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.
It was now broad day. The sun had risen, and was shedding a fine
mild light over the quiet street. The crowd so soon to be let loose
upon them was not yet stirring, and the only people visible were the
passengers who had landed from the boats, or who had just entered
London by other early conveyances. Although he had lived in London
all his life, he knew far less about it than many country people who
have visited it once or twice; and so unacquainted was he with the
particular quarter of the city in which he found himself, that he had
never even seen the Tower of London. He walked down to look at that;
and then he stared at the buildings round about, and the churches, and
a thousand objects which no one but a loiterer ever bestows a glance
upon; and so was walking on pleasantly enough, when all at once he
struck his foot against something which was lying on the pavement.
Looking down to see what it was, he perceived, to his great surprise,
a richly-ornamented net purse, of a very large size, filled with gold
coin.
He was perfectly paralyzed by the sight. He looked at it again and
again without daring to touch it. Then, by a sudden impulse, he glanced
cautiously round, and seeing that he was wholly unobserved, and that
there was not a solitary being within sight, he picked up the purse and
thrust it into his pocket.
As he stooped for this purpose, he observed, lying on the ground on
very nearly the same spot, a small bundle of papers tied round with
a piece of string. He picked them up too, mechanically. What was his
astonishment, on examining this last discovery more narrowly, to find
that the bundle was composed exclusively of bank-notes!
There was still nobody to be seen: there were no passers-by, no sound
of footsteps in the adjacent streets. He lingered about the spot for
more than an hour, eagerly scrutinizing the faces of the people, who
now began passing to and fro, with looks which themselves almost seemed
to inquire whether they had lost anything. No! there was no inquiry,
no searching; no person ran distractedly past him, or groped among the
mud by the pavement's side. It was evidently of no use waiting there;
and, quite tired of doing so, he turned and walked slowly back to the
coach-office in Gracechurch-street. He met or overtook no person on the
road who appeared to have lost anything, far less the immense sum of
money (for such it appeared to him) that he had found.
All this time, and for hours afterwards, he was in a state of turmoil
and agitation almost inconceivable. He felt as if he had committed some
dreadful theft, and feared discovery, and the shameful punishment which
must follow it. His legs trembled beneath him so that he could scarcely
walk, his heart beat violently, and the perspiration started on his
face.
The more he reflected upon the precise nature of his situation, the
more distressed and apprehensive he became. Suppose the money were
to be found upon him by the loser, who would believe him, when he
declared that he picked it up in the street? Would it not appear much
more probable that he had stolen it? and if such a charge were brought
against him, by what evidence could he rebut it? As these thoughts, and
twenty such, passed through his mind, he was more than once tempted
to draw the money from his pocket, fling it on the pavement, and take
to his heels; which he was only restrained from doing by reflecting,
that if he were observed and questioned, his answers might at once lead
him to be accused of a charge of robbery, in which case he would be as
badly off as if he were in the grasp of the real loser. It would appear
at first sight a very lucky thing to find such a purse; but Grimaldi
thought himself far from fortunate as these torturing thoughts filled
his mind.
When he got to Gracechurch-street, he found the coach-office still
closely shut, and turning towards home through Coleman-street and
Finsbury-square, he passed into the City-road, which then, with the
exception of a few houses in the immediate neighbourhood of the Angel
at Islington, was entirely lined on both sides with the grounds of
market-gardeners. This was a favourable place to count the treasure;
so, sitting down upon a bank in a retired spot, just where the Eagle
Tavern now stands, he examined his prize. The gold in the purse was
all in guineas. The whole contents of the bundle were in bank-notes,
varying in their amounts from five to fifty pounds each. And this was
all there was; no memorandum, no card, no scrap of paper, no document
of any kind whatever, afforded the slightest clue to the name or
residence of the owner. Besides the money, there was nothing but the
piece of string which kept the notes together, and the handsome silk
net purse before mentioned, which held the gold.
He could not count the money then, for his fingers trembled so that
he could scarcely separate the notes, and he was so confused and
bewildered that he could not reckon the gold. He counted it shortly
after he reached home, though, and found that there were 380 guineas,
and 200_l._ in notes, making in the whole the sum of 599_l._
He reached home between seven and eight o'clock, where, going instantly
to bed, he remained sound asleep for several hours. There was no news
respecting the money, which he longed to appropriate to his own use; so
he put it carefully by, determining of course to abstain rigidly from
doing so, and to use all possible means to discover the owner.
He did not forget the advice of Miss Hughes in the hurry and excitement
consequent upon his morning's adventure, but wrote another epistle to
the father, recapitulating the substance of a former letter, and begged
to be favoured with a reply.
Having despatched this to the post-office, he devoted the remainder of
the day to a serious consideration of the line of action it would be
most proper to adopt with regard to the five-hundred and ninety-nine
pounds so suddenly acquired. Eventually, he resolved to consult an old
and esteemed friend of his father's, upon whose judgment he knew he
might depend, and whose best advice he felt satisfied he could command.
This determination he carried into execution that same evening; and
after a long conversation with the gentleman in question, during which
he met all the young man's natural and probably apparent inclination
to apply the money to his own occasions and views with arguments and
remarks which were wholly unanswerable, he submitted to be guided by
him, and acted accordingly.
For a whole week the two friends carefully examined every paper
which was published in London, if not in the hope, at least in the
expectation, of seeing the loss advertised; but, strange as it may
seem, nothing of the kind appeared. At the end of the period named,
an advertisement, of which the following is a copy, (their joint
production,) appeared in the daily papers:--
"Found by a gentleman in the streets of London, some money, which will
be restored to the owner upon his giving a satisfactory account of the
manner of its loss, its amount, the numbers of the notes, &c. &c."
To this was appended a full and particular address: but,
notwithstanding all these precautions, notwithstanding the publicity
that was given to the advertisement, and notwithstanding that the
announcement was frequently repeated,--from that hour to the very last
moment of his life, Grimaldi never heard one word or syllable regarding
the treasure he had so singularly acquired; nor was he ever troubled
with any one application relative to the notice.
A somewhat similar circumstance occurred to his maternal
grandfather.[22] He was in the habit of attending Leadenhall Market
early every Thursday morning, and as he frequently made large
purchases, his purse was generally well lined. Upon one occasion, he
took with him nearly four hundred pounds, principally in gold and
silver, which formed a tolerably large bagful, the weight of which
rather impeded his progress. When he arrived near the Royal Exchange,
he found that his shoe had become unbuckled, and taking from his pocket
the bag, which would otherwise have prevented his stooping, (for he
was a corpulent man), he placed it upon a neighbouring post, and then
proceeded to adjust his buckle. This done, he went quietly on to
market, thinking nothing of the purse or its contents until some time
afterwards, when, having to pay for a heavy purchase, he missed it, and
after some consideration recollected the place where he had left it.
He hurried to the spot. Although more than three quarters of an hour
had elapsed since he had left it in the prominent situation already
described, there it remained safe and untouched on the top of the post
in the open street!
Four anxious days (he had both money and a wife at stake) passed
heavily away, but on the fifth, Saturday--a reply arrived from Mr.
Hughes, which being probably one of the shortest epistles ever received
through the hands of the general postman, is subjoined verbatim.
"Dear Joe,--
"Expect to see me in a few days.
"Yours truly,
"R. HUGHES."
If there was nothing decidedly favourable to be drawn from this
brief _morçeau_, there was at least nothing very appalling to his
hopes: it was evident that Mr. Hughes was not greatly offended at his
presumption, and probable that he might be eventually induced to give
his consent to Grimaldi's marriage with his daughter. This conclusion,
to which he speedily came, tended greatly to elevate his spirits; nor
did they meet with any check from the sudden appearance of Miss Hughes
from Gravesend.
The meeting was a joyful one on both sides. As soon as their mutual
greetings were over, he showed her her father's letter, of which she
appeared to take but little notice.
"Why, Maria!" he exclaimed, with some surprise, "you scarcely look upon
this letter, and seem to care little or nothing about it!"
"To tell you the truth, Joe," answered Miss Hughes, smiling, "my father
has already arrived in town: I found him at home when I got there two
or three hours back, and he desired me to tell you that he wishes to
see you on Monday morning, if you will call at the theatre."
Upon hearing this, all the old nervous symptoms returned, and he felt
as though he were about to receive a final death-blow to his hopes.
"You may venture to take courage, I think," said Miss Hughes; "I have
very little fear or doubt upon the subject."
Her admirer had a good deal of both; but he was somewhat re-assured by
the young lady's manner, and her conviction that her father, who had
always treated her most kindly and indulgently, would not desert her
then. Comforted by discussing the probabilities of success, and all
the happiness that was to follow it, they spent the remainder of the
day happily enough, and looked forward as calmly as they could to the
Monday which was to decide their fate.
The following day--Sunday--was rather a wearisome one, being occupied
with speculations as to what the morrow would bring forth. However,
long as it seemed, the night arrived at last; and though that was long
too, Monday morning succeeded it as usual.
Concealing his inward agitation as best he might, he walked to the
theatre, and there in the treasury found Mr. Hughes. He was received
very kindly, but, after some trivial conversation, was much astonished
by Mr. Hughes saying, "So you are going to leave Sadler's Wells,
and all your old friends, merely because you can get a trifle more
elsewhere,--eh, Joe?"
He was so amazed at this, he could scarcely speak, but quickly
recovering, said, "I can assure you, sir, that no such idea ever
entered my head;--in fact, even if I wished such a thing, which, Heaven
knows, is furthest from my thoughts! I could not do so, being under
articles to you."
"You forget," replied Mr. Hughes, somewhat sternly, "your articles have
expired here."
And so they had, and so he had forgotten, and so he was constrained to
confess.
"It is rather odd," continued Mr. Hughes, "that so important a
circumstance should have escaped your memory: but tell me, do you know
Mr. Cross?"
Mr. Cross was manager of the Circus, now the Surrey Theatre, and had
repeatedly made Grimaldi offers to leave Sadler's Wells, and join
his company. He had done so, indeed, only a few days prior to this
conversation, offering to allow him to name his own terms. But these
and other similar invitations he had firmly declined, being unwilling
for many reasons to leave the theatre to which he had been accustomed
all his life.
From this observation of Mr. Hughes, and the manner in which it was
made, it was obvious to him that some one had endeavoured to injure him
in that gentleman's opinion; and fortunately chancing to have in his
pocket-book the letters he had received from Mr. Cross, and copies of
his own replies, he lost no time in clearing himself of the charge.
"My dear sir," he said, "I do not know Mr. Cross personally, but
very well as a correspondent, inasmuch as he has repeatedly written,
offering engagements to me, all of which I have declined;" and he
placed the papers before him.
The perusal of these letters seemed to satisfy Mr. Hughes, who returned
them, and said smilingly, "Well then, we'll talk about a fresh
engagement here, as you prefer old quarters. Let me see: your salary is
now four pounds per week:--well, I will engage you for three seasons,
and the terms shall be these: for the first season, six pounds per
week; for the second, seven; and for the third, eight. Will that do?"
He readily agreed to a proposition which, handsome in itself, greatly
exceeded anything he had anticipated. As Mr. Hughes seemed anxious to
have the affair settled, and Grimaldi was perfectly content that it
should be, two witnesses were sent for, and the articles were drawn up,
and signed upon the spot.
Then again they were left alone, and after a few moments more of
desultory conversation, Mr. Hughes rose, saying, "I shall see you,
I suppose, in the evening, as I am going to Drury Lane to see Blue
Beard." He advanced towards the door as he spoke, and then suddenly
turning round, added, "Have you anything else to say to me?"
Now was the time, or never. Screwing his courage to the sticking-place,
Grimaldi proceeded to place before Mr. Hughes his hopes and prospects,
strongly urging that his own happiness and that of his daughter
depended upon his consent being given to their marriage.
Mr. Hughes had thought over the subject well, and displayed by no means
that displeasure which the young man's anxious fears had prophesied;
he urged the youth of both parties as an argument against acceding to
their wishes, but finally gave his consent, and by so doing transported
the lover with joy.
Mr. Hughes advanced to the door of the room, and throwing it open, as
he went out, said to his daughter, who chanced to be sitting in the
next room, "Maria, Joe is here: you had better come and welcome him."
Miss Hughes came like a dutiful daughter, and _did_ welcome her
faithful admirer, as he well deserved for his true-hearted and constant
affection. In the happiness of the moment, the fact that the door of
the room was standing wide open quite escaped the notice of both, who
never once recollected the possibility of any third person being an
unseen witness to the interview.
This was a red-letter day in Grimaldi's calendar; he had nothing to
do in the evening at Drury Lane until the last scene but one of Blue
Beard, so went shopping with his future wife, buying divers articles of
plate, and such other small wares as young housekeepers require.
On hurrying to the theatre at night, he found Mr. Hughes anxiously
regarding the machinery of the last scene in Blue Beard, which he was
about getting up at the Exeter Theatre.
"This machinery is very intricate, Joe," said the father-in-law upon
seeing him.
"You are right, sir," replied Joe; "and, what is more, it works very
badly."
"So I should expect," was the reply; "and as I am afraid we shall not
manage this very well in the country, I wish I could improve it."
Among the numerous modes of employing any spare time to which Grimaldi
resorted for the improvement of a vacant hour, the invention of model
transformations and pantomime tricks held a foremost place at that
time, and did, though in a limited degree, to the close of his life.
At the time of his death he had many excellent models of this
description, besides several which he sold to Mr. Bunn so recently
as a few months prior to December, 1836, all of which were used in
the pantomime of "Harlequin and Gammer Gurton," produced at Drury
Lane on the 26th of that month. He rarely allowed any machinery which
came under his notice, especially if a little peculiar, to pass
without modelling it upon a small scale. He had a complete model of
the skeleton "business" in Blue Beard; and not merely that, but an
improvement of his own besides, by which the intricate nature of the
change might be avoided, and many useless flaps dispensed with.
Nervously anxious to elevate himself as much as possible in the opinion
of Mr. Hughes at this particular juncture, he eagerly explained to him
the nature of his alterations, as far as the models were concerned, and
plainly perceived he was agreeably surprised at the communication. He
begged his acceptance of models, both of the original mechanism, and of
his own improved version of it; and Mr. Hughes, in reply, invited him
to breakfast on the following morning, and requested him to bring both
models with him. This he failed not to do. It happened that a rather
ludicrous scene awaited him.
He had one or two enemies connected at that time with Sadler's Wells,
who allowed their professional envy to impel them to divers acts of
small malignity. One of these persons, having been told of his saluting
Miss Hughes, by a servant girl with whom he chanced to be acquainted,
and who had witnessed the action, sought and obtained an interview that
evening with the father upon his return from Drury Lane, and stated the
circumstance to him, enlarging and embellishing the details with divers
comments upon the ingratitude of Grimaldi in seducing the affections of
a young lady so much above him, and making various wise and touching
reflections most in vogue on such occasions.
Mr. Hughes heard all this with a calmness which first of all astonished
the speaker, but which he eventually attributed to concentrated rage.
After he had finished his speech, the former quietly said, "Will you
favour me by coming here at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, sir?"
"Most certainly," was the reply.
"Allow me, however, at once," continued Mr. Hughes, "to express my
thanks for your kindness in informing me of that which so nearly
concerns my domestic happiness. Will you take a glass of madeira?"
"I thank you, sir," answered the other.
The wine was brought and drunk, and the friend departed, congratulating
himself, as he walked away, upon having "settled Joe's business;" which
indeed he had, but not after the fashion he expected or intended.
As to Grimaldi, he was up with the lark, arranging the machinery
and making it look and work to the best advantage; in which having
succeeded to his heart's content, he put the models he had promised
Mr. Hughes into his pocket, and walked down to his house to breakfast,
agreeably to the arrangement of the night before.
Upon his arrival, he was told that breakfast was not quite ready, and
likewise that Mr. Hughes wished to see him immediately in the treasury,
where he was then awaiting his arrival. There was something in the
manner of the servant-girl (the same, by-the-by, who had told of the
kissing), as she said this, which induced him involuntarily to fear
some ill, and, without knowing exactly why, he began to apprehend those
thousand and one impossible, or at least improbable, evils, the dread
of which torments the man nervously afraid of losing some treasure upon
the possession of which his happiness depends.
"Is Mr. Hughes alone?" he asked.
"No, sir," answered the girl: "there is a gentleman with him;"--and
then she mentioned a name which increased his apprehensions. However,
plucking up all his courage, he advanced to the appointed chamber, and
in two minutes found himself in the presence of Mr. Hughes and his
accuser.
The former received him coldly; the latter turned away when he saw him
without vouchsafing a word.
"Come in, sir," said Mr. Hughes, "and close the door after you." He
did as he was told; never, either before or afterwards, feeling so
strangely like a criminal.
"Mr. Grimaldi," continued Mr. Hughes, with a mingled formality and
solemnity which appalled him, "I have something very important to
communicate to you--in fact, I have had a charge preferred against you
of a most serious description, sir."
"Indeed, sir!"
"Yes, indeed, sir!" said the enemy, with a look very like one of
triumph.
"It is true," replied Mr. Hughes, "and I fear you will not be able to
clear yourself from it: however, in justice to you, the charge shall
be fully stated in your own presence. Repeat, sir, if you please," he
continued, addressing the accuser, "what you told me last night."
And repeat it he did, in a speech, replete with malignity, and not
destitute of oratorical merit: in which he dwelt upon the serpent-like
duplicity with which young Grimaldi had stolen into the bosom of a
happy and hospitable family for the purpose of robbing a father and
mother of their beloved daughter, and dragging down from her own
respectable sphere a young and inexperienced girl, to visit her with
all the sorrows consequent upon limited means, and the needy home of a
struggling actor.
It was with inexpressible astonishment that he heard all this; but
still greater was his astonishment at witnessing the demeanour of
Mr. Hughes, who heard this lengthened oration with a settled frown
of attention, as though what he heard alike excited his profound
consideration and anger; occasionally, too, vouchsafing an encouraging
nod to the speaker, which was anything but encouraging to the other
party.
"You are quite right," said Mr. Hughes, at length; on hearing which,
Grimaldi felt quite wrong. "You are _quite_ right nothing can justify
such actions, except one thing, and that is--"
"Mr. Hughes," interrupted the _friend_, "I know your kind heart
well,--so well, that I can perceive your charitable feelings are even
now striving to discover some excuse or palliation for this offence;
but permit me, as a disinterested observer, to tell you that nothing
can justify a man in winning the affections of a young girl infinitely
above him, and, at the same time, the daughter of one to whom he is so
greatly indebted."
"Will you listen to me for half a minute?" inquired Mr. Hughes, in a
peculiarly calm tone.
"Certainly, sir," answered the other.
"Well, then, I was going to observe, at the moment when you somewhat
rudely interrupted me, that I quite agreed with you, and that nothing
can justify a man in acting in the manner you have described, unless,
indeed, he has obtained the sanction of the young lady's parents; in
which case, he is, of course, at liberty to win her affections as soon
as he likes, and she likes to let him."
"Assuredly, sir," responded the other; "but in the present instance--"
"But in the present instance," interrupted Mr. Hughes, "that happens
to be the case. My daughter Maria has my full permission to marry Mr.
Grimaldi; and I have no doubt she will avail herself of that permission
in the course of a very few weeks."
The accuser was dumb-foundered, and Grimaldi was delighted--now, for
the first time perceiving that Mr. Hughes had been amusing himself at
the expense of the mischief-maker.
"Nevertheless," said Mr. Hughes, turning to his accepted son-in-law
with a grave face, but through all the gravity of which he could
perceive a struggling smile,--"Nevertheless, you acted very wrong,
Mr. Grimaldi, in kissing my daughter so publicly; and I beg that
whenever, for the future, you and she deem it essential to indulge in
such amusements, it may be done in private. This is rendered necessary
by the laws which at present govern society, and I am certain will be
far more consonant to the feelings and delicacy of the young lady in
question."
With these words Mr. Hughes made a low bow to the officious and
disinterested individual who had made the speech, and, opening the
door, called to the servants "to show the gentleman out." Then
turning to Grimaldi, he took him by the arm, and walked towards the
breakfast-room, declaring that the meal had been waiting half an hour
or more, that the coffee would be cold, and Maria quite tired of
waiting for him.
From this moment the course of true love ran smooth for once: and
Mr. Hughes, in all his subsequent behaviour to Grimaldi sufficiently
evinced his high sense of the innate worth of a young man, who, under
very adverse circumstances and with many temptations to contend
against, had behaved with so much honesty and candour.
On the Saturday after this pleasant termination of a scene which
threatened to be attended with very different results, the house in
Penton-street was taken possession of, and next Easter Sunday the young
couple were asked in church for the first time. Sadler's Wells opened
as usual on Easter Monday,[23] and Grimaldi appeared in a new part, a
more prominent one than he had yet had, and one which increased his
reputation considerably.
At this time, in consequence of his great exertions in this character,
after four or five months of comparative rest, he began to feel some of
those wastings of strength and prostrations of energy, to which this
class of performers are more peculiarly exposed, and which leave them,
if they attain old age, as they left Grimaldi himself, in a state of
great bodily infirmity and suffering. He was cheered throughout the
play; but the applause of the audience only spirited him to increased
exertions, and at the close of the performances he was so exhausted and
worn out that he could scarcely stand. It was with great difficulty
that he reached his home, although the distance was so very slight; and
immediately on doing so, he was obliged to be put to bed.
He was wont in after-life frequently to remark, that if at one period
of his career his gains were great, his labours were at least equally
so, and deserved the return. He spoke from sad experience of their
effects at that time, and he spoke the truth. It must be a very high
salary, indeed, that could ever repay a man--and especially a feeling,
sensitive man, as Grimaldi really was--for premature old age and early
decay.
He awoke at eleven o'clock next day invigorated and refreshed;--this
long rest was an extraordinary indulgence for him to take, for it was
his constant habit to be up and dressed by seven o'clock or earlier,
either attending to his pigeons, practising the violin, occupying
himself in constructing such little models as have been before
mentioned, or employing himself in some way. Idleness wearied him more
than labour; he never could understand the gratification which many
people seem to derive from having nothing to do.
It is customary on the morning after a new piece to "call" it upon the
stage with a view of condensing it where it will admit of condensation,
and making such improvements as the experience of one night may have
suggested. All the performers engaged in the piece of course attend
these "calls," as any alterations will necessarily affect the dialogue
of their parts, or some portions of the stage business connected with
them.
Being one of the principal actors in the new drama, it was
indispensably necessary that he should attend, and accordingly, much
mortified at finding it so late, he dressed with all possible despatch,
and set forth towards the theatre.
FOOTNOTES:
[22] The slaughterman and carcase-butcher of Bloomsbury, and
Newton-street, Holborn.
[23] Sadler's Wells, on Easter Monday, April 9, 1798, opened with
a Prelude, entitled, "Easter Monday; or, a Peep at the Wells." The
prolocutory characters by Dubois and Mrs. Davis: in the concluding
scene were introduced the whole Company, and a Ballet Divertissement;
the dances by the Misses Bruguiers, their first appearances, and by Mr.
King, who, it will be remembered, in the recital of the alarm created
by the Pentonville robbers, is said, "while armed with a heavy stick,
to have crept cautiously into the back garden, groped about, and soon
returned out of breath." The amusements of the evening concluded with
an entirely new harlequinade, called "The Monster of the Cave; or,
Harlequin and the Fay." Principal characters by Mr. King, Mr. Grimaldi,
Mr. Davis, and Mr. Dubois, Miss Bruguier, and Mrs. Roffey. Joe for the
first time, on the bill of the day, has the honourable distinction of
Mr. prefixed to his name; hitherto it was "Master Grimaldi." On Monday,
July 30, was produced a new Grand Comic Spectacle and Harlequinade,
called "Blue Beard, Black Beard, Red Beard, and Grey Beard;" in which
the motley hero of Pantomime, it was announced, would respectfully
endeavour to keep up the spirit of the old English adage,
"'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wag all,"
in the novel character of Harlequin Dutch Skipper. Harlequin Skipper,
Mr. King; Plutus, Blue Beard, Mr. Barnett; Mars, Black Beard, Mr.
Davis; Saturn, Grey Beard, Mr. Grimaldi; Mynheer Red Beard, Mr. Gomery;
Dutch Clown, Mr. Dubois; and Columbine, Miss Bruguier. The Pantomime
was highly attractive, and exhibited, amongst other excellent scenes,
one in moving perspective, showing the effect of a balloon descending
among the clouds.