[Illustration: JOSEPH GRIMALDI.]
MEMOIRS
OF
JOSEPH GRIMALDI
EDITED
BY "BOZ"
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK_
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET
GEORGE CRUIKSHANK
_Price 2s. each, boards._
The Greatest Plague of Life; or, The Adventures
of a Lady in Search of a Good Servant.
Edited by the BROTHERS MAYHEW. With
Illustrations by GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
Whom to Marry and How to Get Married; or, The
Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good
Husband. Edited by the BROTHERS MAYHEW, and
Illustrated by GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
Mornings at Bow Street. With Steel Frontispiece
and 21 Illustrations by GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER
It is some years now, since we first conceived a strong veneration for
Clowns, and an intense anxiety to know what they did with themselves
out of pantomime time, and off the stage. As a child, we were
accustomed to pester our relations and friends with questions out of
number concerning these gentry;--whether their appetite for sausages
and such like wares was always the same, and if so, at whose expense
they were maintained; whether they were ever taken up for pilfering
other people's goods, or were forgiven by everybody because it was only
done in fun; how it was they got such beautiful complexions, and where
they lived; and whether they were born Clowns, or gradually turned
into Clowns as they grew up. On these and a thousand other points our
curiosity was insatiable. Nor were our speculations confined to Clowns
alone: they extended to Harlequins, Pantaloons, and Columbines, all of
whom we believed to be real and veritable personages, existing in the
same forms and characters all the year round. How often have we wished
that the Pantaloon were our god-father! and how often thought that to
marry a Columbine would be to attain the highest pitch of all human
felicity!
The delights--the ten thousand million delights of a pantomime--come
streaming upon us now,--even of the pantomime which came lumbering down
in Richardson's waggons at fair-time to the dull little town in which
we had the honour to be brought up, and which a long row of small boys,
with frills as white as they could be washed, and hands as clean as
they would come, were taken to behold the glories of, in fair daylight.
We feel again all the pride of standing in a body on the platform, the
observed of all observers in the crowd below, while the junior usher
pays away twenty-four ninepences to a stout gentleman under a Gothic
arch, with a hoop of variegated lamps swinging over his head. Again we
catch a glimpse (too brief, alas!) of the lady with a green parasol in
her hand, on the outside stage of the next show but one, who supports
herself on one foot, on the back of a majestic horse, blotting-paper
coloured and white; and once again our eyes open wide with wonder,
and our hearts throb with emotion, as we deliver our card-board check
into the very hands of the Harlequin himself, who, all glittering with
spangles, and dazzling with many colours, deigns to give us a word of
encouragement and commendation as we pass into the booth!
But what was this--even this--to the glories of the inside, where,
amid the smell of saw-dust, and orange-peel, sweeter far than violets
to youthful noses, the first play being over, the lovers united, the
ghost appeased, the baron killed, and everything made comfortable and
pleasant,--the pantomime itself began! What words can describe the
deep gloom of the opening scene, where a crafty magician holding a
young lady in bondage was discovered, studying an enchanted book to the
soft music of a gong!--or in what terms can we express the thrill of
ecstasy with which, his magic power opposed by superior art, we beheld
the monster himself converted into Clown! What mattered it that the
stage was three yards wide, and four deep? _we_ never saw it. We had
no eyes, ears, or corporeal senses, but for the pantomime. And when
its short career was run, and the baron previously slaughtered, coming
forward with his hand upon his heart, announced that for that favour
Mr. Richardson returned his most sincere thanks, and the performances
would commence again in a quarter of an hour, what jest could equal
the effects of the Baron's indignation and surprise, when the Clown,
unexpectedly peeping from behind the curtain, requested the audience
"not to believe it, for it was all gammon!" Who but a Clown could have
called forth the roar of laughter that succeeded; and what witchery but
a Clown's could have caused the junior usher himself to declare aloud,
as he shook his sides and smote his knee in a moment of irrepressible
joy, that that was the very best thing he had ever heard said!
We have lost that clown now;--he is still alive, though, for we saw
him only the day before last Bartholomew Fair, eating a real saveloy,
and we are sorry to say he had deserted to the illegitimate drama, for
he was seated on one of "Clark's Circus" waggons:--we have lost that
Clown and that pantomime, but our relish for the entertainment still
remains unimpaired. Each successive Boxing-day finds us in the same
state of high excitement and expectation. On that eventful day, when
new pantomimes are played for the first time at the two great theatres,
and at twenty or thirty of the little ones, we still gloat as formerly
upon the bills which set forth tempting descriptions of the scenery
in staring red and black letters, and still fall down upon our knees,
with other men and boys, upon the pavement by shop-doors, to read them
down to the very last line. Nay, we still peruse with all eagerness and
avidity the exclusive accounts of the coming wonders in the theatrical
newspapers of the Sunday before, and still believe them as devoutly
as we did before twenty years' experience had shown us that they are
always wrong.
With these feelings upon the subject of pantomimes, it is no matter
of surprise that when we first heard that Grimaldi had left some
memoirs of his life behind him, we were in a perfect fever until we had
perused the manuscript. It was no sooner placed in our hands by "the
adventurous and spirited publisher,"--(if our recollection serve us,
this is the customary style of the complimentary little paragraphs
regarding new books which usually precede advertisements about Savory's
clocks in the newspapers,)--than we sat down at once and read it every
word.
See how pleasantly things come about, if you let them take their own
course! This mention of the manuscript brings us at once to the very
point we are anxious to reach, and which we should have gained long
ago, if we had not travelled into those irrelevant remarks concerning
pantomimic representations.
For about a year before his death, Grimaldi was employed in writing a
full account of his life and adventures. It was his chief occupation
and amusement; and as people who write their own lives, even in the
midst of very many occupations, often find time to extend them to a
most inordinate length, it is no wonder that his account of himself was
exceedingly voluminous.
This manuscript was confided to Mr. Thomas Egerton Wilks: to alter
and revise, with a view to its publication. Mr. Wilks, who was well
acquainted with Grimaldi and his connexions, applied himself to the
task of condensing it throughout, and wholly expunging considerable
portions, which, so far as the public were concerned, possessed neither
interest nor amusement, he likewise interspersed here and there the
substance of such personal anecdotes as he had gleaned from the writer
in desultory conversation. While he was thus engaged, Grimaldi died.
Mr. Wilks having by the commencement of September concluded his
labours, offered the manuscript to the present publisher, by whom it
was shortly afterwards purchased unconditionally, with the full consent
and concurrence of Mr. Richard Hughes, Grimaldi's executor.
The present Editor of these Memoirs has felt it necessary to say thus
much in explanation of their origin, in order to establish beyond doubt
the unquestionable authenticity of the memoirs they contain.
His own share in them is stated in a few words. Being much struck
by several incidents in the manuscript--such as the description of
Grimaldi's infancy, the burglary, the brother's return from sea under
the extraordinary circumstances detailed, the adventure of the man
with the two fingers on his left hand, the account of Mackintosh and
his friends, and many other passages,--and thinking that they might
be related in a more attractive manner, (they were at that time told
in the first person, as if by Grimaldi himself, although they had
necessarily lost any original manner which his recital might have
imparted to them;) he accepted a proposal from the publisher to edit
the book, and _has_ edited it to the best of his ability, altering its
form throughout, and making such other alterations as he conceived
would improve the narration of the facts, without any departure from
the facts themselves.
He has merely to add, that there has been no _book-making_ in this
case. He has not swelled the quantity of matter, but materially
abridged it. The account of Grimaldi's first courtship may appear
lengthy in its present form; but it has undergone a double and most
comprehensive process of abridgment. The old man was garrulous upon a
subject on which the youth had felt so keenly; and as the feeling did
him honour in both stages of life, the Editor has not had the heart to
reduce it further.
Here is the book, then, at last. After so much pains from so many
hands--including the good right hand of GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, which has
seldom been better exercised,--he humbly hopes it may find favour with
the public.
DOUGHTY STREET,
_February, 1838_.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
Introductory Chapter page v
CHAPTER I.
His Grandfather and Father--His Birth and first appearance
at Drury Lane Theatre and at Sadler's Wells--His Father's
severity--Miss Farren--The Earl of Derby and the Wig--the
Fortune-box and Charity's reward--His Father's pretended Death,
and the behaviour of himself and his brother thereupon 1
CHAPTER II.
1788 to 1794.
The Father's real Death--His Will, and failure of the
Executor--Generous conduct of Grimaldi's Schoolmaster,
and of Mr. Wroughton the Comedian--Smart running against
time--Kindness of Sheridan--Grimaldi's industry and
amusements--Fly-catching--Expedition in search of the "Dartford
Blues"--Mrs. Jordan--Adventure on Clapham Common: the piece of
Tin--His first love and its consequences 17
CHAPTER III.
1794 to 1797.
Grimaldi falls in Love--His success--He meets with an accident
which brings the Reader acquainted with that invaluable
specific "Grimaldi's Embrocation"--He rises gradually in his
Profession--The Pentonville Gang of Burglars 28
CHAPTER IV.
1797 to 1798.
The Thieves make a second attempt; alarmed by their perseverance,
Grimaldi repairs to Hatton Garden--Interview with Mr. Trott;
ingenious device of that gentleman, and its result on the third
visit of the Burglars--Comparative attractions of Pantomime and
Spectacle--Trip to Gravesend and Chatham--Disagreeable recognition
of a good-humoured friend, and an agreeable mode of journeying
recommended to all Travellers 40
CHAPTER V.
1798.
An extraordinary circumstance concerning himself, with another
extraordinary circumstance concerning his Grandfather--Specimen
of a laconic epistle, and an account of two interviews with Mr.
Hughes, in the latter of which a benevolent gentleman is duly
rewarded for his trouble--Preparations for his marriage--Fatiguing
effects of his exertions at the Theatre 51
CHAPTER VI.
1798.
Tribulations connected with "Old Lucas," the constable, with an
account of the subsequent proceedings before Mr. Blamire, the
magistrate, at Hatton Garden, and the mysterious appearance of a
silver staff--A guinea wager with a jocose friend on the Dartford
Road--The Prince of Wales, Sheridan, and the Crockery Girl 62
CHAPTER VII.
1798 to 1801.
Partiality of George the Third for Theatrical
Entertainments--Sheridan's kindness to Grimaldi--His
domestic affliction and severe distress--The production of
Harlequin Amulet a new era in Pantomime--Pigeon-fancying and
Wagering--His first Provincial Excursion with Mrs. Baker, the
eccentric Manageress--John Kemble and Jew Davis, with a new
reading--Increased success at Maidstone and Canterbury--Polite
interview with John Kemble 76
CHAPTER VIII.
1801 to 1803.
Hard work to counterbalance great gains--His discharge _from_
Drury Lane, and his discharge _at_ Sadler's Wells--His return to
the former house--Monk Lewis--Anecdote of him and Sheridan, and of
Sheridan and the Prince of Wales--Grimaldi gains a son and loses
all his capital 88
CHAPTER IX.
1803.
Containing a Very Extraordinary Incident Well Worthy of the
Reader's Attention 97
CHAPTER X.
1803 to 1805.
Bologna and his Family--An Excursion into Kent with that
personage--Mr. Mackintosh, the gentleman of landed property,
and his preserves--A great day's sporting; and a scene at the
Garrick's Head in Bow Street, between a Landlord, a Gamekeeper,
Bologna and Grimaldi 106
CHAPTER XI.
1805 to 1806.
Stage Affairs and Stage Quarrels--Mr. Graham, the Bow Street
Magistrate and Drury Lane Manager--Mr. Peake--Grimaldi is
introduced to Mr. Harris by John Kemble--Leaves Drury Lane Theatre
and engages at Covent Garden--Mortification of the authorities at
"the other house"--He joins Charles Dibdin's Company and visits
Dublin--The _wet_ Theatre--Ill success of the speculation, and
great success of his own Benefit--Observations on the comparative
strength of Whisky Punch and Rum Punch, with interesting experiment
115
CHAPTER XII.
1806 to 1807.
He returns to town, gets frozen to the roof of a coach on the
road, and pays his rent twice over when he arrives at home--Mr.
Charles Farley--His first appearance at Covent Garden--Valentine
and Orson--Production of "Mother Goose," and its immense
success--The mysterious adventure of the Six Ladies and the Six
Gentlemen 124
CHAPTER XIII.
1807.
The mystery cleared up chiefly through the instrumentality of Mr.
Alderman Harmer; and the characters of the Six Ladies and the Six
Gentlemen are satisfactorily explained--The Trial of Mackintosh
for Burglary--Its result 133
CHAPTER XIV.
1807 to 1808.
Bradbury, the Clown--His voluntary confinement in a Madhouse,
to screen an "Honourable" Thief--His release, strange conduct,
subsequent career, and death--Dreadful Accident at Sadler's
Wells--The night-drives to Finchley--Trip to Birmingham--Mr.
Macready, the Manager and his curious Stage-properties--Sudden
recall to Town 148
CHAPTER XV.
1808 to 1809.
Covent Garden Theatre destroyed by fire--Grimaldi makes a trip
to Manchester: he meets with an accident there, and another at
Liverpool--The Sir Hugh Myddleton Tavern at Sadler's Wells, and
a description of some of its frequenters, necessary to a full
understanding of the succeeding chapter 158
CHAPTER XVI.
1809.
Grimaldi's Adventure on Highgate Hill, and its consequences 165
CHAPTER XVII.
1809 to 1812.
Opening of the new Covent Garden Theatre--The great O. P.
Rows--Grimaldi's first appearance as Clown in the public
streets--Temporary embarrassments--Great success at Cheltenham and
Gloucester--He visits Berkeley Castle, and is introduced to Lord
Byron--Fish sauce and Apple Pie 172
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 183
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 194
CHAPTER XX.
1817.
More provincial success--Bologna and his economy--Comparative
dearness of Welsh Rare-bits and Partridges--Remarkably odd modes
of saving money 203
CHAPTER XXI.
1817 to 1818.
Production of "Baron Munchausen"--Anecdote of Ellar the Harlequin,
showing how he jumped through the Moon and put his hand
out--Grimaldi becomes a Proprietor of Sadler's Wells--Anecdotes of
the late Duke of York, Sir Godfrey Webster, a Gold Snuff-box, his
late Majesty, Newcastle Salmon, and a Coal Mine 209
CHAPTER XXII.
1818 to 1823.
Profit and Loss--Appearance of his Son at Covent Garden--His
last engagement at Sadler's Wells--Accommodation of the Giants
in the Dublin Pavilion--Alarming state of his health--His
engagement at the Coburg--The liberality of Mr. Harris--Rapid
decay of Grimaldi's constitution, his great sufferings, and last
performance at Covent Garden--He visits Cheltenham and Birmingham
with great success--Colonel Berkeley, Mr. Charles Kemble, and Mr.
Bunn 218
CHAPTER XXIII.
1823 to 1827.
Grimaldi's great afflictions augmented by the dissipation and
recklessness of his Son--Compelled to retire from Covent Garden
Theatre, where he is succeeded by him--New Speculation at Sadler's
Wells--Changes in the system of Management, and their results--Sir
James Scarlett and a blushing Witness 229
CHAPTER XXIV.
1828.
Great kindness of Miss Kelly towards Grimaldi--His farewell
benefit at Sadler's Wells; last appearance, and farewell
address--He makes preparations for one more appearance at Covent
Garden, but, in a conversation with Mr. Charles Kemble, meets with
a disappointment--In consequence of Lord Segrave's benevolent
interference, a benefit is arranged for him at Drury Lane--His
last interview with Mr. Charles Kemble and Fawcett 236
CHAPTER XXV.
1828 to 1836.
The farewell benefit at Drury Lane--Grimaldi's last appearance and
parting address--The Drury Lane Theatrical Fund, and its prompt
reply to his communication--Miserable career and death of his
Son--His Wife dies, and he returns from Woolwich (whither he had
previously removed) to London--His retirement 244
Concluding Chapter 253
MEMOIRS
OF
JOSEPH GRIMALDI.
CHAPTER I.
His Grandfather and Father--His Birth and first appearance at
Drury Lane Theatre, and at Sadler's Wells--His Father's
severity--Miss Farren--The Earl of Derby and the Wig--The
Fortune-box and Charity's reward--His Father's pretended death,
and the behaviour of himself and his brother thereupon.
The paternal grandfather of Joseph Grimaldi was well known, both to
the French and Italian public, as an eminent dancer, possessing a most
extraordinary degree of strength and agility,--qualities which, being
brought into full play by the constant exercise of his frame in his
professional duties, acquired for him the distinguishing appellation
of "Iron Legs." Dibdin, in his History of the Stage, relates several
anecdotes of his prowess in these respects, many of which are current
elsewhere, though the authority on which they rest would appear from
his grandson's testimony to be somewhat doubtful; the best known of
these, however, is perfectly true. Jumping extremely high one night
in some performance on the stage, possibly in a fit of enthusiasm
occasioned by the august presence of the Turkish Ambassador, who,
with his suite, occupied the stage-box, he actually broke one of the
chandeliers which in those times hung above the stage doors; and one
of the glass drops was struck with some violence against the eye or
countenance of the Turkish Ambassador aforesaid. The dignity of this
great personage being much affronted, a formal complaint was made to
the Court of France, who gravely commanded "Iron Legs" to apologize,
which "Iron Legs" did in due form, to the great amusement of himself,
and the court, and the public; and, in short, of everybody else but
the exalted gentleman whose person had been grievously outraged. The
mighty affair terminated in the appearance of a squib, which has been
thus translated:--
Hail, Iron Legs! immortal pair,
Agile, firm knit, and peerless,
That skim the earth, or vault in air,
Aspiring high and fearless.
Glory of Paris! outdoing compeers,
Brave pair! may nothing hurt ye;
Scatter at will our chandeliers,
And tweak the nose of Turkey.
And should a too presumptuous foe
But dare these shores to land on,
His well-kicked men shall quickly know
We've Iron Legs to stand on.
This circumstance occurred on the French stage. The first Grimaldi[1]
who appeared in England was the father of the subject of these
Memoirs, and the son of "Iron Legs," who, holding the appointment of
Dentist to Queen Charlotte, came to England in that capacity in 1760;
he was a native of Genoa, and long before his arrival in this country
had attained considerable distinction in his profession. We have not
many instances of the union of the two professions of dentist and
dancing-master; but Grimaldi, possessing a taste for both pursuits, and
a much higher relish for the latter than the former, obtained leave
to resign his situation about the Queen, soon after his arrival in
this country, and commenced giving lessons in dancing and fencing,
occasionally giving his pupils a taste of his quality in his old
capacity. In those days of minuets and cotillions, private dancing was
a much more laborious and serious affair than it is at present; and
the younger branches of the nobility and gentry kept Mr. Grimaldi in
pretty constant occupation. In many scattered notices of OUR Grimaldi's
life, it has been stated that the father lost his situation at court in
consequence of the rudeness of his behaviour, and some disrespect which
he had shown the King; an accusation which his son always took very
much to heart, and which the continual patronage of the King and Queen,
bestowed upon him publicly, on all possible occasions, sufficiently
proves to be unfounded.
His new career being highly successful, Mr. Grimaldi was appointed
ballet-master of old Drury Lane Theatre and Sadler's Wells, with which
he coupled the situation of primo buffo; in this double capacity he
became a very great favourite with the public, and their majesties,
who were nearly every week accustomed to command some pantomime of
which Grimaldi was the hero. He bore the reputation of being a very
honest man, and a very charitable one, never turning a deaf ear to the
entreaties of the distressed, but always willing, by every means in his
power, to relieve the numerous reduced and wretched persons who applied
to him for assistance. It may be added--and his son always mentioned
it with just pride--that he was never known to be inebriated: a rather
scarce virtue among players of later times, and one which men of far
higher rank in their profession would do well to profit by.
He appears to have been a very singular and eccentric man. It would be
difficult to account for the little traits of his character which are
developed in the earlier pages of this book, unless this circumstance
were borne in mind. He purchased a small quantity of ground at
Lambeth once, part of which was laid out as a garden; he entered into
possession of it in the very depth of a most inclement winter, but he
was so impatient to ascertain how this garden would look in full bloom,
that, finding it quite impossible to wait till the coming of spring and
summer gradually developed its beauties, he had it at once decorated
with an immense quantity of artificial flowers, and the branches of
all the trees bent beneath the weight of the most luxuriant foliage,
and the most abundant crops of fruit, all, it is needless to say,
artificial also.
A singular trait in this individual's character, was a vague and
profound dread of the 14th day of the month. At its approach he was
always nervous, disquieted, and anxious: directly it had passed he was
another man again, and invariably exclaimed, in his broken English,
"Ah! now I am safe for anoder month." If this circumstance were
unaccompanied by any singular coincidence it would be scarcely worth
mentioning; but it is remarkable that he actually died on the 14th day
of March; and that he was born, christened, and married on the 14th of
the month.
There are other anecdotes of the same kind told of Henri Quatre, and
others; this one is undoubtedly true, and it may be added to the list
of coincidences or presentiments, or by whatever name the reader
pleases to call them, as a veracious and well-authenticated instance.
These are not the only odd characteristics of the man. He was a most
morbidly sensitive and melancholy being, and entertained a horror of
death almost indescribable. He was in the habit of wandering about
churchyards and burying-places, for hours together, and would speculate
on the diseases of which the persons whose remains occupied the graves
he walked among, had died; figure their death-beds, and wonder how
many of them had been buried alive in a fit or a trance: a possibility
which he shuddered to think of, and which haunted him both through life
and at its close. Such an effect had this fear upon his mind, that he
left express directions in his will that, before his coffin should
be fastened down, his head should be severed from his body, and the
operation was actually performed in the presence of several persons.
It is a curious circumstance, that death, which always filled his
mind with the most gloomy and horrible reflections, and which in his
unoccupied moments can hardly be said to have been ever absent from his
thoughts, should have been chosen by him as the subject of one of his
most popular scenes in the pantomimes of the time. Among many others
of the same nature, he invented the well-known skeleton scene for the
clown, which was very popular in those days, and is still occasionally
represented. Whether it be true, that the hypochondriac is most prone
to laugh at the things which most annoy and terrify him in private, as
a man who believes in the appearance of spirits upon earth is always
the foremost to express his unbelief; or whether these gloomy ideas
haunted the unfortunate man's mind so much, that even his merriment
assumed a ghastly hue, and his comicality sought for grotesque objects
in the grave and the charnel-house, the fact is equally remarkable.
This was the same man who, in the time of Lord George Gordon's
riots, when people, for the purpose of protecting their houses
from the fury of the mob, inscribed upon their doors the words "No
Popery,"--actually, with the view of keeping in the right with all
parties, and preventing the possibility of offending any by his form of
worship, wrote up "No religion at all;" which announcement appeared in
large characters in front of his house, in Little Russell-street.[2]
The idea was perfectly successful; but whether from the humour of the
description, or because the rioters did not happen to go down that
particular street, we are unable to determine.
On the 18th of December, 1779, the year in which Garrick died, Joseph
Grimaldi, "Old Joe," was born, in Stanhope-street,[3] Clare-market; a
part of the town then as now, much frequented by theatrical people,
in consequence of its vicinity to the theatres. At the period of his
birth, his eccentric father was sixty-five years old, and twenty-five
months afterwards another son was born to him--Joseph's only brother.
The child did not remain very long in a state of helpless and
unprofitable infancy, for at the age of one year and eleven months
he was brought out by his father on the boards of Old Drury, where
he made his first bow and his first tumble.[4] The piece in which
his precocious powers were displayed was the well-known pantomime
of Robinson Crusoe, in which the father sustained the part of the
Shipwrecked Mariner, and the son performed that of the Little Clown.
The child's success was complete; he was instantly placed on the
establishment, accorded a magnificent weekly salary of fifteen
shillings, and every succeeding year was brought forward in some new
and prominent part. He became a favourite behind the curtain as well as
before it, being henceforth distinguished in the green-room as "Clever
little Joe;" and Joe he was called to the last day of his life.
In 1782, he first appeared at Sadler's Wells, in the arduous character
of a monkey; and here he was fortunate enough to excite as much
approbation, as he had previously elicited in the part of clown at
Drury Lane. He immediately became a member of the regular company at
this theatre, as he had done at the other; and here he remained (one
season only excepted) until the termination of his professional life,
forty-nine years afterwards.
Now that he had made, or rather that his father had made for him, two
engagements, by which he was bound to appear at two theatres on the
same evening, and at very nearly the same time, his labours began in
earnest. They would have been arduous for a man, much more so for a
child; and it will be obvious, that if at any one portion of his life
his gains were very great, the actual toil both of mind and body by
which they were purchased was at least equally so. The stage-stricken
young gentlemen who hang about Sadler's Wells, and Astley's, and the
Surrey, and private theatres of all kinds, and who long to embrace the
theatrical profession because it is "so easy," little dream of all the
anxieties and hardships, and privations and sorrows, which make the sum
of most actors' lives.
We have already remarked that the father of Grimaldi was an eccentric
man; he appears to have been peculiarly eccentric, and rather
unpleasantly so, in the correction of his son. The child being bred up
to play all kinds of fantastic tricks, was as much a clown, a monkey,
or anything else that was droll and ridiculous, off the stage, as on
it; and being incited thereto by the occupants of the green-room, used
to skip and tumble about as much for their diversion as that of the
public. All this was carefully concealed from the father, who, whenever
he did happen to observe any of the child's pranks, always administered
the same punishment--a sound thrashing; terminating in his being lifted
up by the hair of the head, and stuck in a corner, whence his father,
with a severe countenance and awful voice, would tell him "to venture
to move at his peril."
Venture to move, however, he did, for no sooner would the father
disappear, than all the cries and tears of the boy would disappear
too; and with many of those winks and grins which afterwards became so
popular, he would recommence his pantomime with greater vigour than
ever; indeed, nothing could ever stop him but the cry of "Joe! Joe!
here's your father!" upon which the boy would dart back into the old
corner, and begin crying again as if he had never left off.
This became quite a regular amusement in course of time, and whether
the father was coming or not, the caution used to be given for the mere
pleasure of seeing "Joe" run back to his corner; this "Joe" very soon
discovered, and often confounding the warning with the joke, received
more severe beatings than before, from him whom he very properly
describes in his manuscript as his "severe but excellent parent." On
one of these occasions, when he was dressed for his favourite part of
the little clown in Robinson Crusoe, with his face painted in exact
imitation of his father's, which appears to have been part of the fun
of the scene, the old gentleman brought him into the green-room, and
placing him in his usual solitary corner, gave him strict directions
not to stir an inch, on pain of being thrashed, and left him.
The Earl of Derby, who was at that time in the constant habit of
frequenting the green-room, happened to walk in at the moment, and
seeing a lonesome-looking little boy dressed and painted after a manner
very inconsistent with his solitary air, good-naturedly called him
towards him.
"Hollo! here, my boy, come here!" said the Earl.
Joe made a wonderful and astonishing face, but remained where he was.
The Earl laughed heartily, and looked round for an explanation.
"He dare not move!" explained Miss Farren, to whom his lordship was
then much attached, and whom he afterwards married; "his father will
beat him if he does."
"Indeed!" said his lordship. At which Joe, by way of confirmation, made
another face more extraordinary than his former contortions.
"I think," said his lordship, laughing again, "the boy is not quite so
much afraid of his father as you suppose. Come here, sir!"
With this, he held up half-a-crown, and the child, perfectly well
knowing the value of money, darted from his corner, seized it with
pantomimic suddenness, and was darting back again, when the Earl caught
him by the arm.
"Here, Joe!" said the Earl, "take off your wig and throw it in the
fire, and here's another half-crown for you."
No sooner said than done. Off came the wig,--into the fire it went; a
roar of laughter arose; the child capered about with a half-crown in
each hand; the Earl, alarmed for the consequences to the boy, busied
himself to extricate the wig with the tongs and poker; and the father,
in full dress for the Shipwrecked Mariner, rushed into the room at the
same moment. It was lucky for "Little Joe" that Lord Derby promptly
and humanely interfered, or it is exceedingly probable that his father
would have prevented any chance of _his_ being buried alive at all
events, by killing him outright.
As it was, the matter could not be compromised without his receiving
a smart beating, which made him cry very bitterly; and the tears
running down his face, which was painted "an inch thick," came to the
"complexion at last," in parts, and made him look as much like a little
clown as like a little human being, to neither of which characters he
bore the most distant resemblance. He was "called" almost immediately
afterwards, and the father being in a violent rage, had not noticed the
circumstance until the little object came on the stage, when a general
roar of laughter directed his attention to his grotesque countenance.
Becoming more violent than before, he fell upon him at once, and beat
him severely, and the child roared vociferously. This was all taken by
the audience as a most capital joke; shouts of laughter and peals of
applause shook the house; and the newspapers next morning declared,
that it was perfectly wonderful to see a mere child perform so
naturally, and highly creditable to his father's talents as a teacher!
This is no bad illustration of some of the miseries of a poor actor's
life. The jest on the lip, and the tear in the eye, the merriment on
the mouth, and the aching of the heart, have called down the same
shouts of laughter and peals of applause a hundred times. Characters
in a state of starvation are almost invariably laughed at upon the
stage--the audience have had their dinner.
The bitterest portion of the boy's punishment was the being deprived
of the five shillings, which the excellent parent put into his own
pocket, possibly because he received the child's salary also, and in
order that everything might be, as Goldsmith's Bear-leader has it, "in
a concatenation accordingly," The Earl gave him half-a-crown every time
he saw him afterwards though, and the child had good cause for regret
when his lordship married Miss Farren,[5] and left the green-room.
[Illustration: George Cruikshank
_Joe's debut into the Pit, at Sadler's Wells._]
At Sadler's Wells he became a favourite almost as speedily as at Drury
Lane. King, the comedian,[6] who was principal proprietor of the
former theatre and acting manager of the latter, took a great deal
of notice of him, and occasionally gave the child a guinea to buy a
rocking-horse or a cart, or some toy that struck his fancy. During
the run of the first piece in which he played at Sadler's Wells, he
produced his first serious effect, which, but for the good fortune
which seems to have attended him in such cases, might have prevented
his subsequent appearance on any stage. He played a monkey, and had
to accompany the clown (his father) throughout the piece. In one of
the scenes, the clown used to lead him on by a chain attached to his
waist, and with this chain he would swing him round and round, at
arm's length, with the utmost velocity. One evening, when this feat
was in the act of performance, the chain broke, and he was hurled a
considerable distance into the pit, fortunately without sustaining the
slightest injury; for he was flung by a miracle into the very arms
of an old gentleman who was sitting gazing at the stage with intense
interest.
Among the many persons who in this early stage of his career behaved
with great kindness to him, were the famous rope-dancers, Mr. and Mrs.
Redigé, then called Le Petit Diable,[7] and La Belle Espagnole; who
often gave him a guinea to buy some childish luxury, which his father
invariably took away and deposited in a box, with his name written
outside, which he would lock very carefully, and then, giving the boy
the key, say, "Mind, Joe, ven I die, dat is your vortune." Eventually
he lost both the box and the fortune, as will hereafter appear.
As he had now nearly four months vacant out of every twelve, the run
of the Christmas pantomime at Drury Lane seldom exceeding a month, and
Sadler's Wells not opening until Easter, he was sent for that period
of the year to a boarding-school at Putney, kept by a Mr. Ford, of
whose kindness and goodness of heart to him on a later occasion of his
life, he spoke, when an old man, with the deepest gratitude. He fell in
here with many schoolfellows who afterwards became connected one way
or another with dramatic pursuits, among whom was Mr. Henry Harris, of
Covent Garden Theatre. We do not find that any of these schoolfellows
afterwards became pantomime actors; but recollecting the humour and
vivacity of the boy, the wonder to us is, that they were not all clowns
when they grew up. In the Christmas of 1782, he appeared in his
second character[8] at Drury Lane, called "Harlequin Junior; or, the
Magic Cestus," in which he represented a demon, sent by some opposing
magician to counteract the power of the harlequin. In this, as in his
preceding part, he was fortunate enough to meet with great applause;
and from this period his reputation was made, although it naturally
increased with his years, strength, and improvement.
In the following Easter[9] he repeated the monkey at Sadler's Wells
without the pit effect. As the piece was withdrawn at the end of a
month, and he had nothing to do for the remainder of the season, he
again repaired to Putney.
In Christmas 1783, he once more appeared at Drury Lane, in a pantomime
called "Hurly Burly."[10] In this piece he had to represent, not
only the old part of the monkey, but that of a cat besides; and in
sustaining the latter character he met with an accident, his speedy
recovery from which would almost induce one to believe that he had
so completely identified himself with the character as to have eight
additional chances for his life. The dress he wore was so clumsily
contrived, that when it was sewn upon him he could not see before
him; consequently, as he was running about the stage, he fell down a
trap-door, which had been left open to represent a well, and tumbled
down a distance of forty feet, thereby breaking his collar-bone,
and inflicting several contusions upon his body. He was immediately
conveyed home, and placed under the care of a surgeon, but he did not
recover soon enough to appear any more that season at Drury Lane,
although at Easter he performed at Sadler's Wells as usual.
In the summer of this year, he used to be allowed, as a mark of high
and special favour, to spend every alternate Sunday at the house
of his mother's father, "who," says Grimaldi himself, "resided in
Newton-street, Holborn, and was a carcase butcher, doing a prodigious
business; besides which, he kept the Bloomsbury slaughter-house, and,
at the time of his death, had done so for more than sixty years."
With this grandfather, "Joe" was a great favourite; and as he was
very much indulged and petted when he went to see him, he used to
look forward to every visit with great anxiety. His father, upon
his part, was most anxious that he should support the credit of the
family upon these occasions, and, after great deliberation, and much
consultation with tailors, the "little clown" was attired for one of
these Sunday excursions in the following style. On his back he wore a
green coat, embroidered with almost as many artificial flowers as his
father had put in the garden at Lambeth; beneath this there shone a
satin waistcoat of dazzling whiteness; and beneath that again were a
pair of green cloth breeches (the word existed in those days) richly
embroidered. His legs were fitted into white silk stockings, and his
feet into shoes with brilliant paste buckles, of which he also wore
another resplendent pair at his knees: he had a laced shirt, cravat,
and ruffles; a cocked-hat upon his head; a small watch set with
diamonds--theatrical, we suppose--in his fob; and a little cane in his
hand, which he switched to and fro as our clowns may do now.
Being thus thoroughly equipped for starting, he was taken in for his
father's inspection: the old gentleman was pleased to signify his
entire approbation with his appearance, and, after kissing him in the
moment of his gratification, demanded the key of the "fortune-box."
The key being got with some difficulty out of one of the pockets of
the green smalls, the bottom of which might be somewhere near the
buckles, the old gentleman took a guinea out of the box, and, putting
it into the boy's pocket, said, "Dere now, you are a gentleman, and
something more--you have got a guinea in your pocket." The box having
been carefully locked, and the key returned to the owner of the
"fortune," off he started, receiving strict injunctions to be home by
eight o'clock. The father would not allow anybody to attend him, on
the ground that he was a gentleman, and consequently perfectly able to
take care of himself; so away he went, to walk all the way from Little
Russel-street, Drury-lane, to Newton-street, Holborn.
The child's appearance in the street excited considerable curiosity,
as the appearance of any other child, alone, in such a costume, might
very probably have done; but he was a public character besides, and
the astonishment was proportionate. "Hollo!" cried one boy, "here's
'Little Joe!'" "Get along," said another, "it's the monkey." A third,
thought it was the "bear dressed for a dance," and the fourth suggested
"it might be the cat going out to a party," while the more sedate
passengers could not help laughing heartily, and saying how ridiculous
it was to trust such a child in the streets alone. However, he walked
on, with various singular grimaces, until he stopped to look at a
female of miserable appearance, who was reclining on the pavement, and
whose diseased and destitute aspect had already collected a crowd. The
boy stopped, like others, and hearing her tale of distress, became so
touched, that he thrust his hand into his pocket, and having at last
found the bottom of it, pulled out his guinea, which was the only coin
he had, and slipped it into her hand; then away he walked again with a
greater air than before.
The sight of the embroidered coat, and breeches, and the paste buckles,
and the satin waistcoat and cocked-hat, had astonished the crowd not
a little in the outset; but directly it was understood that the small
owner of these articles had given the woman a guinea, a great number of
people collected around him, and began shouting and staring by turns
most earnestly. The boy, not at all abashed, headed the crowd, and
walked on very deliberately, with a train a street or two long behind
him, until he fortunately encountered a friend of his father's, who no
sooner saw the concourse that attended him, than he took him in his
arms and carried him, despite a few kicks and struggles, in all his
brilliant attire, to his grandfather's house, where he spent the day
very much to the satisfaction of all parties concerned.
[Illustration: George Cruikshank
_Master Joey going to visit his Godpapa._]
When he got safely home at night, the father referred to his watch,
and finding that he had returned home punctual to the appointed time,
kissed him, extolled him for paying such strict attention to his
instructions, examined his dress, discovered satisfactorily that no
injury had been done to his clothes, and concluded by asking for the
key of the "fortune-box," and the guinea. The boy, at first, quite
forgot the morning adventure; but, after rummaging his pockets for
the guinea, and not finding it, he recollected what had occurred,
and, falling upon the knees of the knee-smalls, confessed it all, and
implored forgiveness.
The father was puzzled; he was always giving away money in charity
himself, and he could scarcely reprimand the child for doing the same.
He looked at him for some seconds with a perplexed countenance, and
then, contenting himself with simply saying, "I'll beat you," sent him
to bed.
Among the eccentricities of the old gentleman, one--certainly not his
most amiable one--was, that whatever he promised he performed; and
that when, as in this case, he promised to thrash the boy, he would
very coolly let the matter stand over for months, but never forget it
in the end. This was ingenious, inasmuch as it doubled, or trebled,
or quadrupled the punishment, giving the unhappy little victim all
the additional pain of anticipating it for a long time, with the
certainty of enduring it in the end. Four or five months after this
occurrence, and when the child had not given his father any new cause
of offence, he suddenly called him to him one day, and communicated
the intelligence that he was going to beat him forthwith. Hereupon the
boy began to cry most piteously, and faltered forth the inquiry, "Oh!
father, what for?"--"Remember the guinea!" said the father. And he gave
him a caning which he remembered to the last day of his life.
The family consisted at this time of the father, mother, Joe, his only
brother John Baptist, three or four female servants, and a man of
colour who acted as footman, and was dignified with the appellation of
"Black Sam."
The father was extremely hospitable, and fond of company; he rarely
dined alone, and on certain gala days, of which Christmas-eve
was one, had a very large party, upon which occasions his really
splendid service of plate, together with various costly articles of
_bijouterie_, were laid out for the admiration of the guests. Upon
one Christmas-eve, when the dining-parlour was decorated and prepared
with all due gorgeousness and splendour, the two boys, accompanied by
Black Sam, stole into it, and began to pass various encomiums on its
beautiful appearance.
"Ah!" said Sam, in reply to some remark of the brothers, "and when old
Massa die, all dese fine things vill be yours."
Both the boys were much struck with this remark, and especially John,
the younger, who, being extremely young, probably thought much less
about death than his father, and accordingly exclaimed, without the
least reserve or delicacy, that he should be exceedingly glad if all
these fine things were his.
Nothing more was said upon the subject. Black Sam went to his work,
the boys commenced a game of play, and nobody thought any more of
the matter except the father himself, who, passing the door of the
room at the moment the remarks were made, distinctly heard them. He
pondered over the matter for some days, and at length, with the view
of ascertaining the dispositions of his two sons, formed a singular
resolution, still connected with the topic ever upwards in his mind,
and determined to feign himself dead. He caused himself to be laid out
in the drawing-room, covered with a sheet, and had the room darkened,
the windows closed, and all the usual ceremonies which accompany death,
performed. All this being done, and the servants duly instructed, the
two boys were cautiously informed that their father had died suddenly,
and were at once hurried into the room where he lay, in order that he
might hear them give vent to their real feelings.[11]
When Joe was brought into the dark room on so short a notice, his
sensations were rather complicated, but they speedily resolved
themselves into a firm persuasion that his father was not dead. A
variety of causes led him to this conclusion, among which the most
prominent were, his having very recently seen his father in the best
health; and, besides several half-suppressed winks and blinks from
Black Sam, his observing, by looking closely at the sheet, that his
deceased parent still breathed. With very little hesitation the boy
perceived what line of conduct he ought to adopt, and at once bursting
into a roar of the most distracted grief, flung himself upon the floor,
and rolled about in a seeming transport of anguish.
John, not having seen so much of public life as his brother, was not
so cunning, and perceiving in his father's death nothing but a relief
from flogging and books (for both of which he had a great dislike), and
the immediate possession of all the plate in the dining room, skipped
about the room, indulging in various snatches of song, and, snapping
his fingers, declared that he was glad to hear it.
"O! you cruel boy," said Joe, in a passion of tears, "hadn't you any
love for your dear father? Oh! what would I give to see him alive
again!"
"Oh! never mind," replied the brother; "don't be such a fool as to cry;
we can have the cuckoo-clock all to ourselves now."
This was more than the deceased could bear. He jumped from the bier,
opened the shutters, threw off the sheet, and attacked his younger son
most unmercifully; while Joe, not knowing what might be his own fate,
ran and hid himself in the coal-cellar, where he was discovered some
four hours afterwards, by Black Sam, fast asleep, who carried him to
his father, who had been anxiously in search of him, and by whom he was
received with every demonstration of affection, as the son who truly
and sincerely loved him.
From this period, up to the year 1788, he continued regularly employed
upon the same salaries as he had originally received both at Drury Lane
and Sadler's Wells.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Giuseppe Grimaldi was really "Iron Legs;" of the grandfather no
particulars are known. The father of our Joe was originally a pantomime
actor at the fairs in Italy and France, at the time these fairs
supplied the French Theatre with some of the finest dancers that have
conferred distinction on that stage. His first employment in England
was at the King's Theatre in the Haymarket, where the lighter kind of
ballet proving attractive, similar dances were introduced early in
the season 1758, 1759, on the boards of Drury Lane and Covent Garden
Theatres. At the former, under Garrick's management, a new pantomime
dance, entitled "The Millers," was performed for the first time,
October 12th, 1758; in which Signor Grimaldi, it was announced, made
his first appearance on the English Stage. A writer in the "London
Chronicle," in reference to this piece, observes, as regards the
debutant--"Grimaldi is a man of great strength and agility; he indeed
treads the air. If he has any fault, he is rather too comical; and from
some feats of his performing, which I have been a witness to, at the
King's Theatre, in the Haymarket, those spectators will see him, it is
my opinion, with most pleasure, who are least solicitous whether he
breaks his neck, or not." In reference to the dance of "The Millers,"
composed by Grimaldi, then deemed an innovation, he continues:--
"Some people hold dancing to be below the dignity of a regular theatre;
but I can by no means subscribe to their opinion, since one of the
principal ends of every theatre, is to delight; and everything that can
contribute to that purpose, under proper restrictions, has an undoubted
right to a place there. I shall not affect to show my learning, by
adding, the ancients not only admitted dancing, but thought it a
necessary ornament in the performance of the most celebrated tragedies.
"The French in this kind of merit, for many years carried all before
them; but of late the Italians seem to have the start of them; and
it must be allowed, the latter are much better actors, which, in the
comic dance that now almost everywhere prevails, is infinitely more
requisite, than those graceful postures and movements on which the
French dancers for the most part pique themselves; but in this case a
vast deal depends on the Maître de Ballet; and whoever composed 'The
Millers,' has, I think, shown himself a man of genius; the figure of
the contra-danse being pleasingly intricate, and the whole admirably
well adapted to the music. I cannot, however, help observing, he has
been indebted to Don Quixote; for when Signor Grimaldi comes in asleep
on his ass, it is stolen from under him in the same manner that Gines
de Passamont robs poor Sancho of his, and the same joy is testified by
both parties in the recovery of the beloved brute."
The Drury Lane playbill, October 10, 1761, announced as "not acted this
season," a Comedy called the Confederacy; Brass, Mr. King; Flippanta,
Mrs. Clive. At the end of Act II. an entertainment of Dancing, called
the Italian Gardener, by Signor Grimaldi, Miss Baker, &c. Garrick's
Pageant of the Coronation concluded the night's diversion.
From his first appearance in October, 1758, Grimaldi continued at
Drury Lane as Maître de Ballet, Primo Buffo, Clown, Pantaloon, or
Cherokee, or any part required in the ballet, till his death. The
dancers, it would appear, were not paid during the whole season, but
for certain periods; in the interim they were employed, under certain
restrictions, at other places of amusement. Those belonging to Drury
Lane, in Garrick's time, were in the summer months, and from Easter
to Michaelmas attached to Sadler's Wells; and in the bills which
announced the opening of that suburban theatre, at Easter, 1763 and
1764, Signor Grimaldi appears as Maître de Ballet, and chief dancer.
On May 1, in the latter year, Grimaldi, and an English dancer named
Aldridge, of considerable eminence in his profession, jointly had a
benefit; Shakspeare's "Tempest" was performed, as also the pantomime
of "Fortunatus," Harlequin by Signor Grimaldi. In the September of the
same year, at Sadler's Wells, the Signor had another benefit; the bill
of the evening is subjoined:
FOR THE BENEFIT OF SIGNOR GRIMALDI.
AT SADLER'S WELLS, ISLINGTON.
On Wednesday, September 19, 1764, will be exhibited a Variety of New
Performances.
Dancing both serious and comic, viz.:--1. "The Miller's Dance," by
Signor Duval, Signor Amoire, Signora Mercucius, Mrs. Preston, and
others.--2. "The Shoemakers," by Signor Grimaldi, Signor Amoire,
Miss Wilkinson, and others.--3. "The Country Wedding," by Signor
Duval, Signor Amoire, Signora Mercucius, Miss Wilkinson, and
Signor Grimaldi, and others.
And by particular desire, for that night only,
A Double Hornpipe by Master Cape and Miss Taylor.
Tumbling by Mr. Sturgess, Signor Pedro, and Mr. Garman.
Singing by Mr. Prentice, Mr. Cooke, and Miss Brown.
With a variety of Curious Performances by
THE VENETIAN AND HIS CHILDREN.
The Wire by Master Wilkinson.
The Musical Glasses by Miss Wilkinson, accompanied by Master Wilkinson.
The whole to conclude with a New Entertainment of Music and Dancing,
called
D O N Q U I X O T E.
Harlequin Mr. Banks.
Don Quixote, Mr. Niepeker. Sancho, Mr. Warner.
Columbine Miss Wilkinson.
The Paintings, Music, and Habits, are all entirely New.
Pit and Boxes, 2s. 6d. Gallery, 1s. 6d.
[To begin exactly at Six.] [Vivant Rex et Regina.]
Tickets and Places to be had of Signor Grimaldi, at the New
Tunbridge Wells; and he begs the favour of those Ladies and
Gentlemen, who have already taken Places, to send their
servants by Half-an-Hour after Four o'clock.
At Drury Lane, December 26, in the same year, was performed the Tragedy
of "The Earl of Essex" at the end of Act IV. a Dance called "The Irish
Lilt," by Mr. Aldridge, Miss Baker, and others. After which, not
performed these three years, an Entertainment in Italian Grotesque
Characters, called "Queen Mab." Harlequin, by Mr. Rooker; Pantaloon,
by Signor Grimaldi; Silvio, by Mr. Baddeley; Puck, Master Cape; Queen
Mab, by Miss Ford; Columbine, by Miss Baker. The facetious Ned Rooker,
principal Harlequin at Drury Lane, was a painter of great excellence:
his paintings and drawings are still held in high repute, and his
theatrical scenery was not surpassed in his time; some of it was in use
till recently at the Haymarket Theatre.
Grimaldi continued at Sadler's Wells till the close of the season of
1767, and never afterwards was employed there. Signor Spinacuti and his
"funambulistical" monkey, so took the town by surprise in 1768, that
dancing at that theatre was altogether thrown into the back-ground.
[2] Henry Angelo, in his _Reminiscences_, gives a different version
of this story. "The father of Grimaldi, for many years the favourite
clown, was my dancing-master when I was a boy, and encouraged my
harlequin and monkey tricks; he related the anecdote to me, himself,
and I am therefore justified in repeating it. At the time of the riots,
in June, 1780, he resided in a front room, on the second floor in
Holborn, on the same side of the way near to Red Lion Square, when the
mob passing by the house, and Grimaldi being a foreigner, they thought
he must be a papist. On hearing he lived there, they all stopped,
and there was a general shouting; a cry of 'No Popery!' was raised,
and they were about to assail the house, when Grimaldi, who had been
listening all the time, and knew their motives, put his head out of the
window from the second floor, and making comical grimaces, called out,
'Genteelmen, in dis hose dere be no religion at all.' Laughing at their
mistake, the mob proceeded on, first giving him three huzzas, though
his house, unlike all the others, had not written on the door--'No
Popery!'"
[3] Joe, from some erroneous information he had received, always
stated he was born in Stanhope-street, Clare-market, December 18,
1779; he mentioned this in his farewell address at Sadler's Wells,
and again subscribed that date at the end of his autobiographical
notes. He was in error: a reference to the baptismal register of St.
Clement's Danes, proved he was born on December 18, 1778, and that he
was baptized as the son of Joseph and Rebecca, on the 28th of the same
month and year. From this entry, it might be inferred that Joe was
legitimate; but we are sorry to be compelled to record that he was not
so. Rebecca was Mrs. Brooker, who had been from her infancy a dancer
at Drury Lane, and subsequently, at Sadler's Wells, played old women,
or anything to render herself generally useful. Mr. Hughes and others
who well remember her, describe her as having been a short, stout, very
dark woman. The same baptismal register from 1773 to 1788, has been
carefully inspected, but no mention occurs of Joe's only brother, John
Baptist, or of any other of the Grimaldi family.
[4] Joe's first appearance was at Sadler's Wells, not at Drury Lane;
the announcement bill for the opening on April 16, Easter Monday,
1781, of the former theatre, tells us of Dancing by Mr. Le Mercier,
Mr. Languish, Master and Miss Grimaldi, and Mrs. Sutton. Here we see
Joe, and his sister Mary, afterwards Mrs. Williamson, thrust forward
sufficiently early to earn their bread. Grimaldi, in his farewell
address, on his last appearance at Sadler's Wells, pathetically alluded
to this fact--"at a very early age, before that of three years, I was
introduced to the public, by my father, at this theatre."
That Joe did not play the "Little Clown" in Sheridan's Pantomime of
"Robinson Crusoe," is evident from the construction of the drama. On
January 29, 1781, after the "Winter's Tale," Florizel, Mr. Brereton;
Perdita, Mrs. Brereton, afterwards Mrs. J. P. Kemble; and Hermione,
Miss Farren; was performed, for the first time, "Robinson Crusoe;
or, Harlequin Friday." The bill of the night lets us know, that the
principal characters were by Mr. Wright, Mr. Grimaldi, Mr. Delpini,
Mr. Suett, Mr. Gaudry, and Miss Collett. This pantomime was performed
thirty-eight times that season. Grimaldi played Friday, not the
"Shipwrecked Mariner;" and the probability is, that young Joe made his
first appearance on the boards of Old Drury, in the Pantomime of 1782,
entitled "The Triumph of Mirth; or, Harlequin's Wedding," the principal
characters in which were by Wright, Grimaldi, and Delpini. There were
many minor persons of the drama.
[5] Miss Farren, previously to her marriage with the Earl of Derby,
took her final leave of the stage, as Lady Teazle, in "The School for
Scandal," April 8, 1797.
[6] Tom King was the manager of Sadler's Wells Theatre from Easter,
1772, till the close of the season, 1782; when, on Sheridan's
resignation as manager of Drury Lane, King succeeded him in September,
1782, and relinquished the management of Sadler's Wells to Wroughton,
whose term commenced at Easter, 1783. We have already explained that
Joe's father was not employed at Sadler's Wells in 1781; and yet,
perhaps in consideration of Master and Miss, Signor Grimaldi had a
benefit at that theatre, on Thursday, September 12, 1782; the usual
diversions were announced, but he did not take any part in the business
of the evening. The bills announced, "Tickets and Places to be had only
of Mr. Grimaldi, at No. 5, Princes Street, Drury Lane, and opposite
Sadler's Wells Gate." Signor Placido's night followed on Monday,
September 16, when, with other new amusements, was introduced "A new
Pantomime Dance, for the first time, called 'The Woodcutter; or, the
Lucky Mischance,' characters by Mr. Dupuis, then principal dancer at
the Wells, Mr. Meunier, Mr. Grimaldi, Mrs. Sutton, Signor Placido, and
the Little Devil, being their first Pantomimical performance in this
kingdom." This was the only appearance of Signor Grimaldi at the Wells
in 1782; for which, possibly, he was paid by Placido.
Young Joe's introduction to Sadler's Wells, in 1781, as also the
benefit here noticed, in 1782, were kindnesses probably rendered to
Grimaldi by Tom King, during the last two years of his management.
Reynolds, the dramatist, was wont to relate a droll story of the
Signor, which may not improperly be told here. "Walking one day in
Pall Mall with Tom King, we met the celebrated clown, Grimaldi, father
of Joe Grimaldi, approaching us with a face of the most ludicrous
astonishment and delight, when he exclaimed: 'Oh, vatt a clevare
fellow dat Sheridan is!--shall I tell you?--oui--yes; I vill, bien
donc. I could no nevare see him at de theatre, so je vais chez lui,
to his house in Hertford-street, muffled in de great coat, and I say,
'Domestique!--you hear?' 'Yes, Sare.' 'Vell, den, tell your master, dat
Mistare--you know, de Mayor of Stafford be below.' Domestique fly; and
on de instant I vas shown into de drawing-room. In von more minuet,
Sheridan leave his dinner party, enter de room hastily--stop suddenly,
and say, 'How dare you, Grim, play me such a trick?' Then putting
himself into von grand passion, he go on: 'Go, Sare!--get out of my
house!' 'Begar,' say I, placing my back against de door, 'not till you
pay me my forty pounds;' and then I point to de pen, ink, and paper, on
von small tables in de corner, and say, 'Dere, write me de check, and
de Mayor shall go vitement--entendez-vous? If not, morbleu! I shall--'
"'Oh!' interrupted dis clevare man, 'if I must, Grim, I must,' and as
if he vare très-pressé--vary hurry, he write de draft, and pushing
it into my hand, he squeeze it, and I do push it into my pocket. Eh
bien!--vell, den, I do make haste to de banquier, and giving it to de
clerks, I say, vitement, 'four tens, if you please, Sare. 'Four tens!'
he say, with much surprise; 'de draft be only for four pounds!' O, vat
a clevare fellow dat Sheridan is! Vell, den, I say, 'If you please,
Sare, donnez-moi donc, dose four pounds.' And den he say, 'Call again
to-morrow.' Next day, I meet de manager in de street, and I say,
'Mistare Sheridan! have you forget?' and den he laugh, and say, 'Vy,
Grim, I recollected afterwards--I left out de 0!' O, vat a clevare
fellow dat Sheridan is!'"
Again meeting Grimaldi, some months afterwards, Reynolds asked him,
whether the manager had found means to pay him the amount of his
dishonoured cheque. He replied in the affirmative; but with a look and
tone of voice so altered, it seemed as if the successful adroitness of
Sheridan's ruse contre ruse, had afforded him more enjoyment, and given
him a higher opinion of the manager as "a clevare fellow," than the
mere passing business affair of paying him his demand.
[7] Paulo Redigé, "Le Petit Diable," made his first appearance at
Sadler's Wells with Placide, the "French Voltigeur," under the
Italianised name of Signor Placido, on Easter Monday, 1781, on the
same night with young Joe. La Belle Espagnole, whom Angelo describes
as "a very beautiful woman," made her first appearance at the same
theatre, on April 1, 1785; having, as the bills expressed it, "been
celebrated at Paris all the winter, for her very elegant and wonderful
performances." She soon after became the wife of the "Little Devil."
Paulo, the late clown, was their son, and might be almost said to have
been born within the walls of that theatre. The manager's attentions
to this beautiful Spaniard were the cause of much jealousy to Mrs.
Wroughton, and some ludicrous stories are still afloat.
[8] The pantomime of "Harlequin Junior; or, the Magic Cestus," was
performed for the first time, on Wednesday, January 7, 1784, not
Christmas, 1782; and was highly successful, from the excellence of the
characters, the beautiful scenery, and the new deceptions--Grimaldi,
as Clown, obtruding into a hot-house, became suddenly transformed into
a fine large water-melon; in another scene, changed into a goose, his
affected airs in displaying his tail in the peacock style, set the
house in roars of laughter. The change of the Bank of Paris into an
air-balloon, was a trick that obtained a full plaudit. So great, in
fact, was the attraction, it was not only frequently performed during
the remainder of the season, 1783-4, but also in that of 1784-5, being
revived on September 28, 1784, and repeated in lieu of a new pantomime,
on December 27, in that year, and it ran its full complement of
representations as a new piece.
[9] We do not find that at Easter, 1784, any piece was withdrawn in
which a monkey was likely to be introduced. The Sieur Scaglioni's troop
of Dancing Dogs, and their sagacious manoeuvres, made up speedily
for the losses of the previous season. The pantomime was entitled
"The Enchanted Wood; or, Harlequin's Vagaries;" a dance called the
"Fricassee;" and the whole concluded with the "Death and Revival of
Harlequin," which "ran" the whole of the season.
[10] A pantomimical olio, entitled "The Caldron," in which Grimaldi
played Clown, was produced at Drury-lane, September 27, 1785, performed
a few nights, and withdrawn. The pantomime of "Hurly Burly; or, the
Fairy of the Wells," was produced for the first time, on December 26,
in that year, and not at Christmas, 1783. Grimaldi played "Clodpate,"
the Clown, in this piece: it was very successful.
[11] A similar scene has been frequently represented on the stage. It
is probable that the father derived the notion from some play in which
he had acted, or which he had seen performed.