Joseph Grimaldi

1805 to 1806.

Stage Affairs and Stage Quarrels—Mr. Graham, the Bow Street Magistrate and Drury Lane Manager—Mr. Peake—Grimaldi is introduced to Mr. Harris by John Kemble—Leaves Drury Lane and engages at Covent Garden—Mortification of the authorities at "the other house"—He joins Charles Dibdin's Company and visits Dublin—The wet Theatre—Ill success of the speculation, and great success of his own Benefit—Observations on the comparative strength of Whisky Punch and Rum Punch, with interesting experiments.

The manager of Drury Lane had advertised Tobin's comedy of "The Honey Moon" as the play for the second night of the season;[35] not recollecting, until it was too late to alter the bills, that in consequence of the secession of Mr. Byrne, who had been ballet-master, and the non-engagement of any other person in his place, there was no one to arrange the dance incidental to the piece. In this dilemma, Grimaldi, who had been accustomed to arrange the dances at Sadler's Wells, was sent for and, as soon as "Lodoiska" was over, the interview took place between him and the manager to which reference was made at the close of the last chapter.

Mr. Wroughton, after stating that he was in a very unexpected dilemma, and that unless Grimaldi would assist him he would have to change the piece for the ensuing night,—which it was exceedingly desirable to avoid doing, if possible,—briefly narrated the circumstances in which the theatre was placed, and concluded by offering him two pounds per week in addition to his regular salary, if he would arrange the dance in question, and assist in getting up any other little dances and processions that might be required. This offer he readily accepted, merely stipulating that the increased salary should be understood to extend over the whole season, and not merely until another ballet-master was engaged. Mr. Wroughton observed, that nothing could be fairer, that this was what he meant, and that Grimaldi had his instructions to engage as many male dancers as he might deem necessary. He at once entered upon his new office immediately engaged as many hands (or legs) as he required, arranged the dance during the night, called a rehearsal of it at ten in the morning, got it into a perfect state by twelve, rehearsed it again in its proper place in the comedy, and at night had the satisfaction of hearing it encored with great applause.

At the end of the week, he received his increased salary from Mr. Peake, the treasurer, a gentleman well known and highly respected by all connected with the stage or theatrical literature, who shook him by the hand, congratulated him on this new improvement of his income, and cordially wished him success.

Before he accepted the money, he said, "My dear sir, to prevent any future difference, it is thoroughly understood, is it, this increase is for the season?"

"Undoubtedly," replied Mr. Peake: "I will show you, if you like, Mr. Graham's written order to me to that effect." This he did, and Grimaldi of course was perfectly satisfied. Mr. Graham, who was then a magistrate at Bow-street, was at the head of affairs at Drury Lane.

All went on well for some little time. Mr. James D'Egville was engaged as ballet-master shortly afterwards; but this made no alteration in the footing upon which Grimaldi was placed. There was no difference of opinion between the ballet-master and himself, for he continued to arrange the minor dances and processions, and his arrangements were repeatedly very warmly commended by Mr. D'Egville.

A new grand ballet, called "Terpsichore," was produced by the latter gentleman immediately after his joining the company in which Grimaldi performed Pan, which he always considered a capital character, and one of the best he ever had to play. The ballet was got up to bring forward Madame Parisot,[36] who was engaged for the season, for one thousand guineas. It was thoroughly rehearsed, at least fourteen times before the night of performance; was very favourably received, and had a good run.

He was not a little surprised, on Saturday the 26th of October, when he went as usual to the treasury to draw his salary, to hear that thenceforth the extra two pounds would not be paid. Mr. Peake admitted that he was also very much surprised and annoyed at the circumstance, again producing Mr. Graham's letter, and candidly acknowledging, that in his opinion this uncalled-for attempt to rescind the contract, which was none of Grimaldi's seeking, was very paltry. He immediately waited upon Mr. Wroughton and mentioned the circumstance, at which he too appeared greatly vexed, although it was not in his power to order the additional sum to be paid. He then mentioned the circumstance to his wife, dwelling upon it with great irritation; but she, observing that it was of no consequence, for they could do very well without it, proposed that, having nothing to do at Drury Lane that night, they should go for an hour or two to Covent Garden.

To this proposition he made no objection; so, as he passed down Bow-street, he called in upon Mr. T. Dibdin for an order, and the conversation happening naturally enough to turn upon theatrical affairs, mentioned what had just occurred at Drury Lane. Mr. Dibdin immediately expressed himself in very strong terms upon the subject, and counselled Grimaldi to withdraw from the theatre, and to accept an engagement at the other house. The advice generated a long conversation between them, which terminated in Grimaldi saying, Mr. Dibdin might, if he pleased, mention the subject to Mr. Harris, and say, if the Management were willing to engage him, he was willing to enter into articles for the following season.

In the course of the evening, he received a note begging his attendance at Covent Garden on Monday, at twelve, and keeping the appointment, was ushered into a room in which were Mr. Harris and John Kemble. The latter greeted him in a very friendly manner, and said,

"Well, Joe, I see you are determined to follow me."

"Yes, sir," replied Grimaldi, who had been thinking of something polite; "you are a living magnet of attraction, Mr. Kemble."

At this Mr. Harris laughed and congratulated the tragedian on receiving so handsome a compliment. Kemble inquired of Grimaldi whether he knew Mr. Harris, and receiving a reply in the negative, introduced him to that gentleman as "Joe Grimaldi," whose father he had known well, who was a true chip of the old block, and the first low comedian in the country.

Mr. Harris said a great many fine things in reply to these commendations, and, rising, requested Grimaldi to follow him into an adjoining apartment. He did so, and in less than a quarter of an hour had signed articles for five seasons; the terms being, for the first season, six pounds per week; for the second and third, seven pounds; and for the fourth and fifth, eight pounds. Independent of these emoluments, he had several privileges reserved to him, among which was the very important one of permission to play at Sadler's Wells, as he had theretofore done. These arrangements being concluded, he took his leave, greatly satisfied with the improved position in which he stood, as up to that time he had only received four pounds per week at Drury Lane.[37]

In the evening, he had to play Pan in the ballet at Drury. When he had dressed for the part, he entered the green-room, which was pretty full of ladies and gentlemen, among whom was Mr. Graham, who, the moment he saw him, inquired if a report that had reached him of Mr. Grimaldi's going to Covent Garden for the following season were correct. Grimaldi replied in the affirmative, adding, that he was engaged at the other house not only for the following season, but for the four ensuing seasons.

Mr. Graham started up in a state of considerable excitement on hearing this, and addressed the performers present, at considerable length, expatiating in strong language upon what he termed "Grimaldi's ingratitude" in leaving the theatre. Grimaldi waited patiently until he had concluded, and then, addressing himself to the same auditors, made a counter-statement, in which he recapitulated the whole of the circumstances as they had actually occurred. When he came to mention Mr. Graham's letter to Mr. Peake, the treasurer, the former hastily interrupted him by demanding what letter he referred to.

"The letter," replied Grimaldi, "in which you empowered Mr. Peake to pay the increased salary for the whole of the season."

"If Mr. Peake showed you that letter," replied Mr. Graham, in a great passion, "Mr. Peake is a fool for his pains."

"Mr. Peake," rejoined Grimaldi, "is a gentleman, sir, and a man of honour, and, I am quite certain, disdains being made a party to any such unworthy conduct as you have pursued towards me."

A rather stormy scene followed, from which Grimaldi came off victorious; Barrymore and others taking up his cause so vigorously, that Mr. Graham at length postponed any further discussion and walked away. Enough having taken place, however, to enable him to foresee that his longer stay at Drury Lane would only be productive of constant discomfort to himself, he gave notice to Mr. Graham on the following morning of his intention to leave the theatre on the ensuing Saturday week. This resolve gave rise to another battle between Mr. Graham and himself, in the course of which he was pleased to say, that he could not play the ballet without him, and, consequently, that if he left, he would bring an action against him for loss incurred by its not being performed. Grimaldi, however, firmly adhered to his original resolution: acting therein upon the advice of Mr. Hughes, who strenuously counselled him by no means to depart from it.

Considering himself now at perfect liberty until Easter, he entered into an engagement to perform at Astley's theatre in Dublin, which had just been taken for a short period by Messrs. Charles and Thomas Dibdin. These gentlemen had engaged the greater part of the Sadler's Wells' company, including Bologna and his wife (who had been engaged by Mr. Harris for the next season at Covent Garden on the same day as Grimaldi himself), and they offered Grimaldi fourteen guineas a-week for himself, and two for his wife, half a clear benefit at the end of the season, and all his travelling expenses both by land and sea.

On the 9th of November he closed his engagement at Drury Lane, performing Pan in the ballet of "Terpsichore." He started on the following morning, accompanied by his wife, for Dublin, leaving his little son, who was in very weak health, at home. They had a very tedious journey to Holyhead, and a very stormy one from thence to Dublin; experiencing the usual troubles from cold, sickness, fatigue, and otherwise, by the way. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Dibdin, who had arrived first, received them with much cordiality and kindness; and they took lodgings at the house of a Mr. Davis, in Peter-street.

On Monday, November the 18th, the theatre opened, and their career was for some time eminently successful as long, indeed, as the fine weather lasted; but no sooner did the rainy weather set in, than the manager discovered, to his horror and surprise, that the roof of the theatre, being in a dilapidated condition, was not waterproof. At length, one night towards the end of December, a very heavy rain coming down during the performance, actually drove the audience out of the house. The water descended in torrents into the pit and boxes: some people who were greatly interested in the performances put up their umbrellas, and others put on great coats and shawls; but at length it came down so heavily upon the stage, that the performers themselves were obliged to disappear. In a few minutes the stage was covered, the scenery soaked through, the pit little better than a well, and the boxes and gallery streaming with water.

This unforeseen occurrence threw both literally and figuratively a damp upon the performances which there was no recovering. From that time, with the single exception of one evening, the theatre was deserted. Tarpaulings, and all kinds of cheap remedies, were tried, but they all failed in producing their intended effect. They never kept the water out, or drew the company in. As to any thorough repair of the roof, it was wholly out of the question; for the Dibdins only held the theatre until March, and the necessary repairs under this head alone would have cost at the very least 200l.

In this state of things, Mr. Charles Dibdin was compelled to write to London for remittances wherewith to pay his company. Knowing exactly how he was situated, Grimaldi volunteered his services in the only way in which he could render them, and offered not to send to the treasury for his salary, but to leave it to be paid whenever the manager might appoint after their return to London. This offer, it is almost unnecessary to add, was gratefully accepted.

About the middle of January, Mr. Jones, the manager of the Crow Street Theatre, hearing how badly the Astley's people were doing, and yet finding that, bad as their business was, it injured his, made an offer to Mr. Dibdin to take his company off his hands at the terms upon which he had originally engaged them, and for the remainder of the time specified in their articles, and further, to make some pecuniary compensation to Mr. Dibdin himself. The manager assembled the company on the stage, after their having had the mortification of playing to an empty house, on Tuesday, January the 28th, and communicated this offer to them, and earnestly urged upon them the acceptance of the proposal, as the only means by which himself and his brother could hope to recover any portion of the losses they had already sustained. Grimaldi at once expressed his readiness to accede to the proposition, and used his utmost influence with the other members of the company to induce them to do the like. He succeeded, except in the case of two of the performers, who preferred returning at once to England.

When this was arranged to the satisfaction of all parties, Mr. Dibdin announced his intention to close the theatre on the next Saturday, February the 1st. Grimaldi took the opportunity of inquiring what was to become of his half-benefit which had been agreed upon. The manager replied, with a melancholy smile, that he might give him anything he liked for his half—twenty pounds would do, and he should have the entire house next Saturday. Grimaldi immediately paid the twenty pounds, and on the following morning commenced making preparations for his benefit, having barely four days in which to announce the performances, and sell his tickets.

He had borne an introductory letter to Captain Trench, whose unvarying kindness to him on every possible occasion he most gratefully acknowledged, and to this gentleman he first mentioned his intention of taking a benefit. He also mentioned it to his landlord. Their replies were characteristic.

"Let me have a hundred box-tickets," said Captain Trench: "keep the two centre boxes for me. If I want any more tickets I'll send for them; but here's the money for the hundred."

"Give me a hundred pit-tickets," said the landlord. "If I can sell more, I will; but here is the money for them."

He had his bills printed and well circulated, but did no more business until the Saturday morning, which made him uneasy; though the fact simply was, that the people were waiting to see how the weather would turn out; very well knowing that if it were a wet night, the theatre would be the very worst place in which to encounter the rain. Fortune, however, was propitious; the day was cloudless, fair, and beautiful; and the result was, that after having at nine o'clock in the morning no one place taken except the two boxes bespoken by Captain Trench, at one o'clock in the afternoon not a single place remained unlet. At one time, when there was no doubt of the weather remaining dry, there were no fewer than sixteen carriages standing before his door, the owners of which were all anxious to obtain places, and all of whom he was reluctantly compelled to disappoint.

The receipts of the house amounted to one hundred and ninety-seven pounds nineteen shillings, not to mention a variety of presents, including a magnificent gold snuff-box, from Captain Trench, which was worth, in weight alone, more than thirty pounds sterling.

This purchase of Dibdin's half of the benefit for twenty pounds was not only a very fortunate thing for Grimaldi, but was, on the other hand, in some degree serviceable to Dibdin also, inasmuch as it enabled Grimaldi to oblige him with a loan of one hundred pounds, of which at that moment, in consequence of his undeserved misfortunes, he stood much in need. This advance, together with salary due and other matters, left Mr. Dibdin indebted to Grimaldi in the sum of one hundred and ninety-six pounds, the whole of which was honourably repaid a few months afterwards.

This benefit closed the season of the "wet" Theatre in Peter Street; and on the following Monday, Grimaldi, and the greater part of the London company, appeared at the Crow Street Theatre, where they acted until the 29th of March. One circumstance is sufficient to show that the performances were unusually successful, which is, that the two pieces in which he came out,—namely, "Harlequin Æsop," and "Coa and Zoa, or the Rival Indians,"—were found quite attractive enough for the whole period. He did not appear in any other part, even for a single night, during the whole of his engagement.

On Sunday, March the 30th, they packed up, and at ten o'clock in the evening of Monday went on board the packet, in which they had taken their berths to Holyhead, after receiving the warmest and kindest hospitality from every person they had encountered in Dublin. With only one letter of introduction, Grimaldi had found himself in the course of a few days surrounded by friends whose hospitality and cordiality, not only of profession, but of action, were beyond all bounds: one would invite him to dinner, and be personally affronted by his not dining with him every day; another who wished to pay him a similar attention, but whose dinner-hour would have interfered with the rehearsal, only gave up his claim upon the condition that his wife and himself should dine with him every Sunday; a third placed a jaunting-car at his disposal, and sent it to his door at eleven o'clock every morning; and a fourth expected him to meet a small party at supper regularly every night. He had heard and read a great deal of Irish hospitality, but had formed no conception of its extent and heartiness until he experienced its effects in his own person.

He was much struck, as most Englishmen are, by the enormous consumption of whisky-punch, and the facility with which the good folks of Dublin swallow tumbler after tumbler of it, without any visible symptoms of intoxication. He entertained a theory that some beverage of equal strength, to which they were unaccustomed, would be as trying to them as their whisky-punch was to him, (for he was always afraid of a second tumbler of toddy,) and, with a view of putting it to the proof, gave a little party at his lodgings on Twelfth Night, and compounded some good strong English rum-punch, with rather more than a dash of brandy in it. He considers that the experiment was eminently successful, asserting that one-fourth of the quantity which the guests would have drunk with complete impunity, had it been their ordinary beverage, quite overset them; and states with great glee, that Mr. Davis, his landlord, who could drink his seven tumblers of whisky-punch, and go to bed afterwards rather dull from excessive sobriety, was carried up stairs after one tumbler of the new composition, decidedly drunk. We are inclined to think, however, that Mr. Davis had been taking a few tumblers of whisky-punch in his own parlour before he went up stairs to qualify himself for the party, and that the success of the experiment is not sufficiently well established to justify us in impressing it on the public mind without the addition of this trifling qualification.