A promotional advertisement featuring myself and "The devil."Ahem. My dear ladies and gentlemen of the tea room. I beg your forgiveness for my tardiness. I found myself called away on matters of Spanish national security. But the less I say on that subject, the better for us all. Suffice it to say that the Spaniards are possessed of a spicy temper, to say the least!
But now let me proceed to the requested story of my time spent working in the guise of a member of the Royal Italian Opera company. This assignment was undertaken at the bequest of her majesty, Queen Victoria. My mission was to unearth a traitor who had managed to place himself in the opera's latest production. this would prove a most difficult task, as I possess absolutely no singing ability, operatic or otherwise.
The Queen had received intelligence indicating that an unfriendly government (that shall go unnamed) had placed an agent within the opera company with the intention of an assassination attempt upon the queen herself, during one of her frequent visits to the performances in Covent Garden. The intelligence gave no indication as to the identity of the killer, so her majesty used her many connections to secure me a place among the performers so that I could bring this fiend to light. 
I found myself in the opulent surroundings of the theatre amongst the players of a number of nationalities. I pretended to speak and understand only Italian, so that my fellow actors might speak openly, thinking me ignorant as to their conversations. Try as I might, I could not find one amongst them that seemed any more suspicious than another. As you may well be aware, theatre folk are a strange breed. I might add that coming from an international gentleman of mystery, that is, as they say, a mouthful!
After several weeks of rehearsal, the night of our debut performance finally arrived. Queen Victoria was in attendance, seated in her private balcony. The opera began in front of a packed house of spectators. I performed my own parts with the aid of a phonograph, cleverly hidden beneath the stage. At the climax of the show, the stage was commanded by an actor portraying the mad King Gustav. In this scene, he was in the midst of selling his soul to the devil. To symbolize his infernal actions, the actor held forth a large, flaming torch. I had noticed earlier in the evening a tube of some sort running from the hand holding the torch into the man's sleeve. As I was in her majesty's service, I was prepared. Just as the music reached it's crescendo, King Gustav raised his torch, which burst forth a tremendous stream of flame. It reached the full thirty feet to the queen's balcony, fully engulfing her highness in a shroud of fiery death! The audience screamed in a mixture of astonishment and horror, unsure whether or not the spectacle was in fact part of the show.
At this moment, I sprung into action. I threw off my stage costume, revealing an armored suit of my own design. My assistant, secreted in the orchestra pit, tossed up a metal helmet which I quickly clapped upon my head. Thusly outfitted, I advanced upon my opponent. King Gustav now turned his deadly torch towards me, but the flames bounced harmlessly off my chest. I crushed his fire- spewing weapon in one iron gauntlet and used the other take a firm grip on his costume, halting his escape.
The Babyliss helmet is now on display in the Royal Museum.
"It doesn't matter!" he cackled. "My mission is complete!" I pointed towards the royal balcony and advised him to think again. I observed his crestfallen expression as he viewed the charred remains of a mechanical figure that now only vaguely resembled our beloved Queen Victoria.
"Thou sucketh, Babyliss!"
My jubilation was short lived however, as I realised that the flames had succeeded in catching the theatre's curtain on fire. I quickly drug the traitor into the street, where my assistant shackled him to a lamppost. I then plunged back into the blaze, where my armor allowed me to rescue the few people unable to escape in the initial exodus. I am proud to report that no lives were lost, although the opera house was sadly burned to the ground.
I hope you all enjoyed the tale of my operatic exploits, and you can rest assured that I never intend to grace the stage again!
I remember that fire! I had tickets for the opera that night, but our airship for the Khyber Pass had to leave early. I don't know whether to feel lucky to have missed the conflagration or curse my ill luck for having missed the excitement.
ReplyDeleteOne thing puzzles me: you say you masked your less than optimal singing voice with a phonograph hidden beneath the stage. Now you were on stage and your assistant was secreted in the orchestra pit.
Weren't the other actors - the villain in particular - suspicious of the fact that you needed a phonograph to mask your otherwise doubtful performance? For that matter, who operated the phonograph, and what kept it from sounding muffled? I am assuming, of course, that your assistant was too busy playing an instrument to do so.
Or perhaps he hid in the tuba...
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! Mr. Babyliss your tale was most riveting here in the tearoom. I had to summon the mechanical servants to assist Ms. Bevan as she was most pale and leaning. Luckily, the smelling salts did the trick and we did not require the aid of Dr. Stanley or Sir Doyle to restore her cheeks to their delightful rosiness.
ReplyDeleteMr. Babyliss, I see why you are renowned internationally as a man of quick wit and mystery. Your armored suit of your own design is most mysterious. I wonder if you might expound upon the makings of such a protective invention and answer a few questions. How is it that your fellow thespians did not notice this armored suit under your costume? Also, did no one hear the clanks of the armor from the stage? I have heard that a whisper can be heard from the opera house in Covent Garden and I am wondering how this may go unnoticed by the audience and more importantly the vial King Gustav? I expect your answer will be most intriguing and certainly obvious upon clarification. Bravo, Babyliss, Bravo.
I am veritably sitting on the edge of my seat! That was a harrowing tale Mr. Babyliss!
ReplyDeleteA few questions though, if you please? How did you manage to keep your armour from overheating you in the fire and however did you manage to acheive a replica of the Queen that would fool audience members and actors alike? Also, what sort of agent was used to acheive the flame and how did he activate the mechanism?
My dear friends, please forgive me. In my haste, I misspoke. The device I used to aid my guise of an opera singer was in fact a prototype called a phonautograph designed by a Frenchman named Édouard-Léon Scott de Martinville. It uses a rotating cylinder to reproduce sound vibrations. I modified this device to transmit its sounds through an amplification contraption which was placed upon the stage quite near my own position. I assure you, my fellow performers were as thouroghly convinced as my enemy.
ReplyDeleteAs for my mechanical suit, it was concealed entirely by my stage costume which consisted of heavy, flowing robes. The operatic movement was itself quite a noisy affair, featuring loud, metallic chimes and gongs. It was a difficult balance, but I managed to time my movements with the strikings of the orchestra, thus concealing the sound of my obviously loud armor.
Jolly good show, old man.
ReplyDeleteIntriguing tale. I remember the Queen telling a few of us about a plot to assassinate her and an attempt that was foiled by an agent of renowned skill. I thought it might have been you. I happy to have proven my suspensions correct.
Her Majesty seemed quite please in its telling, and confirmed pretty much the same information you have just confirmed.
Again, Jolly Good Show. What?
I must apologize for my typing skills, the proper spelling is suspicions, not suspensions. I was in too great a hurry.
ReplyDelete