The people of Brittany have given many proud names to the places in which they have settled. The islands of Terre-Neuvas take their named from Terre-Neuve, or Newfoundland, where vast stocks of cod were discovered in the 16th century. It was not until a century later that a proper trade route was established between Newfoundland and Europe, carefully navigated by the experienced mariners of Saint-Malo. Cod fishing would become the source of the Brittany town’s vast fortune. On the morning before one of its great ships left port, on an eight-month sea journey to Terre-Neuvas and back, the cabin boy would walk around the boat, calling out an invitation: “To prayer, fore and aft, keel to sternpost – awaken ye who sleep!” The cabin boy was a young apprentice sailor, and a part of the family aboard any fishing boat. Then, he would go down and light a candle for the Lord, crying out: “The Lord’s candle is lit. May the trade winds blow in the name of the Lord. May fair weather shine upon the captain’s face, and good winds drive our ship, God-willing.” Then the oldest sailor, known as the “priest”, would speak this prayer aloud:
“Vierge Sainte exaucez-nous (Holy Virgin, forgive us our sins)
Notre espoir est tout en vous (All our hope is in you)
Notre-Dame de la Garde (Our Lady of the Guard)
Today, sailors were departing from all over Brittany on one such long voyage. The cod fishing trade was so lucrative that even after five centuries, the sector still employed several thousand people. It set the pace of life in Saint-Malo, and all around the bay of Saint-Brieuc, from the coast to the countryside where sailors were recruited. They left on the fishing boats in March, and returned in September. Before their departure, they feasted and drank. Cod fishing fuelled fear and faith, for while the ocean could offer a peaceful and meditative vision of creation, it was also a source of terrible peril. For the sailors, the sight of angry seas appeared as an unnatural, metaphysical phenomenon. The waves and the ocean depths were the abode of Lucifer and his restless acolytes. The ocean was a feared and fearsome place, but one that must be traversed in order to feed the body and save the soul. For this reason, fishermen had developed many of their own methods for keeping peace with the ocean, indiscriminately blending pagan and Christian rituals, seeking to sanctify the spaces in which they lived, worked, prayed – and often, died. Across the French coastline, every fishing port had its own mariner’s blessing, and these spiritual processions would often attract large crowds.
The people of Saint-Malo gathered at the port at the call of the local priest, beneath a mist of salty rain and the whiff of a sea breeze. The boat sails flapped against the cloudy sky. All the ships and fishing trawlers would receive divine protection. The children bore flags and banners depicting the sea, and sometimes wooden replicas of fishing boats. The sailors’ wives would organise a treasure hunt, whose prize was donated to the work of the parish and the sailors’ emergency relief fund. After their departure, the inhabitants of Saint-Malo began a procession toward the church to celebrate mass. There they would receive the holy bread and brioche cut into slices, handed out by closely observed sacristan women. The most moving part of the ceremony was the end, when the inhabitants of Saint-Malo sang in chorus to the Holy Virgin:
“Most worthy mother of God,
Be our protector,
Watch over us, wherever we may roam.”
Alan Alfredo Geday
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