Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-10-05


Louisiana.
and ailments produced by -gris"-sman
bags containing powdered brick yellow ochre
and cayenne pepper-could be speedily over
come by her magic.
Soon she became a leader, a queen. True,
her kingdom was limited to the swamps Of
Lake Pontchartain, where she reigned supreme
on st. Johns eve-the oath of June-and her
subjects were Of the Negro race, but her word
law and she exercised a hold upon the
imagination of her race that has seldom been
equaled.
It is told Of her that when a hurricane
passed over the city In the later years Of her
life she was living in shanty on the shores
Of Lake Pontchartrain. The wind rocked her
cabin back and forth and she was entreated to
leave the place and seek shelter in the city.
Again and again she refused help but finally
consented to leave her abode, and no sooner
was she safely away than the cabin disappeared
into the water. The Superstitious Negroes de-
clared that at the moment that Marie Laveau
was safe the storm abated In an article by
G.. William Mott it was stated that IAN old
gentleman who remembers Marie Laveau from
his childhood days would tell how she was held
in dread by many Of the residents below Canal
street, white as wen as Negro" He describes
her as having "Voltarian" look, penetrating
and taking in everything at a glance; an at
tribute quite disconcerting to the children Of
when their black nurses threatened to give
them to Marie" If they failed to obey.
ONE has but to look at her picture to feel
her force. Dignity, imperiousness, CON-
tempt for cowardice-all these things may be
found in that mobile, mulatto face. She had
a strange beauty that was partly diabolical,
partly wistful-who knows what longings filled
her tumultous heart? G. w. Gable was fasci-
mated by the tales told of her anc saw her
shortly before her death. The fiery woman
who was supreme before the altar of vOodoO-
ism was then only an old crone. But the inn
preston that she made upon Mr.. Gable is best
told in his own vivid words, in book pub
hshed by Charles Scribner's Sons:
ct once saw, in her extreme old age, the
famous Marie Laveau Her dwelling was IN
the quadroon quarter Of New Orleans only q
step or two from Congo square, a small adobe
cabin just on the sidewalk. scarcely higher
than its close, board fence, whose batten gate
yielded to the touch and revealed the crazy
doors and windows spread wide to the warm
air and one or two tawny faces within, whose
expression was divided between pTetense Of
contemptuouS inattention and frowning re-
sentiment Of the intrusion. In the center Of q
small room whose ancient cypress floor was
worn with Scrubbing and sprinkled with crumbs
of soft brick sat- quaking with feebleness I'M
an Unlocking old rocking chair, her body bowed
and her wild, gray tresses hanging about her
shriveed neck, the queen of the voodoos. Three
generations of her children we're within the
faint beckon of her helpless, waggling wrist
and fingers. She had shrunken away from her
skin. 1t was like q turtles Yet withal one
could hardly help but see that the face now
SO withered had once been handsome and COM
manding. There was still a faint shadow Of
departed beauty on the forehead, the spark Of
an old fire in the sunken, glistening eyes and
a vestige Of imperiousnesS in the fine, slightly
aquiline nose and even about her silent, woe
begone mouth. Her grandson stood by, an un-
interesting quadroon between 40 and so years
old, but his mother, her daughter, was also
present. most striking and majestic figure.
One had only to look at her, impute her bril-
hancies-too untamable and severe to be called
charms and graces-to her mother and re-
member what New Orleans was long years aga.