Reflection on the Death of Lizzie

Posted on 27 March 2007

Reflection on the Death of Lizzie
Kindly contributed to this site by Gary Attlesey

Georgiana Burne-Jones’ reflection on the death of Lizzie
Published in Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones by Georgiana Burne-Jones (London, Macmillan & Co. Limited 1904).

The story can never lose its sadness. To try to tell it afresh now, with a knowledge of its disastrous effect upon one of the greatest men, would be for me impossible. I will simply transcribe something I wrote about it the next day to one of my sisters: “I am sure you will feel for Gabriel and all of us when I tell you poor Lizzie died yesterday morning. I scarcely believe the words as I write them, but yesterday I saw her dead. The evening before she was in good health (for her) and very good spirits, she dined with her husband and Swinburne and made very merry with them. Gabriel took her home, saw her prepare for bed, went out to the Working Men’s College, and on his return found her insensible from the effects of an overdose of laudanum which she use to take medicinally. She never knew him or anyone else for a second. Four physicians and a surgeon did everything human skill could devise, but spite of them all she died, poor darling, soon after seven in the morning. The shock was so great and sudden that we are only beginning to believe it today. I wonder at myself for writing about it so coolly. I went down directly I heard it and saw her poor body laid in the very bed where I have seen her lie and laugh in the midst of illness, but even though I did this I keep thinking it is all a dreadful dream. Brown was with Gabriel and is exactly the man to see to all the sad business arrangements, for of course under such circumstances an inquest has to be held. Of course I did not see Gabriel. Edward is greatly troubled as you will believe, and all the men. I leave you to imagine the awful feeling there is upon us all. Pray God to comfort Gabriel.
The Chatham Place days were ended now, and Rossetti in his sorrow turned to his mother, whose grave tenderness must have been a refuge for his wounded heart, and went for a time to live in Albany Street with her and his sisters and brother. Poor Lizzie’s bullfinch went there too, and sang as sweetly and looked as sleek and cheerful as ever.

Notes:
Swinburne: Algernon Charles Swinburne, Poet.
Working Men’s College: Where Rossetti taught art classes.
Edward: Edward Coley Burne-Jones.
Chatham Place: Number 14, home of Lizzie & Gabriel Rossetti