Balder The Beautiful, Vol. I. by Sir James George Frazer

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[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 Conde 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]

Sec. 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.
Koehler 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. Koehler 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. Koehler 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 Droemling 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 Wolfenbuettel, 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]

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