Chapter XII Religious Festivals and Pardons
Brittany has been called “the Land of Calvaries and Pardons.” This does not mean much to one who has never come under the spell of these strange sights and survivals, but it means a great deal to those who realize to the full the real significance of the devoutness and religious motives which inspire the Breton folk to worship God in a manner which, in the present age of disregard for the Christian religion of our forefathers, seems to be playing less and less a foremost part.
“Venez donc un tour au Pays de St. Yves.
..........
Au pays du Creizker finement dentelé.
Venez donc faire un tour au Pays de Calvaires,
Au Pays des Pardons mystiques et joyeux.”
So sang Theodore Botrèl in a charming series of verses written as an invitation to his fellow Frenchmen to know more of the ancient province of Brittany. Since Brittany is so very religious, the most devout of all the provinces of the France of to-day, the following account of the disposition of certain observances under the care of the state is apropos.
France is said to be Catholic, because the majority of the people profess Catholicism, which apparently answers their wants better than any other. As a matter of fact, however, there is the coëstablishment of four religions, all of which are recognized by the state and their ministers paid by the state. So, virtually, there are four state religions, if they can be so called. In truth, there is no religious head in France; neither the chief of state, the Archbishop of Paris (there are three other heads of religions, so manifestly one could not be chosen), nor the minister of public worship can be called upon to fill the office, hence there is no national religion, though the Roman Catholic faith predominates to-day as in the past.
Since we are concerned herein with Brittany alone, and since the Breton is accounted the most devoutly Catholic of all Frenchmen, it is enough to define the organization of the Roman Catholic religion alone, leaving the question of the Calvinists, the Lutherans, and the Israelites quite apart, as they exist not at all in Brittany as a factor of the local conditions of life.
The parish is the unit in the Catholic Church organization in France, as the commune is the unit in civil administration; the parishes are divided into curés and succursales.
The first class, which number forty-five hundred throughout France, have for their pastor a priest who is immovable, nominated by the bishop with the approval of the government. The second class have a pastor who is nominated by the bishop, but who can be removed or replaced. The parish priest may have one or more assistants. Above the parish priest in rank is the bishop.
In general the bishoprics correspond with the departments, though there are eighty-four dioceses and but sixty-seven bishops, the archbishops of the “ecclesiastical provinces”—which often include several departments and dioceses—making up the number.
In Brittany the Departments of Ille-et-Vilaine, Côtes du Nord, Finistère, Morbihan, and Loire-Inférieure have a bishopric, with an archbishopric at Rennes.
The bishops are nominated by the chief of the state, but are invested canonically by the Pope. They are assisted by vicars-general, who undertake the administrative functions of the diocese. The canonical chapter of the cathedral, the diocesan seminary, and all other seminaries are under the authority of the vicar-general.
Above the bishops are the archbishops, who administer to the wants of their diocese in the same way as the bishops, and, in addition, preside at all provincial councils, ordain the bishops, and in general have a certain jurisdiction over the bishoprics of their sees.
The ecclesiastical provinces, as the great administrative districts of the Church are known, correspond to-day, in a great part, to the ancient provinces of the Roman epoch in Gaul, as the bishoprics themselves correspond with the ancient cities and towns.
Higher up even than the archbishops are the cardinals, nominated by the Pope with the concurrence of the head of the French nation. To-day there are five cardinals in France, all being titularies of one of the Roman churches and members of the Sacred College which elects the Pope.
Those who know Brittany will recognize as the foremost trait and characteristic of the people their devotion to religious forms and ceremonies.
It has been said that by nature the Bretons are conservative. This is indeed true enough, but they are something more, they are superstitious, not only with regard to certain phases of their religion, but also with respect to many of their local customs, which have naught to do with religion. It is said that belief in witchcraft still endures, and certain it is that folk-lore and fairy-lore are, in some parts, quite as much of the life of the people as is the case in the bogs of Ireland. The Celtic imagination, which is the same in both instances, doubtless accounts for this. What the Bretons really are, or have been, though they have not often been accused of it, is pagan,—at least some of them are. It was only in the seventeenth century that the pagan cult—as a body of magnitude—was suppressed. This again was a survival, of course, from the barbarous rites and practices of the druids, which indeed were the same elsewhere, so it need not be laid up against the Bretons alone.
Probably those vast colonies of megalithic monuments at Carnac, and their orphaned brothers and sisters scattered elsewhere throughout Brittany, did much to keep the flames aglow on pagan altars, and even to-day it is easy to perceive with what awe and veneration the simple-minded Breton peasant regards these weird survivals of other days. At any rate, Breton religion to-day is a devotion to many forms and ceremonies.
Brittany has been called the land of pardons (pays des pardons). Every one knows of these great Breton festivals and of their significance. If one travel between May and October, scarcely a week will pass without his falling unawares upon one or another of these great sacred fêtes.
All Bretons do not give to these rites the sacred regard with which they were originally intended to be endowed. Decidedly they have been profaned only too often, and at times there is a little too much license. The Breton pardon is by no means to be thought of in the same manner as the kermess of Flanders, which is a merrymaking pure and simple, with not even a side-light of religion thrown upon it.
The five great pardons of Brittany are held each year as follows:
“The Pardon of the Poor,” at St. Yves; “The Pardon of the Singers,” at Rumengol; “The Pardon of the Fire,” at St. Jean du Doigt; “The Pardon of the Mountain,” at Troménie de St. Ronan; “The Pardon of the Sea,” at Ste. Anne de la Palude.
It is a moot question as to just how much of romance is in the make-up of the Breton character. Emotional the people are, but the emotion that leads them into the enthusiasm which they exhibit at their great religious festivals and pardons is more superstitious than romantic.
The druidism, or paganism, or whatever the religion (sic) of the ancient peoples of the Armorican peninsula may have been, bears not the least traditional resemblance to the fervour of the devotees of the pardons of to-day, but one can readily believe that the same spirit, if with a different motive, does exist even now.
The blessing of the boats, the birds, the cows, and what not, which takes place periodically at different points along the Breton coast,—for it is mostly along the coast that these observances take place,—smacks not a little of something that is of more psychological purport than mere religious devotion.
From whatever tradition these great religious observances have descended, there is no question of the sincerity of the participants, though there is a wide difference between the “sacred” and “profane” elements which meet on these occasions.
Brittany, perhaps as much as any other of the ancient provinces of France, has preserved its local customs and traditions, unblushingly indifferent to the changing conditions round about them. Of course there is no reason why religion and its observances should change with the march of time, but they do, nevertheless, in France as much as in any other land. Only in Brittany, apparently, do the congregations of men and women—for elsewhere the congregations are mostly women—of great churches approach to anything like the numbers that the churches were built to contain.
Throughout this land of calvaries, too, there will be found at all times of the day, and often at night, a tiny congregation of one, two, or perhaps a half a dozen, peasant or fisher folk kneeling before one of these wayside crosses, and invoking their God after the manner they have been taught, in a truly devout and sincere fashion, which is more than can be said of some parts, where the peasant, when on a visit to town on the market-day, rushes in and out of a church with hardly time enough devoted to the whole process even to have used the holy water.
Brittany may be a poor and impoverished province, and in many respects it has not the abundance of the good things of life which one finds in Touraine, Burgundy, or the Midi, but there is a general air of prosperity in the gay accoutrements of the men and women who shine forth on the occasions of the great pardons, showing a snug wardrobe stowed away somewhere.
As one leaves Normandy, at Pontorson, he enters Brittany—the land of calvaries. These fine monuments are not the calvaries which have made the old province famous,—the great stone crosses of Finistère,—but are for the most part unpretentious pieces of wood put together in the form of a cross, or a like symbol, rudely hammered out of a piece of iron by the local blacksmith.
One notes many of these simple crosses throughout Brittany; simple as compared with the more elaborate calvaries, though they may have one, two, or even more sculptured figures in the arms or branches of the cross. One of the most ancient of these, dating from the fourteenth or fifteenth century, is at Scaër in Finistère.
It is a question as to whether any of the great monumental calvaries of Brittany can be considered really artistic. They are imposing,—some of them even terrifying in their strange grandeur,—but all of them seem theatrical, however sincere and devout the motive for their erection may have been. The chief and most elaborate examples are those at Plougastel, near Brest, and St. Thégonnec in Finistère (dating from 1610).
Besides these really great and celebrated functions are many others of minor purport, such as the “Benediction of the Boats” and the “Benediction of the Fields.” The latter occurs when the caterpillars and earthworms fall upon and ravage the land. The local curé, with the permission of the bishop, then blesses the fields. In the midst of the fields the curé takes up his position on some slight eminence, clad in a white surplice, with a violet stole, and begs God to exterminate the noxious insects, the prayers meanwhile being accompanied with the sprinkling of holy water and burning of incense.
The Pardon of St. Jean du Doigt, on the twenty-second of June, is perhaps the most solemn of all its species, and for that reason is described here.
The Pardon of St. Yves, in the Tregarris, of Rumengol and Ste. Anne de la Palude, in Finistère, are especially religious and severe, while that of Notre Dame de la Clarté, in the Morbihan, has the double purpose of homage to Our Lady and the facilitating of marriage.
Here the young peasants in search of a spouse promenade around the church, and when they have made their choice they address the young lady and ask her if she will accept the gift; the boy having meanwhile bought a large round cake. “Will mademoiselle break the cake with me?” says he. If she accept, they consider themselves as engaged, after which their families meet together and discuss the conditions of the marriage.
At Creac’higuel, near Rosporden, the pardon endures for three days, and here one sees the wonderful ’broidered waistcoats and collarettes and beribboned hats of the young men of Pont Aven, Quimperlé, and Scaër, unique in all Brittany.
In July, at Guingamp, is the procession to Our Lady of Good Help, with the inevitable salute of firearms, and a torchlight procession of ten or twelve thousand pilgrims—and some others who are merely profane lookers-on.
The “Benediction of the Sea” at Concarneau, Douarnenez, Trébone, and many other seacoast villages and hamlets, is another religious manifestation which is always attractive to the curious.
At the pardon of St. Jean du Doigt the precious relic of the saint is guarded before the high altar of the church by an abbé clad in his surplice and holding in his hand the precious finger enveloped in fine linen. One by one the faithful pass before the abbé and touch, for an instant, the sainted relic.
Near the choir, another cleric holds aloft the skull of St. Mériadec, before which the pilgrims bow their heads as they pass. Before leaving the church, in response to the call, “Dour ar bis! Dour ar bis!” sung in a strident Celtic voice, the pilgrims repair to a fountain attached to the side wall, in which the finger has previously been bathed at the end of a gold chain. Immediately this operation is over, the devout plunge their palms deep into the sanctified water and vehemently rub their eyes. Then the pardon is finished, and the profane festivity begins.
“Whence come you?” was asked of a happy family of three at St. Jean du Doigt. “From St. Jean-Brevelay,” they replied, mentioning a village a hundred kilometres away, in Morbihan. “We have walked three suns and three moons,”—which sounds like the American Indian’s method of reckoning by moons, but which in this case meant merely that they had been on the road three days and three nights.
The little Church of St. Jean du Doigt offers complete and perfect example of what a village church should be. The building itself is surrounded by the churchyard, with its monumental portal, or triumphal arch, as it is always called hereabouts, its sacred fountain, its calvary, its ossuary, and its open-air oratory for the celebration of the mass for the pilgrims.
The triumphal arch is a great fifteenth-century gateway surmounted by two niches containing two ancient Gothic statues, one of St. John the Baptist, and the other of St. Roch.
With the coming of twilight, when the mists roll in from the sea, the silhouetted couples (lovers), following the ancient custom, promenade arm in arm, or rather hand in hand, each holding the other by the little finger, in deference to the finger of St. John.
When the darkness has actually fallen, the bonfires flame out on the far-away sands, the light reflected in the waves in truly eerie fashion, and so the great day of pardon and festival departs into the past.
Chant and song play a great part in all these religious festivals, not only the officiating priests, but the public singing. These religious chants seem to give rise to others less devout, of which the two following are typical.
If one is in South Finistère on the occasion of the celebration of the “Pardon of the Singers,” he will hear the following lines sung tumultuously by the local swains:
“Entre Brest et Lorient
Leste, leste,
Entre Brest et Lorient
Lestement.
“Les gabiers de la misaine
Sont des filles de quinze ans.
Entre Brest et Lorient
Leste, leste.”
At the “Pardon of the Sea,” in the Paimpol country, one hears these sombre words:
“Tais-toi! tais-toi! maîtresse exquise!
Je vois ma mort dans l’eau.”
The great extent to which the Breton people carry their respect and devotion to religious ceremony of all sorts is no better exemplified than in the observance of the Miz-dus (the black months, or the mourning months) by those who have banded themselves together and formed a sort of “cult of the dead.” In reality, however, it is merely a mourning for the departed, by the widows or mothers of the fishermen and sailors.
In November, when the Miz-dus begin, widows in most picturesque, though sombre, costumes are continually met with in the Morbihan, and such seacoast towns as Ploubazlanec, Portz—even (where there is a “widows’ cross,” quite the most frequented shrine of all) Saint Cast, on the coast of the Channel, or at Pontivy.
Anatole le Braz, in the “Legend of the Dead,” has written a complete history of the funeral superstitions which obtain in Brittany at this season.
The “Cult of the Dead,” as it is known, is unique among similar observances in all France. Virtually it is a display of devotion and respect for one’s ancestors. In the rural and seacoast parishes of Morbihan, Finistère, and the Côtes du Nord the custom is found most highly developed.
The little cemeteries of Brittany are better than mere formal gardens with rectangular walks and well-clipt trees and hedges. Mostly, they have winding little alleys, and are set out with apple-trees and wild-flowers.
In downright bad taste, these cemeteries, in common with most others in France, have an abundance of wire and bead memorial wreaths and crowns. Why it is that the French, with their usually highly developed artistic sense, affect these artificialities, is a question to which no one has had the temerity to devise an answer.
At Ploubazlanec, a tiny village settled upon a cliff overlooking the Bay of Paimpol, are the funeral monuments of many who have lost their lives by drowning in a frozen sea, as you will be told.
In 1901, three ships from these parts disappeared, crew and cargo, following the sinister local expression, in the cold waters off Iceland, whither the little fleet had gone for the fishing. In the cemetery, in the side of the mortuary chapel, is a section known as “the wall of those who disappeared,” and here you may read, many times repeated, such inscriptions as the following:
“En Mémoire de Gilles Brézellec, 17 ans, décédé à Islande.
En Mémoire de Jean-Marie Brézellec, 16 ans, décédé à Islande.
En Mémoire de Yves Brézellec, 37 ans, décédé à Islande.
Priez Dieu pour eux!”
A whole family shattered and broken up, leaving perhaps a wife and an old mother dependent upon charity, or such a scanty living as can be picked up intermittently.
At Kérity, also, is an Icelanders’ cemetery, and here one may read the names, beginning with that of the captain, of the crew of twenty, all hailing from the home port of Kérity, who were lost in the white fiords of Iceland in another catastrophe.
Nowhere in the known world is there anything like the wholesale risk of life which goes on yearly from the ports of Finistère and the Côtes du Nord, unless it be that among the American fishermen on the Grand Banks, hailing from Gloucester, on Massachusetts Bay.
If the visitor to Brittany has not yet made the acquaintance of the heroes of Loti’s “Iceland Fishermen,” he should do so forthwith, for it was at Ploubazlanec that the great Yann Gaos was interred, and near him reposed his father and little Sylvestre.
The Celtic spirit of the modern Breton has preserved the legend or superstition of “An-Ankou,” the spirit of death. In many villages one may interrogate a peasant or a fisherman, who will affirm that it is “Ankou” who leads the way for the funeral-car and who waits at the grave to carry the soul of the departed away with him after the others have left.
Among the superstitious signs which presage the coming of the “Ankou” are, a ball of fire, which rests upon the tiles of the roof over the stricken one,—a most unlikely thing, one would think,—the theft of grain by crows, the tapping of a window-pane by the beak of a sea-bird, the prolonged bellowing of cattle by the light of the moon, a candle which will not light, or for a peasant to split or cleave two pairs of wooden shoes in one week.
The End