A DANISH PEASANT WEDDING
KAREN'S fair skin was tanned so many shades darker than her flaxen
locks that Valdemar and Karl hardly knew her. Far down on the
delightful _Vesterhavet_,[24] on the sandy little island of Fanö, she
had spent the happy summer-time with her mother and Aunt Amalia, first
at the seashore, and later on the great farm of Peder Sörensen, near
Nordby, where, most of the time, she had played out of doors in the sun
and wind.
The merry harvest season had passed soon after Valdemar and Karl had
arrived. They remembered how the harvesters had laid aside the last
sheaf, decorated it with flowers and ribbons, and carried it in
procession. Then had followed the great _Höst Gilde_, or Harvest Feast,
a very festive function when sturdy men and rosy-cheeked maidens danced
hand-in-hand.
Then, later, in the same beautiful month of October, had followed
another folk-festival, and Mortin's Day,[25] when in the evening
everybody ate "Mortin's Goose," stuffed with boiled apples and black
fruit.
Sometimes, on some of the children's many trips over to play on the
beach by the West Sea, they had brought back pieces of amber washed up
by the water. Karl found some pretty big pieces to add to his rapidly
growing collection of Danish souvenirs, which now included not only the
coral specimens, sea-gull's eggs and wing-feathers, but Fanö amber,
and, best of all, Uncle Thor's gift of the great white envelope and
letter from the Royal Palace.
Peder Sörensen was not a farmer himself. Like most of the men of
Fanö, he was a sailor. It was the Fanö wives who, in their picturesque
though rather unbecoming dress, cultivated the land, drove the cattle
to pasture and the sheep to graze among the sand-hills, and it was they
who milked the fine "Red Danish" cows at night, and made the far-famed
"Best Danish" butter, with which they welcomed home their seafaring
husbands.
Fru Anna Sörensen, who had studied farming and dairying at the
Agricultural College, always presented a neat and attractive appearance
in her dark blue dress with its one note of bright color down around
the very hem, and her quaint red and blue kerchief head-dress, with
its inevitable loose ends, which Valdemar graphically described as
"rabbit's ears."
All the women of Fanö dressed just so, except, of course, upon some
great occasion like Lowisa Nielsen's wedding, which was to take place
in November.
Almost before they knew it, the short summer had flown, and November,
with its cool, bright days, had come, bringing Lowisa Nielsen's wedding
invitation, which the _Bydemand_,[26] in white trousers, topboots, and
a nosegay in his buttonhole, carried over to the Sörensens on horseback.
For propriety's sake, Fru Sörensen allowed him to knock a second time
before opening the door, then politely asked him within.
"Greetings from the father and mother, and Lowisa, to yourself, your
husband and guests," he began, as he took the proffered seat. "Your
presence is truly desired at the wedding on Thursday next at ten
o'clock. Come early, accompany the bridal party to the church, and hear
their marriage service, return with them for dinner, remain for supper,
then amuse yourselves with dancing and games the whole night; and then
come again the next day, and take your places from the first day, and
they will be sure to do the same for you when wanted from choice, on
some enjoyable occasion."
This unique invitation being delivered, the _Bydemand_ arose as if
to go, but Fru Sörensen, with Danish hospitality, and according to
an old custom, quickly produced a flagon of home-brewed beer, and a
raisin-decorated wheaten cake, which she offered him.
As he finished the flagon and was about to leave, he turned at the door
to add, as though an afterthought: "Then you must not forget to send a
convenient amount of butter, eggs, a pail of fresh milk and two jars of
cream."
"I will gladly," replied Fru Sörensen, as he departed.
On the wedding morning, at the appointed time, Fru Anna Sörensen and
her guests, Fru Ingemann, Mrs. Hoffman, and the children, who had
never seen a peasant wedding before, drove over to the great Nielsen
_Bonnegaard_,[27] passed through the massive stone gateway, and into
the open courtyard. They were graciously received by Fru Nielsen, and
seated with the other guests upon wooden benches ranged around the
walls of a spacious family apartment, whose polished rafters converged
into a sharp-spiked peak at the centre.
Lowisa, a fair-haired, blue-eyed Danish peasant maiden, to-day
looked unusually attractive, decked out in bridal array,--a pretty
but tight-fitting homespun, escaping the floor all around by several
inches. From Lowisa's richly gold-embroidered, tall scarlet cap, or
"hood," as the Danes call it, hung pendent innumerable brilliant
ornaments--round balls of metal and other fantastic dangles, all waving
and twinkling as she moved. Extending from the back were vast bows and
streamers of scarlet ribbon, under which she wore a head-dress of very
rare and delicate lace. And the filmy white fichu, which crossed over
her bosom, disclosed a rounded throat, circled by a bangle necklace of
gold and silver coins.
As soon as the last guest had arrived, the whole party was driven over
to the church,--the bride and her family in the forward "rock-away,"
the bridegroom in the next, then, in another, a band of rustic
musicians, who, as soon as all the guests were seated in the different
vehicles, struck up a lively air.
At the proper moment, the bridegroom, young Nils Rasmussen, a
fine-looking fellow of true Saxon type, took his position beside Lowisa
at the altar.
On returning to the house, the little church party was met by an eager,
expectant company of guests, who had been invited to join them for
the wedding-dinner. The bridal couple took their places at the middle
of the cross-tables, which were arranged to form a square, after
the fashion of ancient banquet tables, and, when all the guests were
seated, the serving-maids brought in great bowls of steaming rice, and
placed four to each table, deftly dividing the contents of each into
as many sections, by making deep cross-shaped indentures, into which
they sprinkled cinnamon and sugar and poured a cupful of hot butter.
Then each guest, four to a bowl, lifted his spoon, dipped it into
the delicious _gröd_, and began to eat. Meats followed, with wheaten
cakes, highly decorated, and home-brewed beer of a very peculiar, rich,
honeyed taste, and with the singing of a beautiful old Danish hymn the
repast was brought to a close.
Then the room was cleared and the dancing began. It was certainly a
beautiful sight, with every one decked out in festive attire.
"_Nie tak_,"[28] coyly refused each girl upon her first invitation to
dance, according to an old law of peasant decorum, which also prevented
the bridal couple, who led the dancing, from speaking to, or even
noticing each other again during the entire festivities.
As the afternoon wore on the dancing continued. Between seven and
eight, supper without rice was served, followed immediately by more
dancing, which continued until four o'clock in the morning.
By ten o'clock the next morning the fiddlers had again arrived, and the
dancing was renewed, this time with a noticeable increase in the number
of rosy-cheeked, snowy-haired, elderly couples, in quaint holiday dress
of homespun, with silver-buckled shoes. The bride continued to dance
gracefully and bravely on, although paling cheeks told of her weariness.
Fru Nielsen explained that the third and last day would only differ
from the first in that there would be fewer guests present, after
which all would begin making formal calls upon the bride, which was
considered the height of good form.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 24: West Sea.]
[Footnote 25: So named for Martin Luther.]
[Footnote 26: The "Asking Man."]
[Footnote 27: Literally, "Peasant's Domain."]
[Footnote 28: "No, thank you."]