Writing a Historical Novel ~ Part One ~ Choosing Names for My Characters by Rosemary Morris

 

To learn more about Rosemary's work please click on Grace, Lady of Cassio.

My new novel, Grace Lady of Cassio, the sequel to Yvonne, Lady of Cassio, is a classic, fact fiction, medieval romance set in Edward III’s reign, has been released as a paperback and an e-book.

I am often asked; “How do you write a historical novel?”

There is no right or method to write any novel, so authors have different methods. Some plunge in with no preparation, others plan each chapter before they write the first paragraph.

I spend a long time thinking about the characters. Before I begin a new novel, I must become acquainted with the hero, heroine and other important protagonists.

It takes me a long time to choose appropriate names. The first names of most medieval English males and females derive from their religion. For example, Yvonne stems from Ivo, in old French, Ive (s) and St Ives is said to have come to England from Persia In Latin the meaning of gratia is Grace.  Gracia, Grecia, Gricia occur in 13^th and 14^th century and may represent Grace. These examples justify my appropriate choice of Christian names in the first and second stand-alone novels about The Lovages of Cassio. I am equally careful to choose suitable names in my novels set in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign, 1702-1704, and those set in the ever popular Regency era.

Medieval parents’ choice of names was conservative. Although the choice for new-born sons and daughters were limited, I imagine that, in common with 21^st century parents, some medieval mothers and fathers had earnest discussions about what to name their babies. Apart from being baptised with saints’ names or their derivatives, sometimes children received the first names of legendary figures, famous people, or royalty.

As the saying goes, I think it is worthwhile ‘going the extra mile’ to carefully select my character’s names, bearing in mind they should be appropriate for their social class. While researching my novels I discover lots of names that have gone out of fashion. For example, I chose Richelda for the heroine in my novel, Tangled Love, set in Queen Anne’s reign.

I neither invent improbable names which are glamourous, nor do I choose recently invented names such as Shanna or Sky. I also stick to conventional spelling instead of using a different one, for example Maree instead of Mary or Richearde instead of Richard which would jerk me out of the story.

Recently, I read the first few pages of a historical romance in which the hero and heroine’s exotic first names would only be found in today’s kindergartens or primary schools. I discarded the novel because, in my opinion, I did not have faith in a historical novelist who could not be bothered to choose appropriate names for characters will not accurately create past times for her readers.

 

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Personal Cleanliness and Cosmetics in the 14th Century by Rosemary Morris

 

To see more of Rosemary's work please click on the cover above.

I have written two #classic#fact fiction# novels, Yvonne, Lady of Cassio, Volume One of The Lovages of Cassio set in Edward II’s reign, and Grace, Lady of Cassio, Volume Two, set in Edward III’s reign, (to be published on the 1^{st of} September 2021). At heart I am a historian, so in this and my recent blogs, I am sharing some of my intensive research into times past.

 

Cleanliness Is Next to Godliness

Medieval people believed in the saying ‘cleanliness is next to godliness.’ They thought a spiritually clean person without sin was spared from illness, and the necessity of seeking redemption through God’s mercy.

Bathing

  In an era when there were no anti-perspirants or deodorants people who stank because they neglected personal hygiene would be avoided (to use a cliché) ‘like the plague’.  Men with unsavoury occupations washed in rivers or other natural sources of clean water. Immersing the body in water indoors or outdoors had the benefit of ridding the body from fleas and lice. Mothers or nurses bathed babies frequently and sweetened their linen swaddling with powdered herbs or flower petals mixed with salt. Those in holy orders at abbeys at monasteries bathed between two and four times a year. 

Like royalty, the families of noble men and women, and wealthy merchants bathed in wooden tubs lined with cloths. King John bathed every three weeks. Henry IV bathed on the evening before his coronation. He instituted The Order of The Bath to stress the importance of physical and spiritual purification before a knight made his vows. Some of Edward III’s palaces contained bathrooms with hot and cold running water.

 

Washing

 It took too long to heat water for daily baths. Every morning basins of water were filled for men and women in respectable households to wash their hands and faces. Women attended to children too young to wash themselves. Before and after meals, everyone washed and dried their hands. Every week those in holy orders washed their feet in foot basins. Travellers who went on long journeys, also cleaned their feet in foot basins

 

Hair

Hair was washed in copper basins in water mixed with cinnamon, liquorice, and cumin instead of soap which irritated the skin.

Teeth

 People believed bad breath caused disease. To freshen it they chose one of these spices to chew, cardamon, liquorice, aniseed, cumin, or fennel.

 

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Women’s Fashion in the First Half of the 14th Century Part One by Rosemary Morris

 

To learn more about Rosemary's work please click on the cover above. 

In my novels Yvonne, Lady of Cassio, Volume One of The Lovages of Cassio, and in Grace, Lady of Cassio, Volume Two, which begins in 1331, (to be published in August 2021) I describe the characters clothes to help readers visualise them. As I write, I imagine wealthy ladies’ sumptuous garments. For example, “Powdered (sprinkled) with designs,” Rich fabrics powdered (patterned) or embroidered and enhanced with pearls.

Fashions changed. By 1330 garments were shaped to reveal instead of concealing women’s figures. Necklines became lower, long sleeves fitted tightly and were either stitched up or fastened with buttons from the elbow to the wrist. To render her vesture more perfect a silver needle was filled with thread of gold, and both her sleeves were closely sewed. Roman de la Rose.

I like this contemporary description. “These tournaments are attended by many ladies of the first rank and greatest beauty, but not always of the most untainted reputation. They are dressed in part-coloured tunics, one half being of one colour and the other half of another, with short hoods and liripipes which are wrapped around their heads like cords; their girdles are handsomely decorated with gold and silver and they wear short swords or daggers before them in pouchesa little below the navel; and thus habited they are mounted on the finest horses that can be procured and ornamented with the richest furniture.” Henry Knighton, 1348.

Kirtle

The kirtle (gown) was laced at the back or front to the waist, or a little lower, and worn with a girdle around the hips.

Over Garments

The long cote-hardie worn over the kirtle fitted closely. It was buttoned to below the waist or had a low neck and was pulled down over the head.

Surcoats

Surcoats with or without sleeves were worn over the kirtle. Unlike the cote-hardie they did not fit close to the body. They were either knee-length or ankle length, sometimes had slits up the sides and were worn without a girdle.

                                                                                    Outer Garments

 Short Pelissons lined with fur. Cloaks lined with fur had hoods and were worn to keep warm when travelling. Mantles Worn on ceremonial occasions were lined with expensive material, tied loosely with tasselled cords passed through jewelled attachments. Garde-Corps Women sometimes wrapped one around themselves over their inner garments.

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The Alberta Adventures Chance's Story by Nancy M Bell

 

To learn more about Nancy's work please click on the cover.

I am currently working on the last book in the Alberta Adventures. So far the series has dealt with rescues of one sort or another.  This last novel is about Laurel's friend Chance Cullen. He's been a part of all the stories so far and I think he deserves his own story since I've dragged him through hell and back again. In Chance's Way (working title) he struggles with his demons and coming to terms with the sort of man his father is. Here is the first bit of the Chapter One. As you can see, Chance has more than a few things to come to terms with, including his seemingly unrequited love for Laurel Rowan.

Chance Cullen stood on the high school steps, having just turned in his graduation robes. He glanced at the certificate in his hands and sighed. What difference does a high school diploma mean when I don’t even know what I want to do? The parking lot was awash in colour, the girls in their fancy dresses flitted from group to group like a flock of butterflies. The thought brought a wry smile to his lips. The after grad was out at the Rowan ranch, unbidden his gaze sought out Laurel Rowan, long corn silk blonde hair twisted into some crazy up do, his sister called it. The blue of her dress was the exact colour of her eyes, not that he was likely to get close enough to her to compare the two.

Jamming his wide brimmed hat on his head Chance wended his way through the throng of students, parents and grandparents, and probably most of Pincher Creek besides. He was stopped a couple of times by friends wishing him well, but finally reached the sanctuary of his truck. Tossing his diploma onto the passenger seat, he slid into the driver’s seat. His hand hesitated in the process of starting the engine and he leaned his forearms on the steering wheel, resting his chin on them.

Without meaning to, he searched for Laurel in the crowd. With unerring accuracy, his Laurel-dar, as he liked to call it, found her standing with his sister Carly. Laurel’s parents were with the two girls and Chance’s own mother. Anna Rowan’s hair was the same spun silk colour as her daughter and Colt Rowan towered over both of them. Sally Cullen clutched at Carly’s arm and glanced toward Chance’s truck, attempting to pull her daughter away. Chance grinned, it looked like Carly was standing her ground. No doubt Mom was going to make another attempt at forcing the family together. He straightened up and grimaced. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mom hadn’t streamed the whole graduation ceremony to Dad up in prison at Bowden. Bitterness twisted his gut, like that man cared about anything but himself.

He started the truck and backed out of the spot, pretending not to see his mother making her way toward him, he turned out of the school and headed out of town. His phone buzzed in his dress shirt pocket, he pulled it free and dumped it beside the diploma on the passenger seat without checking the caller ID. There was no one he wanted to talk to right now. He drove north out of town, past the hundreds of power windmills sprouting from the rolling prairie hills. God, he hated those things. They marred the stark beauty of the land and the constant noise drove him crazy. Chance chose north on purpose. It was the opposite direction from the Rowan’s. After what happened last November, getting Laurel in danger with those bastards from the dog fight organization, Chance couldn’t look Colt Rowan in the eye, let along his wife. Mr. Rowan said he’d forgiven him, but Chance still struggled with guilt. He slammed his palm on the wheel. Dammit, dammit all to hell! The last thing in the world he ever wanted was to put Laurel in any danger.

Why did I ever listen to Dad? How did I ever convince myself that getting involved with those guys was a good idea? How fucking stupid am I? And what happened to those dogs…

Chance pulled to the side of the gravel road and rubbed at his blurred eyes. Those images would never leave him. Christ, he had nightmares every time he closed his eyes. Willing himself to force the memory of the savaged dogs and the high-pitched screams of terror drowned out and silenced by the harsh growls of the victorious dogs. Chance put his hands over his ears which only served to intensify the chaos in his mind. Flinging the door open he stumbled out into the June sunshine, rounding the front of the cab he collapsed in the tall grass at the edge of the ditch. Burying his head between his knees Chance let the emotions locked down for so long escape. It was more than he could do to hold them in check any longer. Physical pain accompanied the roar of emotions that swept through him carried on his sobbing breath. The images and sounds raging through his head were more real than the gravel biting into his hands where he clutched the ground beside him. Anything to feel anchored to something.

The sun was almost touching the horizon when the visions finally released Chance. He took a shaky breathe and scrubbed his hands over his face, grit from the road scraping his cheeks. The pain was welcome and immediate, serving to ground him in present and chase the last vestiges of the memories away. “Christ, when is this going to stop? I don’t know how much more of it I can take.” He shook his head, removed his hat and ran fingers through his damp hair. Glancing at the sun, he shoved himself to his feet. “Gotta get home and check the stock,” he muttered. Harvey Good Smoke would be at the Rowan’s party, along with his wife. They were so proud of Joey and Chance guessed they had good reason to be. Grimacing, he shoved his hat back on his head and climbed into the still open truck door.

The engine was slow to catch and Chance cursed himself for leaving the door open and running the battery down. How long was I out there sitting on the side of the road like a dead coyote? The truck finally rumbled to life, the phone on the far seat ringing at the same time. Chance closed his eyes and fought the urge to throw the thing out on the road and drive over it a time or two. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and picked up the phone. The caller cut off before he could decide if he wanted to answer it or not. Seven new voicemails, ten texts. Scrolling through, he ignored the call from his father. Waste of skin. Likewise, he skipped the voicemails from his mother, four of them. There were two from Carly, he grinned. She must have been desperate, his sister much preferred texting. Checking those, his grin widened, five were from Carly. A small jolt of adrenalin shot through him, the last one was from Laurel. His hand trembled as it hovered over the keys. What could he say to her, hell, what should he say to her? While he procrastinated, the phone vibrated in his hands. What the hell? Colt Rowan! Why is he calling me? Deliberating the wisdom of answering the call, Chance’s head shot up and he slammed the truck door shut. Slouching down in the seat he pulled his hat lower over his forehead. The last thing he needed right now was company.

The approaching pickup slewed to a stop beside him, the driver leaping out and wrenching Chance’s door open before he realized what was happening.

“You been drinking?” Joey Good Smoke demanded, knocking Chance’s hat off his head.

“No,” he snarled in reply. “And why the hell do you care if I was?” Chance jammed his hat back on.

“Are you kidding me? Your sister is in hysterics thinking you’ve gone and done something stupid, the Rowan’s had to call the doctor to settle your mother down.”

“They should know better than to worry about me,” Chance muttered, refusing to look at Joey.

“Yeah, they should. But for some reason they still love you. Damned if I can figure out why, the way you act.” Joey kicked the gravel in disgust. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and punched a finger on the first contact that came up.

Chance tried to shut his door, but Joey blocked it with his hip.

Whoever he was calling finally picked up. “Yeah, I found him.” A long silence. “Looks like hell, but he don’t smell like he’s been drinking.” Joey glanced at the passenger side of the cab. “No empties I can see.” Another silence. “Range Road Eleven, out near the Castle Valley campsite.” Joey pushed his hat back a bit and glared at Chance. “I’ll try,” he said.

“You’ll try what, Joey?” Chance demanded, attempting to wrest the door shut again. “You reporting to Carly?”

Joey shook his head. “Colt. He’s worried about you and he’s on his way. He told me to tell you to stay here.”

“Like hell!” Chance threw the truck into gear.

“I wouldn’t,” Joey warned him. “The cops are looking for you too. You might as well sit here and face the music.”

Chance swallowed against the dizziness that made his head float and his vision blur. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Why’re the cops involved?’ He wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. “I don’t need this, for fuck’s sake.”

“Blame your mom, she was so worked up she called the RCMP before anybody could stop her.” Joey slammed a fist against the box of the truck. “Why couldn’t you just answer your God damned phone? You looking for sympathy or something? Poor Chance, all alone on grad day when we should all be celebrating. Poor misunderstood Chance. You make me sick! If it wasn’t for Carly, I swear…” Joey stepped back and slammed Chance’s door, sending a quiver through the vehicle. “You know what? Go ahead, go drive off the coulee, go drive into the river. Take your pity party somewhere else. I’ll tell Colt I couldn’t stop your from leaving. ” Joey stomped back to his truck and reversed so he was parked behind Chance.

“Fuck you,” Chance snarled and took his foot off the brake, releasing the clutch at the same time. The pickup rolled forward, the tires catching in the deep gravel at the side of the road. Chance tipped his hat back and pounded his fist against the sudden tightness in his chest. “Not now,” he muttered, hitting the gas. He clung to the wheel, driving more from instinct than anything else, while the road and hills snaked around him. Chance fought the constriction in his chest as it rose to his throat and pulled his lips back from teeth. Hang on, just hang on, almost home.

Finally, the familiar ranch gate loomed in front of him and Chance turned into the lane, barely avoiding driving off the edge of the cattle guard. He jammed his foot on the gas when the barns and shed rose up in front of him. The pickup slewed to a stop by the grain bins. On somewhat safe ground, fairly certain he was alone, Chance released the death grip on the steering wheel and leaned his forehead on it. Fighting for breath, he tried to slow the rapid breathing tearing at his lungs and twisting his gut. Sweat ran down his back, he threw his hat onto the passenger seat, leaned out the door to hurl his guts up. Make is stop or let me die. God, make it stop. What the hell is going on. God make it stop. Jumbled thoughts bumped and crowded each other in his mind.

After what seemed forever, Chance opened his eyes and raised his head. Moonlight cascaded into the cab, reflecting off the silver grain bins beside him. Raking a hand through his hair, Chance grabbed his hat and stepped out of the truck. His good shirt stuck to his back and his best boots had stains on them. He couldn’t remember how that happened. Bending over with his hands on his knees, Chance drew deep breaths into his lungs, his ribs and back protesting as he did so.

“Christ, I feel like I got dumped and stomped on. What the hell was …whatever that was? Am I going nuts or something?” He straightened up and shook his head, instantly regretting the movement. The cell buzzed from inside the truck. Wearily, he reached in and snagged it from the passenger floorboards. Carly. Chance cleared his throat and took the call.

“Yeah, Carly, what’s up?” He tried to sound normal.

“What’s up? What’s up?” Carly’s voice could have been heard by the coyotes two sections over. Chance held the phone away from his ear until the shrill sounds died down a bit.

“Carly, shut up and let me get a word in, would ya? I just didn’t feel like going out to the Rowan’s.”

“Why not, you’re part of the grad class, you were invited, and you were welcome. You know that—”

“I couldn’t…Colt…and Mrs. Rowan…after what happened with Laurel…I just couldn’t…”

“Well, you could have told someone, you could have answered your phone, your texts. Damn it, Chance! How much fun do you think I had dealing with Mom and her hysterics. Got herself so worked up she was sure you’d done something stupid.”

“I’m sorry about that Carly. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Don’t you ever think before you act? It wasn’t just me, Joey and Mister Rowan and bunch of the guys and their dads went looking for you. Then Joey finally finds you and you run off again. Idiot! Where the hell are you now?” Carly demanded, still on a roll.

Chance sighed and rubbed a hand gingerly over his sore ribs. “Tell them to call off the search, I’m at the ranch and getting ready to do chores. Tell Harvey he doesn’t have to worry about night check.”

“That’s big of you.” Sarcasm dripped off his sister’s voice.

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I’m telling you I just couldn’t do it, face everyone. Them looking sideways at me and whispering under their breath…”

“You’re imagining a lot of that, Chance. The Rowan’s are over it, Laurel’s worried about you. She wanted to go look too, but they talked her out of it.”

“Ya see! Colt wouldn’t want Laurie to find me, be alone with me, not after what happened with the dogs last fall…”

“Get over yourself, Chance! For God’s sake, you’re starting to sound like Dad. Coming up with excuses and blaming other people for your stupidity.”

“Fuck off, Carly. I’m not like Dad,” Chance growled.

“Aren’t you?” Carly snarled and ended the call.

Chance stared at the blank screen for a moment. Carly never hung up on him. Ever. “She must be really pissed.” He shoved the phone in his back pocket and headed to the house to change his clothes.  

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Medieval Recipes by Rosemary Morris

 

To learn more about Rosemary's work please click on the cover.

 

My novel, Grace, Lady of Cassio, begins in 1331 during the reign of Edward III. It will be published in August 2022.

At heart I am a historian. My novels are rich in historical detail that requires intensive research, some of which I am sharing in this blog.

  Medieval Recipes

Lemon Rice With Almonds

Grated skin, juice and pulp of1 large lemon. (I use an organic one.) 1 cup ground almonds. 1cup rice. 2   cups water. ½ teaspoon salt.  ½ teaspoon of cinnamon. 1 tablespoon butter. 2/3 cup of currants.            1 cup dry white wine. (I use apple juice.) 1 cup fresh peas. Garnish. 12 teaspoons of honey. (I use organic honey.)

Put the water, rice, salt, cinnamon, butter and lemon in a non-stick saucepan with a lid. Stir once while boiling it for 10 minutes until most of the fluid is absorbed. Simmer the almonds and currants in the white wine or apple juice for 7 minutes then add it to rice fluffed with a fork. Stir in fresh peas (sometimes I use frozen peas) simmer for 5 or 7 minutes, adding a little boiling water if the rice sticks to the bottom of the saucepan. Garnish each portion with honey.

 

Vegetable Gruel

2 cups wheatgerm or buckwheat groats. 2 tablespoons butter. 4 cups milk. 1cup half inch slice of peeled carrots, ½ cup peeled, diced fresh parsnip, 1 cup raisins, ½ teaspoon salt, ¼ teaspoon powdered ginger, ¼ teaspoon cinnamon, ½ teaspoon dried sweet basil, 6 tablespoons honey (

I prefer organic honey), 3 tablespoons plum jam.

 Melt the butter in a non-stick saucepan. Add the groats and stir for 2 or 3 minutes over a low heat, then add the other ingredients, except for the basil, honey and jam. Simmer slowly for 20 minutes. To serve, ladle the gruel into bowls, put a tablespoon of honey in the centre and a dessertspoon of plum jam in the middle. Sprinkle the basil around the edges. Serve hot.

 

Pears with Carob Cream

6 firm, edible pears. Juice of 1 fresh lemon. (I use an organic lemon.) 2 heaped tablespoons carob powder. (A substitute of chocolate, available from health food shops. 2 tablespoons sugar (I prefer soft brown sugar) or honey (I prefer organic honey) ¼ teaspoon salt, 1 cup double cream/whipping cream.

 Cut the pears in half with their skins on and scoop out the core area with a sharp knife, dredge each half with lemon juice. Bake pears in a 350 degree oven for 7 or 10 minutes and allow them to cool. Beat the cream, salt and carob powder together until it is thick. Pipe or spoon the carob cream onto the pear halves. Refrigerate for 30 minutes or more before serving.

 

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Food and Drink in 14th Century England by Rosemary Morris

 

Click on the cover to learn more about Rosemary Morris.

My novel, Grace, Lady of Cassio, begins in 1331 during the reign of Edward III. It will be published in August 2022.

At heart I am a historian. My novels are rich in historical detail that requires intensive research, some of which I am sharing in this blog.

Food and Drink in 14^th Century England

In the Great Hall.  A lord, his lady and guests sat at a table on a dais at one end of the great hall. A white linen tablecloth covered the table. The best food was placed before him on a long, narrow coloured strip of fabric. Everyone else sat on benches at trestle tables at right angles to the dais. They ate food appropriate for their rank the lowest ate pottage.

Restrictions. The Church forbade consumption of meat on Wednesdays, Fridays Saturdays, and during Advent. In Lent eggs were not allowed. Fish replaced the prohibited food.

Breakfast. Noble households. The lord and his lady, if he was married, their most important guests and senior officials broke their fast with bread, cheese, ale or buttermilk. In accordance with the belief that servants became lazy if they ate too much so they were not served breakfast.

Dinner. This opulent main meal was served between approximately between 10 a.m. and 11 a.m. After the priest said prayers, fresh fruit stimulated the appetite. Two people shared food on a stale bread trencher that soaked up juice and sauce. First, the lord helped himself first to food. After he sampled the dishes, they were passed to his guests.

     The first course numbered a variety of meat dishes; to name a few, meat pottage flavoured with herbs, spices, and wine, or one containing, for example, savoury chicken, pheasant or swan with boiled meat, and venison seethed in almond milk and other ingredients. Some dishes were a combination of sweet and savoury. Four courses followed. The second with a variety of roasted, expertly carved, exotic meats, among others stork, peacock, heron, and larks. The next with small birds and cooked fruit, maybe baked, stewed in wine, or cooked in sugar syrup etc. A last course of fruit, nuts, cheese, and sweet and savoury wafers accompanied by spiced red wine ended the meal.

     On days when eating meat was prohibited, they ate four fish courses of fish cooked in different ways, for example, fresh fish, smoked fish, shellfish pickled in brine, salt fish and stewed fish.

     Vegetables were incorporated in pottages and other recipes.

      Large and small sweet and savoury pies, some called coffins because of their shape.

    Supper. Served at sunset, at the castle or manor for those seated on the dais supper was a light meal, Usually with one main dish, maybe white bread, side dishes and cheese. After supper sometimes they danced, or professional entertainers such as acrobats, jongleurs, minstrels and storytellers performed. If not a knight or the lord’s lady might recite a story. Sometimes a squire played an instrument and sang.

 

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To learn more about my work please click on the cover 

What a crazy year this has been. Way too full of Covid and bad news. However, the sun is returning and we are turning our faces to the spring. Even while the Alberta prairies are still locked in cold and snow the flowers of spring are stirring in my heart.

I am working on the last book in The Alberta Adventures. Any of you who have followed Laurel and her friends through the three Cornwall Adventures series and then the first two of The Alberta Adventures will be familiar with Chance Cullen and his struggles. The first two books in this last series are about rescuing something, horses and dogs respectively. The third book is Chance's journey and his struggle to rescue his life from the downward spiral and bad choices he has made recently. I'm not sure where it's going quite yet as the story is still evolving. It begins right after Laurel, Carly and Chance graduate from high school. Chance and Carly's dad is in prison for his role in the events in Dead Dogs Talk and Chance is slowly coming to terms with the fact he needs to find his own way and that isn't following the example his father has set. I hope you'll watch for Chance's Way when it releases and see how things play out. I'll keep you updated on how things are going with the plot in my blog posts on the 18th of each month.

Until next month, stay well, stay happy, stay strong.

Nancy

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Valentines of the Past by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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Have you ever wondered how Valentine's Day got started? First of all, the full name of the holiday is Saint Valentine's Day, but unlike Patrick, the 'Saint' part is usually dropped, possibly due to the fact that it doesn't have much to do with the real Saint Valentine, a late third century Christian martyr. He was beheaded on February 14th and that is his feast day according to the Church calendar. There are several legends about Saint Valentine which purport to explain his attachment to the holiday that bears his name, but they are most likely apochryphal. Nonetheless, they are probably the reason the holiday is named for him.

Valentine's Day seems to have been first mentioned in the Middle Ages in the writings of Chaucer, possibly the first 'love poet', particularly in his poem, The Parliment of Fowls, where he indicates that Saint Valentine's Day is an annual occurrence as a day for birds to choose their mates. Some scholars believe that Chaucer was the originator of Valentine's Day being a day of romance. By referring to Valentine's Day in poems suggestive of courtly love and associating it with nature, romance, and lovebirds, Chaucer helped to create the notion of Valentine's Day as a day set aside to celebrate romantic love.

Not long after publication of The Parliment of Fowls, other poets began referencing Valentine's Day in their work. John Lydgate, a monk and poet who was a contemporary of Chaucer and friend of his son, was likely the first person to use the word 'valentine' to designate a type of poem. The variety of uses for the word 'valentine' continues today in that a valentine can be a card (I received a valentine), a poem (I wrote a valentine), or a person (Be my valentine).

Frenchman, Charles d'Orleans (Charles , Duke of Orleans) is reputed to have been the first to send a love poem or letter to someone in observation of Valentine's Day in 1416, calling his wife, Bonne d'Armagnac "my very gentle valentine." He was imprisoned after having been captured by the British in the Hundred Years War at the time. His captor was married to Chaucer's granddaughter and he was known to have read Chaucer during his captivity.

Women sent valentine's in the Middle Ages, too. The first known English language valentine was written in 1477 by Margery Brews to John Paston of Norfolk England. In it she addressed John as "my right well-beloved Valentine." Not long after, the couple were married.

Because Chaucer and others connected Saint Valentine's feast day with the mating of birds and romance among people, many tried to find connections between the saint and romantic love, hence the legends such as Saint Valentine performing secret Christian weddings during a time of persecutions throughout the Roman Empire. However, these legends are most likely false.

As time went on the popularity of Valentine's Day waxed and waned. During times of popularity over the following centuries, it became a day for gift giving, banquets, and parties among the aristocracy and rituals involving matchmaking and divination of future mates among other classes. But no matter what other traditions grew up around it, the act of exchanging written sentiments of love and affection remained central, evolving from hand-written verses to homemade cards to commercially made cards. The giving of flowers and candy soon followed.

In America, the popularity of Valentine's Day soared in the 1840s. Previously, it was generally known as a European custom not much recognized in the States. The holiday's new-found popularity stemmed from the commercially produced Valentine's Day cards made in England beginning in the 1820s. Over the next few decades Valentine's Day cards would become a craze in England and by the 1840s that craze had migrated to America with 15,000 cards exchanged in New York in 1843, rising to as many as 30,000 by 1847. Esther Howland of Worcester, Massachusetts, aka The Mother of the American Valentine, produced some of the first elaborate valentines in 1848 and founded the New England Valentine Company. 

While the giving of Valentine's Day cards is central to the holiday and still observed today, it was done a bit differently in mid-19th century America. For one thing, a reply was expected. If a gentleman sent a card asking a lady to be his valentine, she was obliged to respond yes or no. As the transmission of valentines could take days, this ritual extended for over a week. Besides cards, printers sold pamphlets, first in England and later in America, called "Valentine Writers." These pamphlets offered various poems suitable for use by those not gifted in crafting poetry. Some pamphlets offered possible responses, as well. 

The recipient of a 19th century valentine did not always know from whom it came. Often they were sent anonymously. For many, it was exciting to know they had a secret admirer. However, not every valentine held sentiments of affection. Some were funny, satirical, or downright rude in their texts and/or illustrations. A few were even sexually suggestive.

The mid-19th century was the start of the movement for women's rights. Many who were opposed, took Valentine's Day as an opportunity to reprove women who sought equal rights with men. Often these discourteous cards ended with lines such as "You will never be my Valentine." One could imagine the recipient's response being something like, "Thank goodness for that!"

When the Valentine card craze was hitting America, stationers and printers took advantage of it by advertising heavily in newspapers, creating elaborate window displays, and even sponsoring Valentine-themed activities within their shops. The appeal took off and moved from being a ritual between lovers or would-be lovers to include family and friends, especially children. Thus was born the commercialization of Valentine's Day. In fact, the success of printed, commercially made Valentine's Day cards gave rise to the greeting card business as a whole, with Christmas cards following next then cards for all other occassions. By the 1920s greeting cards of all types were common.

As we know, giving cards, flowers, candy, and other gifts on Valentine's Day is alive and well today. Like nearly every holiday, the rituals associated with it have evolved over time and will probably continue to. But however you celebrate it, I wish you all a happy Valentine's Day!

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Information for this post was gleaned from America's Favorite Holidays: Candid Stories by Bruce David Forbes

Ladies in the Age of Chivalry by Rosemary Morris

 

To find out more about Rosemary's work click on the cover above.

Ladies in the Age of Chivalry

My novel, Grace, Lady of Cassio, begins in 1331 during the reign of Edward III. It will be published in August 2022.

At heart I am a historian. My novels are rich in historical detail that requires intensive research, some of which I am sharing in this blog.

 

Chivalry, Ladies and Literature, Courtly Love and Reality

The ideal upper-class lady in romantic medieval literature is the beloved who inspires chivalry and is worshipped. In fiction her slightest command is obeyed without question and heroic deeds by a knight errant are performed in her name, even if his love is not reciprocated. Reinmar von Hagenau ‘s lyric captures the nature of courtly love.

 

       I wish to be known my entire life as a master of one thing and one thing only.

       I seek the world’s praise for this one skill,

      That no man can bear his suffering as beautifully as I.

      If a woman causes me pain to such an extent that I cannot remain silent day or night,

      I have so gentle a spirit that I’ll accept her hate as a source of joy.

     And yet, alas, how deeply that discomforts me.

 

In reality, and in accordance with medieval law and society, a lady wielded authority as a wife and mother in domestic affairs and took charge while her husband was away.

 

Maidens, Wives, Spinsters, Widows and Nuns

During the medieval era men classified women as maidens, wives, widows, or nuns. During childhood maidens were subject to their fathers, stepfathers or guardians who maintained them. Married women were controlled by their husbands and were denied the right to refuse intercourse. Without their husbands’ agreement, they were not permitted to borrow money, sell property, or make a will. Noblewomen received as much respect as noblemen. Yet because Eve persuaded Adam to taste the forbidden fruit and they were cast out of paradise, men considered females physically, intellectually, and morally inferior. Nuns, the brides of Christ, depended on the Church. Only spinsters, a rarity, and widows enjoyed some independence.

 

Education, Betrothal, Marriage and Motherhood.

 

Nobly born children were taught to read and write French, the language of educated people, to figure, embroider, dance, sing and play musical instruments. They were trained to be dignified, meek and modest and not to laugh loudly. Many girls were betrothed in their infancy and wedded when they were twelve. Most marriages were not consummated until the girls were fourteen. In an age when many people died early, teenage pregnancies were encouraged. Most ladies married by their sixteenth birthday. In their mid-twenties, if they had not died, they had given birth to five or six children, some of whom did not survive.

 

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

 

http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary

Knights in the Age of Chivalry by Rosemary Morris

 

For more information on Rosemary's books please click on the cover. 

Knights in the Age of Chivalry

 

My novel, Grace, Lady of Cassio, The Lovages of Cassio, Book Two, sequel to Yvonne, Lady of Cassio, begins in the reign of Edward III. It will be published in October 2021.

At heart I am a historian. My novels are rich in historical detail which requires intensive research, some of which I am sharing in this blog.

 

The Path to Knighthood

At the age of seven a knight’s son served in another knight’s household, often his maternal uncle’s, where he trained to fight, first with a wooden sword. At sixteen, he knew knights should be courteous to each other and had been taught the four cardinal rules of chivalry - piety, prowess, loyalty, and moderation. Before being knighted, he had learned the skills necessary for an expert jouster. As a knight his raison d’etre was to fight.

Prior to being dubbed a knight, a squire bathed him before he dressed in white clothes and a red robe. At night, he stood or knelt in front of the altar in the chapel or Church for ten hours in solitude and silent prayer. At dawn, he attended Mass before presentation to his lord by two sponsors. The lord presented him with the sword and shield which were on the altar during the vigil. After an older knight struck him on his neck or cheek with his hand or the flat of his sword, the young knight swore a holy oath to dedicate his sword to justice, piety, the orphaned, the oppressed, the church and the widow.

Tournaments.

In tournaments aristocratic knights fought for fame and glory.

Jousting was dangerous. A late 14^th century knight wore armour weighing 80-100 lbs. He sat on a high saddle, charging at a closing speed of 40 miles per hour on a destrier weighing 200 lbs. He bore a lance with which all the potentially lethal force was concentrated on a steel tip. Jousts of peace with capped lances were less dangerous although a knight might fall from his horse, die, or be seriously injured.

A Perfect Knight

Although a knight was a fighting machine, when he removed his armour, he was expected to be courteous, gentle, devout, and cultured. John of Salisbury, a cleric, listed some of a knight’s duty. To defend the Church, to assail infidelity, to venerate the priesthood, to protect the poor from injuries…to pour out his blood for his brothers (as the formula of his oath directs him).

Tenants in Chief

Lords who had been knighted held their principal estates from the king and were called tenants-in-chief. They received a summons to attend each parliament and constituted the House of Lords. They were bound to serve the king with their retinues at their own expense for forty days each year at home or abroad.

Household knights.

Household knights promised to serve an overlord loyally for life in peace and war, wherever he was needed. He would serve at his overlord’s expense, be clothed by him, and provided with a suitable horse.

Clergy. Military Orders

 

The Order of the Temple abolished in 1308) and The Hospital of St John of Jerusalem (Hospitallers) Orders of knights were originally established to protect the routes to the Holy Land.

 

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

 

http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary