I celebrated Lammas in London's Green Park with the
Tamesis druid group. We celebrated in a peaceful grove while outside our secluded circle of plane trees other members of the public picnicked or relaxed on deck chairs, enjoying a pleasant Saturday in early August. However, a delve into the park's folklore and history reveals the trees hold more secrets than just a meeting of pagans for harvest rites.
These include a pair with a sinister reputation. One is known as the ‘Tree of Death’. Peter Underwood, in Haunted London, claimed to have spoken to two park attendants who said they had heard strange sounds coming from the tree:
"There is the harsh and loud sound of a man’s voice in conversation that ceases almost as soon as you become aware of it. There is a low and cunning laugh that strikes a chill into the hearer, and also a strange and sad groaning sound like that of someone in mortal agony and utter despair."
Another writer, James Clark, in his book also called Haunted London speculates these sounds might come from the ghosts of those who chose to end their lives there. He traced one tale to a book called More Haunted Houses of London by Elliot O'Donnell in 1920. O'Donnell relates that he was walking through Green Park one evening in September 1900 or 1901, when he heard a fiddle being played. The music came from a cluster of trees. He mentioned this to policeman who was passing on his beat, who told him a sad story.
The officer had, many years earlier, been approached by a distraught fiddler who said he had gone to sleep under the tree, but when he awoke, his instrument had been stolen. The victim refused to leave the area and spent the next few days desperately asking everyone who passed if they had seen his violin. Eventually the poor man hanged himself from a branch. After that, many people said they heard music coming from that same tree, especially in late September. No one could see who was creating this, except on one occasion the policeman himself thought he saw the figure of the fiddler, sitting beneath the tree, playing. Another ghostly figure has also supposedly been seen standing beside the tree – a tall, watchful being dressed in black, who disappears when approached.
Murderous Woman
Another of Green Park’s trees also has a mysterious legend attached to it. It's called the Pig Tree. I first encountered it one cold December evening on a tour of ghostly London. The guide told my group that the Pig Tree was so called because any man who went to sleep under it either died of fright or was turned into a pig, while any woman who slept there awoke with burning desire to murder men. Of all the tales I was told that night, the Pig Tree was the one that fascinated me most, and I felt compelled to learn more about it - although I've failed to remember exactly which tree it is.
In Clark’s book, I learnt a longer version of the tale. According to him, the Pig Tree's name was coined by homeless men who gathered on Green Park’s benches. They would refuse to go near that specific tree, because one of their number died of fright after sleeping beneath it one night. Others claimed to have seen a monstrous figure of a naked white woman with the head of a pig and hate-filled eyes. Although the men were terrified of the tree, women were reportedly drawn to it, but after spending time under its branches, they're filled with murderous hatred for men.
All the accounts I had heard were given from the point of view of men, not women. Perhaps I'd fallen under the spell of the tree myself, but I could see it from another angle. Was this Circe-like figure an empowering feminist archetype rather than a monster? Did the men somehow deserve the fate they met? Which side you choose to believe is up to you. I would also say that on a bright, summer day, Green Park is a lovely spot for a picnic, maybe some forest bathing, or even an afternoon snooze in a deckchair – although you might want to be careful precisely which trees you rest under.
Green London
I've been blogging regularly about London's green spaces in an effort to dispel a prevalent myth in the pagan community that it's just all concrete. Even in the City, which is of course heavily built up, there are still places where nature thrives, while Greater London has huge areas of woods, commons, parks and beautiful gardens.
The pictures on this post were all taken by me from the grove in which I enjoyed a druid ritual. Please do not use them without my permission.
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