In the superstitious faith of many nations, the
belief has been entertained that certain of the lower animals could transform
themselves into the human shape, and assume the faculties of man. And this
belief was strongly cherished by the Norsemen, in common with their cousins
of the Teutonic race. Man, in ignorance and pride, raised a huge barrier between
the instinct of the lower animals and his own more God-like reason. And the
slightest attempt on the part of an inferior creature to cross this imaginary
barrier was regarded as a proof of human intelligence. The possession of human
intelligence by a lower animal could only be accounted for by assuming that
such an animal was a human being in disguise. Many wild notions were held
as to the origin of animals having this power; but all of them with which
I am acquainted, must have originated since the introduction of Christianity.
Suffice it to say that nowhere was the mythical doctrine of the metamorphosis
of animals more firmly believed in than among the Orkney peasantry.
In Orkney, selkie was the popular name for seal.
Seals were popularly divided into two classes; namely, first, the common seal,
here called tang fish, which had no power to assume the human form. These,
like other inhabitants of the sea, were called fish. To the other classes
belonged all seals larger in size than the Phoca vitulina; such as
the great seal, rough seal, Greenland seal, crested seal, and grey seal-all
of which have been seen in Orkney waters. And it was this class of larger
seals that were called " selkie folk" because they had the power of assuming
the human form. The believers in this myth were never at a loss to account
for its existence; but the causes assigned for the origin of this amphibious
human race, so far as known to me, must have been imagined since the introduction
of Christianity. Some say the selkie folk were fallen angels, who, for a more
trivial fault than that of those consigned to the infernal regions, were condemned
to their present state. Others held that the selkie folk were human beings,
who, for some grave misdemeanour were condemned to assume the seal's form,
and to live in the sea, and were yet allowed to take human form and shape
when on dry land. "And who kens," said one of my old gossips, "but they'll
maybe some day get leave to come back tae their auld state?"
It was believed that males among the selkie folk
sometimes held secret and illicit intercourse with females of the human race.
Sometimes these marine gallants became the paramours of married women. The
ballad* which I 'hope later on to give [not included here] is an instance
of such connection. And however ungainly the appearance of these gentlemen
when in the sea, on assuming human shape they became in form fair, attractive,
and in manner winning; and by their seductive powers the female heart seems
to have been easily conquered. And if the selkie gentlemen were attractive
in the eyes of earth-born women, the selkie females were no less charming
in the estimation of men.
Indeed, to see a bevy of these lovely creatures,
their seal skins doffed, disporting themselves on a sea-side rock, was enough
to fire with admiration the coldest heart.
Let it be noted that the selkie nymphs always
appear in groups; they never sit alone combing their hair like the mermaid;
and, unlike her, are not represented as wearlng long golden hair. And unlike
the mermaid, the selkie folk were never represented as dwelling in Finfolkaheem.
The only home of the selkie folk was some far
outlying skerry, or sea-surrounded rock. Indeed, my old informants regarded
the selkie folk as a wholly different race of beings from the Finfolk.
Writers on the subject, trusting to incorrect
versions of old stories, have often confounded mermaids and seals together.,
and have treated the two as identical.
Hibbert in his valuable work on Shetland has
fallen into this error, and has been followed by most others whose writings
on the subject I have seen. This error is easily accounted for. Most of those
writers were unfamiliar with, and had not from childhood lived among the peasantry;
had not sat for long winter evenings by the cottage fire-side listening to
the often tedious and long-winded, but spontaneous flow of old tales, from
the lips of men and women who believed in the truth of what they told; and
more essential still, those narrators had not a doubt but that their fire-side
hearers behaved in what they heard.
No Orcadian peasant would lay bare the treasures
of his wild lore before the eyes of a stranger. The peasant believed, often
correctly, that educated people held his lore in contempt. When they asked
questions on old subjects, he suspected their only object was to make him
and his stories objects for amusement. In asking for old lore among the Orkney
peasantry, I suspect the proverb must be read "Seek, and ye shall not find
it."
But to return, the seals when in human shape
were generally seen on a dry, but sea-surrounded rock, where in groups they
lay basking in the sunshine, or gambolling about in the sunny atmosphere,
with their seal skins lying beside them on the rock. The moment that any disturbance
arose, or alarm was given, the whole flock flung their sea garments on, and
leaped into the sea.
It was only at certain periods and conditions
of the tide in which the seals had power to assume the human shape. But these
periods were a subject of dispute among my oral authorities.
Versions of the story I am now to tell were at
one time rife in every Orkney island; and some of them have already appeared
in print. The man who told me this tale was a native of North Ronaldsay, was
well read in English literature, and so familiar with Shakespeare that any
six lines of that author you quoted he would tell you from what play your
quotation was taken. Though above superstitious belief in, he possessed an
inexhaustible store of old-world tales. He often assisted me in clearing up
some difficulty in Orkney folk-lore.
The goodman of Wastness was well-to-do, had his
farm well stocked, and was a good-looking and well-favoured man. And though
many braw lasses in the island had set their caps at him, he was not to be
caught. So the young lasses began to treat him with conterupt, regarding him
as an old young man who lasses, and when urged by his friends to take a wife,
he said " Women are like many another thing in this weary world, only sent
for a trial to man; and I have trials enough without being tried by a wife.
If that ould fool Adam had not been bewitched by his wife, he might 'have
been a happy man in the yard of Edin to this day." The old wife of Longer,
who heard him make this speech, said to him "Take doo'll heed de sell, doo'll
may be de sell bewitched some day." " Ay," quoth he, " that will be when doo
walks dry shod frae the Alters 0' Seenie to the Boar of Papa."
Well, it happened one day that the goodman of
Wastuess was down on the ebb (that portion of the shore left dry at low water),
when he saw at a little distance a number of selkie folk on a flat rock. Some
were lying sunning themselves, while others jumped and played about in great
glee. They were all naked, and had skins as white as his own. The rock on
which they sported had deep water on its seaward side, and on its shore side
a shallow pool. The goodman of Wastness crept unseen till he got to the edge
of the shallow pool; he then rose and dashed through the pool to the rock
on its other side. The alarmed selkie folk seized their seal skins, and, in
mad haste, jumped into the sea. Quick as they were, the goodman was also quick,
and he seized one of the skins belonging to an unfortunate damsel, who in
terror of flight neglected to clutch it as she sprang into the water.
The selkie folk swam out a little distance, then
turning, set up their heads and gazed at the goodman. He noticed that one
of them had not the appearance of seals like the rest. He then took the captured
skin under his arm, and made for home, but before he got out of the ebb, he
heard a most doleful sound of weeping and lamentation behind him. He turned
to see a fair woman following him. It was that one of the selkie folk whose
seal skin he had taken. She was a pitiful sight; sobbing in hitter grief,
holding out both hands in eager supplication, while the big tears followed
each other down her fair face. And ever and anon she cried out, " 0 bonnie
man! if there's onie mercy i' thee human breast, gae back me skin I cinno',
cinno' live i' the sea without it. I cinno', cinno', cinno' bide among me
am folk without my am seal skin. Oh, pity a peur distressed, forlorn lass,
gin doo wad ever hope for mercy theesel' I" The goodman was not too soft-hearted,
yet he could not help pitying her in her doleful plight. And with his pity
came the softer passion of love. His heart that never loved women before was
conquered by the sea-nymph's beauty. So, after a great deal of higgling and
plenty of love-making, he wrung from the sea-lass a reluctant consent to live
with him as his wife. She chose this as the least of two evils. Without the
skin she could not live in the sea, and he absolutely refused to give up the
skin.
So the sea-lass went with the goodman and stayed
with him for many days, being a thrifty, frugal, and kindly goodwife.
She bore her goodman seven children, four boys
and three lasses, and there were not bonnier lasses or statelier boys in all
the isle. And though the goodwife of Wastness appeared happy, and was sometimes
merry, yet there seemed at times to be a weight on her heart; and many a long
longing look did she fix on the sea. She taught her bairns many a strange
song, that nobody on earth ever heard before. Albeit she was a thing of the
sea, yet the goodman led a happy life with her.
Now it chanced, one fine day, that the goodman
of Wastness and his three eldest sons were off in his boat to the fishing.
Then the goodwife sent three of the other children to the ebb to gather limpits
and wilks. The youngest lass had to stay at home, for she had a beelan (suppurating)
foot. The goodwife then began, under the pretence of house-cleaning, a determined
search for her long-lost skin. She searched up, and she searched down; she
searched but, and she searched ben; she searched out, and she searched in,
but never a skin could she find, while the sun wore to the west. The youngest
lass sat in a stool with her sore foot on a cringlo (a low straw stool). Says
she to her mother, " Mam, what are doo leukan for?" " O bairn, deu no tell,"
said her mother, " but I'm leukan for a bonnie skin, tae mak a rivlin (shoe
or sandal) that wad ceur thee sare fit." Says the lass,
May be I ken whar hid is. Ae day, whin ye war
a oot, an' ded tought I war sleepan i' the bed, he teuk a bonnie skin doon;
he gloured at it a peerie minn'e, dan folded hid and led hid up under dae
aisins abeun dae bed." (Under the aisins - space left by slope of roof over
wall-head when not beam-filled.)
When her mother heard this she rushed to the
place, and pulled out her long-concealed skin
Fareweel, peerie buddo !" (a term of endearment),
said she to the child, and ran out. She rushed to the shore, flung on her
skin, and plunged into the sea with a wild cry of joy. A male of the selkie
folk there met and greeted her with every token of delight The goodman was
rowing home, and saw them both from his boat. His lost wife uncovered her
face, and thus she cried to him : " Goodman o' Wastness, fareweel tae thee?
I liked dee weel, doo war geud tae me; bit I lo'e better me man O' the sea
!" And that was the last he ever saw or heard of his bonnie wife. Often did
he wander on the sea-shore, hoping to meet his lost love, but never more saw
her fair face.
Not only did females of the Finfolk sometimes
become the temporary wives of men, but males of the watery race frequently
formed illicit connection with fair ladies on land. These gentlemen never
abode for any length of time on shore. They only came on land to indulge unlawful
love. And as when divested of their sea skins they were handsome in form and
attractive in manners, they often made havoc among thoughtless girls, and
sometimes intruded into the sanctity of married life.
Many wild tales were told of the amorous connection
between fair women of earth and those amphibious gentlemen. If a young and
fair girl was lost at sea, she was not drowned, but taken captive by selkie
folk or Finfolk. And in olden times mothers used to sin, that is, to paint
the sign of the cross on the breasts of their fair daughters before going
by sea to the Lammas Fair. If a beautiful girl grew up to womanhood without
the enjoyment of matrimonial bliss, she sometimes indulged in illicit armours
with one of the selkie folk. Again, if a married woman found her husband unfaithful
to her, she would revenge herself by secret intercourse with a marine lover.
Among many wild tales of the kind, I give one
said to have happened in the last bygone century. The name only of our heroine
is changed, because her descendants are still among us; and if any of them
should read these lines, let them not think that aught offensive is intended.
If the lady was their ancestor, 5he was also a near relative of ancestors
of mine.
Ursilla was the daughter of a laird belonging
to one of the oldest families in Orkney. She was handsome and pretty, but
had a sternness of manner, and that firmness of features which often presents
a masculine exterior in families of Norse blood, and often hides, as with
a film of ice, a loving heart within.
Ursilla was not one to wait patiently till some
one turned up to offer himself as her husband. Inddeed, had any one presumed
to approach her as a lover, she would, have treated him with haughty disdain,
regarding his bold presumption as sufficient ground for his rejection. She
determined not to be chosen, but to choose for herself. Her choice fell on
a young handsome fellow, who acted as her father's barn-man. But she knew
that any disclosure of her passion would mortally offend her old father and
bitterly mortify his family pride) and might lead him to disinherit her. So
she locked up her love in her own breast; kept watchful eye on the object
of her love, and treated him to a full share of the scoldings she daily bestowed
on the servants.
When, however, her father died, and her tocher
was safe, she disclosed her passion to the young man, and commanded him to
marry her-a command which he was too gallant to disobey. Her marriage excited
among the gentry great indignation; to think that one of their class should
marry a farm-servant Ursula treated their contempt with indifference; she
made a good housewife, managed her house well, and also, it was said, managed
her husband and the farm.
So far I have given what I believe to be a true
account of Ursilla, having had it from descendants of her relatives. What
follows I believe to be an imaginary tale, invented by gossips, in order to
account for a strange phenomenon visibly seen on her descendants; and it is
only given to illustrate one of the popular beliefs.
Yes, Ursma was married, and all went well and
happily, so far as outward appearances showed; Yet Ursilla was not happy.
If disappointed in her husband, she was far too proud to acknowledge it, knowing
that the gentry would only say in derision, "She shaped her own cloth, let
her wear her ill-fitting dress." Whatever the cause might be, there was a
terrible want - a want that Ursilla felt bitterly And she was not the woman
to sit down and cry over her sorrow; she determined to console herself by
having intercourse with one of the selkie folk.
She went at early morning and sat on a rock at
high-tide mark, and when it was high tide she shed seven tears in the sea.
People said they were the only tears she ever shed. But you know this is what
one must do if she wants speech with the selkie folk. Well, as the first glimpse
of dawn made the waters grey, she saw a big selkie swimming for the rock.
He raised his head, and says he to her, "What's your will with me, fair lady?"
She likely told him what was in her mind; and he told her he would visit her
at the seventh stream (spring tide), for that was the time he could come in
human form. So, when the time was come, he came; and they met over and over
again. And, doubtless, it was not for good that they met so often. Any way,
when Ursilla's bairns were born every one of them had web hands and webbed
feet, like the paws of a selkie. And did not that tell a tale? The midwife
dipped the webs between every finger, and between every toe of each bairn.
"She showed the shears that she used to my grandmother." So said the narrator
And many a clipping Ursilla clipped, to keep the fins from growing together
again; and the fins not being allowed to grow in their natural way, grew into
a horny crust on the palms of the hands and soles of the feet. And this horny
substance is seen in many of Ursilla's descendants to this day.
Whatever may be thought of this tale, its last
sentence is quite true. The horn still appears on feet and hands of some of
the lady's descendants. One, two, or three in a family may show the abnormal
horny substance; while brothers and sisters are entirely free from the troublesome
horn.
Some ten years ago, while engaging a harvest
hand, I said to one of these men, "Of course, you can do all kinds of harvest
work?" " Oh na, sir," said he, " hid's nae use tae tell a lee aboot hid; but
I cinno' bind a sheaf wi' this plaguid horn in me livs" (palms of the hands).
Another of the same family told me that when, through the growth of the horn,
he was unable to walk or work, he would, with hammer and chisel, cut off large
slices of horn from the soles of his feet. This growth is by no means confined
to those engaged in manual labour. I have felt it on the hands of one of the
same race who followed a profession where manual labour was not required.
This curious phenomenon seems well worthy of
careful investigation by the physiologist. Pity it could not be traced to
the seal; we might then be in sight of the missing link.
Many wild tales were told of the offspring of
such strange parentage who had webbed hands and feet; but the foregoing will
serve to illustrate a once popular belief.
Source : Walter Traill Dennison; Originally
published in "Scottish Antiquary" - early 18th century.