"Of a verity," retorts the basvalan, "a most respectable person; but it appears to us that she is past her festal time; we do not deny the merit of gray hair, especially when it is silvered by age and virtue; but we seek something far more precious. The maiden we demand is at least three times younger—try again—you can not fail to discover her from the splendor which her unequaled beauty sheds around her."
The brotaër then brings forth, in succession, an infant in arms, a widow, a married woman, and the bridesmaid; but the embassador always rejects the candidates, though without wounding their feelings. At last the dark-eyed blushing bride makes her appearance in her bridal attire.
The party then enters the house, and the brotaër, falling on his knees, slowly utters a Pater for the living, and a De Profundis for the dead, and demands the blessing of the family upon the young maiden. Then the scene, recently so joyous, assumes a more affecting character, and the brotaër is interrupted by sobs and tears. There is always some sad episode in connection with all these rustic but poetic festivals in Brittany. How many sympathies has not the following custom excited? At the moment of proceeding to church, the mother severs the end of the bride's sash, and addresses her: "The tie which has so long united us, my child, is henceforward rent asunder, and I am compelled to yield to another the authority which God gave me over thee. If thou art happy—and may God ever grant it—this will be no longer thy home; but should misfortune visit thee, a mother is still a mother, and her arms ever open for her children. Like thee, I quitted my mother's side to follow a husband. Thy children will leave thee in their turn. When the birds are grown, the maternal nest can not hold them. May God bless thee, my child, and grant thee as much consolation as he has granted me!" The procession is then formed, and the cavalcade proceeds to the parish church; but every moment it is interrupted in its progress by groups of mendicants, who climb up the slopes bordering the roads—which are extremely deep and narrow—to bar the passage by means of long briars, well armed with prickly thorns, which they hold up before the faces of the wedding party. The groomsman is the individual appointed to lower these importunate barriers; which he does by casting among the mendicants small pieces of money. He executes his commission with good temper, and very frequently with liberality; but when the distance is great, these fetters become so numerous that his duties grow exceedingly wearisome and expensive.
After the religious ceremony, comes the feast; which is one of the most incredible things imaginable. Nothing can give an idea of the multitude of guests, of all ages, and of each sex; they form a lively, variegated, and confused picture. The tables having been laid out the previous day, at the coppers, which are erected in the open air, all the neighbors, and the invited, who have any pretension to the culinary art, are ready with advice and assistance. It is curious to see them, in the blazing atmosphere of the huge fires, watching enormous joints of meat and other comestibles cooking in the numerous and vast utensils; nevertheless, however zealous they may be, there are few who do not desert their post when the firing of guns and the distant sound of the bagpipes announce the return of the wedding procession.
The newly married couple are at the head of the train, preceded by pipers, and fiddlers, and single-stick players, who triumphantly lead the way; the nearest relatives of the young pair next follow; then the rest of the guests without order, rushing on helter-skelter, each in the varied and picturesque costume of his district; some on foot, some on horseback, most frequently two individuals on the same beast, the man seated upon a stuffed pad which serves as a saddle, and the wife, with arm around his waist, seated upon the crupper;—an every-day sight, not many years ago, in the rural districts of England, when roads were bad, and the gig and taxed-cart uninvented. The mendicants follow at their heels by hundreds, to share the remnants of the feast.
As soon as the confusion occasioned by the arrival of such a multitude has subsided, the guests place themselves at the tables. These are formed of rough and narrow planks, supported by stakes driven into the ground, the benches constructed after the same fashion; and they are raised in proportion to the height of the tables, so that you may have your knees between your plate and yourself; if, in a real Breton wedding, you happen to be supplied with such an article—for a luxury of this description has not yet reached very far into Brittany: the soup is eaten out of a wooden bowl, and the meat cut up and eaten in the hand, or, as the phrase goes, "upon the thumb." Every individual, as a matter of course, carries his own case or pocket knife; the liquids are served in rude earthenware, and each drinks out of a cup apportioned to five or six individuals. It is the height of civility to hand one's cup to a neighbor, so that he may assist in emptying it; and a refusal would be considered extremely rude and insolent.
The husband and his immediate relatives are in waiting, and anticipate every one's wants and wishes—pressing each to take care of himself: they themselves share in no part of the entertainment, save the compliments which are showered, and the cups of cider and wine which civility obliges them to accept. After each course music strikes up, and the whole assembly rise from the tables. One party gets up a wrestling-match; the Bretons are as famous as their cousins in Cornwall at this athletic game—or a match at single-stick; another a foot-race, or a dance; while the dishes are collected together, and handed to the hungry groups of mendicants who are seated in adjoining paddocks. From the tables to rustic games, reels, gavottes, and jabadoos; then to the tables again; and they continue in this manner till midnight announces to the guests that it is time to retire.
The company having diminished by degrees, at length leave the groomsman and the bridesmaid the only strangers remaining, who are bound to disappear the last, and put the bride and bridegroom, with due and proper solemnity, to rest: they then retire singing "Veni Creator." In some districts they are compelled, by custom, to watch during the whole night in the bridal chamber; in others, they hold at the foot of the bed a lighted candle, between the fingers, and do not withdraw until the flame has descended to the palm of the hand. In another locality the groom's-man is bound during the whole long night to throw nuts at the husband, who cracks them, and gives the kernel to his bride to eat. The festivity which a marriage occasions generally lasts three days, and, on Friday, the youthful wife embraces the companions of her childhood and bids them farewell, as if she never meant to return. Indeed, from the period of marriage, a new life commences for the Breton, whose days of single blessedness have been days of festivity and freedom; and it would seem that when once the wedding-ring has been placed upon the finger, her only business is the care of her household—her only delight, the peace of her domestic hearth.