A Last Confession (draft fragment) Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 Used with permission of Princeton University. From the Princeton University Library, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections. All rights reserved. Redistribution or republication in any medium requires express written consent from Princeton University Library. Permissions inquiries should be addressed to Associate University Librarian, Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Library. [Untitled] Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1869 October draft The manuscript comprises four small leaves. DGR DGR Princeton U. Library, Troxell Collection 23292, Troxel CO189, Box 5 folder 6 each small leaf is 18 x 11.4cm J ALLEN & SONS/EXTRA FINE The watermark is incomplete on each of the leaves. Commentary
Introduction

These four small manuscript leaves represent a compositional moment prior to the copying of the Fitzwilliam Manuscript. These manuscript fragments suggest that the manuscript of the poem that DGR put in his wife's coffin lacked this passage (received lines 349-403), which was probably an addition made to the text in October 1869 as DGR was preparing to recast the poem for printing in the Exhumation Proofs.

Textual History: Composition

Textual History: Revision

Production History

Reception History

Iconographic

Printing History

Pictorial

Historical

Literary

Translation

Autobiographical

Bibliographic

The sequence of revision in several of the lines is conjectural, based first on the placement of the changes in the manuscript, and then the effect of those changes on the scansion. Father, the day I speak of was the first For weeks that I had borne her company Into the Duomo; and those weeks had been Much troubled, for then first the thoughts arose That she so loved was growing changed & cold. to me And as we entered on that day, I bent My eyes on the fair image, and I said Within my heart, “Oh warm her heart to me!” And so I left her to her prayers, & went To gaze upon the great pride [?] of Monza's shrine, Where in the sacristy the day still falls Upon the Iron Crown of Italy, Though long the night hours closed on the [?] That [were?] it On whose crowned heads the day has closed, nor yet [?] upon another head to crown The hour gilds another head to crown. But coming back I wondered when I saw The image Our Lady's sovereign image That image stand alone; and till further off, Yet one more day thing that's in my mind [?] my soul comes back on me to-night [Will ?] That Which [with this answer?] telling I may tell you: for it bore my soul Dread firstlings of the brood that rend it now. It also happened once when then that in our wanderings We dwelt at Monza, far away from home, If home we had: A and in the Duomo there I sometimes entered with her when she prayed. There was There dwells An image of Our Lady dwells there, wrought In marble by some great Italian hand In the great days when she and Italy Sat on one throne together; and [by them?] to her [she heard?] [My child would ? and told her ? things] And to [?] none else my darling told her heart. And many thoughts. She was a woman then, And as she knelt below the sacred form They seemed Her sweet brow in the sweet brow's shadow there They [seemed?] two kindred images kindred forms that our dear land Two [?] to blend [?] [location?] Whose work still [?] serves the world for miracle [?] Blent [?] with herself in [???] wondrous womanhood. B[?] Before some new Madonna gaily decked, Tinselled & gewgawed, a slight German toy, I saw her kneel, still praying. At my step She rose, and side by side we left the church. I was much moved, & sharply questioned her Of her transferred devotion; [?] but she seemed Stubborn and [?] heedless; till she lightly laughed And “Aye, the old Madonna!” So she said She had my old thoughts,—this one has my new.” Then silent to the soul I walked with her held my way: And from the fountains of the public place Unto the pigeon-haunted pinnacles, Bright wings and water winnowed the bright air; And stately with her laugh's subsiding smile She stepped went, with well-poised feet & gleaming arms And hands held light before her; and the face Which long had made a day in all mylife's night Seemed night in day to me; as all men's eyes Turned on her beauty, and she seemed to tread Beyond the my heart to the world made for her.