… All changes pass me like a dream,
I neither sing nor pray;
And thou art like the poisonous tree
That stole my life away.
- Elizabeth Siddal from “Love and Hate”
Our bodies ruling over our heads. Our emotions soon to follow.
A spell is cast and no matter hard we fight to break it, we just can’t seem to get away.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti was one of those… a sorcerer of sorts, and not the good kind. Lizzie Siddal, an artist in her own right, fell under his spell. Today, she is known more as a model or a muse, for the drama with Rossetti and not her work.
At the age of twenty, Elizabeth Eleanor Siddall was working as a milliner. She was unusual in appearance than most of the girls her age. Tall and lean with a mass of glorious red hair, she had agate-colored eyes and alabaster skin. Her voice soft and scant. She caught the attention of many men. She was introduced to Dante Gabriel Rossetti and soon, at his demand, she became his exclusive model.
Lizzie showed promise as an artist, and Rossetti took her on as a student. He had her live with him. He dropped the remaining ‘L’ from her last name. And then he promised to marry her.
By 1854, several of Lizzie’s paintings and illustrations appeared in the Pre-Raphaelite Exhibition. Lizzie was the only female artist. The following year, John Ruskin saw her work and purchased everything. Ruskin even gave her an allowance to continue her work.
Years passed and Rossetti ’s promises to marry her went unrealized. He began to entertain other artists’ models. Their relationship became tumultuous. Several times she tried to leave but was always worried Rossetti would replace her with a younger, prettier muse. Grief stricken, Lizzie would often fall ill taking laudanum for relief.
In May of 1860, Rossetti and Lizzie finally married. The following May, she gave birth to a stillborn daughter. By the end of the year, Lizzie was pregnant again. In February, she went out to dinner with Rossetti and a friend. She returned home and he went out again. At 11:30 he came home to a dark room. He called to her and received no reply. In bed he found her with an empty vile of laudanum next to the bed.
The grieving husband threw a manuscript of poems he had written into her casket. he began to drink. And take chloral.
Seven years went by and then Rossetti persuaded his friends to exhume Lizzie's body. He wanted to publish the poems he had thrown into her coffin. Late one night, they dug up her grave and pried open the coffin. The poems were retrieved and drenched in disinfectant. His friends told him, not to worry…. Lizzie looked remarkably well.