GEORGE CRUIKSHANK

Price 2s. each, boards.

The Greatest Plague of Life; or, The Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good Servant. Edited by the Brothers Mayhew. With Illustrations by George Cruikshank. Whom to Marry and How to Get Married; or, The Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good Husband. Edited by the Brothers Mayhew, and Illustrated by George Cruikshank. Mornings at Bow Street. With Steel Frontispiece and 21 Illustrations by George Cruikshank.

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER

It is some years now, since we first conceived a strong veneration for Clowns, and an intense anxiety to know what they did with themselves out of pantomime time, and off the stage. As a child, we were accustomed to pester our relations and friends with questions out of number concerning these gentry;—whether their appetite for sausages and such like wares was always the same, and if so, at whose expense they were maintained; whether they were ever taken up for pilfering other people's goods, or were forgiven by everybody because it was only done in fun; how it was they got such beautiful complexions, and where they lived; and whether they were born Clowns, or gradually turned into Clowns as they grew up. On these and a thousand other points our curiosity was insatiable. Nor were our speculations confined to Clowns alone: they extended to Harlequins, Pantaloons, and Columbines, all of whom we believed to be real and veritable personages, existing in the same forms and characters all the year round. How often have we wished that the Pantaloon were our god-father! and how

often thought that to marry a Columbine would be to attain the highest pitch of all human felicity!

The delights—the ten thousand million delights of a pantomime—come streaming upon us now,—even of the pantomime which came lumbering down in Richardson's waggons at fair-time to the dull little town in which we had the honour to be brought up, and which a long row of small boys, with frills as[Pg vi] white as they could be washed, and hands as clean as they would come, were taken to behold the glories of, in fair daylight.

We feel again all the pride of standing in a body on the platform, the observed of all observers in the crowd below, while the junior usher pays away twenty-four ninepences to a stout gentleman under a Gothic arch, with a hoop of variegated lamps swinging over his head. Again we catch a glimpse (too brief, alas!) of the lady with a green parasol in her hand, on the outside stage of the next show but one, who supports herself on one foot, on the back of a majestic horse, blotting-paper coloured and white; and once again our eyes open wide with wonder, and our hearts throb with emotion, as we deliver our card-board check into the very hands of the Harlequin himself, who, all glittering with spangles, and dazzling with many colours, deigns to give us a word of encouragement and commendation as we pass into the booth!

But what was this—even this—to the glories of the inside, where, amid the smell of saw-dust, and orange-peel, sweeter far than violets to youthful noses, the first play being over, the lovers united, the ghost appeased, the baron killed, and everything made comfortable and pleasant,—the pantomime itself began! What words can describe the deep gloom of the opening scene, where a crafty magician holding a young lady in bondage was discovered, studying an enchanted book to the soft music of a gong!—or in what terms can we express the thrill of ecstasy with which, his magic power opposed by superior art, we beheld the monster himself converted into Clown! What mattered it that the stage was three yards wide, and four deep? we never saw it. We had no eyes, ears, or corporeal senses, but for the pantomime. And when its short career was run, and the baron previously slaughtered, coming forward with his hand upon his heart, announced that for that favour Mr. Richardson returned his most sincere thanks, and the performances would commence again in a quarter of an hour, what[Pg vii]

jest could equal the effects of the Baron's indignation and surprise, when the Clown, unexpectedly peeping from behind the curtain, requested the audience "not to believe it, for it was all gammon!" Who but a Clown could have called forth the roar of laughter that succeeded; and what witchery but a Clown's could have caused the junior usher himself to declare aloud, as he shook his sides and smote his knee in a moment of irrepressible joy, that that was the very best thing he had ever heard said!

We have lost that clown now;—he is still alive, though, for we saw him only the day before last Bartholomew Fair, eating a real saveloy, and we are sorry to say he had deserted to the illegitimate drama, for he was seated on one of "Clark's Circus" waggons:—we have lost that Clown and that pantomime, but our relish for the entertainment still remains unimpaired. Each successive Boxing-day finds us in the same state of high excitement and expectation. On that eventful day, when new pantomimes are played for the first time at the two great theatres, and at twenty or thirty of the little ones, we still gloat as formerly upon the bills which set forth tempting descriptions of the scenery in staring red and black letters, and still fall down upon our knees, with other men and boys, upon the pavement by shop-doors, to read them down to the very last line. Nay, we still peruse with all eagerness and avidity the exclusive accounts of the coming wonders in the theatrical newspapers of the Sunday before, and still believe them as devoutly as we did

before twenty years' experience had shown us that they are always wrong.

With these feelings upon the subject of pantomimes, it is no matter of surprise that when we first heard that Grimaldi had left some memoirs of his life behind him, we were in a perfect fever until we had perused the manuscript. It was no sooner placed in our hands by "the adventurous and spirited publisher,"—(if our recollection serve us, this is the customary style[Pg viii] of the complimentary little paragraphs regarding new books which usually precede advertisements about Savory's clocks in the newspapers,)—than we sat down at once and read it every word.

See how pleasantly things come about, if you let them take their own course! This mention of the manuscript brings us at once to the very point we are anxious to reach, and which we should have gained long ago, if we had not travelled into those irrelevant remarks concerning pantomimic representations.

For about a year before his death, Grimaldi was employed in writing a full account of his life and adventures. It was his chief occupation and amusement; and as people who write their own lives, even in the midst of very many occupations, often find time to extend them to a most inordinate length, it is no wonder that his account of himself was exceedingly voluminous.

This manuscript was confided to Mr. Thomas Egerton Wilks: to alter and revise, with a view to its publication. Mr. Wilks, who was well acquainted with Grimaldi and his connexions, applied himself to the task of condensing it throughout, and wholly expunging considerable portions, which, so far as the public were concerned, possessed neither interest nor amusement, he likewise interspersed here and there the substance of such personal anecdotes as he had gleaned from the writer in desultory conversation. While he was thus engaged, Grimaldi died.

Mr. Wilks having by the commencement of September concluded his labours, offered the manuscript to the present publisher, by whom it was shortly afterwards purchased unconditionally, with the full consent and concurrence of Mr. Richard Hughes, Grimaldi's executor.

The present Editor of these Memoirs has felt it necessary to say thus much in explanation of their origin, in order to establish beyond doubt the unquestionable authenticity of the memoirs they contain.

His own share in them is stated in a few words. Being much[Pg ix] struck by several incidents in the manuscript—such as the description of Grimaldi's infancy, the burglary, the brother's return from sea under the extraordinary circumstances detailed, the adventure of the man with the two fingers on his left hand, the account of Mackintosh and his friends, and many other passages,—and thinking that they might be related in a more attractive manner, (they were at that time told in the first person, as if by Grimaldi himself, although they had necessarily lost any original manner which his recital might have imparted to them;) he accepted a proposal from the publisher to edit the book, and has edited it to the best of his ability, altering its form throughout, and making such other alterations as he conceived would improve the narration of the facts, without any departure from the facts themselves.

He has merely to add, that there has been no book-making in this case. He has not swelled the quantity of matter, but materially abridged it. The account of Grimaldi's first courtship may appear lengthy in its present form; but it has undergone a double and most comprehensive process of abridgment. The old man was garrulous upon a subject on which the youth had felt so keenly; and as the feeling did him honour in both stages of life, the Editor has not had the heart to reduce it further.

Here is the book, then, at last. After so much pains from so many hands—including the good right hand of George Cruikshank, which has seldom been better exercised,—he humbly hopes it may find favour with the public.

Doughty Street, February, 1838.

CONTENTS.

[Pg xii]

[Pg xiii]

[Pg xiv]

[Pg xv]

[Pg xvi]

CHAPTER I.

His Grandfather and Father—His Birth and first appearance at Drury Lane Theatre, and at Sadler's Wells—His Father's severity—Miss Farren—The Earl of Derby and the Wig—The Fortune-box and Charity's reward—His Father's pretended death, and the behaviour of himself and his brother thereupon.

The paternal grandfather of Joseph Grimaldi was well known, both to the French and Italian public, as an eminent dancer, possessing a most extraordinary degree of strength and agility,—qualities which, being brought into full play by the constant exercise of his frame in his professional duties, acquired for him the distinguishing appellation of "Iron Legs." Dibdin, in his History of the Stage, relates several anecdotes of his prowess in these respects, many of which are current elsewhere, though the authority on which they rest would appear from his grandson's testimony to be somewhat doubtful; the best known of these, however, is perfectly true. Jumping extremely high one night in some performance on the stage, possibly in a fit of enthusiasm occasioned by the august presence of the Turkish Ambassador, who, with his suite, occupied the stage-box, he actually broke one of the chandeliers which in those times hung above the stage doors; and one of the glass drops was struck with some violence against the eye or countenance of the Turkish

Ambassador aforesaid. The dignity of this great personage being much affronted, a formal complaint was made to the Court of France, who gravely commanded "Iron Legs" to apologize, which "Iron Legs" did in due form, to the great amusement of himself, and the court, and the public; and, in short, of everybody else but the exalted gentleman whose person[Pg 2] had been grievously outraged. The mighty affair terminated in the appearance of a squib, which has been thus translated:—

This circumstance occurred on the French stage. The first Grimaldi[1] who appeared in England was the father of the subject[Pg 3] of these Memoirs, and the son of "Iron Legs," who, holding the appointment of Dentist to Queen Charlotte, came to England in that capacity in 1760; he was a native of Genoa, and long before his arrival in this country had attained considerable distinction in his profession. We have not many instances of the union of the two professions of dentist and dancing-master; but Grimaldi, possessing a taste for both pursuits, and a much higher relish for the latter than the former, obtained leave to resign his situation about the Queen, soon after his arrival in this country, and commenced giving lessons in dancing and[Pg 4] fencing, occasionally giving his pupils a taste of his quality in his old capacity. In those days of minuets and cotillions, private dancing was a much more laborious and serious affair than it is at present; and the younger branches of the nobility and gentry kept Mr. Grimaldi in pretty constant occupation. In many

scattered notices of OUR Grimaldi's life, it has been stated that the father lost his situation at court in consequence of the rudeness of his behaviour, and some disrespect which he had shown the King; an accusation which his son always took very much to heart, and which the continual patronage of the King and Queen, bestowed upon him publicly, on all possible occasions, sufficiently proves to be unfounded.

[1] Giuseppe Grimaldi was really "Iron Legs;" of the grandfather no particulars are known. The father of our Joe was originally a pantomime actor at the fairs in Italy and France, at the time these fairs supplied the French Theatre with some of the finest dancers that have conferred distinction on that stage. His first employment in England was at the King's Theatre in the Haymarket, where the lighter kind of ballet proving attractive, similar dances were introduced early in the season 1758, 1759, on the boards of Drury Lane and Covent Garden Theatres. At the former, under Garrick's management, a new pantomime dance, entitled "The Millers," was performed for the first time, October 12th, 1758; in which Signor Grimaldi, it was announced, made his first appearance on the English Stage. A writer in the "London Chronicle," in reference to this piece, observes, as regards the debutant—"Grimaldi is a man of great strength and agility; he indeed treads the air. If he has any fault, he is rather too comical; and from some feats of his performing, which I have been a witness

to, at the King's Theatre, in the Haymarket, those spectators will see him, it is my opinion, with most pleasure, who are least solicitous whether he breaks his neck, or not." In reference to the dance of "The Millers," composed by Grimaldi, then deemed an innovation, he continues:—

"Some people hold dancing to be below the dignity of a regular theatre; but I can by no means subscribe to their opinion, since one of the principal ends of every theatre, is to delight; and everything that can contribute to that purpose, under proper restrictions, has an undoubted right to a place there. I shall not affect to show my learning, by adding, the ancients not only admitted dancing, but thought it a necessary ornament in the performance of the most celebrated tragedies.

"The French in this kind of merit, for many years carried all before them; but of late the Italians seem to have the start of them; and it must be allowed, the latter are much better actors, which, in the comic dance that now almost everywhere prevails, is infinitely more requisite, than those graceful postures and movements on which the French dancers for the most part pique themselves; but in this case a vast deal depends on the Maître de Ballet; and whoever composed 'The Millers,' has, I think, shown himself a man of genius; the figure of the contra-danse being pleasingly intricate, and the whole admirably well adapted to the music. I cannot, however, help observing, he has been indebted to Don Quixote; for when Signor Grimaldi comes in asleep on his ass, it is stolen from under him in the same manner that Gines de Passamont robs poor Sancho of his, and the same joy is testified by both parties in the recovery of the beloved brute."

The Drury Lane playbill, October 10, 1761, announced as "not acted this season," a Comedy called the Confederacy; Brass, Mr. King; Flippanta, Mrs. Clive. At the end of Act II. an entertainment of Dancing, called the Italian Gardener, by Signor Grimaldi, Miss Baker, &c. Garrick's Pageant of the Coronation concluded the night's diversion.

From his first appearance in October, 1758, Grimaldi continued at Drury Lane as Maître de Ballet, Primo Buffo, Clown, Pantaloon, or Cherokee, or any part required in the ballet, till his death. The dancers, it would appear, were not paid during the whole season, but for certain periods; in the interim they were employed, under certain restrictions, at other places of amusement. Those belonging to Drury Lane, in Garrick's time, were in the summer months, and from Easter to Michaelmas attached to Sadler's Wells; and in the bills which announced the opening of that suburban theatre, at Easter, 1763 and 1764, Signor Grimaldi appears as Maître de Ballet, and chief dancer. On May 1, in the latter year, Grimaldi, and an English dancer named Aldridge, of considerable eminence in his profession, jointly had a benefit; Shakspeare's "Tempest" was performed, as also the pantomime of "Fortunatus," Harlequin by Signor Grimaldi. In the September of the same year, at Sadler's Wells, the Signor had another benefit; the bill of the evening is subjoined:

FOR THE BENEFIT OF SIGNOR GRIMALDI.

AT SADLER'S WELLS, ISLINGTON.

On Wednesday, September 19, 1764, will be exhibited a Variety of New Performances.

Dancing both serious and comic, viz.:—1. "The Miller's Dance," by Signor Duval, Signor Amoire, Signora Mercucius, Mrs. Preston, and others.—2. "The Shoemakers," by Signor Grimaldi, Signor Amoire, Miss Wilkinson, and others.—3. "The Country Wedding," by Signor Duval, Signor Amoire, Signora Mercucius, Miss Wilkinson, and Signor Grimaldi, and others.

And by particular desire, for that night only, A Double Hornpipe by Master Cape and Miss Taylor. Tumbling by Mr. Sturgess, Signor Pedro, and Mr. Garman. Singing by Mr. Prentice, Mr. Cooke, and Miss Brown. With a variety of Curious Performances by

THE VENETIAN AND HIS CHILDREN.

The Wire by Master Wilkinson. The Musical Glasses by Miss Wilkinson, accompanied by Master Wilkinson. The whole to conclude with a New Entertainment of Music and Dancing, called

DON QUIXOTE.

Harlequin, Mr. Banks. Don Quixote, Mr. Niepeker. Sancho, Mr. Warner. Columbine, Miss Wilkinson. The Paintings, Music, and Habits, are all entirely New. Pit and Boxes, 2s. 6d. Gallery, 1s. 6d.

[To begin exactly at Six.] [Vivant Rex et Regina.]

Tickets and Places to be had of Signor Grimaldi, at the New Tunbridge Wells; and he begs the favour of those Ladies and Gentlemen, who have already taken Places, to send their servants by Half-an-Hour after Four o'clock.

At Drury Lane, December 26, in the same year, was performed the Tragedy of "The Earl of Essex" at the end of Act IV. a Dance called "The Irish Lilt," by Mr. Aldridge, Miss Baker, and others. After which, not performed these three years, an Entertainment in Italian Grotesque Characters, called "Queen Mab." Harlequin, by Mr. Rooker; Pantaloon, by Signor Grimaldi; Silvio, by Mr. Baddeley; Puck, Master Cape; Queen Mab, by Miss Ford; Columbine, by Miss Baker. The facetious Ned Rooker, principal Harlequin at Drury Lane, was a painter of great excellence: his paintings and drawings are still held in high repute, and his theatrical scenery was not surpassed in his time; some of it was in use till recently at the Haymarket Theatre.

Grimaldi continued at Sadler's Wells till the close of the season of 1767, and never afterwards was employed there. Signor Spinacuti and his "funambulistical" monkey, so took the town by surprise in 1768, that dancing at that theatre was altogether thrown into the back-ground.