The literature of kissing

by Charles C. Bombaugh

FREAKS AND PHASES OF LOCAL CUSTOM.

THE KISS OF PEACE.

The peculiar tendency of the Christian religion to encourage honor towards all men, as men, to foster and develop the softer affections, and, in the trying condition of the early Church, to make its members intimately known one to another, and unite them in the closest bonds, led to the observance of kissing as an accompaniment of that social worship which took its origin in the very cradle of our religion. Hence the exhortation of St. Paul, “Salute one another with a holy kiss;” and the brethren followed the injunction literally. It was called signaculum orationis, the soul of prayer; and was a symbol of that mutual forgiveness and reconciliation which the Church required as an essential condition to admission to its sacraments. Tertullian, Origen, and Athenagoras mention it; and Dr. Milner cites the Apostolical Constitutions to show the manner in which the ceremony was performed:

“Let the bishop salute the church and say, ‘The peace of God be with you all;’ And let the people answer, ‘And with thy spirit.’ Then let the deacon say to all, ‘Salute one another with a holy kiss and let the clergy kiss the bishop, and the laymen the laymen, and the women the women.”

This primitive fraternal embrace appears to have been observed as late as the twelfth or thirteenth century, and the pax (osculatorium, porte-paix, or pax brede) introduced, as it was at this period that the sexes began to mingle together in the low mass.

The use of the pax in England was prescribed by the royal commissioners of Edward VI. The Injunctions published at Doncaster, in 1548, ordain that:

“The clarke shall bring down the paxe, and standing without the church door, shall say loudly to the people these words, ‘This is a token of joyful peace which is betwixt God and men’s conscience; Christ alone is the peace-maker, which straitly commands peace between brother and brother. And so long as ye shall use these ceremonies, so long shall ye use these significations.’”

Agnes Strickland, in her account of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, says:

“Then the bishop began the mass, the epistle being read first in Latin and then in English, the gospel the same,—the book being sent to the queen, who kissed the gospel. She then went to the altar to make her second offering, three unsheathed swords being borne before her, and one in the scabbard. The queen, kneeling, put money in the basin, and kissed the chalice; and then and there certain words were read to her grace. She retired to her seat again during the consecration, and kissed the pax.”[10]

ROYAL FEET-WASHING AND KISSING.

In this country, the ceremonies of Lent and of Easter belong to the Church alone, but in most other lands these occasions have always borne both a civil and a political relation to society.

In former times royalty itself led the Lenten solemnities, and we read of monarchs washing the feet of beggars, in imitation of Christ, who washed the feet of his disciples. This ceremony, which was regularly practised by the kings and queens of England in ancient times, occurred upon Maundy-Thursday. They washed and kissed the feet of as many poor people as they themselves numbered in years, and bestowed a gift, or maundy, upon each.

Queen Elizabeth performed this royal duty at Greenwich when she was thirty-nine years old, on which occasion the feet of thirty-nine poor persons were first washed by the yeomen of the laundry with warm water and sweet herbs, afterwards by the sub-almoner, and lastly by the queen herself; the person who washed making each time a cross upon the pauper’s foot, above the toes, and kissing it. This ceremony was performed by the queen kneeling, being attended by thirty-nine ladies and gentlemen. Clothes, victuals, and money were then distributed among the poor.

The last of the English monarchs who performed this office in person was James II., and it was afterwards performed by the almoner. On the 5th of April, 1731, it being Maundy-Thursday, and the king in his forty-eighth year, there were distributed at the banqueting-house, Whitehall, to forty-eight poor men and the same number of poor women, boiled beef and shoulders of mutton, and small bowls of ale, for dinner; after that large wooden platters of fish and loaves, the fish being undressed,—twelve red herrings and twelve white herrings, and four half quartern loaves. Each person had one platter of these provisions, and after that were distributed among them shoes, stockings, linen and woollen cloth, and leathern bags filled with silver and copper coins, to each about four pounds in value. The washing of feet was performed by his Grace the Lord Archbishop of York, who was also Lord High Almoner.

Cardinal Wolsey, in 1530, made his maundy at Peterborough Abbey, where upon Maundy-Thursday, in our Lady’s Chapel, he washed and kissed the feet of fifty-nine poor men, “and, after he had wiped them, he gave every one of the said poor men twelve pence in money, three ells of good canvas to make them shirts, a pair of new shoes, a cast of red herrings and three white herrings, and one of these had two shillings.”

This ancient custom is now no longer observed, except in the Royal Chapel at Whitehall, where the poor still receive their gifts from the royal bounty.

Soon after the accession of King Alfonso to the throne of Spain, he performed the emblematic ceremony of washing the apostles’ feet, showing that the royal custom is not obsolete in Madrid, at least. A witness, after describing the preliminaries, says:

“Men and women in a compact mass of silk and velvet, broadcloth and gold lace, crowded the ‘Hall of the Columns,’ where the ceremony was to take place, the spectators, more than eight hundred of whom were ladies, standing all round, jammed upon benches, row upon row, leaving barely the most limited space open for the performers. Within this space the twelve paupers, or apostles, sat on a settee, each of them with his best foot and leg bare to the knee, and as well ‘prepared’ for the occasion as by dint of much soap and water could be contrived; the king in his grand uniform, with a towel tied around him, apron-wise, followed by Cardinal Moreno, Archbishop of Valladolid, in his scarlet robes and skull-cap, and behind and all around them a great staff of grandees and marshals, an array of golden uniforms only distinguishable from the no less sumptuous liveries of the court menials by the stars, crosses, cordons, and scarfs of their chivalrous orders. The cardinal went first, and sprinkled a few drops of perfumed water over each of the bare feet in succession; the king came after, kneeling before each foot, rubbing it slightly with his towel, then stooping upon it as if he meant to kiss it. The ceremony did not take many minutes. The twelve men then got up; they were marshalled in great pomp round the hall, and seated in a row on one side of the table, with their faces to the spectators, in the order observed in Leonardo da Vinci’s grand picture of the Last Supper.”

THE CUSTOM OF KISSING HANDS.

“Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the children

Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them.”

Evangeline.

Mr. D’Israeli, in his “Curiosities of Literature,” thus summarizes the historical notices of M. Morin, a French Academician, upon the custom of kissing hands:

“This custom is not only very ancient, and nearly universal, but has been alike participated by religion and society.

“To begin with religion. From the remotest times men saluted the sun, moon, and stars, by kissing the hand. Job assures us that he was never given to this superstition (xxxi. 27). The same honor was rendered to Baal (1 Kings xviii.). Other instances might be adduced.

“We now pass to Greece. There all foreign superstitions were received. Lucian, after having mentioned various sorts of sacrifices which the rich offered the gods, adds that the poor adored them by the simpler compliment of kissing their hands. That author gives an anecdote of Demosthenes which shows this custom. When a prisoner to the soldiers of Antipater, he asked to enter a temple. When he entered, he touched his mouth with his hands, which the guards took for an act of religion. He did it, however, more securely to swallow the poison he had prepared for such an occasion. Lucian mentions other instances.

“From the Greeks it passed to the Romans. Pliny places it amongst those ancient customs of which they were ignorant of the origin or the reason. Persons were treated as atheists who would not kiss their hands when they entered a temple. When Apuleius mentions Psyche, he says she was so beautiful that they adored her as Venus, in kissing the right hand.

“This ceremonial action rendered respectable the earliest institutions of Christianity. It was a custom with the primeval bishops to give their hands to be kissed by the ministers who served at the altar.

“This custom, however, as a religious rite, declined with paganism.

“In society our ingenious Academician considers the custom of kissing hands as essential to its welfare. It is a mute form which expresses reconciliation, which entreats favors, or which thanks for those received. It is a universal language, intelligible without an interpreter, which doubtless preceded writing, and perhaps speech itself.

“Solomon says of the flatterers and suppliants of his time, that they ceased not to kiss the hands of their patrons till they had obtained the favors which they solicited. In Homer we see Priam kissing the hands and embracing the knees of Achilles while he supplicates for the body of Hector.

“This custom prevailed in ancient Rome, but it varied. In the first ages of the republic it seems to have been only practised by inferiors to their superiors: equals gave their hands and embraced. In the progress of time, even the soldiers refused to show this mark of respect to their generals; and their kissing the hand of Cato when he was obliged to quit them was regarded as an extraordinary circumstance, at a period of such refinement. The great respect paid to the tribunes, consuls, and dictators obliged individuals to live with them in a more distant and respectful manner, and, instead of embracing them as they did formerly, they considered themselves as fortunate if allowed to kiss their hands. Under the emperors, kissing hands became an essential duty, even for the great themselves; inferior courtiers were obliged to be content to adore the purple by kneeling, touching the robe of the emperor by the right hand, and carrying it to the mouth. Even this was thought too free; and at length they saluted the emperor at a distance by kissing their hands, in the same manner as when they adored their gods.

“It is superfluous to trace this custom in every country where it exists. It is practised in every known country, in respect of sovereigns and superiors, even amongst the negroes and inhabitants of the New World. Cortez found it established at Mexico, where more than a thousand lords saluted him, in touching the earth with their hands, which they afterwards carried to their mouths.

“Thus, whether the custom of salutation is practised by kissing the hands of others from respect, or in bringing one’s own to the mouth, it is of all customs the most universal. M. Morin concludes that this practice is now become too gross a familiarity, and it is considered as a meanness to kiss the hand of those with whom we are in habits of intercourse; and he prettily observes that this custom would be entirely lost if lovers were not solicitous to preserve it in all its full power.”

UNDER THE MISTLETOE.

“The shepherd, now no more afraid,

Since custom doth the chance bestow,

Starts up to kiss the giggling maid

Beneath the branch of mistletoe

That ’neath each cottage beam is seen,

With pearl-like berries shining gay,

The shadow still of what hath been,

Which fashion yearly fades away.”

Clare.

The mistletoe, which has so many mystic associations connected with it, is believed to be propagated in its natural state by the missel-thrush, which feeds upon its berries. It was long thought impossible to propagate it artificially; but this object has been attained by bruising the berries, and, by means of their viscidity, causing them to adhere to the bark of fruit-trees, where they readily germinate and take root. The growth of the mistletoe on the oak is now of extremely rare occurrence, but in the orchards of the west-midland counties of England, such as the shires of Gloucester and Worcester, the plant flourishes in great frequency and luxuriance on the apple-trees. Large quantities are annually cut at the Christmas season, and despatched to London and other places, where they are extensively used for the decoration of houses and shops. The special custom connected with the mistletoe on Christmas Eve, an indubitable relic of the days of Druidism, handed down through a long course of centuries, must be familiar to all of our readers. A branch of the mystic plant is suspended from the wall or ceiling, and any one of the fair sex who, either from inadvertence, or, as possibly may be insinuated, on purpose, passes beneath the sacred spray, incurs the penalty of being then and there kissed by any lord of the creation who chooses to avail himself of the privilege.

SCANDINAVIAN TRADITION.

Balder, the Apollo of Scandinavian mythology, was killed by a mistletoe arrow given to the blind Höder by Loki, the god of mischief, and potentate of our earth. Balder was restored to life, but the mistletoe was placed in future under the care of Friga, and was never again to be an instrument of evil till it touched the earth, the empire of Loki. Hence is it always suspended from ceilings. And when persons of opposite sexes pass under it, they give each other the kiss of peace and love, in the full assurance that the epiphyte is no longer an instrument of mischief.

THE MISTLETOE.

Stout emblem of returning peace,

The heart’s full gush, and love’s release,

Spirits in human fondness flow,

And greet the pearly Mistletoe.

Many a maiden’s cheek is red

By lips and laughter thither led;

And fluttering bosoms come and go

Under the Druid Mistletoe.

Dear is the memory of a theft

When love and youth and joy are left;

The passion’s blush, the rose’s glow,

Accept the Cupid Mistletoe.

Oh, happy, tricksome time of mirth,

Giv’n to the stars of sky and earth!

May all the best of feeling know,

The custom of the Mistletoe!

Spread out the laurel and the bay,

For chimney-piece and window gay:

Scour the brass gear—a shining row,

And holly place with Mistletoe.

Married and single, proud and free,

Yield to the season, trim with glee;

Time will not stay—he cheats us, so—

A kiss?—’tis gone! the Mistletoe.

THE MISTLETOE IN AMERICA.

“Under the mistletoe-bough;”

Not in the far-away British Isles,

But here in the West it is glimmering, now,—

An exile from home of three thousand miles;

And the leaves are as darkly fresh and green,

And the berries as crisply waxen white,

As they show to-night, in so many a scene,

In Old England’s halls of light.

Quiet it hangs on the wall,

Or pendent droops from the chandelier,

As if never a mischief or harm could fall

From its modest intrusion, there or here!

And yet how many a pulse it has fired,

How many a lip made nervously bold,

When youthful revel went on, untired,

In the Christmas days of old!

The lover’s heart might be low,

And the love of his lady very high,

With no one her inmost heart to know,

Or the riddle to read of the haughty eye;

But under the mistletoe fairly caught,

What maiden coyness or pride could dare

To turn from the kisses as sudden as thought

And ardent as waiting prayer?

“C’est la première pas qui coûte!”

So they say, in another far-away land;

And, the one kiss given, more follow, as fruit,

As the dullest can easily understand;

And then, of the end to come, who knows,

Save the village bells, and the welcome priest,

And the sister-maidens, with cheeks like the rose,

Who assist at the bridal feast?

Methinks, if the shamrock green

Is the leaf so dear to an Irish heart,

To the mistletoe-berry’s silver sheen

England’s love has been owing no minor part;

And greenly its stiff-set leaves have twined

Round many a tenderest bridal nest,

Since that saddest of tales all hearts enshrined

In the lay of the “Old Oak Chest.”

What matter if centuries long

Have hidden a part of the mystery deep

That lay in the Druids’ re-echoing song,

When it glistened in Stonehenge’s mighty heap?

For enough still remains to make sure the truth

That it symbolled the great Perennial Good,

And they saw from its joints springing Endless Youth

That the force of the Ages withstood.

Little sprig from the mother-land!—

It is pleasant and cosy to have you here,

When the festive and lonely waiting stand

On the verge of their varying Christmas cheer.

Though we cannot transplant your pride of growth,

Any more than the hawthorn, wayward and coy,

You can give us, still, the Old English troth,

And a thought of Old English joy.

Ha! what? Do the leaves grow dim?—

Do the white waxen berries wither and fleet,

Ere even the notes of the Christmas hymn

Float in o’er the hush of the silent street?

But, even if so, may kind Heaven forefend

That the omen shall fade from heart or brow

Of that truth to lover, that fealty to friend,

Ever typed by the mistletoe-bough!

THE BLARNEY STONE.

In the year 1602, when the Spaniards were inciting the Irish chieftains to harass the English authorities, Cormac MacCarthy held, among other dependencies, the castle of Blarney, and had concluded an armistice with the Lord-President on condition of surrendering this fort to an English garrison. Day after day did his lordship look for the fulfilment of the compact, while the Irish Pozzo di Borgo, as loath to part with his stronghold as Russia to relinquish the Dardanelles, kept protocolizing with soft promises and delusive delays, until at last Carew became the laughing-stock of Elizabeth’s ministers, and Blarney talk proverbial.

A popular tradition attributes to the Blarney Stone the power of endowing whoever kisses it with the sweet, persuasive, wheedling eloquence so perceptible in the language of the Cork people, and which is generally termed Blarney. This is the true meaning of the word, and not, as some writers have supposed, a faculty of deviating from veracity with an unblushing countenance whenever it may be convenient. The curious traveller will seek in vain the real stone, unless he allows himself to be lowered from the northern angle of the lofty castle, when he will discover cover it about twenty feet from the top, with the inscription—Cormac MacCarthy fortis me fieri fecit, A.D. 1446.

As the kissing of this would be somewhat difficult, the candidate for Blarney honors will be glad to know that at the summit, and within easy access, is another real stone, bearing the date of 1703. A song published in the “Reliques of Father Prout” contains an allusion to this marvellous relic:

“There is a stone there,

That whoever kisses,

Oh, he never misses

To grow eloquent.

’Tis he may clamber

To a lady’s chamber,

Or become a member

Of Parliament.

“A clever spouter

He’ll sure turn out, or

An out-and-outer,

To be let alone!

Don’t hope to hinder him,

Or to bewilder him;

Sure he’s a pilgrim

From the Blarney Stone.”

THE BLARNEY STONE.

I.

In Blarney Castle, on a crumbling tower,

There lies a stone (above your ready reach),

Which to the lips imparts, ’tis said, the power

Of facile falsehood and persuasive speech;

And hence, of one who talks in such a tone,

The peasants say, “He’s kissed the Blarney Stone.”

II.

Thus, when I see some flippant tourist swell

With secrets wrested from an emperor,

And hear him vaunt his bravery, and tell

How once he snubbed a marquis, I infer

The man came back—if but the truth were known—

By way of Cork, and kissed the Blarney Stone!

III.

So, when I hear a shallow dandy boast

(In the long ear that marks a brother dunce)

What precious favors ladies’ lips have lost,

To his advantage, I suspect at once

The fellow’s lying; that the dog alone

(Enough for him!) has kissed the Blarney Stone!

IV.

When some fine lady—ready to defame

An absent beauty, with as sweet a grace—

With seeming rapture greets a hated name,

And lauds her rival to her wondering face,

E’en Charity herself must freely own

Some women, too, have kissed the Blarney Stone!

V.

When sleek attorneys, whose seductive tongues,

Smooth with the unction of a golden fee,

“Breathe forth huge falsehoods from capacious lungs,”

(The words are Juvenal’s,) ’tis plain to see

A lawyer’s genius isn’t all his own:

The specious rogue has kissed the Blarney Stone!

VI.

When the false pastor from his fainting flock

Withholds the Bread of Life,—the Gospel news,—

To give them dainty words, lest he should shock

The fragile fabric of the paying pews,

Who but must feel, the man, to grace unknown,

Has kissed,—not Calvary,—but the Blarney Stone?

Saxe.

KISSING THE POPE’S TOE.

Buckle, in his “History of Civilization in England,” says:

“Some questions had been raised as to the propriety of kissing the Pope’s toe, and even theologians had their doubts touching so singular a ceremony. But this difficulty has been set at rest by Matthew of Westminster, who explains the true origin of this custom. He says that formerly it was usual to kiss the hand of his Holiness, but that towards the end of the eighth century a certain lewd woman, in making an offering to the Pope, not only kissed his hand, but also pressed it. The Pope,—his name was Leo,—seeing the danger, cut off his hand, and thus escaped the contamination to which he had been exposed. Since that time, the precaution has been taken of kissing the Pope’s toe, instead of his hand. And, lest any one should doubt the accuracy of this account, the historian assures us that the hand, which had been cut off five or six hundred years before, still existed in Rome; and was indeed a standing miracle, since it was preserved in the Lateran in its original state, free from corruption. And, as some readers might wish to be informed respecting the Lateran itself, where the hand was kept, this also is considered by the historian, in another part of his great work, where he traces it back to the Emperor Nero. For it is said that this wicked persecutor of the faith on one occasion vomited a frog covered with blood, which he believed to be his own progeny, and, therefore, caused it to be shut up in a vault, where it remained hidden for some time. Now, in the Latin language latente means hidden, and rana means a frog; so that by putting these two words together we have the origin of the Lateran, which, in fact, was built where the frog was found.”

Punch, the London Charivari, who is no respecter of persons, and who strikes right and left with unhesitating freedom, levelled the following characteristic squib at Pius IX. during the famous Gladstone and Manning controversy:

“DE PROFUNDIS.”—A NEW VERSION.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Close prisoner kept within the Vatican;

What if ’tis a fair palace, if I don’t

Go free abroad—that is because I won’t!

Dry bread and water, such the prison food;—

Unless I choose to order all that’s good.

And then so poor—with Peter’s pence in pocket,

And treasury with friends and foes to stock it.

Besides, these felon’s garments forced to wear,

Of softest silk and costliest mohair;

And forced to brook, by rulers harsh and proud,

Th’ obsequious service of a servile crowd;

Crowding my halls, my cruel gaolers see

Waiting my orders upon bended knee!

And last, not least—for the severest blow—

My visitors are free to come and go,

To crave my blessing, and to kiss my toe!

THE BRONZE STATUE OF ST. PETER.

In “Pen-Pictures of Europe,” Elizabeth Peake says, speaking of St. Peter’s Church at Rome:

“In contrast with the beauty and grandeur of the interior is the insignificant-looking bronze statue of what they call St. Peter, seated in a chair of white marble. Some one remarked that it had been in ancient times a statue of Jupiter. ‘Jupiter,’ I exclaimed, ‘the Jupiter of the old Romans? Never!’ While I stood wondering at the unaccountable vagaries of mankind in general, and of artists in particular, and of the meaning of the word taste, several persons passed along and kissed the foot of the statue, the toes of which are actually worn away with kissing, and the big toe, what is left of it, looks bright as gold....

“Crowds of people were walking round in the nave, looking at the pictures and statues; crowds stood at the gate of the chapel, looking in through the gate and railing, listening to the music; and all grades filed along by the statue of St. Peter, kneeling, then rising and kissing his toe. The peasants wiped off the toe with their hands or sleeves, and then kissed it; others carefully wiped it with their handkerchiefs both before and after kissing it.”

A KISS FOR A VOTE.

In a little work published in London in 1758, entitled “A New Geographical and Historical Grammar,” we find the following paragraph concerning bribery and kissing:

“The ladies may think it a hardship that they are neither allowed a place in the Senate nor a voice in the choice of what is called the representative of the nation. However, their influence appears to be such in many instances that they have no reason to complain. In boroughs the candidates are so wise as to apply chiefly to the wife.[11] A certain candidate for a Norfolk borough kissed the voters’ wives with guineas in his mouth, for which he was expelled the House; and for this reason others, I suppose, will be more private in their addresses to the ladies.”

Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, gave Steel, the butcher, a kiss for his vote nearly a century since; and another equally beautiful woman, Jane, Duchess of Gordon, recruited her regiment in a similar manner. Duncan Mackenzie, a veteran of Waterloo, who died at Elgin, Scotland, December, 1866, delighted in relating how he kissed the duchess in taking the shilling from between her teeth to become one of her regiment,—the Gordon Highlanders, better known as the Ninety-second. The old Scottish veteran of eighty-seven has not left one behind him to tell the same tale about kissing the blue-eyed duchess in the market-place of Duthill.

The late Daniel O’Connell hit upon a novel mode of securing votes for the candidates he had named at a certain election, which test, considering the constitutional temperament of his countrymen, is said to have proved effectual. He said, in reference to the unfortunate elector who should vote against them, “Let no man speak to him. Let no woman salute him!”

FRENCH CHEAPENING AND DEGENERACY.

Montaigne, speaking of the gradual debasement of the custom in France in his time (1533-1592), says:

“Do but observe how much the form of salutation, particular to our nation, has by its facility made kisses, which Socrates says are so powerful and dangerous for stealing hearts, of no esteem. It is a nauseous and injurious custom for ladies, that they must be obliged to lend their lips to every fellow that has three footmen at his heels, how nasty or deformed soever; and we do not get much by the bargain; for, as the world is divided, for three pretty women we must kiss fifty ugly ones, and to a tender stomach like those of my age, an ill kiss overpays a good one.”

KISSING DANCES.

A correspondent of “The Spectator” (No. 67, an. 1711) having bitterly complained of the lascivious character of the dancing of the period, Budgell, in the course of his reply, remarks:

“I must confess I am afraid that my correspondent had too much reason to be a little out of humor at the treatment of his daughter; but I conclude that he would have been much more so had he seen one of those kissing dances, in which Will Honeycomb assures me they are obliged to dwell almost a minute on the fair one’s lips, or they will be too quick for the music and dance quite out of time.”

Long before, Sir John Suckling had said, in his “Ballad on a Wedding:”

“O’ th’ sudden up they rise and dance;

Then sit again, and sigh, and glance;

Then dance again, and kiss.”

While on this subject it may not be amiss to advert to a passage in the Symposium, or Banquet, of Xenophon, which Burton, in his “Anatomy of Melancholy,” quotes with his usual gusto:

“When Xenophon had discoursed of love, and used all the engines that might be devised, to move Socrates, among the rest, to stir him the more, he shuts up all with a pleasant interlude or dance of Dionysius and Ariadne: First Ariadne, dressed like a bride, came in and took her place; by-and-by Dionysius entered, dancing to the music. The spectators did all admire the young man’s carriage; and Ariadne herself was so much affected with the sight that she could scarce sit. After awhile Dionysius beholding Ariadne, and incensed with love, bowing to her knees, embraced her first, and kissed her with a grace; she embraced him again, and kissed him with like affection, as the dance required; but they that stood by and saw this did much applaud and commend them both for it. And when Dionysius rose up, he raised her up with him, and many pretty gestures, embraces, kisses, and love-compliments passed between them: which when they saw fair Bacchus and beautiful Ariadne so sweetly and so unfeignedly kissing each other, so really embracing, they swore they loved indeed, and were so inflamed with the object that they began to rouse up themselves, as if they would have flown. At the last, when they saw them still so willingly embracing, and now ready to go to the bride-chamber, they were so ravished with it that they that were unmarried swore they would forthwith marry, and those that were married called instantly for their horses, and galloped home to their wives.’”

KISSING HANDS IN AUSTRIA.

Kissing the hand is a national custom in Austria. A gentleman on meeting a lady of his acquaintance, especially if she be young and handsome, kisses her hand. On parting from her he again kisses her hand. In Vienna, a young man who is paying his addresses to a young lady, on taking his place at the supper-table around which the family are seated, kisses the mother’s hand as well as the hand of his affianced. It is very common to see a gentleman kiss a lady’s hand on the street on meeting or parting. If you give a beggar-woman a few coppers, she either kisses your hand, or says, “I kiss your hand.” The stranger must expect to have his hand kissed not only by beggars, but by chambermaids, lackeys, and even by old men. Gentlemen kiss the hands of married women as well as of those who are single, as it is regarded as an ordinary salutation or token of respect. American ladies are startled with the first experience of the application of this custom; but they soon submit to it with a good grace. Children, when presented to a stranger, take his hand and kiss it, showing that it is a custom to which they are educated from their cradles.

TEMPLAR INTERDICTION.

In “Ivanhoe” the Grand Master of the Templars is made to say:

——“Thou knowest that we were forbidden to receive those devout women who at the beginning were associated as sisters of our Order, because, saith the forty-sixth chapter, the Ancient Enemy hath by female society withdrawn many from the right path to paradise. Nay, in the last capital, being, as it were, the cope-stone which our blessed founder placed on the pure and undefiled doctrine which he had enjoined, we are prohibited from offering even to our sisters and our mothers the kiss of affection—ut omnium mulierum fugiantur oscula. I shame to speak—I shame to think—of the corruptions which have rushed in upon us even like a flood.”

POMPEIAN TOKENS.

Marc Monnier, in his “Wonders of Pompeii,” says that the latest excavations have revealed the existence of hanging covered balconies, long exterior corridors, pierced with casements frequently depicted in the paintings. There the fair Pompeian could have taken her station in order to participate in the life outside. The good housewife of those times, like her counterpart in our day, could there have held out her basket to the street-merchant who went wandering about with his portable shop; and more than one handsome girl may at the same post have carried her fingers to her lips, there to cull (the ancient custom) the kiss that she flung to the young Pompeian concealed down yonder in the corner of the wall. Thus re-peopled, the old-time street, narrow as it is, was gayer than our own thoroughfares; and the brightly-painted houses, the variegated walls, the monuments, and the fountains gave vivid animation to a picture too dazzling for our gaze.

ARABIAN SALUTATION.

Eastern salutations take up considerable time. When an Arab meets a friend, he begins, while yet some distance from him, to make gestures expressive of his very great satisfaction in seeing him. When he comes up to him, he grasps him by the right hand, and then brings back his own hand to his lips, in token of respect. He next proceeds to place his hand gently under the long beard of the other, and honors it with an affectionate kiss. He inquires particularly, again and again, concerning his health and the health of his family, and repeats, over and over, the best wishes for his prosperity, giving thanks to God that he is permitted once more to behold his face. All this round of gestures and words is, of course, gone over by the friend too, with like formality. But they are not generally satisfied with a single exchange of this sort: they sometimes repeat as often as ten times the whole tiresome ceremony, with little or no variation.

Some such tedious modes of salutation were common, also, of old; so that a man might suffer very material delay in travelling if he chanced to meet several acquaintances and should undertake to salute each according to the custom of the country. On this account, when Elisha sent his servant Gehazi in great haste to the Shunammite’s house, he said to him, “If thou meet any man, salute him not; and if any salute thee, answer him not again.” (2 Kings iv. 29.) So, when our Lord sent forth his seventy disciples, among other instructions, he bade them “salute no man by the way;” meaning that their work was too important to allow such a waste of time in the exchange of mere unmeaning ceremonies. (Luke x. 4.)

THE OLD ROMAN CODE.

This code defined with great accuracy the nature, limits, and conditions of the right of kissing, although we do not find that property of this nature holds a place among the incorporeal hereditaments of our laws. The Romans were very strict, and only near blood-relations might kiss the women of the family at all. The kiss had all the virtue of a bond granted as a seal to the ceremony of betrothing, in consequence of the violence done to the modesty of the lady by a kiss!

WEDDING-CEREMONY IN TURKEY.

In Turkey, negotiations for marriage are conducted by friends or relations, the parties in interest not being allowed to see each other. The bargain being concluded to their mutual satisfaction, preparations are made for the customary festivities.

About nine or ten o’clock in the evening the nuptial knot is tied,—the Imaam, or priest, placing himself in a short passage which leads between two rooms, respectively occupied by the bride and bridegroom, who neither see each other nor the priest during the ceremony. That functionary asks the bride if she will take the man to be her husband, whether he be blind, lame, etc. She replies yes, three times.

They are now man and wife, though as yet they have not gazed on each other’s features.

After the conclusion of the ceremony the festivities are resumed.

Meanwhile the bride is escorted by her female friends to the bridal chamber, where she is seated on an ottoman and left alone. Shortly after, the bridegroom makes his appearance. Discovering that his wife is still enveloped in her veil, he requests her to throw it aside, so that he can feast his eyes upon her beauty. This she coquettishly declines doing until he has become very earnest in his persuasions, when she discloses to him for the first time a view of her face.

After much persuasion on his part, and affected reluctance on hers, he at length succeeds in kissing her, and the curtain drops.

KISSING IN CHINA.

An American naval officer, who had spent considerable time in China, narrates an amusing experience of the ignorance of the Chinese maidens of the custom of kissing. Wishing to complete a conquest he had made of a young mei jin (beautiful lady), he invited her—using the English words—to give him a kiss. Finding her comprehension of his request somewhat obscure, he suited the action to the word and took a delicious kiss. The girl ran away into another room, thoroughly alarmed, exclaiming, “Terrible man-eater, I shall be devoured.” But in a moment, finding herself uninjured by the salute, she returned to his side, saying, “I would learn more of your strange rite. Ke-e-es me.” He knew it wasn’t “right,” but he kept on instructing her in the rite of “ke-e-es me,” until she knew how to do it like a native Yankee girl; and after all that, she suggested a second course, by remarking, “Ke-e-es me some more, seen jine Mee-lee-kee!” (Anglicé—American), and the lesson went on until her mamma’s voice rudely awakened them from their delicious dream.

Notwithstanding the alleged infrequency of the custom of kissing in the Chinese dominions, we learn, from the Chinese poems which have been so happily translated by Mr. G. C. Stent, that the people of far Cathay are quite as susceptible to the spell of physical beauty as the people of other lands, and that they know as well how to sing and flatter it. Take the following extract, for example:

“Bashfully, swimmingly, pleadingly, scoffingly,

Temptingly, languidly, lovingly, laughingly,

Witchingly, roguishly, playfully, naughtily,

Wilfully, waywardly, meltingly, haughtily,

Gleamed the eyes of Yang-kuei-fei.

When she smiled, her lips unclosing,

Two rows of pearly teeth disclosing;

Cheeks of alabaster, showing

The warm red blood beneath them glowing,—

Peaches longing to be bitten,

First dew-moistened, then sun-smitten.

Four lines Li-tai-pai has written

In more expressive words convey

What others might in vain essay:

‘Oh for those blushing, dimpled cheeks,

That match the rose in hue!

If one is kissed, the other speaks,

By blushes, Kiss me too!’”

NEW YEAR’S DAY IN NEW AMSTERDAM.

In Diedrich Knickerbocker’s veracious history of New York, we are told that New Year’s day was the favorite festival of the renowned governor Peter Stuyvesant, and was ushered in by the ringing of bells and firing of guns. On that genial day, says Mr. Irving, the fountains of hospitality were broken up, and the whole community was deluged with cherry brandy, true Hollands, and mulled cider; every house was a temple of the jolly god, and many a provident vagabond got drunk out of pure economy,—taking in liquor enough gratis to serve him half a year afterwards.

The great assemblage, however, was at the governor’s house, whither repaired all the burghers of New Amsterdam, with their wives and daughters, pranked out in their best attire. On this occasion the good Peter was devoutly observant of the pious Dutch rite of kissing the women-kind for a Happy New Year; and it is traditional that Antony the Trumpeter, who acted as gentleman usher, took toll of all who were young and handsome, as they passed through the antechamber. This venerable custom, thus happily introduced, was followed with such zeal by high and low that on New Year’s day, during the reign of Peter Stuyvesant, New Amsterdam was the most thoroughly be-kissed community in all Christendom.

The Trumpeter referred to by the humorous historian was Van Corlear, of whom, on the eve of a famous Dutch military campaign, it is said:

“It was a moving sight to see the buxom lasses, how they hung about the doughty Antony Van Corlear,—for he was a jolly, rosy-faced, lusty bachelor, fond of his joke, and withal a desperate rogue among the women. Fain would they have kept him to comfort them while the army was away; for, besides what I have said of him, it is no more than justice to add that he was a kind-hearted soul, noted for his benevolent attentions in comforting disconsolate wives during the absence of their husbands; and this made him to be very much regarded by the honest burghers of the city. But nothing could keep the valiant Antony from following the heels of the old governor, whom he loved as he did his very soul; so, embracing all the young vrouws, and giving every one of them that had good teeth and rosy lips a dozen hearty smacks, he departed, loaded with their kind wishes.”

Before leaving this lusty bachelor, who was such a “prodigious favorite” with the women, it may be noted that he is said to have been the first to collect that famous toll levied on the fair sex at Kissing Bridge, on the highway to Hellgate. The bridge referred to by Diedrich still exists, but the toll is seldom collected nowadays, except on sleighing-parties, by the descendants of the patriarchs, who still preserve the traditions of the city.

KISS-ME-QUICK.

Bartlett, in his “Dictionary of Americanisms,” tells us that the “Kiss-Me-Quick” is a home-made, quilted bonnet, which does not extend beyond the face. It is chiefly used to cover the head by ladies when going to parties or to the theatre. Sam Slick says, in “Human Nature:”

“She holds out with each hand a portion of her silk dress, as if she was walking a minuet, and it discloses a snow-white petticoat. Her step is short and mincing, and she wears a new bonnet called a kiss-me-quick.”

HUSKING-FROLICS.

That early American poet, Joel Barlow, in his famous poem, “The Hasty Pudding,” thus pleasantly refers to the New England husking bees:

“For now, the corn-house filled, the harvest home,

The invited neighbors to the husking come;

A frolic scene, where work, and mirth, and play

Unite their charms to chase the hours away.

Where the huge heap lies centred in the hall,

The lamp suspended from the cheerful wall,

Brown, corn-fed nymphs, and strong, hard-handed beaux,

Alternate ranged, extend in circling rows,

Assume their seats, the solid mass attack;

The dry husks rustle, and the corn-cobs crack;

The song, the laugh, alternate notes resound,

And the sweet cider trips in silence round.

The laws of husking every wight can tell,

And sure no laws he ever keeps so well:

For each red ear a general kiss he gains,

With each smut ear he smuts the luckless swains;

But when to some sweet maid a prize is cast,

Red as her lips, and taper as her waist,

She walks the round and culls one favored beau,

Who leaps the luscious tribute to bestow.

Various the sports, as are the wits and brains

Of well-pleased lasses and contending swains;

Till the vast mound of corn is swept away,

And he that gets the last ear wins the day.”

TAKING TOLL AT THE BRIDGE.

The old custom of “taking toll” has been humorously commemorated by the Belgian artist Dillens, in a painting of singular beauty. It was exhibited at the Paris International Exhibition in 1855, and purchased by the late Emperor of the French. The scene is in Zealand. A quiet summer evening invites the peasantry of the country to a stroll. Three couples, habited in Sunday or holiday costume, have in their walks reached a bridge. Whether or not it is a legal exaction that a toll must be enforced there, is little to the purpose, but one of a peculiar character is demanded, and is most willingly paid by the first pair who reach the spot: the buxom maiden, whose pleasant upturned face shows she has no reluctance to submit to the agreeable extortion, is quite as ready to pay the toll as her lover is to take it. Of course the example will be followed by their companions behind, though the two young men pretend to be quite unconscious of what is going on, and one of the females affects a look of surprise.

A BRAVE ICELAND GIRL.

Mr. Waller, in his interesting account of a visit to Iceland in 1872, gives us a very clear idea of some of the customs of the people, whom he found inconveniently hospitable. Among other incidents, he relates the following instance of native kindness and feminine courage:

“In the morning I made a small study, and, after a very tolerable meal and many good wishes, we rode off. All went well until we came to the river Markafljot, which happened to be very much flooded. Not liking to attempt to swim under the circumstances, we rode on down the bank for some miles, and fortunately found a house.

“Knocking at the door, we asked, ‘Is the river very deep?’

“‘Very,’ said a voice from the inside.

“‘Is there a man who will show us a ford?’ we asked again.

“‘No,’ was the reply; ‘both Jan and Olave are up in the mountains; but one of the girls will do quite as well. Here, Thora, go and show the Englishmen the way.’

“Immediately an exceedingly handsome young woman ran out, and, nodding kindly to me, went around to the back of the house, caught a pony, put a bridle on it, and, not taking the trouble to fetch a saddle, vaulted on his bare back, and, sitting astride, drove her heels into its sides and galloped off down the river-bank as hard as she could go, shouting for us to follow.

“We became naturally rather excited at such a display of dash on the part of such a pretty girl, and started off immediately in chase. But, though we did our utmost to catch her, she increased her distance hand over hand. There was no doubt about it,—she had as much courage as ever we could boast of, and in point of horsemanship was a hundred yards ahead of either of us.

“For about half a mile we rattled along, when suddenly she pulled up short on a sand-bank.

“‘You can cross here,’ she said, ‘but you must be careful. Make straight for that rock right over there, and when you have reached it you will be able to see the cairn of stones we built to show the landing-place.’

“‘All right,’ I said. ‘Good-by.’

“She looked puzzled for a moment, and then said, ‘I’ll come through with you: it will be safer.’

“‘Good gracious, Bjarni, don’t let her come!’ I said: ‘she is sure to be drowned, and I can’t get her out with all those wet clothes on. Tell her to go back.’

“But before I was half-way through the sentence, she had urged her horse into the water, and in a moment was twenty yards into the river. Of course we followed as quickly as possible, and after a great deal of splashing reached the middle of the flood. ‘Now,’ she said, bringing her horse up abreast with mine, and pointing with her whip, ‘there’s the mark.’ The water was running level with the horses’ withers, and it was only by lifting their heads very high that they could keep their noses clear.

“‘Good-by,’ she said; ‘God bless you,’ and, before I was quite aware of it, kissed me on the cheek.

“I was about to return the compliment, but she was gone; and, a few minutes after, we saw her, a mere speck in the distance, galloping over the plain.

“Kissing in Iceland is a custom similar to shaking hands here. I would have expected it in ordinary situations but a kiss in the midst of boundless waters was, to say the least of it, strange. It was certainly the wettest one I ever had in my life.”

PARAGUAYAN COMPULSION.

“Everybody in Paraguay smokes,” says a South American traveler, “and every female above the age of thirteen chews. I am wrong. They do not chew, but put tobacco in their mouths, keep it there constantly, except when eating, and, instead of chewing it, roll it about and suck it. Imagine yourself about to salute the red lips of a magnificent little Hebe, arrayed with satin and flashing with diamonds, as she puts you back with one delicate hand, while with the other she draws forth from her mouth a brownish-black roll of tobacco quite two inches long, looking like a monster grub, and then, depositing the savory lozenge on the brim of your sombrero, puts up her face and is ready for a salute. I have sometimes seen an over-delicate foreigner turn away with a shudder of loathing under such circumstances, and get the epithet of ‘the savage!’ applied to him by the offended beauty for his sensitive squeamishness. However, one soon gets used to this in Paraguay, where you are, perforce of custom, obliged to kiss every lady you are introduced to, and one-half you meet are really tempting enough to render you regardless of the consequences, and you would sip the dew of the proffered lip in the face of a tobacco-factory,—even in the double-distilled honeydew of Old Virginia.”

A NEW YORK DRUMMER’S PREDICAMENT.

At Big Creek, Arkansas, they have a peculiar fashion, which sometimes proves embarrassing. As there is no preacher within thirty miles, the way for marrying is by kissing across a table. Recently, a New York drummer who was there on business put up at a private house, and became quite intimate with the inmates. One evening he was fooling around one of the girls, and trying the sweetness of her temper, when she gave his whiskers a pull and ran. He followed. She got the table between them. He chased her around it several times. When out of breath, he stopped on the other side, and, making a wild plunge, caught her in his arms and gave her a hearty kiss. She then sat down on the sofa, and they talked pleasantly for a couple of hours,—he thinking it singular that she should sit up so late.

At last she said, “Don’t you think it’s about time we went to bed?”

“I guess you are right,” he remarked; “let’s go.”

She lit a candle, and he was about to do the same, when she said, “I reckon one’s enough. One candle will light two folks to bed.”

“Undoubtedly it would, when those two people occupy the same room. But your candle won’t illuminate my chamber.”

“Ain’t we going to occupy the same room? Ain’t we married?”

“Ain’t we what?” shouted the gentleman.

“Married! Didn’t you kiss me across the table? That married us.”

A cold sweat spread over the drummer. He saw in an instant that if he said he wasn’t married to her she would make an outcry, and then her loving and much-tobacco-consuming father would arise in his wrath and carve him into cutlets, and her brothers would bring down their shot-guns and empty the contents into him. He must be strategic. He must put her off. So he said:

“Fairest of your sex, permit me to remark that I did not know that kissing across the table constituted a marriage-ceremony. But I am content. I have never seen one who so completely filled my idea of a beautiful, sweet, loving, and modest woman. However, I would never think of holding you to this marriage until I had asked the permission of your father to pay my addresses to you. To-morrow, at dinner, when the entire family are present, I will propose for your fair hand.”

This satisfied the lady, and, after bestowing upon him a fervent kiss, she went to her room, and he went to his. He packed his carpet-bag, took off his boots, and made tracks for the nearest railroad-station. He didn’t feel entirely safe until he had reached St. Louis. He hasn’t informed his wife of this little adventure. He’s afraid she might write out to Arkansas for the facts in the case, and then he might get arrested for bigamy. Women sometimes won’t listen to reason, you know.

A DANGEROUS GAME.

“Drop the handkerchief” is a dangerous game. Desdemona dropped her handkerchief, and it cost her her life. Handkerchiefs have played a great deal of mischief. A handkerchief ruptured a Baptist church in Dedham, Mass. There was a church sociable in the chapel, and they “played plays,” and “drop the handkerchief” was one of the plays. We don’t remember just how it’s done, but they stand in a circle, promiscuously, and a lady, taking a handkerchief, walks around on the outside of the circle and drops the handkerchief behind one of the male persuasion, and he runs after her, or he don’t—we forget which—but, any way, if he catches her, or if he don’t—we forget which—he can kiss her. There is kissing about it, any way, whether he catches her or not, for “drop the handkerchief” would be no play with kissing left out. And “drop the handkerchief” is a real play, and when grown-up people play, kissing is the main part. So we know there is kissing in it; and the account of this Dedham affair says “the game involves kissing,” to which the Rev. Mr. Foster, pastor, took exception, and he declared “right out loud” that the “church was built for a house of God, and not for kissing-parties.” And one of the young men who was “involved” in the kissing-party even threatened to smite the parson, and the account says “the pleasure of the evening was destroyed,” and the Rev. Mr. Foster resigned his charge.

A QUESTION OF TASTE.

The Dunkards, at their national convention at Girard, Ill., discussed whether white members were bound to salute colored ones with the holy kiss. After mature deliberation, it was decided to be a matter of taste merely, and that, while those who chose to indulge in universal osculation, irrespective of race or color, should have full liberty to do so, no member should feel himself obliged to follow such example. The decision doubtless, it is said, lightened many anxious hearts. The Dunkards, or German Baptists, wear broad-brimmed hats, and fasten their shad-belly coats close up to the throat; wear no neck-ties, and never waste time in blacking their boots; consider buttons too much like jewelry, and tie up their clothes with strings; live frugally, and eschew cakes and sweets; work much, and spend little; never are wealthy, and yet have no poor among them; kiss promiscuously in public, and have no jealousies; never give the first word, and never answer back; regard ancient customs, and disregard the new; never hold office, and never take contracts.

THE LATTER-DAY KISS OF PEACE.

The members of the United Brethren Church, or “Church of God,” in Pennsylvania, observe the sacrament of feet-washing inculcated in the thirteenth chapter of St. John’s Gospel. The ceremony is thus described by a Pittsburg reporter:

“The front seats were entirely filled by men and women who desired to take part in the ceremony. The females, however, largely preponderated, and of both sexes there were probably twenty-five or thirty. The pastor partially filled two basins with water. The feet-washing was done by a man and woman, each of whom wore an apron in imitation of the girdle worn by Christ, and each, taking up a basin of water, washed one by one the feet of those of their own sex, the shoes and stockings as a matter of course having been taken off. Both feet were placed in the basin, and upon being taken out were wiped with the apron worn by the washer, whereupon the one performing the ceremony and the one submitting to it shook hands and kissed each other, there being no distinction at all made in the matter of sex, the men kissing each other as well as the women. While this peculiar ordinance was being attended to, the audience manifested the most eager and intense interest. People crowded forward in the aisles to get a good look at it, and so great was the curiosity of those occupying the back seats that many stood up on the benches for the purpose of getting a better view. During the performance of the ceremony the congregation sang, with unusual vigor,—

“‘This is the way I long have sought,

And mourned because I found it not.’”

NATIONAL DIFFERENCES.

An eminent English authoress was leaving an afternoon concert in London, when two old ladies from the country, finding that she was the writer of books that had delighted them, rushed up to her and begged permission to kiss her hand. The authoress blushed deeply, and began tugging at her tight-fitting glove. The glove was only withdrawn after a minute or two of effort, causing much embarrassment to the modest authoress. A French gentleman, who had witnessed the proceeding, remarked that if it had been George Sand she would instantly have thrown her arms around the old women and kissed each on both cheeks.

DETECTIVE UTILITY.

Some ungallant writers assert that in the desire of the ancients to test the sobriety of their wives and daughters, who it seems were apt to make too free with the juice of the grape, notwithstanding a prohibition to the contrary, originated a practice reprobated by Socrates the philosopher, Cato the elder, and Ambrose the saint, and lauded by lyrists and lovers from the beginning of time. The refinement of manners among the classic dames and damsels before mentioned was probably pretty much upon a par with that depicted in the “Beggars’ Opera,” when Macheath exclaims, after saluting Jenny Diver, “One may know by your kiss that your gin is excellent.”