Appendix 8.1 - The “Swan-Maiden” Motif

On p. 58 of this volume we read that, on arriving at a certain hermitage, Marubhūti chanced to see some heavenly nymphs who had come to bathe in the river. At the advice of the hermit he stole the clothes of one of them, who immediately followed him, hoping to recover them. The hermit then informed her that she could have them back if she gave him certain information about Naravāhanadatta. On complying, she became the wife of the hermit, and shortly afterwards gave birth to a child. She then departed, saying that if he wished to be united with her he must cook and eat the child. On doing so the hermit was able to fly into the air, and was thus united with the mysterious nymph.

Such, briefly, is the story,^[1] or rather motif, which at once suggests to us the so-called Swan-Maiden cycle, so well known throughout European folk-literature.

At the outset of any inquiry on such a widely spread motif, we should pause a moment to satisfy ourselves as to what we mean by the “Swan-Maiden” motif. We mean, I take it, a story that tells of the hero coming by chance on a number of girls bathing, or he may see a flock of birds who turn into girls. For some reason or other he steals their clothes or plumages (in many cases only that of one), and by so doing obtains one of them for his wife. He usually loses her, either by his breaking some taboo, or else by her regaining her lost dress or plumage. In some cases fresh adventures end in a happy reunion; in others he remains alone and disconsolate for the rest of his life.

Accepting this as the typical example of the “Swan-Maiden” motif, we can look back at the incident in Somadeva and unhesitatingly say that here we have a version of the motif in question, though an unusual form of it. We have the girls bathing, the stealing of the clothes, the marriage, the desertion, and the final reunion, In fact, the only thing omitted is the “swan” element. But of this more anon.

The stealing of clothes of girls, while they are bathing, forms, as most readers are well aware, one of the best-known incidents of the early life of Kṛṣṇa.

The Prema Sāgara,^[2] following the Bhāgavata Purāṇa,^[3] thus recounts the incident:

“One day all the Braj girls, collectively, went to an unfrequented ghāṭ to bathe, and having gone there [and] taken off their clothes [and] placed [them] on the bank, becoming naked, [and] entered the water, they began to sing repeatedly the virtues of Hari, and to sport [in] the water. At that very time Śrī Kṛṣṇa also, seated in the shade of a fig-tree, was grazing cows.

“[By] chance having heard the sound of their singing, he also silently approached, and began to look on, concealedly. At last, as he gazed, when something entered his mind, [he] stole all the clothes [and] went [and] ascended a Kadam-tree; and tying [them in] a bundle, placed [them] before [himself]. Hereupon, when the cowherdesses looked, [and saw] there were no clothes on the bank, then, in alarm, rising up on all sides, they began to look about, and to say among themselves: ‘Just now not even a bird came here; who has taken away the clothes, Mother?’ In the meantime a cow-herdess saw that, with a crown on [his] head, a staff in [his] hand, with a yellow sectarial mark, a necklace of wild flowers, wearing yellow robes, with a tied-up bundle of clothes, preserving silence, Śrī Kṛṣṇa mounted on the Kadam-tree, is seated, concealed. On seeing him [she] cried: ‘Friend! behold him, the stealer of our hearts, the stealer of clothes, on the Kadam-tree, holding the bundle, [seated] resplendent.’ Hearing this speech, and all the young women having seen Kṛṣṇa, ashamed, entered the water, joined [their] hands, bowed [their] heads, supplicated, [and] coaxingly said:

“‘Compassionate to the humble! beloved remover of grief! O Mohan! please give our clothes.’

Hearing thus, Kanhāī says:

‘I will not give thus, appealing [to] Nand, [I swear];
Come out one by one, then you’ll receive your clothes.’

“The Braj girls angrily said:

‘This is a nice lesson you have learnt, in that you are saying to us, “Come out naked.” We will go at once [and] tell our fathers [and] friends, then they will come [and] seize you as a thief; and we will go [and] relate [this] to Nand [and] Jasodā, then they also will properly impart to you instruction. We are ashamed of something; you have blotted out all recognition [on our part].’

“On hearing this statement, angrily, Śrī Kṛṣṇa Jī said:

‘Now you shall obtain the clothes when you fetch them [yourselves], not otherwise.’

Hearing this [and] fearing, the cowherdesses said:

‘Compassionate to the humble! you yourself hold us in remembrance, you are the protector of our husbands; whom shall we bring? For you alone, having made vows, we are bathing in the month Mangśir.’

Śrī Kṛṣṇa said:

‘If you, with sincerity, on my account are bathing [in] Aghan, then abandon shame [and] evasion, [and] come [and] take your clothes.’

When Śrī Kṛṣṇa Chand had said this, the cowherdesses, having reflected among themselves, began to say:

‘Come, friends! what Mohan says, that alone we should respect; because he knows all [the state] of our body [and] mind; what shame [is there] in this?’

Having thus settled among themselves, obeying the direction of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, concealing with the hands the breast [and] privities, all the young women issued from the water, with heads bowed down, [and] when they went [and] stood before [him] on the shore, Śrī Kṛṣṇa laughingly said:

‘Now, with joined hands, come forward, then I will give the clothes.’

The cowherdesses said:

“‘Why are you deceiving [us], Darling of Nand! we are plain simple Braj girls.
A trick has been played; consciousness [and] sense are gone; you have played this prank, O Hari!
Fortifying [our] hearts we have committed shame; now do you do something, O Ruler of Braj!’

“Having said this, when the cowherdesses joined [their] hands, Śrī Kṛṣṇa Chand Jī, having given the clothes, came to them [and] said: ‘In your hearts, do not be anywise displeased at this affair; I have given you this lesson, because in the water is the abode of the god Varuṇa; hence if anyone becomes naked [and] bathes in the water, all this virtue passes away. Perceiving the affection of your hearts, [and] being delighted, I have imparted this secret to you. Now go home; then, in the month of Kātik, come [again, and] sport with me.’”

There is perhaps no actual connection whatever between the two stories. I merely wish to emphasise the fact that one of the chief incidents in the motif under consideration has been known throughout India from a very early date.

Of even older date, however, is the story of Urvaśī and Purūravas, for which I must ask readers to refer back to Appendix I of Vol. II, p. 245 et seq. Here we saw that among other incidents Urvaśī deserts her mortal husband on his breaking a taboo. He goes in search of her, and comes upon nymphs swimming in a lake in the shape of swans, among whom is the lost Urvaśī. They “appear” to him in their normal shape, but in vain he tries to persuade her to return.

This is according to the Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa version. In the later Viṣṇu Purāṇa, however, we find the “swan” incident has disappeared, and he discovers his beloved “sporting with four other nymphs of heaven in a lake beautiful with lotuses.”

Can we justly claim this ancient legend as a version, or perhaps even the origin, of the “Swan-Maiden” motif? At this stage of our inquiry I doubt it. In the first place, it is the “fairy” woman who falls in love with the man—a mortal. She it is who imposes the taboo. The lover plays a distinctly passive part, and is naturally heartbroken when deserted. There is nothing about stolen clothes or plumages, and in fact we have no hint of her power of changing into a swan until she has returned to her celestial home.

If, however, we take the stories in the Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa and the Bhāgavata Purāṇa together, we find a full tally of all the “swan-maiden” incidents that are so familiar to us, and which appear in numerous collections of modern Indian tales.^[4] We can then, I think, safely say that Sanskrit literature contains sufficient material to produce a complete swan-maiden story without having to borrow a single incident from outside India. But whether we can regard India as the one original home of the story from whence it migrated in all directions^[5] is quite another matter.

Let us shift our field of inquiry to Europe and look at the familiar story of “The Drummer,” in Grimm, No. 193, where the hero finds three pieces of white linen lying on the shore of a lake. He puts one in his pocket and goes home, thinking no more of the incident. Just as he is going to sleep he hears his name softly called and a voice of a maiden begs for the return of her dress. The drummer gives it back on the condition that she tells him who she is. The girl does so and then flies away. The rest of the tale does not concern us.

A glance at Bolte and Polívka,^[6] and still more at the important work on the subject by Holmström,^[7] will show the extraordinarily wide distribution of the motif.

To attempt to give a list of variants here would be both superfluous and unproductive. I shall, therefore, confine myself to a discussion on the subject of the origin of the motif —whether it is a migrant from the East, whether it is one of those tales which form the common stock of ideas in all parts of the world, or whether, perchance, it has travelled from Northern Europe to the East. We have already seen that India possessed ample material in her Vedic and Puranic literature to produce a complete swan-maiden story which would naturally, in course of time and translation, assume different forms, as it passed from mouth to mouth, and later from hand to hand.

Can we find a similar supply of material in Europe to produce such a story at a time before Indian fiction began to filter through from the East?

This, then, is the first question that presents itself, and one, I would add, that is as fascinating as it is hard to answer.

When examining the European variants we must never lose sight of the chain of incidents which we have accepted as forming a “swan-maiden” story, and be on our guard lest we be led away by some of the numerous tales in which birdlike beings figure. Thus the sirens, harpies, keres, erinyes, etc., are to be shunned by us as surely as they were by the wiser of the ancient Greeks.

The first point, then, which strikes us forcibly is that we do not find a true “swan-maiden” story in classical mythology. This may seem a sweeping statement, but it is true nevertheless. The only type of classical “fairy” being whose attributes and behaviour approach the swan-maiden at all closely is the nereid or nymph (the Bulgarian samodivas, the Serbian vilas, and the Rumanian z ănas). Even her similarity depends rather on her modern role of nymph of the woods, streams, groves, hills, meadows, etc., than the classical nereid, who was in reality a sea-maiden. As has been shown by Holmström,^[8] there exists in the Balkan countries, and especially in modern Greece, a large number of stories in which the hero marries a nymph by stealing some portion of her dress. These nymphs were famous for their dancing, but were unable to prove their skill until the stolen garment was returned.

In some versions we find the particular portion of the dress definitely mentioned. When this is so, it is usually a veil or kerchief, and here we begin to suspect the presence of local custom, and we shall not be disappointed.

Writing on the subject, Lawson^[9] says:

“And in this detail of costume the resemblance of bride and nereid (νύμφη= nymph=bride) still holds good; for no wedding-dress would be complete without a kerchief either wrapped about the bride’s head or pinned upon her breast, or carried in her hand to form a link with her neighbour in the chain of dancers.”

As an example of the kind of story to which I refer, it would be impossible to give a better one than that quoted by Lawson from Messina. Briefly it is as follows:

A young shepherd played the pipes so skilfully that the nereids danced to his music. So pleased were they that they carried him off each day to the threshing-floor, where they danced to their hearts’ content.

Having gradually overcome his fear and shyness, the young shepherd began to regard the nereids with a critical eye, and soon espied one, more beautiful than all the rest, with whom he fell violently in love. But how to secure her for a wife was the question! In this predicament he sought the advice of an old woman learned in such matters. She told him to seize the girl’s kerchief before the cock crew, and to hold on to it at all costs, no matter what terrible shape the nereid might assume.

The shepherd followed the instructions in spite of the fact that the girl changed into a lion, a snake and a burning fire. The cock crew, and all the nereids disappeared, save the one whose kerchief had been stolen. And she followed the shepherd submissively and became his wife.

A hitherto unpublished variant was told by the gypsies of Bukarest to Dr Gaster in 1877. With his usual generosity he has allowed me to make any use of it I like, so I herewith take the opportunity of giving a résumé of the tale:

A certain young man has noticed three zănas dancing most beautifully, and is anxious to obtain one of them for a wife. He is advised to snatch the crown or wreath from the one he likes the best. This he does, and the zăna follows him and becomes his wife. The youth keeps the crown carefully locked away. As time goes on, the couple are asked to a wedding feast, at which the young wife dances so beautifully that all present are enchanted; whereupon she says to her mother-in-law that if her husband would give her back her crown she would show them that she could dance even better still. No sooner is the crown on her head than she starts dancing in the air, and finally flies away. Her husband immediately goes in search of her, and, with the assistance of grateful animals, is able to reach her palace, and be united with her once again.

This is as near as we can get to our story in South-eastern Europe, without counting, of course, variants obviously derived from “Hassan of Bassorah” in the Nights (Burton, vol. viii, p. 41; and Chauvin, op. cit., vii, p. 37).

It is among the Teutonic races that we find the “Swan-Maiden” motif most elaborately developed. Not only is primitive Teutonic legend full of references to swans,^[10] but as Scandinavia is one of the chief haunts of the wild swan, we can well imagine that any important tale connected with a swan would find a welcome acceptance in those already existing legends best fitted to receive it.

The question then arises as to when the swan-maiden is first mentioned in Norse mythology, and whence the idea was derived. Most folklorists who have written on swan-maidens have remarked on the early mention of the motif in early Norse legend, and have pointed out that it occurs in the Icelandic Eddas of about a.d. 1000. We must not, however, accept such a statement without examining the actual passages in question, and satisfying ourselves that both the authenticity and meaning of the words are beyond suspicion. First of all let us be quite clear about the Eddas themselves. Edda is the name of a work on the art of writing poetry, compiled by the famous Icelandic historian, Snorri Sturluson (1178-1241). There is no mention whatever of a swan-maiden in the work. Now the basis of Snorri’s work was a number of old poems which, owing to their similarity to the subject-matter of the Edda, also became known by the name of Edda. As a mark of distinction the work of Snorri was called “the Younger” and the ancient poems “the Elder” Edda. In our own times “the Elder” Edda is more usually known as “the Eddie poems.”

Having thus qualified the use of the term Edda, we can proceed with our inquiry. “The Eddie poems” contain, as one of the earliest and most important poems, the Völundar-kvitha, or “Lay of Wayland,” which dates from about a.d. 900. It is this poem which is cited as containing the swan-maiden reference. The story deals with the exploits of Völund (Velent, Weland, Wayland) the Smith, so widely diffused through Scandinavian prose and verse. It is now agreed that it came to the North from Saxon regions, along with so many other early hero tales. Legends about Wayland, the Smith, persisted for centuries throughout all the Teutonic lands, and it is here we must place the origin of the legend. Now, when these hero tales reached Scandinavia, it was in Norway that they found a home. Their local colour became Norwegian, and with but few exceptions the Eddie poems are Norwegian, and not Icelandic. This fact affects our inquiry only in a minor way, but it is of importance when we come to consider the fusion of local “swan-metamorphoses” elements with imported stories. The particular exploit of Weland related in the Vōlundarkvitha tells how he was lamed by King Nithuth, and of his terrible revenge. To this, as a kind of introduction, has been added the swan-maiden incident. Whether these were originally two separate poems linked together by the thin chain of prose narrative, or whether they were merely two legends used as the basis of a new and homogeneous poem, as we find it in the Vōlundarkvitha, is a debatable point. On the whole, however, the latter seems the most probable explanation.

The compiler or annotator of this poem, using his knowledge of Weland tradition (whether of earlier or later date), and finding the MSS. in a very bad state, prefixed a prose narrative in which he makes Nithuth a Swedish king and Weland’s father a Finnish king. He further identifies the swan-maidens with the Valkyries. Now, the date of the MS. is about 1270; thus there was plenty of time for “improvements” to be made by those who worked on older MSS. or who largely relied on oral tradition. The Valkyrie legends had doubtless become more widely diffused, and, as we shall see later, they were identified with the swan-maidens in another of the Eddie poems, the Helreith Brynhildar.

We are now in a better position to look at the passages themselves. First of all comes the prose “Introduction,” followed by that portion of the poem itself which concerns our inquiry.

I use the most recent, and very fine, translation by H. A. Bellows.^[11]

“There was a king in Sweden named Nithuth. He had two sons and one daughter; her name was Bothvild. There were three brothers, sons of a king of the Finns: one was called Slagfith, another Egil, the third Völund. They went on snowshoes and hunted wild beasts. They came into Ulfdalir, and there they built themselves a house; there was a lake there which is called Ulfsjar. Early one morning they found on the shore of the lake three women, who were spinning flax. Near them were their swan-garments, for they were Valkyries. Two of them were daughters of King Hlothver, Hlathguth the Swan-White and Hervor the All-Wise, and the third was Olrun, daughter of Kjar from Valland. These did they bring home to their hall with them. Egil took Olrun, and Slagfith Swan-White, and Völund All-Wise. There they dwelt seven winters; but then they flew away to find battles, and came back no more. Then Egil set forth on his snow-shoes to follow Olrun, and Slagfith followed Swan-White, but Völund stayed in Ulfdalir. He was a most skilful man, as men know from old tales. King Nithuth had him taken by force, as the poem here tells.”

In the above story the compiler definitely states that the swan-maidens are Valkyries.

Now let us look at the poem he was annotating:

1. Maids from the south[12] Fair and young, On the shore of the sea The maids of the south,	through Myrkwood[13] flew, their fate to follow; to rest them they sat, and flax they spun.
2.        .        .        .        . Hlathguth and Hervor, And Olrun the Wise	.        .        .        .        . Hlothver’s children, Kjar’s daughter was.
3.        .        .        .        . One in her arms o her bosom white	.        .        .        .        . took Egil then the woman fair.
4. Swan-White second— .        .        .        .        . And her arms the third Next round Völund’s	Swan-feat hers she wore, .        .        .        .        . of the sisters threw neck so white.
5. There did they sit In the eighth at last (And in the ninth The maidens yearned The fair young maids	for seven winters, came their longing again, did need divide them), for the murky wood, their fate to follow.
6. Völund home From a weary way, Slagfith and Egil Out and in went they,	from his hunting came, the weather-wise bowman, the hall found empty, everywhere seeking.
7. East fared Egil And Slagfith south Völund alone .        .        .        .        .	after Olrun, to seek for Swan-White; in Ulfdalir lay, .        .        .        .        .
8. Red gold he fashioned And rings he strung So for his wife In the fair one home	with fairest gems, on ropes of bast; he waited long, might come to him.
9. This Nithuth learned, That Völund alone	the lord of the Ñjars, in Ulfdalir lay.  .  .  .

(The rest of the poem does not concern our inquiry.)

The only possible grounds for finding any proof of the swan-maidens being identical with the Valkyries is contained in the ambiguous reading of an obscure word in line 2 of stanza 1, and again in line 5 of stanza 5. Gering^[14] renders it “helmed” instead of “fair and young.” There is nothing to show that the former reading is more correct, or that the poet ever conceived any analogy between the two mythical beings at all. It was the annotator who definitely connected the two—about three hundred years later.

In the Helreith Brynhildar we are told of a king who robs eight sisters of their plumages and thus forces them to help him. But so fragmentary and undeveloped is the motif that it has but little value in our inquiry. Furthermore, being of later date than the Völundarkvitha, it lacks the interest it might otherwise have possessed.

The passage in question is spoken by Brynhild after she has been burned and is “in the wagon on Hel-way.” She passes the house of a certain giantess, who chides her about her former life on earth. In course of conversation Brynhild says:

“The monarch[15] bold Of the sisters eight Twelve winters I was When oaths I yielded

the swan-robes bore beneath an oak; if know thou wilt, the King so young.”

This completes the evidence of the existence of the “swan-maiden” in the Eddie poems; and, on the face of it, it does not appear very convincing. We must, of course, recognise that Norse mythology possessed legends of animal transformation from the earliest times. This is evident not only from the swanlike maidens, which later were identified with the swan-maidens themselves, but also from the belief in the fylgia,^[16] a kind of double which appeared in the form of some animal or bird. When it assumed the form of a swan its plumage was entirely external—a “magical article” which anyone who got possession of it might use. The attributes of the Valkyries, their beauty, their habit of travelling through the air, and their occasional encounter with mortals fitted them for identification with the swanlike maidens of Norse mythology; and even more can we appreciate the ease with which the swan-maiden herself found congenial surroundings in both German and Scandinavian legends.

There still remains the origin of the Valkyries themselves to be discussed. We have seen that in later times they were identified with swan-maidens, but can we assign to them a true Teutonic origin with no primary connection with the swan-maiden as we know her? If so, the contention that she is an immigrant is strengthened, because in the first place we shall have established the fact that she was only an addition made by the annotator of the Edda; and, in the second place, that it was the Valkyries, and not the swan-maidens, that were the direct development of the bird-element found in early Teutonic mythology.

The Valkyries were primarily helpers and guardians of heroes in battles, usually represented as clad in armour and riding on chargers. Their very name means “choosers of the slain.” Nothing could be further from the delicate charm and beauty of the swan-maiden, to whom war and battle were unknown.

Yet, as we have already seen, the Valkyries had the necessary features to attract and be attracted by the swan-maiden, if we imagine her as an immigrant who had not received the welcome in South-eastern Europe she had expected. Owing to her beauty and power of flying through the air, the Valkyrie may even appear as a swan, but this does not necessarily mean she is a swan-maiden in our sense of the term.

We may at once accept the statement of Dr Golther^[17]:

“A Valkyrie may occasionally be a swan-maiden, but a swan-maiden is not necessarily a Valkyrie, but only accidentally here and there in Norse poetry.”

This merely bears out the conclusion we have already arrived at above.

As can be seen from the most recent article on the subject by Krappe,^[18] we can definitely state that the earliest extant evidence of the Valkyrie tradition is to be looked for in the reliefs of three altars^[19] discovered at Housesteads (Northumberland) on the site of Hadrian’s Wall. The altars in question were erected in the reign of Alexander Severus (a.d. 222-235) by Teutonic soldiers from Lower Germany, who served as mercenaries in the Roman legions. They are dedicated to a male divinity called Mars Thincsus and his two female companions, the Alaisiages, of whom there appear to have been several couples,^[20] designated by the common name of Alaisiages.^[21]

Now, in speaking of the Valkyries we are perhaps rather apt to connect them almost exclusively with the Viking age, quite ignoring their unde derivatur, which appears to lie in a pair of divinities of earlier Norse mythology. Although the number of the Valkyries still appears in the Hákonarmál (c. 970) as two, it soon increases considerably, and finally becomes nearly as uncertain and changeable as the number of Gandharvas in Hindu mythology (see Ocean, Vol. I, p. 201). But the point which concerns our present inquiry is the fact that in a relief on one of the altars mentioned above is a bird, either a swan or a goose, accompanying an armed warrior, also taken to be Mars Thincsus.

Although evidence does not permit our definitely identifying the Valkyries with the Alaisiages,^[22] we can safely say that the former arose out of the latter and adopted their functions.

Frazer^[23] and many other scholars have shown the relationship which exists between twins and the sky; and in this connection it is interesting to find that the Valkyries were also credited with influence upon the weather, and on fertility in general. We are now getting a step nearer to the swan or goose, for such a bird, through its connection with the water, has, by the simple medium of sympathetic magic, been closely associated with fertility and fecundity. Thus we see that as “Children of the Sky” this pair of deities of Norse mythology have a dual function. They are deities of war and battle, but also of the weather and fertility. It is only in their latter aspect that the presence of the swan or goose finds an adequate explanation.

Owing to the beauty of the Valkyries it is not surprising that, as time went on, they assumed the role of the Celtic “fairy,” and were obviously the only beings capable of playing the part of the swan-maiden to perfection when and where the motif first reached Scandinavia. But, quite apart from their “fairy” aspect, it is of the utmost importance to notice that whenever they assume the form of animals the swan is always the form chosen. This at once points back to the roots of the Valkyrie myth being embodied in the Alaisiages. Every imaginable animal figures in the numerous variants of the “Swan-Maiden” motif, but the Valkyries always “revert to type.” This fact is significant, and has been duly noted by Krappe,^[24] who further points out that there is also another proof that the Valkyries were swans even before they became the heroines of the story-complex of the fairy wife deserting her husband—namely, that in quite a number of tales the Valkyries appear in the shape of swans, whilst they desert their husbands in only one, the Vōlundarkvitha.

The point I am anxious to make here is simply this: nowhere among the early primitive beliefs of Europe are there to be found the roots of the “Swan-Maiden” motif. In Teutonic mythology and primitive custom the swan has played an important part, largely symbolical, from the earliest times. Here the swan-maiden found a hearty welcome. In classical countries, although the swan enters into many legends, the swan-maiden found herself already largely forestalled by the nereids and other fairylike beings.

We will now return to the East and glance briefly at the migration routes of the motif as far as we can, and see if they point to India as a central starting-place or not. We have already seen that Sanskrit literature is the earliest source of the incidents which go to make the complete motif. If, therefore, the lines of migration radiate from India, the evidence that India is really the home of the swan-maiden will be doubly strengthened.

In order to understand more clearly the value of this geographical inquiry, readers should have before them a map of the world, and, if possible, a copy of Holmström’s work, which contains such a complete and clear bibliography of variants in every part of the world.^[25] We will start from India and travel westwards. We at once find our motif in several Persian collections,^[26] whence it soon reached Arabia,^[27] where it branched northwards to Turkey^[28] and Russia,^[29] and westwards to Tunis,^[30] Algeria^[31] and Morocco,^[32] and across the Sahara to the West African coast,^[33] as well as Zanzibar, Zulu-land and Madagascar.^[34] This line of migration is one that we should expect, not only because of the early trade relations between East Africa, Arabia and India, but also, and more especially, because of the Mohammedan invasion of India.

We return to India and start on another route, this time in a northerly direction. We find our motif firmly established in Tibet,^[35] among the Tartars,^[36] Kalmucks^[37] and Mongolians,^[38] as well as among such tribes of Northern Siberia as the Samoyedes,^[39] Yakuts^[40] and Chukchis,^[41] who dwell on Bering Strait. A most interesting feature is that at this point the motif crosses Bering Strait into North America^[42] and so on to Greenland.^[43]

As this is about the farthest point from our starting-place, it will be interesting to see the form the story has now assumed. I choose one collected by K. Rasmussen, to whom it was told by a middle-aged Greenlander during 1903-1904. I would point out that all his Greenlandic stories are based on oral tradition, not a single one having ever been written down.

The tale in question is called “The Man who took a Wild Goose for a Wife.” It first appeared in Rasmussen’s Nye Mennesker, and was subsequently translated into Swedish, when it was published in 1926.^[44] The following translation is taken from the latter, but, as my notes show, has also been compared with the Danish version:

“There was once a man who saw a flock of wild geese splashing about in a lake. They had taken off their plumages^[45] and were transformed into human beings, and now they were bathing and playing.

“He thought he would like to get a couple of them for wives, and therefore hid their plumages. But as he ran up to catch them, one of them cried so pitifully that he gave her back her plumage, but the other one he took home to his old grandmother, and married her.

“She soon became pregnant, and gave birth to twins, both boys.

“But soon the wild goose began to long for her companions, and therefore she took to secretly collecting feathers, and obtained a pair of bird’s wings. After some time she had got enough.

“And one day, when her husband was out hunting, she made herself a new plumage of the feathers and wings and flew off with^[46] her children.

“When the husband came home, he at once started looking for her,^[47] and ran out along the shore.

“Here he met two earth-spirits who were fighting. They tried to stop him as best they could, but he was a great magician and conjured himself past them.^[48] Then he met two knoll-spirits, who also were fighting. They, too, placed themselves in his way, but he even conjured himself past them.

“Then he came to a cauldron, and in it there was boiling seal meat. It stood muttering to itself:

“‘Look! A man! Po-po-po!’

“It tried to persuade him to stop and eat, but he was persistent, and conjured himself on, and so he met a number of hairless puppies, which also tried to stop him.

“They were earth-dogs, and they were as naked as worms. He ran past them to Kajuṅgajorssuaq, the man whose penis is so big that it reaches the ground.

“The magician who could read his thoughts, and knew that he felt ashamed of his looks, approached him from the front.

“‘From what direction do you approach me?’ said the man.

“‘From here!’ said the magician.

“‘Good! If you had come from behind, I would have killed you. You will, moreover, catch up those you are pursuing; I can hear them.’

“And so he showed him the way.

“The magician then closed his eyes and leapt down on an ice-floe, and in this way he floated towards those he was pursuing.^[49]

“When he had nearly got there, the children caught sight of him.

“‘Father is coming!’ they called out.

“‘I want to see him! Bring him in!’ said the wife.

“And so he entered her hut.

“She had, however, already chosen another husband, an old man, who at once fled.

“‘Let me get out! I am nearly vomiting! Qa-r-r-r-rit!’ he cried, and rushed out through the passage of the house. He was an old long-tailed duck.

“The man and wife now lived together again,^[50] but she did not like him, and one day, therefore, she pretended to die.

“Accordingly she was buried; but as soon as he had left the grave^[51] she broke out of the dolmen.^[52]

“‘I see mother over there!’ both the children cried.

“‘Let us have a look!’ said the man, and looked out of the window.

“‘Who are you?’ he asked.

“‘I am Qivdluk!’^[53] she Med.

“He then became so angry that he harpooned his own wife.

^“While the rumour about the murder was spreading, her people transformed themselves into wild geese and fled.

^“But the husband, who thought that the fugitives would soon return and take vengeance, again went in search of Kajuṅgajorssuaq, and from him obtained a long, heavy whip.

“And one day the revengers came in sight; they were so numerous that they resembled a large cloud, but the man took his whip, swung it, and killed most of them.

“Only a few escaped, but they returned with assistance so strong that they formed an enormous flock; but again he swung his whip and killed them. And this time none escaped.

“Then the man lived for a long time on all those slain, fat wild geese.”

And here this story ends!

It is a strange story, and one that is well worth recording. I think we can describe it as another example of a mongrel tale—an imported motif embedded in local hero legends. A thorough knowledge of Greenlandic oral traditions is necessary before we can speak with any authority. In this connection we would have welcomed an annotation to Rasmussen’s important collections. Perhaps this will come later.

We must, however, continue our travels.

Returning once more to India we set out eastwards, and find the swan-maiden occurring in stories from Burma,^[54] Indo-China,^[55] China,^[56] Japan,^[57] and also the Philippines.^[58] If we travel in a south-easterly direction we will find it in Sumatra,^[59] the Mentawei Islands,^[60] Java,^[61] Borneo,^[62] Celebes,^[63] the Moluccas,^[64] New Guinea,^[65] Micronesia,^[66] Melanesia,^[67] Polynesia,^[68] Australia^[69] and New Zealand.^[70]

It will thus be seen that all these lines of migration radiate from India, which fact seems clearly to point to India as the home of the motif. But if we look more closely at these routes which we have followed we will see that, to a large extent, they tell us the history of India itself. They tell us of the gradual expansion of Hinduism and Buddhism in the East and South-east, while in the North they exhibit the results of the invasion of Islam. That the great highways, both of land and sea, would be followed in any migration is natural enough, and we need not lay much importance on this side of the question as far as story-migration is concerned. It is the actual history of a country, both religious and political, that will tell us if it is likely to be a centre from which tales would radiate in all directions, or whether, on the other hand, it lies on one of the main routes from such a centre.

There but remains to discuss the interpretation of the motif —to put the swan-maiden on the operating-table of criticism, to strip her of her feathers and any other ornaments she may have acquired in course of time, to dissect her, and by so doing hope to discover what she really is.

This is the cruel treatment she may expect from the scientific folklorist, who will not be happy till he has done it. He will then begin guessing, and perhaps give his opinion that the swan-maiden is nothing but a beautiful white cloud which is chased and captured by the spirit of the storm.^[71] Or he may look upon her as a being who has strayed from the Isles of the Blessed, where she rightly belongs.^[72] He may, on the other hand, regard her as a founder of clans, taking into account only the totemistic aspect.^[73] There is but one other theory he is likely to advance—that which would attach most importance to the principle of taboo.^[74]

Modern scholarship will at once discredit the two former opinions, and will hesitate on which of the two remaining theories to bestow its blessing. It will in all probability make a compromise and stretch out both hands at once, dividing the honours equally between totemism and taboo. I often feel that in seeking a scientific “explanation” for every motif we are very liable to forget what delicate and elusive material we have to deal with. Surely a story may be the result of a beautiful thought that by the merest chance flitted through the brain of some unknown person whose poetic imagination alone prompted its creation. The subsequent shaping of the tale may perhaps be governed by the creator’s subconscious obedience to the manners and customs of his own environment.

It is none the less a spontaneous and unpremeditated invention. In the case of the swan-maiden we have one of the most beautiful themes in the whole world of fiction. Her personal charm and elegance, the setting in which she appears, the manner in which she is captured, and the mystery surrounding her origin and abode, all add to her fascination, and make us love her.

The simile implied in the very term “swan-maiden” is beautiful in itself. The pure whiteness of the swan, the soft down of its breast, the grace of its movement, the poise of its head—how could it escape being likened to a lovely woman? No wonder the swan-maiden was not easy to capture, and, being captured, was still harder to keep. It would require little less than a superman to make such a being from another world happy and contented in her new mortal home. And so the story grew.

Look upon her as you will, ascribe to her what origin you like, she still remains aloof and untouched—a lovely thing whom we should be grateful to have met at all.

 

Conclusions

As a result of our inquiry into the origin of the “Swan-Maiden” motif the following facts would seem to be established:

1. The roots of the motif are to be found in early Sanskrit literature.

2. By Puranic times the motif had assumed a finished form and began to be popular in different Indian vernaculars.

3. It gradually migrated in all directions. Towards the North, North-east, East and South-east the dissemination was due largely to the spread of Hinduism and Buddhism. Towards the West the carriers of the tale were the Moslems; which accounts for its inclusion in The Arabian Nights. This lent great impetus to its introduction into Europe.

4. In Europe it found a much more suitable environment in which to thrive in Teutonic rather than in classical mythology. The swan-maiden herself, however, has no roots in European primitive popular belief.

5. One of the most interesting routes which the motif followed from India was through Mongolia into Siberia, across Bering Strait, through North America, and so to Greenland.

6. The persistence and endurance of the motif are due solely to its charm and poetic beauty.

7. Although one recognises in the motif primitive ideas of totem and taboo, they are of only secondary importance, and a definite “interpretation” should not be too strongly insisted upon.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

Cf. also the Apsaras-swan-maidens who occur in Story No. 172aaa, in Vol. IX, Chapter CXXI.

[2]:

Pincott’s edition, 1 897, p. 60 et seq.

[3]:

See M. N. Dutt’s edition, Calcutta, 1895-1896, pp. 104-107.

[4]:

See Bolte and Polívka, op. cit., vol. iii, p. 414.

[5]:

For versions are found in Tibet, China, Japan, Sumatra, Celebes, the Philippines, etc.

[6]:

Op. cit., iii, pp. 406-417.

[7]:

Studier over svañjungfrumotivet i Volundarkvida och annorstädes, Malmö, 1919.

[8]:

Op. cit., p. 108. The actual variants quoted, according to his enumeration, are SB (i.e. Bulgaria) 3, 4; and ÖG (i.e. Greece and Albania) 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11. See pp. 51 and 59 respectively.

[9]:

Modern Greek Folklore and Ancient Greek Religion, 1910, p. 136. See also Farnell, “Nature (Greek),” Hastings’ Ency. Rel. Eth., vol. ix, p. 226.

[10]:

See the references given by Seaton, “Swan-Maidens,” Hastings’ Ency. Rel. Eth., vol. xii, 1921, p. 126.

[11]:

The Poetic Edda, Scandinavian Classics, vols, xxi, xxii, New York, 1923, p. 252 et seq.

[12]:

I retain the cæsural pause. Each half-line has two accented syllables and two (in some cases three) unaccented ones.

[13]:

A magic, dark forest.

[14]:

Die Edda, p. 141 et seq.

[15]:

Possibly Agnar, brother of Autha.

[16]:

See Holmström, op. cit., p. 185, for numerous examples.

[17]:

Wolfgang Golther, Studien zur germaniscken Sagengeschichte, I, Der Valkyrienmythus, Abhandl. d. Münchener Akad., philos.-philol. CL, vol. xviii, 1890, p. 428.

[18]:

A. H. Krappe, “The Valkyries,” Modern Language Review, vol. xxi, 1926, pp. 55-73.

[19]:

The third altar was discovered as recently as October 1920.

[20]:

I purposely do not say “twins,” because there is no evidence to show that either the Alaisiages or Valkyries were twins at all. All we know is that at one time their number was two. It would be very interesting if we could determine whether they were twins, but I fail to see how it is possible.

[21]:

See T. Siebs, Milteilungen d. schles. Gesell. f. Volkskunde, vol. xxv, 1924, pp. 1-17.

[22]:

For details of the evidence see Krappe, op. cit., p. 57 et seq., and the references there given.

[23]:

Belief in Immortality, vol. ii, p. 268.

[24]:

Op. cit., p. 67.

[25]:

An annotated list of variants with geographical headings is given by Holmström in his work Studier over svañjungfrumotivet, pp. 21-72.

[26]:

Scott, Bahar-Danuṣ, vol. ii, Shrewsbury, 1799, p. 213; Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, Ldn., 1887, vol. i, p. 183; and Bricteux, Contes Persans, Bibl. de la Faculté de phil. et lettr. de 1’Univ. de Liège, 1910, p. 277.

[27]:

Nights, Burton, vol. v, p. 346, and vol. viii, p. 41. For another version see Scott, Arabian Nights Entertainments, Ldn., 1811, vol. vi, p. 283. See also Chauvin, op. cit., vi, p. 1, and vii, pp. 29, 35 and 39; [J. Hammer] Rosen'öl, Tübingen, 1813, vol. i, p. 162; A. Jahn, Die Mehri-Sprache in Südarabien, Vienna, 1902, p. 118; and Carra de Vaux, L’Abrégé des Merveilles, Paris, 1898, p. 20.

[28]:

J. Kunos, Türkische Volksmärchen aus Stambul, Leiden, 1905, pp. 11, 76, 82, and also Uṅgarische Revue, Leipzig, 1888, vol. viii, pp. 435, 436.

[29]:

Afanasjev, Narodnya russkija skazki, 3rd edit., Moscow, 1897, vol. ii, pp. 90, 91, 101, 103, 163, 167 n, 168; Chudjakov, Velikorusskija skazki, Moscow, 1862, vol. iii, p. 120; A. Erlenvejñ, Narodnyja russkija skazki i zagadh..., 1862 i 1868, 2nd edit., Moscow, 1882, p. 145; Ralston, Russian Folk-Tales, Ldn., 1873, p. 120; and Coxwell, Siberian and other Folk-Tales, Ldn., 1925, pp. 690, 707, 773.

[30]:

H. Stumme, Tunisische Märchen und Gedichte, Leipzig, 1893, vol. ii, p. 13.

[31]:

Certeux and Carnoy, l’Algérie traditionelle, Paris, 1884, vol. i, p. 87; and G. Mercier, Le Chaouia de I’Aurès, Paris, 1896, p. 64.

[32]:

H. Stumme, Märchen der Schluh von Tazerwalt, Leipzig, 1895, p. 102.

[33]:

A. B. Ellis, The Tshi-speaking People of the Gold Coast of West Africa, Ldn., 1887, pp. 208, 211; Mittheilungen d. Seminars f. orientalische Sprachen, vol. v, 3, pp. 139, 142; and R. H. Nassau, Fetichism in West Africa, Ldn., 1904, p. 351.

[34]:

C. Callaway, Nurseiy Tales, Traditions and Histories of the Zulus, Ldn., 1868, p. 55; G. Ferrand, Contes populaires malgaches, Paris, 1893, p. 91; Folk-Lore Journal, Ldn., 1883, vol. i, p. 202; and E. Steere, Swahili Tales, Ldn., 1889, 2nd edit., p. 331.

[35]:

See Ralston and Schiefner, Tibetan Tales, London., 1882, p. 4, and M. Castrén, Ethnologische Vorlesungen über die altaischen Völker, St Petersburg, 1857, p. 174.

[36]:

See W. Radloff, Proben d. Volkslitteratur d. türkischen Stämme Süd-Sibiriens, St Petersburg, vol. ii, 1868, p. 201; vol. iv, 1872, pp. 318, 502; vol. vi, 1886, p. 122; and also A. Schiefner, Die Heldensagen d. minussinschen Tataren, St Petersburg, 1859, p. 201.

[37]:

Mémoires de la Société Finno-ougrienne, 27, 1, Helsingfors, 1909, p. 120.

[38]:

B. Jülg, Mongolische Màrchen-Sammlung, Innsbruck, 1868, p. 192.

[39]:

See Coxwell, op. cit., p. 503.

[40]:

Ibid., p. 266.

[41]:

Ibid., p. 82.

[42]:

See J. G. Kohl, Kilchi-Garni: Wanderings round Lake Superior, Ldn.,. 1859, p. 105; Ch. Leland, The Algonquin Legends of New England, Ldn., 1884, pp. 140, 281, 300; J. A. Farrer, Primitive Manners and Customs, Ldn., 1879, p. 256; Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology of the Smithsonian Institute, Washington, 1888, vol. vi, p. 615; and The Journal of American Folk-Lore, Boston, 1888, vol. i, p. 76.

[43]:

P. E. Egede, Efterretninger om Grönland, Copenhagen, 1788, p. 55; Rink, Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo, 1875, p. 145; and K. Rasmussen,. Nye Mennesker, Copenhagen and Christiania, 1905, p. 181.

[44]:

Grönländska Myter och Sagor, Stockholm, pp. 108-115.

[45]:

Literally, “shapes.”

[46]:

The Swedish distinctly says “frän,” but, as the sequel shows, this must be a misprint. Furthermore, the Danish reads “med.”

[47]:

According to the Danish text, “them.”

[48]:

The Danish reads: “But he conjured himself past them, as he was a great magician.”

[49]:

In other Greenlandie versions of the story he jumps on the back of a fish.

[50]:

Literally, “moved together again.”

[51]:

The Danish text says “left her.”

[52]:

The Danish text gives “Kritdluk” instead of Qivdluk.

[53]:

See Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, Calcutta, 1839, vol. viii, p. 536.

[54]:

See Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, Calcutta, 1839, vol. viii, p. 536.

[55]:

A. Landes, Contes et légendes annamites, Saigon, 1886, p. 123.

[56]:

N. B. Dennys, The Folklore of China, Ldn., 1876, p. 140; Folk-Lore Journal, 1889, vol. vii, p. 318; T’oung Pao, Archives pour servir à l’étude de l’histoire... et de l’ethnographie de l’Asie orientale, Leide, 1896, vol. vi, p. 68.

[57]:

Toung Pao, vol. vi, p. 66; A. B. Mitford, Tales of Old Japan, Ldn., 1903, p. 111; D. Brauns, Japanische Märchen und Sagen, Leipzig, 1885, p. 388. 

[58]:

Journal of American Folk-Lore, 1907, vol. xx, p. 95.

[59]:

Mittheilungen d. Seminars f. orient. Sprachen, ii, 1, Berlin, 1899, p. 128; and C. M. Pleyte, Bataksche Vertellingen, Utrecht, 1894, pp. 109, 217.

[60]:

See M. Morris, Die Mentawai-Sprache, Berlin, 1900, p. 57.

[61]:

T. J. Bezemer, Volksdichtung aus Indonesien, Sagen, Tierfabeln und Märchen, Haag, 1904, p. 46.

[62]:

E. H. Gomes, Seventeen Years among the Sea Dyaks of Borneo, Ldn., 1911, p. 278; and Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London, N.S., ii, 1863, pp. 26-27.

[63]:

See S. J. Hickson, A Naturalist in North Celebes, Ldn., 1889, pp. 264-265; and also Zeit. d. d. morgen. Gesell., vol. vi, Leipzig, 1852, p. 536.

[64]:

A. Bastian, Indonesian oder die Inseln der Malayisclien Archipel, Berlin, 1884, vol. i, p. 62.

[65]:

H. Romilly, From, my Verandah in New Guinea, Ldn., 1889, p. 134.

[66]:

A. Bastian, Allerlei aus Volkes-und Menscheṅkunde, Berlin, 1888, vol. i, p. 60; and Zeitschrift f. Elhnologie, vol. xxxv, Berlin, 1888, p. 136.

[67]:

See Codrington, The Melanesians, Oxford, 1891, pp. 172, 379, 397.

[68]:

See Codrington, The Melanesians, Oxford, 1891, pp. 172, 379, 397. G. Turner, Samoa a Hundred Years Ago, Ldn., 1884, p. 102.

[69]:

K. L. Parker, Australian Legendary Tales, Ldn., 1897, p. 40.

[70]:

See R. Taylor, Te Ika A Maui; or, New Zealand and its Inhabitants, 2 nd edit., Ldn., 1870, pp. 138, 143; J. White, The Ancient History of the Maori, Ldn., 1889, vol. ii, p. 127; and Zeit. f. vergleich. Sprachforschung, vol. xviii, Berlin, 1869, p. 61.

[71]:

E. H. Meyer, Germanische Mythologie, Berlin, 1891, pp. 90, 125.

[72]:

F. Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, Heilbronn, 1879, pp. 54-65.

[73]:

E. S. Hartland, Science of Fairy Tales, 1891, pp. 346, 347; Frazer, Totemism and Exogamy, vol. ii, p. 566 et seq.; ditto, Golden Bough (Dying God), p. 130 et seq.

[74]:

Hartland, op. cit., pp. 304-322; J. A. Macculloch, Childhood of Fiction, p. 342.