A GADARENE. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This brief and powerful poem recounts the biblical tale of the Gadarene demoniac—a man so plagued by his inner demons that he resides among tombs, screaming and harming himself, unreachable by others.
The poem
He hath escaped, hath plucked his chains asunder, And broken his fetters; always night and day Is in the mountains here, and in the tombs, Crying aloud, and cutting himself with stones, Exceeding fierce, so that no man can tame him! THE DEMONIAC from above, unseen. O Aschmedai! O Aschmedai, have pity!
This brief and powerful poem recounts the biblical tale of the Gadarene demoniac—a man so plagued by his inner demons that he resides among tombs, screaming and harming himself, unreachable by others. The initial voice portrays him as a terrifying, wild figure from a distance. Then, the man himself calls out to Aschmedai, a demon king from Jewish tradition, pleading for mercy from the very entity that controls him.
Line-by-line
He hath escaped, hath plucked his chains asunder, / And broken his fetters; always night and day
Is in the mountains here, and in the tombs, / Crying aloud, and cutting himself with stones,
Exceeding fierce, so that no man can tame him!
THE DEMONIAC from above, unseen. / O Aschmedai! O Aschmedai, have pity!
Tone & mood
The tone remains urgent and haunted from start to finish. The narrator opens with lines that echo the terse, factual dread of a community report—it's factual yet filled with fear. Then, the demoniac's single cry transforms everything into pure anguish. Although the poem is short, the emotional shift between those two voices is striking: it goes from clinical fear to raw suffering in just one line.
Symbols & metaphors
- Chains and fetters — The physical restraints used by the townspeople symbolize every social and moral boundary that the demoniac has crossed. His escape from them doesn't represent freedom; instead, it signifies a complete disconnection from the human world.
- Tombs — Living among the dead suggests that the demoniac experiences a form of living death — isolated from community, sanity, and his own identity. The tomb represents the area between life and whatever comes after it.
- Cutting himself with stones — Self-harm here reflects an inner conflict. The stones symbolize the landscape turning against the body, indicating that his pain can only find expression through destruction.
- Aschmedai — In Jewish tradition, Aschmedai (Asmodeus) is known as the king of demons. When someone calls on him instead of God, it reflects their complete submission to evil — they can only reach out to the force that has enslaved them, and even then, it's only to plead for mercy that is unlikely to be granted.
Historical context
Longfellow included this poem in his collection *Christus: A Mystery* (1872), a dramatic trilogy that explores the history of Christianity from the Nativity to the early Church and the Reformation. "A Gadarene" is part of the first section, *The Divine Tragedy*, which presents Gospel scenes in verse. The poem is based on Mark 5:1–20, which also appears in Matthew and Luke, and tells the story of a man possessed by many demons whom Jesus ultimately heals. Longfellow focuses on the scene's most agonizing moment—before any healing occurs—and incorporates the figure of Aschmedai from Jewish demonology, merging Gospel accounts with Talmudic tradition. By the time he published this in 1872, Longfellow had endured significant personal loss, including the tragic death of his second wife in a fire. His religious writing reflects a deep understanding of suffering, resisting simplistic comforts.
FAQ
The Gadarene demoniac appears in the New Testament (Mark 5, Matthew 8, Luke 8) — a man who lives among tombs in the Gadara area and is tormented by demons. He shatters any chains the locals use to try to contain him and inflicts harm upon himself. Jesus ultimately heals him by sending the demons into a herd of pigs.
Aschmedai, also known as Asmodeus or Ashmedai, is recognized as the king of demons in Jewish tradition, with mentions in the Talmud, the Book of Tobit, and Kabbalistic writings. Longfellow's choice to use this specific name instead of a generic term for a demon adds a distinct cultural depth — it implies that the tormentor of the demoniac has a name and a place within a hierarchy, making the suffering feel more tangible and despairing.
That’s precisely Longfellow's point. The man is so overwhelmed by his suffering that he cannot seek healing; he can only confront what causes his pain. It paints a picture of complete captivity: even his prayers are misdirected.
Longfellow composed *Christus: A Mystery* as a dramatic poem, incorporating stage directions throughout. The phrase "From above, unseen" situates the demoniac in the mountains physically, while he remains spiritually distant — he exists within the landscape but is invisible to the community, which has deemed him beyond help.
Yes. It's a brief scene from *The Divine Tragedy*, which is the first part of Longfellow's three-part dramatic poem *Christus: A Mystery* (1872). The entire work spans hundreds of pages and explores the life of Christ, the early Church, and the Reformation.
Read through a modern lens, the demoniac's symptoms — self-harm, isolation, uncontrollable behavior, living outside society — align closely with severe mental illness. The community's response (chains, fear, exclusion) and their belief that he is untameable also resonate deeply. Longfellow avoids moralizing; instead, he presents the suffering from two perspectives and allows the reader to grapple with it.
As part of a larger dramatic work, this scene serves as a single moment on stage—a snapshot of suffering before any resolution comes. Its brevity is intentional: it thrusts you into the depths of the demoniac's experience and stops there, leaving no comfort behind, which feels more unsettling than a longer exploration would.
The poem incorporates biblical language taken nearly verbatim from the King James Version, which lends it an old-fashioned and serious tone. The structure—first presenting the narrator, followed by the voice of the demoniac—creates a sudden shift in tone that carries much of the emotional weight. The repeated phrase "O Aschmedai! O Aschmedai" echoes the rhythm of urgent prayer or a spell.