The older I get the less I understand why anyone would want to get married. Which of course I would say because I’ve done it twice, so I’m biased. But I’m also in that enviable–some might say ‘learned’ which rhymes with ‘burned’–position of seeing flaws in marriage from both a distance and with the benefit of hindsight. Come on up, the view is lovely.
Over the past 50 years, one third of UK marriages have ended in divorce. Which is 3 out of 10 and makes playing the lottery a much more attractive proposition if you bear in mind the humungous cost of weddings with all their whistles and bells. I don’t remember the exact cost of my first wedding in 1992, and both sets of parents were alive and contributing. But the second, in 2007–including the ridiculously expensive honeymoon–cost something in the region of £20-25k.
I know, right? But instead of getting my lace-trimmed satin cami-knickers in a twist, I thought I’d take a look at the history of this reverential communion.
The first recorded evidence of marriage ceremonies uniting one woman and one man dates from about 2350 B.C., in Mesopotamia over 4,000 years ago. For the thousands of years prior to this, anthropologists believe that families consisted of loosely organized groups of as many as 30 people comprising several male leaders, with multiple women shared by them, and children.
That Mesopotamian wedding might be the ‘first recorded’ but marriages could already have happened because unwritten rules would have been seen as just as sacrosanct. Gentlemen’s agreements and all that. However, as hunter-gatherers settled down into agrarian civilizations, society sought a need for more stable arrangements.
Back then, marriage had little to do with love or religion, and more to do with combining households. Because forming an alliance between families meant they stood a greater chance of success once the two were united. You have only to take a look at the fussy Mrs Bennett in Pride and Prejudice to see how seriously these marriages were taken. And Mrs B had five daughters to successfully ‘marry’ off’ – which seems a full-time occupation in itself.
However, the primary purpose of marriage pre-Pride and Prejudice (try saying that five times really fast) was to bind women to men, guaranteeing that a man’s children were his biological heirs. And through marriage, a woman became a man’s ‘property’ meaning anything she brought into the marriage was automatically his. For instance, in ancient Greece, during a betrothal ceremony, a father would hand over his daughter with the words: “I pledge my daughter for the purpose of producing legitimate offspring.” Hence the question during a marriage ceremony directed at the person giving the bride away: “who giveth this woman…?”… it’s a transaction like any other purchase from one owner to another.
Amongst ancient Hebrews, men were free to take several wives (of course). Greeks and Romans who were married were free to satisfy their sexual urges with concubines, prostitutes, and even teenage male lovers, whilst wives were required to stay home and tend to the household. And if a wife failed to produce offspring, their husbands could give them back and marry someone else… taking the importance of holding onto the receipt to a whole new level.
It’s worth mentioning here that although gay marriage is rare in history, it wasn’t unknown. The Roman emperor Nero (ruler from A.D. 54 to 68) twice married men in formal wedding ceremonies, forcing the Imperial Court to treat them as his wives. In 2nd and 3rd century Rome, homosexual weddings were so common that social commentator, Juvenal who was famous for his biting satire and savage wit, wrote: “Look—a man of family and fortune—being wed to a man!” He mocked same-sex unions, saying that male brides would never be able to “hold their husbands by having a baby,’ and in the year 342, Romans outlawed formal homosexual unions.
Centuries later, when the Roman Catholic Church became a powerful institution in Europe, the blessings of a priest became a necessary step for a marriage to be legally recognised, and by the 8th century, marriage was widely accepted in the Catholic church as a ceremony which bestowed God’s grace.
Until Henry VIII famously upended the sanctity of marriage in 1533, broke England’s ties with the Catholic Church, crowned himself the Head of the Church of England and changed the face of a nation forever. Although his divorce didn’t pave the way for further divorces. Not then, nor at any other time remotely close to this shocking turn of events. In fact before 1858, divorce was still rare and the Church of England was so resistant to the idea that the only route was via an act of Parliament requiring it be voted through by both Houses. As it was an expensive business, proof of adultery required, and the airing of a couple’s private grievances in public a social disgrace, the King’s footsteps were not something his subjects felt able to easily follow .
The first UK non-royal divorce occurred in 1670 where Parliament passed an act allowing John Manners–Lord Roos–to divorce his wife, Lady Anne Pierpon, leading to the creation of a precedent for parliamentary divorces on the grounds of a wife’s adultery. And when a divorce law was finally enacted in 1857, the number of divorces in English history totalled a mere 324 (four of these instigated by women).
But it’s not the divorce rate which makes me question the point of marriage –although that is a sticking point, and one which still leaves some in greater financial hardship than they entered–no, it’s more the expense, the expectations and the enormous pressure that staying married places on a couple. And actually it’s ironic that ending a marriage is so financially and emotionally damaging, because the wedding cost so much in the first place.
Personally, I’m not great with compromise and that’s one of the foundations of a good marriage so I’ve heard. All that giving and taking and giving some more–if your personality isn’t strong enough to withstand it (and mine really isn’t)– means that when I’m one half of a couple, 50% of me dissolves to allow the Couple to exist, and that in turn means that I loose sight of who I am. I become a part of a unit, a fraction of what I once was.
I didn’t know this, of course, until it was too late and had to play catch-up with my personality once the half-dissolved parts of me came back into focus. Both times. You’d think I’d have learnt a lesson from the first time around, wouldn’t you? but I’m great at handing out benefits of the doubt and believed in second chances. Whereas what I ought to have believed in was myself, and not that my life would only become good if I (again) became half of a unit.
I’ve seen marriages that ‘work’ (although apart from seeing how my own parents were, who knows what goes on behind closed doors?), and I’m sure the institution won’t die off anytime soon. The traditional fluff and nonsense that goes with organising a wedding still enchants people who aspire to be one half of a unit and throw what amounts to a lavish party to announce these aspirations but I think you have to be a certain type of person to endure.
Either you’re a confident enough person to know your character will not be eroded by allowing someone else to share your space–by which I mean you will firmly stand your ground on any future discussions/arguments and not let that part of you dissolve–or else you’re so trusting in the belief that by becoming half of a union, your character might become whole through it. And I am no longer either of these people.
I always wanted to meet a wise old woman. Now, by holding up a mirror to my life, I think I’m becoming one.
Debs J Cooper 