Recently I’ve found myself rereading ‘The White Goddess’ by Robert Graves. It was originally published back in 1948, then revised in 1952 and again 1961. The edition I own was published in 1997 by Faber and Faber and edited by Grevel Lindop. I first read it in 1998 when I was living in Mallorca where Graves wrote the book. It is about the nature of poetic myth making and the matriarchal period of the very ancient past which was deposed by the patriarchal gods. It is a fascinating read. Much of it resonates deeply. It was, and continues to be, the subject of much discussion, with many not in favour of his arguments.
Personally, I agree with Graves, but this is not about whether or not I think he was right or even necessarily about the book itself. It centres around the Mallorquin siurells, or xiurells, clay figures painted white and decorated with red and green which are made on the Mediterranean island of Mallorca. Graves wrote most of The White Goddess when he lived in Deià, a tiny and beautiful village in the shadow of the Teix mountain which overlooks the sea on the west coast Serra de Tramuntana region of the island. (‘Teix’ I think is Catalan for Yew) He is buried in the village cemetery which overlooks the dramatic coastline and on to the sea which you reach by walking up a cobbled pathway lined with cypress trees to the church of Sant Joan Baptista. Cypress trees. A nod to the Goddess there. The burial spot is marked with a simple white stone which reads ‘Robert Graves Poeta 24 – 7 – 1895 7 – 12 – 1985’.
When I lived on the island, also in the Tramuntana region but in the northern part, I visited Deià several times. His house, Ca N’Alluny, was not open to the public as it is now.
What drove me to look at my copy of The White Goddess again? In my pervious post I’d been referring to Proserpine/Persephone and her mother Ceres/Demeter and wanted to be reminded of what Graves had said about them. The book fell open at page 153 and the word ‘xiurell’ caught my eye. This is the Mallorquin word for the clay figures referred to above and is more commonly spelled with an ‘s’, ‘siurell’. The ‘x’ spelling may be a Mallorquin dialect and is how I always thought of it as being written – xiulet is Catalan for whistle – however on checking various sources, I see that it is spelled with an ‘s’ even in Marratxí where they are made.
It was common for women in Mallorca to make the siurells by hand (and as far as I can see it seems to be only women that make them which is interesting). Traditionally they would be bought on June 30th at the Sa Cabaneta Sanctuary (Marratxi), coinciding with the Sant Marçal festivities.
The xiurell. Or siurell, from the Mallorquin verb ‘siular’ which means to whistle. I remembered that I had brought back one of these clay figures with me when I returned to the UK, and that it was carefully wrapped up somewhere here in the house. I’d never wondered about what they were for and had always just considered them as being for decorative purposes or an intriguing piece of folk art. Their origin is uncertain. It is believed that they date from the Bronze Age with roots in Minoan Crete where similar figures have been found as well as in Sardinia and Ibiza. One source suggests that they may have had been brought over by the Pheonicians. The wiki page says they were used by ranchers and shepherds to control their flock and even to compose songs which survive in some Mallorquin folk dances. Graves links them to the North East winnowing winds and rain from the Atlantic Ocean which soaked the winter wheat planted in the autumn.
Years later, holding mine and looking at it again, I’m making so many different connections, especially since I’ve just written a post about Proserpine/Persephone who is central to the Eleusinian Mysteries which were based on the growth cycles of nature. Graves mentions the Mysteries and goes on to write:
An interesting survival of these winnowing feast mysteries is the Mallorcan xiurell, or white clay whistle, decorated in red and green, and hand made in the traditional shapes of mermaid, coiled serpent, bull headed man, full skirted woman with a round hat rocking a baby in her arms, or with a flower instead of a baby, the same with a moon disk surmounted by cow’s horns, man with a tall peaked hat and arms upraised in adoration, and little man riding on a hornless, prick eared, long legged animal with a very short muzzle. It figures, with quince-boughs and boughs of the sorb apple, in an ecclesiastical festival held at the village of Bonanova near Palma when the villagers perambulate a hill at night on the first Sunday after the 12th of September (The Feast of the Blessed Name of the Virgin Mary) which corresponds with the 23rd of September Old Style. The object of the whistle must originally have been to induce the North East winnowing winds which, according to the local almanac, begin to blow at this season and which at the end of the month summon rain clouds from the Atlantic Ocean to soak the winter wheat planted earlier in the month. But this is forgotten: winnowing in Mallorca is now done at any time after the harvest and not celebrated with any festivities. the mermaid, locally called a ‘siren’, evidently represents Daeira (Aphrodite) the moon mother of Eleusis. (the corn Dionysus who is shown with her in the woman and baby xiurell); the bull headed man is Dionysus himself grown to manhood; the man in a hat is a Tutor, or gran mascara;the little rider is likely to be Dionysus again but the species of his tall mount is indeterminate. the quince boughs, sorb boughs and the white clay are also to honour the Goddess – now invoked as the Virgin Mary. The Serpent is the wind itself. Since this is the only time of the year when the wind is welcomed by the Mallorcans who, being largely arboricultural, fear the sirocco as they fear the Devil – the farmer’s purse, as they say, hangs on the bough of a tree – the sound of whistling is not heard in the island except in the xiurell season. The ploughman sings as he drives his mule and the schoolboy as he runs home from school; for the rest ‘furbis, flabis, flebis’ – ‘whistle shrill, weep long’*
Some reading this may sense echoes of M.R. James here. ‘Oh Whistle, and I’ll Come to you, My Lad’. Graves goes on to say that more about the White Goddess and whistling for the wind will be found in Chapter 24.
The siurell which I own, pictured above, seems to fit the description ‘…little man riding on a hornless, prick eared, long legged animal with a very short muzzle.’ I remember two of the others he describes – the bull headed man and the full skirted woman with a round hat, but not the others. The bull-headed man I take it is the one I always associated with the Devil, and made me think of some of the festivals, especially Sant Antoni in mid January. I also remember the siurell nativity scenes but do not recall ever seeing a female figure with a moon disc surmounted with cow horns, the most intriguing of them all, at least for me.
Here in London, the shrill sound of the whistle echoes around me, followed by a sudden chill and rush of energy. It is an eerie sound, not like the noise a normal whistle would make. There then is a sense of calmness, as if the siurell has commanded silence, and stillness within where we connect with the ancestors and spirit. Whistling in the wind. The calling to the winds. Wind whistling. Whatever one wants to call it. Here Graves talks about it in relation to winnowing but it is a magical skill which is much treasured by sailors, fishermen, merchants and travellers. I think of my grandfather and that ancestral line, most of whom had been fishermen, and wonder if they had been familiar with it and used it to help them during those endless days and weeks spent at sea.
The Tramuntana mountains on Mallorca are named for the wind of the same name which blows over from Northern Italy, a wind that can be so strong it can be disturbing. The Catalans and Mallorquins have a saying ‘tocat per la tramuntana’ ‘touched by the tramuntana’, using it to describe odd or unusual behaviour. I do remember this wind and the effects it could have. It was best to stay inside if possible and bolt the windows and shutters. That, and the dust storms which would blow in from the Sahara, seemingly turning everything red with dust landing in your throat and eyes. Once again, best to stay in and keep the windows and shutters bolted. Thankfully it was not a regular occurrence. Coming from the north east of Scotland, I was used to high speed gales battering the coastline. The Tramuntana seemed different, however, perhaps because it happened less frequently and the wind sweeping in from the Sahara was quite something else. I wonder if I will ever return to the island. Just before I was due to take up a teaching post in Palma, the island’s capital, a family bereavement required me to return suddenly to the UK. It was a difficult and traumatic time. With so much to sort out and no one else willing to lend a hand, I decided that the best thing to do was pack up and leave the sunny Mediterranean behind. I often wonder if I made the right decision. Perhaps my reacquaintance with the siurell is a call to return for a visit some day to collect more. I know that recently I’ve become interested in the myth and folklore of the island again. The winds may call me back to learn more.
Looking again at The White Goddess a few days after seeing the above quote, I opened at page 250 and read:
Though the apple was of the most palatable of wild fruits growing on trees, why should it have been given such immense mythic importance? The clue is to be found in the legend of Curoi’s soul (Cu Roi) which was hidden in an apple; when the apple was cut across by Cuchulain’s sword ‘night fell upon Curoi’. For if an apple was halved cross-wise each half shows a five-pointed star in the centre, emblem of immortality, which represents the Goddess in her five stations from birth to death and back to birth again. It also represents the planet of Venus – Venus to whom the apple was sacred – adored as Hesper, the evening star on one half of the apple, and as Lucifer, son of the Morning, on the other.
The apple of the Thracian Orphic cult seems to have been the sorb rather than the quince, the crab, or the true apple, because Orpheus, whose name and singing head identify him with Bran the alder-god, is called the son of Oeagrius; Oea Agria means ‘the wild-service tree’. **
Oeagrius, father of Orpheus, is literally translated as ‘of the wild sorb apple.’
Here again is mention of the wild service tree, the sorb apple, and Venus and the Goddess. I almost left out the bit about Cu Roi in this instance but he is there because Graves constantly refers back to connections with Irish Mythology.
Today when I am posting this is the first day of September and the Sun is in the sign of Virgo. We are moving into harvest time. During the recent days when I have been thinking about this post, Venus has been transiting Virgo before moving into the sign of Libra, a sign which she rules. I’ll take a look now at Chapter 24 as Graves indicates above and see what is unveiled there.
*From the chapter ‘Gwion’s Heresy’. The White Goddess. Fourth Edition published by Faber and Faber 1997. P.153.
**From the chapter ‘The Roebuck in the Thicket’ The White Goddess. Fourth Edition published by Faber and Faber 1997. P250.
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