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Ovid’s Vacant Day February 16th
Lupercalia, Parentalia and Februarius February 15th
Lupercalia was a Roman feast of purification. It was dedicated to the she-wolf who saved Romulus and Remus, the traditional founders of the City of Rome. The centre of the festivities in Rome was a cave called the Lupercal. This was, supposedly, where the wolf suckled the twin brothers until they were rescued by Faustulus, a shepherd.
The Lupercalia was also called dies Februatus. The word seems to be derived from proto-italic word februum for purification by making an offering. The purification instruments were called februa. This is the basis for the Roman month named Februarius and our February.
The deity of the month was Neptune.
Parentalia
We are also in the middle of the Parentalia, which began on the 13th February and lasted nine days. It honoured parents and family ancestors. People would visit the family tombs found along the roadsides outside of the City. Here they would honour the ancestors by making offerings.
Goddesses of the Family Heath
There would be a family banquet and offerings made to the Lares – the household deities. Romans had a household altar for their worship. The Greek Goddess Hestia was the Goddess of the Hearth – the centre of any household, and Vestal was the Roman equivalent. Dickens borrowed the concept of the Household Gods in his Christmas book ‘the Chimes’.
According to Wikipedia the Codex-Calendar of 354, shows that 13 February had become the holiday Virgo Vestalis parentat. This was a public holiday which by then appears to have replaced the older Parentalia.
For more on Roman Burials and the Festivals of the dead look at my post here:
On This Day
The Day that Christ overcame the devil is a day off work
In the Laws of King Alfred the Great, February 15th, the day Christ overcame the devil, was a day off for freemen. I think this is the day Jesus overcame temptation in the Desert – normally the first day in Lent. Lent of course varies with the date of Easter, but the law code says the 15th is the day off. I delve more into Days off in the Anglo Saxon Calender on August 15th.
15 February 1748 Jeremy Bentham was born. He was a utiltarian philosopher, who believed ethics consisted on contributing to the great good of humanity. He also founded University College, London – London’s first univeristy. Founded in 1826. Have a look at this page to discover more. My part in his story is that the mother of my children was a textile conservator and one of her first projects was to sort Jeremy Bentham out. He did not believea person survived death and in order to encourage free thought, he ordered that his body should be publically disected. His skeleton was then dressed in a suit, stuffed with straw, adorned with a case of his head, put in a chair. Placed in a cupboard, only to be brought out to chair committees running the College. He’d got a bit dusty over the years, and a little frayed at the edges. So he was made spick and span.
!5 February 1915 British Troops retake trenches near St Eloi – for more on this read my post here:
St Valentine’s Day & Magpies February 14th
St Valentine’s Day in a Poem by Chaucer
| For this was on Seynt Valentynes day, | |
| Whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make, | |
| Of every kinde, that men thynke may; | |
| And that so huge a noyse gan they make, | |
| That erthe and see, and tree, and every lake | |
| So ful was, that unnethe was ther space | |
| For me to stonde, so ful was al the place. |
This is my ‘translation’
For this was St. Valentine’s Day
When every bird came there to chose their mate.
Of every type, that men think may
And that so huge a noise did they make
That earth and sea and tree and every lake
So full was, that hardly was there space
For to stand so full was the place.
St Valentine’s Patronage
This is the first reference to St Valentine’s as a romantic day. And some people charge Chaucer with making the whole thing up! St Valentine, is supposed to have been martyred in the 3rd Century (290AD) on the Via Flaminia on February 14. He refused to stop marrying people in the Christian rites. He is therefore the patron Saint of lovers. He is also the patron Saint of epileptics, fainting and beekeepers. According to legend, Valentine taught a young blind girl how to look after Bees, and, sometime later, her eyesight was restored. He also is said to have treated a young man of epilepsy. Epilepsy was sometimes called the Falling Sickness, and so he is also the Saint of Fainting.
But until Chaucer, there was no particular link with romance. In fact, there are at least three Saint Valentines who were martyred in the Roman period. Their relics are scattered around Europe (have a look at this National Geographic article for the full S.P.). These include bones in Glasgow and his heart in Dublin. There are 11 Saints called Valentine in the list of Catholic Saints.
St Valentine’s Day and Birds
Chaucer’s poem suggests one possible route to the link with romance. This is about the time when birds pair off. If they want to have their chicks at the optimal time, then they need to get going before spring has really sprung.
When I think of love, I don’t think of birds. Maybe, this is because I live by a Canal. Outside my garden, I frequently see and hear a Coot chasing his pair across the water before violently mounting her. But then they are fiercely monogamous and defend their nest, fearlessly, against much bigger birds. And swans glide by in beautiful family groups. But Magpies are my favourite lovebird because you see one, and then look around, and you very often see the partner. I have adopted an old tradition that you are supposed to say:
‘Hello, Mr Magpie! Where’s Mrs Magpie?’
And look for the mate. It is good luck if you see her and bad luck if you don’t. (Please feel free to assign your own favourite gender!)
‘One for Sorrow’ is a well-known nursery rhyme found in many variations, and is an example of ‘ornithomancy superstition’ whereby the number of Magpies you see determines some aspect of your future. As to the likelihood of seeing thirteen magpies together – they always appear to be in pairs to me, or singletons, and occasionally threes. Magpies normally mate for life, and are not gregarious during the nesting season, but thereafter, they ‘join together in large wintering flocks of more than 20 or so birds.‘. So, perhaps we need at least another seven lines for the rhyme? So, far I have never seen a flock of them. If you have a photo of a flock, please send it to me!
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told.
Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,
Eleven for health,
Twelve for wealth,
Thirteen beware it’s the devil himself.
Here is another, more dangerous version (you are more likely to see the Devil)
One for sorrow,
Two for mirth
Three for a funeral,
Four for birth
Five for heaven
Six for hell
Seven for the devil, his own self
For details of the history of versions of this poem, click here:
Magpies don’t have a good reputation, traditionally being regarded as thieves and scavengers with untidy nests and eating habits. They are supposed to be attracted to shiny things, but Exeter University did some research which found that they have the normal Corvid’s curiosity for objects. But they are as happy to snatch a dull object as a shiny one. So, we can see they are very intelligent as well as faithful lovers. For me, a good-omened bird (as long as I see the two of them).
For more on Chaucer look at my post for April 18th.
On This Day
1895 The Importance of Being Earnest first produced at the St James’s Theatre, London
First Published in February 2023, revised and updated in February 2024, 2025
Daffodils & Narcissus, the Fabulous Boy February 11th
In 2023, I saw my first Daffodil in Hackney in a Council Estate on 12 January. My first daffodil in 2024 was outside my first floor window in early February. In 2025, I can see the shoots of Daffodils in my garden but nothing blooming. However, there are the first daffodils in my area by the side of a different Council Estate. They bring such joy and hope for the return of the Sun.
Narcissus the Flower
Their formal name is Narcissus. The Roman natural historian, Pliny tells us that the plant was:
‘named Narcissus from narkē not from the fabulous boy.’
Narkē is the Greek word from which we derive the word narcotic. It is a reference to the narcotic properties of the narcissus. An extract of the bulb applied to open wounds produced numbness of the whole nervous system and paralysis of the heart. The flowers are also slightly poisonous. So, they were used as an emetic. They brought on vomiting when it was felt necessary that the stomach be emptied. It was used to treat hysteria and epilepsy. They treated children with bronchial catarrh or epidemic dysentery. Among Arabian doctors, it was used to cure baldness and as an aphrodisiac. (Source: A Modern Herbal by Mrs M Grieve.) Please remember these are not recommendations for use medicinally, but are historic uses and may be dangerous.
Daffodils & Narcissus the Fabulous Boy
The fabulous boy, mentioned by Pliny, was Narcissus. He, according to the Roman Poet Ovid, met the nymph Echo, and she fell in love with the beautiful boy. He spurned her, and she faded until all that remained of her was her voice – the echo we hear.
Nemesis, the Goddess of Revenge (the one with the fiery sword) decided on revenge upon the handsome boy. She lured the thirsty youth to a fountain, where he saw an image of a breathtakingly handsome boy. He fell instantly in love with such beauty. But it was an image of himself. Realising he would never meet anyone as fabulous as himself, he faded from life. He eventually metamorphised into a white and yellow flower, which was named after him.
Daffodils & Shakespeare
Daffodils are mentioned in a list of Spring Flowers by Shakespeare in the pastoral play The Winter’s Tale:
(Please note that as you read Shakespeare’s words below that Prosperpina is the wife of Pluto, the God of the Underworld, Dis, is another name for him, Cytherea is the Goddess of Beauty and Love. Phoebus is the Sun God. And the Spring Flowers are Daffodils, violets, primroses, oxlips(primula), Crown Imperial (Fritillaria imperialis), Lilies, flower-De-luce (Iris)
Perdita to Camillo
Out, alas!
You’d be so lean that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through.
(To Florizel)
I would I had some flowers o’th’ spring, that might
Become your time of day –
(to the Shepherdesses)
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let’st fall
From Dis’s waggon! Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes
Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength – a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one: O, these I lack
To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend
To strew him o’er and o’er!WT IV.iv.110.2
The reference to Daffodils suggests that for Shakespeare they are around to withstand the March Winds before the Swallows arrive in April. With selective breeding, early flowering species have been developed. Now February and even January are within the scope of the glorious bulb. (here is a post on winter flowering varieties)
Below is the text of Ovid’s Echo and NarcissusTranslated by Brookes Moore
NARCISSUS AND ECHO, THE HOUSE OF CADMUS
Once a noisy Nymph, (who never held her tongue when others spoke, who never spoke till others had begun) mocking Echo, spied him as he drove, in his delusive nets, some timid stags.—For Echo was a Nymph, in olden time,—and, more than vapid sound,—possessed a form: and she was then deprived the use of speech, except to babble and repeat the words, once spoken, over and over. Juno confused her silly tongue, because she often held that glorious goddess with her endless tales, till many a hapless Nymph, from Jove’s embrace, had made escape adown a mountain. But for this, the goddess might have caught them. Thus the glorious Juno, when she knew her guile; “Your tongue, so freely wagged at my expense, shall be of little use; your endless voice, much shorter than your tongue.” At once the Nymph was stricken as the goddess had decreed;—and, ever since, she only mocks the sounds of others’ voices, or, perchance, returns their final words.
One day, when she observed Narcissus wandering in the pathless woods, she loved him and she followed him, with soft and stealthy tread.—The more she followed him the hotter did she burn, as when the flame flares upward from the sulphur on the torch. Oh, how she longed to make her passion known! To plead in soft entreaty! to implore his love! But now, till others have begun, a mute of Nature she must be. She cannot choose but wait the moment when his voice may give to her an answer. Presently the youth, by chance divided from his trusted friends, cries loudly, “Who is here?” and Echo, “Here!” Replies. Amazed, he casts his eyes around, and calls with louder voice, “Come here!” “Come here!” She calls the youth who calls.—He turns to see who calls him and, beholding naught exclaims, “Avoid me not!” “Avoid me not!” returns. He tries again, again, and is deceived by this alternate voice, and calls aloud; “Oh let us come together!” Echo cries, “Oh let us come together!” Never sound seemed sweeter to the Nymph, and from the woods she hastens in accordance with her words, and strives to wind her arms around his neck. He flies from her and as he leaves her says, “Take off your hands! you shall not fold your arms around me. Better death than such a one should ever caress me!” Naught she answers save, “Caress me!” Thus rejected she lies hid in the deep woods, hiding her blushing face with the green leaves; and ever after lives concealed in lonely caverns in the hills. But her great love increases with neglect; her miserable body wastes away, wakeful with sorrows; leanness shrivels up her skin, and all her lovely features melt, as if dissolved upon the wafting winds—nothing remains except her bones and voice—her voice continues, in the wilderness; her bones have turned to stone. She lies concealed in the wild woods, nor is she ever seen on lonely mountain range; for, though we hear her calling in the hills, ’tis but a voice, a voice that lives, that lives among the hills.
Thus he deceived the Nymph and many more, sprung from the mountains or the sparkling waves; and thus he slighted many an amorous youth.—and therefore, some one whom he once despised, lifting his hands to Heaven, implored the Gods, “If he should love deny him what he loves!” and as the prayer was uttered it was heard by Nemesis, who granted her assent.
There was a fountain silver-clear and bright, which neither shepherds nor the wild she-goats, that range the hills, nor any cattle’s mouth had touched—its waters were unsullied—birds disturbed it not; nor animals, nor boughs that fall so often from the trees. Around sweet grasses nourished by the stream grew; trees that shaded from the sun let balmy airs temper its waters. Here Narcissus, tired of hunting and the heated noon, lay down, attracted by the peaceful solitudes and by the glassy spring. There as he stooped to quench his thirst another thirst increased. While he is drinking he beholds himself reflected in the mirrored pool—and loves; loves an imagined body which contains no substance, for he deems the mirrored shade a thing of life to love. He cannot move, for so he marvels at himself, and lies with countenance unchanged, as if indeed a statue carved of Parian marble. Long, supine upon the bank, his gaze is fixed on his own eyes, twin stars; his fingers shaped as Bacchus might desire, his flowing hair as glorious as Apollo’s, and his cheeks youthful and smooth; his ivory neck, his mouth dreaming in sweetness, his complexion fair and blushing as the rose in snow-drift white. All that is lovely in himself he loves, and in his witless way he wants himself:—he who approves is equally approved; he seeks, is sought, he burns and he is burnt. And how he kisses the deceitful fount; and how he thrusts his arms to catch the neck that’s pictured in the middle of the stream! Yet never may he wreathe his arms around that image of himself. He knows not what he there beholds, but what he sees inflames his longing, and the error that deceives allures his eyes. But why, O foolish boy, so vainly catching at this flitting form? The cheat that you are seeking has no place. Avert your gaze and you will lose your love, for this that holds your eyes is nothing save the image of yourself reflected back to you. It comes and waits with you; it has no life; it will depart if you will only go.
Nor food nor rest can draw him thence—outstretched upon the overshadowed green, his eyes fixed on the mirrored image never may know their longings satisfied, and by their sight he is himself undone. Raising himself a moment, he extends his arms around, and, beckoning to the murmuring forest; “Oh, ye aisled wood was ever man in love more fatally than I? Your silent paths have sheltered many a one whose love was told, and ye have heard their voices. Ages vast have rolled away since your forgotten birth, but who is he through all those weary years that ever pined away as I? Alas, this fatal image wins my love, as I behold it. But I cannot press my arms around the form I see, the form that gives me joy. What strange mistake has intervened betwixt us and our love? It grieves me more that neither lands nor seas nor mountains, no, nor walls with closed gates deny our loves, but only a little water keeps us far asunder. Surely he desires my love and my embraces, for as oft I strive to kiss him, bending to the limpid stream my lips, so often does he hold his face fondly to me, and vainly struggles up. It seems that I could touch him. ‘Tis a strange delusion that is keeping us apart. Whoever thou art, Come up! Deceive me not! Oh, whither when I fain pursue art thou? Ah, surely I am young and fair, the Nymphs have loved me; and when I behold thy smiles I cannot tell thee what sweet hopes arise. When I extend my loving arms to thee thine also are extended me—thy smiles return my own. When I was weeping, I have seen thy tears, and every sign I make thou cost return; and often thy sweet lips have seemed to move, that, peradventure words, which I have never heard, thou hast returned. No more my shade deceives me, I perceive ‘Tis I in thee—I love myself—the flame arises in my breast and burns my heart—what shall I do? Shall I at once implore? Or should I linger till my love is sought? What is it I implore? The thing that I desire is mine—abundance makes me poor. Oh, I am tortured by a strange desire unknown to me before, for I would fain put off this mortal form; which only means I wish the object of my love away. Grief saps my strength, the sands of life are run, and in my early youth am I cut off; but death is not my bane—it ends my woe.—I would not death for this that is my love, as two united in a single soul would die as one.”
He spoke; and crazed with love, returned to view the same face in the pool; and as he grieved his tears disturbed the stream, and ripples on the surface, glassy clear, defaced his mirrored form. And thus the youth, when he beheld that lovely shadow go; “Ah whither cost thou fly? Oh, I entreat thee leave me not. Alas, thou cruel boy thus to forsake thy lover. Stay with me that I may see thy lovely form, for though I may not touch thee I shall feed my eyes and soothe my wretched pains.” And while he spoke he rent his garment from the upper edge, and beating on his naked breast, all white as marble, every stroke produced a tint as lovely as the apple streaked with red, or as the glowing grape when purple bloom touches the ripening clusters. When as glass again the rippling waters smoothed, and when such beauty in the stream the youth observed, no more could he endure. As in the flame the yellow wax, or as the hoar-frost melts in early morning ‘neath the genial sun; so did he pine away, by love consumed, and slowly wasted by a hidden flame. No vermeil bloom now mingled in the white of his complexion fair; no strength has he, no vigor, nor the comeliness that wrought for love so long: alas, that handsome form by Echo fondly loved may please no more.
But when she saw him in his hapless plight, though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. As often as the love-lore boy complained, “Alas!” “Alas!” her echoing voice returned; and as he struck his hands against his arms, she ever answered with her echoing sounds. And as he gazed upon the mirrored pool he said at last, “Ah, youth beloved in vain!” “In vain, in vain!” the spot returned his words; and when he breathed a sad “farewell!” “Farewell!” sighed Echo too. He laid his wearied head, and rested on the verdant grass; and those bright eyes, which had so loved to gaze, entranced, on their own master’s beauty, sad Night closed. And now although among the nether shades his sad sprite roams, he ever loves to gaze on his reflection in the Stygian wave. His Naiad sisters mourned, and having clipped their shining tresses laid them on his corpse: and all the Dryads mourned: and Echo made lament anew. And these would have upraised his funeral pyre, and waved the flaming torch, and made his bier; but as they turned their eyes where he had been, alas he was not there! And in his body’s place a sweet flower grew, golden and white, the white around the gold.
First published in February 2023, revise and republished in February 2024, 2025
St Apollonia’s Day. A Day to Cure the Toothache February 9th
The 9th of February is St Apollonia’s Day. She was martyred at Alexandria in 249 AD during the persecution of Emperor Decius. She was attacked during an anti-Christian riot and struck around the face knocking her teeth out. Then, she was taken to a bonfire and told they would throw her in if she did not renounce her faith. So, without waiting, she spoke a prayer and walked into the fire. This information is recorded in a near-contemporary letter from St Dionysius of Alexandria. This is rare well documented martyrdom. Because her teeth were knocked out she is, therefore, Saint of Toothache.
Cloves for Toothache
I can remember my Grandmother prescribing cloves for me when I had toothache. And this was, and is, a common remedy. In my case, we would keep a clove or two in the mouth close to the site of the pain. According to Natural Ways to Sooth an Toothache cloves contain
‘Eugenol, a natural form of anaesthetic and antiseptic that helps get rid of germs. Eugenol is still used in dental materials today’
Dr John Hall, Shakespeare’s son-in-law, tended to use a pill to soothe sore gums. He also used an oil from a wood called ‘Ol. Lig. Heraclei’ which may be oil from the Bay Tree. (‘John Hall and his Patients’ by Joan Lane). Most of his tooth cases seem to be sore gums. This suggests to me Dr John Hall did not generally do dental work.
Death by Toothache
To get a tooth drawn you could go to a Barber Surgeon, a Blacksmiths or specialist Tooth Drawer. It would be terrifyingly painful. Probably only done when the pain was unbearable. Just think what a premium you would pay for a really competent drawer? The drawers would probably not have any formal training, but the skills would be passed on by the drawer to his apprentice or assistant. ‘Teeth’ was a common cause of death – most likely from infection or an abscess.
Magic and Toothache
John Aubrey, an erudite and educated 17th Century writer, reports on the use of Magick for tooth care. When he relates these unlikely cures he often provides information that the person who told him the story is worthy of belief. So he seems to give some credence to the efficacy of these magical ‘cures’. But, judge for yourself; this is what he wrote:
To Cure the Tooth-ach.
Take a new Nail, and make the Gum bleed with it, and then drive it into an Oak. This did Cure William Neal, Sir William Neal’s Son, a very stout Gentleman, when he was almost Mad with the Pain, and had a mind to have Pistoll’d himself.
To Cure the Tooth-ach, out of Mr. Ashmole’s Manuscript Writ with his own Hand.
Mars, hur, abursa, aburse.
Iesu Christ for Marys sake,
Take away this Tooth-ach.Write the words, Three times; and as you say the Words, let the Party burn one Paper, then another, and then the last.
He says, he saw it experimented, and the Party immediately Cured
Teeth and the Body-Snatchers
In 1832, in London Bishop, Williams and May were accused of bodysnatching. After killing the Italian Boy ( wonderful book by Sarah Wise ‘The Italian Boy‘) they jemmied out his teeth. Then, took the teeth to a South London Dentist. with whom they bargained for a good price. (They used the term ‘cheapened’ – I cheap, you cheap, we are cheapening: meaning to barter). The dentist wanted to use the dead boy’s teeth for false teeth for his patients. If memory serves, he paid £1 for them.
The teeth were used as evidence in the trial of the murderers. When the trial was over and the accused punished, the dentist asked for the teeth back! Two of the murderers were hanged but the third freed for turning King’s Evidence. Thereafter, the teeth were released back to the Dentist. He promptly put them in the window of his surgery as an advert for his professional skills!
Earlier, one of the Borough Boys Resurrectionist gang (based in Southwark, London) toured the battlefields of the Peninsular Wars collecting teeth. He made a substantial sum selling them to dentists as false teeth. They became known as Waterloo Teeth.
When I first wrote this in I added ‘How things have changed!’ But in recent years there have been reports of people undertaking their own dental work, if they cannot get access to an NHS dentist. Effectively, it seems that the Conservative Government was allowing dentistry to slip out of the NHS just like it did with eye health. For a study in what has happened to Dentistry in the UK in recent years, please look at this report here.
First written February 2023, revised February 2024, 2025
St Agatha, Ravenna and Motor Cycling in Inferno
When I revised my Saint Agatha post (link see below), I felt I needed an early image of Agatha. After all, her cult spread early on, and therefore, was likely to be genuine.
As I started to track down her image I was led, with some joy, to one of the most amazing Churches in the wonderful town of Ravenna. I visited the Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo with some wonderment when working as an archaeologist at Ferrara, in Emilia-Romagna. I found out that Agatha was one of 22 female Saints on one of the walls. I discovered a pretty comprehensive description of the Church. As I looked at it, I found the record was made by, or involved, Professor Bryan Ward-Perkins. He was the Director of the site my friends and I worked on in Ferrara!
Ravenna
I’m guessing Bryan suggested we visit Ravenna on one of our trips to the beach at nearby Rimini. Ravenna was so awesome because the City became the capital of the Roman Empire in the west. It took over when Rome fell, then it was part of the Ostrogothic Kingdom, then of the Byzantine Empire. It spanned the period of the Arian Heresy.
And so, it was provided with some of the great glories of 5th and 6th Century Architecture. These include the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, the Neronian Baptistery, the Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, the Arian Baptistery, the Archiepiscopal Chapel, the Mausoleum of Theodoric, the Church of San Vitale and the Basilica of Sant’Apollinare in Classe.. Its hard to overestimate the impact on a young British archaeologist of seeing 5th Century buildings with roofs and astonishingly detailed mosaics still intact. Please visit!
Bryan Ward-Perkins description says ‘All the saints are haloed, bear crowns and are dressed in elaborate court dress. Unlike the men …., all have essentially the same youthful features. The only saint with a distinguishing attribute is Agnes, who is accompanied by a lamb ‘ St Agatha, the list says, is the Saint next to Agnes with her lamb; the third in precedent. You can see her above and in detail below.
Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo wikipedia
Motorcycling from Ravenna to Inferno
Enough of the sublime! Now for the ridiculous. Whether on this visit or another, we decided to have a day at the beach at Rimini. After the day on the beach, a collective decision to stay over was made. The reason was to go to one of the big clubs (did we still call them discos?) probably to dance to ‘Frankie Goes to Hollywood’.
However, the hotels were all full. So I decided, late at night to go back to Ferrara, on my own on my 175 cc Yamaha motor bike.
Thing was, I had started the day in Ferrara in the blazing Italian summer heat. So, I had and hopped onto my bike dressed in shorts and t-shirt. Ferrara was 77 miles away (says google). One hour into the trip back I was getting pretty cold, and really not enjoying driving through the lonely countryside. So I decided to pull off the main road to find a rural hostelry for what remained of the night.
Now, I remember this very vividly – the only likely road I could find was signposted to ‘Inferno’. I shrugged my shoulders, wondering what that was about, and drove towards it on a very deserted road. Eventually, I came to a sign which told me I was about to enter ‘Inferno’.
There was something very surreal about the situation. My courage failed me! I was not going to stay in a ‘motel’ in a place called ‘inferno’! I had seen too many horror films set in Motels and one in Inferno seemed madness. So, I turned round and continued my cold journey to Ferrara.
Inferno
Whenever I tell this story, I have some doubt about this story. Did I really drive into a place called ‘Inferno’? But I have, for the first time, checked Google. It tells me that the road off the Rimini to Ferrara road goes through somewhere called: Vicolo Inferno, 40026 Imola BO, Italy.
Below is yesterday’s post about St Agatha of Sicily who has a most interesting story.
Written in 2023 and updated in 2024, 2025
St Agatha Feast Day February 5th
She is a Sicilian Saint, who refused to sleep with a powerful Roman (Quintianus) in the third Century. St Agatha was imprisoned, tortured, had her breasts pincered off, and still refused to sleep with him and died in prison. She is remembered in Sicily by cakes shaped as breasts eaten on her feast day (I kid you not).
She was martyred, at the age of 20 (231-251AD), in the last year of the reign of Emperor Decius (c. 201 AD – June 251 AD). Thus, she is an early martyr whose cult was established in antiquity. But many of the details of her life and death are, as usual, apocryphal and from later traditions.
St Agatha Patronage
‘She is also the patron saint of rape victims, breast cancer patients, martyrs, wet nurses, bell-founders, and bakers. She is invoked against fire, earthquakes, and eruptions of Mount Etna.’
(Wikipedia).
Bell Founders and Bakers? So, the bakers and bell founders, it is suggested, may have mistaken the trays of breasts as bells or loaves? Unlikely in my opinion, as Google image search shows they look clearly like breasts. They are cakes, of course, so that can help explain the Bakers, but the Bell Founders?
St Agatha and Etna
A year after her death, Mount Etna erupted. According to the story, the Christians of her home town of Catania lifted the Martyr’s veil towards the flowing lava. And the City was saved as the lava flow stopped. Hence, she protects against eruptions and by extension, earthquakes, and fire. This part of the story I got from my friend Derek who sent me the link to a piece written by Father Patrick van der Vorst. This also has the full image of the detail of painting by Cariani I show here.
For an explanation of gory matrydom’s please read my post on St Blaise.
For more on St Agatha, Ravenna, and a story about my motorcycling days please look at this post.
First published in 2024, and republished in 2025.
February – ‘the enemy to pleasure and the time of patience’
The 15th Century French llustration, above, shows February as a time to cut firewood, dress warmly and stay by the fire. Food on the table is a nutritious pie and the fish are there to remind us it is the month of Pisces. In the other roundel is the other February star sign the Water Carrier, Aquarius.
The poem above is a reference to Candlemas’s celebration of the presentation of the child Jesus at the Temple. The paragraph below gives a summary of February. It ends with the idea that runs through the Kalendar. There are twelve apostles, twelve days of Christmas, twelve months in the year. So, there are twelve blocks of six years in a person’s allotted 72 years of life. So February is linked to the second block of 6 years in a human life, ages 6 to 12. In January, the Kalendar suggests the essential uselessness of 0-6 year old children. While here, for February, it allows that from 6-12 years old children are beginning to ‘serve and learn’.
Below, is the text for February. This gives a rural view of life in winter. It ends with the line that February:
‘is the poor man’s pick-purse, the miser’s cut-throat, the enemy to pleasure and the time of patience.’
About the Kalendar of Shepherds.
The Kalendar was printed in 1493 in Paris and provided ‘Devices for the 12 Months.’ The version I’m using is a modern (1908) reconstruction of it. It uses wood cuts from the original 15th Century version and adds various texts from 16th and 17th Century sources. (Couplets by Tusser ‘Five Hundred Parts of Good Husbandrie 1599. Text descriptions of the month from Nicholas Breton’s ‘Fantasticks of 1626. This provides an interesting view of what was going on in the countryside every month.
The original can be found here: https://wellcomecollection.org/works/f4824s6t
For more on the Kalendar look at my post here.
Hesiod and February
Hesiod, in his Works and Daya describes February as a merciless cold, windy time.
Avoid the month Lenaeon, (February) wretched days, all of them fit to skin an ox, and the frosts which are cruel when Boreas blows over the earth.
He blows across horse-breeding Thrace upon the wide sea and stirs it up, while earth and the forest howl.
On many a high-leafed oak and thick pine he falls and brings them to the bounteous earth in mountain glens: then all the immense wood roars and the beasts shudder and put their tails between their legs, even those whose hide is covered with fur; for with his bitter blast he blows even through them, although they are shaggy-breasted.
He goes even through an ox’s hide; it does not stop him. Also he blows through the goat’s fine hair.
But through the fleeces of sheep, because their wool is abundant, the keen wind Boreas pierces not at all; but it makes the old man curved as a wheel.
And it does not blow through the tender maiden who stays indoors with her dear mother, unlearned as yet in the works of golden Aphrodite, and who washes her soft body and anoints herself with oil and lies down in an inner room within the house,
on a winter’s day when the Boneless One (an Octopus or a cuttle?) gnaws his foot in his fireless house and wretched home; for the sun shows him no pastures to make for, but goes to and fro over the land and city of dusky men,3 and shines more sluggishly upon the whole race of the Hellenes.
Then the horned and unhorned denizens of the wood,] with teeth chattering pitifully, flee through the copses and glades, and all, as they seek shelter, have this one care, to gain thick coverts or some hollow rock.
Then, like the Three-legged One (an old man with a stick) whose back is broken and whose head looks down upon the ground, like him, I say, they wander to escape the white snow.
Text available here. and for more on Hesiod see my post here.
First Published February 4th 2024, revised 2025
St Blaise Day & The Tadpole Revels February 3rd
The Blessing of St Blaise helps protect the throat. The way it is works is that blessed candles are made into a cross.These are then touched against the throat of the afflicted one. Why? Because a story was told that Blaise, on his way to martyrdom, cured a boy who had a fish bone stuck in his throat. So, he is the patron Saint of Sores Throats.
Blaise is thought to have been an Armenian Bishop of Sebaste, martyred (316AD) in the persecution of the Emperor Licinius.
Sage Advice for Sore Throats:
In the spirit of St Blaise, here is advice for care of your throats.
Sage Tea is said to be excellent for many things including dental hygiene and alleviating sore throats. The Kalendar of Shepherds tells us how to treat our throats:
Good for the throat honey, sugar, butter with a little salt, liquorice, to sup soft eggs, hyssop, a mean manner of eating and drinking and sugar candy. Evil for the throat: mustard, much lying on the breast, pepper, anger, things roasted, lechery, much working, too much rest, much drink, smoke of incense, old cheese and all sour things are naughty for the throat.
The Kalendar of Shepherds 1604
The Martyrdom of St Blaise
So far, an uplifting, healing story. However, the Medieval Church’s propensity for the gruesome and its peculiar need to allocate a unique method of martyrdom to each early saint leads us to Blaise being pulled apart by wool-combers irons. Then he was beheaded.
Hence, he is also the patron saint of wool-combers, and by extension, sheep.
Wikipedia tells me that ‘Combing: was a regular form of torture.
Combing, sometimes known as carding (despite carding being a completely different process) is a sometimes-fatal form of torture in which iron combs designed to prepare wool and other fibres for woollen spinning are used to scrape, tear, and flay the victim’s flesh.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Combing_(torture)
Gory Martyrdoms Explained?
I am horrified by the goriness of these martyrdoms, and it needs some explanation. If we believe in Richard Dawkins idea of the meme we can find an explanation. Allocating a different and gory death to each and every saint has advantages for the survival of the cult. It brings a uniqueness to the story of the Saint. Particular details of death suggests authenticity. The extreme death creates an example of stoicism in the face of challenge to faith, and provokes empathy and piety. There is, also, we have to accept, a very human attraction in the bloodthirstiness of stories.
But, there is, I suspect, a financial interest too. In order for these cults to survive, they need adherents, acolytes, worshippers, donors, patrons. They require income streams that can help support the expensive clergy and the fabric of the Church or chapel. One source of income is from the wealthy, but in the medieval town, urban wealth was held within the booming guild structure. If the martyred Saint, could attract a particular Guild then then (the sponsoring Priests, or Church) were quids in.
Wool was one of the mainstays of industry in the medieval period, particularly in Britain. A martyr like St Blaise would prosper wherever there were people working with wool, cloth or sheep. So, is it too cynical to suggest some one with an eye for the main chance added the detail of the wool combing death to attract donations from rich wool merchants? As a successful meme, it spread throughout Europe.
Also, there were any number of endemic diseases and occupational hazards for which there was no clear cure. So if the Saint can become the Saint of common, preferably chronic, illnesses, he/she can attract all those who suffer from that or similar diseases.
Of course, it may not always be a cynical drive for more income. In exchange, the Church offered the sufferer comfort in the face of suffering. This quality would have maximised the placebo effect. The effect has been scientifically measured. And would often be more effective a cure as than the available, often bizarre, medieval remedies.
Blaise’s hagiography suggests he was a physician. The cult was able to grow into being not only the Saint for Sore Throats and Sheep but one of the go-to saints for diseases in both humans and animals.
Blaise in Britain
His cult came to Britain when King Richard I was ship wrecked on Crusade. Richard was helped by Bishop Bernard of Ragusa where Richard was washed up. When the Bishop was deposed he sought sanctuary in Britain and was made Bishop of Carlisle where he promoted the cult of Blaise. Several churches in the UK founded churches named for him.
St Blazey in Cornwall is named after his Church and celebrates him by a procession of a ram and a wicker effigy of the Saint. Milton, in Berkshire, dedicated its Church to St Blaise, probably because the village’s wealth depended on sheep. The village held a feast on the third Sunday after Trinity, and the day after held the Tadpole Revels at Milton Hall. Tadpole is thought to be a corruption from the word ‘Tod’ which means cleaned wool.
Blaise in London
Westminster Abbey has a chapel dedicated to Blaise (see image at top of page). In the Bishop’s Palace at Bromley is St Blaise’s Well. It is thought to have begun as a spring when the Palace ‘was granted to Bishop Eardwulf by King Ethelbert II of Kent around 750 AD.’ A well near the spring became a place of pilgrimage and an Oratory to St Blaise was set up. In the 18th Century the chalybeate waters of the well were considered to be useful for health. It still exists to day.
On February 3rd St Etheldreda’s Church in London holds the Blessing of the Throats ceremony. It was a Catholic Church in the medieval period, then, in Reformation was used for various purposes until returned to the Catholic Church in 1876. It has memorials for Catholic Martyrs killed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth I
CC BY-SA 4.0 Wikipedia St Etheldreda’s Church
One of London’s oldest guilds is the Worshipful Company of Woolmen, first mentioned in 1180, when fined, for operating without a license, by Richard 1’s dad, Henry II.
Sources: The Perpetual Almanac by Charles Kightly, Woolly Saints, Britannica, Wovember, wikipedia.
On This Day
3rd February 1761, at the age of 87 Beau Nash Master of Ceremonies at Bath died. to see my post on 18th Century Bath please look at March 14th.
Festival of Imbolc, St. Bridget’s Day February 1st
Imbolc and St Bridget’s Day
Today is Imbolc, one of the four Celtic Fire Festivals. It corresponds with St Bridget’s Day, which is a Christian festival for the Irish Saint, and is the eve of Candlemas. Bridget is the patron saint of all things to do with brides, marriage, fertility, and midwifery (amongst many other things, see below). And in Ireland, last year (2024) was the very first St Bridget’s/ Imbolc Day Bank Holiday!
St Bridget, aka Briddy or Bride, converted the Irish to Christianity along with St Patrick in the 5th Century AD. She appears to have taken on the attributes of a Celtic fertility Goddess, called Bridget or Brigantia, so it is difficult to disentangle the real person from the myth.
Brigantia
There are Roman altars dedicated to Brigantia. The Brigantes tribe in the North were named after the Goddess. The Brigantes were on the front line against the invading Romans in the 1st Century AD, and led by Queen Cartimandua. Cartimandua tried to keep her independence by cooperating with the Romans, while, a few years later, Boudica took the opposite strategy. But both women appear to have had agency as leaders of their tribes and show a great contrast with Roman misogyny.
Wells dedicated to St Bridget
There are many wells dedicated to St Bride. They were often used in rituals and dances concerned with fertility and healthy babies. And perhaps, the most famous, was near Fleet Street. Henry VIII’s Palace of Bridewell, later an infamous prison, was named after the Well. St Bride’s Church has long been a candidate as an early Christian Church, and although the post World War Two excavations found nothing to suggest an early Church, they did find an early well near the site of the later altar of the Church, and by the remains of a Roman building, possibly a mausoleum. Therefore, the Church may have been built on the site of an ancient, arguably holy, well. But its only a guess.
The steeple of St Brides is said to be the origin of the tiered Wedding Cake, which, in 1812, inspired a local baker to bake for his daughter’s wedding.
February signs of life
Imbolc and St Bridget’s Day are the time to celebrate the return of fertility to the earth as spring approaches. In my garden and my local park, the first snowdrops are out. Below the bare earth, there is a frenzy of bulbs and seeds budding, and beginning to poke their shoots up above the earth, ready for the Spring. In the meadows, ewes are lactating, and the first lambs are being born.
Violets, bulbs, and my first Daffodil of the year. Hackney (2022), London by K Flude
And let’s end with the Saint Brigid Hearth Keeper Prayer Courtesy of SaintBrigids.org
Brigid of the Mantle, encompass us,
Lady of the Lambs, protect us,
Keeper of the Hearth, kindle us.
Beneath your mantle, gather us,
And restore us to memory.
Mothers of our mother, Foremothers strong.
Guide our hands in yours,
Remind us how to kindle the hearth.
To keep it bright, to preserve the flame.
Your hands upon ours, Our hands within yours,
To kindle the light, Both day and night.
The Mantle of Brigid about us,
The Memory of Brigid within us,
The Protection of Brigid keeping us
From harm, from ignorance, from heartlessness.
This day and night,
From dawn till dark, From dark till dawn.
For more about St Bridget.
To read my post on Mary Musgrove’s Candlemas Letter in Jane Austen’s Persuasion
Imbolc and Myths and Legends Walks
I, occasionally, do walks about Imbolc and other Celtic festivals, in conjunction with the Myths and Legends of London, and at May Eve, the Solstices, Halloween and Christmas (when I have time). See the walks page of this blog
https://www.chr.org.uk/anddidthosefeet/walks
First published in 2023, revised and republished Feb 2024, 2025