The Ooser Mask

While in the Dorset Museum at Dorchester on 21st July - already mentioned in my recent post Mary Anning - I saw the Ooser Mask again. This is a large wooden affair decked out with a bull's horns, with snapping jaws worked with a string, that a man can put on as a kind of hat. Although the head is hollow, it's not really a mask, as there are no eye-holes for seeing through, and I'm thinking he must be able to see through the hinged jaws. I fancy it's rather heavy and awkward to wear. Here it is. It was in a spot-lit glass cabinet - hence the reflections. 

You might well ask why anybody would be scared of this grotesque and obviously 'unrealistic' object. But it was used in special circumstances on cold winter nights lit only by firelight, when superstitious villagers were keyed-up in anticipation of something other-worldly. I should think its sudden appearance, darting out of the black night with its jaws loudly snapping, would surprise and possibly terrify children, and at least startle grown adults. 

I have earlier pictures from previous visits to the museum. These perhaps give useful alternative views of this mask, which is in fact a modern replica of a much older version now lost. Thus from 2011:

As you can see, the half-human, half-bull face with its 'third eye' was only part of the full costume. A full-length cattle skin was attached to it, which completely concealed the wearer. The entire ensemble stood taller than the average undernourished adult person of the past, towering over them. This is clearer in some of these pictures from 2015, which show the ooser figure standing by, while Morris Men dance in the twilight at prehistoric Maiden Castle.

Besides this modern replica, I also saw in 2015 another version, which was a lot less human:

This one looks properly bestial - even more likely to frighten people. It's easy to see why theorists in folklore were inclined to think these horned masks were representations of the Devil, and that the term ooser was derived from one of the Devil's names in West Country tradition, with probable links to witchcraft and black magic. Strange how the folklore expert quoted on the 2015 museum information card was himself reluctant to speak directly of 'the devil', instead calling him the 'arch-fiend'. He felt the power of superstition without doubt.

So far as research, history and scholarship goes, these three links, taken together, will explain further:

https://www.wessexmuseums.org.uk/collections-showcase/dorset-ooser/

https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100250874

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorset_Ooser

This lengthy pdf is especially worth a look, if you have the leisure to wade through it:

http://www.wessexmorrismen.co.uk/docs/TheDorsetOoser.pdf

The Wikipedia article mentions the pagan Horned God, and this points at the Wiccan 'religion', but I think the weight of evidence, such as it is, suggests that ooser masks were simply old, crude, country-village props brought out at various times of the year for ritual purposes, their original function long forgotten. I dare say that way back in long-past centuries they could have evoked the darker gods. No doubt the fearsome ooser could be a useful instrument of warning or control, a way of coercing or terrifying juvenile, ignorant or weak-headed villagers. Devilish rituals have always been employed to strengthen the hand of a select group, and keep the rest in line.

For myself, I'd hate to be confronted by an ooser on a dark night, and would probably scream. And all that says is that deep down I am as open to being frightened as anyone else.