Art: Taps for a Tussaud

As it must to all men, death came in England last week to John Theodore Tussaud (pronounced Tuss-so’), 86, great grandson and successor to Madame Marie Tussaud, who brought the famed Tussaud waxworks from Paris to England in 1802.

The London blitz damaged but did not destroy the Tussaud museum on Marylebone Road. In the ruinous days of September 1940, a bomb blasted two of the museum’s rooms into reportedly picturesque and possibly symbolic confusion: Hitler lurched on his beam-ends, his head chipped to its core. Göring’s resplendent tunic was ripped to shreds and his countless medals strewn on the floor. Goebbels lay on his back, staring at nothing. But firm and unshaken, the blue eyes of Winston Churchill gazed blinkless at the scene.

Tussaud’s had its beginning in the French Revolution. The original Mme. Tussaud, born Marie Grosholtz of Swiss parents, was an accomplished modeler in wax. She was friend, companion and teacher to Louis XVI’s sister and lived at court at Versailles, where she knew the great personages of the period. After the Revolution her realistic waxwork was in great demand. She modeled many of the Terrorists from life, sometimes willingly, sometimes under protest. Once she was forced to reproduce the freshly guillotined head of a Royalist. A Royalist at heart, she watched for a chance to leave France.

Meantime, the shrewd, energetic woman realized that she was shaping a fine commercial asset in wax. In 1802 she got to England with many of her images intact, put them on exhibition. She added more, taught her children how to model and how to manage. Her venture was plagued by riot, shipwreck and fire. But before her death in 1850 at 90, Marie Grosholtz Tussaud had made an institution of her exhibit in London’s Baker Street, first permanent home of the collection. Succeeding Tussauds have carried on. The fingers of at least one member of the Tussaud descendants have always been trained to model in clay and wax. The “Mr. John” who died last week was such a craftsman. Like the founder, he ran the establishment efficiently: four hours after Rudolph Hess dropped into Scotland, his correctly costumed effigy was on display at Tussauds. Mr. John leaves the museum to his son, Bernard Tussaud: the waxworks will go on. And, as for generations, English children and their nurses will make straight for the Chamber of Horrors.