My Last Duchess Video Summary
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- เผยแพร่เมื่อ 26 ธ.ค. 2024
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“My Last Duchess” is a poem written in 1842 by Robert Browning. Taking the form of a dramatic monologue, the poem is narrated by the Duke of Ferrara, who addresses the envoy of an Italian nobleman whose daughter the duke intends to marry. Loosely inspired by real events in Renaissance-era Italy, the poem is thought by some to be a critique of the way women were viewed as property in the Victorian era.
The poem opens on Duke Ferrara guiding the nobleman’s envoy down a hall in his estate. Theatrically, the duke pulls back a curtain and reveals a painting of his late wife, or “last duchess.”
The duke admires the way the painter, a monk called Fra Pandolf, captured the singularity of the duchess’ gaze. However, the duke admits to the envoy that his former wife’s passionate eye was not reserved solely for him. "She liked whate’er / she looked on,” he narrates, “and her looks went everywhere.”
The duke goes on to describe the objects of his duchess’ gaze, from “the dropping of the daylight in the West” to “the bough of cherries some officious fool / broke in the orchard for her.” Such sights, he notes, would make her blush with the same frequency as did the duke himself, an unforgivable sin in his eyes. Although he stops short of accusing the duchess of having an affair, he implies as much.
Outraged that his “nine-hundred-years-old name” was not enough for his wife, the duke tells the envoy he “gave commands” for the duchess to be killed. In doing so, the duke demonstrates his craven need to control everyone around him, a quality that Browning suggests is intrinsic to the European aristocracy.
Finishing his story, the duke suddenly implores the envoy to accompany him back to the count whose daughter he is set to marry. On their way, the duke directs the envoy’s attention to a bronze bust of the god Neptune, another piece in his collection. In doing so, the duke demonstrates the coldness of his attitude towards his last duchess. Immortalized in a painting, she has become yet another piece in the duke’s collection-a woman whose very passion for living meant her death.
I'm a German studying English at university. I watched this video after reading the poem one time and damn I truly misunderstood the message so thank you for this video😂 I thought the duke was praising his late wife's joyful spirit. I'll have to read it again.
Same lol
Same i thought the dutchess was good with everyone is showing her generosity
After watching this video i that good with everyone related to having affairs🥲🥲🥲
I thought it was about his wide whor*ing around! 😂
Same with me dude 😂
I thought the same!
Whether one chooses to view the Duke as a cold-blooded murderer or opt for a restrained version is moot. Browning, in an interview, said there is the possibility that the Duke sent his last duchess to a convent. "All smiles stopped together" is ambiguous enough to allow for this. And though the lines "as if she were alive" and "there she stands, as if alive" imply a sinister outcome, they equally serve as proof of Fra Panfolf's considerable skills as a painter of lifelike portraits. There is no way of making a definitive judgement as to her fate without it being subjective. I believe, as do others, that Browning meant to keep her fate uncertain, to guarantee the longevity of the poem by instilling it with a level of intrigue. Is it clear that the Duke killed his former wife? No court of law would see the Duke convicted, not on the evidence submitted. This is why My Last Duchess is a masterpiece, not just because it's a perfectly confected work of literature, but because it teases our innate love of mystery and our need to find answers to everything. Browning was beyond brilliant.
Thank you! Really interesting and helpful :)
Respect ++
Greetings to One and All.
Thank you most sincerely.
I'm from India 🇮🇳 nice poem 🥰
From kerala
Thank you
What a voice 🎉 excellent
Beautiful!
Wow! good job
Summarize Huckleberry Finn
Why the Duke in this video kinda...? 🤭
bye
SO TRUE
nah 😭
Ayo
TF😭😭
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 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!
By Robert Browning
Thanks for
Nice one
Bro really the are my india syllabus
Hii😮