Monday, June 16, 2025

Why did the Poet Exhume his Dead Wife’s Body?

 

 

The other day I picked up a free little book entitled True Tiny Tales of Terror.

In this pocket-sized book – about eighty odd pages -  I found horror stories as short as two sentences and most no longer than two or three paragraphs. The subject of the book includes horror or terror stories on family life, strange deaths, mature meat and drink, deadly remedies and vile murders.

I don’t know what I expected, but I was certainly surprised to see among these ‘terror/horror’ stories a name I recognized.

It was none other than Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Yes, that artist/author whom we studied back in our high school year. And I still remember the poem The Blessed Damozel who, while blessedly in heaven, is not wholly satisfied, and is pining for the one left behind.

But back to the terror... Two years after Rossetti and Elizabeth exchanged their wedding vows, she died of an overdose – which is another way of saying she chose to end her life.

In his grief – and possibly guilt as well – Rossetti made the sacrifice of burying with her a book of poems he had created while they were living together as husband and wife.

Years go by, and Rossetti is beginning to be recognized as the wonderful poet that he is. So much so that he is being invited to get published. Rummaging among his poems, he realizes there are not enough of them. And remembers all those great poems that are buried with Elizabeth; and how he could do with them.

So, as you would have guessed by now, he decided to dig up his wife’s grave and get those poems.

 Easier said than done.

In the old, old days, you might have got couple of hefty friends to visit the cemetery while nobody was looking and Bob’s your uncle.

In the more civilised world you have to go through more than a few legalities to convince them of your need.

One can only imagine the raised eyebrows at Mr. Rossetti explanation.

After some toeing and froing, the body was exhumed. And the poems were rescued. Needless to say, the pages were somewhat putrid and difficult to decipher, and needed a lot of tender, loving care before they were ready for the publisher.

Once published his work was so well received that the book was republished half a dozen times.

It would be nice to say that after all that Rossetti lived happily ever after. But, he didn’t.