[26] Mr. James Byrne, father of Mr. Oscar Byrne, was one of the ballet at Drury lane in Garrick's time; and was also employed at Sadler's Wells in the seasons of 1775 and 1776. He died December 4, 1845, in the eighty-ninth year of his age. Mrs. Byrne, whom many may yet remember at Covent Garden Theatre, died a few months before her husband, on August 27, in her seventy-fourth year.
The alteration soon became general, and has proved a lasting one, Harlequin having been ever since attired as upon this memorable occasion, in accordance with the improved taste of his then representative.
Grimaldi's part in this production was a singularly arduous and wearying one: he had to perform Punch, and to change afterwards to Clown. He was so exceedingly successful in the first-mentioned part, that Mr. Sheridan wished him to preserve the character throughout,—a suggestion which he was compelled resolutely to oppose. His reason for doing so will not be considered extraordinary, when we inform the present generation that his personal decorations consisted of a large and heavy hump on his chest, and a ditto, ditto, on his back; a high sugar-loaf cap, a long-nosed mask, and heavy wooden shoes;—the weight of the whole dress, and of the humps, nose, and shoes especially, being exceedingly great. Having to exercise all his strength in this costume, and to perform a vast quantity of what in professional language is termed "comic business," he was compelled by fatigue, at the end of the sixth scene, to assume the Clown's dress, and so relieve himself from the immense weight which he had previously endured. "The part of Columbine," he tells us, "was supported by Miss Menage;[27] and admirably she sustained it. I thought at the time that, taking them together, I never saw so good a Harlequin and Columbine; and I still entertain the same opinion."
[27] Miss Bella Menage, in September, 1804, became the wife of Mr. M. W. Sharp, the artist.
"Harlequin Amulet" being played every night until Easter, he had plenty to do: but although his body was fatigued, his mind was relieved by constant employment, and he had little time, in the short intervals between exertion and repose, to brood over the heavy misfortune which had befallen him. Immediately after his wife's death, he had removed from the scene of his loss to a house in Baynes' Row, and he gradually became more cheerful and composed.
In this new habitation he devoted his leisure hours to the breeding of pigeons, and for this purpose had a room, which fanciers termed a dormer, constructed at the top of his house, where he used to sit for hours together, watching the birds as they disported in the air above him. At one time he had upwards of sixty pigeons, all of the very first order and beauty, and many of them highly valuable: in proof of which, he notes down with great pride a bet, concerning one pigeon of peculiar talents, made with Mr. Lambert, himself a pigeon-fancier.
This Mr. Lambert being, as Grimaldi says, "like myself, a pigeon-fancier, but, unlike myself, a confirmed boaster," took it into his head to declare and pronounce his birds superior in all respects to those in any other collection. This comprehensive declaration immediately brought all the neighbouring pigeon-breeders up in arms; and Grimaldi, taking up the gauntlet on behalf of the inmates of the "dormer," accepted a bet offered by Lambert, that there was no pigeon in his flight capable of accomplishing twenty miles in twenty minutes. The sum at stake was twenty pounds. The money was posted, the bird exhibited, the day on which the match should come off named, and the road over which the bird was to fly agreed upon—the course being from the twentieth mile-stone on the Great North Road to Grimaldi's house. At six o'clock in the morning, the bird was consigned to the care of a friend, with instructions to throw it up precisely as the clock struck twelve, at the appointed mile-stone, near St. Albans; and the friend and the pigeon, accompanied by a gentleman on behalf of the opposite party, started off, all parties concerned first setting their watches by Clerkenwell church. It was a very dismal day, the snow being very deep on the ground, and a heavy sleet falling, very much increasing the odds against the bird, the weather, of course, having great effect, and the snow frequently blinding it. There was no stipulation made, however, for fine weather; so at twelve o'clock the two parties, accompanied by several friends, took up their station in the dormer. In exactly nineteen minutes afterwards, the pigeon alighted on the roof of the house. An offer of twenty pounds was immediately made for the bird, but it was declined.
The pigeons, however, did not always keep such good hours, or rather minutes; for sometimes they remained away so long on their aërial excursions, that their owner gave them up in despair. On one occasion they were absent upwards of four hours. As their owner was sitting disconsolately, concluding they were gone for ever, his attention was attracted by the apparently unaccountable behaviour of three birds who had been left behind, and who, with their heads elevated in the air, were all gazing with intense earnestness at one portion of the horizon. After straining his eyes for a length of time without avail, their master began to fancy that he discerned a small black speck a great height above him. He was not mistaken, for by and by the black speck turned out, to his infinite joy, to be the lost flight of pigeons returning home, after a journey probably of several hundred miles.
When the pantomime had ceased to run, Grimaldi had but little to do at Drury Lane, his duties being limited to a combat or some such business, in "Lodoiska," "Feudal Times," and other spectacles, which he could well manage to reach the theatre in time for, after the performances at Sadler's Wells were over. Drury Lane closed in June, and re-opened in September, ten days after the season at Sadler's Wells had terminated; but as he did not expect to be called into active service until December, he played out of town, for the first time in his life, in the month of November, 1801.
There was at that time among the Sadler's Wells company a clever man named Lund, who, in the vacation time, usually joined Mrs. Baker's company on the Rochester circuit. His benefit was fixed to take place at Rochester, on the 15th, and coming to town, he waited on Grimaldi and entreated him to play for him on the occasion. Whenever it was in his power to accede to such a request it was his invariable custom not to refuse; he therefore willingly returned an answer in the affirmative.