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.