At the start of the nineteenth century, many authors began to indicate a desire for emancipation from the rigid social standards of the previous century. A call for individuality began in the romantic period, and was accomplished through the examination of emotion and the resultant evaluation of the self. A few decades later, such compositional ideologies were embedded in many works of literature. Poe’s Arthur Gordon Pym and Browning’s My Last Duchess can be seen as studies of an opposing nature. Throughout Poe’s work, Pym seeks freedom; in fact, he seems impelled toward liberty by means out of his control. Yet it is not merely physical deliverance that he attains, but the infinitely more sublime and important goal of the soul’s release from the torment of the mortal world to the realm of the divine. Conversely, the protagonist of Browning’s narrative has most certainly destroyed the freedom of the subject of the poem—his previous wife. Indeed, to a great extent he represents the retaliation by society against the enfranchisement of the younger generation. It is interesting to note that the agents of physical confinement for both Pym and the Duchess—a boat and a picture frame respectively—form the structural basis for each narrative.
The concept of physical and mental confinement can be seen throughout The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym. Although it was probably not Poe’s intention, setting the narrative on the sea presents an interesting dichotomy: the physical confines of the boat, especially notable when it was sinking, emphasized Pym’s lack of immediate freedom while the vast expanse of the sea allowed a great deal of freedom. Indeed this dichotomy seems to be the thematic basis for the novel: by emerging from the various traps which confine him, Pym traveled on a spiritual journey toward unification with the divine. In order to obtain salvation, he experienced a purification of the soul from the corruption of mortality; it is notable that this process of purification operates inversely to the life cycle. Therefore, Pym’s first imprisonment in the novel—inside a small coffin-like box on board the Grampus—is most akin to death. Indeed, it is vitally important that Pym does indeed symbolically die at the start of the text, as this allows him to relinquish his mortality and begin his quest for purification. In such a dream-like narrative as Poe created, birth and death are somewhat interchangeable: the coffin also bears a great resemblance to a uterine environment. Thus, he emerged from his captivity “redeemed from the jaws of the tomb” and relieved of the “insufferable torments [of his]...dreary prison” (p. 31). Poe establishes a reoccurring theme which Pym replays throughout the text: death and rebirth. Through the remainder of the text, Pym engaged in a Dante-like traverse through an earthbound hell. He was forced to endure a variety of torments and abhorrent experiences: the observation of the horrific remains of a Dutch ship and its crew set adrift; the consumption of one crewmate; the death by starvation of his friend Augustus; and the murder of the crew of the Jane Guy by the natives of Tsalal. Yet, similar to Dante descending through hell, it seems inevitable that Pym had to endure these hardships in order to purify his soul. By experiencing the extremes of human existence, he is able to remove the defects of mortality from his own being. Yet Pym himself did not notice this change until he had actually faced death on the cliff-face on the island of Tsalal in the second-last chapter. He then came to the realization that he had been reborn and “felt a new being” (p. 148).
It is this realization which allows his journey to proceed to a higher level. Pym and his company leave Tsalal and continue south, entering warmer waters. Here, Poe uses his most subtle graphic symbolism. The water gradually turned milky white, a likely allusion to breast milk, and the party entered into a region of extreme whiteness and illumination. While there is a great deal of mystery and tension in this passage, there is no hint of trepidation or terror in Pym. When he describes the immense shrouded figure at the end of the text, he does not use such nomenclature as “dreaded” or “diabolical” as he did with virtually every other creature in the novel. Indeed, this figure seems to be the object of Pym’s quest: such is virtually confirmed when he “rushed into the cataract” where the figure was (p. 155). The entire episode, therefore, is the conclusion of Pym’s spiritual journey. Through the journey itself, he had purified his soul, which had in this passage been incorporated into the divine. It is notable that several aspects of this section can be seen as a return to infancy then to birth. In addition to the aforementioned milky water as breast milk—an obvious symbol of feminine sustenance—the party entered a cataract “where a chasm threw itself open to receive [them]” (p. 155), ostensibly symbolizing the reverse of the birthing process—a return to the womb. It is interesting that Poe equates divinity with motherhood; other than these oblique references there are few instances of women in the text. Indeed, one can only speculate about the relationship Pym had with his own mother as she is not mentioned: perhaps she died in childbirth and Pym was impelled on this journey to atone for his ‘guilty conscience’. Yet such conjecture is largely incidental to the outcome of the journey itself. Ultimately, Pym had succeeded in liberating his soul from earthly boundaries and transcending to the divine.
In examining My Last Duchess, it becomes readily apparent that Browning was attempting to illustrate the extent to which society was protecting itself from the new liberalism of youth. While not explicit in the text, it is likely that there was a great difference in age between the protagonist and his former wife. He attempts, almost desperately, to portray the duchess as an unbound and disruptive force. Indeed, his resentment of her character is quite noticeable. He continually describes her as disloyal and adulterous, claiming that “t’was not/ Her husband’s presence only, called that spot/ Of joy on the Duchess’ cheek”(13-15), that “she had/ A heart...too soon made glad/...she liked whate’er/ She looked on, and her looks went everywhere” (21-4), and that all “who passed [received]/ Much the same smile” as he (44-5). From these details an inference into the character of the duchess is possible. She was obviously free and unrestrained in her expression of emotion, and was most likely curious of and delighted by the many social contacts available to her aristocratic standing. It was her interest in the many aspects of life which most offended the narrator; it is clear that he wanted her to be interested solely in him. The narrator is quite indignant that his duchess values a sunset and her mule equally with his sexual advances. His inadequacy as an aristocratic man further manifests itself when he states that “she ranked/ [his] gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name/ with anybody’s gift” (32-4). Thus, the relationship between the two characters presents itself. The duchess acted in such a manner as to threaten the narrator’s power and perhaps his image in the eyes of his peers. He was then forced make attempts to control her will—to “[give] commands” (45). Yet, he also states that he could not explicitly tell her what he viewed as her faults as he felt that such was below his station; it seems that he expected her to know the etiquette of her class. Abruptly he divulged the outcome of his inability to establish his authority over her. “All smiles stopped together” (46), and the duchess’s death becomes clear. Whether she was killed by the narrator—the ultimate act of control—or alternately she killed herself to escape his torment remains unclear. Yet both instances have an equal meaning symbolically: the duchess was unable to live outside of the traditional roles for her class and act as an individual. Her death can be seen as traditional society attempting to remain in control of her will and to quell her individual personality.
One can argue, however, that ultimately she was indeed successful in establishing herself as an individual and that the narrator was himself socially deviant. There is no mention of those whom the duchess smiled at being offended by her demeanor, nor was she shunned by her peers. It therefore seems likely that the faulty character was the narrator and not his wife. His desire to remove the liberties of his duchess stem from his objectification of woman; this is obvious when he describes his new bride as “[his] object” (53). Indeed, the basis of the poem is the objectification of a woman: the duchess is not a living woman but a portrait on a wall. Her physical freedom has been finally curtailed by the confines of the picture frame, and her character is wholly controlled by the narrator. Every action and observation is dictated by the narrator to the reader in the first person. Indeed, the reader is forced to share in the duchess’s confinement as the poem itself seems claustrophobic and limiting. He says that the reader is “not the first/...to turn and ask thus” (12-13) when no mention of the reader having done so is given; similarly, near the end he bids, or rather commands, the reader to rise and follow him to meet other guests. His attempts are ultimately unsuccessful, however, as the reader is free to determine the true nature of the character of the duchess. Yet, regardless of the reader’s view of her, the duchess remains solely as a picture on a wall.
Both Arthur Gordon Pym and My Last Duchess can be seen as exemplary of the romantic period due to the emphasis on freedom in both texts. Each portrays the central character’s search for liberty, yet they differ somewhat in outcome. The protagonist in Poe’s work ultimately achieves freedom by the emancipation of his soul from the mortal plane. Alternately, the attempts for independence by Browning’s duchess were circumscribed by her husband, who sought to control her ‘free spirit’. Whether he ultimately achieved such control is somewhat arguable, yet the poem as a whole remains a testament to the duchess’s fatal pursuit of liberty. Indeed, the two texts emotionally contrast each other quite nicely: Pym portrays the voyage of the protagonist through horror to liberty, while the duchess’s seemingly blissful experiments with freedom ended in tragedy.
Bibliography
Browning, Robert. My Last Duchess. The Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces. Gen. Ed. Maynard Mack. 6th ed. Vol. 2. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1992. 296-303.
Poe, Edgar Allan. The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym. Boston, USA: David R. Godine, 1973.
