There are fifteen poems in the GCSE Power & Conflict anthology.

For your exam, you will be given one poem in full, printed on the page, and you will be asked to compare this poem to another from the anthology.

All of the GCSE English Literature course is closed-book, meaning that you will need to learn at least three lines from each poem.

It is possible to get top marks for this question by making sure that you know the following:

• What the poem is about

• What the poem means

• The methods the poet uses to convey their message

• The links between the ideas of other poems in the anthology

Synposis

Whatever the question is, it is important that you understand what the poem is about. This will support you in adapting your argument to fit the focus of the question. This section includes:

• A general overview of the poem

• A detailed look at the poem line-by-line

• Analysis of the poem, giving Robert Browning’s intention and message

A General Overview of the Poem

My Last Duchess explores the disturbing psychology of aristocratic patriarchs whose whims and egos lead to heinous acts of violence. The speaker, a Duke, is touring the entourage of his prospective new wife around his property, when he stops at a portrait of his deceased former wife to detail the flaws in her character that led to her untimely death. The poem explores the horrifying consequences of male sexual jealousy and toxic masculinity in an unnervingly jovial manner, afforded by making the patriarch the speaker.

Line-by-Line

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.

The poem opens with “That’s”, implying with the demonstrative ‘that’ that the speaker is pointing to the painting, and with the contraction ‘that’s’ that it is done casually. It is just a single word, but it establishes the personality of the Duke from the beginning: he is dismissive in his arrogance. 

The phrase “as if she were alive” tells us that the subject of the painting is his “last” Duchess specifically because she is dead, and so we wonder what the nature of her passing was. Further, now we know she is dead, the phrase “last Duchess” – as if she is disposable, as if there is a ‘next Duchess’ – is even more disrespectful. 

Ironically, he talks with great respect for the artist who rendered the “piece [he calls] a wonder”, naming him directly, “Frà Pandolf” (is he name-dropping here for clout?) and praising his “hands” which worked “busily” to produce it. In contrast, the Duchess herself is given no name (only the title that made her his counterpart) and the verbs attributed to her are a collection of dehumanising revelations: “painted”, meaning she was the object of the work; “looking” not in fact referring to her action but how she appears to others; and “stands” referring ironically to the painted version of her, as her human self no longer can. 

She has been totally stripped of all agency and is now an object.

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

The next section is essentially a very wordy way of saying the following: ‘nobody looks at this painting without wanting to ask how she came to look like that.’ 

The Duke smugly invites the company to look upon the painting (which, again, he calls “her”, as if her living self and this painting are indistinguishable). He draws their attention to the “depth and passion of its earnest glance” (now shifting to ‘it’, indiscriminately) and insists that any viewer would want to ask him “if they durst [dared]” about its origins. As this is a monologue, there is no interlocutor to confirm or deny this, giving the impression that he is imposing reactions upon them, proud of the piece and wanting to tell its story!

Note the parenthetical comment that only the Duke is allowed to pull the curtain back to view this painting: “none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I”. His possessiveness is clear by now – though some eagle-eyed students may already have noted that his selection of a monk, “Frà Pandolf”, as an artist (‘Frà’ meaning ‘Brother’), may already hint that he would only allow celibate men around her in life – i.e. that he is a jealous and possessive husband.

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

The vocative direct address, “Sir” that starts this next sentence functions as a discourse marker; it indicates that some significant assertion is about to be made. The big reveal from the Duke is that it was not only him who made her smile (“calling up that spot of joy”) – which in his eyes is evidently an outrage. He recalls and quotes two compliments, or “courtes[ies]”, paid to her by the artist, which “she thought” (and he presumably disagreed) were worthy of a smile.

Whilst there is no explicit rage expressed at this point, the somewhat abrasive phrasing of “dies along her throat” plants seeds of violence. It is a moment of foreshadowing.

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

By this next sentence, the Duke’s rage is becoming more explicit. Twice, he uses the adverbial “too” to indicate excess on her part, referring to her quickness to pleasure (objectively a positive trait in a person): “too soon made glad, / Too easily impressed”, before hyperbolising twice: that she “liked whate’er / She looked on” and that her “looks when everywhere”. He believes her politeness or friendliness to be obscene.

Once again, he uses the discourse marker, “Sir”, to lead into emphatic statements, this time adding the exclamation mark for good measure: “‘twas all one!” His outrage now, to clarify, is that his vague “favour at her breast” gained no greater approval from the Duchess than the objectively pleasant experiences she had, like witnessing a sunset (“dropping of daylight in the West”), being gifted fruit (“bough of cherries”), and riding around (on her “white mule”). She enjoyed all of these things, and because her husband’s “favour” (whatever that means) did not draw more praise than them, he was offended.

To clarify, once more: the Duke is jealous of a mule.

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

The Duke trips over his own logic, here, when he admits that he “know[s] not how” the Duchess slighted him, and when he admits that “thank[ing] men [is] good”. He somehow determines that his “nine-hundred-years-old name” should be “ranked” higher than “anybody’s gift”, and concludes that the Duchess “thanked” others for their “gift” no less effusively than him for his name. That is her crime.

Crucially, we note at this point that Browning has not given any concrete examples of the Duke’s actual “gifts” or “favour” – opting instead for these abstract terms that insinuate that he feels entitled to lavish praise and worship from his wife simply for marrying her – for bestowing his reputable family name upon her. 

He does not care that this is illogical.

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,

In this section, the Duke’s depravity becomes yet clearer. Once again, he acknowledges that his wife’s transgressions are mere “trifling”, and that if he had been willing to “make [his] will / Quite clear” she could “be lessoned”, i.e. behave herself as he saw fit. Instead, however, he considers such basic communication to be both beneath him (“choos[ing] Never to stoop”) and beyond him (“hav[ing] not [the] skill in speech”) – and so he does not. 

Therefore, she continues to “disgust” him and “miss [or] exceed the mark”, and he continues to seethe in silence. The foundations have been built for an objectively avoidable but now inevitable conflict.

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

This isolated string of sentences represents the climax and abrupt end of the Duke’s story. For the third time, the discourse marker “sir” is used to predict dramatic declarations – this time the implied execution of his wife (and anyone she smiled at): “all smiles stopped together”.

The incipient jealous rage of the Duke rapidly “grew” into “commands” that ended “all smiles” over the course of a single line of the poem. The same line on which this rapid descent commences clarifies for the last time that the transgression of the Duchess was no more than “the same smile”.

Within the same line as the bombshell “all smiles stopped together”, the Duke has already moved on: “There she stands / As if alive”. Immediately, he returns to business, without emotion: “Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet / The company below, then.”

This all happens incredibly quickly, carried by the liberal use of enjambement and caesurae.

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!

The end of the poem represents a rapid departure from the focus on the Duchess. Without a moment’s pause, the Duke moves on to his next marriage plan, focusing first on money (“munificence” or generosity, and “dowry” or financial endowment in an arranged marriage) and only then on the intended wife (“The Count[‘s] fair daughter”) – which he perhaps tellingly identifies as his “object”.

As this is a monologue, there is no space for reactions to his open admission of matricide to his future spouse’s family, so we can only imagine. He is unfazed, however, finishing the poem by continuing his tour, pointing out the next in presumably a long line of pieces of art (of which his last Duchess was just one), with the imperative “Notice Neptune”. 

Writer’s Methods

This section aims to support your revision by providing you with concrete and clear examples of methods that Robert Browning uses. 

Remember: methods support meaning, not the other way round. You will gain more marks focusing your essays on the big ideas of the poems and then supporting these ideas with the methods that the writer uses.

Form

The poem is one, long, unbroken stanza. Its lines are unbroken sentences (that is, they run over multiple lines: enjambement). As such, the writing is very prosaic (meaning prose-like), matching the Dramatic Monologue form selected by Browning; it reads like someone speaking. That said, it is also tightly contained in iambic pentameter and heroic rhyme (rhyming couplets: AA, BB, CC, etc.) – elevating the style of the whole poem, matching the pompous and grandiloquent nature of the Duke.

Structure

The poem is the unremitting rambling of the Duke, meaning that the whole thing is presented as a single unbroken delivery, divided only into sentences, like natural speech. Roughly speaking: the first 13 lines introduce the painting to the visitors; the next 21 lines detail how the Duchess offended the Duke with her pleasantness with others; the next eight lines explain why he said nothing to her about it; only three lines are given over to her execution; and the remainder of the poem (about 10 lines) is given over to pleasantries about dowry, and other pieces of art. Neither an introduction nor a resolution is provided; the whole poem is presented as if part of a larger tour of the Duke’s property.

Language

Browning uses contrast in his lexical choices to delightful effect in his lambasting of the jealous Duke. Whenever he refers to the Duchess’ positive reactions to others, there are concrete and pleasant things to react to: compliments (“Paint / Must never hope to reproduce the faint / Half-flush”), beautiful imagery (“dropping of daylight in the West”), favours (“bough of cherries [from] the orchard”), and activities (riding the “white mule [...] round the terrace”). In stark contrast, the Duke provides very little to elicit positive responses: simply existing (“her husband’s presence”, “pass[ing] her”), liking her (“My favor at her breast”), or being married to her (“My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name”). Through these linguistic choices – concrete vs. abstract – Browning cements the Duke as an entitled brat. All the Duke has to offer is wealth and prestige, and no substance.

Context

At MyEdSpace, we use this analogy to discuss context – ketchup, salt and chips.

If you ordered a portion of chips, and asked for salt, you wouldn’t then dump the salt into the corner of your chips and start dipping each individual chip into the salt. 

When you put salt on your chips, you sprinkle it over, sparingly, so as to give a good coverage of salt across the chips as a whole. Context is just like salt on chips. 

Context is not ketchup – because it would be appropriate to squeeze ketchup into the corner of your plate and dip each chip in (and in fact, that is advised).

So when you’re including contextual information in your essays, sprinkle it across the essay, just like you sprinkle salt on your chips.

Let’s link the context to the key ideas and themes of the poem.

Real Life Inspiration

Browning used the Dramatic Monologue form to explore identity and morality, and his historical source, the Renaissance Italian duke, Alfonso II of Ferrara, whose first wife, Lucrezia de’ Medici, died under suspicious circumstances, provided excellent fodder for this. 

Browning, the Activist

Whilst Browning’s own marriage was notoriously harmonious and loving, and his upbringing fairly middle class, his society was still highly patriarchal, with an aristocracy who were exploitative: two easy targets for this relatively progressive poet to criticise.

Comparison

You are required to write an essay in your exam that is a comparison of the ideas and themes explored in two poems from the Power & Conflict anthology. Therefore, it is very important to revise the poems in pairs and to enter the exam with an idea of what poem you will choose to compare once you know what the named poem is.

My Last Duchess and Ozymandias

Both poems explore the psychology and fallibility of tyrants. Both poems use art as a fluid metaphor for permanence and control. However, My Last Duchess focuses on the frailty of masculinity against a backdrop of incontrovertible power, whilst Ozymandias focuses on the transience of human power in contrast with the eternal omnipotence of nature.

Similarity:

Both poems depict the horrifying liberties taken by tyrants in their exercise of power.

Evidence and Analysis 

Browning’s poem presents a small-scale tyrant whose implied murder of his late wife and those around her is a demonstration of power out of control. The speaker, the Duke, allows his jealousy to fester and swell in private (“This grew”) before taking horrifying action (“I gave commands”) with horrifying consequence (“all smiles stopped together”), showing the terrifying power this aristocrat wields. The combination of the determiner “all” and the adverbial “together” shows the far-ranging impact of his wrath.

Shelley’s poem conveys a wrathful ruler whose emotions clearly led his heinous actions. His facial expressions of this ruler (“King of Kings”), his “frown”, “wrinkled lip” and “sneer”, show that his “cold command” was motivated by malice, and a desire for his people to “despair”. The alliterative noun phrase “cold command” and the verb “despair” combine to create a sense of obscurity – a lack of specifics – regarding his actual actions, which in itself is somewhat stirring.

Difference:

The poets present different levels of immediacy in terms of the tyrants’ power.

Evidence and Analysis

Robert Browning’s focus is on the ongoing and thus horrifying nature of a tyrant’s power.

In his poem, the speaker has already committed a heinous act, but has faced no consequences and continues to wield power. In all present tense moments (i.e. everything outside of the retrospective Last Duchess narrative), he re-asserts his power: issuing commands to his audience such as “sit and look at her” and “rise” and “Notice” – as well as boasting that “none [reveals the painting] but [him]”. This combination of imperatives and explicit declarations of sovereignty make his “object[ive]” of marrying someone new quite chilling; his power – and likely his violence – continue unabated. 

Contrastingly, in Shelley’s poem, the power once wielded by the eponymous tyrant has long faded.

In his poem, the tyrant’s rule is long over and long forgotten, lost to history except in art. His “passions” are imprinted on “lifeless things”, showing that they have no lasting power even when captured on the statue for posterity, and therefore that Ozymandias’ power has been lost, a “Wreck” that is subject to “decay”, and a relic only of an unnamed “antique land”. These lexical choices reaffirm that the ruler’s influence has been ravaged by time and nature.