‘My Last Duchess’ -Robert Browning (1812-1889)
That’s my last duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call Repetition
That piece a wonder, now; Frà Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Mention of artist to flaunt wealth
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
‘Frà Pandolf’ by design, for never read Directly addressing guest
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance, Duke talking about himself
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) Duchess’s politeness
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first Duchess’s equal gratitude for all
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot Toxic masculinity
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
Frà Pandolf chanced to say, ‘Her mantle laps Hinting to murder
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 such cherries of 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 like 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 lessened 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’’ meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no justice 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, tho’,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.
Title
My = possessive: he has to own his women. ‘Last’ shows she was most recent, there
were others before new wife. Duchess has no name: no identity. She is only a duchess
when linked to the duke.
That’s my last duchess painted on the wall,
Talking to official to negotiate his next marriage.
Looking as if she were alive. I call
Hints that she could now be dead. Life-size, massive portrait.
That piece a wonder, now; Frà Pandolf’s hands
Painting is very impressive. Fra = brother (church); indicates he could have been a church
artist to ensure there was no flirting).
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Took him just 1 day to complete this realistic, impressive portrait. Shows pride.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
Command, not a polite invitation.
‘Frà Pandolf’ by design, for never read
Repeated mention of artist’s name to flaunt wealth and status.
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
Anybody that sees her…
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
…sees the incredible depth the artist created in her face.
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
Sense of arrogance and self importance. Parenthesis pun: brackets close in the words
like curtains.
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
He is the only one with access who can draw the curtain to reveal the portrait. Subtext:
even in her death he must control her.
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
Durst = dared.
That’s my last duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call Repetition
That piece a wonder, now; Frà Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Mention of artist to flaunt wealth
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
‘Frà Pandolf’ by design, for never read Directly addressing guest
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance, Duke talking about himself
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) Duchess’s politeness
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first Duchess’s equal gratitude for all
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot Toxic masculinity
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
Frà Pandolf chanced to say, ‘Her mantle laps Hinting to murder
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 such cherries of 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 like 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 lessened 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’’ meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no justice 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, tho’,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.
Title
My = possessive: he has to own his women. ‘Last’ shows she was most recent, there
were others before new wife. Duchess has no name: no identity. She is only a duchess
when linked to the duke.
That’s my last duchess painted on the wall,
Talking to official to negotiate his next marriage.
Looking as if she were alive. I call
Hints that she could now be dead. Life-size, massive portrait.
That piece a wonder, now; Frà Pandolf’s hands
Painting is very impressive. Fra = brother (church); indicates he could have been a church
artist to ensure there was no flirting).
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Took him just 1 day to complete this realistic, impressive portrait. Shows pride.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
Command, not a polite invitation.
‘Frà Pandolf’ by design, for never read
Repeated mention of artist’s name to flaunt wealth and status.
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
Anybody that sees her…
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
…sees the incredible depth the artist created in her face.
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
Sense of arrogance and self importance. Parenthesis pun: brackets close in the words
like curtains.
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
He is the only one with access who can draw the curtain to reveal the portrait. Subtext:
even in her death he must control her.
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
Durst = dared.
