February is
almost over, and Valentine’s Day has already come and gone, but seeing as how
the holiday plays a significant role in my upcoming book, The Trouble with Lucy, I felt it might be a good subject to
explore. I write in the multi-author series, The Belles of Wyoming, in which each round of books centers around
a particular season or holiday. So the first five books were set
in winter, particularly at Christmastime. The next five books occurred in the
spring of 1881. In round 3, several more authors collaborated
with us, and we published twenty books that took place in the summer of the
same year. Now we are in the middle of round 4, with eight books centering
around Valentine’s Day. My book is actually last on the schedule, so even
though it publishes at the end of March, it will still carry a Valentine’s Day
theme.
With that
said, let’s answer this question. When did the tradition of sending your
beloved a Valentine card begin? Any guesses?
My first
thought was that it couldn’t have been very long ago, comparatively speaking.
(I’m not sure why I thought this. I knew that Valentine’s Day originated from
St. Valentine, a dude who lived many centuries before. And that was about the
extent of my knowledge on the subject.) Interestingly, I learned through
researching this holiday that a Roman Catholic priest named St. Valentine was
sentenced to death for marrying people despite a ban which Emperor Claudius II
Gothicus placed on him (because the men were supposed to go off to war). From
his jail cell, he wrote a love letter to the jailer’s daughter, whom he had
befriended, and signed it “From your Valentine.” This happened around 270-280
A.D.
Another
piece of this puzzle is that Februa was the name of a cleansing ritual performed
during this time of year as a part of other fertility rituals. (Thus the name
of the second month, February, as we know it today.) This ritual morphed into
a pagan festival called Lupercalia, which also focused on fertility. In
496 A.D., Pope Gelasius declared February 14th as a day to remember
St. Valentine. It was marked as a day of feasting to honor the martyred saint.
From there,
history becomes a little murky—at least, until we get into the 13th
century. The great English poets Chaucer, John Clanvowe, and Oton de Grandson
all mentioned "seynt volantyny’s/valentynes day" (Valentine’s Day) in their
writings. Chaucer’s writings referred to birds calling out to their mates,
which doesn’t happen until later in the spring but was believed in that time
period to occur in mid-February.
Another poet
that helped this tradition of exchanging Valentines get off the ground, though
I’m sure it wasn’t quite his intention, was Frenchman Charles, duc d'Orleans. Born in 1394, he was a nephew to Charles VI,
King of France. While held captive in the Tower of London during the Hundred
Years’ War, he wrote a romantic missive to his wife, using “Valentine” as a
term of endearment. Sadly, she died before receiving it.
Another love
letter of import came in February 1477 from Englishwoman Margery Brews, who lamented
that her father was refusing to increase her dowry, thus preventing her from marrying
her fiancé, John Paston. (But only temporarily.) And then in 1600, Shakespeare
penned a particularly poignant stanza in Hamlet, a romantic plea from Ophelia
to become King Claudius’s Valentine. (Common consensus, however, suggests that she was crazy when she did so. That still counts, right?)
By the early
1700’s, hand-printed Valentine cards began to be exchanged. They were usually
slipped under the door belonging to the person of interest. Printed verse
guides were available for those who struggled with words. Around
this same time, flowers also became a symbol of Valentine’s Day, and with the
exception of the use of Cupids (angels), the holiday began to lose its
religious meaning and took on a more romantic nature.
Finally, in
the nineteenth century, printed cards became available, and postal rates became
more affordable. As you might guess with the combining of these factors, the
practice of exchanging Valentine cards went viral, so to speak.
Here is an
antique Valentine’s Day card, which belongs to the John Johnson Collection in
the Bodleian Library at the University of Oxford. Isn't it lovely?
To see more
of their collection, look here: https://www.pinterest.com/johnjohnsoncoll/
Nowadays, romantic
images such as these pop up all over the internet, along with a plethora of
websites where you may purchase antique Valentine cards—at the price of
anywhere from fifteen to one hundred dollars (or sometimes more) for one card!
Whether or
not you are a collector of these lovely vintage cards, one thing is sure—Valentine
cards, flowers, and chocolate are the language of love! For my couple, Lucy Mae
Jackson and Joel Turnpike, they may also be the thing that finally brings them
together after fifteen years apart. But only if Lucy can stay out of trouble.
And only if she will open her heart to love again.
Here’s the
blurb for The Trouble with Lucy, book 38 in The Belles of Wyoming
series. (Yes, she has been a minor antagonist in previous stories. Now we will
find out why, and see if she gets her happy ending!)
When the gossip queen
has the tables turned on her, there's only one thing to do--fight fire with
fire.
Belle, Wyoming, 1882
It all started fifteen years ago with a bald-faced lie. When John Turnpike started paying attention to young and impressionable Lucy Mae Jackson, she thought it might lead to a marriage proposal. Instead, it led to heartache and such overwhelming humiliation, Lucy determined from that day forward she would never let anyone get the best of her again. Turning a sharp tongue on others before they could strike with theirs was the only way to protect her fragile heart. That, and ignoring John and his handsome but unpolished twin brother, Joel, until Joel finally decided to leave town.
Now someone is sending Lucy Mae anonymous love letters—right before Valentine's Day! Figuring it must be another hoax, Lucy Mae decides to take action. She must figure out who the prankster is while trying to avoid the townspeople's speculation. Or is her secret admirer John, whose wife has recently died and left him with four children to raise? Lucy might be willing to help him out if she can get him to say the words, "I love you." That's the trouble with Lucy—always jumping to conclusions, never thinking there might be another explanation—one that involves Joel.
Belle, Wyoming, 1882
It all started fifteen years ago with a bald-faced lie. When John Turnpike started paying attention to young and impressionable Lucy Mae Jackson, she thought it might lead to a marriage proposal. Instead, it led to heartache and such overwhelming humiliation, Lucy determined from that day forward she would never let anyone get the best of her again. Turning a sharp tongue on others before they could strike with theirs was the only way to protect her fragile heart. That, and ignoring John and his handsome but unpolished twin brother, Joel, until Joel finally decided to leave town.
Now someone is sending Lucy Mae anonymous love letters—right before Valentine's Day! Figuring it must be another hoax, Lucy Mae decides to take action. She must figure out who the prankster is while trying to avoid the townspeople's speculation. Or is her secret admirer John, whose wife has recently died and left him with four children to raise? Lucy might be willing to help him out if she can get him to say the words, "I love you." That's the trouble with Lucy—always jumping to conclusions, never thinking there might be another explanation—one that involves Joel.
I hope you’ll
give Lucy Mae Jackson a chance to redeem herself from past choices and
mistakes. She has a good heart, as you’ll see when you read her story. You can preorder it here: https://amzn.to/2GGbdl0