DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0179
A VISIT TO THE DEAD HOUSE.
171
contents” of the corpses lying behind the glass. The "table
of contents” was framed, and decorated with emblems of
mortality. The eager spectators consulted its columns
with deep enjoyment, muttering to each other names, ages,
and causes of death.
When a space at the window offered itself, I also looked
through it. I breathed, or fancied I breathed, as I neared
the window, the clammy, soul and body sickening odour
of death,—that fearful odour which once breathed can never
more be forgotten. Looking within, I saw a solemn room
where various corpses were arranged upon biers, and where
many empty biers were awaiting corpses.
In the centre of the room lay the statue-like figure of a
young girl—the “ Marie” of the speakers, and the Amsels’
friend, I imagine. Her face had the pale yellow tint of
ivory upon it ; her brow was wreathed with myrtle—she
was now the bride of death. She lay as if in a trance •, her
hands were crossed upon her breast; a delicate gauze veil
flowed over her down to her feet. A grove of greenhouse
flowers bloomed around her pillow, which was trimmed with
exquisite lace; flowers bloomed in her hands; flowers bloomed
at her feet, and tall waxen tapers rising out of bronze cande-
labra burnt and twinkled amid the leaves and blossoms.
There was a second dead woman’s face, which was affect-
ing and beautiful. The head lay slightly turned aside; the
lips were crimson; the cheeks, scarcely sunken, were
flushed in patches with a bright crimson tint, which looked
rather of life than death. Her hair was jet black, and
parted with the nicest care over a broad, low white brow.
She also was covered with flowers : tender sprigs of passion-
flower and fern drooped over her. Close beside her in its
little coffin lay an infant. And beyond these there were
other rigid faces, old and young and middle-aged, glaring
with a ghastly white from distant biers, all with stern
171
contents” of the corpses lying behind the glass. The "table
of contents” was framed, and decorated with emblems of
mortality. The eager spectators consulted its columns
with deep enjoyment, muttering to each other names, ages,
and causes of death.
When a space at the window offered itself, I also looked
through it. I breathed, or fancied I breathed, as I neared
the window, the clammy, soul and body sickening odour
of death,—that fearful odour which once breathed can never
more be forgotten. Looking within, I saw a solemn room
where various corpses were arranged upon biers, and where
many empty biers were awaiting corpses.
In the centre of the room lay the statue-like figure of a
young girl—the “ Marie” of the speakers, and the Amsels’
friend, I imagine. Her face had the pale yellow tint of
ivory upon it ; her brow was wreathed with myrtle—she
was now the bride of death. She lay as if in a trance •, her
hands were crossed upon her breast; a delicate gauze veil
flowed over her down to her feet. A grove of greenhouse
flowers bloomed around her pillow, which was trimmed with
exquisite lace; flowers bloomed in her hands; flowers bloomed
at her feet, and tall waxen tapers rising out of bronze cande-
labra burnt and twinkled amid the leaves and blossoms.
There was a second dead woman’s face, which was affect-
ing and beautiful. The head lay slightly turned aside; the
lips were crimson; the cheeks, scarcely sunken, were
flushed in patches with a bright crimson tint, which looked
rather of life than death. Her hair was jet black, and
parted with the nicest care over a broad, low white brow.
She also was covered with flowers : tender sprigs of passion-
flower and fern drooped over her. Close beside her in its
little coffin lay an infant. And beyond these there were
other rigid faces, old and young and middle-aged, glaring
with a ghastly white from distant biers, all with stern