But besides these and other powerful aids, the duchess called in professional advice. The sages of the robe were consulted, and their opinions were that the piece was a malicious libel; and that, should it be represented, a short-hand writer ought to be employed to attend on the night of representation, to minute each offensive passage, as the groundwork of a prosecution. This advice was followed, and Foote was intimidated. He denied having made a demand of two thousand guineas; but the Rev. Mr. Foster contradicted him in an affidavit. Thus defeated in point of fact, Foote found himself baffled also in point of design. The chamberlain would not permit the piece to be represented.
Foote now had recourse to another expedient:—He caused it to be intimated “that it was in his power to publish if not to perform; but were his expenses reimbursed (and the sum which her grace had formerly offered would do the business), he would desist.” This being communicated to the duchess, she in this, as in too many cases, asked the opinion of her friends, with a secret determination to follow her own. Foote, finding that she began to yield, pressed his desire incessantly; and she had actually provided bills to the amount of one thousand six hundred pounds, which she would have given him but for the Rev. Mr. Jackson, who, being asked his opinion of the demand, returned this answer: “Instead of complying with it, your grace should obtain complete evidence of the menace and demand, and then consult your counsel whether a prosecution will not lie for endeavouring to extort money by threats. Your grace must remember the attack on the first Duke of Marlborough by a stranger, who had formed a design either on his purse or his interest, and endeavoured to menace him into a compliance.” This answer struck the Earl of Peterborough and Mr. Foster very forcibly, as in perfect coincidence with their own opinions; and Mr. Jackson was then solicited to wait on Mr. Foote; Mr. Foster, the chaplain of the duchess, professing himself to be too far advanced in years to enter into the field of literary combat. Mr. Jackson consented to be the champion on the following condition—that the duchess would give her honour never to retract her determination, nor to let Foote extort from her a single guinea. Her grace subscribing to this condition, Mr. Jackson waited on Mr. Foote at his house in Suffolk-street, and intimated to him the resolution to which the duchess had come. The actor, however, still wished to have matters compromised; and to this end he addressed a letter to the duchess, which began with stating “that a member of the privy council and a friend of her grace (by whom he meant the Duke of Newcastle) had conversed with him on the subject of the dispute between them; and that, for himself, he was ready to have everything adjusted.” This letter afforded the duchess a triumph. Every line contained a concession; and, contrary to the advice of her friends, she insisted upon the publication of the whole correspondence.
This circumstance for a time served to turn the current of attention into a new channel. But while the public notice was withdrawn from her grace, she felt too heavily the necessity which existed to adopt some course to enable her either to evade or meet the impending danger. Her line of procedure was soon determined upon—she affected an earnest desire to have the trial, if possible, accelerated, while in secret she took every means in her power to evade the measures which her opponents had taken against her. Her conduct in other respects appears to have been strangely inconsistent. An opportunity presented itself which remained only to be embraced to secure her object. It became the subject of a discussion in the House of Lords whether the trial of her grace should not be conducted in Westminster Hall; and the expense which would necessarily be incurred by the country was by many urged as being a burden which ought not to rest upon the public purse. Lord Mansfield, privately desiring to save the duchess from the disgrace and ignominy of a public trial, strove to avail himself of this objection in her favour; and so great had become the differences of opinion entertained upon the subject, that the withdrawal of the prosecution altogether would have been a matter which would have been considered desirable rather than improper. Here then was the critical moment at which the duchess might have determined her future fate. A hint was privately conveyed to her that the sum of ten thousand pounds would satisfy every expectation, and put an end to the prosecution; and doubts being expressed of the sincerity of the proposal, the offer was made in distinct terms. The duchess was entreated by her friends to accept the proposition which was made, and so at once to relieve herself and them from all fear of the consequences which might result to her; but through a fatal mistaken confidence either in the legal construction of her case, or in her own machinations, she refused to accede to the offers which were held out. Resting assured of her acquittal, she resisted every attempt at dissuasion from her purpose of going to trial; and she assumed an air of indifference about the business which but ill accorded with the doubtful nature of her position. She talked of the absolute necessity of setting out for Rome; affected to have some material business to settle with the Pope; and, in consequence, took every means and urged every argument in her power to procure the speedy termination of the proceedings—as if the regular course of justice had not been swift enough to overtake her. In the midst of her confidence, however, she did not abandon her manœuvring; but at the very moment when she was petitioning for a speedy trial, she was engaged in a scheme to get rid of the principal witness against her. Mrs. Cradock, to whom before she had refused a trifling remuneration, might now have demanded thousands as the price of her evidence. A negotiation was carried on through the medium of a relation of hers, who was a letter-carrier, which had for its object her removal from England; and an interview was arranged to take place between her and the duchess, at which the latter was to appear disguised, and was to reveal herself only after some conversation, the object of which was that terms might be proposed; but her grace was duped: for having changed her clothes to those of a man, she waited at the appointed hour and place without seeing either Mrs. Cradock or the person who had promised to effect the meeting; and she afterwards learned that every particular of this business had been communicated to the prosecutors, who instructed the letter-carrier to pretend an acquiescence in the scheme.
Thus baffled in a project which had a plausible appearance of success, the only method left was the best possible arrangement of matters preparatory to the trial. On the 15th day of April, 1766, the business came on in Westminster-hall, when the queen was present, accompanied by the prince of Wales, princess royal, and others of the royal family. Many foreign ambassadors also attended, as well as several of the nobility. These having taken their seats, the duchess came forward, attended by Mrs. Edgerton, Mrs. Barrington, and Miss Chudleigh, three of the ladies of her bedchamber, and her chaplain, physician, and apothecary; and as she approached the bar she made three reverences, and then dropped on her knees, when the lord high steward said, “Madam, you may rise.” Having risen, she courtesied to the lord high steward and the house of peers, and her compliments were returned.
Proclamation being made for silence, the lord high steward mentioned to the prisoner the fatal consequences attending the crime of which she stood indicted, signifying that, however alarming and awful her present circumstances, she might derive great consolation from considering that she was to be tried by the most liberal, candid, and august assembly in the universe.
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