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MAGIINTRODUCTION
In A Nutshell
Merry Christmas! It's a birth-of-Jesus poem!
Er, almost
"Journey of the Magi," though often thought of as minor in T.S. Eliot's overall oeuvre (a fancy French term that basically means
"everything the guy's ever done"), is nevertheless cited by academics as a piece that signifies a major transformation in the poet's
career. And it should beit was composed right around the time that Eliot converted from Unitarianism to Anglicanism, in 1927. Not
to go into too much religious detail right here and now, but let's just say that the switch was from "not really very religious at all" to
"pretty devout, actually." It was kind of a big deal.
So "Journey of the Magi," then, often gets scrutinized for containing bits and pieces of Eliot's feelings about said conversion, even
though the poemitself isn't (on the surface, anyway) about Eliot at all. Instead, the piece details the thoughts of one particular Magus
(that's the singular version of Magi)one of the Three Wise Men. You know, the dudes bringing frankincense, gold, and myrrh to
the newborn Jesus? Rightthose guys.
This poem takes place just a smidge before the wise men get to the stable. It details the hardships of the journey, the skepticism of
the Magus (seems like they left that part out of the Bible), and the landscape of Bethlehem. In the end, the narrator is shaken to his
very core by what he sees, because change, it is a-comin', and change can be scary business.
You might be able to see, then, where people get this whole idea that the narrative is also, subtext-wise, about Eliot's own
conversion (a word thatmeans change). After "Journey," which was published in 1930, Eliot didn't write a whole lot elseor rather,
not a whole lot that we get particularly excited about. His gigantic works of literaturenamely, "The Love Song of J. Alfred
Prufrock" and "The Waste Land"had already been published, and had put T.S. Eliot on the map as one of the greatest poetic
minds of his time. But this poem, as we'll see in a minute, is much more than just a Christmas poem. Even though the story at first
seems simple, the piece teems with intricate symbols, obscure references, and layers of subtext. Sudden religiosity or no, this is still
very recognizably T.S. Eliot.
See where we're going? Even in the face of something that's supposed to be the best thing ever, there's fear and uncertainty and
doubt. It's what we all grapple with when we're trying to deal with major change, too. Eliot'spoem is just one really unique way to tell
us about one man's trouble with transition, and to help us see that even seemingly doubt-free things like religious conversion can be
way more complicated than they first appear.
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"Journey of the Magi" opens with a quote about a journey, and it's a cold and difficult one. From the title of the poem, we can guess
that this is the journey of the Three Kings (or Three Wise Men, or Magi) to the birthplace of Jesus. After the opening quote,
the poem elaborates on the difficulties of travel, including grumpy camels, wishing for home (home being warm,palatial, and full of
girls and servants), fires going out, unfriendly and expensive towns, and a distinct lack of places to sleep. The speaker notes that
the Magi preferred to just travel all night for these reasons, and that through their travels, a little voice in their heads kept suggesting
that maybe this whole thing was all for nothing.
Then, the narrator goes on to tell of the Magi's arrival in Bethlehem, a place he describes as "a temperate valley" (21). They still
can't find any info about where they were supposed to go from the villagers, however, so they eventually have to find the stable in
which they were to witness the birth of the baby Jesus. The trio arrives just in time.
The last part of the poem is more blatantly the Magus reminiscing about the story ("all this was a long time ago, I remember" [32]),
and in his recollection he seems to be doubtful about whether or not the birth was a good or a bad thing, replacing as it would his
own religion and culture. In fact, at the end of the poem he seems to regard it as a bad thing indeed, with the Magus wishing for his
own death alongside the death of his peoples' old religion and ways.
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STANZA 1 SUMMARY
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Bizarre. The opening lines are in quotes, as though the speaker of the poem is actually quoting someone else. Why would
this be so?
A little Googling and, lo and behold, these opening lines are a quote. From a really old (1622) Nativity sermon by
one Lancelot Andrewes.
Lancelot Andrewes, as it turns out, was a prominent scholar and clergyman in the Church of England during the reigns of
Elizabeth I and James I, respectively. Andrewes oversaw the translation of theKing James Bible (which is still, today, one
of the most popular translations of the book), and was famous for his sermons.
Stuff on Early Modern preachers aside, these lines, along with the title, set up for us what this poem is going to be
aboutthat is, theMagis' trek to Bethlehem, where Jesus is about to be born.
The implication is that they're coming from a ways away (the Magi, as far as we can tell, are probably from around Persia,
pretty far east of present-day Israel), and that the weather is particularly nasty because they're making this important
journey in the dead of winter. Christmas? Well that's December 25.
This makes sense.
A note on this poem's somewhat complicated narrative technique before we get any further: as the scholar Daniel Harris
has noted, the voice here is referring to something that he can't possibly know about. How could a Magus, presumably
traveling in the year one, know to quote a sermon from the year 1622?
This kind of thing keeps happening throughout the poem. The New Testament, which is written way after the Magi die, is
referenced a few times, as is Christ's death. We call this technique anachronism.
Harris notes that this broadens the scope of the poem-as-narration, i.e., that it's told by a Magus, sure, but there's also
something beyondthe Magus that is also telling the story, a ghostly present-figure, whocan quote a sermon from 1622.
We'll go ahead and agree with him because we like the creepiness of that theory, and also the ways in which it expands
the possibilities of the poem.
Lines 6-10
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Now we've got just the voice of the Magus, telling us more specifically about the hardships of their journey.
First things first: the mode of transportation is a little grumpy. The camels are "galled," which can mean annoyed or
provoked, or it can mean that they're chafing under their saddles.
They're so grumpily uncomfortable that they're "refractory" which means they just do the camel-equivalent of raising a
white flag. They sit down in the snow (remember, it's Christmas Eve) and refuse to go any farther.
The narrator goes on to tell us about where they've come from"summer palaces," on (presumably lush and green)
hillsides, with servant girls "bringing sherbet. There's another anachronism for you. We're pretty sure they didn't have
sherbet at the turn of the first millennium.
The gist here is that the Magi lead pretty cushy lives when they're not busy trekking through the countryside in the middle
of winter looking for a baby who might be everyone's savior.
But what's with the "regret?" Think of it this way: if you decide to run a marathon, but then sit around and maybe walk a
few miles a day in order to train for that marathon, you're sure going to regret that laziness, and your lack of training on
the day of the race.
Not that the Magi knew that they were going to be called upon to find the birthplace of Christ and could "train" accordingly.
But all the same, they're suffering in the cold, and looking back on it, maybe all that luxury was a little excessive. They
might have been a little better prepared for this kind of thingyou know, a little manlier about it.
But regret can also just refer to grief about something that's lost. So maybe they're just grieving about the lack of sherbet
and hot chicks on the road. To which we say: suck it up, Magi. You've got a ways to go.
Lines 11-15
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices:
More hardship. Now the guys that were supposed to be handling the camels are getting grumpy, too, to the point where in
some cases they're just abandoning the Magi altogether.
The camel men who remain are complaining that they'd really like a drink and a girl.
Plus the nights are so cold and damp that they can't even keep a fire going, and they're really only trying to keep a fire
going because there's no room at the inn. (Hey! That sounds familiar, and it should, because that's why Jesus is being
born in a manger. Joseph and Mary were turned away from every inn in Bethlehem. There's that shadowy author-voice
again, making allusions to things that are outside the Magus's knowledge.)
And even if there were room at the inn, it would probably be kind of awful anyways, because the cities nearby are
downright "hostile" (think mean on steroids), and the towns aren't quite hostile but they're not really very nice either, and
the villages are just filthy and everyone charges too much.
Overall? This journey is a boatload of not-very-much-fun-at-ALL-thank-you.
Lines 16-20
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
In a slight echo of the first line, the narrator reiterates that all this describing he's just done is, in fact, illustrative of a pretty
awful time for all.
As if to put a point on the subject, we then find out that at the end of the day (figuratively and literally speaking, we
suppose), the Magi and their crew decide simply to travel the whole night. They only pause to sleep when absolutely
necessary, rather than drag out their journey any longer than they absolutely have to.
In the meantime, throughout all of this hardship, there's the Magi-equivalent of "the little voice inside my head"think
those angels and devils that pop up on cartoons' shoulders and whisper contradictory things while the character is trying
to make a decision.
This time, though, it's just one voice, a voice that's trying to tell them "that this was all folly," meaning a giant mistake, or a
stupid idea.
The word "this," though, seems a little vague at first look. We're led to ask, "what was all folly?"
Presumably, we can figure that "this" refers to the journey itself, that traveling all this way was a mistake. This would seem
to imply, then, that the Magi doubt whether or not there actually is some stable that contains a manger that happens to be
housing the savior of the freeand not-free world. (Put that way, who could blame them for being skeptical?)
So really, when you look at it, the voice at the end of this stanza really is like the little devil on the cartoon shoulder,
because it contradicts the voice of an actual (according to the Bible) angel that had, days prior, told them to go and follow
a star in the sky and bring gifts to a baby savior who would be born in a barn in Bethlehem. Again, put this way, the
doubting voice sounds like it's actually the one offering reason. But the Magi push on, just in case.
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STANZA 2 SUMMARY
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After the Magi have pushed on miserably all night, they end up at "a temperate valley." The word temperate in this case
means mild, climate-wise. It's a welcome contrast to the wintry weather that the Magi have just plodded through to get
there.
The whole "smelling of vegetation" thing further enhances the decidedly non-winter atmosphere. It's like the seasons have
suddenly changed.
Wait a minute. That doesn't really happen in real life. Not if you're traveling by camel anyway. So what's going on here? It
seems like maybe, just maybe, this could be symbolic for somethingthe coming of the baby Jesus, perhaps? Something
like salvation? That could certainly be depicted as a sudden movement from winter to spring.
So there's that shadowy other-narrator-guy again, speaking through the Magus in such a way that we're all "Hey!
Symbolism!" even though the Magus himself sure doesn't know he's being symbolic.
The passage continues to elaborate upon the mild surroundings of the area (presumably Bethlehem's general vicinity)
before them. It's got a running stream (so it's not frozen), and it's civilized (hence the water mill). All in all? Not too shabby.
The last line of this passage is a little weird, though. Why only three trees on the horizon? If this is such a lush valley, the
singling-out of three particular trees seems a little odd.
Unless, that is, we return to our trusty Bible, and recall that, when Jesus was crucified, he wasn't the only one receiving
capital punishment. There were two thieves flanking him. That's right there were three crosses on that hill.
Of course, this is yet another image that projects way into the future. The Magus, in his observation as a character,
technically could have no way of knowing that the baby he was about to go see would be crucified thirty-three years later.
But Eliot doesand it's Eliot that's writing the Magus's monologue. The dual-narrator surfaces again. And he's going to
stay with us for the rest of this stanza.
Lines 25-28
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
The last observation of the valley that we get before the Magi head down into the town itself is this "old white horse."
Since we're in symbolism mode, we'll take a few stabs at what this might mean (we'll go into way more detail in the
"Symbolism, Imagery, Wordplay" section, so head over there if you want the whole enchilada).
The adjectives "old" and "white" sound a little like they might symbolize the conventional Christian Godyou know, the
ancient dude with the flowing white beard and the white robes.
But what about the "horse" part? God's never depicted as a horse, as far as we know. Are there any Biblical horses, in
general?
In fact, there are, but they're decidedly less friendly than an old man in a robe. The most famous horses in the Bible are
probably the four horses of the Apocalypse, that come down to cleanse the Earth of sinners in Revelation (which is the
wackiest and scariest part of the Bible, by the way).
So we have a conventional, gentle image of God combined with an animal that, in the Bible, wreaks havoc on humanity.
Hmm. That's new.
Keep in mind, though, that the horse is running "away" from the scene. This detail could be significant. Maybe it's God,
having bestowed his son upon the earth, retreating for a while. And maybe the apocalyptic horse is being driven away for
the time being. Maybe it's Gandalf and Shadowfax. Maybe not.
Back to the poem. The Magi come to a tavern (which usually doubled as inns in those days), where they see a few guys
gambling over some dice.
They may well be a little tipsy, too, because there's mention of "empty wine-skins." In this case, a "wine-skin" is a bag
used way back in the day to hold wine.
It was, ickily enough, usually made out of the stomach or skin of a goat or cow. Hence the "skin" part.
We've also got some more sneaky religious allusions at work here.
First, there's that word lintel, which alludes to the story of Passover from Exodus 12, in which God instructed the Israelites
to splash blood over their doors (on the lintel) to protect their first born children.
Then we've got those six pieces of silver to deal with. This just might be an allusion to the Gospel of Matthew, in which
Judas is paid thirty pieces of silver for betraying Jesus.
Oh, Eliot. You're almost too clever for your own good, packing all that religion into these few lines.
Lines 29-31
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
The first part of this passage seems to indicate that the Magi asked the guys in the doorway whether or not they knew of
the location of the stable where Jesus was to be born.
Andsurprise, surpriseit turns out the drunks at the local watering hole don't have a clue. So the Magi soldier on.
It takes them all day to get to the stable. Apparently the inn wasn't in Bethlehem at all.
Notice how the narrator never says the word "stable" or "manger" or "barn" or anything else that would indicate what kind
of place they were trying to find.
It's as though the narrator simply assumes that his audience will know what the Magi have been searching for (which
let's face itwe do).
Apparently they arrive just in the nick of time, too, though we're not yet sure as to whether this means just before the birth
or just after it.
So they've found the place, they've arrived. And then the Magus-narrator says something incredibly peculiar: "it was (you
may say) satisfactory."
What on earth does this mean? The parenthetical aside almost makes the Magus sound a little snarky, like "yeah, it was a
barn, whatever," which seems strange, given the fact that the Magi are well aware that they're headed to see the birth of a
savior (though a savior of what kind, they're not sure). We mean, shouldn't that be kind of a big deal?
So you'd think that finding a baby in a manger wouldn't prompt something more along the lines of "spectacular!" than
"satisfactory." Maybe the Magus is just grateful that the baby's alive, that the barn was "satisfactory" enough to ensure at
least that much.
But again, it's Eliot, and we're thinking there's more to it than that. For more Biblical digging, see "Symbols, Imagery,
Wordplay." We won't disappoint.
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STANZA 3 SUMMARY
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The beginning of this stanza rockets us forward in time, or just suddenly wakes us up to the fact that this story is being
told way after the actual journey took place, as if the narrator's sitting by a fire in his old age, mulling over the events.
Now, in the present, he notes that he "would do it again." So even through the hardship and the grumpy camels and the
uncertainty, he views the journey as worthwhile in retrospect.
Oh, but here comes a "but," and he further emphasizes that the "but" clause is super important by telling us Shmoopers
not once buttwice to "set down this."
That's slightly old-fashioned language for "write this down."
Side note! The "set down this" bit is a subtle reference to Shakespeare's Othello. For more on this, be sure to swing on by
our "Shout Outs" page.
Turns out, the Magus has an important question that's still bugging him: "were we led all the way for / Birth or Death?"
He begins to answer his own question by saying that there was indeed a birth, referring to the birth of Jesus, of course.
But what about the Death thing?
It's an ominous question with a couple of implications. One can be "led to one's death," and it is now plausible (though,
given the life spans of people at that time, not entirely probable) that the Magus is speaking from a time after Jesus'
death.
If this question is so important, though, we're betting that the Magus is going to elaborate on what he might mean by this
whole Birth/Death thing. Let's see.
Lines 37-39
Here we go: a whole passage devoted to the explanation of what the Magus means when he asks whether they had come
so far to witness a birth or a death.
The narrator reiterates that they had, in fact, seen a literal birth. No one was doubting that there was actually a newborn
baby in that manger.
He seems to be indicating, then, that he's speaking metaphoricallyabout the whole death thing.
He goes on to say that he has "seen birth and death"and we're pretty sure he means that literally, this timebut then
goes on to say that he "had thought they were different." Interesting
The implication here is that whatever he witnessed in that barn in Bethlehem changed the way he thought about birth and
death. Previously he'd thought of them as differenteven oppositethings, and now he's not so sure anymore.
But he doesn't stop there. The Magus says that the Birth (notice the capitalization, a la, Jesus, Lord and Savior, etc.) was
actually "hard and bitter agony" for all of the Magi.
In fact, it was so agonizing that the Magus compares it to Death (again with the capitalization. Could that possibly be
another premonition of the Crucifixion?), and then goes on to say "our death." Since he's still alive, we can assume he's
gone back to talking about death figuratively.
Here, the Magus shows his full hand, and reveals that the birth of Jesus signaled the end of an era. What era? The one in
which people like the Magi and their particular religion and culture were the ones in power.
So while they were compelled (literally!) to go and bring gifts to this child that an angel had called a King, they were also
bringing gifts to the very person who would grow up to establish, quite literally, a new world order. An order that didn't
include the Magi and their ways.
If that's not as close as one can get to dying without actually dying, we're not sure what is.
Lines 40-43
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
At this point, the Magus goes back to telling the story, saying that after the birth of Jesus, the Magi packed up all their stuff
and headed back to their respective palaces. Sherbet, here they come.
Their return, however, was far from celebratory instead of bringing back awesome news, it seems as though they came
back disconsolate (i.e., miserable, intensely uncomfortable, and way down in the dumps).
The middle part of this passage elaborates upon that a little bit, as the Magus details more about "the old dispensation"
which basically means the old ways, and specifically in this case, the old religionand his subjects, who now seem to him
like "an alien people" clutching false idols.
So the Magi come back to their same kingdoms, but in their eyes, the whole place has changed. They've seen the coming
of a new kind of power, and it's not their power. Suddenly, their entire culture seems poised on the brink of utter
irrelevance. Bummer, dude.
All this news is stressful to the max. So stressful and horrific, in fact, that the Magus ends his tale by wishing for another
death. This time, though, it's literal, and it's his own. Yikes.
But wait! Couldn't he also be referring to the death of the baby Jesus? That might be one sinister way of interpreting that
last line, but there's no mention of anger in the poem, more like a kind of bleak resignation. Or if you wanted to put a more
positive spin on it, you could say that he's waiting for the death of Christ because the Crucifixion and Resurrection bring
with them all kinds of good stuff for the earthredemption and forgiveness and all that jazz.
In any case, the Magus is just biding his time, waiting expectantly for various expiration dates that will signify the true
change from paganism to Christianity: the death of the old ways to make room for the new.
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Symbol Analysis
Though talk of the temperature peters out by the time the poem winds to a close, weather is the star of the show in the first part of
the Magus's story. And it's pretty miserable weather indeedfrigid and slushy (remember, it's nearly Christmas, in the
most literal sense of the term). Then, the weather in the poem suddenly takes a turn for the better, or at least for the less frozen.
This thawing motif, on a whole, is a kind of conceit, or extendedmetaphor, for the coming transformation of the world (well, some of
it) brought by Jesus.
Lines 1-5: The opening of the poem locks us into, literally, "the dead of winter. The world pre-Jesus is pretty barren and
bitter in this poem.
Lines 8-10: In direct contrast to the actual weather, these lines depict a kind of luxurious (maybe even lazy) summer on
the palace grounds, complete with girls and frozen desserts. It's what the Magi are missing as they trudge towards
Bethlehem. But, as we find out later, this summer they dream of is a kind of false summer, a warmth that proves to be
empty of any spiritual value.
Lines 21-22: Sudden seasonal change alert. There's also a nifty, sneaky allusion in here. In Renaissance painting, it was
somewhat common for the coming of Christ to be depicted as a sudden movement from barrenness to abundance. (For
instance, you'd have a painting of Jesus, and on one side of him it would be all wintry and gross, and on the other, it
would be sunny and civilized.)
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THE PALACES
Symbol Analysis
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"Journey of the Magi" contains imagery of the Magis' homelands in both its opening and closing lines. And while the Bible
(specifically the Gospel of Matthew, which is the only book that includes the story of the Magi) is vague about where these kings are
actually from, our best guess at the moment is that they hailed from around present-day Yemen. In other words, they were from the
desert, the land of eternal summer. So it's no wonder they're so nostalgic for it at the beginning of the poem. But by the end, a huge
transformation has happened, and the Magi look back on their homes as long past their prime.
Lines 8-10: The word "regretted" in these lines hints at the change of heart that the Magi will have towards their homeland
by the end of the poem. But, at least for now, these lines set up a very clear picture of the kind of life to which the Magi
are accustomedsummer gardens, plenty of food, luxurious house, and basically being waited on hand and foot. Sounds
great, right? It's definitely something to miss when you then find yourself trudging through the mountains in the dead of
winter.
Lines 40-42: In this part of the last stanza, we can tell that the Magus is back at his palace, but he is "no longer at ease
here. He's got a notion of what's coming, cultural-revolution-wise. This passage can be seen as symbolic for the larger
and more vague death knell that's been sounded for his way of life. The change that's coming is so vast, it seems, that the
Magus actually wishes for death rather than have to deal with the new order.
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Symbol Analysis
What we really mean here is "any place that's not the Magi's awesome palaces." The poem sets up a pretty stark contrast between
the desert homeland of the kings and the villages closer to Bethlehem. The weird part? The villages are kind of awful, and
Bethlehem isn't really much better. It's not like they arrive at the birthplace of Christ and suddenly everything is beautiful and
mystical. It's actually quite the opposite. Which makes sense, if you think about it. For the Magi, who neither know very
much about the newborn they're seeking nor how they really feel about him, these must seem like strange and forbidding places.
We mean, where's the sherbet?
Lines 13-15: Over the course of their journey, the Magi pass through a number of towns of varying sizes (indicated by
"cities" [big], "towns" [medium], and "villages" [small]), and they're all miserable in their own way. The cities are the worst,
being openly hostile, the towns are just kind of generally unfriendly, and the villages are unkempt and too pricey (which is
a little odd, really, considering that the Magi are kings). No Goldilocks' "too big, "too small," "just right!" here. These places
are all bad.
Lines 21-23: The Magis' arrival at the valley of Jerusalem/Bethlehem seems nice enough, though the choice of "beating"
as a verb gives a bizarre violence to these lines.
Lines 26-28: The poem zooms in on one particular tavern outside of Bethlehem and, once again, it's not exactly the
world's coziest joint. The Magi come upon a bunch of guys gambling and drinking, and not offering any information. Their
reception seems chilly at best.
Line 31: Finally we arrive at the stable, and the only adjective we get is "satisfactory"? What a bummer. Where's the
celebration? The awe?
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Symbol Analysis
Ah, the Big Kahuna of symbolism in "Journey of the Magi," and it's all crammed into the middle stanza. The second bit of this poem
can be interpreted as an allegory for a couple of different things in the Bible. And because it's so jam-packed, we're going to go
through it with a fine-toothed comb here, Shmoopoets.
Line 23: If we look at water in the Bible, one of the more prominent bodies is the river Jordan, which is where John the
Baptist does his thing. (You can find references to it in both the Old and New Testaments, in nearly every Gospel.) The
running stream, then, couldallude to the significance of the Biblical river. But the water mill is less obvious. The "mill" part
of it would seem to refer to a grain mill of some kind, and water-powered. Critics have pointed to Matthew 3:12 here, in
which Christ's "winnowing fan of judgment" separates the wheat (the good) from the chaff (the sinners).
Line 24: We talk about the three trees a little bit in the "Summary" section, but we'll go over it again: the trees here seem
to correspond directly with the three crosses on Golgotha, which is the hill upon which Jesus and the two thieves were
later crucified.
Line 25: As it turns out, when we look up white horses in the Bible, we get two really scary bits, namely Revelation
6 and 19:11-16. The first one describes the four horses of the Apocalypse, which bring takeover, war, scarcity, and
widespread death to the people on earth. The first horse, the horse of conquest, is white.
The second passage is even more telling, and is called "Christ on a White Horse" and depicts Jesus coming back down to
earth to do battle with Satan and his minions (i.e., corrupt kings of men).
Line 26: The tavern's lintel might be symbolic of the tenth plague in Exodus, which was the killing of all firstborn children.
To get out of having this plague inflicted upon you, you had to mark your doorpost, or lintel, with the blood of a lamb. The
vine-leaves could also refer to John 15:1-5, in which Jesus is depicted as a vine, with his followers as leaves and
branches.
Line 27: The "dicing for pieces of silver" bit of this line alludes to two separate events in the Bible. First, to the betrayal of
Jesus (Judas did it for 30 pieces of silver), and then to the Gospels, in which four Roman soldiers cast dice to see who
gets what bits of Christ's clothing after he's been killed. (Note: that's also a double allusion, toPsalm 22:18.)
Line 28: The wine-skins here could be symbolic of a bunch of stuff. One of Jesus' first miracles was the water-into-wine
trick (John 2), and the mini-parable in Matthew 9:16 seems to imply that Jesus will be the "new wine" (i.e., the new
religion) to be put into "new wine-skins." So the kicking of the empty old wine-skins in the passage signals the big religious
change that's coming.
Line 31: The single word "satisfactory" here has caused critics no end of consternation, but the current consensus seems
to be that the word is a reference not to the Bible but to Article 31 of theAnglican Articles in which Christ's sacrifice is the
ultimatesatisfaction of the debt of all man's sins. Remember that this poem was written directly after Eliot's
conversion to Anglicanism.
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We could do this with a couple of other rhythmic feet (like trochees, oranapests) as well. But the point is that the lines
aren't entirely helter-skelter. Eliot's arranged them carefully to produce driving rhythms when he wants them, while still not sacrificing
the common speech feel of the poem. So maybe free verse isn't so free after all.
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ANALYSIS: SPEAKER
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On one level, the speaker here is mega-obvious. The "I" in the poem is very clearly set up as a Magus, one of the three kings
making the long trek to Bethlehem to offer gifts to the baby Jesus. We can almost see this particular speaker as a grandfather-type,
hanging out by a fire, telling someone this story that, at the outset, looks awfully like the ol' "having to walk ten miles to school uphill
both ways in the snow" story.
Of course, this tale is decidedly more somber, and towards the end, when the point is really reinforced that the narrator is speaking
about the long ago and far away, the Magus's tone moves from mere storytelling to almost painful misery and melancholy.
But throughout the poem, it also seems like there's someone other than the Magus at work. If that sounds a little creepy, that's
because it is. The words that come out of the Magus's mouth are almost too symbolically perfect, too ESP-like to really be his own.
If we dig deep into the way in which the Magus's story is constructed, we stumble upon a ghost-speaker in the poem, who's wielding
all that symbolic mumbo jumbo with the utmost care.
So even though Eliot's writing a dramatic monologue here, he's not concealing himself very well in the persona. His incredible wellread-ness shines through all the time, putting words in the Magus's mouth that are symbolic of things and events that the Magus
couldn't possibly knowthe trial and death of Christ, the Lancelot Andrewes sermon, bits of the New Testament, and Shakespeare.
So, although the speaker might walk like a Magus, he only half-talks like one. The other half is all super-bookish Eliot, a careful
puppeteer.
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ANALYSIS: SETTING
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really doesn't have winter to speak of, we can tell right off the bat that the Magi are nearing the end of their journey and so must be
relatively close to Bethlehem, which is right next to Jerusalem. (It's about halfway between the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea, if
you're interested.)
Based on lines 17-18 and then 21, we can figure out that the poem starts with the Magi approximately two days' travel away from
Bethlehem. (Which isn't all that far, considering they were traveling on camels.) So the bulk of the poem, then, takes place in the
valley that contains Bethlehem andJerusalem, both of which are hugely important cities to the Christian faith.
Poetic Places
But all that's just geography. What does it mean for our poem? For our Magi, the setting is ten kinds of miserable. Think the worst
backpacking trip you've ever been on. It's dirty, you're freezing, your group is bickering amongst itself, and every time you run
across anything resembling civilization, it's even worse than the camping has been. No good. The end of your destination is a little
betterat least you're not getting snowed onbut it's still not the world's friendliest place.
Things get a bit confusing in that last stanza. But if we look at line 41, we can see where the Magus says "these Kingdoms." Based
on that, we can reasonably assume that he's speaking from his palace, years after the original journey. So we can also infer, from
the beginning of the poem, that it's probably hot, and sunny, and luxurious as he's relating this tale. The Magus doesn't really seem
to be reveling in it by the end of the poem, though, so maybe the setting here is less important than his state of mind.
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Eliot was writing around the time when folks were all about making poetry sound real. People wanted poetry of the people, by the
people, and for the people, so that poetry had to sound like everyday speech. For the most part. The movement had been kicked off
a little further back by Walt Whitman and, even a little before him, William Wordsworth, but some might say the crest of the wave
really came with the Modernists.
So you can pick this poem out, in a lot of ways, by the nature of the "Speaker" and the way that the poem sounds just like everyday
speech. With phrases like "then at dawn we came to a temperate valley" (21) and "all this was a long time ago, I remember, / and I
would do it again" (32-33), the poem sounds almost like, well, prose. In fact, there's a lot about this poem's sound that ties it to
Eliot's much longer and more complicated piece, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". You can check out the "Sound Check" part
of that analysis for more on ways to identify classically Eliot-sounding poetry.
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The title, mercifully, is pretty self-explanatory. "The Journey of the Magi" is a story about the journey of the Magi. Great. But of
course, there's more to it than meets the eye. There always is with Eliot.
After all, he could have just called it "The Magus," or "The Three Wise Men," or "The Birth of Jesus as Told by a Magus," or what
have you. That means that the actual phrasing of the title is significant in a couple of ways. For one, "The Journey of the Magi"
sounds a whole lot like "The Gift of the Magi," which is a classic short story by O. Henry.
Also, the "Journey" part of the title packs quite the meaningful punch. Not only significant because the story details the literal journey
of these men, but also because the poem describes a figurative journey. That is, the journey from pagan to Christian, the conversion
of the author from agnostic to devout, and the drastic change that Christ's birth brings to the world as we know it.
So the "Journey," here, is all kinds of multifaceted. In order to narrow it down to something manageable for the purposes of the
poem, it becomes "The Journey of the Magi." But in reality, it's a whole bundle of different journeys and changes, of which the Magi
are a mere part.
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It's something that Eliot does particularly wellcreating personae, that is. He certainly writes a lot of his poetry from his own point of
view, but some of Eliot's most famous work concerns the stories of others. Whether he's doing it dramatic-monologue-style, or by
taking on tons of different speakers, like in "The Waste Land", Eliot uses elaborate characterizations to make complicated
commentary about human behavior, religion, modern life, and more.
And then there are those pesky allusions. Eliot just wouldn't be Eliot if he neglected to point to about ten different literary classics in
as many lines. In this poem, he draws mainly on the Bible and a few other religious sources, but in other poems, he's been known to
go totally nutso and draw from just about anything he can find.
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ANALYSIS: TOUGH-O-METER
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ANALYSIS: TRIVIA
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ANALYSIS: STEAMINESS
RATING
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ANALYSIS: ALLUSIONS
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Biblical References
Various Gospels (throughout). Check out the "Symbolic Life of Christ" section of "Symbols, Imagery, Wordplay" for the
scoop on all the Biblical references.
Historical References
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As journey's go, the "Journey of the Magi" really blows. It begins and ends with suffering, and the Magi suffer a whole lot during the
journey, too, what with all the bad weather and even worse people. But there's a bigger suffering going on here, too. There's the
psychological suffering of the dying culture of the Magi, plus the physical and mental anguish we know this kid, Jesus, will
experience as he grows up to become Christ. So what do we make of all this? We think Eliot's reminding us that a whole lot about
spirituality and religion revolves around suffering, and that suffering often comes with religious transformation.
Does the beginning of the poem make you sympathize with the Magi? If so, how? If not, how come?
2.
3.
4.
Can you make a list of all of the things that could cause suffering in this poem? Is it a long list?
Do you think the Magis' suffering is related to Jesus's suffering? How so, or why not?
Why do you think the Magus says that he would "do it again" towards the end of the poem? Does that mean he's a man of
faith, and that's why he's willing to endure all this hardship?
Chew on This
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devils advocate.
The physical suffering that the Magi go through in the first part of the poem is only a precursor to the horrible spiritual suffering they'll
go through by the end.
The Magis' despair at the end of the poem tells us that widespread spiritual change isn't necessarily good for everyone. Eliot is
highlighting the awful awkwardness of religious rebirth.
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The "Journey of the Magi" is chock full of traditions being challenged left and right. There's this strange sense of impending doom
about the birth of Jesus, and the dawning knowledge that the old way of life for these Magi is long gone. You'd think that a poem
about the birth of Jesus would be all kinds of happy about ushering in a new era of religious exaltation, but mostly this poem is
moping about a long-dead past. Hey, it's Eliot. His glass was almost always half-empty. If not shattered altogether.
Can you piece together what kinds of traditions and customs the Magi had before beginning their journey to Bethlehem?
What were their lives like? What do they stand to lose at the birth of Jesus?
How do you imagine those customs changed after the birth, life, and death of Jesus?
How do you think the Magus's reaction to losing his culture is related to his position of power?
What do you think this poem says about Eliot's relationship to religious tradition? How can you tell?
Chew on This
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devils advocate.
The replacement of the Magis' traditions and culture with those of Christianity is the perfect match for Eliot's conversion from
spiritually loose Unitarianism to more conservative Anglicanism.
Upon returning to their palaces, the Magis' customs are suddenly strange, and in mortal danger.
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There are two distinct layers of fear in "Journey of the Magi." First, there's the Magus-as-character fear the kind that's pretty easy
to identify by the end of the poem. And then there's the kind of fear that that first kind implies. Now before you go asking yourself
what in the world Shmoop's babbling on about, allow us to explain: by making the Magus a character that's super wary of spiritual
change, Eliot's secretly telling us about his own fears surrounding his recent religious conversion. After all, Eliot grew up with no real
spiritual upbringing, and even though his conversion to Anglicanism was certainly his choice, that doesn't necessarily mean it was
an easy one. Which is maybe why fear comes out with guns a-blazin' in this poem.
Why do you think the Magi are so afraid of the birth of Jesus?
Beyond fear of losing power, what other kinds of fear are present in this poem? How do they work together?
When Eliot positions the Magi as scared of change, what effect does this characterization have on the poem?
Who else do you think might be frightened by the coming of Jesus?
Chew on This
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devils advocate.
The Magis' fear in "Journey" is a specific and poignant example of our fear of the unknown. But that's all it is.
A large part of the Magis' fear in "Journey" is directly tied to an impending loss of political power. They're just washed up old
dictators, trying to stay relevant.
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To the Magi, the loss of their traditions to impending Christianity is like staring both death and defeat in the face at
once. Death doesn't make its real entrance until the end of "Journey of the Magi," but when it finally does sashay onto the scene, it
puts all too fine a point on what the coming of Jesus means to the Magi and their people.
How does the poem build up to explicit talk of death in the third stanza?
Answer the Magus's question: do you think they were led all that way for Birth or for Death?
How are birth and death conflated (i.e., made similar, or combined) in this poem?
How are spiritual and literal death intertwined in this poem? Where in the poem do they seem particularly linked?
Chew on This
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devils advocate.
"Journey of the Magi" makes poignant commentary on the fact that Jesus was literally born to die. That's the real gist of the poem
not the Magis' long-lost way of life.
The spiritual death of the Magus is horrific enough for him to wish for actual bodily death, too. It's extreme, but for him, it's the only
solution.
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The birth of Jesus, the three kings, and Biblical allusions galore. "Journey of the Magi" has religion written all over it, and that's just
the obvious stuff. Since the whole poem is about the coming of Christianity, every word is packed with religious meaning that can be
picked apart with a fine-toothed comb. Allow Shmoop.
What do you think about Eliot's embellishment of a story from a sacred text? Does he pull it off? Is it okay for a poet to do
something like that?
Do you think this poem is symbolic of Eliot's own conversion? How can you tell?
Why does the religion of the Magis' people suddenly seem "alien" to them? Who's to blame? Could this maybe be a good
thing?
What do you think is the purpose of all the Biblically symbolic language in the second stanza? Why pack in so many
allusions in such a tiny space?
Chew on This
Try on an opinion or two, start a debate, or play the devils advocate.
The heavy symbolism in the second stanza of "Journey" lends the poem a sense that even the Magus is unaware of just how
significant a journey he is making.
The tone of "Journey of the Magi" shows us that religion is an intensely complicated, often painful, and sometimes even fatal
process, not simply something that just exists.
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JOURNEY OF THE
MAGISUFFERING QUOTES
See more famous quotes from poetry
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Suffering
Quote #5
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Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death,
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods. (39-42)
In this passage at the end of the poem, the Magis' faith in their customs has been shaken to the point of being dismantled. They
arrive back at their palaces, these places in which they were previously safe and secure, and it's as though they no longer recognize
anything. They had grown so accustomed to being in power, and to the ways of their people, that a sudden onslaught of change is
nearly unfathomable to the Magi. Suddenly their people look "alien," their gods idols to which they cling for a false sense of security.
The Magi have fully realized, in other words, the scale of the coming change and their lack of place in it.
Tradition and Customs
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Death
Quote #2
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Bring on the tough stuff - theres not just one right answer.
1.
2.
Does the quote from a 17th-century sermon at the beginning change the way you read the poem? How so?
How does Eliot portray the coming of Christianity in this poem? Why do you think he chooses to do so from the point of
view of the Magi? What kind of effect does this have on the Christian message of the poem, if there is one?
3.
4.
5.
Since there isn't much detail about the Magi in the Bible, what kind of effect does their doubtful, fearful, miserable
characterization here have on the overall message of the poem?
What is all that symbolism doing there in the middle passage? How does the piling on of symbols change the nature of the
poem, and, strangely, its speaker? How does the "doubling up" of speakers in this poemboth the Magus and Eliot
affect the story that's being told?
Why do you think this poem is so often read as a conversion narrative? What do you think this poem can tell us, if
anything, about how Eliot felt about his own conversion? And about religious conversion generally?
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