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Robert Browning (1812-1889)

“My Last Duchess” (1842)

Editorial Introduction

By Melenna Montgomery

The year is 1842. Robert Browning’s poem, “My Last Duchess” has been published. The Brownings have not yet eloped to Italy, nevertheless, Browning’s poem revolves around the political and social life of an Italian Duke—one he has no personal connection to. “My Last Duchess” is centered around the dramatic monologue of Alfonso II d’Este (1476-1534) regarding his late wife, the Duchess Lucrezia de’ Medici (1545-1561). “My Last Duchess” illustrates the gender complexes, and power-dynamics, and illusions and masking of one’s persona within the social politics of a noble court.

The annotations analyze the text using historical context as it is the core to understanding the dynamics of the relationships within the poem. The conversation around the poem centers around the power dynamics that exist between a noble people within a marriage, the courts they are a part of, and the overall optics between someone with power and the necessary masking to keep the illusion of control over their subjects. To showcase these intricacies, the annotations feature a mix of historical, scholarly, and interpretive elements that allude to the Duke’s treatment of the Duchess, his envoy, and himself.
It was speculated by scholar Professor John D. Rea, that Browning had no intention of directing the poem at any specific Duke nor Duchess, but was inspired, in general, by his brief trip to Italy in 1838. To counter this notion, Louis S. Friedland examined the history of the Dukes from both Ferrara and Sabbionetta (the city in which Browning spent his time in 1838). The comparisons made regarding their marriages, the subsequent “mysterious deaths” of their respective Duchesses, and their socio-political standing in Italy, that gave ground to the comparison in the first place. It was the fact that the marriage between d’Este and de’ Medici was suspiciously short, and her death at such a young age led to Friedland’s and other scholars’ conclusion that Browning’s chosen Duke is d’Este.
Browning’s choice to write about a seemingly random Italian nobleman is interesting as it displays one of the many ways that Browning’s attachment to Italy was prominent to him as a writer. In a biography about Browning, author Gilbert Keith Chesterton notes that Browning felt a deep connection to Italy and saw the land as an inspiration for many of his works; his upbringing founded in art and literature was further strengthened by Italy’s rich landscape. Browning’s connection to Italy was so intense that he made sure to mention it in as many works as possible, even going so far as to write, “Open my heart and you will see/Graved inside of it, “Italy”” (lines 43-44, “De Gustibus”). “My Last Duchess” serves as not only a homage to the history of Italy, but also inspires research and discussions in the modern literary landscape regarding gendered, contextual, and historical perspectives surrounding a text.

 

Works Cited

Reading Questions

  1. Consider the title’s ambiguity—is this his last, i.e. final, duchess? or last, i.e. most recent, duchess?
  2. Why is the Duke telling this story?
  3. How is his story received by the envoy?
  4. Consider who controls “the gaze” in this poem. Who can see what? When? And why?
  5. One question this poem raises is whether or not art can be controlled. Clearly the Duke tries; does he succeed?
  6. If one of the aims of the dramatic monologue is the revelation of the lyric speaker’s character and temperament, what do we learn from the Duke? What remains unknown? What has Browning withheld from us, and why would he do this?

 

My Last Duchess

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)                                                   10
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                                                    20
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,                                                  30
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                                                     40
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 pretense                                                                      50
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!
definition

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