The Green Man,Druids,Robin Hood and A Guy Dressed As A Tree: May Day In England
One of the magic things about travel is the way time shifts and melds, the past popping up where and when you least expect it. To wander in England really is to Travel where Past is Present. And never more so than in the spring, when everything is shifting. Old dead winter falls away. New life peeks out, then sidles into view. Especially The Green Man.
At the house I grew up in, he lived on a garden wall. Come spring, he would appear behind the ivy. If the plumbing was working properly, he’d spit into the bowl of a small fountain as if he was brushing his teeth, getting the stale taste of winter and dead leaves out of his mouth. In our village church, is the Sunday service was boring – and it often was – you could stare up into the shadows of the roof beams and, if you squinted, there he’d be at the very top of a column, peering down, vines snaking out of his mouth as if spring itself was growing inside him.
Come May, as the nights grew shorter and everything burst into blossom, The Green Man seemed to everywhere. But who was he? And what was he doing up there on the column?
Like all the best questions in History, at least part of the answer is We Don’t Really Know. But we do have some reasonable guesses. The name ‘The Green Man’ is actually recent. It was first used in 1939, and stuck like glue. But, given that he appears in so many churches built between the 11th and 16th centuries, it’s obvious that he’s been around for a long time. Some historians speculate that he is a kind of bridge, or at least a link between Britain’s pagan past and Christianity, and that he was carved into churches to make them a little more familiar. Or possibly because the builders and carvers were hedging their bets – pun, intentional – giving the old Gods the nod, just in case they were still around.
Given the Druids, and their fixation with trees, and English oaks in particular, this isn’t a bad thought. Just looking at The Green Man, though, it’s pretty easy to figure out that he has close links to other woodsy, springtime, Life-Death-Life cycle deities, especially Bacchus, the Roman God of wine, debauchery, and general good living. The Romans did, after all, spend a four centuries and then some in England. The Green Man, with his affinity for foliage and All Things Spring also bears a distinct resemblance to the other tricky little god of the forest, Pan.
By the 14th century, versions of The Green Man appear in two significant story cycles that have endured right down to today – the Arthurian romance of Sir Gawain and The Green Knight, and the story of Robin Hood. Both characters have mysterious origins. Both appear out the forest and vanish back into it – to find them, you have to follow. One is actually green, and one just dresses in it. Both seem to have a greater purpose, even if it is a little obscure. And both stories were incredibly popular.
Their popularity isn’t all that surprising. Forests have traditionally had a special role in England’s vision of itself. Magical things happen there – both dark and light. They are the home of magic White Harts, fairies, wood spirits, bandits, cross dressers and Who Knows Who and What Else. Just look at Shakespeare. It’s when you get lost in the woods that all sorts of weird things begin to happen. Before the arrival of William the Conqueror in 1066 – who decided that all forests, along with pretty much everything else, belonged to the King, forests were also a primary source of food. They were rich in game, and nuts, berries and roots to forage. The ‘larder tree’ of the Robin Hood stories, a great English oak that is both a protector and a source of food, is literally, A Tree of Life – a close cousin to the mythical Horn of Plenty that was provided by the gods, so long as you treated them right.
The idea that you appeased the gods, or one particular god, to assure a good harvest is about as old as it gets, and probably explains why May Day and The Green Man are so closely linked. The Romans celebrated the coming of spring with Floralia, a festival centered on flowering and re-birth – and Romans being roman, ample amounts of wine – that was dedicated to the goddess Flora. In Celtic tradition, the first ‘dawn’ of spring was called Beltane, meaning Fire of Bel. A marker in the Life-Death-Life cycle of the seasons, Beltane marked a new season of regrowth, and the time when cattle could be put out to pasture after the winter. The druids celebrated Beltane by burning a May King, usually made of straw or wood, symbolically noting the death of the winter and rebirth of nature. Think, The Burning Man festival, which finds its origins here.
These celebrations eventually fused into May Day, a secular rather than Christian holiday which celebrated labor, farming, and birth of spring. Maypoles, which had started out as trees in the forest that people danced around, were cut down and erected on village greens. The first spring blossoms were gathered and flowering branches were cut and brought into homes. At dawn villagers went out to ‘ sing in the May’. The tradition still hangs on in Oxford when the bells of Magdalen College begin to ring at first light and everyone gathers on Magdalen bridge then goes home and goes back to bed again.
The whole thing had such distinctly pagan overtones that it regularly gave The Church fits. Sometimes literally. In 1240, The Bishop of Lincoln nearly had a heart attack because he was so enraged at finding his priests taking part in local May Day celebrations. Three centuries later, when Henry VIII was having one of his temper tantrums at Rome and suddenly decided he was devout Protestant, May Day celebrations were banned. They were too reminiscent of Catholicism – with a hint of something racy thrown in.Bacchus and his wine and nymphs. Pan luring people into the woods with his pipes where they all got up to Who Knows What.
Reaction to Henry’s banning was both swift and violent. May Day riots broke out across England. Fourteen rioters were hanged. In an uncharacteristic fit of generosity, Henry VIII pardoned 400 hundred more. Perhaps he felt guilty. Or perhaps he remembered being a young man, wandering into the wood some spring day, maybe following a faint sound of music, and coming face to face with a pair of dark eyes peering out through the leaves.
A hundred years later, May Day, like everything else that was any fun, was officially cancelled when Oliver Cromwell and The Puritans came along. Declaring May Day ‘heathenish vanity’ and generally superstitious and wicked, Cromwell ordered all maypoles cut down. Celebrations were outlawed for the next 15 years. One imagines that The Green Man simply withdrew far into his woods until the restoration of the monarchy and the arrival of Charles II in 1660.
Charles, who was not called ‘The Merry Monarch’ for nothing, immediately erected a 130 foot high May Pole on The Strand in the center of London. His entire reign was more or less, Party Time. The maypole itself stood for over 50 years. The Puritans were furious. But, post-Cromwell, there wasn’t a lot they could do about it. At least in England. In New England, and specifically in what is now Rhode Island, they made their feelings amply clear when a renegade called Roger Morton set up a maypole at his home, which he called Merry Mount. They didn’t like that, either, and made no bones about it. They drove him out, and chopped down his maypole.
By the late 18th century, The Green Man had gone from being the inspiration to becoming the guest of honor at May Day celebrations. By this time, he was commonly known as Jack In The Green – an almost always wildly drunk person dressed as a tree who led the parade and dancing and was more or less consort to The May Queen, who was usually paraded around the village green on a May Throne garlanded with flowers.
Many villages in England still do this. When we moved to Dartmoor, we found that May Day was a very big deal. The May Queen was crowned on a large rock in the middle of the village orchard, and the pub opened at 9 AM. Sort of like The Prom, but in the morning and with Morris Dancing, a weird thing the English do with bells on their legs.
Our village was in no way unique. May Day celebrations are still widespread. As is Morris Dancing, which has become so associated with May Day that a troupe of Morris dancers climb up to dance around the head of the Cerne Abbas Giant at 5AM every May Day. ( For more on the giant see, All The Pretty Horses, and Two Buck Naked Giants: England’s Chalk Hill Carvings )
The first Monday in May is still officially a holiday, and May Day are a great thing to search out if you are traveling in England in the spring. They are as traditional as bluebells and lambs. Below are the details on where to find some of the better known May Day celebrations, and where to stay nearby to enjoy them. As with the Vikings and their hoards, see VIKINGS! In England? , there is a real sense of ‘time slip’ in these early morning festivities. A sense that the past has pushed its way through into the present, or that it never left, and for a bit, you can reach back and touch its weird, potent combination of ordinariness and strangeness. When it’s over, or when you’ve had your fill, drop into the village church. Look up, and look closely, and don’t be surprised to see The Green Man looking back.
LOGISTICS: IF YOU GO (or if you need a virtual trip) Below are details on some of the best places to find The Green Man, and/or experience English May Day. As usual, the recommendations that follow are merely my own. This site is not monetized, and I get no compensation for ‘click throughs’ to any provided links.
The West of England is particularly fertile ground for May Day celebrations. Weirdly, these tend to feature a Hobby Horse – or at least a large model of one garlanded and masked that leads the May Day parade and festivities – instead of the Green Man. People dressed as trees, people dressed as horses. The most famous is found in Cornwall in the pretty ‘fishing’ village of Padstow where the Obby Oss, as he’s known leads a raucous parade through the town to the church surrounded by people singing and dancing around him. Just across from the village of Rock, which is pretty much an uber-chic enclave of very expensive second homes, Padstow has become pretty chic itself, not least because it is an enclave of some seriously good, and occasionally Michelin starred, restaurants. If that sounds appealing, check out https://www.paul-ainsworth.co.uk/padstow-townhouse/suites/ They only have 6 gorgeous rooms. There’s no restaurant on site – but they own the one across the street that has one of those twinkly stars. It’s not cheap – but it makes for a charming, and very tasty stay after you’ve run up and down the streets chasing the Oss. For something a little more pocket book friendly, and with a Can’t-Be-Beat location right on the quay, try https://oldcustomhousepadstow.co.uk/
With the notable exception of Bath, Somerset is the sort of ‘forgotten-by-tourists’ Southwestern county, which really isn’t fair, because a lot of it is gorgeous. Famously, it is home to Glastonbury Tor, one of the sites deeply linked to Arthurian legend. The Tor itself is a weird, steep hill that, on May Day morning is visited by Morris Dancers, all sorts of May revelers, and a group of druids who often light a Beltane fire at dawn to welcome summer. Not far away, you’ll find the pretty seaside town of Minehead, and its much smaller neighbor the medieval village of Dunster.
Together these host two Hobby Horses, a Sailor’s Horse and Town Horse, who parade around for two or three days beginning on the evening of April 30. They are often followed by , you guessed it, Morris Dancers, as well as townsmen called Gullivers who collect money for good causes. After you’ve chased the horses up to the castle in very pretty Dunster, you’ll go a ways to beat the village’s lovely Luttrell Arms Hotel, which is a great base for exploring https://www.luttrellarms.co.uk/ For an attractive place to lay your head within easy pitching distance of Glastonbury ( 8 miles away), try The White Hart https://whitehartsomerton.com/ In the pretty town of Somerton, The White Hart is a lovely old inn on the market square that’s been keeping guests happy for a mere 500 years. About 10 miles to the northeast, just off the A358 to Taunton, you’ll find the village of Crowcombe and the spectacular carved panels in its church.
More traditionally, Jack In The Green features in a lot of May Day celebrations. But he is never greener, and bushier and generally more garlanded and impressive than in the parades and festivities that take place in Whitstable on the Kent coast. Whitstable, which is also known for its excellent oysters and seafood in general, tends to have its biggest May Day Parade, led by Jack, on Bank Holiday Monday, the first Monday in May. If you plan to stay over, The Marine Hotel https://www.marinewhitstable.co.uk/is a classic, right on the long pebbly seafront. Another good choice, which is set farther back in town but still has lovely sea views is the charming, if oddly named, Crescent Turner https://www.crescentturner.co.uk/
If you find yourself in Oxford on May Day, the bells of Magdalen (along with all the other bells that seem to ring all the time) will wake you at dawn. Watch for very drunken students on Magdalen bridge, then beat a retreat to any one of Oxford’s many hotels. Among the best is The Old Bank,https://www.oldbankhotel.co.uk/ which is exactly what is says – dead center of the High Street with a fantastic, if pricey, restaurant. More tucked away is its sister property, the romantic Old Parsonage,https://www.oldparsonagehotel.co.uk/ which has a lovely terrace, great restaurant, and will even lend you a bike. They are both lovely, and Not Cheap. For something a little less pricey, but very charming and dead center, try The Tower House. An eclectic collection of rooms that overlook the gardens of Jesus College, it is run by students as a social business to support a charity called Student Hubs. Breakfast is served next door in the Turl Street Kitchen.https://www.towerhouseoxford.co.uk/
Many of the castles, and castle hotels in England put up Maypoles and feature all sorts of May Day activities. Two of the best are at Hever, and Sudeley, both homes of Queens of Henry VIII – he who tried to ban the whole thing, and then perhaps thought better of it…Seems like there’s some karmic justice in that. Read more about their history at Queen For A Night: Six Royal Castle Hotels and Seven Tudor Queens
Finally, if you’re in the mood for something a little wilder, and find yourself in the north with the end of April approaching, don’t miss the greatest Green Man, May Queen Druid Beltane Blowout – Edinburgh’s Beltane Fire Festival. OK. I KNOW it’s not England. It’s Scotland. But if you’re into this kind of thing, or just a weird, great party that is Too Good To Miss, check it out. You can find out absolutely everything about it, including all the When, Where and How at https://beltane.org/about-beltane/