In the Christian calendar,
the 14th February is the anniversary of the martyrdom of St Valentine, a 3rd
century Bishop of Terni. He had very
little to do with love, except for the kind that's a theological virtue,
although all kinds of legends about him sprang up later to justify the
identification of his day with lovers.
The earliest known
mid-February festival that might be connected with today was the Roman feast of
Lupercalia, but this was nothing to do with sighing lovers and pretty
flowers. Lupercalia, the festival of the
wolf, was a celebration of fertility and an excuse for an orgy — assuming the
Romans needed an excuse, of course.
The more formal part of
Lupercalia was a ceremony (if that's the right word) in which men ran through
the crowds with goatskins, hitting people with them at random. This was supposed to promote fertility, a
belief referred to in the opening scene of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar,
which takes place "upon the Lupercal", where Caesar is contriving to
get his barren wife so blessed.
The exact relationship
between Lupercalia and the later Valentine's Day celebrations are
uncertain. It's possible there was a
direct carry-over, but it's likely that this was a time for fertility
celebrations. Although it seems hard to
credit, mid-February marks the first stirrings of spring, the time when, as we
know, a young man's (or woman's) fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love — or,
failing that, of a roll in the hay at least.
In the 14th century, Chaucer referred to the tradition that this day marked the mating of birds:
For this was on seynt
Valentynes day
When every foul cometh
there to chese his make [choose his
mate]
and this may have encouraged
similar behaviour in humans. Customs
connected with love were certainly well established by Shakespeare's time. In Hamlet, one of the ballads Ophelia sings
when she's mad begins:
To-morrow is Saint
Valentine's day,
All in the morning
betime,And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine
This refers to the tradition
that, if you get up early today, the first face you see is destined to be your
True Love. Though presumably only if
it's an appropriate face, of course.
Another tradition was the
Valentine lottery, an ancestor of the modern swapping party, where you picked
from a box the name of the person you'd be taking home from the dance. They didn't have car-keys back then. Robert Burns wrote about this in the 18th
century:
Yestreen at the
Valentine's dealing
My heart to my mou' gied
a sten,For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written, Tam Glen.
And what of the ubiquitous
cards and gifts to the loved one? This
is actually recorded as early as the 17th century. Of course, the cards would have been home-made, but the custom
caught on to such an extent that, by the 19th century, the Royal Mail was
taking on extra casual workers in the second month of February to deal with the
volume of cards being sent.
Things have certainly
changed in recent years. Until just a
few decades ago, Valentine's Day was purely for finding a lover, not for
celebrating an existing relationship.
The custom was to send an unsigned card to the person you fancied and
hope they guessed it was you. And, of
course, that they were pleased about it.
If they weren't, it was probably just as well you could deny it.
Valentine's Day has
been over-exploited recently, but it's definitely not just a
Hallmark holiday. Sending Valentine
cards is a time-honoured tradition, but if that's too modern for you, there's
plenty of older ones that could be revived.
The Lupercalia orgy, anyone? Get
your goatskins out.
What intrigues me is not so much the commercial aspect (to be expected) but why everything connected with Valentine's Day has to be so tacky. The cards are so appallingly, crudely, slushy, for example. I mean, does anybody find pandas with globular eyes and water on the brain appealing?
ReplyDeleteThey were talking about Lupercalia on the Colbert Report yesterday. I wish they sold goat skins locally ;)
ReplyDelete