GRAPHIC NOTINGS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3801, 18 January 1927, Page 5

GRAPHIC NOTINGS.

By

LENS.

(Specially Written for the Otago Witness.)

There is a time for saying everything, and this is a rather good one to say this —that in the opinion of many who have given the subject theif attention we should alter the calendar so as to make the months even. The French thought to blaze a way with what is known in history as the “Republican Calendar,” which, dividing the year into 12 months of 30 days each, added five days to September to get the 365. and another in Leap Year. The “Republican Calendar” had these months —Vendemiaire (vintage), Brumaire '(foggy), Frimaire (sleety). Nivose (snowy), Pluviose (rainy), Ventose (windy), Germinal (budding), Floreal (flowery), Prairial (pasture), Measidor (harvest), Thermido (hot), and Fructidor (fruit) ; and the five extra days were dedicated in this way—Primidi (to virtue), Duodi (to genius), Tridi (to labour), Quartidi (to opinion), and Quintidi (to rewards). However, the system did not last very long, and the only reason for mentioning it here is to show that the complaint against tile uneven months, where, year by year, different numbers are bracketed with the days, is not a new one. Symmetrical for its chief recommendation the latest suggestion is as shown herewith and an oversea authority said some time ago that sooner or later it would be urged on the League of'Nations for world-wide adoption. It turns the year into 13 months of 28 days each, and adds a single day to December to make the right total, and two in Leap Year. It will be observed that the new month would jjp named after the sun. This, of course, being because it would be in the northern hemisphere’s summer. Seeing how well cared for that division of the globe is already it may be said that if ever the idea comes to anything the lower half should be remembered, and if this w*ere done an excellent choice would be Anzac, because of New Zealand and Australia. Objections, if any, notwithstanding, there would be a great advantage in a calendar With a perpetual union of days and dates, every Sunday falling on 1,8, 15, and 22; every Monday on 2,9, 16, and 23; every Tuesday on 3, 10, 17, and 24; every Wednesday on 4, 11, 18, and 25; every Thursday on 5, 12, 19, and 26; every Friday on 6, 13, 20, and 27; and every Saturday on I', 14, 21, and 28. No longer should we require a printed calendar, which, by the way, is sometimes troublesome to find when wanted, and no longer should we have to turn to the newspaper as a substitute on those occasions. Who, with the coming event known by the day, can ever be sure of

the date short of looking, or, if decided by the date, of the day? The calendar has been altered before, but for different reasons, and seeing how long tho intervals have been we have an excellent excuse for always picturing time as a super-patriarch. Though it savours of dipping rather deeply we have still got to mention what is called the “Romulus Year,” because of Numa who/ succeeding the somewhat legendary founder of Rome, reduced certain months by a day or two, and added what we call January and February, respecting -which this—although Europe as a whole did not recognise the former division as starting the. year till quite modern times the Romans came to do so as far back as B.c. 251. We say Europe as a whole advisedly, as the more we read the more we discover that we have to, so many authorities being shaken by the facts of an earlier time. Thus no one would drcam of disputing the assertion that England did not fall into line till as late as 1752, the year of her adoption of the present New Year, and yet the British Library holds a diary written by an English Chancellor a century earlier, and in it, when he comes to January 1, he says: “New Year’s Day,” and mentions the presents he distributed. The months as we have them named are hoary with antiquity. January was called so after Janus, that remarkable deity who had two faces—one to contemplate the past, and the other to use when peering into the future—and February got its name from a festival associated with Februus-March, the original first month of the Romans, was named after Mars, the god of war; and April, at first Aprilis, is from aperie—i.e., to open—and it was the buds,- the songs of the birds, and the hearts of men. May comes from u. Sanskrit word; uno June "is variously attributed to the Clan Junius and to Juno. Passing to September, October, November, and December they are simply from the Latin numbers seven, eight, nine, and 10, and falling back.to July and August we have two months the distinction With which is that they were so named after two actual individuals —Julius Csesar and the Emp.xor Augustus. In which connection we find why February has only 28 days. Quintilis having been changed to July in honour of Caesar it was observed that it had 31 days, and as, when it came to naming the next month after Augustus, it was not considered fitting that an Emperor should have one with a day less, as happened to be 4:he case; it, too, was given 31 days, and to get the extra day the Senate robbed February, which "had

come down the stream of time with 29. The reform of the calendar in Caesar's time was to adjust it to what is decided by the earth’s revolution round the sun, and the later reform through Pope Gregory XIII was largely to rectify what had occurred over the centuries through a miscalculation. The earth is still the great pacemaker, as in its orbit round the sun in 365 days, six hours, nine minutes it travels 580,000,000 miles. Looking for the calendar which has become mislaid or turning to the newspaper as a substitute means, of course, that we have these things for the check. What of our unfortunate ancestors who had neither? It was to assist those of his tirpe that Richard Grafton took advantage of the very early press, to print a reminder which couid be committed to memory—

Thirty days hath November, Aprill, June,' and September. February hath "xxviii alone, ' And all the rest hath xxxi. Which ,f- other printer in 1606 improved with this—: I Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November; All the rest hath thirty-one Save February, twenty-eight alone, Excepting Leap Year—then’s the time February's days are twenty-nine. Which still another printer a few years later bettered with this—• Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November; All the rest hath thirty-one Excepting February alone, Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine, Till Leap Year makes it twenty-nine. We very seldom hear these verses in these days, but one or another they were often muttered up to a couple of generations ago, and always with the one object—to be sure. The second of the three was the most popula when, about 50 years ago, London Punch, in order to draw attention to a particularly wet and unpleasant year, came out with this— Dirty days hath September, April, June, and November; And of the rest with thirty-one They never have a gleam of sun. And as for February, two and thirty Would make it wetter and more dirty. With which passing reference it is remarked that 1927 opens with the promise of many wonderful events, most of them the natural outcome of certain epochmaking achievements. Is it necessary to name them when they are the subjects we are for ever discussing? Suffice it, with this article, to say that may all find 1927 what it should be, and what we hope it will be—a bright and prosperous new year.