Geoffrey Chaucer was the first one to put two-and-two together to form the "holy-day" we now call Valentine's Day, though he never met the man (Valentine) personally, having been separated from him by several centuries and, doubtless, several core religious principles.
In a bizarre little poem reminescent of a drug-induced dream, Chaucer wrote:
Did you know that there are multiple sainted Valentines?
There's Valentine of Rome; Valentine of of Terni; a third Valentine who was martyred in Africa; and numerous others. There's probably enough for every day of the year, since Valentine was a popular name back in the day, and there were probably a number of them who were martyred as early Christians.
Weird factoid: Valentine's skull (the Roman one) is available for your viewing pleasure - crowned with flowers - in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome. Wanna see a pictures? Take a look. You sick puppy.
No one is sure why Chaucer decided to connect the idea of all these birds gathering to choose their mates with the martyrdom of a particular (albeit non-specific) early Christian, but once he got the ball rolling, things just got nuttier and nuttier.
Even Shakespeare got into the act.
Oh, well, she got her wish. Eventually.
There are numerous other legends and myths and tall tales surrounding the romantic legend of St. Valentine, most of them originating in the romance-obsessed courts of Medeival kings (and queens). Gotta wonder what those folks were doing if they had so much time on their hands to come up with this weird idea of "romantic love".
Especially when much of it was happening between people who were married to other people.
Perhaps it was a rebellion against the ancient custom of arranged marriages and political marriages. And all those poor ladies who were stuck in loveless marriages to kings and princes and lords and dukes and counts and viscounts dreamed of finding their true love with a rich and powerful knight who would come riding in on his big white stallion and sweep her off her stool (where she had been idly stitching tapestries) and take her away to his castle by the sea -- where she would be stuck in a lonely, boring tower all day sitting on a stool idly stitching tapestries while he rode off on yet another Crusade.
Doesn't really sound all that romantic to me.
Most of it sounds like a bunch of marketing material invented by one of - or all of - the greeting card companies. Or the chocolate confection companies. Or the florists. Somebody with a vested interest in maintaining the "holy-day" wherein men buy cards, candies, and flowers for the women they love. (And don't forget jewelry!)
My favorite story is the "origin" of the Valentine's Card. According to History.com, Valentine had been arrested for helping out some Christians, and while he was imprisoned, he sent the first "valentine" missive to his jailor's daughter, who had either been cured of her blindness by the Saint, or was simply kind enough to visit him in prison. He even signed it, "from your Valentine," which seems kind of cheesy, even for AD 269.
All very nice, very sentimental, and very un-confirmed. But very profitable for the greeting-card companies.
* *
It is very difficult to set aside one day among the other three hundred and sixty-five (and one-quarter) others to devote to remembrances of this type when my mindset is so perpendicular to singular-event celebrations. I'm far too random for this. I don't plan well. I don't do checklists. I have difficulty with traditions. Yet I thank God every day that my wife, who is rather fond of these kinds of celebrations, is tolerant of my inability to maintain the proper traditions. So she doesn't mind too much when we don't make a big deal out of Valentine's Day or any of the other holidays, so long as I never let her forget that she is the love of my life and I think about her all the time, and would lay down my life for her.
So what did we do for Valentine's Day?
I had bought flowers the night before so that we could have some pretty things to decorate the table: purple, pink, white and green accents. Very fragrant. We had a nice dinner with the family. Then Mary and I had to rush over to the church to babysit some children. Mary entertained the young girls while I got to hold the infant and try to make him laugh with goofy faces. Then it was time for Boy Scouts, in which I worked with the boys on their Family Life merit badges. Then it was time to head over to the high school to drop off the camera for the http://redstormrobotics.com/robot. Then home to do our family reading (C.S. Lewis's "The Horse and his Boy"). Then putting kids to bed, watching the late news, and heading off to bed ourselves.
Heady stuff for such a momentous day. But sometimes that's just the way life is.
In a bizarre little poem reminescent of a drug-induced dream, Chaucer wrote:
For this was on St. Valentine's DaySo, apparently, the first connection between romantic love and St. Valentine came by way of birds, who all got together on Valentine's Day in order to pick their mates. But mid-February seems awfully premature for festivities of that nature. Most of the birds I know handle such matters in the early springtime, when the weather is more conducive to large outdoor gatherings. So it is thought perhaps that Chaucer wasn't even thinking of February 14th, but a day in early May. And he was thinking of a different St. Valentine.
when every bird comes there to choose his mate[1]
Did you know that there are multiple sainted Valentines?
There's Valentine of Rome; Valentine of of Terni; a third Valentine who was martyred in Africa; and numerous others. There's probably enough for every day of the year, since Valentine was a popular name back in the day, and there were probably a number of them who were martyred as early Christians.
Weird factoid: Valentine's skull (the Roman one) is available for your viewing pleasure - crowned with flowers - in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome. Wanna see a pictures? Take a look. You sick puppy.
No one is sure why Chaucer decided to connect the idea of all these birds gathering to choose their mates with the martyrdom of a particular (albeit non-specific) early Christian, but once he got the ball rolling, things just got nuttier and nuttier.
Even Shakespeare got into the act.
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,Really, Ophelia? You want to be Hamlet's Valentine? Do you realize what that implies? He was a martyr, for goodness sake!
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
And dupp'd the chamber-door;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
—William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5, speech by Ophelia
Oh, well, she got her wish. Eventually.
There are numerous other legends and myths and tall tales surrounding the romantic legend of St. Valentine, most of them originating in the romance-obsessed courts of Medeival kings (and queens). Gotta wonder what those folks were doing if they had so much time on their hands to come up with this weird idea of "romantic love".
Especially when much of it was happening between people who were married to other people.
Perhaps it was a rebellion against the ancient custom of arranged marriages and political marriages. And all those poor ladies who were stuck in loveless marriages to kings and princes and lords and dukes and counts and viscounts dreamed of finding their true love with a rich and powerful knight who would come riding in on his big white stallion and sweep her off her stool (where she had been idly stitching tapestries) and take her away to his castle by the sea -- where she would be stuck in a lonely, boring tower all day sitting on a stool idly stitching tapestries while he rode off on yet another Crusade.
Doesn't really sound all that romantic to me.
Most of it sounds like a bunch of marketing material invented by one of - or all of - the greeting card companies. Or the chocolate confection companies. Or the florists. Somebody with a vested interest in maintaining the "holy-day" wherein men buy cards, candies, and flowers for the women they love. (And don't forget jewelry!)
My favorite story is the "origin" of the Valentine's Card. According to History.com, Valentine had been arrested for helping out some Christians, and while he was imprisoned, he sent the first "valentine" missive to his jailor's daughter, who had either been cured of her blindness by the Saint, or was simply kind enough to visit him in prison. He even signed it, "from your Valentine," which seems kind of cheesy, even for AD 269.
All very nice, very sentimental, and very un-confirmed. But very profitable for the greeting-card companies.
* *
It is very difficult to set aside one day among the other three hundred and sixty-five (and one-quarter) others to devote to remembrances of this type when my mindset is so perpendicular to singular-event celebrations. I'm far too random for this. I don't plan well. I don't do checklists. I have difficulty with traditions. Yet I thank God every day that my wife, who is rather fond of these kinds of celebrations, is tolerant of my inability to maintain the proper traditions. So she doesn't mind too much when we don't make a big deal out of Valentine's Day or any of the other holidays, so long as I never let her forget that she is the love of my life and I think about her all the time, and would lay down my life for her.
So what did we do for Valentine's Day?
I had bought flowers the night before so that we could have some pretty things to decorate the table: purple, pink, white and green accents. Very fragrant. We had a nice dinner with the family. Then Mary and I had to rush over to the church to babysit some children. Mary entertained the young girls while I got to hold the infant and try to make him laugh with goofy faces. Then it was time for Boy Scouts, in which I worked with the boys on their Family Life merit badges. Then it was time to head over to the high school to drop off the camera for the http://redstormrobotics.com/robot. Then home to do our family reading (C.S. Lewis's "The Horse and his Boy"). Then putting kids to bed, watching the late news, and heading off to bed ourselves.
Heady stuff for such a momentous day. But sometimes that's just the way life is.
1Actually, he wrote:
For this was on seynt Volantynys dayBut that's rather difficult to read with modern eyes.
Whan every foul comyth ther to chese his make
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