Kate Berridge (34 page)
Authors: Madame Tussaud: A Life in Wax
Tags: #Art, #Artists; Architects; Photographers, #Modern, #General, #Biography & Autobiography, #19th Century, #History
Given Marie's aversion to writing, her mouthpiece was a family friend and fellow émigré, Francis Hervé, who in the preface hinted that depending on the reception of this book Madame Tussaud might be encouraged to produce a sequel about her life in England. Entitled
Madame Tussaud's Memoirs and Reminiscences of France, Forming an Abridged History of the French Revolution
, it promised a detailed autobiographical account of both the last days of the Ancien Regime and the blood-drenched days of the Terror. Pre-publicity in different forms all repeatedly trumpeted her credentials as an authority on the Revolution: âThere are few persons perhaps now existing who can give a more accurate account of all that transpired during the Revolution'.
It came out in a climate of great interest about the French Revolution, which was a consistently popular subjectâCarlyle's monumental history of 1837 was enjoying great critical acclaim. But Marie's unique selling point was her first-hand, eyewitness credentials and her proximity to the key characters. This appeal is evident in an article in the
London Saturday Journal
: âHaving read her memoirs, we were much interested in seeing a person who had been on habits of intimacy with so many celebrated characters of bygone times; and we could hardly imagine this lady to be the same little girl who was patted on the head by Voltaire, receiving at the same time a commendation of her beautiful black eyes'.
The Spectator
was more circumspect in its appraisal.
Had her powers of observation been equal to her opportunities, the reminiscences of such a woman must have been highly valuable; but the minds of those personsâas artists, actors, and musiciansâwhose calling takes them among the great in their familiar moments, are, luckily for greatness, so narrowed, by the demands of their respective arts, that, like Justice Shallow, they only look to âthe limb, the thewes, the stature, bulk and big assemblance of a man', without regard to the âspirit'. In Madame Tussaud these points are extended by a professional and womanly regard for the costume; and to those who are curious in this way, these Memoirs will furnish forth a pretty tolerable inventory of the dresses of French worthies.
Both she and Hervé are taken to task for accuracy:
Mr Hervé the editor as he calls himself seems rather a compiler or manufacturer, who has taken down Madame's personal reminiscences and intermingled them with a curt and superficial narrative of the revolution, gathered from the most obvious sources, and not always with the most scrupulous care. Madame Tussaud herself too sometimes
runs counter to general opinions in her gossip, as when she charges Robespierre with being very libidinous and personally corrupt.
Whether as a result of this review or not, it is interesting that subsequent advertisements for the book focus more on the costumes and court protocol than on the personal experiences and history.
The book certainly fuelled the myth of Madame Tussaud as a survivor and witness of the French Revolution, and imbued her with an exoticism that distinguished her from the competition. But self-propaganda was but one aspect of the vast amount of publicity that she generated.
A mark of the exhibition's status as a popular destination was its inclusion in a series of London Fashion Plates by the artist and cartoonist George Cruikshank. The aquatint was captioned âView in honour of the Coronation. Bazaar, Baker Street, Madame Tussaud's.' Public interest in the thriving exhibition was to be expected, especially given the spectacular stucco splendour of its rooms and the overall effect of chandeliers, glass and gilt. What it looked like is vividly conveyed in a letter from a âLady in London' to her âNiece in the Country' that appeared in
Chambers's Edinburgh Journal
:
Imagine a room about a hundred feet long (perhaps more), and lofty in proportion, the walls hung with scarlet cloth, which, before reaching the ceiling, is terminated by a ledge running round the whole room; on this ledge are placed, at regular intervals, elegant vases, gilt, with a thick garland of gilt flowers festooned from vase to vase. Over the doorway is a gallery splendidly gilt, filled with musicians who play on various instruments. All the pillars and doors are of white and gilt, which lightens the effect produced by the scarlet walls. The whole place is brilliantly illuminated with gas, issuing from numerous lustres depending from the roof. With all this grandeur, take into account the crowd of figures, animate and inanimate, with which the apartment was filledâsome in groups, some standing as if in doubt whether the objects before them were flesh and blood, or merely artificial; every countenance impressed with the feeling of gratified wonder, and looking as if under the influence of a dream.
For Charles Dickens the dreamy splendour of chandeliers and finery exerted less of a fascination than the nightmarish Chamber of Horrors, which he advised entering as if jumping âheadlong into
the sea from a bathing-machine', instead of gradually from the ankle up. He gives us a vivid impression of the melodrama once inside: âThere is Horror in the inflated smiling heads, cast after death by hanging. There is Horror in the basket by the side of the guillotineâa basket just the length of a body without a head, and filled with blood-drinking sawdust. There is Horror in the straps and buckles which hold the victim on the plank till the broad edge descends and does its work.' When he entreats visitors to âthoroughly master all the circumstances of the Count de Lorges's imprisonment, the serge dress, the rats, the brown loafâlet him then hasten up the steps of the guillotine and saturate his mind with the blood upon the decapitated heads of the sufferers in the French Revolution', one feels that the time he spent in his neighbour's chamber may have helped creative musings that later came together in
A Tale of Two Cities
, as we have seen.
Whether Dickens's proximity to Madame Tussaud's was the main spur for his patronage we cannot know, but certainly we are indebted to him for many allusions to her and her exhibition in both his non-fiction and his fictional writing. His column âOur Eye-Witness in Baker Street' provides a wonderfully immediate evocation of Madame Tussaud's, and we can sense her signature touches. He describes Marie's meticulous attention to detail of costume, with no-expense-spared accuracy and âermine right to a tuft'. âThe bitter disappointment we all feel, at seeing a queen in a Paris bonnet, or an emperor in a glossy hat, does not await us here, where sceptres, and maces, and gold sticks, and state swords, are in every hand that has a right to hold them.' He gives amusing vignettes of country visitors squabbling about the historical facts of the figures they stand before, and through his eyes we see the Bath-bun depot near the Hall of Kings, and sense the anticipation of entering the Chamber of Horrors. His nostrils also register the âtallowy smell' hanging in the air near the entrance to the waxworksâgenerated not from within, but from the livestock beneath. Marie was compelled to share premises with the annual Smithfield cattle show, which relocated here in 1841 and became the âWalhalla of the British agriculturalist'. Never one to miss a commercial opportunity, instead of objecting to her bovine neighbours she realized the rich pickings an annual influx of country visitors
could mean for takings. (More elegant spin-off trade came her way from the Glaciarium. This prototype of an artificial ice rink was set up as a very well-publicized experiment immediately beneath her exhibition. Skaters were promised âa social and almost festive' experience with not just frozen water, but painted vistas of alpine Lucerne and a band.)
It was not just her exhibition that inspired Dickens: the wily wax-worker herself clearly captured his interest, and sparked his imagination. In 1840â41 the focus of his attention shifted to the personality of the enigmatic foundress when the publication of
The Old Curiosity Shop
put before a mass audience a portrait of a waxworks proprietor that owed much to Madame Tussaud. The âstout and comfortable' show-woman is introduced in a tone that is part affectionate and part tease, and from the moment she appears her superiority to the other travelling entertainers is stressed. Mrs Jarley is âdiscomposed by the degrading supposition' that she knows the Punch and Judy puppeteers. She also dissociates her âcalm and classical' exhibition from the âjokings and squeakings' and knockabout frivolity of the Punch and Judy show, and later clarifies the precise nature of her upmarket entertainment: âThe exhibition takes place in assembly rooms, town halls, large rooms at inns, or auction galleries. There is none of your open-air vagrancy at Jarley's, recollect; there is no tarpaulin and sawdust at Jarley's, remember. Every expectation held out in the handbills is realised to the utmost and the whole forms an effect of imposing brilliancy hitherto unrivalled in this kingdom.' One feels Madame Tussaud's pretensions are being pricked.
In part 22, that came out on Saturday 29 August 1840, Dickens opens with the observation that âUnquestionably, Mrs Jarley had an inventive genius.' This sentence is a fair assessment of Madame Tussaud's marketing skills. The Mrs Jarley storyline hangs on her publicity methods, and the description of her attitude to marketing resounds with accuracy when compared with the authentic âleviathans of public announcement'(posters and handbills) with which Marie broadcast her name. Dickens's readers' familiarity with Madame Tussaud's own advertisements trumpeting royal connections and banning âimproper persons' must have added piquancy to their enjoyment of Mrs Jarley. At
one point Mrs Jarley unfurls various posters and handbills designed for different target audiences. Her arsenal includes such inscriptions as âOne hundred figures the full size of life', âThe only stupendous collection of real wax-work in the world', and âThe genuine and only Jarley'. The most impressive are posters proclaiming, âJarley is the delight of the Nobility and Gentry' and âThe Royal Family are the patrons of Jarley'. Mrs Jarley also publicizes her exhibition with verse advertisements, for which she negotiates a hard bargain with Mr Slum, a copywriter whose clients include the ubiquitous Warren's Blacking. Although Marie tended to stick to prose, there were one or two exceptions, such as
Tis a common opinion, and justly believed
That sight, of all senses is soonest deceived.
If a doubt should exist, the most obstinate mind
A perfect conviction might easily find,
While Tussaud's collection of figures remains,
Which from all ranks and ages due praises obtains.
Its merits elude all the force of the pen,
Gives beauty to women, true spirit to men.
and
Her Exhibition still attractive!
Crowded still her promenade!
All resort, or weak, or active
Old or young, or wives or maids.
The ruse of threatening imminent departure, regularly employed by Marie to drum up interest, was not lost on Dickens, and in part 33 Mrs Jarley orders an announcement to be prepared to the effect that the stupendous collection will remain in its present quarters only one day longer. Then when Nell, the heroine, takes this as read, Mrs Jarley immediately shows her another pre-written poster stating that in consequence of numerous inquiries at the waxwork door, and crowds having been disappointed in obtaining admission, the exhibition will be continued for one week longer, and will reopen the next day.
The standard blurb in Marie's catalogue emphasized her aim to âblend utility with amusement', and to âconvey to the minds of
young persons much biographical knowledgeâa branch of education universally allowed to be of the highest importance'. Her interest in the juvenile market was also evident in advertisements which described her memoirs as highly interesting to youth and instructive to the rising generation. Mrs Jarley similarly extols the educational merits of waxwork in her handbills targeting boarding schools, which claim that it was âdistinctly proved that wax-work refined the mind, cultivated the taste and enlarged the sphere of human understanding'. Their objectives and claims are almost identical.
In comparing their practices, the gap between fiction and fact is hardly present. The attention to display, for example, and âa highly ornamented table for Mrs Jarley herself, at which she was to preside and take the money'. Then the wax figures: âdivers, sprightly effigies of celebrated characters, singly and in groups, clad in glittering dresses of various climes and times, and standing more or less unsteadily upon their legs, with their eyes very wide open, and their nostrils very much inflated, and the muscles of their legs and arms very strongly developed, and all their countenances expressing great surpriseâ¦and all the ladies and gentlemenâ¦looking intensely nowhere, and staring with extraordinary earnestness at nothing.' The vivid and recognizable reality of all these observations suggests Dickens strolling the short distance from Devonshire Terrace to the Baker Street Bazaar, paying his shilling, simply watching a while, taking it all in, and later recalling it to mind with pen in hand.
