_Usefulness of the Ash Tree--Its position among Sacred Trees--The
Queen of Trees--Mythology of the Ash--Scotch superstitious usages--The
"Ash Faggot Ball" Somersetshire--Pliny and others on the Serpent and
the Ash--The Ash as a medium of cure of complaints--Anecdotes--Phallic
Associations--The New Birth--Ireland and the Ash--The Juniper
Tree--The Madonna and the Juniper--The Elm Tree--Mythology of the
Elm--The Apple Tree--Mythological allusions to the Apple Tree--The
Pine Tree--Wind Spirits--German Superstitions--The Oak Tree--Universal
Sacredness of the Oak--The Oak of the Hebrew Scriptures--Classic
Oaks--Socrates and his oath--Greek sayings--The Trees speaking--Sacred
Oak of Dodona--Legend of Philemon and Baucis--The Hamadryads--The Yule
Log--St. Boniface--Mysteries connected with the Oak--The Christmas
Tree._
The Ash, while one of the most useful and valuable of British trees,
demands particular attention from the fact that it has always held a
foremost position amongst the sacred trees of ancient nations. In the
Scandinavian mythology it was the mundane tree--the symbolical tree of
universal life. "Best and greatest of trees," it was called, "with a
triple root reaching to the mythic regions of the first giants and the
Æsir, and penetrating to the nebulous Niflheim, its majestic stem
overtopping the heavens, its branches filling the world; it is sprinkled
with the purest water, whence comes the dew that falls on the dales, its
life-giving energy is diffused throughout all nature."
It has been said that if the oak be regarded as the king of trees and the
Hercules of the forest, the ash may fairly claim supremacy as their queen,
and Gilpin terms it the "Venus of the Woods."
"At its foot is the Undar fountain where sit the three Norns or
Fates--time past, time present, and time to come; these give Runic
characters and laws to men, and fix their destinies. Here is the most holy
of all places, where the gods assemble daily in council, with All-Father
at their head.
"These three Norns have a certain analogy to the three mythic Persian
destinies seated by the fountain of perennial life; and the tree itself is
evidently a symbol of that inscrutable power which is the life of all
things; thus representing, under an arborescent form, the most ancient
theory of nature, analogous to that personified in the Indian _Parvati_,
the goddess of life and reproduction; also in the Egyptian _Isis_; and in
the figure so frequently met with in the museums of Italy, called 'Diana
of the Ephesians,' a variety of the Indian _Maya_.
"In the Chinese sacred books, 'the _Taou_ (the divine reason or wisdom,
but here put for the _Deity_) preserves the heavens and supports the
earth: he is so high as not to be reached, so deep as not to be followed,
so immense as to contain the whole universe, and yet he penetrates into
the minutest things.' The sacred ash of the Scandinavians corresponds as a
symbol with the Chinese _Taou_."[19]
Hesiod and Homer both mention the ash; the latter mentioning the ashen
spear of Achilles, and telling us that it was by an ashen spear that he
was slain.
In the heathen mythology, Cupid is said to have made his arrows first of
ash wood, though they were afterwards formed of cypress.
So much mystery has always been associated with the ash tree, that in all
ages and in all countries innumerable superstitions have grown up in
connection with it, and, from their modern propagation in an age of
education, will evidently die hard.
In many parts of the Highlands of Scotland, at the birth of a child, the
nurse puts one end of a green stick of this tree into the fire, and while
it is burning gathers in a spoon the sap or juice which oozes out at the
other end, and administers it as the first spoonful of food to the
newly-born babe.
In Somersetshire, and some other counties, the burning of an ashen fagot
is a regular Christmas custom, and it is supposed that misfortune will
certainly fall upon the house where it is not duly fulfilled. In the same
county, there is held annually the "Ash Faggot Ball." The fagot is bound
with three withes, which are severally chosen to represent them by the
young people present--the first withe that breaks in the fire signifying
that they who selected it will be the first to be married. It is said that
these customs prevail extensively where the Arthurian legends are very
strong, and that "it is probable that the association of the ash with
Arthur grew out of its dedication to the gods of war, on account of
toughness for weapons."
While many of the surviving superstitions connected with the ash may
probably be traced to Yggdrasill, it has been observed that though
Yggdrasill was an ash, there is reason to think that, through the
influence of traditions, other sacred trees blended with it. Thus while
the ash bears no fruit, the Eddas describe the stars as the fruit of
Yggdrasill. "This" says Mr. Conway, "with the fact that the serpent is
coiled around its root, and the name Midgard, _i.e._, midst of the garden,
suggest that the apple-tree of Eden, may have been grafted on the great
ash." He also says there is a chapel at Coblentz where a tree is pictured
with several of the distinctive symbols of Yggsdrasill, while on it the
forbidden fruit is represented partly open, disclosing a death's head. The
serpent is coiled round the tree's foot. When Christian ideas prevailed,
and the Norse deities were transformed to witches, the ash was supposed to
be their favourite tree. From it they plucked branches on which to ride
through the air. In Oldenburg it is said the ash appears without its red
buds on St. John's Day, because the witches eat them on the night before,
on their way to the orgies of Walpurgisnacht.
Froschmäuster along with Pliny records the ancient popular belief that a
serpent will rather pass through fire in endeavouring to escape from an
enclosed circle than go under the shade of or touch the bough of the ash.
In connection with this, Dioscorides affirms that the juice of ash leaves,
mixed with wine, is a cure for the bite of serpents.
Another and a studiedly cruel superstition was that if a hole were bored
in an ash tree and a live shrew mouse enclosed therein and left to perish,
a few strokes with a branch of the tree thus prepared would cure lameness
and cramp in cattle, afflictions supposed to have been brought on by the
influence of the same little animal.
In our first volume of Phallic Worship an interesting reference was made
to certain curative properties supposed to be connected with the passing
of a diseased or afflicted body through a cleft stick, twig, or tree.
Just here, when writing upon the ash tree, it is proper again to allude to
that peculiar custom, or superstition. This tree was long held in great
veneration even in our own country for its supposed virtue in removing
rickets or healing internal ruptures. Newspapers and old magazines record
many instances illustrative of the profound faith of many of the country
folk in this mode of getting relief, and the method of procedure appears
to have been nearly always the same, and akin to the passing of a diseased
or polluted person through a human image in the eastern parts of the
world.
The author of the "Natural History of Selborne" says that in Hampshire a
tree was chosen, young and flexible, and its stem being severed
longitudinally, the fissure was kept wide open, and the child to be
healed, being duly undressed, was passed three times through the aperture.
After the operation, the tree was bandaged up and plastered over with
loam. It was believed that if the severed parts of the tree united the
child and the tree gradually recovered together; if the cleft continued to
gape, which could only happen through negligence or want of skill, it was
thought that the operation had proved ineffectual.
Another account in a newspaper forty years ago says a poor woman applied
to a farmer residing in the same parish for permission to pass a sick
child through one of his ash trees. The object was to cure the child of
the rickets. The mode in which the operation was performed was as
follows:--A young tree was split from the top to about the height of a
person, and laid sufficiently open to pass the child through. The ceremony
took place before three o'clock in the morning, and before the sun rose.
The child had its clothes removed. It was then passed through the tree by
the woman and received on the other side by some person. This was done
three times and on three consecutive mornings; the ash was then carefully
bound together.
In the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for June, 1804, a letter from a
correspondent says: "On Shorley Heath, Warwickshire, on the left-hand side
of the road going from Shorley Street to Hockley House, there stands a
young ash tree, close to the cottage of Henry Rowe, whose infant son,
Thomas Rowe, was drawn through the trunk or body of it, in the year 1791,
to cure him of a rupture, the tree being split open for the purpose of
passing the child through it. The boy is now thirteen years and six months
old. I have this day, June 19th, 1804, seen the ash tree and Thomas Rowe,
as well as his father Henry Rowe, from whom I received the above account;
and he superstitiously believes that his son Thomas was cured of the
rupture by being drawn through the cleft in the said ash tree, and by
nothing else."
In the month of October following, another correspondent says: "The
ash-tree described by your correspondent grows by the side of Shirley
Street, at the edge of Shirley Heath, in Solihull parish. The upper part
of the gap formed by the chisel has closed, but the lower part remains
open, and the tree is healthy and flourishing. Thomas Chillingworth, son
of the owner of an adjoining farm, now about thirty-four, was when an
infant about a year old passed through a similar tree--now perfectly
sound--which he preserves with so much care that he will not suffer a
single branch to be touched, for it is believed that the life of the
patient depends on the life of the tree, and the moment that it is cut
down, be the patient ever so distant, the rupture returns, and
mortification ensues and terminates in death, as was the case in a man
driving a waggon on the very road in question. Rowe's son was passed
through the present tree in 1722, at the age of one or two. It is not,
however, uncommon for persons to survive for a time the felling of the
tree. In one case the rupture returned suddenly and mortification
followed. These trees are left to close of themselves or are closed with
nails. The woodcutters very frequently meet with the latter. One felled on
Bunnan's farm was found full of nails. This belief is so prevalent in this
part of the country, that instances of trees that have been employed as a
cure are very common. The like notions obtain credit in some parts of
Essex."
With regard to the choice of a particular tree for these superstitious
cures, Moor says: "The ash is said to be the tree always selected on these
occasions, perhaps because it is more easily cleft than most others, and
may more readily recover of such a wound. I have heard of a bramble being
substituted, but not on ocular authority."
There is no passage in the Christian or Hebrew Scriptures on which, as
concerning the ash, the Talmudists or Targumists could in such proneness
build anything mysterious. The ash is but once--Isa xliv. 14--mentioned in
the Bible, and this is in a plain non-mystical manner.
It may here be observed that the ash was of old a venerated tree. Hesiod
makes it the origin of his brazen men. Among the mysteries of the
Scandinavians, the whole human race is of the same origin. From one
species of ash the Calabrians gather manna. It exudes in summer from
incisions or perforations, which almost necessarily assume, when made and
when healed an Ionic form. Another species of ash is poisonous: again
connecting it with Sivaic or Kalaic fable. The mountain ash, a tree
differing generically, I believe, from the common ash, shares also in the
mysterious repute. In days of greater superstition than the present, it
was used as a counterspell against witchcraft. If its name of mountain ash
has been given to it from its supposed love of elevated regions, it will
become more and more connected with Kali, in her character of the
"mountain-born, mountain-loving Diana;" who, in one of her characters,
corresponds with the obstetric Lucina.
A scholar, duly imbued with mysticism, might, haply, trace and connect
sundry poetical and widely-spread superstitious allusions to the ash. Moor
says: "Only one peculiarity in it occurs to me; this is, that the wood of
young ash is as tough, hard, and durable as of old: of seven years as of
seventy. This, with a certain class might seem a type or symbol of youth
and age. In common with the sycamore, the ash tree bears, and is
propagated, by a key, as we and certain other nations call the seed." In
our volume on Phallism, in the chapter on the _Crux Ansata_ we have seen
something of the mysticism connected with that name and form, and it is
not necessary to repeat it here. Moor says: "It might be insufferable to
hint at the Kalaic sound in the initial of _Clauis_: and that possibly
something astronomical may have been fancied in the configuration of the
spots on the singularly disposed black peculiarity of the foliage of the
sycamore; such leaves moreover in their exterior form being triunical and
bifurcated at their base."
"A longitudinal wound in the bark of a tree will primarily assume the
Sivaic form--the erect, obeliscal! like the tree itself, symbolic of the
_Linga_. Expanded, for a mysterious purpose--and it is curious what a
number of such mysterious purposes seem to have occurred to prurient
eyes--it is Ionic. Duplicated, when healing and healed, we find it still
of like allusion."
Moor proceeds: "In rural wanderings I have been struck with the
uniformities of the wounds in trees--all, be they recent or healed,
incisions or perforations, in sound or hollow trees, exhibiting that
almost all-pervading form so mystical in the eye of a Saiva, or a Sakti,
or an Ioni jah; and perhaps of Brahmans generally. As such they are borne
on the foreheads of Hindus of the present day, as they were of old; and as
they probably were also among the Egyptians; and, more of individual or
official than sectarial distinction perhaps among the Israelites.
"With Hindus, in a word, it is the form of nature's matrix; with
Plutonists, or Vulcanists, or Saiva, it is creation--it is heat--it is
renovation--it is fire--it is regeneration--it is all in all. So it is
with Neptunists, the Vaishnavas: then, of course, of aqueous, in lieu of
igneous, reference. "What is the sea," they say, "but the hollow of the
hand--the great _argha_--of nature--or matrice of production and
reproduction?"
"In the seemingly whimsical operation of the cleft tree, now more
immediately under our notice, the all-pervading form and feeling may be
recognised. A child issuing head first (by some practitioners feet first)
through such cleft--or a man through a natural or artificial similar
fissure or cleft in a rock, or through a like form of metal, down to the
ridiculous cut cheese of Oxford--all seem to be indications of
obstetricity, and would not fail of reminding a 'twice-born' Brahman of a
'second birth' or regeneration--of which mysterious matter his ceremonial
and spiritual books abound.
"The 'new birth' of Christians--let it not be deemed irreverent to mix
such subjects--is expressly declared and universally understood to be of
grace; spiritual, though it produce no visible fruits. Superstition, the
offspring of ignorance and craft, may occasionally symbolize it into
carnality. But such is the proneness of Brahmans to general sexualization
that although their esoteric dogma of regeneration is said to be
sufficiently guarded on that point, it has notwithstanding, from such
proneness, been degraded into doctrines and ritual ceremonies that we may
term mythological, or whimsical, or ridiculous, or worse.
"The investiture of the 'twice-born'--a common periphrasis for a
Brahman--of a mystical triple cord, or rather a thread diversely
re-triplicated up to the number ninety-six, is understood to be a
purifying rite. This thread has several names. That by which it is mostly
called is _Zennaar_. By western writers it has been common to call it the
'sacerdotal thread,' or the 'Brahminical thread,' meaning thereby,
probably, to confine it to priests. But it is not confined to priests nor
to Brahmans. The two next classes wear it and are canonically and
ceremonially entitled. If the reader supposes that Brahman and priest are
synonymous he is in error. With Hindus all priests are Brahmans. Through
this mystical _zennaar_, or _vinculum_, the sanctified person is passed
with endless ceremonials. The figurative language common in eastern idioms
of 'twice born,' being 'made whole' &c., is with us spirituality. But it
is by others misunderstood, and hence those who are not 'broken-hearted,'
not 'broken in spirit,' but broken in body, seek to be 'made whole' by a
physical rite; and pass regeneratively through a _zennaar_, or a tree, or
a stone, of a peculiar form or figure."[20]
In Ireland the mountain ash, according to a popular belief, was an
antidote to charms, and a protective against witchcraft, the evil-eye and
disease. In Scotland, known as the rowan-tree or roun-tree, it was
similarly regarded, a branch of it being placed over the door of the
cowshed for the safely of the cattle. The saying was:
"Rowan tree and red thread
Put the witches to their speed."
Its position in Scandinavian mythology we mention at length in other
pages.
Pliny says such is its influence that snakes will not rest in its shadow,
shunning it at a distance. From personal knowledge, he says if a serpent
be so encompassed by a fence of ash leaves as that he cannot escape
without passing through fire, he will prefer the fire rather than come in
contact with the leaves.[21]
"The juniper," says De Gubernatis, "is much venerated in Italy, in
Germany, and on the shores of the Baltic, by reason of its alleged power
to dispel evil influences. In Esthonias, holes and crevices in the walls
or dwellings are beaten with a branch of juniper, lest evil spirits bring
sickness there. When the wicked spirits draw nigh and see the juniper they
take themselves off. At Pistoja the explanation given of a local custom of
hanging a branch of juniper over every door is that whenever witches see
the juniper they are impelled by an uncontrollable desire to count the
leaflets; but these are so numerous that they can never make the number
right, and in despair take flight lest they be surprised and detected.
There is an analogous belief in Germany. In Waldeck, according to Dr.
Maunhardt when a child falls sick it is customary for the parents to put a
lock of wool and a piece of bread in a bunch of juniper, that the evil
spirits may find employment in eating and spinning therein, and so forget
the child, with whom it is feared, they have been over busy.
'Ye fiends and ministers of hell
Here bring I wherewithal that ye may spin,
And eat likewise;
Eat, therefore, and spin,
And forget my child.'"[22]
"In Germany a "Frau Wachholder" (Dame Jupiter) personifies the genius of
the juniper tree, and is invoked to make robbers give up their spoil. A
branch of a juniper bush is bent down to the ground and kept down with a
stone, the name of the real or supposed thief being repeated at the same
time, with injunctions to bring back the booty. Whenever the desired
result comes about the stone is removed and the branch set free. Here
seems to be a counterpart of the thief-catching staff or rod of Indian
folk-lore, which survives in so many Aryan usages and customs. Like other
trees with hispid foliage, the juniper has the special attribute of
detaining fugitives; but it sometimes shields them as well. An Italian
legend described the Madonna as saved in her flight by a juniper bush,
just as in German story the holy Walpurga is hidden from her pursuers by a
peasant in a patch of wheat. An aged crone of Signa, in Tuscany, thus
relates the legend to De Gubernatis:--Our Lady was flying with the infant
Jesus, and Herod's soldiers were in hot pursuit. As they went the broom
trees and chick peas rustled, risking betrayal; the flax stood bolt
upright and apart; but as the fugitives drew near, a juniper bush parted
its branches to receive them in its friendly embrace. Wherefore the Virgin
then and there cursed both the broom and the chick pea, which from that
day forth have never ceased to rustle. The fragility of the flax she
forgave, but she laid her blessing on the juniper; and to this clay at
Christmastide, in nearly every Italian stall juniper is hung, as bunches
of holly are in England, France, and Switzerland."
"Like the holly, juniper drives away evil influences of every kind from
house and fold, and is held to be peculiarly efficacious in protecting
horses and cattle from the incorporeal monsters which sometimes haunt and
trouble them.
"In a very rare little work, published at Bologna in 1621, the author,
Amadeo Castra, makes mention of a Bolognese custom on Christmas Eve of
distributing branches of juniper to every house. He adds, that all writers
are agreed as to its efficacy against serpents and venomous beasts; that
it supplied the wood of the cross; that it covered the flight of Elias;
finally arriving at the conclusion that the sanctity of the juniper equals
that of the cedar; that its usage is not a fashion or superstition, but a
holy mystery; and that as its fragrant smoke arises from our hearths we
should remember that so should our prayers ascend to the ears of the
Deity."[23]
"The ancients regarded the Elm as a funereal tree, it is said, because it
bears not fruit; but De Gubernatis supposes because of its longevity and
the ease with which it multiplies.
"In Catullus, the elm is the husband and the vine the wife. So, too, the
Sanscrit Kâlidasa makes the mango the husband of a climbing plant, a
species of jasmine. When the charming Sakuntala comes into the presence of
the young king Dushyanti, one of the female courtiers murmurs in the
king's ear, 'This _navamallika_ (jasmine) that you call the light of the
forest is married of her own free will to _sahakara_ (the mango).'
"In the 'Iliad,' Achilles bridges the enchanted streams Xanthus and Simois
with the trunks of an elm tree. When Achilles kills the father of
Andromache he raised in his honour a tomb, around which the nymphs came to
plant elms. At the first note of Orpheus' lyre bewailing the loss, of
Eurydice, there sprang up a forest of elms."[24]
"The Apple tree was formerly supposed to be the Tree of Knowledge, the
fruit of which was eaten by Eve in Paradise; and it is a curious fact,
that the apple tree is also distinguished by legends in the mythologies of
the Greeks, the Scandinavians, and the Druids. The pagans believed that
the golden fruit of the Hesperides, which it was one of the labours of
Hercules to procure, in spite of the fierce dragon that guarded them and
never slept, were apples; though modern writers have supposed them
oranges. In the _Edda_, we are told that the goddess Iduna had the care of
apples which had the power of conferring immortality; and which were
consequently reserved for the gods, who ate of them when they began to
feel themselves growing old. The evil spirit Loke took away Iduna and her
apple tree, and hid them in a forest where they could not be found by the
gods. In consequence of this malicious theft, everything went wrong in the
world. The gods became old and infirm; and, enfeebled both in body and
mind, no longer paid the same attention to the affairs of the earth; and
men having no one to look after them, fell into evil courses, and became
the prey of the evil spirit. At length, the gods finding matters get worse
every day, roused their last remains of vigour, and, combining together,
forced Loke to restore the tree.
"Hercules was worshipped by the Thebans, under the name of Melius, and
apples were offered at his altars. The origin of this custom was the
circumstance of the river Asopus having on one occasion overflowed its
banks to such an extent, as to render it impossible to bring a sheep
across it which was to be sacrificed to Hercules; when some youths,
recollecting that an apple bore the same name as a sheep in Greek, offered
an apple, with four little sticks stuck in it to resemble legs, as a
substitute for the sheep; and after that period the pagans always
considered the apple as specially devoted to Hercules."[25]
The Pine tree, from a very early date, has been by many races looked upon
as sacred. It was consecrated in Greece to Poseidon and Dionysius, and as
sacred to Zeus was beloved by the Virgins. In the pastorals of Longus,
Chloe is adorned with a _Pinea Corona_ as an emblem of virginity, which
Daphne takes from her and puts on her own head.
"Diana, or maids mix its chaplets with the mastic, as a tree of all others
most fruitful, but not with the myrtle, which, as sacred to Venus, may not
appear in a professed virgin's wreath." (Forlong.)
The position occupied by the tree in Assyria may be seen in Mr. Layard's
works, he speaks of it as the "sacred tree" along with the "corner stone."
"The corner stone," says Forlong, "is usually considered the principal
stone of a building, hence the _principle_ in each religion is called its
principal or corner stone, and the fruit of this most sacred tree is the
commonest and best gift to the gods. This is probably why we find the tree
everywhere, and why the Assyrian priests are usually shown as presenting a
pine cone to their gods and altars. The seed cone seems, however, to be at
times the cone of Indian corn, but Mr. Layard thinks that the pine or
cypress cone is most used in the 'Cult de Venus.' The Thyrsus of Bacchus,
we may remember, has a fir cone, and the Bacchic Pole is usually held to
be of pine, as very inflammable and odoriferous--it is remarkably like the
insignia of Boodhism and of most other faiths, as the Tri-Sool or three
thorns of Siva, the tridents of Neptune, and other deities."
The pine was supposed by some to be inhabited by wind spirits, like Ariel,
owing to the whispering noise proceeding from it in the breeze. The legend
was that it was the mistress of Boreas and Pan, an idea acceptable to the
German mind in consequence of its holes and knots, which were believed to
be the means of ingress and egress for the spirits. It is told that a
beautiful woman of Smäland, who was really an elf, left her family through
a knot-hole in the wooden house-wall. "Frau Fichte," the pine of Silesia,
is believed to possess great healing powers, and its boughs are carried
about by the children on Mid-Lent Sunday, adorned with coloured papers and
spangles; it is also carried with songs and rejoicing to the doors of
stables where it is suspended in the belief that it will preserve the
animals from harm.
In other parts superstitions equally striking prevail. In Bohemia men
think if they eat the kernel of the pine cone from the top of a tree on
St. John's Day they will be invulnerable against shot. A writer in
"Fraser's Magazine" in 1870, said that he saw sprigs of pine stuck on the
railway wagons bearing the German soldiers into France. In some parts of
Germany it is quite common for a man subject to gout to climb a pine tree
and tie a knot in its highest shoot as a cure for his malady, saying as he
does it: "Pine, I bind here the gout that plagues me."
With many nations of antiquity the oak tree was regarded as a special
object of religious veneration, such as the Kelts, the Teutonic races, the
Druids, the early inhabitants of Palestine, the early Greeks and Hebrews.
Between the Hebrew customs and those of the Druids a very marked
resemblance has been traced by various writers of learning and ability. In
ancient Jewish history the oak is often mentioned and in a manner which
seems to ascribe to it a symbolical meaning. According to Kitto "it was
regarded as the emblem of a divine covenant, and indicated the religious
appropriation of any stone monument erected beneath it; it was also
symbolical of the divine presence, possibly from association."[26]
From the earliest ages the oak has been considered as one of the most
important of forest trees. Held sacred alike by Hebrews, Greeks, Romans,
Gauls and Britons, "it was the fear of the superstitious for their oracle
and at the same time the resort of the hungry for their food." Early
history is full of references to this tree. In Genesis xii., 6, 7, mention
is made of the plain of Moreh, where it is said God appeared to Abram, the
proper rendering of the word plain being oak. The plain of Mamre also
occurs, and wherever it does should be oak or ash groves. Genesis xviii.,
1, for instance, where it is recorded that the angels announced to the
patriarch the birth of Isaac. This oak, Jewish tradition says was, long
after Abraham's time, held as an object of veneration, indeed Bayle in his
"Historical and Critical Dictionary," article "Abraham," says:--"This puts
me in mind of the oak of Mamre, under which Abraham is said sometimes to
have cooled himself. This oak, they tell you, was standing in the reign of
Constantine." Loudon mentions that this tree or rather the grove of Mamre,
is frequently alluded to in the Old Testament; and in Eusebius's "Life of
Constantine" we find the oaks of Mamre expressly mentioned as a place
where idolatry was committed by the Israelites, close to the tomb of
Abraham, and where Constantine afterwards built a church. Numerous other
instances may be found of the mention of the oak in the Scripture not
necessary to enter into here.
Turning to classic lore, the references are even more numerous. We have
the oak groves of Dodona, in Epirus, the most ancient and celebrated of
oracles, whose priests sent out their revelations on its leaves.
Pliny says that the oaks in the forest of Hereynia were believed to be as
old as the world, also that oaks existed at the tomb of Ilus near Troy,
which had been sown when that city was first called Ilium.
Socrates took oath by the oak; also the women of Priene, a maritime city
of Ionia, in matters of importance. On Mount Lycæus, in Arcadia, there was
a temple of Jupiter with a fountain, into which the priest threw an oak
branch, in times of drought, to produce rain. The Greeks had two
remarkable sayings relative to this tree, one of which was the phrase: "I
speak to the oak," as a solemn asseveration; and the other, "born of an
oak," applied to a foundling; because anciently children, when the parents
were unable to provide for them, were frequently exposed in the hollow of
an oak tree.
So important a position does the oak occupy in the history of the subject
we are now discussing, that before dismissing it we feel bound to call
attention to some of those mythological allusions to it which have been
collected by Loudon for the enrichment of the pages of his admirable
"History of the Trees and Shrubs of Britain."
"The oak was dedicated by the ancients to Jupiter, because it was said
that an oak tree sheltered that god at his birth on Mount Lycæus, in
Arcadia; and there is scarcely a Greek or Latin poet or prose author, who
does not make some allusion to this tree. Herodotus first mentions the
sacred forest of Dodona (ii. c. 57.) and relates the traditions he heard
respecting it from the priests of Egypt. Two black doves, he says, took
their flight from the city of Thebes, one of which flew to the temple of
Jupiter Ammon and the other to Dodona, where, with a human voice, it
acquainted the inhabitants that Jupiter had consecrated the ground, which
would in future give oracles. All the trees in the grove became endowed
with the gift of prophecy; and the sacred oaks not only spoke and
delivered oracles while in a living state, but, when some of them were cut
down to build the ship 'Argo,' the beams and masts of that ship frequently
spoke and warned the Argonauts of approaching calamities. (See Hom. Ody.,
xiv.; Lucian, vi., 427; Apoll., Book I., &c.) After giving the account
above related, Herodotus adds what he calls the explanation of it. He says
that some Phoenician merchants carried off an Egyptian priestess from
Thebes into Greece, where she took up her residence in the forest of
Dodona, and erected there, at the foot of an old oak, a small temple in
honour of Jupiter, whose priestess she had been at Thebes. The town and
temple of Dodona are said by others to have been built by Deucalion
immediately after the great flood, when, in gratitude for his
preservation, he raised a temple to Jupiter, and consecrated the oak grove
to his honour. This grove, or rather forest, extended from Dodona to
Chaonia, a mountainous district of Epirus, so called from Chaon, son of
Priam, who was accidently killed there by his brother Helenus. The forest
was, from this, sometimes called the Chaonian Forest; and Jupiter Chaonian
Father. (See Virgil, Ovid, &c.) The oracle of Dodona was not only the most
celebrated but the richest in Greece, from the offerings made by those who
came to it, to enquire into futurity. The prophecies were first delivered
by doves which were always kept in the temple, in memory of the fabulous
origin assigned to the oracle; but afterwards the answers were delivered
by the priestesses; or, according to Suidas, Homer and others, by the oaks
themselves: hollow trees no doubt being chosen, in which a priest might
conceal himself. During the Thracian war a deputation of Boeotians
consulting the oracle, the priestess told them that "if they would meet
with success, they must be guilty of an impious action:" when in order to
fulfil the oracle, they seized her and burnt her alive. After this the
Dodonian oracles were always delivered to the Boeotians by men. The
oracular powers of the Dodonian oaks are frequently alluded to, not only
by the Greek and Latin poets, but by those of modern times. (See Cowper's
Address to the Yardley Oak and Wordsworth's Lines to a Spanish Oak.)
"Milo of Croton was a celebrated athlete, whose strength and voracity were
so great that it was said he could carry a bullock on his shoulders, kill
it with a blow of his fist, and afterwards eat it up in one day. In his
old age, Milo attempted to tear up an old oak tree by the roots; but the
trunk split and the cleft part uniting, his hands became locked in the
body of the tree; and being unable to extricate himself, he was devoured
by wild beasts. (Ovid; Strab; Paus.)
"The oak was considered by the ancients as the emblem of hospitality;
because when Jupiter and Mercury were travelling in disguise, and arrived
at the cottage of Philemon, who was afterwards changed into an oak tree,
they were treated with the greatest kindness. Philemon was a poor old man
who lived with his wife Baucis in Phrygia, in a miserable cottage, which
Jupiter, to reward his hospitality, changed into a magnificient temple, of
which he made the old couple priest and priestess, granting them the only
request they made to him, viz., to be permitted to die together.
Accordingly, when both were grown so old as to wish for death, Jove turned
Baucis into a lime tree, and Philemon into an oak; the two trees entwining
their branches, and shading for more than a century the magnificent portal
of the Phrygian temple.
"The civic crown of the Romans was formed of oak; and it was granted for
eminent civil services rendered to the state, the greatest of which was
considered to be the saving of the life of a Roman citizen.
"Acorns having been the food of man till Ceres introduced corn, boughs of
oak were carried in the Eleusinian mysteries.
"Boughs of oak with acorns were carried in marriage ceremonies, as emblems
of fecundity. Sophocles, in the fragment of Rhizotomi, describes Hecates
as crowned with oak leaves and serpents. Pliny relates of the oaks on the
shores of the Cauchian Sea, that, undermined by the waves and propelled by
the winds, they tore off with them vast masses of earth on their
interwoven roots, and occasioned the greatest terror to the Romans, whose
fleets encountered these floating islands. Of the Hyrcynian forest he
says, "These enormous oaks, unaffected by ages and coeval with the world
by a destiny almost immortal, exceed all wonder. Omitting other
circumstances that might not gain belief, it is well known that hills are
raised up by the encounter of the jostling roots; or where the earth may
not have followed, that arches, struggling with each other, and elevated
to the very branches, are curved as it were into wide gateways, able to
admit the passage of whole troops of horse."
"This forest is described by Cæsar as requiring sixty days to traverse it;
and the remains of it are supposed by some to constitute the forest on the
mountains of the Hartz; and by others to be the Black Forest of the Tyrol.
The beautiful fiction of the Hamadryads is frequently referred to by the
Greek poets. The Hamadryads were nymphs, each of whom was
'Doomed to a life coeval with her oak.'
Callimachus, in the Hymn to Delos, represents Melia as "sighing deeply for
her parent oak;" and adds--
'Joy fills her breast when showers refresh the spray:
Sadly she grieves when autumn's leaves decay.'
"In Appollonius Rhodius, Book II., we find one of the Hamadryads imploring
a woodman to spare the oak to which her existence is attached:
"Loud through the air resounds the woodman's stroke,
When lo! a voice breaks from the groaning oak.
'Spare, spare my life! a trembling virgin spare!
Oh, listen to the Hamadryad's prayer!
No longer let that fearful axe resound;
Preserve the tree to which my life is bound!
See from the bark my blood in torrents flows,
I faint, I sink, I perish from your blows.'"
"The oak, evidently, was an object of worship among the Celts and ancient
Britons. The Celts worshipped their God Teut under the form of this tree;
and the Britons regarded it as a symbol of their God Tarnawa, the god of
thunder."
Just here we are reminded by Loudon and others of the Yule log and Yule
festival, a most ancient British institution, now known to our dwellers in
towns only by historical report. Professor Burnet tells us the word yule
comes from Hu, the Bacchus of the Druids; others derive it from Baal, Bal,
or Yiaoul, the Celtic god of fire, and who was sometimes identified with
the sun and worshipped under the form of an oak. Baal was considered the
same as the Roman Saturn, and his festival (that of Yule) was kept at
Christmas, which was the time of the Saturnalia. The Druids professed to
maintain perpetual fire; and once every year all the fires belonging to
the people were extinguished, and relighted from the sacred fire of the
Druids. This was the origin of the Yule log, with which, even so lately as
the commencement of the last century, the Christmas fire in some parts of
the country was always kindled; a fresh log being thrown on and lighted,
but taken off before it was consumed, and reserved to kindle the Christmas
fire of the following year. The Yule log was always of oak; and as the
ancient Britons considered that it was essential for their hearth fires to
be renewed every year from the sacred fire of the Druids, so their
descendants thought that some misfortune would befall them if any accident
happened to the Yule log. (See Irving's "Bracebridge Hall.")
The worship of the Druids was generally performed under an oak; and a heap
of stones was erected on which the sacred fire was kindled, which was
called a cairn, as Professor Burnet says, from Kern an acorn.
The well-known chorus of "Hey derry down," according to this gentleman,
was a druidic chant, signifying, literally, "In a circle the oaks move
round."
Criminals were tried under an oak tree; the judge being placed under the
tree, with the jury beside him, and the culprit placed in a circle made by
the chief Druid's wand. The Saxons also held their national meetings under
an oak, and the celebrated conference between the Saxons and the Britons,
after the invasion of the former, was held under the oaks of Dartmoor.
The wood of the oak was appropriated to the most memorable uses: King
Arthur's round table was made of it, as was the cradle of Edward III., who
was born at Carnarvon Castle; this sacred wood being chosen in the hope of
conciliating the feelings of the Welsh, who still retained the prejudices
of their ancestors, the ancient Britons.
It was considered unlucky to cut down any celebrated tree; and Evelyn
gravely relates a story of two men who cut down the Vicar's Oak, in
Surrey; one losing his eye and the other breaking his leg soon after. (See
Loudon's Arb. et Frut. Brit.)
The reverence with which the oak was regarded was by no means confined to
the Celts. St. Boniface during his wanderings in Central Germany waged a
sharp war against the heathen superstitions connected with trees and
wells. There was a Thor's Oak (the oak was in an especial manner dedicated
to Thor) of enormous size in the country of the Hessians, greatly
reverenced by the people, which, following the advice of some of the
Christian converts, St. Boniface determined to cut down. Accordingly he
began to hew at the gigantic trunk, whilst the heathen folk stood round
about, prodigal of their curses, but not daring to interfere. The tree had
not been half cut through, when, says Willibrord, the biographer of
Boniface, who was himself present, a supernatural wind shook the great
crown of its branches, and it fell with a mighty crash divided into four
equal parts. The heathens, he continues, recognised the miracle, and most
of them were converted on the spot. With the wood of the fallen tree St.
Boniface built an oratory, which he dedicated in honour of St. Peter.[27]
The destruction of this oak has been considered a wise step, as it was
evidently a matter of tremendous difficulty, in spite of innumerable
decrees and canons condemnatory of heathen ceremonies in connection with
trees, to get rid of the idolatry while the object of it remained.
Sometimes the tree was, as it is called, re-appropriated by the saint of
the district; then the evils resulting seemed as bad as ever. There was
St. Colman's oak, for instance, any fragment of which, kept in the mouth,
was believed would effectually ward off death by hanging. There was also
St. Columba's oak at Kenmare which, when blown down in a storm, no one
dared to touch, or to apply the wood of it to ordinary purposes, except a
certain tanner, who used the bark for curing leather. With the leather he
made himself a pair of shoes; but the first time he put them on he was
struck with leprosy, and remained a leper all his life.
It has for ages, in England, been thought that the oak was specially and
mysteriously protected. Aubrey in his history of Surrey says:--"A strange
noise proceeds from a falling oak, so loud as to be heard at half-a-mile
distant, as if it were the genius of the oak lamenting. It has not been
unusually observed that to cut oak-wood is unfortunate. There was at
Norwood one oak that had mistletoe, a timber tree, which was felled about
1657. Some persons cut this mistletoe for some apothecaries in London, and
sold them a quantity for ten shillings each time, and left only one branch
remaining for more to sprout out. One fell lame shortly after; soon after
each of the others lost an eye; and he that felled the tree, though warned
of these misfortunes of the other men, would, notwithstanding, adventure
to do it, and shortly after broke his leg; as if the Hamadryades had
resolved to take an ample revenge for the injury done to their venerable
oak. I cannot here omit taking notice of the great misfortunes in the
family of the Earl of Winchelsea, who, at Eastwell in Kent, felled down a
most curious grove of oaks, near his own noble seat, and gave the first
blow with his own hands. Shortly after his countess died in her bed
suddenly; and his eldest son, the Lord Maidstone, was killed at sea by a
cannon bullet."
Grimm points out many superstitions connected with the oak in Germany. It
is believed in India that holes in trees are doors through which the
special spirits of those trees pass, and this is found in Germany in the
idea that the holes in the oaks are pathways for elves; and that certain
troubles, especially of hand or foot, may be cured by contact with these
holes. Near Gundalskol stood an oak popularly regarded as the habitation
of a "Bjarmand," but he was driven away by the church bells. It is said
that a farmer was engaged to an elf-girl, but instead of a bride he
embraced an oak sapling. In a churchyard at Heddinge, Seeland, are the
remains of an oak wood declared to be the soldiers of the Erl-King,
assuming the forms of armed men at night. In Westphalia, it is the custom
to announce formally to the nearest oak any death that has occurred in a
family. The process of healing rupture, once common in England, with the
ash, is performed in Germany with the oak.
"The Christmas-tree has become a prevailing fashion in England at this
season, and is by most persons supposed to be derived from Germany; such
however is not the fact; the Christmas-tree is from Egypt, and its origin
dates from a period long antecedent to the Christian era. The palm-tree is
known to put forth a shoot every month, and a spray of this tree, with
twelve shoots on it, was used in Egypt at the time of the winter solstice,
as a symbol of the year completed. Egyptian associations of a very early
date still mingle with the tradition and custom of the Christmas-tree;
there are as many pyramids as trees used in Germany, in the celebration of
Christmas, by those whose means do not admit of their purchasing trees and
their concomitant tapers. These pyramids consist of slight erections of
slips of wood, arranged like a pyramidal _epergne_, covered with green
paper, and decorated with festoons of paper-chain work, which flutters in
the wind and constitutes a make-believe foliage. This latter, however, is
an innovation of modern days."[28]