My Last Duchess - Browning
Background
Robert Browning (1812-1889):
- Informally educated by his father
- Dropped out of London University after completing just one term
- Eloped to Italy to marry fellow poet, elizabeth Barrett in 1846
My Last Duchess: Analysis
- Dramatic monologue: the speaker inadvertently reveals aspects of their
character while describing a particular situation or series of events the
person often speaks to a silent listener
- In this poem we are listening to the voice of an Italian duke as he tells
someone about painting and we’ll realise he is an unreliable
first-person narrator
- Speaker = the widowed duke of ferrara
- He is addressing the emissary or messenger of a wealthy count who is there
to assist with the arrangements for another marriage for the duke
- in later lines the duke draws aside a curtain behind which is the portrait of
his late wife
- It's a very theatrical beginning for a very theatrical man
A That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
A Looking as if she were alive. I call
B That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands
B Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
C Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
C “Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read
D Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
D The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
E But to myself they turned (since none puts by
E The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
F And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
F How such a glance came there; so, not the first
G Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
, G Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
H Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
H Fra Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps
I Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
I Must never hope to reproduce the faint
J Half-flush that dies along her throat.” Such stuff
J Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
K For calling up that spot of joy. She had
K A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
L Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
L She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
M Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
M The dropping of the daylight in the West,
N The bough of cherries some officious fool
N Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
O She rode with round the terrace—all and each
O Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
P Or blush, at least. She thanked men—good! but thanked
P Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
Q My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
Q With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
R This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
R In speech—which I have not—to make your will
S Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
S Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
T Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
T Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
U Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—
U E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
V Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,
V Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
W Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
W Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
X As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
X The company below, then. I repeat,
Y The Count your master’s known munificence
Y Is ample warrant that no just pretense