In my annoyance of American societal pressures to have “love” on Valentine’s Day, I decided to delve into the history books and figure out where all of this began:
The Legend
Roman Emperor Claudius II believed that bachelors made better soldiers and outlawed marriage around 270 AD. “Saint” Valentine was a priest during that time of who secretly performed marriages and became a martyr upon his detection.
Other legends continue on that while St. Valentine was imprisoned, he fell in love with his jailer’s daughter and signed a note to her, “From your Valentine”.
In 496 AD, Pope Gelasius I, while eventually abolishing Lupercalia, chose to observe St. Valentine’s Day on the eve of this pagan festival. Lupercalia, observed on February 15, was a pre-Roman shepherd festival that warded off evil and promoted purification to release health and fertility. After sacrificing goats and running around naked, the young men cut the goat hides into thongs and ran around the city streets whipping people with them. Women actually lined up in the streets to get a thong whipping as it ensured fertility. Seriously? Thong whippings?
Many claim that Pope Gelasius I selected February 14 to appease those who participated in this pagan festival of fertility. Although I’m uncertain of the direct connection, it presents a valid argument when one sees the marriage of so many Christian & Pagan traditions during that time.
Well, whatever the case may be, Valentine’s Day has certainly evolved into some kind of standard by which one feels loved or lonely. Flowers, chocolates, expensive dinners, jewelry, cards galore… I just discovered that 25% of greeting cards sent during the year are done on Valentine’s Day. Hmm. Thankfully the public thong whippings have ceased.
Here’s the earliest recorded “Valentine” (1415 AD) written to his wife by Charles d’Orleans:
Je suis desja d’amour tanné,
Ma tres doulce Valentinée,
Car pour moi fustes trop tart née,
Et moy pour vous fus trop tost né.
Dieu lui pardoint qui estrené
M’a de vous, pour toute l’année.
Je suis desja, etc.
Ma tres doulce, etc.
Bien m’estoye suspeconné,
Qu’auroye telle destinée,
Ains que passast ceste journée,
Combien qu’Amours l’eust ordonné.
Je suis desja, etc.
I am already sick of love,
My very gentle Valentine,
Since for me you were born too soon,
And I for you was born too late.
God forgives he who has estranged
Me from you for the whole year.
I am already, etc.
My very gentle, etc.
Well might I have suspected,
That such a destiny,
Thus would have happened this day,
How much that Love would have commanded.
I am already, etc.
Hey, Charles. I’m already sick of love, too, although it’s probably not what you meant in the note to your wife. I’d rather be deeply loved the other 364 days of the year than to succumb to societal pressures and be lavished with chocolate and flowers on just one day. However, that being said, I DO sincerely appreciate that Reese’s makes giant peanut butter hearts every February. Woot.
Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies.
