My Last Duchess by Robert Browning

Robert Browning
My Last Duchess
Ferrara
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? I said
“Fra 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
Fra 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 favour 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
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;
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 your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
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, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!


Comment:

Lucrezia de’ Medici, by Bronzino, generally believed to be My Last Duchess from Wikipedia.com

 
The poem is about Duke of Ferrara and his last duchess. The poem is a narrative poem and uses the method of dramatic monologue which the narrator is the duke of Ferrara. For me, I feel the approach of dramatic monologue is similar to stream-of-consciousness because both of the methods are able to draw readers into the narrator's conscious and directly listen to the true voice deep in the narrator's mind.


In the history, the death of the last duchess was a mystery, and many people suspected that the duke was the murder. The poem reveals many negative characters of the duke. His characters of control and jealousy are vividly depicted in the poem. I even think the duke may have some kind of mental morbidity.

The duke seemed to not able to obtain total control over the duchess when she was alive. He was jealous of her appreciation to everyone. The inability to take control of the duchess leads to her death.

--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;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet

The smile of the duchess could represent the the duchess' happiness is based on the freedom without the duke's control. However, this smile seems to be a humiliating laugh at the duke. In order to take total control, he must kill her. The smile stopped, and she died. And the duke won. The word "commands" reveals the duke plays the role of god who can decide the life and death of a person.

We can take back from the end of the poem to the beginning of the poem. The duke is talking about the painting of the Duchess' portrait:

That's my last Duchess' painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call

and

But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)

Both of the sayings may embody that the duke can control over the duchess after she died. Moreover, we also can sense that the duke's attitude toward women is treating them as objects instead of human.