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.
The summer passed pleasantly away, the whole of Grimaldi's spare time
being devoted to the society of his wife and her parents, until the
departure of the latter from London for Weymouth, of which theatre Mr.
Hughes was the proprietor. It is worthy of remark, as a proof of the
pleasure which George the Third derived from theatrical entertainments,
that when the court were at Weymouth, he was in the habit of visiting
the theatre at least four times a week; generally on such occasions
commanding the performance, and taking with him a great number of the
noblemen and ladies in his suite.
Drury Lane opened for the season on the 15th of September, and Sadler's
Wells closed ten days afterwards: but while the latter circumstance
released Grimaldi from his arduous labours at one theatre, the former
one did not tend to increase them at the other, for pantomime was
again eschewed at Drury Lane, and "Blue Beard," "Feudal Times," and
"Lodoiska" reigned paramount. At the commencement of the season he met
Mr. Sheridan, when the following colloquy ensued:--
"Well, Joe, still living--eh?"
"Yes, sir; and what's more, married as well."
"Oho! Pretty young woman, Joe?"
"Very pretty, sir."
"That's right! You must lead a domestic life, Joe: nothing like a
domestic life for happiness, Joe: I lead a domestic life myself." And
then came one of those twinkling glances which no one who ever saw them
can forget the humour of.
"I mean to do so, sir."
"Right. But, Joe, what will your poor little wife do while you are at
the theatre of an evening? Very bad thing, Joe, to let a pretty young
wife be alone of a night. I'll manage it for you, Joe: I'll put her
name down upon the free list; herself and friend.--But, mind, it's a
female friend, that's all, Joe; any other might be dangerous,--eh,
Joe?" And away he went without pausing for a moment to listen to
Grimaldi's expressions of gratitude for his thoughtful kindness.
However, he did not omit performing his friendly offer, and his wife,
availing herself of it, went to the theatre almost every night he
played, sat in the front of the house until he had finished, and then
they went home together.
In this pleasant and quiet manner the autumn and winter passed rapidly
away. In the following year, 1799, it became apparent that his young
wife would shortly make him a father; and while this prospect increased
the happiness and attention of her husband and parents, it added little
to their slight stock of cares and troubles, for they were too happy
and contented to entertain any other but cheerful anticipations of the
result.
There is little to induce one to dwell upon a sad and melancholy
chapter in the homely life of every-day. After many months of hope, and
some of fear, and many lingering changes from better to worse, and back
and back again, his dear wife, whom he had loved from a boy with so
much truth and feeling, and whose excellences to the last moment of his
life, many years afterwards, were the old man's fondest theme, died.
"Poor Joe! Oh, Richard, be kind to poor Joe!" were the last words she
uttered. They were addressed to her brother. A few minutes afterwards,
he sat beside a corpse.
They found in her pocket-book a few pencilled lines, beneath which she
had written her wish that when she died they might be inscribed above
her grave:--
Earth walks on Earth like glittering gold;
Earth says to Earth, We are but mould:
Earth builds on Earth castles and towers;
Earth says to Earth, All shall be ours.
They were placed upon the tablet erected to her memory. She died on
the 18th of October, 1799, and was buried in the family vault of Mr.
Hughes, at St. James's, Clerkenwell.[25]
In the first passion of his grief the widower went distracted. Nothing
but the constant attention and vigilance of his friends, who never left
him alone, would have prevented his laying violent hands upon his life.
There were none to console him, except with sympathy, for his friends
were hers, and all mourned no common loss.
Mr. Richard Hughes, the brother, never forgot his sister's dying words,
but proved himself under all circumstances and at all times Grimaldi's
firm and steady friend. The poor fellow haunted the scenes of his
old hopes and happiness for two months, and was then summoned to the
theatre to set the audience in a roar; and chalking over the seams
which mental agony had worn in his face, was hailed with boisterous
applause in the merry Christmas pantomime!
The title of this pantomime, which was produced at Drury Lane,
was, "Harlequin Amulet; or, the Magic of Mona;" it was written by
Mr. Powell, and produced under the superintendence of Mr. James
Byrne, the ballet-master. It was highly successful, running without
intermission from the night of its production until Easter, 1800. This
harlequinade was distinguished by several unusual features besides its
great success; foremost among them was an entire change both in the
conception of the character of Harlequin and in the costume. Before
that time it had been customary to attire the Harlequin in a loose
jacket and trousers, and it had been considered indispensable that
he should be perpetually attitudinizing in five positions, and doing
nothing else but passing instantaneously from one to the other, and
never pausing without being in one of the five. All these conventional
notions were abolished by Byrne, who this year made his first
appearance as Harlequin, and made Harlequin a very original person to
the play-going public. His attitudes and jumps were all new, and his
dress was infinitely improved: the latter consisted of a white silk
shape, fitting without a wrinkle, and into which the variegated silk
patches were woven, the whole being profusely covered with spangles,
and presenting a very sparkling appearance. The innovation was not
resisted: the applause was enthusiastic; "nor," says Grimaldi, "was it
undeserved; for, in my judgment, Mr. James Byrne[26] was at that time
the best Harlequin on the boards, and never has been excelled, even if
equalled, since that period."
The alteration soon became general, and has proved a lasting one,
Harlequin having been ever since attired as upon this memorable
occasion, in accordance with the improved taste of his then
representative.
Grimaldi's part in this production was a singularly arduous and
wearying one: he had to perform Punch, and to change afterwards to
Clown. He was so exceedingly successful in the first-mentioned part,
that Mr. Sheridan wished him to preserve the character throughout,--a
suggestion which he was compelled resolutely to oppose. His reason
for doing so will not be considered extraordinary, when we inform the
present generation that his personal decorations consisted of a large
and heavy hump on his chest, and a ditto, ditto, on his back; a high
sugar-loaf cap, a long-nosed mask, and heavy wooden shoes;--the weight
of the whole dress, and of the humps, nose, and shoes especially, being
exceedingly great. Having to exercise all his strength in this costume,
and to perform a vast quantity of what in professional language is
termed "comic business," he was compelled by fatigue, at the end of
the sixth scene, to assume the Clown's dress, and so relieve himself
from the immense weight which he had previously endured. "The part
of Columbine," he tells us, "was supported by Miss Menage;[27] and
admirably she sustained it. I thought at the time that, taking them
together, I never saw so good a Harlequin and Columbine; and I still
entertain the same opinion."
"Harlequin Amulet" being played every night until Easter, he had plenty
to do: but although his body was fatigued, his mind was relieved by
constant employment, and he had little time, in the short intervals
between exertion and repose, to brood over the heavy misfortune which
had befallen him. Immediately after his wife's death, he had removed
from the scene of his loss to a house in Baynes' Row, and he gradually
became more cheerful and composed.
In this new habitation he devoted his leisure hours to the breeding
of pigeons, and for this purpose had a room, which fanciers termed a
_dormer_, constructed at the top of his house, where he used to sit for
hours together, watching the birds as they disported in the air above
him. At one time he had upwards of sixty pigeons, all of the very first
order and beauty, and many of them highly valuable: in proof of which,
he notes down with great pride a bet, concerning one pigeon of peculiar
talents, made with Mr. Lambert, himself a pigeon-fancier.
This Mr. Lambert being, as Grimaldi says, "like myself, a
pigeon-fancier, but, unlike myself, a confirmed boaster," took it into
his head to declare and pronounce his birds superior in all respects
to those in any other collection. This comprehensive declaration
immediately brought all the neighbouring pigeon-breeders up in arms;
and Grimaldi, taking up the gauntlet on behalf of the inmates of the
"dormer," accepted a bet offered by Lambert, that there was no pigeon
in his flight capable of accomplishing twenty miles in twenty minutes.
The sum at stake was twenty pounds. The money was posted, the bird
exhibited, the day on which the match should come off named, and the
road over which the bird was to fly agreed upon--the course being from
the twentieth mile-stone on the Great North Road to Grimaldi's house.
At six o'clock in the morning, the bird was consigned to the care of a
friend, with instructions to throw it up precisely as the clock struck
twelve, at the appointed mile-stone, near St. Albans; and the friend
and the pigeon, accompanied by a gentleman on behalf of the opposite
party, started off, all parties concerned first setting their watches
by Clerkenwell church. It was a very dismal day, the snow being very
deep on the ground, and a heavy sleet falling, very much increasing the
odds against the bird, the weather, of course, having great effect,
and the snow frequently blinding it. There was no stipulation made,
however, for fine weather; so at twelve o'clock the two parties,
accompanied by several friends, took up their station in the dormer. In
exactly nineteen minutes afterwards, the pigeon alighted on the roof of
the house. An offer of twenty pounds was immediately made for the bird,
but it was declined.
The pigeons, however, did not always keep such good hours, or rather
minutes; for sometimes they remained away so long on their aërial
excursions, that their owner gave them up in despair. On one occasion
they were absent upwards of four hours. As their owner was sitting
disconsolately, concluding they were gone for ever, his attention was
attracted by the apparently unaccountable behaviour of three birds
who had been left behind, and who, with their heads elevated in the
air, were all gazing with intense earnestness at one portion of the
horizon. After straining his eyes for a length of time without avail,
their master began to fancy that he discerned a small black speck a
great height above him. He was not mistaken, for by and by the black
speck turned out, to his infinite joy, to be the lost flight of pigeons
returning home, after a journey probably of several hundred miles.
When the pantomime had ceased to run, Grimaldi had but little to do at
Drury Lane, his duties being limited to a combat or some such business,
in "Lodoiska," "Feudal Times," and other spectacles, which he could
well manage to reach the theatre in time for, after the performances at
Sadler's Wells were over. Drury Lane closed in June, and re-opened in
September, ten days after the season at Sadler's Wells had terminated;
but as he did not expect to be called into active service until
December, he played out of town, for the first time in his life, in the
month of November, 1801.
There was at that time among the Sadler's Wells company a clever man
named Lund, who, in the vacation time, usually joined Mrs. Baker's
company on the Rochester circuit. His benefit was fixed to take place
at Rochester, on the 15th, and coming to town, he waited on Grimaldi
and entreated him to play for him on the occasion. Whenever it was in
his power to accede to such a request it was his invariable custom not
to refuse; he therefore willingly returned an answer in the affirmative.
He reached Rochester about noon on the day fixed for the benefit,
rehearsed half-a-dozen pantomime scenes, and having dined, went to
the theatre, every portion of which was crammed before six o'clock. On
his appearance, he was received with a tremendous shout of welcome;
his two comic songs were each encored three times, and the whole
performances went off with great _éclat_. Mrs. Baker, the manager or
manageress, at once offered him an engagement for the two following
nights, the receipts of the house to be divided between them. His
acceptance of this proposal delighted the old lady so much, that the
arrangement was no sooner concluded than she straightway walked upon
the stage, dressed in the bonnet and shawl in which she had been taking
the money and giving the checks, and in an audible voice gave out the
entertainments herself, to the immense delight of the audience, who
shouted vociferously.
This old lady appears to have been a very droll personage. She managed
all her affairs herself, and her pecuniary matters were conducted on a
principle quite her own. She never put her money out at interest, or
employed it in any speculative or profitable manner, but kept it in
six or eight large punch-bowls, which always stood upon the top shelf
of a bureau, except when she was disposed to make herself particularly
happy, and then she would take them down singly, and after treating
herself with a sly look at their contents, put them up again.
This old lady had a factotum to whom attached the elegant sobriquet of
"Bony Long;" the gentleman's name being Long, and his appearance bony.
At a supper after the play, at which the guests were Lund, Grimaldi,
Henry and William Dowton (sons of the celebrated actor of that name),
the manageress, and "Bony," it was arranged that Grimaldi should
perform Scaramouch, in "Don Juan," on the following night. A slight
difficulty occurred, in consequence of his having brought from London
no other dress than a clown's; but Mrs. Baker provided against it by
sending for one Mr. Palmer, then a respectable draper and tailor at
Rochester, who, having received the actor's instructions, manufactured
for him the best Scaramouch dress he ever wore. The assurances
which were given the artist at the time that his abilities lay in
the theatrical way were not without good foundation, for two years
afterwards he left Rochester, came to London, and became principal
master-tailor at Covent Garden Theatre. He held the situation for some
years, and then removed to Drury Lane and filled the same office, which
he still continues to hold.
On the second night, the house was filled in every part, and a great
number of persons were turned away. On the following evening, on which
he made his last appearance, and repeated the part of Scaramouch
together with that of Clown; the orchestra was turned into boxes, seats
were fitted up on every inch of available room behind the scenes, and
the receipts exceeded in amount those of any former occasion.
At another supper that night with Mrs. Baker, he made an arrangement
to join her company for a night or two, at Maidstone, in the following
March, provided his London engagements would admit of his doing so.
They were not at all behindhand with the money; for, at eight o'clock
next morning, "Bony Long" repaired to his lodgings, taking with him an
account of the two nights' receipts, Grimaldi's share whereof came to
160_l._, which was at once paid over to him, down upon the nail, all
in three-shilling pieces. This was an addition to his baggage which he
had not expected, and he was rather at a loss how to convey his loose
silver up to town, when he was relieved by a tavern-keeper, who being
as glad to take the silver as Grimaldi was to get notes, very soon
made the exchange, to the satisfaction of all parties. Having had this
satisfactory settlement with the old lady, Grimaldi took his leave,
and returned to town, not at all displeased with the success which had
attended his first professional excursion from London.
At Christmas, "Harlequin Amulet" was revived at Drury Lane, in place of
a new pantomime, and ran without interruption till the end of January
following; drawing as much money as it had in the previous year. It
was during this season, or about this time, that Grimaldi's old friend
Davis, or "Jew Davis," as he was called, made his first appearance at
Drury Lane. This is the man whose eccentricity gave rise to a ludicrous
anecdote of John Kemble, of which the following is a correct version:
Kemble was once "starring" in the north of England, and paid a visit
to the provincial theatre in which Jew Davis was engaged, where he
was announced for Hamlet. Every member of the little company was
necessarily called into requisition, and Jew Davis was "cast" to
play the first grave-digger. All went well until the first scene of
the fifth act, being the identical one in which Davis was called
upon to appear: and here the equanimity and good temper of Kemble
were considerably shaken: the grave-digger's representative having
contracted a habit of grimacing which, however valuable in burlesque or
farce, was far from being at all desirable in tragedy, and least of all
in that philosophical tragedy of which Hamlet is the hero. But if the
actor had contracted a habit of grimacing upon his part, the audience
upon its part had contracted an equally constant habit of laughing at
him: so the great tragedian, moralizing over the skull of Yorick, was
frequently interrupted by the loud roars of laughter attendant upon the
grave-digger's strangely comical and increasing grins.
This greatly excited the wrath of Kemble, and after the play was
finished, he remonstrated somewhat angrily with Davis upon the subject,
requesting that such "senseless buffoonery" might not be repeated
in the event of their sustaining the same parts on any subsequent
occasion. All this was far from answering the end proposed: the
peculiarities of temper belonging to Jew Davis were aroused, and
he somewhat tartly replied that he did not wish to be taught his
profession by Mr. Kemble. The latter took no further notice of the
subject, but pursued the even tenour of his way with so beneficial an
effect upon the treasury that his engagement was renewed for "a few
nights more," and on the last of these "few nights" Hamlet was again
the play performed.
As before, all went well till the grave-diggers' scene commenced;
when Kemble, while waiting for his "cue" to go on, listened bodingly
to the roars of laughter which greeted the colloquy of Davis and
his companion. At length he entered, and at the same moment, Davis
having manufactured a grotesque visage, was received with a shout of
laughter, which greatly tended to excite the anger of "King John." His
first words were spoken, but failed to make any impression: and upon
turning towards Davis, he discovered that worthy standing in the grave,
displaying a series of highly unsuitable although richly comic grimaces.
In an instant all Kemble's good temper vanished, and stamping furiously
upon the stage, he expressed his anger and indignation in a muttered
exclamation, closely resembling an oath. This ebullition of momentary
excitement produced an odd and unexpected effect. No sooner did Davis
hear the exclamation and the loud stamping of the angry actor, than he
instantly raised his hands above his head in mock terror, and, clasping
them together as if he were horrified by some dreadful spectacle,
threw into his face an expression of intense terror, and uttered a
frightful cry, half shout and half scream, which electrified his
hearers. Having done this, he very coolly laid himself flat down in
the grave, (of course disappearing from the view of the audience), nor
could any entreaties prevail upon him to emerge from it, or to repeat
one word more. The scene was done as well as it could be, without
a grave-digger, and the audience, while it was proceeding, loudly
expressed their apprehensions from time to time, "that some accident
had happened to Mr. Davis."
Some months after this, Sheridan happening to see Davis act in the
provinces, and being struck with his talents, (he was considered the
best stage Jew upon the boards,) engaged him for Drury Lane; and, in
that theatre, on the first day of the ensuing season, he was formally
introduced by Sheridan to John Kemble, then stage-manager. By the
latter he was not immediately recognised, although Kemble evidently
remembered having seen him somewhere; but, after a time, plainly
devoted to consideration, he said--
"Oh,--ah, ah! I recollect now. You, sir, you are the gentleman who
suddenly went into the grave, and forgot to come out again, I think?"
Davis admitted the fact without equivocation, and hastened to
apologise for his ill-timed jesting. The affair was related to
Sheridan, to whom, it is needless to say, it afforded the most
unbounded delight, and all three joining in a hearty laugh, dismissed
the subject.
When "Harlequin Amulet" was withdrawn, there was very little for
Grimaldi to do during the rest of the season. On the 4th of March,
therefore, in pursuance of his previous arrangement, he joined the old
lady at Maidstone, and was announced for Scaramouch.
The announcement of his name excited an unwonted sensation in this
quiet little town. As early as half-past four o'clock in the afternoon,
the street in front of the theatre was rendered quite impassable by the
vast crowd of persons that surrounded the doors. Mrs. Baker, who had
never beheld such a scene in her life-time, became at first very much
delighted, and then very much frightened. After some consideration, she
despatched a messenger for an extra quantity of constables, and upon
their arrival, threw the doors open at once, previously placing herself
in the pay-box, according to custom, to take the money.
"Now, then, pit or box, pit or gallery, box or pit?" was her constant
and uninterrupted cry.
"Pit, pit!" from half-a-dozen voices, the owners clinging to the little
desk to prevent themselves from being carried away by the crowd before
they had paid.
"Then pay two shillings,--pass on, Tom-fool!" such was the old lady's
invariable address to everybody on busy nights, without the slightest
reference to their quality or condition.
On this occasion of the doors being opened at five o'clock, when the
house was quite full she locked up the box in which the money was
deposited, and going round to the stage, ordered the performances to
be commenced immediately, remarking, with a force of reasoning which
it was impossible to controvert, that "the house could be but full,
and being full to the ceiling now, they might just as well begin at
once, and have it over so much the sooner." The performance accordingly
began without delay, to the great satisfaction of the audience, and
terminated shortly after nine o'clock.
Grimaldi was very much caressed by the townspeople, and received
several invitations to dinner next day from gentlemen residing in the
neighbourhood; all of which he declined, however, being already engaged
to the eccentric manageress, who would hardly allow him out of her
sight. Happening to walk about the town in the course of the morning,
he was recognised and saluted by the boys, in the same way as when he
walked the streets of London. On the night of his second appearance,
the house was again crowded, the door-keepers having managed, indeed,
by some ingenious contrivance, to squeeze three pounds more into it
than on the previous night. The first evening produced 154_l._, and
the second 157_l._ Of the gross sum, his share was 155_l._ 17_s._,
which was promptly paid to him after supper, on the second and last
night.
The old lady had no sooner handed it over through the ever useful
Bony, than she proposed to Grimaldi to go on with them to Canterbury,
and to act there for the next two nights upon similar terms. He no
sooner signified his willingness to do so, than she directed bills
for distribution to be made out, and sent to the printer's instantly.
They were composed and printed by four o'clock in the morning. No
sooner did they arrive wet from the press, than men on horseback were
immediately despatched with them to Canterbury, about which city the
whole impression was circulated and posted before nine o'clock. The
old lady had theatres at Rochester, Maidstone, and Canterbury, besides
many other towns in the circuit, and the size of the whole being very
nearly the same, the scenery which was suitable to one fitted them all.
Early in the morning, the whole company left Maidstone for Canterbury,
whither Grimaldi followed in a post-chaise at his leisure. When he
arrived there about one o'clock, everything was ready; no rehearsal
was necessary, for there were the same performers, the same musicians,
scene-shifters, and lamp-lighters. Having inspected the box-book, which
notified that every takeable seat in the house was taken, he retired
to Mrs. Baker's sitting-room, which was the very model of the one
at Maidstone and at Rochester too, and found a good dinner awaiting
his arrival. Here he was, and here they all were, in the city of
Canterbury, about twenty miles from Maidstone, at one o'clock in the
day, with the same scenery, dresses, decorations, and transformations
as had been in use at the latter theatre late overnight, surrounded by
the same actors, male and female, and playing in the same pieces which
had been represented by the same men and women, and the same adjuncts,
fourteen hours before at Maidstone.
He played here two nights, as had been agreed upon, to very nearly
the same houses as at Maidstone; the first night's cash being 151_l._
3_s._, and the second 159_l._ 17_s._, of which he received 155_l._
9_s._ 6_d._ Early the next morning he returned to London with 311_l._
6_s._ 6_d._ in his pocket, the profits he had acquired during an
absence from the metropolis of only four days' duration.
Shortly after his return to town, and about a week before Easter, he
saw with great astonishment that it was announced, or, to use the
theatrical term, "underlined," in the Drury Lane bills, that "Harlequin
Amulet" would be revived at Easter, and that Mr. Grimaldi would sustain
his original character. This announcement being in direct violation of
his articles of agreement at Drury Lane, and wholly inconsistent with
the terms of his engagement at Sadler's Wells, he had no alternative
but at once to wait upon Mr. John Kemble, the stage-manager of the
former theatre, and explain to him the exact nature of his position.
He found John Kemble at the theatre, who received him with all the
grandeur and authority of demeanour which it was his habit to assume
when he was about to insist upon something which he knew would be
resisted. Grimaldi bowed, and Kemble formally and gravely touched his
hat.
"Joe," said Kemble, with great dignity, "what is the matter?"
In reply, Grimaldi briefly stated his case, pointing out that he was
engaged by his articles at Drury to play in last pieces at and after
Easter, but not in pantomime; that at Sadler's Wells he was bound to
perform in the first piece; that these distinct engagements had never
before been interfered with by the management of either theatre in the
most remote manner upon any one occasion; and that, however much he
regretted the inconvenience to which his refusal might give rise, he
could not possibly perform the part for which he had been announced at
Drury Lane.
Kemble listened to these representations with a grave and unmoved
countenance; and when Grimaldi had finished, after waiting a moment, as
if to make certain that he had really concluded, rose from his seat,
and said in a solemn tone, "Joe, one word here, sir, is as good as a
thousand--you _must_ come!"
Joe felt excessively indignant at this, not merely because _must_ is a
disagreeable word in itself, but because he conceived that the tone in
which it was uttered rendered it additionally disagreeable; so, saying
at once what the feeling of the moment prompted, he replied, "Very
good, sir. In reply to _must_, there is only one thing that can very
well be said:--I will _not_ come, sir."
"Will not, Joe,--eh?" said Kemble.
"I will not, sir," replied Grimaldi.
"Not!" said Kemble again, with great emphasis.
Grimaldi repeated the monosyllable with equal vehemence.
"Then, Joe," said Kemble, taking off his hat, and bowing in a
ghost-like manner, "I wish you a very good morning!"
Grimaldi took off his hat, made another low bow, and wished Mr. Kemble
good morning; and so they parted.
Next day his name was taken from the bills, and that of some other
performer, quite unknown to the London stage, was inserted instead;
which performer, when he did come out, went in again--for he failed so
signally that the pantomime was not played after the Monday night.
In the short interval between this interview and the Easter holidays,
Grimaldi was engaged in the study of a new part for Sadler's Wells,
which was a very prominent character in a piece bearing the sonorous
and attractive title of the "Great Devil."[28] He entertained very
strong hopes that both the part and the piece would be very successful;
and how far his expectations were borne out by subsequent occurrences,
the next chapter will show.
FOOTNOTES:
[25] Miss Maria Hughes, eldest daughter of Mr. Richard Hughes,
proprietor of one fourth of Sadler's Wells, of which theatre he was
also the resident manager, was married to Joe in 1800, and on October
18, in the same year, died in child-birth, in the twenty-fifth year of
her age. She was not interred in the family vault, but in the graveyard
of St. James's on Clerkenwell Green.
[26] Mr. James Byrne, father of Mr. Oscar Byrne, was one of the ballet
at Drury lane in Garrick's time; and was also employed at Sadler's
Wells in the seasons of 1775 and 1776. He died December 4, 1845, in the
eighty-ninth year of his age. Mrs. Byrne, whom many may yet remember at
Covent Garden Theatre, died a few months before her husband, on August
27, in her seventy-fourth year.
[27] Miss Bella Menage, in September, 1804, became the wife of Mr. M.
W. Sharp, the artist.
[28] The Serio-Comic Spectacle of "The Great Devil; or, The Robber of
Genoa," was produced late in the season of 1801, early in September,
and on the 14th of that month was performed for C. Dibdin's benefit.
Nicola, by Mr. Grimaldi; Bridget, by Mrs. Davis; Gattie, some years
afterwards distinguished for his performance of Mons. Morbleu, at Drury
Lane, had also a singing part in the piece.