# The Strand Magazine/Volume 4/Issue 24/The Black Virgin

Illustrated by J. Finnemore.
Layout 4
A LEGEND OF FINLAND.
From the French of Charles Epheyre.
PON one of the rugged coasts of Finland, facing the little fishing village of Liedsmarken, there rises a barren peak, a solitary rock in the middle of the sea. When the weather is fine, you can distinguish, from the coast, the jagged outlines and steep slopes of this peak, its forbidding aspect unrelieved by any trace of vegetation; it is an unfavourable place for sailors and fishermen, for the sea is deep just there, and landing becomes a very difficult matter as soon as the wind begins to blow a little. The only inhabitants of the rock are the sea-birds, which gather there in great numbers at evening time.
As you draw near to it you can see a necess in the cliff, about half-way up—a recess which, with a slight stretch of the imagination, may be compared to a chapel—in which a human figure, probably the figure of a woman, has been roughly cut in the rock. The worship of this singular divinity dates back, without doubt, to the time of paganism; in later years it has been looked upon as the statue of a virgin. It is called "The Black Virgin," and is supposed to watch over the destiny of the village of Liedsmarken.
The Black Virgin, however, is not looked upon as a benevolent divinity. For a long time it exercised a fatal power; and if at the present time this power is not used, it is because it was conjured many years ago by devotion and love.
Here is the story as it was told to me by a fisherman of the village:—
The village of Liedsmarken has always been inhabited by fishermen and peasants; honest, poor, and hard-working, and all thoroughly convinced of the power of the Virgin on the rock.
Every year the Virgin demanded a victim, and, as a matter of fact, each year one of the inhabitants of Liedsmarken had been ​struck by death—one year it would be an old man, another year a child in the cradle, a third year a brave sailor, whose frail barque would be lost in a storm.
In the year 1656, the Black Virgin was once more awaiting a victim; the year was drawing to a close—it was already in the latter half of December—but not one of the good people of Liedsmarken was missing as yet. One of the inhabitants, however, was ill, and it was upon him, no doubt, that the Black Virgin's choice had fallen. He had only a few days more to live, for it was the twenty-third day of December, and it was certain that little Axel would not see the first of January.
Poor little Axel! He was lying in bed, his head buried in the pillow, his white hands—you could almost see through them—wandering over the rough bed-clothes. The fire was crackling in the room; outside the snow was falling, spreading its white mantle over the dark ground, and little Axel, who knew the legend, was saying to himself that the Virgin of the rock had marked him, and that he would soon go to sleep under the white snow.
Axel was an orphan under the care of his sister Frida, a handsome, stout-hearted young woman. Night and day she sat at his bedside, holding his hand and telling him all sorts of wonderful stories; despair in her heart and tears in her eyes, yet she tried to smile and to sing, in the hope of bringing a gleam of pleasure into the boy's eyes.
Frida's resources being insufficient to meet expenses, her affianced husband, Robert, assisted her; and Frida, looking upon this help as quite natural, had accepted it; for she loved Robert, and her love was returned. Their marriage had been a settled matter for months. Every evening, after a hard day's fishing, Robert came to see Frida; but when he pressed her to fix the wedding-day she shook her head and, without replying, looked at Axel.
"Christian was talking to Frida."
That evening—the 23rd of December—when Robert entered the cottage, Frida and Axel were not alone; their neighbour, an old fisherman named Christian, was talking to Frida in a low voice while Axel slept. Robert sat down silently by the side of Frida, and listened to the old man.
"Yes," said Christian, "I am quite sure that it is possible to cure Axel; people in a worse state than this poor child have been restored to health. As to the Black Virgin—well, she is not so bad as people say, and it is possible to turn her from her purpose if you choose a favourable moment."
"Alas!" said Frida, "how can I believe in so much happiness? Everything tells us that dear little Axel is doomed. My mother left him to my care, and this is all I have been able to do for him! Is it not cruel, Christian? Look how pale he is! Hark ​how hard it is for him to breathe! No, no! The Black Virgin has never spared a victim! My poor Axel!"
"Do not say that the Black Virgin is unrelenting," said Christian, gravely. "Why should I not tell you something which probably no one in the village knows? I was spared by the Black Virgin! I was as ill as your brother, but my father, a bold and vigorous seaman, went on the night of Christmas Eve to the Virgin herself, in her chapel, and she heard his prayer; for she can refuse nothing to those who manage to reach her on that night. From that moment my strength returned, and I got well, to the great astonishment of the whole village."
Frida's eyes sparkled; her look, usually gentle and tender, became energetic and determined.
"Thank you, Christian," she said; "your advice is good, and I will go tomorrow to the black rock."
"Alas!" sighed Christian. "It is useless to think about it. This year the Baltic is not completely frozen, and you would be obliged to cross an arm of the sea in which no boat could be taken with safety, on account of the enormous blocks of ice which are floating about. A large boat would be crushed by the icebergs within a few minutes; how could you hope to succeed in a small one?"
"I will dare anything to save Axel!"
Christian and Robert then endeavoured to convince her of the madness of the undertaking. At first she would not listen to their arguments; but after a time, without entirely yielding, she seemed to regard them as irrefutable.
"Let us say good-bye till to-morrow," she said, rising from her seat.
Robert was the last to leave. As he went out he kissed her forehead tenderly. "My Frida, I love you, I love you!" he cried. "Swear to me, Frida, dear," he added, "that, whatever happens, you will never forget me—never!"
"How could I forget you?"
"Never, never, Robert, dear!" she replied, resting her head on his shoulder. "Am I not wholly yours? How could I forget you?"
"Come, hurry up!" exclaimed old Christian from outside. "You evidently forget that I am waiting, and that it is very cold."
And the lovers separated.
During the evening, when Frida was alone she thought over what Robert had said before he left her, and wondered why he had spoken such sad words. What did he intend to do? Little by little she understood. Yes; there was no doubt about it, Robert had resolved to go to the rock to beg the Black Virgin to spare Axel. Why, it was certain death to try it! Axel was dear to her, but Robert must not be allowed to sacrifice himself for Axel, and sacrifice himself uselessly; for all that had been said about the Virgin was only an idle, childish superstition. Christian had related a circumstance which proved nothing. No, Robert must not risk his life!
All night long Frida sat at the bedside of Axel, who slumbered with half-closed eyes. She did not sleep; she pondered over Robert's words, "Swear to me that, whatever happens, you will never forget me!" and she I could still see fixed upon her the bold, proud, and tender look of the man she loved.
The next morning—it was Christmas Eve—Frida went out to find Robert.
"Robert," she said, me frankly. "answer me frankly. I know you, and I know that you are incapable of telling a lie. Tell me, Robert, do you think of going to the rock to-night?"
Robert lowered his head and said nothing.
"I will not have it," continued Frida. "Do you hear? I will not allow it! You have no right to risk your life in that way. Are you not the sole support of your old father? What would become of him without you? And do you think that I could live without your love, without your dear presence, especially if my silly superstition were the direct cause of your death? Hark how the wind howls! We seldom have such a gale ​as this, and the sea yonder is raging. If you attempt it, Robert, I will never forgive you! See, dear, how criminal such an attempt would be. You cannot save Axel—for Christian's story is absurd—and you will perish before reaching the rock, and I should be miserable for the rest of my life."
Robert promised her everything, but he did it without really comprehending what he was doing. He only knew one thing: he must not make Frida unhappy.
"Let us go and see Axel," he said.
Axel was rather feverish that day. There was a ring in his voice, and his lips trembled. He motioned to Robert and Frida to sit down by his side, and he took Robert's hand and Frida's hand.
"You will be together," he said, "when the Black Virgin has taken me away."
Frida could not restrain her tears, and she sobbed bitterly. As for Robert, he knelt by the bedside, kissed the boy's thin hands, and rushed out of the cottage.
During the winter, night falls about two o'clock in Finland. Without thinking, with out a glance backwards, Robert hurried to the beach. A wide stretch of snow-covered ice lay before him; in a very short time he had crossed it. He knew that a boat was moored to an islet some distance from the beach, and believed that from this point the sea was free, or nearly so. He could not bear to think of Frida's grief. He must get away from it. He would go to the islet, but would not get into the boat—it would be certain death, for the wind was blowing fiercely, driving the snowflakes before it in a blinding shower, and precipitating the blocks of ice against each other with great force.
However, near the islet the sea appeared pretty calm. The black rock did not seem to be so far off. "In an hour," thought Robert, "with the help of this favourable wind, I should reach the rock. Why should I not do the same as Christian's father did? I promised Frida that I would not go; but if, thanks to me, Axel should be restored to health, she will pardon me. After all, it is better to struggle heroically against the waves and the blocks of ice, like a brave seaman, than to stand by powerless and fearful, and watch the agony of a child and the despair of a woman."
All these thoughts passed rapidly through Robert's mind. Like all men of action, he acted quickly, and, before he really knew what he was doing, he found himself in the boat with the sail spread to the wind, holding the rudder with a firm hand as he set the boat's head to the rock.
The force of the wind nearly overturned the boat, but she righted herself gallantly and rode on the crest of the waves. Enormous blocks of ice drifted silently past like gigantic phantoms, Robert skilfully avoiding them. Many times the little craft was on the point of being sunk, but Robert was one of the most vigorous sailors of Liedsmarken, and he was nerved to his task by the thought of how much depended upon his reaching the rock. Were not the life of Axel and the happiness of Frida at stake? What joy there would be when he returned!
In the midst of the gale.
In the midst of the gale, blinded by the snowflakes, his boat reeling half over, his existence threatened every minute by the gigantic blocks of ice which drifted around him, Robert went bravely on, upheld by the thought of the welcome he would receive ​from Frida when he brought her the news that Axel would live.
The hours passed, nine, ten, eleven o'clock, and still the little craft pursued its way; but how slowly it went! It was impossible to steer straight for the rock. Robert was obliged to steer first to this side, then to that, in order to avoid the floating ice.
"He managed to clutch a point of rock."
At last the rock was reached. The heavy surf rendered it difficult to land; but, having selected a suitable spot, Robert lowered the sail with considerable trouble, and, taking hold of the rope, he sprang from the boat upon a ledge. His feet slipped; by a tremendous effort he managed to clutch a point of rock, and, in spite of the foaming waves, he succeeded in reaching a small platform of rock, upon which he scrambled, safe and sound. He still retained his hold of the rope, and although the boat had been driven violently against the reef, he knew that her planks were solid, and he was not at all uneasy about getting back. Robert made his way to the figure of the Black Virgin, and, kneeling down, implored her to work a miracle;—yes, a miracle; for Axel was nigh unto death. But this was the favourable night, and the Virgin ought to reward the heroism of one who had gone through so many perils to implore her help.
When he had finished, he looked towards the sea.
"Am I dreaming?" he exclaimed. For out at sea was another boat, similar to his own, and this boat was apparently making for the rock. Here and there, between the blocks of ice, the second boat made its way, boldly pursuing its course in the midst of those moving mountains. There was no doubt that its destination was the rock of the Black Virgin.
A sudden thought flashed through Robert's mind, and made him shiver with anxiety—supposing it were Frida in that boat! Suppose ​she had been so imprudent as to undertake the journey, after all! He hurried down to the sea, and called to the occupant of the boat:—
"Frida! Frida!"
"Robert Robert!"
Merciful Heavens! It was Frida!
But there was no time for sentiment; never had Robert felt braver or stronger than at that moment.
"Throw me the rope! " he cried.
With all her strength Frida threw a rope, which whistled past Robert; he seized it, drew in the boat, and took Frida, who was now quite exhausted, in his arms.
"Saved! We are saved!" he exclaimed, thankfully.
He did not think of reproaching her for her rashness in undertaking the journey; he was too happy at finding himself by the side of the woman he loved. Both felt that Axel would not die; that the Virgin would be touched by their courage.
"How did you come?" asked Robert. "That is Christian's boat, is it not? Then Christian allowed you to come? What a terrible night! Frida, my love, my love!"
The next morning, as soon as the pale December sun appeared on the horizon, they set off on the return journey, but before they had gone far their boat was crushed between two great blocks of ice. Some fishermen, who were anxiously watching, saw the wreck floating about among the icebergs for some time; then it slowly disappeared towards the north. No trace could be seen of Robert and Frida.
As to the Black Virgin, she granted their prayer. Axel got well, and from that day the evil destiny of Liedsmarken was conjured; for the Virgin of the rock never afterwards demanded an annual victim, and now we have nothing to fear.