As I learned to read and write, I was introduced to the concept of chopping mice’s tails off with a carving knife, the joy of jumping over candlesticks, the precariousness of London Bridge, and the foolishness of placing a baby’s cradle atop a tree in a storm.
There was one rhyme, however, that particularly grabbed my attention — that of the lion, the unicorn, and their violent shenanigans. I remember, as a child, being particularly indignant at the lion’s mistreatment of the unicorn "all around the town", and perplexed by the townspeople’s bread-and cake-flinging.
The lion and the unicorn are, of course, symbols of the United Kingdom — the lion standing for England, and the unicorn for Scotland. The combination of these two animals dates back to the 1603 accession of James I of England, who was already James VI of Scotland. The Acts of Union in 1707 likely intensified the legend of the lion and the unicorn, as did the writings of Lewis Carroll, who introduced the lion and the unicorn as characters in his 1871 novel Through the Looking-Glass.
The unicorn existed in Scottish heraldry well before 1603, however. The first recorded use of a unicorn symbol appears in the 12th century when it was adopted by William I on the Scottish Royal Coat of Arms. In fact, the Scottish royal arms featured not just one, but two unicorns until the aforementioned 1707 Union, when the royal arms of the United Kingdom incorporated both a unicorn and an English lion.
Interestingly, in the Scottish version of these royal arms, the unicorn appears on the left with a crown, while the version used in England gives more prominence to English elements.
During the 15th and 16th centuries, gold coins called unicorns and half-unicorns, featuring a unicorn on one side, rolled and jingled through Scottish pockets and wallets.
It was believed that the unicorn’s horn could cure illnesses, purify poisoned water, and even act as an aphrodisiac. Consequently, a dubious trade in powder and tableware made of "unicorn horn" (actually narwhal horns or elephant tusks) thrived during the 16th and 17th centuries.
The unicorn was granted as an augmentation of honour to certain noble families, such as the Earl of Kinnoull, and it appears in the crest of Clan Cunningham, where a unicorn head is featured.
Wooden carvings of unicorns were erected atop Mercat crosses (market crosses) in historic royal burghs across Scotland, where they reigned supreme at the centre of public life, casting an imperious eye upon ceremonies, markets, and the glorious hustle-and-bustle of everyday life.
I don’t know what it says about Scotland, that its national animal is not some slinky predator, like Afghanistan’s snow leopard, a majestic beast like Russia’s brown bear, or a proud bird, like the United States’ bald eagle.
Rather, Scotland has a mythical creature for its national animal — an alabaster-white unicorn, with its single-spiralling horn, noble brow, and silver eyes.
On the Scottish coat of arms, the unicorn is depicted as bound by a golden chain that circles its neck and coils around its body. According to legend, the unicorn was considered the mightiest of creatures — it was fierce, wild, and untamable — only able to be subdued by a virgin.
It is hypothesised that this chain represents the authority of Scotland’s kings, signifying their ability to control even such a powerful and legendary beast. What this says about their chasteness, however, I don’t know.
One of my favourite depictions of the unicorn is found in the Hunt of the Unicorn Tapestries, a series of seven tapestries created in the South Netherlands around 1495–1505, located these days in The Cloisters, the medieval branch of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Actually, I haven’t seen the original tapestries, but I am a huge admirer of the re-creations that hang in the Queen’s Inner Hall at the Royal Palace in Stirling Castle. The tapestries depict a group of noblemen and hunters in pursuit of a unicorn through an idealised French landscape.
The entrapment of a unicorn by a virgin, a common theme in medieval folklore, is often interpreted as an allegory of Christ.
The unicorn’s capture by a maiden parallels the Virgin Mary’s role in the birth of Jesus, while the subsequent hunt, death, and resurrection of the unicorn reflect the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ.
Rich in colour, detail, and religious symbolism, these tapestries emphasise the sacred and unattainable nature of the unicorn.
They are simply glorious.
These days, you’re more likely to see a picture of a unicorn farting out a rainbow, or prancing through a cloud of glitter, than you are to see one encircled in gold chains or squaring off against a lion. The unicorn is now a proud queer icon, second only in significance to the rainbow flag.
But there’s no real consensus on how or why this mighty mythical beast sashayed out of the closet. According to natural history writer Natalie Lawrence, it was the Victorians who first drew a link between rainbows and unicorns, fashioning the latter as charming, gentle playthings for children — a far cry from the fierce, wild beast of Scottish heraldry and legend.
There is much to discern from the animal or bird that represents a nation; there are clues to the nation’s values, history, and identity in the creature’s fur, fins, feathers, or scales.
I like to think that Scotland’s unicorn represents the reverence the nation holds for myth and legends, its long-standing pursuit of independence, and a rich cultural identity that values creativity and spirit over brute force. These proud, untamable creatures should resonate with anyone versed in Scottish history.
But I can’t lie — I also love the glitter and sparkles of the 21st century beast. Prance on, my friends.
• Jean Balchin is an ODT columnist who has started a new life in Edinburgh.
