240 Morris' Death [1896 



forward shocked at the result. I should like to write these things, but 

 who would listen? 



" 28th Sept. — Dined with the Morrises. He came in like a man 

 risen from the grave, and sat a few minutes at the table, but seemed 

 dazed and unable to follow the conversation. Miss de Morgan was 

 there, and his wife waiting on him, and a voung man who had chari- 

 tably come in to sit up wi'th him at night. He denied absorbed in his 



misery. 



" 4th Oct. (Sunday). — Morris is dead. I got a letter telling it 

 from Lady Burne-Jones this morning. She says, ' Our dear friend 

 Morris died at twenty minutes past eleven this morning, as quietly as 

 ever a babe went 'to sleep in. its mother's arms.' 



" It has come sooner than I expected, though I knew his case was 

 hopeless. It is better as it is. He is the most wonderful man I have 

 known, unique in this, that he had no thought for anything or person, 

 including himself, but only for the work he had in hand. He was no't 

 selfish in the sense of seeking his own advantage or pleasure or com- 

 fort, but he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to be either openly 

 affectionate or actively kind. I suppose he had a real affection for 

 Burne-Jones, they saw each other constantly and spent their Sunday 

 mornings, always together, and I have seen him tender to his daughter 

 Jenny and nice wi'th her and with his wife, but I doubt if he thought 

 of them much when he did not see them, and his life was not arranged 

 in reference to them. To the rest of the world he seemed quite indif- 

 ferent, and he never, I am sure, returned the affection I gave him. He 

 liked to talk to me because I knew how to talk to him, and our fence of 

 words furbished his wit, but I doubt if he would have crossed 'the 

 street to speak to me. He was generous and open-handed in his deal- 

 ings, and I fancy did many kindnesses in a money way for people in 

 distress, but he fashed himself for no man and no woman. The truth 

 is he would not give an hour of his time to anyone, he held it to be too 

 valuable. Thus, while all the world admired and respected him, I doubt 

 whether he had many friends ; they got too little in return to continue 

 their affection. I should say half-a-dozen were all the friends he 

 had. I do not doubt myself among that number, intimate as I was 

 with him and much as I loved him. It will be a great grief for Jenny, 

 a great break-up for Janey, and a great loss for the world at .large, for 

 he was really our greatest man. 



" $th Oct. — I came up to London to see if I could be of any use 

 at Kelmscott House, and first I called on Burne-Tone* and had lunch- 

 eon with him and his son. He said that his interest in life had come 

 to an end with Morris, as all their ideas and plans and work had been 

 together all their lives. Phil, with whom I had a private talk, gave me 

 curiously enough the exact same impression of Morris as that which 



