When the world was lit only by fire, the flames played a mystic role in everyday life. On the summer solstice, a bonfire had a role of many enchanting parts.
A couple could not marry unless they were athletic enough to jump over a burning bonfire, or at least scorch themselves trying. The mythology was that the heat would kindle their desire, although in practice tender limbs would have created virtually the opposite effect in the marriage bed. The only fertilisation achieved by the flames was almost certainly of the crops in the fields, where the bonfire’s ashes would be scattered. One old wives’ tale often believed, said that the ashes could also be used to bring an end to a storm.
The Catholic Church hijacked the pagan festival of the summer solstice, awarding its date in the calendar to John the Baptist, a rather dull figure in Christianity it must be said, as interest in him was largely kindled by the arrival of his severed head on the dining table of Pontius Pilate.
Still, his Fête de la Saint-Jean flourishes in the Carladès, at Vic-sur-Cère, Pierrefort, Polminhac and Mur de Barrez, villages that once had the status of a province on the southern borders of France. Here they still speak the ancient tongue of Occitan and even learn its grammar in school, a language as far removed from modern French as Dutch and Flemish.
On the last Sunday in June, school choirs will celebrate the start of the Carladès in Polminhac, led by a pastre or shepherd on a delightful old path that meanders around the Château de Pesteils to the village of Cabanusse. Here they will be met by more singers and join hands around the last vestige of the pagan festival, a giant bonfire.
As night falls, and professional choirs entertain the villagers in a live concert in a natural amphitheatre at the foot of a cliff, lit by the bonfire’s flickering flames, the evening reaches a climax. A hush falls over the audience as a single chorister chants the Miserere, from a poem of that great defender of Occitan culture, Frédéric Mistral. But then comes a deafening contrast as volleys of fireworks light the entire valley.
First celebration of the St Jean, 1834
