Porphyria's Lover
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Porphyria's Lover is a well-known poem by Robert Browning. Published in 1836, it first appeared, accompanied by another monologue, under the title Madhouse Cells.
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[edit] Summary
The poem is narrated, apparently, by a madman as he sits embracing a woman he murdered the night before. Porphyria, he says, came to his cottage, kindled a fire, then sat beside him and told him she loved him. He then killed her by strangling her with her own hair; he did this, he explains, so that Porphyria could be his forever, in an eternal state of love.
The poem consists of one long stanza, written in a simple, conversational style, but with a strictly maintained rhyme and meter.
[edit] Analysis
Browning shows how even the greatest blessings--in this case, a beautiful woman's love and kindness--can lead an unbalanced mind to violence. Porphyria dies because she treated the narrator lovingly. Jealously wishing to possess her entirely, he killed her to keep her always by his side. He also, perhaps, felt so supremely happy when she said she loved him that, to preserve that feeling of happiness, he committed the murder in the hope of stopping time.
In his twisted mind, his love leads him into all manner of assumptions compatible with his own longings. He seems convinced that Porphyria wanted to be murdered, and claims "No pain felt she" while being strangled, adding, as if the convince himself "I am quite sure she felt no pain." He may even believe she enjoyed the pain, because he, her lover, inflicted it. When she's dead, he says she's found her "utmost will," and when he sees her lifeless head drooping on his shoulder, he describes it as a “rosy little head”, possibly using the word "rosy" to symbolise the red roses of love, or to demonstrate his delusion that the girl, and their relationship, are still alive. Her "rosy little head" may also be a sly reference to the hymen; Porphyria leaves a "gay feast" and comes in from the outside world wearing "soiled gloves"; now her blue eyes, open in death, are "without a stain."
Since the speaker is obviously insane, it is impossible to know the true nature of his relationship to Porphyria. Theories, some of them rather bizarre, abound: some contemporary scholars suggest, for example, that the narrator may, in fact, be a woman; if so, the strangulation could stem from frustration with the world. The narrator may also be violating a different sexual taboo; Porphyria may be his mother or sister. She may be a former girlfriend, now betrothed, or even married, to some other man. She may also be simply some kind lady who has come to look in on him.
Other sources note that the lover might be impotent, disabled, sick, or otherwise inadequate, and, as such, unable to satisfy Porphyria. There is much textual evidence to support this interpretation: he describes himself as "one so pale/ for love of her, and all in vain." At the beginning of the poem, the narrator never moves; he sits passively in a cold, dark room, sadly listening to the storm until Porphyria comes through "wind and rain", "shuts the cold out and the storm," and makes up his dying fire. Finally, she sits beside him, calls his name, places his arm around her waist, and puts his head on her shoulder. At the poem's midpoint, the narrator suddenly takes action, strangling Porphyria, propping her body against his, and boasting that afterward, her head lay on his shoulder.
The mirrored effect produced by Porphyria's modelling of the narrator in the first half, and the narrator's reciprocal modelling of her after strangulation is indicative of a unusual artistic style called Tableaux Vivant in which humans were used as art in order to recreate actual paintings. This is indicative of the allegorical content of "Porphyria's Lover" in which both characters imitate the process of artistic creation: when art is created or published, it is dead and forever unchanging. In the last few lines of the poem, Porphyria is manipulated in much the same way as the speaker was in the first few lines of the poem. Tennyson shares similar ideas in his "Lady of Shallot" as with other Victorian authors who contribute to the popular conversation about artistic process.
In line with the narrator's suggested weakness and sickness, other scholars take the word "porphyria" literally, and suggest that the seductress is an embodiment of a disease, and that the narrator's killing of her is a sign of his recovery. Porphyria was discovered long before Browning's time, and usually involved madness and eventual death.
Much has been made of the final line: "And yet, God has not said a word!" Possibly, the speaker seeks divine condonement for the murder. He may believe God has said nothing because He is satisfied with his actions. God may be satisfied because: He recognises that the narrator's crime is the only way to keep Porphyria pure; or, because He doesn't think her life and death are important compared to the narrator's. The narrator may also be waiting in vain for some sign of God's approval. Alternately, the line may represent his feelings of emptiness in the wake of his violence; Porphyria is gone, quiet descends, and he's alone. The narrator may also be schizophrenic; he may be listening for a voice in his head, which he mistakes for the voice of God.
The final line may also register the narrator's sense of guilt over his crime. Despite his elaborate justifications for his act, he has, in fact, committed murder, and he expects God to punish him - or, at least, to take notice. The narrator is surprised, and a little uneasy, over God's continued silence.
[edit] See also
- My Last Duchess - A wealthy nobleman delivers a monologue telling a guest that he had his former wife killed because everybody and everything she saw seemed to make her happy. Now, she exists only as a painting on the wall, which he usually keeps concealed behind a curtain so none but he can see the look of happy welcome on her face.
- Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister - A comic monologue in which a monk spews out venom against one of his colleagues, Brother Lawrence; in the process, he merely reveals his own depravity while showing what a good, pious man his "enemy" is.
