22 pages • 44 minutes read
John KeatsThe Eve of St. Agnes
Fiction | Poem | Adult | Published in 1820A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Symbols & Motifs
Statues and the Illusion of Statuary
In the opening stanzas, the Beadsman acknowledges the carvings of “Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries” (2.7). There is a clear parallel between the stone figures in the chapel and the living knights and ladies taking part in the party; the statues likely depict real people who once danced, just as the revelers are dancing now, and who are long lost except for their stone likenesses. The Beadsman sees the statues as ancient figures immortalized in stone, both dead and, conversely, something beyond life. In this way, the statues are a metaphor for art: The artist will someday pass away, but the artwork and its message endure forever.
Within the party itself, the Beadsman sees “carved angels, ever eager-eyed” (4.7). They stand sentry over the partygoers, protecting them or perhaps reminding them of their virtues and conventions. Later, this imagery is reflected in Madeline; Porphyro remarks, “She seem’d a splendid angel, newly drest” (25.7). This again alludes to the relationship between the living and the dead, the stagnant and the flourishing. When Madeline wakes to see Porphyro waiting for her, she finds him “pale as smooth-sculptured stone” (33.9)—a stark contrast from the warmth of her dream. Both images (the angel headed towards heaven and the cold carving) foreshadow the potential for tragedy. The impression of stone reveals the appearance of death as well as immortality. Though the lovers might die, their love and the story of it will endure as long as a carved figure.
The Stained-Glass Window
Windows are a common motif in Keats’s work, and here he takes a full stanza (Stanza 24) to examine a detailed stained-glass window that features a coat-of-arms, fruits, flowers, family crests, saints, and allusions to rulers of the past. Each of these decorative elements connects to a moment or detail in the poem: The fruits and flowers reflect the feast Porphyro brought to Madeine’s bedchamber, as well as the underlying sensuality of the natural world in bloom; the family crests are symbolic of Madeline’s noble family and the nobles taking part in the event; the saint is an allusion to Saint Agnes herself, the framing element of the poem; and the “blood of queens and kings” (24.9) brings to mind the statues of knights and ladies long dead as referenced earlier in the poem.
The stained-glass window becomes a microcosm of the poem’s entire world. Despite its immobility, it is alive with light and color. This puts it in direct contrast with the “sculptur'd dead” (2.5) statues within the chapel. The idea of the world-in-microcosm within the stained-glass window becomes even more fascinating when one considers the ekphrastic stained-glass work of Harry Clarke inspired by this poem, which has become one of its most well-known points of reference. The story of the two lovers exists both within the stained-glass window in Madeline’s bedroom here in Stanza 24, as well as in the real-world stained-glass window that still hangs in a world-renowned art gallery to this day.
Finally, the window itself serves as a boundary between worlds—solid but transparent, and neither wall nor open space. One can examine its surface or, by slightly adjusting perspective, look through it to the world beyond. The window becomes a symbol for the veil between waking and dreaming, the foundation of this poem.
Music and Silence
In the early stanzas, the Beadsman overhears music coming from within the castle: “Music's golden tongue / Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor” (3.2-3), yet it is too late for the music to work its magic on the old man: “But no—already had his deathbell rung” (3.4). By referencing his own death, he contrasts the music against the ultimate silence. As the party begins, trumpets begin to play. In contrast to the Beadsman, who is deeply moved by the music, Madeline is untouched: “The music, yearning like a God in pain, / She scarcely heard” (7.2-3) as she dreams instead of the ritual she will perform. This puts the contrast of youth and old age at the center of the music and its absence. This duality of music and silence is revisited later, when Porphyro goes to Madeline’s bedroom:
The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarinet,
Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:—
The hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone (29.6-9)
One of the most notable inclusions of music in the poem comes when Porphyro plays the lute in Madeline’s room. The song again becomes a study in contrasts: “he took her hollow lute,— / Tumultuous,—and, in chords that tenderest be” (33.1-2). The song is both “tumultuous” and “tender,” and it is “long since mute” (33.3)—again juxtaposing music against silence. The song he plays is “La belle dame sans mercy” (33.4), or “the beautiful lady without mercy.” The title of the song itself is a juxtaposition between the “beautiful lady” and the sinister foreshadowing of “without mercy.” This is a metaphor for St. Agnes, for the destructive passion of love, and for devotion to art as reflected in other symbols of the piece.
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