characterizing modern times,--by moonlight, starlight, gaslight,
candlelight, or anything but daylight. Her engagement was a solemnity
which took place under the eyes of all her relatives and as many friends
as her father cared and could afford to invite. The inevitable augurs
are also present, in order that they may ascertain, by examining the
entrails of some bird, whether or not the Fates will be propitious.
Their verdict will largely depend upon the manner in which they are
treated by the parties concerned; for Cato declared that he never could
understand how two members of this profession could look each other in
the face without laughing. One wonders if any Roman girl ever availed
herself of the science of these gentlemen to escape an undesirable
suitor; for in the minds of most of the people the superstition was so
firmly implanted that if an augur could have been induced to perceive
misfortune in the auspices, that would have been sufficient to prevent
the engagement. But we will suppose that the signs are pronounced
favorable. A _stipula_, or straw, is broken between the parties,
signifying that a contract is made. The agreement is also put in
writing, for the sake of future reference. The man gives the maiden a
plain iron ring, which he places upon the finger next to the smallest on
the left hand, there being a belief that a nerve runs from that finger
directly to the heart. He also gives presents to those who have made
themselves useful in helping to bring about the engagement, and he
receives a present from the girl. The contract of betrothal was not
irrevocable; but for either party to withdraw from it was much more
likely to result in a suit at law than is the case at the present time;
and the Roman had the advantage over the jilted man in our day, in that
it was not considered that damages for a breach of promise were properly
due only to a woman. Marriage engagements were frequently of long
continuance among the Romans; for sometimes even infants were betrothed.
The minimum age at which the marriage could legally take place was
twelve for the girl and fourteen for the man.
The selection of the wedding day was a matter in which more than the
inclination and the convenience of the parties concerned had to be
considered; the important thing was to choose a fortunate day. Ovid
says: "There are days when neither widow nor virgin may light the torch
of Hymen; she who is married then will surely die." The Calends, the
Ides, and the Nones were especially to be avoided. The whole month of
May was considered particularly unfavorable, because it was devoted to
the propitiation of the Lemurs, or the evil spirits. It was a common
saying that no good woman would marry in the month of May. February was
also avoided. June, on the contrary, of all the months in the year, was
believed to be the most propitious for marriages, but not until after
the Ides, or the thirteenth day. Ovid states, on the authority of the
wife of the _flamen dialis_, that for a fortunate marriage it was
necessary to wait until the refuse from the Temple of Vesta had been
carried by the Tiber to the sea; and this was not supposed to be
accomplished until the thirteenth of June.
The friends of our couple have decided upon a day which, in the common
opinion, has no predilection for mischief. Everything necessary for the
performance of the marriage ceremonies is provided.
These ceremonies are
of the nature of ancient usages rather than legal requirements. They are
intensely symbolical, and are calculated to impress upon the minds of
the bride and bridegroom a lively sense of the duties belonging to the
new relationship into which they are entering.
This Roman bride is relieved of one grave anxiety which usually
accompanies the anticipatory pleasure in an approaching modern wedding.
It is not necessary for her to give any thought as to the color and
fashion of her wedding dress. This was always the same among the Romans;
and even if that worn by the maiden whose marriage is now being
described should happen to be an heirloom from her great-grandmother,
she need not fear that it is out of style. It consists of a long white
robe, woven in a particular manner. If the circumstances of her family
have improved, she may perhaps sew a purple fringe around the border;
but that is absolutely the only change allowed. This robe will be
fastened around her waist with a woollen girdle, white wool being always
a symbol of chastity. This will be tied in a Hercules knot, to loose
which, at the end of the ceremonies, will be the husband's privilege.
Her hair, allowed to fall around her shoulders, on the wedding morn is
parted with the head of a spear. Plutarch and other writers say that
this custom had its origin in the rape of the Sabines, and betokened the
fact that the first Roman marriages were brought about by capture, and
that it accordingly also indicated that a wife should be in subjection
to her husband. Over her head the bride wears a yellow or flame-colored
veil, this hue being held to be of good significance.
Her brow is also
crowned with a chaplet of vervain, gathered and wreathed by her own
hands, for this herb signifies fecundity. Her shoes are also of yellow,
and so constructed as to make her appear taller than her real height.
Thus attired, the bridal party go first to the temple, for the purpose
of offering sacrifice, as Virgil says, "above all, to Juno, whose
province is the nuptial tie." The victim considered as most appropriate
is a hog; and care is to be taken to throw the gall of the animal as far
away as possible, with the hope that in like manner all bitterness will
be put far away from this conjugal union. Then, if the ceremony of
_confarreatio_ is used, the couple, having returned to the bride's home,
are seated side by side, with a sheepskin covering both chairs; by which
it is signified that although the man and the woman occupy two different
parts of the house, they are nevertheless united by a common bond. The
chief priest now gives the wedded pair the sacred cake, which they eat
together in token of the fact that they are henceforth to share with
each other the necessaries of life. Although the modern wedding cake has
developed into something far more elaborate than the simple Roman wafer
of flour, water, and salt, the probability is that the former had its
origin in the latter.
The appearance of the star Venus in the sky is the signal for the
bride's departure to her new home. In a formal manner, her father hands
her over to her husband's family, for he only can sever the bond which
holds her to his guardianship. Henceforth her husband has the right by
law to exercise over her that authority which has been held by her
father. There is a pretence made of taking her by force from the arms of
her mother or her sisters, in memory of the violent abduction of the
Sabine women. Then the bridal party walk in procession to the husband's
house. Preceding them, lighting the way, are four married women carrying
torches. The bride is directly attended by three boys, in selecting whom
the important thing to be borne in mind is to take only those who have
both parents living, otherwise it would be an extremely bad omen. Two of
these support her by the arms, while the other carries a flambeau of
white pine before her to dissipate all lurking enchantments and dispel
all evil incantations. Then follow maid-servants with a distaff, a
spindle, and wool, intimating that she is to labor at spinning, as did
the Roman matrons of the old time. After these comes a boy, who for this
occasion is named Camillus; his office is to carry in an open basket
other instruments for feminine work; and especially it has been
remembered to include playthings and toys for the bride's prospective
children. All the relatives and friends join in this festive procession.
In place of the rice which in these days accompanies the adieus bestowed
on a newly wedded pair, the Roman bride was the target for all the jests
and raillery which the wit of the spectators might suggest. When she
reaches her new home, the bridegroom, standing in the doorway, which is
decked with garlands of flowers, inquires who she is.
Her reply is:
"Where thou art Caius, there am I Caia;" thus beautifully intimating
that comradeship in all things which is the ideal of marriage. Then,
after the bride has anointed the doorposts with the fat of swine in
order to turn away all enchantments, she is lifted over the threshold,
which, being consecrated to Vesta, it would be a bad omen for the bride
to touch with her foot. Her husband now presents her with the keys, for
she is henceforth to be intrusted with the management of his house. Both
touch fire and water, in token that they together share these essentials
of life and well-being. A yoke is placed about their necks, symbolizing
that which they have taken upon themselves in their marriage; from this
comes the word _conjugium_. The first joint act of the bride and
bridegroom is to unite in the worship of the household gods, the husband
thus introducing his wife to the guardian spirits of his home--the most
sacred things of his family. She is henceforth to be associated with him
in his domestic worship, and she has become a sharer in the inheritance
of fame left by his ancestors, who are venerated in the adoration of
their Manes. These solemn observances being ended, now follows the
banquet. At this, the bride reclines on the same divan with her husband
at the head of the table; for she is already hostess where he is host.
Now has come the opportunity for boisterous hilarity.
The solemnities
are all completed, and the remaining time is wholly given up to the
merriment which is always deemed a fitting accompaniment to the first
adventure of a couple among the changes and chances of the marriage
state. All the guests join in singing the Thalassius,--a chant in which
every bridegroom is congratulated on being as fortunate in his lot as
was that traditional Quirite who obtained the brightest flower of the
Sabine maidens.
The banquet being ended, the bride is conducted by the matrons to the
nuptial chamber, which is always the atrium, or the central room of the
house. Here is placed the _lectus genialis_, richly adorned and covered
with flowers. The bridegroom throws nuts among his former companions, as
a sign that he is now forsaking the life of his boyhood for the
responsibilities of man's estate. After his departure, the young people
entertain the newly married couple by singing outside the door
fescennine verses, in which is indulged a liberty of expression to which
modern ears are unaccustomed.
Commonly, the songs chanted at the celebration of Roman marriages had no
literary merit whatever, and were chiefly characterized by their
grossness; but sometimes these occasions inspired the genius of the best
poets, from which resulted some of the most beautiful Latin verse.
Catullus has three such pieces. In his _Nuptial Song_, youths and
maidens are represented as contending with each other in improvised
versification. Hesperus, the evening star, is reproached by the virgins
and lauded by the young men as being the signal for the bride to leave
her mother's arms for those of her husband. In the last chorus, both
parties unite in exhorting the young wife to use complaisance with her
husband, and not to "strive against two parents who have bestowed their
own rights along with thy dowry on their son-in-law."
_The Marriage of
Peleus and Thetis_, the longest of the poems of Catullus, may not have
been intended to be sung at a wedding; though that is a question on
which classic scholars are not agreed. It treats of marriage, however,
in a very interesting and original fashion; and may throw some light on
Roman customs, notwithstanding the fact that the characters introduced
are the offspring of the gods. "The mansion, in every part of its
opulent interior, glitters with shining gold and silver; white are the
ivory seats; goblets gleam on the tables; the whole dwelling rejoices in
the splendor of regal wealth. In the midst of the mansion is placed the
genial couch of the goddess, inlaid with polished Indian tooth, and
covered with purple dyed with the shell's rosy juice.
This coverlet,
diversified with figures of the men of yore, portrays the virtues of
heroes with wondrous art." Then follows the principal part of the poem,
which is a description of the pictures worked upon the tapestry of the
bed. The subject of these is the history of Ariadne. We are to imagine
the poet standing by the couch and pointing out the incidents portrayed,
with their causes and consequences. This being concluded, the gods, and
especially the Parcæ, are introduced to the marriage feast; and the
latter, as they spin their thread, "utter soothsaying canticles."
Catullus has given us a veritable example of the Roman wedding song in
his epithalamium on the marriage of Manlius and Julia.
Of this Julia we
know nothing further than that she was of the Cotta family; Manlius was
of the illustrious lineage of the Torquati. If only there were historic
warrant for believing that this couple were as charming in their
personalities as they are described in this poem, and that all the good
wishes therein expressed did really materialize, the marriage of Manlius
and Julia might stand for all time as the _summum bonum_
of wedded
felicity. A few stanzas from Lamb's translation will serve to illustrate
the character of the epithalamium, and will also fairly indicate the
place and nature of sentiment in the Roman conception of the marriage
relation.
"When Venus claim'd the golden prize, And bless'd the Phrygian shepherd's eyes; No brighter charms his judgment sway'd Than those that grace this mortal maid; And every sigh and omen fair
The nuptials hail, and greet the pair.
"Propitiate here the maiden's vows, And lead her fondly to her spouse;
And firm as ivy clinging holds
The tree it grasps in mazy folds,
Let virtuous love as firmly bind
The tender passions of her mind.
"Ye virgins, whom a day like this Awaits to greet with equal bliss,
Oh! join the song, your voices raise To hail the god we love to praise.
O Hymen! god of faithful pairs;
O Hymen! hear our earnest prayers.
"Invoked by sires with anxious fear, Their children's days with bliss to cheer; By maidens, who to thee alone
Unloose the chaste, the virgin zone; By fervid bridegrooms, whose delight Is stay'd till thou hast bless'd the rite.
"Raise, boys, the beaming torches high!
She comes--but veil'd from every eye; The deeper dyes her blushes hide;
With songs, with pæans greet the bride!
Hail, Hymen! god of faithful pairs, Hail, Hymen! who hast heard our prayers.
"Riches, and power, and rank, and state, With Manlius' love thy days await;
These all thy youth shall proudly cheer, And these shall nurse thy latest year.
Hail, Hymen! god of faithful pairs!
Hail, Hymen! who hast heard our prayers.
"Oh! boundless be your love's excess, And soon our hopes let children bless; Let not this ancient honor'd name
Want heirs to guard its future fame; Nor any length of years assign
A limit to the glorious line.
"Let young Torquatus' look avow All Manlius' features in his brow;
That those, who know him not, may trace The knowledge of his noble race;
And by his lineal brow declare
His lovely mother chaste as fair.
"Now close the doors, ye maiden friends; Our sports, our rite, our service ends.
With you let virtue still reside,
O bridegroom brave, and gentle bride, And youth its lusty hours employ
In constant love and ardent joy."
The bluntly practical disposition of the Romans reveals itself even in
their attitude toward that phase of human life which preëminently
furnished scope for romance. In their expressions concerning marriage,
its physical basis is acknowledged with unnecessary frankness. No
vestige is found among them of any pretence of belief in that exalted
communion which, though it is probably nothing more than an imaginary
refinement, is commonly talked of as Platonic love.
There is no
idealizing of the amatory emotions,--such as we are accustomed to in
novels which are not "realistic"--thereby affording an opportunity to
ignore the lower aspect.
A woman, after marriage, retained her former name; but it was joined to
that of her husband, as, for example, Julia Pompeii, Terentia Ciceronis.
She was also called _domina_, the mistress. On the day after her
marriage, the Roman bride, by a sacrifice which she offered to the
Lares, formally took possession of her position as mistress of the
household. Then she assumed the control of the servants and slaves,
setting them their tasks and taking upon herself the superintendence of
all things in the home. By unwritten law, no servile work was required
of the Roman matron, unless she were so poor as not to own a slave. She
might spin, and, indeed, it was to her credit if she thus diligently
employed herself, for this was an occupation which the most cherished
traditions would not permit the noblest to despise. It was carried on in
the atrium, where the matron sat surrounded by her husband's ancestral
images and where she received her friends. When she went abroad, she was
known to be a matron because of her _stola_; the inner side of the walk
was given to her by every Roman citizen she might happen to meet; and if
anything indecent was said or done in her presence, it was an offence
which might be punished by law.
In the earliest times, the dissolution of the marriage bond was of
extremely rare occurrence, for the praiseworthy reason that the manners
of the people were such that there seldom arose an occasion for divorce.
In those first ages, however, the laws concerning this matter were
characterized by an exceeding severity and unfairness to the woman. In
no case was she allowed to divorce her husband; though she might be put
away by him, not only for conjugal infidelity and such crimes as using
drugs to prevent the possibility of childbearing, or for deceiving him
by the introduction of fictitious children, but even if she
counterfeited his keys or surreptitiously drank his wine, and, in the
earliest times, if she drank wine at all. Carvilius is said to have been
the first Roman to put away his wife; but it is difficult to believe
that, notwithstanding the fact that laws providing for such a proceeding
existed from the time of the kingdom, no divorce really took place until
B.C. 231. Probably certain circumstances connected with this divorce
gave it such notoriety that it was the first which impressed itself upon
the attention of the historians. It is said that Carvilius, though he
loved his wife, divorced her on account of barrenness, he having, with
many other citizens, made a vow to marry for the sake of offspring.
In later times, the women gained the right to secure divorce; and as
morals began to show the signs of decadence, there was nothing so
indicative of the terrible laxity which prevailed as the trivial causes
for which husbands and wives were allowed to separate.
Incompatibility
of temperament was the common complaint. In the ancient and nobler
times, there was a small temple dedicated to Viriplaca, the marital
peacemaker; and when a difference occurred between husband and wife,
they met and entered into explanations before the goddess, usually with
the result of a restoration of harmony; but Viriplaca was gradually
forgotten, and matrimonial chaos ensued.
When this laxity came to be the prevailing rule, the wife who was rich
and, moreover, inclined to be in any way disagreeable held her husband
at her mercy. If he divorced her without any considerable fault of hers,
or if they parted by mutual consent, she took her dowry and left him
with the children. If, as was very likely to be the case, he had married
her for her property, he was obliged to be submissive.
Plautus says:
"The portionless wife is subject to her husband's will; wives with
dowries are as executioners for their husbands."
Martial, inveighing
against a miserly woman who will not furnish her husband with a new
cloak as a New Year's gift, says: "Why, Proculeia, do you cast off your
husband in the month of January? This is not in your case a divorce; it
is a good stroke of business." During the worst times, the law
restricted the number of divorces obtainable by an individual to eight.
If we are to believe Juvenal, there were women who were sufficiently
enterprising to reach the limit in five years. The satirist describes
them as leaving the doors only recently adorned, the tapestry used for
the marriage festival still hanging on the house, and the branches still
green upon the threshold. Seneca says that in his time it had come to
such a pass that women reckoned the years, not by the names of the
consuls, but by the husbands they had divorced.
Yet, notwithstanding--perhaps it would be more correct to say, on
account of--this excessive willingness on the part of the women to enter
into contracts of marriage, it became necessary in the time of the first
empire to decree severe penalties against celibacy; and bonuses were
awarded to those in whose families children were born.
Even as early as
B.C. 121, Metellus the Censor, complaining in the Senate of the
increasing tendency to avoid the responsibilities of matrimony, said:
"Could we exist without wives at all, doubtless we should rid ourselves
of the plague they are to us; since, however, nature has decreed that we
cannot dispense with the infliction, it is best to bear it manfully, and
rather look to the permanent conservation of the State than to our own
passing comfort."
In a condition of society in which the most conspicuous women were
unrestrained by any worthy ideals of the responsibilities of wifehood,
and where men were at liberty, and found abundant opportunity, to
gratify their basest propensities with no fear of any reproof other than
being made the subject of humorous allusion, it is not to be wondered at
that the latter were inclined to shun the cares and the vicissitudes of
marriage. Juvenal claimed that a good wife was rarer than a white crow;
and Pliny held that celibacy alone afforded an unobstructed road to
power and fortune. The former's terrible sixth satire was written as a
warning against matrimony. "And yet you are preparing your marriage
covenant, and the settlement, and betrothal, in our days; and are
already under the hands of the master barber, and perhaps have already
given the pledge for her finger. Well, you used to be sane, at all
events! You, Postumus, going to marry! Say, what Tisiphone, what snakes,
are driving you mad? Can you submit to be the slave of any woman, while
so many halters are to be had? so long as high and dizzy windows are
accessible, and the Æmilian bridge presents itself so near at hand?" The
women are accused of every enormity known in that Rome where vice
attained such proportions as have never been approached in any
civilization in the history of the world. But it is contrary to the
office of the satirist to present a true picture of the whole. Writing
of vice, he sees nothing