of the year for prying into the future; all kinds of divination were put
in practice that night. We read that Dathi, a king of Ireland in the
fifth century, happening to be at the Druids' Hill (_Cnoc-nan-druad_) in
the county of Sligo one Hallowe'en, ordered his druid to forecast for
him the future from that day till the next Hallowe'en should come round.
The druid passed the night on the top of the hill, and next morning made
a prediction to the king which came true.[583] In Wales Hallowe'en was
the weirdest of all the _Teir Nos Ysbrydion_, or Three Spirit Nights,
when the wind, "blowing over the feet of the corpses," bore sighs to the
houses of those who were to die within the year. People thought that if
on that night they went out to a cross-road and listened to the wind,
they would learn all the most important things that would befall them
during the next twelve months.[584] In Wales, too, not so long ago women
used to congregate in the parish churches on the night of Hallowe'en and
read their fate from the flame of the candle which each of them held in
her hand; also they heard the names or saw the coffins of the
parishioners who would die within the year, and many were the sad scenes
to which these gloomy visions gave rise.[585] And in the Highlands of
Scotland anybody who pleased could hear proclaimed aloud the names of
parishioners doomed to perish within the next twelve months, if he would
only take a three-legged stool and go and sit on it at three
cross-roads, while the church clock was striking twelve at midnight on
Hallowe'en. It was even in his power to save the destined victims from
their doom by taking with him articles of wearing apparel and throwing
them away, one by one, as each name was called out by the mysterious
voice.[586]
[Hallowe'en bonfires in the Highlands of Scotland; John Ramsay's account
of the Hallowe'en bonfires; divination from stones at the fire;
Hallowe'en fires in the parishes of Callander and Logierait.]
But while a glamour of mystery and awe has always clung to Hallowe'en in
the minds of the Celtic peasantry, the popular celebration of the
festival has been, at least in modern times, by no means of a
prevailingly gloomy cast; on the contrary it has been attended by
picturesque features and merry pastimes, which rendered it the gayest
night of all the year. Amongst the things which in the Highlands of
Scotland contributed to invest the festival with a romantic beauty were
the bonfires which used to blaze at frequent intervals on the heights.
"On the last day of autumn children gathered ferns, tar-barrels, the
long thin stalks called _gàinisg_, and everything suitable for a
bonfire. These were placed in a heap on some eminence near the house,
and in the evening set fire to. The fires were called _Samhnagan_. There
was one for each house, and it was an object of ambition who should have
the biggest. Whole districts were brilliant with bonfires, and their
glare across a Highland loch, and from many eminences, formed an
exceedingly picturesque scene."[587] Like the Beltane fires on the first
of May, the Hallowe'en bonfires seem to have been kindled most commonly
in the Perthshire Highlands. Travelling in the parish of Moulin, near
Pitlochrie, in the year 1772, the Englishman Thomas Pennant writes that
"Hallow Eve is also kept sacred: as soon as it is dark, a person sets
fire to a bush of broom fastened round a pole, and, attended with a
crowd, runs about the village. He then flings it down, heaps great
quantity of combustible matters on it, and makes a great bonfire. A
whole tract is thus illuminated at the same time, and makes a fine
appearance."[588] The custom has been described more fully by a
Scotchman of the eighteenth century, John Ramsay of Ochtertyre. On the
evening of Hallowe'en "the young people of every hamlet assembled upon
some eminence near the houses. There they made a bonfire of ferns or
other fuel, cut the same day, which from the feast was called _Samh-nag_
or _Savnag_, a fire of rest and pleasure. Around it was placed a circle
of stones, one for each person of the families to whom they belonged.
And when it grew dark the bonfire was kindled, at which a loud shout was
set up. Then each person taking a torch of ferns or sticks in his hand,
ran round the fire exulting; and sometimes they went into the adjacent
fields, where, if there was another company, they visited the bonfire,
taunting the others if inferior in any respect to themselves. After the
fire was burned out they returned home, where a feast was prepared, and
the remainder of the evening was spent in mirth and diversions of
various kinds. Next morning they repaired betimes to the bonfire, where
the situation of the stones was examined with much attention. If any of
them were misplaced, or if the print of a foot could be discerned near
any particular stone, it was imagined that the person for whom it was
set would not live out the year. Of late years this is less attended to,
but about the beginning of the present century it was regarded as a sure
prediction. The Hallowe'en fire is still kept up in some parts of the
Low country; but on the western coast and in the Isles it is never
kindled, though the night is spent in merriment and
entertainments."[589] In the Perthshire parish of Callander, which
includes the now famous pass of the Trossachs opening out on the winding
and wooded shores of the lovely Loch Katrine, the Hallowe'en bonfires
were still kindled down to near the end of the eighteenth century. When
the fire had died down, the ashes were carefully collected in the form
of a circle, and a stone was put in, near the circumference, for every
person of the several families interested in the bonfire. Next morning,
if any of these stones was found to be displaced or injured, the people
made sure that the person represented by it was _fey_ or devoted, and
that he could not live twelve months from that day.[590] In the parish
of Logierait, which covers the beautiful valley of the Tummel, one of
the fairest regions of all Scotland, the Hallowe'en fire was somewhat
different. Faggots of heath, broom, and the dressings of flax were
kindled and carried on poles by men, who ran with them round the
villages, attended by a crowd. As soon as one faggot was burnt out, a
fresh one was lighted and fastened to the pole. Numbers of these blazing
faggots were often carried about together, and when the night happened
to be dark, they formed a splendid illumination.[591]
[Hallowe'en fires on Loch Tay; Hallowe'en fires at Balquhidder.]
Nor did the Hallowe'en fires die out in Perthshire with the end of the
eighteenth century. Journeying from Dunkeld to Aberfeldy on Hallowe'en
in the first half of the nineteenth century, Sheriff Barclay counted
thirty fires blazing on the hill tops, and saw the figures of the people
dancing like phantoms round the flames.[592] Again, "in 1860, I was
residing near the head of Loch Tay during the season of the Hallowe'en
feast. For several days before Hallowe'en, boys and youths collected
wood and conveyed it to the most prominent places on the hill sides in
their neighbourhood. Some of the heaps were as large as a corn-stack or
hayrick. After dark on Hallowe'en, these heaps were kindled, and for
several hours both sides of Loch Tay were illuminated as far as the eye
could see. I was told by old men that at the beginning of this century
men as well as boys took part in getting up the bonfires, and that, when
the fire was ablaze, all joined hands and danced round the fire, and
made a great noise; but that, as these gatherings generally ended in
drunkenness and rough and dangerous fun, the ministers set their faces
against the observance, and were seconded in their efforts by the more
intelligent and well-behaved in the community; and so the practice was
discontinued by adults and relegated to school boys."[593] At
Balquhidder down to the latter part of the nineteenth century each
household kindled its bonfire at Hallowe'en, but the custom was chiefly
observed by children. The fires were lighted on any high knoll near the
house; there was no dancing round them.[594]
[Hallowe'en fires in Buchan to burn the witches; processions with
torches at Hallowe'en in the Braemar Highlands.]
Hallowe'en fires were also lighted in some districts of the north-east
of Scotland, such as Buchan. Villagers and farmers alike must have their
fire. In the villages the boys went from house to house and begged a
peat from each householder, usually with the words, "Ge's a peat t' burn
the witches." In some villages the lads collected the peats in a cart,
some of them drawing it along and the others receiving the peats and
loading them on the cart. Along with the peats they accumulated straw,
furze, potato haulm, everything that would burn quickly, and when they
had got enough they piled it all in a heap and set it on fire. Then each
of the youths, one after another, laid himself down on the ground as
near to the fire as he could without being scorched, and thus lying
allowed the smoke to roll over him. The others ran through the smoke and
jumped over their prostrate comrade. When the heap was burned down, they
scattered the ashes. Each one took a share in this part of the ceremony,
giving a kick first with the right foot and then with the left; and each
vied with the other who should scatter the most. After that some of them
still continued to run through the scattered ashes and to pelt each
other with the half-burned peats. At each farm a spot as high as
possible, not too near the steading, was chosen for the fire, and the
proceedings were much the same as at the village bonfire. The lads of
one farm, when their own fire was burned down and the ashes scattered,
sometimes went to a neighbouring fire and helped to kick the ashes
about.[595] Referring to this part of Scotland, a writer at the end of
the eighteenth century observes that "the Hallow-even fire, another
relict of druidism, was kindled in Buchan. Various magic ceremonies were
then celebrated to counteract the influence of witches and demons, and
to prognosticate to the young their success or disappointment in the
matrimonial lottery. These being devoutly finished, the hallow fire was
kindled, and guarded by the male part of the family. Societies were
formed, either by pique or humour, to scatter certain fires, and the
attack and defence were often conducted with art and with fury."[596]
Down to about the middle of the nineteenth century "the Braemar
Highlanders made the circuit of their fields with lighted torches at
Hallowe'en to ensure their fertility in the coming year. At that date
the custom was as follows: Every member of the family (in those days
households were larger than they are now) was provided with a bundle of
fir 'can'les' with which to go the round. The father and mother stood at
the hearth and lit the splints in the peat fire, which they passed to
the children and servants, who trooped out one after the other, and
proceeded to tread the bounds of their little property, going slowly
round at equal distances apart, and invariably with the sun. To go
'withershins' seems to have been reserved for cursing and
excommunication. When the fields had thus been circumambulated the
remaining spills were thrown together in a heap and allowed to burn
out."[597]
[Divination at Hallow-e'en in the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland;
the stolen kail; sowing hemp seed; the winnowing basket; the wet shirt;
the thrown shoe.]
In the Highlands of Scotland, as the evening of Hallowe'en wore on,
young people gathered in one of the houses and resorted to an almost
endless variety of games, or rather forms of divination, for the purpose
of ascertaining the future fate of each member of the company. Were they
to marry or remain single, was the marriage to take place that year or
never, who was to be married first, what sort of husband or wife she or
he was to get, the name, the trade, the colour of the hair, the amount
of property of the future spouse--these were questions that were eagerly
canvassed and the answers to them furnished never-failing
entertainment.[598] Nor were these modes of divination at Hallowe'en
confined to the Highlands, where the bonfires were kindled; they were
practised with equal faith and in practically the same forms in the
Lowlands, as we learn, for example, from Burns's poem _Hallowe'en_,
which describes the auguries drawn from a variety of omens by the
Ayrshire peasantry. These Lowlanders of Saxon descent may well have
inherited the rites from the Celts who preceded them in the possession
of the south country. A common practice at Hallowe'en was to go out
stealthily to a neighbour's kailyard and there, with shut eyes, to pull
up the first kail stock that came to hand. It was necessary that the
plants should be stolen without the knowledge or consent of their owner;
otherwise they were quite useless for the purpose of divination.
Strictly speaking, too, the neighbour upon whose garden the raid was
made should be unmarried, whether a bachelor or a spinster. The stolen
kail was taken home and examined, and according to its height, shape,
and features would be the height, shape, and features of the future
husband or wife. The taste of the _custock_, that is, the heart of the
stem, was an infallible indication of his or her temper; and a clod of
earth adhering to the root signified, in proportion to its size, the
amount of property which he or she would bring to the common stock. Then
the kail-stock or _runt_, as it was called in Ayrshire, was placed over
the lintel of the door; and the baptismal name of the young man or woman
who first entered the door after the kail was in position would be the
baptismal name of the husband or wife.[599] Again, young women sowed
hemp seed over nine ridges of ploughed land, saying, "I sow hemp seed,
and he who is to be my husband, let him come and harrow it." On looking
back over her left shoulder the girl would see the figure of her future
mate behind her in the darkness. In the north-east of Scotland lint seed
was used instead of hemp seed and answered the purpose quite as
well.[600] Again, a mode of ascertaining your future husband or wife was
this. Take a clue of blue yarn and go to a lime-kiln. Throw the clue
into the kiln, but keep one end of the thread in your hand and wind it
on to another clue. As you come near the end somebody or something will
hold the other end tight in the kiln. Then you call out, "Who holds?"
giving the thread at the same time a gentle pull. Some one or something
will thereupon pull the other end of the thread, and a voice will
mention the name of your future husband or wife.[601] Another way is
this. Go to the barn alone and secretly. Be sure to open both doors and
if possible take them off their hinges; for if the being who is about to
appear should catch you in the barn and clap the doors to on you, he or
she might do you a mischief. Having done this, take the sieve or
winnowing-basket, which in Lowland Scotch is called a _wecht_ or
_waicht_, and go through the action of winnowing corn. Repeat it thrice,
and at the third time the apparition of your future husband or wife will
pass through the barn, entering at the windy door and passing out at the
other.[602] Or this. Go to a southward running stream, where the lands
of three lairds meet, or to a ford where the dead and living have
crossed. Dip the left sleeve of your shirt in the water. Then go home,
take off the shirt, hang it up before a fire to dry, and go to bed,
taking care that the bed stands so that you can see your shirt hanging
before the fire. Keep awake, and at midnight you will see the form of
your future spouse come into the room and turn the other side of the
sleeve to the fire to dry it.[603] A Highland form of divination at
Hallowe'en is to take a shoe by the tip and throw it over the house,
then observe the direction in which the toe points as it lies on the
ground on the other side; for in that direction you are destined to go
before long. If the shoe should fall sole uppermost, it is very unlucky
for you.[604]
[The white of eggs in water; the names on the chimney piece; the nuts in
the fire; the milk and meal; the apples in the water; the three plates.]
These ways of prying into the future are practised outside of the house;
others are observed in the kitchen or the parlour before the cheerful
blaze of the fire. Thus the white of eggs, dropped in a glass of pure
water, indicates by certain marks how many children a person will have.
The impatience and clamour of the children, eager to ascertain the exact
number of their future progeny, often induced the housewife to perform
this ceremony for them by daylight; and the kindly mother, standing with
her face to the window, dropping the white of an egg into a crystal
glass of clean water, and surrounded by a group of children intently
watching her proceedings, made up a pretty picture.[605] When the fun of
the evening had fairly commenced, the names of eligible or likely
matches were written on the chimney-piece, and the young man who wished
to try his fortune was led up blindfolded to the list. Whatever name he
put his finger on would prove that of his future wife.[606] Again, two
nuts, representing a lad and a lass whose names were announced to the
company, were put side by side in the fire. If they burned quietly
together, the pair would be man and wife, and from the length of time
they burned and the brightness of the flame the length and happiness of
the married life of the two were augured. But if instead of burning
together one of the nuts leaped away from the other, then there would be
no marriage, and the blame would rest with the person whose nut had thus
started away by itself.[607] Again, a dish of milk and meal (in Gaelic
_fuarag_, in Lowland Scotch _crowdie_) or of beat potatoes was made and
a ring was hidden in it. Spoons were served out to the company, who
supped the contents of the dish hastily with them, and the one who got
the ring would be the first to be married.[608] Again, apples and a
silver sixpence were put in a tub of water; the apples naturally floated
on the top and the sixpence sank to the bottom. Whoever could lift an
apple or the sixpence from the water with his mouth, without using his
teeth, was counted very lucky and got the prize to himself.[609] Again,
three plates or basins were placed on the hearth. One was filled with
clean water, another with dirty water, and the third was empty. The
enquirer was blindfolded, knelt in front of the hearth, and groped about
till he put his finger in one of them. If he lighted on the plate with
the clean water, he would wed a maid; if on the plate with the dirty
water, he would marry a widow; and if on the empty plate, he would
remain a bachelor. For a girl the answer of the oracle was analogous;
she would marry a bachelor, a widower, or nobody according to the plate
into which she chanced to dip her finger. But to make sure, the
operation had to be repeated thrice, the position of the plates being
changed each time. If the enquirer put his or her finger into the same
plate thrice or even twice, it was quite conclusive.[610]
[The sliced apple; the white of egg in water; the salt cake or salt
herring.]
These forms of divination in the house were practised by the company in
a body; but the following had to be performed by the person alone. You
took an apple and stood with it in your hand in front of a
looking-glass. Then you sliced the apple, stuck each slice on the point
of the knife, and held it over your left shoulder, while you looked into
the glass and combed your hair. The spectre of your future husband would
then appear in the mirror stretching forth his hand to take the slices
of the apple over your shoulder. Some say that the number of slices
should be nine, that you should eat the first eight yourself, and only
throw the ninth over your left shoulder for your husband; also that at
each slice you should say, "In the name of the Father and the Son."[611]
Again, take an egg, prick it with a pin, and let the white drop into a
wine-glass nearly full of water. Take some of this in your mouth and go
out for a walk. The first name you hear called out aloud will be that of
your future husband or wife. An old woman told a lady that she had tried
this mode of divination in her youth, that the name of Archibald "came
up as it were from the very ground," and that Archibald sure enough was
the name of her husband.[612] In South Uist and Eriskay, two of the
outer Hebrides, a salt cake called _Bonnach Salainn_ is eaten at
Hallowe'en to induce dreams that will reveal the future. It is baked of
common meal with a great deal of salt. After eating it you may not drink
water nor utter a word, not even to say your prayers. A salt herring,
eaten bones and all in three bites, is equally efficacious, always
provided that you drink no water and hold your tongue.[613]
[Hallowe'en fires in Wales; omens drawn from stones thrown into the
fire; divination by stones in the ashes.]
In the northern part of Wales it used to be customary for every family
to make a great bonfire called _Coel Coeth_ on Hallowe'en. The fire was
kindled on the most conspicuous spot near the house; and when it had
nearly gone out everyone threw into the ashes a white stone, which he
had first marked. Then having said their prayers round the fire, they
went to bed. Next morning, as soon as they were up, they came to search
out the stones, and if any one of them was found to be missing, they had
a notion that the person who threw it would die before he saw another
Hallowe'en.[614] A writer on Wales at the beginning of the nineteenth
century says that "the autumnal fire is still kindled in North Wales,
being on the eve of the first day of November, and is attended by many
ceremonies; such as running through the fire and smoke, each casting a
stone into the fire, and all running off at the conclusion to escape
from the black short-tailed sow; then supping upon parsnips, nuts, and
apples; catching up an apple suspended by a string with the mouth alone,
and the same by an apple in a tub of water: each throwing a nut into the
fire; and those that burn bright, betoken prosperity to the owners
through the following year, but those that burn black and crackle,
denote misfortune. On the following morning the stones are searched for
in the fire, and if any be missing, they betide ill to those who threw
them in."[615] According to Sir John Rhys, the habit of celebrating
Hallowe'en by lighting bonfires on the hills is perhaps not yet extinct
in Wales, and men still living can remember how the people who assisted
at the bonfires would wait till the last spark was out and then would
suddenly take to their heels, shouting at the top of their voices, "The
cropped black sow seize the hindmost!" The saying, as Sir John Rhys
justly remarks, implies that originally one of the company became a
victim in dead earnest. Down to the present time the saying is current
in Carnarvonshire, where allusions to the cutty black sow are still
occasionally made to frighten children.[616] We can now understand why
in Lower Brittany every person throws a pebble into the midsummer
bonfire.[617] Doubtless there, as in Wales and the Highlands of
Scotland,[618] omens of life and death have at one time or other been
drawn from the position and state of the pebbles on the morning of All
Saints' Day. The custom, thus found among three separate branches of the
Celtic stock, probably dates from a period before their dispersion, or
at least from a time when alien races had not yet driven home the wedges
of separation between them.
[Divination as to love and marriage at Hallowe'en in Wales.]
In Wales, as in Scotland, Hallowe'en was also the great season for
forecasting the future in respect of love and marriage, and some of the
forms of divination employed for this purpose resembled those which were
in use among the Scotch peasantry. Two girls, for example, would make a
little ladder of yarn, without breaking it from the ball, and having
done so they would throw it out of the window. Then one of the girls,
holding the ball in her hand, would wind the yarn back, repeating a
rhyme in Welsh. This she did thrice, and as she wound the yarn she would
see her future husband climbing up the little ladder. Again, three bowls
or basins were placed on a table. One of them contained clean water, one
dirty water, and one was empty. The girls of the household, and
sometimes the boys too, then eagerly tried their fortunes. They were
blindfolded, led up to the table, and dipped their hands into a bowl. If
they happened to dip into the clean water, they would marry maidens or
bachelors; if into the dirty water, they would be widowers or widows; if
into the empty bowl, they would live unmarried. Again, if a girl,
walking backwards, would place a knife among the leeks on Hallowe'en,
she would see her future husband come and pick up the knife and throw it
into the middle of the garden.[619]
[Divination at Hallowe'en in Ireland.]
In Ireland the Hallowe'en bonfires would seem to have died out, but the
Hallowe'en divination has survived. Writing towards the end of the
eighteenth century, General Vallancey tells us that on Hallowe'en or the
vigil of Saman, as he calls it, "the peasants in Ireland assemble with
sticks and clubs (the emblems of laceration) going from house to house,
collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese, eggs, etc., etc., for the
feast, repeating verses in honour of the solemnity, demanding
preparations for the festival, in the name of St. Columb Kill, desiring
them to lay aside the fatted calf, and to bring forth the black sheep.
The good women are employed in making the griddle cake and candles;
these last are sent from house to house in the vicinity, and are lighted
up on the (Saman) next day, before which they pray, or are supposed to
pray, for the departed souls of the donor. Every house abounds in the
best viands they can afford: apples and nuts are devoured in abundance:
the nut-shells are burnt, and from the ashes many strange things are
foretold: cabbages are torn up by the root: hemp seed is sown by the
maidens, and they believe, that if they look back, they will see the
apparition of the man intended for their future spouse: they hang a
smock before the fire, on the close of the feast, and sit up all night,
concealed in a corner of the room, convinced that his apparition will
come down the chimney and turn the smock: they throw a ball of yarn out
of the window, and wind it on the reel within, convinced, that if they
repeat the _Pater Noster_ backwards, and look at the ball of yarn
without, they will then also see his _sith_ or apparition: they dip for
apples in a tub of water, and endeavour to bring one up in the mouth:
they suspend a cord with a cross-stick, with apples at one point, and
candles lighted at the other, and endeavour to catch the apple, while it
is in a circular motion, in the mouth. These, and many other
superstitious ceremonies, the remains of Druidism, are observed on this
holiday, which will never be eradicated, while the name of _Saman_ is
permitted to remain."[620]
[Divination at Hallow-e'en in Queen's County; divination at Hallow-e'en
in County Leitrim; divination at Hallowe'en in County Roscommon.]
In Queen's County, Ireland, down to the latter part of the nineteenth
century children practised various of these rites of divination on
Hallowe'en. Girls went out into the garden blindfold and pulled up
cabbages: if the cabbage was well grown, the girl would have a handsome
husband, but if it had a crooked stalk, the future spouse would be a
stingy old man. Nuts, again, were placed in pairs on the bar of the
fire, and from their behaviour omens were drawn of the fate in love and
marriage of the couple whom they represented. Lead, also, was melted and
allowed to drop into a tub of cold water, and from the shapes which it
assumed in the water predictions were made to the children of their
future destiny. Again, apples were bobbed for in a tub of water and
brought up with the teeth; or a stick was hung from a hook with an apple
at one end and a candle at the other, and the stick being made to
revolve you made a bite at the apple and sometimes got a mouthful of
candle instead.[621] In County Leitrim, also, down to near the end of
the nineteenth century various forms of divination were practised at
Hallowe'en. Girls ascertained the character of their future husbands by
the help of cabbages just as in Queen's County. Again, if a girl found a
branch of a briar-thorn which had bent over and grown into the ground so
as to form a loop, she would creep through the loop thrice late in the
evening in the devil's name, then cut the briar and put it under her
pillow, all without speaking a word. Then she would lay her head on the
pillow and dream of the man she was to marry. Boys, also, would dream in
like manner of love and marriage at Hallowe'en, if only they would
gather ten leaves of ivy without speaking, throw away one, and put the
other nine under their pillow. Again, divination was practised by means
of a cake called _barm-breac_, in which a nut and a ring were baked.
Whoever got the ring would be married first; whoever got the nut would
marry a widow or a widower; but if the nut were an empty shell, he or
she would remain unwed. Again, a girl would take a clue of worsted, go
to a lime kiln in the gloaming, and throw the clew into the kiln in the
devil's name, while she held fast the other end of the thread. Then she
would rewind the thread and ask, "Who holds my clue?" and the name of
her future husband would come up from the depth of the kiln. Another way
was to take a rake, go to a rick and walk round it nine times, saying,
"I rake this rick in the devil's name." At the ninth time the wraith of
your destined partner for life would come and take the rake out of your
hand. Once more, before the company separated for the night, they would
rake the ashes smooth on the hearth, and search them next morning for
tracks, from which they judged whether anybody should come to the house,
or leave it, or die in it before another year was out.[622] In County
Roscommon, which borders on County Leitrim, a cake is made in nearly
every house on Hallowe'en, and a ring, a coin, a sloe, and a chip of
wood are put into it. Whoever gets the coin will be rich; whoever gets
the ring will be married first; whoever gets the chip of wood, which
stands for a coffin, will die first; and whoever gets the sloe will live
longest, because the fairies blight the sloes in the hedges on
Hallowe'en, so that the sloe in the cake will be the last of the year.
Again, on the same mystic evening girls take nine grains of oats in
their mouths, and going out without speaking walk about till they hear a
man's name pronounced; it will be the name of their future husband. In
County Roscommon, too, on Hallowe'en there is the usual dipping in water
for apples or sixpences, and the usual bites at a revolving apple and
tallow candle.[623]
[Hallowe'en fires in the Isle of Man; divination at Hallowe'en in the
Isle of Man.]
In the Isle of Man also, another Celtic country, Hallow-e'en was
celebrated down to modern times by the kindling of fires, accompanied
with all the usual ceremonies designed to prevent the baneful influence
of fairies and witches. Bands of young men perambulated the island by
night, and at the door of every dwelling-house they struck up a Manx
rhyme, beginning
"_Noght oie howney hop-dy-naw_,"
that is to say, "This is Hollantide Eve." For Hollantide is the Manx way
of expressing the old English _All hallowen tide_, that is, All Saints'
Day, the first of November. But as the people reckon this festival
according to the Old Style, Hollantide in the Isle of Man is our twelfth
of November. The native Manx name for the day is _Sauin_ or _Laa
Houney_. Potatoes, parsnips and fish, pounded up together and mixed with
butter, formed the proper evening meal (_mrastyr_) on Hallowe'en in the
Isle of Man.[624] Here, too, as in Scotland forms of divination are
practised by some people on this important evening. For example, the
housewife fills a thimble full of salt for each member of the family and
each guest; the contents of the thimblefuls are emptied out in as many
neat little piles on a plate, and left there over night. Next morning
the piles are examined, and if any of them has fallen down, he or she
whom it represents will die within the year. Again, the women carefully
sweep out the ashes from under the fireplace and flatten them down
neatly on the open hearth. If they find next morning a footprint turned
towards the door, it signifies a death in the family within the year;
but if the footprint is turned in the opposite direction, it bodes a
marriage. Again, divination by eavesdropping is practised in the Isle of
Man in much the same way as in Scotland. You go out with your mouth full
of water and your hands full of salt and listen at a neighbour's door,
and the first name you hear will be the name of your husband. Again,
Manx maids bandage their eyes and grope about the room till they dip
their hands in vessels full of clean or dirty water, and so on; and from
the thing they touch they draw corresponding omens. But some people in
the Isle of Man observe these auguries, not on Hallowe'en or Hollantide
Eve, as they call it, which was the old Manx New Year's Eve, but on the
modern New Year's Eve, that is, on the thirty-first of December. The
change no doubt marks a transition from the ancient to the modern mode
of dating the beginning of the year.[625]
[Hallowe'en fires and divination in Lancashire; candles lighted to keep
off the witches; divination at Hallowe'en in Northumberland; Hallowe'en
fires in France.]
In Lancashire, also, some traces of the old Celtic celebration of
Hallowe'en have been reported in modern times. It is said that "fires
are still lighted in Lancashire, on Hallowe'en, under the name of
Beltains or Teanlas; and even such cakes as the Jews are said to have
made in honour of the Queen of Heaven, are yet to be found at this
season amongst the inhabitants of the banks of the Ribble.... Both the
fires and the cakes, however, are now connected with superstitious
notions respecting Purgatory, etc."[626] On Hallowe'en, too, the
Lancashire maiden "strews the ashes which are to take the form of one or
more letters of her lover's name; she throws hemp-seed over her shoulder
and timidly glances to see who follows her."[627] Again, witches in
Lancashire used to gather on Hallowe'en at the Malkin Tower, a ruined
and desolate farm-house in the forest of Pendle. They assembled for no
good purpose; but you could keep the infernal rout at bay by carrying a
lighted candle about the fells from eleven to twelve o'clock at night.
The witches tried to blow out the candle, and if they succeeded, so much
the worse for you; but if the flame burned steadily till the clocks had
struck midnight, you were safe. Some people performed the ceremony by
deputy; and parties went about from house to house in the evening
collecting candles, one for each inmate, and offering their services to
_late_ or _leet_ the witches, as the phrase ran. This custom was
practised at Longridge Fell in the early part of the nineteenth
century.[628] In Northumberland on Hallowe'en omens of marriage were
drawn from nuts thrown into the fire; and the sports of ducking for
apples and biting at a revolving apple and lighted candle were also
practised on that evening.[629] The equivalent of the Hallowe'en
bonfires is reported also from France. We are told that in the
department of Deux-Sèvres, which forms part of the old province of
Poitou, young people used to assemble in the fields on All Saints' Day
(the first of November) and kindle great fires of ferns, thorns, leaves,
and stubble, at which they roasted chestnuts. They also danced round the
fires and indulged in noisy pastimes.[630]
§ 7. _The Midwinter Fires_
[A Midwinter festival of fire; Christmas the continuation of an old
heathen festival of the sun.]
If the heathen of ancient Europe celebrated, as we have good reason to
believe, the season of Midsummer with a great festival of fire, of which
the traces have survived in many places down to our own time, it is
natural to suppose that they should have observed with similar rites the
corresponding season of Midwinter; for Midsummer and Midwinter, or, in
more technical language, the summer solstice and the winter solstice,
are the two great turning-points in the sun's apparent course through
the sky, and from the standpoint of primitive man nothing might seem
more appropriate than to kindle fires on earth at the two moments when
the fire and heat of the great luminary in heaven begin to wane or to
wax. In this way the savage philosopher, to whose meditations on the
nature of things we owe many ancient customs and ceremonies, might
easily imagine that he helped the labouring sun to relight his dying
lamp, or at all events to blow up the flame into a brighter blaze.
Certain it is that the winter solstice, which the ancients erroneously
assigned to the twenty-fifth of December, was celebrated in antiquity as
the Birthday of the Sun, and that festal lights or fires were kindled on
this joyful occasion. Our Christmas festival is nothing but a
continuation under a Christian name of this old solar festivity; for the
ecclesiastical authorities saw fit, about the end of the third or the
beginning of the fourth century, arbitrarily to transfer the nativity of
Christ from the sixth of January to the twenty-fifth of December, for
the purpose of diverting to their Lord the worship which the heathen had
hitherto paid on that day to the sun.[631]
[The Yule log is the Midwinter counterpart of the Midsummer bonfire.]
In modern Christendom the ancient fire-festival of the winter solstice
appears to survive, or to have survived down to recent years, in the old
custom of the Yule log, clog, or block, as it was variously called in
England.[632] The custom was widespread in Europe, but seems to have
flourished especially in England, France, and among the South Slavs; at
least the fullest accounts of the custom come from these quarters. That
the Yule log was only the winter counterpart of the Midsummer bonfire,
kindled within doors instead of in the open air on account of the cold
and inclement weather of the season, was pointed out long ago by our
English antiquary John Brand;[633] and the view is supported by the many
quaint superstitions attaching to the Yule log, superstitions which have
no apparent connexion with Christianity but carry their heathen origin
plainly stamped upon them. But while the two solstitial celebrations
were both festivals of fire, the necessity or desirability of holding
the winter celebration within doors lent it the character of a private
or domestic festivity, which contrasts strongly with the publicity of
the summer celebration, at which the people gathered on some open space
or conspicuous height, kindled a huge bonfire in common, and danced and
made merry round it together.
[The Yule log in Germany; the Yule log in Switzerland.]
Among the Germans the custom of the Yule log is known to have been
observed in the eleventh century; for in the year 1184 the parish priest
of Ahlen, in Münsterland, spoke of "bringing a tree to kindle the festal
fire at the Lord's Nativity."[634] Down to about the middle of the
nineteenth century the old rite was kept up in some parts of central
Germany, as we learn from an account of it given by a contemporary
writer. After mentioning the custom of feeding the cattle and shaking
the fruit-trees on Christmas night, to make them bear fruit, he goes on
as follows: "Other customs pointing back to the far-off times of
heathendom may still be met with among the old-fashioned peasants of the
mountain regions. Such is in the valleys of the Sieg and Lahn the
practice of laying a new log as a foundation of the hearth. A heavy
block of oak-wood, generally a stump grubbed up from the ground, is
fitted either into the floor of the hearth, or into a niche made for the
purpose in the wall under the hook on which the kettle hangs. When the
fire on the hearth glows, this block of wood glows too, but it is so
placed that it is hardly reduced to ashes within a year. When the new
foundation is laid, the remains of the old block are carefully taken
out, ground to powder, and strewed over the fields during the Twelve
Nights. This, so people fancied, promotes the fruitfulness of the year's
crops."[635] In some parts of the Eifel Mountains, to the west of
Coblentz, a log of wood called the _Christbrand_ used to be placed on
the hearth on Christmas Eve; and the charred remains of it on Twelfth
Night were put in the corn-bin to keep the mice from devouring the
corn.[636] At Weidenhausen and Girkshausen, in Westphalia, the practice
was to withdraw the Yule log (_Christbrand_) from the fire so soon as it
was slightly charred; it was then kept carefully to be replaced on the
fire whenever a thunder-storm broke, because the people believed that
lightning would not strike a house in which the Yule log was
smouldering.[637] In some villages near Berleburg in Westphalia the old
custom was to tie up the Yule log in the last sheaf cut at harvest.[638]
On Christmas Eve the peasantry of the Oberland, in Meiningen, a province
of Central Germany, used to put a great block of wood called the
_Christklots_ on the fire before they went to bed; it should burn all
night, and the charred remains were believed to guard the house for the
whole year against the risk of fire, burglary, and other
misfortunes.[639] The Yule log seems to be known only in the
French-speaking parts of Switzerland, where it goes by the usual French
name of _Bûche de Noël_. In the Jura mountains of the canton of Bern,
while the log is burning on the hearth the people sing a blessing over
it as follows:--
"_May the log burn!
May all good come in!
May the women have children
And the sheep lambs!
White bread for every one
And the vat full of wine_!"
The embers of the Yule log were kept carefully, for they were believed
to be a protection against lightning.[640]
[The Yule log in Belgium.]
"The Christmas fires, which were formerly lit everywhere in the Low
Countries, have fallen into disuse. But in Flanders a great log of wood,
called the _kersavondblok_ and usually cut from the roots of a fir or a
beech, is still put on the fire; all the lights in the house are
extinguished, and the whole family gathers round the log to spend part
of the night in singing, in telling stories, especially about ghosts,
were-wolves, and so on, and also in drinking gin. At Grammont and in the
neighbourhood of that town, where the Yule log is called _Kersmismot_,
it is customary to set fire to the remainder of the gin at the moment
when the log is reduced to ashes. Elsewhere a piece of the log is kept
and put under the bed to protect the house against thunder and
lightning. The charcoal of the log which burned during Christmas Night,
if pounded up and mixed with water, is a cure for consumption. In the
country of Limburg the log burns several nights, and the pounded
charcoal is kept as a preventive (so they say), of toothache."[641]
[The Yule log in France.]
In several provinces of France, and particularly in Provence, the custom
of the Yule log or _tréfoir_, as it was called in many places, was long
observed. A French writer of the seventeenth century tells us that on
Christmas Eve the log was prepared, and when the whole family had
assembled in the kitchen or parlour of the house, they went and brought
it in, walking in procession and singing Provençal verses to the
following effect:--
"_Let the log rejoice,
To-morrow is the day of bread;
Let all good enter here;
Let the women bear children;
Let the she-goats bring forth kids;
Let the ewes drop lambs;
Let there be much wheat and flour,
And the vat full of wine_."
Then the log was blessed by the smallest and youngest child of the
house, who poured a glass of wine over it saying, _In nomine patris_,
etc.; after which the log was set on the fire. The charcoal of the burnt
wood was kept the whole year, and used as an ingredient in several
remedies.[642]
[French superstitions as to the Yule log.]
Amongst the superstitions denounced by the same writer is "the belief
that a log called the _trefoir_ or Christmas brand, which you put on the
fire for the first time on Christmas Eve and continue to put on the fire
for a little while every day till Twelfth Night, can, if kept under the
bed, protect the house for a whole year from fire and thunder; that it
can prevent the inmates from having chilblains on their heels in winter;
that it can cure the cattle of many maladies; that if a piece of it be
steeped in the water which cows drink it helps them to calve; and lastly
that if the ashes of the log be strewn on the fields it can save the
wheat from mildew."[643]
[The Yule log at Marseilles and in Perigord; virtues ascribed to the
charcoal and ashes of the burnt log; the Yule log in Berry.]
In Marseilles the Yule log used to be a great block of oak, which went
by the name of _calendeau_ or _calignau_; it was sprinkled with wine and
oil, and the head of the house kindled it himself.[644] "The Yule log
plays a great part at the festival of the winter solstice in Perigord.
The countryman thinks that it is best made of plum-tree, cherry, or oak,
and that the larger it is the better. If it burns well, it is a good
omen, the blessing of heaven rests upon it. The charcoal and ashes,
which are collected very carefully, are excellent for healing swollen
glands; the part of the trunk which has not been burnt in the fire is
used by ploughmen to make the wedge (_técoin ou cale_) for their plough,
because they allege that it causes the seeds to thrive better; and the
women keep pieces of it till Twelfth Night for the sake of their
chickens. Nevertheless if you sit down on the log, you become subject to
boils, and to cure yourself of them you must pass nine times under a
bramble branch which happens to be rooted in the ground at both ends.
The charcoal heals sheep of a disease called the _goumon_; and the
ashes, carefully wrapt up in white linen, preserve the whole household
from accidents. Some people think that they will have as many chickens
as there are sparks that fly out of the brands of the log when they
shake them; and others place the extinct brands under the bed to drive
away vermin. In Vienne, on Christmas Eve, when supper is over, the
master of the house has a great log--the Christmas brand--brought in,
and then, surrounded by all the spectators gathered in profound silence,
he sprinkles salt and water on the log. It is then put on the fire to
burn during the three festivals; but they carefully preserve a piece to
be kindled every time that it thunders."[645] In Berry, a district of
Central France, the Yule log was called the _cosse de Nau_, the last
word being an abbreviation of the usual French word for Christmas
(Noël). It consisted of an enormous tree-trunk, so heavy that the united
strength of several men was needed to carry it in and place it on the
hearth, where it served to feed the fire during the three days of the
Christmas festivity. Strictly speaking, it should be the trunk of an old
oak-tree which had never been lopped and had been felled at midnight. It
was placed on the hearth at the moment when the tinkle of the bell
announced the elevation of the host at the midnight mass; and the head
of the family, after sprinkling it with holy water, set it on fire. The
remains of the log were preserved till the same day next year. They were
kept under the bed of the master of the house; and whenever thunder was
heard, one of the family would take a piece of the log and throw it on
the fire, which was believed to guard the family against lightning. In
the Middle Ages, we are told, several fiefs were granted on condition
that the vassal should bring in person a Yule log every year for the
hearth of his liege lord.[646]
[The Yule log in Normandy and Brittany.]
Similar customs and beliefs survived till recent years in some of the
remote country villages of the picturesque district known as the Bocage
of Normandy. There it was the grandfather or other oldest man of the
family who chose the Yule log in good time and had it ready for
Christmas Eve. Then he placed it on the hearth at the moment when the
church bell began to ring for the evening service. Kneeling reverently
at the hearth with the members of his family in a like attitude of
devotion, the old man recited three _Pater Nosters_ and three _Aves_,
and invoked the blessing of heaven on the log and on the cottage. Then
at the sound of the bell which proclaimed the sacrament of the mass, or,
if the church was too far off to allow the tinkle of the bell to be
heard, at the moment when they judged that the priest was elevating the
host before the high altar, the patriarch sprinkled the burning log with
holy water, blessed it in the name of the Father and of the Son and of
the Holy Ghost, and drew it out of the fire. The charred log was then
carefully kept till the following Christmas as a precious relic which
would guard the house against the levin bolt, evil spirits, sorcerers,
and every misfortune that might befall in the course of the year.[647]
In the department of Orne "the Yule-log is called _trefouet_; holy water
is poured on it; it should last the three days of the festival, and the
remains of it are kept to be put on the fire when it thunders. This
brand is a protection both against thunder and against sorcerers."[648]
In Upper Brittany, also, the Yule log is thought to be a safeguard
against thunder and lightning. It is sprinkled with holy water on
Christmas morning and allowed to burn till evening. If a piece of it is
thrown into the well, it will ensure a supply of good water.[649]
[The Yule log in the Ardennes.]
"In almost all the families of the Ardennes," we are told, "at the
present day they never fail to put the Yule log on the fireplace, but
formerly it was the object of a superstitious worship which is now
obsolete. The charred remains of it, placed under the pillow or under
the house, preserved the house from storms, and before it was burned the
Virgin used to come and sit on it, invisible, swaddling the infant
Jesus. At Nouzon, twenty years ago, the traditional log was brought into
the kitchen on Christmas Eve, and the grandmother, with a sprig of box
in her hand, sprinkled the log with holy water as soon as the clock
struck the first stroke of midnight. As she did so she chanted,
'_When Christmas comes,
Every one should rejoice,
For it is a New Covenant_.'
"Following the grandmother and joining in the song, the children and the
rest of the family marched thrice round the log, which was as fine a log
as could be got."[650] We can now, perhaps, understand why in Perigord
people who sat on the Yule log suffered from boils,[651] and why in
Lorraine young folks used to be warned that if they sat on it they would
have the scab.[652] The reason probably was that the Virgin and child
were supposed to be seated, invisible, upon the log and to resent the
indignity of contact with mortal children.
[The Yule log in the Vosges; the Yule log in Franche-Comté and
Burgundy.]
On Christmas Eve the mountaineers of Rupt, in the Vosges, also never
fail to put on the hearth the largest log which the hearth can hold;
they call it _la galeuche de Noë_, that is, the Yule log. Next morning
they rake the ashes for any charred fragments and keep them as valuable
talismans to guard them against the stroke of lightning. At Vagney and
other places near it in the Vosges it used to be customary on the same
evening to grease the hinges and the latches of the doors, that no harsh
grating sound should break the slumbers of the infant Christ. In the
Vosges Mountains, too, as indeed in many other places, cattle acquired
the gift of speech on Christmas Eve and conversed with each other in the
language of Christians. Their conversation was, indeed, most
instructive; for the future, it seems, had no secret worth mentioning
for them. Yet few people cared to be caught eavesdropping at the byre;
wise folk contented themselves with setting a good store of fodder in
the manger, then shut the door, and left the animals to their
ruminations. A farmer of Vecoux once hid in a corner of the byre to
overhear the edifying talk of the beasts. But it did him little good;
for one ox said to another ox, "What shall we do to-morrow?" and the
other replied, "We shall carry our master to the churchyard." Sure
enough the farmer died that very night and was buried next morning.[653]
In Franche-Comté, the province of France to the west of the Jura
mountains, if the Yule log is really to protect a house against thunder
and lightning, it is essential that it should burn during the midnight
mass, and that the flame should not go out before the divine service is
concluded. Otherwise the log is quite useless for the purpose.[654] In
Burgundy the log which is placed on the fire on Christmas Eve is called
the _suche_. While it is burning, the father of the family, assisted by
his wife and children, sings Christmas carols; and when he has finished,
he tells the smallest children to go into a corner of the room and pray
God that the log may give them sweeties. The prayer is invariably
answered.[655]
[The Yule log and the Yule candle in England.]
In England the customs and beliefs concerning the Yule log, clog, or
block, as it was variously called, used to be similar. On the night of
Christmas Eve, says the antiquary John Brand, "our ancestors were wont
to light up candles of an uncommon size, called Christmas Candles, and
lay a log of wood upon the fire, called a Yule-clog or Christmas-block,
to illuminate the house, and, as it were, to turn night into day. This
custom is, in some measure, still kept up in the North of England. In
the buttery of St. John's College, Oxford, an ancient candle-socket of
stone still remains ornamented with the figure of the Holy Lamb. It was
formerly used to burn the Christmas Candle in, on the high table at
supper, during the twelve nights of that festival."[656] "A tall mould
candle, called a Yule candle, is lighted and set on the table; these
candles are presented by the chandlers and grocers to their customers.
The Yule-log is bought of the carpenters' lads. It would be unlucky to
light either of them before the time, or to stir the fire or candle
during the supper; the candle must not be snuffed, neither must any one
stir from the table till supper is ended. In these suppers it is
considered unlucky to have an odd number at table. A fragment of the log
is occasionally saved, and put under a bed, to remain till next
Christmas: it secures the house from fire; a small piece of it thrown
into a fire occurring at the house of a neighbour, will quell the raging
flame. A piece of the candle should likewise be kept to ensure good
luck."[657] In the seventeenth century, as we learn from some verses of
Herrick, the English custom was to light the Yule log with a fragment of
its predecessor, which had been kept throughout the year for the
purpose; where it was so kept, the fiend could do no mischief.[658]
Indeed the practice of preserving a piece of the Yule-log of one year to
light that of the next was observed by at least one family at Cheadle in
Staffordshire down to the latter part of the nineteenth century.[659]
[The Yule-log in Yorkshire; the Yule log in Lincolnshire; the Yule log
in Warwickshire, Shropshire, and Herefordshire; the Yule log in Wales.]
In the North of England farm-servants used to lay by a large knotty
block of wood for the Christmas fire, and so long as the block lasted
they were entitled by custom to ale at their meals. The log was as large
as the hearth could hold.[660] At Belford, in Northumberland, "the lord
of the manor sends round to every house, on the afternoon of Christmas
Eve, the Yule Logs--four or five large logs--to be burnt on Christmas
Eve and Day. This old custom has always, I am told, been kept up
here."[661] The custom of burning the Yule log at Christmas used to be
observed in Wensleydale and other parts of Yorkshire, and prudent
housewives carefully preserved pieces of the log throughout the year. At
Whitby the portions so kept were stowed away under the bed till next
Christmas, when they were burnt with the new log; in the interval they
were believed to protect the house from conflagration, and if one of
them were thrown into the fire, it would quell a raging storm.[662] The
practice and the belief were similar at Filey on the coast of Yorkshire,
where besides the Yule log a tall Yule candle was lit on the same
evening.[663] In the West Riding, while the log blazed cheerfully, the
people quaffed their ale and sang, "Yule! Yule! a pack of new cards and
a Christmas stool!"[664] At Clee, in Lincolnshire, "when Christmas Eve
has come the Yule cake is duly cut and the Yule log lit, and I know of
some even middle-class houses where the new log must always rest upon
and be lighted by the old one, a small portion of which has been
carefully stored away to preserve a continuity of light and heat."[665]
At the village of Wootton Wawen in Warwickshire, down to 1759 at least,
the Yule-block, as it was called, was drawn into the house by a horse on
Christmas Eve "as a foundation for the fire on Christmas Day, and
according to the superstition of those times for the twelve days
following, as the said block was not to be entirely reduced to ashes
till that time had passed by."[666] As late as 1830, or thereabout, the
scene of lighting the hearth-fire on Christmas Eve, to continue burning
throughout the Christmas season, might have been witnessed in the
secluded and beautiful hill-country of West Shropshire, from Chirbury
and Worthen to Pulverbatch and Pontesbury. The Christmas brand or brund,
as they called it, was a great trunk of seasoned oak, holly, yew, or
crab-tree, drawn by horses to the farm-house door and thence rolled by
means of rollers and levers to the back of the wide open hearth, where
the fire was made up in front of it. The embers were raked up to it
every night, and it was carefully tended, that it might not go out
during the whole Christmas season. All those days no light might be
struck, given, or borrowed. Such was the custom at Worthen in the early
part of the nineteenth century.[667] In Herefordshire the Christmas
feast "lasted for twelve days, and no work was done. All houses were,
and are now, decorated with sprigs of holly and ivy, which must not be
brought in until Christmas Eve. A Yule log, as large as the open hearth
could accommodate, was brought into the kitchen of each farmhouse, and
smaller ones were used in the cottages. W---- P---- said he had seen a
tree drawn into the kitchen at Kingstone Grange years ago by two cart
horses; when it had been consumed a small portion was carefully kept to
be used for lighting next year's log. 'Mother always kept it very
carefully; she said it was lucky, and kept the house from fire and from
lightning.' It seems to have been the general practice to light it on
Christmas Eve."[668] "In many parts of Wales it is still customary to
keep part of the Yule-log until the following Christmas Eve 'for luck.'
It is then put into the fireplace and burnt, but before it is consumed
the new log is put on, and thus 'the old fire and the new' burn
together. In some families this is done from force of habit, and they
cannot now tell why they do it; but in the past the observance of this
custom was to keep witches away, and doubtless was a survival of
fire-worship."[669]
[The Yule log in Servia; the cutting of the oak tree to form the Yule
log.]
But nowhere, apparently, in Europe is the old heathen ritual of the Yule
log preserved to the present day more perfectly than in Servia. At early
dawn on Christmas Eve (_Badnyi Dan_) every peasant house sends two of
its strongest young men to the nearest forest to cut down a young oak
tree and bring it home. There, after offering up a short prayer or
crossing themselves thrice, they throw a handful of wheat on the chosen
oak and greet it with the words, "Happy _Badnyi_ day to you!" Then they
cut it down, taking care that it shall fall towards the east at the
moment when the sun's orb appears over the rim of the eastern horizon.
Should the tree fall towards the west, it would be the worst possible
omen for the house and its inmates in the ensuing year; and it is also
an evil omen if the tree should be caught and stopped in its fall by
another tree. It is important to keep and carry home the first chip from
the fallen oak. The trunk is sawn into two or three logs, one of them
rather longer than the others. A flat, unleavened cake of the purest
wheaten flour is brought out of the house and broken on the larger of
the logs by a woman. The logs are left for the present to stand outside,
leaning on one of the walls of the house. Each of them is called a Yule
log (_badnyak_).
[Prayers to Colleda.]
Meanwhile the children and young people go from house to house singing
special songs called _Colleda_ because of an old pagan divinity Colleda,
who is invoked in every line. In one of them she is spoken of as "a
beautiful little maid"; in another she is implored to make the cows
yield milk abundantly. The day is spent in busy preparations. The women
bake little cakes of a special sort in the shape of lambs, pigs, and
chickens; the men make ready a pig for roasting, for in every Servian
house roast pig is the principal dish at Christmas. A bundle of straw,
tied with a rope, is brought into the courtyard and left to stand there
near the Yule logs.
[The bringing in of the Yule log.]
At the moment when the sun is setting all the members of the family
assemble in the central hall (the great family kitchen) of the principal
house. The mother of the family (or the wife of the chief of the
Zadrooga)[670] gives a pair of woollen gloves to one of the young men,
who goes out and presently returns carrying in his gloved hands the
largest of the logs. The mother receives him at the threshold, throwing
at him a handful of wheat, in which the first chip of the oak tree cut
in the early morning for the Yule log has been kept all day. Entering
the central hall with the Yule log the young man greets all present with
the words: "Good evening, and may you have a happy Christmas!" and they
all answer in chorus, "May God and the happy and holy Christmas help
thee!" In some parts of Servia the chief of the family, holding a glass
of red wine in his hand, greets the Yule log as if it were a living
person, and drinks to its health. After that, another glass of red wine
is poured on the log. Then the oldest male member of the family,
assisted by the young man who brought in the log, places it on the
burning fire so that the thicker end of the log protrudes for about a
foot from the hearth. In some places this end is smeared with honey.
[The ceremony with the straw; the Yule candle.]
Next the mother of the family brings in the bundle of straw which was
left standing outside. All the young children arrange themselves behind
her in a row. She then walks slowly round the hall and the adjoining
rooms, throwing handfuls of straw on the floor and imitating the
cackling of a hen, while all the children follow her peeping with their
lips as if they were chickens cheeping and waddling after the mother
bird. When the floor is well strewn with straw, the father or the eldest
member of the family throws a few walnuts in every corner of the hall,
pronouncing the words: "In the name of God the Father, and the Son, and
the Holy Ghost, Amen!" A large pot, or a small wooden box, filled with
wheat is placed high in the east corner of the hall, and a tall candle
of yellow wax is stuck in the middle of the wheat. Then the father of
the family reverently lights the candle and prays God to bless the
family with health and happiness, the fields with a good harvest, the
beehives with plenty of honey, the cattle and sheep with young, and the
cows with abundant milk and rich cream. After that they all sit down to
supper, squatting on the floor, for the use of chairs and tables is
forbidden on this occasion.
[The roast Pig; the drawing of the water.]
By four o'clock next morning (Christmas Day) the whole village is astir;
indeed most people do not sleep at all that night. It is deemed most
important to keep the Yule log burning brightly all night long. Very
early, too, the pig is laid on the fire to roast, and at the same moment
one of the family goes out into the yard and fires a pistol or gun; and
when the roast pig is removed from the fire the shot is repeated. Hence
for several hours in the early morning of Christmas Day such a popping
and banging of firearms goes on that a stranger might think a stubborn
skirmish was in progress. Just before the sun rises a girl goes and
draws water at the village spring or at the brook. Before she fills her
vessels, she wishes the water a happy Christmas and throws a handful of
wheat into it. The first cupfuls of water she brings home are used to
bake a special Christmas cake (_chesnitsa_), of which all the members
partake at dinner, and portions are kept for absent relatives. A small
silver coin is baked in the cake, and he or she who gets it will be
lucky during the year.
[The Christmas visiter (_polaznik_).]
All the family gathered round the blazing Yule log now anxiously expect
the arrival of the special Christmas visiter, who bears the title of
_polaznik_. He is usually a young boy of a friendly family. No other
person, not even the priest or the mayor of the village, would be
allowed to set foot in the house before the arrival of this important
personage. Therefore he ought to come, and generally does come, very
early in the morning. He carries a woollen glove full of wheat, and when
the door is opened at his knock he throws handfuls of wheat on the
family gathered round the hearth, greeting them with the words, "Christ
is born!" They all answer, "He is born indeed," and the hostess flings a
handful of wheat over the Christmas visiter, who moreover casts some of
his wheat into the corners of the hall as well as upon the people. Then
he walks straight to the hearth, takes a shovel and strikes the burning
log so that a cloud of sparks flies up the chimney, while he says, "May
you have this year so many oxen, so many horses, so many sheep, so many
pigs, so many beehives full of honey, so much good luck, prosperity,
progress, and happiness!" Having uttered these good wishes, he embraces
and kisses his host. Then he turns again to the hearth, and after
crossing himself falls on his knees and kisses the projecting part of
the Yule log. On rising to his feet he places a coin on the log as his
gift. Meanwhile a low wooden chair has been brought in by a woman, and
the visiter is led to it to take his seat. But just as he is about to do
so, the chair is jerked away from under him by a male member of the
family and he measures his length on the floor. By this fall he is
supposed to fix into the ground all the good wishes which he has uttered
that morning. The hostess thereupon wraps him in a thick blanket, and he
sits quietly muffled in it for a few minutes; the thick blanket in which
he is swathed is believed, on the principles of homoeopathic magic, to
ensure that the cows will give thick cream next year. While he sits thus
enriching the milk of the dairy, the lads who are to herd the sheep in
the coming year go to the hearth and kneeling down before it kiss each
other across the projecting end of the Yule log. By this demonstration
of affection they are thought to seal the love of the ewes for their
lambs.[671]
[The Yule log among the Servians of Slavonia; the Christmas visiter
(_polazenik_).]
The ritual of the Yule log is observed in a similar form by the Servians
who inhabit the southern provinces of Austria. Thus in Syrmia, a
district of Slavonia which borders on Servia, the head of the house
sends out one or two young men on Christmas Eve to cut the Yule log in
the nearest forest. On being brought in, the log is not mixed with the
ordinary fuel but placed by itself, generally leaning against a
fruit-tree till the evening shadows begin to fall. When a man carries it
into the kitchen and lays it on the fire, the master of the house throws
corn over him, and the two greet each other solemnly the one saying,
"Christ is born," and the other answering "He is born indeed." Later in
the evening the master of the house pours a glass of wine on the charred
end of the log, whereupon one of the younger men takes the burnt piece
of wood, carries it to the orchard, and sets it up against one of the
fruit-trees. For this service he is rewarded by the master of the house
with a piece of money. On Christmas Day, when the family is assembled at
table, they expect the arrival of the special Christmas visiter (called
_polazenik_), the only person who is allowed to enter the house that
day. When he comes, he goes to the hearth, stirs the fire with the poker
and says, "Christ is born. May the family enjoy all good luck and
happiness in this year! May the cattle increase in number like the
sparks I have struck!" As he says these words, the mistress of the house
pours corn over him and leads him to the parlour, where he takes the
place of honour beside the master of the house. He is treated with
marked attention and respect. The family are at pains to entertain him;
they sing their best songs for his amusement, and after midnight a
numerous band of men and maidens escorts him by torchlight, with songs
and jubilation, to his own house.[672]
[The Yule log among the Servians of Dalmatia, Herzegovina, and
Montenegro; the Yule log in Albania.]
Among the Servians of Dalmatia, Herzegovina, and Montenegro it is
customary on Christmas Eve (_Badnyi Dan_) to fetch a great Yule log
(_badnyak_), which serves as a symbol of family luck. It is generally
cut from an evergreen oak, but sometimes from an olive-tree or a beech.
At nightfall the master of the house himself brings in the log and lays
it on the fire. Then he and all present bare their heads, sprinkle the
log with wine, and make a cross on it. After that the master of the
house says, "Welcome, O log! May God keep you from mishap!" So saying he
strews peas, maize, raisins, and wheat on the log, praying for God's
blessing on all members of the family living and dead, for heaven's
blessing on their undertakings, and for domestic prosperity. In
Montenegro they meet the log with a loaf of bread and a jug of wine,
drink to it, and pour wine on it, whereupon the whole family drinks out
of the same beaker. In Dalmatia and other places, for example in Rizano,
the Yule logs are decked by young women with red silk, flowers, laurel
leaves, ribbons, and even gold wire; and the lights near the doorposts
are kindled when the log is brought into the house. Among the Morlaks,
as soon as the master of the house crosses the threshold with the Yule
log, one of the family must sprinkle corn on him and say, "God bless
you," to which he answers, "The same to you." A piece of the log is kept
till New Year's Day to kindle a light with or it is carried out to the
fields to protect them from hail. It is customary to invite before hand
a Christmas visitor (_polazaynik_) and to admit no one else into the
house on that day. He comes early, carrying in his sleeves a quantity of
corn which he throws into the house, saying, "Christ is born." One of
the household replies, "He is born indeed," and throws corn on the
visiter. Then the newcomer goes up to the hearth, pokes the fire and
strikes the burning log with the poker so hard that sparks fly off in
all directions. At each blow he says, "I wish the family as many cows,
calves, sucking pigs, goats, and sheep, and as many strokes of good
luck, as the sparks that now fly from the log." With these words he
throws some small coins into the ashes.[673] In Albania down to recent
years it was a common custom to burn a Yule log at Christmas, and with
it corn, maize, and beans; moreover, wine and _rakia_ were poured on the
flames, and the ashes of the fire were scattered on the fields to make
them fertile.[674] The Huzuls, a Slavonic people of the Carpathians,
kindle fire by the friction of wood on Christmas Eve (Old Style, the
fifth of January) and keep it burning till Twelfth Night.[675]
[Belief that the Yule log protects against fire and lightning.]
It is remarkable how common the belief appears to have been that the
remains of the Yule-log, if kept throughout the year, had power to
protect the house against fire and especially against lightning.[676] As
the Yule log was frequently of oak,[677] it seems possible that this
belief may be a relic of the old Aryan creed which associated the
oak-tree with the god of thunder.[678] Whether the curative and
fertilizing virtues ascribed to the ashes of the Yule log, which are
supposed to heal cattle as well as men, to enable cows to calve, and to
promote the fruitfulness of the earth,[679] may not be derived from the
same ancient source, is a question which deserves to be considered.
[Public celebrations of the fire-festival at Midwinter; the bonfire on
Christmas Eve at Schweina in Thuringia.]
Thus far we have regarded only the private or domestic celebration of
the fire-festival at midwinter. The public celebration of such rites at
that season of the year appears to have been rare and exceptional in
Central and Northern Europe. However, some instances are on record. Thus
at Schweina, in Thuringia, down to the second half of the nineteenth
century, the young people used to kindle a great bonfire on the Antonius
Mountain every year on Christmas Eve. Neither the civil nor the
ecclesiastical authorities were able to suppress the celebration; nor
could the cold, rain, and snow of the season damp or chill the
enthusiasm of the celebrants. For some time before Christmas the young
men and boys were busy building a foundation for the bonfire on the top
of the mountain, where the oldest church of the village used to stand.
The foundation consisted of a pyramidal structure composed of stones,
turf, and moss. When Christmas Eve came round, a strong pole, with
bundles of brushwood tied to it, was erected on the pyramid. The young
folk also provided themselves with poles to which old brooms or faggots
of shavings were attached. These were to serve as torches. When the
evening grew dark and the church bells rang to service, the troop of
lads ascended the mountain; and soon from the top the glare of the
bonfire lit up the darkness, and the sound of a hymn broke the stillness
of night. In a circle round the great fire lesser fires were kindled;
and last of all the lads ran about swinging their lighted torches, till
these twinkling points of fire, moving down the mountain-side, went out
one by one in the darkness. At midnight the bells rang out from the
church tower, mingled with the blast of horns and the sound of singing.
Feasting and revelry were kept up throughout the night, and in the
morning young and old went to early mass to be edified by hearing of the
light eternal.[680]
[Bonfires on Christmas Eve in Normandy.]
In the Bocage of Normandy the peasants used to repair, often from a
distance of miles, to the churches to hear the midnight mass on
Christmas Eve. They marched in procession by torchlight, chanting
Christmas carols, and the fitful illumination of the woods, the hedges,
and the fields as they moved through the darkness, presented a
succession of picturesque scenes. Mention is also made of bonfires
kindled on the heights; the custom is said to have been observed at
Athis near Condé down to recent years.[681]
[Bonfires on St. Thomas's Day in the Isle of Man; the "Burning of the
Clavie" at Burghead on the last day of December; the old rampart at
Burghead]
In the Isle of Man, "on the twenty-first of December, a day dedicated to
Saint Thomas, the people went to the mountains to catch deer and sheep
for Christmas, and in the evenings always kindled a large fire on the
top of every _fingan_ or cliff. Hence, at the time of casting peats,
every one laid aside a large one, saying, '_Faaid mooar moayney son
oie'l fingan_'; that is, 'a large turf for Fingan Eve.'"[682] At
Burghead, an ancient village on the southern shore of the Moray Firth,
about nine miles from the town of Elgin, a festival of fire called "the
Burning of the Clavie" has been celebrated from time immemorial on
Hogmanay, the last day of December. A tar-barrel is sawn in two, one
half of it is set on the top of a stout pole, and filled with tar and
other combustibles. The half-barrel is fastened to the pole by means of
a long nail, which is made for the purpose and furnished gratuitously by
the village blacksmith. The nail must be knocked in with a stone; the
use of a hammer is forbidden. When the shades of evening have begun to
fall, the Clavie, as it is called, is set on fire by means of a burning
peat, which is always fetched from the same house; it may not be kindled
with a match. As soon as it is in a blaze, it is shouldered by a man,
who proceeds to carry it at a run, flaring and dripping melted tar,
round the old boundaries of the village; the modern part of the town is
not included in the circuit. Close at his heels follows a motley crowd,
cheering and shouting. One bearer relieves another as each wearies of
his burden. The first to shoulder the Clavie, which is esteemed an
honour, is usually a man who has been lately married. Should the bearer
stumble or fall, it is deemed a very ill omen for him and for the
village. In bygone times it was thought necessary that one man should
carry it all round the village; hence the strongest man was chosen for
the purpose. Moreover it was customary to carry the burning Clavie round
every fishing-boat and vessel in the harbour; but this part of the
ceremony was afterwards discontinued. Finally, the blazing tar-barrel is
borne to a small hill called the Doorie, which rises near the northern
end of the promontory. Here the pole is fixed into a socket in a pillar
of freestone, and fresh fuel is heaped upon the flames, which flare up
higher and brighter than ever. Formerly the Clavie was allowed to burn
here the whole night, but now, after blazing for about half an hour, it
is lifted from the socket and thrown down the western slope of the hill.
Then the crowd rushes upon it, demolishes it, and scrambles for the
burning, smoking embers, which they carry home and carefully preserve as
charms to protect them against witchcraft and misfortune.[683] The great
antiquity of Burghead, where this curious and no doubt ancient festival
is still annually observed, appears from the remains of a very
remarkable rampart which formerly encircled the place. It consists of a
mound of earth faced on both sides with a solid wall of stone and
strengthened internally by oak beams and planks, the whole being laid on
a foundation of boulders. The style of the rampart agrees in general
with Caesar's description of the mode in which the Gauls constructed
their walls of earth, stone, and logs,[684] and it resembles the ruins
of Gallic fortifications which have been discovered in France, though it
is said to surpass them in the strength and solidity of its structure.
No similar walls appear to be known in Britain. A great part of this
interesting prehistoric fortress was barbarously destroyed in the early
part of the nineteenth century, much of it being tumbled into the sea
and many of the stones used to build the harbour piers.[685]
[Procession with burning tar-barrels on Christmas Eve (Old Style) at
Lerwick.]
In Lerwick, the capital of the Shetland Islands, "on Christmas Eve, the
fourth of January,--for the old style is still observed--the children go
_a guizing_, that is to say, they disguising themselves in the most
fantastic and gaudy costumes, parade the streets, and infest the houses
and shops, begging for the wherewithal to carry on their Christmas
amusements. One o'clock on Yule morning having struck, the young men
turn out in large numbers, dressed in the coarsest of garments, and, at
the double-quick march, drag huge tar barrels through the town, shouting
and cheering as they go, or blowing loud blasts with their 'louder
horns.' The tar barrel simply consists of several--say from four to
eight--tubs filled with tar and chips, placed on a platform of wood. It
is dragged by means of a chain, to which scores of jubilant youths
readily yoke themselves. They have recently been described by the worthy
burgh officer of Lerwick as 'fiery chariots, the effect of which is
truly grand and terrific.' In a Christmas morning the dark streets of
Lerwick are generally lighted up by the bright glare, and its atmosphere
blackened by the dense smoke of six or eight tar barrels in succession.
On the appearance of daybreak, at six A.M., the morning revellers put
off their coarse garments--well begrimed by this time--and in their turn
become guizards. They assume every imaginable form of costume--those of
soldiers, sailors, Highlanders, Spanish chevaliers, etc. Thus disguised,
they either go in pairs, as man and wife, or in larger groups, and
proceed to call on their friends, to wish them the compliments of the
season. Formerly, these adolescent guizards used to seat themselves in
crates, and accompanied by fiddlers, were dragged through the
town."[686]
[Persian festival of fire at the winter solstice.]
The Persians used to celebrate a festival of fire called _Sada_ or
_Saza_ at the winter solstice. On the longest night of the year they
kindled bonfires everywhere, and kings and princes tied dry grass to the
feet of birds and animals, set fire to the grass, and then let the birds
and beasts fly or run blazing through the air or over the fields and
mountains, so that the whole air and earth appeared to be on fire.[687]
§ 8. _The Need-fire_
[European festivals of fire in seasons of distress and calamity; the
need-fire.]
The fire-festivals hitherto described are all celebrated periodically at
certain stated times of the year. But besides these regularly recurring
celebrations the peasants in many parts of Europe have been wont from
time immemorial to resort to a ritual of fire at irregular intervals in
seasons of distress and calamity, above all when their cattle were
attacked by epidemic disease. No account of the popular European
fire-festivals would be complete without some notice of these remarkable
rites, which have all the greater claim on our attention because they
may perhaps be regarded as the source and origin of all the other
fire-festivals; certainly they must date from a very remote antiquity.
The general name by which they are known among the Teutonic peoples is
need-fire.[688]
[The needfire in the Middle Ages; the needfire at Neustadt in 1598.]
The history of the need-fire can be traced back to early Middle Ages;
for in the reign of Pippin, King of Franks, the practice of kindling
need-fires was denounced as a heathen superstition by a synod of
prelates and nobles held under the presidency of Boniface, Archbishop of
Mainz.[689] Not long afterwards the custom was again forbidden, along
with many more relics of expiring paganism, in an "Index of
Superstitions and Heathenish Observances," which has been usually
referred to the year 743 A.D., though some scholars assign it a later
date under the reign of Charlemagne.[690] In Germany the need-fires
would seem to have been popular down to the second half of the
nineteenth century. Thus in the year 1598, when a fatal cattle-plague
was raging at Neustadt, near Marburg, a wise man of the name of Joh.
Köhler induced the authorities of the town to adopt the following
remedy. A new waggon-wheel was taken and twirled round an axle, which
had never been used before, until the friction elicited fire. With this
fire a bonfire was next kindled between the gates of the town, and all
the cattle were driven through the smoke and flames. Moreover, every
householder had to rekindle the fire on his hearth by means of a light
taken from the bonfire. Strange to say, this salutary measure had no
effect whatever in staying the cattle-plague, and seven years later the
sapient Joh. Köhler himself was burnt as a witch. The farmers, whose
pigs and cows had derived no benefit from the need-fire, perhaps
assisted as spectators at the burning, and, while they shook their
heads, agreed among themselves that it served Joh. Köhler perfectly
right.[691] According to a writer who published his book about nine
years afterwards, some of the Germans, especially in the Wassgaw
mountains, confidently believed that a cattle-plague could be stayed by
driving the animals through a need-fire which had been kindled by the
violent friction of a pole on a quantity of dry oak wood; but it was a
necessary condition of success that all fires in the village should
previously be extinguished with water, and any householder who failed to
put out his fire was heavily fined.[692]
[Method kindling the need fire.]
The method of kindling the need-fire is described as follows by a writer
towards the end of the seventeenth century: "When an evil plague has
broken out among the cattle, large and small, and the herds have thereby
suffered great ravages, the peasants resolve to light a need-fire. On a
day appointed there must be no single flame in any house nor on any
hearth. From every house a quantity of straw and water and underwood
must be brought forth; then a strong oaken pole is fixed firmly in the
earth, a hole is bored in it, and a wooden winch, well smeared with
pitch and tar, is inserted in the hole and turned round forcibly till
great heat and then fire is generated. The fire so produced is caught in
fuel and fed with straw, heath, and underwood till it bursts out into a
regular need-fire, which must then be somewhat spread out between walls
or fences, and the cattle and horses driven through it twice or thrice
with sticks and whips. Others set up two posts, each with a hole in it,
and insert a winch, along with old greasy rags, in the holes. Others use
a thick rope, collect nine kinds of wood, and keep them in violent
motion till fire leaps forth. Perhaps there may be other ways of
generating or kindling this fire, but they are all directed simply at
the cure of the cattle. After passing twice or thrice through the fire
the cattle are driven to their stalls or to pasture, and the heap of
wood that had been collected is destroyed, but in some places every
householder must take with him a brand, extinguish it in a washing-tub
or trough, and put it in the manger where the cattle are fed, where it
must lie for some time. The poles that were used to make the need-fire,
together with the wood that was employed as a winch, are sometimes
burned with the rest of the fuel, sometimes carefully preserved after
the cattle have been thrice driven through the flames."[693]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire about Hildesheim.]
Sometimes the need-fire was known as the "wild fire," to distinguish it
no doubt from the tame fire produced by more ordinary methods. The
following is Grimm's account of the mode of kindling it which prevailed
in some parts of Central Germany, particularly about Hildesheim, down
apparently to the first half of the nineteenth century: "In many places
of Lower Saxony, especially among the mountains, the custom prevails of
preparing the so-called 'wild fire' for the purpose of preventing
cattle-plague; and through it first the pigs, then the cows, and last of
all the geese are driven. The proceedings on the occasion are as
follows. The principal farmers and parishioners assemble, and notice is
served to every inhabitant to extinguish entirely all fire in his house,
so that not even a spark remains alight in the whole village. Then young
and old repair to a road in a hollow, usually towards evening, the women
carrying linen, and the men wood and tow. Two oaken poles are driven
into the ground about a foot and a half from each other. Each pole has
in the side facing the other a socket into which a cross-piece as thick
as a man's arm is fitted. The sockets are stuffed with linen, and the
cross-piece is rammed in as tight as possible, while the poles are bound
together at the top by ropes. A rope is wound about the round, smooth
cross-piece, and the free ends of the rope at both sides are gripped by
several persons, who pull the cross-piece to and fro with the utmost
rapidity, till through the friction the linen in the sockets takes fire.
The sparks of the linen are immediately caught in tow or oakum and waved
about in a circle until they burst into a bright glow, when straw is
applied to it, and the flaming straw used to kindle the brushwood which
has been stacked in piles in the hollow way. When this wood has blazed
up and the fire has nearly died out again, the people hasten to the
herds, which have been waiting in the background, and drive them
forcibly, one after the other, through the glow. As soon as all the
beasts are through, the young folk rush wildly at the ashes and cinders,
sprinkling and blackening each other with them; those who have been most
sprinkled and blackened march in triumph behind the cattle into the
village and do not wash themselves for a long time. If after long
rubbing the linen should not catch fire, they guess that there is still
fire somewhere in the village; then a strict search is made from house
to house, any fire that may be found is put out, and the householder is
punished or upbraided. The 'wild fire' must be made by prolonged
friction; it may not be struck with flint and steel. Some villages do
not prepare it yearly as a preventive of cattle-plague, but only kindle
it when the disease has actually broken out."[694] In the Halberstadt
district the ends of the rope which was used to make the cross-piece
revolve in the sockets had to be pulled by two chaste young men.[695]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire in the Mark.]
In the Mark down to the first half of the nineteenth century the
practice was similar. We read that "in many parts of the Mark there
still prevails on certain occasions the custom of kindling a need-fire,
it happens particularly when a farmer has sick pigs. Two posts of dry
wood are planted in the earth amid solemn silence before the sun rises,
and round these posts hempen ropes are pulled to and fro till the wood
kindles; whereupon the fire is fed with dry leaves and twigs and the
sick beasts are driven through it In some places the fire is produced by
the friction of an old cart-wheel."[696]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire in Mecklenburg]
In Mecklenburg the need-fire used to be lighted by the friction of a
rope wound about an oaken pole or by rubbing two boards against each
other. Having been thus elicited, the flame was fed with wood of seven
kinds. The practice was forbidden by Gustavus Adolphus, Duke of
Mecklenburg, in 1682; but the prohibition apparently had little effect,
for down to the end of the eighteenth century the custom was so common
that the inhabitants even of large towns made no scruple of resorting to
it. For example, in the month of July 1792 sickness broke out among the
cattle belonging to the town of Sternberg; some of the beasts died
suddenly, and so the people resolved to drive all the survivors through
a need-fire. On the tenth day of July the magistrates issued a
proclamation announcing that next morning before sunrise a need-fire
would be kindled for the behoof of all the cattle of the town, and
warning all the inhabitants against lighting fires in their kitchens
that evening. So next morning very early, about two o'clock, nearly the
whole population was astir, and having assembled outside one of the
gates of the town they helped to drive the timid cattle, not without
much ado, through three separate need-fires; after which they dispersed
to their homes in the unalterable conviction that they had rescued the
cattle from destruction. But to make assurance doubly sure they deemed
it advisable to administer the rest of the ashes as a bolus to the
animals. However, some people in Mecklenburg used to strew the ashes of
the need-fire on fields for the purpose of protecting the crops against
vermin. As late as June 1868 a traveller in Mecklenburg saw a couple of
peasants sweating away at a rope, which they were pulling backwards and
forwards so as to make a tarry roller revolve with great speed in the
socket of an upright post. Asked what they were about, they vouchsafed
no reply; but an old woman who appeared on the scene from a neighbouring
cottage was more communicative. In the fulness of her heart she confided
to the stranger that her pigs were sick, that the two taciturn bumpkins
were her sons, who were busy extracting a need-fire from the roller, and
that, when they succeeded, the flame would be used to ignite a heap of
rags and brushwood, through which the ailing swine would be driven. She
further explained that the persons who kindle a need-fire should always
be two brothers or at least bear the same Christian name.[697]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire in Hanover.]
In the summer of 1828 there was much sickness among the pigs and the
cows of Eddesse, a village near Meinersen, in the south of Hanover. When
all ordinary measures to arrest the malady failed, the farmers met in
solemn conclave on the village green and determined that next morning
there should be a need-fire. Thereupon the head man of the village sent
word from house to house that on the following day nobody should kindle
a fire before sunrise, and that everybody should stand by ready to drive
out the cattle. The same afternoon all the necessary preparations were
made for giving effect to the decision of the collective wisdom. A
narrow street was enclosed with planks, and the village carpenter set to
work at the machinery for kindling the fire. He took two posts of oak
wood, bored a hole about three inches deep and broad in each, and set
the two poles up facing each other at a distance of about two feet. Then
he fitted a roller of oak wood into the two holes of the posts, so that
it formed a cross-piece between them. About two o'clock next morning
every householder brought a bundle of straw and brushwood and laid it
down across the street in a prescribed order. The sturdiest swains who
could be found were chosen to make the need-fire. For this purpose a
long hempen rope was wound twice round the oaken roller in the oaken
posts: the pivots were well smeared with pitch and tar: a bundle of tow
and other tinder was laid close at hand, and all was ready. The stalwart
clodhoppers now seized the two ends of the rope and went to work with a
will. Puffs of smoke soon issued from the sockets, but to the
consternation of the bystanders not a spark of fire could be elicited.
Some people openly declared their suspicion that some rascal had not put
out the fire in his house, when suddenly the tinder burst into flame.
The cloud passed away from all faces; the fire was applied to the heaps
of fuel, and when the flames had somewhat died down, the herds were
forcibly driven through the fire, first the pigs, next the cows, and
last of all the horses. The herdsmen then drove the beasts to pasture,
and persons whose faith in the efficacy of the need-fire was
particularly robust carried home brands.[698]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire in the Harz Mountains.]
Again, at a village near Quedlinburg, in the Harz Mountains, it was
resolved to put a herd of sick swine through the need-fire. Hearing of
this intention the Superintendent of Quedlinburg hurried to the spot and
has described for us what he saw. The beadles went from house to house
to see that there was no fire in any house; for it is well known that
should there be common fire burning in a house the need-fire will not
kindle. The men made their rounds very early in the morning to make
quite sure that all lights were out. At two o'clock a night-light was
still burning in the parsonage, and this was of course a hindrance to
the need-fire. The peasants knocked at the window and earnestly
entreated that the night-light might be extinguished. But the parson's
wife refused to put the light out; it still glimmered at the window; and
in the darkness outside the angry rustics vowed that the parson's pigs
should get no benefit of the need-fire. However, as good luck would have
it, just as the morning broke, the night-light went out of itself, and
the hopes of the people revived. From every house bundles of straw, tow,
faggots and so forth were now carried to feed the bonfire. The noise and
the cheerful bustle were such that you might have thought they were all
hurrying to witness a public execution. Outside the village, between two
garden walls, an oaken post had been driven into the ground and a hole
bored through it. In the hole a wooden winch, smeared with tar, was
inserted and made to revolve with such force and rapidity that fire and
smoke in time issued from the socket. The collected fuel was then thrown
upon the fire and soon a great blaze shot up. The pigs were now driven
into the upper end of the street. As soon as they saw the fire, they
turned tail, but the peasants drove them through with shrieks and shouts
and lashes of whips. At the other end of the street there was another
crowd waiting, who chased the swine back through the fire a second time.
Then the other crowd repeated the manoeuvre, and the herd of swine was
driven for the third time through the smoke and flames. That was the end
of the performance. Many pigs were scorched so severely that they gave
up the ghost. The bonfire was broken up, and every householder took home
with him a brand, which he washed in the water-barrel and laid for some
time, as a treasure of great price, in the manger from which the cattle
were fed. But the parson's wife had reason bitterly to repent her folly
in refusing to put out that night-light; for not one of her pigs was
driven through the need-fire, so they died.[699]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire in Brunswick.]
In Brunswick, also, the need-fire is known to have been repeatedly
kindled during the nineteenth century. After driving the pigs through
the fire, which was kindled by the friction of wood, some people took
brands home, dipped them in water, and then gave the water to the pigs
to drink, no doubt for the purpose of inoculating them still more
effectually with the precious virtue of the need-fire. In the villages
of the Drömling district everybody who bore a hand in kindling the "wild
fire" must have the same Christian name; otherwise they laboured in
vain. The fire was produced by the friction of a rope round the beams of
a door; and bread, corn, and old boots contributed their mites to swell
the blaze through which the pigs as usual were driven. In one place,
apparently not far from Wolfenbüttel, the needfire is said to have been
kindled, contrary to custom, by the smith striking a spark from the cold
anvil.[700] At Gandersheim down to about the beginning of the nineteenth
century the need-fire was lit in the common way by causing a cross-bar
to revolve rapidly on its axis between two upright posts. The rope which
produced the revolution of the bar had to be new, but it was if possible
woven from threads taken from a gallows-rope, with which people had been
hanged. While the need-fire was being kindled in this fashion, every
other fire in the town had to be put out; search was made through the
houses, and any fire discovered to be burning was extinguished. If in
spite of every precaution no flame could be elicited by the friction of
the rope, the failure was set down to witchcraft; but if the efforts
were successful, a bonfire was lit with the new fire, and when the
flames had died down, the sick swine were driven thrice through the
glowing embers.[701] On the lower Rhine the need-fire is said to have
been kindled by the friction of oak-wood on fir-wood, all fires in the
village having been previously extinguished. The bonfires so kindled
were composed of wood of nine different sorts; there were three such
bonfires, and the cattle were driven round them with great gravity and
devotion.[702]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire in Silesia and Bohemia.]
In Silesia, also, need-fires were often employed for the purpose of
curing a murrain or preventing its spread. While all other lights within
the boundaries were extinguished, the new fire was produced by the
friction of nine kinds of wood, and the flame so obtained was used to
kindle heaps of brushwood or straw to which every inhabitant had
contributed. Through these fires the cattle, both sick and sound, were
driven in the confident expectation that thereby the sick would be
healed and the sound saved from sickness.[703] When plague breaks out
among the herds at Dobischwald, in Austrian Silesia, a splinter of wood
is chipped from the threshold of every house, the cattle are driven to a
cross-road, and there a tree, growing at the boundary, is felled by a
pair of twin brothers. The wood of the tree and the splinters from the
thresholds furnish the fuel of a bonfire, which is kindled by the
rubbing of two pieces of wood together. When the bonfire is ablaze, the
horns of the cattle are pared and the parings thrown into the flames,
after which the animals are driven through the fire. This is believed to
guard the herd against the plague.[704] The Germans of Western Bohemia
resort to similar measures for staying a murrain. You set up a post,
bore a hole in it, and insert in the hole a stick, which you have first
of all smeared with pitch and wrapt in inflammable stuffs. Then you wind
a rope round the stick and give the two ends of the rope to two persons
who must either be brothers or have the same baptismal name. They haul
the rope backwards and forwards so as to make the tarred stick revolve
rapidly, till the rope first smokes and then emits sparks. The sparks
are used to kindle a bonfire, through which the cattle are driven in the
usual way. And as usual no other fire may burn in the village while the
need-fire is being kindled; for otherwise the rope could not possibly be
ignited.[705] In Upper Austria sick pigs are reported to have been
driven through a need-fire about the beginning of the nineteenth
century.[706]
[The use the need-fire in Switzerland.]
The need-fire is still in use in some parts of Switzerland, but it seems
to have degenerated into a children's game and to be employed rather for
the dispersal of a mist than for the prevention or cure of
cattle-plague. In some cantons it goes by the name of "mist-healing,"
while in others it is called "butter-churning." On a misty or rainy day
a number of children will shut themselves up in a stable or byre and
proceed to make fire for the purpose of improving the weather. The way
in which they make it is this. A boy places a board against his breast,
takes a peg pointed at both ends, and, setting one end of the peg
against the board on his breast, presses the other end firmly against a
second board, the surface of which has been flaked into a nap. A string
is tied round the peg, and two other boys pull it to and fro, till
through the rapid motion of the point of the peg a hole is burnt in the
flaked board, to which tow or dry moss is then applied as a tinder. In
this way fire and smoke are elicited, and with their appearance the
children fancy that the mist will vanish.[707] We may conjecture that
this method of dispersing a mist, which is now left to children, was
formerly practised in all seriousness by grown men in Switzerland. It is
thus that religious or magical rites dwindle away into the sports of
children. In the canton of the Grisons there is still in common use an
imprecation, "Mist, go away, or I'll heal you," which points to an old
custom of burning up the fog with fire. A longer form of the curse
lingers in the Vallée des Bagnes of the canton Valais. It runs thus:
"Mist, mist, fly, fly, or St. Martin will come with a sheaf of straw to
burn your guts, a great log of wood to smash your brow, and an iron
chain to drag you to hell."[708]
[The mode of kindling the need-fire in Sweden and Norway; the need-fire
as a protection against witchcraft.]
In Sweden the need-fire is called, from the mode of its production,
either _vrid-eld_, "turned fire," or _gnid-eld_, "rubbed fire." Down to
near the end of the eighteenth century the need-fire was kindled, as in
Germany, by the violent rubbing of two pieces of wood against each
other; sometimes nine different kinds of wood were used for the purpose.
The smoke of the fire was deemed salutary; fruit-trees and nets were
fumigated with it, in order that the trees might bear fruit and the nets
catch fish. Cattle were also driven through the smoke.[709] In Sundal, a
narrow Norwegian valley, shut in on both sides by precipitous mountains,
there lived down to the second half of the nineteenth century an old man
who was very superstitious. He set salmon-traps in the river Driva,
which traverses the valley, and he caught many fish both in spring and
autumn. When his fishing went wrong, he kindled _naueld_ ("need-fire")
or _gnideild_ ("rubbed fire," "friction fire") to counteract the
witchcraft, which he believed to be the cause of his bad luck. He set up
two planks near each other, bored a hole in each, inserted a pointed rod
in the holes, and twisted a long cord round the rod. Then he pulled the
cord so as to make the rod revolve rapidly. Thus by reason of the
friction he at last drew fire from the wood. That contented him, for "he
believed that the witchery was thus rendered powerless, and that good
luck in his fishing was now ensured."[710]
[The need-fire among the Slavonic peoples.]
Slavonic peoples hold the need-fire in high esteem. They call it "living
fire," and attribute to it a healing virtue. The ascription of medicinal
power to fire kindled by the friction of wood is said to be especially
characteristic of the Slavs who inhabit the Carpathian Mountains and the
Balkan peninsula. The mode in which they produce the need-fire differs
somewhat in different places. Thus in the Schar mountains of Servia the
task is entrusted to a boy and girl between eleven and fourteen years of
age. They are led into a perfectly dark room, and having stripped
themselves naked kindle the fire by rubbing two rollers of lime wood
against each other, till the friction produces sparks, which are caught
in tinder. The Serbs of Western Macedonia drive two oaken posts into the
ground, bore a round hole in the upper end of each, insert a roller of
lime wood in the holes, and set it revolving rapidly by means of a cord,
which is looped round the roller and worked by a bow. Elsewhere the
roller is put in motion by two men, who hold each one end of the cord
and pull it backwards and forwards forcibly between them. Bulgarian
shepherds sometimes kindle the need-fire by drawing a prism-shaped piece
of lime wood to and fro across the flat surface of a tree-stump in the
forest.[711] But in the neighbourhood of Küstendil, in Bulgaria, the
need-fire is kindled by the friction of two pieces of oak wood and the
cattle are driven through it.[712]
[The need-fire in Russia and Poland; the need-fire in Slavonia.]
In many districts of Russia, also, "living fire" is made by the friction
of wood on St. John's Day, and the herds are driven through it, and the
people leap over it in the conviction that their health is thereby
assured; when a cattle-plague is raging, the fire is produced by rubbing
two pieces of oak wood against each other, and it is used to kindle the
lamps before the holy pictures and the censers in the churches.[713]
Thus it appears that in Russia the need-fire is kindled for the sake of
the cattle periodically as well as on special emergencies. Similarly in
Poland the peasants are said to kindle fires in the village streets on
St. Rochus's day and to drive the cattle thrice through them in order to
protect the animals against the murrain. The fire is produced by rubbing
a pole of poplar wood on a plank of poplar or fir wood and catching the
sparks in tow. The embers are carried home to be used as remedies in
sickness.[714] As practised in Slavonia, the custom of the need-fire
used to present some interesting features, which are best described in
the words of an eyewitness:--"In the year 1833 I came for the first time
as a young merchant to Slavonia; it was to Gaj that I went, in the
Pozega district. The time was autumn, and it chanced that a
cattle-plague was raging in the neighbourhood, which inflicted much loss
on the people. The peasants believed that the plague was a woman, an
evil spirit (_Kutga_), who was destroying the cattle; so they sought to
banish her. I had then occasion to observe the proceedings in the
villages of Gaj, Kukunjevac, Brezina, and Brekinjska. Towards evening
the whole population of the village was busy laying a ring of brushwood
round the boundaries of the village. All fires were extinguished
throughout the village. Then pairs of men in several places took pieces
of wood, which had been specially prepared for the purpose, and rubbed
them together till they emitted sparks. The sparks were allowed to fall
on tinder and fanned into a flame, with which the dry brushwood was
kindled. Thus the fire burned all round the village. The peasants
persuaded themselves that thereupon _Kuga_ must take her
departure."[715]
[The need-fire in Servia.]
This last account leaves no doubt as to the significance of the
need-fire in the minds of Slavonian peasantry. They regard it simply as
a barrier interposed between their cattle and the evil spirit, which
prowls, like a hungry wolf, round the fold and can, like a wolf, be kept
at bay by fire. The same interpretation of the need-fire comes out,
hardly less clearly, in the account which another writer gives of a
ceremony witnessed by him at the village of Setonje, at the foot of the
Homolje mountains in the great forest of Servia. An epidemic was raging
among the children, and the need-fire was resorted to as a means of
staying the plague. It was produced by an old man and an old woman in
the first of the ways described above; that is, they made it in the dark
by rubbing two sticks of lime wood against each other. Before the
healing virtue of the fire was applied to the inhabitants of the
village, two old women performed the following ceremony. Both bore the
name of Stana, from the verb _stati_, "to remain standing"; for the
ceremony could not be successfully performed by persons of any other
name. One of them carried a copper kettle full of water, the other an
old house-lock with the key. Thus equipped they repaired to a spot
outside of the village, and there the old dame with the kettle asked the
old dame with the lock, "Whither away?" and the other answered her, "I
came to shut the village against ill-luck." With that she locked the
lock and threw it with the key into the kettle of water. Then they
marched thrice round the village, repeating the ceremony of the lock and
key at each round. Meantime all the villagers, arrayed in their best
clothes, were assembled in an open place. All the fires in the houses
had been previously extinguished. Two sturdy yokels now dug a tunnel
through a mound beside an oak tree; the tunnel was just high enough to
let a man creep through it on all fours. Two fires, lit by the
need-fire, were now laid, one at each end of the tunnel; and the old
woman with the kettle took her stand at the entrance of the tunnel,
while the one with the lock posted herself at the exit. Facing the
latter stood another woman with a great pot of milk before her, and on
the other side was set a pot full of melted swine's fat. All was now
ready. The villagers thereupon crawled through the tunnel on hands and
knees, one behind the other. Each, as he emerged from the tunnel,
received a spoonful of milk from the woman and looked at his face
reflected in the pot of melted swine's fat. Then another woman made a
cross with a piece of charcoal on his back. When all the inhabitants had
thus crept through the tunnel and been doctored at the other end, each
took some glowing embers home with him in a pot wherewith to rekindle
the fire on the domestic hearth. Lastly they put some of the charcoal in
a vessel of water and drank the mixture in order to be thereby magically
protected against the epidemic.[716]
It would be superfluous to point out in detail how admirably these
measures are calculated to arrest the ravages of disease; but for the
sake of those, if there are any, to whom the medicinal effect of
crawling through a hole on hands and knees is not at once apparent, I
shall merely say that the procedure in question is one of the most
powerful specifics which the wit of man has devised for maladies of all
sorts. Ample evidence of its application will be adduced in a later part
of this work.[717]
[The need-fire in Bulgaria.]
In Bulgaria the herds suffer much from the raids of certain
blood-sucking vampyres called _Ustrels_. An _Ustrel_ is the spirit of a
Christian child who was born on a Saturday and died unfortunately before
he could be baptized. On the ninth day after burial he grubs his way out
of the grave and attacks the cattle at once, sucking their blood all
night and returning at peep of dawn to the grave to rest from his
labours. In ten days or so the copious draughts of blood which he has
swallowed have so fortified his constitution that he can undertake
longer journeys; so when he falls in with great herds of cattle or
flocks of sheep he returns no more to the grave for rest and refreshment
at night, but takes up his quarters during the day either between the
horns of a sturdy calf or ram or between the hind legs of a milch-cow.
Beasts whose blood he has sucked die the same night. In any herd that he
may fasten on he begins with the fattest animal and works his way down
steadily through the leaner kine till not one single beast is left
alive. The carcases of the victims swell up, and when the hide is
stripped off you can always perceive the livid patch of flesh where the
monster sucked the blood of the poor creature. In a single night he may,
by working hard, kill five cows; but he seldom exceeds that number. He
can change his shape and weight very easily; for example, when he is
sitting by day between the horns of a ram, the animal scarcely feels his
weight, but at night he will sometimes throw himself on an ox or a cow
so heavily that the animal cannot stir, and lows so pitifully that it
would make your heart bleed to hear. People who were born on a Saturday
can see these monsters, and they have described them accurately, so that
there can be no doubt whatever about their existence. It is, therefore,
a matter of great importance to the peasant to protect his flocks and
herds against the ravages of such dangerous vampyres. The way in which
he does so is this. On a Saturday morning before sunrise the village
drummer gives the signal to put out every fire in the village; even
smoking is forbidden. Next all the domestic animals, with the exception
of fowls, geese, and ducks, are driven out into the open. In front of
the flocks and herds march two men, whose names during the ceremony may
not be mentioned in the village. They go into the wood, pick two dry
branches, and having stript themselves of their clothes they rub the two
branches together very hard till they catch fire; then with the fire so
obtained they kindle two bonfires, one on each side of a cross-road
which is known to be frequented by wolves. After that the herd is driven
between the two fires. Coals from the bonfires are then taken back to
the village and used to rekindle the fires on the domestic hearths. For
several days no one may go near the charred and blackened remains of the
bonfires at the cross-road. The reason is that the vampyre is lying
there, having dropped from his seat between the cow's horns when the
animals were driven between the two fires. So if any one were to pass by
the spot during these days, the monster would be sure to call him by
name and to follow him to the village; whereas if he is left alone, a
wolf will come at midnight and strangle him, and in a few days the
herdsmen can see the ground soaked with his slimy blood. So that is the
end of the vampyre.[718] In this Bulgarian custom, as in the Slavonian
custom described above, the conception of the need-fire as a barrier set
up between the cattle and a dangerous spirit is clearly worked out. The
spirit rides the cow till he comes to the narrow pass between the two
fires, but the heat there is too much for him; he drops in a faint from
the saddle, or rather from the horns, and the now riderless animal
escapes safe and sound beyond the smoke and flame, leaving her
persecutor prostrate on the ground on the further side of the blessed
barrier.
[The need-fire in Bosnia and Herzegovina.]
In Bosnia and Herzegovina there are some local differences in the mode
of kindling the need-fire, or "living fire," as it is called. Thus at
Jablanica both the uprights and the roller or cross-piece, which by its
revolution kindles the fire, are made of cornel-tree wood; whereas at
Dolac, near Sarajevo, the uprights and the cross-piece or roller are all
made of lime wood. In Gacko, contrary to the usual custom, the fire is
made by striking a piece of iron on an anvil, till sparks are given out,
which are caught in tinder. The "living fire" thus produced is employed
for purposes of healing. In particular, if any one suffers from wounds
or sores, ashes of the need-fire are sprinkled on the ailing part. In
Gacko it is also believed that if a pregnant woman witnesses a
conflagration, her child will either be born with a red eruption on its
skin or will contract the malady sooner or later afterwards. The only
remedy consists in ashes of the need-fire, which are mixed with water
and given to the child to drink.[719]
[The need-fire in England; the need-fire in Yorkshire.]