My Last Duchess

Ferrara

A region in Italy. In 1561, Lucrezia (the wife of the Duke of Ferrara) died in suspicious circumstances. Rumours point to poison. Living in Italy for many years, and having somewhat of a fascination with the Italian Renaissance (14th-16th centuries), it's very likely that Browning used this real life 'duchess' as inspiration for the his poem: published in 1842. That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, / Looking as if she were alive. That possessive personal pronoun "my" and the assumed listener being addressed establishes both the possessive, sinister tone of the speaker (the Duke) and defines this piece as a dramatic monologue: Browning's preferred form typically associated with morally dubious characters confessing or reflecting on sinful actions. as if she were alive The past tense of the verb "were" and the simile construction of "as if" both immediately establish the death of the Duchess and begin our feeling of unease about Browning's Duke. Why is the figure so reserved and unfeeling here? none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I Browning reiterates the Duke's power and control through his personal pronoun "I". Only he has power here over the image. The tight end-rhyme of the couplets throughout ("by" and "I", here) further enhance the Duke's complete control. they would ask me, if they durst / How such a glace came there The past tense verb form of 'dare' ("durst") creates the sense that prior visitors were fearful of the Duke's temper. Browning begins to foreshadow the reason for the Duchess' death. The fact the Duke poses and answers this question without intervention from the listener (enhanced by the dramatic monologue form) further develops the character's utter control. "the faint / Half-flush that dies along her throat" Browning has the Duke assume Fra Pandolf's speech (yet more control) and embed within it a deeply suspicious deathly verb "dies" to further foreshadow the Duchess' likely cause of death: the Duke. A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad, / Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er / She looked on, and her looks went everywhere The repetition of the critical advert "too" has Browning create a voice of criticism from the Duke accusing his wife of flirting "everywhere". The enjambment of this section creates a sense of the Duke's anger beginning to run away with him as the sentiment is carried across several lines before escalating to a far greater degree later. I choose / Never to stoop. The defiant adverbial "never" in contrast with the belittling verb "stoop" creates a powerful sense of pride from the Duke. Browning uses a caesura here to cut the line in half, further enforcing the finality and power of the declaration. I gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together. The coldness of the verb "stopped", here - especially when likely to be euphemistically referencing his wife's murder - is terrifying. Browning's further use of caesurae enhances the violence of the line by echoing the destruction of the Duchess. Will't please you rise? This interrogative sentence is definitely rhetorical and to be read far more as an imperative order than a speculative request. Browning has the Duke come back to the present after his murderous digression. The ease of the character's change of mood should be disturbing. his fair daughter's self, as I avowed / At starting, is my object We learn - near the close of the poem - that Browning's Duke is arranging his next marriage. The recurrence of the possessive pronoun "my" and that highly possessive noun "object" (meaning 'objective' or 'goal', here, but easily readable for its alternative latent meaning) have Browning hint at the dangerous future of the Duke's new bride. Notice Neptune [...] / Taming a sea-horse The poem finishes on another imperative command and the next of the Duke's collection. He is characterised as commanding and possessive throughout: his danger is created by both. Additionally, the reference of the powerful male god subjugating and "Taming" the wild "sea-horse" can be read as a metaphor for how the Duke sees himself: God-like and dominant.

Essay 19738

My Last Duchess opens up with the speaker asking a listener if he would please sit down and look at a portrait of his last Duchess. This makes the readers wonder why this Duchess is no longer his present Duchess. He does not reveal whether she is deceased or put away in a convent somewhere. He asks his listener to sit and look at the life sized painting of her. He reveals that this painting is behind a curtain, and that no one but he is allowed to draw the curtain to view the painting or to show it to anyone. This is very suspicious behaviour. The reader can immediately sense that the Duke is controlling. The question that still remains unanswered is, why is this his last Duchess? The Duke describes the look on the Duchess' face, and that she had a joyous look and and earnest glance. He notes that "twas not her husband's presence only called that spot of joy into the Duchess' cheek". This is a curious thing to say. Why would he expect that his presence alone, and nothing else, would bring joy to her face? He does not answer that question, but the fact that he notes this gives a little bit of insight into why he was the only one who was allowed to open the curtain. All along, he wanted to be the only one who would bring a look of joy to his Duchess' face. Now that she was put away somewhere, and her life-size painting was on the wall, he could be the only one to ever see that look of joy on her face, because he would allow no one else to look at the painting without his permission. Suddenly, our speaker seems somewhat psychotic. In this section of My Last Duchess, the Duke seems to be remembering his former Duchess and all that bothered him about her. It would seem that she was too easily pleased by everyone around her. The Duke was not happy with this. He didn't like that if someone like "Fra Pandolf" (we don't know much more about this character) were to tell her that her shawl covered her wrists too much, she would blush. The Duke did not like that she would blush at the flirtations of another man. He did not like that the things which he called common courtesy would "call up that spot of joy" which she seemed to always have on her face. The Duke accuses her of having a heart that was "too soon made glad" and "too easily impressed". He was annoyed that she liked everything that she looked at. This man seems more and more psychotic and controlling as My Last Duchess goes on. It would seem that he put away his Duchess because he could not control her feelings. He wanted to be the only one to bring her joy and make her blush. In these lines of My Last Duchess, the Duke continues to explain all of the flaws in the Duchess' character. He says that she values her white mule, a branch of cherries, and a sunset as much as she values a piece of jewelry that he had given her. He is irritated that she does not seem to see the value in what he gives to her, or that she seems to value the simple pleasures of life as much as she values his expensive gifts to her. He also seems irritated that she does not seem to understand the importance of his place in life. By marrying her, he had given her a "nine-hundred-years-old name". This reveals that his family had been around for a very long time and thus he gave her a well known and prestigious name in marrying her. She did not seem to be any more thankful for this than she was thankful to watch the sun set. This irritated the Duke so much that was was not even willing to "stoop" to her level to discuss it with her. He thinks it would be "trifling" to do so. The Duke continues to explain that he chooses never to stoop to discuss with his Duchess what made him so disgusted with her. Yet, he seems quite comfortable discussing it with this listener. Perhaps he thought himself to high and mighty to stoop to talk to a woman, even if that woman was his wife. He admitted that she smiled at him pleasantly when he passed by, but it bothered him that everyone received that same smile from her. He explained that he "gave commands" and "then all smiles stopped together". This causes the reader to feel sorry for the Duchess, and rightly so. She was a lovely, happy, smiling person. It seems that the Duke commanded her in such a way as to make her stop smiling altogether. He robbed her of her joy with his controlling attitude toward her. After explaining what happened when he commanded her, the Duke turns his attention back to the painting on the wall and says, "there she stands as if alive". This suggests that the real Duchess is no longer alive. The Duke seems happier with a painting of her because he can control who gets to look at the joy in her face. The Duke then invites his listener to return downstairs with him. This section of My Last Duchess reveals the identity of the Duke's listener. He is the servant of a Count in the land, and they are trying to arrange a marriage between the Duke and the Count's daughter. The Duke says that his "fair daughter" is his "object". He brings the man back downstairs with him, and as they walk, he points out bronze statue that was made especially for him. The statue is of Neptune taming a sea-horse. Neptune, of course, is the god of the sea. This symbolizes the Duke, and the sea-horse symbolizes any Duchess he would acquire. The Duke views himself as a god, and he wishes to tame his wife to do whatever he wishes her to do, and even to feel whatever he wishes her to feel. This man is clearly demented and controlling, and the speaker in My Last Duchess reveals Browning's ideas of his fellow men. My Last Duchess, a dramatic monologue, is a single stanza poem made up of heroic couplets (heroic is a term used for iambic lines), all fully rhyming.

Form

My Last Duchess" comprises rhyming pentameter lines. The lines do not employ end-stops; rather, they use enjambment—gthat is, sentences and other grammatical units do not necessarily conclude at the end of lines. Consequently, the rhymes do not create a sense of closure when they come, but rather remain a subtle driving force behind the Duke's compulsive revelations. The Duke is quite a performer: he mimics others' voices, creates hypothetical situations, and uses the force of his personality to make horrifying information seem merely colorful. Indeed, the poem provides a classic example of a dramatic monologue: the speaker is clearly distinct from the poet; an audience is suggested but never appears in the poem; and the revelation of the Duke's character is the poem's primary aim. But Browning has more in mind than simply creating a colorful character and placing him in a picturesque historical scene. Rather, the specific historical setting of the poem harbors much significance: the Italian Renaissance held a particular fascination for Browning and his contemporaries, for it represented the flowering of the aesthetic and the human alongside, or in some cases in the place of, the religious and the moral. Thus the temporal setting allows Browning to again explore sex, violence, and aesthetics as all entangled, complicating and confusing each other: the lushness of the language belies the fact that the Duchess was punished for her natural sexuality. The Duke's ravings suggest that most of the supposed transgressions took place only in his mind. Like some of Browning's fellow Victorians, the Duke sees sin lurking in every corner. The reason the speaker here gives for killing the Duchess ostensibly differs from that given by the speaker of "Porphyria's Lover " for murder Porphyria; however, both women are nevertheless victims of a male desire to inscribe and fix female sexuality. The desperate need to do this mirrors the efforts of Victorian society to mold the behavior—gsexual and otherwise—gof individuals. For people confronted with an increasingly complex and anonymous modern world, this impulse comes naturally: to control would seem to be to conserve and stabilize. The Renaissance was a time when morally dissolute men like the Duke exercised absolute power, and as such it is a fascinating study for the Victorians: works like this imply that, surely, a time that produced magnificent art like the Duchess's portrait couldn't have been entirely evil in its allocation of societal control—geven though it put men like the Duke in power. A poem like "My Last Duchess" calculatedly engages its readers on a psychological level. Because we hear only the Duke's musings, we must piece the story together ourselves. Browning forces his reader to become involved in the poem in order to understand it, and this adds to the fun of reading his work. It also forces the reader to question his or her own response to the subject portrayed and the method of its portrayal. We are forced to consider, Which aspect of the poem dominates: the horror of the Duchess's fate, or the beauty of the language and the powerful dramatic development? Thus by posing this question the poem firstly tests the Victorian reader's response to the modern world—git asks, Has everyday life made you numb yet?—gand secondly asks a question that must be asked of all art—git queries, Does art have a moral component, or is it merely an aesthetic exercise? In these latter considerations Browning prefigures writers like Charles Baudelaire and Oscar Wilde.

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My Last Duchess" is a dramatic monologue presented in a single stanza. It is compiled predominantly of iambic pentameter and contains a lot of enjambment (sentences that don't end at the end of the lines). As a result, the Duke's speech seems always flowing, never inviting a space for any response; he is the one in complete charge. Additionally, Browning uses heroic couplet as a rhyming scheme, yet the real hero of the poem is silenced. Similarly, the title and the Duchess' "spot of joy" seem to be the only places where the Duchess is entitled to some power. Obsession with Control and Jealousy The predominant theme of "My Last Duchess" is the speaker's obsession with control. The Duke exhibits an arrogance rooted in an audacious sense of male superiority. He is stuck on himself—full of narcissism and misogyny. As suggested by the character heading at the beginning of the speech, the speaker's name is Ferrara. Most scholars agree that Browning derived his character from a 16th-century Duke of the same title: Alfonso II d'Este, a renowned patron of the arts who was also rumored to have poisoned his first wife. Being of a higher society, the speaker automatically possesses a large amount of authority and power. This is reinforced by the structure of the poem itself—in the monologue, with no response from the courtier, let alone the Duchess, the Duke is allowed to present himself and the story in whichever way suits him best. His need for control, along with his jealousy, are also perceptible when the Duke decides to uncover the painting for the courtier. By being the only one with the power to reveal his wife's portrait, constantly hidden behind a curtain, the Duke obtained the final and absolute power over his wife. It is also interesting to note that the Duke chose a holy member of the church as part of his plan to capture and control his wife's image. On one hand, it is a twisted plan, coupling evil and holy together. And on the other hand, one could also speculate that someone as committed to God as a friar would be the smallest temptation for the Duchess' smiles and thus Duke's jealousy. It has become clear that the Duke didn't like his wife to smile at anyone else but him and required her to elevate him above everyone else. As a result, he "gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together." The Duke couldn't bear not being the only one for Duchess' smiles, and thus, presumably, had her killed. Finally, at the end of the monologue, there is a reference to another of the Duke's acquisitions—Neptune taming a sea-horse—which he points out is a rarity, cast in bronze specifically for him. As it is rarely random for elements like this to be without significance, we can draw a metaphor between the portrait and the statue. Just like the sea-horse, the Duchess was a rarity to the Duke, and just like with the statue, he desired to "tame" her and have her all for himself.

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My Last Duchess," published in 1842, is arguably Browning's most famous dramatic monologue, with good reason. It engages the reader on a number of levels - historical, psychological, ironic, theatrical, and more.The most engaging element of the poem is probably the speaker himself, the duke. Objectively, it's easy to identify him as a monster, since he had his wife murdered for what comes across as fairly innocuous crimes. And yet he is impressively charming, both in his use of language and his affable address. The ironic disconnect that colors most of Browning's monologues is particularly strong here. A remarkably amoral man nevertheless has a lovely sense of beauty and of how to engage his listener.In fact, the duke's excessive demand for control ultimately comes across as his most defining characteristic. The obvious manifestation of this is the murder of his wife. Her crime is barely presented as sexual; even though he does admit that other men could draw her "blush," he also mentions several natural phenomena that inspired her favor. And yet he was driven to murder by her refusal to save her happy glances solely for him. This demand for control is also reflected in his relationship with the envoy. The entire poem has a precisely controlled theatrical flair, from the unveiling of the curtain that is implied to precede the opening, to the way he slowly reveals the details of his tale, to his assuming of the envoy's interest in the tale ("strangers like you....would ask me, if they durst, How such a glance came there"), to his final shift in subject back to the issue of the impending marriage. He pretends to denigrate his speaking ability - "even had you skill in speech - (which I have not)," later revealing that he believes the opposite to be true, even at one point explicitly acknowledging how controlled his story is when he admits he "said 'Fra Pandolf' by design" to peak the envoy's interest. The envoy is his audience much as we are Browning's, and the duke exerts a similar control over his story that Browning uses in crafting the ironic disconnect.In terms of meter, Browning represents the duke's incessant control of story by using a regular meter but also enjambment (where the phrases do not end at the close of a line). The enjambment works against the otherwise orderly meter to remind us that the duke will control his world, including the rhyme scheme of his monologue.To some extent, the duke's amorality can be understood in terms of aristocracy. The poem was originally published with a companion poem under the title "Italy and France," and both attempted to explore the ironies of aristocratic honor. In this poem, loosely inspired by real events set in Renaissance Italy, the duke reveals himself not only as a model of culture but also as a monster of morality. His inability to see his moral ugliness could be attributed to having been ruined by worship of a "nine-hundred-years-old name." He is so entitled that when his wife upset him by too loosely bestowing her favor to others, he refused to speak to her about it. Such a move is out of the question - "who'd stoop to blame this kind of trifling?" He will not "stoop" to such ordinary domestic tasks as compromise or discussion. Instead, when she transgresses his sense of entitlement, he gives commands and she is dead.Another element of the aristocratic life that Browning approaches in the poem is that of repetition. The duke's life seems to be made of repeated gestures. The most obvious is his marriage - the use of the word "last" in the title implies that there are several others, perhaps with curtain-covered paintings along the same hallway where this one stands. In the same way that the age of his name gives it credence, so does he seem fit with a life of repeated gestures, one of which he is ready to make again with the count's daughter.And indeed, the question of money is revealed at the end in a way that colors the entire poem. The duke almost employs his own sense of irony when he brings up a "dowry" to the envoy. This final stanza suggests that his story of murder is meant to give proactive warning to the woman he is soon to marry, but to give it through a backdoor channel, through the envoy who would pass it along to the count who might then pass it to the girl. After all, the duke has no interest in talking to her himself, as we have learned! His irony goes even further when he reminds the envoy that he truly wants only the woman herself, even as he is clearly stressing the importance of a large dowry tinged with a threat of his vindictive side.But the lens of aristocracy undercuts the wonderful psychological nature of the poem, which is overall more concerned with human contradictions than with social or economic criticism. The first contradiction to consider is how charming the duke actually is. It would be tempting to suggest Browning wants to paint him as a weasel, but knowing the poet's love of language, it's clear that he wants us to admire a character who can manipulate language so masterfully. Further, the duke shows an interesting complication in his attitudes on class when he suggests to the envoy that they "go Together down," an action not expected in such a hierarchical society. By no means can we justify the idea that the duke is willing to transcend class, but at the same time he does allow a transgression of the very hierarchy that had previously led him to have his wife murdered rather than discuss his problems with her.Also at play psychologically is the human ability to rationalize our hang-ups. The duke seems controlled by certain forces: his own aristocratic bearing; his relationship to women; and lastly, this particular duchess who confounded him. One can argue that the duke, who was in love with his "last duchess," is himself controlled by his social expectations, and that his inability to bear perceived insult to his aristocratic name makes him a victim of the same social forces that he represents. Likewise, what he expects of his wives, particularly of this woman whose portrait continues to provide him with fodder for performance, suggests a deeper psychology than one meant solely for criticism.The last thing to point out in the duke's language is his use of euphemism. The way he explains that he had the duchess killed - "I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together" - shows a facility for avoiding the truth through choice of language. What this could suggest is that the duchess was in fact guilty of greater transgression than he claims, that instead of flirtation, she might have physically or sexually betrayed him. There's certainly no explicit evidence of this, but at the same time, it's plausible that a man as arrogant as the duke, especially one so equipped with the power of euphemism, would avoid spelling out his disgrace to a lowly envoy and instead would speak around the issue.Finally, one can also understand this poem as a commentary on art. The duke remains enamored with the woman he has had killed, though his affection now rests on a representation of her. In other words, he has chosen to love the ideal image of her rather than the reality, similar to how the narrator of "Porphyria's Lover" chose a static, dead love than one destined to change in the throes of life. In many ways, this is the artist's dilemma, which Browning explores in all of his work. As poet, he attempts to capture contradiction and movement, psychological complexity that cannot be pinned down into one object, and yet in the end all he can create is a collection of static lines. The duke attempts to be an artist in his life, turning a walk down the hallway into a performance, but he is always hampered by the fact that the ideal that inspires his performance cannot change.

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Robert Browning's dramatic monologue "My Last Duchess," first published in Dramatic Lyrics (1842), is also an ekphrastic poem: one that engages with a work of art and in this case dramatizes viewers' responses to the artwork. In the poem, Browning plays with the genre of ekphrasis to reveal the violence underlying representation. An obsessive Duke shows a visitor, and readers, a painting of his last wife. The Duke tries to distract us with courtesy but even as he controls the story of his wife and her image, his emotion exceeds his control and exposes his crimes. Using conversational couplets and telling punctuation, Browning gives us a study of violence, a test of the rivalry between words and images, and a battle between the male and female gaze. The poem begins with the Duke of Ferrara, a historical figure from the Italian Renaissance, pulling back a curtain to reveal the painting of his wife to the emissary of a Count: That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. Such a casual beginning is full of wicked dramatic irony. Browning's initial trickery appears in the ambiguity of the first words, seemingly functional and innocuous yet implying some curious notions. With "that's," the Duke conflates the painting and his wife into an object of "wonder" to be possessed and shown off; with "last," he hints that he plans for a series of wives, and it's soon made clear that he's in talks with the emissary to marry the Count's daughter. Even the off-hand conjunctive "as if" at first appears to compliment the talent of the painter, Fra Pandolf, but the painting's splendid lifelikeness quickly summons the presence of death in the past tense "were." The Duke conjures shadows in the eerie phrase "there she stands," as if the Duchess herself or her ghost has appeared in the room, startling unsuspecting viewers and putting us on alert. This uncanny ability to make absence present is built into ekphrasis, a genre that begins in the Iliad. Homer describes Achilles's shield in such a vivid way that the shield appears to move and even make noise; the poet makes us forget that the shield is textual, imaginary—it seems alive, even when the crafty poet reminds us that it's made of metal. Classical ekphrasis celebrates verisimilitude; the visual object comes to life and simultaneously remains a thing made, much like the poem itself. The poet creates a rivalry between word and image, as if to ask which is more accurate and more powerful. In the genre, a pattern emerged, a pattern that Browning knowingly manipulates in "My Last Duchess": the masculine poet longs to dominate the silent, feminized image he feels attracted to or simultaneously threatened by. As Keats, following this pattern, observes the ancient Grecian urn in the British Museum, he desires to know the secrets of this "unravish'd bride of quietness" in his urgent interrogations, and he, famously, makes it talk, a trademark of ekphrasis. The Duchess in this poem does not talk. Browning's empathy resides in her silence, as the poem asks us to pay attention to the Duke's attempts to disguise his aggression. Acting the polite connoisseur, the Duke invites the emissary, whom we never hear from, to sit and "look at her." (Classical ekphrasis assumes the poet, viewers, and readers to be male.) In stilted syntax, typical of one hiding something, the Duke explains that many others have inquired after "the depth and passion of its earnest glance." Notice here that "her" becomes an "it." The Duke confesses, rather theatrically, that only he controls who sees the portrait: "(since none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)." This parenthetical remark functions as another curtain, a veil drawn back and forth across her face, the past, the Duke's secrets and our ability to discover them. An object of such compelling verity and beauty, the portrait so bothers the Duke that he keeps it hidden and under his power, as we can surmise he kept his wife, and perhaps this next Duchess, in his castle. Browning invites us to make a connection between looking, reading, and interpreting. Like amateur detectives, we must read between the lines. With a swift narrative stroke, Browning introduces a source of the Duke's motives—sexual rivalry for his wife's attention—here in guise of Fra Pandolf, who speaks through indirect praise for the Duchess's wrist and throat. The painter's "hands / Worked busily a day," says the Duke, linking the acts of painting, writing, and perhaps something more ominous: killing. The poet deftly lays bare how work done by one's hands may preserve something beautiful and precious (such as the image of a woman) or still and silence it forever. It's not clear that the privileged observers of the painting ever dare to ask what created the "depth and passion" of her looks. But with barely restrained jealousy, the Duke lists the things that caused her intense look and brought "that spot / of joy" to her cheek—"Sir, 'twas not / Her husband's presence only." Fra Pandolf compliments her during the sitting, we suppose: "Paint / Must never hope to reproduce the faint / Half-flush that dies along her throat." Anxious from sexual rivalry, the Duke assures us that this comment was mere courtesy to the Duchess. His need to narrate her thoughts hardly conceals his hurt narcissism, wounded by the painter who "chanced" to flatter his wife; this chancing hints that the Duke could or did retaliate against these offenses. The dismaying proximity of "dies" with "throat" in these lines also insinuates she was strangled (by him or a servant?). Possessiveness rears up again in the limiting modifier "only," as the Duke implies that the Duchess should have blushed "only" in his presence. Increasingly agitated, the Duke continues his list of what gave the Duchess joy: she liked his "favour at her breast" (marital respect, sex), the sun going down (banal, pretty), cherries brought to her by an "officious fool" (treats, flirting), a "white mule" she rode around the terrace (fun!). But he complains vainly that she liked everything "as if she ranked / My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody's gift." All would receive "approving speech, / or blush" he says in the first mention of her voice. Readers picture a cheerful, charming, vivacious young woman married to a man fixatedly watching her every move. Like other famous literary villains, the Duke divulges his conflicted consciousness when he loses control of his language. Unaware, he gives us a clear vision of the open-hearted Duchess: She had A heart—how shall I say?—too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. It's precisely her heart (effusive) and her gaze (delighted) that infuriates the Duke. Between dashes, Browning inserts a move like one any of Iago's deceptions in Othello, as the villain pretends that he doesn't know what he's doing or saying—plotting the death of a woman. This frantic pattern of dashes postures as spontaneous asides, ever more hostile and dishonest. Browning is having wicked fun here with the "Satan effect," the artistic energy writers experience when writing from a malevolent perspective, as seen in Milton's Satan, Shakespeare's Iago, or Nabokov's Humbert Humbert (also an abuser of the punctuation mark—the parenthesis). A nasty glee in composition, here in a simple dash; a fascination with embodying violence, here in a mark. The pleasure experienced in close reading the Duke's foiled attempts to hide his guilt parallel our excitement and horror in observing the machinations of any fictional villain. The Duke consistently describes the Duchess in imagery of passivity or excess. In the Renaissance tradition of the blazon, the Duke catalogues his excessive wife in parts: her glance shows depth, passion, and earnestness; her cheeks blush; her throat flushes; her wrist should be covered by her sleeve; her heart is overly happy and receptive; her speech is mistakenly approving; and, worst of all, her eyes "go everywhere." Twice used to describe her heart, the adverb "too" is crucial; the Duchess is to the Duke what we call "too much." "Easily impressed" is also important—like any soft surface, she is easily affected, moved, and marked; she is to him "easy." The Duke wants to be the only one to impress her heart and mind; her expansive heart and gaze threaten him. Usually the activities of the Duchess remain in the passive voice to comfort the Duke's fantasy that he overpowers her in life and death. Her first active moment appears when "she stands" in the ironic fourth line. Another key exception, obviously, is that she "liked whate'er she looked on" is presented as a flaw instead of a joy for life—a threatening gaze. The male gaze, in league with the blazon—both of which are tangled up in the ekphrastic tradition—objectifies and remakes the image of the Other, usually a woman, into parts to alleviate the anxiety it provokes. The female gaze, and thus female sexuality, threaten the male viewer because they are simultaneously desired and castrating—think of the ultimate, terrifying female gaze: Medusa's. The Duke, in all his entitlement, assumes that we will agree with him that his wife's going-everywhere gaze was dangerous, evidence of her unfaithfulness. Though she is now dead—the ultimate control over her self and body—her gaze in the portrait still unnerves and angers him. Trapped by her gaze, which so captivates its viewers, as Medusa turned her onlookers to stone, the Duke feels compelled to undermine her power by accusing her of excess. Castration anxiety may also play a role in Browning's meticulous punctuation: the calculated asides set in parentheses or dashes and the two false exclamations disclose the Duke's fears. In an awful irony, the upset Duke unmasks his secret even at the very moment he negotiates for a new wife. Scholar W.J.T. Mitchell in the essay "Ekphrasis and the Other" deftly defines ekphrastic representation as "something done to something, with something, by someone, for someone." Now the Duke goes in for the kill: "Who'd stoop to blame / This sort of trifling?" His tone turns insidious with Browning's simple rhyme of "name" and "blame." The Duke's family name gives him the right to blame her for everything. Slipping into fury, the Duke poses a hypothetical situation between someone with "skill / In speech—which I have not—to make your will / quite clear to such an one." The follow-up of rhymes "skill" and "will" also instruct, attaching the Duke's skill, which he claims in pseudo-modesty not to have, with his absolute will, which he indeed has—at his time and place and in Browning's Victorian era, women had few legal rights against their husbands. He will use his skills to make her succumb to his will. We can imagine what fiendish fun the poet must have had playing with these couplets. Suddenly the Duke berates his wife, in indirect quotations again, offering us a window into their private life. All nonchalance, he tells us that he lectured the Duchess about "just this / or that in you" that "disgusts me." The word "disgusts" unveils so much—the Duke's condescension; his visceral repulsion of her presence, especially her body (seen in the cataloguing of her body parts); and a misogyny strong enough to kill. So interesting is the line "here you miss, / Or there exceed the mark." Here or there, simple as "this or that," sleights of a villain's hand adroitly slipping his crime up his sleeve. Yet his arrogant tone exposes him. Missing the "mark" resonates. A mark, a limit, a measurement, a bruise, a dab of paint, a stroke of ink on the page. Browning does not miss, as he accuses the Duke in punctuation marks in this crafty passage: Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt, Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive. Her final action—"she smiled"—condemns her in the Duke's eyes. She gave the "same smile" to all, he says; her smiles, like her looks, went everywhere, leading to the extraordinarily chilling line, "Then all smiles stopped together." Browning drags us through the Duke's twisted rationalizations to hang him with these caesuras—six in four lines!—and with semicolons. Moments before, the Duke insists that he has had to stoop to her "trifling" and declares "I choose / Never to stoop." That limiting modifier erases any possibility that those conversations were hypothetical, which makes all the more disturbing the line's syntactical companion: "I gave commands." His personal pronoun takes total power over another, power enough to command servants to kill his wife or power enough to do it himself. Through the off-rhyme of "stoop" with "stop," Browning uncovers motive and crime at once: the Duke never stoops, so he must stop her breathing. Another possible clue of strangulation: distressing semicolons punctuate the murder scene, and those gaping pauses mark her gasps for breath and her erasure. Returning to the present from the violent past, the Duke gestures back at the painting and summons the ghost: "There she stands / As if alive." The casual "as if" repeats and points to the painful friction between reality and representation, life and death. The Duchess's portrait is thought to be modeled after a painting of Lucrezia di Cosimo de' Medici (1545-1561). Married at 13 to the Duke of Ferrara and Modena, Alfonso II d'Este (1533-1597), she came with a big dowry, as the daughter of the Grand Duke of Tuscany would, yet soon died at the age of 16 from suspected malaria or tuberculosis or, as it's speculated, of poisoning. The Duke of Ferrara then brokered a deal with the Count of Tyrol to marry a daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor (after that wife died, he married her niece). This painting, attributed to Agnolo Bronzino in 1560, catches viewers within the tense web of the Medici princess's heavy dress and jewelry, her wary eyes, her tense lips, and her dimpled hands—one holding up a jewel, one resting on a sphere. Reverting to the gallant host, Browning's version of the Duke finally invites the emissary to meet the company below (the Count and the next Duchess maybe). He brings up the large dowry that she will bring, smugly adding that the Count's fair daughter is of course his "object." This word pushes us into the final image—a rare bronze sculpture of Neptune taming a sea-horse that the Duke shows off to his guest. Browning rhymes "fair" with "rarity" to leave us with an implacable image of an unassailable man dominating a gentle creature. Wives, like precious art objects, are to be collected, still and silent, until they can be exchanged for a newer or better one. The Duke's endeavor to command and end his first wife's life succeeds, but he does not control her gaze, nor escape its power over him. She exceeds his mark and captivates us yet.

Essay 1

We're looking at the portrait of the last duchess, painted and hanging on the wall — the Duke of Ferrara says she looks like she's alive, so we know she died. The Duke it talking to an envoy — a messenger / servant of a low class position; he has decided to show him around his private art gallery. He says it's an amazing painting, a 'wonder'. The painter — Fra Pandolf — worked hard on it for a day and now it's complete. The Duke is speaking to an envoy of his new wife-to-be's family, and he asks if he wants to sit and look at the painting. The Duke says he called it a 'Fra Pandolf' painting because some strangers look at it and start to question how lifelike the woman seems, 'the depth and passion' of her expression look so intense and realistic (a suggestion that she had perhaps flirted with the painter). The Duke says these strangers ask about the painting because he is the only one who can show it to them. We realise that the envoy has also asked about her expression. The Duke says it wasn't only her husband that made her look so attractive — he lists the attractive parts of her: the blush in her cheeks, her wrists, her throat. He says that she was too easily pleased by the attention of others, and she liked everything, and she was interested in everything and everyone (not only the Duke, as he seems to have wanted). He says it was all the same to her — she loved his attention, the daylight fading, a gift of cherries from a man, riding her white horse around the castle grounds — all these things brought the same look of pleasure to her face. It was fine for her to be grateful to other men, he says, but he was annoyed that she treated them in the same way she treated him — as if his 'gift' of an ancient aristocratic name was only as good as their gifts. The Duke says even if he was skilled at talking, it wouldn't have been worth speaking his mind to her and letting her know that 'this disgusts me' or 'you went too far'. Even if he had done this and she had listened, it would have still been 'stooping' on his part — i.e. lowering himself to her level. She smiled when he passed her, but she also smiled at everyone else. He gave orders and the smiles stopped — this suggests that he ordered her to be killed. The poem switches back to focusing on the painting, where the Duchess looks like she's still alive. There's a shift in tone as the Duke asks the envoy to leave. We realise that the Count is downstairs, and the envoy works for him. They are arranging a payment (dowry) for the Count's daughter, who will soon be married to the Duke and become the new Duchess. On the way out the Duke asks the envoy to look at a bronze sculpture of Neptune taming a seahorse. The Duke (Duke Alfonso of Ferrara) is the speaker in the poem. We know that he's been married at least once before, and that his wife died — by the end it is suggested that he killed her. As the poem progresses we start by thinking he's upset by his wife's death and is trying to commemorate her; by the end we realise he is not a nice person and that he killed her we switch from sympathy to shock and disgust. He is unphased by her death and is already remarrying. His words are cold, practical and superior. His cool manner when speaking about his last wife suggests that he is comfortable with death and murder, and as he is speaking to the envoy of his new wife it presents a threat to her that she will also be killed if she doesn't behave as he wishes. The other voices in the poem are silent — the envoy listens and sometimes asks short questions, be we don't know exactly what he asks — we assume he speaks and responds, but the Duke clearly dominates the conversation — he uses his power and status to gain control.

Summary and critical appreciation

Browning's "My Last Duchess" is a famous dramatic monologue. The drama that this poem represents is set in 'Ferrara', the capital of a province in Italy that was famous for its 'high' culture during the Renaissance. This setting also hints at the fact that the poem's story is historical. A duke had murdered his seventeen-year-old wife after three years of marriage, and married another girl. The main character and speaker of the poem is Duke Alfonso II of Ferrara. The other person listening to him is the marriage agent sent by the Count of another place called Tyrol. The duke is talking about the painting on the wall while preparing to go down to meet the Tyrol, the father of the proposed girl, and other people who have come to finalize the new marriage proposal. The poem looks like a piece of small-talk, but it is meant to reveal a story of oppression, jealousy, pride, corruption, murder and the greed for dowry. The theme of this poem is the wide gap between the so-called high culture and 'low' personal behaviour of the upper class during the Renaissance Italy. The purpose of the poet is to expose the real character of the duke and satirize the culture that he represents. Critical Appreciation The monologue is designed in such a way that it reveals the true character of the duke who is having a small-talk with a visitor. As the duke is preparing to go downstairs, probably putting on his clothes, he sees that the messenger is looking at the paintings on the wall. He begins to talk about the painting of his previous wife (the duchess). He says that it was a painting by the famous Italian painter brother Pandolf. The way he repeats the name and uses 'fra' or 'brother' before the artist's name suggests that the duke is trying to impress the visitor with his intimacy with artists. Similarly, we see that he is trying to give the impression of being an art-lover (aesthete) when he describes the painting with the words of an art- critic - "the depth and passion in the earnest glance...... reproduce the faint half-flush that fades along the throat...". Then he boasts about his art of speaking by indirectly saying that he doesn't have the skill of saying small things in the proper manner. But that is another example of his egotism. He claims that he is such a powerful man that no one has dared to ask him about the red spot on the cheek of the duchess. But we see that he is such a mean, evil-minded, jealous and cynical man who thinks that if his wife looks at or smiles at visitors and any other males, it is because of her sexual excitement with them. He guesses that the painter's small- talk had caused "the spot of joy" to appear on her cheek! Then he boasts about his 'nine hundred years old name, and complains that the duchess did not give special regards to that. With normal people, that doesn't count in a marital relationship, because everyone's husband is a husband first of all and it is not necessary to address him by his status-name. He says that she used to bring the red spot of joy on her cheek and he gave a "favorable" look on her breast. The duke is a shameless tyrant who cannot think of anything positive; most probably because he is evil minded himself. He says that "her looks went everywhere", that she would thank and appreciate anything or anyone, that she was too easily impressed, and that she used to smile at anyone who passed by her. At the climax of the dramatic poem, the Duke reveals that he had killed his previous wife.There are also some dramatic actions in the poem, in the beginning, the duke tells the other man to sit down and look at the picture. Towards the end of the poem, he tells him to stand up: "Will it please you rise?" We also guess other things that the characters must be doing. As the duke is saying all the nasty things about his own wife, the other man seems to try to leave the place! But the duke tells him to wait: 'Nay, we'll go down together, sir". The next moment, we find that he is making the man wait just to give another piece of boasting! He points to a statue and tells his guest that it is his own statue in the form of god Neptune training the sea horse. This also symbolizes this demand for a wife like a 'trained' horse. The poem ends with the duke still talking about himself as a great man and a lover of art.

I'm tired it's 1:47 am

Duke of Ferrara The duke flaunts the names of both a painter and a sculptor, with the assumption it is clear they are talented and part of the elite. The duchess's portrait draws comments, and the sculpture is "thought a rarity." The duke is showing off to a servant of a lesser noble. His reasons for doing so are a subject worth questioning, especially as this poem is a dramatic monologue. Painting of the Duchess The most prevalent symbol in "My Last Duchess" is the painting of the duchess. The artwork, one in which the duchess is "looking as if she were alive," is completely under the duke's control. He is the only one allowed to pull back the curtain with which it is covered. He chooses who can look upon her face, and "the depth and passion of its earnest glance." This is in direct contrast to the depiction the duke gives of his late wife's behavior in life. When she was alive, "she liked whate'er / She looked on, and her looks went everywhere." In death the duke can contain and control the duchess in a way he could not when she was alive. Bronze Sculpture by Claus of Innsbruck The symbol of the sculpture at the end of the poem is one of dominance over a subject: "Notice Neptune, though, / Taming a seahorse, thought a rarity, / Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!" Here it is not a duke controlling who sees a painting of the deceased duchess, it is the sea god "taming" a seahorse. The reader may also recall one of the stated flaws of the duchess was her pleasure in riding a mule around the terrace. The common phrasing for taming a horse is "breaking" the horse. The objective is for the animal to learn to accept being ridden, and to obey its master's commands. The sculpture represents a powerful being exerting power over a weaker subject. The duke is aligned with this art, and he intentionally points it out to the servant. The art is expensive—another representation of the duke's power and status. Nature The symbol of nature—as opposed to art or prestige—is associated with the duchess. Three things the duke cites as drawing the duchess's attention are aspects of nature: "The dropping of the daylight in the West. / The bough of cherries ... the white mule / She rode with round the terrace." The duchess's attention was given to the sunset, fruit, and a mule, and all three brought her the same joy, which she demonstrated in the presence of her spouse. The duke, on the other hand, is represented in two art items—a painting of his wife, and a sculpture of a sea god taming a seahorse. He demonstrates wealth via the arts, created by famous artists, and by his long-standing family name (nine centuries of history). The duchess, however, finds joys in simple things. Arrogance The theme of arrogance is significant in "My Last Duchess." The speaker—a duke whose wife is deceased—does not present himself as sorrowful over the loss of his wife. Instead, he reveals throughout the monologue he is conceited. The reader will do well to recall although the poem is, in theory, about the titular "last duchess," this is a dramatic monologue. Therefore, the poem is about the duke. What he reveals as he speaks about the duchess is more significant than what he would have the listener believe about her. From the onset of the poem, the duke's sense of self-importance is evident. He begins by pointing out a painting of the late duchess. He stands with the servant of the count whose daughter was selected to become the next duchess. A count is of lower rank than a duke, but the duke speaks to the count's representative as if he were an equal. The duke emphasizes seeing the painting is a treat: "Since none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I." The duke alone controls access to the duchess now. No one can look upon her portrait without his consent. According to the duke, when the duchess was alive, she smiled and found joy easily: "She thanked men—good! but ... ranked / My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody's gift." It can be implied the duke believed the duchess considered these other sources of joy not inferior, but equal, to his gift. Moreover, the listener in the poem (and the reader of the poem) will note the duke is confused by this. "I know not how," he says. The duke's arrogance also is conveyed in his revelation he did not tell his wife what he perceived as slights: "E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose / Never to stoop." It was beneath him to tell her where she had faltered in his estimation. It is not simply the duke's revelations about the duchess that illustrate the theme of arrogance. His pointed references to art objects reveal his self-importance. Although both artists referenced in the poem are fictional, the duke expects to elicit admiration from the servant when he mentions a name: "I said / 'Frà Pandolf' by design, for never read / Strangers like you that pictured countenance, / The depth and passion of its earnest glance." Not only does the duke have control over who looks at the duchess, but her portrait is also a work of art. The duke's own status is apparent because he possesses art created by such fine artists. This is also paired with the close of the poem, where the duke points out another piece of art—Neptune taming the seahorse—that is "thought a rarity." From start to finish, the poem demonstrates the theme of arrogance. Power The duke possesses great power, because of his "nine-hundred-years-old name," his wealth, or his social class. His family name is old and, in his estimation, should garner respect. The failure of his late wife to provide him with the respect he deserves resulted in her "looking as if she were alive." With no apparent hesitation, the duke tells the listener: "I gave commands: / Then all smiles stopped together." He has the power to commit murder, and the power to avoid punishment for his actions. In fact, the listener is the servant of the count with whom the duke is negotiating to marry the next duchess. The count and his daughter are being informed of the duke's expectations. The last duchess is deceased. She displeased him by failing to give him the respect he believed he was due, so he "gave commands." The visit with the count's servant serves as an opportunity to warn the future wife about what is expected of her. Communication "My Last Duchess" encompasses various modes of communication. The duke is expressing himself to the servant of the father of his future wife, and he conveys his message using direct speech, implication, false modesty, art, and gesture. The direct speech is the clearest example. The entire poem is a dramatic monologue about the last duchess. In his words the duke highlights what he perceives to be the shortcomings of his deceased wife. The duke falsely claims he is not "skilled" in expressing himself—"Even had you skill / In speech—which I have not—to make your will / Quite clear"—to explain why he had not informed his last wife where she was failing. This is followed later by an admission that to tell her would be "stooping." Direct explanation was beneath him. Communication of the duchess's flaws is also done by way of implication and insinuation: "She had / A heart ... too soon made glad, / Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er / She looked on, and her looks went everywhere." The duke does not directly accuse his deceased wife of infidelity, but he implies it. Later, the duke reveals the duchess was fascinated by such things as a sunset and a mule. Nonetheless, the duke suggests her attention should have been on him and his "nine-hundred-years-old name," rather than on other things. The duke acknowledges occasionally his wife did give him attention: "Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt, / Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without / Much the same smile?" In calling the servant "sir," the duke is appealing to the listener's own vanity. The duke continues this subtle communication by walking with the servant, rather than in front of him, as would befit his status: "Nay, we'll go / Together down, sir." Summary "My Last Duchess" is narrated by the duke of Ferrara to an envoy (representative) of another nobleman, whose daughter the duke is soon to marry. These details are revealed throughout the poem, but understanding them from the opening helps to illustrate the irony that Browning employs. At the poem's opening, the duke has just pulled back a curtain to reveal to the envoy a portrait of his previous duchess. The portrait was painted by Fra Pandolf, a monk and painter whom the duke believes captured the singularity of the duchess's glance. However, the duke insists to the envoy that his former wife's deep, passionate glance was not reserved solely for her husband. As he puts it, she was "too easily impressed" into sharing her affable nature. His tone grows harsh as he recollects how both human and nature could impress her, which insulted him since she did not give special favor to the "gift" of his "nine-hundred-years-old" family name and lineage. Refusing to deign to "lesson" her on her unacceptable love of everything, he instead "gave commands" to have her killed. The duke then ends his story and asks the envoy to rise and accompany him back to the count, the father of the duke's impending bride and the envoy's employer. He mentions that he expects a high dowry, though he is happy enough with the daughter herself. He insists that the envoy walk with him "together" - a lapse of the usual social expectation, where the higher ranked person would walk separately - and on their descent he points out a bronze bust of the god Neptune in his collection.

Baby essay

My Last Duchess" is a dramatic monologue presented in a single stanza. It is compiled predominantly of iambic pentameter and contains a lot of enjambment (sentences that don't end at the end of the lines). As a result, the Duke's speech seems always flowing, never inviting a space for any response; he is the one in complete charge. Additionally, Browning uses heroic couplet as a rhyming scheme, yet the real hero of the poem is silenced. Similarly, the title and the Duchess' "spot of joy" seem to be the only places where the Duchess is entitled to some power.

Long line by line

Lines 1 - 4 The speaker is a man of means, a duke no less, of Ferrara most likely, a town in Italy. He is very much in charge of things, the reader introduced to him as he is about to show off an unusual painting to an anonymous guest. Who he addresses is unknown at first but later it becomes clear that the listener is an envoy (marriage broker, emissary) representing another aristocrat. Perhaps he is pointing a refined finger as the first line starts. Obviously this is the interior of his home, his house, his palace? If that first line is innocent enough, the second line immediately darkens proceedings. The woman in question is no longer alive but looks alive in the painting. What an odd thing to say. Of course a painting shows a person alive and not the opposite, dead. So the reader's antennae are beginning to twitch already. What sort of a man have we here? The speaker thinks the picture a wonder, now perhaps because he's had a little time to digest it and ponder on the fact that his wife is no more. Does this imply that, when the painting was first hung, he couldn't stand to look at it because it reminded him of her beauty, her character? Or maybe the portrait was done too well, was too lifelike and so he felt compelled to put it behind a curtain? Out of guilt? The artist's name is Fra Pandolf, the Fra meaning a brother which links the artist to innocent monkhood and distances the duchess from any thought of a sexual liaison with him. Lines 5 - 21 The duke asks the as yet unknown second person if he'd care to sit and study the portrait. Fra Pandolf's name was mentioned purposefully (by design) because the duke is the one asked by strangers who, having looked at the duchess's expressive face (countenance) want to ask - how did the artist get so much depth and passion in a simple glance? But hold on a minute, strangers only appear to want to ask the duke but they dare not (if they durst). The duke senses their trepidation perhaps. He's the only one allowed to move the curtain, implying control and possession over the duchess, even in death. It seems the broker (emissary) also wanted to ask this same question but the duke got in there first with his slick answer. He addresses the emissary as Sir and goes on to suggest that the special spot of joy, a red blush perhaps, on the sitter's cheek could have been caused by the artist, Fra Pandolf. How? Well, the duke seems to think that it should have been only him who could have made the duchess blush but what if the artist had wanted her to show a little more flesh ( Her mantle, - or cloak - covers too much of her wrist) or hinted that such a blush could never be adequately reproduced in paint. In other words, the duke is fabricating a story, attempting to brainwash the emissary or circumvent the truth by implying that the artist's flattery and compliments caused the duchess to blush. According to the duke, his wife would have bought the artist's politeness, which is rather judgemental of him and surely points to an increasing jealousy. Perhaps in real life he never was able to inspire such blushes or glances from his wife? Lines 22 - 34 The duke goes on, seemingly unable to stop himself, telling of his wife's happy disposition and positive outlook on life. Again there is judgement, it's as if the duke despised her for being 'Too easily impressed' suggesting she was frivolous, superficial, unable to discern between the important and the trivial (Sir, 'twas all one!) The duchess treated everything with the same light touch, which must have displeased the duke, despite him being her closest bosom friend (or sexual partner?), at first romantically inclined (watching the sunset together) but then coming to realise that she treated everyone (even some idiot offering her cherries) and everything the same. She was too light-hearted it appears - happy to ride a white mule, happy to accept fruit from a fool. Perhaps the duke took a dislike to her constant innocent optimism and equal treatment for all approach to life. He'd have preferred a dour and subservient woman for a wife, not a blushing flirtatious type who had little truck with the traditions and trappings of wealth, which the duke clearly revelled in. Nine hundred years of his family name was worth just as much as anyone's name to her. The duke's complaints are building up momentum. It's quite obvious that she got his goat and it seems that he had to do something drastic to stop it. Line by Line Analysis of My Last Duchess Lines 35 - 46 Who'd stoop to blame....the duke asks a rhetorical question which he himself will answer (of course)...because he has all the control all of the time. He asks the emissary who would bother debating or denouncing such behaviour - he uses the word stoop which means to lower, so he's basically saying that, even if he had the verbal skills to have a go at the duchess he wouldn't because it's just a small thing in life (a trifling) and he would never stoop so low. It's a slick piece of denial. The duke does have verbal skills. He's none stop going on about the picture, so when he denies having the skills it's a blatant pretence. Plus, he's really bringing the duchess down in this section of the dramatic lyric and giving the game away somewhat. He admits that one or two of her traits disgusted him, and that he couldn't teach her differently. He says he never stooped that low (down to her level?) but in real life he probably did. Remember he's talking to the man who will report to his own boss about the suitability of the duke for hand in marriage of a second aristocratic female. So the duke is constantly addressing this man as Sir...and subtly plying him with fake news about his first wife. The duchess smiled at him yes, but it was the same smile she gave everyone. He wasn't that special to her. Or at least, that was his perception. She smiled too often it seems. The duke's jealousy grew. And grew. In lines 45 and 46 the poem shudders and shocks. The duke had the smiles stopped - does this mean he had someone murder his wife? Or did he send her off to a convent never to be seen again? Lines 47 - 56 The duke repeats what he said in lines 2 and 4...There she stands/As if alive. Note the pregnant pause between the lines. It's a chilling statement to end what has been an avalanche of pitiful, snobbish complaint from the duke. He asks the listener to get up. They've more people to meet so down the stairs they'll have to go. But the duke first mentions that this listener's boss, The Count, is known for his wealth so he expects to get a decent dowry...and that of course, it's the count's daughter who is uppermost in his thoughts (is my object). As they descend, the duke points out another work of art, this time a sculpture of Neptune taming a sea-horse. Again the theme is dominance, the Roman god of the sea managing to control the tiny sea-horse, just as the duke controls the picture by being the only one allowed to move the curtain. By mentioning the name of Claus of Innsbruck the duke is showing that he's really in it for the money and prestige. His ego and vanity cannot be suppressed - the poem ends with the words for me - how apt. The reader has to decide whether or not this man has done away with the duchess, still behind the curtain with that passionate glance, perhaps showing her true nature? Or did she die in sorrow, informing the artist to paint that spot of joy in defiance of her pretentious jealous husband? What is the Metre (Meter in American English) of My Last Duchess? My Last Duchess is written in iambic pentameter, that is, the lines have five iambic feet within usually ten syllables. The majority of the lines are pure iambic pentameter, bringing a steady rhythm and beat, but punctuation plays a major role in altering this from time to time. It must be noted also that many lines are not pure iambic pentameter. Trochaic, spondaic and pyrrhic feet play their part, changing the beats and stresses, bringing particular emphasis, or not, to certain words and phrases. Spondees, a foot of two stressed syllables, bring energy and punch. Trochees are inverted iambs, so the stress is on the first syllable, falling away on the second. Pyrrhic feet, two unstressed syllables, tend to quietly fill in between iambs and other feet.

Themes 2

Social Status, Art, and Elitism Though the poem doesn't outright condemn the duke, it does suggest that he's a brutish figure whose social status is in no way a reflection of any sort of moral worth. The duke repeatedly draws his guest's attention to his wealth and power, and issues veiled threats about what happens to those who don't put a high enough price on his social standing. Through the duke, the poem takes a subtle jab at the snobbery of the upper class, suggesting the shallowness of an elitist society that bestows respect based on things like having a good family name or owning fancy artwork. Instead, the poem reveals the various ways in which powerful men like the duke may use such markers of status simply to manipulate—and dominate—those around them. The duke repeatedly reminds the messenger of the power in his title. He does this in part by mentioning the famous artists (Fra Pandolf and Claus of Innsbruck) who created works especially for him, but also by mentioning his "nine-hundred-years-old name." The duke then moves quickly from intimidation to intimated threats when he hints that he had his former wife killed for not valuing his status sufficiently: he objects that she "ranked" his "nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody's gift" and so he "gave commands" that "stopped" her "smiles." Since the duke and his potential father-in-law, the Count, are about to sit down to discuss the fiancée's dowry, they will put a price on exactly how much his name is worth. Consequently, the duke's claim that the Count's generosity is "ample warrant"—that the Count will give him a substantial amount of money for the daughter's dowry—can actually be read as a veiled threat: the duke implies that, if the in-laws want their daughter to live, they will value his name and pay him a large sum. Immediately before beginning negotiations with the prospective in-laws, the duke also tells the emissary to admire a statue of Neptune "taming a sea-horse," made by a famous sculptor. The duke emphasis the statue's aesthetic merit as a means of imbuing himself with more importance: the statue is a "rarity" and was created just for him. This moment has nothing to do with the duke emphasizing his refined tastes and his appreciation of art. Instead, again, it serves as a warning: Neptune was the Roman god of the sea, and the statue depicts this god forcefully subduing a creature who challenged him. By drawing the emissary's attention to this statue before the negotiation, the duke implies that he himself is a godlike figure like Neptune, who will tame the emissary and the Count just as he did the former duchess. The trappings of upper-class status are again mainly a means for the duke to bully people. The duke's seemingly refined manner and opulent surroundings are thus no indication that he's any better than those with lesser means—or that he's even a decent person at all. Through this depiction, the poem offers a subtle rebuke of elitism and the upper class. To men like the duke, beauty is not something to be valued and appreciated; instead, it is only something to dominate.

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That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,Looking as if she were alive. I callThat piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf's handsWorked busily a day, and there she stands.First, note the pun in the title. Does "Last" here mean final, as in "the last one I will ever have?" or "The last one in a continuing line"? The answer is given in the poem, but forms part of the intrigue of the opening. The title is repeated in the first line, but immediately given a sinister overtone: "looking as if she were alive." This could be a reference to it being a life-like painting - or is it a reference to something else? The pride the Duke takes in the painting is evident - "a wonder" - so maybe he is simply reflecting on the skill of Fra Pandolf, the painter. Notice how the pattern of enjambment and caesura is set up, making the regular rhyme-scheme all but unnoticeable.Will't please you sit and look at her? I said"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never readStrangers like you that pictured countenance,The depth and passion of its earnest glance,But to myself they turned (since none puts byThe curtain I have drawn for you, but I)And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,How such a glance came there; so, not the firstAre you to turn and ask thus.It now becomes evident that the Duke is not talking to the reader, but to an unseen listener, although the effect is to put us, the reader, in that second person's place. And it also becomes clear that this is not the first time that the Duke has shown the picture to a visitor, and their reaction to the painting has been similar - amazement at the "depth and passion of its earnest glance" - and they all ask the same question - "how such a glance came there?" The Duke's response is in some ways equivocal. He names the painter "by design", as if to explain the artistry of the painting, and yet seems to take their question to refer to the Duchess's expression in real life. He also shows his pride of ownership (of JUST the painting?) in the assertion that nobody shows the painting to visitors, except him. It is his secret.Sir, 'twas notHer husband's presence only, called that spotOf joy into the Duchess' cheek; perhapsFra Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle lapsOver my lady's wrist too much," or "PaintMust never hope to reproduce the faintHalf-flush that dies along her throat."The use of enjambment between "twas not" and "her husband" is illustrative of Browning's use of the technique. Together with the iambic metre, the syntax and the comma, it forces the reader to put emphasis on "husband" and "only", which then becomes the focus of his explanation - that he was not the sole focus of the Duchess's attention. He then goes on to give examples of the events that caused the "spot/Of joy": comments from Fra Pandolf while she was sitting for her portrait. How are we meant to take these comments? As sexual innuendo or innocent chit-chat? Fra Pandolf presumably shows more of her wrist in the painting, as it has been covered by her cloak, as small wrists were a sign of beauty. He then declares himself inadequate to the task of reproducing the Duchess's blush - the "faint/Half-flush" - caused by his comment. Browning, on the other hand, is more than capable. He uses enjambment between "faint/Half-flush" placing the spondee "Half-flush" at the beginning of the line, giving both words equal weight. He then follows with three iambs - "that dies", "a-long", "her throat" - two strong beats giving way to a gradual weakening as the flush fades and our attention is drawn to where. Abruptly, as if we too have been guilty of staring, the Duke continues, with another spondee:Such stuffWas courtesy, she thought, and cause enoughFor calling up that spot of joy.His dismissive "such stuff", conveyed by the spondee, shows his displeasure with his Duchess's reaction to the painter's flattery, even though he acknowledges she thought of it as "courtesy" - politeness or gallantry.She hadA heart—how shall I say? — too soon made glad,Too easily impressed; she liked whate'erShe looked on, and her looks went everywhere.Sir, 'twas all one!The Duke's complaint against his Duchess now becomes more explicit. There are subtle clues as to how we are supposed to take his censure, first in the placing of the "A heart". Having a heart is positive - but the Duke's posing of the rhetorical question and the qualifier "too soon" sounds the wrong note - how can you be made glad too easily? His re-iteration changes the meaning slightly, but towards the negative - "too easily impressed". We learn that she looked favourably on everything and everyone - "'twas all one!" She did not discriminate. So what are we to think about the Duchess at this point? Too easily flattered? Embarrassed when she is paid a compliment? Easily pleased? Liking everybody? The Duke gives us some more examples of things that gave her pleasure - and which seem to annoy him:My favour at her breast,The dropping of the daylight in the West,The bough of cherries some officious foolBroke in the orchard for her, the white muleShe rode with round the terrace—all and eachWould draw from her alike the approving speech,Or blush, at least.A "favour" is a love-token, flowers or a ribbon, given by a man to his beloved. This is what the Duke feels the Duchess should value above all. Browning's uses a greater lyricism, in contrast to the colloquial rhythms of the preceding lines, to suggest how we are to interpret the Duchess's response to the Duke's list. He uses alliteration on "dropping" and "daylight" to describe her love of the sunset. He contrasts the Duke's dismissive "some officious fool" with the image of the (innocent) gift of a "bough of cherries", placing the "Broke" at the start of the line, to imitate the action of the breaking branch, and creating a dactyl (one heavy, two light beats) to place a further emphasis on "orchard". He places emphasis on "white mule" - white the symbol of purity, a donkey echoing Christ's journey into Jerusalem. She rides it "round the terrace" - suggesting she is confined, or perhaps that the Duchess is little more than a child. The images are of the natural world, in contrast to the Duke's artificial, artful one and the lyricism (and rhyme) is in contrast to the Duke's clipped dismissiveness - and increasing self-justification.She thanked men—good! but thankedSomehow—I know not how—as if she rankedMy gift of a nine-hundred-years-old nameWith anybody's gift.Browning's lyricism gives way to the self-justifying, true "voice" of the Duke and we hear what is really bothering him - that she was as pleased by the simple things in life - sunset, cherries, her white mule, pleasantries - as much as she was pleased by what he gave her - status, a title and a "nine-hundred-years-old name." Browning places the emphasis on "My gift", again using enjambement and a spondee at the start of the line. The true extent of his self-absorption and egoism are made clear as he begins to lose control, his sense of outrage growing:Who'd stoop to blameThis sort of trifling? Even had you skillIn speech—which I have not—to make your willQuite clear to such an one, and say, "Just thisOr that in you disgusts me; here you miss,Or there exceed the mark"—and if she letHerself be lessoned so, nor plainly setHer wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—E'en then would be some stooping; and I chooseNever to stoop.The language becomes increasingly threatening: "your will/Quite clear", "disgusts", "exceed the mark", "lessoned" and the iambic pentametre rhythm more insistent. The climax comes with the repetition of "stooping" and "stoop", with the breaking of the regular iambic lines with the spondee on "I choose" and the dactyl on "Never to stoop" following the enjambment. The full extent of the Duke's anger - and what he does to allay it - becomes clear, as he reveals himself to the listener.Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,Whene'er I passed her; but who passed withoutMuch the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;Then all smiles stopped together. There she standsAs if alive.The regular iambic line gives way to a series of broken lines as the Duke reveals what he has done, conversationally. Browning uses two spondees together to give sinister emphasis to the Duke's admittance of murder "Then all smiles stopped". The meaning of his introductory words, "as if alive", repeated here and placed chillingly at the beginning of the line, are now clear. He has had her murdered on his orders.Will't please you rise? We'll meetThe company below, then.The reaction of the listener is to leap to his feet and head for the stairs - notice the abrupt transition to the listener and the placing of the "then" at the end of the sentence, as if the Duke has, for once, and only momentarily, lost the initiative. The Duke continues talking, seemingly unaware of the reaction his revelation has had on his audience.I repeat,The Count your master's known munificenceIs ample warrant that no just pretenseOf mine for dowry will be disallowed;Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowedAt starting, is my object.The Duke reverts to an earlier topic of conversation, as if the revelation just made can go unremarked. The reason for the listener's visit is made clear - he has come to broker a new marriage between his master, the Count, and the Duke. The "last Duchess" is, indeed, the latest in a chain. The Duke is asserting that he is sure his demand for a dowry for the girl (the bridal gift from a father to the future son-in-law) will be sufficiently generous although, he insists, the girl herself is what he wants - but the word "object" belies this. Browning is punning on "object" as in "objective" and "object" as "thing". She is just a trophy to him.Nay, we'll goTogether down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!The envoy appears to make a further move to get away but is stayed by the Duke, shown by the syntax that places "Together" at the beginning of the line, - "Nay, we'll go/Together down." As they leave, the Duke points out another "object" (or "objet d'art" as Browning is punning) - a statue of Neptune, God of the Sea, taming a seahorse. This image is deliberately ambiguous. As God of the Sea, Neptune rode huge horses with the tails of fish, as depicted in classical art here. But to us, a seahorse is a tiny fish, conjuring up the image of a powerful man dominating a much weaker creature - just as the Duke has dominated, and ultimately killed, his Duchess. To the Duke, she was a possession to reflect his power and status, as much as the painting by a famous artist or a bronze by a famous sculptor.

Big duke of Ferrara

The Duke of Ferrara In the 1842 publication of "My Last Duchess," the word Ferrara was not present. It was added in 1849. The poem is loosely based on the historical figure of Duke Alfonso II d'Este (1533-97), an Italian duke who married a young girl, Lucrezia de' Medici, in 1558. At the time of their marriage, the duke was age 25, and Lucrezia was 14. Lucrezia was only 17 when she died in 1561. There were suspicions surrounding her death—some claimed she had been poisoned, but this was never proven. In 1565 the duke married Barbara, the daughter of Ferdinand, Count of Tyrol. Barbara died in 1572, and the duke's third marriage was to Margherita Gonzaga in 1579. Browning's Dramatic Monologues The dramatic monologue—a poetic form associated primarily with Browning—is a poem in which the speaker is the true focus of the poem. By way of his or her speech, the speaker of the poem reveals both personality and secrets to at least one silent witness. The characters in these poems are supposed to be talking about a subject, but the reader primarily learns about the speaker's personality and psychology. To better understand why this particular form of poetry is a natural fit for Browning, the reader might recall Browning was also a playwright. Although he was unsuccessful, playwriting influenced his writing. The tradition of monologues in theater is longstanding. What Browning has done here is adapt the monologue form to poetry. One example of this adaptation is evident in Browning's The Ring and the Book (1868-69). Here he takes the short monologue form and lends it to multiple characters who collectively reveal the story of a murder. Much like English novelist Wilkie Collins had done in The Moonstone (1868), Browning uses his dramatic monologue to explore a mystery. Both The Ring and the Book and The Moonstone were released around the same time, and both utilize the idea of limited narrative in early examples of detective fiction. Collins's novel is largely considered to be the first novel-length detective fiction. However, it is contemporary with The Ring and the Book, which does the same thing, but in a series of dramatic monologues rather than in prose. Both of these detective-style stories were published after the short stories of American writer Edgar Allan Poe, including "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" (1841) and "The Purloined Letter" (1845). The reader will recall "My Last Duchess" was one of the poems included in Dramatic Lyrics (1842). Duke of Ferrara A dramatic monologue reveals more about the speaker than about the subject, so the duke's personality is the true subject of the poem. In his words he reveals he is wealthy, has a deceased wife, and is seeking a new wife. The duke is the "only one" to open the curtains that cover the late duchess's portrait, indicating he is a controlling man. He has a long family history (a 900-year-old name), and he is arrogant, choosing never to "stoop." Duchess of Ferrara The duchess, according to her husband, was easily made happy, enjoyed nature, riding her mule, and his presence. She did not, however, enjoy his presence more than everything else. In his monologue this is presented as a shortcoming. Marriage broker The marriage broker is negotiating on behalf of an unnamed count who wants his daughter to be the next duchess. During the discussion, the duke invites the marriage broker to see his private art gallery. There hangs a portrait of the last duchess, now deceased. The broker sits on a bench to view the painting as the duke describes its creation and the fate of the duchess. Afterward, the pair go back downstairs to continue their negotiations.

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The real character of the duke is gradually 'unmasked' in the process of his talk. He is a murderer who had killed his innocent young wife out of jealousy. He boasts about his great name and status in a mean manner. He is a Philistine (one who pretends to be a lover or expert of art). The irony lies not only in that he is not what he thinks he is, but more in that he doesn't realize how he is unwittingly telling the truth. He reveals all the truths about his devilish character when he is trying to prove himself a great man. Browning takes up a moment and makes the character speak of something that reveals so much behind what is being said. The duke here pulls the mask off his own face.The poem is unique for its technique of dramatic revelation of character. The colloquial language, the rough rhythms like that of the ordinary language of conversation, the very ordinary situation and many such features make the poem realistic and memorable. The poem is rather compressed, elliptical (full of gaps) and difficult at first sight, and it needs a critical mind to explore the reality behind the story the Duke tells. The historical background is not essential, but adds to our understanding of the poem.The features that make the poem a 'dramatic monologue' are: a character who speaks to someone specific (addressee) and in the manner of a dramatic speech, physical setting like that of a drama, the monologue or the speech of one character only, actions (though they are limited to sitting and standing and moving around) that are implied by the speech, and the plot or a set of developing action suggested by the monologue.The poem opens with the reference, by the Duke of Ferrara to the portrait of his last Duchess. The Duke says that the figure in the portrait has the very look of life. This cannot be mistaken as a hint of lament. Browning's use of irony exposes the Duke to us: the Duke himself could not know the natural liveliness of the Duchess and remained a stranger to his own wife because of his obsession with himself. The aggressive individualism of the Duke and his tyranny of possession already indicated in "my" of the first line are reinforced in his pride of being the only person to draw the curtain away from the portrait. The sense of superiority of aristocratic isolation is also indicated here in the hint that others dare not ask the Duke any questions. The Duke may be a lover of art, but is "essentially a savage, however he may appear superficially" (Ralph Ranald: The Poetry of Robert Browning).The possessiveness and the jealousy of the Duke as husband is revealed when he tells the listener that the smiles of the Duchess were not reserved only for her husband. How vigilant, he was under the provocation of jealousy, is proved by the example that he gives. The word "per-haps" indicates that he is not even certain about what he says and proves Emilia's statement that the jealous persons are jealous because they are jealous and not due to any other reason. He imagines that probably the monk-painter hinted at the gown excessively covering the wrist of the Duchess or that the artist remarked that his art could never recapture the delicate beauty of the Duchess and the Duchess thought that she must respond with cheerful courtesy. Herein may be read also the implicit hint by Browning that life is greater than art. The generosity and spontaneity of the humanitarian Duchess were quite unacceptable to the Duke, who here becomes the Victorian conventionalist.From the smiles and courtesy of the Duchess the Duke now passes on to consider, or rather just tells about himself and fails to understand, the "heart" of the Duchess. This is Browning's chance to reveal through the dramatic contrast the heartlessness of the Duke. The Duke says that language fails him to communicate to others the quality of the heart of the Duchess. He then refers to the Duchess as pliant, receptive, generous and alive to the world around her by saying that happiness and the impressions of things came naturally to her. He then proceeds to refer to the sense of equanimity in the acutely sensitive Duchess. He notes with the sense of conventional Victorian shock that she, through the blush or through the words, weighed the trifles (for the Duke) like the sunset scene on the Western horizon, the cherries brought to her by some intruder (in the Duke's sole property rights over the Duchess), or the mule that she rode on equally with his 'significant' embracement—it must be noted here that the Duke embraces only the body but the Duchess embraces natural and universal humanity.The excellence of the poem lies in the dramatic irony of the Duke's witlessness. The Duke is, in fact, neither dull nor shrewd to perfection. Browning's important point is to show the false pride and personal vanity of the Duke. The words "such a one" indicate how insignificant the Duchess is to the conventional and obstinately ego-centered Duke. The Duke, like the stale Victorian husband, thinks that by bringing the Duchess into his establishment like any other commodity, he had secured a monopoly over her into the bargain. He liked her smiles only for himself, but would stifle her humanity if directed towards others. The Narcissus complex of the Duke and the resultant jealously could not go hand in hand with the humanitarian values of the Duchess and the conflict raised to the climax must bring the tragedy.The bronze statue of Neptune provides the final symbolic statement of the meaning of the poem; Neptune tames the sea-horse, just as the Duke had "tamed" his wife. It may be suggested that the Duke failed to "tame" the last Duchess unless murder be called taming. Undoubtedly the Duke sees himself in the image of Neptune and the last word "me" in the context indicates his tyranny of possession. It is not just being Machiavellian; rather the Duke emerges ultimately as the symbol of Victorian husband, who in a man-oriented society thinks of himself as master and of woman as dehumanized creature, a domesticated animal. Hence the whole social background of Browning's contemporary world lurks through the poem and it does not remain just a study of the Italian Renaissance which is traditionally associated with the poem.The Duke is simultaneously the Renaissance Machiavellian figure and the Victorian man with his vanity; materialism, lack of spirituality, and lack of awareness of human values. The Duchess is also a symbol, that of natural humanity. The murder of the Duchess under the commands of the Duke shows the ultimate human depravity resulting from suppression of human values in the Renaissance world and the Victorian world.

Yet another summary

The speaker (the Duke of Ferrara) directs the attention of a guest to a painting of his former wife, the Duchess of Ferrara, which hangs on the wall. The Duke praises the painting for looking so lifelike and then remarks on how hard the painter, Fra Pandolf, worked hard on it. The duke asks the guest to sit and look at the work. The duke then explains that he deliberately mentioned the name of the painter, because strangers like the emissary always look at the duchess's painted face—with its deep, passionate, and earnest glance—and turn to the duke (and only the duke, since only he pulls back the curtain that reveals the painting) and act as though they would ask, if they dared, how an expression like that came into her face. The duke reiterates that the guest isn't the first person to ask this question. The duke continues by saying that it wasn't only his presence that brought that look into the painted eyes of the duchess or the blush of happiness into her painted cheek; he suggests that perhaps Fra Pandolf had happened to compliment her by saying "her shawl drapes over her wrist too much" or "paint could never recreate the faint half-blush that's fading on her throat." The duke insists that the former duchess thought that polite comments like those were reason enough to blush, and criticizes her, in a halting way, for being too easily made happy or impressed. He also claims that she liked everything and everyone she saw, although his description suggests that she was ogling everyone who crossed her path. The duke objects that, to his former duchess, everything was the same and made her equally happy, whether it was a brooch or present from him that she wore at her chest, the sun setting in the West, a branch of cherries which some interfering person snapped off a tree in the orchard for her, or the white mule she rode on around the terrace. He claims that she would say the same kind words or give the same blush in response to all of them. The duke also objects to her manner of thanking men, although he struggles to describe his concerns. Specifically, he complains that she values his pedigree and social position (his 900-year-old name) as equally important to anyone else's gifts to her. The duke rhetorically asks whether anyone would actually lower themselves enough to argue with someone about their behavior. The duke imagines a hypothetical situation in which he would confront the former duchess: he says that even if he were good with words and were able to clearly say, "This characteristic of yours disgusts me," or, "Here you did too little or too much"—and if the former duchess had let herself be degraded by changing, instead of being stubborn and making excuses— that even then the act of confronting her would be beneath him, and he refuses to ever lower himself like that. The duke then returns to his earlier refrain about his former wife's indiscriminate happiness and complains to his guest that, while the duchess did smile at him whenever they passed, she gave everyone else the same smile as well. The duke explains that she began smiling at others even more, so he gave orders and all her smiles stopped forever, presumably because he had her killed. Now she only lives on in the painting. The duke then asks the guest to stand up and to go with him to meet the rest of the guests downstairs. He also says that the Count, revealed here as the guest's master and the father of the duke's prospective bride-to-be, is so known for his generosity in matters of money that no request the duke could make for a dowry could be turned down. The duke also adds quickly that he has always insisted since the beginning of their discussions that the Count's beautiful daughter, and not the dowry, is his primary objective. The duke ends his speech by demanding that he and the Count's emissary go downstairs together, and on their way, he directs the emissary's attention to a statue of the God Neptune taming a seahorse, which is a rare work of art that Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze specifically for him.

This is certainly something

Art There are two pieces of art in the poem. The first is the painting of the duchess, which can be seen only with the duke's permission. The second is the sculpture of the Roman god Neptune taming a seahorse so it can be controlled. In both cases the art serves as a symbolic representation of control over a weaker entity. This focus on art is also indicated by acknowledging its creators. Both of the artists are named: painter Frà Pandolf, and sculptor Claus of Innsbruck. Notably, these are not historical figures, although the Duke and Duchess of Ferrara are—as is the servant of the count to whom the duke is speaking. The Reader Within a dramatic monologue, the reader is either positioned alongside a stated audience, or eavesdropping. This poem lists an audience: the servant of the count. Because there is a stated audience, the reader can position him or herself alongside the servant of the count, or in the position of overhearing the duke. Narrative Reliability Notably, the duke has said others have "turned" to him and "seemed as they would ask me, if they durst." He does not say anyone has actually asked, nor is it clear the listener has asked. He further expresses he could not express himself clearly, denying the same "skill in speech" he demonstrates in his monologue. These lines—which reveal dishonesty—will make the reader question the truthfulness of the duchess's history the duke shares with the count's servant. This narrative reliability also invites the reader to question the duchess's fate. The implication in the duke's statement—"I gave commands"—is he had his wife murdered. This is furthered, incidentally, by the historical source of the poem. The death of the historical Duchess of Ferrara was suspicious, and poisoning was suspected, but not confirmed. Regardless of the reliability of the duke's statement, his pronouncement he "gave commands" establishes his power, and he is not to be trifled with.

Literary devices

Assonance: Assonance is the repetition of vowel sounds in the same line such as the sound of /o/ in "Her wits to your, forsooth, and made excuses" and the sound of /i/ and /o/ in "Of mine for dowry will be disallowed". Symbolism: Symbolism is using symbols to signify ideas and qualities, giving them symbolic meanings different from literal meanings. The painting of the Duke's last Duchess symbolizes how he objectifies women as property or possessions. "White mule" symbolizes her innocence and purity. "Taming a sea-horse" is a symbol of Duke taming his wife. Enjambment: Enjambment refers to the continuation of a sentence without the pause beyond the end of a line, couplet or stanza such as: "The Count your master's known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretense Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;" Consonance: Consonance is the repetition of consonant sounds in the same line such as the sound of /t/ in "Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though" and the sound of /n/ in "The Count your master's known munificence." Irony: Irony is a figure of speech in which words are used in such a way that their intended meaning is different from the actual meaning of the words. The title is ironic because the dead mistress is not his last lady, as he is going to marry again. Simile: Simile is a device used to compare something with something else to make the meanings clear. There is only one simile used in this poem. For example, "That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive." Hyperbole: Hyperbole is a device used to exaggerate a statement for the sake of emphasis. The poet has used hyperbole in the line twenty-four, "She looked on, and her looks went everywhere." Alliteration: Alliteration is the repetition of consonant sounds in the same line such as the sound of /d/ in "The dropping of the daylight in the West" and the sound of /s/ in "Then all the smiles stopped together There she stands". Euphemism: A euphemism is a polite expression used in place of words or phrases that might otherwise be considered harsh or unpleasant. For example, "Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands."

The statue of Neptune

At the end of the poem, the duke directs his guest's attention toward this bronze statue by the famous Claus of Innsbruck. Neptune is the Roman god of the sea, and the statue represents dominance. As such, the statue perfectly reflects the duke's opinion of himself: he sees himself as an all-powerful god who tames and subdues everything around him, whether wives or prospective in-laws. What's more, the statue is "a rarity," further implying how special and powerful the duke must be in order to be in possession of it. The language the duke uses when describing the statue suggests how he plans to dominate and control his prospective fiancée and in-laws (including the Count and his daughter). For instance, the duke commands the emissary to wait for him (the duke) to go downstairs with the words "Nay, we'll go / Together down, sir," and has therefore moved from asking ("Will't please you rise?" in line 47) to dictating and controlling others' movements. The duke issues another command in line 54 with the phrase "Notice Neptune," and the alliteration of those words emphasizes that refusing isn't a possibility. Finally, the line "Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity" has several metrical oddities in keeping with its symbolic representation of dominance. The word "taming" is a trochee instead of an iamb, and therefore breaks the poem's metrical pattern as dramatically as Neptune broke the sea horses. Meanwhile, the caesura between "sea-horse" and "thought" breaks the iamb in the same way the duke hopes to break the in-laws.

Essay 80

Browning's "My Last Duchess" is a dramatic monologue, a form that was particularly prevalent during the Victorian period (1837-1901). This form enabled Browning to explore the inner workings of the mind of a narcissistic, power-obsessed tyrant from the past much as a novelist might. The speakers of dramatic monologues are often biased and decidedly unreliable, presenting only partial or warped perspectives on events. That certainly seems to be the case with the duke: he repeatedly explains that his former wife was unfaithful and deserved punishment, but a careful examination of the poem reveals that she was only guilty of being kind to others and smiling too much. Yet because only the duke is talking, he controls the narrative. The poem doesn't have clear breaks or stanzas, and instead consists of one long stream of couplets, 28 in all (we've highlighted just the first two here, since the pattern continues unbroken throughout the poem). The lack of distinct stanzas subtly reflects the duke's clear love of hearing his own voice and refusal to cede the floor; he talks so much that there isn't room for a stanza break, much like there isn't room for any interjections from the person to whom he is speaking. Finally, the poem contains both open couplets (rhymed enjambed lines) and closed, or heroic couplets (rhymed end-stopped lines). We've highlighted an example of each. Heroic couplets were particularly popular in England in the 18th century, and because of their regularity, were considered an ideal form for literature of high seriousness, such as translations of ancient Greek epics. Open couplets, because of the lack of punctuation at the end of a line, are more flexible and subtly deemphasize their final rhymes. Browning's poem uses both types of couplets, but the couplets are more often open than closed. Perhaps Browning is suggesting that the duke is not as heroic as he imagines himself to be, and that the duke's cruelty, like the poem's rhymes, are hiding in plain sight, and waiting for someone to notice the disturbing pattern.

Tiny critics

Browning's "My Last Duchess" is partly an important poem because of its unusual point of view. The poem is told using first person, which means that the readers should be able to closely access the narrator (the Duke) and his thoughts. However, despite the fact that the poem uses first person, we eventually learn that the poem is only telling part of the story, and that the Duke is perhaps not the most reliable narrator. Critics typically discuss the ways that Browning brilliantly layers complex hidden meanings beneath the surface of the Duke's perspective. Browning carefully crafts the poem so that, while the Duke says one thing, readers can infer multiple other meanings. Critics also praise this poem for being historically accurate in its depiction of the Duke as a power-hungry, arrogant, and misogynistic aristocrat. During a time when women had much less power and freedom than they do now, Browning gives us a poem that could be seen as a protest against domestic abuse, the mistreatment of women, and the abuse of power against those with less power and less rights.

Meter

Browning's "My Last Duchess" is written in iambic pentameter throughout, although some lines make that easier to detect than others. The poem's final line is one of the simplest to scan, since the entire line is one complete phrase and with proper names to show the stresses: Which Claus | of Inns- | bruck cast | in bronze | for me! Iambic pentameter tends to mimic the sound of regular speech, meaning its use here makes the poem sound more conversational—like the duke is just chatting with a friend rather than artfully choosing his words. Of course, this is likely the duke's intent—to seem like he's speaking off the cuff, when in reality he's following a strict script that allows him to dominate and manipulate his listeners. The meter, too, seems conversational, but follows a pretty strict pattern—for the most part. The poem does break from this pattern at times, though, as the first two lines demonstrate: That's my | last Duch- | ess pain- | ted on | the wall, Looking | as if | she were | alive. | I call The word "Looking" is a trochee, and by putting it at the beginning of the second line of the poem, Browning subtly destabilizes the meter of the opening. At this moment, this irregularity makes the poem sound more conversational—these metrical substitutions are like brief interruptions to keep it from becoming too carefully controlled. Other moments that break with the established meter have a different effect. Note, for example, another trochee starting line 43: Never | to stoop. | Oh, sir, | she smiled, | no doubt, and line 55: Taming | a sea- | horse, thought | a rar | ity, In both lines, the trochees add a sense a forcefulness that mimics the lines' content. The duke chooses never to stoop; and Neptune (a figure in whom the duke surely sees himself) is bolding taming the sea-horse. Meter, here, reflects the duke's desire for dominance and control. (Note that the meter of the final foot and a half of line 55 could reasonably be seen as being rar | ity without changing the meaning of the line in a significant way). Thematically, then, while the poem seems to resemble normal speech in terms of its meter, Browning controls the pace as much as the duke controls the flow of his conversation with the emissary.

Enjambment

Browning's use of enjambment makes the poem sound conversational. It tends to obscure where one line ends and another begins, which subtly deemphasizes the meter, rhyme scheme, and number of feet in the line. This poem uses predominantly enjambed lines throughout in part to reflect the fact that it is a dramatic monologue, and therefore is understood as being spoken to a listener. Again, the free-flowing lines suggest a conversational tone. They also suggest that the duke likes to hear himself talk, as his speech spills over from one line to the next offering no chance for his guest to voice any interruptions. Enjambment thus allows the duke to control the conversation and reflects his need to dominate and manipulate those around him. One of the most striking examples of enjambment occurs towards the end of the poem, in lines 31-39: She thanked men—good! but thanked Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame This sort of trifling? Even had you skill In speech—which I have not—to make your will Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the mark" Because of the seven consecutive enjambed lines, it is nearly impossible to tell where one line ends and another begins when the passage is read out loud. The words topple over the boundaries of the line, as though the duke is so horrified by the duchess's actions and by the idea of confronting her that he can no longer make clear, linear sentences. It might seem as though the duke truly does lack the "skill / In speech" to reprimand her. However, the duke had mentioned earlier that he has spoken to others about his wife's behavior before, so this conversation with the emissary is not the first on the subject, and his love of controlling conversations with props (like the painting, chair, and curtains) further suggests that he plans out all details, no matter how small. As a result, the enjambment that seems to show the duke losing control over the conversation is arguably evidence that even his loss of control is all an act, and that he has scripted even his supposedly unscripted moments. Essentially, then, Browning uses enjambment to show the duke's obsession with controlling how others view him and to show that the duke is fundamentally untrustworthy.

Victorian women

Certainly, women were oppressed during the 1500s, the era in which "My Last Duchess" takes place. Yet, the poem is less of a critique of the feudalistic ways of medieval Europe and more of an attack on the biased, overbearing views and rules of Victorian society. Literature of the era, in circles both journalistic and literary, portrayed women as fragile creatures in need of a husband. For a Victorian woman to be morally good, she must embody "sensitivity, self-sacrifice, innate purity." All of these traits are exhibited by the Duchess, if we assume that her marriage was an act of self-sacrifice. While many Victorian husbands desired a pure, virginal bride, they also desired physical, mental, and sexual conquest. If a man was not satisfied with his wife, a woman who was his legal subordinate in the eyes of the law, he might not kill her off as the Duke so cavalierly does in Browning's poem. However, the husband might very well patronize one of London's many prostitutes, thereby obliterating the sanctity of the marriage and endangering his innocent wife otherwise.

Structure / form

Cyclical structure: The poem starts and ends with a command from the Duke. Punctuation: Parenthesis — "(since none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)" — This line is enclosed in brackets, imitating the way in which the painting is enclosed by the curtain. Dashes — "Even had you skill / In speech — which I have not — " — Shows a slight digression in which the Duke attempts to be self deprecating, it's an example of verbal irony given that he is speaking so much without giving the envoy any time to reply, so he must really view himself as skilled in speech . Caesura — "This grew; I gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together." — The two semicolons in this quotation create dramatic pauses, increasing suspense for the audience. The first gives us pause to reflect on how the Duke became increasingly angered by the Duchess's behaviour, and the second creates a frightening pause where we wonder what his commands were. The sibilant phrase 'all smiles stopped' euphemistically lets us know that his commands were to have her killed. The cold and unemotional delivery of this line confirms our suspicions about the Duke's psychopathic behaviour, and shifts the tone (volta) to become quite frightening and menacing — we are afraid of his power and obsessive control. Single stanza: One long stanza shows the Duke's dominance over the envoy and environment, his need to control everything around him. Dramatic monologue: Written from the point of view of a character, as if it's a speech in a play. Speaker: Duke of Ferrara Addressee: Envoy, servant sent to negotiate the terms of the new marriage to the new duchess, takes him on a tour of his art collection Starts in medias res: In the middle of things, so the reader feels displaced.

Line by line

Lines 1-5 From the poem's opening line, Browning shows the duke of Ferrara's obsession with possessing and objectifying women. The duke is describing a painting of his former wife rather than the woman herself, but he still describes the painting itself as "my last Duchess," thereby eroding the differences between the art and the woman who inspired it. Both are essentially the same in the duke's mind, or at least he'd prefer it if this were so. The duke personifies the painting throughout this passage, both by saying "there she stands," as though the duchess herself and not her image in the painting is standing against the wall, and "will't please you sit and look at her," instead of asking the messenger to look at "it" or "the painting." This again suggests that he views the woman and the work of art as one and the same. The duke also makes it clear that he cares for the status the painting can give him and not for the nostalgia or memories about his former wife. He remarks on the artistry of the painting in seeming so lifelike ("looking as if she were alive"), rather than on missing her, since the woman herself as we will soon find out, has died. Likewise, he describes the artwork as "a piece" and "a wonder," and brags about how "busily" the famous Fra Pandolf worked to paint it, in a move calculated to impress the emissary with the quality of his art collection and therefore his wealth. It's also worth noting that, although the duke focuses on Fra Pandolf's hands, there's no mention of his former wife's hands—or, in fact, of any part of her body in this section, an absence that suggests the duke's interest in the painting's monetary rather than sentimental worth. These lines also reveal the duke's subtle control of conversations and physical spaces. The duke is clearly guiding the emissary through his estate and art collection like a tour guide, telling him what to admire, what to think about it, and even when to sit. By having the emissary sitting while he stands, the duke literally elevates himself above his guest and shows him the power hierarchy that he tries to preserve in all his interactions with others. The poem's opening also shows that Browning is controlling the meter and rhyme scheme of the poem as carefully as the duke controls the conversation and the space: when read aloud, the poem sounds almost conversational in tone, and people are often surprised to realize it consists of iambic pentameter rhyming couplets. The many enjambed lines ( such as lines 2 and 3: "I call / That piece a wonder, now") make sentences extend well beyond the confines of the lines and the frequent caesuras introduce natural pauses into the middle of lines (as with "Looking as if she were alive." in line 2). By having so many caesuras and so few end-stopped lines, Browning deemphasizes the lines themselves, with their five feet and their rhyming couplets. He instead creates a style that sounds more akin to prose.

Rhyme scheme

My Last Duchess" is written in rhyming couplets. The rhymes are all perfect rhymes, and the scheme of the poem is consistent throughout. It follows this pattern: AABBCCDD And so forth right unit the end of the poem. The rhyme scheme is subtly deemphasized, however, by the poem's lack of end-stopped lines: because all the lines are enjambed, freely flowing from one to the next without definitive ends, the rhymes seem nearly hidden when read out loud. The ends of sentences don't always align with the end of the actual lines of poetry, and this gives the poem a more conversational quality. The opening lines of the poem demonstrate this: That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands "Wall" and "call" rhyme, but because the sentence with "call" is enjambed, the rhyme almost disappears; the line flows swiftly on to the next line in order to complete its sentence, rather than lingering on the rhyme sound of "call" itself. In other words, there's no real pause between "call" and the next line, which makes it easy to almost gloss right over the rhyme, to fail to notice it, when the poem is read aloud (and as a dramatic monologue it's understood that the duke is indeed meant to be speaking these words). The same can be said of many spots throughout the poem. Take lines 13-16: Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not Her husband's presence only, called that spot Of joy into the Duchess' cheek; perhaps Fra Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle laps While it's easy to visually spot the rhymes when looking at the poem on the page, if you speak these lines out loud and respect the enjambment, you'll see how the rhymes are actually quite subtle and natural sounding. There's not any especially prevalent emphasis on the rhymes within these sentences, though they clearly appear in a very regular pattern. Thematically, this relates to the fact that duke controls things while pretending to be talking off the cuff: the poem seems to resemble normal speech in terms of its rhyme scheme, but Browning controls the sounds as tightly as the Duke controls the conversation.

Analysis of poetic devices

Poetic and literary devices are the same, but a few are used only in poetry. Here is the analysis of some of the poetic devices used in this poem. Stanza: A stanza is a poetic form of some lines. There is one long stanza in the poem having fifty-six lines in it. Iambic Pentameter: It is a type of meter having five iambs per line. The poem follows iambic pentameter such as, "looking as if she were alive I call". End Rhyme: End rhyme is used to make the stanza melodious. The examples of end rhyme in the poem are, "wall/call", "hands/stands" and "meet/repeat". Heroic Couplet: Heroic couplet is a pair of rhymed lines with iambic pentameter. The poem consists of twenty-eight heroic couplets. For example, "Strangers like you that pictured countenance, The depth and passion of its earnest glance," Robert Browning was a prolific poet and at times his poetry drew a stark contrast to that of his famous wife Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who was a rather gentle poet. A perfect example is his dramatic monologue, "My Last Duchess," which is a dark and daring portrait of a domineering man. The misogynistic character of the poem is a severe contrast to Browning himself who—while writing in the persona of men like the duke, who dominated (and barely loved) their wives—penned endearing love poems to his own Elizabeth. Browning exercises what John Keats referred to as negative capability: an artist's capacity to lose himself in his characters, revealing nothing of his own personality, political views, or philosophies. Though written in 1842, "My Last Duchess" is set in the 16th century. And yet, it speaks volumes of the treatment of women in the Victorian time of the Brownings. To critique the oppressive, male-dominated society of his age, Browning often gave voice to villainous characters, each representing the antithesis of his worldview.

Language

Rhetorical Question — "Will't please you sit and look at her?" / "Will't please you rise?" > The Duke asks seemingly friendly questions but these are also kind of a command given the context of the envoy's status being much lower than the Duke, the questions create a cyclical structure. First person singular pronoun — "The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)" > extremely controlling, power play / dominance / shows self obsession — singular pronoun, he never says 'we', always 'I' and 'my' vs 'she', showing their separation Structure : Foreshadowing — "Half-flush that dies along her throat." > Foreshadows her death, but also provocative.m Repetition:'stoop' is repeated three times. ''spot of joy' or 'spot / Of joy'is also repeated. 'Fra Pandolf' is repeated — he's an extremely famous painter so it shows his wealth and status / and his obsessiveness and superiority. Simile — 'looking as if she were alive' Third person pronoun — 'she' is repeated, almost in a bitter tone to show the Duke's anger (we're not given her real name, she is just called the 'Last Duchess' — her title). Possessive pronoun — "my" — Shows his fixation on possessing the Duchess, how he views his wife as his property (a common belief at the time), he treats her as he treats his other works of art, demonstrating a materialistic attitude — interestingly, he is irritated by her refusal to be 'his', to dedicate herself completely to him. Metaphor / Symbol — 'Neptune .. Taming a seahorse' — suggests he views himself in the position of a God, that nature bends to his will, a symbol of masculinity and virility, whereas the seahorse is beautiful but powerless. Middle English phrasing — Gives a feeling of authenticity of the time period e.g. 'will't please you'. Synecdoche — 'her looks went everywhere'.

b

Robert Browning was a prolific poet and at times his poetry drew a stark contrast to that of his famous wife Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who was a rather gentle poet. A perfect example is his dramatic monologue, "My Last Duchess," which is a dark and daring portrait of a domineering man.The misogynistic character of the poem is a severe contrast to Browning himself who—while writing in the persona of men like the duke, who dominated (and barely loved) their wives—penned endearing love poems to his own Elizabeth.Browning exercises what John Keats referred to as negative capability: an artist's capacity to lose himself in his characters, revealing nothing of his own personality, political views, or philosophies.Though written in 1842, "My Last Duchess" is set in the 16th century. And yet, it speaks volumes of the treatment of women in the Victorian time of the Brownings. To critique the oppressive, male-dominated society of his age, Browning often gave voice to villainous characters, each representing the antithesis of his worldview.Dramatic MonologueWhat sets this poem apart from many others is that it is a dramatic monologue—a type of poem in which a character distinctly different from that of the poet is speaking to someone else. Actually, some dramatic monologues feature speakers who talk to themselves, but the monologues with "silent characters," such as "My Last Duchess," display more artistry, more theatrics in storytelling because they are not mere confessions (as is Browning's "Porphyria's Lover"). Instead, readers can imagine a specific setting and detect action and reaction based on the hints given within the verse.

Context

Robert Browning, along with Alfred Tennyson and Augusta Webster, was one of the great Victorian innovators of the dramatic monologue. Such monologues often reveal deep (and troubling) insight into their speakers, typically without said speaker even realizing it. This is certainly the case with the duke of this poem, whose complaints about his wife instead reveal his own deep character flaws. Browning repeatedly turned to the form to explore the psychology of his characters, whether they were psychopaths and murders ("Porphyria's Lover") or artists ("Andrea del Sarto"). "My Last Duchess" was first published in Dramatic Lyrics (1842), which was the first of Browning's several volumes of dramatic monologues. Like several of his dramatic monologues and longer narrative poems, Browning set "My Last Duchess" in Renaissance Italy, and although his speaker, the Duke of Ferrara is not an artist himself (as are the speakers of "A Toccata of Galuppi's" or Sordello), he is a patron of the arts. Although it did not become famous when it was originally published, the poem is now regularly printed in anthologies and upheld as a prime example of the dramatic monologue. It has reappeared in countless contemporary literary works, from the Margaret Atwood's story of the same title to Richard Howard's poem "Nikolaus Mardruz to his Master Ferdinand, Count of Tyrol, 1565." Historical Context Browning wrote this poem during the Victorian Era, which encompassed the second half of the 19th century during the reign of Queen Victoria in England. The Victorians were fascinated with the Italian Renaissance, including its poetic forms, music, architecture, and culture. The Renaissance, which extended from roughly the 14th to the early 17th century, placed an emphasis on humanism, individualism, the arts, and science—all of which particularly appealed to a Victorian society that was making scientific and artistic advances of its own. The Renaissance also was a time when some elite and wealthy families served as patrons of artists, supporting their favorites' artistic endeavors. In a way, the poem critiques such patrons as perhaps being more concerned with the social clout conferred by being associated with certain artists than they were with the actual artwork itself. In other words, it suggests that some patrons just wanted to seem cool and influential by supporting artists, but didn't actually appreciate their art. This poem focuses on a real historical patron of the arts—the Duke of Ferrara. Also known as Alfonso II d'Este, the Duke of Ferrara was an actual historical figure who lived in Italy in the late 1500s. Like the speaker, Alfonso II had multiple wives, the first of which died very young and after only a few years of marriage.

Basics

Setting — Ferrara, Italy, Renaissance period (1561) Narrator — Duke Alfonso II of Ferrara, whose young wife Lucrezia Medici died under suspicious circumstances — suspected poisoning (married at 14, dead by 17) — he was married three times. After her death, Alfonso courted and married another woman Browning loved the Medieval period and lived in Florence, Italy during the Victorian era (1812-1889 ). Fra Pandolf — A fictional painter, the name 'Fra' means 'Brother' so it shows that he was a monk. He was commissioned by the Duke to paint the woman (likely based on Fra Lippo Lippi — a very famous monk painter whose work can be seen in the Uffizi Gallery. He also had an affair with one of his portrait models) The Victorian attitude to mourning was very different from Renaissance Italy — Victorians would have been shocked that the Duke had moved on so quickly from his dead wife and paid her no respect by not mourning her properly.

Is the duchess innocent

Some readers believe that the Duchess isn't as innocent and that her "smiles" are really a code word for promiscuous behavior. To what degree, we will never know. It is, however, possible that when the friar paints her, she blushes out of pleasure to be near him. And, it is similarly possible that when she "thanked men" in her multitude of ways, it went beyond the traditional boundaries. One of the powerful aspects of this poem is indeed this uncertainty created for the reader—did the Duke execute a guilty wife or did he end the life of an innocent, kind-hearted woman? Women in the Victorian Age Certainly, women were oppressed during the 1500s, the era in which "My Last Duchess" takes place. Yet, the poem is less of a critique of the feudalistic ways of medieval Europe and more of an attack on the biased, overbearing views and rules of Victorian society. Literature of the era, in circles both journalistic and literary, portrayed women as fragile creatures in need of a husband. For a Victorian woman to be morally good, she must embody "sensitivity, self-sacrifice, innate purity." All of these traits are exhibited by the Duchess, if we assume that her marriage was an act of self-sacrifice. While many Victorian husbands desired a pure, virginal bride, they also desired physical, mental, and sexual conquest. If a man was not satisfied with his wife, a woman who was his legal subordinate in the eyes of the law, he might not kill her off as the Duke so cavalierly does in Browning's poem. However, the husband might very well patronize one of London's many prostitutes, thereby obliterating the sanctity of the marriage and endangering his innocent wife otherwise.

Duke and duchess and some lesson

The Duke and Duchess Here the duke makes clear why he believes the last duchess was lacking—she thanked everyone equally. She blushed over Frà Pandolf's praise, and was "too easily impressed." He cites things that brought on "that spot of joy"—the sunset; cherries given to her by "some officious fool"; or riding her white mule. In fact, she thanked them the same as she thanked him for his "gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name." He did not tell her she had failed in any way. He goes on to explain even if she were willing to "be lessoned" (taught) and did not make excuses, that would be stooping. He says she smiled when she saw him, but it was the "much the same smile." So he "gave commands" instead, and "all smiles stopped together." The Lesson The duke ends his story about his last wife with, "There she stands as if alive." His next statement is an invitation to his listener to "rise," and go downstairs to greet the rest of the company. At this point he mentions "the Count your master's known munificence," clarifying to whom he's been speaking (a representative of a count who is known to be generous). As he continues, the duke references "dowry" and "his fair daughter's self," thereby explaining he has been speaking to the representative of a wealthy count whose daughter the duke intends to take as his next duchess. As they walk, he invites the servant to walk at his side (an extremely odd request to a servant), and points out another piece of art—a bronze sculpture of the god Neptune "taming a seahorse"—by another fictional artist, Claus of Innsbruck.

Ummm this is something to read

The death of women at the hands of men appears in three of Browning's most popular dramatic monologues: "My Last Duchess," "Porphyria's Lover," and The Ring and the Book. The two poems and the book center on questions of fidelity and control of women by their romantic partners. "Porphyria's Lover" Like "My Last Duchess," "Porphyria's Lover" is told by a man who kills his beloved to control her. Porphyria is a married woman from a higher social class than her lover. One rainy night Porphyria comes to visit him. She lights a fire in the grate, sets aside her cloak and gloves, and loosens her hair. When her lover (the speaker) appears, she bares her shoulder and pulls him near, offering him words of love. In this moment the speaker "knew" that "Porphyria worshipped [him]." He considers his response, and decides murder is the solution to preserve the perfect moment: "I found / A thing to do, and all her hair / In one long yellow string I wound / Three times her little throat around, / And strangled her." After killing her, he sits with her corpse "all night long." These two poems are in the same collection, and both are spoken by men who choose to commit murder to control their romantic partners. The Ring and the Book Browning's most famous text—the one that garnered him fame and success in his lifetime—is The Ring and the Book. This book-length collection of 12 dramatic monologues was inspired by the 1698 triple-murder case in Italy. The historic case is of a middle-aged Italian nobleman, Guido Franceschini who married a young girl, Francesca Pompilia. Guido Franceschini misrepresented himself as wealthy. Francesca was not actually the daughter of the couple (Pietro and Violante Comparini) who had raised her, but the child of a prostitute. They had taken her as their child because they needed a child to gain an inheritance. Over the course of the suits and countersuits, Francesca Pompilia flees her husband with a young man, Giuseppe Caponsacchi. She is captured and sent to a nunnery, but she is discovered to be pregnant and is sent to live with the Comparinis. Caponsacchi is tried, convicted, and imprisoned. Franceschini and four men go to the Comparini home and murder his wife, as well as Pietro and Violante Comparini. The trial for the murder centered on the question of whether a man could kill an adulterous wife for the sake of his own honor. The debate lasted a month after the trial, but Guido Franceschini was found guilty. He and his accomplices were executed.

The painting

The painting of the former duchess is more than just a work of art. At first, it appears to be a symbol of the duke's status, since he displays it like a work in an art gallery. He has placed a chair in front of it so that people can sit and admire it, and he brags about the fame and skill of the man who painted it (Fra Pandolf). But once the duke tells his guest more about the former duchess, it becomes clear that the painting is also a symbol of the objectification of women. Although the duke despised the duchess as a wife because she smiled too much at others for his liking, he loves the painting of her. Unlike his human being, the painting is something he can control. Indeed, he's placed a curtain in front of the canvas so that now he gets to decide whom the painting smiles upon, and he has placed a chair in front of it so he can control the movements of the people who look at her. The painting, then, is essentially the objectified version of his former wife—a relic that aggrandizes the duke while reminding him of his dominance over others.

Control and jealousy

The predominant theme of "My Last Duchess" is the speaker's obsession with control. The Duke exhibits an arrogance rooted in an audacious sense of male superiority. He is stuck on himself—full of narcissism and misogyny. As suggested by the character heading at the beginning of the speech, the speaker's name is Ferrara. Most scholars agree that Browning derived his character from a 16th-century Duke of the same title: Alfonso II d'Este, a renowned patron of the arts who was also rumored to have poisoned his first wife. Being of a higher society, the speaker automatically possesses a large amount of authority and power. This is reinforced by the structure of the poem itself—in the monologue, with no response from the courtier, let alone the Duchess, the Duke is allowed to present himself and the story in whichever way suits him best. His need for control, along with his jealousy, are also perceptible when the Duke decides to uncover the painting for the courtier. By being the only one with the power to reveal his wife's portrait, constantly hidden behind a curtain, the Duke obtained the final and absolute power over his wife. It is also interesting to note that the Duke chose a holy member of the church as part of his plan to capture and control his wife's image. On one hand, it is a twisted plan, coupling evil and holy together. And on the other hand, one could also speculate that someone as committed to God as a friar would be the smallest temptation for the Duchess' smiles and thus Duke's jealousy. It has become clear that the Duke didn't like his wife to smile at anyone else but him and required her to elevate him above everyone else. As a result, he "gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together." The Duke couldn't bear not being the only one for Duchess' smiles, and thus, presumably, had her killed. Finally, at the end of the monologue, there is a reference to another of the Duke's acquisitions—Neptune taming a sea-horse—which he points out is a rarity, cast in bronze specifically for him. As it is rarely random for elements like this to be without significance, we can draw a metaphor between the portrait and the statue. Just like the sea-horse, the Duchess was a rarity to the Duke, and just like with the statue, he desired to "tame" her and have her all for himself.

Setting

The setting is the Duke of Ferrara's estate in 16th-century Italy. Although the poem does not include many detailed descriptions of the estate itself, it does describe the duke's extensive art collection, including the painting of the Duke's former wife (the duchess) and a statue of the god Neptune taming a seahorse. Both works of art are produced by famous (fictional) artists, making them markers of the duke's wealth. It's safe to assume that this estate is large and impressive, given the duke's emphasis on his social status and clout. More specifically, the poem takes place in front of a large painting of the duke's wife, who is presumably now deceased. The painting has not been placed haphazardly placed in the estate, either: it has curtains around it and a seat in front of it. This arrangement allows the duke to manipulate his guests into listening to his spiel about it.

Speaker

The speaker of this dramatic monologue is the Duke of Ferrara, who is addressing the emissary of a Count before dowry negotiations for the Count's daughter. Although the speaker claims to merely want to show the emissary of his prospective bride around his estate and to show off the artwork, he actually wants to complain about the unsuitability of his first wife, to brag about his power and wealth, and to manipulate the emissary and the Count into giving him a higher dowry for the daughter. Since this is a dramatic monologue, everything is told from the speaker's perspective, and readers never hear the emissary speak nor learn how the duke's words are received. Throughout the poem, the speaker unintentionally reveals himself to be a tyrant, an expert manipulator, and, likely, a murderer.

Themes 3

Theme Control and Manipulation Control and Manipulation Closely tied to the duke's repeated emphasis on his social status and his objectification of women is his clear desire for control. By treating women as objects to be possessed, the duke can more readily dominate them; similarly, by drawing attention to his title and social clout, the duke can intimidate others into following his commands. Yet the poem also draws attention to quieter forms of control, as the duke dictates everything from the flow of conversation with his guest to the choreography of the scene itself. Through these forms of asserting dominance, the poem suggests the power—and danger—of such inconspicuous manipulation, which is made all the more insidious by its subtly. The duke uses his social status—indicated by his ancient name and opulent artwork—to intimidate and threaten his guest. More discreetly, however, Browning also shows the duke controlling the conversation via its physical setting. The duke has staged the area with the duchess's painting: the painting is behind a curtain so he can limit who can view it, thereby reminding his audience that he can give and take away whatever he wants. He has also placed a seat in front of the painting so he can command visitors to sit while he tells the story of his former wife, a power dynamic that literally elevates him above anyone else in the room. The duke likewise controls the flow of the conversation. He never gives the messenger a chance to speak, and once goes so far as to pretend that the messenger has asked a question ("not the first / Are you to turn and ask thus") even though the messenger himself remains silent. This action gives the messenger the illusion of being an active participant in the conversation without having any actual agency in it whatsoever. Most intriguingly, there is nothing improvisatory about the duke's words, even when he trips over them. He comments that "strangers" who have seen the painting have asked him about the former duchess's expression, and that the messenger is "not the first" to inquire. The duke's insistence that others have asked about the duchess's expression suggests that he has given this spiel about his wife's supposedly inappropriate behavior to others. It is hard to believe, therefore that his interjections about his inarticulateness ("how shall I say?" or "somehow—I know not how") are genuine hesitations: if he has given this speech before, then presumably he knows what to say and how. In other words, his actions contradict his stated lack of expertise. The improvised nature of the duke's speech, then, with its self-interruptions and hesitations, might all be an act. He is so committed to controlling others that he seemingly rehearses even his moments of self-deprecation and seeming uncertainty. He says he doesn't have any "skill in speech"—meaning he's not a good talker—but this clearly isn't the case. By having the duke deliver the dramatic monologue to the emissary, addressed throughout the poem as "you," Browning forces his readers to experience the duke's manipulation to better understand how abuse of power operates. This form of address can encourage readers to imagine how they themselves would respond in such a situation: would they notice the manipulation and feel resentful, or would it slip past as they found themselves convinced by the duke's subtle coercion?

Themes 1

Theme The Objectification of Women The Objectification of Women "My Last Duchess" is a dramatic monologue in which the Duke of Ferrara tells the messenger of his potential wife's family about his previous wife, the "last" duchess of the poem's title. Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a living woman. Throughout the poem , the duke reveals his belief that women are objects to be controlled, possessed, and discarded. In many ways, this reflects the thinking of Browning's own era, when Victorian social norms denied women the right to be fully independent human beings. Through this portrayal of the duke, Browning critiques such a viewpoint, presenting sexism and objectification as dehumanizing processes that rob women of their full humanity. The duke's treatment of the painting reflects his treatment of women as objects to be owned. His description of the painting as a "piece" and a "wonder" portray it as a work of art rather than a testament to a former love. By repeating the name of the painter (the famous "Fra Pandolf) three times in the first 16 lines of the poem, he again implies that he values the painting because of its status as an object that shows off his (that is, the duke's) wealth and clout. The painting is meant to aggrandize the duke rather than honor the woman it portrays. This is made even clearer by the fact that the duke has placed this painting in a public area of his palace so he can proudly display it to guests, whom he invites to "sit and look at her" much like a museum curator would direct visitors to a famous work of art in a gallery. Such an attitude is reflected yet again when he tells the messenger that the Count's "fair daughter's self [... is his] object": he intends to make his new bride another one of his possessions. Women, in the duke's mind, are simply ornamental objects for men rather than actual people in their own right. The poem thus implies that the duke finds his former wife's actions unforgivable because they reflected her status as an independent person rather than an inanimate possession. Her crimes appear to be not sexual or romantic infidelity, but rather being happy ("too soon made glad,"), appreciative of others (she considered the duke's "gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody's gift"), self-confident (she wouldn't "let / Herself be lessoned"), and willing to stand up for herself (she "plainly set / Her wits to [his]"). The duke, however, appears to believe that a husband owns his wife, and therefore has the right to dictate her feelings and to be the sole recipient of her happiness, kindness, and respect; any indication that she has thoughts or feelings of her own are unacceptable. Ultimately, the poem heavily implies that the duke was so vexed by the idea that his former wife had an inner life of her own that he had the "last duchess" killed. Of course, the duke avoids explicitly confessing to assassinating his wife, and Browning himself allegedly once said in an interview that the duke may have simply had her sent to a convent. Regardless, the outcome is the same: there is no "last duchess" present in the poem to speak for herself and give her side of the story. The poem thus underscores how objectifying women ultimately silences them, robbing them of their voices and autonomy.

Robert and Elizabeth

There is a possibility that the poem was somewhat inspired by the Brownings' own history. Robert and Elizabeth Browning got married despite Elizabeth's father's will. Although not a murderous lord from the 16th century, Barrett's father was a controlling patriarch who demanded that his daughters stay faithful to him, that they never move out of the home, not even to marry. Like the Duke who coveted his precious artwork, Barrett's father wanted to keep hold of his children as if they were inanimate figures in a gallery. When she defied her father's demands and married Robert Browning, Elizabeth became dead to her father and he never saw her again...unless, of course, he kept a picture of Elizabeth on his wall. Robert Browning's inspiration for My Last Duchess came from the Duke and Duchess Ferarra. The Duchess died under very suspicious circumstances. She was married at fourteen and dead by seventeen. Browning uses these suspicious circumstances as inspiration for a poem which dives deep into the mind of a powerful Duke who wishes to control his wife in every aspect of her life, including her feelings. Browning, of the Victorian age, wrote real life poetry that reflected upon some of the darkest aspects of Victorian life. One of those aspects, of course, being the treatment of wives by their husbands. Everyone is familiar with Henry the VIII and his many wives whom he accused an executed when he tired of him. Robert Browning reveals that this mentality was widespread during this time. Wives were viewed as disposable, and their husbands would often accuse them to do away with them when they desired to marry someone else. The life of a Victorian wife was a perilous one.

Tiny summary

This poem is loosely based on historical events involving Alfonso, the Duke of Ferrara, who lived in the 16th century. The Duke is the speaker of the poem, and tells us he is entertaining an emissary who has come to negotiate the Duke's marriage (he has recently been widowed) to the daughter of another powerful family. As he shows the visitor through his palace, he stops before a portrait of the late Duchess, apparently a young and lovely girl. The Duke begins reminiscing about the portrait sessions, then about the Duchess herself. His musings give way to a diatribe on her disgraceful behavior: he claims she flirted with everyone and did not appreciate his "gift of a nine-hundred-years- old name." As his monologue continues, the reader realizes with ever-more chilling certainty that the Duke in fact caused the Duchess's early demise: when her behavior escalated, "[he] gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together." Having made this disclosure, the Duke returns to the business at hand: arranging for another marriage, with another young girl. As the Duke and the emissary walk leave the painting behind, the Duke points out other notable artworks in his collection.

Dramatic monologue 191772

What sets this poem apart from many others is that it is a dramatic monologue—a type of poem in which a character distinctly different from that of the poet is speaking to someone else. Actually, some dramatic monologues feature speakers who talk to themselves, but the monologues with "silent characters," such as "My Last Duchess," display more artistry, more theatrics in storytelling because they are not mere confessions (as is Browning's "Porphyria's Lover"). Instead, readers can imagine a specific setting and detect action and reaction based on the hints given within the verse. In "My Last Duchess," the dramatic monologue is directed at a courtier of a wealthy count, presumably one whose daughter the Duke is trying to marry. Before the poem even begins, the courtier has been escorted through the Duke's palace—probably through an art gallery filled with paintings and sculptures. The courtier has noticed the curtain which conceals a painting, and the Duke decides to treat his guest to a viewing of this very special portrait of his late wife. The courtier is impressed, perhaps even mesmerized by the smile of the woman in the painting. Based on the Duke's words, we can infer that the courtier asked what produced such an expression. That's when the dramatic monologue begins: That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will't please you sit and look at her? (lines 1-5) The Duke behaves cordially enough, asking his guest if he would like to gaze at the painting—we are witnessing the speaker's public persona. As the monologue continues, the Duke boasts about the fame of the painter: Fra Pandolf. "Fra" is a shortened version of friar, a holy member of the church, which might be an unusual first occupation for a painter.

Duchess character

What the painting captures appears to be a watered-down version of the Duchess's joyfulness. While it is clear that the Duke doesn't approve of the "spot of joy" (lines 15-16) on her cheek, we aren't sure whether it is an addition fabricated by the friar or whether the Duchess did indeed blush during the painting session. It is clear, however, that the Duke is pleased that his wife's smile has been preserved within the artwork. Yet, the painting appears to be the only place where the Duchess' smile is allowed. The Duke explains to his visitor that she would offer that beautiful smile to everyone, instead of reserving it exclusively for her husband. She appreciated nature, the kindness of others, animals, and the simple pleasures of everyday life, and this disgusts the Duke. It seems the Duchess cared about her husband and often showed him that look of joy and love, but he feels that she "ranked / [his] gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody's gift" (lines 32-34). She failed to sufficiently revere the name and family she married into. The Duke might not reveal his explosive emotions to the courtier as they sit and look at the painting, but the reader can deduce that the Duchess's lack of worshipfulness infuriated her husband. He wanted to be the only person, the only object of her affection. The Duke self-righteously continues his explanation of events, rationalizing that despite his disappointment it would have been beneath him to talk openly with his wife about his feelings of jealousy. He does not request, nor even demand that she alter her behavior because he finds that degrading: "E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose / Never to stoop" (lines 42-43). He feels that communication with his own wife is beneath his class. Instead, he gives commands and "all smiles stopped together" (line 46). The reader can assume, however, that the duke does not give commands to her directly; to him, any instruction would be "stooping." The poem ends with the Duke leading the courtier to the rest of his party, reiterating that the Duke's interest in the new lady is not only for her inheritance but also her own "self"—a great nod to the question of the speaker's reliability. The final lines of the poem display the Duke showing off another of his artistic acquisitions.