Joseph Grimaldi

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 42l., and on the second 45l., his share of the total being 43l. 10s. At Worcester, the receipts of the first night were 87l., and of the second 93l. 16s.: 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:—

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 150l. 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 70l.

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 20l. 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 100l. 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.