Fire Festival 

The following, is an eye witness account of an eastern pagan fire festival, from the 1849 London edition of Layard's Nineveh and its Remains, vol.i. pages 290-294 --

As the twilight faded, the Fakirs, [lower orders of babylonish priests,] dressed in brown garments of coarse cloth, [burlap, aka. sackcloth] closely fitting to their bodies, and wearing black turbans on their heads, issued from the TOMB, each bearing a light in one hand, and a pot of oil, with a bundle of cotton wick in the other. They filled and trimmed lamps placed in niches in the walls of the courtyard and scattered over the buildings on the sides of the valley, and even on isolated rocks, and in the hollow trunks of trees.

Innumerable stars appeared to glitter on the black sides of the mountain and in the dark recesses of the forest. As the priests made their way through the crowd to perform their task, men and women passed their right hands through the flame; and after rubbing the right eyebrow with the part which had been "purified by the sacred element", they devoutly carried it to their lips. Some who bore children in their arms anointed them in like manner, whilst others held out their hands to be touched by those who, less fortunate than themselves, could not reach the flame.

As night advanced, those who had assembled -- they must now have amounted to nearly five thousand persons -- lighted torches, which they carried with them as they wandered through the forest.

The effect was magical: the varied groups could be faintly distinguished through the darkness -- men hurrying to and fro -- women with their children seated on the house-tops -- and crowds gathering round the pedlars, who exposed their wares for sale in the court-yard.

Thousands of lights were reflected in the fountains and streams, glimmered amonst the foliage of the trees, and danced in the distance. As I was gazing on this extraordinary scene, the hum of human voices was suddenly hushed, and a [musical] strain, solemn and melancholy, arose from the valley.

It resembled some majestic chant which years before I had listened to in the cathedral of a distant land. Music so pathetic and so sweet I never before heard in the East. The voices of men and women were blended in harmony with the soft notes of many flutes. At measured intervals the song was broken by the LOUD CLASH OF CYMBALS AND TAMBOURINES; and those who were within the precincts of the tomb then joined in the melody. The tambourines, which were struck simultaneously, only interrupted at intervals the song of the priests.

As the time quickened they broke in more frequently. The chant gradually gave way to a lively melody, which, increasing in measure, was finally lost in a confusion of sounds. The tambourines were beaten with extraordinary energy -- the flutes poured forth a rapid flood of notes -- the voices were raised to the highest pitch -- the men outside joined in the cry -- whilst the women made the [very] rocks resound with the shrill tahlehl.

The musicians, giving way to the excitement, threw their instruments into the air, and strained their limbs into every contortion, until they fell exhausted to the ground. I never heard a more frightful yell than that which rose in the valley. It was midnight.
[end Layard section]

Such a "death of summer" festival in honour of the sun god "Shems",
(around whose tomb the festival too place,) seemed to me every bit as
FRANTIC as modern rock and roll festivals, including musicians going
BERSERK at the end throwing their instruments, and wriggling like a
SERPENT in a fire of excruciating torment!

Charlotte Elizabeth, (Personal Recollections, pages 112-115, 1847 London edition) describes a festival in Ireland which she had witnessed:

On that great festival of the Irish peasantry, St. John's Eve, it is the custom, at sunset on that evening, to kindle immense fires throughout the country, built, like our bonfires, to a great height, the pile being composed of turf, bogwood, and such other combustible substances as they can gather. The turf yields a steady, substantial body of fire, the bogwood a most brilliant flame, and the effect of these great beacons blazing on every hill, sending up volumes of smoke from every point of the horizon, is very remarkable.

The fire being kindled, a splendid blaze shot up; and for a while they stood contemplating it with faces strangely disfigured by the peculiar light first emitted when the bogwood was thrown on it. After a short pause, the ground was cleared in front of an old blind piper, the very beau ideal of energy, drollery, and shrewdness, who, seated on a low chair, with a well-plenished jug within his reach, screwed his pipes to the liveliest tunes, and the endless jig began.

When the fire burned for some hours and got low, an indispensable part of the ceremony commenced. Every one present of the peasantry passed through it, and several children were thrown across the sparkling embers; while a wooden frame of some eight feet long, with a horse's head fixed to one end, and a large white sheet thrown over it, concealing the wood and the man on those head it was carried, made its appearance. This was greeted with loud shouts as the "white horse"; and having been safely carried, by the skill of its bearer, several times through the fire with a bold leap, it pursued the people, who ran screaming in every direction. I asked what the horse was meant for, and was told it represented "all cattle."

Here was the old Pagan worship of Baal, if not of Moloch too, carried on openly and universally in the heart of a nominally Christian country, and by millions professing the Christian name!