The 25th of November, feast of St. Catherine,[14] is in many districts the day selected for tying all these matrimonial knots. When this is not the case, then the weddings take place in Carnival, oftenest in the week following the Sunday when the gospel of the marriage at Cana has been read in church; and Wednesday is considered the most lucky day for the purpose.

The preparations for the great day occupy the best part of a week in every house which counts either a bride or bridegroom among its inmates. There are loaves and cakes of various sorts and shapes to be{102} baked, fowls and pigs to be slaughtered; in wealthier houses even the sacrifice of a calf or an ox is considered necessary for the wedding-feast; and when this is the case the tongue is carefully removed, and, placed upon the best china plate, with a few laurel leaves by way of decoration, is carried to the parsonage as the customary offering to the reverend Herr Vater.

The other needful provisions for the banquet are collected in the following simple manner: On the afternoon of the Sunday preceding the wedding, six young men belonging to the Brotherhood are despatched by the Alt-knecht from house to house, where, striking a resounding knock on each door, they make the village street re-echo with their cry, “Bringt rahm!” (bring cream). This is a summons which none may refuse, all those who belong to that neighborhood being bound to send contributions in the shape of milk, cream, eggs, butter, lard, or bacon, to those wedding-houses within their quarter; and every gift, even the smallest one of a couple of eggs, is received with thanks, and the messenger rewarded by a glass of wine.

Next day the women of both families assemble to bake the wedding-feast, the future mother-in-law of the bride keeping a sharp lookout on the girl, to note whether she acquits herself creditably of her household duties. This day is in fact a sort of final examination the bride has to pass through in order to prove herself worthy of her new dignity; so woe to the maiden who is dilatory in mixing the dough or awkward at kneading the loaves.

While this is going on the young men have been to the forest to fetch firing-wood, for it is a necessary condition that the wood for heating the oven where the wedding-loaves are baked should be brought in expressly for the occasion, even though there be small wood in plenty lying ready for use in the shed.

The cart is gayly decorated with flowers and streamers, and the wood brought home with much noise and merriment, much in the old English style of bringing in the yule-log. On their return from the forest, the gate of the court-yard is found to be closed; or else a rope, from which are suspended straw bunches and bundles, is stretched across the entrance. The women now advance, with much clatter of pots and pans, and pretend to defend the yard against the besiegers; but the men tear down the rope, and drive in triumphantly, each one catching at a straw bundle in passing. Some of these are found to contain cakes or apples, others only broken crockery or egg-shells.

{103}

The young men sit up late splitting the logs into suitable size for burning. Their duties further consist in lighting the fire, drawing water from the well, and putting it to boil on the hearth. Thus they work till into the small hours of the morning, now and then refreshing themselves with a hearty draught of home-made wine. When all is prepared, it is then the turn of the men to take some rest, and they wake the girls with an old song running somewhat as follows:
“All in the early morning gray,
A lass would rise at break of day.
Arise, arise,
Fair lass, arise,
And ope your eyes,
For darkness flies,
And your true-love he comes to-day.
“So, lassie, would you early fill
Your pitcher at the running rill,
Awake, awake,
Fair maid, awake,
Your pitcher take,
For dawn doth break,
And come to-day your true-love will.”

Another song of equally ancient origin is sung the evening before the marriage, when the bride takes leave of her friends and relations.[15]
“I walked beside the old church wall;
My love stood there, but weeping all.
I greeted her, and thus she spake:
‘My heart is sore, dear love, alack!
I must depart, I must be gone;
When to return, God knows alone!
When to return?—when the black crow
Bears on his wing plumes white as snow.
“‘I set two roses in my father’s land—
O father, dearest father, give me once more thy hand!
I set two roses in my mother’s land—
O mother, dearest mother, give me again thy hand!
I must depart, I must be gone;
When to return, God knows alone!
When to return?—when the black crow
Bears on his wing plumes white as snow.
{104}
“‘I set two roses in my brother’s land—
O brother, dearest brother, give me again thy hand!
I set two roses in my sister’s land—
O sister, dearest sister, give me again thy hand!
I must away, I must be gone;
When to return, God knows alone!
When to return?—when the black crow
Bears on his wing plumes white as snow.
“‘I set again two roses under a bush of yew—
O comrades, dearest comrades, I say my last adieu!
No roses shall I set more in this my native land—
O parents, brother, sister, comrades, give me once more your hand!
I must away, I must be gone;
When to return, God knows alone!
When to return?—when the black crow
Bears on his wing plumes white as snow.
“‘And when I came to the dark fir-tree,[16]
An iron kettle my father gave me;
And when I came unto the willow,
My mother gave a cap and a pillow.
Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part
Can tell how parting tears the heart!
“‘And when unto the bridge I came,
I turned me round and looked back again;
I saw no mother nor father more,
And I bitterly wept, for my heart was sore.
Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part
Can tell how parting tears the heart!
“‘And when I came before the gate,
The bolt was drawn, and I must wait;
And when I came to the wooden bench,
They said, “She’s but a peevish wench!”
Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part
Can tell how parting tears the heart!
“‘And when I came to the strangers’ hearth,
They whispered, “She is little worth;”
And when I came before the bed,
I sighed, “Would I were yet a maid!”
Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part
Can tell how parting tears the heart!
“‘My house is built of goodly stone,
But in its walls I feel so lone!
{105}
A mantle of finest cloth I wear,
But ’neath it an aching heart I bear.
Loud howls the wind, wild drives the snow,
Parting, oh, parting is bitterest woe!
On the belfry tower is a trumpet shrill,
But down the kirkyard the dead lie still.’”

Very precise are the formalities to be observed in inviting the wedding-guests. A member of the bride’s family is deputed as einlader (inviter), and, invested with a brightly painted staff as insignia of his office, he goes the round of the friends and relations to be asked.

It is customary to invite all kinsfolk within the sixth degree of relationship, though many of these are not expected to comply with the summons, the invitations in such cases being simply a matter of form, politely tendered on the one side and graciously received on the other, but not meant to be taken literally, as being but honorary invitations.

Unless particular arrangements have been made to the contrary, it is imperative that the invitations, in order to be valid, should be repeated with all due formalities, as often as three times, the slightest divergence from this rule being severely judged and commented upon; and mortal offence has often been taken by a guest who bitterly complains that he was only twice invited. In some villages it is, moreover, customary to invite anew for each one of the separate meals which take place during the three or four days of the wedding festivities.

Early on the wedding morning the bridegroom despatches his wortmann with the morgengabe (morning gift) to the bride. This consists in a pair of new shoes, to which are sometimes added other small articles, such as handkerchiefs, ribbons, a cap, apples, nuts, cakes, etc. An ancient superstition requires that the young matron should carefully treasure up these shoes if she would assure herself of kind treatment on the part of her husband, who “will not begin to beat her till the wedding-shoes are worn out.” The ambassador, in delivering over the gifts to the wortmann of the other party, speaks as follows:

“Good-morning to you, Herr Wortmann, and to all worthy friends here assembled. The friends on our side have charged me to wish you all a very good morning. I have further come hither to remind you of the laudable custom of our fathers and grandfathers, who bethought{106} themselves of presenting their brides with a small morning gift. So in the same way our young master the bridegroom, not wishing to neglect this goodly patriarchal custom, has likewise sent me here with a trifling offering to his bride, trusting that this small gift may be agreeable and pleasing to you.”

The bride, on her side, sends to the bridegroom a new linen shirt, spun, woven, sewed, and embroidered by her own hands. This shirt he wears but twice—once on his wedding-day for going to church, the second time when he is carried to the grave.

Before proceeding to church the men assemble at the house of the bridegroom, and the women at that of the bride. The young people only accompany the bridal pair to church, the elder members of both families remaining at home until the third invitation has been delivered, after which all proceed together to the house of the bride, where the first day’s festivities are held.

In some villages it is customary for the young couple returning from church to the house of the bridegroom to have their two right hands tied together before stepping over the threshold. A glass of wine and a piece of bread are given to them ere they enter, of which they must both partake together, the bridegroom then throwing the glass away over the house-roof.

There is much speechifying and drinking of healths, and various meals are served up at intervals of three or four hours, each guest being provided with a covered jug, which must always be kept replenished with wine.

It is usual for each guest to bring a small gift as contribution to the............