The Duchess’s Portrait

The portrait of his late wife is clearly one of the Duke’s prized possessions, which he indicates when he dramatically removes the curtain concealing it and invites his addressee to gaze upon it. Symbolically, the painting has a complex function in the poem. On the one hand, it’s a sign of the Duke’s status as a wealthy patron of the arts. The Duke underscores this point when he name-drops the painter who made the image (lines 2–6):

                             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

The speaker mentions Fra Pandolf not once but twice, as if he’s afraid the emissary he’s addressing might not have heard him the first time. Clearly, the Duke is quite keen to use the painting to show off how well connected he is. Yet in addition to signaling his relation to one of the age’s greatest (though imaginary) artists, the painting also symbolizes the Duke’s lust for control. In the poem’s middle section, the Duke goes on to describe the Duchess’s too-friendly demeanor. Unwilling to confront her about it directly, he simply ordered her death. Now her presence is confined this painting, where only he can look upon her flirtatious smile, enabling him to feel like he’s in complete control.

Curtain

Early in the poem, the speaker reveals that he keeps the portrait of his late wife concealed behind a curtain. This statement is tucked away in a parenthetical aside within a long, convoluted sentence (lines 5–13):

                                   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.

The speaker insists that he’s the only one who’s allowed to draw the curtain open, which makes the curtain another symbol of his control. The central problem the Duke had with his late wife was his inability to control what he perceived to be her excessively flirtatious personality. Though the Duke expresses annoyance at the Duchess’s own wandering gaze, he was particularly concerned about the attentions of other men. As he says to the emissary, “Sir, ’twas not / Her husband’s presence only, called that spot / Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek” (lines 13–15). When his wife was alive, the Duke couldn’t control who gazed upon the Duchess. With the curtain, however, he’s now the sole person in charge of who gets to admire her countenance. Yet the Duke may also feel like his late wife, so alive in the painting, is staring back at him, perhaps with an accusatory gaze. This gaze may also compel him to confine her behind a curtain.

The Statue of Neptune

Like the portrait of his late wife, the statue of Neptune symbolizes the Duke’s status as a wealthy patron of the arts. Just as he bragged about having gotten Fra Pandolf to paint the portrait, he boasts that another great artist made this statue for him (lines 54–56):

                    Notice Neptune, though,
     Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
     Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

In addition to being another status symbol, the statue of Neptune also represents the Duke’s aspiration for total control. The image of “Neptune . . . Taming a sea-horse” sinisterly mirrors the way the speaker “tamed” his late wife. Finally, the statue symbolizes the Duke’s skill at political maneuvering. If the Duke makes a point of name-dropping Claus of Innsbruck, he does so only in part to brag about his connection to the artist. He also does so to demonstrate that his connections extend far beyond Italy. The historical duke of Ferrara’s second wife was the niece of a Tyrolean count who had his capital at Innsbruck. As it happens, the Duke and the emissary are on their way to negotiate this very marriage—though here it’s to the count’s daughter. By casually referencing this connection to an artist from Innsbruck, the Duke uses his personal art collection as leverage for his upcoming negotiation.