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Extracts from Memoirs of Samuel
Foote, esq. by William Cooke, esq.

Samuel Foote was born at Truro, in Cornwall, about the year 1720 his father, John Foote, was a very useful magistrate of that county, and enjoyed the posts of commissioner of the prize office and fine contract. His mother (descended in the female line from the old earl of Rutland) was the daughter of sir Edward Goodere, bart. who represented the county of Hereford in parliament for several years, and brought Mr. Foote a large fortune.

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The father died soon after the establishment of his children in the world, but the mother lived to the extreme age of eighty-four, through various fortunes. We had the pleasure of dining with her in company with a grand-daughter of her's, at a barrister's chambers in Gray's Inn, when she was at the advanced age of seventy-nine; and though she had full sixty steps to ascend before she reached the drawing room, which looked into the gardens, she did it without the help of a cane, or any other support, and with all the activity of a woman of forty.

Her manners and conversation were of the same cast; witty, humorous, and convivial; and though her remarks, occasionally, (considering her age and sex,) rather strayed "beyond the limits of becoming mirth," she, on the whole, delighted every body, and was confessedly the heroine of that day's party.

She was likewise in face and person the very model of her son Samuel -short, fat, and flabby, with an eye that eternally gave the signal for mirth and good humour: in short, she resembled him so much in all her movements, and so strongly iden

tified his person and manners, that by changing habits, they might be thought to have interchanged sexes.

Foote's first education was at one of the three principal grammar schools long since founded in the city of Worcester, and which have always borne a considerable reputation for learning in all its branches, as well as a general attention to the morals of the pupils. The school to which he was sent was, at that time, under the care of Dr. Miles, a particular friend of his father's, and a man of great eminence in the discharge of his duties.'

The talent for mimickry, by which he was afterwards so peculiarly distinguished, first disclosed itself on the following occasion:

Being at his father's house during the Christmas recess, a man in the parishi had been charged with a bastard child; and this business being to be heard the next day before the bench of justices, the family were conversing about it after dinner, and making various observations. Samuel, then a boy between elever and twelve years of age, was silent for some time; at last he drily observed," Well, I foresee how this business will end, as well as what the justices will say upon it."-" Aye," said his father, (rather surprised at the boy's observation), " Well, Sam, let us hear it." Upon this the young nimic, dressing up his face in a strong caricature likeness of justice D, thus proceeded:

"Hem! hem! here's a fine job of work broke out indeed! a feller begetting bastards under our very noses, (and let me tell you, good people, a common labouring rascal too,) when our taxes are so great, and our poor rates so high; why 'tis an abomination; we shall not have an honest servant maid in the neighbourhood, and the whole parish will swarm with

bastards:

bastards; therefore, I say, let him be - fined for his pranks very severely; and if the rascal has not money, (as indeed how should he have it?) or can't find security, (as indeed how should such a feller find security?) let him be clapp'd up in prison till he pays it."

"Justice A- will be milder, and say, Well, well, brother, this is not a new case; bastards have been begotten before now and bastards will be begotten to the end of the chapter; therefore, though the man has committed a crime-and indeed I must say a crime that holds out a very bad example to a neighbourhood like this-yet let us not ruin the poor fellow for this one fault: he may do better another time, and mend his life; therefore, as the man is poor, let him be obliged to provide for the child according to the best of his abilities, giving two honest neighbours as security for the payment."

He mimicked these two justices with so much humour and discrimination of character, as "to set the table in a roar;" and, among the rest, his father, who demanded, why he was left out, as he also was one of the quorum? Samuel for some time hesitated; but his father and the rest of the company earnestly requesting it, he began:

"Why, upon my word, in respect to this here business, to be sure it is rather an awkward affair; and to be sure it ought not to be; that is to say, the justices of the peace should not suffer such things to be done with im punity: however, on the whole I am rather of my brother A―'s opinion;

which is, that the man should pay according to his circumstances, and be admonished—I say admonished not to commit so flagrant an offence for the future."

At the proper age, Foote was removed to Worcester college, Oxford, where he applied himself with much diligence to the classics and the Belles Lettres. He afterwards entered him self of the temple, for the supposed purpose of adopting the profession of the law:

During his continuance in the temple, he was seen there pro forma, situated in handsome chambers, surrounded by a well furnished library, and eating his way (via commons) to the profession of the law. He is remembered by a few now living, in that situation; and they report him to have been one of the greatest beaux (even in those days of general dress) as well as one of the most distinguished wits who frequented the Grecian and the Bedford.—

Here Foote appeared, in the flush of youth, wit, and fortune. Dr. Barrowby, no mean judge in every thing which respected elegant knowledge, was present at his first exhibition at the Bedford, and he always spoke of him as a young man of most extraordinary talents." He came into the room," said he, "dressed out in a frock suit of green and silver lace, bag wig, sword, bouquet, and point ruffles, and immediately joined the critical circle of the upper end of the room. No body knew him. He, however, soon boldly entered into conversation; and by the brilliancy of his wit, the justness of 3 F 2

his

A favourite word of his father's on the bench; which, with his plain matter-offact manner of pronouncing it, and twirling his thumbs at the same time, drew so correct a picture of the justice, as met the warmest approbation of the whole company; and even of his father, who, so far from being offended, rewarded him for his good humour and pleasantry.'

his remarks, and the unembarrassed freedom of his manners, attracted the general notice. The buz of the room went round, Who is he? whence comes he?' &c.; which nobody could answer; until a handsome carriage stopping at the door to take hin to the assembly of a lady of fashion, they learned from the servants that his name was Foote, that he was a young gentleman of family and fortune, and a student of the Inner Temple."

He continued in the Temple but a very few years; and yet even this period was sufficient to exhaust a fortune, which, by all account, was very considerable, and which, perhaps, with a genteel economy, might have given him the otium cum dignitate independent of any profession. But he was incapable of the ordinary restraints of life; he dashed into all the prevailing dissipations of the time; and what the extravagance of dress, living, &c. had not done, the gaming table finally accomplished. He struggled with embarrassments for some time but want, imperious want, is an austere monitor, and must at last be attended to by the most thought less spendthrift. He accordingly soon found himself at a stand; his creditors grew obstinate and impatient; his friends, as is usual in such cases, deserted him; and he found that something must necessarily be done, to provide the means of subsistence.'

In this situation, it was very natural for him to think of the stage. Acting was a science which he already knew theoretically; and, conversing so much with players as he usually did, he was perhaps not a little incited by their disengaged, free manner of living, to become a candidate for the profession.'

Iis debût as an actor, was in the

part of Othello, Feb. 6, 1744, at the Haymarket theatre; which, about three years after, he opened with an entertainment of his own composition, called "The Diversions of the Morming.

This consisted of the introduction of several characters in real life, then well known, whose manner of conversation and expression be very ludicrously hit off in the diction of his drama, and further represented by an imitation not only of their tones of voice, but even of their very persons. Among these characters there were a certain physician, who was much better known from the oddity and singularity of his appearance and conversation, than from any eminence in the practice of his profession; a celebrated oculist at that time in the height of vogue and popularity, &c.; and in the latter part of the piece, under the character of a theatrical di rector, he mimicked with great bumour the several styles of most of the principal performers on the English stage.

An entertainment of this sort met at first with every degree of success that his most sanguine wishes could expect. The audience saw a species of performance quite novel to the stage brought forward and supported by a young man, independent of any other auxiliary than the fertility of his own pen, and his own powers of performance; while the author, feeling himself bold in this support, beheld his future fortunes opening before him.

He soon found, however, that he reckoned without his host; for, whether from the alarm excited in the theatres royal, or the resentment of most of the performers who smarted under the lash of his mimicry, the civil magistrates of Westminster were

called

called upon to interfere; and, under the sanction of an act of parliament for limiting the number of play-houses, 1 opposed to Bayes' new raised troops a posse of constables, who, entering the theatre in magisterial array, dismissed the audience, and left the laughing Aristophanes to consider of new ways and means for his support.'

For the remainder of his life, Foote continued to unite the double character of writer and performer. Of his negligence as to pecuniary matters many instances are adduced; but generosity was one of his predominant qualities.

His mother, who brought a large fortune to her husband as heiress to the Goodere estates, was latterly, by a carelessness and dissipation so peculiar to this family, in a great measure a dependant on her son's bounty; as was also his brother, who was brought up to the church. To the latter he allowed sixty pounds a year, besides the freedom of his table and theatre; to the former a pension of one hundred pounds till her death, which happened some years before that of her son.

⚫ Under one of her temporary embarrassments, she wrote the following laconic epistle to our hero; which, with his answer, exhibit no bad specimen of the thoughtless dispositions of the two characters:

"Dear Sam,, "I am in prison for debt: come "and assist your loving mother, "E. FOOTE."

"Dear mother,

So am ; which prevents his duty “being paid to his loving mother by "her affectionate son,

"SAM. FOOTE." "P.S. I have sent my attorney to assist you; in the mean time, let us hope for better days."

The successful run of his "Mayor " of Garratt" brings him again before us in high style.

The receipts produced by this comedy recruited our hero's finances so powerfully, that, as his purse was generally the barometer to his spirits, he dashed into all kinds of higher extravagance. He made alterations both in his town and country house, enlarged his hospitalities, and laid out no less a sum than 12001. in a magnificent service of plate. When he was reminded by some friends of these extravagancies, and particularly the last, he turned it off by saying, "he acted from a principle of economy; for as he knew he could never keep his gold, he very prudently laid out his money in silver, which would not only last longer, but in the end sell for nearly as much as it originally cost."

It is well known, that it was in consequence of his fall from a horse, at lord Mexborough's seat, by which he lost his leg, that the late duke of York, who happened to be one of the party, obtained for him, in July 1766, the royal patent, under which he erected the present summer theatre, in the Haymarket. Here he produced that satirical and humorous comedy, "The Devil upon Two Sticks."

The receipts from "The Devil on Two Sticks" exceeded his most sanguine expectations. There was little or no demand for any variation in the theatrical bill of fare during the whole season; so that it alone was said to have produced him between three and four thousand pounds. Twelve hundred pounds of this sum he lodged at his banker's as a deposit for future contingencies; besides five hundred in cash, which he intended to take over with him to Ireland, where he was engaged for the ensuing winter. 3 F3

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His usual dæmon of extravagance, however, still haunted him; for, taking Bath in his way to Holyhead, the September following, he fell in with a nest of gamblers (the usual attendants on this fashionable place of resort), who, finding him with full pockets 'and high spirits, availed themselves of their superior dexterity with considerable success. Several of the frequenters of the rooms saw this, but it was too common a case for private interference; besides, friendship is not the usual commerce of watering places. At last his friend Rigby, who happened just then to be at Bath, took an opportunity to tell him how grossly he was plundered: and further remarked, "that from his careless manner of playing and betting, and his habit of telling stories when he should be minding his game, he must in the long-run be ruined, let him play with whom he would."

Foote, who perhaps by this time had partly seen his error, but was too proud to take a lesson in the character of a dupe, very ridiculously and ungratefully resented this advice. He told his friend with an unbecoming sharpness," that although he was no politican by profession he could see as soon as another into any sinister designs laid against him: that he was too old to be schooled; and that as to any distinction of rank between them to warrant this liberty, he saw none; they were both the king's servants, with this difference in his favour, that he could always draw upon his

talents for independence, when per haps a courtier could not find the king's treasury always open to him for support."

On receiving this return, Rigby, as may be well imagined, made his bow, and walked off; while the dup went on, and not only lost the five hundred pounds which he had about him, but the twelve hundred at his banker's; and thus, stripped of his last guinea, was obliged to borrow a hundred pounds to carry him to Ireland.'

In Ireland he repaired his finances, and having so done, returned to this country with the hope of enjoying a relaxation from his fatigues, on his plesant residence at North Eud; bɛt he was doomed, it would seem, to fall a victim to the basest calumny. In 1776, he was about to bring out a play, called "The Trip to Calais;" in which report had stated, that the late duchess of Kingston was to be satirized as Lady Kitty Crocodile; and a supposed confidential agent of her's, as Dr. Viper, of whom Mr. Cooke's account will be seen below."

From the first report of Foote's Trip to Calais being in contemplation, obscure hints and inuendoes appeared occasionally in the newspapers, relative to his private character; which, from various circumstances, as from their particularly appearing in the newspaper of which Jackson was editor, the public unanimously attributed to this man. On the representation of The Capuchin, this plan

He was a clergyman of the name of Jackson, better known by the assumed title of Dr. Jackson, who had for many years supported himself partly as an editor of a newspaper in London, aud always by a life of shift and expediency. He at this time mostly resided at Kingston-house, and was supposed to be of her Grace's cabinet council. This man, after going through a variety of adventures incident to such characters, at last settled in Ireland: where his restless and intriguing spirit led him to join the rebellion in that kingdom in the year 1797, for which he was tried and found guilty; but saved himself the disgrace of a public execution, by taking poison the night before his receiving sentence of death.

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