Why exactly is it New Year’s Eve?
So why do we count this miserable time of year as “new” anyway?
I know I said Wednesday's selection box would be the final newsletter of the year, but then I remembered there was this date-appropriate bit in in the paywalled bit of the archives, so what the hell?
The next few weeks are, of course, the most miserable time of the year, and even if you don’t have a job Tuesday is likely to induce quite horrific “the school holidays are over” vibes. I never understood why people still pretend to themselves that everything – their diet or alcohol intake, how hard they work, the frequency with which they attend gyms – is going to change this week. The skies are grey, the fun bit of the season is behind us, and there are still months and months of winter to run. Is a week when you’re depressed, and your kitchen still has leftover booze, cheese and chocolate in it, really the most realistic point to cut calories, alcohol or social contact? Wouldn’t Dry February make more sense? (February is, apart from anything else, shorter.)
This song, by Radio 4’s finest John Finnemore, is technically not about this week, but you take my point.
Since the message emanating from either weather or nature is hardly “this is a time for fresh starts”, one interesting question is why the New Year starts in January at all. In fact, for a very long time it didn’t. To the most ancient of ancient Romans, the year began in March: this is of course why, in many languages, September to December are named for the Latin words for “seventh” to “tenth” even now.
At some point, though, the Romans reformed their calendar to make January – the month named for Janus, the god of doorways and beginnings, traditionally depicted with two faces – the first month, although when exactly this happened is a little hazy. Tradition has long credited it to Numa Pompilius, a king who ruled Rome around 700BCE, but we can likely discount that because he likely didn’t exist, and anyway there’s evidence that January only became the first month in around 153BCE.
In post-Roman Europe, the kingdoms that replaced the western empire amended the calendar to celebrate new year on a date more appropriate to their Christian faith: generally 25 March (the Feast of the Annunciation), or 25 December (go on, have a guess). The British went with the former, and kept to it for a surprisingly long time: as late as the 18th century, the new year began in the spring, which means, confusingly, that 24 March 1750 was followed by 25 March 1751.
By then, though, in much of Europe, that had changed. In 1582, Pope Gregory XIII had introduced the Gregorian Calendar, to deal with the fact the older Julian Calendar had average years which were approximately 11 minutes too long. That may not sound like much, but after 15 centuries, it was quite enough for everything to be drifting out of sync.
So the Pope came up with a fix which involved adjusting the frequency of leap years, and much of the Mediterranean World had accepted it as soon as it was proposed. But Britain, like many non-Catholic countries, had held out. It was only in 1752 that it finally brought its calendar back into line with those of France and Spain, moving the new year to January 1 in the process. Anyway, that’s why this is new year: because we copied a Pope who copied the Romans. So, there you go.
Britain’s 1752 calendar reforms also, incidentally, meant skipping over the 3rd to 13th of September inclusive, to counteract the past few centuries of drift and put the equinoxes back in the right place. This, if you’ve ever wondered, is also why the financial year begins on April 6th: our accounting system is still following the old calendar, with a slight adjustment to account for those missing days.
Oh, right, taxes. That’s another reason why January is miserable, isn’t it?
The gratuitous dog picture and sales pitch bit
Talk of taxes leads me, of course, to worry about my own financial year. As ever, for just £4 a month, or £40 a year, you can get a weekly dose of politics, maps and nerdery like the above, plus some diverting links, and help keep Henry Scampi in treats and soft toys. (He dismantles one a week in a fashion I am trying very hard not to find sinister.)
That said, there are two special offers on at the moment if you sign up for a year: 30% off if you sign up for a year…
…or 10% off and a free copy of one of my books.
Alternatively, as ever, if you want to read the newsletter but for whatever reason can’t justify the money right now, just hit reply and ask. I always say yes, because I’m nice like that.
Happy new year, guys.