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The
Green Man - Variations on a theme - Ruth
Wylie
‘The
Green Man’, a name coined by Lady Raglan in 1939, is a mediaeval image usually
found in churches. Carved in stone or wood, depicted on stained glass,
illuminated manuscripts and where else, he can be recognised as a face, often
grotesque, with foliage sprouting from his mouth, nose, eyes or ears.
Alternatively, he may be a face composed entirely of leaves. Exterior or
interior, he features on capitals, corbels, choir stalls, bench ends, fonts,
screens, roof bosses - indeed, any surface open to ornamentation.
The
earliest known examples are in the art of Classical Rome, from where the idea
seems to have moved northwards, to be adopted by Christianity and spread far and
wide along the pilgrimage routes. The Green Man vanished with the ‘Old Faith’
after the Reformation. By the time of his reappearance, on seventeenth century
memorials and eighteenth century Scottish gravestones, the emphasis had shifted,
the purpose redirected. For the Victorians, he played a major role in their
church restorations and as a decorative motif on street architecture. Even today,
when he enjoys a revival, his significance can be manipulated to suit our
particular needs. The imagery has captured the imagination of modern artists
working in various media. Surely change and development guarantees his survival!
However,
the mighty questions of who, what and why - the search for a meaning behind the
symbol - have no answer yet. The lack of substantial evidence leaves the
significance open to individual interpretation. This unknown quality makes the
study so exciting! What a wide range of moods the Green Men express, which
invite equally varied responses. Let the Green Man hold on to his secrets,
remain a mystery, for therein lies his power. Like a god who has many facets in
one, he gathers all unto himself and his strength is assured.
Sixteenth
century gilded roof boss, Priory church of St Mary & St Cuthbert,
Bolton Abbey, Yorkshire.
A
community of Augustinian canons settled here in this beautiful situation above
the River Wharfe in 1154, but was continually beset by turbulent fortunes. Even
a bribe could not spare the priory from dissolution and the monks were finally
driven out in 1539. Only the nave remains intact, still in use as the parish
church. The roof is a Tudor replacement, installed about this time. What a
splendid boss where a leaf twisting from a single eye to frame the face and
another from one side of the mouth is most unusual.
Fourteenth
century sedilia spandrel, St Martin's, Thompson, Norfolk.
A
college of priests was founded here in 1349, which explains the richly decorated
sedilia in a rural church. There are Green Men in three spandrels, each
featuring a different species of foliage. Specific plants did not appear until
the late thirteenth century, when the typically English oak, hawthorn, ivy, etc.
asserted themselves. Do the curious chequered sacks beneath his chin represent
fir cones or grapes? (There are similar motifs on a corbel in Ripon Minster.)
Twelfth
century capital underneath tower, St Michael's, Melbourne, Derbyshire.
Although
'The Green Man' and 'Sheela-na-Gig' are often supportive neighbours on a Norman
church, a composite carving is unusual. Does this intimacy infer a liaison
promoting fertility, both of the land and its people? But do we interpret their
unity as a celebration, a supplication or a timely warning!
Fifteenth
century capital in nave, St Swithun's, Woodbury, Devon.
'Green
Men' vehemently defend their cause from all four corners of this gorgeous
capital, linked by foliage between ears and mouths. What of the sprightly lizard
snaffling fruit? Has he lost direction since the serpents of earlier centuries?
Beasts writhe from the mouth at St Gabriel-Brecy, France and a corbel on
the old Coventry cathedral. Foliage from the ears occurs again at Shirwell,
North Devon.
Fifteenth
century misericord, Holy Trinity, Wysall, Nottinghamshire.
A
jovial forthright character!
Font,
c.1160, St Mary's, Stottesdon, Shropshire.
'Green
cats' were a popular device for sculpture in the twelfth century. This choice
suggests a strong influence drawn from illuminated manuscripts, where the
animals served as mainsprings for foliate scrolls and swirling interlaced
patterns. Romanesque sculpture of this area compares with its counterpart in
Saintonge, France, which indicates regular communication at this time between
craftsmen on either side of the Channel. Linked cats form a border around the
font at Lullington, Somerset.
Mid-sixteenth
century chancel screen, Marwood, Devon.
This
section is all that remains of an elaborate screen donated by Sir John Beaupul,
who was rector here in 1520. Alas, a later rector wantonly destroyed the rest.
This single Renaissance masterpiece displays several variations on the theme,
including leaf masks, foliage from the mouth and strings of beads. There are
more leaf mask panels on the screen at Ugborough, Devon, with traces of the
original paint. Imagine what a dazzling blaze of colour our churches must have
been, an overwhelming spectacle to folk accustomed to drab simplicity at home.
Nineteenth
century arm rest, chancel, St Helen's, Leverton, Lincolnshire.
How
well this face simulates a mood of painful resignation often expressed in
mediaeval work, but the sharp edges are clues indicating a Victorian imitation. Foliage
streaming from the tear ducts is unusual.
Early
fifteenth century 'poppy head' finial on choir stalls, St Mary's, Nantwich,
Cheshire.
'Poppy-heads'
(from the French word 'poupees') are finials to bench ends, which rise
prominently above the stalls. From this elevation, 'Green Men' reign, proudly
supervising the action in every direction. They carry authority; who can escape
their penetrating gaze? There are fine examples in Chester and Wakefield
cathedrals, but this striking figure-head is the king of them all (there are few
distinctly female examples).
Nineteenth
century corbel in nave, St Peter's, Codford, Wiltshire.
What
fun the Victorian carver had in creating this fanciful arrangement of leaves and
flowers. Is my imagination running wild, or can you also see the face therein?
Tomb
of Sir William Sharington (died 1553), Lacock Abbey, Wiltshire.
Built
originally for a community of Augustinian nuns, Sir William Sharington bought
Laycock Abbey in 1539 for £783, and converted the building into a stately
mansion. Fortunately, he spared the original chapter house, sacristy and vaulted
cloisters, the latter supporting fine bosses, including several Green Men.
Although portraits exist of Sir William, they bear no resemblance to these
profiles, which discounts portraiture. Heads with leaves for hair enhance
memorials at Sparsholt, Oxfordshire and Winchester Cathedral.
Stained
glass window, St Bartholomew's, Brightwell Baldwin, Oxfordshire.
Such
a dynamic, lively head! This is but a fragment of a now-lost complete scene. Too
long to be a tongue, surely these are flowers from the dog's mouth? Pieces of
earlier glass, presumably salvaged from elsewhere in the church, have been
re-used at random to frame the arms of a seventeenth century rector and bishop
of Oxford, Richard Corbett. There are few surviving examples of Green Men in
glass. St Mary Redcliffe, Bristol and Nantwich, Cheshire are other notable
examples.
Twelfth
century capital fragment from Hyde Abbey cloisters, now on display in St Batholomew's
church, Winchester.
Members
of the Saxon royal family were interred here. A Benedictine nunnery moved to
Hyde from its original site next the present cathedral, but destroyed 40 years
later in a disastrous fire which ravaged the city in 1141. This is one of
several remarkable capitals which may have survived the blaze, to be
incorporated in the rebuilding of 1182. Note the curious balls gripped between
their teeth. Carved on another of the capitals here is an inverted 'green cat'.
Seventeenth
century font cover, St James the Apostle, Swimbridge, Devon.
At
first glance looking like another pulpit, the Renaissance canopy and cover rests
on elaborate panels which completely enclose the font. The human flowers are
perfectly delightful, an idea repeated on bench ends elsewhere in the West
Country. Similar 'strings of beads' trail from the mouths of faces on the screen
at Marwood, Devon and on a bench end at Spaxton, Somerset. How charming is the
rector's suggestion that they could be 'bubbles' indicating speech or song!
Acknowledgements
I
am most grateful to local historians and all the clergy for their permission to
reproduce my photographs and for their kindness in taking so much trouble on my
behalf to provide historical details. Many thanks to Peter Poyntz-Wright, the
expert on Somerset bench ends, who launched me on the Green Man trail and shared
his knowledge of viticulture. A big thank you to Kathleen Basford, whose
original book prompted the current surge of interest in the subject. Her
continuing support and encouragement is my inspiration. Indeed, how thankful I
am to all friends and fellow hunters who share the fun and join me on the search!
Last but not least, he who drives me the length and breadth of the country,
James, my patient, long-suffering husband, we understand the infinite diversity
of expression within the broad label ‘Green Man’!
Originally
published in At the Edge No.4 1996.
More
Green Men illustrations in INTERACTIVE
GARGOYLES AND GROTESQUE CARVINGS OF LEICESTERSHIRE AND RUTLAND.
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