Cornish Characters and Strange Events

    "Sam. Foote."

When bringing out his comedy of The Minor considerable objections were started to its being licensed, and among other objectors was Secker, Archbishop of Canterbury. Foote offered to submit the play to him for revision, with permission to strike out whatever he deemed objectionable. But the prelate was not to be trapped thus. He knew well that had he done this, Foote would have advertised its performance "as altered and amended by his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury."

Having made a trip to Ireland, he was asked on his return what impression was made on him by the Irish peasantry, and replied that they gave him great satisfaction, as they settled a question that had long agitated his mind, and that was, what became of the cast clothes of English beggars.

One evening at the coffee-house he was asked if he had attended the funeral of a very intimate friend, the son of a baker. "Oh yes, certainly," said he; "just seen him shoved into the family oven."

Although he had on more than one occasion applied to Garrick for loans of a few hundred pounds, this did not deter him from mimicking Garrick, and when the Shakespeare Jubilee took place at Stratford-on-Avon, under the superintendence of this latter, Foote was so jealous and envious of its success, that he schemed bringing out a mock procession in imitation of it, with a man dressed to resemble Garrick in the character of the Steward of the Jubilee, with his wand, white-topped gloves, and Shakespeare medal; whilst some ragamuffin was to address him in the lines of the Jubilee poet-laureate —

A nation's taste depends on you,
Perhaps a nation's virtue too;

to which the mimic Garrick was to reply by clapping his arms, like the wings of a cock, and crowing —

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

It was with difficulty that Foote could be deterred from carrying his scheme into effect.

But, indeed, he spared no one. He had been separated practically, though not legally, from his wife, whom to his friends and acquaintances he spoke of as "the Washerwoman." She was a quiet, inoffensive, worthy woman; and his friends induced him after a while to allow her to return to his house. As it chanced, her conveyance was upset on the way, and she was thrown out and much cut and bruised in her face and person. Instead of sympathizing with her, he turned the matter into joke with his boon companions, and said, "If you want to see a map of the world, go and look at my wife's face. There is the Black Sea in her eye, the Red Sea in her gashes, and the Yellow Sea in all her bruises."

Dining once with Earl Kelly at his house at North End in the early part of the spring, his lordship, who was a bon vivant and had a very red face, apologized during dinner that he was unable to give the party cucumbers that day, as none were ripe. "Your own fault, my lord," said Foote. "Why didn't you thrust your nose into the hot-house?"

On another occasion, Foote calling on the elder Colman, the dramatist, heard him complain of want of sleep. "Read one of your own plays," said Foote.

Dining one day with Lord Stormont, he noticed the diminutive size of the decanters and glasses. His lordship boasted of the age of his wine. "Dear me," said Foote. "It is very little, considering its age."

A young parson was on his honeymoon. "I'll give you a text for your next sermon," said Foote: "Grant us thy peace so long as the moon endureth."

Some one asked Dr. Johnson whether he did not think that Foote had a singular talent for exhibiting character. "No, sir," replied the doctor. "It is not a talent, it is a vice. It is what others abstain from. His imitations are not like. He gives you something different from himself, without going into other people. He is like a painter who can draw the portrait of a man who has a wen on his face. He can give you the wen, but not the man."

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.

Whilst at Dover, he went into the kitchen of the inn to order a particular dish for dinner, and the cook, understanding that he was about to embark for France, began to brag of her powers, and defy him to find any better cuisine abroad, though, for her part, she said, she had never crossed the water. "Why cookey," said Foote, "that cannot be, for above stairs they informed me you have been several times all over grease (Greece)." "They may say what they like," retorted she, "but I was never ten miles from Dover in all my life." "Nay, now," said Foote, "that must be a fib, for I myself have seen you at Spit-head."

This was his last joke. Next morning he was seized with a shivering fit whilst at breakfast, which increasing, he was put to bed. Another fit succeeded that lasted three hours. He then seemed inclined to sleep, and presently with a deep sigh expired on October 21st, 1777, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. He was buried in Westminster Abbey.

The authors of the Biographica Dramatica say of his farces "Mr. Foote's dramatic works are all to be ranked among the petites pièces of the theatre, as he never attempted anything which attained the bulk of the more perfect drama. In the execution of them they are sometimes loose, negligent, and unfinished, seeming rather to be the hasty productions of a man of genius, whose Pegasus, though endued with fire, has no inclination for fatigue, than the laboured finishings of a professed dramatist aiming at immortality. His plots are somewhat irregular, and their catastrophes not always conclusive or perfectly wound up. Yet, with all these little deficiencies, it must be confessed that they contain more of one essential property of comedy, viz. strong character, than the writings of any other of our modern authors."

THE LAST LORD MOHUN

The first of the family of Mohun known to history came over with the Conqueror from Normandy, and received the name and title of Sapell, Earl of Somerset. How the earldom lapsed we do not know, but a Mohun next appears as Baron of Dunster. Apparently, but not certainly, the earldom was taken from them by Henry III, for siding against him with the Barons in 1297. A branch of the family settled at Boconnoc early in the fifteenth century. In the church of Lanteglos by Fowey is a brass of William Mohun, who died in 1508. Sir Reginald Mohun, Knt., was sheriff of Cornwall in 1553 and 1560. He was squire of the body to Queen Elizabeth, and his son, Sir William Mohun, was sheriff in 1572 and 1578. His son, Sir Reginald, was created baronet in 1612, and his grandson John was raised to be Baron Mohun of Okehampton in 1628. Warwick, the second Lord Mohun, died in 1665, leaving a son, Charles, third Baron, who married Lady Philippa Annesley, daughter of the Earl of Anglesea, and by her had a son Charles, fourth Baron, and a daughter Elizabeth, who died unmarried. He acted as second to Lord Candish in a duel, where he was wounded in the belly and died soon after; he was buried October 20th, 1677.

Charles, fourth Baron Mohun of Okehampton, was married in the first place to Charlotte, daughter of Thomas Mainwaring. With her he lived unhappily and was separated from her, nor would he acknowledge the daughter born to her as being his own child. He had the good fortune, however, to be rid of her at last, as she was drowned on a passage to Ireland with one of her gallants. He married secondly Elizabeth, daughter of Dr. Thomas Laurence, physician to Queen Anne, and widow of Colonel Edward Griffith.

Fitton Gerrard, Earl of Macclesfield, maternal uncle of his first wife, to make him some amends for his bad bargain, left to Lord Mohun a good part of his estate.

Charles, fourth Baron Mohun, was of a contentious nature, and was involved in several duels. He fought Lord Kennedy on December 7th, 1692. On October 7th, 1694, a Mr. Scobell, a Cornish M.P., interfered with Lord Mohun, who was attempting to kill a coachman in Pall Mall. Mohun, furious at being interfered with, cut Mr. Scobell over the head, and afterwards challenged him. He was also engaged in a duel with a Captain Bingham on April 7th, 1697, when he was wounded in the hand. He was next engaged in a quarrel with a Captain Hill of the Foot Guards, at the Rummer Tavern on September 14th, 1697; he managed to kill Hill.

The story of the murder of Mountford the actor by Captain Hill, in which Lord Mohun was involved as abetter, is given very fully by Sir Bernard Burke, in his Romance of the Aristocracy, 1855, and I will here condense his account.

Mrs. Bracegirdle was at the time a very charming actress, with a delicious voice of remarkable flexibility, and her singing of such a song as Eccles' "The bonny, bonny breeze" brought down the house; but the mad song, "I burn, my brain consumes to ashes," as sung by her in the character of Marcella in Don Quixote, was considered one of her masterpieces. Cibber says that all the extravagance and frantic passion of Lee's Alexander the Great were excusable when Mrs. Bracegirdle played Statira; that scarcely an audience saw her that were not half her lovers without a suspected favourite among them. In an age of general dissoluteness she bore an immaculate reputation, and the licentious men about town knew perfectly well that she was beyond the reach of their solicitations. Mrs. Bracegirdle had a friend, "a miracle of fine acting," Mrs. Mountford, also a performer at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and became intimate with her. Some of the malicious, who could ill believe that an actress was virtuous, supposed that Mrs. Bracegirdle favoured that lady's husband, who was a good actor of heroic tragedy.

Among the many admirers of Mrs. Bracegirdle was a Captain Richard Hill. So infatuated was he with her charms, that he proposed to marry her; but, when she rejected his offer, he regarded this as an insult, and supposed that she had been persuaded by Mountford to refuse him. Hill, in ungovernable wrath, vowed that he would kill the actor who had dared to tender advice to the beautiful Mrs. Bracegirdle to reject his offer, and also to carry off his mistress by force.

At a supper, where were Lord Mohun, Captain Hill, Colonel Tredenham, and a Mr. Powell, Hill spoke openly of his purpose, and turning to Powell said, "I am resolved to have the blood of Mountford." Powell, who was a friend to both parties, took alarm at these words, and replied that he should certainly inform Mountford of the threat and caution him to be on his guard. Captain Hill then drew off from him, and approached Lord Mohun, whom he speedily discovered to be ready to act as his ally.

Along with Mohun, Hill now seriously set about the requisite preparations for carrying out his purpose, which they agreed should take place the following night. With this view, their first care was to order a coach to be in waiting for them at nine o'clock in Drury Lane, near the theatre; but, so as not to attract particular notice, with two horses only, while a reserve of four more was to be held in readiness at the stables, to convey Hill and Mrs. Bracegirdle to Totteridge. That they expected a serious resistance was apparent, for they not only provided themselves with pistols, but had bribed a party of soldiers to assist them in the enterprise.

During the day the confederates dined together at a tavern in Covent Garden, and talked openly of their intention, before several other persons who were present. But strangely enough, not a syllable reached those interested, to give them timely warning. Yet the conversation was of a nature to excite attention; they discussed the scheme unreservedly, and Lord Mohun remarked that the affair would cost at least fifty pounds; to which Hill replied, "If that villain Mountford resist I will stab him." "And I will stand your friend if you do," observed Lord Mohun.

It so happened, however, that Mrs. Bracegirdle did not play that night, and the confederates learned the fact, as also that she was supping at the house of a Mr. Page in Princes Street hard by, and thither, accordingly, they repaired, planting themselves with the soldiers over against a house occupied by Lord Craven.

Nine o'clock struck, and still no signs of her for whom they were watching. They began to think that they must have been misinformed and ordered the coachman to drive to Howard Street, where Mrs. Bracegirdle lodged, in the house of a Mrs. Browne. Howard Street is a cross-way leading from Arundel Street, through Norfolk Street, to Surrey Street, in the former of which lived Mountford, so that it was not possible for the actor on his return from the theatre to fail coming upon them. Here, however, they did not remain long, their suspicions having been excited by the appearance of several individuals pacing up and down in front of the lady's lodgings, and these they thought must be spies set to watch their proceedings. They accordingly returned to their former station by the house of Mr. Page. At ten o'clock the door opened and that gentleman issued forth along with Mrs. Bracegirdle, her mother and brother, and volunteered to accompany them home, an offer they declined, as they said that they needed no further protection; however, he attended them part of the way. On coming up Drury Lane they were surprised to see a crowd about a coach drawn up before the house of Lord Craven, with the steps down. In this Lord Mohun was seated, with several cases of pistols near him. Before they had time to inquire into the meaning of this, two of the soldiers rushed forward, forced Mrs. Bracegirdle away from Page, and would have dragged her to the coach but that her mother clung about her neck, in spite of some rough handling by the ruffians. Thereupon up ran Hill, and he struck at both Page and the old lady with his drawn sword; but some of the crowd looking on interfered so effectually that he found himself obliged to withdraw. However, he rallied, and pretending that there was a disturbance and that the lady was in danger and that she required safe conduct, he so persuaded Mrs. Bracegirdle that he had no part in the matter that she allowed him to escort her and her mother to their home, and Lord Mohun and the soldiers followed as though in pursuit, Hill occasionally facing round as though to dare them to approach.

Upon reaching Howard Street the soldiers were dismissed, as being no longer required, as it was now deemed impossible to carry out the original plan of a forcible abduction.

Just as Hill was about to withdraw, he plucked Page by the sleeve, and intimated to him that he had a desire to speak with him in private; but that gentleman, who was eager to be back at his own house, replied hastily that "another time would do; to-morrow would serve."

However, no sooner was Mrs. Bracegirdle safe within the house, than the others, fearing that evil might befall Page, laid hold of him and drew him within, and closed the door in the face of Captain Hill.

Instead of having his ardour cooled by his rebuff, the captain became more wroth, and determined to revenge himself on Mountford; and in conjunction with Lord Mohun, he continued pacing up and down the street for two mortal hours with his sword drawn.

Those within the house being greatly alarmed at their proceedings, sent Mrs. Browne out to inquire the reason of this. To this they replied, with the utmost frankness, that they were awaiting the arrival of Mr. Mountford. As evidence that the besiegers had no intention of withdrawing, they sent for a couple of bottles of wine, when the watch came up and asked what they were doing in the streets at such an hour of the night with drawn swords in their hands.

These inquiries were cut short at once by Lord Mohun saying, "I am a peer of the realm; touch me if you dare!" a reply that so staggered the watch that they slunk away without further question. They had, however, observed the waiter who brought the wine and they followed him to the tavern to draw from him an explanation they did not venture to demand from a nobleman.

Whilst the besiegers were tipping off their wine, the besieged found an opportunity for sending a messenger to warn Mrs. Mountford of the danger threatening her husband and to bid her communicate with him. Nor was this the only one, a second and perhaps a third were also despatched to caution him. But unhappily every one of these messengers failed to reach him, and at midnight he came along the street on his way homeward without entertaining the least apprehension.

Lord Mohun was the first to meet and salute the unhappy man, when the latter expressed his surprise at finding his lordship there at such an hour.

"I suppose you have been sent for?" was the curt reply. Mountford said, No – he was there on his way home from the playhouse.