Evangeline

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The true story of Evangeline is the tale of Emmeline Labiche and her love, Louis Arceneaux, who were separated when the British invaded Nova Scotia in 1755. Louis, like Gabriel in the poem, was forced on a ship and set out to sea. An orphan, Emmeline was adopted by the family of the Widow Borda, who regarded her, "as not of this earth, but rather as their guardian angel, and this is why they called her no longer Emmeline, but Evangeline, or God’s little angel. Exiled to Maryland, the family eventually joined other deported Acadians in Louisiana. After some time, Evangeline found Louis, but she could not be with him. Sources conflict regarding the events that follow; some say Louis had agreed to marry another woman, while others place the reunited lovers in a hospital where Louis lay dying. Either way, the devastation of losing the love of her life drove Evangeline to insanity and eventually death.

EVANGELINE

Life is a series of experiences. Some of them can be quite embarrassing, especially teenage experiences. I’ll tell this one on myself, partly because it tells something about me and partly because I can laugh about it now. Well, I ought to; I’m forty-five years past it

You may have heard or read the poem “Evangeline” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I do not know if this is even read in schools now, but it was required reading in 9th grade English back in the ‘50’s. Evangeline is a mythical tale about two Acadian lovers, Evangeline and Gabriel, who get separated on the trip to Louisiana, and find each other only many years later as Gabriel is dying. Evangeline was first published in 1847.

Three of us read it (in front of the class) as a class assignment. As I read, and poor Evangeline and Gabriel wandered around Louisiana, always just missing each other, the story got to me. My voice began to tremble. I fought to get it under control. My eyes began to mist up. I fought some more. The class began to giggle! And point! Water began flowing freely as I suffered through the agony of sadness and being mad at the same time. How could they be so insensitive? What was the matter with those jerks?

The boy standing next to me poked me as I struggled to complete reading my stanzas. I could hardly see the text. I ignored him and struggled on. He poked me again, harder.

“What!” I snarled, under my breath.

“Your pants are unzipped!”

I haven’t taken too much seriously since.

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