Hello and welcome to the history page where this month we will extend our exploration of
the Ibicenco courtship ritual into its natural sequitur: betrothal. Having examined in our last
instalment the island's unique style of wooing (known as the festeig), we will now concern
ourselves with how an actual engagement was negotiated, or - if needs be - how an
elopement was carried out.
For, in the Ibiza of yore, when obstacles stood in the path of true
love, these were bypassed with scant regard for protocol. Moreover, local law contained
provisos which protected elopers as long as both parties were willing to declare the
earnestness of their intentions before a magistrate. Thus, somewhat surprisingly for a society
as undeveloped as Ibiza was, the fulfilment of emotional yearnings was granted its due
place in the scheme of things. Young people had at their disposal extensive legal recourse
to assist them in marrying the person they loved - even against their elders' wishes - and to
protect them from marrying someone they didn't. But, before getting started on elopement,
let us first discuss the normal course of events.

To quickly recap what we learned last month, a unique form
of courtship known as the festeig was practiced in rural
areas where opportunities for young people to meet each
other were scarce bordering on non-existent. To remedy this lack
of social intercourse, the custom developed of holding openhouses
so that young people could get to know each other.
Several
suitors would show up at the finca of a marriageable girl, all
on the same night and all keen to try their luck at love. Over time,
the light of attraction would flicker between a girl and one of her
suitors, and, the youth would ask the young lady for her hand in
marriage. If she accepted, and her parents were of an equal
mind, the long and winding road to betrothal was undertaken.
Marital diplomacy
It was at this stage that a matchmaker stepped into the picture.
We must be careful to note, however, that in Ibiza the term
'matchmaker' did not carry its typical connotation of a village
woman who proposed who should marry whom. As we have
already learned, couples got together of their own accord by
means of the festeig.
Rather, a matchmaker was a mediator,
almost always a man, who arbitrated the delicate matter of
what each spouse would contribute to their life together. He
negotiated what the bride's dowry would consist of, whose
land the newlyweds would farm, which house they would live
in, etc. The parents of the potential marriage partners were
considered too intimately involved in the situation to be either
objective or diplomatic. Any rejection of terms by one side
might elicit indignation in the other side and ran the risk of marring
marital harmony before the couple even reached the
altar. Hence, third parties were sought to liaise between the
two families.
This third party, also called an adjustor, could be
an uncle, the local doctor, the parish priest, a monk (those of
the Dominican Order were expert at these proceedings) or
any trusted figure of authority or prominence, usually advanced in years. Less frequently, a woman would play the role
of go-between, although in these cases she would not be referred
to as a mediator, but rather as a 'confidante'.
Tokens of esteem
The mediator's first job was to ascertain the seriousness of intentions
on either side. In other places in Spain, a certificate of
engagement would have sufficed for this purpose. However,
in a place like Ibiza where virtually no farmer was able to read
or write, verbal agreements formed the basis of all societal
transactions. Yet, in an endeavour as important as marriage,
something more solid than a verbal agreement was needed.
To this end, physical tokens were exchanged as a way of underscoring the intention of both parties to follow through on the prospective marriage. The mediator was entrusted with delivering these objects to either party and, upon their receipt, the marriage pledge was sealed, at least at the personal level. Depending on a family's standing, these tokens could range from mere symbolic offerings, void of monetary worth, to fine gifts of jewellery.
The most splendid examples of marriage tokens recorded in Ibiza consisted of gold or silver rings, often set with precious or semi-precious stones, gold crosses, coins, silk scarves, etc. The most humble offerings were often mere articles of clothing, knives, a sewing basket and pin cushions, or even a simple piece of ribbon. But whatever the actual value of the token, it served - in lieu of a written contract - as a declaration of betrothal and could be used in a court of law if needs be.
The giving of hands
The second step in formalizing an engagement was more
public in nature. After having accepted, in relative privacy,
the tokens carried to and fro by the mediator, the prospective
bride and groom were bound to express their intentions
of marriage before the community. At this stage, a scribe was
often (but not always) present at a brief, informal ceremony
in which the young lovers declared their love by taking each
other by the hand twice or three times. One touching chronicle
of this moment reports that the two lovers looked at each
other and then, 'He took up her two hands in his and said,
"Now I am sure that you will be my wife."'
Parental say-so
There was still a third condition to be fulfilled before a couple
could marry and this was the official consent of their parents.
For, social decorum apart, when it came down to the
nitty-gritty, the necessary dispensations given by the Church
would not be forthcoming without parental permission.
If the parents of either side opposed the marriage, the idea of elopement often hatched in the minds of ardent young
lovers. But, in Ibiza, this was no haphazard plan embarked on
by reckless youngsters. Rather, there was a set way of going
about it, one which would probably result in success.
The trials of true love
First the lovers would set a date for their get-away and meet
at a trysting place under cover of night. Then they would walk
all night long, usually to Ibiza town, where they would both
turn themselves over to the authorities. Alternately, the man
would place his beloved in the care of a sympathetic relative
and then turn only himself in. In either case, the young Romeo
was sent straight to jail, where he would remain until the sincerity
of his intentions had been publicly proclaimed.
For her
part, the girl faced two possibilities. In the first scenario - i.e. when she had no sympathetic relative to turn to - she was put in the care of a respected household for perhaps a month or two. Here she was treated kindly and given time to reflect on what her heart truly desired. The lady of the house would act as a confidante, that is, someone older and wiser to whom the younger could speak freely and explore her feelings. This time was meant to be a period of soul-searching.
In the second scenario, the examination of her soul could be carried out in the home of a relative, but only as long as no one in the household tried to sway the girl's feelings. If any indication of unwarranted meddling came to light, or if she were subjected to unwelcome visits from her immediate family, ex-boyfriends, etc, then the suffering soul would be removed to a neutral atmosphere where she could compose her own mind.
Throughout these months of reflection, both of the lovers
would be questioned periodically by a visiting magistrate as
to the condition of their feelings. These interrogations were designed
to detect whether any change had taken place from
the initial sentiment which had impelled the couple to elope.
If both parties remained steadfast - the boy from his comfortless
cell and the girl from her lonely chamber - their loyalty
was rewarded.
Their desire to marry was declared legitimate
in the eyes of God and King and proceedings were undertaken
to avail them of the legal means to wedlock. Before
their release, the girl was charged a small fee for the room
and board she had received while in fosterage and the boy
was modestly fined for inconveniencing the public institutions.
By Emily Kaufman
