15. ROBERT BROWNING POEMS
(Andrea del Sarto and My Last Duchess)
for APPSC TGPSC TREIRB JL/DL
Robert Browning (born May 7,
1812, London—died Dec. 12, 1889, Venice)
Biography:
Robert Browning (also known as Victorian
Donne; master of dramatic monologue.) was born in Camberwell, London in May of 1812.
He is mostly self taught in his fathre’s library containing around 6,000 books.
This would form the basis of Browning’s early education and stimulate his
interest in literature. Browning's attempts at education proved unsuccessful;
he tried several vocations and dropped out of university several times.
From early in his life Browning’s
family supported his poetic aspirations and helped him financially as well as
with the publishing of his first works. His early life and work were greatly
influenced by the Romantic poet Percy Bysshe
Shelley, which sought to find
transcendence through exploration of the individual's sensibility.
He lived with his family until he met
Elizabeth Barret; the two had to elope in order to marry. Elizabeth and Robert
moved to live in Florence, Italy. They had a son named Pen. After the death of Elizabeth Barrett Browning in 1861, Browning
and his son moved back to England.
His first published work, Pauline, was
a great success in 1833. But his subsequent publication, a long, difficult poem
called Sordello, was a great failure. It was the first time he would be labeled
difficult and obscure, a charge that would haunt his reputation and his work
for most of his life.
His hand in writing stage plays saw
brief success but ultimately led to him being criticized as unfit for the
dramatic form because of his lyrical flourishes and overly intellectual
approach.
He continued to publish – next through
a series known as Bells and Pomegranates – to establish the dramatic monologue
form that would ensure his legacy.
In 1855, Browning published a collection
called Men and Women, which contains most of his best known poems but was again
only a modest success, especially when compared to Elizabeth's work, which was
quite popular.
He published other collections like
Dramatis Personae, but it was his long work The Ring and the Book, published in
1868-69, that finally made him famous.
Robert Browning is considered as the
greatest Victorian poet. Victorian England, named after Queen Victoria who was
crowned in 1837, is marked by several social qualities: repressed sexuality,
strict morality, an expansion of English imperialism, a focus on human
inventiveness, and nascent doubt over man's place in the universe.
Before Browning’s death in 1889 in
Venice, he lived to see the formation of the Browning Society and received an
honorary Doctorate of Civil Law from Balliol College at Oxford University. He
is buried in Westminster Abbey.
Poetry:
1. Pauline: A Fragment of a Confession (1833)– published anonymously- a confession of an
unnamed poet to his lover, Pauline.
2. Paracelsus 1835– five part epic poem- a Swish
physician, quest for perfect knowledge
3. Sordello 1840– poem- life of Sordello da Goito, a
13th-century Italian poet and troubadour. Begins with: “who will hear Sordello’s story…….”
4.
Bells and Pomegranates No. III: Dramatic
Lyrics 1842:
i) The Pied Piper of
Hamelin 1842- adaptation of the classic children’s folk tale.
Pied Piper of Hamelin (has the power to attract anyone to his music) hired
to solve the problem of rats by playing the pipe on a promise of 1000 coins
from mayor. When the mayor refused to pay, piper plays the pipe again, all the
children follow him (except a lame boy). He disappears with all the children of
the town and never returned.
ii) Porphyria’s Lover
1842: Dramatic monologue- narrated by a man who has
murdered his lover Porphyria, describes the act of murdering to preserve their
perfect moment together.
iii) My Last Duchess
1842: Dramatic monologue- Duke of Ferrara
(who murdered his first wife, Lucrezia) describes the character of his first
wife to envoy of his new intended bride. The painter mentioned in the poem is
Fra Pandolf. Famous line: ”I gave commands; Then
all smiles stopped together.”
iv) Soliloquy of the
Spanish Cloister 1842- is a resentful narration by a unnamed Spanish
monk who watches his professed enemy, Brother
Lawrence, as the latter plants flowers.
5.
Bells and Pomegranates No. VII: Dramatic
Romances and Lyrics (1845):
i)
The lost Leader 1845- an attack on
Wordsworth, who had recently changed his political views. Wordsworth accepted
the Poet Laureate after the death of Southey in 1843. Browning visualized an
image of Wordsworth literally on his knees in front of the queen, and wrote
this poem. The First line of the poem talks about Wordsworth’s betrayal or
selling out. It opens with:
“Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat”
Famous line:
Shakespeare
was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us -they watch from
their graves!
ii)
The Laboratory: narrated by a
young lady, while an Old man (apothecary) is preparing a poison for her, to use
it on her romantic rivals (the two ladies) at court. She pushes him to complete
the potion. She hopes the poison will taste sweetly. When the poison is
complete, she promises the apothecary both her fortune (her "jewels"
and "gold") but also lets him kiss her: "You
may kiss me, old man, on my mouth if you will!"
iii)
How They Brought the Good News From Ghent to
Aix- follows three horsemen (The Narrator, Dirck and Joris) as they
rush between the titular towns to bring important news. The nature of the good
news is never revealed. Only the narrator survives; he rewards his horse,
Roland, with wine for surviving the journey.
iv)
The Bishop Orders His Tomb at St. Praxed's
Church - is a rambling dramatic monologue in which a greedy dying bishop calls youngmen as
"sons," asking them to build him a great tomb so that he can shame
his rival who is buried nearby. If they are actually his sons, they would have
to be illegitimate since he is a bishop.
v)
Home-Thoughts, From Abroad- is a British
expatriate's nostalgic thoughts of England, especially of how it must be
beautiful in the newly arrived spring.
vi)
Meeting at Night- is a
description of a man's intense travel over land and sea to rendezvous with his
beloved.
6. Christmas-Eve and Easter-Day, a Poem (1850)- treated as two poems, rather than as one poem
in two parts
7. Men and Women 1855– it consists his best
Dramatic Monologues.
i)
Love Among the Ruins 1855- first poem in Men
and Women- is a contemplation of how a pastoral landscape, where the narrator's
beloved is currently waiting for him, was once the setting of a great empire
that has since fallen
ii)
Evelyn Hope 1855: The speaker of the
poem is an old man sitting with the corpse of Evelyn Hope, a 16-year-old girl
who has recently died. She was too young, so he never made any direct proposal
and it is now too late. He anticipates rejoining her in the afterlife. “Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead!
Sit and watch by her side an hour.”
iii)
A Toccata of Galuppi’s 1855- Based on
18th-century Venetian composer Baldassare Galuppi. Toccata is a musical
instrument. The title refers to the fact that the speaker is either playing or
listening to a toccata, worried about the disconnect between pleasant art and
impending death. While he plays or listens to his immortal music, though swept
away, gets transposed into old Venice. In the end he laments for loss of such
music and glory of Venice.
iv)
Fra (brother) Lippo Lippi 1855: Dramatic Monologue- inspired to write this
poem after reading Vasari's Lives
of the Artists. It is narrated by 15th century renaissance
painter and monk, Fra Lippo Lippi, and his conflict with the church. It is
about the influence of Church on art. He paints real pictures, but church asks
him to “paint the soul, not the flesh.” The painter was caught
by policemen in red light district of Vienna claiming he is visiting a
brothel, but when they realize he is a employee of the powerful Cosimo Medici,
they release him. Poem asks the question: whether art should be true to
life or an idealized image of life. Famous line: "Paint
the soul, never mind the legs and arms!"
v)
Andrew del Sarto 1855- poem’s subtitle, “The Faultless
Painter.” - narrated by Andrea del Sarto (renaissance painter)
to his wife Lucrezia, who is well known for creating "faultless"
paintings- senza errori ("without errors"), but
laments for lack of "soul" in his work. He blames his wife Lucrezia
for not inspiring him, but accept his faults. The “cousin (his wife’s lover)”
is demanding money from Andrea del Sarto to pay off gambling debts. Opening line:
But
do not let us quarrel any more,
No,
my Lucrezia; bear with me for once:
Sit
down and all shall happen as you wish.
You
turn your face, but does it bring your heart?
vi) One Word More
1855 (addressed to his wife)
vii) A Grammarian’s Funeral 1855- narrated by a disciple of a grammarian
(scholar of the classical languages) who had renounced normal life in favor of
a life fully devoted to lonely scholarship. The grammarian has died, and the
narrator is performing his eulogy and carrying his corpse to its burial place
atop a mountain.
viii) Child Roland to the Dark Tower Came 1855 - a line from William Shakespeare's play King
Lear- symbolist poem that follows a traveling
knight in search of a Dark Tower, which he knows will bring
disappointment and probably death, but which he seeks nevertheless. The hoary
cripple gives Roland directions off the road on his quest for the Dark Tower.
Cuthbert and Giles are friends of Roland's who were shamed for having betrayed
his friends in the past.
ix) My Star 1855- a lover's
contemplation of how he loves a particular star even though others do not see
in it the beauty he does.
x) Memorabilia 1855 -
recounts a meeting between the narrator and another man who had once met the
Romantic poet Shelley. The narrator is very excited about hearing the story and
reflects on how small moments can stay with us forever.
xi) The Last Ride Together 1855- is a dramatic monologue- after the rejection
of his love proposal, the speaker makes a final request to go for a
ride with him.
8.
Dramatic Personae 1864– it contains studies of men and women.
i)
Rabbi Ben Ezra 1864: about a Jew,
who is a poet, mathematician and scholar of 12th century. - a
theological monologue spoken by a historical theologian about how one ought to
exercise patience in life in preparation for greater quests to come. He praises
old age as having the understanding that escapes youth. Begins with the
line: “Grow old along with me, The best is yet to
be”
ii)
Abt Vogler 1864- a dramatic monologue-
based on Georg joseph Voglar- portrayed as a German musician who
uses music to communicate with God.
iii)
Caliban Upon Setebos 1864: dramatic monologue
spoken by Caliban, a monster from Shakespeare’s Tempest, about Setebos, whom he
believes is his creator. He considers the apathy and resentment of God, and
wonders how he can make the most of life without bringing Setebos's wrath down
upon himself.
iv)
Prospice 1864- The title in
Latin means “to look forward.” -the speaker bravely talks of looking
forward and facing death, so that he can be reunited with his beloved.
v)
Death in the Desert 1864- is a recounting
of the last days of St. John, who wrote the Fourth Gospel, and who has been
accused of inventing details about Christ's life. John admits to having lied in
order to relate the more important truth: people should accept faith based on
the wonders of life rather than on rational observation.
9. The Ring and the Book (4 volumes, 1868-69) – his masterpiece, in blank verse, long
narrative poem- verse novel in 21000 lines, it is twice as long as Paradise
Lost. It contains the story of Pomphilia, and her unhappy marriage, returns to
her parents. Her husband Franceschini murders Pomphilia and her parents,
arrested and executed. Famous line: “O' Lyric
Love, half angel and half bird”
10. Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of
Society (1871)- long poem
11. Fifine at the Fair (1872)- poem
12. Red Cotton Night-Cap Country, or, Turf and
Towers (1873)- poem in
blankverse
13. Pacchiarotto, and How He Worked in Distemper
(1876)- Short collection of poems- published
after 12 years from the publication of previous collection (Dramatic Personae
1864)
14. Dramatic Idyls (1879)
15. Dramatic Idyls: Second Series (1880)
16. Jocoseria (1883)- book of poetry
17. Ferishtah's Fancies (1884)- book of poetry
18. Asolando 1889 – Collection of 5 poems- published on the day
of his death. Asolando means “to amuse oneself at random”
19. Aeschylus Soliloquy – unfinished poem.
20. Poetic Plays:
a.
Strafford: A tragedy 1837 (historical play)
- portrays the downfall and execution of
Lord Strafford, the advisor to Charles I shortly before the English Civil War.
b.
Pippa Passes 1841- verse play in 4
parts: Morning, Noon, Evening, and Night- published in Bells and Pomegranates No.I- dedicted to author of Ion, Sergeant Talfourd. On
New Year’s morning, her only holiday for the entire year -Pippa, a silk weaver in the Italian town of
Asolo, goes out, sings and helps the poor.- Famous line:
“God's in his Heaven - All's right with the world"
c.
King Victor and King Charles 1842- based on an incident in Kingdom of Sardenia,
between elderly king Victor (father) and Charles (Son). Published in Bells
and Pomegranates No. II
d.
The Return of the Druses (1843)- a tragedy
in blank verse, published in Bells and Pomegranates No. IV
e.
A Bolt on the Scutcheon 1843- a tragedy in blank vers, published in Bells and Pomegranates No. V
f.
Colombe's Birthday (1844)- misadventures of
the fictional Duchess Colombe on the anniversary of her coronation. Published in Bells
and Pomegranates No. VI
g.
Luria (1846)- a tragedy in
blank verse. A Soul's Tragedy (1846) -a tragi‐comedy in
two acts: the first in verse, the second in prose- Published in Bells
and Pomegranates No. VIII
h.
In a Balcony (1855)- one act play-
published in Men and Women.
The Barretts of Wimpole Street is a 1930 play by
the Dutch/English dramatist Rudolf Besier, based on the romance between Robert
Browning and Elizabeth Barrett
1. Andrea del Sarto(1855)
Context/Background:
Andrea
del Sarto (1486–1530) is a real Italian Renaissance painter, nicknamed "The Faultless
Painter (senza errori)" for his technical mastery, but
criticized for lacking ambition and originality compared to contemporaries like
Michelangelo and Raphael.
Browning’s
dramatic monologue is based on Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Artists (1550),
which portrays Andrea as a skilled but weak-willed artist dominated by his
wife, Lucrezia. Poem is set in Florence, Spoken by Andrea to his wife,
Lucrezia
Short Summary:
This dramatic monologue “Andrea del
Sarto” is written in pentameter blank verse, mostly iambic and is narrated by
Renaissance painter Andrea del Sarto to his wife Lucrezia. They live in
Florence. Andrea begs Lucrezia that they end a quarrel over whether the painter
should sell his paintings to a friend of his wife's. He acquiesces to her wish
and promises he will give her the money if she will only hold his hand and sit
with him by the window from which they can survey Florence.
He admits to feeling a deep
melancholy, in which "a common grayness silvers everything" (line
35), and hopes she can pull him from it. He tells her that if she were to
smile for him, he would be able to pull himself from such sadness. Andrea
considers himself a failure as an artist, both because Lucrezia has lost her
"first pride" (line 37) in him and because he has only
one talent: the ability to create faultless paintings. Though many praise him
for creating flawless reproductions, which he admits he does easily, with "no
sketches first, no studies" (line 68), Andrea is aware that his work
lacks the spirit and soul that bless his contemporaries Rafael and Michel
Agnolo (Michelangelo). Considering himself only a "craftsman"
(line 82), he knows they are able to glimpse heaven whereas he is stuck
with earthly inspirations.
He acknowledges that an artist ought
be drawn towards the demands of high art, which pushes him to reach for the
heavens: "a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven
for?" (lines 97-98). And yet he repeatedly chooses to stay
Earth-bound, choosing to create paintings for money, to stay within his comfort
realm.
His contemporaries have perhaps gained
in ambition by lacking a wife. Andrea notes, Raphael, Michelangelo, and
Leonardo did not have wives: they lived for their work. It's clear that he is
under Lucrezia's thumb– in the beginning he acquiesces to painting for the sake
of her "friend's friend" (line 5)– and at the end, when he
sends her off to a 'cousin'(line 267), who is more than likely a lover,
and whose debts Lucrezia forces her husband to work in order to pay
He surveys a painting that has been
sent to him and notes how it has imperfections he could easily fix, but a "soul"
(line 108) he could never capture. He begins to blame Lucrezia for denying
him the soul that could have made him great, and while he forgives her for her
beauty, he accuses her of not having brought a "mind" (line 126)
that could have inspired him. He wonders whether what makes his contemporaries
great is their lack of a wife.
Andrea then reminisces on their past.
Long before, he had painted for a year in France as court painter for Francis,
the King of France, producing work of which both he and Lucrezia were proud.
But under the nagging influence of his wife Lucrezia, when she grew "restless"
(line 165), he left the French court for Italy but promised to return; he
took with him some money that Francis had given him to purchase Italian
artworks for the court. However, he spent all of the money on a house for
himself and his wife in Italy and never returned to France. However, he
contemplates that it could have gone no other way, since fate intended him to
be with Lucrezia, and he hopes future generations will forgive him his choices.
He recalls how Michelangelo once
complimented his talent to Rafael, but quickly loses that excitement as he
focuses on the imperfections of the painting in front of him and his own
failings. He begs Lucrezia to stay with him more often, sure that her love will
inspire him to greater achievements, and he could thereby "earn more,
give [her] more" (line 207).
Lucrezia is called from outside, by
her cousin, who is implicitly her lover, and Andrea begs her to stay. He notes
that the cousin has "loans" (line 221) that need paying, and
says he will pay those if she stays. She seems to decline the offer and to
insist she will leave.
In the poem's final section, Andrea
grows melancholy again and insists he does "regret little… would change
still less" (line 245). He justifies having fled France and sold out
his artistic integrity and praises himself for his prolific faultless
paintings. He notes again that Lucrezia is a part of his failure, but insists
that she was his choice. Finally, he gives her leave to go to her cousin.
Themes, Motifs and Symbols
Themes
1. The Conflict Between Art and Life: Andrea
del Sarto is torn between his artistic ambitions and his personal life,
particularly his troubled marriage with Lucrezia. Andrea laments that Lucrezia
does not appreciate his art and only cares for material pleasures. Financial
concerns and Lucrezia’s demands compromise Andrea’s artistic integrity.
Example: "I’ll work then for your friend’s friend, never fear,”
3. Lack of inspiration: Andrea’s
technical skill lacks spiritual depth. Unlike his peers, he produces soulless
perfection: For Andrea, producing flawless paintings is, “easy,” and he needs
no “sketches first, no studies” to work from, but paints “perfectly” without
preparation. but lacks the divine inspiration that artists like Raphael or
Michelangelo possess. He admits his work
is mechanically perfect but lacks soul. Andrea notes that, his contemporaries
Raphael, Michelangelo, and Leonardo are successful because they did not have
wives.
4. Regret and Lost Potential: Andrea
reflects on his wasted talent. He regrets not pursuing his full potential,
blaming his weak will. Andrea along with Rapheal, Michael Angelo and Leonardo
wants to paint the four walls of heavenly blessed New Jerusalem, but he lost
the chance because of Lucrezia. "Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed
his grasp" underscores his self-awareness—and inaction.
4. Corruption and Betrayal:
Andrea
left France and setteled in Italy and built a house for Lucrezia with the money
given for paintings by French king Francis I. He is betrayed by Lucrezia
(cousin’s whistle refers to her lover) as he betrayed King Francis I.
Motifs
1. Gold and Silver (Materialism vs. Art): Andrea
repeatedly uses monetary language ("gold," "silver") to
describe art, symbolizing his reduction of creativity to commerce. His
paintings become transactions rather than masterpieces, mirroring his moral
compromise.
2. Light and Twilight: The
fading light ("The daylight comes, not day") mirrors Andrea’s dimming
genius and his resigned acceptance of failure. Unlike the vibrant dawn in Fra
Lippo Lippi, Andrea’s world is perpetually twilight—a liminal space between
greatness and decline.
3. The Silent Listener (Lucrezia’s Absence): Lucrezia’s
silence and indifference ("You turn your face, but does it bring your
heart?") amplify Andrea’s isolation. Her presence is a void, emphasizing
how his love for her drains his art of passion.
Symbols
1. The "Faultless" Paintings: Andrea’s
technically perfect but soulless works symbolize his moral and artistic
stagnation. Unlike the flawed but inspired frescoes of Fra Lippo Lippi,
Andrea’s art is "cold" and lifeless—a reflection of his emotional
compromises.
2. The "King Francis" Episode: Andrea’s
anecdote about King Francis I praising his skill, contrasts with his current
degradation. The king symbolizes the recognition Andrea could have achieved had
he not abandoned his ambition for Lucrezia.
3. The Cousin’s Whistle: The
recurring interruption of Lucrezia’s lover (the "cousin") symbolizes
Andrea’s cuckoldry and emasculation. His passive reaction underscores his
resignation.
Line by line Summary
Lines 1-10
But do not let us quarrel any more,
No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once:
Sit down and all shall happen as you wish.
You turn your face, but does it bring your
heart?
I’ll work then for your friend’s friend, never
fear,
Treat his own subject after his own way,
Fix his own time, accept too his own price,
And shut the money into this small hand
When next it takes mine. Will it? tenderly?
Oh, I’ll content him,—but to-morrow, Love!
The speaker of this poem, Andrea del
Sarto, begins the piece by addressing his wife. These two will be the
predominant characters that feature in this poem and many parts of the
monologue are clearly spoken to Lucrezia.
He asks her at the beginning of the poem if
they can just have one moment in which they are not fighting or “quarrel[ing].”
He hopes that she will listen to him for just this once as he has every
intention of conceding to her wishes. Lucrezia turns her face towards the
speaker but he does not believe that she is genuine. He asks her if she brought
“her heart” to their conversation.
Del Sarto tells his wife that he is willing to
do what she asked and pay, or lend money to her “friend’s friend. It is unclear
why the friend needs money but he promises to do it “to-morrow.”
Lines 11-20
I often am much wearier than you think,
This evening more than usual, and it seems
As if—forgive now—should you let me sit
Here by the window with your hand in mine
And look a half-hour forth on Fiesole,
Both of one mind, as married people use,
Quietly, quietly the evening through,
I might get up to-morrow to my work
Cheerful and fresh as ever. Let us try.
To-morrow, how you shall be glad for this!
He confesses to her at the beginning
of this section, in an attempt to keep her full attention, that oftentimes he
is much “wearier” than she might think, and especially so this evening.
To help remedy this weariness, del Sarto asks
that Lucrezia come and sit by him, with her hand in his, and look out on
“Fiesole,” a section of Florence, Italy. Together there they will sit
“quietly,” and maybe be able to refresh themselves for the next day.
Lines 21-28
Your soft hand is a woman of itself,
And mine the man’s bared breast she curls
inside.
Don’t count the time lost, neither; you must
serve
For each of the five pictures we require:
It saves a model. So! keep looking so—
My serpentining beauty, rounds on rounds!
—How could you ever prick those perfect ears,
Even to put the pearl there! oh, so sweet—
The speaker is deeply endeared by the
feeling of his wife’s hand. He sees it as being a representation of her entire
body that can curl inside his own, a representation of “the man’s bared
breast.”
He is cherishing how his wife appears
to him at this moment. He sees her as being a “serpentining beauty” that will
serve him as the model for “five pictures” that he is planning. He says that it
will save them money that way and he would rather paint her anyway. She’s so
perfect and pristine that he can’t imagine why she would ever even pierce her
ear to wear earrings.
Lines 29-40
My face, my moon, my everybody’s moon,
Which everybody looks on and calls his,
And, I suppose, is looked on by in turn,
While she looks—no one’s: very dear, no less.
You smile? why, there’s my picture ready made,
There’s what we painters call our harmony!
A common greyness silvers everything,—
All in a twilight, you and I alike
—You, at the point of your first pride in me
(That’s gone you know),—but I, at every point;
My youth, my hope, my art, being all toned
down
To yonder sober pleasant Fiesole.
He continues to lavish praise on his
wife as he thinks about her image hanging in the homes of men that have
purchased his work. Each of these men looks at the painting and considers it
theirs but she does not belong to any of them.
The speaker seems to believe that Lucrezia is
the ideal model for his work as he says that with one smile from her he can
compose a whole painting. That is all the inspiration that he needs. She is
what “painters call our harmony!” She is his muse.
He remembers a time when they were both new to
one another when they first met. Initially, she was proud of who he was and
what he was going to be, but he knows that is “gone.” Additionally, he says
that back then he had his, “youth…hope…[and] art” that he was living through.
All this has been “toned down” later in life as things did not turn out quite
as he expected.
Lines 41- 51
There’s the bell clinking from the chapel-top;
That length of convent-wall across the way
Holds the trees safer, huddled more inside;
The last monk leaves the garden; days
decrease,
And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
Eh? the whole seems to fall into a shape
As if I saw alike my work and self
And all that I was born to be and do,
A twilight-piece. Love, we are in God’s hand.
How strange now, looks the life he makes us
lead;
So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
From where the two are sitting
overlooking Fiesole, he can hear the chiming, or “clinking” of a bell “from the
chapel-top” as well as observe the church and the “last monk” leaving the
garden for the day.
The speaker then takes a moment here to ponder
how “we,” he and Lucrezia, as well as all of humankind, are in “God’s hand.”
Time is passing, allowing him to look back on his life and see if he was able
to accomplish what he wanted. He recognizes that the life God makes for “us” is
both free and “fettered.”
Lines 52-59
I feel he laid the fetter: let it lie!
This chamber for example—turn your head—
All that’s behind us! You don’t understand
Nor care to understand about my art,
But you can hear at least when people speak:
And that cartoon, the second from the door
—It is the thing, Love! so such things should
be—
Behold Madonna!—I am bold to say.
The speaker believes that God made a
“fetter” for human life and let it do what it wanted to. At this point in the
poem, the speaker begins to lament the career that he did not quite have. He
believes that all those throughout his life did not truly understand his art.
They did not care to take the time to truly see it. Del Sarto does mention an
instance of happiness, that was more than likely reoccurring, as people
commented from afar that his “cartoon,” or sketch for a painting, was just “the
thing.” Many have felt “Love!” For his work, but just not to the extent that he
feels he deserves.
Lines 60-67
I
can do with my pencil what I know,
What I see, what at bottom of my heart
I wish for, if I ever wish so deep—
Do easily, too—when I say, perfectly,
I do not boast, perhaps: yourself are judge,
Who listened to the Legate’s talk last week,
And just as much they used to say in France.
At any rate ’tis easy, all of it!
The artist knows the skills that he
possesses, and he can feel his own ability, coming from his heart, that allows
him to create anything. It is easy for him to do “perfectly” what others
struggle with.
He does interject here to say that he does not
want to sound like he’s bragging, but “you,” meaning Lucrezia, know of “my”
ability and the ease with which “I” create.
Lines 68-77
No sketches first, no studies, that’s long
past:
I do what many dream of, all their lives,
—Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do,
And fail in doing. I could count twenty such
On twice your fingers, and not leave this
town,
Who strive—you don’t know how the others
strive
To paint a little thing like that you smeared
Carelessly passing with your robes afloat,—
Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says,
(I know his name, no matter)—so much less!
The speaker goes on, allowing himself
a few more lines of self-indulgence saying that he has never needed to sketch
or study a subject before he draws it. He can do what many “strive to do, and
agonize to do, / And fail in doing.” There are many such men in this town.
Lines 78-87
Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged.
There burns a truer light of God in them,
In their vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up
brain,
Heart, or whate’er else, than goes on to
prompt
This low-pulsed forthright craftsman’s hand of
mine.
Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I
know,
Reach many a time a heaven that’s shut to me,
Enter and take their place there sure enough,
Though they come back and cannot tell the
world.
My works are nearer heaven, but I sit here.
While these men may envy the ease with
which he creates perfect paintings, he does not have something that they do.
They have in them a true light of God that exists in their “vexed beating
stuffed and stopped-up brain.” These men are blessed by God but also suffer for
his gifts.
Del Sarto goes back to speaking about himself,
using an insult that is often cast his way. He calls his own hand that of a
“craftsman” that does not create with heart, only with skill. His art and his
mind are “shut” out of heaven where the other men are readily entering and
exiting with the subjects they paint. He can get close to heaven, but not quite
all the way.
Lines 88-96
The sudden blood of these men! at a word—
Praise them, it boils, or blame them, it boils
too.
I, painting from myself and to myself,
Know what I do, am unmoved by men’s blame
Or their praise either. Somebody remarks
Morello’s outline there is wrongly traced,
His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,
Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?
Speak as they please, what does the mountain
care?
The speaker has now worked himself
into a serious frustration at the state of his own artistic ability. He is
trying to find flaws in “these men” that can tap into the divine subject
matter. While del Sarto sees himself as being even-tempered, “these men” are
easy to upset and quick to cast blame on others.
Whenever someone comments on his work and
critiques his efforts he thinks, “what of that?” He doesn’t care if he is
criticized for how something is drawn because he knows his own skill.
Lines 97-106
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what’s a heaven for? All is silver-grey,
Placid and perfect with my art: the worse!
I know both what I want and what might gain,
And yet how profitless to know, to sigh
“Had I been two, another and myself,
“Our head would have o’erlooked the world!” No
doubt.
Yonder’s a work now, of that famous youth
The Urbinate who died five years ago.
(‘Tis copied, George Vasari sent it me.)
All this being said, the speaker knows
that a man should reach for things that might seem unattainable. He looks at
his own work and sees how it is perfectly one thing. It is “Placid” in a way
that bothers him. Even though he can see what he wants to create, he is unable
to imbue his art with the soul that other’s works have. He knows that if he had
been “two” different people in one body, himself, and someone with the skill of
Michelangelo, he would have conquered the world of art. From where the speaker
is sitting he references a piece of art across the room. This line drags the
audience back into the physical room with del Sarto and Lucrezia. The piece
that he is referencing was sent to him by “George Vasari,” the famous Italian
biographer of artists and their works.
Lines 107-114
Well, I can fancy how he did it all,
Pouring his soul, with kings and popes to see,
Reaching, that heaven might so replenish him,
Above and through his art—for it gives way;
That arm is wrongly put—and there again—
A fault to pardon in the drawing’s lines,
Its body, so to speak: its soul is right,
He means right—that, a child may understand.
This particular piece is easy for the
speaker to break down. He knows how it was painted and how the artist “Pour[ed]
his soul” into the art for “kings and popes to see.” The art may be beautiful
in its conception but del Sarto, with his eye for detail, can see that the “arm
is wrongly put” and that there are faults in the “drawing’s lines.” These details
are excused by other viewers as its “soul is right.” All may understand that,
even a child.
Lines 115-126
Still, what an arm! and I could alter it:
But all the play, the insight and the stretch—
(Out of me, out of me! And wherefore out?
Had you enjoined them on me, given me soul,
We might have risen to Rafael, I and you!
Nay, Love, you did give all I asked, I think—
More than I merit, yes, by many times.
But had you—oh, with the same perfect brow,
And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth,
And the low voice my soul hears, as a bird
The fowler’s pipe, and follows to the snare —
Had you, with these the same, but brought a
mind!
Even del Sarto understands that even
if the arm is not quite right, it is still beautiful. He knows that with his skill
he could fix it. Once more he bemoans the fact that he was not given the soul
to rise above everyone else. He could have even surpassed “Rafael.” He refers
to himself and Lucrezia as rising together through the ranks of the art world
and that if she with all of her perfections of physical beauty, only brought
with her a mind that might have improved del Sarto’s life. He is casting part
of his disappointment in himself onto her.
Lines 127-136
Some women do so. Had the mouth there urged
“God and the glory! never care for gain.
“The present by the future, what is that?
“Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo!
“Rafael is waiting: up to God, all three!”
I might have done it for you. So it seems:
Perhaps not. All is as God over-rules.
Beside, incentives come from the soul’s self;
The rest avail not. Why do I need you?
What wife had Rafael, or has Agnolo?
Some women, the speaker states, do
bring brains with them into their marriages. Why, he thinks, didn’t his wife?
The next lines of the poem are what the speaker wishes his wife had said to him
throughout his life. If she had really wanted to help his career and further
his art she would have told him that he should give all glory to God without
caring for “gain.” He should be attempting to raise himself to the status of
“Agnolo,” meaning Michelangelo or climb up to where “Rafael,” or Raphael, is.
If she had said this he might have done it for her. Or, he says, maybe it wouldn’t have worked that
way because God controls everything. He changes his tone here and says that it
was not her fault for not speaking up to him. Instead, he should never have had
a wife in the first place, like Michelangelo and Raphael.
Lines 137-148
In this world, who can do a thing, will not;
And who would do it, cannot, I perceive:
Yet the will’s somewhat—somewhat, too, the
power—
And thus we half-men struggle. At the end,
God, I conclude, compensates, punishes.
‘Tis safer for me, if the award be strict,
That I am something underrated here,
Poor this long while, despised, to speak the
truth.
I dared not, do you know, leave home all day,
For fear of chancing on the Paris lords.
The best is when they pass and look aside;
But they speak sometimes; I must bear it all.
In the world in which they are living,
the speaker says that the men who want to do something are unable to, and the
men who can do it, won’t. This is frustrating to him and to all the “half-men”
that are only blessed with half the talent they need.
He decides that it is safer for him to have
been given the life he has as he was not fit for one in which he has to speak
with the “Paris lords.” He claims to like it when they ignore him.
Lines 149 - 161
Well may they speak! That Francis, that first
time,
And that long festal year at Fontainebleau!
I surely then could sometimes leave the
ground,
Put on the glory, Rafael’s daily wear,
In that humane great monarch’s golden look,—
One finger in his beard or twisted curl
Over his mouth’s good mark that made the
smile,
One arm about my shoulder, round my neck,
The jingle of his gold chain in my ear,
I painting proudly with his breath on me,
All his court round him, seeing with his eyes,
Such frank French eyes, and such a fire of
souls
Profuse, my hand kept plying by those hearts,—
In this stanza, the speaker is
slightly standing up against those that talk about him unkindly. He is
remembering when he worked for the king of France, Francis, and was at
Fontainebleau for a year. It was here that he had confidence and could put on
the clothes, or stature of Raphael. This was caused by his closeness with the
king. He remembers how Francis’ clothes sounded when he walked and how he stood
over his shoulder as the speaker painted. When he had this position he was
admired by the French court and with his paint, he could influence them and
gain confidence from their looks.
Lines 162- 171
And, best of all, this, this, this face
beyond,
This in the background, waiting on my work,
To crown the issue with a last reward!
A good time, was it not, my kingly days?
And had you not grown restless… but I know—
‘Tis done and past: ’twas right, my instinct
said:
Too live the life grew, golden and not grey,
And I’m the weak-eyed bat no sun should tempt
Out of the grange whose four walls make his
world.
How could it end in any other way?
One more he speaks directly to his
wife. He remembers that in those days the best thing of all was her face
waiting for him, approving of his work. He asks her if these days were not
“kingly,” and says that it is her fault, “had [she] not grown restless…” and
made him leave, his future might have been brighter. But, he concedes, what’s
“done” is done. At this point in his life, he is but a “weak-eyed bat” that
cannot be tempted out of his routine and “four walls.” He despondently
concludes this section by saying that it could not have ended any other way.
Lines 172-182
You called me, and I came home to your heart.
The triumph was—to reach and stay there; since
I reached it ere the triumph, what is lost?
Let my hands frame your face in your hair’s
gold,
You beautiful Lucrezia that are mine!
“Rafael did this, Andrea painted that;
“The Roman’s is the better when you pray,
“But still the other’s Virgin was his wife—”
Men will excuse me. I am glad to judge
Both pictures in your presence; clearer grows
My better fortune, I resolve to think.
It appears as if Lucrezia, bored with
their situation in France, had asked him to come home and so he did. He reaches
his hands up to “frame” her face and golden hair and comforts himself by
remembering that she is his. He “resolve[s] to think” that ending up with her,
rather than painting something lasting, was his “better fortune.”
Lines 183-193
For, do you know, Lucrezia, as God lives,
Said one day Agnolo, his very self,
To Rafael . . . I have known it all these
years . . .
(When the young man was flaming out his
thoughts
Upon a palace-wall for Rome to see,
Too lifted up in heart because of it)
“Friend, there’s a certain sorry little scrub
“Goes up and down our Florence, none cares
how,
“Who, were he set to plan and execute
“As you are, pricked on by your popes and
kings,
“Would bring the sweat into that brow of
yours!”
Andrea del Sarto continues to speak to
his wife, Lucrezia, imploring her to understand the daily trauma he goes
through as he thinks about his place amongst the great artists. He imagines a
conversation between the two great Renaissance masters, Raphael and
Michelangelo. He likes to think of Michelangelo saying to Raphael, as he paints
in Rome, that there is another artist that works in “our Florence” and is not
acknowledged. This man, if he were to be given the same commissions that “you,”
meaning Raphael, were given, then he would give you serious competition. To
retain his place as one of the greatest painters of all time, Raphael would
have “sweat” on his “brow.” This is of
course a completely imagined conversation that del Sarto thinks up as he dreams
of what he wishes people thought of him.
Lines 194- 204
To Rafael’s!—And indeed the arm is wrong.
I hardly dare . . . yet, only you to see,
Give the chalk here—quick, thus, the line
should go!
Ay, but the soul! he’s Rafael! rub it out!
Still, all I care for, if he spoke the truth,
(What he? why, who but Michel Agnolo?
Do you forget already words like those?)
If really there was such a chance, so lost,—
Is, whether you’re—not grateful—but more
pleased.
Well, let me think so. And you smile indeed!
This hour has been an hour! Another smile?
In a torrent of emotion, contrary to
how he portrayed himself previously, del Sarto turns to the Raphael copy that
Vasari gave him and begins to make adjustments. He makes lines here and there,
hoping to fix the arm, but then backtracks. He does not want to destroy the
“soul” of the painting. “He’s Rafael!” Anything that del Sarto does to the
painting will seem trite in comparison. The speaker, now relaxed again, thinks
once more about this imagined opportunity to have the same type of commissions
that Raphael received. He dreams if only “really there was such a chance.” He
hopes that if this had been the case, Lucrezia would have been proud of him.
Already an hour has passed during this conversation and he sees it as being a
productive one.
Lines 205- 213
If you would sit thus by me every night
I should work better, do you comprehend?
I mean that I should earn more, give you more.
See, it is settled dusk now; there’s a star;
Morello’s gone, the watch-lights show the
wall,
The cue-owls speak the name we call them by.
Come from the window, love,—come in, at last,
Inside the melancholy little house
We built to be so gay with. God is just.
He tells her that if only she would
take the time to sit with him every night, that he would work “better.” He
would create better work, but he would also be able to take better care of her
and give her more. The sun has set and it has “settled dusk now.” There is a
star in the sky and the owls are hooting around them. He tells her to come away
from the window and deeper into their “melancholy little house.”
Lines 214-223
King Francis may forgive me: oft at nights
When I look up from painting, eyes tired out,
The walls become illumined, brick from brick
Distinct, instead of mortar, fierce bright
gold,
That gold of his I did cement them with!
Let us but love each other. Must you go?
That Cousin here again? he waits outside?
Must see you—you, and not with me? Those
loans?
More gaming debts to pay? you smiled for that?
Well, let smiles buy me! have you more to
spend?
As the speaker is pondering how the
king of France now regards him, he is staring around the room imagining the
house transformed into a palace. His daydream is interrupted by the appearance
of his wife’s “Cousin” who is waiting for her outside. He does not want her to
go, especially since the cousin is demanding money to pay off his gambling
debts.
He believes that she treated him kindly over
the last hour in an attempt to get the money that her cousin needs.
Lines 224-234
While hand and eye and something of a heart
Are left me, work’s my ware, and what’s it
worth?
I’ll pay my fancy. Only let me sit
The grey remainder of the evening out,
Idle, you call it, and muse perfectly
How I could paint, were I but back in France,
One picture, just one more—the Virgin’s face,
Not yours this time! I want you at my side
To hear them—that is, Michel Agnolo—
Judge all I do and tell you of its worth.
Will you? To-morrow, satisfy your friend.
Del Sarto feels a new pang of loss as
his wife is leaving him that night. He knows that he still has his work and
“some of a heart,” left but “what,” he asks, is “it worth?” He agrees to pay the money but only if he can
be let alone brood through the rest of the evening. He thinks that if he could
only paint one more picture, it would depict the “Virgin’s face,” and not this
time modeled after Lucrezia. He wants her there beside him, not in the picture.
He wants to prove himself and have her hear all the wonderful things that the
others will say about him.
But this is all tomorrow. For now, he tells
her she can, “satisfy” her friend.
Lines 235- 243
I take the subjects for his corridor,
Finish the portrait out of hand—there, there,
And throw him in another thing or two
If he demurs; the whole should prove enough
To pay for this same Cousin’s freak. Beside,
What’s better and what’s all I care about,
Get you the thirteen scudi for the ruff!
Love, does that please you? Ah, but what does
he,
The Cousin! what does he to please you more?
In this stanza, it becomes clear that
the relationship between the cousin and Lucrezia might be romantic. The speaker
seems to understand this but knows that he cannot do anything to stop her. He
gives her the “thirteen scudi” to pass on to the man, or “ruff” as he calls
him.
He asks if this amount pleases her and then
asks what exactly the “cousin” does to please her more. He does not expect an
answer to this question.
Lines 244-252
I am grown peaceful as old age to-night.
I regret little, I would change still less.
Since there my past life lies, why alter it?
The very wrong to Francis!—it is true
I took his coin, was tempted and complied,
And built this house and sinned, and all is
said.
My father and my mother died of want.
Well, had I riches of my own? you see
How one gets rich! Let each one bear his lot.
The last section of the poem breaks
into one more long stanza. At the end of this night as he is looking back on
his life he claims to “regret little,” and desire to “change still less.” It is
hard to believe this assertion as he has spent the entire poem talking about
how he wishes his life had been different. He does know though that there is no
way that he can alter his “past life.” He declares that the time he spent in
France with King Francis was wrong. That he never should have taken “his coin.”
He may have been able to amass a bit of money off the king’s patronage, but he
still was never happy.
Lines 253-267
They were born poor, lived poor, and poor they
died:
And I have laboured somewhat in my time
And not been paid profusely. Some good son
Paint my two hundred pictures—let him try!
No doubt, there’s something strikes a balance.
Yes,
You loved me quite enough. it seems to-night.
This must suffice me here. What would one
have?
In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more
chance—
Four great walls in the New Jerusalem,
Meted on each side by the angel’s reed,
For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me
To cover—the three first without a wife,
While I have mine! So—still they overcome
Because there’s still Lucrezia,—as I choose.
Again the Cousin’s whistle! Go, my Love.
The last section of the poem concludes
on a very solemn and self-pitying note with the speaker relating his own life
to that of his parents. They were “born poor, lived poor, and poor they died.”
The speaker knows that he has “laboured” in his days on the earth and that he
has not been paid well for it. He questions whether he has been a good son to
his parents and knows that other “good sons” would not have been able to paint
the “two hundred pictures” that he did.
Once more he turns to Lucrezia and tells her
that, yes, “You loved me quite enough,” tonight. He must be happy with what he
has received from her, and from life itself. He thinks that maybe he will have
a new chance at success in heaven, but still, he will have his wife. When
Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael get to heaven, they will not be
married, but he will.
He concludes the poem with this reiteration,
and misdirection of blame onto his wife. He tells her afterward that now she
may go as her “Cousin” is whistling at her.
2. My Last Duchess (1842)
Short Summary
"My Last Duchess (1842)",
Browining’s most famous dramatic monologue. It is published in 1842 in 3rd
volume of Dramatic Lyrics, a volume in his Bells and
Pomegranates series, under the title "I. Italy."
This was the first part of a longer piece in two parts called "Italy
and France."
This poem is loosely based on
historical events involving Alfonso, the Duke of Ferrara, who lived in the 16th
century.
It is narrated by the duke of Ferrara
to an envoy (representative) of another nobleman, whose daughter the duke is
soon to marry. As he shows the visitor through his palace, he stops before a
portrait of the late Duchess. The portrait was painted by Fra Pandolf, a
monk and painter whom the duke believes captured the singularity of the
duchess's glance. However, the duke insists to the envoy that his former wife’s
deep, passionate glance was not reserved solely for her husband. As he puts it,
she was "too easily impressed" into sharing her affable nature.
His tone grows harsh as he recollects
how she flirted with everyone, which insulted him since she did not give
special favor to the "gift" of his "nine-hundred-years-old"
family name and lineage. Duke reveals that he had killed her: "gave commands, Then all smiles stopped
together.” This line is a fine example of the usage of
euphemism.
Though the duke had murdered his wife,
and yet he is impressively charming, in his use of language. The duke also mentions
to the envoy, that he expects a high dowry, is a fine example of irony. His
story of murder is meant to give proactive warning to the woman he is soon to
marry.
The duke then ends his story and asks
the envoy to rise and accompany / walk with him "together" and he
points out a bronze bust of the god Neptune in his collection.
“My Last Duchess” engages its readers
on a psychological level. Because we hear only the Duke’s musings. Browning
forces his reader to become involved in the poem in order to understand it.
Finally, the reader understands that, like several other of Victorian female
characters, the Duchess has become a victim in the hands of Duke.
Form
“My Last Duchess” comprises 56 lines
(28 rhyming pentameter couplets). The lines do not employ end-stops; rather,
they use enjambment—that is, sentences and other grammatical units do not
necessarily conclude at the end of lines. The poem provides a classic example
of a dramatic monologue: the speaker is clearly distinct from the poet; an
audience is suggested but never appears in the poem; and the revelation of the
Duke’s character is the poem’s primary aim.
Themes:
Major Themes in My Last
Duchess
1. Pride
and Jealousy
- The Duke is proud and extremely jealous. He couldn't tolerate
his wife's friendly behavior with others.
·
He admits the
Duchess’s smiles were "not / Her husband’s presence only" (Lines
13-15), yet he expects exclusive devotion.
·
He resents her for
being too easily pleased and for smiling at others, which he interprets as
flirtation: "She had / A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad, /
Too easily impressed" (Lines 21-23).
·
He resents her
kindness, interpreting it as infidelity ("She liked whate’er / She looked
on" – Lines 23-24).
·
His jealousy leads him
to order her death ("I gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped
together" – Lines 45-46).
2. Masculinity,
Power and Control
- The Duke wanted to control everything: and wants everyone to
obey him, including his wife, envoy and artists.
- The portrait of the Duchess is hidden behind a curtain,
accessible only by his permission "The curtain I have drawn for
you, but I." (Line 10)
- He tries to control the envoy: "Will’t please you
rise? We’ll meet / The company below then." (Lines 47–48).
- He boasts
about controlling famous artists ("Fra Pandolf’s hands /
Worked busily a day" (Lines 3-4) and mentions a statue "Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!" (Line 56).
·
The statue of Neptune
"taming a sea-horse" (Line 55) mirrors his desire to
"tame" women and subordinates.
·
His power extends to
life and death, as he casually admits to having his wife killed.
3. Possession
and Objectification of Women
- The Duke’s monologue reveals his authoritarian
nature—he treats his wife as a possession rather than a person: "That’s
my last Duchess painted on the wall, / Looking as if she were alive" (Lines
1-2).
- The Duchess is reduced to an art object, a
portrait hidden behind a curtain that only the Duke can reveal: "I call / That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s hands
/ Worked busily a day, and there she stands." (Lines 3–4)
- His language reveals his misogyny, as he
describes her as something to be displayed and owned.
·
His next marriage is
just another transaction (he mentions the dowry, not love).
4. Social Hierarchy
- The Duke believes in strict social hierarchy and
expects his wife to recognize his superiority: "as
if she ranked / My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name / With anybody’s
gift"
- He is offended that she treats a sunset, a cherry
branch, and his "favour at her breast" with
equal appreciation (Lines 25-31).
- His worldview is rigid, whereas the Duchess was
democratic in her kindness.
5. The Ego-Driven Desire for Control
- The Duke’s arrogance shapes his interactions—he
insists on dictating how others see him.
- His monologue is a performance for the emissary,
subtly negotiating his next marriage while asserting dominance.
- His refusal to "stoop" (Line
43) reveals his inflated self-image.
·
His casual tone about
her murder ("as if alive" – Line 2) highlights his moral detachment.
6. Performance and Deception
- The entire monologue is a manipulative
performance.
- He veils threats in politeness ("Will’t please you sit and
look at her?" – Line 5).
- He downplays his brutality with euphemisms ("commands" instead
of "murder").
- The poem’s form (dramatic monologue) forces the
reader to decode the Duke’s true nature.
Key Symbols:
1.
The Portrait: Symbol of
Duke’s control over his late wife—both in life (as an object of possession) and
in death (as a silenced artwork).
2.
The Curtain: Symbol of
secrecy and the Duke’s power to hide or reveal his wife’s image at will. Also
hints at his sinister nature (like a veil over violence).
3.
Neptune Taming a
Seahorse: Symbol
of dominance and control- Reflects the Duke’s
desire to dominate, mirroring his treatment of his wife and his next bride.
Line by line Summary
Lines 1-2
FERRARA
THAT’S my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive.
The speaker points out a beautiful portrait of
his "last Duchess" that’s painted on the wall.
This tells us that the speaker is a Duke, that
his wife is dead, and that someone is listening to him describe his late wife’s
portrait, possibly in his private art gallery.
Lines 2-4
I call
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
The Duke tells his mysterious listener that
the painting of the Duchess is impressively accurate.
The painter, Frà (or "Friar")
Pandolf, worked hard to achieve a realistic effect.
Notice that the Duke’s comment "there she
stands" suggests that this is a full-length portrait of the Duchess
showing her entire body, not just a close-up of her face.
Line 5
Will’t please you sit and look at her?
The Duke asks his listener politely to sit
down and examine the painting.
But the politeness is somewhat fake, and the
question seems more like a command. Could the listener refuse to sit down and
look and listen? We don’t think so.
Lines 5-13
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.
The Duke explains to the listener why he
brought up the painter, Frà Pandolf.
He says that he mentioned Pandolf on purpose,
or "by design" (6) because strangers never examine the Duchess's
portrait without looking like they want to ask the Duke how the painter put so
much "depth and passion" (8) into the expression on the Duchess's
face, or "countenance" (7).
They don’t actually ask, because they don’t
dare, but the Duke thinks he can tell that they want to.
Parenthetically, the Duke mentions that he’s
always the one there to answer this question because nobody else is allowed to
draw back the curtain that hangs over the portrait.
Only the Duke is allowed to look at it or show
it to anyone else. This is clearly his private gallery, and we’re a little
afraid of what might happen to someone who broke the rules there.
Lines 13-15
Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek:
Addressing his still-unknown listener as
"sir," the Duke goes into more detail about the expression on the
Duchess's face in the painting.
He describes her cheek as having a "spot
/ Of joy" (14-15) in it, perhaps a slight blush of pleasure.
It wasn’t just "her husband’s
presence" (14) that made her blush in this way, although the Duke seems to
believe that it should have been the only thing that would.
The Duke doesn’t like the idea that anyone
else might compliment his wife or do something sweet that would make her blush.
Lines 15-21
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.
The Duke imagines some of the ways that FrÃ
Pandolf might have caused the Duchess to get that "spot of joy" in
her face.
He might have told her that her
"mantle" (her shawl) covered her wrist too much, which is the
Renaissance equivalent of saying, "man, that skirt’s way too long – maybe
you should hike it up a little."
Or he might have complimented her on the
becoming way that she flushes, telling her that "paint / Must never hope
to reproduce" (17-18) the beautiful effect of her skin and coloring.
The Duke thinks the Duchess would have thought
that comments like this, the normal flirtatious "courtesy" (20) that
noblemen would pay to noblewomen, were "cause enough" (20) to blush.
Strangely, the Duke seems to believe that
blushing in response to someone like Frà Pandolf was a decision, not an
involuntary physical reaction. Notice that the Duke also seems to infuse his
comments with a judgmental tone.
Lines 21-24
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.
The Duke describes the Duchess as "too
soon made glad" (22) and "too easily impressed" (23). This is
his main problem with her: too many things make her happy.
Another way of looking at it is that she’s not
serious enough. She doesn’t save her "spot of joy" for him alone.
She’s not the discriminating snob that he wants her to be.
She likes everything she sees, and she sees
everything.
Lines 25-31
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.
The Duke elaborates further on the Duchess's
tendency to see every pleasant thing as pretty much the same.
If he gives her a "favor" or mark of
his esteem that she can wear, such as a corsage or piece of jewelry, she thanks
him for it in the same way that she approves of a pretty sunset, a branch of
cherries, or her white mule.
At first the Duke suggests that she speaks of
all these things equally, but then he changes his claim and admits that
sometimes she doesn’t say anything and just blushes in that special way.
And maybe she’s a little promiscuous – either
in reality, or (more likely) in the Duke’s imagination.
Part of the problem is not just that she likes
boughs of cherries – it’s that some "officious fool" (27) brings them
to her.(An "officious" person is someone who pokes their nose in and
starts doing things when they’re not wanted – somebody self-important who
thinks they’re the best person to do something, even when everyone else wishes
they would just butt out.)
Lines 31-34
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 Duke claims that, although it’s all well
and good to thank people for doing things for you, the way the Duchess thanked
people seemed to imply that she thought the little favors they did her were
just as important as what the Duke himself did for her.
After all, the Duke gave her his
"nine-hundred-years-old name" (33) – a connection to a longstanding
aristocratic family with power and prestige.
The Duke’s family has been around for nearly a
thousand years running things in Ferrara, and he thinks this makes him superior
to the Duchess, who doesn’t have the same heritage.
He thinks the Duchess ought to value the
social elevation of her marriage over the simple pleasures of life.
Lines 34-35
Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling?
The Duke asks his listener a rhetorical
question: who would actually lower himself and bother to have an argument with
the Duchess about her indiscriminate behavior?
He thinks the answer is "nobody."
We don’t think that there is much open and
honest communication in this relationship!
Lines 35-43
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.
The Duke lists all the obstacles that
prevented him from talking to the Duchess directly about his problems with her
behavior.
He claims that he doesn’t have the "skill
/ In speech" (35-36) to explain what he wants from her – but his skillful
rhetoric in the rest of the poem suggests otherwise.
He also suggests that she might have resisted
being "lessoned" (40), that is, taught a lesson by him, if she had
"made excuse" (41) for her behavior instead.
But even if he were a skilled speaker, and
even if she didn’t argue, he says he still wouldn’t talk to her about it.
Why? Because he thinks that bringing it up at
all would be "stooping" to her level, and he refuses to do that.
Lines 43-45
Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile?
The Duke admits to his listener (who is this
guy, anyway?) that the Duchess was sweet to him – she did smile at him whenever
he passed by her.
But, he says, it’s not like that was special.
She smiles at everyone in the same way.
Lines 45-46
This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together.
The Duke claims that "This grew"
(45) – that is, the Duchess's indiscriminate kindness and appreciation of
everything got more extreme.
The Duke then "gave commands" (45)
and as a result "All smiles stopped together" (46).
Our best guess is that he had her killed, but
the poem is ambiguous on this point.
It’s possible that he had her shut up in a
dungeon or a nunnery, and that she’s as good as dead.
She’s not his Duchess anymore – she’s his
"last Duchess" – so she’s clearly not on the scene anymore.
Lines 46-47
There she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise?
The Duke ends his story of the Duchess and her
painting by gesturing toward the full-body portrait again, in which she stands
"As if alive" (47).
Lines 47-48
We’ll meet
The company below, then.
The Duke invites his listener to get up and go
back downstairs to the rest of the "company."
As in line 5, this sounds like a polite
invitation – but we can’t imagine anyone refusing.
Lines 48-53
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.
We finally learn why the Duke is talking to
this guy: his listener is the servant of a Count, and the Duke is wooing the
Count’s daughter.
The Duke tells the servant that he knows about
the Count’s wealth and generosity, or "munificence" (49), so he
expects to get any reasonable dowry he asks for.
But his main "object" (53) in the
negotiations is the daughter herself, not more money.
Lines 53-54
Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir.
The Duke’s listener seems to try to get away
from him (we would try, too).
The Duke stops him and insists that they stay
together as they go back to meet everyone else downstairs.
Lines 54-56
Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for
me!
Before the Duke and his listener leave the
gallery, the Duke points out one more of his art objects – a bronze statue of
Neptune, the god of the sea, taming a sea-horse.
The Duke mentions the name of the artist who
cast this statue, Claus of Innsbruck, who made it specifically for him.
CLICK HERE FOR
JL DL notes for APPSC/TGPSC/TREIRB
CLICK HERE FOR
0 comments:
Post a Comment