My Last Duchess
FERRARA[1]
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's[2] hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you[3] sit and look at her? I said
"Frà Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The 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 first
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
Frà Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much," or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat"; such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. 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.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favor at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace--all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men--good! but thanked
Somehow--I know not how--as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name[4]
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"--and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
--E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands[5];
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count[6] your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune[7], though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!
[Footnote 1 : The Duke, identified as "Ferrara" in the poem's speech prefix, is negotiating for his next Duchess. By Ferrara, most likely, Browning intended Alfonso II (1533-1598), fifth duke of Ferrara, in northern Italy, from 1559 to 1597, and the last member of the Este family. He married his first wife, 14-year-old Lucrezia, a daughter of the Cosimo I de' Medici, in 1558 and three days later left her for a two-year period. She died, 17 years old, in what some thought suspicious circumstances. Alfonso contrived to meet his second to-be spouse, Barbara of Austria, in Innsbruck in July 1565. Nikolaus Mardruz, who took orders from Ferdinand II, count of Tyrol, led Barbara's entourage then. This source was discovered by Louis S. Friedland and published in "Ferrara and My Last Duchess," ‘Studies in Philology’ (1936).
Footnote 2 : A painter not recorded in history, Frà Pandolf may be a fictitious character. No known painting has been linked to Browning's poem.
Footnote 3 : Presumably Browning had in mind Nikolaus Mardruz.
Footnote 4 : Lucruzia's family, the Medici, had their recent origin in merchants, but the Este family went back 650 years.
Footnote 5 : When asked what this meant, Browning said first, "I meant that the commands were that she should be put to death," but then continued, "with a characteristic dash of expression, and as if the thought had just started in his mind, he might have had her shut up in a convent".
Footnote 6 : presumably Ferdinand II, count of Tyrol, who led the negotiations for the marriage of Alfonso II and Barbara of Austria
Footnote 7 : the Roman God of the sea, whose chariot is often shown pulled by sea-horses
Footnote 8 : A painter not recorded historically, from an Italian city, renowned for its sculpture. He might be, like Frà Pandolf, a fictitious character.]
What I Feel:
Robert Browning was the master of a special form of poetry called ‘dramatic monologue’. Such a poem consists of the utterances of a single person (monologue) who reveals his mind in a particular state of crisis to a listener whose presence is only hinted at. Browning’s dramatic monologues present deep psychological analysis of characters, especially they bring out diseased mental condition as in ‘My Last Duchess’ or ‘Porpherya’s Lover’.
In ‘My Last Duchess’ Browning subtly delineates the temperament of the Duke of Ferrara in the course of his utterings before the messenger of the Count whose daughter is going to be the next Duchess. The Duke presents himself as a connoisseur of art who shows the portrait of his last Duchess done by the famous painter, Frà Pandolf, to the messenger. But he is in reality an egoist, hypocrite and tyrant whose highly inflated sense of dignity prevented him from appreciating the goodness, simplicity and gentle nature of the Duchess. He ordered his people to kill the Duchess because she was pleased by trivial things and behaved politely to everyone which made the Duke angry. He felt that the Duchess was humiliating his noble pedigree. The Duke after the talk of dowry shows the messenger a bronze cast of Neptune, the sea-God, taming a horse which highlights the mean character of the Duke, who believes in taming wives.
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