In The Mayor of Garratt Foote took off and held up to derision the old Duke of Newcastle, under the name of Matthew Mug. Of the Duke he was wont to say that he always appeared as if he had lost an hour in the morning and was looking for it all day. In The Patron he satirized Lord Melcombe, but indeed there were few with any peculiarity of manner or taste or appearance, whom he was able to study, whom he did not hold up to public ridicule.
The first time that George II attended the Haymarket The Mayor of Garratt was on the stage. When His Majesty arrived at the theatre, Foote, as manager, hobbled to the stage door to receive him; but, as he played in the first piece, instead of wearing the court dress usual on these occasions, he was equipped in the immense cocked hat, cumbrous boots, and all the other military paraphernalia of Major Sturgeon. The moment the King cast his eyes on this extraordinary figure, as he stood bowing, stumping, and wriggling with his wooden leg, George II receded in astonishment, exclaiming to his attendants, "Look! Vat is dat man—and to vat regiment does he belong?" Even Samuel's not very bright brother came in for his sneers. Edward Foote was fond of hanging about the theatre, and frequented the green-room. Some one asked Samuel who that man was. "He?" replied Foote. "He's my barber." Somewhat later the relationship came out, and the same person remarked to him on his having spoken so contemptuously of Edward. "Why," said Samuel, "I could not in conscience say he was a brother-wit, so I set him down as a brother-shaver."
Retribution came on him at last.
The reason why Foote did not produce his "take-off" of the Duchess of Kingston as Lady Kitty Crocodile has never transpired. According to one account, he had threatened to caricature her in the hopes of levying blackmail on her to stop the production; according to another, he received threats that made him fear for his life, or at least a public horse-whipping, if he proceeded, and he altered the character. But he was very angry, and to be revenged he produced a piece, The Capuchin, which was the original Trip to Calais altered, but his satire was transferred from the Duchess to her chaplain, named Jackson, whom he held up to public scorn as Doctor Viper.
Jackson was furious, and trumped up a vile charge against Foote, by the aid of a coachman whom the actor had discharged from his service for misconduct. Foote had made so many enemies that those whom he had wounded and mortified found the money for a prosecution; and the case was tried at King's Bench before Lord Mansfield and a special jury. But it broke down completely, and Foote was acquitted.
As soon as the trial was over, his fellow dramatist Murphy took a coach and drove to Foote's house in Suffolk Street, Charing Cross, to be the first messenger of the good tidings.
Foote had been looking out of the window in anxious expectation of such a message. Murphy, as soon as he perceived him, waved his hat in token of victory, and jumping out of the coach, ran upstairs, to find Foote extended on the floor, in hysterics. In this condition he continued for nearly an hour before he could be recovered to any kind of recollection of himself.
The charge, and the anxiety of the trial, broke his heart; he never thoroughly rallied after it, and sold his patent in the Haymarket Theatre to George Colman on January 16th, 1777. By the terms of this agreement Colman obliged himself to pay Foote an annuity of sixteen hundred pounds.
Having in some degree recovered his health, he was advised by his physician to try the south of France during the winter; and with this intent he reached Dover on the 20th October, 1777, on his way to Calais.