If you are scared of clowns then read no further, as my ramblings today are about a visit to the grave of the King of the Clowns. The man who invented modern clowning and the whiteface look that we now associate with them. The look that causes those with coulrophobia to break out in a fearful sweat, feel their mouths dry up and their hearts beat that little bit faster.
So, on one of the hottest days of the year I found myself in a hotel in Farringdon in London with some time to kill. What to do? Where to go? A quick search on Google maps for places of interest and the grave of Joseph Grimaldi popped up as being a short walk away. Who Grimaldi was, I had no idea at that time, but hey ho, a bit of research and all was revealed.
Following the directions Google Maps prompted me to follow, I found myself wandering through some leafy backstreets past some very upmarket town houses. Up hill and downhill and round a couple of small parks, I walked past a blue plaque telling me Vladimir Lenin had lived nearby for a short while and then going down through some more leafy streets I came to Joseph Grimaldi Park. The park was once the graveyard of St James’s Episcopal Chapel but was transformed into a public garden in the late Nineteenth Century and then later named after Grimaldi.
Wandering through the park, in the shade of the horse chestnut and lime trees, I passed by various people sitting on benches. Some were reading, some drinking coffee or tea and others were passed out in drunken abandon. One chap, who bore a striking resemblance to the late Derek Jarman, walked around hugging the trees and then sprinkling himself with bird seed, stood stock still while pigeons landed on his head, shoulders and outstretched arms to feed. I should have taken a photo, but I didn’t.
In a sunny spot, and overlooked by a modern office building, I found the grave of Grimaldi, enclosed in railings and well-tended. On the now weather worn gravestone there was a plaque bearing an image of him in his clown regalia with made up face and mohawk hairstyle.
Joseph Grimaldi was born in 1778 into a theatrical family. His father was Joseph Giuseppe Grimaldi, an actor and dancer who was known as Giuseppe or the Signor, while his mother, Rebecca Brooker, was a dancer at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. Giuseppe was a strange and quite unpleasant sounding man. He had various mistresses with children all over the place, and he only moved in with Joseph’s mum when she bore him a second son and he had sudden visions of setting up an acting dynasty. He was a strict disciplinarian who beat up his children, and mistresses, for very little or no reason. Giuseppe also developed an obsession with his own death and would on occasion play dead to see how his children would respond. And if he didn’t like how they reacted he would beat them up.
Giuseppe did not like the idea of anyone being idle, so when Joseph was around two and a half years old, he had him on stage as part of his act. When Joseph was not needed on stage Giuseppe would tell him to stand in the corner of the dressing room and not move, something that was very difficult for Joseph, as he was a born entertainer and liked to perform for the others there. If Giuseppe then came back and found that Joseph had moved, he would fly into a rage and slap him around. Lovely chap.
Somehow, through all of this, Joseph thrived and became a regular at Drury Lane. Then, at the age of nine, Joseph’s father died, and he became the main breadwinner for the family. Working at both Drury Lane and Sadler’s Wells theatres, Joseph had to often run between one to the other to do his acts. That might not sound like any great feat, but at that time the theatres were separated by some fields, London not having yet expanded into all the countryside around it.
Going into adulthood, Joseph’s career took off and he made the role of Clown in the pantomimes of the day his own. Pantomimes back then were not as we now know them as being something only performed around Christmas time, as during that era only three London theatres were allowed to have dialogue on stage, so to get around this the pantomime was born, as these had only songs and catchphrases along with physical movements and mime. The clown was an important role in these pantomimes and Grimaldi excelled in this role. He became celebrated for his acrobatic skills, physical acting, wild facial expressions, and wicked activities onstage. He then changed the costume and make-up of the clown from the traditional look of ragged clothes and plain face by wearing very colourful and extravagant clothes, and daubing his face white, with a huge red gash of a mouth and red, ruddy cheeks. This was topped with one of several Mohican or tufted wigs in various bright colours. Thus, the modern clown was born.
For over three decades Joseph or ‘Joey’ as his clown persona became known, thrilled huge audiences, not only in London but up and down the country, appearing in theatres in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Leicester, Chester, Birmingham, Liverpool, and Hereford to name but a few. Charles Dickens recalled as a child how delighted he had been in seeing Grimaldi perform, though he was not his only big-name fan, the poet and all-round cad Lord Byron loved Grimaldi’s act, as did the philosopher, critic and essayist William Hazlitt.
However, for all the delight he gave, Joseph was prone to falling into deep depressions and this led to the image of him being the melancholy clown, something that he often played on. He would quip that – ‘I make you laugh at night but am Grim-All-Day’. He also told the story of how he had visited a famous physician who told him one of the best ways for him to overcome his melancholia was to go to the theatre and watch Grimaldi. To which he replied – ‘Alas! That is of no avail to me; I am Grimaldi.’
Joseph’s melancholy personality was not helped by the many tragedies he suffered. In 1800, his first wife, Maria Hughes, died in childbirth along with their unborn child. Her death almost destroyed Joseph who lost himself in his work to cope and almost ruined his health in the process.
Then there was the mystery surrounding his brother, John Baptiste. He had left the world of the theatre after deciding it was not for him, and he had gone off to sea. Years later, Joseph was appearing at Drury Lane when a stranger appeared at the stage door asking for him. On popping down to see who it was, Joseph found his brother John there. He had returned from sea after having made his fortune. John hugged Joseph in delight at seeing him and told him how well he had done and boasted that he was carrying six hundred pounds cash in his pocket, probably not the wisest thing to do in a busy theatre where you don’t know who might be listening in. Before they could have a proper catch-up, Joseph was called to the stage and John promised to wait for him. However, when Joseph came back to find him, John was gone. Joseph went looking for him but could find him nowhere. After weeks of fruitless searching no trace could be found of John and it was suspected that he had been lured away and murdered.
There was also the tragic life of Joseph’s son, through his second marriage. Also called Joseph, though known to his friends and family as JS. He was a young and talented actor who fell into alcoholism, destroyed his health, became estranged from his parents and died in suspicious circumstances.
These tragic events, and Joseph’s physical exertions during his performances, eventually took their toll on his health. He became crippled by pain and after one final goodbye show, had to retire from the stage.
After the death of his son and his wife, he lived alone, though most evenings he was carried to the local public house by a friend. There he would drink and entertain the other patrons with tales of his time in the theatre and the personalities he had worked with.
On the evening of Wednesday 31 May 1837, Joseph was in the local pub where he had his usual couple of drinks while recounting some humorous tales. On being taken home he seemed to be well, but before going to bed told his housekeeper that he had some pains in the chest. On going to wake him the next morning she found him dead in bed. And thus ended the life of the King of Clowns, Joseph Grimaldi.
After having a wander around the graveyard, or park as it is now, I left the Skulferatu that had accompanied me in a curve in the railings around Grimaldi’s grave.
The coordinates for the location of the Skulferatu are –
Latitude 51.531762
Longitude -0.114659
what3words: reform.pull.glow
I used the following sources for information on Joseph Grimaldi –
