; Fornander, I, 119.

[806] Haddon, p. 303; so also _R. T. Str._, p. 225.

[807] Spencer and Gillen, _Centr. Austr._, p. 25.

[808] Spencer, p. 444.

[809] Codrington, pp. 349 ff.

[810] Brown, pp. 331 ff.

[811] Bogoras, I, 51 ff.

[812] Above, p. 182.

[813] Jenks, p. 219.

[814] Mooney, _Kiowa_, p. 368.

[815] Above, p. 193.

[816] Above, p. 183.

[817] Forster, p. 371.

[818] Above, p. 190.

[819] Above, p. 195.

[820] Above, p. 192.

[821] Above, p. 180.

[822] Thomas, _Ibo_, I, 127.

[823] Mathias G., p. 211.

[824] Above, pp. 210 f.

[825] Above, pp. 178, 180.

[826] Above, p. 176.

[827] Above, pp. 193 f.

[828] Above, p. 192.

[829] Above, p. 195.

[830] Dubois, p. 165.

[831] Above, p. 193.

[832] Above, p. 200.

[833] Above, p. 174.

[834] The explanations given by Muss-Arnolt are known to me only
through Ginzel, I, 117 ff.

[835] The respective explanations are from Kugler, II: 1, pp. 176
ff., and Thureau-Dangin.

[836] Hrozný, pp. 85 ff.

[837] I Kings, Chap. VI and VIII.

[838] Dillman, p. 926, König, p. 612 ff., and elsewhere.

[839] Above, p. 204.

[840] Schiaparelli, _A. Test._, p. 139.

[841] König, p. 636.

[842] Wellhausen, _Proleg._, p. 110.

[843] See below, pp. 272 ff.

[844] Finally discussed by Marti.

[845] I Kings VI, vv. 1, 37, and 38; VIII, 2.

[846] Exod. II, 2, Moses’ mother ‘hid him three months’.

[847] i. e. ‘month of the days’, Deut. XXI, 13, II Kings XV, 13.

[848] Deut. XXXIII, 14.

[849] Above, p. 151.

[850] I have examined the passages by the aid of Mandelkern’s
Concordance and the analysis of sources in Kautzch’s translation of
the Bible: for the numbered months cp. also Wellhausen, _Proleg._, p.
110.

[851] I Sam. XX.

[852] First in the somewhat later narrative of Elisha, II Kings IV,
23; then in Amos VIII, 5; Isaiah I, 13; XLVII, 13; LXVI, 23, etc.

[853] Num. XXIX, 6; XXVIII, 11, 14,

[854] I Sam. XX, 28, ‘the morrow after the new moon’.

[855] First the Yahwist, Ex. XXXIV, 18, and his reviser, XIII, 4 ff.;
XXIII, 15; XXXIV, 18; further the Deuteronomist, XVI, 1, and in Ex.
XII, 2.

[856] Judges XI, 37 ff.

[857] One month: Lev. XXVII, 6; Num. III, (often); IX, 22; XVIII,
16; XXVI, 62; I Kings IV, 7, 27; V, 14 (in the history of Solomon);
several months: I Sam. XXVII, 7 (the old History of the Kings); II
Sam. II, 11; V, 5; VI, 11; XXIV, 8, 13; I Kings XI, 16; II Kings XV,
8; Deut. XXIII, 31; XXIV, 8.

[858] The Elohist, Gen. XXIX, 14; the Yahwist, Num. XI, 20; Jud. XIX,
2; XX, 47.

[859] See below, pp. 272 ff.

[860] Enumerated by Ginzel, I, 240; cp. Wellhausen, _Reste_, p, 94,
note 1.

[861] Wellhausen, _Reste_, pp. 96 (with note 1), 97.

[862] Cranz, I, 293, Dalsager, p. 54; cp. Holm, _10_, p. 141, and
_39_, p. 105, respectively.

[863] Above, pp. 185 f.

[864] Mallery, _4_, p. 99; cp. Riggs, _Grammar_, p. 165.

[865] Dunbar, p. 1.

[866] Macdonald, p. 291.

[867] Friederich, p. 88.

[868] Below, p. 250.

[869] Winkler, p. 439.

[870] Nieuwenhuis, I, 317.

[871] Maes, p. 627.

[872] Thomas, _Ibo_, I, 127.

[873] Beverley, p. 181.

[874] Jochelson, _Yukaghir_, p. 42.

[875] Jochelson, _Koryak_, p. 428.

[876] Above, p. 241.

[877] Matthews, p. 4.

[878] Carver, p. 175.

[879] Below, p. 262.

[880] Above, pp. 201 f.

[881] Hollis, p. 334.

[882] Ginzel II, 41, 44.

[883] Dalman, p. 3.

[884] Boas, _Eskimo_, pp. 644 ff.

[885] Boas, _Kwakiutl_, pp. 412 ff.

[886] Dunbar, p. 1.

[887] Ellis, _Pol. Res._³, I, 86.

[888] Above, p. 184.

[889] Dubois, p. 165.

[890] Above, pp. 197 and 199.

[891] Above, pp. 211 f.

[892] Above, p. 210.

[893] Above, p. 208.

[894] Petrus Martyr, _De nuper sub D. Carolo repertis insulis_,
Basileae, 1521; quoted by Ginzel, I, 446, note 1.

[895] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, 138.

[896] Macdonald, p. 291.

[897] Friederich, p. 86.

[898] Taylor, p. 362.

[899] Thomson, I, 198.

[900] Tregear, p. 114.

[901] De Backer, p. 407.

[902] Brandeis, p. 78.

[903] Malo, p. 59.

[904] Quoted by Malo, p. 59, note 7.

[905] Above, p. 242.

[906] Winkler, pp. 436 ff.

[907] Above, pp. 237 ff.

[908] Wellhausen, _Reste_, pp. 88, 99.

[909] Sprenger, p. 144.

[910] Wellhausen, _Reste_, p. 96; _Vakidi_, pp. 17 ff.

[911] I cannot go further into this, but refer to Ginzel, I, 243 ff.,
though he has far from exhausted the subject. Wellhausen’s treatment
(l. c.) is suggestive but too dogmatic, and he leaves the _nasî_ out
of account. More recently Moberg has examined in detail the Arabian
traditions: for particulars of his researches I refer to his paper,
_Den muhammedanska traditionen i fråga om an-nasî_, St. Tegn., pp.
465 ff. His conclusion is that originally _nasî_ was partly the term
for the insertion of the intercalary month, and also probably the
name of the intercalary month itself.

[912] For quotations see Sprenger, pp. 145 ff., also Albiruni, in
Ginzel I, 245.

[913] See my _Entstehung etc._, p. 47.

[914] Sprenger’s hypothesis that the pre-Mohammedan Arabians had the
lunar year but that the feast of pilgrims was held before the full
moon preceding the spring equinox is also false: for the names of
months shew that the feast was connected with a definite month.

[915] I give here the English translation of Sachau, p. 73, which
adds _rabi I_ in brackets as an explanation. I am indebted to Prof.
Moberg for the literal translation of the passage:--“The first _nasî_
fell in the _muharram_, and _safar_ was called by this name and _rabi
I_ by the name _safar_, and from this they let the months revolve
in the series. The second _nasî_ fell in _safar_, and the month
following that (_rabi I_: Sachau) was again called _safar_, and so
on, until the _nasî_ had run through all twelve months and came back
again to _muharram_.” As a result of the first intercalation _rabi
I_ became _safar_, therefore _rabi II_ = _rabi I_, after the second
the names are pushed another stage forwards, therefore the original
_safar_ = after the first intercalation _rabi I_, after the second
_rabi II_. I have added a reference to the original situation.

[916] Caussin, p. 349.

[917] Above, pp. 226 ff.

[918] Kugler, _Erg._, p. 153.

[919] Kugler, I, 35 ff., II, 88 ff.

[920] Above, p. 227.

[921] Kugler, I, 228 ff., _Erg._, p. 169.

[922] The connexion of the number of the 12 signs of the zodiac with
the months has often been contested, but in my opinion erroneously.

[923] Kugler, _Erg._, p. 131; cp. also Weissbach, pp. 281 ff.

[924] For a general view I refer to Bezold’s essay.

[925] Cp. above, p. 243.

[926] See Landsberger, pp. 44 ff.

[927] _Ibid._, p. 30, note 4.

[928] Kugler, II, 187 ff.; Weidner, _Memnon, 6_, 65 ff.

[929] Kugler, II, 248 ff.

[930] Kugler, II, 253, and elsewhere: the passage is often quoted.

[931] Schiaparelli, _Bab._, p. 229.

[932] Schiaparelli, _Bab._, p. 230.

[933] Weidner, p. 73; for the 27-year period in question see below,
p. 264.

[934] Above, p. 183.

[935] Above, p. 188.

[936] Below, p. 313.

[937] Casalis, quoted by Frazer, p. 117.

[938] Dubois, p. 165.

[939] Above, pp. 211 f.

[940] See my article _Kalendæ Januariæ_, Arch. f. Religionswiss.,
_19_, 1918, in particular pp. 68 ff.

[941] _R. T. Str._, p. 226.

[942] Above, p. 202.

[943] Grabowsky, p. 102.

[944] Bartram, p. 483.

[945] Powers, p. 438.

[946] Callaway, pp. 406, 413.

[947] Johnstone, p. 266.

[948] Junod, _Thonga_, I, 368 ff.

[949] Leonard, pp. 434 ff.

[950] Ellis, _Polyn. Res._³, I, 351.

[951] Nieuwenhuis, I, 161.

[952] Ellis, _Yoruba_, p. 150.

[953] von Bülow, p. 239.

[954] _Handbook_, p. 189.

[955] Mooney, _Kiowa_, pp. 366 ff.

[956] Gatschet, p. 17.

[957] Bushnell, p. 17.

[958] Du Pratz, II, 354 ff.

[959] Teit, _Thompson Indians_, p. 237.

[960] Teit, _Shuswap_, p. 518.

[961] Turner, p. 202.

[962] Jochelson, _Yukaghir_, p. 428.

[963] Holm, _10_, p. 141, and _39_, p. 105.

[964] Above, p. 234.

[965] See Dillmann, pp. 914 ff., König, pp. 624 ff., and the
authorities there cited.

[966] Exod. XXIII, 16, XXXIV, 22.

[967] Cp. above, p. 268.

[968] See above, p. 234.

[969] Lev. XXIII, 24.

[970] Grubb, p. 139.

[971] Liebstadt, quoted by Frazer, p. 309.

[972] Teschauer, p. 736.

[973] Gumilla, quoted by Frazer, p. 310; cp. Gilij, above, p. 49.

[974] von den Steinen in _Globus_, from old sources difficult of
access and in part in manuscript.

[975] Kidd, quoted by Frazer, p. 116.

[976] Callaway, p. 397.

[977] Friederich, p. 86.

[978] Thurnwald, p. 342.

[979] Mathias G., p. 211.

[980] Ellis, _Polyn. Res._³, I, 312.

[981] _Ibid._, p. 87; Wegener, p. 147.

[982] Ed. Meyer, _Chron._, p. 20.

[983] Cp. above, pp. 248 f., and especially the Pleiades year, pp.
274 ff.

[984] Grimm, p. 105.

[985] Abbot, pp. 11 ff.

[986] von Hahn, II, 111.

[987] Grimm, pp. 101 ff.

[988] Grimm, p. 104.

[989] Grimm, pp. 98 ff.

[990] _koložeg_, also December. The name cannot be taken as referring
to the disc of the sun; popularly it is said that once it was so cold
during this month that the people had to burn even their waggons in
order to warm themselves.

[991] Yermoloff, p. 54.

[992] According to Yermoloff, p. 428, October.

[993] The Czechs have for some centuries distinguished _červen_ and
_červenec_ as June and July respectively, or also:--‘the little _č_.’
= June, ‘the great _č_.’ = July.

[994] Yermoloff, p. 394.

[995] The much-disputed name _Hornung_ is rightly explained by
Bilfinger, _Bes. Beil. des Staats-Anzeigers f. Württemberg_, 1900,
pp. 193 ff. It describes the month as ‘the one that has been
curtailed of its rights’ (cf. Icel. _hornungr_), since it has fewer
days than the others: cf. the Flemish term _het kort mandeken_.
The same writer, _Zts. f. deutsche Wortforschung 5_, 1903, pp. 263
ff., satisfactorily explains _Sporkel_ as the month in which the
vines are pruned; the name _Rebmonat_ has the same sense. Further
he conjectures that as November is the slaughtering month and
_Louwmaend_ (= January) is the tanning month, _Sellemaend_ takes its
name from the sale of the hides.

[996] Ebner, p. 9.

[997] _Ibid._, p. 5.

[998] Weinhold, _Mon._, pp. 31 ff.

[999] Above, p. 77.

[1000] Tille, pp. 19 and 15.

[1001] This pair is evidently to be explained otherwise: cp.
Bilfinger, above, p. 289, note 1.

[1002] Beda, _De temp. rat._, c. 15.

[1003] This interpretation however involves the difficulty that
_hreðe_ is usually written without _h_ (Ekwall).

[1004] Hampson, I, 422 ff.

[1005] _Bibl. der angelsächs. Poesie, herausgeg. v. C. W. M. Grein_,
II, Göttingen, 1858, pp. 1 ff.

[1006] Hickes, I, 215.

[1007] The quotations are given in the Oxford Dictionary; see further
Hampson, II, 194.

[1008] Aubrey, _Rom. Gentilisme_, 1686-7.

[1009] Bilfinger, _Unters._, II, 125 ff.

[1010] _Lið_, ‘ship’, _liða_, ‘seafarer’ have short _i_ and could not
give _þriliði_.

[1011] F. Kluge, _Nominale Stammbildungslehre_, 2nd ed., 1899, p. 66.
The word is used in _Coloss._ II, 16, and translates Greek νεομηνία;
this word really means ‘new moon’, but in later Greek any festival.
Hence it is not very surprising that Ulfilas should have put ‘full
moon’ for νεομηνία.

[1012] Bilfinger, _Unters._, I, 7.

[1013] Worm, p. 48; Finn Magnusson in _Edda_ III, 1044 ff., whence
the translations are taken.

[1014] _Edda_ III, 1044 ff.

[1015] Weinhold, _Mon._, p. 23, without giving source.

[1016] Worm, pp. 43 ff.

[1017] Hickes, I, 215, written _Blindemanet_.

[1018] _Edda_ III, 1044 ff.

[1019] Hickes, _loc. cit._, has as variants 1, _Ism._, 10, _Riidm._,
11, _Winterm._

[1020] The history of the Swedish list of months is dealt with in
detail by the present writer in the essay _De svenska månadsnamnen,
Stud. Tegn._, pp. 173 ff., to which the reader is referred for the
documents.

[1021] _Ibid._, pp. 177 ff.

[1022] Bilfinger, _Unters._, I, 32.

[1023] Weinhold, _Mon._, pp. 38 and 58; Axel Olrik, _Zeitschr. des
Vereins f. Volkskunde, 20_, 1910, p. 57.

[1024] _Unters._, I, 49 ff.

[1025] Celsius, pp. 211, 65.

[1026] Beckman, _Stud. Tegn._, pp. 200 ff.

[1027] Beckman, _loc. cit._, tries to prove the heathen origin of
the computation of the _disting_ and its independence of the Easter
reckoning by the statement that the former follows the phenomena of
the heavens, the latter the rule of computation, which may lead to a
different result. Unfortunately this conclusion cannot be considered
too binding, since for the people in general, who knew nothing about
this rule,--how late in medieval times the rune-staves appeared we do
not know, but certainly not at the beginning of the Middle Ages--it
was still absolutely necessary to determine in some degree the
time of fasting and the Easter time. And if the absolutely correct
calculation could not be made, it was still better than nothing to
have one that was at least approximate and easy to make. The fact
that the moon of fasting was calculated from the phenomena of the
heavens is expressly stated in the rule as given above, p. 301.

[1028] Saga of Saint Olaf, ch. 76.

[1029] Olaus Andreae and Gerardus Erici, 1600; Petrus Gisæus, 1603.

[1030] _Ny inkombling_ = ‘new-comer’, ‘intruder’.

[1031] Celsius, p. 111.

[1032] See above, p. 299.

[1033] J. Häyhä, III, 101 ff.

[1034] There can here be no question of the Catholic regulation of
the moons by the Epiphany Day, since if this were assumed the first
heart-moon could not begin earlier than Dec. 27, and would therefore
not come within the winter solstice, as the account says it must.

[1035] Schiefner, p. 217.

[1036] Wiklund, pp. 5 ff.

[1037] _Act. soc. scient. fennicae, 12_, 1883, p. 166.

[1038] See above, p. 300.

[1039] Cranz, I, 293; Dalsager, p. 54.

[1040] Holm, _10_, p. 141; _39_, p. 105.

[1041] _Ibid._, 142, 104.

[1042] Turner, p. 202.

[1043] Above, p. 246.

[1044] Stevenson, pp. 108 ff., cf. 148 ff.

[1045] Fewkes, pp. 256 ff.

[1046] Garcilasso de la Vega, I, 199 ff.

[1047] Callaway, p. 395.

[1048] Casalis, quoted by Frazer, p. 117.

[1049] Meier, pp. 706 ff.

[1050] Parkinson, p. 378.

[1051] Forster, p. 436.

[1052] Fornander, p. 127.

[1053] νῆσός τις Συρίη ... Ὀρτυγίης καθύπερθεν, ὅθι τροπαὶ
ἠελίοιο--Od. XV, 403.

[1054] Hesiod, _Op._, 564 and 663 respectively.

[1055] Cf. my _Årets folkliga fester_, p. 157.

[1056] Above, pp. 21 f.; so also Ginzel, III, 57.

[1057] Snorre’s Edda, I, 150; cf. above, p. 21.

[1058] _Flateyjarbók_, I, 539.

[1059] Riste, pp. 6 and 8.

[1060] Above, pp. 137 ff.

[1061] Nieuwenhuis, I, 317.

[1062] _Ibid._, I, 160.

[1063] Hose and McDougall, I, 106 ff.; unfortunately I have not had
access to the work of Hose quoted by Frazer on p. 314, n. 3, _Various
Modes of computing the Time for Planting among the Races of Borneo_,
Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, no. 42,
Singapore, 1905.

[1064] Crawfurd, I, 300 ff.

[1065] Hose and McDougall, p. 108.

[1066] _Ibid._, I, 109; II, 139.

[1067] p. 104.

[1068] Mooney, _Siouan Tribes_, p. 32.

[1069] Powers, p. 352.

[1070] Du Pratz, III, 237 ff.

[1071] Dunbar, p. 1.

[1072] Above, p. 104.

[1073] Alberti, p. 68.

[1074] Claus, p. 38.

[1075] Above, p. 93.

[1076] Chervin, p. 229.

[1077] Roscoe, _Baganda_, p. 42.

[1078] Kötz, p. 21.

[1079] Swoboda, p. 22.

[1080] Reed, p. 64.

[1081] Codrington, p. 353.

[1082] _Ibid._, p. 272.

[1083] Thurnwald, p. 331.

[1084] Brandeis, p. 78.

[1085] Gatschet, p. 17.

[1086] Thomas, _Austr._, p. 27.

[1087] Above, p. 178.

[1088] Jochelson, _Yukaghir_, pp. 40 ff.

[1089] Barrett, p. 35.

[1090] Stannus, p. 288.

[1091] Landtman, communicated by letter.

[1092] Weeks, _Bakongo_, pp. 199 ff.

[1093] Hammar, p. 156.

[1094] Torday and Joyce, _35_, 413; _36_, 47 and 277.

[1095] Weeks, p. 200.

[1096] Thomas, _Edo_, I, 18.

[1097] Thomas, _Ibo_, I, 127.

[1098] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, 139.

[1099] Ellis, _Yoruba_, pp. 142 ff.

[1100] Above, p. 90; Dennett, pp. 133 ff.

[1101] Conradt, p. 15.

[1102] Ellis, _Tshi_, p. 216.

[1103] _Ibid._, p. 219.

[1104] Thomas, _Edo_, I, 18.

[1105] Ellis, _Yoruba_, p. 149.

[1106] Wilken, p. 199.

[1107] _Ibid._, p. 200.

[1108] Ginzel, I, 414 ff.; Crawfurd, I, 289 ff., Wilken, pp. 197 ff.

[1109] References in Webster, pp. 103 ff., where also will be found
more about the African market-days.

[1110] Garcilasso de la Vega, I, 6 and 35; Webster, pp. 119 ff.

[1111] Quoted from Hehn, p. 114.

[1112] II Kings, IV, 23.

[1113] Macrob., I, 16, 28 ff.

[1114] Above, pp. 251 f.

[1115] W. Backer, _Zeitschr. f. d. altest. Wiss., 29_, 1909, 148 ff.

[1116] Jerem. XVII, 21 ff.

[1117] Nehem. X, 31.

[1118] Nehem. XIII, 15 ff.

[1119] Spencer and Gillen, _Nat. Tribes_, pp. 169 ff.

[1120] P. 336.

[1121] Above, p. 68.

[1122] Nieuwenhuis, I, 161.

[1123] Martin, p. 290.

[1124] Above, pp. 68 f.

[1125] Jenks, pp. 206 ff.

[1126] Leonard, pp. 434 ff.

[1127] Jochelson, _Koryak_, pp. 86 ff.

[1128] Cp. above, p. 269.

[1129] Powers, p. 305.

[1130] Cp. Mauss, _Essai sur les variations saisonnières des sociétés
Eskimos, L’année sociologique, 9_, 1904-5, pp. 96 ff. That the time
of freedom from work should become a festival time is obvious and is
simpler than Mauss seems to think; the point deserved noting among
other peoples also.

[1131] Cp. my _Årets folkliga fester_, p. 161.

[1132] Pp. 320 ff.

[1133] Above, pp. 151 ff.

[1134] Du Pratz, II, 354 ff.

[1135] Foa, p. 120.

[1136] Nisbet, II, 287.

[1137] Kötz, p. 21.

[1138] P. 331; cp. the handbooks, and Förster’s essay.

[1139] Lev. XXIII, 5, 6, and 34; cp. Ezekiel XLV, 21 ff.

[1140] Exod. XXXIV, 18, XXIII, 15, _le moed chodesh ha-abib_; cp.
Exod. XIII, 4 ff.

[1141] XVI, I.

[1142] Above, pp. 235 f.

[1143] Judges IX, 27; XXI, 19 f.; Nowack II, 151.

[1144] Exod. XXXIV, 22.

[1145] Numbers IX, 11 ff.

[1146] Perhaps Solomon also celebrated the dedication of the Temple
and the Feast of Tabernacles in the same month: Nowack, II, 151, n.
2.

[1147] Cp. my article in _Arch. f. Religionswiss., 14_, 1911, p. 441,
and my _Entstehung etc._, p. 33.

[1148] Warneck, pp. 350 ff.

[1149] Above, p. 312.

[1150] Cranz, p. 229.

[1151] Above, pp. 196 and 313.

[1152] Above, pp. 195 and 313.

[1153] Ginzel, I, 436.

[1154] Above, p. 196.

[1155] Chervin, p. 229.

[1156] Above, pp. 204 f.

[1157] Above, pp. 228 ff.

[1158] Cp. my _Entstehung etc._, pp. 51 ff.

[1159] Friederich, p. 88.

[1160] Brough-Smyth, I, 432, quoted by Kötz, pp. 26 f.

[1161] Pp. 132 f.

[1162] _R. T. Str._, p. 224.

[1163] Gilij, II, 21.

[1164] Above, p. 241.

[1165] Jenks, p. 219.

[1166] Above, pp. 103 f.

[1167] Above, pp. 169 f.

[1168] Macdonald, p. 291.

[1169] Hose and McDougall, pp. 106 ff.; cp. above, p. 318.

[1170] Above, pp. 318 and 317.

[1171] Crawfurd, I, 300 f.

[1172] Ellis, _Tshi_, p. 216.

[1173] Mischlich, p. 127.

[1174] Fewkes, pp. 258 ff.; cp. above, p. 313.

[1175] Stevenson, p. 108 f.; cp. above, p. 312.

[1176] W. D. Alexander, quoted by Malo, p. 59, n. 7.

[1177] Bastian, quoted by Kötz, p. 62.

[1178] White, quoted by Kötz, p. 63.

[1179] _Loango Exp._, III: 2, 138, note; cp. above, p. 248.

[1180] Above, p. 313.

[1181] Above, pp. 212 f.

[1182] Erdland, pp. 16 ff.; cp. above, p. 126.

[1183] Parkinson, p. 377.

[1184] Kubary, p. 62.

[1185] Forster, p. 441; cp. above, p. 125.

[1186] Kötz, p. 64.

[1187] Above, p. 210.

[1188] Ellis, _Pol. Res._³, I, 89 ff.

[1189] Maass, p. 512.

[1190] Feist, p. 262.

[1191] With this section compare my _Entstehung etc._, where a fuller
discussion and authorities are given.

[1192] Above, pp. 33 ff., 46 f., 72 f., 110 ff.

[1193] ἠλιτόμηνος, Il. XIX, 118.

[1194] Above, pp. 313 and 167.

[1195] Fotheringham in his interesting paper on Cleostratus (_Journ.
of Hell. Studies, 39_, 1919, 177) tries to explain this alternation
by the intercalation; if a month was intercalated the games would
be transferred from Parthenios to Apollonios. This is in my opinion
impossible. The Greek feasts were bound up with the months, which
were named from some of them; this association prevented a feast from
being transferred to a month with another name, i. e. the feast was
fixed with reference to the name of the month, not to its number.

[1196] Axel W. Persson, _Die Exegeten und Delphi_, Lunds Universitets
Årsskrift, vol. 14, 1918, Nr. 22.

[1197] Above, p. 330. My statement in _Archiv für
Religionswissenschaft, 14_, 1911, pp. 435 and 448 n. 1, is to be
tested by this. It agrees exactly.

[1198] See my _Griechische Feste_, p. 397.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Names beginning with Mc or Mac sometimes had a space before the rest
of the name, for example ‘Mac Pherson’; this space has been removed.

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

Table of Contents: ‘P. 78 NOTE 1’ replaced by ‘P. 78 NOTE 2’.
Pg 48: ‘nights in sucession’ replaced by ‘nights in succession’.
Pg 73: ‘_grishna_, hot season’ replaced by ‘_grishma_, hot season’.
Pg 184: ‘goose moonth’ replaced by ‘goose month’.
Pg 207: ‘lakabutik kiik’ replaced by ‘lakubutik kiik’.
Pg 242: ‘to accomodate their’ replaced by ‘to accommodate their’.
Pg 264: ‘astromony is’ replaced by ‘astronomy is’.
Pg 338: ‘Ifejiohu, god’ replaced by ‘Ifejioku, god’.
Pg 375: ‘London [1841]’ replaced by ‘London (1841)’.
Pg 377: ‘Meineke, C. E.’ replaced by ‘Meinicke, C. E.’.
Pg 380: ‘Vega, Garcilasso’ replaced by ‘Vega, Garcilaso’.

Addendum: ‘P. 78 NOTE 1’ (Footnote 335) replaced by ‘P. 78 NOTE 2’
(Footnote 336).

Footnote 692: ‘Treager’ replaced by ‘Tregear’.
Footnote 693: ‘cp. Treagear’ replaced by ‘cp. Tregear’.
Footnote 728: ‘Teit, _Shushwap_’ replaced by ‘Teit, _Shuswap_’.
Footnote 900: ‘Treagear, p.’ replaced by ‘Tregear, p.’.
Footnote 923: ‘_Erg._, 131’ replaced by ‘_Erg._, p. 131’.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Primitive Time-reckoning - A study in the origins and first development of the art of counting time among the primitive and early culture peoples" ***

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