A well-known artist of Syracuse, N. Y., is amusing a very few of his friends with an experience he had some days ago that has a tinge of the uncanny. It seems, says the Star, that the artist has a friend who is an undertaker and who at that time was badly in need of assistance. It seems that the undertaker had accidentally spilled a fluid upon the face of a body he was preparing for burial, and on account of his carelessness the fluid had acted upon the skin and turned it black in many places. The undertaker realized that something must be done, and that very soon. It would be out of the question for the family to learn of the accident. For a moment he was nonplussed, but his mind shortly turned to his artist friend, and he thought that he could relieve him. “It was at night when he called,” said the artist, in narrating the story, “and I had retired. At first it seemed impossible for me to attempt such a job as he laid before me, but his sad plight touched me, and I finally consented to do the best in my power. I went to the house with my box of paints. The undertaker entered the front door, but he feared that suspicion would be aroused if I was seen. According to arrangements I waited outside until he had reached the death chamber. Then he silently raised the window, and I crawled stealthily in. For more than an hour I labored silently upon the spotted face, carefully painting over the black places, and finishing the whole with that effect which betokens death. It was a ghastly job, and I never want another like it. After it was all over the body looked as lifelike as possible, and no one ever know that the face was entirely made up.”
Of course, nowdays we’re accustomed to seeing corpses made up. I wonder how long it took our society to come to expect our deceased to exhibit a life-like visage instead of deathly pallor.
[tags]Ann Arbor Register, July, 1895[/tags]