cern-that they then "retained a wish to serve him," but finding themselves obliged to pronounce him guilty, there was no other course or hope but to implore mercy for him.

For his assistance he wrote Johnson a letter of fervent gratitude. He said he could not conceive, "my ever dear sir," the use that speech "on the awful day" had been to him; "I experienced every hour some good effect from it." Johnson was busy, too, composing a sermon for him-"your kind and intended favour" he calls it. "I am sure, had I sentiments constantly to deliver for them, in all their mighty force and power, not a soul could be left unconverted”—a strain of compliment that must have jarred on Johnson. He winds up by calling him "the first man of our times."*

your

* As to Dodd's "point" about not being "finally fraudulent," it is curious that the very subject should have been discussed at the Mitre Tavern some nine years before. BOSWELL: "I cannot think that his❞ (Rousseau's) "intention was bad." JOHNSON: "Sir, that will not do. We cannot prove any man's intention to be bad. You may shoot a man through the head, and say you intended to miss him; but the judge will order you to be banged. An alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed in a court of justice." This summary, contained in a sentence or two, is far more forcible than the judge's more lengthy exposition of the law.

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH.

66 THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR DODD."

FROM this time his life became, as Walpole put it, "a series of protracted horrors." It was more a flurry and a fever than a life; and in this fever the sands of life were fast slipping away. Nor was this agitation inside the prison only; the whole country was in a ferment. Monster petitions were presented from various sources.

The Methodists, to whom he was not thought to be partial, took up his case with extraordinary eagerness; a petition was drawn up by Johnson-"one of the most energetic compositions ever seen," says Hawkins; conceived in a tone of lowly contrition, praying for mercy for "the most distressed and wretched of your Majesty's subjects, William Dodd." The petition was engrossed upon a large sheet of parchment, in an exquisite specimen of caligraphy, by "Tomkins, of Sermon-lane," one of the most. famous penmen that ever lived. He made his way

to

the Doctor's cell, and offered these charitable services, such as they were-which were gratefully accepted. The poor Doctor was, indeed, likely enough to be grateful for assistance of any degree or kind. At the Shakspeare Tavern, on one of these evenings, Henderson the actor, Richardson the scene-painter, Wilson the sculptor, and some more, were sitting talking over the great subject, when Cipriani and Mortimer came in. Tomkins exhibited this specimen of his art, and proposed that Mortimer and Cipriani should paint allegorical images of Mercy and Justice, surrounded by his flourishes. This idea amused the company, but their hilarity sent the gentleman away offended.*

Everybody can

The petition was taken round. vassed for signatures. The parish officers were seen performing this duty clad in deep mourning. A friend of his, before alluded to, Doctor Kennedy, was indefatigable. A boy long recollected three gentlemen coming round Soho with the roll of paper and inkhorns, collecting names. These were the elder Sheridan, Dudley Bate, and Dr. Kennedy.† They called on Horne Tooke. He told them, with rough humour, that he liked their errand, and thought it would do, because people would take them for tax-gatherers, and be so agreeably disappointed that they would sign readily.

The petition-the result of their efforts was a remarkable one. It was thirty-seven yards and a quarter long, and contained twenty-three thousand signatures, the first of which was the foreman of the jury, who * Angelo's Memoirs. † Ibid.

prayed his Majesty "to consider that he is truly distressed at finding the Doctor included in the dead list." It was called the petition of the gentry, merchants, and traders of London. Surely, as Johnson well said, "the voice of the public, when it calls so loudly for mercy, ought to be heard!"

All the while paragraphs in the newspapers, in the same key, about "the unfortunate Doctor Dodd," kept up the excitement. Johnson himself wrote some editorial remarks in one journal, in which were some admirable Rambler-like arguments, the strongest of which was, "that no arbiter of life and death has ever been censured for granting the life of a criminal to honest and powerful solicitation." He also prepared one for Mrs. Dodd, to be laid at the feet of the queen. Earl Percy, then very popular with the people for his part in the American question, was got to present the petition. Another petition was also prepared by the same hand, to be sent up by the common council, which, however, he said they had "mended."

With horrors thus gathering, and the pious, outside, mourning his fate, and he himself crushed by the recollection of that exposure in public court, it must have been weeks before he could shut it out from his eyes. Yet the old spots were not to be changed so readily. Even in Newgate, through all that outside plating of grief and misery, the old macaroni metal was to make its way through. About this time Mr. William Woodfall received an earnest appeal from him, requesting a visit at the prison. Thinking that this had reference to the insertion of some paragraph in

his Morning Chronicle, he set off, with some reluctance, however. On entering, he began with embarrassment the usual platitudes of condolence, but was at once interrupted by the Doctor, who said he had sent for him on quite a different matter. He then pulled out—a comedy !—“Sir Roger de Coverley"-on which he said he was anxious to have Mr. Woodfall's opinion; and further, his interest with the managers to get it brought forward. Woodfall was shocked at this insensibility, the more so as Mr. Akerman, the keeper of the gaol, had just told him of the arrival of the order for execution. Naturally, he endeavoured to divert the prisoner's mind from so unsuitable a topic ; but the Doctor turned the matter off repeatedly, saying, “O, they will never hang me." Much relieved at this business-like proposal, the printer agreed with alacrity, and took it away with him. He, later, suggested a few alterations, which were adopted. It found its way to Mr. Harris, of Covent Garden, where, no doubt, it perished by fire, with others of greater merit, but not so curious in origin.*

Even from the gaol we get hints of that old unsoundness of life; and while writing those complacent blank panegyrics of himself and his virtues, he received a strange appeal from Toplady, the Methodist, which is very significant: "Reverend Sir," it ran, "believe me when I assure you that I take

* This story is too characteristic to be rejected. Woodfall was a man of integrity, and we have it from him in no less than two shapes. See Biographia Dramatica, article "Sir Roger de Coverley," and Taylor's Recollections.