1817.
More provincial success--Bologna and his economy--Comparative
dearness of Welsh Rare-bits and Partridges--Remarkably odd
modes of saving money.
Having no engagement at Liverpool, indeed, having no time to accept
one,--Grimaldi remained there only two days, at the expiration of
which time he went to Hereford, and having waited on Mr. Crisp, the
manager, went to look at the theatre, which, to his great astonishment
and concern, he found to be nothing more than a common square room,
with a stage four yards wide and about as many high, the head of the
statue in Don Juan being obscured by the flies, and thus rendered
wholly invisible to the audience. What made this circumstance the more
annoying, was, that on the statue being seen to nod its head depended
the effect of one of the very best scenes of Scaramouch.
As Grimaldi did not hesitate to express his great mortification and
annoyance, and his decided indisposition to act in such a place
for four nights, which was the term originally proposed, a fresh
arrangement was entered into, by which, he engaged to play two nights
at Hereford, and two at Worcester, where he knew there was a better
theatre. At the former town the receipts were on the first night
42_l._, and on the second 45_l._, his share of the total being 43_l._
10_s._ At Worcester, the receipts of the first night were 87_l._, and
of the second 93_l._ 16_s._: here he also received a moiety of the two
nights' receipts.
Having now concluded his provincial engagements, Grimaldi repaired to
Cheltenham for rest and relaxation, and remained there until the second
week in September, when he returned to London. While at Cheltenham,
he stumbled upon his old friend, Richer, the rope-dancer, already
mentioned as having been engaged at Sadler's Wells, at an early period
of Grimaldi's career. He had retired from the profession, and was
married to the widow of a clergyman who had died extremely rich. They
were living in great style, and to all appearance very happy.
The following account of Grimaldi's gains during this short excursion
will afford some idea of the immense sums he was in the habit of
receiving about this time. The amount was so much more than he had
supposed, that on going over the calculation, he could scarcely believe
he was correct. It was as follows:--
£ _s._ _d._
Brighton, four nights 100 0 0
Birmingham, six 210 0 0
Worcester, one 50 0 0
Glasgow and Edinburgh, nine 417 0 0
Berwick, two 102 7 0
Liverpool, sixteen 324 14 0
Preston, two 86 0 0
Hereford, two 43 10 0
Worcester, (2nd visit) two 90 8 0
--------------
Total £1423 19 0
The accounts which he received at Sadler's Wells on his return were
unusually bad. They were fully corroborated by Mr. Hughes, who informed
him it had been the very worst season the theatre had ever known.
Having nothing to do at Covent Garden, and entertaining a very pleasant
and lively recollection of the profits of his last trip, Grimaldi
determined on making another excursion, and accepted an offer from
Elliston, to play four nights at Birmingham, by which he cleared
150_l._ From Birmingham he went to Leicester, where Elliston also had a
theatre, and where he played for two nights, being accompanied by Mr.
Brunton, who was Elliston's stage-manager. They were very successful,
Grimaldi's share of the receipts being 70_l._
The morning after his last performance here, Grimaldi took a
post-chaise and started for Chester, where he had undertaken to act
for one week. As the chaise drove up to the White Lion, the London
coach drove up too, and, seated on the outside, he saw, to his great
surprise, his old friend Old Bologna, who, it appeared, had been
engaged expressly to perform with him in "Mother Goose." The unexpected
meeting afforded great pleasure to both, and having ordered a private
sitting room and a good dinner, they sat down together and fell into
conversation; in the course of which Bologna, by various hints and
other slight remarks, gave his friend to understand that his old
characteristic of never being able, without a strong effort, to make up
his mind to spend a penny was by no means impaired by time. The room
was handsomely fitted up; and the dinner, which was speedily placed
before them, consisted of a great variety of expensive delicacies,
the sight of which awakened in Bologna's mind a great many misgivings
concerning the bill, which were not at all lessened by the landlady's
informing them, with a low curtsey, as she placed the first dish on the
table, that she knew who they were, and that she would answer for their
being provided with every luxury and comfort the house would afford.
They were no sooner left alone, than Bologna, with a very dissatisfied
air, informed his friend that he saw it would never do to stay in that
house.
"Why not?" inquired Grimaldi.
"Because of the expense," he answered. "Bless me! look at the
accommodations: what do you suppose they'll charge for all this? It
wont suit me, Joe; I shall be off."
"You can do as you please," rejoined his friend; "but if you'll take my
advice, you'll remain where you are: for I have found from experience,
that if there is a choice between a first-rate and a second-rate house,
one should always go to the former. There you have the best articles at
a fair price; while at the other you have bad things, worse served up,
and enormously dear."
Bologna was ultimately prevailed upon not to leave the house,
contenting himself with various economical resolutions, which he
commenced putting in practice when the waiter appeared to know if they
would order supper.
"Supper!" exclaimed Bologna; "certainly not; not on any account.
Suppers are extremely unhealthy: I never take them by any chance."
"You may get some supper for _me_" said Grimaldi, "and have it ready at
half-past eleven."
"What will you like to order, sir?"
"I'll leave it to the landlady. Anything nice will do."
"Good Heaven!" said Bologna, as the waiter went out of the room; "what
a bill you'll have to pay here!"
They strolled about the town: arranged with the manager to commence
next night with "Mother Goose," and having beguiled the time till
supper, repaired to the inn, where a fine brace of partridges, done to
a turn, were placed before Grimaldi, which his companion eyed with very
hungry looks, congratulating himself aloud, however, upon having saved
himself that expense, at all events.
There was a silence for some minutes, broken only by the clatter of the
knives and forks; and then Bologna, who had been walking up and down
the room in a restless manner, stopped short, and inquired if the birds
were nice?
"Very," replied Grimaldi, helping himself again; "they are delicious."
Bologna walked up and down the room faster after this, and then rang
the bell with great vehemence. The waiter appeared, and Bologna, after
long consideration, hesitatingly ordered a Welsh rare-bit.
"Certainly, sir," said the man; and by the time Grimaldi had finished
his supper, the Welsh rare-bit appeared.
"Stop a minute, waiter," said Bologna. "Grimaldi, do you mean to take
supper every night?"
"Certainly. Every night."
"Well, then, waiter, remember to bring me a Welsh rare-bit every
evening when Mr. Grimaldi takes his supper. I don't want it; but it has
so rude an appearance to sit looking on while another man is eating,
that I must do it as a matter of form and comfort. You'll not forget?"
"I'll be sure to remember, sir," was the reply.
The moment he was gone, Grimaldi burst into a great roar of laughter,
which his friend took in high dudgeon, muttering various observations
regarding extravagance, which were responded to by divers remarks
relative to shabbiness. Neither of them gave way, and the supper
arrangement was regularly acted upon; Grimaldi always having some warm
dish of game or poultry, and Bologna solacing himself with a Welsh
rare-bit, and the reflection of having saved money while his companion
spent it. They stayed at Chester nine days in all, and when the bills
were brought at last, found, as Grimaldi had anticipated, that the
charges were moderate, and well merited by the manner in which they had
been accommodated.
"Well, Bologna," said Grimaldi, with a triumphant air, "are you
satisfied?"
"Pretty well," he replied. "I must acknowledge that the bills are not
so heavy as I feared they would have been; but there is one terrible
mistake in mine. Look here! they have charged me for supper every night
just as they have charged you. That must be wrong, you know: I have had
nothing but Welsh rare-bits!"
"Certainly," said Grimaldi, looking over the bill. "You had better ring
for the waiter: I have no doubt he can explain the matter."
The bell was rung, and the waiter came.
"Oh! here's a mistake, waiter," said Bologna, handing him the bill.
"You have charged me for supper every night here, and you'll remember I
only had a Welsh rare-bit. Just get it altered, will you?"
"I beg your pardon, sir," replied the waiter, glancing from the bill to
the customer; "it's quite right, sir."
"Quite right?"
"Quite, sir: it's the rule of the house, sir the rule of every house
on the road to charge in that way. Half-a-crown for supper, sir; cold
beef, fowl, game, or bread and cheese: always half-a-crown, sir.
There were a great many other dishes that you might have had; but you
recollect giving a particular order for a Welsh rare-bit, sir?"
The saving man said not another word, but paid the nine half-crowns
for the nine Welsh rare-bits, to his own great wrath and his friend's
unspeakable amusement.
The next morning they returned to London, and on the road Grimaldi had
another instance of his companion's parsimony, which determined him
never to travel in his company again. When the coach came to the door,
he was perfectly amazed to find that the economical Harlequin was
going to travel outside, but not surprised to hear him whisper, when he
expressed his astonishment, that he should save a pound by it, or more.
"Yes," answered Grimaldi, "and catch a cold by sitting outside all
night, after your exertions at the theatre, which will cost you 20_l._
at least."
"You know nothing about it," replied Bologna, with a wink: "I shall be
safe inside as well as you."
"What! and pay outside fare?"
"Just so," replied he. "I'll tell you how it is. I've ascertained that
there's one place vacant inside, and that the coach belongs to our
landlady. Now, I mean to remind her what a deal of money we have spent
in the house; to tell her that I shall be soon coming here again; and
to put it to her, whether she wont let me ride at least a part of the
way inside."
Grimaldi was not a little offended and vexed by this communication,
feeling that, as they had been stopping at the house as companions
and friends, he was rather involved in the shabbiness of his
fellow-traveller. His angry remonstrances, however, produced not the
slightest effect. Bologna acted precisely as he had threatened, and
received permission from the good lady of the house, who was evidently
much surprised at the application, to occupy the vacant inside place;
it being stipulated and understood on both sides, that if anywhere on
the road a passenger were found requiring an inside place, Bologna
should either give up his, or pay the regular fare on to London.
As Grimaldi could not prevent this arrangement, he was compelled to
listen to it with a good grace. The manager, who came to see them off,
brought 100_l._ for Grimaldi, all in three-shilling pieces, packed
up in a large brown-paper parcel; and this part of the luggage being
stowed in the coach-pocket, away they went, Bologna congratulating
himself on his diplomacy, and Grimaldi consoling himself with the
reflection that he should know how to avoid him in future, and that he
was now, at least, safe from any further exhibition of his parsimony
during the journey. The former resolution he kept, but in the latter
conclusion he was desperately wrong.
It was evening when they started, and at four o'clock in the morning,
when they stopped to change horses, a customer for an inside place
presented himself; whereupon the driver, opening the coach-door,
civilly reminded Bologna of the conditions upon which he held his seat.
Bologna was fast asleep the first time the man spoke, and, having been
roused, had the matter explained to him once more; upon which he sat
bolt upright in the coach, and repeating all the man had said, inquired
with great distinctness whether he understood it to be put to him, that
he must either pay the inside fare, or get out.
"That's it, sir," said the coachman.
"Very well," said Bologna, without the slightest alteration of tone or
manner; "then I shall do neither the one nor the other."
The coachman, falling back a space or two from the door, and recovering
from a brief trance of astonishment, addressed the passengers, the
would-be passenger, the ostlers and stable-boys, who were standing
around, upon the mean and shabby conduct of the individual inside, upon
this, the passengers remonstrated, the would-be passenger stormed,
the coachman and guard bellowed, the ostlers hooted, the stable-boys
grinned, Grimaldi worked himself into a state of intense vexation, and
the cause of all the tumult sat quite immovable.
"Now, I'll tell you what it is," said the coachman, when his eloquence
was quite exhausted, "one word's as good as a thousand. Will you get
out?"
"No, I will not," answered the sleepy Harlequin.
"Very well," said the man; "then off goes my benjamin, and out you come
like a sack of saw-dust."
As the man was of that portly form and stout build which is the badge
of all his tribe, and as, stimulated by the approving murmurs of the
lookers-on, he began suiting the action to the word without delay,
Bologna thought it best to come to terms; so turned out into the cold
air, and took his seat on the coach-top, amidst several expressions of
very undisguised contempt from his fellow-passengers.
They performed the rest of the journey in this way, and Grimaldi,
alighting at the Angel at Islington, left Bologna to go on to the
coach-office in Holborn, previously giving both the guard and coachman
something beyond their usual fee, as an intelligible hint that he was
not of the same caste as his companion.
Two or three days afterwards, meeting Bologna in the street, he
inquired how he had got on at the coach-office.
"Oh, very well," said Bologna; "they abused me finely."
"Just what I expected."
"Yes, and very glad I was of it, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Saved my money, Joe; that's what I mean. If they had been civil, of
course I must have given something, not only to the coachman, but the
guard besides; but as they were not civil, of course I did not give
either of them a penny, and so saved something handsome by it."
Bologna had many good qualities, and he and Grimaldi always remained
on good terms; but as he was not upon the whole the most entertaining
travelling companion that could be found, they never afterwards
encountered each other in that capacity.