CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XVIII.1812 to 1816.A Clergyman's Dinner-party at Bath—First Appearance of Grimaldi's Son, and Death of his old Friend, Mr. Hughes—Grimaldi plays at three Theatres on one night, and has his Salary stopped for his pains—His severe illness—Second journey to Bath—Davidge, "Billy Coombes," and the Chest—Facetiousness of the aforesaid Billy.Two days after his arrival in Bath he appeared at the theatre, where he was fortunate enough to elicit the warmest applause and approbation from a crowded audience; nor was he less successful at Bristol, the theatre being completely filled every night he performed. He remained in this part of the country during five weeks, playing four nights in every week at Bath, and the remaining two at Bristol. By this trip he realized 287l.-125l.for salary, and 162l.for benefits; but although it was a lucrative expedition, it was by no means a pleasant one, the weather being exceedingly inclement, and he being compelled to return to Bath every evening after the performances at Bristol were over. The nightly rides at that season of the year were by no means agreeable; he suffered very much from colds, and, upon the whole, was very far from sorry when his engagement terminated.During his stay at Bath a little incident happened, developing, in a striking point of view, a very repulsive trait of discourtesy and bad breeding in a quarter where, least of any, such an exhibition might have been looked for.Higman, the bass-singer, who was then in great repute, and was afterwards the original Gabriel, in Guy Mannering, but is since dead, was invited with Grimaldi to dine with a reverend gentleman of that city. They accepted the invitation, and upon their arrival found a pretty large party of gentlemen assembled, the clerical host of course presiding. The very instant the cloth was removed, this gentleman commanded, rather than asked, Higman to sing a song. Not wishing to appear desirous of enhancing the merit of the song by frivolous objections, he at once consented, although he had scarcely swallowed his meal. It was deservedly very much applauded and complimented, and the moment the applause had ceased, the reverend doctor turned to Grimaldi, and in the same peremptory manner requested a song from him. He begged leave to decline for the present, urging—what was indeed the truth—that he hadscarcely swallowed his dinner. The observation made by the host in reply rather astonished him."What, Mr. Grimaldi!" he exclaimed, hastily, "not sing, sir! Why, I asked you here, sir, to-day expressly to sing.""Indeed, sir!" said Grimaldi, rising from the table: "then I heartily wish you had said so when you gave me the invitation; in which case you would have saved me the inconvenience of coming here to-day, and prevented my wishing you, as I now beg to do, a very unceremonious good-night."With these words he left the apartment, and very soon afterwards the house.It may appear to a great many persons a remarkable circumstance that a pantomime Clown should have been called upon to read a lesson of politeness and common decency to a reverend divine. The circumstance, however, happened literally as it is here narrated. A somewhat similar story has been told of another well-known actor; but this rudeness, whether it arose in ignorance or intention, was offered to Grimaldi by the reverend gentleman in question, whose name he well remembered, but which we abstain from mentioning.The Christmas pantomime at Covent Garden was entitled "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf, or the Adamant Rock:" it was entirely successful.[61]On Easter Monday, 1813, the melodrama of "Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp," written by Mr. Farley, was acted for the first time, Grimaldi playing the character of Kasrac, a dumb slave, which became one of his most popular characters.[62]The Sadler's Wells season meritsno further notice than that, as usual, it was very profitable, and that Grimaldi produced a dance, called "Fun and Physic," which was performed every night.[61]The pantomime of "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf," notwithstanding the scenery was superb, and the changes and machinery entitled to great praise, was in no way so successful as several of the former similar productions brought out at Covent Garden; and yet the burlesques introduced by Joe were sufficiently droll to prompt several highly coloured prints of certain characters in the print-shops of that day. The scenes in which the Epping Hunt was represented, supplied one of the finest landscapes ever displayed in any theatre. Horses were introduced—a jolly fat Parson, Pantaloon, and the Clown, took part in the joys of the chase; Pantaloon on a little Shetland pony was followed by Grimaldi on a great cart-horse, aping the mammoth wonder for size; Joe with a long wagoner's whip in his hand, and a jockey-cap, the peak of prodigious extent, seemed as anxious to be in at the death as if nothing in the world was comparable to it; his eagerness created a doubt whether Barnes and his miniature horse would or would not be galloped over by Joe and his Bucephalus—or be trundled over, horse and man, for the popular diversion.On February 8th, 1813, the comic burletta of "Poor Vulcan" was revived at Covent Garden—the bills stated, "not acted for many years." In this piece there was a pastoral ballet at Mount Ida, in which the characters were thus sustained: Silenus, Mr. Bologna; Bacchanals, Mr. Bologna, jun., and M. Montignani; Pan, Mr. Grimaldi; and Bacchante, Mrs. Parker. Joe's attachment to his old part of Pan in "Terpsichore's Return," was here again renewed; it was performed a sixth time on the 16th of the same month.[62]The gorgeous spectacle of "Aladdin" was, after Douglas by Master Betty, performed for the first time on April 19th. "Aladdin" was represented by Mrs. C. Kemble; Abanazar, the Magician, by Mr. Farley; and Kasrac, his Chinese Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi: it was highly attractive, and was performed for the thirty-fourth time on June 21. Grimaldi's benefit this year was on July 1st, when were performed "Five miles off;" "Love, Law, and Physic," and for the forty-second time, "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf." At the close of this season, by permission of the proprietors of Drury Lane Theatre, Sheridan's "Robinson Crusoe and his Man Friday" was produced at Covent Garden; the Shipwrecked Mariner, by Mr. Grimaldi; his Man Friday, by Mr. Bologna, jun. It was repeated a few times, and the season terminated on July 15th.Joe's popularity at this period is thus happily celebrated by the late James Smith, in the following—TRIBUTARY STANZAS TO GRIMALDI, THE CLOWN.Facetious mime! thou enemy of gloom;Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonair,Who aping Pan, with an inverted broomCanst brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.Our gallery gods immortalize thy songs,Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;Thou bidd'st a Jew's harp charm a Christian throng,A Gothic salt-box teem with Attic treasure.When Harlequin, his charmer to regain,Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,The light of heels looks for his sword in vain—Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.The fabled egg from thee obtains its gold:Thou sett'st the mind from critic bondage loose,Where male and female cacklers, young and old,Birds of a feather, hail the sacred goose.Even pious souls, from Bunyan's durance free,At Sadler's Wells applaud thy agile wit,Forget old care, while they remember thee—Laugh the heart's laugh, and haunt the jovial pit.Long mayst thou guard the prize thy humour won;Long hold thy court in Pantomimic State;And to the equipoise of English fun,Exalt the lowly and bring down the great.Covent Garden re-opened in September; and this year he was in constant requisition before Christmas, as well as after, Aladdin being found an extremely profitable piece. "Harlequin and the Swans, or the Bath of Beauty," was produced at Christmas,[63]and followed at Easter by "Sadak and Kalasrade," in which Grimaldi played Hassan.[63]"Harlequin and the Swans," produced at Covent Garden on December 27, 1813, presented two Harlequins, Bologna, jun., and Ellar, who then made his first appearance at that theatre. Grimaldi played in the prelude, "Doctor Tumble Tuzzy," Chief Physician to the Court, when, if laughter be physic to the megrims, he and his assistant medical gentleman flung it about in no small potions.The Grand Asiatic Spectacle of "Sadak and Kalasrade" was produced at the same Theatre on Easter Monday, April 11, 1814; Sadak, by Mr. Abbott; Hassan, his Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi; Agra, Principal Dancer, by Mr. Ellar; Kalasrade, by Mrs. H. Johnston. On the same night, Sadler's Wells commenced the season of 1814, with Joe's Comic Dance of "Fun and Physic," and the Pantomime of "Rival Genii; or Harlequin Wild Man." Ellar made his first appearance there as Harlequin in the "Rival Genii;" Clown, Mr. Grimaldi, with a new song, called "Frost Fair; or, the Disasters of Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Wiggins." As these pieces were frequently performed on the same evening at the two theatres, it was a regular run for both from the Wells to Covent Garden.Having now none of those amusements which in former years had served to employ his idle hours having lost his flies, given up his pigeons, removed from Finchley, sold his house, and resigned his garden, he devoted the whole of his leisure time to the society and improvement of his son. As he could not bear to part with him, and was wholly unable to make up his mind to send him to any great boarding-school, he was partly educated at the same school at which his father had been a pupil, and partly by masters who attended him at home. The father appears to have bestowed great and praiseworthy care upon his education. Although at this time he was only twelve years old, he had not only quite mastered the common rudiments of learning, but had become well acquainted with French literature, and wrote the language with ease and propriety. He had at a very early age manifested a great fondness for music, especially the violin, and had acquired great proficiency on that instrument, under the tuition of one of the first masters in the country.As he was a very clever boy, was an excellent dancer, and displayed a great fondness and aptitude for the stage, his father finding that his inclinations lay irrevocably that way, determined to encourage them, and accordingly proceeded to instruct him in melodrama and pantomime. He fancied that in his old age, when his own heyday of fame and profit was over, he should gather new life from the boy's success, and that old times would be called up vividly before him when he witnessed his popularity in characters which had first brought his father before the public, and enabled him gradually, after the loss of his property, to acquire an independent and respectable station in society. The wish was a natural one, and the old man cherished it dearly for many years. It was decreed otherwise; and although in his better days the blight of this hope caused him great grief and misery, he endeavoured to bear it with humility and resignation.On the 26th of April[64]he resumed his labours at Sadler's Wells. He acted in a drama called the "Slave Pirate," which was successful. His first benefit brought him 216l., and his second 263l.10s.; the last-named being the best he ever had at that house.[64]Sadler's Wells opened April 11th, not the 26th. The Aqua-Drama of "Kaloc; or, The Pirate Slave," Kaloc, by Mr. Grimaldi, performed in the previous season, for the first time, August 9th, 1813, was not played during that of 1814.The great attraction of this benefit of 1814[65]was the first appearance on any stage, of his son, who performed "Friday" in "Robinson Crusoe," Grimaldi playing the latter part himself, and thus introducing his son to the public in the same piece in which his father had brought him forward thirty-three years before. For six weeks previous to thedébut, the pains he had taken to render him master of the character, and the drillings he gave him were innumerable, although they rather arose from the nervousness of the father than from any lack of intelligence on the part of the son, who not only rapidly acquired the instructions communicated to him, but in many instances improved upon them considerably. His intended appearance was kept a profound secret until within a week of the night on which he was to perform; and when the announcement was at length made, the demand for tickets and places was immense. The result was, that the benefit not only turned out, as has already been mentioned, the best Grimaldi ever had, but the reception of the son was enthusiastic, and his exertions were both applauded by the public and commended in the newspapers. It may appear a mere matter of course to say that the father considered the performance the best that he had ever seen; but long afterwards, when the boy was dead, and censure or praise was alike powerless to assist or harm him, Grimaldi expressed, in the same strong terms, his high opinion of his abilities, and his conviction that had he been only moderate and temperate in the commonest degree, he must in a few years have equalled, if not greatly excelled, anything which he himself had achieved in his very best days.[65]Bologna, jun., and Grimaldi, had jointly their benefit at Covent Garden on June 29th, 1814: when were performed O'Keeffe's "Our Way in France;" Lord Winlove, by Mr. Incledon; the Melo-Dramatic Piece, "For England Ho!" and for the fourth time these five years, "Harlequin and Mother Goose;" with the favourite scene of the Dog-Cart; and the "Oyster Duet," with the "Dissection of Harlequin."On the 20th of December following, he sustained a severe loss in the death of his constant and sincere friend, Mr. Richard Hughes, who had been his well-wisher and adviser from infancy, and whose relationship to his first wife gave him a strong and lasting claim on his regard. As another instance of the severe and mental trials which an actor has to undergo, it may be mentioned that during the time his friend was lying dead, he was engaged for many hours each day in rehearsing broadly humorous pantomime, and that, as if to render the contrast more striking, the burial being fixed for the 26th of the month, he was compelled to rehearse part of his Clown's character on the stage, to run to the funeral, to get back from the churchyard to the theatre to finish the rehearsal, and to exert all his comic powers at night to set the audience in a roar.This pantomime was founded upon the story of Whittingtonand his Cat, and had a very extended run. On the night of its production, his spirits were so affected by the calamity he had sustained, that it was with great difficulty he could go through his part, in which he had very nearly failed. He succeeded by a strong effort in finishing the piece; and although his health paid very dearly for this and other efforts of the same nature, the constant bustle and excitement of his professional duties aided in recovering him, and enabling him to act with his accustomed vivacity.The harlequinade of "The Talking Bird" was produced at Sadler's Wells this season, in which he first enacted the Bird and afterwards the Clown. During the run of this pantomime he performed the remarkable feat of playing three very heavy parts (two of them Clowns) at three different theatres on the same night. He was intimately acquainted with a Mr. Hayward, who, being married to a clever actress at the Surrey, one Miss Dely, begged him as a great favour to act for her at that theatre on her benefit night. He asked and obtained permission from the proprietors of Sadler's Wells, but could not do the same at Covent Garden, as Mr. Harris was absent from town. He did not think it a point of any great importance, however, inasmuch as he had not been called upon to act for some time, and nothing was then announced in which it was at all likely he would be wanted. Unfortunately, on the very night of the benefit, "La Perouse," in which he acted, was advertised at Covent Garden. In this dilemma, he hurried over the water, explained the circumstance, and pointed out the impossibility of his performing at the Surrey.But the Surrey people who had advertised him stoutly contending that there was no impossibility in the case, assured him that all would be right; that he should play there first, then go to Sadler's Wells, and then to Covent Garden to finish the evening. To the end that he should be in good time at each house, it was proposed that a chaise, with the best horses that could be procured, should be provided, and held in readiness to carry him at the greatest possible speed from place to place.Not having the heart to disappoint the parties interested, he consented to this arrangement. At the Surrey, he played with Bologna in the pantomime; the moment it was over, he jumped into a chaise and four that was waiting at the door, and started for Sadler's Wells. Bologna accompanied him to see the issue of the proceeding, and, by dashing through the streets at a most extraordinary pace, they reached Sadler's Wells just at the commencement of the overture for the pantomime. Hurrying to re-paint his face, which had been very much bedaubed by the rain, which poured upon it, as he looked out of the chaise-window entreating thepostboysto drive a little slower, and thrusting himself into the dress of the "Talking Bird," he wasready at the instant when the call-boy told him he was wanted. There still remained Covent Garden, and towards the close of the pantomime he grew very anxious, looking constantly towards the sides of the stage to see if Bologna was still there; for as he was the Perouse of the night, and was wanted a full half-hour before him, he felt something like security so long as he remained. At length the pantomime was over, and once more taking their seats in the same chaise, they drove at the same furious pace to Covent Garden, and were ready dressed and in the green-room before the first bars of the overture had been played. This change of dress assisted greatly in recovering him from his fatigue, and he went through the third part as well as the first, feeling no greater exhaustion at the close of the performances than was usual with him on an ordinary night. The only refreshment which he took during the whole evening was one glass of warm ale and a biscuit. He plumed himself very much on this feat; for although he had played clown at two theatres for twenty-eight nights successively, he considered it something out of the common way, and triumphed in it greatly.He had a specimen next day of the spirit which Fawcett still cherished towards him, and which, but for the kindness of Mr. Harris, might have injured him severely on many occasions. Applying as usual at the treasury for his weekly salary of ten pounds, he was informed by the treasurer, with great politeness and apparent regret, that he had received orders from Mr. Fawcett to stop it for that week. He instantly posted off in search of that gentleman, and upon finding him, requested to know why his salary was not to be paid."Because, sir," replied Mr. Fawcett,—"because you have thought fit to play at the Surrey Theatre without mentioning the matter tous, or askingourpermission."Grimaldi whistled a little to express his total unconcern, and, turning away, muttered, "Forusand forourtragedy, thus stooping to your clemency, we beg your hearing patiently." In crossing the stage to the door, he met Mr. Harris, who had that instant entered the theatre, having arrived in town not ten minutes before. He shook him kindly by the hand, and inquired how he was."Why, sir," said Grimaldi, "I am as well as can be expected, considering that my salary has been stopped.""Why, what have you been about, Joe?""Played for Mrs. Hayward's benefit at the Surrey, sir.""Oh! without leave, I suppose?""Why, sir," answered Grimaldi, "there was no one in the theatre who was, in my opinion, entitled actually to give or refuse leave; you were out of town: with Mr. Fawcett I have nothing to do—he has neither connexion with nor influence over my line of business, nor do I wish him to have any; Mr.Farley is the only gentleman under yourself whom I consider myself obliged to acknowledge as a superior here—and to him I did name it, and he told me to go, for I should not be wanted.""Joe," said Mr. Harris, after a moment's pause, "go to Brandon, and tell him to give you your money. And, mind, I've entered into an arrangement for you to go and see Dimond again in October, upon the same terms as before: so mind you go, and I'll take care you are neither fined nor wanted."For this double liberality he expressed his best thanks, and returning to the treasury, with the manager's message, received his salary, and departed.On the 15th of the next month, his first benefit for that season took place at Sadler's Wells. He sustained the part of Don Juan; and his son, J. S. Grimaldi, played Scaramouch, being his second appearance. He acted the part capitally, and had a great reception, so that his father now in good earnest began to hope he would not only support the name of Grimaldi, but confer upon it increased popularity. The receipts of this night were 231l.14s.Three months afterwards his second benefit occurred: Monday, the 9th of October, was the day fixed for it, but on the preceding Saturday he was suddenly seized with severe illness, originating in a most distressing impediment in his breathing. Medical assistance was immediately called in, and he was bled until nigh fainting. This slightly relieved him; but shortly afterwards he had a relapse, and four weeks passed before he recovered sufficiently to leave the house. There is no doubt but that some radical change had occurred in his constitution, for previously to this attack he had never been visited with a single day's illness, while after its occurrence he never had a single day of perfect health.On the Monday, finding it would be impossible for him to play, he procured a substitute, and immediately had bills printed and posted outside the theatre. His absence made a difference of about fifty pounds in the receipts; but as his son played Scaramouch, and played it well, he sustained no greater pecuniary loss, and had the satisfaction of hearing from all quarters that his son was rapidly improving.After the lapse of a month Grimaldi became tolerably well, and as it was now time for him to keep his engagement with Dimond, he went to Bath in November, and remained there until the middle of December, occasionally acting at Bristol. The profits of this trip were two hundred and ninety-four pounds.It was either during this provincial trip, or about this time, that he first became acquainted with Mr. Davidge, the late lessee of the Surrey Theatre. He was then the Harlequin at Bath and Bristol, and although he afterwards became a round and magisterial figure, was then a very light and active pantomimist.In the pantomimes Davidge was the Harlequin, and Grimaldi of course the Clown. They were accustomed to call the Pantaloon, who was a very indifferent actor, by the name of "Billy Coombes,"—why, they best knew, but it seems not to have been his real name. This worthy had given both Davidge and Grimaldi mighty offence upon several occasions, possibly by making his appearance on the stage in a state of intoxication. Grimaldi forgot the precise cause of affront, but, whatever it was, they deemed it a very great one; and Davidge, upon several occasions, took opportunities of hinting, in speeches fraught with determination and replete with a peculiar variety of expletives, that he was resolved some time or other to be revenged upon that Billy Coombes.One evening, while the pantomime was in progress, and the two friends were exciting much mirth and applause, Davidge pointed to a chest which was used in the piece, and whispering that there was a lock upon it with a key, remarked that Billy had to get into it directly, and asked whether it would not be a good joke to turn the key upon him. Grimaldi readily concurred, and no sooner was the unconscious Billy Coombes beneath the lid of the chest, than he was locked in, amidst the plaudits of the audience, who thought it a capital trick. There were but two more scenes in the pantomime, which Davidge had to commence. Just as he was going on the stage, Grimaldi inquired whether he had let out the Pantaloon."No," he replied hastily, "I have not, but I will directly I come off." So saying, he danced upon the stage, followed by Grimaldi, and the usual buffeting ensued with the accustomed effect. The pantomime was over a few minutes afterwards, and Grimaldi, who felt very tired when he had gone through his part, in consequence of his recent illness, went straight home, and was in bed a very short time after the curtain fell.There was a call the next morning for the rehearsal of a few new pantomime scenes which Grimaldi had prepared to vary the entertainments. However, as the Pantaloon was not forthcoming, they could not be gone through with any useful effect. When Davidge arrived, Grimaldi mentioned the circumstance."I suppose," he said, "our victim has taken our conduct in high dudgeon, and doesn't mean to come this morning. We shall be in a pretty mess at night if he does not!""What do you mean?" said Davidge, with a look of surprise."This Billy Coombes, he is not come to the theatre to-day, and is not to be found at his lodgings, for we have sent a man there.""By G——," said Davidge, "I never let him out of the box!"On reflection, they had certainly finished the pantomime without him, although it did not strike them at the time, because, as he was no great actor, the business of the last two scenes had been arranged entirely between Davidge andGrimaldi. They lost no time in inquiring after the chest, and it was at length discovered in a cellar below the stage. On raising the lid, the Pantaloon was discovered, and a truly pitiable object he looked, although they were both not a little relieved to find he was alive, for, not knowing that the chest was perforated in various places, they had entertained some serious fears that when he did turn up, he might be found suffocated. Every necessary assistance was afforded him, and he never suffered in the slightest degree from his temporary confinement. He said that he had shouted as loud as he could, and had knocked and kicked against the sides of his prison, but that nobody had taken the least notice of him, which he attributed to the incessant noise and bustle behind the scenes. With the view of keeping the stage as clear as possible, everything used in a pantomime is put away at once; the chest was lowered by a trap into the cellar, notwithstanding the shouts from the Pantaloon, who, knowing that he would be released next day, went to sleep very quietly.This was the version of the story given by the ingenious Mr. Coombes, and in this version Grimaldi was an implicit believer. We are rather disposed to think that Mr. Coombes might have thrown an additional light upon the matter by explaining that he had got into the chest that morning to turn the tables upon his assailants, the more so, as he received various little presents in the way of compensation for his imprisonment, with which he expressed himself perfectly satisfied.This "Billy Coombes," or whatever the man's name may have been, once said a very ludicrous thing upon the stage, which convulsed the audience with laughter. The play was Romeo and Juliet, and he was cast to perform Sampson. The wardrobe of the theatre being very scanty, he was habited in a most absurd and ridiculous dress, every article of which had evidently formed a portion of a different suit, and which was, moreover, full three sizes too large for him, especially the coat, the cuffs of which, instead of ornamenting his wrists, dangled over his fingers' ends. In this disguise, "Billy," who waxed extremely wroth at the figure he cut, presented himself to the audience, and was, of course, received with a loud laugh.Now, in the first scene of the play, Sampson, according to the stage-direction, has to bite his thumb at Abram, a servitor of the rival house, upon which the following dialogue ensues:—"Abram.Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?"Samp.(aside) Is the law on our side if I say ay?"Gregory.No."Samp.No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb sir."Billy Coombes very coolly omitted biting his thumb at all but the actor who played Abram, desirous to carry on the businessof the scene, thought it best to take it for granted that the stage-direction had been complied with, and turning indignantly round, said,"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?""No, sir," replied Billy Coombes, in a clear and loud voice; "I would, sir, with pleasure, only my master puts me into such a queer coat, sir," holding up one of the long sleeves, "that I can't get at my fist for the life of me."The audience roared, the actors laughed, and for some minutes the stage-business was at a complete stand-still: Billy meanwhile making many apparently sincere and laboured attempts to uncover his hand, in which at last he thought proper to succeed, and giving the right cue, the play went on.When Grimaldi returned to town, the rehearsals of "Harlequin and the Sylph of the Oak, or the Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green," commenced at Covent Garden. It was produced with great success at the usual time, and was followed, in April, 1816, by Pocock's melodrama of "Robinson Crusoe, or the Bold Buccaneer," in which Grimaldi played Friday, and Farley acted Crusoe. This was the most successful adaptation of De Foe's great story; it was played for a great many nights, and is still occasionally performed.[66][66]Performed for the first time, on Wednesday, December 26, 1806. Harlequin, Mr. Bologna; Clown, Mr. Grimaldi; Pantaloon, Mr. Norman; Flyflap, attendant on Harlequin, by Master Grimaldi; Columbine, Miss T. Dennett, her first appearance in that character.CHAPTER XIX.1816 to 1817.He quits Sadler's Wells in consequence of a disagreement with the Proprietors—Lord Byron—Retirement of John Kemble—Immense success of Grimaldi in the Provinces, and his great Gains—A scene in a Barber's Shop.At Sadler's Wells the principal novelty of the season of 1816 was a very successful melodrama called "Philip and his Dog." During a period of thirty-eight years, that is to say from 1782[67]to 1820 inclusive, Grimaldi was never absent from Sadler's Wells, except for one season. The cause of his non-engagement in 1817 was this:—His former articles expiring a few days before the close of the previous season, he received a note from Mr. Charles Dibdin, requesting to know upon what terms he would be disposed to renew them. He replied, that they had only to make the pounds[68]guineas, and he would be content. There was no objection to this proposition, but he was informed that the proprietors had arrived at the resolution of no longer allowing him two benefits in each year, and of permitting him in future to take only one. He considered this a very arbitrary and unjust proceeding. As he had never under any circumstances cleared less than 150l.from a benefit, this reduction necessarily involved the diminution of his yearly income by a large sum; and as he paid 60l.for the house on every such occasion, which was probably more than it would otherwise have had in it, he did not think that the proprietors could urge any just reason for proposing the alteration. After considering these points, he wrote to Mr. Charles Dibdin, at that time a proprietor himself, that he could on no consideration give up either of his accustomed benefits. To this note he received no reply, but he confidently expected that they would not attempt a season without him, he being at that time unquestionably the lion of the theatre, and certainly drawing money to the house. He was, however, deceived, for he heard no more from Mr. Charles Dibdin, and eventually learned that Paulo was engaged in his place.[67]Joe made hisdébuton the stage, at Sadler's Wells, on Easter Monday, 1781.[68]Grimaldi's salary at this time was twelve pounds, but the determination of not allowing him the second benefit was the cause of his absence from the Wells in 1817.In the November of this year he made a little excursion of four days to Brighton, the theatre of which town belonged to Mr. John Brunton, who was likewise an actor, and a very good one too, at Covent Garden. This gentleman was the father of one of our best modern actresses Mrs. Yates, whose talents are so well and so deservedly appreciated. He was always a kind friend to Grimaldi, and had no cause to accuse him of ingratitude.At Brighton they played "Valentine and Orson," "Robinson Crusoe," &c., in which Brunton, who was well acquainted with pantomime and melodrama, acted Farley's parts, while Grimaldi, of course, sustained his original characters. They were very successful indeed, Grimaldi receiving 100l.for his remuneration, with which, as will be readily supposed, he was perfectly well satisfied.At this time he repeatedly met with Lord Byron, not only at Covent Garden, but at various private parties to which he was invited; and eventually they became very good friends. Lord Byron was, as all the world knows, an eccentric man, and he loses nothing of the character in Grimaldi's hands."Sometimes," he says, "his lordship appeared lost in deep melancholy, and when that was the case, really looked the picture of despair, for his face was highly capable of expressing profound grief; at other times he was very lively, chatting with great spirit and vivacity; and then occasionally he would be a complete fop, exhibiting his white hands and teeth with an almost ludicrous degree of affectation. But whether 'grave or gay, lively or severe,' his bitter, biting sarcasm never was omitted or forgotten."It never fell to Grimaldi's lot to hear any person say such severe things as Byron accustomed himself to utter, and they tended not a little to increase the awe with which, upon their first interview, he had been predisposed to regard him. As to Grimaldi himself, Byron invariably acted towards him with much condescension and good humour, frequently conversing with him for hours together; and when the business of the evening called him away, he would wait at the "wings" for him, and as soon as he came off the stage, recommence the conversation where it had been broken off. Grimaldi rarely contradicted him, fearing to draw down upon himself the sarcasms which he constantly heard fulminated against others; and when they spoke on subjects with Byron's opinions upon which he was unacquainted, he cautiously endeavoured to ascertain them before he ventured to give his own, fearing, as he felt so very warmly upon most questions, that he might chance to dissent from him upon one in which he took great interest.Before Lord Byron left England upon the expedition whence he was destined to return no more, he presented Grimaldi, as atoken, he said, of his regard, with a valuable silver snuff-box,[69]around which was the inscription, "The gift of Lord Byron to Joseph Grimaldi." It was of course preserved with the most scrupulous care, and valued more highly than any article in his possession. It is but an act of justice to both parties to say, that Lord Byron always treated him with the greatest liberality. In 1808, when he saw him act for the first time, he sent a message to his residence, requesting that he would always forward to him one box ticket whenever he took a benefit. This he regularly did, and in return invariably received on the following day a five-pound note.[69]Mrs. Bryan, Joe's legatee, possesses this snuff-box."Harlequin Gulliver, or the Flying Island," which was the pantomime of the year at Covent Garden, was so successful as to be played sixty-three nights before Easter. On the 30th of March, a piece, under the title of "The Marquis de Carabbas, or Puss in Boots," was produced, and utterly failed. It was a very poor affair, was only played one night, and appears to have fully deserved its fate.On the same night Sadler's Wells commenced its season, upon which occasion the unexpected absence of Grimaldi occasioned quite a commotion among the Audience. He had said nothing about it himself, nor was the circumstance known to the public until the bills were put forth, when the announcement of Paulo's engagement and Grimaldi's secession occasioned much surprise and some manifestation of feeling. Grimaldi had been spending a few days at Egham; and upon his return to town, towards the latter end of March, was not a little amazed to see the walls in the neighbourhood of his house in Spa-fields completely covered with placards emanating from the rival parties, some bearing the words "Joey for ever!" others displaying "No Paulo!" and others, again, "No Grimaldi!" It was supposed by some that Grimaldi himself had a hand in the distribution of these bills; but he solemnly denied it, declaring that he never saw or heard anything of them until they were paraded upon the walls on his return to town.The theatre opened with "Philip and his Dog," and a new harlequinade, called "April Fools, or Months and Mummery." Being informed that it was Dibdin's intention, if any disturbance occurred in consequence of his absence, to address the house, and state that it had resulted from Grimaldi's express wish, he went to the boxes on the opening night, determined, if any such statement were made, to address the audience from his place, and explain the circumstances under which he had left the theatre. He was spared this very disagreeable task, however, no other expression of public feeling taking place except that which is of all others most sensibly and acutely felt by a manager the people stayed away. Instead of every seatbeing taken, and standing-places eagerly secured, as had formerly been the case, the theatre was not a quarter filled. There were only forty persons, and these principally friends of the proprietors, in the boxes; not more than a hundred in the pit, and the gallery was not half full. Grimaldi stayed only the first act of the first piece, and then, seeing no probability of being called for, walked away to Covent Garden, to dress for "Puss in Boots," the untimely fate of which has been already recorded.The next morning, the newspapers, one and all, made known Grimaldi's absence from Sadler's Wells, and regretted it as a circumstance which could not fail to prove very injurious to the interests of the theatre. They did this without decrying the merits of Paulo, who was really a very good Clown, but who laboured under the double disadvantage of not being known at Sadler's Wells, and of following in the wake of one who had been a great favourite there for so many years.Grimaldi's non-engagement at Sadler's Wells was no sooner made known, than the provincial managers vied with each other in their endeavours to secure him. Mr. W. Murray, the manager of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Theatres, offered him an engagement at each for six nights when Covent Garden closed, which he immediately accepted. The terms were these:—Grimaldi was to have the best night's receipts out of each six, Murray the second best, and the other four to be equally divided between them, deducting forty pounds for expenses. He had no sooner closed with this proprietor than he was waited upon by Mr. Knight, of the Manchester and Liverpool Theatres, who offered him an engagement for three weeks, into which he also entered. There then followed such a long list of offers, that if he had had twelve months at his disposal instead of six weeks, they would have occupied the whole time. Many of these offers were of the most handsome and liberal nature; and it was with great regret that he was compelled to decline them.As there was nothing for Grimaldi to do at Covent Garden, in consequence of the early decease of "Puss in Boots," he accepted an overture from Mr. Brunton, who was the lessee of the Birmingham Theatre, for himself and his son, to act there for seven nights. It was the son's first provincial excursion, and the profits were somewhere about two hundred pounds. He took Worcester in his way on his return, and agreed, at the pressing request of Mr. Crisp, the manager, to stop and play there one night. He offered forty pounds down, or a fair division of the receipts. Grimaldi chose the former terms, acted Scaramouch to a very crowded house, sang several songs, and finished with a little pantomime in which he and his son were Clowns. He supped with the manager, who, at the conclusion of the meal, presented him with a fifty-pound note,saying, if he would accept that sum in lieu of the one agreed upon, it was heartily at his service, and he (the manager) would still be a great gainer by the transaction. This liberal treatment gave him a very favourable impression of the Worcester manager, whom he assured, that, should he ever be in that part of the country again, he would not fail to communicate with him. The next day, father and son both returned to town, when the former had the satisfaction of hearing that he had not been wanted at Covent Garden. He found several letters from provincial managers offering great terms; but as he was obliged to be in London at the opening of Covent Garden, and the theatres to which they related did not lie anywhere in his route from Edinburgh to Liverpool, he had no option but to decline these proposals.On the 23rd of June, in this year, John Kemble took his final leave of the stage, the entertainments being "Coriolanus," and "The Portrait of Cervantes." At the conclusion of the play, in which he had sustained the chief part with all his wonted dignity and grace, Kemble spoke a brief address, in which he took his farewell of the public, whom he had so long delighted. A white satin scarf with a wreath was thrown from the boxes, which falling short, lighted in the orchestra; upon which M. Talma, the French tragedian, who was sitting there, instantly rose from his seat and placed it on the stage, amidst thunders of applause.Grimaldi appeared but seldom during the remainder of the season at Covent Garden, which closed on the 2nd of July. On the following day he left London for Scotland. When he reached Edinburgh, he was not a little surprised to hear from Mr. Murray, that in consequence of Emery being engaged to play at Glasgow, he should be obliged to limit his (Grimaldi's) nights there to three instead of six, as agreed upon. This very much surprised him; but as there was no help for it, he acquiesced with a good grace, and left Edinburgh immediately for Glasgow, where he was to act on the following night. It chanced that it was Sunday, a day on which the common stage coaches do not run in Scotland, and he therefore took a post-chaise, which was eleven hours and a half performing the distance, or about double the time in which he could have walked it with ease."Whittington," "Don Juan," "Valentine and Orson," and "The Rivals," were the pieces acted at Glasgow. In the first three his son performed with him; in the latter he played Acres, and was very well received. He played this part throughout his provincial trips, and always to the perfect satisfaction and amusement of the audience. He never played Richard the Third in the provinces, as has been represented, but limited his performance of characters out of pantomime or melodrama, to Acres, Moll Flaggon, and one other part.When Grimaldi had finished at Glasgow, he joined the company at Edinburgh, where he played Acres twice. The song of Tippitywitchet took amazingly with the gude folks of Auld Reekie, and both he and his son were received with great kindness and favour.On the day after the completion of the engagement, Mr. Murray called at Grimaldi's lodgings, and wrote him a cheque for 417l.as his share, concluding by inviting him to pay him a similar visit during the following summer. The next morning he went to the bank to get his cheque cashed, when he was told that he could only receive Edinburgh notes, which were not payable out of Scotland, unless he consented to pay five per cent, for the accommodation. He was very loth to accept the one or pay the other; which the banker perceiving, told him that he happened to have a Bank-stock English note, payable forty days after sight, for 400l., which he could let him have. Not being short of cash, he accepted this, and received the 17l.balance in Scotch notes.On the 22nd, Grimaldi left Edinburgh for Berwick, where he had promised to play for two nights, and where he came out the following evening. He was greatly amazed when he saw the theatre at this town: it wassituatedup a stable yard, in a loft, to reach which it was necessary to climb two flights of stairs, the whole entrance being mean and dirty, and, to ladies especially, particularly disagreeable. But his surprise was far from being confined to the exterior of the theatre: on the contrary, when he surveyed its interior, and found it neat and complete, perfect in its appointments, and even stylish in its decorations, his amazement was increased. It was still further augmented by the appearance and manner of the audience to which he played in the evening, for he had never by any chance acted (taking the size of the building into consideration) to a more fashionable and brilliant box-company.The second night was as good as the first, and he received for his exertions 92l.7s.On this evening he supped with the manager, and during their meal the servant brought in a letter directed to Grimaldi, which had just been left at the door by a footman in livery, who, after delivering it, had immediately walked away. He broke the seal, and read as follows:"Sir,—Accept the enclosed as a reward of your merit, and the entertainment we have received from you this evening."A Friend."Thursday, July 24th, 1817."The "inclosed" alluded to by the writer was a bank note for 50l.!Next day Grimaldi bade adieu to Berwick, and went direct to Liverpool, where he made his first appearance on the 30th; and here, according to previous arrangement, he remained threeweeks. His salary was to be 12l.per week, with half a clear benefit, or the whole house for 40l., which he chose.As the night fixed upon for his benefit (which was the last of his engagement) drew nigh, he began anxiously to deliberate whether he should speculate in the "whole house," or not. He had no friends or acquaintances in Liverpool to assist him, but, on the other hand, he had made a tremendous hit; so, not being able to decide himself, he called in the aid of his friends, Emery, Blanchard, and Jack Johnstone, who chanced to be there at the time, and requested their advice how he should proceed. With one accord they advised him to venture upon taking the house, which he, adopting their advice, forthwith did, paying down his 40l., however, with many doubts as to the result. He lost no time in making out his bill, and getting it printed. The play was "The Rivals," in which he acted Acres, and the afterpiece the pantomime of "Harlequin's Olio," in which his son was to appear as Flipflap, a kind of attendant upon harlequin, and he as the clown.Several days elapsed, but nothing betokening a good benefit presented itself, and Grimaldi began to suspect it would turn out a complete failure. On the morning of the very day he had sold only fourteen tickets, and walked to the theatre with rather downcast spirits. At the box door he met Mr. Banks, one of the managers, who addressed him with,"Well, Joe, a precious benefit you will have!""So I expect," he answered, with a sigh."Have you looked at the box-book?" inquired the manager, with a slight degree of surprise in his manner."No," said Grimaldi; "I really am afraid to do so.""Afraid!" echoed the manager; "upon my word, Mr. Grimaldi, I don't know what you would have, or what you are afraid of. Every seat in the boxes is taken; and if there had been more, they would have been let."Hastening to the box-office, Grimaldi found that this good news was perfectly correct. His benefit, which took place on the 20th August, produced the greatest receipts ever known in that theatre: the sum taken was 328l.14s., being 1l.more than was received at Miss O'Neil's benefit (who was a wonderful favourite in the town), and beating John Emery's by 5l.He cleared upwards of 280l., by following the advice of his friends; upon the strength of which they all dined together next day, and made very merry.Many offers from other theatres came pouring in, but Grimaldi only accepted two: one to act at Preston, and the other to play four nights at Hereford for Mr. Crisp, for whom he naturally entertained very friendly feelings, remembering the courteous and handsome manner in which he had treated him at Worcester.Two days after his great benefit, Grimaldi travelled over to Preston, to fulfil his engagement with Mr. Howard, the manager,but was very much dispirited by the number of Quakers whom he saw walking about the streets, and whose presence in such numbers caused him to entertain great doubts of the success of this trip. The manager, however, was more sanguine, and, as it afterwards appeared, with good reason. He played Acres and Scaramouch to full houses, the receipts on the first night being 84l., and on the second 87l.16s.His share of the joint receipts was 86l., with which sum, as it far exceeded his expectations, he was well contented.On the second day after Grimaldi's arrival in Preston, a little circumstance occurred, which amused him so much, that he intended to have introduced it in one of his pantomime scenes, although he never did so. He was walking along the street by the market-place, when, observing a barber's pole projecting over the pavement, and recollecting that he wanted shaving, he opened the shop-door, from above which hung the pole, and looking into the shop, saw a pretty little girl, about sixteen years of age, who was sitting at needlework. She rose to receive him, and he inquired if the master was within."No, sir," said the girl; "but I expect him directly.""Very good," replied Grimaldi: "I want to look about me a little; I'll call again."After strolling through the market-place a little while, he called again, but the barber had not come home. Grimaldi was walking down the street after this second unsuccessful call, when he encountered Mr. Howard, the manager, with whom he fell into conversation, and they walked up and down the street talking together. As he was going to the theatre, and wished Grimaldi to accompany him, they turned in that direction, and passing the barbers shop, again looked in. The girl was still sitting at work; but she laid it aside when the visitors entered, and said she really was very sorry, but her father had not come in yet."That's very provoking," said Grimaldi, "considering that I have called here three times already."The girl agreed that it was, and, stepping to the door, looked anxiously up the street and down the street, but there was no barber in sight."Do you want to see him on any particular business?" inquired Howard."Bless my heart! no, not I," said Grimaldi: "I only want to be shaved.""Shaved, sir!" cried the girl. "Oh, dear me! what a pity it is you did not say so before! for I do most of the shaving for father when he's at home, and all when he's out.""To be sure she does," said Howard; "I have been shaved by her fifty times.""You have!" said Grimaldi. "Oh, I'm sure I have no objection. I am quite ready, my dear."Grimaldi sat himself down in a chair, and the girl commenced the task in a very business-like manner, Grimaldi feeling an irresistible tendency to laugh at the oddity of the operation, but smothering it by dint of great efforts while the girl was shaving his chin. At length, when she got to his upper lip, and took his nose between her fingers with a piece of brown paper, he could stand it no longer, but burst into a tremendous roar of laughter, and made a face at Howard, which the girl no sooner saw than she dropped the razor and laughed immoderately also; whereat Howard began to laugh too, which only set Grimaldi laughing more; when just at this moment in came the barber, who, seeing three people in convulsions of mirth, one of them with a soapy face and a gigantic mouth making the most extravagant faces over a white towel, threw himself into a chair without ceremony, and dashing his hat on the ground, laughed louder than any of them, declaring in broken words as he could find breath to utter them, that "that gentleman as was being shaved, was out of sight the funniest gentleman he had ever seen," and entreating him to "stop them faces, or he knew he should die." When they were all perfectly exhausted, the barber finished what his daughter had begun; and rewarding the girl with a shilling, Grimaldi and the manager took their leaves.Having settled at the theatre, received his money, and made several purchases in the town, (for he always spent a per-centage in every place where he had been successful,) Grimaldi returned to Liverpool on the 24th of August.The Barber's Shop.

CHAPTER XVIII.1812 to 1816.A Clergyman's Dinner-party at Bath—First Appearance of Grimaldi's Son, and Death of his old Friend, Mr. Hughes—Grimaldi plays at three Theatres on one night, and has his Salary stopped for his pains—His severe illness—Second journey to Bath—Davidge, "Billy Coombes," and the Chest—Facetiousness of the aforesaid Billy.

1812 to 1816.

A Clergyman's Dinner-party at Bath—First Appearance of Grimaldi's Son, and Death of his old Friend, Mr. Hughes—Grimaldi plays at three Theatres on one night, and has his Salary stopped for his pains—His severe illness—Second journey to Bath—Davidge, "Billy Coombes," and the Chest—Facetiousness of the aforesaid Billy.

Two days after his arrival in Bath he appeared at the theatre, where he was fortunate enough to elicit the warmest applause and approbation from a crowded audience; nor was he less successful at Bristol, the theatre being completely filled every night he performed. He remained in this part of the country during five weeks, playing four nights in every week at Bath, and the remaining two at Bristol. By this trip he realized 287l.-125l.for salary, and 162l.for benefits; but although it was a lucrative expedition, it was by no means a pleasant one, the weather being exceedingly inclement, and he being compelled to return to Bath every evening after the performances at Bristol were over. The nightly rides at that season of the year were by no means agreeable; he suffered very much from colds, and, upon the whole, was very far from sorry when his engagement terminated.

During his stay at Bath a little incident happened, developing, in a striking point of view, a very repulsive trait of discourtesy and bad breeding in a quarter where, least of any, such an exhibition might have been looked for.

Higman, the bass-singer, who was then in great repute, and was afterwards the original Gabriel, in Guy Mannering, but is since dead, was invited with Grimaldi to dine with a reverend gentleman of that city. They accepted the invitation, and upon their arrival found a pretty large party of gentlemen assembled, the clerical host of course presiding. The very instant the cloth was removed, this gentleman commanded, rather than asked, Higman to sing a song. Not wishing to appear desirous of enhancing the merit of the song by frivolous objections, he at once consented, although he had scarcely swallowed his meal. It was deservedly very much applauded and complimented, and the moment the applause had ceased, the reverend doctor turned to Grimaldi, and in the same peremptory manner requested a song from him. He begged leave to decline for the present, urging—what was indeed the truth—that he hadscarcely swallowed his dinner. The observation made by the host in reply rather astonished him.

"What, Mr. Grimaldi!" he exclaimed, hastily, "not sing, sir! Why, I asked you here, sir, to-day expressly to sing."

"Indeed, sir!" said Grimaldi, rising from the table: "then I heartily wish you had said so when you gave me the invitation; in which case you would have saved me the inconvenience of coming here to-day, and prevented my wishing you, as I now beg to do, a very unceremonious good-night."

With these words he left the apartment, and very soon afterwards the house.

It may appear to a great many persons a remarkable circumstance that a pantomime Clown should have been called upon to read a lesson of politeness and common decency to a reverend divine. The circumstance, however, happened literally as it is here narrated. A somewhat similar story has been told of another well-known actor; but this rudeness, whether it arose in ignorance or intention, was offered to Grimaldi by the reverend gentleman in question, whose name he well remembered, but which we abstain from mentioning.

The Christmas pantomime at Covent Garden was entitled "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf, or the Adamant Rock:" it was entirely successful.[61]On Easter Monday, 1813, the melodrama of "Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp," written by Mr. Farley, was acted for the first time, Grimaldi playing the character of Kasrac, a dumb slave, which became one of his most popular characters.[62]The Sadler's Wells season meritsno further notice than that, as usual, it was very profitable, and that Grimaldi produced a dance, called "Fun and Physic," which was performed every night.

[61]The pantomime of "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf," notwithstanding the scenery was superb, and the changes and machinery entitled to great praise, was in no way so successful as several of the former similar productions brought out at Covent Garden; and yet the burlesques introduced by Joe were sufficiently droll to prompt several highly coloured prints of certain characters in the print-shops of that day. The scenes in which the Epping Hunt was represented, supplied one of the finest landscapes ever displayed in any theatre. Horses were introduced—a jolly fat Parson, Pantaloon, and the Clown, took part in the joys of the chase; Pantaloon on a little Shetland pony was followed by Grimaldi on a great cart-horse, aping the mammoth wonder for size; Joe with a long wagoner's whip in his hand, and a jockey-cap, the peak of prodigious extent, seemed as anxious to be in at the death as if nothing in the world was comparable to it; his eagerness created a doubt whether Barnes and his miniature horse would or would not be galloped over by Joe and his Bucephalus—or be trundled over, horse and man, for the popular diversion.On February 8th, 1813, the comic burletta of "Poor Vulcan" was revived at Covent Garden—the bills stated, "not acted for many years." In this piece there was a pastoral ballet at Mount Ida, in which the characters were thus sustained: Silenus, Mr. Bologna; Bacchanals, Mr. Bologna, jun., and M. Montignani; Pan, Mr. Grimaldi; and Bacchante, Mrs. Parker. Joe's attachment to his old part of Pan in "Terpsichore's Return," was here again renewed; it was performed a sixth time on the 16th of the same month.

[61]The pantomime of "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf," notwithstanding the scenery was superb, and the changes and machinery entitled to great praise, was in no way so successful as several of the former similar productions brought out at Covent Garden; and yet the burlesques introduced by Joe were sufficiently droll to prompt several highly coloured prints of certain characters in the print-shops of that day. The scenes in which the Epping Hunt was represented, supplied one of the finest landscapes ever displayed in any theatre. Horses were introduced—a jolly fat Parson, Pantaloon, and the Clown, took part in the joys of the chase; Pantaloon on a little Shetland pony was followed by Grimaldi on a great cart-horse, aping the mammoth wonder for size; Joe with a long wagoner's whip in his hand, and a jockey-cap, the peak of prodigious extent, seemed as anxious to be in at the death as if nothing in the world was comparable to it; his eagerness created a doubt whether Barnes and his miniature horse would or would not be galloped over by Joe and his Bucephalus—or be trundled over, horse and man, for the popular diversion.

On February 8th, 1813, the comic burletta of "Poor Vulcan" was revived at Covent Garden—the bills stated, "not acted for many years." In this piece there was a pastoral ballet at Mount Ida, in which the characters were thus sustained: Silenus, Mr. Bologna; Bacchanals, Mr. Bologna, jun., and M. Montignani; Pan, Mr. Grimaldi; and Bacchante, Mrs. Parker. Joe's attachment to his old part of Pan in "Terpsichore's Return," was here again renewed; it was performed a sixth time on the 16th of the same month.

[62]The gorgeous spectacle of "Aladdin" was, after Douglas by Master Betty, performed for the first time on April 19th. "Aladdin" was represented by Mrs. C. Kemble; Abanazar, the Magician, by Mr. Farley; and Kasrac, his Chinese Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi: it was highly attractive, and was performed for the thirty-fourth time on June 21. Grimaldi's benefit this year was on July 1st, when were performed "Five miles off;" "Love, Law, and Physic," and for the forty-second time, "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf." At the close of this season, by permission of the proprietors of Drury Lane Theatre, Sheridan's "Robinson Crusoe and his Man Friday" was produced at Covent Garden; the Shipwrecked Mariner, by Mr. Grimaldi; his Man Friday, by Mr. Bologna, jun. It was repeated a few times, and the season terminated on July 15th.Joe's popularity at this period is thus happily celebrated by the late James Smith, in the following—TRIBUTARY STANZAS TO GRIMALDI, THE CLOWN.Facetious mime! thou enemy of gloom;Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonair,Who aping Pan, with an inverted broomCanst brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.Our gallery gods immortalize thy songs,Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;Thou bidd'st a Jew's harp charm a Christian throng,A Gothic salt-box teem with Attic treasure.When Harlequin, his charmer to regain,Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,The light of heels looks for his sword in vain—Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.The fabled egg from thee obtains its gold:Thou sett'st the mind from critic bondage loose,Where male and female cacklers, young and old,Birds of a feather, hail the sacred goose.Even pious souls, from Bunyan's durance free,At Sadler's Wells applaud thy agile wit,Forget old care, while they remember thee—Laugh the heart's laugh, and haunt the jovial pit.Long mayst thou guard the prize thy humour won;Long hold thy court in Pantomimic State;And to the equipoise of English fun,Exalt the lowly and bring down the great.

[62]The gorgeous spectacle of "Aladdin" was, after Douglas by Master Betty, performed for the first time on April 19th. "Aladdin" was represented by Mrs. C. Kemble; Abanazar, the Magician, by Mr. Farley; and Kasrac, his Chinese Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi: it was highly attractive, and was performed for the thirty-fourth time on June 21. Grimaldi's benefit this year was on July 1st, when were performed "Five miles off;" "Love, Law, and Physic," and for the forty-second time, "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf." At the close of this season, by permission of the proprietors of Drury Lane Theatre, Sheridan's "Robinson Crusoe and his Man Friday" was produced at Covent Garden; the Shipwrecked Mariner, by Mr. Grimaldi; his Man Friday, by Mr. Bologna, jun. It was repeated a few times, and the season terminated on July 15th.

Joe's popularity at this period is thus happily celebrated by the late James Smith, in the following—

TRIBUTARY STANZAS TO GRIMALDI, THE CLOWN.Facetious mime! thou enemy of gloom;Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonair,Who aping Pan, with an inverted broomCanst brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.Our gallery gods immortalize thy songs,Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;Thou bidd'st a Jew's harp charm a Christian throng,A Gothic salt-box teem with Attic treasure.When Harlequin, his charmer to regain,Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,The light of heels looks for his sword in vain—Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.The fabled egg from thee obtains its gold:Thou sett'st the mind from critic bondage loose,Where male and female cacklers, young and old,Birds of a feather, hail the sacred goose.Even pious souls, from Bunyan's durance free,At Sadler's Wells applaud thy agile wit,Forget old care, while they remember thee—Laugh the heart's laugh, and haunt the jovial pit.Long mayst thou guard the prize thy humour won;Long hold thy court in Pantomimic State;And to the equipoise of English fun,Exalt the lowly and bring down the great.

TRIBUTARY STANZAS TO GRIMALDI, THE CLOWN.

Facetious mime! thou enemy of gloom;Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonair,Who aping Pan, with an inverted broomCanst brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.

Facetious mime! thou enemy of gloom;

Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonair,

Who aping Pan, with an inverted broom

Canst brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.

Our gallery gods immortalize thy songs,Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;Thou bidd'st a Jew's harp charm a Christian throng,A Gothic salt-box teem with Attic treasure.

Our gallery gods immortalize thy songs,

Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;

Thou bidd'st a Jew's harp charm a Christian throng,

A Gothic salt-box teem with Attic treasure.

When Harlequin, his charmer to regain,Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,The light of heels looks for his sword in vain—Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.

When Harlequin, his charmer to regain,

Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,

The light of heels looks for his sword in vain—

Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.

The fabled egg from thee obtains its gold:Thou sett'st the mind from critic bondage loose,Where male and female cacklers, young and old,Birds of a feather, hail the sacred goose.

The fabled egg from thee obtains its gold:

Thou sett'st the mind from critic bondage loose,

Where male and female cacklers, young and old,

Birds of a feather, hail the sacred goose.

Even pious souls, from Bunyan's durance free,At Sadler's Wells applaud thy agile wit,Forget old care, while they remember thee—Laugh the heart's laugh, and haunt the jovial pit.

Even pious souls, from Bunyan's durance free,

At Sadler's Wells applaud thy agile wit,

Forget old care, while they remember thee—

Laugh the heart's laugh, and haunt the jovial pit.

Long mayst thou guard the prize thy humour won;Long hold thy court in Pantomimic State;And to the equipoise of English fun,Exalt the lowly and bring down the great.

Long mayst thou guard the prize thy humour won;

Long hold thy court in Pantomimic State;

And to the equipoise of English fun,

Exalt the lowly and bring down the great.

Covent Garden re-opened in September; and this year he was in constant requisition before Christmas, as well as after, Aladdin being found an extremely profitable piece. "Harlequin and the Swans, or the Bath of Beauty," was produced at Christmas,[63]and followed at Easter by "Sadak and Kalasrade," in which Grimaldi played Hassan.

[63]"Harlequin and the Swans," produced at Covent Garden on December 27, 1813, presented two Harlequins, Bologna, jun., and Ellar, who then made his first appearance at that theatre. Grimaldi played in the prelude, "Doctor Tumble Tuzzy," Chief Physician to the Court, when, if laughter be physic to the megrims, he and his assistant medical gentleman flung it about in no small potions.The Grand Asiatic Spectacle of "Sadak and Kalasrade" was produced at the same Theatre on Easter Monday, April 11, 1814; Sadak, by Mr. Abbott; Hassan, his Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi; Agra, Principal Dancer, by Mr. Ellar; Kalasrade, by Mrs. H. Johnston. On the same night, Sadler's Wells commenced the season of 1814, with Joe's Comic Dance of "Fun and Physic," and the Pantomime of "Rival Genii; or Harlequin Wild Man." Ellar made his first appearance there as Harlequin in the "Rival Genii;" Clown, Mr. Grimaldi, with a new song, called "Frost Fair; or, the Disasters of Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Wiggins." As these pieces were frequently performed on the same evening at the two theatres, it was a regular run for both from the Wells to Covent Garden.

[63]"Harlequin and the Swans," produced at Covent Garden on December 27, 1813, presented two Harlequins, Bologna, jun., and Ellar, who then made his first appearance at that theatre. Grimaldi played in the prelude, "Doctor Tumble Tuzzy," Chief Physician to the Court, when, if laughter be physic to the megrims, he and his assistant medical gentleman flung it about in no small potions.

The Grand Asiatic Spectacle of "Sadak and Kalasrade" was produced at the same Theatre on Easter Monday, April 11, 1814; Sadak, by Mr. Abbott; Hassan, his Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi; Agra, Principal Dancer, by Mr. Ellar; Kalasrade, by Mrs. H. Johnston. On the same night, Sadler's Wells commenced the season of 1814, with Joe's Comic Dance of "Fun and Physic," and the Pantomime of "Rival Genii; or Harlequin Wild Man." Ellar made his first appearance there as Harlequin in the "Rival Genii;" Clown, Mr. Grimaldi, with a new song, called "Frost Fair; or, the Disasters of Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Wiggins." As these pieces were frequently performed on the same evening at the two theatres, it was a regular run for both from the Wells to Covent Garden.

Having now none of those amusements which in former years had served to employ his idle hours having lost his flies, given up his pigeons, removed from Finchley, sold his house, and resigned his garden, he devoted the whole of his leisure time to the society and improvement of his son. As he could not bear to part with him, and was wholly unable to make up his mind to send him to any great boarding-school, he was partly educated at the same school at which his father had been a pupil, and partly by masters who attended him at home. The father appears to have bestowed great and praiseworthy care upon his education. Although at this time he was only twelve years old, he had not only quite mastered the common rudiments of learning, but had become well acquainted with French literature, and wrote the language with ease and propriety. He had at a very early age manifested a great fondness for music, especially the violin, and had acquired great proficiency on that instrument, under the tuition of one of the first masters in the country.

As he was a very clever boy, was an excellent dancer, and displayed a great fondness and aptitude for the stage, his father finding that his inclinations lay irrevocably that way, determined to encourage them, and accordingly proceeded to instruct him in melodrama and pantomime. He fancied that in his old age, when his own heyday of fame and profit was over, he should gather new life from the boy's success, and that old times would be called up vividly before him when he witnessed his popularity in characters which had first brought his father before the public, and enabled him gradually, after the loss of his property, to acquire an independent and respectable station in society. The wish was a natural one, and the old man cherished it dearly for many years. It was decreed otherwise; and although in his better days the blight of this hope caused him great grief and misery, he endeavoured to bear it with humility and resignation.

On the 26th of April[64]he resumed his labours at Sadler's Wells. He acted in a drama called the "Slave Pirate," which was successful. His first benefit brought him 216l., and his second 263l.10s.; the last-named being the best he ever had at that house.

[64]Sadler's Wells opened April 11th, not the 26th. The Aqua-Drama of "Kaloc; or, The Pirate Slave," Kaloc, by Mr. Grimaldi, performed in the previous season, for the first time, August 9th, 1813, was not played during that of 1814.

[64]Sadler's Wells opened April 11th, not the 26th. The Aqua-Drama of "Kaloc; or, The Pirate Slave," Kaloc, by Mr. Grimaldi, performed in the previous season, for the first time, August 9th, 1813, was not played during that of 1814.

The great attraction of this benefit of 1814[65]was the first appearance on any stage, of his son, who performed "Friday" in "Robinson Crusoe," Grimaldi playing the latter part himself, and thus introducing his son to the public in the same piece in which his father had brought him forward thirty-three years before. For six weeks previous to thedébut, the pains he had taken to render him master of the character, and the drillings he gave him were innumerable, although they rather arose from the nervousness of the father than from any lack of intelligence on the part of the son, who not only rapidly acquired the instructions communicated to him, but in many instances improved upon them considerably. His intended appearance was kept a profound secret until within a week of the night on which he was to perform; and when the announcement was at length made, the demand for tickets and places was immense. The result was, that the benefit not only turned out, as has already been mentioned, the best Grimaldi ever had, but the reception of the son was enthusiastic, and his exertions were both applauded by the public and commended in the newspapers. It may appear a mere matter of course to say that the father considered the performance the best that he had ever seen; but long afterwards, when the boy was dead, and censure or praise was alike powerless to assist or harm him, Grimaldi expressed, in the same strong terms, his high opinion of his abilities, and his conviction that had he been only moderate and temperate in the commonest degree, he must in a few years have equalled, if not greatly excelled, anything which he himself had achieved in his very best days.

[65]Bologna, jun., and Grimaldi, had jointly their benefit at Covent Garden on June 29th, 1814: when were performed O'Keeffe's "Our Way in France;" Lord Winlove, by Mr. Incledon; the Melo-Dramatic Piece, "For England Ho!" and for the fourth time these five years, "Harlequin and Mother Goose;" with the favourite scene of the Dog-Cart; and the "Oyster Duet," with the "Dissection of Harlequin."

[65]Bologna, jun., and Grimaldi, had jointly their benefit at Covent Garden on June 29th, 1814: when were performed O'Keeffe's "Our Way in France;" Lord Winlove, by Mr. Incledon; the Melo-Dramatic Piece, "For England Ho!" and for the fourth time these five years, "Harlequin and Mother Goose;" with the favourite scene of the Dog-Cart; and the "Oyster Duet," with the "Dissection of Harlequin."

On the 20th of December following, he sustained a severe loss in the death of his constant and sincere friend, Mr. Richard Hughes, who had been his well-wisher and adviser from infancy, and whose relationship to his first wife gave him a strong and lasting claim on his regard. As another instance of the severe and mental trials which an actor has to undergo, it may be mentioned that during the time his friend was lying dead, he was engaged for many hours each day in rehearsing broadly humorous pantomime, and that, as if to render the contrast more striking, the burial being fixed for the 26th of the month, he was compelled to rehearse part of his Clown's character on the stage, to run to the funeral, to get back from the churchyard to the theatre to finish the rehearsal, and to exert all his comic powers at night to set the audience in a roar.

This pantomime was founded upon the story of Whittingtonand his Cat, and had a very extended run. On the night of its production, his spirits were so affected by the calamity he had sustained, that it was with great difficulty he could go through his part, in which he had very nearly failed. He succeeded by a strong effort in finishing the piece; and although his health paid very dearly for this and other efforts of the same nature, the constant bustle and excitement of his professional duties aided in recovering him, and enabling him to act with his accustomed vivacity.

The harlequinade of "The Talking Bird" was produced at Sadler's Wells this season, in which he first enacted the Bird and afterwards the Clown. During the run of this pantomime he performed the remarkable feat of playing three very heavy parts (two of them Clowns) at three different theatres on the same night. He was intimately acquainted with a Mr. Hayward, who, being married to a clever actress at the Surrey, one Miss Dely, begged him as a great favour to act for her at that theatre on her benefit night. He asked and obtained permission from the proprietors of Sadler's Wells, but could not do the same at Covent Garden, as Mr. Harris was absent from town. He did not think it a point of any great importance, however, inasmuch as he had not been called upon to act for some time, and nothing was then announced in which it was at all likely he would be wanted. Unfortunately, on the very night of the benefit, "La Perouse," in which he acted, was advertised at Covent Garden. In this dilemma, he hurried over the water, explained the circumstance, and pointed out the impossibility of his performing at the Surrey.

But the Surrey people who had advertised him stoutly contending that there was no impossibility in the case, assured him that all would be right; that he should play there first, then go to Sadler's Wells, and then to Covent Garden to finish the evening. To the end that he should be in good time at each house, it was proposed that a chaise, with the best horses that could be procured, should be provided, and held in readiness to carry him at the greatest possible speed from place to place.

Not having the heart to disappoint the parties interested, he consented to this arrangement. At the Surrey, he played with Bologna in the pantomime; the moment it was over, he jumped into a chaise and four that was waiting at the door, and started for Sadler's Wells. Bologna accompanied him to see the issue of the proceeding, and, by dashing through the streets at a most extraordinary pace, they reached Sadler's Wells just at the commencement of the overture for the pantomime. Hurrying to re-paint his face, which had been very much bedaubed by the rain, which poured upon it, as he looked out of the chaise-window entreating thepostboysto drive a little slower, and thrusting himself into the dress of the "Talking Bird," he wasready at the instant when the call-boy told him he was wanted. There still remained Covent Garden, and towards the close of the pantomime he grew very anxious, looking constantly towards the sides of the stage to see if Bologna was still there; for as he was the Perouse of the night, and was wanted a full half-hour before him, he felt something like security so long as he remained. At length the pantomime was over, and once more taking their seats in the same chaise, they drove at the same furious pace to Covent Garden, and were ready dressed and in the green-room before the first bars of the overture had been played. This change of dress assisted greatly in recovering him from his fatigue, and he went through the third part as well as the first, feeling no greater exhaustion at the close of the performances than was usual with him on an ordinary night. The only refreshment which he took during the whole evening was one glass of warm ale and a biscuit. He plumed himself very much on this feat; for although he had played clown at two theatres for twenty-eight nights successively, he considered it something out of the common way, and triumphed in it greatly.

He had a specimen next day of the spirit which Fawcett still cherished towards him, and which, but for the kindness of Mr. Harris, might have injured him severely on many occasions. Applying as usual at the treasury for his weekly salary of ten pounds, he was informed by the treasurer, with great politeness and apparent regret, that he had received orders from Mr. Fawcett to stop it for that week. He instantly posted off in search of that gentleman, and upon finding him, requested to know why his salary was not to be paid.

"Because, sir," replied Mr. Fawcett,—"because you have thought fit to play at the Surrey Theatre without mentioning the matter tous, or askingourpermission."

Grimaldi whistled a little to express his total unconcern, and, turning away, muttered, "Forusand forourtragedy, thus stooping to your clemency, we beg your hearing patiently." In crossing the stage to the door, he met Mr. Harris, who had that instant entered the theatre, having arrived in town not ten minutes before. He shook him kindly by the hand, and inquired how he was.

"Why, sir," said Grimaldi, "I am as well as can be expected, considering that my salary has been stopped."

"Why, what have you been about, Joe?"

"Played for Mrs. Hayward's benefit at the Surrey, sir."

"Oh! without leave, I suppose?"

"Why, sir," answered Grimaldi, "there was no one in the theatre who was, in my opinion, entitled actually to give or refuse leave; you were out of town: with Mr. Fawcett I have nothing to do—he has neither connexion with nor influence over my line of business, nor do I wish him to have any; Mr.Farley is the only gentleman under yourself whom I consider myself obliged to acknowledge as a superior here—and to him I did name it, and he told me to go, for I should not be wanted."

"Joe," said Mr. Harris, after a moment's pause, "go to Brandon, and tell him to give you your money. And, mind, I've entered into an arrangement for you to go and see Dimond again in October, upon the same terms as before: so mind you go, and I'll take care you are neither fined nor wanted."

For this double liberality he expressed his best thanks, and returning to the treasury, with the manager's message, received his salary, and departed.

On the 15th of the next month, his first benefit for that season took place at Sadler's Wells. He sustained the part of Don Juan; and his son, J. S. Grimaldi, played Scaramouch, being his second appearance. He acted the part capitally, and had a great reception, so that his father now in good earnest began to hope he would not only support the name of Grimaldi, but confer upon it increased popularity. The receipts of this night were 231l.14s.Three months afterwards his second benefit occurred: Monday, the 9th of October, was the day fixed for it, but on the preceding Saturday he was suddenly seized with severe illness, originating in a most distressing impediment in his breathing. Medical assistance was immediately called in, and he was bled until nigh fainting. This slightly relieved him; but shortly afterwards he had a relapse, and four weeks passed before he recovered sufficiently to leave the house. There is no doubt but that some radical change had occurred in his constitution, for previously to this attack he had never been visited with a single day's illness, while after its occurrence he never had a single day of perfect health.

On the Monday, finding it would be impossible for him to play, he procured a substitute, and immediately had bills printed and posted outside the theatre. His absence made a difference of about fifty pounds in the receipts; but as his son played Scaramouch, and played it well, he sustained no greater pecuniary loss, and had the satisfaction of hearing from all quarters that his son was rapidly improving.

After the lapse of a month Grimaldi became tolerably well, and as it was now time for him to keep his engagement with Dimond, he went to Bath in November, and remained there until the middle of December, occasionally acting at Bristol. The profits of this trip were two hundred and ninety-four pounds.

It was either during this provincial trip, or about this time, that he first became acquainted with Mr. Davidge, the late lessee of the Surrey Theatre. He was then the Harlequin at Bath and Bristol, and although he afterwards became a round and magisterial figure, was then a very light and active pantomimist.

In the pantomimes Davidge was the Harlequin, and Grimaldi of course the Clown. They were accustomed to call the Pantaloon, who was a very indifferent actor, by the name of "Billy Coombes,"—why, they best knew, but it seems not to have been his real name. This worthy had given both Davidge and Grimaldi mighty offence upon several occasions, possibly by making his appearance on the stage in a state of intoxication. Grimaldi forgot the precise cause of affront, but, whatever it was, they deemed it a very great one; and Davidge, upon several occasions, took opportunities of hinting, in speeches fraught with determination and replete with a peculiar variety of expletives, that he was resolved some time or other to be revenged upon that Billy Coombes.

One evening, while the pantomime was in progress, and the two friends were exciting much mirth and applause, Davidge pointed to a chest which was used in the piece, and whispering that there was a lock upon it with a key, remarked that Billy had to get into it directly, and asked whether it would not be a good joke to turn the key upon him. Grimaldi readily concurred, and no sooner was the unconscious Billy Coombes beneath the lid of the chest, than he was locked in, amidst the plaudits of the audience, who thought it a capital trick. There were but two more scenes in the pantomime, which Davidge had to commence. Just as he was going on the stage, Grimaldi inquired whether he had let out the Pantaloon.

"No," he replied hastily, "I have not, but I will directly I come off." So saying, he danced upon the stage, followed by Grimaldi, and the usual buffeting ensued with the accustomed effect. The pantomime was over a few minutes afterwards, and Grimaldi, who felt very tired when he had gone through his part, in consequence of his recent illness, went straight home, and was in bed a very short time after the curtain fell.

There was a call the next morning for the rehearsal of a few new pantomime scenes which Grimaldi had prepared to vary the entertainments. However, as the Pantaloon was not forthcoming, they could not be gone through with any useful effect. When Davidge arrived, Grimaldi mentioned the circumstance.

"I suppose," he said, "our victim has taken our conduct in high dudgeon, and doesn't mean to come this morning. We shall be in a pretty mess at night if he does not!"

"What do you mean?" said Davidge, with a look of surprise.

"This Billy Coombes, he is not come to the theatre to-day, and is not to be found at his lodgings, for we have sent a man there."

"By G——," said Davidge, "I never let him out of the box!"

On reflection, they had certainly finished the pantomime without him, although it did not strike them at the time, because, as he was no great actor, the business of the last two scenes had been arranged entirely between Davidge andGrimaldi. They lost no time in inquiring after the chest, and it was at length discovered in a cellar below the stage. On raising the lid, the Pantaloon was discovered, and a truly pitiable object he looked, although they were both not a little relieved to find he was alive, for, not knowing that the chest was perforated in various places, they had entertained some serious fears that when he did turn up, he might be found suffocated. Every necessary assistance was afforded him, and he never suffered in the slightest degree from his temporary confinement. He said that he had shouted as loud as he could, and had knocked and kicked against the sides of his prison, but that nobody had taken the least notice of him, which he attributed to the incessant noise and bustle behind the scenes. With the view of keeping the stage as clear as possible, everything used in a pantomime is put away at once; the chest was lowered by a trap into the cellar, notwithstanding the shouts from the Pantaloon, who, knowing that he would be released next day, went to sleep very quietly.

This was the version of the story given by the ingenious Mr. Coombes, and in this version Grimaldi was an implicit believer. We are rather disposed to think that Mr. Coombes might have thrown an additional light upon the matter by explaining that he had got into the chest that morning to turn the tables upon his assailants, the more so, as he received various little presents in the way of compensation for his imprisonment, with which he expressed himself perfectly satisfied.

This "Billy Coombes," or whatever the man's name may have been, once said a very ludicrous thing upon the stage, which convulsed the audience with laughter. The play was Romeo and Juliet, and he was cast to perform Sampson. The wardrobe of the theatre being very scanty, he was habited in a most absurd and ridiculous dress, every article of which had evidently formed a portion of a different suit, and which was, moreover, full three sizes too large for him, especially the coat, the cuffs of which, instead of ornamenting his wrists, dangled over his fingers' ends. In this disguise, "Billy," who waxed extremely wroth at the figure he cut, presented himself to the audience, and was, of course, received with a loud laugh.

Now, in the first scene of the play, Sampson, according to the stage-direction, has to bite his thumb at Abram, a servitor of the rival house, upon which the following dialogue ensues:—

"Abram.Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?"Samp.(aside) Is the law on our side if I say ay?"Gregory.No."Samp.No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb sir."

"Abram.Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

"Samp.(aside) Is the law on our side if I say ay?

"Gregory.No.

"Samp.No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb sir."

Billy Coombes very coolly omitted biting his thumb at all but the actor who played Abram, desirous to carry on the businessof the scene, thought it best to take it for granted that the stage-direction had been complied with, and turning indignantly round, said,

"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?"

"No, sir," replied Billy Coombes, in a clear and loud voice; "I would, sir, with pleasure, only my master puts me into such a queer coat, sir," holding up one of the long sleeves, "that I can't get at my fist for the life of me."

The audience roared, the actors laughed, and for some minutes the stage-business was at a complete stand-still: Billy meanwhile making many apparently sincere and laboured attempts to uncover his hand, in which at last he thought proper to succeed, and giving the right cue, the play went on.

When Grimaldi returned to town, the rehearsals of "Harlequin and the Sylph of the Oak, or the Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green," commenced at Covent Garden. It was produced with great success at the usual time, and was followed, in April, 1816, by Pocock's melodrama of "Robinson Crusoe, or the Bold Buccaneer," in which Grimaldi played Friday, and Farley acted Crusoe. This was the most successful adaptation of De Foe's great story; it was played for a great many nights, and is still occasionally performed.[66]

[66]Performed for the first time, on Wednesday, December 26, 1806. Harlequin, Mr. Bologna; Clown, Mr. Grimaldi; Pantaloon, Mr. Norman; Flyflap, attendant on Harlequin, by Master Grimaldi; Columbine, Miss T. Dennett, her first appearance in that character.

[66]Performed for the first time, on Wednesday, December 26, 1806. Harlequin, Mr. Bologna; Clown, Mr. Grimaldi; Pantaloon, Mr. Norman; Flyflap, attendant on Harlequin, by Master Grimaldi; Columbine, Miss T. Dennett, her first appearance in that character.

CHAPTER XIX.1816 to 1817.He quits Sadler's Wells in consequence of a disagreement with the Proprietors—Lord Byron—Retirement of John Kemble—Immense success of Grimaldi in the Provinces, and his great Gains—A scene in a Barber's Shop.

1816 to 1817.

He quits Sadler's Wells in consequence of a disagreement with the Proprietors—Lord Byron—Retirement of John Kemble—Immense success of Grimaldi in the Provinces, and his great Gains—A scene in a Barber's Shop.

At Sadler's Wells the principal novelty of the season of 1816 was a very successful melodrama called "Philip and his Dog." During a period of thirty-eight years, that is to say from 1782[67]to 1820 inclusive, Grimaldi was never absent from Sadler's Wells, except for one season. The cause of his non-engagement in 1817 was this:—His former articles expiring a few days before the close of the previous season, he received a note from Mr. Charles Dibdin, requesting to know upon what terms he would be disposed to renew them. He replied, that they had only to make the pounds[68]guineas, and he would be content. There was no objection to this proposition, but he was informed that the proprietors had arrived at the resolution of no longer allowing him two benefits in each year, and of permitting him in future to take only one. He considered this a very arbitrary and unjust proceeding. As he had never under any circumstances cleared less than 150l.from a benefit, this reduction necessarily involved the diminution of his yearly income by a large sum; and as he paid 60l.for the house on every such occasion, which was probably more than it would otherwise have had in it, he did not think that the proprietors could urge any just reason for proposing the alteration. After considering these points, he wrote to Mr. Charles Dibdin, at that time a proprietor himself, that he could on no consideration give up either of his accustomed benefits. To this note he received no reply, but he confidently expected that they would not attempt a season without him, he being at that time unquestionably the lion of the theatre, and certainly drawing money to the house. He was, however, deceived, for he heard no more from Mr. Charles Dibdin, and eventually learned that Paulo was engaged in his place.

[67]Joe made hisdébuton the stage, at Sadler's Wells, on Easter Monday, 1781.

[67]Joe made hisdébuton the stage, at Sadler's Wells, on Easter Monday, 1781.

[68]Grimaldi's salary at this time was twelve pounds, but the determination of not allowing him the second benefit was the cause of his absence from the Wells in 1817.

[68]Grimaldi's salary at this time was twelve pounds, but the determination of not allowing him the second benefit was the cause of his absence from the Wells in 1817.

In the November of this year he made a little excursion of four days to Brighton, the theatre of which town belonged to Mr. John Brunton, who was likewise an actor, and a very good one too, at Covent Garden. This gentleman was the father of one of our best modern actresses Mrs. Yates, whose talents are so well and so deservedly appreciated. He was always a kind friend to Grimaldi, and had no cause to accuse him of ingratitude.

At Brighton they played "Valentine and Orson," "Robinson Crusoe," &c., in which Brunton, who was well acquainted with pantomime and melodrama, acted Farley's parts, while Grimaldi, of course, sustained his original characters. They were very successful indeed, Grimaldi receiving 100l.for his remuneration, with which, as will be readily supposed, he was perfectly well satisfied.

At this time he repeatedly met with Lord Byron, not only at Covent Garden, but at various private parties to which he was invited; and eventually they became very good friends. Lord Byron was, as all the world knows, an eccentric man, and he loses nothing of the character in Grimaldi's hands.

"Sometimes," he says, "his lordship appeared lost in deep melancholy, and when that was the case, really looked the picture of despair, for his face was highly capable of expressing profound grief; at other times he was very lively, chatting with great spirit and vivacity; and then occasionally he would be a complete fop, exhibiting his white hands and teeth with an almost ludicrous degree of affectation. But whether 'grave or gay, lively or severe,' his bitter, biting sarcasm never was omitted or forgotten."

It never fell to Grimaldi's lot to hear any person say such severe things as Byron accustomed himself to utter, and they tended not a little to increase the awe with which, upon their first interview, he had been predisposed to regard him. As to Grimaldi himself, Byron invariably acted towards him with much condescension and good humour, frequently conversing with him for hours together; and when the business of the evening called him away, he would wait at the "wings" for him, and as soon as he came off the stage, recommence the conversation where it had been broken off. Grimaldi rarely contradicted him, fearing to draw down upon himself the sarcasms which he constantly heard fulminated against others; and when they spoke on subjects with Byron's opinions upon which he was unacquainted, he cautiously endeavoured to ascertain them before he ventured to give his own, fearing, as he felt so very warmly upon most questions, that he might chance to dissent from him upon one in which he took great interest.

Before Lord Byron left England upon the expedition whence he was destined to return no more, he presented Grimaldi, as atoken, he said, of his regard, with a valuable silver snuff-box,[69]around which was the inscription, "The gift of Lord Byron to Joseph Grimaldi." It was of course preserved with the most scrupulous care, and valued more highly than any article in his possession. It is but an act of justice to both parties to say, that Lord Byron always treated him with the greatest liberality. In 1808, when he saw him act for the first time, he sent a message to his residence, requesting that he would always forward to him one box ticket whenever he took a benefit. This he regularly did, and in return invariably received on the following day a five-pound note.

[69]Mrs. Bryan, Joe's legatee, possesses this snuff-box.

[69]Mrs. Bryan, Joe's legatee, possesses this snuff-box.

"Harlequin Gulliver, or the Flying Island," which was the pantomime of the year at Covent Garden, was so successful as to be played sixty-three nights before Easter. On the 30th of March, a piece, under the title of "The Marquis de Carabbas, or Puss in Boots," was produced, and utterly failed. It was a very poor affair, was only played one night, and appears to have fully deserved its fate.

On the same night Sadler's Wells commenced its season, upon which occasion the unexpected absence of Grimaldi occasioned quite a commotion among the Audience. He had said nothing about it himself, nor was the circumstance known to the public until the bills were put forth, when the announcement of Paulo's engagement and Grimaldi's secession occasioned much surprise and some manifestation of feeling. Grimaldi had been spending a few days at Egham; and upon his return to town, towards the latter end of March, was not a little amazed to see the walls in the neighbourhood of his house in Spa-fields completely covered with placards emanating from the rival parties, some bearing the words "Joey for ever!" others displaying "No Paulo!" and others, again, "No Grimaldi!" It was supposed by some that Grimaldi himself had a hand in the distribution of these bills; but he solemnly denied it, declaring that he never saw or heard anything of them until they were paraded upon the walls on his return to town.

The theatre opened with "Philip and his Dog," and a new harlequinade, called "April Fools, or Months and Mummery." Being informed that it was Dibdin's intention, if any disturbance occurred in consequence of his absence, to address the house, and state that it had resulted from Grimaldi's express wish, he went to the boxes on the opening night, determined, if any such statement were made, to address the audience from his place, and explain the circumstances under which he had left the theatre. He was spared this very disagreeable task, however, no other expression of public feeling taking place except that which is of all others most sensibly and acutely felt by a manager the people stayed away. Instead of every seatbeing taken, and standing-places eagerly secured, as had formerly been the case, the theatre was not a quarter filled. There were only forty persons, and these principally friends of the proprietors, in the boxes; not more than a hundred in the pit, and the gallery was not half full. Grimaldi stayed only the first act of the first piece, and then, seeing no probability of being called for, walked away to Covent Garden, to dress for "Puss in Boots," the untimely fate of which has been already recorded.

The next morning, the newspapers, one and all, made known Grimaldi's absence from Sadler's Wells, and regretted it as a circumstance which could not fail to prove very injurious to the interests of the theatre. They did this without decrying the merits of Paulo, who was really a very good Clown, but who laboured under the double disadvantage of not being known at Sadler's Wells, and of following in the wake of one who had been a great favourite there for so many years.

Grimaldi's non-engagement at Sadler's Wells was no sooner made known, than the provincial managers vied with each other in their endeavours to secure him. Mr. W. Murray, the manager of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Theatres, offered him an engagement at each for six nights when Covent Garden closed, which he immediately accepted. The terms were these:—Grimaldi was to have the best night's receipts out of each six, Murray the second best, and the other four to be equally divided between them, deducting forty pounds for expenses. He had no sooner closed with this proprietor than he was waited upon by Mr. Knight, of the Manchester and Liverpool Theatres, who offered him an engagement for three weeks, into which he also entered. There then followed such a long list of offers, that if he had had twelve months at his disposal instead of six weeks, they would have occupied the whole time. Many of these offers were of the most handsome and liberal nature; and it was with great regret that he was compelled to decline them.

As there was nothing for Grimaldi to do at Covent Garden, in consequence of the early decease of "Puss in Boots," he accepted an overture from Mr. Brunton, who was the lessee of the Birmingham Theatre, for himself and his son, to act there for seven nights. It was the son's first provincial excursion, and the profits were somewhere about two hundred pounds. He took Worcester in his way on his return, and agreed, at the pressing request of Mr. Crisp, the manager, to stop and play there one night. He offered forty pounds down, or a fair division of the receipts. Grimaldi chose the former terms, acted Scaramouch to a very crowded house, sang several songs, and finished with a little pantomime in which he and his son were Clowns. He supped with the manager, who, at the conclusion of the meal, presented him with a fifty-pound note,saying, if he would accept that sum in lieu of the one agreed upon, it was heartily at his service, and he (the manager) would still be a great gainer by the transaction. This liberal treatment gave him a very favourable impression of the Worcester manager, whom he assured, that, should he ever be in that part of the country again, he would not fail to communicate with him. The next day, father and son both returned to town, when the former had the satisfaction of hearing that he had not been wanted at Covent Garden. He found several letters from provincial managers offering great terms; but as he was obliged to be in London at the opening of Covent Garden, and the theatres to which they related did not lie anywhere in his route from Edinburgh to Liverpool, he had no option but to decline these proposals.

On the 23rd of June, in this year, John Kemble took his final leave of the stage, the entertainments being "Coriolanus," and "The Portrait of Cervantes." At the conclusion of the play, in which he had sustained the chief part with all his wonted dignity and grace, Kemble spoke a brief address, in which he took his farewell of the public, whom he had so long delighted. A white satin scarf with a wreath was thrown from the boxes, which falling short, lighted in the orchestra; upon which M. Talma, the French tragedian, who was sitting there, instantly rose from his seat and placed it on the stage, amidst thunders of applause.

Grimaldi appeared but seldom during the remainder of the season at Covent Garden, which closed on the 2nd of July. On the following day he left London for Scotland. When he reached Edinburgh, he was not a little surprised to hear from Mr. Murray, that in consequence of Emery being engaged to play at Glasgow, he should be obliged to limit his (Grimaldi's) nights there to three instead of six, as agreed upon. This very much surprised him; but as there was no help for it, he acquiesced with a good grace, and left Edinburgh immediately for Glasgow, where he was to act on the following night. It chanced that it was Sunday, a day on which the common stage coaches do not run in Scotland, and he therefore took a post-chaise, which was eleven hours and a half performing the distance, or about double the time in which he could have walked it with ease.

"Whittington," "Don Juan," "Valentine and Orson," and "The Rivals," were the pieces acted at Glasgow. In the first three his son performed with him; in the latter he played Acres, and was very well received. He played this part throughout his provincial trips, and always to the perfect satisfaction and amusement of the audience. He never played Richard the Third in the provinces, as has been represented, but limited his performance of characters out of pantomime or melodrama, to Acres, Moll Flaggon, and one other part.

When Grimaldi had finished at Glasgow, he joined the company at Edinburgh, where he played Acres twice. The song of Tippitywitchet took amazingly with the gude folks of Auld Reekie, and both he and his son were received with great kindness and favour.

On the day after the completion of the engagement, Mr. Murray called at Grimaldi's lodgings, and wrote him a cheque for 417l.as his share, concluding by inviting him to pay him a similar visit during the following summer. The next morning he went to the bank to get his cheque cashed, when he was told that he could only receive Edinburgh notes, which were not payable out of Scotland, unless he consented to pay five per cent, for the accommodation. He was very loth to accept the one or pay the other; which the banker perceiving, told him that he happened to have a Bank-stock English note, payable forty days after sight, for 400l., which he could let him have. Not being short of cash, he accepted this, and received the 17l.balance in Scotch notes.

On the 22nd, Grimaldi left Edinburgh for Berwick, where he had promised to play for two nights, and where he came out the following evening. He was greatly amazed when he saw the theatre at this town: it wassituatedup a stable yard, in a loft, to reach which it was necessary to climb two flights of stairs, the whole entrance being mean and dirty, and, to ladies especially, particularly disagreeable. But his surprise was far from being confined to the exterior of the theatre: on the contrary, when he surveyed its interior, and found it neat and complete, perfect in its appointments, and even stylish in its decorations, his amazement was increased. It was still further augmented by the appearance and manner of the audience to which he played in the evening, for he had never by any chance acted (taking the size of the building into consideration) to a more fashionable and brilliant box-company.

The second night was as good as the first, and he received for his exertions 92l.7s.On this evening he supped with the manager, and during their meal the servant brought in a letter directed to Grimaldi, which had just been left at the door by a footman in livery, who, after delivering it, had immediately walked away. He broke the seal, and read as follows:

"Sir,—Accept the enclosed as a reward of your merit, and the entertainment we have received from you this evening."A Friend."Thursday, July 24th, 1817."

"Sir,—Accept the enclosed as a reward of your merit, and the entertainment we have received from you this evening.

"A Friend.

"Thursday, July 24th, 1817."

The "inclosed" alluded to by the writer was a bank note for 50l.!

Next day Grimaldi bade adieu to Berwick, and went direct to Liverpool, where he made his first appearance on the 30th; and here, according to previous arrangement, he remained threeweeks. His salary was to be 12l.per week, with half a clear benefit, or the whole house for 40l., which he chose.

As the night fixed upon for his benefit (which was the last of his engagement) drew nigh, he began anxiously to deliberate whether he should speculate in the "whole house," or not. He had no friends or acquaintances in Liverpool to assist him, but, on the other hand, he had made a tremendous hit; so, not being able to decide himself, he called in the aid of his friends, Emery, Blanchard, and Jack Johnstone, who chanced to be there at the time, and requested their advice how he should proceed. With one accord they advised him to venture upon taking the house, which he, adopting their advice, forthwith did, paying down his 40l., however, with many doubts as to the result. He lost no time in making out his bill, and getting it printed. The play was "The Rivals," in which he acted Acres, and the afterpiece the pantomime of "Harlequin's Olio," in which his son was to appear as Flipflap, a kind of attendant upon harlequin, and he as the clown.

Several days elapsed, but nothing betokening a good benefit presented itself, and Grimaldi began to suspect it would turn out a complete failure. On the morning of the very day he had sold only fourteen tickets, and walked to the theatre with rather downcast spirits. At the box door he met Mr. Banks, one of the managers, who addressed him with,

"Well, Joe, a precious benefit you will have!"

"So I expect," he answered, with a sigh.

"Have you looked at the box-book?" inquired the manager, with a slight degree of surprise in his manner.

"No," said Grimaldi; "I really am afraid to do so."

"Afraid!" echoed the manager; "upon my word, Mr. Grimaldi, I don't know what you would have, or what you are afraid of. Every seat in the boxes is taken; and if there had been more, they would have been let."

Hastening to the box-office, Grimaldi found that this good news was perfectly correct. His benefit, which took place on the 20th August, produced the greatest receipts ever known in that theatre: the sum taken was 328l.14s., being 1l.more than was received at Miss O'Neil's benefit (who was a wonderful favourite in the town), and beating John Emery's by 5l.He cleared upwards of 280l., by following the advice of his friends; upon the strength of which they all dined together next day, and made very merry.

Many offers from other theatres came pouring in, but Grimaldi only accepted two: one to act at Preston, and the other to play four nights at Hereford for Mr. Crisp, for whom he naturally entertained very friendly feelings, remembering the courteous and handsome manner in which he had treated him at Worcester.

Two days after his great benefit, Grimaldi travelled over to Preston, to fulfil his engagement with Mr. Howard, the manager,but was very much dispirited by the number of Quakers whom he saw walking about the streets, and whose presence in such numbers caused him to entertain great doubts of the success of this trip. The manager, however, was more sanguine, and, as it afterwards appeared, with good reason. He played Acres and Scaramouch to full houses, the receipts on the first night being 84l., and on the second 87l.16s.His share of the joint receipts was 86l., with which sum, as it far exceeded his expectations, he was well contented.

On the second day after Grimaldi's arrival in Preston, a little circumstance occurred, which amused him so much, that he intended to have introduced it in one of his pantomime scenes, although he never did so. He was walking along the street by the market-place, when, observing a barber's pole projecting over the pavement, and recollecting that he wanted shaving, he opened the shop-door, from above which hung the pole, and looking into the shop, saw a pretty little girl, about sixteen years of age, who was sitting at needlework. She rose to receive him, and he inquired if the master was within.

"No, sir," said the girl; "but I expect him directly."

"Very good," replied Grimaldi: "I want to look about me a little; I'll call again."

After strolling through the market-place a little while, he called again, but the barber had not come home. Grimaldi was walking down the street after this second unsuccessful call, when he encountered Mr. Howard, the manager, with whom he fell into conversation, and they walked up and down the street talking together. As he was going to the theatre, and wished Grimaldi to accompany him, they turned in that direction, and passing the barbers shop, again looked in. The girl was still sitting at work; but she laid it aside when the visitors entered, and said she really was very sorry, but her father had not come in yet.

"That's very provoking," said Grimaldi, "considering that I have called here three times already."

The girl agreed that it was, and, stepping to the door, looked anxiously up the street and down the street, but there was no barber in sight.

"Do you want to see him on any particular business?" inquired Howard.

"Bless my heart! no, not I," said Grimaldi: "I only want to be shaved."

"Shaved, sir!" cried the girl. "Oh, dear me! what a pity it is you did not say so before! for I do most of the shaving for father when he's at home, and all when he's out."

"To be sure she does," said Howard; "I have been shaved by her fifty times."

"You have!" said Grimaldi. "Oh, I'm sure I have no objection. I am quite ready, my dear."

Grimaldi sat himself down in a chair, and the girl commenced the task in a very business-like manner, Grimaldi feeling an irresistible tendency to laugh at the oddity of the operation, but smothering it by dint of great efforts while the girl was shaving his chin. At length, when she got to his upper lip, and took his nose between her fingers with a piece of brown paper, he could stand it no longer, but burst into a tremendous roar of laughter, and made a face at Howard, which the girl no sooner saw than she dropped the razor and laughed immoderately also; whereat Howard began to laugh too, which only set Grimaldi laughing more; when just at this moment in came the barber, who, seeing three people in convulsions of mirth, one of them with a soapy face and a gigantic mouth making the most extravagant faces over a white towel, threw himself into a chair without ceremony, and dashing his hat on the ground, laughed louder than any of them, declaring in broken words as he could find breath to utter them, that "that gentleman as was being shaved, was out of sight the funniest gentleman he had ever seen," and entreating him to "stop them faces, or he knew he should die." When they were all perfectly exhausted, the barber finished what his daughter had begun; and rewarding the girl with a shilling, Grimaldi and the manager took their leaves.

Having settled at the theatre, received his money, and made several purchases in the town, (for he always spent a per-centage in every place where he had been successful,) Grimaldi returned to Liverpool on the 24th of August.

The Barber's Shop.

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