New Year, Same Ancient Story?
Patrick Ryan looks at the history of New Year resolutions and discovers they go back a lot farther than we imagine.
We all make them, we all break them and we’re likely to mistake them, too – for something new and modern, when in fact New Year resolutions probably date back millennia and originate with pledges made in the city of Babylon located in what’s now Iraq, 4,000 years ago.
During the 12-day Akitu festival Babylonians feasted and promised their gods to repay debts and return items they’d borrowed in return for a good harvest in April or March when planting and their new year began.
The tradition carried into other cultures. In 46 BC Emperor Julius Caesar decreed that the first day of January, a month named in honour of Janus (Ianus) a unique two-faced Roman god who unlike many other deities didn’t have a Greek counterpart, and was associated with beginnings, transitions, and doorways, was the start of the new year.
Though Roman citizens did not make resolutions as such they believed in being positive for the coming months, and oaths were taken very seriously. Any god could be invoked but calls on Jupiter were the most powerful; the phrase “By Jupiter!” survived until the 20th century. Romans also came to swear oaths by the genius of Julius Caesar and the emperors, and later soldiers were expected to do so to show loyalty to their generals.
Fast forward to the Viking era. Norsemen brought traditions like lighting bonfires and yule logs to symbolize the return of brightness after the longest night, and again to pray for good harvests, everywhere from Ireland to Russia as they travelled, traded and fought.
Their descendants, the Normans also made New Year resolutions of sorts, the most interesting of which was the “Peacock Vows” (Les Voeux du Paon) detailed by Jacques de Longuyon between 1312 and 1313 in an epic poem for Thiébaut de Bar, Bishop of Liège.
Carvings depicting peacocks are common in early Christian catacombs and paintings, symbolising Christ’s resurrection and eternal life for believers because the bird’s ability to shed and then regrow feathers annually made it a perfect Christian metaphor,
Dublin and in particular the Liberties feature prominently in the history of resolutions thanks to the efforts of one of Ireland’s great writers in his first important published work in 1704.
In A Tale of a Tub written some 25 years before Gulliver’s Travels, Jonathan Swift, remembered as the most famous Dean of Dublin’s St Patrick’s Cathedral lists 17 of them under the heading: “When I Come To Be Old”, which include:
“Not to neglect decency, or cleenlyness, for fear of falling into Nastyness; Not to be over severe with young People, but give Allowances for their youthfull follyes and weaknesses; Not to talk much, nor of my self; Not to be covetous; Not to boast of my former beauty, or strength, or favor with Ladyes, &c.”
Many ladies also favoured piety. On January 2nd, 1671 Anne Halkett, a writer and member of the Scottish gentry lists pledges based on bible verses in her diary under the heading “Resolutions”and her contemporaries in the New England Colonies followed suit.
“Among 17th and 18th-century Puritans there was a desire to avoid debauchery and reflect on the passing and coming years,” explained Dr Candida Moss, Professor of Theology at the University of Birmingham, UK to CNN.com in 2024.
“In 1740, John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, introduced the Covenant Renewal Service as an alternative to raucous celebrations. These gatherings included night watch services, hymn singing, and reflection.”
Another significant figure in what theologians and historians call the “First Great Awakening” was the Presbyterian Jonathan Edwards. This was a period of religious revival in Britain and her American colonies from the 1730s to the 1770s from which Baptists and Methodists emerged, which also fostered a new sense of national identity, adding a little spiritual resolution to the spirit of revolution.
Edwards was a man of deep faith and graduated from Yale University at 17, spending his life in ministry and becoming President of the College of New Jersey, now called Princeton University, shortly before his death in 1758. A powerful speaker, his sermons and writing included a list of 70 resolutions based on the bible were widely read by the educated elites.
Were people on either side of the Atlantic calling these pledges their “New Year resolutions” at that time though? It’s difficult to say, but records show that on January 1st, 1813 this specific phrase appeared in print for the first time in a Boston newspaper under “The Friday Lecture”.
“And yet, I believe there are multitudes of people, accustomed to receive injunctions of New Year resolutions, who will sin all the month of December, with a serious determination of beginning the new year with new resolutions and new behavior, and with the full belief that they shall thus expiate and wipe away all their former faults,” the editor urged.
Walker’s Hibernian Magazine or Compendium of Entertaining Knowledge published at various places in Dublin 2 was a more entertaining read, covering everything from parliamentary debates, births, deaths, and marriages, tit-bits of London and Dublin gossip, poetry and tête-à-tête portraits of the leading fashionable belles and beaux of the day. In 1802 it had turned a satirical eye on these January pledges.
“The following personages have begun the year with a strong (list) of resolutions, which they all solemnly pledged to keep … Statesmen have resolved to have no other object in view than the good of their country … the physicians have determined to follow nature in her operations, and to prescribe no more than is necessary, and to be very moderate in their fees.”
During the Victorian era a significant shift took place. Gradually secularism became more prominent and vows increasingly changed to promises of self improvement, something which defined that, time instead of practical applications of faith. By 1947 a Gallup Poll shows the following five topping the pops:
1. Improve my disposition, be more understanding, control my temper;
2. Improve my character, live a better life;
3. Stop smoking, smoke less;
4. Save more money;
5. Stop drinking, drink less.
To “Lose (or gain) weight” was in 10th position and a couple of places above plans to go to church more often.
In October 2023 Forbes queried people on their promises for the year ahead, and it’s interesting to compare and contrast the results:
- Improve fitness (48%);
- Improve finances (38%);
- Improve mental health (36%);
- Lose weight (34%);
- Improve diet (32%).
Clearly cutting out pies is far more important now than promoting piety, a trend which tells us a lot about excess and exercise in the modern world.
Most of us fail to achieve our goals despite our good intentions, though as Swift realised it’s important to keep it all in perspective, reminding himself:
“Not to set up for observing all these rules, for fear I should observe none.”
Marilyn Monroe’s goals were slightly more achievable, and admirable at the end of 1955 just after The Seven Year Itch was released and the 29-year-old had enrolled in Lee Strasberg’s studio to study method acting.
The star’s aims included to “keep looking around me – only much more so – observing – but not only myself but others and everything – take things (it) for what they (it’s) are worth”.
She determined “if possible – take at least one class at university – in literature” and she also worked to “try to enjoy myself when I can – I’ll be miserable enough as it is.”
In 1984 The Times of London asked the foremost expert on human misery, Dublin’s Samuel Beckett for his New Year’s resolutions and hopes. Beckett didn’t keep them waiting, and replied by telegram:
“RESOLUTIONS COLON ZERO STOP PERIOD HOPES COLON ZERO STOP BECKETT.”
Perhaps inspired by the brevity of Beckett some Dubs simply said feckit and concedeed defeat according to an RTÉ TV News piece in 1991 .
Colm Connolly’s report on a Lansdowne Market Research poll commissioned by National Irish Bank (NIB) revealed that just over half of those questioned made resolutions, but 48 percent of people broke them within a month, while a mere 4 percent stayed the course longterm.
Dublin’s then Lord Mayor Seán Kenny promised the reporter to take more exercise and lead a healthier lifestyle, but admitted it would be tough while NIB’s CEO Jim Lacey was rather more coy, explaining that bankers often have the worst financial habits, and said he’d rather not comment on his but that he’d “keep it better” for the coming months.
20 years later Mr Lacey was disqualified as a company director on grounds of unfitness after the High Court ruled his conduct at that time of various aspects of the bank’s affairs was “grossly negligent”.
You might freeze or slip up in January’s annual test of will and commitment but take comfort in the fact that you cannot be as big a failure as Professor Godfrey Harold Hardy, a leading English mathematician at both Oxford and Cambridge universities a century ago. A child prodigy who, when not reading Gulliver’s Travels aloud to his baby sister argued with his babysitter about the existence of Santa Claus and the efficacy of prayer, Godfrey’s ability as a writer impressed Graham Greene.
However his record for goals should be in ads for Paddy Power.
In the 1940s the Englishman sent his list of New Year’s resolutions to a friend. In addition to proving the highly complex Riemann Hypothesis (it remains unsolved and carries a $1m prize) he wanted to prove the nonexistence of God, to climb Mount Everest and to end up proclaimed the first president of the USSR, Great Britain, and Germany.
Oh, and to to murder Mussolini.
The maths genius wasn’t a fascist but neither was he a total fantasist despite what you might think. Though the boffin included his sporting plan to “make 211 not out in the fourth innings of the last test match at the Oval” Godfrey makes no mention of another hardy sporting perenial: helping Mayo to win the All-Ireland.
Deep down even the best of us is a realist like the rest of us.
