September 2, 1752, Village of Endon, Staffordshire, England
“Atrocious, I call it!” spluttered Lansdowne. “Rubbish! Splendidly stupid!”
William Willett, clearing out his dirty pigsty, grinned to himself. “The papers full of bad news again?” he enquired, wiping his hot forehead.
Lansdowne, his neighbour, was always ready to talk about London’s “doings,” and Willett wasn’t disappointed.
“Bad news? It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is,” Lansdowne yelled from across the hedge. “You know what they’ve come up with now? As if changing a whole calendar wasn’t enough? As if shortening an entire year wasn’t enough?”
For the whole of last year, England had been buzzing about how the government had changed from something called a “Julian” calendar to a “Gregorian” calendar … although Lansdowne insisted that England had actually done this late — other countries had changed 200 years ago. No one quite knew why. In fact, Willett didn’t even know what “Julian” and “Gregorian” were. All he knew was that the previous year had been shortened from 365 to 282 days. And worse, the New Year’s Day had been shifted from March 25 to January 1. Oh, the horror! Who on earth celebrated New Year’s Day on January 1?
He said as much to Lansdowne, who shook his head. “That’s not all, Will,” the old man said. “Do you know what the government’s going to do now? I’ll bet you 1000 pounds you don’t. Go on, guess!”
William humbly admitted that he didn’t know anything of the high-and-mighty government’s bizarre doings.
Lansdowne told him — and William’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “But they can’t,” he stammered. “That’s… that’s just plain silly! They can’t do that.” He paused. “Can they?”
Change for the better
“Aye, right away too,” Lansdowne chortled. “It’ll be out in tomorrow’s papers.” He grinned. “The whole world is going to change…”
“But my life won’t,” Willett’s face clouded over. “I’ve borrowed 1000 pounds each from Smith, Wesson and Cornell and I’m supposed to pay them tomorrow, but the harvest was terrible and I have only ten pounds on me. Oh, Mr Lansdowne, what am I to do?” He wailed. “I need even more money now. And I can barely pay off my debts!”
“Ah, you’re a clever, hard-working lad,” Lansdowne complimented him. “Didn’t you convince me to lend you capital to buy your farm? Didn’t you pay me off within the very first year? Don’t lose heart, Will. You’ll find a way, I’m sure. After all, if the government can change a whole calendar, can’t you find a way to make your creditors dance to your tune?” He went in.
Willett dropped his shovel, and stared at his muddy boots for a long time. The glimmer of an idea began to shape in his brain.
That evening saw the whole of Endon village assembled in the local pub, The White Horse, including Smith, Wesson and Cornell, who had rounded up on Willett.
“I knew it!” Cornell was haranguing him. “You’re not going to pay us, are you? You cheating little …”
A challenge
“Wait!” shouted Willett, as though at the end of his tether. “I’ll make you a bet: I shall dance all around this village for 12 days and 12 nights from this evening. Without rest. If I do, then you’ll have to cancel your debts. Will you?” He glanced around the pub. “What about the rest of you? If I win this challenge, will you pay me money?”
The men gathered around, intrigued. “You’ll never be able to do it,” Smith swore.
“Twelve days and 12 nights without a pause?”
“He’s mad!”
“What stupid challenge is this?”
Everyone was sure that Willett had gone insane.
“Cracked from all the pressure to pay off his debts,” someone said.
But they agreed, anyway. It would be fun to watch Willett try and dance for 12 days, and watch him break a leg. Or his head. Smith, Wesson and Cornell rubbed their hands with glee. Willett would probably have to sell his farm to pay everything; he’d be penniless by tomorrow.
“You’re going to dance from the evening of September 2 to September 14,” announced Wesson. “Dance and you win.”
That evening, Willett walked towards the village square. The whole of Endon had gathered there, to watch him. Willett shrugged away his nervousness, and began a merry jig.
The village stayed awake the whole night, giggling and clapping by turns. Some people were sympathetic — like Lansdowne — but most ridiculed him, sure that he would lose. When morning came, Willett looked exhausted, having danced for hours.
“Give it up, Will!” shouted someone. “You’ll never make it to the 14th!”
“Someone get a newspaper,” Willett gasped, even as he danced. Cornell sauntered away, cackling. He bought a newspaper, glanced casually at the headline — and froze.
September 14, 1752, it read!
“That’s … impossible,” he mumbled, perplexed. “Yesterday was only 2nd. But today…?”
The whole village was struck dumb. Only Lansdowne, already aware of the news from friends in London, chuckled. “Our government has skipped 11 days — from September 3 to the 13, to match the calendar of European countries,” he explained. “It’s the 14th today, folks!”
Willett stopped dancing. “Who’s up to pay me?” he grinned.
Historical Fact: The calendar we use today, known as the Gregorian calendar, was introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in February 1582. It was an improvement on the previously used Julian calendar. England was among the last countries to shift from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar, in 1752. Part of the change meant that when people went to bed on the night of September 2, they awoke the next morning, on September 14, thus losing 11 days. This was the only way they could sync with the calendar of other European countries. The change extended to other British dominions of that time, such as America, and India. The legend of William Willett’s non-stop dance grew from this bizarre development.
