Blogging a poem

Hello, and welcome to the mx3blog.

Our first class assignment will be a group discussion of Robert Browning’s 19th century poem, “My Last Duchess.” I am not going to say much about this poem because I want to see what the entire class, working as a group, can pull out of it. Instead, here are some ground rules:

1) Each member of the class must make one — and only one — statement or comment that will help us to better understand the poem. Once a student has responded to the poem, he or she should not respond again until every other member of the class has responded as well.

2) Your comment or statement must be significantly different than anyone else’s. In other words, you have to do more than rephrase someone else’s response. You may, however, reply to or even dispute a classmate’s response.

3) This project will be graded by participation; so long as you make an acceptable contribution, you will receive a grade of Pass. However, to encourage more than just passable efforts, I will give extra credit to the five best entries. (I’ll let you know who you are.)

4) You may definitely use any research tools or information you discover, so long as you attribute it.

5) I’ve started off with a comment of my own regarding the word “Ferrara” in the subtitle, so you can see how I expect it to be done. But this is the first time that I have tried a wiki of this sort, so if you have any questions, recommendations, complaints, etc., email me at artfried@gmail.com and let me know.

6) For how to information, check out the mx3blog home page.

“My Last Duchess” by Robert Browning

 

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,

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 favor 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 pretense

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 Innshruck cast in bronze for me!

 

1842