The Grave of Vivien Eliot

Vivien Eliot Headstone : Reads “In Loving Memory of
Vivien Haigh Eliot Died 29th January 1947”

Vivien Haigh-Eliot (formerly Vivienne Haigh-Wood) is buried in Pinner New Cemetery, North London. She was born in Bury, Lancashire on 28th May 1888, and famously was the first wife of modernist poet, author, playwright and publisher T. S. Eliot.

At the time of her death on January 22nd 1947, she was resident at Northumberland House psychiatric hospital in Finsbury Park, having been sectioned in 1938 after a period of erratic and unpredictable behaviour. The cause of death was given as a heart attack.

The green band attaches the headstone to two upright posts to the rear. This is a health and safety measure to avoid accidents caused by toppling headstones which have become prey to subsidence. There are several of these in the cemetery.

Register of Burials with the 
Listing for Vivien

Vivien Haigh-Eliot 1888-1947

A sad reflection of the care afforded to her memory, was that although she died in fact on January 22nd, no-one saw any reason to ensure the correct date was recorded on her headstone.

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A Visit

I visited the grave on November 25th 2011, and so recalling the visit now after several months is a task fraught with the risk of false notes – no, not a risk, but a certainty.

I asked for help at the site office, to find Vivien’s grave. The distance between the cemetery office and the plot is a short one. I was accompanied by the cemetery groundsman, the young man of whom I made my initial enquiry. We walked in silence, he looking from side to side as he walked, verifying the letters and numbers on some mentally-configured grid; and I, simply pacing a step or two behind him, in deference to his knowledge and quietly pleased to have found such a willing helper.

We reached the grave. I made a brief exclamation, the words of which I dare not recall because of the risk of a false note. The gap between anticipation and reality is understood as a shadow which has no definition. The moment of seeing Vivien’s grave for the first time was layered with every element of that gap.

I was in awe of the moment: here was the grave in its simple, physical reality: yet the moment of first sight opened up and absorbed a backwash of surprise and puzzlement, of melancholy.

Immediately obvious was the faded inscription – Vivien’s name is difficult to decipher. Weathering has taken its toll. But equally obvious was the presence of a bright green band of plastic, encircling the headstone and holding it to two wooden stakes. My impromptu guide/groundsman explained the health and safety regulations which create the need to secure those headstones which are prone to toppling due to subsidence. Vivien’s headstone is amongst the several thus affected. A metaphor perhaps for the support of strangers as institutionalised life takes hold.

I was grateful still for the presence of the young man who was helping me. I was curious as to how many people had come, like me, to visit the grave. In his six years in the role, he told me, he had seen only two people before me. I thanked him for his help and let him get back to his work.