Then it was that the original predecessor of the clown of to-day made his appearance in rude plays in the character known as Arlecchino, who was a blundering servant. Originally he combined loutishness with great cunning. Out of this name developed the word Harlequin, which became very popular in France. The Harlequin wore a black mask, had a cocked hat, and wielded a bat. This bat was the original of the modern slap-stick so much used by clowns and low comedians.
As the pantomime developed, Harlequin surrounded himself with characters. Of course there had to be a woman, so she was introduced in the shape of a pretty servant, who wore tights. She was Colombine. The girl had to have a father, so he became Pantaloon, who wore baggy trousers. A fourth figure was also needed. Here is where the first real clown came in. He was the servant to Harlequin. He, too, wore baggy trousers, had a peaked hat, and was supposed to be always getting into trouble. You can now see the connection between Harlequin’s clown and the circus clown of to-day.
Pantomime found its greatest vogue in England, where it was introduced early in the eighteenth century at the Covent Garden Theater. A manager named Rich first brought it out. He devised a pantomime play in which Harlequin appeared as the lover of Colombine. Her father (Pantaloon) opposed the match; thereupon Harlequin abducted her, with the aid of the clown. The clown introduced many ludicrous effects.
The pantomime plays grew into tremendous popularity in England. They were given at the holiday season before immense crowds. The greatest managers found them necessary to good business. Even Garrick became sponsor for it. It was he who introduced Signor Giuseppe Grimaldi, father of the “Immortal Joe,” the greatest clown the world has ever known. I am proud to belong to the profession that Grimaldi adorned. The father played Harlequin for a long time in the London pantomimes. Joe early appeared with his parent. His first part was as monkey, when he was three years old. He was attached to a chain, and his father used to whirl him around by this chain. Once the chain broke, and little Joe landed on the stomach of a stout gentleman who sat in the front row.
When Joe grew up he abandoned the Harlequin part, and became the clown. He took off the spangles and fancy colored diamonds that were always a part of the Harlequin costume, and dressed in white with pantaloon trousers. He whitened his face, and then put on patches of red. He looked more like a lubberly boy, who had been caught eating jam.
With the ascendency of Joe Grimaldi the clown took precedence over Harlequin, and has had it ever since. But it was due to Joe’s great genius. He was called “The Garrick of Clowns.” His first triumphs were in “Mother Goose.” He did not depend upon acrobatic feats for his success, but on genuine humor. His antics were side-splitting. He became a national figure. Lord Byron was his friend, and Charles Dickens used to come to see him each week. Later, Dickens edited his Memoirs, which I regard as a remarkable tribute to a clown’s thoughts. When Grimaldi was out of the cast all London sulked. He was as necessary to Covent Garden as was the great John Kemble himself. Yet he was only a clown.
It is said of Grimaldi that he felt his work so keenly that as soon as his performance was over, he retired to a corner and wept profusely. He was a man of tender heart and generous impulses. There is a story about him which has been handed down by many generations of clowns. It goes on to say that once Grimaldi became very ill and despondent. He went to consult a great London specialist. The great man looked him over, and then remarked:
“Go to see Grimaldi, and laugh yourself well.”
The clown looked at him sadly, and replied:
“I am Grimaldi.”