Analysis of the poem 'My Last Duchess', by Robert BrowningIn his dramatic monologue 'My Last Duchess', written in 1842, Robert Browning gives us a glimpse into the world of Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, in the sixteenth century. Ferrara is a city in what is now northern Italy. Alfonso was a real person, but the situation described in this poem is fictional. The Duke is addressing an envoy from a Count and is showing him a portrait of his former wife.

In the opening line, the Duke states plainly that the painting is of his 'last Duchess'. His comment in the second line that she is 'looking as if she were alive' gives the impression that this is a masterpiece, but as we read on we realize that there is a more sinister meaning to this phrase. The artist referred to, Fra Pandolf, is a fictional one. The Duke explains that he is the only one who shows off the portrait by drawing back the curtains that normally cover it. Everyone who sees it comments on the 'depth and passion' in the facial expression of the Duchess, and wonders what the reason for it was. The Duke refers to her expression as a 'spot of joy', and we begin to understand his attitude as he tells the envoy that he was not the cause of it: the artist was. The Duke imagines the compliments that Fra Pandolf might have paid to the Duchess as he was painting: 'Paint/Must never hope to reproduce the faint/Half-flush that dies along her throat.' It ics clear that the Duke disapproved of his wife's reactions to such remarks, as he says that she was 'too soon made glad'.

The Duke's comment that 'her looks went everywhere' (line 24) suggests that he could not tolerate the fact that the Duchess delighted in beauty and appreciated gifts from others. He recalls that she considered his 'favour at her breast' no more important than the setting of the sun or a present of cherries from the orchard. He admits that she was right to thank people for gifts, but resents the fact that she did not seem value his gift to her, his 'nine-hundred-years-old name' above anything else.

On two occasions the Duke mentions the idea of stooping to explain to his former wife what it was that displeased him about her (lines 34 and 42-43). This clearly shows that he considered himself to be far above her. His language is very direct when he tells the envoy that he might have said to her 'Just this/or that in you disgusts me'. Again, in lines 39-40, the Duke refers to how the Duchess might 'let/herself be lessoned', leaving us in no doubt as to his attitude towards her. She is seen as an inferior being that would need to be taught how to behave, almost like an unruly child. He admits that she smiled when she saw him, but comments that she did the same to everyone she saw. As this went on, the Duke could no longer bear her behavior and 'gave commands;/Then all smiles stopped together' (lines 45-46). It soon becomes obvious that the Duchess did not merely cease to smile, but ceased to live: the Duke's orders had been to kill her. Once more he says 'There she stands/As if alive', and we are in no doubt this time that she is no longer alive.

The Duke's comments on his former wife are over and he asks the envoy to come downstairs with him. Only at this point is the purpose of the envoy's visit made clear: the Duke wishes to marry the Count's daughter, and the dowry is being discussed. Before they leave the upstairs room, however, the Duke draws the envoy's attention to another painting. This one, again by a fictional artist (Claus of Innsbruck) depicts Neptune 'Taming a sea-horse'. There seems to be a clear parallel here with the concept of the Duke 'taming' his last Duchess.

Browning's use of the dramatic monologue is of course ideal for emphasizing the Duke's dominant role in this situation. His is the only voice we hear, and his view of his relationship with his former wife is the one we are given. Our impression of the Duke is one of arrogance, intolerance, jealousy and cruelty. Does a wife who has looked at others and been generous with her thanks deserve to die? We are told (line 31) that on some occasions she merely blushed on meeting people when she went out for a ride; this would seem to suggest shyness and modesty. She appears to have been a lady who felt it right to express

gratitude or smile in a friendly way, and we are left with the feeling that the Duke was a proud and ruthless man who over-reacted to his wife's charming manner.

Browning has composed his poem in rhyming couplets with iambic pentameter (ten syllables to a line, with stressed and unstressed syllables alternating). The use of enjambement, where one line flows into the next without a period, gives a more natural, conversational feel to the poem. Without this, the use of rhyme might have seemed a little too contrived. The poem is virtually devoid of metaphors and similes: as the Duke tells the envoy, he has no 'skill in speech'. The dashes in particular give the impression that thoughts are occurring to the Duke spontaneously as he speaks.

The use of the word 'you' throughout the poem may make us feel that the Duke is addressing us personally as we read, since it does not become clear until the final few lines that he is talking to an envoy. We should remember that at this time 'you' was actually a polite form of address, as the familiar form 'thee or 'thou' was also in use.Browning has, in 'My Last Duchess', skilfully portrayed a domineering character, full of his own self-importance, in the Duke. It is hard to read the poem without feeling compassion for the Duchess who died at his hand, apparently for having a warm, friendly and polite manner. I am left wondering how the next Duchess was to fare, and whether there was hope for a little more tolerance.

The setting of this astounding monologue by Robert Browning takes place in Italy during the renaissance period. My last Duchess is founded on events in Alfonso the second’s life Alfonso was the Duke of Ferrara in Italy for a fraction of the renaissance period. 

In this dramatic monologue authored by Robert Browning the author begins by addressing his last Duchess to the Counts messenger he states how striking she was and all the diverse things about her. The Duchess was a flirt and would please a man when she was praised. Fra Pandolf is an artist that works with the dead he dresses dead people and takes their picture. “That’s my last duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive “. “Fra Pandolph’s hands worked busily a day, and there she stands. The Count invites the courier to sit down and hear the story about his diseased wife. Strangers glancing at her cadaver appeared to be traumatized. The narrator directs it to her smile in death. The last duchess adored the environment around her and was content with the small things in life. “For calling up that spot of joy. She had a heart how shall I say? Too soon made glad” 

I believe the duke is angry because the duchess was a flirt and thanks everyone excessively as if she is extraordinary and has a nine hundred year old name. “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”. The excuse for having his wife murdered is exceptionally eccentric if he possessed half an ounce of intelligence he would have confronted his wife and told her about her so-called flaws. “I choose never to stoop”. 

The duke enjoys the duchess smiling but then he contradicts himself and states

that he only likes the duchess smiling at him. He boasts that he had enough with her jolly and positive attitude towards others so he gave commands to halt her smiling forever. “I gave commands”. The narrator considers himself to be a general and he uses being a general as an excuse because general’s orders should not be taken lightly and should be abided by the out come is the same in war if you don’t accept the orders given you are shot for deserting. Like the duchess she is assassinated for not doing what she is told. In my outlook the duke owns the duchess like an object the duke demonstrates this by the way he opens and closes the curtain he has power over her now just like Porphyria’s lover they both wanted control and they both killed to get it they both probably have the inherited illness called Porphyria the only difference is Porphyria’s lover killed for control of love the duke killed for control of the person. The duke continues to court the Counts daughter for a large dowry he does not care about love he only cares about getting rich. 

The poem both begins and ends with the descriptions of works of art at the beginning it is the picture of the duchess and at the climax of the poem it is a bronze statue of Neptune crafted by Claus of Innsbruck. The duchess is put forward in the poem as a flirt but we have to remember this is in the view of the duke I believe the duke is covering his own envy, jealousy, resentment and covetousness to put the blame on her for him having the duchess killed. “Oh sir she smiled, no doubt, whene’er I passed her; but who passed without much the same smile. “The half-flush that dies along her throat” she might have been blushing over the painter who was painting her features they could have been having an affair like Porphyria and her lover the duke could of found out and that was the final nail in the coffin so the duke ordered some one to murder the duchess if the story was told by the painter this could have been the outcome. The last few lines about Neptune taming a sea horse is about male dominance Neptune control the sea horse as the duke control the duchess no that she is dead. “Notice Neptune, though ,Taming a sea horse”. 

Commentary by Ian Lancashire(2002/9/9)

We always drop unprepared into a Browning dramatic monologue, into several lives about which we know nothing. Soliloquies or speeches in a play have a context that orients the audience. Browning's readers have only a title and, in "My Last Duchess," a speech prefix, "Ferrara." Yet these are transfixing clues to a drama that we observe, helplessly, unable to speak or to act, as if we turned on a radio and, having selected a frequency, overhear a very private conversation, already in process and, as we may come very gradually to appreciate, about a murder and the maybe-killer's search for the next victim. Readers familiar with Browning's writing and sensitive to nuance perceive the speaker's pride and cold-bloodedness. Many miss the point and are astonished. "You say what? there's nothing in the poem about him killing her! where do you find that?" A century and more ago, when Browning still lived, readers presented him with questions about

this poem. He answered them cautiously, almost as if he had not written the poem but was seeing it himself, attentively, after a very long time and was trying to understand what had happened.

Thanks to Louis S. Friedland, a critic who published an article on "My Last Duchess" in 1936, we know something about how young Browning found the story. Fascinated with the Renaissance period, he visited Italy in 1838 and clearly had done considerable reading about its history. He must have come across a biography of Alfonso II (1533-1598), fifth duke of Ferrara, who married Lucrezia, the 14-year-old daughter of the upstart merchant princes, the Medici, in 1558. Three days after the wedding, Alfonso left her -- for two years. She died barely 17 years old, and people talked, and four years later in Innsbruck, Alfonso began negotiating for a new wife with a servant of the then count of Tyrol, one Nikolaus Mardruz. The poem's duke of Ferrara, his last duchess, the "Count" with whose servant (Mardruz) Ferrara is here discussing re-marriage and a dowry, and the new "fair daughter" are historical, but the interpretation of what actually took place among them is Browning's own. He first published the poem in 1842, four years after his visit to Italy. The painter Frà Pandolf and the sculptor Claus of Innsbruck are fictitious, as far as we know, but Browning must have meant his readers to associate the poem with these shadowy historical figures because he changed the title in 1849, from "Italy and France. I. -- Italy." to ... what we see today.

The title evidently refers to a wall painting that Ferrara reveals to someone yet unidentified in the first fourteen words of the poem. "That's my last Duchess painted on the wall," he says. However a reader utters this line, it sounds odd. Stress "That's" and Ferrara reduces a woman, once his spouse, to something he casually points out, a thing on a wall. Emphasize "my" and Ferrara reveals his sense of owning her. Pause over "last" and we might infer that duchesses, to him, come in sequence, like collectibles that, if necessary, having become obsolescent, are to be replaced. If "Duchess" gets the stress, he implies -- or maybe we infer -- that he acquires, not just works of art, but persons; and that Duchesses are no different from paintings. The line suggests self-satisfaction. Finding ourselves being given a tour of a grand home for the first time, by the owner himself, and being told, "That's my last wife painted on the wall," how would we react? We might think, "How odd he didn't say her name. I wonder what happened ...", or at least we might wonder until he finished his sentence with "Looking as if she were alive." This clause, also sounding peculiar, tells us two things. The Duchess looks out at us, the viewers, directly from the painting; and her depiction there is life-like, that is, we might be looking at a living person rather than a work of art. Yet wouldn't Ferrara say "life-like" or "true to life," if that was simply what he meant? His choice of words may suggest that, while she, the Duchess herself (rather than her image in the painting), looks alive, she may be dead; and the phrase "last Duchess" echoes in our working memory. Do we know for sure? Does "she" mean the Duchess or her painting?

Ferrara continues, cheerfully, describing the painting, not the Duchess (so possibly we are being silly): "I call / That piece a wonder, now." The phrase "That piece" must mean "that portrait," surely, though there is something intangibly common, almost vulgar, in his expression. That sense of "piece," as "portrait," is archaic now and may have been so when Browning wrote the poem (OED "piece" sb. 17b). This context, a man speaking of pictures of women, connotes something quite different, what the term has meant for centuries, and still means now, "Applied to a woman or girl. In recent use, mostly depreciatory, of a woman or girl regarded as a sexual object" (OED sb. 9b). Is "That piece" a portrait or a sl-t, a b-tch, a c-nt? Ferrara's next remark keeps us off-balance. "Frà Pandolf's hands / Worked busily a day, and there she stands." Obviously the "piece" is something hand-made, a painting, a wondrous good one, not a person, not someone contemptible -- a relief; and yet Ferrara continues, "there she stands." The painting cannot stand because it is on the wall. Is he speaking about the woman? Ferrara then invites his listener, standing beside him, to sit down "and look at her." As readers, Ferrara also speaks to us, as if we too were there, because Browning, who as a lyric poet would address us directly, has disappeared behind this character. We may want to sit down. Mid-way through line 5, Ferrara has not yet done with us. We have to look at the Duchess, through his words, being just as silent as the "you" to whom Ferrara refers. We have to "read" (6) her face.

As "Strangers" (7), knowing nothing about this place and its people, we must be told (and Ferrara will explain) why he named, "by design," the painter, giving him the honorific, "Frà" ('brother'), due a member of religious orders and a celibate man. The Duchess's look -- her "pictured countenance,/ The depth and passion of its earnest glance", and that "glance" (again) -- causes ignorant observers, if they dare (11), to look as if they would ask Ferrara, and only Ferrara, because (as he tells us pointedly) the portrait is curtained off, and only he can pull back the curtain to reveal it, just what elicited that "passion" in her. His listener does not ask this question, though he may look as if he would like to ask. He just sits where he is told to sit and hears what others, of his type, would sometimes want to ask (but in fact seldom do ask) and, more, hears what Ferrara would say in answer to that rare question. Was she looking at a lover, at sometime who desired her? That is one question her look suggests, but of course that is impossible, for Frà Pandolf, a celibate religious, could never bring forth that "passion." No, her look did not rise, Ferrara implies, from sexual passion, but from a more general emotion. "Sir, 't was not / Her husband's presence only, called that spot / Of joy into the Duchess' cheek." If "presence" meant just "the state of being in the same place", it would be redundant here. Ferrara uses the term to allude to the importance of his decision to be with her, the stateliness and majesty that a duke confers, as a gift, on anyone by just turning up; and add to that, possibly, the way he, as her sexual partner, ought to arouse her, nature being what it is, to colour in this way.

Yet any "courtesy," Ferrara asserts, any court compliment owing to the Duchess merely by virtue of her position, aroused that look, that "spot of joy," that "blush"

(31). Frà Pandolf, for example, might have observed that the Duchess should shift her mantle up her arm somewhat to show more of her wrist, its skin being attractive; or he might have complained that his art was not up to capturing the "faint / Half-flush that dies along" her throat. If it died in the throat, where did it live? Frà Pandolf alludes here to the "spot of joy," spreading downwards from her cheeks (15) as he was painting her. Her embarrassed, but not at all displeased, awareness that someone likes her reveals itself in a blush, a colouring in a small patch ("a spot") as blood flows to the face. That, Ferrara says, reveals a "joy" felt by the Duchess in herself, at being herself, at being looked at approvingly, no matter who -- whether a celibate painter, or her husband the duke -- did the looking.

Now, standing before her portrait, where she stands, by the side of a listener made to sit, Ferrara obsessively reviews the reasons why that joy was "a spot," a contaminant that should not have been on his last Duchess' cheek. The more he talks, the more his contempt and self-justifying anger show, and the more he endears the Duchess to us. Unable to recognize "courtesy" as insincere, she was made happy by it, in fact, took joy in "whate'er /She looked on, and her looks went everywhere." A sprig of flowers from the duke for her bosom (25) and his ancestral name itself (33) meant joy to her, no less than a sunset, a courtier's gift of some cherries from the tree, and the white mule whom she rode "round the terrace" (29). She smiled on him, whenever he "passed" her (44), though sharing the same smile with anyone else. Her humility and general good nature, however, disgusted (38) Ferrara for the way they seemed to trifle (35) with, or understate the value of his own gift, a place in a noble family 900 years old. Lacking the cunning to discriminate publicly, to flatter Ferrara, she also could not detect his outrage; and he said nothing to her about what he felt. She wore her feelings openly, in her face, but to the standing Duke any outward expression of his concern would have meant "stooping" (34, 43), that is, lowering himself to her level. He attributes this silence to his lack of "skill / In speech", an excuse that the poem itself disproves. When he describes her as missing or exceeding the "mark" (38-39), Ferrara develops his metaphor from archery, as if she was one of his soldiers, competing in a competition for prizes (his name), rather than a Duchess who was herself the prize.

"This grew; I gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands / As if alive." This elliptical chain of four curt, bleak sentences brings Ferrara back to where he started. If the Duchess smiled everywhere, could her smiles be stopped by anything short of death by execution? What Ferrara's commands were, he does not say, but "As if alive", the second time he uses the phrase, has a much more ominous sound. At the beginning, Ferrara could indeed be speaking mainly about the "life-like" portrait, but as his anger grew, he shifted to the Duchess herself. She cannot be "life-like." Even had he just divorced her and put her in a convent, as Browning thought possible late in his life -- as if the poem somehow lived independent from him -- Ferrara killed the joy that defined the "depth and passion"

of her being. He finally controlled before whom she could "blush." He alone draws back the curtain on the portrait.

Then Ferrara invites his listener and us to rise from being seated and "meet / The company below" (47-48). When negotiating with the listener's master the Count for a dowry, Ferrara "stoops." He not only lowers himself to the level of a mere count but generously offers to "go / Together down" with the listener, a servant, side by side, instead of following him and so maintaining symbolically a duke's superior level and rank. For all his obsession with his noble lineage, Ferrara bargains with it openly.

Will Ferrara "repeat" (48) in marriage as he does in his speech? He claims the Count's "fair daughter's self" is his "object." Will she too, an objective achieved, become a thing, found on a wall like his last Duchess? Ferrara hints at his intentions by pointing out a second work of art, this time a sculpture, as he reaches the staircase. Neptune, the sea-god, is "Taming a sea-horse" (55), as Ferrara tamed his last Duchess.

In this poem Browning develops an idiolect for Ferrara. Unlike poets like Gray and Keats, Browning does not write as himself, for example, by echoing the work of other poets, because to do so would be untrue to the Duke's character. Ferrara betrays his obsessions by nervous mannerisms. He repeats words associated with the Duchess: the phrases `as if ... alive" (2, 47), `there she stands' (4, 46), `Will 't please you' (5, 47), and `called/calling ... that spot of joy' (14-15, 21), `look,' variously inflected (2, 5, 24), `glance' (8, 12), `thanked' (31), `gift' (33-34), `stoop' (34, 42-43), `smile' (43, 45-46), and `pass' (44). These tics define his idiolect but also his mind, circling back to the same topic again and again. He takes pride in saying, "I repeat" (48). He also obsesses about his height, relative to others. He stands because the Duchess stands on the wall, and he requires his listener to sit, to rise, and to walk downstairs with him side-by-side. He abhors stooping because he would lose face. Last, Ferrara needs to control the eyes of others. He curtains off the Duchess' portrait to prevent her from looking "everywhere." He tells his listener to look at her and to "Notice Neptune."

My Last Duchess

Lines 1-2:

The beginning note is meant to explain that the speaker of the poem is the Duke of

Ferrara; this provides the reader with location (Italy) and class environment (aristocratic).

In the opening lines Browning sets the scene for the poem, focusing the reader's

imagination on the painting on the wall. The central premise of the poem is put in place:

the dead wife will appear to come back to life only through the artistry of the picture.

Through this, Browning allows the reader to begin to think of the woman as a real

person, once very much alive, and initiates a "relationship" between the dead woman

and the reader. Once the reader begins to feel sympathy for the woman, then the

subsequent "reasons" given by the Duke concerning her "imperfections" will seem all the

more outrageous.

Lines 3-4:

Here, Browning accomplishes two things: a) an emphasis on the mastery of the artist,

"Fra Pandolf," who created a work of art that makes the dead woman seem so animated;

and b) an introduction to the Duke's subtle, mocking tone with the phrases "piece of

wonder" and "busily a day". These words seem to be heavy with ridicule and scorn for

both woman and artist. At this point the reader might begin to think the Duke was

jealous of the man who "fussed" over his wife but who, ultimately created—not a

masterpiece—but just a portion of one. It should be noted that, unlike some other figures

in Browning's work, Fra Pandolf—and later, Claus of Innsbruck—is an imaginary, not

historical, figure.

Line 5:

The use of the word "you" informs the reader that there is an immediate addressee

within the fiction of the poem; the speaker is not addressing the reader, but another

character. More specifically, it indicates that the speaker of the poem, the Duke, is now

addressing the emissary directly, asking him to sit and gaze upon picture of the dead

woman. The reader may imagine the emissary sitting in a chair while the Duke stands

and delivers his speech. In effect, the emissary is now in a subordinate position.

Lines 6-9:

The words "by design" imply that the artist is well-known and has some prestige

attached to his name. The Duke may want to advertise that it was his own talent for

hiring the right artist that was responsible for the "life-like quality" of the picture. The

Duke also stresses that all of the painting's viewers— "strangers like you"—remark upon

the painting's lifelike look. In addition, the Duke appears more taken with the painting

than with the real woman the picture represents. The image of emotion—the "passion" in

the "glance"—seems more valuable to him than genuine emotion. The use of the word

"its" instead of "her" suggests that the Duke has more of a relationship with the painting

than he did with his dead wife. With these details, Browning begins to interject the notion

of the Duke's jealousy. That "passionate glance" might have been placed there by the

painter, whom the Duke probably sees as a rival for his dead wife's affection.

Lines 10-13:

These lines suggest just how striking the depth and passion of the image are, since

apparently all previous viewers have wanted to know what excited the Duchess enough

to inspire that look in her eyes. The Duke also betrays his possessiveness and desire for

control when he comments that "none puts by / The curtain ... but I."

Lines 14-15:

At this point, Browning suggests more of the Duke's possessiveness, as he tells the

emissary that it wasn't his presence alone that made his wife happy or caused the "spot

of joy," which may literally have been a blush. The Duke insinuates that this blush must

have come to her face from either being in the company of a lover or from her far too

impressionable and undiscriminating nature.

Lines 16-21:

The Duke begins to offer his guesses at what, aside from some illicit pleasure, might

have caused the Duchess to blush. Two readings are possible, turning on the reader's

sense of how seriously the Duke believes in the monk's vows of celibacy. If the painter

was not the Duchess' lover, then her nature was simply too susceptible to flattery for the

Duke's liking.

Lines 22-34:

This section of the poem begins the Duke's long list of complaints against the Duchess.

First and foremost, she was innocent, too easily pleased and impressed. He blames her

for not seeing any difference between being the wife of a "great man" and: being able to

see the sunset; receiving a bouquet from someone of status below the Duke's; or riding a

white mule. While he thinks it's fine to be courteous ("She thanked men,—good!"), she

gave all men the kind of respect that only a man with his family's rank and distinction

deserves.

Lines 35-43:

Having recounted the Duchess's imperfections, the Duke announces that, even though

her faults were many, he would not lower himself— "stoop"—by telling her what bothered

him. Note how the Duke tries to paint himself as a "plain-spoken" man, one who has no

"skill" in "speech." At this point in the poem, the reader may realize the Duke is well-

skilled in the uses of language. The Duke explains that, even if he had the skill to tell the

Duchess just how much she disgusted him, he would not have explained to her how and

why her actions bothered him. On one hand, he betrays a fear that she would have

argued with him: "plainly set / Her wits to yours." On the other hand, he explains that the

very process of having to explain his feelings to her would have constituted a

compromise (or "stoop") to his authority.

Lines 44-48:

These lines contain the speaker's final judgement on the Duchess. The Duke recalls his

dead wife's smile, and how she never reserved her smile for him. The lines "gave

commands; / Then all smiles stopped together" tell us that the Duke used his power to

curb his wife's friendliness, but the words also leave the details ambiguous. At best, he

may have restricted her behavior in a way that dampened her ardor for life; at worst, he

may have ordered her assassination. The next lines, with the emphasis on "as if alive,"

underscore her death.

Lines 49-53:

As the poem draws to a close, the Duke redirects his attention to his upcoming marriage.

He tells the emissary that he is certain his future bride's father will give him a generous

dowry. The Duke, however, wants to be seen as a man who is more interested in his

fiancee than in any money she might bring to their union. At this point, the reader is

unlikely to trust these declarations and is likely to fear for this young woman's welfare.

Lines 54-56:

The poem concludes with the final image of a god, "Neptune ," taming a sea-horse. The

image of the powerful god taking control over a creature like a sea-horse demonstrates

the relationship between the Duke (Neptune) and the last Duchess (seahorse). It is as if,

by pointing out this sculpture to the emissary, the Duke is restating his power over his

future bride, as well as his more general power in the world. The final lines emphasize

another aspect of that power, showing not just the Duke's desire to possess rare objects

of beauty, but also his ability to do so.