21 pages • 42 minutes read
In 19th-century England, it was generally accepted that men had sexual feelings they might act upon. Women, however, were expected to be virtuous and demure, never showing sexual feelings of any kind. They were generally not left in the presence of a suitor without a chaperone, and clandestine love affairs would have been frowned upon, especially among the middle to upper classes. Therefore, Porphyria’s behavior would have been seen as transgressive, not just by the lover himself, but also by the era’s audience.
At first, the audience would perceive Porphyria as acting within her expected place, tidying the hearth to make him more comfortable. When he sulkily refuses to talk to her, she cajoles him, speaking in a soft voice. She is portrayed as beautiful and kind, sacrificing her own comfort by arriving in a rainstorm, clearly living up to the time period’s picture of ideal womanhood.
However, much of this characterization is subverted. Porphyria is also bold enough to touch the speaker to encourage their intimacy. Further, she has secretly left a party at which her attendance was probably noticed, slipping away from expected duties. She is willing to speak—at least according to the lover—openly of her “struggling passion” (Line 23). Conversation between the couple does not seem new because she is aware of his “love of her” (Line 29), an intimacy that might have shocked the era’s readers, particularly because Porphyria seems to be of a higher class than the speaker.
However, the descriptions of Porphyria lean towards warmth, beauty, and kindness, which would have made the audience care about her fate. However, any consummation with the lover would change her status as “[p]erfectly pure and good” (Line 37). When the lover horrifically kills her because of this conundrum, the audience must confront the standards that make a woman’s sexuality a death sentence.
Porphyria’s lover is obsessed with controlling his given situation. He deeply desires to be exalted as a divine being whose wisdom is justified and whose rules are followed. His complete narcissism is challenged by Porphyria, which shakes his belief that he is the source of power and influence in Porphyria’s world.
Desiring Porphyria’s complete reverence, the lover mentally condemns her for her other “vainer ties” (Line 24), which, in his mind, should be easily “dissever[ed]” (Line 24). He is annoyed that it has been difficult for Porphyria to commit herself and sees her as “weak” (Line 22), unable to set her “struggling passion free” (Line 23). When he receives—or imagines he receives—the message that “Porphyria worshipped [him]” (Line 33), he is initially struck by extreme happiness.
However, after her pronouncement of worship, the lover fears her fickleness. He worries that she might have another god before him, whether that be money or a more socially acceptable rival. Rather than discuss this with Porphyria, he judges her, literally taking her life directly into his hands. After all, he sees her as “mine, mine” (Line 36), her bodily autonomy merely an extension of his ownership; killing her shows his dominion.
His imagined omnipotence allows him to assess Porphyria’s thoughts and feelings with the surety of a god. In this way, he can assure his audience that Porphyria felt “no pain” (Line 41, Line 42) after his violent strangulation. She exists only as a puppet, a creature without human feeling. He exacerbates this notion by confidently conveying that Porphyria is “[s]o glad” (Line 53) that “all [she] scorned […] is fled / And I, its love, am gained instead!” (Lines 54-55).
He usurps even the Christian God, who, within the framework of time and place, would’ve been considered the ultimate authority. When the lover “warily ope[s] [Porphyria’s] lids” (Line 44) like a flower that might “hol[d] a bee” (Line 43), the fact that her gaze is “without a stain” (Line 45) assures him his judgment alone is correct. As he cradles her dead body all night, “God [does] not [say] a word” (Line 60), indicating that it is he who has acted as the real deity.
It is tempting to apply psychological diagnosis to the titular character in “Porphyria’s Lover,” and many critics have posited that he might be experiencing a mental health crisis or sociopathic tendencies. However, rather than offering a diagnosis, the primary concept gleaned from the poem’s text is that the lover wants to dissociate himself from the physical actuality of his murderous act and continually deflects his own responsibility.
This technique is enhanced by the form of the dramatic monologue in which the lover expresses his tale to an outside listener. In this way, he and Porphyria are the lover’s artistic creations, embellished in ways he sees fit. In 1842, Browning collected this poem with another under the title Madhouse Cells, which might imply the speaker was convicted for his crime of passion (See: Further Reading & Resources). Although it is hard to know who the intended listener is—perhaps as doctor or a priest—the first-person confession is significantly labeled with a third-person title, “Porphyria’s Lover.” Perhaps this is the title given by the listener—but it could also show how the speaker sees himself as a character rather than himself. In this way, the lover is the problem, rather than the speaker himself.
This lack of responsibility is also shown in his deflection regarding his own lack of agency. Much of the action, his narrative suggests, is orchestrated by Porphyria. He makes much of her movements, which include aligning his body, moving him into a position of embrace, covering him with hair. By making Porphyria an active force, he sets up the idea that she is responsible for what occurred.
He assumes Porphyria was glad to have her “utmost will” (Line 53) fulfilled, suggesting that she wanted to be murdered to release herself from “all [she] scorned” (Line 54). In this way, he paints himself as a savior rather than a perpetrator. He further distances himself from her murder by assuring his audience that Porphyria felt “no pain” (Lines 41-42), a willful disregard of the brutality of his act. He even goes so far to seemingly pretend there was no damage. Her postmortem eyes “[l]aughed” (Line 45) while “her cheek once more / Blushed bright” (Line 48), suggesting there was no violence at all.
The closest he comes to real confession is when he says, “she guessed not how / Her darling one wish would be heard” (Lines 56-57), but this still places her death in Porphyria’s hands rather than his own. Even at the end of his tale, he deflects, suggesting that if God does not blame him, why should anyone else?
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By Robert Browning