1802 to 1803.
Hard work to counterbalance great gains—His discharge from Drury Lane, and his discharge at Sadler's Wells—His return to the former house—Monk Lewis—Anecdote of him and Sheridan, and of Sheridan and the Prince of Wales—Grimaldi gains a Son and loses all his capital.
The "Great Devil" came out on Easter Monday,[29] and its success entailed upon Grimaldi no inconsiderable degree of trouble and fatigue. He played two parts in it, and, to say nothing of such slight exertions as acting and fighting, had to change his dress no fewer than nineteen times in the progress of the piece. It made a great noise, and ran the whole season through.
[29] Sadler's Wells Theatre, the interior of which had been wholly rebuilt since the close of the season, in 1801, opened on Easter Monday, April 19, 1802, with an occasional Burletta Prelude, entitled "Old Sadler's Ghost;" a new Comic Dance, called "The Jew Cobbler," in which M. Joubert, from Paris, as principal dancer, made his first appearance in England; the Serio-Comic Pantomime of "The Great Devil," with alterations and new dresses; and an entirely new Comic Pantomime, called "Harlequin Greenlander; or, The Whale Fishery." In "The Great Devil," Bologna, jun., after an absence of eight years, played the part of Satani, the Great Devil. Rudolpho, Mons. Gouriet; Nicola, Mr. Grimaldi; Count Ludovico, Mr. Hartland; Bridget, Mrs. Davis; the Countess, Madame St. Amand.
As we had occasion to notice in the last chapter the ease with which he acquired a large sum of money by his professional exertions, and as we may have to describe other large gains hereafter, it may not be amiss to show in this place how much of fatigue and harassing duty those exertions involved, and how much of bodily toil and fatigue he had to endure before those gains could be counted.
At Sadler's Wells he commenced the labour of the evening by playing a long and arduous part in the before-mentioned "Great Devil;" after this he played in some little burletta which immediately succeeded it; upon conclusion of that he was clown to the rope-dancer; and, as a wind-up to the entertainments, he appeared as clown in the pantomime, always singing two comic songs in the course of the piece, both of which were regularly encored. He had then to change his dress with all possible speed, and take a hurried walk, and often a rapid run, to Drury Lane, to perform in the last piece.[30]
[30] This summary of Joe's exertions is over-stated: in the Spectacles Joe generally had a part, particularly where combatants were employed; but not in any of the little burlettas alluded to, nor was he ever Clown to the rope: as Clown in the Pantomime, his name certainly appears in the Sadler's Wells' announcements; but when the pantomime was played on the same night and hour at either of the patent theatres, Joe's part at the Wells was played by substitutes—by Hartland or others; and by a clause in the articles of his engagement, Grimaldi appears to have always been in a position to play at Drury Lane and Covent Garden, to the exclusion of any demand on his services at Sadler's Wells.
This immense fatigue, undergone six days out of every seven, left him at the conclusion of the week completely worn out and thoroughly exhausted, and, beyond all doubt, by taxing his bodily energies far beyond their natural powers, sowed the first seeds of that extreme debility and utter prostration of strength from which, in the latter years of his life, he suffered so much. The old man had a good right to say that, if his gains had been occasionally great, they were won by labour more than proportionate.
His attention to his duties and invariable punctuality were always remarkable. To his possession in an eminent degree of these qualities, may be attributed the fact, that during the whole of his dramatic career, long and arduous as it was, he never once disappointed the public, or failed in his attendance at the theatre to perform any part for which he was cast.
He continued to attend his duties as a member of the Drury Lane company for three months without finding that any violent consequences arose from his interview with John Kemble. The only perceptible difference was, that when they met, Kemble, instead of accosting him familiarly, as he had before been accustomed to do, would pull off his hat and make him a formal bow, which Grimaldi would return in precisely the same manner; so that their occasional meetings were characterised by something about half-way between politeness and absurdity. All this pleased Grimaldi very much, but rather surprised him too, for he had confidently expected that some rupture would have followed the announcement of his determination not to act. He was not very long, however, in finding that his original apprehensions were correct, for on the 26th of June he received the following epistle:—