Welsh Methodists and other Christian non-conformists criticised the Mari Lwyd in the 19th century. The Blaenau Gwent-based Baptist minister, Reverend William Roberts, called her "sinful" in his 1852 book, The Religion Of The Dark Ages, although he also transcribed twenty verses of the Mari's performance, helping to disseminate the tradition. In the 1930s and 1940s, Welsh folklorist Iorwerth Peate found the practice still alive in Cardiff, Bridgend, Llangynwyd, Neath and other parts of Glamorgan, despite fears that it was starting to die.
Welsh poet Vernon Watkins even wrote a long poem about her in 1941: The Ballad of The Mari Lwyd, after hearing a radio broadcast about the ritual in Gwaelod-y-Garth, a village just north of Cardiff. His words beautifully capture the Mari Lwyd's frightening aspect. "The Living are defended by the rich warmth of the flames which keeps that loneliness out," his poem goes. "Terrified, they hear the Dead tapping at the panes; then they rise up, armed with the warmth of firelight."
Only a few Mari processions were left by the 1960s, including in Pencoed near Bridgend and Pentyrch near Cardiff. But later that century, Llantrisant Folk Club revived the tradition, as did a family in Llangwynyd near Maesteg, who still visit the Old House Inn in the village with their Mari today: three generations of landlords have now hosted them.
Other popular celebrations also happen in the New Year at Chepstow (after a break in 2020), Gellionnen Chapel on a mountainside near Pontardawe, Llansoy in rural Monmouthshire, Dinas Mawddwy and at The London Welsh Centre. Maris are also popping up at local midwinter events, lantern festivals and wassails, their baubles glowing in their eyes, the tradition shining with new life.
So don't have nightmares. Let yourself be taken in by the darkness, and go with Mari Lwyd towards the light.
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