Love and Marriage

Love and Marriage
Go together like a Horse and Carriage

... so the song goes.

I was in Portsmouth, researching for my alternative Regency set novel, when I came across a bridal party by the Square Tower. The bride had arrived by a sweet little coach and was having her picture taken. Among the onlookers was a family from Saudi. I got talking, as you do when horses and small children are involved, and the father asked whether the carriage was an English tradition.

That made me think.

It's certainly seen as something romantic - perhaps something the Disneyfied  bride might hanker after.

And there is the sense of the fairytale, the Princess-for-a-day idea.

But our desire for something old-fashioned, something traditional,  might be just a commercially-driven image. It might be a phantom, part of a great big dressing-up game that hides a rotten secret at its heart, unlikely to end well.

It might be - in the world of the Wedding Ghost.

Old Ways about Weddings

As part of my research for The Wedding Ghost, I wanted to know about the traditions and superstitions around marriage in Sussex. At modern weddings we throw confetti, and in some places rice - but in Sussex it was wheat.

Ear of Wheat by Michael J. Connors
Morguefile

I've noticed Sussex churches often have lychgates - and so I 'borrowed' a custom  that's found in other counties. Local children, or members of the family, tie up the gates out of the churchyard, and won't let the Bride and Groom out until they pay a ransom.

Bolney Lychgate via John Gasson
Creative Commons
{The block in the middle is where they rested coffins}

Traditionally, there were many ways for a young woman to find out who her husband would be. One of the best nights for such divination was the Eve of St. Agnes (20th January) John Keats wrote a marvellous, rather Gothic and sensual poem about this.

    They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, 

     Young virgins might have visions of delight, 

     And soft adorings from their loves receive 

     Upon the honey'd middle of the night, 

     If ceremonies due they did aright; 

     As, supperless to bed they must retire, 

     And couch supine their beauties, lily white; 

     Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require 

  Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 

'Madeline' by Millais 1850
courtesy of Martin Beek
Creative Commons

Halloween, of course, was another time. In Sussex, a young woman  would place an apple pip on the fire grate, representing the man she might marry. If the pip burned silently - that courtship would go smoothly with a happy ending; if the pip burst, they would break up.

Apple Pip by Mary K. Baird
Morguefile

I think you would have to be quite brave to try this last one. You waited until the first full moon was predicted after New Year's Day, then sit across a stile all alone in the dark. Of course, you had to keep still and silent - and probably go fasting according to most traditions - for the spell to work. When the moon rose you said this rhyme:

All hail to thee, Moon, all hail to thee,

I pray thee good Moon, reveal to me

This night who my husband must be.

Moonlight by Paul Anderson
Morguefile

Then you waited to see his 'glim' or spirit appear.
Would you dare?

Information from Superstitions of Love & Marriage by E. & M. A. Radford, ed. C. Hole, and  A Sussex Garland, T. Wales

Beauty is in the eye...

So many times I have heard it said 'all brides look beautiful'. It would probably be churlish to disagree but there certainly can be rather creepy images of brides.

This one - is she comatose, or does she completely disdain her husband to be?

Image courtesy of Holly Gramarzio
 (Creative Commons)

How about this? The mannequin looks so sad - was she modelled from life - or death?

Image courtesy of Robyn E. Jay
(Creative Commons)

And as for her, would you trust what she put in your mouth?

Image by Danny
(Creative Commons)

There is a place for the disconcerting, the melancholy and the not-entirely-trustworthy on this site - and in my written work. Please call back for more marital strangeness next week.

Dead White Roses

August 1st is Yorkshire Day and as a Leeds-born lass, I had to mark it somehow. This blog being centred around a ghost story, I wanted to find something eerie.

Dead White Roses by Jeremy Cherfas

I love the elegantly macabre. I'm for the lovely but unnerving, so abandoned wreaths, the bouquets of forgotten brides and the remnants of faded beauty delight me. 

A skeleton form lay mouldering there

In the bridal weeds of a lady fair.

from the Mistletoe Bough by Thomas Haynes Bayley 1884

 

(Note: I've chosen a West Riding singer for this)

Now the War of the Roses included the bloodiest battle on English soil at Towton near Tadcaster. Not only was it gruesome, it also gave rise to several ghost stories (of Cock Beck running red with blood on the Palm Sunday anniversary, of groaning unseen warriors, and lights seen at night in Lead Chapel, which has no electricity) - and a legend about a rose.

The story goes that wild white roses grew around the site but ever after the battle, they came up splashed with blood from the dreadful battle. See here for more.

So ghosts, brides and roses have a welcome place here, and in my imagination, today and every day.