Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-06-29
Actress Makes Discovery While
Seeking Local Color to Aid Her
to Take Chief Part in Dramati-
zation of LOngfeIIow Poem.

tHtt' me NATURALIZATION OF LONDJCt-
lo1o's poem t0hich is to be staged IN
this city in the fan.
From France she tUiH 90, in July.
to Nora Scotia to continue her OBJ
seruGtionS.
She tCrites in an interesting and
original icaV of her search for a de-
scendaRt Of the old Acadidns.
FALAISE, NORMANDY, June 2S.
After several weeks of surfeiting
myself with the theater of Paris and
| Berlin l set out for Normandy from
/ whence the ACadians came and where,
! doubtless, the ancestors of the glori-
/ Gus wanderers had stepped themselves
| in the religion ana faith immortaliz-
| ed by Longfellow-fOr l sought for
communion with Evangeline.
admit l had a faint hope that
| somewhere l might find a descend
ant of a returned Acadian with tale
| or relic of Acadian days.
After consulting Baedecker, I de-
cided to go to Caen, only four hours
| from Paris.
l landed in Caen and called upon
American representative in the town.
He was located IL a little side street.
Conspicuous on his side door was a
Sign reaCing, "Ohice hours from to
g." 1t was but 1:45, but l had the
temerity to ring.
Points Pointedly To Sign.
was greeted by a sort of faded
red edition of Lawrence D'Orsay, car
rying a red cotton print napkin and
q red CLEAN in his eye, which inform
ed me that l had disturbed the states
man at his lunch With the unoCcu-
pied index finger he pointed at the
office hour sign.
Il saw it." I replied, and I apol-
Ogize: but ! am rather in a hurry
and "Oh, you're an American" he
| interrupted with mingled tone of dis
covery and accusation.
Yes" l replied.
We'll, l cannot talk to you now"
accompanied by an embracing Of the
long red mustache with the long red
napkin.
Il am sure you can tell me what !
want to know" l persisted. DO you
know anything of the Acadians?"
"Of what?" he rejoined.
You have read Evangeline? l
volunteered.
Cannot say ever heard Of it,"
he replied.
It's a rather well known poem"
I ventured, written by a Henry w.
Longfellow."
Gives a O'orsay Laugh.
"Ha! Ha! Hal" he gurfawed in
DOrsay's most approved cultural.
i've far too much to do to bother
my head with that sort Of rot Really,
you know, I don't think Pm the per
son you're seeking at all"
looked at him, as he again tried
to suspend himself on the mustaChe,
had one good laugh and agreed. Il
guess, possibly, you're not"
Twenty miles from Caen is Bayou,
a Norman village, where the old Nor
man spirit and surroundings have been
practically untouched by time. At 4
o'clock in a mid-wee afternoon the
villagers, neatly dressed. were turn
ing out Of their homes at every side
and all filing to church, fine old cath
edral built in the eleventh century. l
never witnessed so unanimous a re-
ply to the call of a church bell.
There, indeed, was the spirit of
Evangelire, as Longfellow breathed it
into the life in Acadia. There were
the people who looked only to their
priest for guidance and stayed their
hands at his command when their all
was taken from them. I stood near
the cathedral as these pious people
entered, and l know from the faces
some spiritual, others deeply reposefuI,
that religion was something more
than form.
Found No Acadians.
I sought for a trace of a descend
search was in vain except that
found the Clew which later led TO an
interesting meeting in this place.
Finally I gave up Caen for this
place, and on the oldest street (the
Rue Val d'Ante) I found an Acadian
descendant. She is ninety four and
her name is Arlette La Crolx-
named, as were so many Norman
girls, after the fair Arlette, the tan
ner's daughter who fascinated Rob
ert the Devil, became his wife, and
later the mother of William the Con-
queror.
This old, sunny faced, toothless
woman lives all alone in one of the
! tiny stone ruins that line this most
picturesque old street.
Her husband and children died
years ago, and, so far as that part
Of Normandy is concerned, she is
the last of the ACadans Her great
grandfather, Pierre ArChambault.
| she told me, was driven from Grand
| Pre- and landed in Louisiana
After long suffering he gathered
enough money to return with his chill
| dren to Falaise. His eldest boy, her
grandfather, had frequently related to
| her tales Of wild America and the In
| dams
Never Heard LongfeIow Legend
She had never heard of the legend
| of Evangeline and. of course, had
never read the poem. l gave her a
! copy 1t was bound in red, and / am
sure the cover delighted her. As best
| ! could I told her some of the story.
! She was entranced and assured me
| that she would find some one who
| knew English to translate it,
There was a delightful freshness
| about this old woman. She was
| wrinkled, weather beaten and grow
! ing feeble, but her eyes twinkled and
| she laughed with the spontaneity of
a enid
! In her tiny room was a very old
/ Bible, a well-thumbed missile, and
! on the wall a rude crucifix They
| seemed her only companions, yet this
! lovable old soul had found that magic
something in these mute compan-
/ ions which make the old, unquestion-
/ ing. unchallenging faith a glorious