Into the Wood, 31: Swan's Wing
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Into the Wood, 32: Swan Maidens and Crane Wives

Swans by Gennady Spirin

From "The Swan Maiden's Feathered Robe" by Midori Snyder:

"It is hard to imagine a more visually beautiful image in folk tales than the one presented by the figures of the swan maiden and her sisters. With a flurry of wings, they swoop down from the sky to glide The Swan Maidens by Walter Crane
elegantly across a clear pond. Then, throwing off their feathered gowns, they bathe and frolic in the water as women. They are always lovely, sensual, a combination of exotic sexuality and innocent charm.

"In the traditional swan maiden narrative, a hunter or young prince is smitten with love at first sight for the youngest swan sister — smitten enough to commit several crimes against the very object of his desire for the sole purpose of keeping such a magical creature within his grasp. These crimes culminate in marriage and the attempted domestication of the wild, fantastical swan maiden, turned into a wife and mother. But this is less a tale about love than one about marital coercion and confusion. Neither husband nor wife is on the same page; their union is at best a tenuous détente, made possible only by the husband's theft of the swan maiden's feathered gown, forcing her to remain human and estranged from her own world. The husband has done nothing to earn such a Lohengrin by Walter Cranepowerful wife, and the swan maiden has no opportunity to choose her own fate. This is a marriage that cannot last in its fractured form. It must either go forward to find a level playing field for husband and wife, or it must end in miserable dissolution.

"Let us consider a European version of the tale reconstructed from a variety of sources by Victorian author Joseph Jacobs. A hunter is spending the night in a clump of bushes on the edge of a pond, hoping to capture wild ducks. At midnight, hearing the whirring of wings, he is astonished to see not ducks but seven maidens clad in robes of feathers alight on the bank, disrobe, and begin to bathe and sport in the water. The hunter seizes the opportunity to creep through the bushes and steal one of the robes. When dawn approaches, the sisters gather their garments and prepare to leave, but the youngest sister is distraught, unable to find her robe. Daylight is coming and the older sisters cannot wait for her. They leave her behind, telling her 'to meet your fate whatever it may be.'

"As soon as the sisters are out of sight, the hunter approaches her, holding the feathered robe. The young maiden weeps and begs for its return, but the hunter, already too much in love, refuses. Instead, he covers her with his cloak and The Child Finds the Feather Dress, from the Europa's Fairy Book, 1916; artist unknowntakes her home. Once there, he hides her robe, knowing that if she puts it on again, he will lose her. They are married, and she gifts him with two children, a boy and a girl. One day, while playing hide–and–seek, the little girl finds the hidden robe and brings it to her mother. Without a moment's hesitation, the wife slips on the robe. We can almost imagine the mother's sigh of relief to be herself again, her true fantastic self, and not the pale wife weighted down by domestic drudgery. And yet, she offers a spark of hope for the future of the marriage. 'Tell your father, if he wishes to see me again, he must find me in the land East o' the Sun and West' o' the Moon,' she says to her daughter just before flying out the window.

Wings by T Windling"No matter how compliant a swan maiden may appear as a wife, there remains an unspoken anxiety and tension beneath the surface of her marriage. Her husband can never be certain of her affection, for it has been held hostage by her stolen skin. He offers her his cloak, but it is an exchange of unequal goods. Her feathered robe is the sign of her wild nature, of her freedom, and of her power, while his cloak becomes the instrument of her domestication, of her submission in human society. He steals her identity, the very thing that attracted him, and then turns her into his most precious prize, a pale version of the original creature of magic.

"Conflict is never far beneath the veneer of the swan maiden's compliance. In a German version of the tale, a hunter captures a swan maiden's skin, and although she follows him home pleading for its return, he offers her only marriage. She accepts, not out of love but to remain close to the skin which is her identity. Fifteen years and several children later, the hunter leaves to go on a hunting trip, for once forgetting to lock the attic. Alone in the house, the wife searches the attic and finds her skin in a dusty chest. She immediately puts it on and flies out the window before the startled eyes of her children, with nary a word of farewell....

"The swan maiden stories suggest that there are marriages that will themselves to dissolution because of the inability of the pair to mature and to integrate into each other's world. In the human Illustration by John Bauerworld, the swan maiden loses her fantastic nobility and is subjected to the daily labors of a human wife – including childbearing, which is portrayed as so distasteful the swan wives often seem to have few qualms about leaving their children behind the moment they recover their skins. The husband either cannot find her world (and dies of melancholy), or, when he does succeed in arriving in her domain, he cannot accept the fantastical world on his wife's terms. These are, at best, temporary reunions....

"There was considerable renewed interest in the swan maiden tales in Europe throughout the late 19th century. For the English Victorians it was the era of the 'Married Woman's Property Acts' and of the 'New Woman.' Marriage roles, divorce, and the appropriate role of a wife were being re-examined and questioned.  The swan maiden, with her ability to effectively fly away from her marriage and her children, became a fascinating study for Victorian folklorists, who saw in the narrative the evolution of the institution of marriage. According to Carole Silver in her illuminating article 'East of the Sun and West of the Moon': Victorians and Fairy Brides, the interpretations of the tale varied widely, and depended on one's attitudes toward women's role in marriage, an imbalance of power between the sexes and women's sexuality.

"Joseph Jacobs felt that the reader's sympathy lay with the abandoned husband, not the swan maiden as representative of a matrilineal society with 'easy and primitive' marriage bonds that could be more easily broken. Silver reports that Jacobs believed 'that the "eerie wife," in separating from her mate, forfeited the audience's respect; her behavior reinforced the listener's sympathy with the husband. "Is he not," Jacobs asked, to be "regarded as the superior of the fickle, mysterious maid that leaves him for the break of a On the Shores of the Land of Death by Akseli Gallen-Kallelataboo?" ' Silver argues that folklorists like Jacobs were expressing anxiety over the emerging institution of divorce, believing that the looseness of the marriage bond was a trait among 'savages.' Silver continues: 'Clearly, free and easy separation was associated with primitive societies and savage eras. Complex and difficult divorce, on the other hand, was the hallmark of a highly evolved society. . . .By diminishing the claims to superiority of the fairy bride, neutralizing her sexuality, and limiting or denying her right to divorce, Victorian folklorists rendered her acceptable to themselves and their society.'

"Can we love the swan maiden? She seems to offer both an image of feminine power and feminine weakness: a girl who submits to the deceptions of a suitor and a woman who rejects the terms of an unfair marriage. She is at once a doting mother and one who will happily abandon her children in favor of her own needs. Her ambiguous tale can be read as the suppression of women's rights and women's creative power through enforced domestication, but it can also show such a woman's resolve to not only survive a questionable marriage but to remain true to her nature. When given the chance, no amount of suppression can keep the swan maiden down. I feel a terrible tenderness for the youngest swan–girl, abandoned by her sisters to her fate on the ground. I want to shelter her from the routine ordinariness of her human marriage, given over to the demands of others. And I want to cheer, relieved and inspired, when she finds her own true self again, and rises to soar."

(Read Midori's full article here.)

Swans by Jeanie Tomanek

The Six Swans by Warwick GobleWhen the change came
she was floating in the millpond,
foam like white lace tracing her wake.
First her neck shrinking,
candle to candleholder,
the color of old, used wax.
Wings collapsed like fans;
one feather left,
floating memory on the churning water.
Powerful legs devolving;
Powerful beak dissolving.
She would have cried for the pain of it
had not remembrance of sky sustained her....

- Jane Yolen (from "Swan/Princess")

The Crane Wife by Diana Torledano

"The Crane Wife," from Asia, is a closely related tale in the animal bride tradition. Details vary according to country, century, and teller, but the basic story is this: A poor weaver (or sailmaker) finds an injured crane on his doorstep (or in the fields, or by the side of a moonlit lake), dresses her wounds, and nurses her back to health. He kindly releases the crane back into the wild...after which a beautiful woman appears (the crane in human form), and the two of them promptly marry.

All goes well for a while, until the man's business falls on hard times. The crane wife tells her husband that she can lift them out of poverty by weaving a bolt of wondrous cloth (or an extraordinary sail) --  but he must solemnly promise not to watch her as she does it. She weaves the cloth, they sell it for a tremendous price, and soon the couple is rich. But now the man grows greedy, and he pressures her to make more and more. His wife grows tired and begins to waste away, but the man ignores this and continues to press for more cloth. Finally, at death's door, she tells her husband she can make only one more bolt. That night her husband decides it's time to learn what the secret of her weaving is. Spying on her as she works, he's horrified to see a crane at the loom, plucking feathers from her own breast and weaving them into the magical cloth. He cries aloud, and the crane wife knows he's broken his promise to her. She flies away, and he spends the rest of his life lamenting his lost love.

A Crane Wife illustration by Gennady Spirin

A Crane Wife illustration by Gennady SpirinJeannine Hall Gailey gives voice to the Crane Wife's sorrow and anger in her poignant poem based on the folktale:

I flew away, a crane who had given you
her white glory, and you knew the cloth

to be the sacrifice of my own skin, my feather coat.
A thousand cranes descended on your hut,
crying with betrayal. You searched all of Japan for me
until you found a lake of cranes, those white ciphers,

cried your goodbyes, useless, now, with age.
You had the gift of my wings, knew the lift
of flight and the gentle neck. Now, old man,
remember, when you watch a flash in the sky,

remember me, remember

The folk tale also inspired the title poem in Sharon Hashimoto's debut poetry collection The Crane Wife, winner of the Theodore Roerich Poetry Prize -- a haunting volume that explores the author's Japanese heritage and life in the Pacific Northwest.

A Crane Wife illustration by Gennady Spirin

Patrick Ness's new adult novel, The Crane Wife, explores the folk tale's theme of love and betrayal, transplanting its setting to modern-day London. In an interview with in Polari Magazine, Ness explains why he find the old tale so compelling:

The Crane Wife by Cheryl Kirk Noll"[U]nlike most folk and fairy tales, it starts with an act of kindness.Most start with an act of cruelty, but this one starts with a kind act and then turns into [a tale about] that kind person making a mistake, and letting their worst instincts get the best of them, and that's why it appeals to me. It's a really different flavour than most tales. It ends tragically but you can understand it in human terms, that you're given a chance with the eternal, the beautiful, the magical, but you blow it. I think that's really human."

Ness was inspired not only by the story itself, but by the Crane Wife songs penned by Colin Meloy and recorded by his alt-folk band, The Decemberists.

Lyrics for Colin Meloy's The Crane Wife 3Meloy first came across the Crane Wife folk tale several years ago in the children’s section of a bookstore in Portland, Oregon. “I thought that it would be a great thing to try to put it to some sort of song form, be it a single tune or something longer,” Meloy says. “So I struggled with that for years until finally I realized that it just needed more parts and set about building those.” He ended up with a collection of songs, three of them based on the Japanese story and the rest using other old folk motifs: death, war, greed, and murder.  (The full lyrics to Crane Wife 1 & 2 are here, to Crane Wife 3 here, and Meloy discusses his songs on National Public Radio's "Fresh Air" program here.)

Below, Meloy sings a stripped-down, solo version of the three Crane Wife songs at the Ace Hotel in New York City (recorded  in October, 2010).

"There were as many truths - overlapping, stewed together - as there were tellers. The truth mattered less than the story's life. A story forgotten died. A story remembered not only lived, but grew." - Patrick Ness (from The Crane Wife)

Swans by Walter Crane

The illustrations above are: "Swans" by Gennardy Spirin (Russian); "Swan Maidens" and Lohengrin" by Walter Crane (English, 1845-915); "The Child Finds the Feather Dress," artist unknown (from Europa's Fairy Book, NYC, 1916); a swan maiden drawing of mine called "Wings" (inspired by a Kim Antieau poem); "Wild Swans" by John Bauer (Swedish, 1882-1918);  "On the Shores of the Land of Death" by Akseli Gallen-Kallela (Finnish, 1865-1931) ); "Swans" by Jeanie Tomanek (American); "Six Swans" by Warwick Goble (English, 1862-1943); "The Crane Wife" by Diana Torledano (Spanish); three "Crane Wife" illustrations by Gennardy Spirin (Russian); a "Crane Wife" illustration by Cheryl Kirk Noll (American); lyrics for Colin Meloy's Crane Wife 3, art by Carson Ellis; and "Swans" by Walter Crane (English, 1845-915).


What beautiful stories and artwork (including your own, Terri). There's a strong link with the 'Selkie' tales here, of course, in which a man steals the skin of a seal-woman and makes her his wife. But what a perceptive, if somewhat pessimistic, insight to the psychology of relationships. The folk-lore/fairy-tale/mythology tradition began its exploration of the human mind and motivations long before Freud brought his own neuroses to that particular subject!

P.S. am I right in saying that in very few of these tales the man actually destroys the stolen skin of his wife? I think it happens in some of the Selkie stories, but if it's true that most hide the magic skin, could it be that the man is fully aware of the terrible nature of his crime and cannot bring himself to commit the final act of betrayal? Returning to the theme of psychology, could it even be a sub-consciously offered route to freedom? Or am I simply trying to defend the indefensible?

I think there may also be the unconscious knowledge that to destroy the skin would kill the prize as well.

The interesting thing about all these stories is that the tellers recognise and pick up common threads. Man can subdue nature temporarily, even bend her to his will. But, ultimately, nature will assert herself.

It is telling that these stories are men falling helplessly in love with the female. Yet in the complementary tales (Beauty and the Beast, East of the Sun et al) the female sees the love within the beast and subdues and wins it over with kindness and cleverness.

Our understanding of the nature of maleness and femaleness is shown a mirror in our collective stories; archetypes give us chance to explore outcomes from actions and behaviours so that we might learn the consequences of a course of action.

The excerpt from Midori Snyder's article was so marvelous that I click through and read the whole thing. I loved it. Thank you so much for the link.

And I, for one, didn't mind reading Jane's Swan Princess poem twice!

Stuart, I've read versions of both the selkie and swan princess tales that are sympathetic to the husbands, and then others that are decidedly not. Wouldn't it be interesting if we could trace these oral tales throughou history to look at them in a their historical context? Where's that time machine when you need it??! I'm wondering if the versions in which the husband is not sympathetically portrayed come from times in which arranged marriages were common and/or women had few independent legal rights - or else times when women were actively seeking more legal rights, as Carol Silver suggests about the Victorian versions?

Today, in fantasy and children's stories and novels, we have all kinds of versions, from the woman's view, the man's, and even from the children's. (Jane, you've done some of these yourself, haven't you?)

Whether the destruction of the selkie's skin kills them or not depends upon the tradition from which the story comes. Certainly of the few I've heard, the Selkie survived but was permanently trapped in human form. As I said earlier, it could be argued that this puts the male abductor in a (very)slightly better light, in as far as destruction of the skin, and the consequent final imprisonment within human society for the Selkie, was very rarely taken.

Interesting theory, Cynthia. In fact a fascinating subject for a thesis. If only I had the time and money. Going off on a historical tangent, it might be equally interesting to look for similar tales within the Anglo-Saxon rather than Celtic traditions, especially as Saxon women seem to have had a strong standing and well-established rights within their society. Perhaps this would be reflected in their folk traditions.

Yes that would be very interesting!

Your posts have become the highlight of my mornings.

When we lived in the Hudson Valley, NY I had the privilege of seeing swans on a regular basis as they congregated and nested on the waterways that dot the area.

While I was walking across a reservoir causeway on an early March morning, a trio of swans flew out of the fog less than six feet over my head. I heard them coming; they mutter to one another as they fly. The air pillowed down over me as they passed and I watched them drop down to the still black waters.

Comedy ensued when they went sprawling and sliding on the black ice that had formed a firm skin on the water in the night. There was more muttering and lots of embarrassed preening as they got to their feet, none the worse for their low controlled approach.

"He steals her identity, the very thing that attracted him, and then turns her into his most precious prize, a pale version of the original creature of magic."

I connect very deeply with the swan maiden, as I spent my early twenties in a relationship with a man who did exactly this. I had to sneak away from him after claiming the remnants of self that hadn't been torn to shreds. I know what happened to her after she fled-- she had to mourn what she'd lost, and adjust to the shock of freedom, and become painstakingly comfortable in her own skin once again, and only then could she fly without a trace of that pain. I like to think her wing-tips were stained black with dust from years of storage, not something she needed to scrub away, but a symbol of her courage and will to survive.

Stuart I think the destruction of the skin would effectively end all tension and conflict in the story. It would be a tragedy then and the narrative would end right there. But having the skin hidden allows a storyteller to maintain tension, anticipation, anxiety about the outcome of the story. Some versions of the swan maiden are quite short, others much longer and elaborate -- and a way to further explore in the narrative the problems of this kind of marriage in a society. But sustaining the audience's attention and emotional involvement depends on knowing there will be a moment of discovery and the lie revealed. I would also suggest that storyteller is saying something about this type of self-serving husband -- that he keeps the skin as a reminder or trophy of his dominance over the fantastic bride. The point of this narrative is the failure of these two to come to real terms, to unite in marriage and it stands in such contrast where there is reciprocity, love and respect between a human husband and his fantastic bride. the post above was written by me! Not Ruben. I was signed into a different account and helping out editing a website for my friend (who runs an at-risk youth boxing gym) so...he will be just as surprised to discover he is waxing somewhere in the world about the swan maiden!

Raquel that part too resonated with me only it took me a little longer to finally cut ties with the husband that grew to hate everything he professed to love when we married. I however could not abandon my children and waited for them to becoming independent, was this good or bad, only they can say how it affected their lives. At the time I felt I was doing what was best for them. I am now free and becoming the person I knew was hidden all those years ago.
Fairy tales speak truths to us that we cannot state so boldly.

First time I came a cross a feather gown maidens was through Arabian Nights in a tale called “The Tale of Hassan al Basri” and ever since I was startled and fascinated with the strength and vulnerability of the feather gown maidens, years later I found another version of the story in a medieval Arab-Islamic folk tales of "Sayf Ben Dhi Yazen" offering an unusual perspectives on issues of gender, religion, race and ethnicity.. I wonder if you came across these collections of tales, and if not I would highly recommend it

I'm sure there are men who can relate to the swan and selchie women too. One of my brothers, a professional musician, married a woman who seemed to love and appreciate his talent and his career, and then very soon after marriage did every thing she possibly could to try to change him into the high-earning 9-to-5 business man she really wanted all along. She'd been attracted to the glitter of his 'magic' but once living with it, if she could have hidden his seal skin (his instruments) she certainly would have. In the end, he swam away, taking his two selchie (artistic) children with him, and she, relieved, married a solisitor, had more children with him, and shows little interest, beyond what the appearance of respectability dictates, in her first family. It ended happily ever after in a sense, in that my brother also remarried, a fellow musician, and the kids consider this lovely woman to be their true mum now. But there was a lot of anguish a long the way - in true fairy tale fashion - before that ending was achieved. I think I must share this post and fairy tale with my brother.

Also, just wanted to mention that I love the Judith Minty quote in the picture captions.

Hello Terri, just a small question, but it's been niggling at me for days: is the last highly styalised picture of the two swans facing each other actually by Walter Crane? It's just that it looks very much like the work of William De Morgan to me.

OK I can answer my own question; just found the image on the internet. I'm amazed to see it's a wallpaper design by Walter Crane. I'd love to know what Mr De Morgan thought of it!!!

May I recommend "Summer and Bird" by Katherine Catmull. It is a lovely contemporary retelling of the swan story for young readers.

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