Madame Tussaud and the Return of the Dead: A Mini-Essay

      In 1802, the French artist Anna Maria Tussaud was invited to join Paul de Philipsthal’s phantasmagoric show at the Lyceum Theatre in London. Although Tussaud did not benefit financially from the endeavor (Paul de Philipsthal collected half of her profits), the popularity of her wax figures quickly propelled her to stardom, allowing Tussaud to tour the British Isles for over three decades and eventually establish a permanent exhibit on Baker Street in 1835. The exhibition’s most popular attraction was a separate room – subsequently named the Chamber of Horrors – which featured effigies of executed criminals and guillotined aristocrats from the French Revolution. The public was mesmerized by this graphic depiction of the dead and flocked to its macabre presentation in droves. For some, as Pamela Pilbeam expresses, the exhibition “provided a safe environment in which customers could face their fears.” For others, it proved a frightening display of nightmarish atrocity and, as Lavinia Russ highlights, a reward of £100 was issued in 1909 “to any person, male or female, who [would] pass the night alone in the Chamber of Horrors…the only condition made [was] that the daring one [would] not smoke or drink or read during the twelve hours he pass[ed] with the wax figures of the world's noted criminals.” Given the show’s sadistic nature (especially for its time), the crowd’s reaction is understandable; however, as Linda Badley argues, the dismay invoked by Tussaud’s Chamber of Horrors may have extended beyond the shock of gore and violence.
     Badley builds on the notions presented in Roland Barthes’ Camera Lucida, particularly his concept of eidolon. As Barthes explains, photography has the ability to capture fleeting moments in time, preserving people and events far beyond their passing. For example, a photograph taken of Abraham Lincoln in the summer of 1861 encapsulates that lone instance and allows viewers from future generations to return briefly to it. In doing so, according to Barthes, the photograph becomes a means of time travel and allows for “a return of the dead.” This transcendence of space and time holds a romantic connotation, but, as Badley stresses, it also possesses an unsavory implication. Just as the photograph of Abraham Lincoln can transport viewers to another time, the photograph of a beheading or mass genocide can yield the same results, freezing an instance of brutality forever. In the case of Madame Tussaud’s Chamber of Horrors, the lifelike depictions of criminals and guillotined victims – many molded directly from death masks – presented a graphic three-dimensional representation of incidents. Akin to photographs, the displays captured a moment of unspeakable atrocity and forced visitors to uncomfortably relive it in stunning realism. In doing so, Tussaud's chamber, according to Badley, “gave supernatural life” to the dead, allowing them to return and reenact their final carnage. Hence, it was not the gore and violence itself, Badley argues, which invoked so much fear, but the photo-realistic presentations which preserved some of humanity's more heinous barbarities. 

Works Referenced

Badley, Linda. Film, Horror, and the Body Fantastic. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1995.

Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida. Trans. Richard Howard. New York: Hill and Wang, 1980.

Lavinia Russ. Forever England: Poetry and Prose about England and the English. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, Inc., 1969.

Pilbeam, Pamela. Madame Tussaud and the History of Waxworks. London: Hambledon and London, 2003.

Fingers in a Box

$10 - $15 (based on 2015 prices)

Makes one box 

The finger-in-a-box trick has been around for decades and reached a level of triteness long before I was born. For my adaptation, I decided to remove the trick element entirely and, utilizing the same basic elements, transform it into a static specimen prop for a mad scientist’s laboratory. You can use a smaller box for a lone finger or a larger version to house more substantial organs (think of the fun you could have on Valentine’s Day).

• One black cardboard gift box (5" x 5")
• One piece of 8” x 11.5” cardstock with specimen labels printed on it
• At least four tablespoons of black tea (e.g. Darjeeling, Earl Gary, English Breakfast, etc.)
• One pan large enough to soak the cardstock
• One 4 oz. bottle of all-purpose tacky glue*
• One 1 oz. bottle of fake blood (learn how to make your own here)
• One yard of white cheese cloth
• Five fake fingers (learn how to make these here)

1. Boil enough water to completely submerge the cardstock and pour it into the pan. Add the tea. The longer you allow the tea to brew, the darker the stain will become. Likewise, greater amounts of tea will produce a richer stain. I found that a combination of English and Irish Breakfast brewed for over ten minutes produces a nice, deep brown. Submerge the cardstock into the tea mixture and soak it until it reaches the color you desire. I soaked mine for eight hours and scattered the loose-leaf tea over the top to add spots. Remove the cardstock from the water and allow it to dry.

2. Transform the box into a display by connecting the base and lid together in an L shape and gluing the joint for reinforcement.

3. On a newspaper-line surface, cut the cheese cloth into a section large enough fit crumbled at the bottom of the box. You want the cloth to be noticeable after the fingers have been placed on top of it, so do not be conservative with the size of your section. Once cut, splatter the cloth with blood, creating drops and smudges.

4. After the cardstock has dried, cut out one of the labels, leaving a small boarder around its edges. Use sandpaper to fray its sides and create holes. Once you have achieved your desired level of distress, glue the label to the inside of the lid. You can use olive or vegetable oil to add further stains. I discovered that applying a small amount of oil to your index finger and patting it on the label works well.

5. Ball up the bloodied cloth and place it inside the box’s base. You may have to play with its positioning before placing the specimen on top. After the cloth is situated, add the fingers. To add drama, refrain from lining them in a straight row. Rather, cluster them in the center at odd angles.

*You will not use the entire bottle’s content for this project.

"The Phantom Mail Coach" (A Poem)

Very little is known about L.O. Welcome (the name is most likely a pseudonym). The author published two poems in the Saturday Evening Post: "The Phantom Mail Coach" on December 7, 1929, and "Transport" less than a year later on July 26, 1930. Since then, the writer has slipped into obscurity, with his/her poems being rarely republished. In fact, "The Phantom Mail Coach" appears in only two anthologies: William Cole's Poems of Magic and Spells (1960) and Lavinia Russ' Forever England (1969). Despite its scarcity, the tale is a witty account of slain coachmen who perpetually return to haunt the highway where they met their demise.

Gather up the ribbons, give the 'orn a toot!
The fares is in their places, the treasure's in the boot,
Letters for the garrison, an' all the soldiers' pay;
An' we set out from Bedford on the King's 'Ighway.

     A lead team
     A wheel team,
     A good, red bay;
     A-takin' George's letters
     Down the King's 'Ighway

My! But we was jolly! Lord! But we was fine!
Pretty Mistress Polly an' 'er sister Caroline,
With orficers in uniform  - red coats gay -
A-wooin' an' a-cooin' on the King's 'Ighway.

     A short life!
     A short life!
     And youth won't stay!
     A-flyin' like dust
     Upon the King's 'Ighway!

A little 'alt for dinner, and a little pause to sup;
"Service of 'Is Majesty!" and now the time is up!
Out upon the meadows in the duskin' o' the day
A-takin' George's treasure down the King's 'Ighway!

     A sea mist,
     A salt mist,
     A dank mist an' gray,
     An' I'd like to see it fairer
     On the King's 'Ighway!

Now, who is that! An' who is there! An' wot's wrong below?
'Ands upon the bridle bits, an' won't let go!
Time enough to scream a bit, not enough to pray,
An' so we all was murdered on the King's 'Ighway!

     For stilled tongues
     Is safe tongues -
     The dead they can't away,
     To bring King George's troopers
     Down the King's 'Ighway!

So, once in ev'ry hundred years, my lot is to ride,
With treasure and the letters and the fares inside:
An' we be only phantoms in the sea mist gray,
A-'untin' of our slayers down the King's 'Ighway.

     A lead team,
     A wheel team,
     A ghost-team gray,
     Wot can't get used to autos
     On the King's 'Ighway!

Works Referenced

Cole, William, ed. Poems of Magic and Spells. New York: World Publishing Company, 1960.

Russ, Lavinia, ed. Forever England: Poetry and Prose about England and the English. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, Inc., 1969. 82-84.

Potion Bottles (Version One)

$10 - $15 (based on 2016 prices) 

Makes four bottles

No witch’s apothecary is complete without an assortment of well-used potion bottles. For this version, I utilized colored bottles and bright beads to give the collection a touch of vibrancy. The bottles are rectangular Roma, which are cheap and can be easily found in most craft stores.

• Four Roma colored-glass rectangle bottles with corks (4 oz. or larger)
• Eight small, multicolored stone beads
• Two yards of light-brown twine
• One piece of 8”x 11.5” copy paper with potion labels printed on it
• One 4 oz. bottle of all-purpose tacky glue*
• At least four tablespoons of black tea (e.g. Darjeeling, Earl Gary, English Breakfast, etc.)
• One pan large enough to soak the copy paper

1. Wrap the necks of the bottles with twine and knot the ends, trimming one and leaving the other with a two- or three-inch excess. To reinforce it, glue the knot.

2. Thread the beads onto the twine. It may help to use a needle and pliers during this process, utilizing the needle to guide the twine through the beads’ holes and the pliers to pull the twine through.

3. Separate the beads and knot the twine below each one to keep them in place. Following this, trim the excess twine from the final knot and glue it for reinforcement. 

4. Boil enough water to completely submerge the copy paper and pour it into the pan. Add the tea. The longer you allow the tea to brew, the darker the stain will become. Likewise, greater amounts of tea will produce a richer stain. I found that a combination of English and Irish Breakfast brewed for over ten minutes produces a nice, deep brown. Submerge the paper into the tea mixture and soak it until it reaches the color you desire. I soaked mine for eight hours and scattered the loose-leaf tea over the top of the paper to add spots. Remove the paper from the water and allow it to dry. It may help to perform this step a day or two before the others so the labels are dry once you enter the assembly process.

5. After the paper has dried, cut out the labels, leaving a small boarder around their edges. To roughen the labels’ appearance, use sandpaper to fray their sides and create holes. You can also crumple the paper to produce creases. Once you have achieved your desired level of distress, glue the labels to the sides of the bottles. You can use olive or vegetable oil to add further stains. I discovered that applying a small amount of oil to your index finger and patting it on the paper works well.

6. Return the corks to the bottles and use a pair of scissors to trim the twine’s frayed strands. If you want to add additional detail, fill the bottles with colored sand, dried herbs, or plastic critters. 

*You will not use the entire bottle’s content for this project.