[39] On the night of the joint benefit of Grimaldi and Bologna, June 9, 1807, Macklin's "Man of the World," was performed; Sir Pertinax, by Mr. Cooke; a new comic ballet, entitled "Poor Jack," Poor Jack, by Mr. Bologna, jun. Joe also sang Dibdin's song of "The Country Club," often previously sung by him at Sadler's Wells, with reiterated plaudits. The evening's entertainments concluded with "Mother Goose," for the eighty-eighth time, not the eighty-second.
In the preceding April, on the 16th, was produced at Covent Garden, for the first time, a grand ballet of action, entitled "The Ogre and Little Thumb; or, the Seven League Boots;" Anthropophagos, the Ogre, Mr. Farley: Count Manfredi, Mr. Bologna, jun.; Scamperini, the Count's Servant, Mr. Grimaldi; Little Thumb, Miss M. Bristow, her first appearance.
During the run of this pantomime he fell curiously into a new and mysterious circle of acquaintance. The mystery which over-hung them, the manner of his introduction, their style of living, and his subsequent discovery of their rank and title, are not a little curious.
On the 6th of January, 1807, a gentleman called at his house in Baynes' Row, and desiring to see him was shown into the parlour. In this person he was surprised to recognise his quondam friend Mackintosh who owned the preserves. He apologised for calling, entered into conversation with great ease, and trusted that the little trick he had played in mere thoughtlessness might be completely forgiven. Being courteously requested not to trouble himself by referring to it, Mr. Mackintosh went on to say, that his mother had sold, not her mangle, but her inn, and had retired to a distant part of the country; while he himself having attached himself to business, had come to reside permanently in London, and had taken a house and offices in Throgmorton-street, in the City.
Mr. Mackintosh's appearance was extremely smart, his manners were greatly improved, and altogether he had acquired much polish and refinement since the days of the chaise-cart and the fustian jacket. As, notwithstanding the absurd scrape into which he had led his guests, he had treated them very hospitably, Grimaldi invited him to dine on the following Sunday. He came in due course; his conversation was jocose and amusing, and becoming a favourite at the house, he frequently dined or supped there: Grimaldi and his wife occasionally doing the same with him in Throgmorton-street, where he had a very business-looking establishment, plainly but genteelly furnished.
About a month after his first calling, he waited upon Grimaldi one morning, and said that some friends of his residing in Charlotte-street, Fitzroy-square, were very anxious to make his acquaintance, and wished much for his company at supper one evening after he had finished at the theatre. Grimaldi, who if he had accepted all the invitations he received at this period would have had very little time for his profession, parried the request for some time, alleging that he was a very domestic person, and that he preferred adhering to his old custom of supping at home with his wife after the play. Mackintosh, however, urged that his friends were very wealthy people, that he would find them very useful and profitable acquaintances, and by these and a thousand other persuasions, overcame his disinclination to go. He consented, and an evening was fixed for the visit.
On the appointed night, as soon as he had finished at the theatre, he called a coach and directed the driver to set him down at the address which Mackintosh had given him. The coach stopped before a very large house, apparently handsomely furnished, and brilliantly lighted up. Not having any idea that the man could possess friends who lived in such style, he at first supposed that the driver had made a mistake; but while they were discussing the point, Mackintosh, elegantly dressed, darted out of the passage, and, taking his arm, conducted him into a brilliant supper-room.
If the outside of the house had given him cause for astonishment, its internal appearance redoubled his surprise. Everything was on a scale of the most costly splendour: the spacious rooms were elegantly papered and gilded, elegant chandeliers depended from the ceilings, the richest carpets covered the floors, and the other furniture, too, was of the most expensive description. The supper comprised a choice variety of luxuries, and was splendidly served; the costliest wines of various kinds and vintages sparkled upon the table.
There were just twelve persons in the supper-room, besides Mackintosh and himself—to wit, six ladies and six gentlemen, who were all introduced as married people. The first couple to whom he was introduced were of course the host and hostess, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, who welcomed him with enchanting urbanity and condescension. Every member of the party was beautifully dressed: the ladies wore jewellery of the most brilliant description, the numerous attendants were in handsome liveries, and the whole scene was so totally different from anything he had anticipated that he was thoroughly bewildered, and actually began to doubt the reality of what he saw. The politeness of the gentlemen, and the graceful ease of the ladies, however, soon restored his self-possession; while the delicious flavour of the wines and dishes convinced him that with respect to that part of the business, at all events, he was labouring under no delusion.
In eating, drinking, singing, and story-telling, the night wore on till past five o'clock, when he was at length suffered to return home. A recital of all the circumstances astonished his wife not a little; and he was quite as much amazed at recollecting what he had seen, as she at hearing of it.