The Eve of St. Agnes

The poem takes place on (as the title would suggest) St. Agnes Eve, a holy day attributed to a Christian saint of chastity and virtue. The night happens on January 20, in the middle of winter. The poem quickly uses several images to immerse the reader not only in the frigid winter setting, but in the era of history. In the first stanza, the speaker highlights the animals suffering the harsh winter and the silence of the farmland. The opening stanza also introduces the Beadsman, a bookend device that opens and closes the poem while also communicating time: A beadsman (a person who is paid to pray for another) was popular prior to the 15th century but no longer existed in Keats’s time (or our own). This shows the reader when the story takes place. The speaker uses language like “Numb were the Beadsman's fingers” (1.5) and “frosted breath” (1.6) to bring the chilly world to life.

The following stanzas introduce juxtaposition of the religious and the artistic, the austere and the passionate. The Beadsman walks through the chapel and acknowledges the statues erected there. The image of cold continues as the sculptures “seem to freeze” (2.5) and the Beadsman considers their “icy hoods and mails” (2.9). However, the image of death is coming to the forefront as the speaker sees the carvings caught behind “purgatorial rails” (2.6) and the Beadsman sees his own death looming. The reference to purgatory foreshadows Angela’s later concerns about securing her way into heaven. In contrast, the Beadsman hears music coming from the castle that stirs his spirit; “Music” (3.2) is intentionally capitalized, giving it a near-religious significance. The speaker gives it a “golden tongue” (3.2), further personifying the idea into something like a deity. In literature (and society), music is always something of a polarizing force. It can be pious and loyal, such as in religious hymns or patriotic songs, or it can be sensual and unrestrained. We see this dichotomy in the different ways music is presented throughout the poem.

The music then becomes less soft and more aggressive, heralding the revelry inside. The poem reaches its first turning point as it moves from cold, silence, and stillness to motion and life. There are carvings in this scene as well, but they feel more alive and active as they look down at the festivities. The speaker describes the partygoers as decked out in feathers, tiaras, and fancy clothes embarking in “argent revelry” (5.1). However, there is a dreamlike quality to the people: “Numerous as shadows haunting faerily” (5.3). This suggests that rather than being distinct individuals, they form a sort of mosaic backdrop for the story. The poem moves from the wider frame to the closer examination of Madeline (here just called the “Lady” [5.6]) and the superstition of St. Agnes that she is fixating on this night. The speaker outlines the ritual required: It must be conducted by a virgin who goes to bed without eating (fasting, or purification of the body, was a common motif in Pagan rituals); they undress and lay down on their back, eyes towards the heavens, and must be careful never to look behind or around them. This reflects the purity and devotion associated with St. Agnes. Despite the heavy religious context, there is a sensuality presented here as well with phrases like “soft adorings” (6.3) and “honey'd middle of the night” (6.4). At the party, Madeline rejects her numerous suitors as her heart belongs to St. Agnes and her future husband.

In the following section, the speaker draws attention to Madeline’s form—her eyes, lips, and breathing—to juxtapose that although she is physically present in the room, her mind and spirit are untethered. In fact, the speaker describes her as “amort” (8.7), or dead, meaning dead to the world around her. Here we see how she is “Hoodwink'd with faery fancy” (8.7), a metaphor that alludes to the supernatural and dreamlike qualities of the story and removes her from her surroundings. Meanwhile, Porphyro has arrived outside and is given a more physical presence than Madeline. With a “heart on fire” (9.3), he prays for the chance to not only see Madeline, but to engage with her body. His earthly desires contrast Madeline’s otherwordly ones. As he sneaks into the castle, the speaker gives the reader some background on the lovers; Porphyro is risking his life by travelling among Madeline’s people, who would gladly kill him on sight for his “lineage” (10.7). He refers to his heart as “Love's fev'rous citadel” (10.3), suggesting that he wants to protect the love they share from the onslaught of Madeline’s family. However, he knows of one ally within—an “old beldame, weak in body and in soul” (10.9) named Angela. By good fortune, Porphyro meets Angela, Madeline’s nurse, right away. Angela recognizes him and immediately understands the danger he’s in, so she encourages him to flee.

To dissuade Porphyro, Angela—whose name comes from “Angel,” alluding to her religious devotion—namedrops some of the guests who would love to see Porphyro slain. With classic youthful arrogance, Porphyro calms Angela and they come to a cold, silent room reminiscent of the chapel in which the poem began. Here the two characters are outside the events of the party and in a place of tranquility. Porphyro alludes to the Eve of St. Agnes and one of the shearing rituals that would take place on this day, suggesting he knows about the day’s significance for Madeline. Angela discounts any notion that Madeline’s family might take mercy on Porphyro considering the holy day, and she observes that Porphyro must be a sorcerer of some sort to have made it safely inside. Her reference of “all the Elves and Fays” (14.4) again highlights the recurring motif of faeries and the supernatural. Although Angela disapproves of Madeline’s ritual and expects little to come of it, here we see that even she knows magic is in the air on this night.

Knowing Madeline’s plan, Porphyro concocts a scheme to present himself as her true love. Angela, understandably, is less than thrilled with this proposition and expresses her disappointment in his less-than-noble longings. Porphyro argues that if he should harm a hair on her head, he would willingly give himself over to the beasts of her family. His simile here of “wolves and bears” (17.9) mirrors the animal imagery used later when the guests are referred to as “sleeping dragons” (40.2). Because all are animals often featured in classical fairy tales, this moment heightens the storytelling quality of the piece. Angela and Porphyro argue, with Angela calling herself a “churchyard thing” (18.2) and lamenting her imminent “passing-bell” (18.3). This draws a parallel between her and the Beadsman, who sits in a chapel also awaiting his death. In the end, she agrees to help Porphyro win his love—likely because she knows her time is drawing to a close.

As Porphyro sets his plan in motion to hide himself in Madeline’s room, the speaker shifts the poem further towards the realms of the supernatural: “While legion'd faeries pac'd the coverlet, / And pale enchantment held her sleepy-ey'd” (19.6-7). They reference the Arthurian wizard Merlin and his “Demon” (19.9)—here capitalized like the earlier “Music”—which likely refers to Merlin’s doomed love for the sorceress Nimue. This sets up a sinister, haunting tone for the rest of the story. Angela demands that for her part in the night’s events, Porphyro must promise to marry Madeline. If he doesn’t, her spirit will be bound to her grave, unable to rise to heaven. This moment, paired with the earlier reference to her “passing-bell” (18.3) and the Beadsman’s mortality, enhances the story’s sense of foreshadowing and tension. By the end of the poem, we understand that Angela’s fate in the afterlife depends on the two young lovers.

When Porphyro arrives, Madeline’s bedroom is personified as “silken, hush'd, and chaste” (21.7); this establishes the setting of a noblewoman’s room but also mirrors Madeline and the parameters of St. Agnes’ rite. As Madeline prepares herself according to the ritual, she’s described as “charmed” (22.3) and “a mission'd spirit” (22.4), enhancing the mystical effect of the moment. The speaker begins to address Porphyro directly: “Now prepare, / Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed” (22.7-8), which stirs away the fourth wall of the story and gives it a startling immediacy. In this stanza the speaker refers to Madeline as a “ring-dove” (22.9) flying from a pursuer, an image that continues into the allusion of “a tongueless nightingale” (23.8). This is a reference to the Greek myth of Philomel, a woman who was raped and whose tongue was cut out to prevent her from speaking of the crime against her. Later, she is turned into a nightingale. This allusion highlights Madeline’s vulnerability in this moment, exposed and unable to speak for fear of breaking the magic of St. Agnes’ Eve. Viewed through a contemporary lens, this moment also highlights the role and limited choices of women in this time period.

In the 24th stanza, as Porphyro waits to approach Madeline, the story takes a step back from the central plot to examine a stained-glass window within the room. The window depicts several motifs related to the poem, featuring the natural world as well as the “heraldries” (24.7) that represent the lovers’ family lineages. As light passes through the window, Madeline becomes illuminated in the image of a haloed saint reminiscent of famous ecclesiastical paintings. Here we see not only Madeline’s purity, but the way Porphyro’s young love paints a hyperbolic picture of perfection for himself. This image of a perfect, transcendent woman is common in Romantic-era poetry; although it is not a realistic illustration of what a human being really looks like, in some ways it is a realistic depiction of the filter of first love. As Madeline lets down her hair, the imagery shifts from the holy and spiritual to the physical and sensual. The speaker describes the heat of her body, her free-flowing hair, and her clothes against her legs. This takes the poem from something lofty and mystical to something immediately present.

Rather than falling asleep, Madeline is described as being in a “wakeful swoon” (27.2) and “poppied warmth” (27.3), a reference to the opium poppy. Here Madeline seems to be in a dream state that is neither awake nor sleeping, but somewhere in between. Porphyro takes in Madeline's “empty dress” (28.2), which has been cast aside; here marks a pattern of Keats drawing sensual attention to Madeline’s body via the things around her, such as clothes, jewelry, and empty space, rather than highlighting her physical form itself. After viewing her through the curtains of her canopy bed, Porphyro prepares a feast of verdant fruits and exotic treats at her bedside. The foods Porphyro explores come from all over the world, even “Manna” (30.7), the mythical food of the gods. It’s unlikely Porphyro brought all of this to the castle with him, or that it was supplied by Angela; the feast, served on dishes of gold and silver, might be a clue that he is falling into the dreamworld as well. Even as music from the party falls through an open door, Madeline sleeps and the two are again left in silence.

Porphyro attempts to wake Madeline, but she’s caught in the magic of St. Agnes Eve. He entreats her with more religious imagery, calling her his “seraph” (31.6) and “heaven” (31.7) and he her “eremite” (31.7)—a hermit who worships in seclusion. As she remains out of reach, he goes to her—physically and spiritually, attempting to join her in her dream. Finding the way closed, Porphyro takes Madeline’s lute and plays to her. The song is “La belle dame sans mercy” (33.4), which refers to another of Keats’s famous narrative poems, “La Belle Dame sans Merci,” which he wrote only a few months after completing “The Eve of St. Agnes.” Here the ballad is described as “long since mute” (33.3), suggesting it had not been heard in living memory. When Madeline wakes part way, the speaker references her “blue affrayed eyes” (33.8); the same word choice was used previously when the party’s music “Affray[ed] his ears” (29.8), showing a parallel between the music rupturing the veil of the dream world. Madeline is caught between waking and dreaming, unsure of what is real.

As Madeline comes closer to waking, she sees the contrast between the Porphyro of her dreams and the one before her. She fears his mortality, and by extension, his ability to leave her; in her dream, he is immortal and eternal. Porphyro then “melt[s]” (36.5) into her dream “as the rose / Blendeth its odour with the violet” (36.5-6). This is a clear metaphor for physical union, but it also represents a moment of spiritual transcendence as Porphyro, the “eremite” (31.7), attains his object or experience of divine worship. As they come together, the moon of St. Agnes Eve sets; the setting moon signals a clear divide between the magic of the holy day and the reality soon to come. As the dream blurs with reality, Porphyro urges Madeline to wake and accept him as her servant—a “vassal blest” (38.2) and a “famish'd pilgrim” (38.6) to her “silver shrine” (38.4). Madeline, on the other hand, is not impressed with the waking world and fears that without the magic of dreaming, Porphyro will leave her.

The poem reaches its final turning point as Porphyro entreats Madeline to leave with him and the night comes to a close. There is a storm raging outside, and though it is “Of haggard seeming” (39.2)—or, though it seems dark and dreary—it is in fact “a boon indeed” (39.2) because the shadows and noise will cover their escape. The revelers are all still asleep after the events of the previous night, though the enchantment of the “elfin-storm from faery land” (39.1) might also play a role. Here the image of elves and dragons weaves threads of dreaming and St. Agnes’ magic into the suspense of the moment. The speaker uses the phrase “In all the house was heard no human sound” (40.5) to contrast the explosive music that came from the party; the grand hall has become a tomb much like the chapel in which the poem began. The lovers disappear “like phantoms” (41.1), which recalls the much earlier image of the partygoers “Numerous as shadows haunting faerily” (5.3). After the vibrancy of Madeline’s dream, the empty castle is again haunted, but this time they are alone. Only the bloodhound wakes, giving the scene a moment of pivotal tension, but the dog recognizes Madeline as a resident and lets her pass.

In the final stanza, the narrative shifts dramatically away from the present; the speaker reveals that they’re recounting a story of the distant past. All that is said of Madeline and Porphyro is that they “fled away into the storm” (42.2). All the people in the castle suffer horrific nightmares, and the Beadsman and Angela—who facilitated the lovers’ dreamland meeting—have paid with their lives. This begs the question: Does the imagery of death and ashes suggest that the lovers do not live happily after giving themselves to an elfin storm? Or did the two elders give their lives so that Madeline and Porphyro could build new ones? The poem ends on a note of darkness rather than hope.