ADELINA PATTI
Aged Sixteen
From the foregoing incident it will be seen that Baron de Staeckl was the buffo of the evening. He was a large man of inspiring, not to say portly figure, and his lapels glittered with the insignia of honours that had been conferred upon him. Like his predecessor, the late Baron de Bodisco, he had allied himself with our country by marrying an American girl, a native of New Haven, whose family name I have now forgotten. She was a lovely and amiable hostess, whose unassuming manner never lost a certain pleasing modesty, notwithstanding the compliments she, too, invariably evoked. Her table was remarkable for its napery—Russian linen for the larger part, with embroidered monograms of unusual size and perfection of workmanship, which were said to be the handiwork of Slav needlewomen. Although I had enjoyed their hospitality and had met the de Staeckles frequently elsewhere, until this evening at the Riggses’ home I had never suspected the genial Baron’s full capacity for the enjoyment of pure nonsense.
There were many amateur musicians among the guests, first among them being the Sicilian Minister, Massoni. He was a finished vocalist, with a full operatic repertory at his easy command. His son Lorenzo was as fine a pianist, and accompanied his father with a sympathy that was most rare. That evening the Massonis responded again and again to the eager urgings of the other guests, but at last the Minister, doubtless desiring to “cut it short,” broke into the “Anvil Chorus.” Instantly he was joined by the entire company.
At the opening strain, the jolly Baron de Staeckl disappeared for a second, but ere we had finished, his glittering form was seen to re-enter the door, with a stride like Vulcan’s and an air as mighty. In one hand he held a pair of Mrs. Riggs’s glowing brass tongs, in the other a poker, with which, in faultless rhythm, he was beating time to his own deep-bellowing basso. He stalked to the centre of the room with all the pomposity of a genuine king of opera bouffe, a sly twinkle in his eye being the only hint to the beholders that he was conscious of his own ludicrous appearance.
Meantime, Mile. Patti had mounted a chair, where her liquid notes in alt joined the deep ones of the baron. As he stopped in the centre of the room, however, the little diva’s amusement reached a climax. She clapped her hands and fairly shouted with glee. Her mirth was infectious and quite upset the solemnity of the basso. Breaking into a sonorous roar of laughter, he made as hasty an exit as his cumbrous form would allow. I think a walrus would have succeeded as gracefully.
We were about to withdraw from this gay scene when the Chevalier Bertinatti, with the utmost enthusiasm, begged us to stay. “You must!” he cried. “Ze elephant is coming! I assure you zere ees not hees equal for ze fun!” A moment more and we fully agreed with him. Even as he spoke, the doors opened and Mr. Palmer bounded in, a gorgeously got-up ring-master. I saw my own crimson opera cloak about his shoulders and a turban formed of many coloured rebozos of other guests twisted together in truly artistic manner.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he began grandiloquently, “I have the honour to present to your astonished eyes the grand elephant, Hannibal, costing to import twenty thousand dollars, and weighing six thousand pounds! An elephant, ladies and gentlemen, whose average cost is three and one-half dollars a pound! He is a marvellous animal, ladies and gentlemen, warranted to be as intrepid as his namesake! He has been called a vicious creature, but in the present company I intend to prove him as docile as—the ladies themselves! Advance, Hannibal!”
He threw himself prone upon the floor as the wide doors opened and “Hannibal” lumbered in, deliberately wagging his trunk from side to side, in a manner that was startlingly lifelike.
Arrived at the prostrate ring-master, he put out one shapeless leg (at the bottom of which a handsomely shod man’s foot appeared) and touched the prostrate one lightly, as if fearful of hurting him; he advanced and retreated several times, wagging his trunk the while; until, at last, at the urgings of the recumbent hero, the animal stepped cleanly over him. Now, with a motion of triumph, Mr. Palmer sprang up and, crossing his arms proudly over his bosom, cried, “Ladies and gentlemen! I live!” and awaited the applause which rang out merrily. Then, leaping lightly upon his docile pet’s back, the latter galloped madly around the room and made for the door amid screams and shouts of laughter.