Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers,— / Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics. / Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their windows; / But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the owners; / There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance.
In the first part of the poem Longfellow depicts the Acadians living in their utopian paradise. It is almost entirely unrealistic—there are no political, economic, social, racial, or religious tensions; everyone gets along perfectly and lives in abundance. It is almost prelapsarian in its communal harmony and the natural beauty that surrounds the Acadians. Longfellow does this to create a greater contrast with the horrible treatment they receive at the hands of the British, and in order to show just how much suffering they will unfairly endure.
This was the precious dower she would bring to her husband in marriage, / Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a housewife.
This poem is almost the absolute antithesis of a feminist work: there is almost nothing about Evangeline that defies gender conventions of the 18th and 19th centuries. She possesses the personal characteristics required of women at the time: she is virtuous, chaste, beautiful, young, sweet, docile, and faithful. She tends her father's house and sews; this dower of hers is a symbol of her womanhood. She is never unfaithful to Gabriel either in body or mind. She never expresses any nuance or idiosyncrasy; she is saintly and celestial, and, to a modern reader, devoid of almost any signs of personality or inner life.
On a sudden the church-doors Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy procession / Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian farmers. / Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and their country, / Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and wayworn, / So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended / Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and their daughters.
This is a profoundly emotional moment that recalls the expulsion of the Israelites from Egypt in biblical narrative. The people are poor and sorrowful but manage to sing and retain their faith in God. They do not grumble or cry out; they are patient in their suffering. This passage displays Longfellow's sentimentalism, a poetic style for which he was much lauded in his day. It drips with pathos; the reader can see the potent image in their head of the oppressed and now-itinerant Arcadians heading to the shore where they will be severed from everything—and sometimes everyone—that they knew.
Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! / Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. / Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, / Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!’ / Cheered by the good man’s words, Evangeline labored and waited.
This is only one of many passages that testify in glowing terms to Evangeline's constancy and faithfulness. She does not waver from her affection for and attempts to find Gabriel. She travels miles upon miles, never finds a permanent abode until the end of her days, eschews all efforts at marrying someone else and starting a family, and experiences only a modicum of doubt and pain. Overall she remains stouthearted and faithful; she is even able to thank God when Gabriel, the man she has waited decades to see again, dies in her arms.
Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things around them; / And o’er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder and sadness,— / Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot be compassed.
Longfellow is lauded by contemporary critics not so much for the love story and the characters, but for the incredible descriptions of the landscapes of Acadia and Louisiana. Here this New Englander does justice to the wild dreaminess of the bayou with its languid water, cacophony of birds, drooping cypresses, and slowness of pace. There are brief allusions to slaves, which Longfellow, as an abolitionist, no doubt meant his readers to pick up on. In this passage, nature and mind influence each other; Evangeline's thoughts slip into this murky, magical place as well.
