French Village Couples Seal Their Love by Leaping Over Saint John’s Bonfire

Published July 26, 1990. Each summer in the village of Puyricard in the south of France they celebrate the Feast of Saint John. At night the villagers light a bonfire, and couples dance around the great fire. Most of us never have and never will attend the Feast of Saint John in Puyricard, France. But author Robert Fulghum has. And he says the scene “is from a novel, a film, a hopeful imagination.”

Fulghum, you will remember, is the author of the popular book “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” The account of his visit to the Feast of Saint John is recorded in his recent book “It Was on Fire When I Lay Down on It.” (The title of the book has nothing to do with the Feast of Saint John.)

He writes, “When the first star could be seen in the night sky, the villagers lit a bonfire in the playfield of the school, and a folk band began to play—guitar, bass drum, shepherd’s flute and concertina—music that was close at hand and long ago at the same time. In the universal two-step couples danced, encircling the great fire—their only light.

“At the first intermission, the couples did not leave for refreshment but stood staring into the bonfire. Suddenly an athletic young man and woman, holding each other tightly by the hand, ran and leaped high in the air through the fierce flames, landing safely just beyond the edge of the coals. As the crowd applauded, the two embraced and walked away, wearing expressions of fearful joy, having tempted the fates and emerged unscathed to dance once more. Make no mistake about it, what they had done was quite dangerous.

“And it was this leaping through the fire that was at the heart of the Feast of Saint John.

“It worked this way: If you were lovers and wanted to seal your covenant, you made a wish together that you would never part, and then you rushed the fire and jumped over while holding hands. It was said that the hotter the fire the higher the flames, the longer and closer would be the companionship. But it was also said that if you misjudged the fire and got singed or came down in the coal on the other side or lost your grip on one another while jumping, then evil would come to you and your bond. Not to be taken lightly, this.

“So the young of heart and fleet of foot jumped early on; as the evening grew darker and the fire burned lower, the more cautious made their moves. Some did not clear the fire; some jumped too soon and some too late and some ran to the fire only to stop short, and some broke their grip with one partner jumping while the other held back at the last moment.

“Thought there was much laughter and cheering and teasing, it was also very clear that this was ancient and serious business. Not just another party. Once a year, late in the night of high summer, with music and dance to lift the spirit, you took your love by the hand and tempted the fire of destiny.

“At evening’s end, when only glowing coals remained, there was a played a traditional tune signaling a last dance. As the final note of the shepherd’s flute faded, the villagers encircled the soft glow of the embers and fell silent. The village couple married longest caught hands, and gracefully, solemnly, stepped together over what once was fire. At that signal of benediction, the villagers embraced and walked off into the starry, starry night toward home, and all the fires of love ever after.”