The Sacred Tree; or, the tree in religion and mythPhilpot, J. H., Mrs.
Religion
The Sacred Tree; or, the tree in religion and myth
Philpot, J. H., Mrs.
Tree worship
In other cases, probably where the worshipped tree had died, its trunk
or branches were rudely carved into an image of the god, and either left
_in situ_, or hewn down and placed near the temple or, later, in the
very temple itself. Both Pausanias and Pliny state that the oldest
images of the gods were made of wood, and several Latin authors refer to
the custom of thus carving the branches of auspicious trees (_felicium
arborum_) as prevalent in primitive times amongst the Greeks.[66] The
ἄγαλµα or emblem of Aphrodite, dedicated by Pelops, was wrought out of a
fresh verdant myrtle-tree. At Samos a board was the emblem of Hera; two
wooden stocks joined together by a cross-piece was the sign of the
twin-brethren at Sparta, and a wooden column encircled with ivy was
consecrated to Dionysus at Thebes.[67]
It may be fairly assumed that in cases such as these the worshippers
believed that the dead piece of wood retained some at least of the power
originally attributed to the spirit dwelling in the living tree. Their
idolatry was but a childish deduction from an ancient and deeply-rooted
theology. The same may be said for the wood-cutter, derided in the
Apocrypha, who, “taking a crooked piece of wood and full of knots,
carveth it with the diligence of his idleness, and shapeth it by the
skill of his indolence; then he giveth it the semblance of the image of
a man, smearing it with vermilion and with paint colouring it red; and
having made for it a chamber worthy of it, he setteth it in a wall,
making it fast with iron.”[68] Side by side with this foolish
wood-cutter, who “for life beseecheth that which is dead,” may be placed
the Sicilian peasant whom Theocritus represents as offering sacrifice to
a carved Pan. “When thou hast turned yonder lane, goatherd, where the
oak-trees are, thou wilt find an image of fig-tree wood newly carven;
three legged it is, the bark still covers it, and it is earless withal.
A right holy precinct runs round it, and a ceaseless stream that falleth
from the rocks on every side is green with laurels and myrtles and
fragrant cypress. And all around the place that child of the grape, the
vine, doth flourish with its tendrils, and the merles in spring with
their sweet songs pour forth their woodnotes wild, and the brown
nightingales reply with their complaints, pouring from their bills their
honey sweet song.”[69]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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