The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion (Third Edition, Vol. 02 of 12)Frazer, James George
Religion
The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion (Third Edition, Vol. 02 of 12)
Frazer, James George
Magic; Mythology; Religion; Superstition
mountaineers on the north-west coast of New Guinea think that the
spirits of their ancestors live on the branches of trees, on which
accordingly they hang rags of red or white cotton, always in the number
of seven or a multiple of seven; also, they place food on the trees or
hang it in baskets from the boughs.[112] Among the Buryats of Siberia
the bones of a deceased shaman are deposited in a hole hewn in the trunk
of a great fir, which is then carefully closed up. Thenceforth the tree
goes by the name of the shaman’s fir, and is looked upon as his abode.
Whoever cuts down such a tree will perish with all his household. Every
tribe has its sacred grove of firs in which the bones of the dead
shamans are buried. In treeless regions these firs often form isolated
clumps on the hills, and are visible from afar.[113] The Lkungen Indians
of British Columbia fancy that trees are transformed men, and that the
creaking of the branches in the wind is their voice.[114] In Croatia,
they say that witches used to be buried under old trees in the forest,
and that their souls passed into the trees and left the villagers in
peace.[115] A tree that grows on a grave is regarded by the South
Slavonian peasant as a sort of fetish. Whoever breaks a twig from it
hurts the soul of the dead, but gains thereby a magic wand, since the
soul embodied in the twig will be at his service.[116] This reminds us
of the story of Polydorus in Virgil,[117] and of the bleeding
pomegranate that grew on the grave of the fratricides Eteocles and
Polynices at Thebes[118]. Similar stories are told far away from the
classic lands of Italy and Greece. In an Annamite tale an old fisherman
makes an incision in the trunk of a tree which has drifted ashore; but
blood flows from the cut, and it appears that an empress with her three
daughters, who had been cast into the sea, are embodied in the
tree.[119] On the Slave Coast of West Africa the negroes tell how from
the mouldering bones of a little boy, who had been murdered by his
brother in the forest, there sprang up an edible fungus, which spoke and
revealed the crime to the child’s mother when she attempted to pluck
it.[120]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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