Legends 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.

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.