1812 to 1816.
A Clergyman's Dinner-party at Bath--First Appearance
of Grimaldi's Son, and Death of his old Friend, Mr.
Hughes--Grimaldi plays at three Theatres on one night, and has
his Salary stopped for his pains--His severe illness--Second
journey to Bath--Davidge, "Billy Coombes," and the
Chest--Facetiousness of the aforesaid Billy.
Two days after his arrival in Bath he appeared at the theatre, where
he was fortunate enough to elicit the warmest applause and approbation
from a crowded audience; nor was he less successful at Bristol, the
theatre being completely filled every night he performed. He remained
in this part of the country during five weeks, playing four nights in
every week at Bath, and the remaining two at Bristol. By this trip he
realized 287_l._-125_l._ for salary, and 162_l._ for benefits; but
although it was a lucrative expedition, it was by no means a pleasant
one, the weather being exceedingly inclement, and he being compelled
to return to Bath every evening after the performances at Bristol were
over. The nightly rides at that season of the year were by no means
agreeable; he suffered very much from colds, and, upon the whole, was
very far from sorry when his engagement terminated.
During his stay at Bath a little incident happened, developing, in a
striking point of view, a very repulsive trait of discourtesy and bad
breeding in a quarter where, least of any, such an exhibition might
have been looked for.
Higman, the bass-singer, who was then in great repute, and was
afterwards the original Gabriel, in Guy Mannering, but is since dead,
was invited with Grimaldi to dine with a reverend gentleman of that
city. They accepted the invitation, and upon their arrival found a
pretty large party of gentlemen assembled, the clerical host of course
presiding. The very instant the cloth was removed, this gentleman
commanded, rather than asked, Higman to sing a song. Not wishing
to appear desirous of enhancing the merit of the song by frivolous
objections, he at once consented, although he had scarcely swallowed
his meal. It was deservedly very much applauded and complimented, and
the moment the applause had ceased, the reverend doctor turned to
Grimaldi, and in the same peremptory manner requested a song from him.
He begged leave to decline for the present, urging--what was indeed the
truth--that he had scarcely swallowed his dinner. The observation made
by the host in reply rather astonished him.
"What, Mr. Grimaldi!" he exclaimed, hastily, "not sing, sir! Why, I
asked you here, sir, to-day expressly to sing."
"Indeed, sir!" said Grimaldi, rising from the table: "then I heartily
wish you had said so when you gave me the invitation; in which case
you would have saved me the inconvenience of coming here to-day, and
prevented my wishing you, as I now beg to do, a very unceremonious
good-night."
With these words he left the apartment, and very soon afterwards the
house.
It may appear to a great many persons a remarkable circumstance that
a pantomime Clown should have been called upon to read a lesson of
politeness and common decency to a reverend divine. The circumstance,
however, happened literally as it is here narrated. A somewhat similar
story has been told of another well-known actor; but this rudeness,
whether it arose in ignorance or intention, was offered to Grimaldi by
the reverend gentleman in question, whose name he well remembered, but
which we abstain from mentioning.
The Christmas pantomime at Covent Garden was entitled "Harlequin and
the Red Dwarf, or the Adamant Rock:" it was entirely successful.[61] On
Easter Monday, 1813, the melodrama of "Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp,"
written by Mr. Farley, was acted for the first time, Grimaldi playing
the character of Kasrac, a dumb slave, which became one of his most
popular characters.[62] The Sadler's Wells season merits no further
notice than that, as usual, it was very profitable, and that Grimaldi
produced a dance, called "Fun and Physic," which was performed every
night.
Covent Garden re-opened in September; and this year he was in constant
requisition before Christmas, as well as after, Aladdin being found an
extremely profitable piece. "Harlequin and the Swans, or the Bath of
Beauty," was produced at Christmas,[63] and followed at Easter by "Sadak
and Kalasrade," in which Grimaldi played Hassan.
Having now none of those amusements which in former years had served
to employ his idle hours having lost his flies, given up his pigeons,
removed from Finchley, sold his house, and resigned his garden, he
devoted the whole of his leisure time to the society and improvement
of his son. As he could not bear to part with him, and was wholly
unable to make up his mind to send him to any great boarding-school,
he was partly educated at the same school at which his father had
been a pupil, and partly by masters who attended him at home. The
father appears to have bestowed great and praiseworthy care upon his
education. Although at this time he was only twelve years old, he had
not only quite mastered the common rudiments of learning, but had
become well acquainted with French literature, and wrote the language
with ease and propriety. He had at a very early age manifested a great
fondness for music, especially the violin, and had acquired great
proficiency on that instrument, under the tuition of one of the first
masters in the country.
As he was a very clever boy, was an excellent dancer, and displayed a
great fondness and aptitude for the stage, his father finding that his
inclinations lay irrevocably that way, determined to encourage them,
and accordingly proceeded to instruct him in melodrama and pantomime.
He fancied that in his old age, when his own heyday of fame and profit
was over, he should gather new life from the boy's success, and that
old times would be called up vividly before him when he witnessed his
popularity in characters which had first brought his father before the
public, and enabled him gradually, after the loss of his property, to
acquire an independent and respectable station in society. The wish was
a natural one, and the old man cherished it dearly for many years. It
was decreed otherwise; and although in his better days the blight of
this hope caused him great grief and misery, he endeavoured to bear it
with humility and resignation.
On the 26th of April[64] he resumed his labours at Sadler's Wells. He
acted in a drama called the "Slave Pirate," which was successful. His
first benefit brought him 216_l._, and his second 263_l._ 10_s._; the
last-named being the best he ever had at that house.
The great attraction of this benefit of 1814[65] was the first
appearance on any stage, of his son, who performed "Friday" in
"Robinson Crusoe," Grimaldi playing the latter part himself, and thus
introducing his son to the public in the same piece in which his father
had brought him forward thirty-three years before. For six weeks
previous to the _début_, the pains he had taken to render him master
of the character, and the drillings he gave him were innumerable,
although they rather arose from the nervousness of the father than from
any lack of intelligence on the part of the son, who not only rapidly
acquired the instructions communicated to him, but in many instances
improved upon them considerably. His intended appearance was kept a
profound secret until within a week of the night on which he was to
perform; and when the announcement was at length made, the demand for
tickets and places was immense. The result was, that the benefit not
only turned out, as has already been mentioned, the best Grimaldi ever
had, but the reception of the son was enthusiastic, and his exertions
were both applauded by the public and commended in the newspapers. It
may appear a mere matter of course to say that the father considered
the performance the best that he had ever seen; but long afterwards,
when the boy was dead, and censure or praise was alike powerless to
assist or harm him, Grimaldi expressed, in the same strong terms, his
high opinion of his abilities, and his conviction that had he been only
moderate and temperate in the commonest degree, he must in a few years
have equalled, if not greatly excelled, anything which he himself had
achieved in his very best days.
On the 20th of December following, he sustained a severe loss in the
death of his constant and sincere friend, Mr. Richard Hughes, who had
been his well-wisher and adviser from infancy, and whose relationship
to his first wife gave him a strong and lasting claim on his regard.
As another instance of the severe and mental trials which an actor
has to undergo, it may be mentioned that during the time his friend
was lying dead, he was engaged for many hours each day in rehearsing
broadly humorous pantomime, and that, as if to render the contrast more
striking, the burial being fixed for the 26th of the month, he was
compelled to rehearse part of his Clown's character on the stage, to
run to the funeral, to get back from the churchyard to the theatre to
finish the rehearsal, and to exert all his comic powers at night to set
the audience in a roar.
This pantomime was founded upon the story of Whittington and his
Cat, and had a very extended run. On the night of its production, his
spirits were so affected by the calamity he had sustained, that it was
with great difficulty he could go through his part, in which he had
very nearly failed. He succeeded by a strong effort in finishing the
piece; and although his health paid very dearly for this and other
efforts of the same nature, the constant bustle and excitement of his
professional duties aided in recovering him, and enabling him to act
with his accustomed vivacity.
The harlequinade of "The Talking Bird" was produced at Sadler's Wells
this season, in which he first enacted the Bird and afterwards the
Clown. During the run of this pantomime he performed the remarkable
feat of playing three very heavy parts (two of them Clowns) at three
different theatres on the same night. He was intimately acquainted with
a Mr. Hayward, who, being married to a clever actress at the Surrey,
one Miss Dely, begged him as a great favour to act for her at that
theatre on her benefit night. He asked and obtained permission from
the proprietors of Sadler's Wells, but could not do the same at Covent
Garden, as Mr. Harris was absent from town. He did not think it a point
of any great importance, however, inasmuch as he had not been called
upon to act for some time, and nothing was then announced in which it
was at all likely he would be wanted. Unfortunately, on the very night
of the benefit, "La Perouse," in which he acted, was advertised at
Covent Garden. In this dilemma, he hurried over the water, explained
the circumstance, and pointed out the impossibility of his performing
at the Surrey.
But the Surrey people who had advertised him stoutly contending that
there was no impossibility in the case, assured him that all would be
right; that he should play there first, then go to Sadler's Wells, and
then to Covent Garden to finish the evening. To the end that he should
be in good time at each house, it was proposed that a chaise, with the
best horses that could be procured, should be provided, and held in
readiness to carry him at the greatest possible speed from place to
place.
Not having the heart to disappoint the parties interested, he consented
to this arrangement. At the Surrey, he played with Bologna in the
pantomime; the moment it was over, he jumped into a chaise and four
that was waiting at the door, and started for Sadler's Wells. Bologna
accompanied him to see the issue of the proceeding, and, by dashing
through the streets at a most extraordinary pace, they reached Sadler's
Wells just at the commencement of the overture for the pantomime.
Hurrying to re-paint his face, which had been very much bedaubed by
the rain, which poured upon it, as he looked out of the chaise-window
entreating the postboys to drive a little slower, and thrusting himself
into the dress of the "Talking Bird," he was ready at the instant
when the call-boy told him he was wanted. There still remained Covent
Garden, and towards the close of the pantomime he grew very anxious,
looking constantly towards the sides of the stage to see if Bologna
was still there; for as he was the Perouse of the night, and was
wanted a full half-hour before him, he felt something like security so
long as he remained. At length the pantomime was over, and once more
taking their seats in the same chaise, they drove at the same furious
pace to Covent Garden, and were ready dressed and in the green-room
before the first bars of the overture had been played. This change
of dress assisted greatly in recovering him from his fatigue, and he
went through the third part as well as the first, feeling no greater
exhaustion at the close of the performances than was usual with him on
an ordinary night. The only refreshment which he took during the whole
evening was one glass of warm ale and a biscuit. He plumed himself very
much on this feat; for although he had played clown at two theatres for
twenty-eight nights successively, he considered it something out of the
common way, and triumphed in it greatly.
He had a specimen next day of the spirit which Fawcett still cherished
towards him, and which, but for the kindness of Mr. Harris, might
have injured him severely on many occasions. Applying as usual at the
treasury for his weekly salary of ten pounds, he was informed by the
treasurer, with great politeness and apparent regret, that he had
received orders from Mr. Fawcett to stop it for that week. He instantly
posted off in search of that gentleman, and upon finding him, requested
to know why his salary was not to be paid.
"Because, sir," replied Mr. Fawcett,--"because you have thought fit to
play at the Surrey Theatre without mentioning the matter to _us_, or
asking _our_ permission."
Grimaldi whistled a little to express his total unconcern, and, turning
away, muttered, "For _us_ and for _our_ tragedy, thus stooping to your
clemency, we beg your hearing patiently." In crossing the stage to the
door, he met Mr. Harris, who had that instant entered the theatre,
having arrived in town not ten minutes before. He shook him kindly by
the hand, and inquired how he was.
"Why, sir," said Grimaldi, "I am as well as can be expected,
considering that my salary has been stopped."
"Why, what have you been about, Joe?"
"Played for Mrs. Hayward's benefit at the Surrey, sir."
"Oh! without leave, I suppose?"
"Why, sir," answered Grimaldi, "there was no one in the theatre who
was, in my opinion, entitled actually to give or refuse leave; you were
out of town: with Mr. Fawcett I have nothing to do--he has neither
connexion with nor influence over my line of business, nor do I wish
him to have any; Mr. Farley is the only gentleman under yourself whom
I consider myself obliged to acknowledge as a superior here--and to him
I did name it, and he told me to go, for I should not be wanted."
"Joe," said Mr. Harris, after a moment's pause, "go to Brandon, and
tell him to give you your money. And, mind, I've entered into an
arrangement for you to go and see Dimond again in October, upon the
same terms as before: so mind you go, and I'll take care you are
neither fined nor wanted."
For this double liberality he expressed his best thanks, and returning
to the treasury, with the manager's message, received his salary, and
departed.
On the 15th of the next month, his first benefit for that season took
place at Sadler's Wells. He sustained the part of Don Juan; and his
son, J. S. Grimaldi, played Scaramouch, being his second appearance.
He acted the part capitally, and had a great reception, so that his
father now in good earnest began to hope he would not only support the
name of Grimaldi, but confer upon it increased popularity. The receipts
of this night were 231_l._ 14_s._ Three months afterwards his second
benefit occurred: Monday, the 9th of October, was the day fixed for
it, but on the preceding Saturday he was suddenly seized with severe
illness, originating in a most distressing impediment in his breathing.
Medical assistance was immediately called in, and he was bled until
nigh fainting. This slightly relieved him; but shortly afterwards he
had a relapse, and four weeks passed before he recovered sufficiently
to leave the house. There is no doubt but that some radical change
had occurred in his constitution, for previously to this attack he
had never been visited with a single day's illness, while after its
occurrence he never had a single day of perfect health.
On the Monday, finding it would be impossible for him to play, he
procured a substitute, and immediately had bills printed and posted
outside the theatre. His absence made a difference of about fifty
pounds in the receipts; but as his son played Scaramouch, and played it
well, he sustained no greater pecuniary loss, and had the satisfaction
of hearing from all quarters that his son was rapidly improving.
After the lapse of a month Grimaldi became tolerably well, and as it
was now time for him to keep his engagement with Dimond, he went to
Bath in November, and remained there until the middle of December,
occasionally acting at Bristol. The profits of this trip were two
hundred and ninety-four pounds.
It was either during this provincial trip, or about this time, that he
first became acquainted with Mr. Davidge, the late lessee of the Surrey
Theatre. He was then the Harlequin at Bath and Bristol, and although he
afterwards became a round and magisterial figure, was then a very light
and active pantomimist.
In the pantomimes Davidge was the Harlequin, and Grimaldi of course
the Clown. They were accustomed to call the Pantaloon, who was a
very indifferent actor, by the name of "Billy Coombes,"--why, they
best knew, but it seems not to have been his real name. This worthy
had given both Davidge and Grimaldi mighty offence upon several
occasions, possibly by making his appearance on the stage in a state
of intoxication. Grimaldi forgot the precise cause of affront, but,
whatever it was, they deemed it a very great one; and Davidge, upon
several occasions, took opportunities of hinting, in speeches fraught
with determination and replete with a peculiar variety of expletives,
that he was resolved some time or other to be revenged upon that Billy
Coombes.
One evening, while the pantomime was in progress, and the two friends
were exciting much mirth and applause, Davidge pointed to a chest
which was used in the piece, and whispering that there was a lock upon
it with a key, remarked that Billy had to get into it directly, and
asked whether it would not be a good joke to turn the key upon him.
Grimaldi readily concurred, and no sooner was the unconscious Billy
Coombes beneath the lid of the chest, than he was locked in, amidst the
plaudits of the audience, who thought it a capital trick. There were
but two more scenes in the pantomime, which Davidge had to commence.
Just as he was going on the stage, Grimaldi inquired whether he had let
out the Pantaloon.
"No," he replied hastily, "I have not, but I will directly I come off."
So saying, he danced upon the stage, followed by Grimaldi, and the
usual buffeting ensued with the accustomed effect. The pantomime was
over a few minutes afterwards, and Grimaldi, who felt very tired when
he had gone through his part, in consequence of his recent illness,
went straight home, and was in bed a very short time after the curtain
fell.
There was a call the next morning for the rehearsal of a few
new pantomime scenes which Grimaldi had prepared to vary the
entertainments. However, as the Pantaloon was not forthcoming, they
could not be gone through with any useful effect. When Davidge arrived,
Grimaldi mentioned the circumstance.
"I suppose," he said, "our victim has taken our conduct in high
dudgeon, and doesn't mean to come this morning. We shall be in a pretty
mess at night if he does not!"
"What do you mean?" said Davidge, with a look of surprise.
"This Billy Coombes, he is not come to the theatre to-day, and is not
to be found at his lodgings, for we have sent a man there."
"By G----," said Davidge, "I never let him out of the box!"
On reflection, they had certainly finished the pantomime without him,
although it did not strike them at the time, because, as he was no
great actor, the business of the last two scenes had been arranged
entirely between Davidge and Grimaldi. They lost no time in inquiring
after the chest, and it was at length discovered in a cellar below
the stage. On raising the lid, the Pantaloon was discovered, and a
truly pitiable object he looked, although they were both not a little
relieved to find he was alive, for, not knowing that the chest was
perforated in various places, they had entertained some serious fears
that when he did turn up, he might be found suffocated. Every necessary
assistance was afforded him, and he never suffered in the slightest
degree from his temporary confinement. He said that he had shouted as
loud as he could, and had knocked and kicked against the sides of his
prison, but that nobody had taken the least notice of him, which he
attributed to the incessant noise and bustle behind the scenes. With
the view of keeping the stage as clear as possible, everything used in
a pantomime is put away at once; the chest was lowered by a trap into
the cellar, notwithstanding the shouts from the Pantaloon, who, knowing
that he would be released next day, went to sleep very quietly.
This was the version of the story given by the ingenious Mr. Coombes,
and in this version Grimaldi was an implicit believer. We are rather
disposed to think that Mr. Coombes might have thrown an additional
light upon the matter by explaining that he had got into the chest
that morning to turn the tables upon his assailants, the more so, as
he received various little presents in the way of compensation for his
imprisonment, with which he expressed himself perfectly satisfied.
This "Billy Coombes," or whatever the man's name may have been, once
said a very ludicrous thing upon the stage, which convulsed the
audience with laughter. The play was Romeo and Juliet, and he was cast
to perform Sampson. The wardrobe of the theatre being very scanty, he
was habited in a most absurd and ridiculous dress, every article of
which had evidently formed a portion of a different suit, and which
was, moreover, full three sizes too large for him, especially the coat,
the cuffs of which, instead of ornamenting his wrists, dangled over his
fingers' ends. In this disguise, "Billy," who waxed extremely wroth
at the figure he cut, presented himself to the audience, and was, of
course, received with a loud laugh.
Now, in the first scene of the play, Sampson, according to the
stage-direction, has to bite his thumb at Abram, a servitor of the
rival house, upon which the following dialogue ensues:--
"_Abram._ Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
"_Samp._ (_aside_) Is the law on our side if I say ay?
"_Gregory._ No.
"_Samp._ No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite
my thumb sir."
Billy Coombes very coolly omitted biting his thumb at all but the actor
who played Abram, desirous to carry on the business of the scene,
thought it best to take it for granted that the stage-direction had
been complied with, and turning indignantly round, said,
"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?"
"No, sir," replied Billy Coombes, in a clear and loud voice; "I would,
sir, with pleasure, only my master puts me into such a queer coat,
sir," holding up one of the long sleeves, "that I can't get at my fist
for the life of me."
The audience roared, the actors laughed, and for some minutes the
stage-business was at a complete stand-still: Billy meanwhile making
many apparently sincere and laboured attempts to uncover his hand, in
which at last he thought proper to succeed, and giving the right cue,
the play went on.
When Grimaldi returned to town, the rehearsals of "Harlequin and the
Sylph of the Oak, or the Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green," commenced at
Covent Garden. It was produced with great success at the usual time,
and was followed, in April, 1816, by Pocock's melodrama of "Robinson
Crusoe, or the Bold Buccaneer," in which Grimaldi played Friday, and
Farley acted Crusoe. This was the most successful adaptation of De
Foe's great story; it was played for a great many nights, and is still
occasionally performed.[66]
FOOTNOTES:
[61] The pantomime of "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf," notwithstanding
the scenery was superb, and the changes and machinery entitled to great
praise, was in no way so successful as several of the former similar
productions brought out at Covent Garden; and yet the burlesques
introduced by Joe were sufficiently droll to prompt several highly
coloured prints of certain characters in the print-shops of that day.
The scenes in which the Epping Hunt was represented, supplied one
of the finest landscapes ever displayed in any theatre. Horses were
introduced--a jolly fat Parson, Pantaloon, and the Clown, took part in
the joys of the chase; Pantaloon on a little Shetland pony was followed
by Grimaldi on a great cart-horse, aping the mammoth wonder for size;
Joe with a long wagoner's whip in his hand, and a jockey-cap, the
peak of prodigious extent, seemed as anxious to be in at the death as
if nothing in the world was comparable to it; his eagerness created
a doubt whether Barnes and his miniature horse would or would not be
galloped over by Joe and his Bucephalus--or be trundled over, horse and
man, for the popular diversion.
On February 8th, 1813, the comic burletta of "Poor Vulcan" was revived
at Covent Garden--the bills stated, "not acted for many years." In this
piece there was a pastoral ballet at Mount Ida, in which the characters
were thus sustained: Silenus, Mr. Bologna; Bacchanals, Mr. Bologna,
jun., and M. Montignani; Pan, Mr. Grimaldi; and Bacchante, Mrs. Parker.
Joe's attachment to his old part of Pan in "Terpsichore's Return," was
here again renewed; it was performed a sixth time on the 16th of the
same month.
[62] The gorgeous spectacle of "Aladdin" was, after Douglas by
Master Betty, performed for the first time on April 19th. "Aladdin"
was represented by Mrs. C. Kemble; Abanazar, the Magician, by Mr.
Farley; and Kasrac, his Chinese Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi: it was highly
attractive, and was performed for the thirty-fourth time on June 21.
Grimaldi's benefit this year was on July 1st, when were performed
"Five miles off;" "Love, Law, and Physic," and for the forty-second
time, "Harlequin and the Red Dwarf." At the close of this season,
by permission of the proprietors of Drury Lane Theatre, Sheridan's
"Robinson Crusoe and his Man Friday" was produced at Covent Garden; the
Shipwrecked Mariner, by Mr. Grimaldi; his Man Friday, by Mr. Bologna,
jun. It was repeated a few times, and the season terminated on July
15th.
Joe's popularity at this period is thus happily celebrated by the late
James Smith, in the following--
TRIBUTARY STANZAS TO GRIMALDI, THE CLOWN.
Facetious mime! thou enemy of gloom;
Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonair,
Who aping Pan, with an inverted broom
Canst brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.
Our gallery gods immortalize thy songs,
Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;
Thou bidd'st a Jew's harp charm a Christian throng,
A Gothic salt-box teem with Attic treasure.
When Harlequin, his charmer to regain,
Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,
The light of heels looks for his sword in vain--
Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.
The fabled egg from thee obtains its gold:
Thou sett'st the mind from critic bondage loose,
Where male and female cacklers, young and old,
Birds of a feather, hail the sacred goose.
Even pious souls, from Bunyan's durance free,
At Sadler's Wells applaud thy agile wit,
Forget old care, while they remember thee--
Laugh the heart's laugh, and haunt the jovial pit.
Long mayst thou guard the prize thy humour won;
Long hold thy court in Pantomimic State;
And to the equipoise of English fun,
Exalt the lowly and bring down the great.
[63] "Harlequin and the Swans," produced at Covent Garden on December
27, 1813, presented two Harlequins, Bologna, jun., and Ellar, who then
made his first appearance at that theatre. Grimaldi played in the
prelude, "Doctor Tumble Tuzzy," Chief Physician to the Court, when,
if laughter be physic to the megrims, he and his assistant medical
gentleman flung it about in no small potions.
The Grand Asiatic Spectacle of "Sadak and Kalasrade" was produced
at the same Theatre on Easter Monday, April 11, 1814; Sadak, by Mr.
Abbott; Hassan, his Slave, by Mr. Grimaldi; Agra, Principal Dancer, by
Mr. Ellar; Kalasrade, by Mrs. H. Johnston. On the same night, Sadler's
Wells commenced the season of 1814, with Joe's Comic Dance of "Fun
and Physic," and the Pantomime of "Rival Genii; or Harlequin Wild
Man." Ellar made his first appearance there as Harlequin in the "Rival
Genii;" Clown, Mr. Grimaldi, with a new song, called "Frost Fair; or,
the Disasters of Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Wiggins." As these pieces were
frequently performed on the same evening at the two theatres, it was a
regular run for both from the Wells to Covent Garden.
[64] Sadler's Wells opened April 11th, not the 26th. The Aqua-Drama of
"Kaloc; or, The Pirate Slave," Kaloc, by Mr. Grimaldi, performed in the
previous season, for the first time, August 9th, 1813, was not played
during that of 1814.
[65] Bologna, jun., and Grimaldi, had jointly their benefit at Covent
Garden on June 29th, 1814: when were performed O'Keeffe's "Our Way
in France;" Lord Winlove, by Mr. Incledon; the Melo-Dramatic Piece,
"For England Ho!" and for the fourth time these five years, "Harlequin
and Mother Goose;" with the favourite scene of the Dog-Cart; and the
"Oyster Duet," with the "Dissection of Harlequin."
[66] Performed for the first time, on Wednesday, December 26, 1806.
Harlequin, Mr. Bologna; Clown, Mr. Grimaldi; Pantaloon, Mr. Norman;
Flyflap, attendant on Harlequin, by Master Grimaldi; Columbine, Miss T.
Dennett, her first appearance in that character.