MARY MAGDALENE. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This poem features a dramatic monologue by Mary Magdalene, the biblical figure, as she sits alone in a tower, contemplating her past life of sin.
The poem
Companionless, unsatisfied, forlorn, I sit here in this lonely tower, and look Upon the lake below me, and the hills That swoon with heat, and see as in a vision All my past life unroll itself before me. The princes and the merchants come to me, Merchants of Tyre and Princes of Damascus. And pass, and disappear, and are no more; But leave behind their merchandise and jewels, Their perfumes, and their gold, and their disgust. I loathe them, and the very memory of them Is unto me as thought of food to one Cloyed with the luscious figs of Dalmanutha! What if hereafter, in the long hereafter Of endless joy or pain, or joy in pain, It were my punishment to be with them Grown hideous and decrepit in their sins, And hear them say: Thou that hast brought us here, Be unto us as thou hast been of old! I look upon this raiment that I wear, These silks, and these embroideries, and they seem Only as cerements wrapped about my limbs! I look upon these rings thick set with pearls, And emerald and amethyst and jasper, And they are burning coals upon my flesh! This serpent on my wrist becomes alive! Away, thou viper! and away, ye garlands, Whose odors bring the swift remembrance back Of the unhallowed revels in these chambers! But yesterday,--and yet it seems to me Something remote, like a pathetic song Sung long ago by minstrels in the street,-- But yesterday, as from this tower I gazed, Over the olive and the walnut trees Upon the lake and the white ships, and wondered Whither and whence they steered, and who was in them, A fisher's boat drew near the landing-place Under the oleanders, and the people Came up from it, and passed beneath the tower, Close under me. In front of them, as leader, Walked one of royal aspect, clothed in white, Who lifted up his eyes, and looked at me, And all at once the air seemed filled and living With a mysterious power, that streamed from him, And overflowed me with an atmosphere Of light and love. As one entranced I stood, And when I woke again, lo! he was gone; So that I said: Perhaps it is a dream. But from that very hour the seven demons That had their habitation in this body Which men call beautiful, departed from me! This morning, when the first gleam of the dawn Made Lebanon a glory in the air, And all below was darkness, I beheld An angel, or a spirit glorified, With wind-tossed garments walking on the lake. The face I could not see, but I distinguished The attitude and gesture, and I knew 'T was he that healed me. And the gusty wind Brought to mine ears a voice, which seemed to say: Be of good cheer! 'T is I! Be not afraid! And from the darkness, scarcely heard, the answer: If it be thou, bid me come unto thee Upon the water! And the voice said: Come! And then I heard a cry of fear: Lord, save me! As of a drowning man. And then the voice: Why didst thou doubt, O thou of little faith! At this all vanished, and the wind was hushed, And the great sun came up above the hills, And the swift-flying vapors hid themselves In caverns among the rocks! Oh, I must find him And follow him, and be with him forever! Thou box of alabaster, in whose walls The souls of flowers lie pent, the precious balm And spikenard of Arabian farms, the spirits Of aromatic herbs, ethereal natures Nursed by the sun and dew, not all unworthy To bathe his consecrated feet, whose step Makes every threshold holy that he crosses; Let us go forth upon our pilgrimage, Thou and I only! Let us search for him Until we find him, and pour out our souls Before his feet, till all that's left of us Shall be the broken caskets that once held us! X
This poem features a dramatic monologue by Mary Magdalene, the biblical figure, as she sits alone in a tower, contemplating her past life of sin. She recounts the moment when a mysterious, radiant man walked by and liberated her from her demons. Mary then shares a vision of him walking on water and decides to leave everything behind to follow him forever. The poem concludes with her speaking to her jar of precious ointment, inviting it to accompany her on a pilgrimage to find and anoint the man who saved her.
Line-by-line
Companionless, unsatisfied, forlorn, / I sit here in this lonely tower, and look
The princes and the merchants come to me, / Merchants of Tyre and Princes of Damascus.
What if hereafter, in the long hereafter / Of endless joy or pain, or joy in pain,
I look upon this raiment that I wear, / These silks, and these embroideries, and they seem
But yesterday,--and yet it seems to me / Something remote, like a pathetic song
This morning, when the first gleam of the dawn / Made Lebanon a glory in the air,
Thou box of alabaster, in whose walls / The souls of flowers lie pent, the precious balm
Tone & mood
The tone follows a distinct path: it begins with feelings of revulsion and despair, transitions into wonder and awe during the moment of encounter, and concludes with an urgent, nearly ecstatic devotion. Longfellow maintains an intimate and confessional voice throughout — this feels more like a private journal entry than a public statement. The early sections carry significant psychological weight, with Mary's self-loathing described in specific and physical terms, while the final stanza ascends into a state akin to rapture without drifting into sentimentality.
Symbols & metaphors
- The tower — Mary's tower serves as both her home and a representation of her loneliness. While she looks down on everyday life, observed and yearned for by others, she remains disconnected from real human relationships. The tower also provides her the perspective to witness Jesus passing by and to see the dawn breaking over the lake.
- The serpent bracelet — The jeweled serpent on her wrist, which appears to come to life, directly mirrors the serpent in Eden — a symbol of temptation and sin adorned in a stunning, decorative shape. Its lifelike sensation to her reveals just how profoundly she has absorbed her guilt.
- The alabaster box of ointment — The alabaster jar of precious spikenard, taken directly from the Gospels, symbolizes Mary's most renowned act of devotion. In this portrayal, Longfellow gives it life as a companion on her journey, and the depiction of the shattered casket at the end implies a complete self-emptying—offering everything until there's nothing left.
- Silks, jewels, and perfumes — The luxury goods left by her clients symbolize a life focused on outward beauty rather than inner depth. When they begin to feel like burial clothes and burning coals, Longfellow illustrates Mary's awakening: she's now able to recognize these items for what they truly are.
- The man in white — Jesus isn't named in the poem; instead, he's depicted through the impact he has on Mary — the overwhelming light and love, the healing of her struggles, the image of someone walking on water. By leaving him unnamed, the poem maintains the personal, visionary essence of her experience and emphasizes her transformation over any religious doctrine.
- Dawn over Lebanon — The sunrise that brightens Lebanon at the beginning of the final vision section represents a powerful symbol of spiritual awakening and a fresh start. It highlights Mary's choice to leave her old life, signifying both a literal and metaphorical emergence into the light.
Historical context
Longfellow published this poem as part of his ambitious trilogy *Christus: A Mystery* (1872), which explores the early Christian era, the medieval period, and the modern age across three parts. The first part, *The Divine Tragedy*, recounts the life of Christ through various dramatic monologues and scenes, including a poem about Mary Magdalene. Longfellow was in his sixties when he finished the trilogy, a project that had consumed him for decades. He relied heavily on the Gospel accounts and the rich tradition of Mary Magdalene as a symbol of repentance and deep devotion — a tradition that merges several women from the New Testament into a single character. The poem embodies the Victorian interest in dramatic monologue, a style that gives voice to historical and biblical figures, famously pioneered by Robert Browning.
FAQ
Yes, closely. Longfellow references several Gospel passages: the story of Mary Magdalene, who had seven demons cast out of her (Luke 8:2), the account of a sinful woman anointing Jesus's feet with expensive ointment from an alabaster jar (Luke 7:37–38), and the moment when Jesus walks on water and Peter starts to sink (Matthew 14:25–31). Longfellow combines these moments into a single dramatic monologue delivered by Mary.
Keeping Jesus unnamed is a purposeful decision that centers the poem on Mary's inner experience instead of a theological statement. We perceive him solely through her perspective — as a presence, a feeling, a voice carried by the wind. This approach makes the poem resonate more as a personal testimony rather than a religious lesson.
It comes straight from Luke 8:2, which states that Jesus cast seven demons out of Mary Magdalene. In the poem, Longfellow uses this to shed light on her past: the demons symbolize the forces that pushed her into prostitution and held her captive. The moment Jesus gazes at her and they leave is the poem's key miracle.
The alabaster box is a jar filled with costly perfumed ointment — spikenard — that the Gospels recount a woman using to anoint Jesus's feet. Longfellow portrays Mary as speaking to it as if it were a companion, the only pure and precious possession she has. By talking to the jar, she signals her choice to leave: she and the jar will set out together to find Jesus and pour themselves out before him.
It depicts total self-giving. Once the ointment is poured out, the jar becomes an empty, broken container. Mary is expressing that after she has given everything to Jesus — her devotion, her past, her very self — what’s left of her will resemble that empty jar. It’s a powerful image of complete spiritual surrender.
A dramatic monologue is a poem crafted as a speech by one character, distinct from the poet. The reader gets a glimpse of the speaker's thoughts during a particular moment. Longfellow was following the style that Robert Browning popularized with works such as *My Last Duchess*. This format suits Mary Magdalene perfectly, allowing Longfellow to explore her mindset without needing to narrate from an external perspective.
*Christus: A Mystery* is an extensive three-part drama that Longfellow dedicated decades to crafting, with its complete publication occurring in 1872. The first part, *The Divine Tragedy*, explores the life of Christ through a collection of scenes and monologues. This poem is included in that section, allowing Mary Magdalene to express her own perspective within the broader narrative.
Because she is undergoing a conversion experience. The luxury items that once defined her life now seem torturous — the silks feel like burial wrappings, the rings like burning coals. Longfellow captures the intense moment when someone first sees their old life clearly and can no longer bear it. This physical revulsion reflects a profound inner transformation.