MARRIAGE.
The style of courtship which prevailed in Shakespeare's time, and the
numerous customs associated with the marriage ceremony, may be
accurately drawn from the many allusions interspersed through his plays.
From these, it would seem that the mode of love-making was much the same
among all classes, often lacking that polish and refined expression
which are distinguishing characteristics nowadays. As Mr. Drake
remarks,[707] the amatory dialogues of Hamlet, Hotspur, and Henry V. are
not more refined than those which occur between Master Fenton and Anne
Page, in the "Merry Wives of Windsor," between Lorenzo and Jessica, in
the "Merchant of Venice," and between Orlando and Rosalind, in "As You
Like It." These last, which may be considered as instances taken from
the middle class of life, together with a few drawn from the lower rank
of rural manners, such as the courtship of Touchstone and Audrey, and of
Silvius and Phoebe, in "As You Like It," are good illustrations of this
subject, although it must be added that, in point of fancy, sentiment,
and simplicity, the most pleasing love-scenes in Shakespeare are those
of Romeo and Juliet and of Florizel and Perdita.
[707] "Shakespeare and His Times," 1817, vol. i. p. 220.
The ancient ceremony of betrothing seems still to have been in full use
in Shakespeare's day. Indeed, he gives us several interesting passages
upon the subject of troth-plight. Thus, in "Measure for Measure" (iii.
1), we learn that the unhappiness of the poor, dejected Mariana was
caused by a violation of the troth-plight:
"_Duke._ She should this Angelo have married; was affianced to
her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of
the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother
Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel
the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to
the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned
brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural;
with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her
marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this
well-seeming Angelo.
_Isabella._ Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her?
_Duke._ Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with
his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her
discoveries of dishonour; in few, bestowed her on her own
lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a
marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not."
It is evident that Angelo and Mariana were bound by oath; the nuptial
was appointed; there was a prescribed time between the contract and the
performance of the solemnity of the Church. The lady, however, having
lost her dowry, the contract was violated by her "combinate" or
affianced husband--the oath, no doubt, having been tendered by a minister
of the Church, in the presence of witnesses. In "Twelfth Night" (iv. 3)
we have a minute description of such a ceremonial; for, when Olivia is
hastily espoused to Sebastian, she says:
"Now go with me and with this holy man
Into the chantry by: there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace. He shall conceal it,
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note:
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth."
This, then, was a private ceremony before a single witness, who would
conceal it till the proper period of the public ceremonial. Olivia,
fancying that she has thus espoused the page, repeatedly calls him
"husband;" and, being rejected, she summons the priest to declare (v.
1):
"what thou dost know
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me."
The priest answers:
"A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave
I have travell'd but two hours."
Again, in the "Winter's Tale" (iv. 4), which contains many a perfect
picture of real rustic life, it appears that, occasionally, the
troth-plight was exchanged without the presence of a priest; but that
witnesses were essential to the ceremony:
"_Florizel._ ... O, hear me breathe my life
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand, this hand,
As soft as dove's down and as white as it,
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, that's bolted
By the northern blasts twice o'er.
_Polixenes._ What follows this?--
How prettily the young swain seems to wash
The hand, was fair before!--I have put you out:--
But, to your protestation; let me hear
What you profess.
_Florizel._ Do, and be witness to't.
_Polixenes._ And this my neighbour too?
_Florizel._ And he, and more
Than he, and men; the earth, the heavens, and all;
That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had force and knowledge
More than was ever man's, I would not prize them
Without her love; for her employ them all;
Commend them, and condemn them, to her service,
Or to their own perdition.
_Polixenes._ Fairly offer'd.
_Camillo._ This shows a sound affection.
_Shepherd._ But, my daughter,
Say you the like to him?
_Perdita._ I cannot speak
So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
The purity of his.
_Shepherd._ Take hands, a bargain!
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't:
I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his.[708]
_Florizel._ O, that must be
I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead,
I shall have more than you can dream of yet;
Enough then for your wonder. But, come on,
Contract us 'fore these witnesses.
_Shepherd._ Come, your hand;
And, daughter, yours."
[708] On entering into any contract, or plighting of troth, the
clapping of the hands together set the seal, as in the
"Winter's Tale" (i. 2), where Leontes says:
"Ere I could make thee open thy white hand,
And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter
_I am yours forever_."
So, too, in "The Tempest" (iii. 1):
"_Miranda._ My husband, then?
_Ferdinand._ Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.
_Miranda._ And mine, with my heart in't."
And in the old play of "Ram Alley," by Barry (1611), we read,
"Come, clap hands, a match." The custom is not yet disused in
common life.
To the argument of Polixenes, that the father of Florizel ought to know
of his proceeding, the young man answers:
"Come, come, he must not.
Mark our contract."
And then the father, discovering himself, exclaims:
"Mark your divorce, young sir."
Here, then, as Mr. Knight remarks,[709] in the publicity of a village
festival, the hand of the loved one is solemnly taken by her lover, who
breathes his love before the ancient stranger who is accidentally
present. The stranger is called to be a witness to the protestation, and
so is the neighbor who has come with him. The maiden is called upon by
her father to speak, and then the old man adds:
"Take hands, a bargain!"
[709] "The Stratford Shakespeare," 1854, vol. i p. 70.
The friends are to bear witness to it:
"I give my daughter to him, and will make
Her portion equal his."
The impatient lover then again exclaims:
"Contract us 'fore these witnesses."
The shepherd takes the hands of the youth and the maiden. Again the
lover exclaims:
"Mark our contract."
The ceremony is left incomplete, for the princely father discovers
himself with:
"Mark your divorce, young sir."
It appears, therefore, that espousals before witnesses were considered
as constituting a valid marriage, if followed up within a limited time
by the marriage of the Church. However much the Reformed Church might
have endeavored to abrogate this practice, it was unquestionably the
ancient habit of the people.[710] It was derived from the Roman law, and
still prevails in the Lutheran Church.
[710] Knight's "Stratford Shakespeare," p. 73.
Besides exchanging kisses,[711] accompanied with vows of everlasting
affection, and whispering lovers' reassurances of fidelity, it was
customary to interchange rings. In Shakespeare's plays, however,
espousals are made with and without the use of the ring. Thus, in the
case of Ferdinand and Miranda, we read of their joining hands only
("Tempest," iii. 1):
"_Ferdinand._ Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom; here's my hand.
_Miranda._ An mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell,
Till half an hour hence."
[711] Cf. "King John" (ii. 2):
"_King Philip._ Young princes, close your hands.
_Austria._ And your lips too; for, I am well assured,
That I did so, when I was first assured."
In the passage already quoted from "Twelfth Night" (v. 1) there seems to
have been a mutual interchange of rings.
Some, indeed, considered that a betrothal was not complete unless each
spouse gave the other a circlet. Lady Anne, in "Richard III." (i. 2), is
made to share in this misconception:
"_Gloster._ Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
_Anne._ To take, is not to give.
_Gloster._ Look, how my ring encompasseth thy finger,
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart:
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine."
In "Two Gentlemen of Verona" (ii. 2) we read:
"_Julia._ Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake (_giving a ring_).
_Proteus._ Why, then, we'll make exchange: here, take you this.
_Julia._ And seal the bargain with a holy kiss."
A joint, or gimmal, ring was anciently a common token among lovers, an
allusion to which is made by Emilia, in "Othello" (iv. 3): "I would not
do such a thing for a joint-ring." Their nature will be best understood
by a passage in Dryden's "Don Sebastian" (1690, act v.):
"A curious artist wrought them,
With joints so close, as not to be perceiv'd;
Yet are they both each other's counterpart,
... and in the midst,
A heart, divided in two halves, was plac'd."
They were generally made of two or three hoops, so chased and engraved
that, when fastened together by a single rivet, the whole three formed
one design, the usual device being a hand. When an engagement was
contracted, the ring was taken apart, each spouse taking a division,
and the third one being presented to the principal witness of the
contract.[712] Hence such a ring was known as a "Sponsalium Annulis," to
which Herrick thus refers:
"Thou sent'st me a true-love knot, but I
Returned a ring of jimmals, to imply
Thy love hath one knot, mine a triple tye."
[712] See Nares's "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 363; "Archæologia,"
vol. xiv. p. 7; Jones's "Finger Ring Lore," 1877, pp. 313-318.
The term is used by the Duke of Anjou, in "1 Henry VI." (i. 2):
"I think, by some odd gimmors or device,
Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on;
Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do."
Again, in "Henry V." (iv. 2), Grandpré tells how,
"in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless."
Most readers of the "Merchant of Venice" remember the mirthful use which
Shakespeare makes of lovers' rings. Portia says (iii. 2), when giving
her wealth and self to Bassanio:
"I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love."
The last act, too, gives several particulars about lovers' rings, which,
in Elizabethan England,[713] often had posies engraved on them, and were
worn by men on the left hand. Gratiano, for example, says:
"About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me; whose posy was
For all the world like cutlers' poetry
Upon a knife, 'Love me and leave me not.'"
[713] See Jeaffreson's "Brides and Bridals," 1873, vol. i. pp.
77, 78.
Again Bassanio exclaims:
"Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear I lost the ring defending it."
In "Taming of the Shrew" Shakespeare gives numerous allusions to the
customs of his day connected with courtship and marriage. Indeed, in the
second act (sc. 2) we have a perfect betrothal scene:
"_Petruchio._ Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.--
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine.
_Baptista._ I know not what to say: but give me your hands;
God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.
_Gremio. Tranio._ Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.
_Petruchio._ Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace.
We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
And, kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday."
Although Katharina is only his spouse, and Baptista not yet his
father-in-law, Petruchio, in accordance with fashion, calls her "wife"
and him "father." The spouses of old times used to term one another
"husband" and "wife," for, as they argued, they were as good as husband
and wife.
Formerly there was a kind of betrothal or marriage contract prevalent
among the low orders called "hand-fasting," or "hand-festing," said to
have been much in use among the Danes, and which is mentioned by Ray in
his "Glossary of Northumbrian Words." It simply means hand-fastening or
binding. In "Cymbeline" (i. 5) the phrase is used in its secondary sense
by the Queen, who, speaking of Pisanio, declares that he is
"A sly and constant knave,
Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master,
And the remembrancer of her, to hold
The hand-fast to her lord."
In the "Christian State of Matrimony," 1543, we find the following
illustration of this custom: "Yet in this thing almost must I warn every
reasonable and honest person to beware that in the contracting of
marriage they dissemble not, nor set forth any lie. Every man, likewise,
must esteem the person to whom he is 'handfasted' none otherwise than
for his own spouse; though as yet it be not done in the church, nor in
the street. After the handfasting and making of the contract, the
church-going and wedding should not be deferred too long." The author
then goes on to rebuke a custom "that at the handfasting there is made a
great feast and superfluous banquet." Sir John Sinclair, in the
"Statistical account of Scotland" (1794, vol. xii. p. 615), tells us
that at a fair annually held at Eskdalemuir, Dumfriesshire, "it was the
custom for the unmarried persons of both sexes to choose a companion
according to their liking, with whom they were to live till that time
next year. This was called 'handfasting,' or hand-in-fist. If they were
pleased with each other at that time then they continued together for
life; if not, they separated, and were free to make another choice as at
the first."
Shakespeare has given us numerous illustrations of the marriage customs
of our forefathers, many of which are interesting as relics of the past,
owing to their having long ago fallen into disuse. The fashion of
introducing a bowl of wine into the church at a wedding, which is
alluded to in the "Taming of the Shrew" (iii. 2), to be drunk by the
bride and bridegroom and persons present, immediately after the marriage
ceremony, is very ancient. Gremio relates how Petruchio
"stamp'd and swore,
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
But after many ceremonies done,
He calls for wine:--'A health!' quoth he, as if
He had been aboard, carousing to his mates
After a storm:--quaff'd off the muscadel,
And threw the sops[714] all in the sexton's face;
Having no other reason
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly,
And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking."
[714] Sops in wine.
It existed even among our Gothic ancestors, and is mentioned in the
ordinances of the household of Henry VII., "For the Marriage of a
Princess:--'Then pottes of ipocrice to be ready, and to be put into
cupps with soppe, and to be borne to the estates, and to take a soppe
and drinke.'" It was also practised at the magnificent marriage of Queen
Mary and Philip, in Winchester Cathedral, and at the marriage of the
Elector Palatine to the daughter of James I., in 1612-13. Indeed, it
appears to have been the practice at most marriages. In Jonson's
"Magnetic Lady" it is called a "knitting cup;" in Middleton's "No Wit
like a Woman's," the "contracting cup." In Robert Armin's comedy of "The
History of the Two Maids of More Clacke," 1609, the play begins with:
"_Enter a maid strewing flowers, and a serving-man perfuming the door._
_Maid._ Strew, strew.
_Man._ The muscadine stays for the bride at church:
The priest and Hymen's ceremonies tend
To make them man and wife."
Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Scornful Lady" (i. 1), the custom is
referred to:[715]
"If my wedding-smock were on,
Were the gloves bought and given, the license come,
Were the rosemary branches dipp'd, and all
The hippocras and cakes eat and drunk off."
[715] See "Brand's Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. ii. pp. 136, 139.
We find it enjoined in the Hereford missal. By the Sarum missal it is
directed that the sops immersed in this wine, as well as the liquor
itself, and the cup that contained it, should be blessed by the priest.
The beverage used on this occasion was to be drunk by the bride and
bridegroom and the rest of the company.
The nuptial kiss in the church was anciently part of the marriage
ceremony, as appears from a rubric in one of the Salisbury missals. In
the "Taming of the Shrew," Shakespeare has made an excellent use of this
custom, where he relates how Petruchio (iii. 2)
"took the bride about the neck
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack
That, at the parting, all the church did echo."
Again, in "Richard II." (v. 1), where the Duke of Northumberland
announces to the king that he is to be sent to Pomfret, and his wife to
be banished to France, the king exclaims:
"Doubly divorc'd!--Bad men, ye violate
A twofold marriage,--'twixt my crown and me,
And then, betwixt me and my married wife.--
Let me unkiss the oath twixt thee and me;
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made."
Marston, too, in his "Insatiate Countess," mentions it:
"The kisse thou gav'st me in the church, here take."
The practice is still kept up among the poor; and Brand[716] says it is
"still customary among persons of middling rank as well as the vulgar,
in most parts of England, for the young men present at the marriage
ceremony to salute the bride, one by one, the moment it is concluded."
[716] "Pop. Antiq.," vol. ii. p. 140.
Music was the universal accompaniment of weddings in olden times.[717]
The allusions to wedding music that may be found in the works of
Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and other Elizabethan dramatists, testify, as
Mr. Jeaffreson points out, that, in the opinion of their contemporaries,
a wedding without the braying of trumpets and beating of drums and
clashing of cymbals was a poor affair. In "As You Like It" (v. 4), Hymen
says:
"Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing."
[717] "Brides and Bridals," 1873, vol. i. p. 252.
And in "Romeo and Juliet" (iv. 5), Capulet says:
"Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change."
It seems to have been customary for the bride at her wedding to wear her
hair unbraided and hanging loose over her shoulders. There may be an
allusion to this custom in "King John" (iii. 1), where Constance says:
"O Lewis, stand fast! the devil tempts thee here
In likeness of a new untrimmed bride."
At the celebration of her marriage with the Palatine, Elizabeth Stuart
wore "her hair dishevelled and hanging down her shoulders." Heywood
speaks of this practice in the following graphic words:
"At length the blushing bride comes, with her hair
Dishevelled 'bout her shoulders."
It has been suggested that the bride's veil, which of late years has
become one of the most conspicuous features of her costume, may be
nothing more than a milliner's substitute, which in old time concealed
not a few of the bride's personal attractions, and covered her face when
she knelt at the altar. Mr. Jeaffreson[718] thinks it may be ascribed to
the Hebrew ceremony; or has come from the East, where veils have been
worn from time immemorial. Some, again, connect it with the yellow veil
which was worn by the Roman brides. Strange, too, as it may appear, it
is nevertheless certain that knives and daggers were formerly part of
the customary accoutrements of brides. Thus, Shakespeare, in the old
quarto, 1597, makes Juliet wear a knife at the friar's cell, and when
she is about to take the potion. This custom, however, is easily
accounted for, when we consider that women anciently wore a knife
suspended from their girdle. Many allusions to this practice occur in
old writers.[719] In Dekker's "Match Me in London," 1631, a bride says
to her jealous husband:
"See, at my girdle hang my wedding knives!
With those dispatch me."
[718] "Brides and Bridals," vol. i. p. 177.
[719] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. ii. pp. 131-133.
In the "Witch of Edmonton," 1658, Somerton says:
"But see, the bridegroom and bride come; the new
Pair of Sheffield knives fitted both to one sheath."
Among other wedding customs alluded to by Shakespeare we may mention
one referred to in "Taming of the Shrew" (ii. 1), where Katharina,
speaking of Bianca, says to her father:
"She is your treasure, she must have a husband:
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day,
And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell,"
it being a popular notion that unless the elder sisters danced barefoot
at the marriage of a younger one, they would inevitably become old
maids, and be condemned "to lead apes in hell." The expression "to lead
apes in hell," applied above to old maids, has given rise to much
discussion, and the phrase has not yet been satisfactorily explained.
Steevens suggests that it might be considered an act of posthumous
retribution for women who refused to bear children to be condemned to
the care of apes in leading-strings after death. Malone says that "to
lead apes" was in Shakespeare's time one of the employments of a
bear-ward, who often carried about one of these animals with his bear.
Nares explains the expression by reference to the word ape as denoting a
fool, it probably meaning that those coquettes who made fools of men,
and led them about without real intention of marriage, would have them
still to lead against their will hereafter. In "Much Ado About Nothing"
(ii. 1), Beatrice says: "therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest
of the bear-ward, and lead his apes into hell." Douce[720] tells us that
homicides and adulterers were in ancient times compelled, by way of
punishment, to lead an ape by the neck, with their mouths affixed in a
very unseemly manner to the animal's tail.
[720] "Illustrations of Shakespeare," p. 203.
In accordance with an old custom, the bride, on the wedding-night, had
to dance with every guest, and play the amiable, however much against
her own wishes. In "Henry VIII." (v. 2), there seems to be an allusion
to this practice, where the king says:
"I had thought,
They had parted so much honesty among them,
At least, good manners, as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures."
In the "Christian State of Matrimony" (1543) we read thus: "Then must
the poor bryde kepe foote with a dauncers, and refuse none, how scabbed,
foule, droncken, rude, and shameless soever he be."
As in our own time, so, too, formerly, flowers entered largely into the
marriage festivities. Most readers will at once call to mind that
touching scene in "Romeo and Juliet" (iv. 5), where Capulet says,
referring to Juliet's supposed untimely death:
"Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse."
It seems, too, in days gone by to have been customary to deck the bridal
bed with flowers, various allusions to which are given by Shakespeare.
Thus, in "Hamlet" (v. 1), the queen, speaking of poor Ophelia, says:
"I hop'd thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife;
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid."
In "The Tempest" (iv. 1) we may compare the words of Prospero, who,
alluding to the marriage of his daughter Miranda with Ferdinand, by way
of warning, cautions them lest
"barren hate,
Sour-ey'd disdain and discord shall bestrew
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both."
In the Papal times no new-married couple could go to bed together till
the bridal-bed had been blessed--this being considered one of the most
important of the marriage ceremonies. "On the evening of the
wedding-day," says Mr. Jeaffreson,[721] "when the married couple sat in
state in the bridal-bed, before the exclusion of the guests, who
assembled to commend them yet again to Heaven's keeping, one or more
priests, attended by acolytes swinging to and fro lighted censers,
appeared in the crowded chamber to bless the couch, its occupants, and
the truckle-bed, and fumigate the room with hallowing incense." In "A
Midsummer-Night's Dream" (v. 1), Oberon says:
"Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate."
[721] "Brides and Bridals," vol. i. p. 98; see Brand's "Pop.
Antiq.," vol. ii. p. 175.
Steevens, in illustration of this custom, quotes from Chaucer's "The
Merchant's Tale" (ed. Tyrwhitt), line 9693:
"And when the bed was with the preest yblessed."
The formula for this curious ceremony is thus given in the Manual for
the use of Salisbury: "Nocte vero sequente cum sponsus et sponsa ad
lectum pervenerint, accedat sacerdos et benedicat thalamum, dicens.
Benedic, Domine, thalamum istum et omnes habitantes in eo; ut in tua
pace consistant, et in tua voluntate permaneant: et in tuo amore vivant
et senescant et multiplicentur in longitudine dierum. Per Dominum.--Item
benedictio super lectum. Benedic, Domine, hoc cubiculum, respice, quinon
dormis neque dormitas. Qui custodis Israel, custodi famulos tuos in hoc
lecto quiescentes ab omnibus fantasmaticis demonum illusionibus. Custodi
eos vigilantes ut in preceptis tuis meditentur dormientes, et te per
soporem sentiant; ut hic et ubique depensionis tuæ muniantur auxilio.
Per Dominum.--Deinde fiat benedictio super eos in lecto tantum cum
oremus. Benedicat Deus corpora vestra et animas vestras; et det super
eos benedictionem sicut benedixit Abraham, Isaac, et Jacob, Amen. His
peractis aspergat eos aqua benedicta, et sic discedat et dimittat eos in
pace."[722]
[722] See Douce's "Illustrations of Shakespeare," pp. 123, 124.
In the French romance of Melusine, the bishop who marries her to
Raymondin blesses the nuptial-bed. The ceremony is there presented in a
very ancient cut, of which Douce has given a copy. The good prelate is
sprinkling the parties with holy water. It appears that, occasionally,
during the benediction, the married couple only sat on the bed; but
they generally received a portion of the consecrated bread and wine. It
is recorded in France, that, on frequent occasions, the priest was
improperly detained till midnight, while the wedding guests rioted in
the luxuries of the table, and made use of language that was extremely
offensive to the clergy. It was therefore ordained, in the year 1577,
that the ceremony of blessing the nuptial-bed should for the future be
performed in the day-time, or at least before supper, and in the
presence of the bride and bridegroom, and of their nearest relations
only.
On the morning after the celebration of the marriage, it was formerly
customary for friends to serenade a newly married couple, or to greet
them with a morning song to bid them good-morrow. In "Othello" (iii. 1)
this custom is referred to by Cassio, who, speaking of Othello and
Desdemona, says to the musicians:
"Masters, play here; I will content your pains:
Something that's brief; and bid, 'Good morrow, general.'"
According to Cotgrave, the morning-song to a newly married woman was
called the "hunt's up." It has been suggested that this may be alluded
to by Juliet (iii. 5), who, when urging Romeo to make his escape, tells
him:
"Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day.
O, now be gone."
In olden times torches were used at weddings--a practice, indeed, dating
as far back as the time of the Romans. From the following lines in
Herrick's "Hesperides," it has been suggested that the custom once
existed in this country:
"_Upon a maid that dyed the day she was marryed._
That morne which saw me made a bride,
The ev'ning witnest that I dy'd.
Those holy lights, wherewith they guide
Unto the bed the bashful bride,
Serv'd but as tapers for to burne
And light my reliques to their urne.
This epitaph which here you see,
Supply'd the Epithalamie."[723]
[723] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. ii. p. 159.
Shakespeare alludes to this custom in "1 Henry VI." (iii. 2), where Joan
of Arc, thrusting out a burning torch on the top of the tower at Rouen,
exclaims:
"Behold, this is the happy wedding torch,
That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen."
In "The Tempest," too (iv. 1), Iris says:
"no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymen's torch be lighted."
According to a Roman marriage custom, the bride, on her entry into her
husband's house, was prohibited from treading over his threshold, and
lest she should even so much as touch it, she was always lifted over it.
Shakespeare seems inadvertently to have overlooked this usage in
"Coriolanus" (iv. 5), where he represents Aufidius as saying:
"I lov'd the maid I married; never man
Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart,
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold."
Lucan in his "Pharsalia" (lib. ii. 1. 359), says:
"Translata vetuit contingere limina planta."
Once more, Sunday appears to have been a popular day for marriages; the
brides of the Elizabethan dramas being usually represented as married on
Sundays. In the "Taming of the Shrew" (ii. 1), Petruchio, after telling
his future father-in-law "that upon Sunday is the wedding-day," and
laughing at Katharina's petulant exclamation, "I'll see thee hanged on
Sunday first," says:
"Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace:--
We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
And, kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday."
Thus Mr. Jeaffreson, speaking of this custom in his "Brides and
Bridals," rightly remarks: "A fashionable wedding, celebrated on the
Lord's Day in London, or any part of England, would nowadays be
denounced by religious people of all Christian parties. But in our
feudal times, and long after the Reformation, Sunday was of all days of
the week the favorite one for marriages. Long after the theatres had
been closed on Sundays, the day of rest was the chief day for weddings
with Londoners of every social class."
Love-charms have from the earliest times been much in request among the
credulous, anxious to gain an insight into their matrimonial
prospects.[724] In the "Merchant of Venice" (v. 1), we have an allusion
to the practice of kneeling and praying at wayside crosses for a happy
marriage, in the passage where Stephano tells how his mistress
"doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours."
[724] See "Merry Wives of Windsor," iv. 2.
The use of love-potions by a despairing lover, to secure the affections
of another, was a superstitious practice much resorted to in olden
times.[725] This mode of enchantment, too, was formerly often employed
in our own country, and Gay, in his "Shepherd's Week," relates how
Hobnelia was guilty of this questionable practice:
"As I was wont, I trudged, last market-day,
To town with new-laid eggs, preserved in hay.
I made my market long before 'twas night;
My purse grew heavy, and my basket light.
Straight to the 'pothecary's shop I went,
And in love-powder all my money spent.
Behap what will, next Sunday after prayers,
When to the ale-house Lubberkin repairs,
These golden flies into his mug I'll throw,
And soon the swain with fervent love shall glow."
[725] See Potter's "Antiquities of Greece;" Brand's "Pop.
Antiq.," vol. iii. p. 306.
In the "Character of a Quack Astrologer," 1673, quoted by Brand, we are
told how "he trappans a young heiress to run away with a footman, by
persuading a young girl 'tis her destiny; and sells the old and ugly
philtres and love-powder to procure them sweethearts." Shakespeare has
represented Othello as accused of winning Desdemona "by conjuration and
mighty magic." Thus Brabantio (i. 2) says:
"thou hast practised on her with foul charms;
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals,
That weaken motion."
And in the following scene he further repeats the same charge against
Othello:
"She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
For nature so preposterously to err,
Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not."
Othello, however, in proving that he had won Desdemona only by honorable
means, addressing the Duke, replies:
"by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,--
For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,--
I won his daughter."
It may have escaped the poet's notice that, by the Venetian law, the
giving love-potions was held highly criminal, as appears in the code
"Della Promission del Malefico," cap. xvii., "Del Maleficii et
Herbarie."
A further allusion to this practice occurs in "A Midsummer-Night's
Dream" (ii. 1). where Puck and Oberon amuse themselves at Titania's
expense.[726]
[726] See page 227.
An expression common in Shakespeare's day for any one born out of
wedlock is mentioned by the Bastard in "King John" (i. 1):
"In at the window, or else o'er the hatch."
The old saying also that "Hanging and wiving go by destiny" is quoted by
Nerissa in the "Merchant of Venice" (ii. 9). In "Much Ado About Nothing"
(ii. 1), Don Pedro makes use of an old popular phrase in asking Claudio:
"When mean you to go to church?" referring to his marriage.
A solemn and even melancholy air was often affected by the beaux of
Queen Elizabeth's time, as a refined mark of gentility, a most sad and
pathetic allusion to which custom is made by Arthur in "King John" (iv.
1):
"Methinks, nobody should be sad but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness."[727]
[727] See Nares's "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 563.
There are frequent references to this fashion in our old writers. Thus,
in Ben Jonson's "Every Man in His Humor" (i. 3), we read: "Why, I do
think of it; and I will be more proud, and melancholy, and gentlemanlike
than I have been, I'll insure you."