Then within the houses of destination—the screams, the shouts, the rushings to catch the bang bangs—the flushed faces, sparkling eyes, rushing feet to pick up the fairy gifts—inscriptions to be interpreted, mysteries to be unravelled, hoaxes to be found out—great hampers, heavy, and ticketed “With care, this side upwards,” to be unpacked, out of which jump live little boys with St. Valentine’s love to the little ladies fair—
the sham bang bangs, that bring nothing but noise and fun—the mock parcels that vanish from the door step by invisible strings when the door opens—monster parcels that dwindle to thread-papers denuded of their multiplied envelopes, with pithy mottoes, all tending to the final consummation of good counsel, “Happy is he who expects nothing, and he will not be disappointed!” It is a glorious night, marvel not that we would perpetuate so joyous a festivity. We love its mirth, the memory of its smiles and mysteries of loving kindness, its tender reverential tributes to old age, and time-tried friendship, amid the throng of sprightlier festal offerings, that mark the season in our hearths and homes, as sacred to a love so pure, so true, and holy, that good St. Valentine himself may feel justly proud of such commemoration.
How and when this peculiar mode of celebrating the festival arose it would be difficult perhaps to discover. In olden times, as we find by the diary of Dr. Browne, the more prevalent custom of drawing valentines on the eve before Valentine day was in vogue; but Forby’s “Vocabulary of East Anglia” makes mention of a practice which doubtless has become developed in the course of time into the elaborate and costly celebration of the present day. He says, “In Norfolk it is the custom for children to ‘catch’ each other for valentines; and if there are elderly persons in the family who are likely to be liberal,
great care is taken to catch them. The mode of catching is by saying ‘Good morrow, Valentine,’ and if they can repeat this before they are spoken to, they are rewarded with a small present. It must be done, however, before sunrise; otherwise instead of a reward, they are told they are sunburnt.” He adds a query—Does this illustrate the phrase sunburned, in “Much Ado about Nothing”?
The universal respect in which the anniversary of St. Valentine is held, may perhaps be most justly estimated by the statistical facts that relate to the post-office transactions for that day, in comparison with the average amount of the daily transmissions; and each district has probably some peculiar mode of celebrating it,—but nowhere, we imagine, does its annual return leave behind it such pleasing and substantial memorials as in our “Old City.” Douce, in his “Illustrations of Shakespeare,” would have us believe that the observances of St. Valentine’s day had their origin in the festivals of ancient Rome during the month of February, when they celebrated the “Lupercalia,” or feasts in honour of Pan and Juno, sometimes called Februalis, on which occasion, amidst a variety of other ceremonies, the names of young men and maidens were put into a box, and drawn as chance directed. The pastors of the early church, in their endeavours to eradicate the vestiges of popular superstitions, substituted the names of
saints for those of the young maidens, and as the Lupercalia commenced in February, affixed the observance to the feast of St. Valentine in that month, thus preserving the outline of the ancient ceremony, to which the people were attached, modified by an adaptation to the Christian system.
Time, however, would seem to have restored the maidens to their original position. Brande has given many curious details of the various modes of celebrating the anniversary, in addition to the universal interchange of illuminated letters and notes. In Oxfordshire the children go about collecting pence, singing,
“Good morrow, Valentine,
First ’tis yours, then ’tis mine,
So please give me a Valentine.”
In some other counties the poorer classes of children dress themselves fantastically, and visit the houses of the great, singing,
“Good morning to you, Valentine,
Curl your locks as I do mine,
Two before and three behind—
Good morrow to you, Valentine.”