Читать книгу Legends of Switzerland - H. A. Guerber - Страница 5
ОглавлениеLEGENDS OF GENEVA
The crescent-shaped Leman, or Lake of Geneva, the largest and bluest of all the Swiss lakes, has been sung by all the poets and praised by every writer who has had the good fortune to behold it in its native splendour.
The fertile slopes on the northern bank, the charming resorts and drives to the east and south, and the glorious view of Mont Blanc, in Savoy, as seen from Geneva itself, bewitch all those who are privileged to enjoy them. Countless steamboats and sailboats are constantly plying to and fro over the lake, and stopping at picturesque points along the shore, whence delightful excursions can be made either among rich pastures, orchards, and vineyards, or up into the mountains from which, rippling and roaring, torrents and streams pour down to fill the basin of this beautiful lake. The most picturesque craft on the Lake of Geneva are the lateen-sailed market-boats, hovering like birds over waters whose colour reminds one of the Mediterranean, the only other body of water in Europe where such vessels are frequently seen.
A legend claims that in olden times a fairy boat of this peculiar shape was often seen flitting from point to point along the shores of Lake Leman. Its sails catching every gleam of golden light, it shone like the face of the new moon in a summer sky. Drawn by eight large snow-white swans, it glided gently over the waters, to the song both weird and sweet of these graceful birds, accompanied by the thrilling chords of a harp touched by the invisible fingers of the Spirit of the Winds.
Standing by the mast of this ship, was a tall woman of dazzling beauty, whose golden locks streamed out in the breeze, while the sunset flush on the snow-mountains seemed no more delicate than the bloom on her dainty cheeks. Clad in flowing robes of purest white, she stood there, smiling gently at countless winged and chubby sprites, hovering around her like butterflies about a rose, and scattering handfuls of flowers and fruit at her feet.
LAKE OF GENEVA, WITH DENT DU MIDI.
It is said that wherever the fairy ship touched the shore, the soil bore flowers and fruit in abundance, and any one who was so fortunate as to catch a glimpse of the lucky vessel was sure of the fulfilment of any desire, expressed or unexpressed. Even when buried so deep in the hidden recesses of the heart that the owner was scarcely conscious of its existence, the fairy’s melting blue eyes were sure to discover this wish, and her heart was so tender that, once discovered, she could not but grant it.
The fairy skiff of Lake Geneva haunted its shores for many years, and might still be seen there, had not the giant swans been frightened away by the puffing and snorting steamboats which furrow the blue waves. None but the oldest inhabitants ever mention this ship, of which they caught fleeting glimpses in their early youth, when they sat by the lakeside during the long moonlight nights, in hopes of securing the realization of their dearest hopes.
But the luck-ship figures not only in the tales told by the peasants around the fireside during the long winter evenings; it is also often seen in effigy upon Genevan holiday and birthday cards. Then “Good Luck,” or “Happy New Year,” is inscribed across the wing-like lateen sails, and such a card is supposed to bring the happy recipient as much good fortune as an actual glimpse of the swan-drawn vessel of mythic fame.
An interesting old legend is connected with the church of Ste. Marie Madeleine in Geneva, and with a local yearly festival celebrated there on the twenty-second of July.
In the days when the Madeleine church was founded, Geneva, after having been the main stronghold of the Allobroges before Christ, and a Roman camp from the days of Cæsar until the fifth century, was the capital of a Burgundian kingdom. The Christians in that part of the country, desirous of building a church where they could worship God, selected a site just outside of the city fortifications, and then began to solicit contributions on all sides.
In those days there dwelt in Geneva a very good and pious girl, noted far and wide for her deftness in spinning, and for the unusual beauty and fineness of her thread. As soon as this virtuous maiden heard that funds were needed for a church to be dedicated to her patron saint, she made a solemn vow to consecrate to that good purpose all the thread she could spin, and immediately set to work.
From early morn until far into the night, Madeleine now spun on unweariedly, selling skein after skein of thread to purchase stones and mortar for the new building. As is always the case, the zeal and gifts of many of the Christians soon ebbed, but Madeleine twirled her distaff faster and faster, working without respite day after day, to make up for all deficiencies.
The workmen, who contributed their labour, soon depended upon her alone for materials, and fearing lest her strength or courage should fail before the church was finished, they called out to her every time they passed her house to keep up a good heart and work on. This cry,—
“Tiens bon, Marie Madeleine,
Tiens bon, Marie Madelon!”
was taken up by all the Christians in town, and now forms the refrain of a song sung at Geneva’s yearly festival.
Thus encouraged, Marie Madeleine went on spinning until the building was completed, and as most of the stones were purchased with the proceeds of her industry, the workmen carved spindles and spinning-wheels all over the church. On the festival of Ste. Marie Madeleine, illuminations and processions are the order of the day in Geneva, and the statue of a spinner is carried along all the principal streets of the town, to the rhythmic chant of the old distich, which commemorates alike the maiden’s piety and her extreme diligence.
