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M.S. Rau

CANVASES, CARATS AND CURIOSITIES

Death Masks: The Art of Preserving One's Final Visage

For centuries, one specific art practice has served the intimate purpose of capturing the final expressions of the departed. Known as death masks, these somber mementos were more than just macabre curiosities; they held deep cultural and political significance.

From the Middle Ages to the 19th century, death masks immortalized figures of power and prestige, preserving the visages of political leaders such as Marie Antoinette and Oliver Cromwell. Creating masks of famous individuals who died was both egalitarian and a martyrization of the individual. While making death masks is not practiced in the 21st century, this haunting genre of antiques continues to fascinate modern collectors and historians.

Origins and Traditions

Death masks have served a place in funerary practices since as early as ancient Egypt. After mummification, ancient Egyptians would place the deceased body in a sarcophagus. Then, the portion protecting the face on the sarcophagus would be decorated with a highly stylized death mask of the deceased. Interestingly, the death masks of the ancient Egyptians were made following mummification, for the process itself preserved the features of the dead.

Ancient Egyptian funerary masks were meant to present the most idealized version of the wearer, including a reflection of the deceased individual’s status. Gold and gems, such as amulets around the neck or inlaid gemstones, would have reflected the person’s high standing in society. While initially made only for royalty, they were also later crafted by commoners using less rare materials.

 Ancient Egyptian Sarcophagus Mask. Late Period (664-332 BCE). Wood and natural pigments. M.S. Rau.



One such example is a wooden sarcophagus mask made during the Late Period of Egypt (664-332 BCE). Once part of the sarcophagus, this rare large mask was carved from a single piece of wood and is decorated with light ocher and black paint. While not visible to the naked eye, the mask’s wig was also heavily painted, as evidenced by the microscopic pigments of blue, red and yellow. This mask would have provided the dead with a face in the afterlife so that the person’s spirit, or ba, could recognize the body. Masks made out of wood are incredibly rare due to the fragility and poor preservation of wooden artifacts from the ancient Egyptian period.

A bit farther away, in Ancient Rome, funerary masks, also known as imagines maiorum, of elite society members were made into wax models during an individual’s life. However, once deceased, the masks would have been displayed in the atrium or other public spaces of the home out of respect and as a sign of social and political prominence. This early usage of masks as sculpture was practiced extensively by the 2nd century BCE and continued as late as the 6th century CE.

Technical Evolution in the Middle Ages

After the Bubonic Plague wiped out about 50% of the population of Europe, the surviving people of the late Middle Ages developed an obsession with death. Understandably so after being constantly surrounded by illness, warfare, an extremely high infant mortality rate and an average lifespan of around 30-40 years. This led to an overall acceptance of and a morbid fascination with death, resulting in the creation of truly individualized death masks.

While the death masks of yore idealized the deceased individual, death masks in the Middle Ages transformed into true likenesses. The techniques used to create death masks evolved alongside advancements in materials and craftsmanship to achieve this purpose. Early methods often involved pressing wax directly onto the face, but this process risked distorting delicate features or manipulation due to the pliability of wax. Over time, artisans began using plaster casts to refine their approach, which provided a more accurate and lasting impression. The shift to plaster allowed for greater detail, capturing the nuances of facial structure, wrinkles and the final expression of the deceased. With the increased reliability, death masks became the perfect way for sculptors to recreate more realistic posthumous portraits.

 Death Mask of Isaac Newton by Louis-François Roubiliac. 1727. Plaster. The Laurence Hutton Collection, Princeton University. 



Death masks were not only created for members of royalty but also for eminent people in society, such as philosophers, poets, composers, or military leaders. These masks were often carefully stored in libraries, churches or private collections for historical documentation. In monastic and royal archives, they provided scholars and artists with accurate references for portraits and tomb sculptures.

During the Renaissance, the growing interest in realism and human anatomy also led to the study of death masks as educational tools. While artists used them to refine their understanding of facial structures, anatomists examined them to explore variations in human physiognomy. By keeping these likenesses in libraries and artistic workshops, societies ensured that the memory and legacy of the greatest minds and leaders from that moment endured through both art and scholarship.

 Death Mask of Oliver Cromwell. Plaster Cast. Circa 1800. Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford, England. 



In some cases, the death masks of leaders became targets of desecration by their opponents. When Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England from 1653-1658 and leading advocate for King Charles I’s execution, died, Thomas Simon made a wax mask shortly thereafter. Using this mask, plaster casts were made and a couple wooden effigies were displayed at Cromwell’s state funeral in 1658. However, when King Charles II was restored to the throne two years later, his wooden effigies were burned and his body exhumed and decapitated, while his plaster death masks were hidden for many years.

The Golden Age: 18th and 19th Century

The 18th and 19th centuries marked the peak of death masks, as their creation became more widespread and their purpose expanded beyond mere memorialization within scientific communities. During this time, the Enlightenment fueled an increased interest in scientific inquiry, including a deeper understanding and study of human anatomy. This also resulted in more pseudoscientific studies of physiognomy, the ability to judge one’s character from their facial characteristics, and phrenology, the belief that personality and mental abilities could be determined by studying the shape of the skull. Death masks became tools for analyzing facial structures and personality traits, as they allowed for a wide variety of humans to be examined post-mortem.

Me-ghe-ke-le-au-tah (Native American) by Unknown Artist. Circa 1850. New York Historical Society. This mask once belonged to the Phrenological Museum of Fowlers & Wells, which opened in New York City in 1842. 



As interest in the pseudosciences grew, so too did the practice of collecting death masks. Scholars, artists and enthusiasts amassed masks of notable figures, from political leaders to poets and composers, using them as references for both artistic and scientific pursuits. The death mask of Isaac Newton (above) once belonged to the collection of Thomas Jefferson.

The appeal in collecting the visages of famous people also occasionally led to the creation of masks made from living people, as was the case with President Abraham Lincoln in April 1865, shortly before his death. The rise of Romanticism also contributed to their popularity, as the movement focused deeply on emotion, individualism, and a fascination with the macabre. Prominent Romantic figures, such as Ludwig van Beethoven, had death masks created, which subsequently entered private collections and libraries.

A Notable Historic Death Mask: Napoleon Bonaparte

One of the most iconic death masks is that of Napoleon Bonaparte, emperor of France. When the deposed and exiled Napoleon died on the island of St. Helena on May 5, 1821, two present doctors—Dr. Antommarchi and Dr. Burton—rushed to make a death mask of the iconic leader. One small problem came up: there was no fresh plaster on the tiny island about 1,000 miles away from mainland Africa. Both doctors hurried to find suitable casting materials and take the prize of making the “parent cast.”

Finally, one and a half days after his death, it was Dr. Francis Burton of Britain’s 66th Regiment who found the necessary materials to make rudimentary plaster and cast the deposed emperor. Because the mask was not done in the hours after his death, decomposition had set in, reflected in the sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks of his deathly state. After setting it to dry, Dr. Burton reluctantly entrusted the mask for safekeeping to Madame Bertrand, a member of Napoleon’s court who shared his exile. Unfortunately for the doctor, Madame Bertrand removed all but the back third part of the mask and stowed it away on her return journey to France.

 Bronze Napoleon I Death Mask, from the Dr. Antommarchi Cast. Dated 1833. Bronze on a marble base. M.S. Rau.




Madame Bertrand is believed to have given the mask to Dr. Antommarchi, Napoleon’s personal physician and companion during the last two years of his life, who then had bronze and plaster casts made of it while he resided in France. The mesmerizing antique bronze death mask above was cast by the French firm of L. Richard et Quesnel, one of the few created specifically at Dr. Antommarchi’s request. Unfortunately, the original plaster cast has since vanished, leaving only the surviving busts and casts made from the original.

Today, several of the Antommarchi casts reside in museums throughout the world. The most famous is housed in the Cabildo of the Louisiana State Museum in New Orleans, carried to the city by Dr. Antommarchi himself in 1834 upon his immigration to the city. Removed from the Cabildo in 1853, the mask disappeared in the confusion of the Civil War, only to be spotted in a garbage cart by a former city official in 1866. From there, it traveled to Atlanta and returned to New Orleans and the Louisiana State Museum in 1909.

Grotesque Legacy

By the late 19th century, death masks had become cultural artifacts in their own right, straddling the line between science, art and memory. Although their use for scientific study eventually waned with the refutation of phrenology, their role as commemorative objects endured, ensuring that the faces of the past remained eerily present in the modern age.

With the advent of photography, the necessity of creating death masks faded. Photographs provided a more immediate, less invasive and cheaper way to preserve a person’s likeness, making plaster death masks obsolete. Even so, the fascination with death masks never fully disappeared, as their hollow-eyed visages serve as haunting reminders of the universal experience of mortality. The mood surrounding death masks has shifted from reverence to morbid curiosity.

Today, historical death masks are sought after by private collectors, especially for luminaries whose likenesses exist only in death mask forms. Some museums continue to display masks or the sculptures created from them, drawing visitors to the unsettling realism that they carry. In a world where digital images and forensic reconstructions have largely replaced such physical mementos, death masks stand as testaments to humanity’s long-standing desire to confront the face of death.

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