Travels with the Bone Sister ~ Dancing the Mari Lwyd for Epiphanytide

London Mari Lwyd Llundain 2020

On Friday, 10th January 2020, on a full moon night during an eclipse, I fulfilled a long-held wish to experience the Mari Lwyd. I am, of course, besotted and utterly enchanted by her.

Although the Mari Lwyd is traditionally a Midwinter or New Year wassailing custom found mostly in Glamorgan, South Wales, this one was travelling through the streets of Kings Cross in London.

London Welsh Centre Mari Lwyd poster 2020

That might seem incongruous, but it's in the nature of our folk customs, and folk music, to adapt to the place they find themselves in, and in so many ways that is their work; to root us in both familiar, and unfamiliar, territory. The London Mari provided a perfect example of this as the majority of the songs we sang were in Welsh and we were surrounded by Welsh speakers; remaking the ground.

Our folk traditions are not as fragile as we might sometimes suppose them to be. I think of them as a stream which, if forced underground, seeks a weakness on the surface through which it can bubble up, in a different form if they must And there is always a weakness where an attempt is made to subdue living water.

In Welsh tradition, where so many streams of living water are free flowing, groups would travel from house to house with the Mari Lwyd, a horse’s skull mounted on a pole and carried by someone covered in a white cloth decorated with bells, ribbons, and flowers.

The ‘hooded animal’ tradition is found in many parts of Britain. Indeed there is a similar custom to the Mari Lwyd here in my area of Kent called ‘hoodening’, or the ‘hooden horse’. The hooden horse similarly goes from house to house, or from pub to pub, but here the 'horse's head' is made of wood. At each stop the hoodeners would perform a type of mummer's play with a theme of death and resurrection; a welcome reminder in the depths of winter that life would soon return.

In both hoodening and Mari Lwyd traditions, and in similar ones throughout the British Isles, these travelling groups would demand entry to a house through song. In the case of the Mari this would take the form of an, often insulting, rhyming 'battle', or debate, known
as pwnco. 

Mari Lwyd 'call and response', pre-1918, Wikimedia

The Mari having sung to come in, the inhabitants of the house were expected to deny entry with their own answering song. This would continue, either until those taking part ran out of verses made up on the spot or couldn't remember any more of the traditional verses. The householders then (hopefully) relented and the Mari Lwyd would be granted entry.

For the verses sung by the London Mari Lwyd visit caneuongwerin.wordpress.com ~ scroll down for the English translation. On entry, we sang, 'The Mari's Triumphant Song' in both Welsh and English;

Oh goodly people of the family,
Will you come to the light so boldly
To see the Wassail without fear?
There's none like her around here.

She is an orchard of flowers,
In her livery of colours,
And her brilliant ribbons, bright and gay,
Tied in knots they give her powers.

Our mare is brisk and holy,
And thousands think her worthy
Of praise, for she is made of that
Which cannot be broken fairly.

And now I'll end my singing,
It's time to start my drinking,
And a happy New Year to all of you,
And to all the world good living.

Once inside, the Mari's carriers would be rewarded with food and drink; so many of our Midwinter customs are rooted in this sharing with those who have little. In return the Mari offered merrymaking, luck in the year to come, and might confer a house blessing, 'bendith Duw', as part of her song of thanks and farewell (similar perhaps to the Scottish New Year tradition of 'first-footing').

The custom was given various names; Old Horse in North-east England, Old Ball in North-west England, but ‘Mari Lwyd’ is the most ubiquitous. Folklorist Iorwerth C. Peate believed that 'Mari Lwyd' should be translated as ‘Holy Mary’. However, there is little evidence for the use of ‘Mari’ for ‘Mary’ in Wales prior to the Protestant Reformation. As ‘llwyd’ translates as ‘grey’ (with 'lwyd' as the feminine form), it is thought more likely that her name means ‘Grey Mare’. This would echo hooded horse traditions in Ireland and the Isle of Mann, which in those tongues are named ‘Láir Bhán’ and the ‘Laare Vane’, both translating as ‘white mare’. Interestingly, a white horse was once considered a symbol of death in both England and Germany.

The earliest recording of the Mari Lwyd tradition comes from J. Evans' ‘A Tour through Part of North Wales, in the year 1798, and at Other Times’. However, many have suggested a pre-Christian origin for our wild bone mare. In July 2019 I went along to a talk on the Kent hooden horse by my old folklore teacher, Dr Geoff Doel. He talked a lot about the possible age of our 'hobby horse' traditions, saying that, although the hooden horse isn't mentioned until the 18th Century, the Mari Lwyd is likely to be 14th Century or earlier.

Dr Dole also mentioned that, although the notion has become unfashionable, the hooden horse and similar traditions may have their roots in pre-Christian death and resurrection myths; bearing in mind that, like the seasons, Christianity is also based in death and resurrection. However, the dating of folk traditions is notoriously difficult because often only scant records are kept; people are just 'doing what tbey do', and the tradition itself changes and adapts so often, one melting into the other. We might instead think of them as a river with many branching tributaries.

Despite the challenges of dating it's interesting to note that, in 690, Archbishop of Canterbury Theodore, issued the 'Liber Penitentialis'; a list of ecclesiastical laws, in which he condemned the practice of those who, "on the kalends of January clothe themselves with the skin of cattle and carry heads of animals", directing that those who did should be subject to three years of penance. There are similar claims that St Augustine condemned the "filthy practice of dressing up like a horse or a stag" in the 5th Century, and that the church authorities in Scotland made a comparable warning.

This despite, or maybe due to, the fact that there is a Christian festival celebrating the horse, the Feast of the Ass. Mainly celebrated in France & dating back to at least the 11th Century, this feast day was said to commemorate the role of donkeys in the Flight into Egypt, but was also associated with the Feast of Fools.

Celebrated on 14th January, the Feast of the Ass involved a girl and a child being led through the village on a donkey, which would then stand beside the church altar during Mass. At the end of the service, rather than saying 'Amen', the priest would bray three times! In its older manifestation the feast also included a type of mummer's play, during which a number of prophets testified to the birth of the Holy Child as the Messiah. And this play also often included a wooden hobby horse who protests to the Angel Gabriel about the cruelty of his rider.

We might also reflect upon the story of Palm Sunday, where Jesus rides into Jerusalem on an ass, and so risks ridicule from those who consider it far too humble a mode of transport for the 'King of Kings'. This is once again an example of Jesus 'Turning the World Upside Down'; challenging our preconceptions of power, and particularly those who consider hierarchy and power imbalance the natural order.

The Feast of the Ass was suppressed by the Church in the late 15th Century, along with the Feast of Fools which similarly turned the social order on its head. The early church challenged entrenched religious, and secular, power ~ until it was accepted by the Roman Empire and began to do exactly the opposite. This tension between upholding the status quo and dismantling it has continued ever since. We see it in the actions of American Evangelical Christians who overwhelmingly support Donald Trump, contrasted with those Christians who speak out against war and stand at the border in solidarity with migrants and refugees. We see it in the Church of England allowing their premises to host the meetings of arms traders, contrasted with those who stand outside protesting that hypocrisy.

The Mari Lwyd too holds this tension, dancing on the dangerous edge between 'life-giving' and 'death-giving'; she is the bone sister draped in flowers.

I must admit that I had no idea how it would feel to be in her presence, whether terrifying or comforting, or merely interesting as an example of our folk history. I certainly wasn't prepared for the familiarity, playfulness, and absolute sweetness of her, or for how wildly alive she was, despite being made of bones. No wonder that, in this world of opposites, the Mari Lwyd resonates more and more strongly.

Vernon Watkins' 1941 poem, 'Ballad of the Mari Lwyd', speaks of this tension;

Mari Lwyd, Horse of Frost, Star-horse, and White Horse of the Sea, is carried to us.
The Dead return.
Those Exiles carry her, they who seem holy and have put on corruption, they who seem corrupt and have put on holiness.
They strain against the door. 
They strain towards the fire which fosters and warms the Living.
The Living, who have cast them out, from their own fear, from their own fear of themselves, into the outer loneliness of death, rejected them, and cast them out forever. 
The Living cringe and warm themselves at the fire, shrinking from that loneliness, that singleness of heart.
The Living are defended by the rich warmth of the flames which keeps that loneliness out.
Terrified, they hear the Dead tapping at the panes; then they rise up, armed with the warmth of firelight, and the condition of scorn.
It is New Year's Night.
Midnight is burning like a taper. In an hour, in less than an hour, it will be blown out.
It is the moment of conscience.
The living moment.
The dead moment. 
Listen.

There follows almost twenty pages of verses with alternating voices as the Mari demands to come in and is denied;

There were jumping sausages, roasting pies,
And long loaves in the bin.
And a stump of Caerphilly to rest our eyes,
And a barrel rolling in.
But dry as the grave from Gruffydd Bryn
We are come without one rest;
And now you must let our Mari in:
She must inspire your feast.

That the horse was deeply significant, practically and spiritually, to our ancestors is certain. We were following and hunting wild horses as long as 700,000 years ago, and living with them domestically from approximately 2,500 BCE. In Bronze and Iron Age Britain the horse was central to 'Celtic' spirituality. For example, the Uffington White Horse chalk figure in Wiltshire may be up to 3,000 years old. The horse is literally carved into the memory of the land. Whether this is linked to the Mari Lwyd is anyone’s guess. As with so many things in our mist-covered land, she is a mystery that we must feel the truth of for ourselves.

Storyteller, Hugh Lupton, tells us that the tradition of the Mari Lwyd is rooted in the tale that the Mari Lwyd was cast out of the Bethlehem stable on a cold winter’s night to make room for Mary to give birth to the Christ child, and that ever since she has roamed the world as a wraith looking for somewhere to give birth to her foal. This is a sad tale indeed.

MARI LWYD

The Hodening Hoss, the Marbury Dun, 
Old Bone-face the deathless am I, 
Heavy with foal two thousand years, 
Bridled with sorrow, Saddled with fear, 
I canter through pastures of tremble and quake, 
I gallop the track between sleep and awake 
Seeking the deep of welcome 
And stint for my tears. 
Let me in! 

The Mare-headed Queen, the Mari-Lwyd, 
I was mother of all the herds. 
Ten thousand years my shining foals, 
Bridled with starlight, Saddled with gold, 
Leapt the divide between living and dead, 
Quickened the year with each toss of the head, 
Galloped the deep of beauty And never grew old. 
Let me in! 

But Mother of God, the Mary Mild, 
The pregnant Maiden came, 
Bursting with Jehovah seed 
She entered my stable 
And cried out her need. 
With ropes I was dragged from the birthing straw, 
Aching with foal I was heaved to the door, 
Swapping warmth for bitter weather 
And birth of a rival creed. 
Let me in! 

And now I am nightmare, 
I am rattling womb, 
The Uffington wraith I've become, 
Forced into darkness you've made me a fiend, 
Bridled with shadow, Saddled with scream, 
From window to window traversing the night, 
My face in your glass in a shudder of light, 
Seeking that deep of welcome Befitting a Queen. 
Let me in once again, 
Let me in! 

(Hugh Lupton)

I don't believe that Mary, who was herself a refugee, would have denied anyone, particularly a birthing mother, room but this is a reminder of how much there is to be mended between those of different spiritual paths. Often, in following the folklore of our land, we might find common threads.

The Mari is a liminal being, a dweller in the in-between places; inner/outer, personal/communal. There are so many shut out in our world, so many denied, and so many parts of ourselves that we would rather forget; we might consider why, and how we could do better, as the Mari taps at the edge of our conscious and conscience to be let in. If we and our society were stripped bare would we be ashamed of what we see?

And the Mari Lwyd, or at least a horse's skull, does force us to confront our collective shame, particularly in relation to the scapegoating of women, but also the ways in which we force so many to conform; in North Wales in the 1800s, a custom known as 'giving a skull' took place. This involved placing a horse, or donkey's, skull over a woman's door on May Day as a sign of contempt for supposed transgression of the social norms. This echoes the charivari folk tradition during which a mock parade, accompanied by discordant music such as the banging of pots and pans, would move through a village to express disapproval of various types of violation of shared communal values. At best, this was a way to ensure community cohesion (often the transgressor would be represented by an effigy and would themselves join in with ribald mockery of the stand-in). Such practices could also be used against those who, for example, blocked footpaths, prevented traditional gleaning, or profiteered at times of poor harvests. But, at worst, they were also a form of vigilantism & could be used to control those who were different. Shame, both collective and personal, can be such a dangerous edge. And what we bury and refuse to acknowledge is the most dangerous of all.

Thank goodness then for the Mari Lwyd, who comes at a time when we and nature are stripped to the bone, revealed. She draws us to the edge of our collective and personal shame, with the thrill of fright and laughter to soften our journey. She enlivens the parts of us that we might have feared were cold and dead, and not only that; she dances with them.

Shame and guilt are such difficult emotions. Often we see them as the end of a journey; that just feeling them is proof that we are 'good'. But, if we are wise, they are just the beginning. The bone mare keeps our guilt and shame in motion with her clattering dance; motion that will leave them in clear view to be healed and for change and justice to come in their place.

Tonight, as I was considering how to end this piece of writing, which I must admit has been a struggle ~ how do you pin down the meaning of such an edge dwelling being? ~ I visited Twitter and saw these words from Dr Janet Lees (used with permission); "Blessed are the Latch Lifters, the stable door is never closed to them". The Mari is a true Latch-Lifter; opening the door to our secret and hidden wounds, demanding that they be given room to mend. Our bone sister truly does bring the wildest and starriest of blessings.

The Mari Lwyd is dead. Long live the Mari Lwyd!

References:

http://www.londonwelsh.org/

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mari_Lwyd

https://www.aux.avclub.com/celebrate-the-holidays-the-welsh-way-with-a-singing-hor-1840472293/

https://www.dailypost.co.uk/news/nostalgia/wales-mari-lwyd-creature-scary-15297617

https://hyperallergic.com/345156/the-welsh-undead-horse-of-christmas-you-must-beat-in-a-battle-of-rhymes/

https://scarylittlechristmas.wordpress.com/2013/11/09/mari-lwyd-the-zombie-christmas-horse/

http://chepstowwassailmari.co.uk

https://www.google.com/amp/s/barddos.wordpress.com/2015/12/31/the-mari-lwyd/amp/

https://www.wales.com/about/culture/mari-lwyd

https://marilwyd.co.uk

https://unearthedmyths.weebly.com/mari-lwyd.html

http://www.godeeper.info/blog/rambles-with-the-mari-lwyd

http://gorsedd-arberth.blogspot.com/2009/12/mari-lwyd-and-new-year.html?m=1

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2016/12/the-mari-lwyd-dialogue-welsh-rhyme-battles-to-haunt-your-yuletide

https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/mari-lwyd-156312

https://clivehicksjenkins.wordpress.com/category/mari-lwyd/

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_horse_in_Britain

Pwnco ~

https://caneuongwerin.wordpress.com/2016/01/14/wel-dyma-nin-dwad-can-y-fari-lwyd/#more-514

https://www.omniglot.com/soundfiles/songs/yfarilwyd.mp3

https://marilwyd.co.uk/gennad-i-ganu-pondering-the-pwnco/

The Hooden Horse ~

http://hoodening.org.uk/index.html

http://hoodening.org.uk/hoodening-similar.html

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoodening

Old Horse ~

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Horse

Old Ball ~

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Ball

Mummer's plays ~

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mummers'_play

Feast of the Ass ~

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feast_of_the_Ass

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cervula

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feast_of_Fools