“My Last Duchess”
قصيده نموذجية لدراسة المنولوج الدرامي
قصيده دوقتي الأخيرة للشاعر روبرت براوننغ مستوحاه من قصه حقيقيه لها مصادرها في كتب تاريخ عصر النهضة الايطالي (تاريخ تسوكاني) حيث تدور الأحداث على سلم القصر الفاخر لدوق في فيرارا وهو يمهد للزواج من ابنة كونت مقاطعة تيرول التي ستصبح الدوقة الثانية لمقاطعة فيرارا.
كان الدوق رجل استحواذي, متجبر, ومتسلط, ومختال, ومحب للفنون والتحف, وهي وجهة نظر ذكورية, نتاج عصرٍ يرى المرأة تحفة فنية جميلة , كسائر التحف الثمينة التي يزخر بها القصر يمكن ان تباع و تشرى او يتخلص منها وقت ما شاء..
الدوق في هده القصيده يحاول ان يبرر قتله لزوجته بسبب غيرته الشديدة، واحتفاظه بتحفته الفنية المعزولة خلف ستارة والتي لا يسمح لأحد سواه أن يرى جوهرة مجموعته وهي عبارة عن لوحة portrait لزوجته المتوفاة .
المتحدث هو دوق فيرارا(الفونسو) .. والمستمع ( زائر الدوق)
المتحدث يكلم المستمع والمستمع يرد عليه لكننا لا نسمع ماذا يقول المستمع فبعض اجزاء القصيدة هي ردود الدوق على الزائر الذي لم نسمع ماذا قال اصلا لذلك قد يصعب فهم القصيدة.
(الزائر) هو المبعوث الذي ارسله الكونت والد الزوجة الجديدة يود الدوق التباحث حول الاقتران بها, اولاً وارسال رسالة عبر المبعوث, ان تكون الزوجة الشابة الجديدة, مطيعة, حد العبودية, لا يقبل دون ذلك, و الا يكون مصيرها كسابقتها, و لكن ليس قبل اعلان موافقته على المهر الذي سيدفعه والدها اليه وفق عادات ذلك الزمان, ويستوقف الدوق , متعمدا, ضيفه عند لوحة زيتية معلقة على الجدار المحادي للسلّم الذي بدآ يرتقيانه, معا صعودا الى الطابق الثانيو يبدو ان الضيف كان رجلا عجوزا بحيث ارهقه صعود درجات السلم فأقترح عليه الدوق ان يجلس على كرسي ليتمعن مليا باللوحة او ان الدوق نفسه اقترح عليه الجلوس حيث بدأ يلمح بأعترافه قتله زوجته الفاتنة, متهما اياها, بالخيانة, بعد ان يسرد للمبعوث سلسلة من تصرفاتها, غير اللائقة كما يعتقده هو .
Complete Text
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,Summary
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 pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!
This poem is loosely based on historical events involving Alfonso, the Duke of Ferrara, who lived in the 16th century. The Duke is the speaker of the poem, and tells us he is entertaining an emissary who has come to negotiate the Duke’s marriage (he has recently been widowed) to the daughter of another powerful family. As he shows the visitor through his palace, he stops before a portrait of the late Duchess, apparently a young and lovely girl. The Duke begins reminiscing about the portrait sessions, then about the Duchess herself. His musings give way to a diatribe on her disgraceful behavior: he claims she flirted with everyone and did not appreciate his “gift of a nine-hundred-years- old name.” As his monologue continues, the reader realizes with ever-more chilling certainty that the Duke in fact caused the Duchess’s early demise: when her behavior escalated, “[he] gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together.” Having made this disclosure, the Duke returns to the business at hand: arranging for another marriage, with another young girl. As the Duke and the emissary walk leave the painting behind, the Duke points out other notable artworks in his collection.
Form
“My Last Duchess” comprises rhyming pentameter lines. The lines do not employ end-stops; rather, they use enjambment—gthat is, sentences and other grammatical units do not necessarily conclude at the end of lines. Consequently, the rhymes do not create a sense of closure when they come, but rather remain a subtle driving force behind the Duke’s compulsive revelations. The Duke is quite a performer: he mimics others’ voices, creates hypothetical situations, and uses the force of his personality to make horrifying information seem merely colorful. Indeed, 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.
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