When the Benedictine Reform movement reached Britain in the ninth century, it brought with it not only monastic reform, but also an enthusiasm for the arts as a way of broadening the appeal of the Christian message. While one aspect of this emphasis was the decoration of the church in order to create a place whose beauty suited the beauty of God, another was the creation of images that were readily accessible to a populace that depended upon oral and visual texts.

The mouth of hell, which medievalist Gary D. Schmidt describes in this volume, was one such image, created in order to express vividly and dramatically the abstract concept of spiritual damnation.

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The mouth of hell combined several different images, drawn from several different traditions that were still active in Anglo-Saxon culture. The leonine features of the mouth were drawn from Scriptural imagery, while the dragon-like aspects were combined from both the Scriptures and Anglo-Saxon visions of the draco. The notion of being swallowed into hell, ultimately drawn from the imagery of the Psalms, was linked to the activities of the dragon, which swallowed souls into torment.

The hell mouth was an almost perfect coalescence of these very diverse images.

Painted on church walls, crafted into manuscript illuminations, and sculpted on friezes, the mouth of hell was a lively, dramatic form, occurring in many different guises and with remarkably different emphases. The mouth could function as a leveller of society as monks, bishops, kings, and peasants alike marched into it. It could function as a torment itself, holding within its jaws a red-hot cauldron in which the damned simmer.

It could become decorative, as artists began to multiply the mouth so that mouths appeared inside each other, suggesting torment upon torment. When these functions came together in medieval drama, they combined to form a lively, ribald, and rowdy seat for dramatic action.