The same writer speaks of a number of other celebrated trees remaining in his own time, including the large and beautiful plane called Menelais, which was planted at Caphya by Menelaus, when engaged in military preparations for the siege of Troy, or by his brother Agamemnon, described as the “king of men,” according to Pliny.
An instance of tree veneration somewhat similar to that recorded by Xerxes, already cited, may here be mentioned. According to the historian we are quoting, the consul Parsienus Crispus so loved a certain tree that he was accustomed to kiss and embrace it, to lay himself down under it and to besprinkle it with wine. “The kisses and embraces,” says Ousley, “might have authorized Ælian to give the Roman consul a place in his chapter on strange and ridiculous loves. But to recline under the shade of a beautiful tree seems perfectly natural; and, perhaps, we may discover in the libation or affusion with wine, something of a religious ceremony, for it appears that the tree stood in an ancient grove consecrated to Diana, and we know that wine was sprinkled on trees in the early ages, as still in some parts of France.”
Near Cairo, at a fountain wherein the Virgin Mary washed her infant’s clothes, a lamp was, three centuries ago, kept burning to her honour in the hollow of an old fig tree, which had served them as a place of shelter, according to the “Itinerario de Antonio Tenreio;” and Maundrell, who travelled in 1697, saw between Jerusalem and Bethlehem, the famous turpentine tree, in the shade of which the blessed Virgin is said to have reposed when she was carrying Christ in her arms.
In the time of Hamdallah Cazvini (fourteenth century), a dry or withered tree distinguished the grave of a holy man at Bastam; this tree had once been (they say) Mohammed’s staff, and was transmitted through many generations, until finally deposited in the grave of Abu Abdallah Dasitani, where it took root and put forth branches, like the club of Hercules. Those who injured this sacred tree perished on the same day.
In the time of Plutarch, an aged tree still bore the title of “Alexander’s Oak,” and marked a spot rendered memorable by one of that hero’s exploits. It stood near the river Cephisus, and not far from the burial-place of many valiant Macedonians. How old this tree may have been during Alexander’s youth, does not appear; but it grew near Cheronæa where he signalised himself in battle 337 years before Christ; and Plutarch died 119 years after Christ. It may, however, have existed to a much later period.
In Africa, the modern Muselmans and Pagans seem equally inclined to distinguish particular trees as sacred objects. Every tribe of the Galla nation, in Abysinnia, worship avowedly as a god, the Wanzey tree. Mr. Salt confirms this statement of Bruce, using similar language. Mungo Park mentions the Neema Tuba, a large tree decorated with innumerable rags or scraps of cloth—“a tree which nobody presumed to pass without hanging up something.”
Barbot informs us that the inhabitants of Southern Guinea make offerings and pray to trees, more especially in time of sickness; from an expectation of thereby recovering their health.
Colonel Keatinge, in his “Travels in Europe and Africa,” speaks of a resemblance or identity between the Argali (wild olive) and the Arayel or the sacred tree of the Hindus; and he noticed the offerings strung upon those Argali, “rags, potsherds, and the like trash.” Why such things were offered, or the origin of such a custom, no person attempts to explain, but he observes, “a traveller will see precisely the like in the west of Ireland, and will receive an equally satisfactory account upon the subject.”
A multiplicity of extracts might be quoted to prove how long this superstition lingered among various nations of Europe, besides the Irish. We need scarcely premise that it was widely diffused in pagan times throughout those nations. We have already seen it among the Greeks and Romans. It flourished among the ancient Germans, as Tacitus and Agathias inform us; among the Scandinavians also, and different tribes of the north, according to their Edda and other works. The Druids of the Celts, Gauls and Britons of course afford familiar examples. But after the introduction of Christianity we find the worship of trees condemned, as a practice still existing, by the councils of Auxerre, of Nantes, and of Tours. It was also strongly forbidden by the laws of Canute, as may be seen in Wilkins’s “Leg. Ang. Sax.”
Many anecdotes are recorded, says Ousley, of holy men who exerted themselves in efforts to abolish the superstition. Thus we read in the History of Saint Valeri, that this pious abbot, having discovered the trunk of a large tree which the rustics zealously worshipped with pagan devotion, immediately directed that it should be destroyed. Notwithstanding such laudable exertions, we learn from Ditmar, an author of the eleventh century, that in his time the people of Ridegast, in Mecklenbourgh, revered a certain gloomy forest and were afraid to touch the trees of which it was composed.