FEATURE
THE ANGELIC PARDONS OF MORBIHAN “Attention!, Gardez-vous!” The second or so that it took to translate the shouts into “Look out!” was very nearly my last, as a large angel swept past my head far too close for comfort. As a one-time aerial photographer I have had my share of near misses, but obstructing an angel in its final approach.... well, I mean... ERIC HOULDER LRPS
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erhaps a few words of explanation may convince sceptical readers that this really did happen, though the fact that the angel was made of wood and plaster may possibly provide a touch of veracity to the tale. For well over twenty years, my wife and I were in the habit of spending August with relatives in Brittany; to be precise, the Morbihan Department that comprises the south western part of the province. Close to our pied a terre is the tiny hamlet of St Nicodème, and it was here that I first saw a poster advertising a forthcoming Pardon. My copy of the Michelin Guide Brittany, explained that a Pardon is an annual service in which local people, sometimes in traditional costume, meet to share a service followed by less religious celebrations including a meal. However, the poster mentioned the descent of an angel. This I had to see. Arriving early, I noticed a thick rope fastened high on the church tower with the other end fixed securely to a metal stake hammered into the tiny village green. Nearby, a bonfire of brushwood stood ready to light. Elsewhere in the village, drinks stalls alternated with others selling religious statuettes, and even toys. As the time of the service approached, priests led a procession of local parishioners many carrying banners and statues into the church. Benches had been placed outside for the overflow congregation to whom the service was relayed by loudspeakers. Intriguingly, several men appeared on the tower balcony and proceeded to hang an angel on the tensioned rope. The angel carried a rose in one hand and a lighted taper in the other and was supported upright by a heavy counter-weight below. At the conclusion of the service over an hour later, the procession reformed and headed directly towards the green. When all were gathered around, the priest said a few words, a signal gun was
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Notre Dame de La Houssay. The candlelit procession through the woods lit by flash. Minolta X500, 35-70mm lens, Fujichrome Provia 400.
fired and the angel sped down the rope carrying a lighted taper. Anxious for a good picture, I neglected to allow for the sag of the rope and came close to being brained! Meanwhile, the angel arrived at the bottom, the priest took the taper, and lit the bonfire. This was incredibly photogenic, especially to a Northern atheist from a C of E background. Not content with just one descent, the men at the base of the rope spun the angel around, waved to their colleagues on the tower, and it was hauled back up, to repeat the descent several times- minus taper – for the benefit of the visitors. Finally, everyone trooped off to a nearby paddock where a meal was being cooked by yet more dedicated locals. During the afternoon and evening, a Breton group played traditional music to which everyone, from toddlers to OAPs danced. Crêpes and drinks were being consumed beneath canopies, marquees, and under the stars, a gathering called Fest Noz, (pronounced ‘Fesh Noh’) which according to our very old Breton friend – since sadly departed translates to Night Feast. Almost thirty years on, little has changed. True,
