He had not only paid off all Oscar Wilde's debts; but he had managed to remit thousands of pounds yearly to his children, and had established his popularity on the widest and surest foundation.
He crossed to Paris with Oscar's son, Vyvyan, to render the last service to his friend.

When preparing the body for the grave years before Ross had taken medical advice as to what should be done to make his purpose possible.

The doctors told him to put Wilde's body in quicklime, like the body of the man in "The Ballad of Reading Gaol." The quicklime, they said, would consume the flesh and leave the white bones--the skeleton--intact, which could then be moved easily.
To his horror, when the grave was opened, Ross found that the quicklime, instead of destroying the flesh, had preserved it.

Oscar's face was recognisable, only his hair and beard had grown long.

At once Ross sent the son away, and when the sextons were about to use their shovels, he ordered them to desist, and descending into the grave, moved the body with his own hands into the new coffin in loving reverence.
Those who hold our mortal vesture in respect for the sake of the spirit will know how to thank Robert Ross for the supreme devotion he showed to his friend's remains: in his case at least love was stronger than death.
One can be sure, too, that the man who won such fervid self-denying tenderness, had deserved it, called it forth by charm of companionship, or magic of loving intercourse.
FOOTNOTES: [38] See Appendix: p.