* * * * *
Concerning the _Feast of St. John the Baptist_, an author, to whom we
are obliged for recollections of preceding customs, gives us information
that should be carefully perused in the old versified version:--
Then doth the joyfull feast of John the Baptist take his turne,
When _bonfiers_ great, with loftie flame, in every towne doe burne;
And yong men round about with maides, doe daunce in every streete,
_With garlands_ wrought of Motherwort, or else with Vervain sweete,
And many other flowres faire, with Violets in their handes,
Whereas they all do fondly thinke, that _whosoever standes_,
_And thorow the flowres beholds the flame, his eyes shall feel no
paine._
When thus till night they daunced have, _they through the fire
amaine_,
_With striving mindes doe runne_, and all their _hearbes they cast
therein_,
And then with wordes devout and prayers they solemnely begin,
Desiring God that all their ills may there consumed bee;
Whereby they thinke through all that yeare from agues to be free.
Some others get a rotten _Wheele_, all worne and cast aside,
Which _covered round about with strawe and tow_, they closely hide:
_And caryed to some mountaines top, being all with fire light_,
_They hurle it downe with violence_, when darke appears the night:
_Resembling much the sunne_, that from the Heavens down should fal,
A strange and monstrous sight it seemes, and fearefull to them all:
But they suppose their mischiefes all are likewise throwne to hell,
And that from harmes and daungers now, in safetie here they
dwell.[186]
A very ancient “Homily” relates other particulars and superstitions
relating to the bonfires on this day:--
“In worshyp of Saint Johan the people waked at home, and made three
maner of fyres: one was clene bones, and noo woode, and that is called a
bone fyre; another is clene woode, and no bones, and that is called a
wood fyre, for people to sit and wake thereby; the thirde is made of
wode and bones, and it is callyd Saynt Johannys fyre. The first fyre, as
a great clerke, Johan Belleth, telleth, he was in a certayne countrey,
so in the countrey there was so soo greate hete, the which causid that
dragons to go togyther in tokenynge, that Johan dyed in brennynge love
and charyte to God and man, and they that dye in charyte shall have part
of all good prayers, and they that do not, shall never be saved. Then as
these dragons flewe in th’ ayre they shed down to that water froth of
ther kynde, and so envenymed the waters, and caused moche people for to
take theyr deth thereby, and many dyverse sykenesse. Wyse clerkes
knoweth well that dragons hate nothyng more than the stenche of
brennynge bones, and therefore they gaderyd as many as they mighte
fynde, and brent them; and so with the stenche thereof they drove away
the dragons, and so they were brought out of greete dysease. The seconde
fyre was made of woode, for that wyll brenne lyght, and wyll be seen
farre. For it is the chefe of fyre to be seen farre, and betokennynge
that Saynt Johan was a lanterne of lyght to the people. Also the people
made blases of fyre for that they shulde be seene farre, and specyally
in the nyght, in token of St. Johan’s having been seen from far in the
spirit by Jeremiah. The third fyre of bones betokenneth Johan’s
martyrdome, for hys bones were brente.”--Brand calls this “a pleasant
absurdity;” the justice of the denomination can hardly be disputed.
Gebelin observes of these fires, that “they were kindled about midnight
on the very moment of the summer solstice, by the greatest part as well
of the ancient as of modern nations; and that this fire-lighting was a
religious ceremony of the most remote antiquity, which was observed for
the prosperity of states and people, and to dispel every kind of evil.”
He then proceeds to remark, that “the origin of this fire, which is
still retained by so many nations, though enveloped in the mist of
antiquity, is very simple: it was a _feu de joie_, kindled the very
moment the year began; for the first of all years, and the most ancient
that we know of, began at this month of June. Thence the very name of
this month, junior, _the youngest_, which is renewed; while that of the
preceding one is May, major, _the ancient_. Thus the one was the month
of young people, while the other belonged to old men. These _feux de
joie_ were accompanied at the same time with vows and sacrifices for the
prosperity of the people and the fruits of the earth. They danced also
round this fire; for what feast is there without a dance? and the most
active leaped over it. Each on departing took away a fire-brand, great
or small, and the remains were scattered to the wind, which, at the same
time that it dispersed the ashes, was thought to expel every evil. When,
after a long train of years, the year ceased to commence at this
solstice, still the custom of making these fires at this time was
continued by force of habit, and of those superstitious ideas that are
annexed to it.” So far remarks Gebelin concerning the universality of
the practice.
Bourne, a chronicler of old customs, says, “that men and women were
accustomed to gather together in the evening by the sea side, or in some
certain houses, and there adorn a girl, who was her parent’s first
begotten child, after the manner of a bride. Then they feasted, and
leaped after the manner of bacchanals, and danced and shouted as they
were wont to do on their holidays; after this they poured into a
narrow-necked vessel some of the sea water, and put also into it certain
things belonging to each of them; then, as if the devil gifted the girl
with the faculty of telling future things, they would inquire with a
loud voice about the good or evil fortune that should attend them: upon
this the girl would take out of the vessel the first thing that came to
hand, and show it, and give it to the owner, who, upon receiving it, was
so foolish as to imagine himself wiser as to the good or evil fortune
that should attend him.” “In Cornwall, particularly,” says Borlase, “the
people went with lighted torches, tarred and pitched at the end, and
made their perambulations round their fires.” They went “from village to
village, carrying their torches before them, and this is certainly the
remains of the Druid superstition.”
And so in Ireland, according to sir Henry Piers, in Vallancey, “on the
eves of St. John the baptist and St. Peter, they always have in every
town a bonfire late in the evenings, and carry about bundles of reeds
fast tied and fired; these being dry, will last long, and flame better
than a torch, and be a pleasing divertive prospect to the distant
beholder; a stranger would go near to imagine the whole country was on
fire.” Brand cites further, from “The Survey of the South of Ireland,”
that--“It is not strange that many Druid remains should still exist; but
it is a little extraordinary that some of their customs should still be
practised. They annually renew the sacrifices that used to be offered to
Apollo, without knowing it. On Midsummer’s eve, every eminence, near
which is a habitation, blazes with bonfires; and round these they carry
numerous torches, shouting and dancing, which affords a beautiful sight.
Though historians had not given us the mythology of the pagan Irish, and
though they had not told us expressly that they worshipped Beal, or
Bealin, and that this Beal was the sun, and their chief god, it might,
nevertheless, be investigated from this custom, which the lapse of so
many centuries has not been able to wear away.” Brand goes on to quote
from the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” for February 1795, “The Irish have ever
been worshippers of fire and of Baal, and are so to this day. This is
owing to the Roman Catholics, who have artfully yielded to the
superstitions of the natives, in order to gain and keep up an
establishment, grafting christianity upon pagan rites. The chief
festival in honour of the sun and fire is upon the 21st of June, when
the sun arrives at the summer solstice, or rather begins its retrograde
motion. I was so fortunate in the summer of 1782, as to have my
curiosity gratified by a sight of this ceremony to a very great extent
of country. At the house where I was entertained, it was told me that we
should see at midnight the most singular sight in Ireland, which was
_the lighting of fires in honour of the sun_. Accordingly, exactly at
midnight, the fires began to appear: and taking the advantage of going
up to the leads of the house, which had a widely extended view, I saw on
a radius of thirty miles, all around, the fires burning on every
eminence which the country afforded. I had a farther satisfaction in
learning, from undoubted authority, that the people _danced round the
fires_, and at the close went through these fires, and made their sons
and daughters, together with their cattle, pass the fire; and the whole
was conducted with religious solemnity.”
* * * * *
Mr. Brand notices, that Mr. Douce has a curious French print, entitled
“L’este le Feu de la St. Jean;” _Mariette ex._ In the centre is the fire
made of wood piled up very regularly, and having a tree stuck in the
midst of it. Young men and women are represented dancing round it hand
in hand. Herbs are stuck in their hats and caps, and garlands of the
same surround their waists, or are slung across their shoulders. A boy
is represented carrying a large bough of a tree. Several spectators are
looking on. The following lines are at the bottom:--
“Que de Feux brulans dans les airs!
Qu’ils font une douce harmonie!
Redoublons cette mélodie
Par nos dances, par nos concerts!”
This “curious French print,” furnished the engraving at page 823, or to
speak more correctly, it was executed from one in the possession of the
editor of the _Every-Day Book_.
* * * * *
To enliven the subject a little, we may recur to recent or existing
usages at this period of the year. It may be stated then on the
authority of Mr. Brand’s collections, that the Eton scholars formerly
had bonfires on St. John’s day; that bonfires are still made on
Midsummer eve in several villages of Gloucester, and also in the
northern parts of England and in Wales; to which Mr. Brand adds, that
there was one formerly at Whiteborough, a tumulus on St. Stephen’s down
near Launceston, in Cornwall. A large summer pole was fixed in the
centre, round which the fuel was heaped up. It had a large bush on the
top of it. Round this were parties of wrestlers contending for small
prizes. An honest countryman, who had often been present at these
merriments, informed Mr. Brand, that at one of them an evil spirit had
appeared in the shape of a black dog, since which none could wrestle,
even in jest, without receiving hurt: in consequence of which the
wrestling was, in a great measure, laid aside. The rustics there believe
that giants are buried in these tumuli, and nothing would tempt them to
be so sacrilegious as to disturb their bones.
In Northumberland, it is customary on this day to dress out stools with
a cushion of flowers. A layer of clay is placed on the stool, and
therein is stuck, with great regularity, an arrangement of all kinds of
flowers, so close as to form a beautiful cushion. These are exhibited at
the doors of houses in the villages, and at the ends of streets and
cross-lanes of larger towns, where the attendants beg money from
passengers, to enable them to have an evening feast and dancing.[187]
One of the “Cheap Repository Tracts,” entitled, “Tawney Rachel, or the
Fortune-Teller,” said to have been written by Miss Hannah More, relates,
among other superstitious practices of Sally Evans, that “she would
never go to bed _on Midsummer eve_, without sticking up in her room the
well-known plant called _Midsummer Men_, as the bending of the leaves to
the right, or to the left, would never fail to tell her whether her
lover was true or false.” The _Midsummer Men_ were the orpyne plants,
which Mr. Brand says is thus elegantly alluded to in the “Cottage Girl,”
a poem “written on Midsummer eve, 1786:”--
“The rustic maid invokes her swain;
And hails, to pensive damsels dear,
_This eve_, though direst of the year.
* * * * *
“Oft on _the shrub_ she casts her eye,
That spoke her true-love’s secret sigh;
Or else, alas! too plainly told
Her true-love’s faithless heart was cold.”
In the “Connoisseur,” there is mention of divinations on Midsummer eve.
“I and my two sisters tried the dumb-cake together: you must know, two
must make it, two bake it, two break it, and the third put it under each
of their pillows, (but you must not speak a word all the time), and then
you will dream of the man you are to have. This we did: and to be sure I
did nothing all night but dream of Mr. Blossom. The same night, exactly
at twelve o’clock, I sowed hemp-seed in our back-yard, and said to
myself,--‘Hemp-seed I sow, hemp-seed I hoe, and he that is my true-love
come after me and mow.’ Will you believe me? I looked back, and saw him
behind me, as plain as eyes could see him. After that, I took a clean
shift and wetted it, and turned it wrong-side out, and hung it to the
fire upon the back of a chair; and very likely my sweetheart would have
come and turned it right again, (for I heard his step) but I was
frightened, and could not help speaking, which broke the charm. I
likewise stuck up two _Midsummer Men_, one for myself and one for him.
Now if his had died away, we should never have come together, but I
assure you his blowed and turned to mine. Our maid Betty tells me, that
if I go backwards, without speaking a word, into the garden upon
Midsummer eve, and gather a rose, and keep it in a clean sheet of
paper, without looking at it till Christmas-day, it will be as fresh as
in June; and if I then stick it in my bosom, he that is to be my husband
will come and take it out. My own sister Hetty, who died just before
Christmas, stood in the church porch last Midsummer eve, to see all that
were to die that year in our parish; and she saw her own apparition.”