Memoirs of Joseph Grimaldi
286
Memoirs of Joseph Grimaldi
286Paperback
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9783385362055 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Outlook Verlag |
| Publication date: | 03/01/2024 |
| Pages: | 286 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.83(w) x 8.27(h) x 0.64(d) |
About the Author
Date of Birth:
February 7, 1812Date of Death:
June 18, 1870Place of Birth:
Portsmouth, EnglandPlace of Death:
Gad's Hill, Kent, EnglandEducation:
Home-schooling; attended Dame School at Chatham briefly and WellingtonRead an Excerpt
Memoirs of Joseph Grimaldi
By Charles Dickens
Steerforth Press
Copyright © 2008 Pushkin PressAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-901285-94-9
CHAPTER 1
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'. Thomas 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, Grimaldi actually broke one of the chandeliers which 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 apologise, 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 had been grievously outraged. The mighty affair terminated in the appearance of a squib, which has been thus translated:
Hail, Iron Legs! immortal pair,
Agile, firm knit, and peerless,
That skim the earth, or vault in air,
Aspiring high and fearless.
Glory of Paris! outdoing compeers,
Brave pair! may nothing hurt ye;
Scatter at will our chandeliers,
And tweak the nose of Turkey.
And should a too presumptuous foe
But dare these shores to land on,
His well-kicked men shall quickly know
We've Iron Legs to stand on.
This circumstance occurred on the French stage.
The first Grimaldi who appeared in England was the father of the subject of these memoirs and the son of 'Iron Legs'. Holding the appointment of dentist to Queen Charlotte, he 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 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.
His new career being highly successful, Mr Grimaldi was appointed ballet-master of old Drury Lane Theatre and Sadler's Wells, with which he coupled the situation of primo buffo; in this double capacity he became a very great favourite with the public and Their Majesties, who were nearly every week accustomed to command some pantomime of which Grimaldi was the hero. He bore the reputation of being a very honest man, and a very charitable one, never turning a deaf ear to the entreaties of the distressed, but always willing, by every means in his power, to relieve the numerous reduced and wretched persons who applied to him for assistance. It may be added — and his son always mentioned it with just pride — that he was never known to be inebriated: a rather scarce virtue among players of later times, and one which men of far higher rank in their profession would do well to profit by.
Grimaldi's father appears to have been a very singular and eccentric man. He purchased a small quantity of ground at Lambeth once, part of which was laid out as a garden; he entered into possession of it in the very depth of a most inclement winter, but he was so impatient to ascertain how this garden would look in full bloom, that, finding it quite impossible to wait till the coming of spring and summer gradually developed its beauties, he had it at once decorated with an immense quantity of artificial flowers, and the branches of all the trees bent beneath the weight of the most luxuriant foliage, and the most abundant crops of fruit, all, it is needless to say, artificial also.
A singular trait in Mr Grimaldi's character was a vague and profound dread of the fourteenth day of the month. At its approach he was always nervous, disquieted, and anxious: directly it had passed he was another man again, and invariably exclaimed, in his broken English, "Ah! now I am safe for anoder month." If this circumstance were unaccompanied by any singular coincidence it would be scarcely worth mentioning; but it is remarkable that he actually died on the fourteenth day of March (in fact, the sixteenth); and that he was born, christened, and married on the fourteenth of the month.
These are not the only odd characteristics of the man. He was a most morbidly sensitive and melancholy being, and entertained a horror of death almost indescribable. He was in the habit of wandering about churchyards and burying-places for hours together, and would speculate on the diseases of which the persons had died; figure their death-beds, and wonder how many of them had been buried alive in a fit or a trance; a possibility which he shuddered to think of, and which haunted him both through life and at its close. Such an effect had this fear upon his mind, that he left express directions in his will that, before his coffin should be fastened down, his head should be severed from his body, and the operation was actually performed in the presence of several persons. It is a curious circumstance that death, which always filled the older Grimaldi's mind with the most gloomy and horrible reflections, and which in his unoccupied moments can hardly be said to have been ever absent from his thoughts, should have been chosen by him as the subject of one of his most popular scenes in the pantomimes of the time. Among many others of the same nature, he invented the well-known skeleton scene for the clown, which was very popular in those days, and is still occasionally represented. Whether it be true, that the hypochondriac is most prone to laugh at the things which most annoy and terrify him in private, as a man who believes in the appearance of spirits upon earth is always the foremost to express his unbelief; or whether these gloomy ideas haunted the unfortunate man's mind so much, that even his merriment assumed a ghastly hue, and his comicality sought for grotesque objects in the grave and the charnel-house; the fact is equally remarkable.
This was the same man who, in the time of Lord George Gordon's riots (in 1780), when people, for the purpose of protecting their houses from the fury of the mob, inscribed upon their doors the words 'No Popery — actually, with the view of keeping in the right with all parties, and preventing the possibility of offending any by his form of worship, wrote up No religion at all; which announcement appeared in large characters in front of his house, in Little Russell Street. The idea was perfectly successful; but whether from the humour of the description, or because the rioters did not happen to go down that particular street, we are unable to determine.
On 18th December 1779, the year in which Garrick died, Joseph Grimaldi, 'Old Joe', was born, in Stanhope Street, Clare-Market; a part of the town then, as now, much frequented by theatrical people, in consequence of its vicinity to the theatres. At the period of his birth, his eccentric father was over sixty years old, and twenty five months afterwards another son was born to him — Joseph's only brother. The child did not remain very long in a state of helpless and unprofitable infancy, for at the age of one year and eleven months he was brought out by his father on the boards of Old Drury, where he made his first bow and his first tumble. The piece in which his precocious powers were displayed was the well-known pantomime of Robinson Crusoe, in which the father sustained the part of the Shipwrecked Mariner, and the son performed that of the Little Clown. The child's success was complete; he was instantly placed on the establishment, accorded a magnificent weekly salary of fifteen shillings, and every succeeding year was brought forward in some new and prominent part. He became a favourite behind the curtain as well as before it, being henceforth distinguished in the greenroom as 'Clever little Joe'; and Joe he was called to the last day of his life.
In 1782, Grimaldi first appeared at Sadler's Wells, in the arduous character of a monkey; and here he was fortunate enough to excite as much approbation as he had previously elicited in the part of clown at Drury Lane. He immediately became a member of the regular company at this theatre, as he had done at the other; and here he remained (one season only excepted) until the termination of his professional life, years afterwards. Now that he had made, or rather that his father had made for him, two engagements, by which he was bound to appear at two theatres on the same evening and at very nearly the same time, his labours began in earnest. They would have been arduous for a man, much more so for a child; and it will be obvious that if at any one portion of his life his gains were very great, the actual toil both of mind and body by which they were purchased was at least equally so.
We have already remarked that the father of Grimaldi was an eccentric man; he appears to have been peculiarly eccentric, and rather unpleasantly so, in the correction of his son. The child being bred up to play all kinds of fantastic tricks, was as much a clown, a monkey, or anything else that was droll and ridiculous, off the stage, as on it; and being incited thereto by the occupants of the green-room, used to skip and tumble, about as much for their diversion as that of the public. All this was carefully concealed from the father, who, whenever he did happen to observe any of the child's pranks, always administered the same punishment — a sound thrashing; terminating in his being lifted up by the hair of the head and stuck in a corner, whence his father, with a severe countenance and awful voice, would tell him "to venture to move at his peril". Venture to move, however, he did, for no sooner would the father disappear than all the cries and tears of the boy would disappear too; and with many of those winks and grins which afterwards became so popular, he would recommence his pantomime with greater vigour than ever; indeed, nothing could ever stop him but the cry of "Joe! Joe! Here's your father!" upon which the boy would dart back into the old corner, and begin crying again as if he had never left off.
This became quite a regular amusement in course of time, and whether the father was coming or not, the caution used to be given for the mere pleasure of seeing Joe run back to his corner; this Joe very soon discovered, and often confounding the warning with the joke, received more severe beatings than before from him whom he very properly describes in his manuscript as his "severe but excellent parent". On one of these occasions, when Joe was dressed for his favourite part of the Little Clown in Robinson Crusoe, with his face painted in exact imitation of his father's, which appears to have been part of the fun of the scene, the old gentleman brought him into the green-room, and placing him in his usual solitary corner, gave him strict directions not to stir an inch on pain of being thrashed.
The Earl of Derby, who was at that time in the constant habit of frequenting the green-room, happened to walk in at the moment, and seeing a lonesome-looking little boy dressed and painted after a manner very inconsistent with his solitary air, good-naturedly called him towards him.
"Hollo! here, my boy, come here!" said the Earl.
Joe made a wonderful and astonishing face, but remained where he was. The Earl laughed heartily, and looked round for an explanation.
"He dare not move!" explained Miss Farren, to whom his lordship was then much attached, and whom he afterwards married. "His father will beat him if he does."
"Indeed!" said his lordship. At which Joe, by way of confirmation, made another face more extraordinary than his former contortions.
"I think," said his lordship, laughing again, "the boy is not quite so much afraid of his father as you suppose. Come here, sir!"
With this, he held up half a crown, and the child, perfectly well knowing the value of money, darted from his corner, seized it with pantomimic suddenness, and was darting back again, when the Earl caught him by the arm.
"Here, Joe!" said the Earl, "take off your wig and throw it in the fire, and here's another half-crown for you."
No sooner said than done. Off came the wig — into the fire it went; a roar of laughter arose; the child capered about with a half-crown in each hand; the Earl, alarmed for the consequences to the boy, busied himself to extricate the wig with the tongs and poker; and the father, in full dress for the Shipwrecked Mariner, rushed into the room at the same moment. It was lucky for 'Little Joe' that Lord Derby promptly and humanely interfered, or it is exceedingly probable that his father would have prevented any chance of his being buried alive at all events, by killing him outright.
As it was, the matter could not be compromised without the boy receiving a smart beating, which made him cry very bitterly; and the tears running down his face, which was painted 'an inch thick', came to the 'complexion at last', in parts, and made him look as much like a little clown as like a little human being, to neither of which characters he bore the most distant resemblance. He was 'called' almost immediately afterwards, and the father being in a violent rage, had not noticed the circumstance until the little object came on the stage, when a general roar of laughter directed his attention to his grotesque countenance. Becoming more violent than before, old Grimaldi fell upon his son at once, and beat him severely, and the child roared vociferously. This was all taken by the audience as a most capital joke; shouts of laughter and peals of applause shook the house; and the newspapers next morning declared that it was perfectly wonderful to see a mere child perform so naturally, and highly creditable to his father's talents as a teacher!
This is no bad illustration of some of the miseries of a poor actor's life. The jest on the lip and the tear in the eye, the merriment on the mouth and the aching of the heart, have called down the same shouts of laughter and peals of applause a hundred times. Characters in a state of starvation are almost invariably laughed at upon the stage; the audience have had their dinner.
The bitterest portion of the boy's punishment was the being deprived of the five shillings, which the excellent parent put into his own pocket, possibly because he received the child's salary also, and in order that everything might be, as Goldsmith's Bear-leader has it, "in a concatenation accordingly". The Earl gave him half a crown every time he saw him afterwards, though, and the child had good cause for regret when his lordship married Miss Farren and left the green-room.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Memoirs of Joseph Grimaldi by Charles Dickens. Copyright © 2008 Pushkin Press. Excerpted by permission of Steerforth Press.
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