Swords then were drawn, and between the actors and the beaux a free fight ensued, which ended in the former driving the latter out of the theatre.  The rioters, however, again obtained access, and rushing into the boxes, cut down the hangings, besides doing other damage, when, led by Quin and a number of constables, several of the beaux were captured, and taken before the magistrates.  The end of it all was that the matter was compromised; but, in order to prevent a recurrence of such disorderly scenes, a guard should attend the performances.  The custom of having the military in attendance at our theatres—­which the above affray was the primary cause—­was in vogue for over a hundred years after this event.

Rich lived to see Pantomimes firmly established at Drury Lane and Covent Garden.  Drury Lane did, for a few years, discard it in favour of spectacle, but ultimately found it advisable to return to Pantomime.

At the beginning of the ’sixties of the eighteenth century—­1761—­died the father of Harlequins in England, and also—­as he has been called—­of English Pantomimes, and there is, I believe, a costly tomb erected to his memory in Hillingdon Church-yard, Middlesex.

Rich left Covent Garden Theatre to his son-in-law, Beard, the vocalist, with the not unpleasant restriction, however, that the property should be sold when L60,000 was bid for it, and for which sum it ultimately passed into the hands of Harris, Colman, and their partners.

CHAPTER XVI.

Joseph Grimaldi.

The year 1778 marks an epoch in the History of Pantomime, as just over three-quarters of a century before marked another epoch, the introduction of Pantomimes to the English stage.  On December 18th, 1778, was born Joseph Grimaldi—­afterwards the Prince of Clowns, and the son of Giuseppe Grimaldi ("Iron Legs").  Joe’s first appearance was at Sadler’s Wells on April 16, Easter Monday, 1781, he not being quite three years old.  Dickens, in the “Memoirs of Grimaldi,” has given us from the Clown’s own diary, which Grimaldi kept close up to the time of his death, on May, 31st, 1837, a full and true account of the life of this remarkably clever Pantomimist.  To add to what Dickens has written of “Only a Clown” (which doubtless the reader is already acquainted with) would only be like painting the lily; and, perhaps, I cannot do better in honouring his memory than by quoting the words of Mr. Harley at the annual dinner of the Drury Lane Fund, spoken in the June following Grimaldi’s death:—­“Yet, shall delicacy suffer no violence in adducing one example, for death has hushed his cock-crowing cachination, and uproarious merriment.  The mortal Jupiter of practical Joke, the Michael Angelo of buffoonery, who, if he was Grim-all-day, was sure to make you chuckle at night.”

A contemporary writer of Grimaldi’s days thus eulogises the Prince of Clowns:—­