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.