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| The turtle dove bows and turns before his Valentine, letting her see the beauty of his plumage The stormcock pours out his love in song The Golden Gondola continued on page 38 |
THE COUNTRYMAN CALLING
To rural folk, it has many traditions-in nature, too, it is the time of courting
The Feast of St.Valentines
Illustrated by Lady George Scott
ST. VALENTINE'S DAY falls, as you, know, on the fourteenth of February. It is a day that has seen many changes of customs and popularity but that has always remained, steadfastly, the day of lovers; the day when the young man and the maid should turn to thoughts of love, when all nature, particularly the birds should choose their mates. At first it was not known as belonging to a saint but only as a wild delight in spring and love. Boy chose girl and away they danced in reckless joy.
In pagan Rome, the names of all the young eligibles were thrown into a vessel and drawn together and thus partners were chosen for the merry-making. Such partnerships were considered good omens and it was believed that each couple would become man wife in later years.
As religion played an ever-increasing part in the affairs of everyday, a saint was chosen to lend an air of respectability to the proceedings and St. Valentine, who was said to look with kindly eyes on lovers, was chosen for the office.
As early as 1470, he was employed as a messenger of true lovers and we heard of a girl writing to her sweetheart a letter in which she addresses him as "My right welebeloved, Valuntyne, John Paston." For the next three hundred years, letters were written between lovers, under the blessing of St. Valentine. Youth might call to youth, as bird to bird, over the countryside, and everyone gave their sanction to the proceedings.
Presents, were exchanged, small, simple gifts, such as would delight the heart of a country girl or lad. A posy, the brown egg of a turkey, a ribbon for the hair or a pair of gloves. The girl was supposed to keep the gift a secret until Easter Sunday when she would come out in her new ribbon or gloves. In the towns, presents were more costly and girls started to choose their Valentines with an eye to receiving good presents!
Delightful and refreshing, indeed, were the first customs of St. Valentine's Day, when boy and girl chose each ether with the simplicity of the countryside. Blushing maidens and shy youths era the picture we have of the past. The cards that were sent were handmade. Resourcefulness and ingenuity were taxed to produce design and rhyme. Much pains were taken in composing rhymes, ardent and tender, and in the drawing of flowers, the entwining of initials and in superimposing hearts on each other.
WITH the penny post, the day of St. Valentine became an event of great importance. The post lent secrecy to the sending of the messages and the printer's art started the fashion for bought cards.
Whether St. Valentine's Day is the day for the pairing of all true lovers is a question open to comment but certain it is that, about the middle of February the tender call of the turtle dove is heard in the hedgerow-he is courting. He does not pull a slender quill from his wing and give it to a female when he asks her to be his Valentine, but he makes his intentions quite clear. He is slim, shy and delicate, his coat is irridescent with the pearl sheen of grey, blue and mauve and a mysterious shimmering of rose is about him, as he displays himself before her.
He bows and he turns before her, he lets her see the beauty of his plumage and the elegance of his movements. She in her turn is not backward, though she has not the beauty of plume at her disposal. She must rely on wit to ensnare him. This she does by a queer kind of miming, which he watches with grave consideration.
With her slim neck arched, she goes through all the motions of nest-building. She will pull an imaginary twig in her beak, tuck it in, smooth out the cup of the nest and step back, her head slightly to one side, to admire the work. He, too, inspects the imaginary nest-perhaps, they laugh; at any rate, they both fly off and alight on the ground. There, with quivering wings and mincing steps, they start to dance; when he stops, she takes over and sometimes for half an hour, the duet of the countryside is kept up.
In the meanwhile, from the highest tree, on the topmost branch, the stormcock is pouring out his love, in notes pure and liquid, harsh and wild. His repertoire is varied and valiant.
The blackbird is busy in the garden with another kind of display. He is up on the fence with head and tail held so high that they nearly meet; he looks ludicrous with his chest so puffed out.
"Chick chick, this is mine," he calls to the hen bird. He is showing her his territory the bit of garden that is his and into which no other blackbird may come. Then he will woo her and pour his full heart "in profuse strains of unpremeditated art."
(The Countryman writes for you again next week.)
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THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS
This delicate little plant clings to the earth on the margins of the ponds and marshes of our countryside.
In winter it becomes entirely submerged by water but undaunted it continues to live.
It is due to this persistent quality that pillwort is given Its meaning-tenacity.
Pillwort
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