It is romantic to think about it, but the vacation of the Catholic Monarchs in the castle of Fuensaldaña (Valladolid) was not a honeymoon. Nor the trip of Charles I and Isabel of Portugal to Granada, although it is more similar. Rather, they were complying with an ancient tradition that was already practiced in the fertile crescent, back at the dawn of civilization, and which consisted of giving the newlyweds some time – preferably, a month, because that is how long the menstrual cycle lasts. – to make their marriage productive.
The first antecedent of this practice does not appear until the beginning of the 19th century, when what they called “wedding tour” became fashionable among the upper class of the United Kingdom, which was not a getaway to a vacation spot, but a visit to relatives. who had not been able to attend the wedding. Soon the custom would become popular on the continent, especially in France, where they called it “voyage à la façon anglaise” (English-style journey).
This did not become a stricto sensu honeymoon trip, that is, one in which the couple goes alone, and with no other objective than to relax, until conditions allowed it. We are referring to the third half of the 19th century, when, hand in hand with the second Industrial Revolution, technologies appeared that completely transformed transportation and brought the world closer (railway, telegraph, automobile, etc.). Honeymoon trips, like tourism, were one of the novelties of that era characterized by optimism and faith in progress, the belle époque, in French coinage.
Of course, at first they were exclusive to the upper class, and became universal with the rise of the middle class, a few decades ago. In Spain, it is enough to compare the trips of the grandchildren, who have already been able to visit exotic countries, with those made by their grandparents, if they made them at all.
And what is the etymology of this expression, of this unexpected metaphor contained in the words “moon” and “honey”? The first, as we said, coincides with the woman’s menstrual cycle, and the second would point to the fact that since ancient times it has been believed that it had invigorating and aphrodisiac properties. In a convoluted way, this could refer to a very ancient ritual that, curiously, has been practiced in very different places and times, but in a similar way.
In ancient Mesopotamia, during the month following the marriage, the bride’s father had the obligation to provide the son-in-law with all the mead (alcoholic drink made from fermented water and honey, the oldest liquor in history) that he desired, and they did something similar in ancient Rome, although there the provider was the mother of the bride, and it was made with plain honey or with a ferment of must and honey, mulsum.
The custom survived the fall of the Empire, especially in northern Europe, where the harsh climate made vine cultivation impossible and mead was therefore more popular. The Germanic peoples usually celebrated weddings on full moon days, so that the ritual lasted exactly until the next full moon.
That the expression has something to do with all this is just a theory, of course, since it is already known that the paths of phraseology are unfathomable. There are some who believe that it comes from marriages by kidnapping, a practice that dates back to prehistory and which consisted of the interested party kidnapping the bride for a period of time, the minimum to get her pregnant (which used to be, again, a month, that is, one moon).
Be that as it may, what is clear is that “honeymoon” is a loanword from the English “honeymoon”. It is also curious that in that language, honey can also be used as an affectionate vocative, similar to “affection” in Spanish.
At first it meant just that, an affectionate month (the first known text in which it appears like this is from 1546), and it was not until the 19th century when it began to be used to refer to the honeymoon. Shortly after, “honey moon” was translated into Spanish literally, as well as into French.
We end up with a paradox that the English lexicographer Richard Huloet already warned about in his Abcedarium Anglico-Latinum pro Tyrunculis (1552). Just as the moon waxes, it wanes, so the phrase could also be a sad metaphor for a preamble to passionate love, before monotony comes into play.
In The Wisdom of Nations, the Catalan Joaquim Vicenç Bastús (1799-1873) echoed an old Spanish saying copied from Arabic: “The first moon after marriage is honey, and those that follow are absinth, or bitter, like acibar.”
It’s a very cynical way of looking at marriage. We are left with those lyrics that Sabina sang: “May all nights be wedding nights. / May all moons be honeymoons.”
