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Show IMPRESSIONS OLD AND NEW j Madame Tusanc's. The Exhibition Room. j The Chamber of Horrors. Relics of Na- i poleon I. The Noted Criminals .of the U World. Robespierre's Head. i (Special Correspondence.) ; Very few visitors to London fail to miss Madame i TussancFs. It is an imposing red bricjj budding in. Marylebone Road. With a feeling of the greatest , I curiosity I mounted the wide staircase leading into ; I the exhibition room and there at the top landing 1 stood a policeman, and if you are in doubt as to f which way to go, you will meet a surprise if you I interrogate him. Many have done so to the great I amusement of the bystanders, for though so lifelike J to the boys in blue outside on the street, this police- . ' man is a waxwork one. I entered into the exhibi- I tion room and I shall never forget the sight. Be- I fore me were groups and lines of figures representing represent-ing the great celebrities in the various walks of life. The first figure my eyes rested on was that of the celebrated jockey Fred Archer. I suppose : it was the brilliant jacket and cap which he wore that first attracted my notice. There he stood in the famous Falmouth colors and the only thing; missing was the horse. A saddle rests on his left arm and the whip is grasped tightly in his right, and through the half open lips you see the large-teeth. large-teeth. So lifelike does he seem that if you were a sport you would feel inclined to approach him and ask: "What chance has your mount got today, sir?" Near him is Leo XIII seated on a jlias with the fatherly smile on his lips and the Wonderful eyes and the right arm raised in benediction. The next figure my eyes rested on was a man seated on a chair immersed in thought as it were, and from the lines of cure impressed upon his broad brow, you come to the conclusion that his life was not a, smooth one. I consult the printed list of names in my hand and the number tells me that he is or rather was, the Iron Chancellor, the Great Bismarck. Bis-marck. A group of people around a couch next attracts my attention. I approach and I see a beautiful woman apparently asleep, and the rise and fall of the dress upon her breast tell me she is breathing heavily. It is the "Sleeping Beauty." It is a marvelous image and the secret mechanism which causes that breathing is more marvelous still. I wanded still further into the room and I come upon groups and groups of royal personages. Every i crowned head for centuries past is there with their regalia and distinctive dress. The kings of the east and west, north and south, with their consorts. ' the emperors and presidents stud the central portion por-tion of the room and as you look the exclamation wonderful must of necessity escape you. You ' wander on, and now it is Gladstone with the eagle eye and standing collar. Davitt with the one arm ' and the indomitable will, Balfour, with the bored appearance. Chamberlain with the orchid in his buttonhole, Wyndham, a typical London swell, Par-nell Par-nell with the mild face and long hair and carefully brushed coat, again it is Kitchener and Kruger. Roberts and De Wet. McMahon and Van Molgt. Beresford and Dewey, Carlyle and Tennyson, Hugo and Sala, but why go on, suffice it to say that every great and little personage in every sphere of life is there, and all so lifelike and so eerie. Yes, eerie and I imagine it is in the clothes the eeriness. lies. A naked waxwork has not such an effect upon my nerves as one decked with clothes. It is the- ' clothes wanting tho life to vivify it. that makes a waxwork so terrible, and I know of no more terrible ter-rible fate than to pas a night with waxwork spectres spec-tres around you. After wandering for about two "; hours in the exhibition room proper I had tho j hardihood to pay an extra sixpence and descend to ; London's Wiertz Museum, the Chamber of Ilor- : ' ' rors. I would not care to descend again, I assure you. The first object that struck my eye when I descended was Napoleon's carriage, the one I be lieve in which he made the journey to Waterloo. I can just imagine the anxiety of mind with which he entered it giving vent to these words: "I go to measure myself with Wellington." Beside tho . carriage in a glass case you see some of the relics of the "Little Corporal'' as his soldiers affection- ately named him, hh sword, gloves, snuff box and I some of his famous dispatches being amongst the t number. ' Standing out against one of the walls of the chamber is a picture of Leo XIII. Why it was put there is a question often asked and never an- j: swered and I suppose the only answer, is Bigotry, f my , dear sir, placed it there. I turne'd to one side and there confronting me were the figures of the noted criminals of the world, and as I made my : way from group to group and read the names and saw the countenances on which passion and cruelty ' vcre so visibly imprinted, a shudder of horror ran through me. Their jimmies, their pistols and knives are there with them. Now it is a wax de--aapitated head dropping blood, side by side with the model of a criminal being tortured, again it is i a hangman with the condemned man upon the scaffold scaf-fold above a small iron cage in which is compressed a figure of a man that can neither sit or stand, and the agony of the man's face is one of my most gruesome recollections. I was about to leave the ( chamber when a voice close by attracted me with the words : J "Great Scott! how harmless it looks after all the heads it has taken off." I looked and in a case I saw a triangular looking knife. It was the very 'l knife that cut off so many heads during the French Revolution and shed so much of France's best and bravest blood. "The irony of fate," the same voice repeats and j following the direction of his pointing finger I saw a waxwork head it was that of Robespierre. Ah! Robespierre, thou sea green incorruptible, surely (Continued on Page 5.) v IMPRESSIONS OLD AND NEW ("Continued from page 1.) none ever deserved thy fate as thou did, and none ; ever met it with such a coward's heart. The hu- ; man heart may beat with some spark of pity for; every criminal there in that Chamber of Horrors, j but for you the guillotine and its knife were but j mild punishment. I shall never forget the Cham-1 ber of Horrors and T will remember as I made my i way out, how quickly I went glancing back two or three times lest some of these criminals might be on my track with the pistol or the knife. You may laugh at me. dear reader, when I assure you that not for all the wealth of the Vamlerbilts and Rothschilds would, I spend one night in the chamber, cham-ber, and I would rather face the cannon's mouth than wander alone through that guesome place, even in the daylight. There is something you know natural about haunted houses and moonlit graveyards grave-yards at the witching hour, but these stony-eyed mockeries of humanity. Ah! well. Hurriedly T escaped from the chamber up again to the exhibition exhi-bition room and pass my policeman at the head of the stairs. I gave one look at him in passing. It seemed to me that he smiled and waved his hand and whispered: "Don't be frightened my good fellow, fel-low, while I'm here none of them shall come out after you. there is a nice bar at the corner of the street where they sell good lemonade. Come soon again and we might have Jack the Ripper. Ta Ta." I drew a deep breath of relief as T stood on the pavement once more on that beautiful. August afternoon. aft-ernoon. 1 mounted a bus and. seating myself beside j the driver. I found myself in my native atmosphere again, but the scared look must be still upon my face for the driver whispered: "Say, Governor, there's three detectives on this bus." XAPPER TANDY. London, May 7, '09. |