(1720-1777)
he name of Samuel Foote suggests a whimsical, plump little man, with a round face, twinkling eyes, and one of the readiest wits of the eighteenth century. This contemporary of the elder Colman, Cumberland, Mrs. Cowley, and the great Garrick, knew many famous men and women, and they admired as well as feared his talents.
Samuel Foote was born at Truro in 1720. He was a young boy when he first exhibited his powers of mimicry at his father's dinner-table. At that time he did not expect to earn his living by them, for he came of well-to-do people, and his mother, who was of aristocratic birth, inherited a comfortable fortune.
Throughout his school days at Worcester and his college days at Worcester College, Oxford, where he did not remain long enough to take a degree, and the idle days when he was supposed to be studying law at the Temple and was in reality frequenting coffee-houses and drawing-rooms as a young man of fashion, he was establishing a reputation for repartee, bons mots, and satiric imitation. So, when the wasteful youth had squandered all his money, he naturally turned to the stage as offering him the best opportunity. Like many another amateur addicted to a mistaken ambition, Foote first tried tragedy, and made his début as Othello. But in this and in other tragedies he was a failure; so he soon took to writing comic plays with parts especially adapted to himself. 'The Diversions of the Morning' was the first of a long series, of which 'The Mayor of Garratt,' 'The Lame Lover,' 'The Nabob,' and 'The Minor,' are among the best known. As these were written from the actor's rather than from the dramatist's point of view, they often seem faulty in construction and crude in literary quality. They are farces rather than true comedies. But they abound in witty dialogue, and in a satire which illuminates contemporary vices and follies.
Foote seems to have been curiously lacking in conscience. He lived his life with a gayety which no poverty, misfortune, or physical suffering could long dampen. When he had money he spent it lavishly, and when the supply ran short he racked his clever brains to make a new hit. To accomplish this he was utterly unscrupulous, and never spared his friends or those to whom he was indebted, if he saw good material in their foibles. His victims smarted, but his ready tongue and personal geniality usually extricated him from consequent unpleasantness. Garrick, who aided him repeatedly, and who dreaded ridicule above all things, was his favorite butt, yet remained his friend. The irate members of the East India Company, who called upon him armed with stout cudgels to administer a castigation for an offensive libel in 'The Nabob,' were so speedily mollified that they laid their cudgels aside with their hats, and accepted his invitation to dinner.
To us, much of his charm has evaporated, for it lay in these very personalities which held well-known people up to ridicule with a precision which made it impossible for the originals to escape recognition. Even irascible Dr. Johnson, who wished to disapprove of him, admitted that there was no one like "that fellow Foote." So this "Aristophanes of the English stage" was mourned when he died at the age of fifty-seven, and a company of his friends and fellow-actors buried him one evening by the dim light of torches in a cloister of Westminster Abbey.
There is often a boisterous unreserve in the plays of Foote, as in other eighteenth-century drama, which revolts modern taste. As they consist of character study rather than incident, mere extracts are apt to appear incomplete and meaningless. Therefore it seems fairer to represent the famous wit not alone by formal citation, but also by some of his bons mots extracted from the collection of William Cooke in his 'Memoirs of Samuel Foote' (2 vols. 1806).
HOW TO BE A LAWYER
From 'The Lame Lover'
Enter Jack
Serjeant—So, Jack, anybody at chambers to-day?
Jack—Fieri Facias from Fetter Lane, about the bill to be filed by Kit Crape against Will Vizard this term.
Serjeant—Praying for an equal partition of plunder?
Jack—Yes, sir.
Serjeant—Strange world we live in, that even highwaymen can't be true to each other! [Half aside to himself.] But we shall make Vizard refund; we'll show him what long hands the law has.
Jack—Facias says that in all the books he can't hit a precedent.
Serjeant—Then I'll make one myself; Aut inveniam, aut faciam, has been always my motto. The charge must be made for partnership profit, by bartering lead and gunpowder against money, watches, and rings, on Epping Forest, Hounslow Heath, and other parts of the kingdom.
Jack—He says if the court should get scent of the scheme, the parties would all stand committed.
Serjeant—Cowardly rascal! but however, the caution mayn't prove amiss. [Aside.] I'll not put my own name to the bill.
Jack—The declaration, too, is delivered in the cause of Roger Rapp'em against Sir Solomon Simple.
Serjeant—What, the affair of the note?
Jack—Yes.
Serjeant—Why, he is clear that his client never gave such a note.
Jack—Defendant never saw plaintiff since the hour he was born; but notwithstanding, they have three witnesses to prove a consideration and signing the note.
Serjeant—They have!
Jack—He is puzzled what plea to put in.
Serjeant—Three witnesses ready, you say?
Jack—Yes.
Serjeant—Tell him Simple must acknowledge the note [Jack starts]; and bid him against the trial comes on, to procure four persons at least to prove the payment at the Crown and Anchor, the 10th of December.
Jack—But then how comes the note to remain in plaintiff's possession?
Serjeant—Well put, Jack: but we have a salvo for that; plaintiff happened not to have the note in his pocket, but promised to deliver it up when called thereunto by defendant.
Jack—That will do rarely.
Serjeant—Let the defense be a secret; for I see we have able people to deal with. But come, child, not to lose time, have you carefully conned those instructions I gave you?
Jack—Yes, sir.
Serjeant—Well, that we shall see. How many points are the great object of practice?
Jack—Two.
Serjeant—Which are they?
Jack—The first is to put a man into possession of what is his right.
Serjeant—The second?
Jack—Either to deprive a man of what is really his right, or to keep him as long as possible out of possession.
Serjeant—Good boy! To gain the last end, what are the best means to be used?
Jack—Various and many are the legal modes of delay.
Serjeant—Name them.
Jack—Injunctions, demurrers, sham pleas, writs of error, rejoinders, sur-rejoinders, rebutters, sur-rebutters, re-plications, exceptions, essoigns, and imparlance.
Serjeant [to himself]—Fine instruments in the hands of a man who knows how to use them. But now, Jack, we come to the point: if an able advocate has his choice in a cause, which if he is in reputation he may readily have, which side should he choose, the right or the wrong?
Jack—A great lawyer's business is always to make choice of the wrong.
Serjeant—And prithee, why so?
Jack—Because a good cause can speak for itself, whilst a bad one demands an able counselor to give it a color.
Serjeant—Very well. But in what respects will this answer to the lawyer himself?
Jack—In a twofold way. Firstly, his fees will be large in proportion to the dirty work he is to do.
Serjeant—Secondly?
Jack—His reputation will rise, by obtaining the victory in a desperate cause.
Serjeant—Right, boy. Are you ready in the case of the cow?
Jack—Pretty well, I believe.
Serjeant—Give it, then.
Jack—First of April, anno seventeen hundred and blank, John a-Nokes was indicted by blank, before blank, in the county of blank, for stealing a cow, contra pacem, etc., and against the statute in that case provided and made, to prevent stealing of cattle.
Serjeant—Go on.
Jack—Said Nokes was convicted upon the said statute.
Serjeant—What followed upon?
Jack—Motion in arrest of judgment, made by Counselor Puzzle. First, because the field from whence the cow was conveyed is laid in the indictment as round, but turned out upon proof to be square.
Serjeant—That's well. A valid objection.
Jack—Secondly, because in said indictment the color of the cow is called red; there being no such things in rerum natura as red cows, no more than black lions, spread eagles, flying griffins, or blue boars.
Serjeant—Well put.
Jack—Thirdly, said Nokes has not offended against form of the statute; because stealing of cattle is there provided against: whereas we are only convicted of stealing a cow. Now, though cattle may be cows, yet it does by no means follow that cows must be cattle.
Serjeant—Bravo, bravo! buss me, you rogue; you are your father's own son! go on and prosper. I am sorry, dear Jack, I must leave thee. If Providence but sends thee life and health, I prophesy thou wilt wrest as much land from the owners, and save as many thieves from the gallows, as any practitioner since the days of King Alfred.
Jack—I'll do my endeavor. [Exit Serjeant.]
A MISFORTUNE IN ORTHOGRAPHY
From 'The Lame Lover'
Sir Luke—A pox o' your law; you make me lose sight of my story. One morning a Welsh coach-maker came with his bill to my lord, whose name was unluckily Lloyd. My lord had the man up: "You are called, I think, Mr. Lloyd?"—"At your Lordship's service, my lord."—"What, Lloyd with an L?"—"It was with an L indeed, my lord."—"Because in your part of the world I have heard that Lloyd and Floyd were synonymous, the very same names."—"Very often indeed, my Lord."—"But you always spell yours with an L?"—"Always."—"That, Mr. Lloyd, is a little unlucky; for you must know I am now paying my debts alphabetically, and in four or five years you might have come in with an F; but I am afraid I can give you no hopes for your L. Ha, ha, ha!"
FROM THE 'MEMOIRS'
A Cure for Bad Poetry
A physician of Bath told him that he had a mind to publish his own poems; but he had so many irons in the fire he did not well know what to do.
"Then take my advice, doctor," said Foote, "and put your poems where your irons are."
The Retort Courteous
Following a man in the street, who did not bear the best of characters, Foote slapped him familiarly on the shoulder, thinking he was an intimate friend. On discovering his mistake he cried out, "Oh, sir, I beg your pardon! I really took you for a gentleman who—"
"Well, sir," said the other, "and am I not a gentleman?"
"Nay, sir," said Foote, "if you take it in that way, I must only beg your pardon a second time."
On Garrick's Stature
Previously to Foote's bringing out his 'Primitive Puppet Show' at the Haymarket Theatre, a lady of fashion asked him, "Pray, sir, are your puppets to be as large as life?"
"Oh dear, madam, no. Not much above the size of Garrick!"
Cape Wine
Being at the dinner-table one day when the Cape was going round in remarkably small glasses, his host was very profuse on the excellence of the wine, its age, etc. "But you don't seem to relish it, Foote, by keeping your glass so long before you."
"Oh, yes, my lord, perfectly well. I am only admiring how little it is, considering its great age."
The Graces
Of an actress who was remarkably awkward with her arms, Foote said that "she kept the Graces at arm's-length."
The Debtor
Of a young gentleman who was rather backward in paying his debts, he said he was "a very promising young gentleman."
Affectation
An assuming, pedantic lady, boasting of the many books which she had read, often quoted 'Locke Upon Understanding,' a work she said she admired above all things, yet there was one word in it which, though often repeated, she could not distinctly make out; and that was the word ide-a (pronouncing it very long): "but I suppose it comes from a Greek derivation."
"You are perfectly right, madam," said Foote, "it comes from the word ideaousky."
"And pray, sir, what does that mean?"
"The feminine of idiot, madam."
Arithmetical Criticism
A mercantile man of his acquaintance, who would read a poem of his to him one day after dinner, pompously began:—
"Hear me, O Phœbus! and ye Muses nine!
Pray be attentive."
"I am," said Foote. "Nine and one are ten: go on."
The Dear Wife
A gentleman just married, telling Foote that he had that morning laid out three thousand pounds in jewels for his "dear wife": "Well," said the other, "you have but done her justice, as by your own reckoning she must be a very valuable woman."
Garrick and the Guinea
Foote and Garrick, supping together at the Bedford, the former in pulling out his purse to pay the reckoning dropped a guinea, which rolled in such a direction that they could not readily find it.
"Where the deuce," says Foote, "can it be gone to?"
"Gone to the Devil, I suppose," said Garrick.
"Well said, David; you are always what I took you for, ever contriving to make a guinea go farther than any other man."
Dr. Paul Hifferman
Paul was fond of laying, or rather offering, wagers. One day in the heat of argument he cried out, "I'll lay my head you are wrong upon that point."
"Well," said Foote, "I accept the wager. Any trifle, among friends, has a value."
Foote and Macklin
One night, when Macklin was formally preparing to begin a lecture, hearing Foote rattling away at the lower end of the room, and thinking to silence him at once, he called out in his sarcastic manner, "Pray, young gentleman, do you know what I am going to say?"
"No, sir," said Foote quickly: "do you?"
Baron Newman
This celebrated gambler (well known about town thirty years ago by the title of the left-handed Baron), being detected in the rooms at Bath in the act of secreting a card, the company in the warmth of their resentment threw him out of the window of a one-pair-of-stairs room, where they were playing. The Baron, meeting Foote some time afterward, loudly complained of this usage, and asked him what he should do to repair his injured honor.
"Do?" said the wit; "why, 'tis a plain case: never play so high again as long as you live."
Mrs. Abington
When Mrs. Abington returned from her very first successful trip to Ireland, Foote wished to engage her for his summer theatre; but in the mean time Garrick secured her for Drury Lane. Foote, on hearing this, asked her why she gave Garrick the preference.
"I don't know how it was," said she: "he talked me over by telling me that he would make me immortal, so that I did not know how to refuse him."
"Oh! did he so? Then I'll soon outbid him that way; for come to me and I will give you two pounds a week more, and charge you nothing for immortality."
Garlic-Eaters
Laughing at the imbecilities of a common friend one day, somebody observed, "It was very surprising; and Tom D —— knew him very well, and thought him far from being a fool."
"Ah, poor Tom!" said Foote, "he is like one of those people who eat garlic themselves, and therefore can't smell it in a companion."
Mode of Burying Attorneys in London
A gentleman in the country, who had just buried a rich relation who was an attorney, was complaining to Foote, who happened to be on a visit with him, of the very great expense of a country funeral in respect to carriages, hat-bands, scarves, etc.
"Why, do you bury your attorneys here?" asked Foote gravely.
"Yes, to be sure we do; how else?"
"Oh, we never do that in London."
"No?" said the other much surprised, "how do you manage?"
"Why, when the patient happens to die, we lay him out in a room over night by himself, lock the door, throw open the sash, and in the morning he is entirely off."
"Indeed!" said the other in amazement; "what becomes of him?"
"Why, that we cannot exactly tell, not being acquainted with supernatural causes. All that we know of the matter is, that there's a strong smell of brimstone in the room the next morning."
Dining Badly
Foote, returning from dinner with a lord of the admiralty, was met by a friend, who asked him what sort of a day he had had. "Very indifferent indeed; bad company and a worse dinner."
"I wonder at that," said the other, "as I thought the admiral a good jolly fellow."
"Why, as to that, he may be a good sea lord, but take it from me, he is a very bad landlord."
Dibble Davis
Dibble Davis, one of Foote's butts-in-ordinary, dining with him one day at North-end, observed that "well as he loved porter, he could never drink it without a head."
"That must be a mistake, Dibble," returned his host, "as you have done so to my knowledge alone these twenty years."
An Extraordinary Case
Being at the levee of Lord Townsend, when that nobleman was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, he thought he saw a person in his Excellency's suite whom he had known to have lived many years a life of expediency in London. To convince himself of the fact, he asked his Excellency who it was.
"That is Mr. T——, one of my gentlemen at large," was the answer. "Do you know him?"
"Oh, yes! perfectly well," said Foote, "and what your Excellency tells me is doubly extraordinary: first, that he is a gentleman; and next, that he is at large."
Mutability of the World
Being at dinner in a mixed company soon after the bankruptcy of one friend and the death of another, the conversation naturally turned on the mutability of the world. "Can you account for this?" said S——, a master builder, who happened to sit next to Foote. "Why, not very clearly," said the other; "except we could suppose the world was built by contract."
An Appropriate Motto
During one of Foote's trips to Dublin, he was much solicited by a silly young man of fashion to assist him in a miscellany of poems and essays which he was about to publish; but when he asked to see the manuscript, the other told him "that at present he had only conceived the different subjects, but had put none of them to paper."
"Oh! if that be the state of the case," replied Foote, "I will give you a motto from Milton for the work in its present state:
'Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.'"
Real Friendship
A young gentleman, making an apology to his father for coming late to dinner, said "that he had been visiting a poor friend of his in St. George's Fields." "Ah! a pretty kind of friend indeed," says the father, "to keep us waiting for dinner in this manner."
"Aye, and for the best kind, too," said Foote: "as you know, my dear sir, a friend in need is a friend indeed."
Anecdote of an Author
An author was boasting that as a reviewer he had the power of distributing literary reputations as he liked. "Take care," said Foote, "you are not too prodigal of that, or you may leave none for yourself."
Dr. Blair
When Foote first heard of Dr. Blair's writing 'Notes on Ossian' (a work the reality of which has always been much doubted), he observed, "The publishers ought to allow a great discount to the purchaser, as the notes required such a stretch of credit."
Advice To a Dramatic Writer
A dull dramatic writer, who had often felt the severity of the public, was complaining one day to Foote of the injustice done him by the critics; but added, "I have, however, one way of being even with them, by constantly laughing at all they say."
"You do perfectly right, my friend," said Foote; "for by this method you will not only disappoint your enemies, but lead the merriest life of any man in England."
The Grafton Ministry
A gentleman coming into the Cocoa-Tree one morning during the Duke of Grafton's administration, was observing "that he was afraid the poor ministry were at their wits' end."
"Well, if it should be so," said Foote, "what reason have they to complain of so short a journey?"