"My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning (poetry reading)

The speaker is nervous. He has murdered his wife, his 'last duchess', and is trying to negotiate a further marriage to gain a large dowry. He is trying to appear reasonable and caring but comes across as narcissistic and self-justifying. I think it is a mistake to make him too obviously arrogant. He's seeking favour so he's being smarmy and ingratiating but what he says gives away more that he intends.

Fra Pandolf was the portrait painter but all persons, including Claus of Innsbruck, are fictitious.

"Robert Browning reveals the horrifying story of the murder of the duke's previous wife through the duke's conversation with the agent. As the duke attempts to paint an inaccurate picture of himself to the agent, desiring to appear as a noble, but abused and caring, loving husband who had no choice but to murder his prideful, disrespectful wife, the duke's true controlling, manipulative, jealous nature is revealed."

"Written in 1841, My Last Duchess is the dramatic monologue of the duke of Ferrara who is negotiating his second marriage through an agent of the count of Tyrol on the grand staircase of the ducal palace at Ferrara in northern Italy. Executing the elements of a dramatic monologue, the duke reveals his situation and much more than he intends to the both the agent and the reader. "
Read the rest here:
http://barney.gonzaga.edu/~jdavis6/poem.html

AfterNote - Nov 2010 I found an excellent reading by Alfred Molina (Doc Ock in Spiderman) here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/journal/audioitem.html?id=47

Here's another analysis which will help study the poem:
http://www.answers.com/topic/my-last-duchess-poem-3

Here is an excellent reading by an American, Richard Howard:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15701

That's my last duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? 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. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: 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. 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 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. 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 make 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
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!

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• poetry

[jerramy]

What a twisted mind with such talent at turn of word put to such dragdownish use!

[sakthikvl]

thank u very much

[BG1ful]

this is amazing thanks >> need it in my poetry exam the info so helpful >>

[angeloczar]

thanks man :) i need this for my midterm exam in speech :)

[uchicuchi77]

Outstanding. A lot of info too. Thank you!

[jellybeangravy]

Thank you for reading this. I'm learning and studying it for my GCSE and haven't really understood previously. Your reading made it much clearer, thanks :)

[Sascopa]

I have loved this poem ever since I first met it, in my GCSE class :)

Dramatic, unsettling and darkly humourous, and beautifully read as well....thank you for posting :)

[Whirlingling]

I understand well the seeking of that elusive "ideal" we carry within as we search for just the right way to express, convey, or illuminate for others what we see or hear in our mind's eye. Frustratingly fleetingly elusive at times... and yet, at others, so simple & clear... and... I would not change one step of this dance. There is beauty in the binding and unbinding of my mind. Thank you for your graciousness & your response. Blessings ~ Laurie

[Whirlingling]

Ah, I hear the inner critic of an artist... the "it's not quite perfect enough yet" inner voice that can drive us mad if we're not careful. Forgive me if I've fed that voice unkindly, I know how it can rob one of precious time, and all too often sleep. Perhaps my inner critic needs to learn a little better how to play well with others?

[Whirlingling]

FYI the American poet Richard Howard wrote a tribute to Browning, "Nikolaus Mardruz to his Master Ferdinand, Count of Tyrol, 1565" in the form of a letter from Browning's presumed listener. IMHO it is marvelous! Witty & wry, very worth the read. AND, umm... eehm, it would be fantastic to hear the "spoken verse" as well. Alas, I couldn't access the author's rendition at Poets(dot)org where you can find the text.