DREAD OF WITCHES.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20708, 4 May 1929, Page 5

DREAD OF WITCHES.

KEEPING A TOWN FREE. “BURNING OF THE CLAVIE.” QUAINT SCOTTISH CUSTOM. The little Scottish, fishing village of Burghead, on the, Moray Firth, 1 is not generally classed among the show places ;of the British Isles, but it recently had a show that" was absolutely unique. It is surprising to see an. apparently law-abiding and God-fparing community given over to. the rite of pagan worship : (says a . correspondent -of ■’ the Sunday Post), yet that is exactly, what happens for the,space of a. couple of hours or so every, year, when the residents indulge iu the .ceremqpy of “Burning the Clavie.” On every New Year’s Eve/. according to the old calendar, the inhabitants of Burghead_ forget- all . about business, lay down their nets, give the fish a Test for the day, and let themselves go, for old New Year’s , Eve is" the day when one burns the clavie. The writer, says;—For the benefit'_of_ those- wild do not know w’hat a clavie-is/ and are unversed in the ways of burning them, T would explain that it is a sacred flare -or beacon, which is carried round " the town • of Burghead once a. year, to render, the town free from witches, and to make‘it prosperous for ■the coming, year; The clavie, as befits an' instrument dedicated to a sacred cause is not just any old sort of bonfire. On the contrary, the manufacture .of it is -an operation both skilled,‘and artistic. SELECTION OF THE CLAVIE. The committee that.sits over the construction of the clavie is a very exclusive body of men known as the clavie crew. They number four, including the real head of > the undertaking, who is called the clavie skipper, or the clavie king. This personage is Mr William Peterkiu. He has been clavie' skipper, for almost 40 years, and probably knows more about the business of clavie burnihg than any man living. His father was skipper before him.. . .. The clavie is a barrel, or, to be more accurate, half a barrel. It is one of the unofficial duties of the Provost of, Burghead to provide a barrel for the years clavie. The present Provost, Mr George D. Gordon, on the occasion of the last ceremony, hunted in the back of his shop and produced-a real beautywell worthy to be made into a clavie. At 3 o’clock in the afternoon the barrel is taken to the appointed place, and there the crew set to work upon- it. Previous to , that, they arc not supposed to have seen the barrel, as that brings bad tuck. First, of, all. the .'barrel has to .be sawn in two; it is then ready for. the handle to be'fixed. The lower half of the barrel is'fixed on to'a wooden. shaft by means of a special nail, provided for the purpose by the blacksmith. This ■ naif is thrust home by blows with, a heavy, stone, as it is most important that no hammer be used in the construction of the clavie, for this would render its charms powerless. A LUMP OF BUENING PEAT. When the handle is fixed firmly the clavie is filled full of peat, dry wood, and anything that will burn. Alt is then liberally soaked in tar, so that it forms a very combustible torch. The clavie is now complete. The whole village waits for darkness to fall. At. 6 o’clock bus loads of people have arrived from all partg of the district, and presently the show begins. The brawny crew get under the clavie, and this is lighted by means of, a lump of burning peat; it would be-sacrilege to light the clavie with a match, .as these are as unlucky as hammers. When the torch is well ablaze the crew move off, and the burning of the clavie. has begun. How those four brawny men are able to carry that blazing, spluttering, roaring mass without being roasted I do not know. The burning mass is continually dripping boiling tar and crackling cinders over their backs and arms and giving an im-pressive-firework display as it goes, along, but the crew seem made of brass. The bearers have now to carry the clavie all through the town, and they move off, followed by a large and hilarious crowd, and outside every important door they stop and throw a piece of the blazing clavie through the open door, as the possession of a clavie faggot brings a year's luck. As was only fitting, the Provost pot the first and largest lumj>. His clavie was really an incandescent mass of burnim r wood and peat, which, when hurled through bis door, had sufficient power to set the whole house on fire. The procession keeps on winding in and out the little streets, and all the small boys fight for pieces as they drop off tlv’ clavie. , TWOPENCE FOR A PIECE. Nobody cares for burned fingers now, although when I tried to get an excellent piece I dropped it quicker than I had picked it up. However, I bought a piece for twopence from a small boy, who had an armful, so my luck is assured. Every now and again the crew would stop and fling a bit .of the blazing stuff through somebody’s door. They just picked it off the clavie with their bare, fingers, which undoubtedly were not flesh and blood. 1 heard that pieces of clavie are sent to Burghead folk abroad, which is not fair, as they didn’t have to get their fingers burned. Gradually, and with many stoppages, the clavie makes a circuit of the town, and is brought finally to its ultimate goal, the Dooric Hill. This is a little knob of land at the east end of the town and is specially dedicated to the use of the clavie. ,

At the top of the Doorie Hill is a sort of cairn of stones cemented'into a pillar tower. This is called the Clavie' Pillar, and was presented to the clavieby a late Provost. Up here the clavic, still blazing merrily, is carried, and the handle is placed in a- socket in the top of the pillar. The clavie’s journey is now at an end, and the real fire worship begins. More fuel is heaped upon the Jmge torch, a new , bucket of tar poured over -its dripping sides, and the flames shoot up into the sky a'beacon for miles around. The other half of the, Provost’s barrel is produced, and ds smashed down o*n top of. the clavie. Very soon'that blazes up as well, and the crowd ■of watchers on the top. sides, and bottom of the Doorie Hilt sliriek with excitement.. AN IMPRESSIVE SIGHT. It is not ns childish as it sounds. The blazing, clavie topping the stone pillar, illuminating the faces below with a lurid glow is a very impressive sight. I shouted as loudly as anybody there. More fuel! More tar on the clavie! More shrieks from the watchers! The clavie crew, Salamander-like, pass in and out of the flames tossing spare lumps of wood to those below. . Then, for some unaccountable reason the clavie roars and splits, hundreds of flaring faggots sail into the air, scattering ail but the crew. The force of the explosion makes the flames whistle in the air. There is a mighty rush for the lumps of fuel, which are rolling down the hill. Some little boys get ah armful! Some beefy fishermen don’t get any! Nobody minds! The clavie itself being only wood and tar at last begins to subside, the flames grow less and less, but not until there is nothing left, but smouldering ashes, do the people leave to catch the last bus home. In the morning the Doorie Hill is littered with faggots black and cold, and the little fishing village of IJurghoad on the Moray Firth is free from witches for another year.