“When the hearts of a Roman man and woman beat as one, and they were ready to make public the announcement of this interesting fact, the woman placed herself in the arms of the man in the presence of ten witnesses, then the twain ate together an unleavened farina cake previously blessed by the priest. This was the betrothal. On the day when the separate legal existence of the two ended, and the union of their lives began, the woman was conducted to the house of her betrothed, with a veil over her face and a distaff in her hand. Upon stepping over the threshold of her new home, between two youths, and lighted with the torch of a third, she placed herself upon a sheepskin rug spread just within the door, and called to her beloved, who incontinently answered the soft coo of his mate, and delivered to her the key of the love cote. When together they touched fire and water, token of purity and fidelity, whereupon they were declared man and wife by the sanction of the gods and legal authorities. This was an exceedingly beautiful as well as romantic marriage custom, and could be introduced with excellent effects into our modern ceremonies.” John Clark Ridpath writing about an ancient Roman marriage ceremony.
Tonight’s program is devoted to the Ides of March. HBO’s series Rome gives us a pretty good idea of what it might have been like living in the time of Caesar. It depicts the brutality of the times and the Ides of March were certainly a good time to stay away from the Roman Senate. I wanted to feature a more tender aspect of that ancient society rather than giving you the idea that it was only a warring, conquering nation. That is dealt with in detail in tonight’s radio program. The writing was included in the book mentioned in last night’s blog, The Wonderful, The Curious, And The Beautiful In The World’s History by John Clark Ridpath and published in January of 1891.
A few paragraphs later, Ridpath discusses an ancient Japanese ceremony that I thought you might like to read. “Toward high noon of the happy day the wedding company, splendid in variegated costume, proceeds to the fete. Then the bride in spotless white, with a veil over her face, goes out between two friends, and is followed by a procession of relatives no less splendid than the one approaching to meet them. The two friends are called the male and female butterflies. In their dress they imitate the brilliant coloring on the wings of this insect, which in Japan is the symbol of conjugal felicity.
“The most solemn form of the ceremony is the scene of the two-mouth vase, ornamented with bands of dainty colored paper. At a given signal one of the butterflies fills the vase, the other offers it to the lips of the kneeling couple, the husband drinking first, the wife afterward. It is their first draught of mortal bliss, the pledge and promise that henceforth they are to partake equally of the bitter-sweet of coming years.”
In the concluding paragraph of this section devoted to A History Of Marriage, Ridpath writes: “The union of the sexes must ever continue to be associated with sentiments of tenderness and romance, and the eternal fitness of things requires that it should be so. The little ‘god of love,’ that beautiful creation of the ancient poets, will never cease to be an object of tender interest, if not worship, on the part of those who possess young hearts and warm affections. In the blooming months of spring, the maiden’s mind runs unconsciously upon thoughts of love, and in every budding flower and blushing rose she expects to find Cupid, with roguish lips and bent bow, ready to pierce her heart with the divine passion.”
Better the bow and arrow of Cupid, than the dagger of Brutus.
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Don Jackson
