''.Leo. Newrn ark Coll eotlon" 
 
 Gift of 
 
 Flatheryn N. Newfield 
 Stephen ?.' . Newmark
 
 'CTOM iDOIDB
 
 A FAMOUS FORGERY 
 
 THE STORY OF "THE UNFORTUNATE" 
 
 DOCTOR DODD. 
 
 PERCY FITZGEEALD, M.A., F.S.A., 
 
 A0THOE OF " NEVER FOEGOTTEN," " THE LIFE OF STEKKE," 
 " BELLA DONNA," &C. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1865.
 
 LOKDON 
 PEIKTED BY C. TTUITISG, BEALTOEI HOUSE, STKAKD.
 
 (LT 
 
 in 
 
 TO THK 
 EIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 LORD ARUNDELL OF WARDOUR. 
 
 47;i5?27
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following " Stoiy " is not put forward as a 
 biography of Doctor Doclcl — wlio, for many good 
 reasons, would be wholly vmworthy of regular bio- 
 graphical treatment — but as a picture of a cer- 
 tain phase of life and manners towards the end 
 of the last centuiy. The reader will have before 
 him a character very familiar to those days — a lead- 
 ing actor in the wild society of the time — the well- 
 known figiu'e of what was called the Macaroni 
 Clerg}Tnan. The semi-barbarism of judicial proce- 
 dm'e, and the hoiTible, but di'amatic, incidents which 
 then attended the final process of the law, all desen^e 
 study and illustration, and could in no way be so 
 conveniently illustrated as by the singular and 
 almost romantic history of "the unfortunate Doctor 
 Dodd." It may be added, also, that the subject Avas 
 long ago pointed to, in a Quarterly Eeview of high 
 authority, as worthy of being seriously taken up ; and
 
 n TREFACE. 
 
 that Doctor Doraii, in one of his "Pictures," has 
 drawn a very faithful portrait of this unlucky divine. 
 Not to crowd tlie page with foot-notes and refer- 
 ences, I may mention that nearly everything that is 
 known about Dodd will be found in the following au- 
 thorities : in Boswell ; Wraxall ; the Life of Romaine ; 
 Life of Home; Toplady's Memou's; Archenholtz's 
 Travels ; Selwyn's Memoirs ; Angelo's Memoirs ; 
 Walpole's Diary and Letters ; Thicknesse's Memoirs ; 
 Hawkins's Johnson ; the contemporaiy Newspapers ; 
 the Tovm. and Countiy Magazine, 1773 (the maga- 
 zine which, found in the window of an old inn, so 
 delighted Charles Lamb with its Tete-a-tetes) ; the 
 Magazines and Newspapers of 1777 ; Villette's Ac- 
 count ; the published Trial ; Taylor's Recollections ; 
 Croft's Love and ISIadness ; together with many pas- 
 sages and allusions up and down, through such read- 
 ing as Ganick's Letters and Nichol's valuable Anec- 
 dotes. 
 
 This little Memoir has also profited by the kindness 
 of my friend Mr, John Forster, who has allowed me 
 to use his most curious collection of newspaper " cut- 
 tings," pamphlets, and engravings ; all relating to this 
 " unfortunate divine." It seems to have been made 
 by some contemporary admirer, and includes almost 
 every scrap of published to^^ii gossip that could bear 
 on the subject. 
 
 P. F. 
 
 January, 1S65.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST.— WEST HAM. 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 
 TAGE 
 
 Introduction 1 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 At College 3 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 Okdixatiox AXD MaKRL4.GE 8 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 
 West Ham 14 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTH. 
 " The Magdalen" 21 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTH. 
 DoDD " On Death" 30
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. 
 
 FAGE 
 
 Margate 37 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 
 Stkuggles for Promotion 43 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINTH. 
 " The Royal Chaplain" 49 
 
 CHAPTER THE TENTH. 
 Drawing-room Verses 56 
 
 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. 
 The " City Dinners" 64 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND.— THE " MACARONI 
 PARSON." 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 " City Feasting" 68 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 A Court Sermon 75 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 " Doctor Simony" 79 
 
 CHAPTER THE POURTH. 
 Downwards 88
 
 CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTH. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Town Talk 93 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTH. 
 The fatal Bond 97 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. 
 
 COMMITTED TO " THE CoMPIER" 105 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 
 " The Tkial" 1] 5 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINTH. 
 Pkiso>- Thoughts 123 
 
 CHAPTER THE TENTH. 
 Sektexce 128 
 
 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. 
 
 " TUE UXFOKTUNATE DoCTOR Dodd" .... 135 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. 
 The Cckvict's Addkess 142 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. 
 The Pkekogatiye of Mercy 148 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH. 
 
 Last Days ... 155 
 
 b
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIFTEENTH. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Peocessiox 1G8 
 
 CHAPTER TEE SIXTEENTH. 
 Ttbuen 175 
 
 Appendix .... .... 1S7
 
 A FAMOUS FOEGEPiY. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST.— AVEST HAM. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The story of this unhappy clergyman has not been 
 told before; yet its dim, indistinct outline is, in a 
 sort of general way, familiar to many persons. This 
 acquaintance seems to resolve itself into three main 
 features — that of the centre figure being a clerg;- 
 man, that his offence was a forgery, and fhat, through 
 the tembly severe laws of his country, he suffered 
 death for the crime. The " Execution of Doctor 
 Dodd" is, perhaps, the idea most distinctly present to 
 all, when they think of his name. The flurry of the 
 days between his sentence and death has in it some- 
 thing almost Im'id ; and idolators of Boswell's book — 
 and there are such — will own to there being a sort of 
 horrid fascination in the passages he devotes to this 
 incident. 
 
 B
 
 2 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 The story is worthy of Ijeing tohl, because no 
 Enghsh social event of that character, before or since, 
 ever excited so much absorbing interest. We may 
 gather some faint notion of the sensation spread over 
 the whole kingdom, if we Avere to read one morning 
 of the arrest, say, of some graceful writer and popular 
 preacher, and of his committal to a London gaol, 
 charged with some barbarous crime, which was to 
 bring with it the penalty of death. Yet, in those days, 
 human life was judicially cheap, and London eyes 
 were used to the spectacle of processions to the gallows. 
 The extreme penalty of the law, as it is called, viewed 
 from the present century, we are apt to accept as a 
 measure of guilt, which, in those days of bloody dis- 
 pensation, it was not. 
 
 The wretched clergj-man was the A-ictim of the 
 old, stupid, mulish British complacency, which has 
 so often fancied itself doing something Spartan and 
 splendid, when it is only cruel and ridiculous ; which, 
 as Lord Macaulay has shown, must have its recurring 
 fits of morality, and calls for a A'ictim now and again, 
 to waken up its slumbering complacency : which once 
 shot an admiral " to encourage the rest," and hanged 
 Doctor Dodd to show the surrounding world a spec- 
 tacle of stem, unflinching morality. 
 
 For the offence which Doctor Dodd committed, 
 such a punishment was unsuited — and almost un- 
 merited. Even weighing the moral delinquency 
 nicely, there was no such tremendous guilt in^'olved 
 in the offence. The details now about to be presented 
 have never been collected before, and may be said to 
 be new to a nineteenth-centmy reader.
 
 AT COLLEGE. 
 
 CHAPTEE THE SECOND. 
 
 AT COLLEGE. 
 
 Down at Bourne, in Lincolnshire, a certain Re- 
 verend William Dodd was vicar, early in tlie reign of 
 George the First. The little town was on the very 
 edge of the Fens, and young William Dodd had 
 before his eyes the quaint old Hotel de Ville of the 
 place, which was of some beauty, and of gi'eat anti- 
 quity. A thoughtfvd, studious man, with " a dear, 
 pale face," his son described him long after. 
 
 This son — the eldest — the notorious William 
 Dodd, LL.D., was born there, on the 29th May, 1729. 
 There was also a second son, who afterwards gi'ew 
 up to be the Keverend Richard Dodd, a working 
 clergyman, but about Avhose story — there being no 
 painful notoriety to make him stand out — history is 
 almost silent. 
 
 Over this child, at its studies, the " dear, pale face" 
 was bent very often, and succeeded in implanting a 
 curious fancy for study and general reading. Young 
 William Dodd took ardently to books ; and, when 
 only sixteen years old, was fit to be entered at Cam- 
 b2
 
 4 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 bridge. He was matriculated a sizar of Clare Hall 
 on March 22, 1746, and was placed under Mr. J. 
 Constant, afterwards Ai'cli deacon of Lewes. Men 
 holding these offices at universities must have a 
 singular advantage over other men, in being thus 
 familiar with the early years of those, who may turn 
 out famous for good or evil ; and a veteran college 
 director might find some entertainment in checking 
 oif his earlier jiidgments by a later experience. But 
 mere official routine, in most instances, must deaden 
 this spirit of observation. 
 
 Laurence Sterne had quitted Cambridge but a few 
 years before. It will be seen later how like, in some 
 points, were the two clergpnen. The only person of 
 mark Ave can trace as being at Clare Hall with Dodd, 
 is Parkhurst, who afterwards became familiar to 
 scholars from the well-known '' Lexicon." Here, 
 however, he found a friend, to whom he seems to 
 have been attached, with all the ardour of college 
 affection, but who died early, before completing his 
 studies. His image came back upon Doctor Dodd — 
 then under very altered circumstances — full thirty 
 years later : 
 
 Nor less, for thee, my friend, my Lancaster, 
 Blest youth, in early hours from this life's woes, 
 In richest mercy borne. 
 
 But of this promising youth nothing more of interest 
 is known. 
 
 During his college career Dodd was remarkable for 
 diligence, and for some succe-s in his studies. He 
 "attracted the notice of his superiors," we are told, 
 by his special attention to his books. He could, how-
 
 AT COLLEGE. 5 
 
 ever, find time for literary labour ; and, at the age of 
 eighteen, sent forth the first of the long train of books 
 which he was hereafter to launch so steadily upon 
 the town. This was a quarto pamphlet, entitled "A 
 Pastoral on the Distemper among the Horned Cattle, 
 or Diggon Davy's Lament on the Loss of his last Cow." 
 Considering that this plague was a national calamity, 
 sweeping the whole of Europe, and that Mr. Sterne, 
 down at Sutton, and other divines, were dealing with 
 the subject in their pulpits, such levity would seem to 
 have been in bad taste ; but a careless college lad of 
 eighteen mif>;ht be excused for not weitrhing the de- 
 cencies very nicely. 
 
 Two years after, the African Princes came to 
 England, and he seized on the opportunity to issue a 
 (juarto tract of mild heroics, in the shape of an ad- 
 dress from the x\frican " to Zara" — inscribed accord- 
 ing to the usual precedent to a person of influence, 
 Lord Halifax — which w^as later followed up by an 
 answer from " Zara" to the African Prince. These 
 youthful efforts are of the veiy poorest quality, and 
 suffer sadly by comparison even with the low standard 
 of average "Juvenilia." As such they might claim 
 tlie usual indidgence, had not their author, later, when 
 more advanced in life, collected them carefully, and 
 ])resented them to the public in a volume. The same 
 vfiir, 1749, he took his degree, with distinction, and 
 ills name is to be found fifteenth on the "First 
 Tripos List," which corresponds to the more modern 
 wi'anglcrs and senior optimes. 
 
 Witii this promising beginning he might have 
 hoped to fare profitably in the L^^niversity. Ills
 
 6 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 brotlier, the Reverend Ilicliard, had gone to Lincoln 
 College, Oxford, and in due time had chosen to be- 
 come a working ciu*ate at Cambenvell ; he was to 
 end decently and witli lionour, as a fairly endowed 
 rector. But young William Dodd was of different 
 material, and at every step reminds us maiwellously 
 of that other clergyman, the Reverend ISIr. Sterne, 
 down at Sutton. 
 
 It was not likel}- that the straitened Vicar of 
 Bourne could afford to fetch home his son dm-ing 
 the vacation. Young Dodd, therefore, had to spend 
 that season at the University, when it was a dismal 
 and dispiriting solitude, during which time his only 
 comfort seems to have been a blank verse 2:)rotest, of 
 indifferent merit as a composition, but valuable as a 
 graphic picture of Cambridge manners. He helps us 
 to see the deserted courts, with their smoke-stained yxm- 
 dows, which, in term time, were peopled with crowds 
 of heads covered with caps of coloui'ed velvet, calling 
 loudly for the barbers, who were flpng across the 
 quadrangles. We see the " lean fellows,"' and the 
 "jolly jips," the old bed-makers, and the refectory 
 tables covered with black clotli^ Young Dodd would 
 seem to have been the only one of his college left 
 to take " commons" in the hall, and had to rise to do 
 homage to a fellow, just as solitary in his rank as the 
 youth himself. The trencher off which he had to 
 dine, was a square piece of board " never scraped and 
 sometimes washed." An odd privilege was allowed to 
 the twelve ^^Tanglers of the year, who were allowed 
 to choose a squii'e, and go round the town, asking a 
 kiss from each young girl. IVIr. Dodd, who took his
 
 AT COLLEGE. 7 
 
 degree in 1749 — and took it with distinction, for he was 
 in the hst of wranglers — just happened to be among 
 the hist few who were permitted these rights ; for in the 
 followino; year, the "ancient custom" was abohshed. 
 " The good-natured laches," he says, " never were 
 
 averse to so laudable a custom Scarce 
 
 a dry eye was seen on the day when the wranglers 
 were lost; the peeping maidens observed now and 
 then one with downcast looks steal along the streets 
 and muffle his inglorious face in dismal black. The 
 year 1750 will be remembered with grief by every 
 Cambridge virmn and future wrangler." This is 
 merely what in these days would be called the \i\n- 
 city of an " ingenious young gentleman," but some- 
 w^ay in every phase of life, from Cambridge to New- 
 gate, some levity of the gay, frivolous Dodd is always 
 present. Even at this day there was a " Lucy," of 
 whom the youth in his loneliness thought tenderly. 
 
 He was a very gay youth, fond of Cambridge 
 pleasures and parties, dressed expensively, and was 
 noted among his friends as " an ardent votary of the 
 god of dancing." These pastimes did not interfere 
 with more important matters ; and, in truth, it stands 
 a good deal to his credit that he should be able to 
 combine such hostile interests so successfully. Later, 
 however, the balance became disturbed, and in the 
 year of his degree he left the University very sud- 
 denly, and came up to London.
 
 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 
 ORDINATION AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 Young Mr. William Dodd, now upon Town, 
 brought with him, say his biographers, in their pecu- 
 liar euphmsm, " a pleasing form, a genteel address, and 
 a lively imagination," gifts which, in the year 1749 or 
 1750, were much esteemed in the gi'eat city. He 
 lost no time in putting them to all available profit ; 
 and his books having already attracted a little notice, 
 he rushed into every society, and flung himself upon 
 every amusement "with a dangerous avidity." No 
 doubt the excuse that brought him up, was the in- 
 variable excuse that brought up from all comers of 
 the kingdom any young literary adventui'er who had 
 a play, a history, or a poem in his desk ; it being con- 
 sidered necessary to come in person to fight for lite- 
 rary fortune, as AVhittington and others had come up 
 for mercantile honom's. In his spare moments, he 
 contrived to write and publish some compositions. 
 Among these was another satire, " A Day in College 
 at Vacation ;" a sjTiopsis in Latin of Grotius, Locke, 
 and Clarke, a large portion of which is said to have
 
 OEDIXATIOX AND MARRIAGE. y 
 
 been the Avork of Sir John Gilbert ; a sort of useful 
 class-book, which must have entailed some serious 
 drudgery ; and a more ambitious effort — a burlesque 
 addition to the "Dunciad," with Warburton intro- 
 duced. He was, no doubt, one of the tribe of " vile 
 scribblers" alluded to by Warbiu'ton, in his letters to 
 Sterne ; but was wise enough, when grown older, not to 
 provoke the controversial bishop by reprinting it in his 
 collection. These works show a certain industry, and 
 might incline us to suppose that the " dangerous 
 avidity" for London pleasures was a little overstated. 
 He was now but twenty years old. 
 
 There was living at this time in Frith-street, Soho, 
 a young person named Mary Perkins, with whom 
 young Mr. Dodd became acquainted. She is said to 
 have been "largely endowed with personal attrac- 
 tions," but, on the other hand, was fatally " deficient 
 in those of birth and fortune." The plebeian name 
 is, indeed, significant ; her father was a servant to 
 Sir John Dolben, one of the prebendaries in Dm'ham 
 Cathedral, and had been promoted to be verger. 
 This young person Mr. William Dodd, with his fair 
 prospects in the world before him, had the infatuation 
 to marry on April 15, 1751. 
 
 In other respects she seems to have been a veiy 
 suitable wife; and at the season of her husband's 
 terrible probation, exhibited all the virtues and moral 
 gifts which happily belong to no special rank or 
 station. Xay, though marrying him without bringing 
 a dowiy with her, a lucky chance was to help her to 
 one later. She was all through useful, affectionate, 
 and tolerant of his frailties to a remarkable degree ;
 
 10 A FAMOUS FORGEEY. 
 
 and if we can trust the dismal apostroplie wliicli 
 issued from his prison cell, he never appears to have 
 repented marrying the verger's daughter : 
 
 Nor thou, Maria, with me ! 0, my -wife ! 
 Thy husband lov'd with such a steady flame 
 From youth's first hour. 
 
 And it is certainly to his credit that, even in the 
 days when he was most sought and courted, and when 
 
 he was most busy with " Miss I 1 " and the " two 
 
 agreeable sisters," he is not ashamed to boast of his 
 nuptial happiness, or to find her a place beside the 
 elegant ladies he was celebrating in gallant rh}^nes. 
 At Margate he could be in raptures with her. 
 " When by my Charmer's side, my bride, my love, 
 List'ning I drink the music of her tongue. . . . Give 
 me eyes to trace her every amiable perfection," &c. 
 
 Her sister, Eleanor, was married to " an upholder," 
 called Porter, in Long-acre. It was a miserable alli- 
 ance in one sense; and it was recollected nearly 
 thirty years later that the bride and bridegroom ap- 
 peared in gay colours at the ceremony, though all the 
 to\vn was mourning the Prince of Wales in deepest 
 black. Perhaps Doctor Dodd was resenting the in- 
 different patronage his elegy had just received. 
 
 On this imprudent step, he at once took a house in 
 Wardovu'-street — not yet lined Avith Bric-a-hrac and 
 curiosity shops — and fitted it up at great expense. 
 The news of these proceechngs soon drifted down to 
 Bourne, to his father, who presently hvu'ried up to 
 London in sad distress. Friends gathered round; 
 the pressure of remonstrance and entreaty was put 
 upon the improvident youth ; and with much diffi-
 
 OKDIXATIOX AND MAEEIAGE. 11 
 
 culty lie was brought back again into the straight 
 and profitable ecclesiastical roadway he had strayed 
 from. After watching an opportunity to write " An 
 Elegy on the Death of Frederick Prince of Wales," 
 he came back again to Cambridge. 
 
 For this performance — which he thought of when 
 hdng in Newgate, bitterly complaining of its having 
 been o^'erlooked by royalty — he received five guineas 
 from- Ml'. Watts. He had also written a comedy, 
 for which he was to receive a hunch'ed pounds — which 
 had actually got to a manager's hands, but which he 
 was obliged to withdraw on pressure from authority. 
 This comedy shall turn up again later under very 
 curious circumstances. 
 
 On the 19th of October, 1753, he was ordained a 
 deacon, at Caius College, by the Bishop of Ely — a 
 prelate to whom he had dedicated his Latin spiopsis 
 of Clarke and Grotius. 
 
 Even at this date he had been eagerly looking for 
 preferment ; and this " Elegy " was but one of those 
 little devices to secure promotion for which he was 
 later to become notorious. Plis importunity was al- 
 most wearisome ; and nearly thiii;y years after, in a 
 situation where idle college A'erses would seem about 
 the last thing he would think of, he refers to these 
 academic platitudes with a sort of wounded air, as 
 though he had been ungratefully repaid for his 
 paneg^Tic* 
 
 The Wardour-street house Avas now giAcn up, and 
 he openly forswore the world and its vanities, with a 
 
 * Prison Thoughts, Week the Fourth, where he has a note, " See mj- 
 Eleg)- on the Death of Frederick Prince of Wales. Poems, p. 63."
 
 12 A FAMOUS rOROEEY. 
 
 suspicious ostentation. Not content with mere quiet 
 abnegation, he must proclaim his reformation noisily — 
 through a trumpet, as it were, and from a platform. 
 The platform was a selection of the best passages in 
 Shakspeare, and the trumpet was a preface. " For 
 my own part," he ■\\Tote, " better and more important 
 things henceforth demand my attention, and I here, 
 with no small pleasure, take my leave of Shakspeare 
 and the critics. As the work was begun and finished 
 before I entered upon the sacred fmictions in which I 
 am now happily engaged," &c. With this apology the 
 first symptoms of distrust begin to enter the mind — 
 for who can accept these excuses for so haiinless a 
 task as a selection of passages from a AAriter like 
 Shakspeare ? The whole has the air of affectation, if 
 not of cant ; and already we begin to see the faint 
 lines and colours of the Macaroni Parson. 
 
 But the idea was a very happy one — far better than 
 the well-meaning scheme of the more recent IMi". 
 Bowdler. The selection was directed by much good 
 taste, and even ingenuity. It has been one of the 
 most successful bits of bookseller's task-work ; and a 
 stream of editions, of every size and price, attest the 
 popularity of " Dodd's Beauties of Shakspeare." But 
 very few, when they buy the book in shop or stall, 
 think that it is by the Doctor Dodd, or of the dismal 
 end of the compiler. Work of this sort, simple as it 
 may seem, disguises a vast amomit of secret labour 
 and happy instinct ; as, indeed. Goldsmith has sho-mi 
 in a single sentence : " Judgment is to be paid for in 
 such selections, and a man may be twenty years of 
 his life cultivating his judgment."
 
 " OEDINATION AND MAEEIAGE. lo 
 
 Curious to say, there was originally prefixed a sar- 
 castic dedication to Lord Chesterfield, which he after- 
 wards cancelled. He could not have divined that 
 this nobleman would have hereafter selected him for 
 his son's tutor. Being now ordained, he forswore 
 ])leasure and the belles lettres " finally" — that is, for 
 nearly a year — and entered on his first ecclesiastical 
 service as curate to the Eev. jNIr. Wyatt, at West 
 Ham — a clerical pasture, perhaps, dangerously near to 
 London.
 
 14 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 
 
 WEST HAjNI. 
 
 Here lie spent the most deliglitful hours of his 
 life. His behaviour — say the newspaper paragraphs, 
 in the detestable " valet" jargon in which they de- 
 scribe every step in his life — was " proper, decent, and 
 exemplary." He took up his new duties with zeal. 
 He is said to have worked laboriously amongst his 
 parishioners, and not to have spared himself in the 
 round of parochial ch'udgery. Yet he relished these 
 duties, and long after, in his day of trial, looked back 
 to this Ham life very wistfully : 
 
 Return blest hours, ye peaceful clays return ! 
 
 "When through each office of celestial love, 
 
 Ennobling piety my glad feet led 
 
 Continual, and my head each night to rest 
 
 Lull'd on the downy pillow of content! 
 
 Dear were thy shades, 0, Ham ! and dear the hours 
 
 In manly musing 'midst thy forests pass'd, 
 
 And antique woods of sober solitude, 
 
 0, Epping, witness to my lonely walks. 
 
 It was thou£i;ht at this time that he " entertained 
 favourable sentiments of the doctrines of ^Ii*. Hut-
 
 WEST HAM. 15 
 
 cliinson," and was even suspected of a leaning to 
 Methodism. But lie soon cast off tins weakness, and 
 some seven or eight years later put his thoughts into the 
 shape of " A Dialogue between a ]\lystic, a Hutchin- 
 sonian, and a Methodist ;" in which he showed off the 
 professors of these creeds to considerable disadvantage. 
 Notwithstanding this backsliding in the direction of 
 ISIi-. Hutchinson, his parishioners esteemed him highly, 
 and chose him as their lecturer on the demise of the 
 former occupant of that office. Two years afterwards, 
 a lectureship at St. Olave's, Hart-street, became vacant, 
 and ^Ir. Dodd was chosen for this duty also. Then 
 he suddenly relapsed into literature, not only forgot 
 his vow of abstinence, but burst upon the town with 
 a strange novel, which, coming from a working cm-ate, 
 seems a singular and unbecoming composition. 
 
 It was entitled "The Sisters;" which, under the 
 specious veil of " a warning to youth of both sexes," 
 contrives to deal with some free pictures of London 
 life, the treatment of which suggests the coarse, but 
 not the Aagorous, handling of Fielding and Smollett. 
 How the laborious curate of West Ham could issue 
 such a production and not forfeit the favour of his 
 faithful parishioners and the patrons of the lecture- 
 ship of St. Olave's, is a riddle only to be solved by the 
 free temper of the age. The ecclesiastical barometer 
 was never registered so low. The laity were easy, 
 and expected no restraint from their priests. There 
 were many parsons like Trulliber, and many like the 
 ordinary who attended on Mr. Wild, and whose 
 pocket was picked of " a bottle screw." The world 
 was not to be scandalised by " The Sisters," or a
 
 16 A FAMOUS FOIiGEliY. 
 
 novel of that sort ; and six years later the Bishop of 
 Gloucester was so delighted with the two first vokimes 
 of "Tristram Shandy/' that he took their reverend 
 author round the fashionable world, and made all 
 the bishops call upon him. 
 
 "The Sisters" contahi many pictures drawn from 
 young INIr. Dodd's wild London life. The story is 
 that of two young girls sent up to London, and 
 ruined there. There is a hint of Pamela, with sug- 
 gestions from some of Hogarth's pictorial stories. 
 The names of the characters are the names of real 
 persons read backwards. Dookalb, the villain of 
 the piece, was a ^Ii\ Blackwood, a gentleman who 
 was said to have injured him, and upon whom he 
 took this fashion of retaliating. Beau Leicart was a 
 certain fashionable IVir. Tracey, known as Handsome 
 Tracey, who had met a ])retty giid in the Park — a 
 butter- woman's daughter — and, seized with an ungo- 
 vernable passion, had made himself the talk of the town 
 by marr}ang her.* Lucy Repook, another of the cha- 
 racters, was put for Lucy Cooper, a notorious lady 
 who divided the favour of the town with " Kitty 
 Fisher." She was the lady who furnished the story 
 which contains a satire finer than ever professional 
 satirist could furnish.f Lord Sandwich was also in- 
 troduced, which would seem to support the story 
 
 * The story is given in detail by Walpole, ii. 12G. There is more 
 about him in Taylor's Recollections. 
 
 f To a young nobleman professing " eternal attachment," she hinted 
 a settlement — as she was sure, she said, he could not bear to see her 
 miserable and in -want, in her old age. " No, by G — ," said the young 
 nobleman, promptly, " for then I could not bear to see you at all." 
 She used to tell this story herself.
 
 WEST HAM. 17 
 
 Walpole later circulated as to ^Irs. Dodd's relation to 
 that nobleman. Speaking of one of the ladies of the 
 story who was in the habit of taking bank-notes en 
 sandivich for breakfast, to show her admirers how 
 little she cared for money, the Reverend ^Ir. Dodd 
 puts a note to the effect that he had kno^vn " at least 
 four, who have excelled and gloried in the same notable 
 feat." There are allusions, too, "to the inimitable 
 Garrick" who "thunders through the crowded theatre," 
 which show that he was famiHar with di'amatic 
 effects. Most curious, however, is his treatment of 
 his arch villain, Dookalb, or Blackwood, Avhom he 
 eventually led to the gallows and made him suffer "in 
 the most abject and pusillanimous manner;" and 
 attached to one of his characters was " a large bunch 
 of keys, not unlike those which grace the venerable 
 tmmkey of Newgate." He never dreamt, when he 
 gave this flippant description, that he himself was to 
 have a ch'eadful familiarity with the venerable tui'nkey 
 of Newgate. Indeed, it is very strange to think how, 
 all through IVIi'. Dodd's life, little shadows of such an 
 awful final end were cast across his path. It will be 
 seen how, in many directions, he was led to it by a 
 sort of mysterious attraction, and dwelt upon it as 
 upon a favourite subject. 
 
 He was about this year — 1752 — appointed to 
 preach " Lady Mover's Lectm-e" at St. Paul's, for 
 which he took up the doctrine of the Trinity as 
 his subject. He also plunged into classical learning, 
 issued proposals for a translation of Callimachus, 
 and wrote a play on the Greek model, with choruses, 
 entitled " The Syi'acusan," which was actually sent 
 
 c
 
 18 A FAMOUS FOKGERY. 
 
 to a manager. In these times, parsons were very 
 busy writing plays, and seeing tliem acted ; nay, and 
 acting them themselves.* Strange to say, " The 
 Sisters" did him no damage ; for the folloA\'ing year 
 the translation of Caljimachus came out with a 
 learned preface, in which Doctor Home, the Bishop of 
 Norwich, lent him his assistance. The Reverend JVIr. 
 Dodd was, perhaps, looking for a mitre himself, and 
 might naturally hope to reach one by his " Callima- 
 chus," as later postulants were to do by a play of 
 Sophocles' or Euripides'. This book had a splendid 
 list of names " j^rancing before it." As a more direct 
 means of promotion, he dedicated it to the reigning 
 Duke of Newcastle, the desperate adlierent of office, 
 who in his time had made many bishops, and found 
 them all ungrateful. Meanwhile he was writing ser- 
 mons, and some years later published four volumes 
 quarto of discourses, a monument of parochial in- 
 dustry. 
 
 All this while he was still at Ham : 
 
 Dear favourite shades, by peace 
 And pure religion sanctified, I hear 
 The tuneful bells their hallowed message sound, 
 To Christian hearts symphonious. 
 
 He was lecturing at St. Olave's. He could not be 
 idle, and had his time too well employed to go astray. 
 These were the more innocent seasons of his life. 
 No wonder, when the Newgate bells were clanging 
 
 * It was actually written over to Garrick from Dublin — and this as 
 no astounding piece of news — that they had a parson there who was 
 coming out at the theatre, in the character oi Scrub.
 
 WEST HAM. 19 
 
 over his head, that the chimes of West Ham should 
 seem very sweet indeed. 
 
 The complexion of this " Ham" life seems to have 
 been more a dreamy and pastoral sensuousness than 
 the pions seclusion which he fancied it to be — at least, 
 it is hard to shut out some such impression of what 
 his real temper was, when in the midst of this happy 
 retirement he could strangely break out into a 
 town story too warm in tone to be consistent with 
 an innocent and wholesome state of mind. Side by 
 side with these glowing recollections of " fast " life, 
 on which he evidently dwelt with satisfaction, he 
 could find room for such Delia Cruscan fancies as the 
 following : 
 
 With lov'cl Maria by his side, 
 
 As happy as a king, 
 See ! cheerful "William smiling ride 
 
 To taste the balmy spring. 
 Beside Earl Tilney's park they rode, 
 
 Earl Tilney's grand and gay ! 
 
 A long flourish follows about " Cheerful Wil- 
 liam" helping an old man and an old woman with 
 their dog over the palings of " Earl Tilney's" park, 
 and in happy rapture with himself, exclaiming, 
 
 How much one good well natured deed 
 Exhilarates the mind. 
 
 The sentimentalism that could expand itself in a 
 hundred and fifty lines of such doggerel, gravely exalt 
 itself from such an act of charity, and almost in the 
 same breath revel in glowing descriptions of London 
 bagnios, is of an unhealthy sort. And it will be 
 found that this was in some sort the pattern of his 
 c2
 
 20 A FAMOUS FOEGEKY. 
 
 life all through — piety and dissipation, religious trea- 
 tises and the lightest rhymes, the chapel and "the 
 rooms," public charities and drawing-room gallantry, 
 all jumbled together. It was scarcely surprising 
 that men later came to talk of him as a hypocrite, or 
 " a whitened sepulchre." Which, indeed, it does not 
 appear that he ever consciously was. It was a well- 
 meaning sentimentalism coupled with a weakness of 
 resolution, which made him the prey of any sugges- 
 tion that presented itself.
 
 " TEE MAGDALEN." 21 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTH. 
 
 " THE IMAGDALEN." 
 
 About this time a certain charitable Mr. Bingley 
 began to take up seriously the condition of the female 
 outcasts of society, and set himself to trs' whether 
 something could not be done for such of this class 
 who were inclined to amend and reform. It was pro- 
 posed to found an asylum on the principle of those 
 at Rome, and other foreign cities. The state of Lon- 
 don manners at this particular season rendered the 
 establishment of such an asylum peculiarly suitable. 
 
 Mr. Bingley and his friends got together some 
 three thousand pounds for their purpose. The scheme 
 was warmly seconded ; and by none so much as by 
 the young curate of West Ham. The first build- 
 ing was in Prescott-street, Goodman' s-fields ; and on 
 Thursday, the lOtli of August, 1758, it was opened. 
 Fifty petitions were presented, but only ten candidates 
 could be received, and the Reverend Mr. Dodd, who 
 had taken such an interest in the charity all through, 
 was chosen to preach the inaugm'ative sermon before 
 the governors in Charlotte-street Chapel, Blooms- 
 bury.
 
 22 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 The policy of such an institution was loufUy con- 
 demned at the time; and pamphlets were pviblished 
 violently decrying the new asylum. But it prospered 
 marvellously, and became the most fashionable of 
 London charities. When Mr. Sterne, the fashion- 
 able clerg}Tnan, was preaching for the Foundling 
 Hospital, his exertions brought in only one hundi'ed 
 and sixty pounds, while appeals for the Magdalen, by 
 divines of indifferent gifts, resulted in collections of 
 thirteen and fourteen hundred. 
 
 No doubt there was truth in what Avas openly said 
 at the time, that it was a sort of theatrical charity, to 
 which people hiuTied for a Sunday's sensation, just 
 as they had done a few years before to the rantings 
 of Orator Henley. The chapel, indeed, offered a sort 
 of spectacle ; and there were melodramatic dcA^ces 
 adopted, which it may be suspected were the deAasing of 
 the young chaplain of the institution. The penitents 
 were all di*essed in uniform; they were marshalled 
 with peculiar ceremonies, and odd rhapsodies were 
 preached over them. The young clerg^^nan of "a 
 noble" and prepossessing appearance, who could 
 preach so tenderly and dramatically, was exactly the 
 person for this " sensational " charity. In that view, 
 no more judicious selection could have been made. 
 He was at first to work without any fixed salary. But 
 later in the following year, 1761, a "gratuity*' of 
 sixty guineas was voted to the zealous advocate. The 
 year previous he had been only voted "thanks for 
 his many and great services."* Not until 1763 was 
 
 * These and other extracts are from the MS. Registers of the Mag- 
 dalen House.
 
 " THE MAGDALEN." 23 
 
 he finally accepted as the regular chaplain, at a. salary 
 of one hiuidi'ed guineas a year. The sermon which 
 Mr. Dodd preached at the opening was printed in the 
 following year, and was pronounced by the public 
 press to be " a manly, rational, and pathetic addi'ess." 
 To it was prefixed an account of the charity from 
 the same hand, together "svith various " stu'ring " epis- 
 tles from the reclaimed inmates to their relations, 
 talking rapturously of '' this blessed place," and the 
 mispeakable happiness they enjoyed in putting on 
 the peculiar garb of the establishment. And to add 
 to the effect, the whole was enriched with an " elegant 
 print of a yomig gu*l in her proper cb'ess." 
 
 These fancies, directed, no doubt, by well-meaning 
 ^iews, were only appealing to that morbid cmiosity 
 which is dormant in every public of every age. Each 
 Sunday the ]Magdalen was crowded, and croAvded 
 with " fashionables " of all degrees. But there was 
 one special Smiday very famous in its annals — the 
 Sunday wdien Prince Edward came ; who, as he went 
 about to every party in London, eager for excitement, 
 was likely enough to be anxious to see the new enter- 
 tainment in Goodman' s-fields. For this occasion there 
 were " great preparations " — the registers tell us. 
 
 People of fashion made parties to visit the Mag- 
 dalen. Lady Northumberland was one of the early 
 patrons of this charity; and at her house were 
 pleasant and pious parties of pleasure made up of a 
 Sunday, to go and hear this dramatic young clerg}-- 
 man preach over his Magdalens. On one occasion 
 she could not attend, and her absence sent Doctor 
 Dodd to his desk, to prepare "An Ode occasioned
 
 24 A FAMOUS FOKGEKY. 
 
 by Lady N d's being prevented by Illness from 
 
 coming to the Chapel of the Magdalen House." This 
 was shaped into the true lyrical fashion, commencing 
 with a burst : 
 
 Hence loathed pain, 
 With envious disappointment in thy train, 
 But no more thy harpy, hand 
 Lay upon N d. 
 
 In this ode he, as it were, advertises his Sunday's 
 entertainment, describing the " sensational " character 
 of what he had to show : with the 
 
 Grateful songs and tuneful praise, 
 Pious orgies, sacred lays : 
 Finer pleasures which dispense 
 Than tlie finest joys of sense. 
 And each melting bosom move, 
 And each liquid eye o'erflow 
 "W^ith benevolence and love. 
 
 But one of the best passages in the Walpole letters 
 is the description of one of these pious Sunday jun- 
 ketings : 
 
 " Jan. 27, 1760.— Met at Northumberland H. at 5, 
 and fom' coaches. Prince Edward, Lady Mary Coke, 
 Lady Carlisle, Miss Pelham, Lady Hertford, Lord 
 Beauchamp, Lord Huntingdon, old Bowman, &c. . . . 
 
 " This new convent is beyond Goochnan's-fields, 
 and wovild, I assure you, content any Catholic alive. 
 We were received by — oh ! first a vast mob, for 
 princes are not so common at that end of the town as 
 at this. Lord Hertford, at the head of the governors, 
 with their white staves, met us at the door, and led 
 the prince directly into the chapel, where, before the
 
 " THE MAGDALEN." 25 
 
 altar, was an arm-chair for him, with a blue damask 
 cushion, a prie-dieu, and a footstool of black cloth 
 with gold nails. We sat on forms near him. There 
 were Lord and Lady Dartmouth, in the odour of 
 devotion, and many city ladies. The chapel is small 
 and low, but neat ; hung with Gothic paper and 
 tablets of benefactions ; at the west end were enclosed 
 the sisterhood, above one hundred and thirty, all in 
 greAdsh-brown stuffs, broad handkerchiefs, and flat 
 straw hats, with a blue ribbon, pulled quite over 
 their faces. As soon as we entered the chapel, the 
 organ played, and the ^lagdalens sung a hymn in 
 
 parts ; you cannot imagine how Avell Prayers 
 
 then began, psalms, and a sermon ; the latter hy a 
 young clergyman, one Dodd, who contributed to the 
 Popish idea one had imbibed, by haranguing entirely 
 in the French style, and very eloquently and touch- 
 ingly. He apostrophised the lost sheep, who sobbed 
 and cried from their soids ; so did my Lady Hert- 
 ford and Fanny Pelham, till, I believe, the city dames 
 
 took them for Jane Shores The confessor 
 
 then turned to the audience, and adcU'essed himself to 
 
 his royal highness In short, it was a very 
 
 pleasing perfonnance, and I got the most illustrious 
 to desire it might be printed. 
 
 ''From thence we went to the refectory, wliere all 
 the nuns without their hats were ranged at the tables 
 
 ready for supper. A few were handsome I 
 
 was struck and pleased with the modesty of two of 
 them, who swooned away with the confusion of being 
 stared at." 
 
 On the occasion of this remarkable visit, the
 
 26 A FAMOUS rOKGERY. 
 
 preaclier found opportunity to observe that con- 
 spicuous sensibility of Lady Hertford, which Walpole 
 liimself had noticed, and at once embahned it in — an 
 ode ! — " Verses occasioned by Seeing the Comitess of 
 Hertford in Tears at the Magdalen House" — with a 
 note, in which he took care to put on record that 
 "Prince Edward Avas in the chapel at the same time, 
 with several other (sic) of the nobility." 
 
 In these verses " Britain's Genius" saw the 
 Countess at the chapel, and mistook her for Charity. 
 There she saw 
 
 The tender tears in plentj' flow. 
 Tears drawn by pity and by you, 
 From her fair eves. 
 
 I know her well (the Grace rejoin' d), 
 My sister, Pity, f orm'd her mind : 
 She long has our familiar been : 
 
 — 'Tis H 's countess that you mean. 
 
 I know the place — the time I know, 
 — ^7 was at my favourite house below. 
 
 It seems surprising how such offensive adulation 
 could have been accepted. 
 
 " Pious orgies" — the words of Dodd himself — 
 would seem to have been about the best description 
 of this singular exhibition. 
 
 Some ten years later, the hvely Doctor Carlyle 
 came up to London from Edinbui'gh — one of those 
 expeditions in which he used to combine private 
 business and jjleasiu-e, wdth some public interest of 
 the Scottish clergy. On this occasion, while battling 
 against the " Window -tax," which Avas in some way 
 affecting their interests, he went out into gay London
 
 " THE MAGDALEN." 27 
 
 life, and seeing everything tliat was in fashion, found 
 his way of a Sunday to the Magdalen. The crowd of 
 "genteel people" Avas so great that it was with the 
 greatest difficulty that he found a seat. Looking up, 
 he saw all the Magdalens exhibited in a galleiy be- 
 hind a very open lattice ; " so that those," he says, 
 "who chose to be seen might easily effect that 
 object." The preacher then gave out his text — a 
 very unbecoming one for the place and occasion* — 
 and proceeded to deliver what Carlyle calls "a shock- 
 ing sermon," treating his subject with a bold inde- 
 licacy and detail, as, indeed, seems only too probable. 
 For this grossness, veiled under fashionable piety, 
 would appear to have been jone of the sensational 
 attractions of the affair. The Scotch clerg}'man even 
 remarked that some of the penitents were quite con- 
 fused and agitated by this blunt handling of their 
 condition ; but it is more likely that he mistook these 
 cries and sobbings of " the lost sheep" — which came 
 in at the proper place during the preacher's discourse, 
 and which Walpole had noticed — for symptoms of 
 shame and confusion. They had been accustomed to 
 Doctor Dodd for some ten years, and it does seem 
 improbable that persons of their class would be so 
 affected. During the discourse, " unceasing" mur- 
 murings of apj)lause from the " genteel persons " were 
 going on all round him, which the Scotch minister, 
 who was not at all straitlaced for one of his cloth, 
 and went about men'ily to parties and theatres, " con- 
 tradicted aloud." With gi'eat warmth he condemned 
 the whole institution — at least the Sunday exhibition 
 * " If a man look on a woman," &c.
 
 28 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 portion — " as contra honos mores, and a disgi'ace to a 
 Christian conntry." 
 
 It was not sm'prising that, besides the Scotch clergy- 
 man, there should be others who protested against the 
 whole system, as unprofitable, and dangerous in its 
 results, as a cruel and unljecoming exhibition, and 
 who even hinted their suspicions as to the motives of 
 the Conductor. Against these cavillers the Doctor 
 was always in protest, and denounced them vigo- 
 rously, even in his " Ode to Lady Northumberland :" 
 
 Let the roving talkers boast, 
 "Who themselves to virtue lost, 
 Still seducing, 
 ' Still deluding, 
 
 With ungrateful scoffs decry 
 
 Those they won to -wanton joy. 
 
 All their censure to disprove, 
 
 Let them seek this first retreat 
 
 Britons gave to them whose love, 
 
 Gives to life its choicest sweet, 
 
 Then will they view it with abashed surprise 
 
 By i-ubi'd, but returning fair ones thronged* 
 
 -Almost a small congi*egation might be formed of 
 those who have heard him preach and left their im- 
 pressions on record. Curwen, an American loyalist 
 divine, was at the IMagdalen on a Sunday in May, 
 1776 — only a year before the final catastrophe — and 
 the entry in his diary is highly characteristic. It 
 shows the sort of text the Doctor loved to amplify, 
 and also the way in which he affected the common 
 run of hearers. " Heard the Reverend Doctor Dodd," 
 he wi'ites, "preach from John xv. 17 : ' These things 
 
 * The comic circumlocution in the last line is almost without a 
 parallel.
 
 " THE MAGDALEN." 29 
 
 I command you, that ye love one another.' A most 
 elegant, sensible, serious, and pathetic discourse, 
 enough to have warmed a heart not callous to the 
 impressions of pity. I own my eyes flowed with 
 tears of compassion." 
 
 The loyalist was of those who follow what the 
 world follows. Only nine months later, the same 
 hand made another entry, with an amusing forgetful- 
 ness of the " elegant, sensible, and pathetic discourse," 
 and of the tears of compassion which he himself had 
 shed. " A reverend," says the American, " known 
 by the name of the Macaroni Doctor, is in the Poultry 
 Compter for forgery. . . . His real name Dodd. 
 lie figures in the tete-a-Utes in the Magazines, and, 
 unless defamed, is a worthless character, though noted 
 for some serious publications in the common routine. 
 He has two chapels and the Magdalen under his care." 
 
 This forgetfulness is charming, but only truly 
 typical of the class of the Doctor's admirers and 
 friends. 
 
 When John Taylor went to hear him, he found 
 that another clergpnan had been obliged to take his 
 place, and had actually commenced the sermon when 
 the Doctor arrived. The clergyman at once stopped 
 and gave way to Dodd. Taylor remarked the energy 
 in his manner, and the theatrical nature of his ges- 
 tures and lanffuajTe. He had often seen him in the 
 street, stepping along in a stately manner, with his 
 head in the air, with no doubt the silk gown rustling 
 and flapping behind him.
 
 30 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTH. 
 
 DODD " OX DEATH." 
 
 Still at West Ham, lie began to add a little to his 
 income by taking a few young gentlemen as pupils — 
 a practice lie continued all liis life. The year he 
 published his Magdalen sermon he became the Re- 
 verend William Dodd, M.A. ; and the follo^^dng year 
 presented the world with three volumes of Bishop 
 Hall's works. A more inappropriate editor for such 
 a book, or one less capable of apprehending the quaint 
 language and rare " conceits" of this old writer, could 
 not be well conceived. Sterne, on whom the ej-es of 
 the town were then resting, knew and relished — and 
 even appropriated — the old divine far better. But 
 even in this bit of task-work the editor could not 
 steer clear of what was " misomid " and miwholesome. 
 With Seeker, Ai'chbishop of Canterbm-y — whom 
 Walpole has described — was li\ing a relation, IMiss 
 Talbot, and Dodd had introduced his book "with 
 an epistle to this lady, full of servile flatteries of the 
 archbishop. "More especially," ran this fulsome 
 panegjTic, " as you live remarkably blest in liaAing
 
 DODD " ON DEATH." 31 
 
 daily Ijefore your eyes a lively copy of piety as ex- 
 alted, sanctity as unaffected, and labour as imwearied, 
 as shone in the life of good Bishop Hall." The arch- 
 bishop heard of this intended exaltation in good time, 
 and not relishing either the obligation, or, perhaps, 
 the ridicule, of such inflated praise (which, if we may 
 trust Walpole, he was far from deserving), insisted on 
 the sheet being cancelled. After a " warm exjaostu- 
 lation" this had to be done, and ]\Ir. Dodd had the 
 mortification of having his panegvTic rejected, and 
 what, perhaps, he felt more acutely, a profitable open- 
 ing for patronage stopped up. 
 
 At every turn in the life of this " Macaroni Par- 
 son" we light on something thus awkward, "nasty," 
 or at least suspicious. 
 
 From this sort of spasmodic range of subject, rush- 
 ing from Shakspeare to sermons, and from sermons 
 to odes, it seems as though the Reverend William 
 Dodd, M.A., Avas doing genteel sort of hack-work 
 for the booksellers. Still all these little engines 
 were bearing a steady profit. His name was getting 
 known, and he was attracting notice as one of those 
 di'amatic clergymen who in every age atti'act a cer- 
 tain amount of attention and admiration. Next }'ear 
 he sent out a book on Milton, and, a year later, the 
 well-known "Dodd on Death," perhaps the most 
 familiar to the public of all his writings. " First re- 
 tailed," said the Monthly Review, the " slashing" joiu'ual 
 of the day, " in the Christian Magazine, and now col- 
 lected in a volume to frighten his ]\Iajesty's subjects 
 with dismal ideas of death, and horrible pictm'es of 
 damnation."
 
 32 A FAMOUS FOKGERY. 
 
 They were written, he tells us in the preface, with 
 the odd " design to be given away by icell-disposed 
 persons at funerals, or on any other solemn occasion." 
 But the editors of a pious magazine induced him to 
 give them the first use of the papers. They are good 
 practical thoughts ; perhaps a little too theatrical and 
 sensational, but likely to be useful to minds of a 
 certain order. Many of the most effective points 
 were, however, taken from Hei'\"ey, Young, Watts, 
 and others. He also introduced that round of charac- 
 ters which the essayists of the day were so fond of 
 using to point their moral — a whole crowd of Negotios, 
 Osianders, Misellas, Pulcherias, and others, who were 
 the regular corps dramatigue of the Ramblers and 
 Guardians. In some of his illustrations there is a fami- 
 liarity that almost borders on the Burlesque. In Xego- 
 tio's instance, when " two more blisters were ordered to 
 six he already had upon him," Ave are not surprised to 
 hear that a " drowsy sleepiness, dire prognostic of death, 
 at length terminated in strong convulsions, and the busA*, 
 active, sprightly Negotio died." In the character of 
 "Bubulo," he "improved" some City acquaintance who 
 "had incumbered for threescore and ten years the 
 earth Avith his heaAy load, Avho had devoted hoiu's to 
 his nice and enormous appetite. He Avas iii this 
 respect a perfect animal."* 
 
 * One of the notes to Bubulo's history is truly Shandean : 
 " X.B. — A friend of the writer is pleased to observe: ' The "Reflec- 
 tions on Death" please me much. But don't you carry things rather 
 too far when you say, " 'tis an indispensable duty to go to our parish 
 church ?" Was I to live in London, I shoidd rarely or never go to my 
 parish church, if I had a stupid, humdrum minister. I long to live in
 
 DODD " ON DEATH." 33 
 
 He also admitted into his collection a remonstrance 
 made to poor Kicliard Nash, the M.C of Batli, and 
 which told that gentleman some very home truths. It 
 is mvicli to be suspected that it found admittance to 
 the " Reflections" on the m-ound of their beino; written 
 
 by Lady N ; of course, the same Lady N to 
 
 whom he wrote the pleasant copy of verses on her 
 not coming to the Magdalen. " I take my pen," said 
 
 Lady N to Richard Nash, Esq., " to advise, nay, 
 
 to request of you, to repent while you have an oppor- 
 tunity I must tell you, sir, with the 
 
 utmost freedom, that your present behaviour is not 
 
 the way to reconcile yourself with God 
 
 Your example and your life is prejudicial — I wish I 
 could not say fatal — to many. For this there is no 
 amends but an alteration of your conduct as signal 
 and memorable as your person and nameT 
 
 Doctor Dodd adds a comment on this statement 
 which has a remarkable significance, and which I 
 shall remind the reader of when I come to deal with 
 the unfortunate clergpiian's last declaration on the 
 scaffold. " No man living," he says, in a note, " can 
 have a higher regard for benevolence and humanity 
 than the writer of these lines ; .... as if 
 tenderness of heart, and acts of charity, could atone 
 for every other deficiency. It is hoped, therefore, 
 that the Avriter of Nash's life will strike out that 
 oifcnsive and hurtful passage, wherever he asserts 
 ' that there was nothing criminal in his (Nash's) con- 
 London, that I might hear clever men, &c. I disapprove, as much as 
 you do, running after Metliodist preachers and enthusiasts ; but should 
 I not prefer a Sherlock at the Temple, if I lived in Fleet-street?'" 
 &c. &c. 
 
 D
 
 34 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 duct — that he was a harmless creature,' &c. And 
 this is said of a man who, with a heart of exquisite 
 humanity, was yet through life a gambler professed, 
 and an encourager of illegal gambling! — ^ folloicer of 
 pleasure all Ms days, and a perpetual dissipatorT 
 
 After their appearance in the Christian 3fagazine, 
 these papers were collected into a little volmne, en- 
 joyed an immense popularity, and may have been 
 actually distributed at funerals by the " well-disposed 
 persons," as was intended by their author. 
 
 Gradually he came to conduct the Christian Maga- 
 zine altogether ; at least, his connexion with it was so 
 intimate as to almost amount to conducting ; and it 
 was said that the sermons of Doctor Dodd had been 
 handsomely extolled by the very pen of Doctor Dodd 
 himself. " His style," said this notice, " is at once 
 elegant and nervous — neither careless nor yet affected 
 — in short, such a style as we would recommend to 
 the young di\dnes who would desu'e to instruct with- 
 out being tedious, and Avould acquire popidarity loith- 
 out meajifiess" 
 
 Perhaps among the most daring instances of ef- 
 frontery, is his treatment in the same journal of 
 another clergyman as gay as he was, but who, at 
 least, did not make a livelihood out of a fashionable 
 sanctity, and was honest enough to make no pretence 
 of holiness. Sterne's Sermons sold better than Dodd's ; 
 in society, his gifts and fame quite eclipsed the Doc- 
 tor's. But in oral sermons Dodd " drew" far better 
 than Sterne, for at one ^lagdalen sermon the col- 
 lection reached nearly f oiu'teen hundi'ed pounds ; 
 while the Reverend ]\Ir. Steme, with all his early 
 popularity, with the bishops calling on him, and his
 
 DODD " ON DEATH." 35 
 
 fortniglitly dinners in advance — the reclierche of states- 
 men, actors, and of all that was yntij and fashion- 
 able — brought only some four hunch'ed pomids to 
 the Foundling Hospital. Never was there such a 
 contrast between two men apparently so like. Both 
 were extravagant, both were shipwrecked by a craving 
 for society and amusement. But there was this dif- 
 ference : one was a pure h}-pocrite, and, what was 
 worse, found his profit in his h}-pocrisy : Sterne would 
 have scorned that sanctimonious trade. We knoAv 
 no " dirty action" of his; and though often hard pressed 
 for money, he would never have ch*eamed of so dirty 
 an action as a forgery. All through, ]\'Ir. Sterne was 
 a gentleman. Conceive, then, the town speculator 
 in chapels-of-ease passing judgment on Yorick's Ser- 
 mons in such words as these : " We are astonished 
 a man can deliver such sentiments, and act such a 
 life."* More surprising still was his remonstrance to 
 the popular author of " Tristram," on the publication 
 " of his third and f oiu'th volumes :" 
 
 TO THE AUTHOR OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 
 
 ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS THIRD AND FOURTH VOLUSIES. 
 
 Yes, they will laugh ; — but who. S e, inquire? 
 
 The wretched sods of vice and foul desire: 
 To these your page immoral may be dear, 
 But virtue o'er it sheds the conscious tear : 
 The uise, the modest, view it with concern ; 
 Detest the matter, and the master mourn. 
 Is it for this you wear the sacred gown, 
 To write and live the Shandy of the town ? 
 Is it for this the holy hand was laid, 
 Thrice awful consecration!— on your head? 
 
 * This was iu 17G6. 
 
 d2
 
 36 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 Is it for this the sacred page was giv'n 
 
 To teach higli truths, and point the way to heav'n ? 
 
 Is it for this, that, trifler loose and vain, 
 
 With page unhallow'd, and with pen obscene, 
 
 You might against the cause of goodness war, 
 
 Soil the pure mind, and truth's fair features mar? 
 
 Ah ! think Avhat you will surely know too soon, 
 Tho' some may laugh, none love the loose buffoon: 
 But of buffoons the scorn and veriest fellow. 
 Is the buffoon, strange monster — in prunello ! 
 "With all your might, tho' you have stretch'd your hand, 
 To scatter poison, and defile the land; 
 Yet let me once my gratulations pay, 
 For that your will exceeds your best essay : 
 I joy to praise you for your foulest sheet, 
 Jests most indelicate, and dearth of wit. 
 The time will come, when you with me shall join. 
 To bless the blasting of each putrid line : 
 For oh the time will come, when you shall feel 
 Stabs in your heart more sharp than stabs of steel : 
 "NMien conscience loud shall thunder in your ear. 
 And all your wide-spread ill in horrid form appear ! 
 
 Prevent the hour, for pity's sake I ask. 
 And oh, perform j'our own advised task ;* 
 Search your own heart, j^ou'U find the debt is large. 
 And haste, perform the duties of your charge ; 
 Leave the vile town, nor wish it in your pow'r. 
 To shine the giddy meteor of an hour. 
 Ah ! you have talents, — do not misapply, 
 Ah ! you have time, — seize, seize it, ere it fly ; 
 Strait seize it, for too short you needs must own 
 Whate'er of life remaineth to atone 
 For all the filth difl'us'd, and evil you have done. 
 
 It seems almost incompreliensible how such advice 
 could come from one -svho was notoriously immersed 
 in all the seductions of the vile town. But a habit 
 of hypocrisy often induces a complacent self-delu- 
 sion; and the actor, like Elliston plnying in the Coro- 
 nation, often takes himself to be what he is jilapng. 
 * See Sterne's Sermons, vol. i. Sermon fourth.
 
 MARGATE, 37 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. 
 
 MAKGATE. 
 
 In his summer junketings about tins time, lie 
 seems to have had a liking for Margate. This par- 
 tiality he ventilated with the same offensive ostenta- 
 tion that he did his other private tastes — his filial 
 affection, and his conjugal regard for his wife. 
 Society and pai'ties at " The Rooms," and abundance 
 of ladies to wi'ite verses to, were, with him, almost 
 necessaries of life; and perhaps at Margate, whose 
 sea-breezes Avere necessary after booksellers' task- 
 work, he found these advantages most readily. A 
 lady in London was naturally surprised at his choice 
 of such a place, since it was believed in town that 
 the lodgings were " mean, small, and base," and that 
 the company Avho came down by the "hoy," — })erluij)s 
 of the same quality as Charles Lamb's fellow-pas- 
 sengers forty or fifty years later — was but of a sorry 
 sort, and the whole not much above the level of a 
 fishing village. But Mr. Dodd showed her presently 
 in verses " Occasioned by a Lady's condemning," &c., 
 that it was a most agi-eeable place, full of pleasant
 
 38 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 company, and of carriages and horses.* To sucli at- 
 tractions, however, he protests liis indifference : 
 
 Yet, Maria, j^et, mj' fair, 
 Happiness shall find us here. 
 Happiness our friend shall be, 
 Ubiquarian Deity. 
 
 Ha — Maria — then I've found 
 Whence it comes that 1 am crown'd 
 With such sweet serenity 
 When accompauied by thee. 
 
 He then gives a pictnre of their walking together 
 " arm in arm upon tlie strand," talking of Clementina's 
 love, and of dropping a " tender tear" for that " pious 
 fair" who had just appeared in Sir Charles Grandi- 
 son — then riding over the " fertile isle," and winding 
 up in the evening A^dth a visit to " The Rooms." 
 
 It is hard to find a reason for this constant thrust- 
 ing of his conjugal affection on the public. His ene- 
 mies would have accounted for it by an eagerness to 
 refute the popular rumours as to his morals and loose 
 habits. Something must be allowed for that phari- 
 saical affectation of pious domesticity and theatrical 
 virtue which is so plain in other parts of his life ; 
 but still he may be fairly credited vA\\\ a certain 
 real affection for the verger's daughter, who was a 
 true ^^'ife, gently tolerant of his follies, and A^omanly 
 constant at the end. 
 
 He was deeply mixed up with all the pleasant and 
 
 * In a prose note, in defence of his watering-place, Dodd falls into 
 something like " a Bull." For he says: "The carriages and horses 
 are so numerous here, that there is not room enough for either : many 
 being obliged to send them to Eamsgate and elsewhere."
 
 MARGATE. 39 
 
 important trifling of tlie place. We almost see him 
 acting as the adviser of the lively ladies in a little 
 Lall-room scene. One who gi'eatly contributed to then* 
 " fun" and gaiety was " a gentleman whose beauty 
 and address procured him the appellation of Cupid 
 from the ladies two years ago," and who had acted 
 as an amateur master of the ceremonies. Doctor 
 Dodd knew his merits. He had seen him 
 
 Thro' the rooms advance, 
 Guide the gay band, and lead the sprightly dance. 
 
 This gentleman had directed the graceful minuet, 
 chosen partners for the ladies, and 
 
 To the tuneful band with glove so white. 
 Could wave and bid them play each maid's delight. 
 
 He got partners and players in the card-rooms for 
 " sober whist, brisk loo, or bHthe quadrille." During 
 the next ^dsit of the Doctor, the loss of this useful 
 person was sensibly felt : 
 
 Silent we sit, expecting who shall lead ; 
 
 The music's silent — and the beaux seem dead; 
 
 Perchance a lonely minuet's begun, 
 
 But who shall dance the next when this is done? 
 
 The Doctor put this into his usual rhyming. He, 
 too, appreciated the loss of this " Cupid" at " The 
 Kooms," and, after his lively manner, slyly picked out 
 a pretty lady, and put his j)oetical remonstrance into 
 her mouth, as " Clorinde :" 
 
 Intrepid to the bath I once could hie, 
 
 For Love was there 
 
 Now to that bath with timid step I go, 
 And plunge affrighted to the gulph below. 
 
 The Doctor knew well "Draper's," or "Nash-
 
 40 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 court," and -was sometimes on "sober palfrj," or "in 
 coach di'awn by Margatian steeds, much toiled, ill fed," 
 and had often cMven to see the Ramsgate pier, then 
 in progress, " slow work of public cost." No wonder 
 that, on quitting this pleasant spot where he had been 
 so petted, he should feel regret, or that his heart 
 should expand. Dwelling in a curiously mistaken 
 spirit of prophecy on a picture of his end — bhssful 
 end — departing serenely and peacefully : 
 
 So shall my Aveeping friends, when the last sigh 
 Declares departed life, smiting their breasts, 
 Say — " Lov'd he liv'd, and loving : — 
 
 Peace to his shade, 
 Embalm his memory, and receive him Heav'n!" 
 
 He little thought how many weeping friends, and yet 
 more weeping spectators, were to be admitted to look 
 on at his last moments. 
 
 During one of his visits, about the year 1762, he 
 made an expedition from Margate to Brighthelmstone. 
 He was one of a party, and they seem to have been 
 very meiTy on the road, so much so that Doctor 
 Dodd was induced to embody their pleasant adventures 
 in his favourite vehicle, rhyme — and rh}Tiie, too, of the 
 usual quality. He must have lightened the way with 
 true clerical jocularity. Looking back, as he wrote, 
 the little ordinary incidents of an ordinar}' journey 
 were quickened into events of a most exquisite 
 humour,* though he hints that the notes were sup- 
 plied by the company. At five o'clock on the first 
 dav they got to " Dull Sandwich," where they were 
 welcomed by Lord , the warden of the Cinque 
 
 * This was not published until some years after his death.
 
 MARGATE. 41 
 
 Ports, who held the queen's canopy at the recent 
 coronation, and who was now " so obHsine" as to 
 clothe himself in his coronation robes to entertain 
 them. 
 
 Mrs. , full of wonder sits, 
 
 Admires the baron and his robes by fits. 
 
 The second day they came by moonlight 
 
 Into dirty Deal, 
 Where wretchedly we sup on fried-stewed veal. 
 
 A jocular note explains how this chsh " was intended 
 for cutlets, and then, it seemed, fried ; but it swam in 
 so much sauce that we could conclude no less than 
 that it was stewed." Then came Dover, and " smutj- 
 gling, ill-built Folkstone," where they had excellent 
 claret, of which 
 
 We drank delighted, tho' we'd cause to fear 
 That even claret pays no duty here. 
 
 Then they crossed the Romsey marshes, which, as 
 the sands grow hea\y, the horse of one of " oiu- dear 
 ladies" tripped and " fell ;" " fatal propensity in the 
 female kind," adds the gallant clergyman. 
 
 On the third day they were at Rye, with which 
 they were greatly pleased. " One of the party, a 
 bookman, found out a bookseller," which would seem 
 to point to the chronicler. Then came "VYinchelsea, 
 where ISir. Norton treated them handsomely : 
 
 Than Norton never man was more polite. 
 
 At Hastings they found bad entertainment, a 
 drunken landlady, and " stinking beds." 
 
 A little farther, they passed the house of one of his
 
 42 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 favourite pupils. " Ali, my lov'd Lancaster !" -whom 
 in a feAv years he "svas to apostropliise, in exactly 
 the same words, from his cell in Newgate. Then, 
 in a strange spirit of prophecy, Avhich perhaps he 
 thought would be merely cU'amatic in this place, but 
 would not be so soon fulfilled, he added : 
 
 Still toils thy friend thro' life's lone tedious 'way, 
 But from thee hopes he has not long to stay; 
 Quick on his journey passing soon he'll come, 
 And joyful meet thee at our Father's home ! 
 
 This little bit of pathos was no doubt only in har- 
 mony ^^'itll the character he had been supporting 
 dui'ing the jom'uey ; the charming and diverting 
 clerg}Tiian who put the little incidents in such a 
 comic point of view, but who, every now and again, 
 jumbled up some piety with his jocularity. These 
 little hints which we gather from his "s^Titings, help 
 wonderfully in the estimation of his character, which, 
 as we go along, becomes perfectly clear and con- 
 sistent.
 
 STRUGGLES FOE PROMOTION. 43 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGPITH. 
 
 STRUGGLES FOR PROMOTION. 
 
 He was hoav well estaLlislied as one of the " clever 
 men," for wliom the country friend, yearning after 
 good preachers, would have quitted the parochial 
 Fleet-street to listen to. The king, or more pro- 
 bably the Duke of Newcastle, put him in the list of 
 Royal Chaplains ; and about the same time he be- 
 came acquainted with the Bishop of St. Da^'id's, Dr. 
 Squire — a name that figures very frequently in the 
 dedications of the period — a name, too, which wicked 
 college imdergTaduates twisted into the more gi'o- 
 tesque " Doctor Squirt." Pie was quite unknown to 
 the bishop, but characteristically introduced himself 
 by an admiring sonnet — a happy example of earnest 
 heroics descending suddenly into burlesque. He sings 
 him as addressing Religion and Reason : 
 
 Attendant thereon, heavenly Reason came, 
 And on Religion's shrine an offering laid ; 
 I saw it straight her whole attention claim ; 
 Then what it was 1 could not but iwiuire.
 
 44 ' A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 The reader is almost forewarned of the rliyme that 
 is to follow : 
 
 Instant, with rapture, — " 'Tis my son's," she said, 
 "The polish'd page oi my judicious Squire !" 
 
 This dignitary took a fancy to young ]VIi'. Dodd, 
 just as the stormy Bishop of Gloucester had done to 
 Mr. Sterne ; and, like that prelate, may have repented 
 later of his hasty patronage. This swarthy bishop, 
 known to the iiTeverent as "The Man of Angola," 
 was so pleased with his pivtege that he presented him 
 to the prebend of Brecon, and favoui-ed him in many 
 other ways. One of the fair places in om* clerg}Tnan's 
 character is his gi'atitude to this bishop, which blos- 
 somed out in sonnets and dedications, and which — 
 a far better test — was found green and healthy after 
 Doctor Squire had laid do"\^^l his mitre for ever. Any 
 proclamation of favour's received, when after the hand 
 that has offered them can offer no more, is very often 
 omitted, as unnecessary, and even troublesome homage. 
 Even in his prison cell he thought of the old kindness, 
 and paid a grateful tribute to the memory of his 
 patron : 
 
 And bless'd by thee, St. David's ! honoured friend, 
 Alike in wisdom's and in learning's school 
 Advanc'd and sage ! Short pause, my muse, and sad, 
 Allow, while leaning on atfection's arm, 
 Deep-sighing gratitude, with tears of truth, 
 Bedews the xini — the happy urn — where rest 
 ISIingled thy ashes, oh, mj' friend ! and hers, 
 AVhose life, bound up with thine in amity, 
 Indissolubly firm, felt thy last pang. 
 
 He also saluted him with an epigi-am, mider the title
 
 STRUGGLES FOE TEOMOTION. 45 
 
 of " Gratitude and Merit," and allowed his poetic 
 fancy to take the form of " An Ode, "WTitten in the 
 Walks of Brecknock." All these fade shapes of com- 
 pliment have, happily, had their day, and persons of 
 influence do not now care to have the sickly censers 
 of dedications and sonnets swung before them as they 
 walk. More genuine was his address to Mrs. Squire, 
 his widow, in his preface to a sermon, when he says 
 — " Alas, madam I we think with anxious concern of 
 the exquisite sensibility of his affectionate heart." 
 The wags of the day were pleasant on this subject, 
 and seemed to enjoy the Doctor s loss of his patron : 
 
 Dodd bit his sacred lip that day, 
 
 And furled his holy brow ; 
 An arch-priest then was heard to say — 
 
 " Soko! -who'll Squire you now?" 
 
 It has been said that it was through this influence 
 that the smooth Chesterfield, casting about for a suit- 
 able director of his nephew's education, was induced 
 to select the young Royal Chaplain. But Doctor 
 Dodd himself tells us that it was only " by the advice 
 of my dear friend, now in heaven. Doctor Squu-e," 
 that he agreed to accept this office. It was, indeed, 
 an interruption to his preferment ; and we have only 
 to look into Sterne's sermons, and Goldsmith's essays, 
 to see into what disrepute the function had fallen. 
 It was only by " promises," no doubt, of suitable pre- 
 ferment that he was induced to " engage" for this 
 boy's education ; and it is quite characteristic of the 
 noble contractor that these promises remained " un- 
 fulfilled." The con\dct clergyman, looking back to 
 this stage of his life, bitterly complains of this treat-
 
 46 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 ment, and half lays the beginning of his fall upon 
 this hollow patron : 
 
 Sought by thee, 
 And singled out, xmpatronised, unknown ; 
 By thee, whose taste consummate was applause. 
 Whose approbation merit ; forth I came, 
 And with me to the task, delighted, brought, 
 The upright purpose. 
 
 It has been said that he went abroad with his pupil, 
 and took "the grand tour" — more necessary then for 
 a young person of quality than a university educa- 
 tion ; but there are no evidences of such a journey 
 beyond a loose statement in the rude memoir of him 
 which remains. Little scraps of preferment were 
 now gradually tiding him on, and he would scarcely 
 have turned aside for so serious and prolonged an 
 interval. He was now entering fairly on his London 
 career. 
 
 ]Mr. Walpole had remarked the presence of many 
 " City people " at the strange Magdalen performance ; 
 and among this class, indeed, were to be fomid his 
 chief patrons and followers. It was through the in- 
 fluence of some " City people " that he was appointed 
 Chaplain to his Majesty. Foote, in his satire — to 
 be spoken of later — alluded to his frequent presence 
 at the great " City feasts ;" and at the last act of life, 
 a City alderman stood forward at his trial, and indi- 
 rectly strove to help him. London was now to be his 
 sphere. He had made ineffectual attempts to succeed 
 to the rectorship of West Ham ; but being twice dis- 
 appointed, at last quitted the place. " A place," he 
 says, " ever dear, and ever regretted by me ;" and 
 dwells on the change very pathetically, since his life
 
 STRUGGLES FOE PROMOTION. 47 
 
 there was pastoral, and full of pleasant country labour, 
 now to be exclianged for London seductions. After 
 his long service at West Ham, he was beginning to 
 reckon on the reversion of the rectorj as almost a cer- 
 tainty. Lord Hertford Avas the patron, and moreover 
 a governor of the Magdalen, and Lady Hertford was 
 among the listeners on the great "sensation" occasion 
 described by Walpole. It came, therefore, with a 
 shock on him, wdien Lord Hertford appointed his 
 own chaplain — a dull Scotch clerg}Tnan, who once 
 preached in the ^Vmbassador's Chapel at Paris, and 
 made Wilkes yawn, a few Simdays before Sterne 
 preached from the same pulpit to all the wits and 
 unbelievers in Paris. Later, this Scotch chaplain be- 
 came, through the same interest, an Lish bishop, and 
 once more the li\ang was left vacant ; but again the un- 
 lucky Dodd was disappointed. Soon, too, St. Olave's 
 also became vacant, and the lectm-er, who had been 
 looking eagerly for the post, experienced another cruel 
 reverse. He had dedicated to the Duke of Newcastle, 
 and it was given to Dr. Owen, actually, " on the recom- 
 mendation of the Duke of Newcastle." He was indeed 
 indefatigable in hunting out openings for promotion. 
 He tried a hmidi'ed different channels, and like most 
 people who try a hundred different channels, he failed 
 hopelessly. His wife's brother, Perkins, was ^^■elI 
 known to Sir John Hawkins, and was also his tenant, 
 and from him the knight obtained some odd details 
 about the Doctor's habits and manners. Perkins was 
 always employed to cany notes, messages — in every 
 shape of importunity, . to all sorts of great and influ- 
 ential persons — soliciting promotion to all manner of
 
 48 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 vacant livings. So much so tliat the messenger, as 
 he himself described it, often hardly escaped being 
 kicked down stairs. The brother-in-law described him 
 as living at an obscm*e corner of Hampstead Heath ; 
 but as living in a style of luxury utterly beyond his 
 visible means.* 
 
 * Sir John Hawkins had also heard rumours of a far more discredit- 
 able sort. See his " Life of Johnson."
 
 " THE EOYAL CHAPLAIN." 49 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINTH. 
 
 " THE ROYAL CHAPLAIN." 
 
 As chaplain, he now had chambers in the palace ; 
 and, almost at the outset, the indiscreet chaplain's 
 head gave way. Tea-parties were given under the 
 royal roof, and a little scandal went round, that the 
 divine received lady friends at these entertainments. 
 This was no very heinous dereliction ; but it showed 
 that, in a worldly sense, young ISIr. Dodd, like poor 
 Yorick, " carried not one ounce of ballast." ' By-and- 
 by, when it came to be his turn to perform the service, 
 his approach was heralded by the " rustling of silk," 
 and a general atmosphere of clergymanical dandyism, 
 to the grievous confusion of " old Groves," the royal 
 " Table-decker." These were straws ; but they were 
 significant straws. 
 
 The degi'ce of M.A. was scarcely of sufficient glory 
 for the Chaplain to his Majesty; so, in 1766, he 
 went down to Cambridge, and came up the Eeverend 
 William Dodd, LL.D., and then he launched himself 
 fairly upon town. He first stopped in Pall-^Iall, the 
 street where Mr. Sterne first stayed when lie came 
 up. He had, besides, a country house at Ealing ; and, 
 
 E
 
 50 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 wliere he had before kej)t a modest chariot, he now 
 burst fortli in all the majesty of a coach. The excuse 
 for this extravagance was the benefit of his pupils, 
 who had now increased in number and quality. Be- 
 sides young Stanhope, a youth of about ten or eleven 
 years old, he had a young boy named Ernst, to both 
 of whom he seems to have been attached. The latter 
 obtained a post in some foreign station ; and long 
 after, the luckless Doctor looked back piteously to the 
 happy days when he was directing their studies : 
 
 Ah ! my lov'd household ! ah, my little round 
 Of social friends ! well do you bear in mind 
 Those pleasing evenings, when, on my return — 
 Much wished return — serenity the mild, 
 And cheerfulness the innocent, with me 
 Entered the happy dwelling ! Thou, my Ernst, 
 Ingenuous youth, whose early spring bespoke 
 Thy summer, as it is, with richest crops 
 Luxuriant waving. Gentle youth, canst thou 
 Those welcome hours forget ? 
 
 To young Stanhojje, too, he adch'essed a similar apos- 
 trophe, which, on the gi'ound of the old connexion, 
 should have been more fruitful in result than " the 
 windage " of a mere biu'st of poetry : 
 
 Or thou— thou ! 
 How shall I utter from my beating heart, 
 Thy name so musical, so heavenly sweet 
 Once to these ears distracted ! Stanhope, say 
 Canst thou forget those hours when clothed in smiles 
 Of fond respect, thou and thy friend have strove 
 Whose little hands should readiest supply 
 My willing wants — officious in your zeal 
 To make the Sabbath evenings, like the day, 
 A day of sweet composure to my soul ? 
 
 The youth who bore the " name so musical, so heavenly
 
 " THE KOYAL CHAPLAIX." 51 
 
 sweet," and avIio was so dutiful in the little household, 
 was later to stand up in a crowded court, and convict 
 his tutor of an offence for which the penalty was 
 death. 
 
 When the Magdalen Society was getting its rules 
 into shape, it was thought advisable to have royal 
 patronage, and accordingly the secretary and trea- 
 siu'er, with the Reverend Doctor Dodd, waited on 
 her Majesty with the rules; on which she allowed 
 herself to be named " Patroness" of the Institution.* 
 Later on he edited the hymns and prayers for the use 
 of the society, and this production was " submitted" 
 to Bishop Porteous for apjsrobation.f 
 
 He had now moved to Southampton-row, Blooms- 
 bury ; was A\Titing m the Puhlic Lechjer, Avliere 
 he was allowed to spread his adidation of his patron, 
 Doctor Squire, with a broad troAvel. In that joiu- 
 nal he published the "Visitor," a sort of weekly 
 essay, afterwards gathered up into a tAvo-volmne 
 sheaf ; and was receiving a hunch'ed a year for 
 what he contributed to the pious Christian Magazine. 
 Of that journal he was now, or a little later, sole editor. 
 He was getting ready a new edition of " Locke's 
 Common-Place Book" — for his name brought money 
 to the booksellers. But so di"amatic a preacher should 
 surely have a house of his own; and the young 
 Doctor, without a li\ing, and Avho a})pealed at spas- 
 modic intervals for a charity, ought to luuc had a 
 private stage for liimself. A curious circumstance, 
 which occurred about this time, might be said to have 
 suiigested the idea. 
 
 * MS. Registers. f Ibid. 
 
 e2
 
 ;j2 a famous forgery. 
 
 JSii's. Dodd, the verger's daugliter — tliough penniless 
 when she mamed — obtained a sort of accidental 
 dowry later. A lady, to ■whom she had heen a kind 
 of companion, left her one thousand five hundred 
 pounds when she died, which was supplemented by 
 another fortuitous contribution. JMrs. Dodd Avas at 
 an auction, when a cabinet was put up, for which she 
 began to bid. A lady of quality was also anxious to 
 secure it ; and when ISlrs. Dodd discovered who was 
 her opponent, she made a low courtesy, and withdrew. 
 The lady of quality — possibly as frantic as Gold- 
 smith's " old deaf dowager," at the auction which 
 ]\Ii's. Croker had been attending — was so pleased with 
 this forbearance, that she came up to her, and begged 
 the pleasure of a better acquaintance. The better 
 acquaintance produced this fruit — that shortly after 
 the grateful lady presented her with a lottery ticket, 
 Avhich, on being ch'awn, came out a prize of one thou- 
 sand pounds. 
 
 This windfall om* Doctor wisely determined to lay 
 out in erecting a little private temple for his own per- 
 formances. He entered into a sort of partnership with 
 a builder ; a plot of gi'ound Avas secured in Pimlico, 
 profitably close to the royal palace ; and very shortly 
 a chapel-of-ease rose, to which Avas giA-en the name of 
 Charlotte Chapel, in compliment to the reigning 
 queen. He had gi'eat expectations from this pious 
 speculation — for speculation it AA-as ; and it became, 
 as might be imagined, a fashionable Sunday place of 
 prayer. Four peAvs Avere set apart for the queen and 
 her household. He had a highly fashionable congre- 
 gation :
 
 " THE ROYAL CHArLAIN." 53 
 
 Pleasing, persuasive Patterns — Atholes Duke, 
 The polished Ilervey, Kingston the humane, 
 Ayhshuru and Marchmont, llomrerj all revered, 
 
 as lie could pompously enumerate them, thinking over 
 his Cornet Calendar when he lay mider sentence of death 
 in Newffate. The sermons of the Keverend Doctor 
 became very popular, and Nichols, the indefatigable 
 gleaner of anecdotes, who often \\Q,i\t to hear him 
 preach, says he listened to him with delight. 
 
 By a sort of hereditary infamy, this chapel passed, 
 within the memory of the present generation, to 
 another occupant of the same tone and manners as 
 the unlucky founder, and whose career, though end- 
 ing not so fatally, was to the full as discreditable. 
 
 Here he was fortmiate enough to light on a useful 
 clerical assistant, the Keverend Weedon Butler, who, 
 from this time until the death of the luckless pro])rie- 
 tor of the Pimlico chapel, ckmg to him through all 
 his fortunes ; and it is one of the redeeming circum- 
 stances in this strange character that he was able to 
 attach, at least, this one faithful heart. This was a 
 young man wdiom he " took up" to be his amanuensis 
 and general assistant in his literary work. He was 
 originally intended for the law, but was induced by 
 his patron to go into the chm'ch ; and when the new 
 chapel was opened, he became the reader, and alter- 
 nate celebrant with Doctor Dodd. He had a brother, 
 who was captain of the William Pitt, "extra" East 
 Indiaman, which ship " foundered with all her crew, 
 during a tremendous gale at midniglit, off Algoa-Bay, 
 after firing several half-minute signal-guns." He 
 "reached the goal of innnortality before his elder 
 brother," said an obituary notice of the day.
 
 54 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 Tlie new chapel was in such vogue, that every 
 sitting was soon disposed of. In fact, a dissatisfied 
 Mr. Cookfield Avrote up to the Doctor's friend from 
 Upton, that lie was " sorry that no seats were allotted 
 to those whom curiosity or devotion brings to the 
 chapel" (it was scarcely the latter that brought ^Mr. 
 Walpole and party). " Some pews," continues the 
 comitry gentleman with severity, "are occupied by 
 only one or two persons ; but if the learned di^-ine, 
 instead of thinking to gain by godliness, were to believe 
 his godliness gain, many 2~)arts of Ins conduct zvoidd 
 he dif event — he would thus silence many who watch 
 him with evil eyes. The Doctor would think me 
 impertinent or a fool if I was to give him personally 
 this very just bit of adA-ice." The truth was, the 
 Doctor was not responsible for the empty pews, which 
 no one durst enter ; for the concern being a specula- 
 tion, the seats had gradually become the property of 
 parties in the jDarish, Avho, when the novelty wore off, 
 became, at least as f ai* as their sittings were concerned, 
 piously selfish — not coming themselves, nor yet allow- 
 ing others to come. 
 
 There Avas a chapel also in Charlotte-street, Blooms- 
 bmy, and here too he joined in a sort of clerical 
 partnership Avith a Doctor Trussler. With these fields 
 of labour' open to him, he seems to liaA^e been really 
 indefatigable. He preached every Sunday morning 
 at the Magdalen, while his brother and ISIr. Butler 
 took the evening duty at Pimlico, alternately. Nor 
 were his literary labours abating. He was busy Avith 
 all manner of schemes : and foremost among these 
 were his plans for a huge commentary on the Bible : 
 a task which embodied the A-ery ideal of pure drudgery
 
 " THE KOYAL CHAPLAIN." 55 
 
 and liodman's labour — the weariest fetching and 
 carrjdng of the bricks and stones of erudition — not 
 even of the cliaracter, half light, half flashy, A\hich, 
 with men of the world, counterbalance the labour they 
 bring to such a duty. 
 
 In fact, his was a most curious shape of character 
 — almost a puzzle for its hostile elements. Never 
 was the truth, that mere piety — that is, a taste for 
 praying — standing by itself, may be, after all, but 
 one of the many fancies of the hvmian soul. All the 
 time that the Reverend Doctor Dodd was preaching 
 at St. James's, at the two Charlotte Chapels, and at the 
 Magdalen, and also busily working up his commen- 
 tary on the Bible, and edif }*ing friends by his delight- 
 ful conversation on divine things, we may be curious 
 to know how this holy man was, as it were, filling in 
 his inner life. There is no need of any uncharitable 
 speculation, for he himself tells us : 
 
 " Thus brought to town and introduced to gay life, 
 I fell into snares. Besides this, the habit of miiform 
 regular piety and devotion wearing off, I was not, as 
 at West Ham, tlie innocent man I lived there. I com- 
 mitted offences against my God, Avhich I bless Him 
 .were always in reflection detestable to me. . . . In- 
 deed, before I never dissipated at all — for many, many 
 years never seeing the playhouse, nor any public 
 place." 
 
 Allowing all charitable sincerity to this declaration, 
 there is still a disagreeable unctuousness about it, a 
 sort of indistinct complacency, Avhich suggests the 
 " terrible example." He was indeed all the while a 
 whitened sepulchre.
 
 56 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TENTH. 
 
 DRAWING-ROOM VERSES. 
 
 The keeping of the coach, the banqueting with City 
 friendsj and the country-house at Eahng, inyolved 
 him in serious expenses. IMoney had to be found, 
 and he tells us that he " fell into the niinous mode of 
 raising moneys by annuities. The annuities devoured 
 wg," it is added, in a forcible expression -which came 
 not from him, but from the manly hand of Johnson. 
 And yet, it was said that his Pimlico chapel brought 
 him in some six hundred pounds a year. 
 
 Presently came forth a neat, pleasant collection of 
 the agreeable clerg}^nan's poems — lively, fashionable 
 trifles, which were bought by the " City ladies," and 
 found on the di'awing-room tables on the other side of 
 Temple Bar. 
 
 From this little Book of Poems — first collected in 
 1767 — we can put together a pictui-e of the ch'awing- 
 room parson, dangling after ladies, eager to adorn 
 every boudou' adventure with some trifling vers d' occa- 
 sion. We can almost see him at " The Rooms," in his 
 " full-bottomed wig " and " rustling silks," stooping
 
 DEAWING-EOOM VEESES. 57 
 
 over some of his " favourite fail*," " rallpng" tliem 
 agreeably, quarrelling delightfully, and comforting 
 them with compliments to their beauty and sweet 
 religious thoughts alternately; and, finally, sending 
 them home in the expectance of a poetical hlllet-doux 
 next mornino; from the charmino; Doctor. 
 
 These effusions would ha^e suited the professional 
 beau, or a French gallant, more than an English 
 clerg}'man. Thus was written " An Ode occasioned 
 by a young Lady's laughing at me for staying from 
 an Assembly," which winds u]) in this fashion : 
 
 Soon the scene my soul alarming, 
 
 Came that Cupid* and his train, 
 And a Venus, Delia, believe me, 
 
 Fair and form'd in stamp lilvC thine. 
 Cupid's whispers can't deceive me, 
 
 Both are sisters, both divine. 
 
 The gallant clerg\mian tlius paints his feelings at 
 this " staying from an assembly :" 
 
 Cytherea fond attending, 
 
 Wou'd young Paris not have gone ? 
 Yon, with beauty hers transcending, 
 
 Sighing, view'd I, fore'd to shun. 
 
 Lines scarcely smooth enough for the ch*a^Aing-room ; 
 
 and hardly so airy as the lines " Occasioned by the 
 
 same young Lady's refusing to play at Quadrille 
 
 when asked by a Gentleman," who, of course, stands 
 
 for the agreeable Doctor Dodd : 
 
 The queen was fainting, " Hartsliorn, pray." 
 
 All the choice spirits in a hurry. 
 
 The ladies too in such a flurry : 
 
 shocking ! what can all this liring ? 
 
 "Haste — salts, drops, spirits — anytliing!" 
 
 * " Miss P.'s brother, a little boy about three years old."
 
 58 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 He represents this young lady, "Miss Mat," as re- 
 fusing to obey the " queen of quaib'ille " at a fashion- 
 able rout, and breaking out into a sort of coquettish 
 rebeUion : 
 
 Lo, a fair nymph refus'd to play, 
 
 Nay, and what more the crime completed, 
 
 Tho' by a gentleman intreated ! 
 
 Putting the rest in fear and fret 
 
 Of that day making up a set. 
 
 — Punish such presumptuous beauty. 
 
 That others hence may know their duty. 
 
 When some of the company disparage tlie charms 
 of this lady with 
 
 stuff, mere stuff ! Pha ! Bagatelle ! 
 
 Xonsense ! But pray to know her better. 
 Describe this beauty — La poor creature ! 
 
 Which furnishes Doctor Dodd with an opening for 
 skilfully insmuating compliments : 
 
 tho' her eyes are sweetly bright. 
 
 And would kill thousands, if they might: 
 She keeps them modestly at home, 
 Nor lets their pointed ogles roam. 
 
 In the same key is " The Apology'," addressed to 
 " Miss I 1," which begins. 
 
 Break my word, sweet nymph, with thee ! 
 
 which was followed by " A Second Apology " to the 
 same lady, who had accused him of flattery in the 
 first. He justifies himself in this jingle : 
 
 Very blind, my dear I 1, needs must you be, 
 
 Not the charms of your elegant person to see.
 
 DEATTING-EOOM VERSES. 59 
 
 And lie bids her 
 
 Remember, fair daughter of softest delight, 
 
 The chat -which we held in the Rooms t'other night. 
 
 Aiid in this he mixed up some piety Avith his compU- 
 ments, aceordhig to the old and approved receipt, 
 for this jumble of gallantry and spii'ituality has long 
 been the conventional equipment of clerg'}Tnen of 
 
 that pattern. " Miss F r," a friend of his wife, 
 
 received an address, beginning ; 
 
 When I think, my dear F , how rarely we find 
 
 For friendship all proper endowments of mind. 
 
 So with the ode " To Two agi-eeable Sisters," one of 
 whom was named Eliza ; and with an effusion called 
 " Suspense ; written Avhile waiting for the coming of 
 a Lad^•," in which he thus chides the linxrerins; mo- 
 ments : 
 
 Since I held her hand — vexation. 
 
 Thrice ten hundred minutes pass'd ! 
 Come, my love, my charmer, bless me ! 
 
 Little rebel, I'll subdue thee. 
 
 In which occurs a wonderful apostrophe to a watch, 
 the unconscious burlesque of which is exquisite : 
 
 Watch ! thou dotard time, more faster — 
 
 But one hour — I thought it four! 
 Dull machine — uulihe thy master, 
 
 Clicking even ever morel 
 
 Allowing some margin for the elaborate gallantries 
 of the day, it is impossible not to feel contempt for
 
 60 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 this trifling. " Little rebel, I'll subdue tliee," -was 
 childish on lips that were the next evening to deal 
 Avith the gTave truths of the Gospel. And though an 
 extempore sonnet might seem harmless enough, still 
 the puhlisldng of such trifling, with the name of " the 
 great Doctor Dodd " attaclied, shows a want of self- 
 respect that nothing can extenuate. 
 
 A young lady, " Miss Jackson of Southgate," was 
 distinguished by his admu*ation, and he celebrates her 
 attractions in several of his effusions. She presented 
 him with a rosebud, which, almost of course, entailed 
 the unfailing return of " Verses occasioned by a Pre- 
 sent of a Moss-Rosebud, &c.," in which, according to 
 his old pattern, were mixed up a little gallantry and a 
 little pretty piety. After telling her that the rose's 
 bloom " is but dull to her cheek's blushing tint," and 
 that, compared with her touch, "hard and rough is 
 the cygnet's most delicate down," he introduces the 
 moral : 
 
 Remember a virtue the rose hath to boast — 
 Its fragrance remains when its beauties are lost. 
 
 The same lady's name occurs incidentally in others of 
 his verses : 
 
 Each steals a J — k — n's or a Booth's form. 
 
 In short, this collection betrays the Doctor in a 
 hundred little attitudes of ch'awing-room gallantry: 
 whether as " Listening to a young Lady singing 
 
 Spenser's Amoretti ;" or as consoling " lsli\ J 
 
 on the Report of Miss 's Marriage ;" or as whis- 
 pering to " A Friend in the Anuy " about " Kitty
 
 DKAWIXG-EOOM VERSES. 61 
 
 Carr;" or as sympathising -with the gentleman who 
 was distracted by the charms of "Patsy," one of 
 the "two agreeable sisters;" or as taking "lovely 
 
 W 's hand" in his; or as singing "Belinda," 
 
 " Clorinda," " Eliza," and many more at whose feet 
 the agreeable clergyman sat. 
 
 If we consider the little adventures these rhymes 
 stand for — the pla}'f ul quarrels at " The Rooms" with 
 cruel and pretty ladies, the reconciliation, as playful, 
 and the Doctor sitting down the next day to turn his 
 verses, wdiich were to be followed up by other " Apolo- 
 gies," it wdll be found that the whole represents an 
 amount of trifling and philandering which no clergy- 
 man who had a sense of the decencies owing to his 
 profession could have indulged in, or found time for. 
 In the tone of these gallantries there is something 
 almost offensive, and they unhappily help to fill in that 
 popular portrait of the " Macaroni Parson" by which 
 he is best kno"VAai. 
 
 Even in his advertisement, written from South- 
 ampton-row, February 14, 1767, there is an osten- 
 tatious blazoning of filial virtue almost suspicious. In 
 this he affects a sort of reluctance to bring his pieces 
 before the public, and would not have done so, but 
 rather that " he is thus enabled to pay a debt of 
 filial affection," which was thus discharged in the 
 dedication :
 
 62 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 TO THE MEMOKY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 KEVEREND WILLIAM DODD, M.A., 
 
 MANX YEAKS VICAR OF BoUKX IN LINCOLNSHIRE; 
 
 WHO DIED August 8, 1756, 
 AGED 54 : 
 
 AND OF ELIZABETH ms wife, 
 WHO DIED May the 21st, 1755, 
 
 AGED 55. 
 
 WORTHY PARENTS, 
 
 WHOSE PARTIAL FONDNESS ENCOURAGED, 
 
 BUT WHOSE WISE, SOLICITOUS, AND EVER-VALUED CARE 
 
 ENABLED THEIR SON TO FAR BETTER PURSUITS, 
 
 THAN "THIS IDLE TRADE:" 
 
 THAT SON, 
 
 WITH THE HIGHEST FILIAL VENERATION, 
 
 INSCRIBES THIS LITTLE VOLUME OF POEMS, 
 
 AS AN HUMBLE, BUT AFFECTIONATE MONUMENT OF 
 
 THEIR MERIT, AND OF HIS LOVE. 
 
 BEST OF PARENTS ! 
 AVE SHALL MEET AGAIN ! 
 
 The gem of the whole, mimatched, it would almost 
 seem, for its cool effrontery and defiance of public 
 report, is the motto chosen from Cicero's Ai-chias : 
 
 "Merely the time that others find for misuitable 
 feasts, for play, and for amusements, / have set aside 
 for the cultivation of these tastes."
 
 DEAWING-EOOM VEESES. 63 
 
 Tills proclamation, it must be borne in mind, being 
 made at a season when it was notorious that far more 
 time than others would have found for verses, he was 
 wasting in coniivial dinners and suppers, in play, 
 and in amusement. As compositions, too, they were 
 of the poorest quality, even in days when feeble and 
 meaningless verses of society of poorest quality were 
 in vogue ; and even from the specimens given it will 
 be seen "with what a comic clumsiness they were 
 turned, and -with what vapid nonsense they were filled. 
 No wonder that the monthly reviewers should dismiss 
 it contemptuously in tlii'ee lines : saying that the 
 worst thmg they would say in favour of these poems 
 is their author's youth, and the best, that they were 
 beautifully printed by Leach.
 
 64 A FAMOUS FOEGERT. 
 
 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. 
 
 THE " CITY DINNERS." 
 
 The commentaiy, too, was getting fonvard; but 
 Weedon Butler, the faitliful secretary, amanuensis, 
 and man of all work, Avas behind the scenes, doing a 
 good deal of the mere navvy's work. And even in 
 this task broke out some of the false copper metal 
 through the outside plating : and much of that flash 
 and trickery, which, either in true shape or by sus- 
 picion, hung about all his life and labour. For he 
 announced AAdth a flomish that he was to ha^e the 
 use of papers and notes left by John Locke, and also 
 some notes of Cudworth, which were in Lord ^lasham's 
 hands.* And yet it was insinuated at the time that 
 he knew well that these documents were either spu- 
 rious, or not forthcoming. As the king's chaplam 
 passed by in his "rustling silk," men looked after 
 
 * These papers he announced as including interleaved Bibles of 
 Locke and Waterland, " with a curious MSS. of Lord Clarendon, 
 written in his own hand." For more about this matter, see the article 
 on Chillingworth, in Chalmers.
 
 THE "city DINNEKS." 65 
 
 him, and admired (though it was said that he had 
 turned vain and " pompous," and was puffed up) ; 
 but still there was an impression as of something un- 
 sound, which would be discovered later. 
 
 There were many who believed in him. The 
 faithful Weedon Butler held to him through all. 
 While the Doctor was being eaten up Avith the dread- 
 ful annuities, and plunging deeper into the town de- 
 lights, Avhich the annuities Avent to purchase, the 
 trusty henchman did what he could to aid him. 
 Weedon Butler kept a diary, and we look over his 
 shoulder on the 23rd of March, 1787, as he writes : 
 " Engaged all the evening with Doctor Dodd, in trans- 
 lating Bishop Lowth's Lectui'es." And in the fol- 
 lowing month Ave see a more significant entry : " Did 
 not go out all day; the Doctor abroad; when he 
 returned in the evening, sat down Avith him to Bishop 
 LoAvth's Lectures." Later, the too partial clerk a\ rote 
 to a friend : " I think I see eA'ery day more and more 
 the benefits derived to myself from Doctor Dodd." 
 Even a young American clergyman Avrote over, in a 
 transport of pious desire, that he longed for nothing 
 so much in this Avorld as to see the Doctor bishop of 
 " that quarter of the globe" — a pastoral charge too ex- 
 tensi\'e, certainly, for one man, and as a sphere of 
 missionary action Avholly unsuited to the Magdalen 
 preacher's tastes. We have a little after-dinner pic- 
 ture, Avhen Doctor Dodd had INIr. Iloole to meet 
 IlaAN ksAVorth, the translator of Telemachus ; and the 
 subject of the divine gOA'ernment of events being 
 started, the Doctor turned his chair toAvards the fire- 
 place, and " looking doicn to the fender, spoke slowly 
 
 F
 
 6Q A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 and gently, in an nninterrupted strain that delighted 
 all. No one replied." 
 
 We can see the Doctor at one of the little City din- 
 ners, (biving there in his carriage. Tlie Messrs. Dilly 
 of the Poultry — and readers of Boswell know of many 
 pleasant dinners at tl;at house — gave a party in the 
 November of this year, to Wilkes, Mr. Jones, after- 
 wards Sir William, De Lolme of the " English Consti- 
 tution," Doctor Dodd, Sir Nathaniel Wraxall — whose 
 acciu'acy, often impeached in the pleasan.t epigi'am 
 " misquoting facts all," is daily more and more es- 
 tablished by independent evidence — and two or three 
 more. Johnson had met Wilkes at a little dinner — 
 one of the most delightful in Boswell — at the same 
 house a few months previously. Wraxall knew Dodd 
 very well. The party was " gay, animated, and con- 
 vivial," so much so, that Doctor Dodd in\dted the 
 whole party to dine with him in Argyle-street on an 
 early day. To Wraxall he was particularly attentive, 
 and on going home set him down at the St. James's 
 Coffee-house. The baronet, who was a man of the 
 world, and a good judge of a man of the world, always 
 found him " plausible and agreeable, lively, enter- 
 taining, and well informed." 
 
 The dinner he gave to Messrs. Dilly's party was 
 an elegant repast, and Wraxall remarked the " French 
 wines of various sorts." Mrs. Dodd " presided," and 
 in the evening received a large company of friends. 
 This is all characteristic — the inviting of the party 
 en masse from the house Avhere he was dining, and 
 the e\'ening entertainment got up so suddenly, while 
 all this time the " lively, entertaining" host was " de-
 
 THE " CITY DINNEKS." 67 
 
 vom-ed hy annuities ;" the carriage that set the baronet 
 down, the elegant repast, and the French wines not 
 paid for, and actually a bill of sale on the seat where 
 Mrs. Dodd "presided !" This is the last glimpse Ave 
 have of the Doctor in society. 
 
 With this little vista of pastoral innocence, the 
 decent, respectable portion of the Doctor's life fades 
 out; and it makes a very curious study to see how 
 gradually the furies of extravagance, pleasui'e, and 
 the other familiars of gay life, preying on his weak, 
 unfortified natiu'e, gradually dragged him down to 
 destruction. 
 
 r2
 
 68 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 THE "MACARONI PARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 
 " CITY FEASTING." 
 
 Still, though so pleasant an after-dinner impres- 
 sion was left on Mr. Hoole, there was a growing 
 belief abroad that something was wrong. The ex- 
 travagance, the entertaining of the " noble pupils," 
 and the City feasting, were spoken of openly ; but in 
 that day public opinion in reference to the cloth was 
 in a state of utter unsoundness, and so far from at- 
 tempting to check, seemed rather to encourage a de- 
 graded tone among the men who wore the gown. A 
 coarse jest, or a broad scoff, was, at most, the only 
 reproof uttered by the lax society of " fine" ladies and 
 gentlemen of the time. A popular print of him about 
 this time is in itself significant — for it exhibits him
 
 '• CITY FEASTING." 69 
 
 a smooth, smirking, full-length — in a studied attitude, 
 dressed, not in gown and bands, but in a richly 
 flowered dressing-gown and elegant smalls, while one 
 ruffled hand rests ostentatiously on a tremendous 
 vohmie, which may be assumed to represent his Bible 
 Commentary. 
 
 One of Dodd's most faithful friends, who did not 
 desert him in his extremity, Governor Thicknesse, 
 speaking of him with good-humoured, but disrespectful 
 familiarity, owns he "was as good and pleasant a 
 tempered rascal as ever lived, or ever was hanged ;" 
 and gives him such commendation as one would give 
 to a free, jovial, easy-mannered friend, who was 
 amusing, but not very strict in jorinciple. " An ex- 
 cellent companion," says Governor Thicknesse, " when 
 he fell into such company he could ti'ust, as he called 
 it. I ha^e heard him often making all the old women 
 cry at church in the morning, and make his trusty 
 friends laugh as much in the evening, with his song 
 of Adam and Eve on 
 
 Stopping in the Land of Nod 
 To have their horses shod." 
 
 It was kno^^^l, too, that the gay divine was in the 
 habit of frequenting a tavern Avith his wife, and 
 dining there " tete-a-tete in the most ^-oluptuous 
 maimer;" and afterwards, on the very same day, 
 would sup at a second tavern in the same style. 
 These were not heinous transgressions in themselves : 
 but they are sm'e marks and tokens, which the skilful 
 in reading character and moral descent can readily 
 inteqjret, as significant of more fatal delinquency.
 
 70 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 He tried every way to bring himself notoriety, and 
 then preferment. He even attempted to force his 
 way into the famous Literary Chib ; but his o\'ertures 
 were received with significant coldness. " It would 
 not have done," said Johnson, " tliat one of oiu' club 
 should have been hanged; not but," he added, smiling, 
 " that some of them deserved it ;" alluding pleasantly 
 to Burke's wild French dreams. If he had been 
 admitted, he could not have long remained a member, 
 for the great spirit of the place would soon have 
 pierced through the flimsy disguise and exposed him. 
 
 To Horace Walpole, who disliked him as he did 
 the bishops, and as he did Sterne, had drifted some 
 stories, which he set down in certain entries in his 
 recently published diary. His pen is sharper, and 
 his ink mixed with more gall than usual, as he deals 
 with the luckless Doctor. He raked into his cliiffon- 
 Qiier's scandal-basket some doubtful stories — that 
 Mary Perkins, the verger's daughter, had been a 
 handsome woman, for v.lioni Lord Sandmch had 
 been anxious to provide. She had an inciu'able pas- 
 sion for drink, which the Doctor encom'aged, in order 
 that he might have opportunity of the evening to go 
 forth upon to^vn, and entertain himself in his Gwa 
 way without hindrance. The same authority found 
 out and jotted down an uncharitable remark of Bishop 
 Newton, when the Doctor was in his last sore distress. 
 " I am sorry for him," said the prelate. Some one 
 asked, " ^Yliy?" " Because he is to suffer for the least 
 of all his offences." The behaiaoiu* of ISIi's. Dodd all 
 tlu'ough her husband's dreadful probation, and his 
 testimony to her merits, does not square with Wal-
 
 u QjrpY TEASTING." 71 
 
 pole's bit of scandal. Yet, true or untrue, the town 
 were in possession of these stories. 
 
 Whether he feasted at taverns or not, he was still 
 busy, at Avhat might be called his religious hack-A\ork, 
 for the booksellers. Presently came out the huge tlu'ee 
 volumes of sermons to the young men, which were de- 
 chcated to his pupils, yomig Stanhope and Ernst. On 
 which followed his translation of sermons from Mas- 
 sillon, and other " job-work" of the same order. It 
 was, indeed, no other than job-work, and he and his 
 faithful Weedon Butler laboured at this duty with 
 great industry. His name Avas in good esteem with 
 the booksellers. 
 
 The youths whom he was educating became useful 
 in one sense, for they were young men of fortune 
 and quality, and were to see London life, and yet could 
 not do so without the care of their " governor." Chan- 
 cellor Hoadly, another free clergyman, was at a great 
 masquerade given in September, 1771 — a crowded 
 affair, though the supper was of poor qualit}'. He 
 saw " the great Doctor Dodd" there with his 2:)upils, 
 flamiting by decorated with jewels of silver. " The 
 great Doctor Dodd" was Hoadly's ironical estimate 
 of the public ideal. But he also represented the freer 
 sceptics, who did not accept the pious character of the 
 Doctor. " He was there," he says, " merely, / sup- 
 pose^ to look after his two youths. I wish somebody 
 had placed two or three of his Magdalens upon him. 
 It A\'ould have been a good and new character." 
 Hoadly himself made no affectation of purism, and 
 was free of the Stage and the Actors' Corporation. 
 
 All the stories about him, however we may suspect
 
 72 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 them to have been coloured up by mistake or preju- 
 dice, have a certain "Dodd"-like savour, quite in har- 
 mony with Ins life. Thus, when the " young lady of 
 fortune in the City" told Mrs. Dodd certain rumours 
 some one had been circulating aboiit her (Mrs. Dodd's) 
 character — and when the Doctor, having received 
 fifty pounds as compensation under threat of a pro- 
 secution, handed it over pompously to his charity as 
 having been "paid for a defamation" — it is difficult 
 not to accept this flourish, it is so characteristic. What 
 the shape of this " defamation" was, Horace Walpole 
 had heard, as well as the young lady of fortmie. 
 
 The translation of some of Massillon's Sermons 
 had possibly recommended itself to him as likely to be 
 good matter for " Court Sermons." But Scott, the 
 well-known " Anti-Sejanus," was watching him. Anti- 
 Sejanus was in the pay of the abandoned Lord Sand- 
 wich, and perhaps recollected how his patron had 
 been introduced into the Doctor's novel. He flung 
 himself on him, and publicly gibbeted him in these 
 bitter lines : 
 
 Meek, humble, modest parson Dodd, 
 Believe me, it is mighty odd, 
 
 That you such hopes should dish up ; 
 For after all, my good friend Will, 
 Whate'er you think, you will be still 
 
 A priest, but not a bishop. 
 
 The parties which you tried to fix 
 Of ladies (monstrous thus to mix !), 
 
 To grace the chaplain's table ; 
 Carnal with spiritual thus to join 
 Flounced petticoats with gowns divine, 
 
 O fie ! ev'n ihafs not able.
 
 '■' CITY FEASTING." 73 
 
 Thu3 ■while you warn a prince's ear 
 Of specious flattery to beware, 
 
 You gild the gallic pill 
 In such a manner as to suit 
 Your honest views -with George or Bute, 
 
 And so farewell, dear Will. 
 
 His name, indeed, was pnblic property. AMien 
 offensive allusions were to be made to Yorick it was 
 always masked under sncli shape as the " Reverend 
 
 Mr. S e ;" bnt the Magdalen divine was named 
 
 openly and coarsely. A fiercer and more dangerous 
 pen than Scott's spoke of liim boldly as 
 
 that mild man of God, 
 
 The Reverend Doodle, Doctor Dodd. 
 
 And even in Goldsmith's last verses, in a corner of 
 that pleasant " Ectaliation," full of delightful strokes, 
 comes an incidental hit, in which the Doctor's ill-re- 
 putation is assumed as a thing of cotu'se. Speaking 
 of Douglas, who had been "the scourge of impostors 
 and the terror of quacks," he bids all the " quacks, 
 bards, and quacking divines" dance with delight, for 
 they have nothing to fear now. And he goes on : 
 " Our Dodds shall be pious," &c. Churchill, too — 
 enemy to all shams, tearing off all masks, and with 
 the masks tearing away the skin, was not likely to 
 spare him, and in the terrible picture fitted into his 
 " Times," glances contemptuously at the fashionable 
 Dodd. 
 
 This was light treatment from so heavy a hand. 
 But five years after the Doctor had finished with 
 earthly intriguing, a bitter but truthful portrait of 
 the '' ^Macaroni Parson" came from Cowper's pen ; 
 and from a single allusion to the diamond rino;, there
 
 74 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 can be no question but that lie was sketching the 
 "unfortunate" Doctor. A more odious picture can- 
 not be conceived : 
 
 But loose in morals, and in manners vain, 
 In conversation frivolous, in dress 
 Extreme, at once rajxicious and jyrqfane, 
 Frequent in park with lady at his side, 
 Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes: 
 But rare at home, and never at his books, 
 Or -with his pen, save when he scrawls a card, 
 Constant at routs, familiar with a round 
 Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor, 
 Ambitious of preferment for its gold. 
 
 What! will a man play tricks — will he indulge 
 A silly fond conceit of his fair form 
 And just proportion, fashionable mien, 
 And pretty face, in presence of his God ? 
 Or will he seek to dazzle one with tropes, 
 As M'ith the diamond in his City band ? 
 
 With such a popuLtr estimate of his character, it 
 seems indeed wonderful how he contrived to keep liis 
 hold on the public. But he had " a party." He 
 had opened up new ground in the Citv — gi'omid not 
 of such fine quality as he had hitherto worked, but 
 richer and more profitable. With the " City people" 
 he Avas the good man, preaching sweetly and tenderly, 
 delightful in company, active in charity, pleasant and 
 almost excitmg to listen to at the Magdalen — and 
 therefore the butt of loose scoffers at the West-end. 
 And there was truth in this last ^dew ; for, miluckily, 
 it was such men as Kenrick, and Parson Scott, and 
 Lord Sandmch, and March, and a himdred such, who 
 raised their voices and scoffed at the freedom of 
 the day.
 
 A COURT SERMON. 75 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 
 A COURT SERMON. 
 
 It was now come to the end of the year 1772, and 
 this year brought with it an encouraging bit of pre- 
 ferment. He obtained the rectory of Hockliffe, in 
 Bedfordshu'e, whicli was worth about one hundi'ed 
 and sixty povmds a year ; and with this came, a Httle 
 Liter, the vicarage of Chalgrove. The two together 
 Avent a little in ease of the devoimng annuities^ and 
 the "voluptuous" tavern dinners. But this prefer- 
 ment brought with it, also, an adventm'e whicli had 
 near been fatal. He was coming up in his post- 
 chaise Avith ]\Ii's. Dodd from his new living, when he 
 was stopped near the Tottenham-road turnpike by a 
 momited highwajinan. This was the common proba- 
 tion for travellers making London ; but this free- 
 /'Ijooter, who had some reputation in his profession, 
 and was called William Griffith, tm*ned back, as he 
 was riding away, and discharged his pistol full at the 
 Avindow. The ball did no more damage than break-
 
 7G A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 ing tlie window: "happily, as it was tlien tJtought" 
 odfWj adds " an editor " of one of the Doctor's books. 
 Personal courage was said not to be one of his quali- 
 ties ; and in his evil day, when men with a strange 
 lack of charity went about raking from corners, and 
 sewers, and dust-bins, and publishing every degraded 
 nimour and vrdgar story that could be found, some 
 one came with a legend of bo}dsh London days, when 
 he was in his teens. That he had attended a " Robin 
 Hood" debating society, and that on one occasion, 
 when a false alarm of fire had been given, he quite 
 lost his wits, and was ^^ith difficulty restrained from 
 dashing himself from the window. " This," says the 
 person who reports the incident, " strikingly shows the 
 hnhecility of his character." 
 
 Doctor Dodd was, however, able to identify Mr. 
 William Griffith, who, not long after, was taken and 
 brought to trial. On December the 17th the Doctor 
 appeared in the witness-box, and on his evidence the 
 prisoner was found guilty. Twelve more were " capi- 
 tally convicted " on the same day. A " long day " 
 was allowed to the highwayman, and on the 20tli of 
 January, the following year, he went forth to execu- 
 tion, in one of the usual Monday morning dismal 
 processions. "AMien the malefactors," says the re- 
 porter who attended, " stopped opposite to St. Se- 
 pulchre's to hear the djdng words from the bellman, 
 Bird " (one of Griffith's companions) " threw his face 
 on the shoulders of the clerg^nnan, and his form was 
 agitated in a manner not to be described." 
 
 These homble spectacles, reaching almost to bar- 
 barity, had affected Doctor Dodd very seriously, as
 
 A COURT SERMOX. 77 
 
 indeed they had affected every good and thinking 
 man in the kingdom. Such hmnan sacrifices were a 
 disgrace to the age, and a greater disgrace to the 
 country — for it was truly stated at the time, that 
 there was no other country in the workl where such 
 savage exhibitions were tolerated. Doctor Dodd, 
 whose nature was all through amiable and philan- 
 thropic, put together a sermon on the subject ; but, 
 curious to say, it was in the very year that lie had 
 suffered from the attack of Griffith, and only a few 
 months before the dismal procession, to which his evi- 
 dence had contributed the highwayman, liad stopped 
 before St. Sepulchre's. This sermon Avas " On tlie 
 Frequency of Capital Punishment ; " but in the in- 
 troduction there is something very characteristic. 
 " The following sermon," he says, " was intended to 
 have been preached iii the Chapel Royal, St. James, 
 but was omitted on account of the ahsence of the Court, 
 during the author^ s month of icaitingr Thus, every- 
 thing he did was more or less to be marked vdt\\ 
 a little discoloration ; and this floui'ish was only 
 another instance of that weakness in every purpose 
 of life, which Avas side by side \\\i\\ all his good 
 intentions. He said justly that " it may seem 
 strange, if not incredible, that of all the nations 
 upon earth the laws of England are the most san- 
 guinary; there being in them, as I am credibly in- 
 formed, over a huncbed and fifty capital cases." In a 
 note he adds oddly, " See Ruffhead's Index to the 
 Statutes." Then follows one of those curious passages 
 in which he seems to anticipate his own crisis, and 
 appears to plead pathetically for himself. If a civic
 
 78 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 croAvn was the reward of a Homan who saved a 
 fellow-creature from death, what shall be his " who, 
 by such a reformation, shall save from an ignominious 
 end numbers of subjects and citizens, hurried into 
 eternity in the very bloom and fioimr of life, with all 
 their sins and imperfections upon their heads, and cuts 
 them off at once from all power of Teformation, from 
 all possibility of making amends to the state they have 
 injured, to the friends they have alienated, and the God 
 they have so, daringly offended!" This was, indeed, 
 the sul)stance of that bitter cry that was to come 
 from his Newgate cell not half a dozen years later.
 
 " DOCTOR SIMONY." 79 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 
 " DOCTOR SIMOXY." 
 
 With this character, then, at the beginning of the 
 year 1774, and vdth. those who ministered to his plea- 
 sures pressing ten'ibly and clamorously for food, he 
 was at his "wits' end for money. Suddenly, in 
 January of that year, a Doctor Moss was advanced 
 to the bishopric of Bath and Wells, and the rich and 
 fashionable living of St. George's, Hanover-square, 
 became vacant. Nothing could be more suited for 
 one who was a fashionable preacher and, at the 
 same time, embarrassed in his means. It was given 
 out to be worth fifteen hunch'ed pounds a year. It 
 was not certain in whose gift was this prize — it being 
 claimed by Lord North, the minister, by the Bishop 
 of London, and by the Chancellor, Lord Apsley. It 
 was assumed, however, as it eventually proved to be, 
 that it was m the gift of the latter. 
 
 One day the Chancellor's wife. Lady Apsley, re- 
 ceived a letter without a signature, asking her to
 
 80 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 exert her influence about this hving, and offering her 
 three thousand pounds down, with an annuity of five 
 hundred pounds a year, if she woukl procure it for a 
 person to be named later. She showed it to tlie 
 Chancellor, who, thinking it a more serious affair 
 than either she or the writer imagined it to be, set 
 diligent inquiries on foot. It must have been clumsily 
 done, for it was easily traced to a common law-clerk, 
 and from the common law-clerk to jSIrs. Dodd, the 
 verger's daughter, and wife of the Reverend William 
 Dodd, LL.D., one of his Majesty's chaplains. Mrs. 
 Dodd, the law-clerk said, had dictated the whole to 
 him. And Doctor Dodd, it was assumed, had in- 
 spired Mrs. Dodd. 
 
 At first the Doctor denied it bokllv, and said he 
 was not privy to the " officious zeal of his con- 
 sort." Wlien he found the Chancellor was in earnest, 
 he begged delay, and offered to go abroad. Lord 
 Apsley, however, went to the king, and laid the 
 wdiole matter before him, who indignantly ordered 
 his chamberlain to strike the offender's name from 
 the list of his chaplains. Then the scandal be- 
 came public. The news flew from coffee-house to 
 coffee-house. AVlien Lord Hertford told him of what 
 he had been ordered to do, he complained bitterly of 
 the cruelty with which he had been treated, and 
 once more denied the whole charge. In truth, his 
 best excuse was the rude mechanism of the trick ; 
 and only for the fatal evidence of previous indiscre- 
 tions, he might have successfidly — had he chosen to 
 brazen out his denial — tided over the accusation. 
 But the public feeling became so angiy and noisy
 
 " DOCTOR SIMONY." 81 
 
 against him, that he actually addressed a weak, 
 piteous letter to the public journals, begging for 
 indulgence. It was dated on Feb. 10, 1774, and ran 
 thus : 
 
 " Sir, — ^May I earnestly entreat, tlirough the chan- 
 nel of yom- paper, that the candid public will suspend 
 their sentence in mv case? Under the pressure of 
 circumstances exceedingly adverse, and furnished with 
 no proofs of innocence but which are of a nega- 
 tive nature, there is left for me at present no mode of 
 defence, but that of an appeal to a life passed in the 
 public service, and an iiTeproachable attention to the 
 duties of my function. How impossible it is to oppose 
 the toiTent of })opular invecti\"e the world Avill judge. 
 It is hoped, however, that time will, ere long, put 
 some circumstances in my power which may lead to 
 an elucidation of this affau', convince to the satisfac- 
 tion of mankind my integrity, and remove eveiy ill 
 impression with regard to the proceedings which have 
 justly incensed a most respectable personage, and 
 drawn such misfortunes upon me. 
 
 "William Dodd." 
 
 Strange to say, he succeeded in dividing the town. 
 One half took his side. The conoregations of the 
 Cliarlotte Chapels were a good constituency. The 
 City people held to him; and, stranger still, the 
 Methodists, whose enemy he Avas said to be, but whose 
 style he mimicked, were coming round to his party. 
 But for the present the current was too strong for 
 him, and he thought it prudent to retire abroad, and 
 hide his head for a while.
 
 82 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 But wIk'h lie was away lie was to suffer a heavy- 
 penalty for his offence. Foote was then pouring 
 forth that stream of farces which are perfect mirrors 
 for the manners of the day, and to which he gave a 
 vitality and \-igom', by importing a rough coarse satii'e 
 on all jsrevailing wealaiesses and follies. He dashed 
 these sketches in boldly, and with much force and 
 personality ; and being at work on " The Cozeners," 
 introduced a " Doctor Simony" and a " JVIrs. Simony," 
 whom there was no mistaking. It has been said 
 always, and repeated pretty often, that in this piece 
 Doctor Dodd was introduced upon the stage, but this 
 was not so. He is merely spoken of ; and it is ^Ii's. 
 Simony — put for uiihappy ISIrs. Dodd — that was 
 brought before the audience. IMi's. Fleec'em, an in- 
 triguing lady, negotiates such delicate matters as the 
 procuring of places, at her house of business. ISIrs. 
 Simony, Doctor Dodd's lady, comes to pa}' her a ^'isit, 
 fresh from " Cox's Museum," where Su' Anthony 
 Absolute saw the automaton bull whose eye " rolled" 
 so ten'ibly. " The Doctor knows nothing about it," 
 she says, and then gives a sort of portrait which the 
 pit knew and roared at. 
 
 " The Doctor's powers are pretty well kno\\m about 
 to\^m ; not a more popular preacher within the sound 
 of BoAv Bells ; I do not mean for the mobility only — 
 these every canting fellow can catch ; the best people 
 of fashion arn't ashamed to follow my Doctor. Not 
 one, madam, of the hundi'ed {bawling, long-winded 
 tribe; he never crams congregations, or gives them 
 more than they can carry away — not more than ten 
 or twelve minutes at most. . . . Even the Duchess
 
 " DOCTOR SIMONY." 8^ 
 
 Dowager of Drowsy was never known to nod at my 
 Doctor ; and then he doesn't pore with his eyes close 
 to the book like a clerk that reads the first lesson ; 
 not he, but all extemporary, madam ; icith a camhric 
 liandkereldef in one hand and a diamond ring on the 
 other ; and then he ivaves this loay and that icai/, and 
 he courtsies, and he bows, and he bounces, that all the 
 
 people are ready to But then his wig, madam ! 
 
 I am siu'e yon must admire his dear wig ; not with 
 the bushy brown buckles hanging and dropping like a 
 Newfoundland spaniel, but short, rounded off at the 
 ear to show his plump cherry cheeks, white as a curd, 
 feather-topped, and the ciu'ls as close as a cauliflower. 
 
 " Mrs. F. — Why really, madam 
 
 " Mrs. Simony. — Then my Doctor is none of your 
 schismatics, madam; believes in the whole thirty- 
 nine, and so he would if there were nine times as 
 many.* . . . Not a step, I beseech you. Lord bless 
 me ! I had like to have forgot. . . . Besides all I 
 have said, my Doctor, madam, possesses a very pretty 
 little pioetical vein. I have brought you here a little 
 hymn in my pocket.f 
 
 " Mrs. F. — Hpnn ! Then the Doctor sings, I pre- 
 sume. 
 
 " Mrs. Simony. — Not a better pipe at the play- 
 house ; he has been long notorious for that ; then he 
 is as cheerful, and has such a choice collection of 
 songs; why he is constantly aslced to the great City 
 feasts, and does, I verily believe, more in-door christen- 
 ing than any three of the cloth." 
 
 * Here is the origin of Theodore Hook's old joke. 
 
 f An allusion to the Doctor's selection of Hymns for the Magdalen. 
 
 g2
 
 84 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 This is iiav and verv amusiiio;; but, after all, it 
 was an unwarrantable freedom. Doctor Dodd was 
 fair game ; but it Avas unmanly, o;ibbeting the poor 
 foolish lady, whom even the law of that day would 
 have assumed to have acted under her husband's 
 influence. She was no more than a mechanical 
 agent. But Foote only cared to find gi'ist for his 
 satirical mill, no matter where he had to look for it. 
 It was a profitable and successful game, thus intro- 
 ducing notorious persons to excite the laughter of the 
 pit, and he carried on his trade even at the sacrifice 
 of the common feelings of gratitude and delicacy. 
 A long list might be made of the persons whom 
 this clever but cowardly mimic tried to hold np in his 
 Shows, to earn money and popularity. A more 
 odious calling cannot be conceived, or a more dan- 
 gerous public nuisance. He was treated hospitably 
 in Dublin, and received an uproarious welcome ; but 
 when he got back to London, sneered at the lieges 
 who had welcomed him. The pleasant but eccentric 
 Doctor Kennedy, friend of Sterne and Garrick, and 
 of Foote's also, had a narrow escape of this pillory.* 
 So, too, had a friend of Governor Thicknesse, whom 
 he saved from this sort of exposure on a public 
 stage. But the Welsh ^Ir. Ap-Eice, and Prince 
 Boothbv, and George Faulkner and his lameness, 
 these were the men, some of whom were " friends," 
 whom he ventured thus to tiu'n to pm'poses of the 
 vilest profit. Johnson he was bui'ning to "take ojff" 
 als(\ but that stm'dy moralist asked his bookseller to 
 send out for a thick cudgel — a sort of remonstrance 
 * Angelo's Memoirs.
 
 " DocTOK simo>;y." 85 
 
 which soon drifted to the professional satirist's ears, 
 and changed his piu'pose. Women were not Hkely 
 to send out for cudgels. But it is curious to think 
 that another such coarse attack upon another "woman, 
 who had been similarly unfortunate, was his ruin. 
 His onslaught on the Duchess of Kingston destroyed 
 him. 
 
 Long after, when Dodd was lying in his prison, 
 this exposui'e came back to his mind. Hoav deeply it 
 affected him may be seen in these bitter lines, which 
 form part of the retrospect of his entire life : 
 
 Yes, yes, thou coward mimic, pampered vice, 
 High praise be sure is thine. Thou hast obtained 
 A worthy triumph. Thou hast pierced to the quick 
 A weak, an amiable female heart — 
 A conjugal heart most faithful, most attached ; 
 Yet can I pardon thee; for, poor buflfoon. 
 Thy vices must be fed; and thou must live. 
 Luxurious live, a foe to God and man ; 
 Commissioned live, thy poison to diffuse, 
 And taint the public virtue with thy crimes. 
 Yes, I can pardon thee — low as thou art, 
 And far too mean an object e'en of scorn. 
 
 It is in this transaction that the Doctor's conduct 
 stands out most miw^orthily. There was something 
 singularly shabby and unmanly — and even foolish, for 
 the device was transparent — in thrusting forward his 
 poor wife to public odium as the author of the act. 
 So mvich so, indeed, that the indignant lines he made 
 on Foote might apply with excellent force and appro- 
 priateness to himself. 
 
 Doctor Dodd, going abroad went straiglit to 
 Geneva, where his old ])upil ami constant patron was 
 staying. The new earl's patronage was not disturbed
 
 86 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 by the late escapade. He cither disbelieved it, or, 
 what is more probable, was careless whether it was true 
 or no. He must have been almost attached to him, 
 or have had that sort of tendency to his company 
 which men of pleasure have for each other's society, 
 and which stands in the room of affection ; for we 
 have it on good Walpolean authority that the noble 
 pupil actually rode out several miles to meet the ar- 
 riving ^octor in some severe icy weather — so severe 
 that the pupil was frostbitten, and was laid up for a 
 long time after. In those times Geneva was very 
 far away, and we cannot tell how the storv got 
 twisted, in travelling home to the clubs and coffee- 
 houses, and from them to Ai'Kngton-street. The 
 noble pupil treated him with gTeat distinction, gave a 
 round of dinners in his honoui', introduced him to 
 English and French, resident as well as vagabond, 
 and made much of him in a fashion that should have 
 been a warranty against the character in which he 
 was later to appear. Nay, he even presented him to 
 the liA-ing of Winge, in Buckinghamshu'e, so that 
 really he was almost encumbered with prefennent. 
 
 Parting from this useful patron, he set off home by 
 way of Paris. There it was likely, that with his weak, 
 foolish, unballasted disposition, he should be ship- 
 wrecked. What a place Paris was then, what a vortex 
 of pleasure, Mercier tells us in his wonderful" Tableau 
 de Paris" — on the tone and details of which marvel- 
 lous phantasmagoria it has not been noticed how much 
 IVIr. Carlyle has modelled his French Revolution. So 
 strange and vivid a bird's-eye ^dew of a city has never 
 yet been taken. Our Doctor was di'awn into the gay
 
 " DOCTOE SIMONY." 87 
 
 whirl. He left his go-\vii and bands at his hotel, and 
 some one, who had gone out to the Plains of Sablons 
 to see the racing, one of the newest shapes of Anglo- 
 mania, brought back word to London how, to his 
 amazement, he had recognised the Magdalen preacher 
 in a carriage at the show, dressed in a mousquetaire 
 uniform — in very doubtful company — and gambling 
 away his money among the most eager of the French 
 roues.
 
 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 
 
 DOWNWARDS. 
 
 When the scandal had blown over, and Dr. Simony 
 was a little forgotten, he came home to England again. 
 The state of London society at this date has been 
 dwelt on before — its shameful toleration, and utter 
 absence of moral purpose ; so that it is no surprise to 
 find oui- Doctor gi'adually gliding back again into his 
 old pious groove. To show how little his disgi-ace 
 had affected his position, a jVIi*. Hicks, about this time, 
 sent in to the institution a full-length portrait of the 
 Doctor, which was placed in the Board-room. But 
 the follo\Adng month, by a strange neglect, he absented 
 himself for five Sundays, which was most probably 
 the season he was exhibiting on the Plains of Sablons, 
 and was " desired" in f utm-e to give " proper notice" 
 if he could not come, and also not to absent himself, 
 " except on account of ill health."* 
 
 With some, he was an impostor ; but ^Yith the far 
 * MS. Registers.
 
 DOWNWAEDS. 89 
 
 greater number he had been persecuted for justice' 
 sake. So his popularity had scarcely diminislied; 
 and by new exertions in a sort of philanthro})ic and 
 cliaritable direction, he brought over many more to 
 his side. He is said to have founded a Discharged 
 Prisoners' Aid Society, which is now flourishing and 
 full of vitality, in spite of the unsound touch that 
 heljjed to raise it up into life. He was a godly 
 man still with the crowd. " I do my best," writes one 
 Hoadly Ashe, who may be accepted as a fair tvpc of 
 tliese admirers, " and even the great Doctor Dodd can 
 do do more. Oh, for his pen, and his melodious 
 voice ! Pray give my respectful compliments to him." 
 This popular impression he kept alive and improved 
 by other means. All through his life he had a kind 
 of craze or fancy for devising Charities — and charities 
 of all kinds and degrees. It wovild almost seem as 
 though he had chosen this as a device for attracting; 
 the notice of the town, and made it a useful instru- 
 ment to acquiring the title of the " Great Doctor 
 Dodd." He could not have found time for more than 
 one or two of these charities; yet at his deatli lie had 
 a whole sheaf of schemes ready for public introduc- 
 tion. In prison he made out a sort of blank verse cata- 
 logue of these lal)ours, and poetically claimed credit 
 for all he had done. Among them was a Society for 
 the llelease of Debtors; a charity for the Loan of 
 Money without Interest to Industrious Tradesmen, 
 the plan of which he had got from Dublin ; and an 
 odd plan for " a National Female Seminary,"' which 
 had " received the approbation of some very distin- 
 guished names." This scheme would, no doubt, have
 
 90 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 furnished some merriment to the free wits of the time. 
 But -sWtli tlie good -works were other works. Tlie old 
 extravagance, and the devouring amiuities that fat- 
 tened on the extravagance, were strong as ever. 
 About this date we get a glimpse of him charac- 
 teristic enough, meetuig him, as it were, m the fa- 
 shionable Parks. 
 
 That odd Governor Thicknesse — before alluded to 
 — ^w^ho was essentially the man of a gi'ievance, and 
 who had the knack all thi'oiigh life of stumbling from 
 one gi'ievance to another, had for his arch-gi'ievance 
 of all a quarrel with a Colonel Vernon. It seems as 
 though he had been harshly treated on the whole. 
 By-and-by Colonel Vernon bloomed into Lord Orwell, 
 grew old, as did Mi'. Thicknesse ; and finally, medi- 
 tating a tour to the south of France for his health, 
 received, on the eve of starting, a letter from his enemy. 
 It was to the effect, that as the peer was gomg to 
 France for his health, and ]\Ir. Thicknesse for his purse 
 — also sadly out of sorts — they might both contrive to 
 meet " and settle the little matter so long jyending be- 
 tween them." Of this significant proposal no direct 
 notice was then taken. But next day Mr. Thick- 
 nesse was wandering about the Park, when he fell in 
 with the gay Doctor Dodd, also taking the au\ Tlie 
 Doctor told him that only the day before he had been 
 dining A\'ith Lord Onvell, and (we noAv hear the 
 Doctor speaking for the first time) that the receipt 
 of the letter had been mentioned. " I have seen it," 
 said Doctor Dodd, " and though I cannot justify his 
 conduct to you, still I think it was ciiiel towards him. 
 I do not think he vdU live six months. You have
 
 DOWXWAEDS. 91 
 
 liinderecl his southern expedition. He will not go, 
 lest you should follow him. I, who have often at- 
 tended such high-crested men upon their death-beds, 
 could understand his real condition." Mr. Thicknesse 
 parted from the Doctor, but was so affected by this 
 pictiu'e, that he went straight to a coffee-house, and 
 -vATote a letter to Lord Orwell of quite another tone 
 and pattern — possibly as the Doctor intended he 
 should do. For it requires little penetration to see 
 that the smooth Doctor was sent, as an envoy, to skil- 
 fully soothe down the troublesome fellow who had 
 a gi'ievance, and arrange for his lordship's quiet 
 travelling. So was that other Doctor accredited by 
 SehvjTi to aiTange his unpleasant business. With 
 this squares wonderfully a story whispered by Wal- 
 pole — a torn rag of gossip — which deals, also, with an 
 embassy. The noble pupil, whose chaplain he was, 
 required some return for his favoiu's ; and, anxious to 
 make some sort of reparation to a young person whom 
 he had injured, sent his chaplain as his ambassador, 
 M-ith no less a sum than one thousand pounds. Such 
 a trait was not veiy common in the fine gentlemen of 
 tlie day, who were as cruel as they were fine. But it 
 was said — with what truth we know not, but it is to be 
 feared with some probability — that the reverend envoy 
 kept back nine huncbed pounds of the sum for liis own 
 'devouring emergencies ! If it be true, it was a far 
 more capital offence than the one for which he suf- 
 fered.* 
 
 But now his misteadiness was affecting his position 
 
 * See later, Toplady's letter exhorting him to make reparation for 
 something that seems to have very much the same character.
 
 92 A FAMOUS FORGEriY. 
 
 in life seriously. The last committee that he attended 
 at the Magdalen was in January, 1773. In August 
 of the following year another chaplain was appointed 
 in his room. The directors' patience was, no doubt, 
 worn out.* He was sinking deeper and deeper in 
 the mire of embari'assment. " He descended so 
 loiv,^^ says the servants'-hall style of memoir before 
 alluded to, " as to become the editor of a 7ieivspaper" 
 What the fatal jounial was which had become the 
 instrument of his abasement, has not been discovered. 
 A more certain token of his embarrassment is, that 
 there was a rumour abroad of his trjdng to have himself 
 discharged from his debts by a commission in bank- 
 ruptcy, but failed. He was hurrying on fast to the 
 end, with scarcely time to look before or behind him 
 — precipitated fonvard by his fui'ies of debt and diffi- 
 culty — and literally did not know where to tuni to. 
 Characteristically appealing to clap-trap s}Tiipatliies, 
 he now thought of the Freemasons, and was busy 
 with a history of that order Avhen the catastrophe 
 came. 
 
 * MS. Kegisters of the Magdalen.
 
 TO"«'X TALK. 93 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTH. 
 
 TOWN TALK. 
 
 It was now come to the year 1776. Earlv in that 
 year we hear him appeahng from the pnlpit in the 
 "Anniversary Sermon of the Society for the Reco- 
 very of Dro^yned Persons," at St. Anne's, to " a 
 very numerous congi'egation." His exertions for tliat 
 society were to aid him Liter in a way that he Uttle 
 dreamed of. We hear liim, too, from a less becoming 
 stage, making an " Oration at Freemasons' Hall," with 
 what aim or purpose we know not. Finally, on Fe- 
 bruary the 24th of that year, he disposed of his Pim- 
 lico chapel, and Doctor Courtenay, of St. George'^, 
 Hanover-square — a name which could not have rung 
 })leasantly in'his ears — succeeded him. Our Doctor, 
 however, retained a little interest in the chapel, and 
 " by purchase," says the account, " acquired a fourth 
 ])art of the concern^ It was, no doubt, pecuniary 
 pressure that forced him to this step ; and, indeed,
 
 94 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 the luckless Doctor was now being hemmed into that 
 fatal corner whence he was to strive to escape by a 
 step yet more fatal. 
 
 He was still popular, and his sermons were always 
 well attended. There must have been something 
 attractive, and even " sensational," to use that hack- 
 neyed word, in a preacher who used to ascend the 
 pulpit with a bouquet, and a diamond ring glittering 
 on his finger, whose robes exlialed sweet perfmnes, 
 and the sno-\vy white of whose hand was conspicuously 
 displayed. These might have been idle West-end 
 stories, but they got into print. The sermons them- 
 selves must have been welcome, even for then* 
 manner, which was in contrast to the cold sterility of 
 the pulpit oratory of the day ; for the Doctor used to 
 get his by heart instead of readuig them, and dehver 
 them mth much energ}^ and dramatic effect. As a 
 sarcastic critic remarked, there was " a general appo- 
 siteness of his genteel action to his eloquent discoiu'se." 
 The admiration of an enraptured auditor found ex- 
 pression in the following lines : 
 
 ON HEARING DR. DODD PREACH. 
 
 Heard but the libertine thy pulpit lore, 
 
 Pathetic Dodd ! the wretch would sin no more. 
 
 Touched with thy preaching, dulness waves his sleep, 
 
 And hvitii itself is seen to weep. 
 
 Let flattered greatness still by fools be sung ; 
 
 With Dodd's applause what temples have not rung ? 
 
 Go on, judicious pastor ! — awe the bold, 
 
 And still improve the young, reclaim the old ; 
 
 With pleasing energy the Sa^•iollr preach, 
 
 And virtue animate, and candour teach.
 
 TOWN TALK. 95 
 
 Still make fair chastity the darling theme ; 
 Whilst Magdalens support and prize its fame. 
 Then — nor till late — may Heaven reward thy care, 
 And make thee angel in a brighter s])here ! 
 
 In a pleasant J'own and Countty Magazine of the 
 time, it was said, "v\dtli a curious spirit of prophecy, 
 that " gaiety and dissipation soon con"vdnced him that 
 he was pursuing a career that must terminate in his 
 destruction;' And actually in that y^ar we find him 
 held up for public tattle, if not for public scandal 
 (for then the town was not to be scandalised by any- 
 thing), framed in one of the well-known little tete-d- 
 tete medalhons, and joined mth another of a IMrs. 
 Robinson. True, he was merely set down as "The 
 
 Macaronic Parson, JVIi-. D ," and the lady as Mrs. 
 
 K n ; but there was no misunderstanding the 
 
 allusion, rendered more plain by bringing in C 
 
 Chapel. 
 
 If we are to accept this pasquinade as authentic, it 
 would seem that about this date his extravagance had 
 led him to the King's Bench Prison — or at least that 
 such a belief was abroad. And there, it was said, that 
 
 he made acquaintance with this ISIi's. R n, also in 
 
 durance for a life of extravagance. " Compassion," 
 we are told, "induced her first to extend her bene- 
 volence to om* hero, who found her acquaintance very 
 convenient and eligible about three o'clock, -where he 
 had always had a strong penchant for a good dinner." 
 \Vhen he obtained his liberty, and recommenced his 
 sermons, he found himself recei\iiig se-\eral presents 
 from an anon}anous donor, whom he j)resently disco- 
 vered to be ISIrs. Robinson ; and, in retui'n, " sent her
 
 96 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 some game, of whicli he was requested to partake." 
 This contemptible chit-chat, in tlic very lowest style 
 of scandal-mongering, is worthy of no notice here, 
 beyond this significance, that it shows with what free- 
 dom the idle tongues of the day dealt with his name. 
 They were presently to be yet more busy ; for we 
 are now at the year 1777, when, for many weeks, the 
 whole kingdom shall do nothing but talk of Doctor 
 Dodd.
 
 THE FATAL BOND. 97 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTH. 
 
 THE FATAL BOND. 
 
 To his Ihing in Bucks — one of his httle benefices 
 — he had paid but four fl}^ig visits, and had preached 
 four times ; and it was remarked afterwards by the 
 inhabitants, who were seldom gratified by hearing the 
 fashionable London preacher, what a strange signi- 
 ficance there was in the texts he had chosen. When 
 the story of his fate drifted down to them from Lon- 
 don, the sennons, and the texts of the sennons, were 
 recollected, and it was thought how they shadowed 
 forth a glimpse of coming destiny. It did seem as 
 though he had some such uneasy sense hanging o\"er 
 him, when he coidd choose such a theme as this : 
 
 " Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy. A\nien 
 I fall I shall arise!" 
 
 Or, upon another Sunday, a still more significant 
 text : 
 
 " Thy life shall hang in doubt before thee, and 
 thou shalt fear day and night, and shall have none 
 assui'ance of thy life. In the morning thou shalt say, 
 
 11
 
 \)8 , A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 Would God it were eAen ; and at even tliou slialt say, 
 Would God it were morning!" 
 
 But all through his life some such mysterious sense 
 of a gloomy end seemed to oppress him. 
 
 It was now the beginning of the year, and Doctor 
 Dodd was being very hard pressed indeed. He had 
 moved to Argvle-street. He had been obliged to 
 part with his Bloomsbuiy chapel ; but in this trans- 
 action a rumoui", not to his credit, had gone abroad. 
 To the two clergymen who were treating with him, 
 he represented the value of the " concern " at over 
 five hundred a year. It was found, after the bar- 
 gain had been concluded, that it was scarcely worth 
 half that sum, and by the arrangement one of the 
 clergsanen Avas said to have been ruined. The Doctor 
 owed rent whicl^ was heavily in arrear, and the f lU'ni- 
 tm*e was ah'eady burdened with two bills of sale or 
 executions. Some heaAy "tradesmen's bills" were 
 pressing him, and he literally knew not which side 
 to tui-n. Money must be had. 
 
 There was a IVIr. Robertson in the City, a stock- 
 broker, who procured moneys on discount, and on 
 Satm'day, the 1st of February, he was surprised by a 
 visit from the well-known Doctor Dodd. The busi- 
 ness that brought him was money. The tutorship 
 and patronage of Lord Chesterfield was matter of 
 notoriety in London — it was one of the secrets of the 
 reverence with which the Doctor was regarded ; and 
 that such a wealthy and influential friend should 
 assist his old tutor was to be expected. On this oc- 
 casion the Doctor brought Arith him a bond, which 
 his noble pupil, the earl, had filled in, for fom- thou-
 
 THE FATAL BOND. 99 
 
 sand two liundred pounds, and on "which he thought 
 some money could be raised. Nothing would be more 
 natural than that the tutor should aj)j)ly for aid to 
 the pupil, or that the latter should supply it. It was 
 left with the broker, A^dlo undertook to negotiate the 
 affair. Sunday intervened, on which day the Doctor 
 preached with great pathos and effect. On Monday, 
 ]\Ir. Franco, of Fenchm'ch-street, gave a large dinner- 
 party to the popular clerg^^nan and others, and in 
 the evening the broker saw him there, and brought 
 the bond with him to report progress. A IVIi*. Fletcher 
 had been discovered in the City, who had agreed to 
 furnish the money on the terms of an annuity of 
 seven hundred pounds ; a proper warrant of attorney 
 to confess judgment had been prepared, and all was, 
 in fact, happily arranged. The bond was left with the 
 Doctor for his patron's execution ; and the next morn- 
 ing the broker attended in Ai'g}dc-street to complete 
 the business. The earl's signature had been obtained. 
 The intimacy of the two was so well known, that in 
 a pleasant, informal way the Doctor merely mentioned 
 that he had see7i him sign, and wovild now attach his 
 o^m signatm'e as witness. With the same friendly 
 irregularity the broker became another witness to tlie 
 earl's signatiu^e which he had not seen attached, and 
 took the Doctor's word that all was right. There was 
 another docmnent — a receipt of the earl's for the 
 money ; both were completed with all formality, and 
 the money was paid. There were still some scruples ; 
 but the Doctor, to quiet them, came frnmished with a 
 letter from Lord Chesterfield — a fact which in the 
 popular accounts of the case has never been meu- 
 h2
 
 100 A FAMOUS FORGEKY. 
 
 tioned. Next day the instruments were transfeiTed 
 to Mr. Manley, an intelligent London solicitor, who 
 acted for ^Ir. Fletcher, the lender. 
 
 While looking through them, his attention was 
 attracted by " a very remarkable blot," on the e in the 
 word " seven" (part of the description — " four thou- 
 sand seven hun(h'ed pounds"). There were scratches 
 of a pen, too, above and below the blot. There Avas 
 really nothing suspicious in this ; for, as the solicitor 
 frankly OA\aied, he " could see no end it would 
 answer." It was only part of the unlucky fatality 
 that pursued the Doctor. It was so odd — possibly so 
 unmeaning — that he thought he would see his prin- 
 cipal, or, at least, have a clean, ncAv bond made out. 
 However, the result of seeing the principal was the 
 more sensible conrse, which should have been thought 
 of at first — of seeing the earl himself in person. The 
 solicitor called on Thiu'sday — then " took the liberty" 
 of writing to say he would call again the folloAA-ing 
 morning. He came at ten. Lord Chesterfield met him 
 on the stairs, and said : " You have come about a bond? 
 But I have paid it long ago, and burnt it," he added. 
 This mystified the solicitor a good deal. It was then 
 explained that the earl had given a bond for five 
 hundred pounds when he was a minor, but when he 
 was of full age he had destroyed it. He added, that 
 the whole matter was secret. The solicitor, still more 
 perplexed, told him he did not understand his mean- 
 ing, and " introduced the bond in question to his lord- 
 ship." Then all was explained. The signature was 
 repudiated. The whole was a forgery — and a clever 
 forgery — both the bond and the reassuring letter.
 
 THE FATAL BOND. 101 
 
 In the mean time the lender also was a little dis- 
 turbed in his mind, and had that morning gone to 
 Robertson to say, that the annuity (seven huncb'ed 
 pomids) seemed suspiciously large in proportion to 
 the sum it was to secure. The broker was quieting 
 his mind by saying that Lord Chesterfield was to 
 repay it in a year, when Manley entered fresh from 
 Lord Chesterfield Anth news of the discovery. 
 
 The next question was what Avas to be done. The 
 money had been paid ; and the noble pupil had sug- 
 gested that, most likely, the Doctor had gone off. 
 Assuming this to be the case, they went straight to 
 the lord mayor, at Guildliall, and obtained warrants 
 against both the broker and the clerffvman — an im- 
 fortunate assumption, as well as unfortunate action, 
 founded upon that assumption. Had they gone to 
 look for Dodd first, the thing would never have gone 
 beyond a town scandal, and the Doctor might have 
 finished his life — disreputably — as a sort of loose 
 privateer parson, of Avhich there were many then 
 upon the social high seas. 
 
 With two officers and the warrant, they went first 
 to secui-e Robertson, the broker, whom they found in 
 Sir Charles Rapnond's banking-house. They then 
 set off for Argyle-street, for the Doctor. They were 
 shown into the parlour. The Avretched man came 
 down to them all aghast, and asked their business. 
 The attorney told him he " was sorry to attend him 
 upon so unhappy occasion." (So public a character 
 was the Doctor, that every one seemed to be making 
 him a})ologies through every stage of the process.) 
 He was much struck, said the attorney, and remained
 
 102 A FAMOUS FOKGERY. 
 
 silent for some time. They then asked him what 
 could have induced him to do such a thing. The 
 Doctor, not attempting any denial, said, that it was 
 ui'gent and ten'ible necessity — that he was forced to 
 meet some tradesmen's bills — that he meant no injury 
 to Lord Chesterfield, or to any one — that he meant 
 to pay all back in six months — and that he had cer- 
 tain resources — with much more in the same piteous 
 strain. 
 
 The solicitor then asked him if he had any of the 
 money to restore, as that was the only possible means 
 that could save him. He said that he had some of 
 it ; and desired to go up-stairs to fetch it. To this 
 the officers demurretl ; and it was only on the solicitor 
 going with him, and not letting him out of sight, 
 that it was allowed. TJie Doctor went to his bm*eau, 
 and, from a pigeon-hole in the biu'eau, took out six 
 bills of five hunch-ed pounds each, on Sir Charles 
 Raymond's house. That made up three thousand of 
 the four thousand two hundred pounds. He then 
 got out his banker's book, by which he tried to show 
 that some nine hundred pounds or so were to his credit 
 there ; and the solicitor said it seemed to be so. But he 
 OAAnied, previously, that he could not draw for more 
 than five or six huntbed of this sum. A cheque was 
 then filled in on the Exchange Banking Company, in 
 St. James\s-street, for five hunch'ed pounds (how the 
 imhappy Doctor's pen must have quivered as he 
 Avrote) ; and then they came doAm stairs again to the 
 parlom*. 
 
 It must have been at this time that a strange 
 chance of deliverance was pm'posely offered to him — 
 for when they were at the biu'eau, ^h: IManley left
 
 THE FATAL EOND. 103 
 
 him a moment alone. The bond was on the tahle, 
 and a bright fire was bm'ning in the grate. When 
 Mr. Manley returned, the bond Avas there still. A 
 foolish presumption of the Doctor's conscious in- 
 nocence w^as afterwards based on this forbearance; 
 but those at all familiar with criminal cases, will set 
 it down to ignorance, or the want of thong] it; or, 
 perhaps, to the hesitation of a weak mind at so Ijold 
 and dangerous a step. Certainly it was hard measure 
 to keep the bond which had been all but discharged. 
 
 It was now between five and six o'clock. The 
 Chevalier liuspini had a dinner-party that day in 
 Pail-Mall, at which the Doctor Avas to have been 
 present. An apology was sent at once. The guests 
 perhaps wondered was the agreeable Doctor ill, for 
 he was not likely to deny himself a pleasant party.* 
 But some one dropping in later in the evening, told 
 the astonished company the reason of this absence, 
 now all over the town. 
 
 Everything seemed to be done in great agitation. 
 The broker, whose position was almost as critical, 
 hurriedly drew a cheque on his own bankers for one 
 hundred pounds — the commission he had received. 
 That left just six hunch'ed pounds to be accounted 
 for. The only thing now was to see Lord Chester- 
 field — report to him this partial restitution — and hear 
 his determination. 
 
 Meanwhile, the officers and the unhaj^py Doctor 
 were to retire to the York Coffee-house, in St. 
 James's-square, and await their return. After, no 
 doubt, a sickening interval of suspense, the solicitor 
 
 * Taylor represents liim as being arrested at Kuspini's; but the 
 sworn testimony at the trial supports the vit'ws given.
 
 104 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 appeared again -witli Fletcher the lender, and a ^Ir. 
 Cony, Lord Chesterfiekl's confidential solicitor. A 
 private room was ordered up-stairs, to which they all 
 removed. 
 
 Doctor Dodd was then asked if he could give rea- 
 sonable security for the balance ? He answered, " Very 
 readily ;" that he was willing to give any in the 
 world. It was proposed that he should execute a 
 warrant of attorney to confess judgment upon his 
 goods and furniture, which, though already under a 
 distress and execution, were valuable enough to meet 
 this claim also. This document was cbaAvn out on 
 the spot — attested by Corry and Mauley. Then the 
 Doctor said he thought he could draw for a couple 
 of hundred more on his banker. " If you can," said 
 the solicitor, "it will be much better;" and this re- 
 duced the judgiiient and secimty to some four hunth'ed 
 pounds only. Things, therefore, were in a fair way 
 of being adjusted. There was hope for the wretched 
 Doctor. The thing would be accommodated. It was 
 too late that night to set him free from the officers ; 
 but to-morrow that could be arranged. ]\Ieanwhile, 
 an agitating, fluttering day was over. 
 
 All seemed to have behaved with great considera- 
 tion in this unhappy affair, and to have tried to help 
 off Doctor Dodd in every way they could ; and he 
 went to bed that night relieved by the assurance that 
 no further steps would be taken against him. But 
 what now seems to have been a %Ai-etched fatality at 
 this precise juncture, destroyed him.
 
 COMMITTED TO " THE COMPTER." 105 
 
 CHAPTEE THE SEVENTH. 
 
 COMMITTED TO "THE COMTTEE." 
 
 The next morning was Saturday morning. Lord 
 Chesterfield came dovni to Mr. Fletcher, at the bank- 
 ing-house of Sir Charles Ra}Tnond ; and a message 
 was sent over to the lord mayor, then sitting, to 
 know when he would be willing to receive them. The 
 answer In'ought back was, that the prisoner Mas then 
 actually before him. They hurried over. But the 
 lord mayor had insisted on going into the case. In- 
 deed, all parties seem to have been under some strange 
 misapprehensions about the powers of magistrates and 
 prosecutors, and to have forgotten that compounding 
 a felony is a serious offence against British law. 
 Once the process of law has been put in motion, it is 
 almost impossible, or requires infinite skill and some- 
 thing like collusion in the authorities, to check it. 
 
 The name of this lord mayor Avas Halifax. It 
 
 was said afterwards, that he had acted with violence 
 
 — certainly with haste ; and the excuse made for 
 
 him was the natural impetuosity of his tcm])er.* If 
 
 * Letter to Fletcher and Peach.
 
 106 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 he had, indeed, hurried on the matter, and deak too 
 harshly witli Dodd, there would he some excuse for 
 Lord Chesterfield. But in the heat of public excite- 
 ment these charges were shifted on to every party in 
 the affair in turn, and it was the sheerest ignorance 
 and absurdity to expect that the chief magistrate of 
 a great city could compound a charge of this nature 
 in open com't, especially in the case of so public and 
 well-laiown a character as Doctor Dodd. 
 
 The charge was entered on ; both Mr. Manley and 
 Lord Chesterfield had to give their e^■idence ; and 
 both were bound over to prosecute. This must have 
 come like a thunderbolt on the wretched prisoner, who 
 had considered his escape all but secui'e ; and he 
 made an agitated, incoherent protest to the magis- 
 trate. 
 
 " I cannot tell what to sa}' in such a situation ; I 
 had no intention to defraud Lord Chesterfield. I 
 hope his lordship will consider my case. ... I meant 
 it as a temporary resource. I have made satisfaction, 
 and I hope it mil be considered. I Avas pressed ex- 
 ceedingly for some three hunched pounds to pay 
 some bills due to tradesmen. I should have repaid it 
 in half a year. My Lord Chesterfield cannot but 
 have some tenderness for me, as my pupil. I love 
 him." (Here his tears interrupted him.) "He knows 
 I revere his honour as deai' as my honour. I hope 
 he will accord to me that mercy that is in his heai*t, 
 and show clemency to me. There is nobody wishes to 
 prosecute. Pray, my lord mayor, consider this, and 
 discharge me." 
 
 There is something wild and very piteous in this
 
 COMMITTED TO " THE COMPTER." 107 
 
 appeal. It could bring no fruit, as Mr. Manley could 
 have told him. His friends were powerless — mere 
 instrmiients in the hands of the law. 
 
 Robertson, who Avas a young man, and who, it was 
 said, behaved with the consciousness of innocence, 
 then called out : " I hope, Doctor, you ^\^\\ do me the 
 justice to declare publicly that I am nowise guilty." 
 
 The prisoner answered, " I do ! I do ! I do ! " 
 
 Fletcher, the defrauded l^anker, it was noticed, now 
 showed no eagerness to prosecute, having got back 
 nearly all his money. But though Manley insisted 
 strongly that Lord Chesterfield should be the prose- 
 cutor, the lord ma}or eventually bound over 
 Fletcher and Peach — as indeed was only legal and 
 proper — in a penalty of five hundred pounds. Thus 
 the distressing scene ended. The Doctor was led 
 away to Wood-street Compter on foot, which gave 
 the mob an opportmiity of jeering at him, and of^ 
 adding to his miseries. No wonder that when he 
 reached his prison the wretched Doctor fainted aAvay 
 several times. And on that Saturday morning, the 
 well-knoAMi Doctor Dodd, the fashionable preacher, 
 was committed to take his trial. All London read it 
 in their evening paper, and there was no seniion in 
 Bedford-street that night. 
 
 The conduct of Lord Chesterfeld all through this 
 transaction seems, at first sight, to bear out the popu- 
 lar prejudice associated with his name. When it is 
 considered that no practical injmy was done to him 
 beyond the freedom taken with his name, and when, be- 
 sides, a question arose as to taking Lord Chesterfield's 
 testimony on his oath or on " his honom'," he almost in-
 
 108 A FAMOUS FOItOEEY. 
 
 sisted on being sworn, to avoid all fear of in-egularity 
 — putting these things togetherwith the sortof promise 
 given the night before, the pupil's behaviour might 
 seem harsh and cruel. The odious celebrity which he 
 for long after enjoyed of "having hung a parson," was 
 thought to have some just foundation. The reasonable 
 explanation seems to be, that he was young, and in the 
 hands of legal advisers who thought impunity for so 
 enonnous a sum would be a dangerous precedent, and 
 encourage others to victiAiise a young nobleman. Per- 
 haps, too, he really resented the effrontery of the deed, 
 and the scandal of the transaction ; or perhaps — Avhich 
 may be the true reason — he had no real feeling towards 
 his old tutor, and their friendship only bore the 
 rotten fruit which all convivial fnendships are sure to 
 bear. 
 
 The fact is, his share in the matter was purely 
 negative. His influence might have done something, 
 and this he did not exert. Mauley, Fletcher's solicitor, 
 was the active mover in the business from beo-innino; 
 to end, even to the illegal procuring an order to bring 
 up witnesses at Hicks's Hall. It was said at the 
 time that the money-lenders Avere fui'ious at having 
 lost a bargain that was almost usuriou^s in its charac- 
 ter, being " three times the interest allowed by law," 
 and that there was a suspicious eagerness about the 
 transaction.* Lord Chesterfield's known wealth and 
 position should have told them that he was ""likely 
 to be his own banker," and unlikely to employ his 
 tutor to raise money for him. Further, to make the 
 transaction more profitable, the bills were not payable 
 * Letter to Fletcher and Peach.
 
 COMMITTED TO " THE COMPTEE." 109 
 
 until fourteen days after date, and no interest was 
 allowed for that time.* On the whole, therefore, we 
 may faiidy acquit the pupil of any important share iu 
 his tutor's ruin. Still, making every allowance for his 
 position, there are facts at this stage of the case which 
 show that he was more eager in the prosecution than 
 he need have been ; for it was remarked, when the 
 noble pupil came forward, the unhappy Doctor made 
 all sorts of signs and piteous appeals to come near and 
 speak to him, of which Lord Chesterfield took not 
 the least notice. The state of the unhappy clergj'man 
 at this stage was pitiable indeed. Pie was almost beside 
 himself, and could hardly articulate. For he must 
 have considered his escape all but certain, and it did 
 appear that some sort of engagement had been entered 
 into the evening before. 
 
 That night the story was all over London. The 
 whole town had the details. Doubting friends and 
 scoffing enemies said now that what they had antici- 
 pated had come to pass. We may get a faint concep- 
 tion of the tone of the public by imagining om'selves 
 to hear some night of the arrest and committal for 
 some crime of some popular preacher who had been 
 for years a towm attraction. 
 
 Outside, in the streets, the story was told and smig. 
 The refined Doctor and his offence came to the 
 mouths of the low ballad-singers. This shape of 
 degradation must have been carried out to a greater 
 extent than usual ; for Johnson, in one of his written 
 pleas for the Doctor, takes notice of it. The life of a 
 ballad is rarely longer than a single day ; but one of 
 
 * Letter to Fletcher and Peacb.
 
 110 A FAMOUS FOIIGEEY. 
 
 these broadsides, sung in tlie streets on this evenincr, 
 has been preserved, and may still be seen — printed on 
 the true coarse paper, and headed by a rile cut of a 
 figure with three heads, half of whose body is dressed 
 like a clergyman, the other half like a beau.* It ran : 
 
 A NEW SONG. 
 
 Dear reverend sirs, if on you I may call, 
 
 The advice that you give us is nothing at all ; 
 
 Tho' to you^ these few lines may appear somewhat odd, 
 
 Only think of the case now of good Doctor Dodd. 
 
 Who'd think that the shepherd should lead us astray, 
 When thumping the cushion and loudly would sway. 
 And tell us so gravely we all must fear God, 
 But the Devil I fear will have good Doctor Dodd. 
 
 The lambs of the Magdalen good he would teach. 
 And turn up his eyes and against sin would preach, 
 If he'd see you but smile, why he'd give you a nod, 
 The sanctitied reverend good Doctor Dodd. 
 
 But money, poor soul, led the Doctor astray, 
 Four thousand two hundred ! Good Lord, let us pray 
 That the Doctor himself may receive his reward. 
 And Jack Ketch, poor soul, tuck him up in a cord. 
 
 When before my Lord Mayor his defence he did make. 
 The tears flowed so fast he hardly could speak ; 
 Let mercy inile justice, in that you'll sen'e God, 
 So great was the prayers of the good Doctor Dodd. 
 
 Kobertson the broker here made his defence, 
 
 " Do me justice, good Doctor, prove my innocence." 
 
 " I do ! I do ! I do !" — then heaving a sob, 
 
 So penitent, truly, is good Doctor Dodd. 
 
 But for trial, alas! the good Doctor is sent, 
 
 For forgery a halter must be the event ; 
 
 For a time there we'll leave him to feast on salt cod — 
 
 May all rogues have their due, so I wish Doctor Dodd. 
 
 * See the curious Roxburgh Collection of Ballads in the British 
 Museum.
 
 COMMITTED TO " THE COMPTEK." Ill 
 
 Another of these balUicls has been preserved, and in 
 this fashion was the unfortunate man hoarsely sung : 
 
 Come let us all praj- for protection 
 
 To our gracious Heavenly God, 
 Lest we have cause for deep reflection, 
 
 Like the unhappy Doctor Dodd ; 
 Who though so great, so fine a preacher, 
 
 And once a chaplain, as they tell. 
 This reverend and learned teacher, 
 
 How alas, alas! he fell. 
 
 He forged the bond, it was purporting 
 
 To be the bond of a noble peer. 
 Four thousand two hundred pounds it mentions, 
 
 Which Doctor Dodd received were clear. 
 He paid the broker he employed 
 
 For his trouble, without doubt ; 
 And in a very few days after, 
 
 This forgery it was found out. 
 
 His yearly income, we are informed. 
 
 Was five or six hundred so round, 
 And if he could not live upon it. 
 
 How must a' curate with forty pound ? 
 But pride and luxury bring ruin, 
 
 And to the greatest misery. 
 Now this was Doctor Dodd's undoing, 
 
 And set him upon forgery. 
 
 On the 19th of February the Bench of Aldermen 
 had been applied to, to make an order to bring up 
 Robertson from Newgate, that his evidence might be 
 taken. But the City magistrates refused to grant 
 it. Later, however, Mauley's clerk came again, and 
 secretly prevailed on Deacon, who was Clerk of the 
 AiTaigns, to give him such an order. On which 
 Kobertson was brought up and examined before the 
 gi'and jury. By this unworthy artifice important evi-
 
 112 A FAMOUS FOKGEEY. 
 
 dence was secured. But when the news reached his 
 City friends on the bench, the Old Bailey was thrown 
 into confusion. The aldermen were indignant, and 
 the clerk was severely reprimanded. It was to prove, 
 however, a fortunate mistake for the Doctor, and 
 furnished him with some more weeks of life. 
 
 Indeed, all through, he was treated with the greatest 
 consideration, and rules were stretched unwarrant- 
 ably in his favour. He had friends in the Lord 
 Mayor's Court among the aldermen, who inter- 
 fered, and had the order cancelled. Much confu- 
 sion and argument was brought about by this step; 
 and one of the judges, at the trial, alluded in strong 
 language to, what he called, the "improper lenity" 
 that had been shown the prisoner, in putting him on 
 a different footing from his fellows. For it seems that, 
 with a view of sparing him, he had not been brought 
 up six days before the sessions, as the ordinary accused 
 had been. 
 
 The grand jury found the bills, at Hicks's Hall, 
 " before me," says Sir John Hawkins, with great com- 
 placency. 
 
 On the 1st of March was to be read in the papers, 
 " A Card," unmistakably his composition, and in 
 which, with his old bad taste and indiscretion, he 
 tries to appeal from the tribunal that had just dealt 
 with him. He offered thanks to all the sympathisers 
 who had thought of him in his distress ; regretted that 
 business had hitherto prevented his recei^-ing " the 
 favour of their proffered visits " at Wood-street, but 
 that noiv he would be at any time happy to receive 
 their friendly and Christian consolation. This was,
 
 COMMITTED TO " THE COMPTER." 113 
 
 in fact, a ■wholesale invitation to the to^^^^, and looks 
 like a skilful attempt to AA-iden the field of svmpathy 
 by direct personal intercourse. And, as it proved, 
 there were numbers of utter strangers who were eager 
 to avail themselves of the opportunity. " Perfectly at 
 ease," the " Card" went on, " with respect to his fate, 
 and thoroughly resigned to the will of God, he cannot 
 but feel a complacency in the striking humanity which 
 he has experienced. And while he most earnestly 
 entreats a continuance and increase of that spirit of 
 prayer which he is told is poiu'ed forth for liim, he 
 cannot omit to assui'e all avIio have expressed their 
 sympathy for him, that, conscious of the pu7iti/ of Jus 
 intention from any purpose to do injmy, and rel^-ing 
 on the full proof of that intention, by having done no 
 injury to any man, in respect to this unfortunate 
 prosecution, he fully reposes himself on the goodness 
 of his God," &c. In short, his weak, quibbling sub- 
 terfuge about the " intention to defraud," which even 
 poor as a plea at the bar of the coui't, became con- 
 temptible in a serious appeal to the comitry. 
 
 The " Card " Avas followed up by an indiscreet 
 attempt of the same class to raise s\^npathy ; and in 
 every newspaper were to be read, "Verses by an 
 unlia})py Prisoner," to this halting chant : 
 
 Amid confinement's miserable gloom, 
 
 Midst the lone horrors of this miserable room, &c. 
 
 No wonder that the tone and spirit of these clap- 
 traps were commented on hostilely, it being "highly 
 derogatory to the honour of the Almight}- to make 
 him out a peculiar favourer of criminals." And the 
 Doctor was then reminded of some home truths 
 
 I
 
 114 A FAMOUS FOKGERY. 
 
 very much to the point. Had lie tliought that what 
 he had done was forgery, which was only another 
 shape of a lie — had he tliought of the bad example 
 and scandal — had he thought of the injury he was 
 doing to a young nobleman Just entering on life, 
 when a bond to such an amount would be going 
 round the market — had he thought of the inseparable 
 injury done to the innocent stockbroker Avhom he 
 had brought to a gaol ? This was plain speaking ; but 
 still fair criticism on the Doctor's sickly appeals. 
 
 A week after, at the IMagdalen Chapel, the clergj'- 
 man who was officiating in the chaplain's absence 
 read out a paper which he said had been sent to him : 
 " The prayers of this congregation are desired for an 
 unhappy person in confinement, and under very gi'eat 
 affliction of mind." If the tears of the ^lagdalen 
 had been so ready in the latticed gallery at the 
 Doctor's sermons, how they must have flowed at this 
 significant notice. But he did not know at this time 
 what the town knew — that his pictm'e, which hung 
 in all state in the Board-room of the ^lagdalen House, 
 had been ignominiously taken down, and carried away 
 to some private place — the governors, no doubt, 
 finding it awkward to have the "gi'eat Doctor Dodd'' 
 looking downi on them as they deliberated.* 
 
 * Lady's Magazine, 1777. Was this the fine portrait of the Doctor 
 by Gainsborough ?
 
 " THE TRIAL." 1 1 , 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 
 
 " THE TRIAL." 
 
 Saturday, the 2ii(l of February, came round, and 
 Doctor Dodd was placed at the bar. The morning 
 of the sessions arrived, and the real moment of the 
 Doctor's exposure was to begin. There were crowds 
 gathered to see the show — just as crowds had so 
 often before gathered to see and hear him at the 
 Magdalen. This dreadful ordeal he had now to 
 pass through. He appeared in the dock supported 
 by his friend Weedon Butler. The judges who were 
 to try him were, Mr. Justice Willes, Mi\ Justice 
 Peryn, and Mr. Justice Gould. For the Crown ap- 
 peared Mr. Mansfield and JVIi*. Davenport. For the 
 prisoner, Cowper, Buller, and Howarth ; of whom 
 the two first were to be judges later. The popular 
 preacher was not likely to want the best assistance 
 that money could procm*e. They must ha\e felt, 
 however, that it was a desperate case, antl they could 
 rely but on the feelings of the juiy, and on a pre- 
 
 i2
 
 116 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 liminary objection. When the prisoner was being 
 indicted, lie begged leave to read a paper, and the 
 severity of those days not allowing the accused the 
 benefit of a speech from his counsel, and even 
 forcing him to open matter of legal objection, Doctor 
 Dodd proceeded to say, that as Robertson's name was 
 on the back of the bill found by the grand jmy, and 
 as that testimony had been placed before them by 
 surreptitious means, and in defiance of the order of 
 the com't, he was ad^'ised the indictment could not 
 be sustained ; and thereupon his counsel proceeded 
 to argue the legal question. 
 
 It was, wliat might be called, a " nice point," and 
 on account of the greater indulgence extended to 
 prisoners in the construction of criminal doubts, might 
 seem to offer a fair chance ; and a very spirited argu- 
 ment followed. It was evident that the counsel for 
 the defence strained every nerve to carry this point. 
 Lord Hale, and many other authorities, were quoted ; 
 and it did seem founded in justice that the prisoner 
 should not be affected by a witness who was himself 
 open to the same charge, and whose evidence, as it 
 was illegally obtained, should practically be assumed 
 not to have been before the grand jmy. ISIi'. IMans- 
 field, on the other side, in a calm and logical argu- 
 ment, disposed of the objection ; declared that it was 
 " perfectly new" to him ; that it was no concern of 
 the coui't what e"s*idence was before the grand juiy, or 
 how it came to them ; neitlier were they to weigh its 
 legality or illegality; but it was quite sufficient that 
 the bill was found. 
 
 It was then m'ged as good law, that where the
 
 " THE TRIAL." 117 
 
 bill had been fomid on the testmiony of an ontlaw 
 the indictment had been quashed. The Crown re- 
 plied that Robertson was not to be considered a cri- 
 minal, as was the outlaw. Here, however, he was 
 stopped by the comt, who said they had it in the com- 
 mitment before them, that Kobertson was described 
 as a principal. They offered the Cro^^^l to let them 
 prefer a new indictment, or else go on with the pre- 
 sent one at their peril, and have " the point saved" 
 for the opinion of the judges. By this latter course, 
 even if the prisoner was found guilty, and the judges 
 decided with him, he never covdd be indicted on the 
 same charge again — so there w^as a good deal of risk 
 in adopting it ; but so confident were the Cro^^^l in 
 this view of the law, that they elected to take the 
 chance. 
 
 It has been mentioned how he had managed to 
 attach the " City people" to him. It was not there- 
 fore siu'prising, that, after the argument had closed, 
 Alderman Woolridge stood up, and in a warm and 
 excited speech, in which we almost hear his voice 
 trembling, spoke of the proceeding as "an order 
 wickedly, fraudulently, and maliciously obtained," 
 and perhaps by something worse than all these 
 epithets. " It strikes me with astonishment," the 
 alderman Avent on ; " I know nothing of the law ; I 
 speak from what I feel in my own heart. I say, if 
 the prisoner at the bar is convicted by means of this 
 order being surreptitiously obtained, / icould not stand 
 in the clerUs place for cdl it is luortli ! I sai/, let him 
 hold up his hand and say ivhether he does not think the 
 hlood of the man at the bar icill fall upon his headP^
 
 118 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 This strange bui'st signifies something more than 
 mere displeasure at an irregularity in the court, and 
 shows how excited men's minds were about the un- 
 happy Doctor's case. No notice was taken of these 
 remarks, and the trial went on. 
 
 The Doctor was accordingly indicted in eight 
 counts, framed A\-ith tlie usual ingenious variations, 
 so as to cover all the degrees of delinquency into 
 which the offence could be tortm-ed. Mansfield 
 stated the case in a calm and temperate discoui'se, 
 opening his speech Avith an allusion to the extraor- 
 dinary degree it had been a subject of conversation 
 for the past fortnight, and exliorting the jmy to 
 dismiss all rmnours from their minds. Witnesses 
 were then called, Avhose testimony, dovetailed to- 
 gether, make up the story of the fraud just given. 
 There were some singular violations of the law of 
 e\ddence tolerated by the judges. For instance, the 
 whole of the Doctor's beha\-iom', speeches, and con- 
 fession, and admissions, on and after his arrest, when 
 no caution had been given to him, Avere received. So, 
 too, ]Mi\ Manley, the solicitor, was allowed to tell all 
 that passed between him and Lord Chesterfield when 
 he called on him — together with the earl's remarks 
 and denial of the bond. And when tliis was faintly 
 and doubtingly objected to by the prisoner's comisel, 
 the judge remarked, " Surely we have only to ask 
 Lord Chesterfield hmiself," as though it was to save 
 time. 
 
 Presently the earl was placed in the witness-box, 
 amid great sensation in the com-t, for the relation
 
 " THE TEIAL." 119 
 
 between the pupil and patron was well kno^^^l, and 
 to the great agitation of the prisoner in the dock. 
 " O, that eternal night," he ■\\Tote from his cell, 
 " had in that moment screened me from myself, My 
 Stanliope to behold ! " 
 
 But that evidence was decisi-^e. Everything A\'as 
 only too clear. The case for the prosecution closed, 
 and then Mr. Justice Perpi said, "Now, Doctor 
 Dodd, this is the time for you to make your defence 
 to what the witnesses have said." And Doctor Dodd 
 then spoke his defence — a very jiathetic and moA-ing 
 adth'ess, but which was yet, after all, no defence. He 
 said he was adA^sed that the Act of Parliament " runs 
 perpetually in that style — loith an intention to de- 
 fraucy but that in his mind there could have been 
 none such, for he had restored and meant to restore 
 what he had taken.* He had made a perfect and 
 
 * The Act under ■which the prisoner was indicted was one passed in 
 the year 1729, which made the punishment capital, in consequence of 
 the increase of the " pernicious and abominable crimes" of peijury and 
 forgery. Up to the year 1821 the succession of victims had been kept 
 up steadily, when the pimishment was commuted to transportation, 
 with some exceptions, and notably that of forging a will. And the 
 first year of the present reign was happily inaugurated by a complete 
 abrogation of capital punishment for such offences. The Act of 
 George the Second runs exactly as the Doctor pleaded, " with an in- 
 tention to defraud;" and it shows that his advisers must liave been at 
 their wits' end for an excuse, when they had nothing better to suggest. 
 The law has no means of ascertaining the secret intentions of delin- 
 quents ; it can only deal with their acts. For every criminal act 
 the law supplies a criminal intention ; and it lies on the prisoner to 
 remove this presumption by proof. Here the offence was complete, 
 and the Doctor's intention to restore the money — if it really existed 
 — would have been merely a sort of atonement, which in our own day
 
 120 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 ample restitution. "I leave it, my lords, to you, and 
 gentlemen of the jury, to consider, if an unhappy man 
 does transgress, what can God and man desire more?" 
 He then added, that he had been " pursued wnth the 
 most oppressive cruelty, prosecuted after the most 
 express engagement, after the most delusive and 
 soothing arguments''' (a curious expression) " from 
 !Mi\ Manley." Death, he owned, w^ould be the most 
 pleasant of all blessings after this place. But he 
 would be glad to live for the sake of his wife, 
 who, for twenty-seven years, had been " an un- 
 paralleled example of conjugal affection to me, and 
 whose behaviour in this crisis would ch'aAv tears of ap- 
 prohation from the most inhuman." He then ui'ged 
 that his creditors would suffer cruelly by his death. 
 All of which were idle topics, and could have no 
 effect with men wdio consider their oath, and the 
 stern duty cast upon them l)y that oath. So, indeed, 
 the judge hinted, who owned that this had been " a 
 very pathetic address." But he could scarcely pass 
 by the weakness of the Doctor s defence. As to his 
 having no intention to defraud, and a piu'pose to 
 
 might have been considered in passing sentence. A few weeks later, 
 in that absurd piece of bombast the " Prison Thoughts,"' he could ac- 
 tually reduce his legal " point" and its refutation to blank verse: 
 
 On full intention to repay the whole, 
 
 And in that full intention perfect work 
 
 Free restoration and complete: on wrong 
 
 Or injury to none design'd or wrought, 
 
 I rest my claims. 
 
 Groundless — 'tis thundered in my ears — and weak! 
 
 For in the rigid courts of human law 
 
 Xo restitution wipes away th' offence. 
 
 Nor does intention justify.
 
 " THE TRIAL." 121 
 
 make restitution, he very gently pointed out that if 
 excuses of svich a kind were to be achnitted, it would 
 be a defence for criminals of every kind and degi*ee — 
 for how could the law take notice of what was pass- 
 ino; in their minds. Doctor Dodd could scarcelv 
 answer for himself that he would have restored the 
 sum. To which the judge might have added, that 
 the restitution on which the prisoner leant so much 
 was after his arrest — a step which we may be sure 
 any detected criminal would gladly take, if it was to 
 help him. 
 
 At the close of the charge, an ingenious "point" 
 was made by the prisoners counsel. These were the 
 days when " a flaw" in the indictment was fatal. If 
 the prisoner was accused of an offence ever so little 
 differing from the one proved, he escaped. Now, the 
 indictment can be amended on the spot. It was laid 
 in the charo;e that he had forc;ed an instrument for 
 seven lumch'ed pounds annuity; but the bond pro- 
 duced to support that charge had the word seven all 
 blotted, so as to be illegible. The proof and the 
 charge did not therefore correspond. It was a bit of 
 true Old Bailey ingenuity ; and the judge admitted 
 its force, but neutralised it by telling the jury it was 
 for them to consider whether the blotted word was 
 meant to represent seven. 
 
 They retired. They were only away a few minutes. 
 In a broken voice (it was said "weeping") they 
 brought in their verdict — " Guilty ! " The scene 
 must have been very affecting. Tlie court, the 
 jury, the spectators, were all in tears. A foreigner 
 who was present received an extraordinary impression
 
 122 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 of an English judicial proceeding.* The jury re- 
 commended him to mercy ; but the judges were con- 
 strained to refuse to second the recommendation, and 
 bid them apply to the Kecorder. The miserable 
 prisoner was carried away in a crowd of sobbmg 
 friends. It howeyer brought to a close a miserable 
 day, during ■which he could not ha\e had a moment's 
 hope.t 
 
 A yet more miserable duty remained — the breaking 
 the news to the Avretched wife, Avho had sat all day 
 in a room near the court, expecting news of his fate. 
 
 * Archenholtz. He was also attracted Ijv the prisoner's noble mien 
 and appearance. 
 
 f In the ill-judged production to which allusion has Jbeen made, he 
 has courage to deal with this situation in such heroics as these : 
 
 Cheerly, my friends, oh cheerly ! All is not lost. 
 
 Lo ! I have gained on this important day 
 
 A victory consummate. . . . On this day. 
 
 My birthday to eternity, I've gain'd 
 
 Dismission from a world . . . 
 
 Ah, little thought ye, prosecutors prompt. 
 
 To do me good like this !
 
 PEISON THOUGHTS. 123 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINTH. 
 
 PKISON THOUGHTS. 
 
 Newgate ■svas then very much in the state of the 
 prison to which the good Doctor Prinii'ose was con- 
 signed. It was an abomination, and one of the 
 plague-spots of the land, though !Mr. James Hanway 
 was even then tr>dng to bring about some amelioration 
 in the condition of the prisoners. But as cruninal life 
 was then held so cheap, it was only natui'al that what 
 ministered to the support of that life should be 
 disregarded. In all the agitation of this terrible 
 change, with death hanging over his head, and his 
 ^\'ife just torn from his arms, as the horn' for locking 
 up di'ew near, on the second night of his arriNal — a 
 Sunday — how will it be supposed the ])ri8oner spent 
 his hours? In \mting vapid, stilted, unprofitable 
 bla7ik verse — the mass of Aveak, vain, ill-judged lines 
 that go to make up "The Prison Thoughts" — a 
 task he contmued steadih' for five weeks. A piece 
 which, taken with its surrounding associations, Avith
 
 124 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 its style, matter, length, and quality, makes up one 
 of the most extraordinary perfoi*mances in the world. 
 It is absolutely unique. Can we conceive a man of 
 knowm refinement and of " elegant tastes" plunged 
 suddenly into the most horrihle of gaols, Avith the 
 gallows in the distance, and the consciousness that 
 his name was in every man's mouth in London — a 
 man of epicurean sensitiveness, reduced to misery 
 under every circumstance of horror — can we conceive 
 him, not merely preserving his reason, hut sitting 
 down to scribble hmidreds of blank verses — lines of 
 the very poorest quality? It could not have been 
 mere dull insensibility ; we must, with more likeli- 
 hood, set it to the account of that old theatrical taste 
 and vanity — putting himself before the to^Aii as the 
 romiantic and persecuted Doctor, whose gentle verses 
 would be read in drawing-rooms by moistened female 
 eyes.* 
 
 * Prefixed to the MS, was found a note, dated April 23, which 
 shows clearly what his aim was : 
 
 "April 2.3, 1777. 
 
 " I began these Thoughts merely from the impression of ray mind, 
 without plan, purpose, or motive, more than the situation and state of 
 my soul. I continued them on a thoughtful and regular plan: and I 
 have been enabled wonderfully — in a state, which in better days I 
 should have supposed would have destroyed all power of reflection — to 
 bring them nearly to a conclusion. I dedicate them to God, and to the 
 reflecting serious amongst my fellow-creatures ; and I bless the Almighty 
 for the ability to go through them, amidst the terrors of this dire 
 place, and bitter anguish of my disconsolate mind ! 
 
 " The thinking will easily pardon all inaccuracies, as I am neither 
 able nor willing to read over these melancholj- lines with a curious or 
 critical eye! They are imperfect, but the language of the heart; and, 
 had I time and inclination, might and should be improved. 
 
 " But ! " W. D." 
 
 This clap-trap finish and theatrical breaking off at the word ^^But " 
 
 is truly characteristic.
 
 PEISOX THOUGHTS. 125 
 
 The old vices that shipAvrecked him all througli 
 his old life leavens this production. The cantos 
 are labelled The Trial, The Retrospect, Scq. ; and 
 everv verse furnishes a peg on Avliich to hang some 
 personal reference to his private glories. There are 
 notes that show off his erudition ; references to thea- 
 tres, pictiu'es, travels in France, deceased comedians 
 — interrupted every moment Avith unworthy appeals 
 for mercy, whining Jeremiads over his fate, and the 
 exaggerated self-laudation of ostentatious penitence 
 and com2:)lacent conversion. These " Prison Thoughts" 
 are a siu*e index of that " unsoundness" which may be 
 traced all through the pattern of his life, and which 
 threw off, even to the last lioui' of his life, those wild 
 flashy lights, which are wholly inconsistent Avith sin- 
 cere, steady repentance. 
 
 The man that could quote Milton and " my hap- 
 less ancestor Overbury," and bid the reader in a note 
 " See my Semion on the Injustice, &c." — " See my 
 Elegy on the Death of Frederick Prince of Wales, 
 Poems, p. 63," was scarcely in the overwhelmed and 
 repentant condition he professed himself to be in. 
 
 ]\Iore singular, however, were his complacent pro- 
 clamations of a virtuous life, and a boastful enume- 
 ration of all the books he had Amtten, and the 
 charities he had established. 
 
 Did he think of his novel, " Tlic Sisters," wlien he 
 said that his pen, " However humble, ne'er has traced 
 a line Of tendency immoral " ? Or did he think of 
 his confession, " My life has for some years back been 
 dreadfully erroneous"" ? More curious, too, his forget- 
 f ulness, when he proceeded to rebuke the " Men of 
 God Who crowd the levee, theatre, or court, Foremost
 
 126 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 in each amusement's idle loalJc : Of Vice and Vanity 
 the sportive scorn," — lines which, to a nicety, describe 
 himself. In the case of "aged friends" enjopng 
 youthful follies, he owns that, " with due shame, 
 and sorrow, and regret — O pardon me the mighty 
 wrong," he had sat by silent, and, with " a pitying 
 eye," left these excesses unreproved. 
 
 The view that Johnson took of the false " Prison 
 Thoughts" is quite consistent with the true and prac- 
 tical view he took of its author's case. He could 
 hardly bring himself to look at it, and it was not 
 imtil Boswell had read some portions that he gave 
 his verdict on it : "Pretty well, if you are disposed 
 to like it." "Wlien he heard some more read, he liked 
 it better. This was his toleration for the verses. But 
 he broke out loudly when he came to the Prayer for 
 .the King at the end, and to other elaborate pieces of 
 sentiment. Though he felt for the man, he scorned 
 the theatrical colouring, and the attempt to invest a 
 coarse crime ^vith a spicy tinsel of romance. " Sir," 
 he said, bluntly, " do you think a man, the night l^ef ore 
 he is to be hanged, cares for a royal family, though he 
 may have composed this prayer?" 
 
 Never did condemned prisoner meet with svicli in- 
 dulgence. From the governor, Mr. Akerman, down- 
 wards — happily a hmnane official, who was the friend 
 of many notable men in London — he received every 
 allowance short of freedom. He had a private room, 
 books, fire, and all comforts. His friends fomid 
 money, and supplied him with eveiything. But no- 
 thing could shut out the grim and terrible associations 
 of the place. Through the walls, the horrid riot, the
 
 PRISON THOUGHTS. 127 
 
 awful satiu'iialia, arising from the promiscuous herd- 
 ing together of prisoners of every shade of crime, 
 came to his ears. He becran his " Prison Tliouffhts" 
 at eight o'clock — " the horn* when they lock up this 
 dismal place;" and then, and even up to midnight, 
 was shocked and appalled by " the din of rough voices, 
 shrieking imprecations, roaring bursts of loud obstre- 
 perous laughter, and strange choirs of gutturals," 
 Avhicli w^ere heard even at midnight. The more har- 
 dened criminals had a habit of clanking tlieir chains, 
 as if in wanton defiance of autliorit}'. In .sliort, it was 
 a temble medley of horrible sounds, ch-eadful to a 
 sensitive mind. More chilling still, was the Ijooming 
 of St. Sepulchre's bell, close by, which, " by long anfl 
 pious custom," was tolled the night before an execu- 
 tion, for the purpose of announcing to criminals that 
 their end was near ; and as ^londay was execution- 
 day, this lugubrious memento was heard nearly every 
 Sunday night — a ceremony for which the charitable 
 citizen, Richard Dowe, had left a foundation.* 
 
 * Another part of this custom used to be that the " Bellman"' came 
 under the window of Newgate, as near to the prisoner's cell as he 
 coidd, and after gixan;:; " twelve solemn towles" with a little handbell, 
 repeated this quaint and solemn warning : 
 
 All you that in the condemn'd cell do lie, 
 Pi-epare you, for to-morrow you shall die. 
 Watch all and pray, the hour is drawing near. 
 When you before th' Almiglity must appear. 
 Examine well yourselves, in time repent. 
 That you may not t' eternal flames be sent. 
 And when St. 'Pulchre's bell to-morrow tolls, 
 The Lord have mercy on your souls. 
 
 Past twelve o'clock.
 
 128 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TENTH. 
 
 SENTENCE. 
 
 But now another actor was to step upon the stage, 
 and a sreat massive soul to ranffe itself beside that 
 poor, unsound, shrinking nature, overshadow it, and 
 lift it into something like dignity. But for the brave, 
 honest, manly, and even chivah'ous countenance of 
 Johnson — had not the " Grand Old Samuel" so re- 
 solutely, earnestly, and unselfishly — for the inter- 
 ference brought him no credit — lent him his strong 
 arm — the last scenes of the last days of the miserable 
 man would have lost even their decent semblance of 
 pathetic interest. Of all Johnson's many acts of 
 Christian charity, there are none we can look to which 
 show in so noble a light as this aid to the doomed 
 parson. 
 
 Hawkins says boldly that they had never met. 
 But this is incorrect. Johnson recollected perfectly 
 having been in his company once, and relished him 
 as little as he did " the man Sterne." The two na- 
 tui'es were indeed as unlikely to mix as oil and water.
 
 SENTENCE. 129 
 
 Johnson sln-ank from the flash and tinsel of the ec- 
 clesiastical macaroni. Johnson did not well recollect 
 the occasion, but he made a very great impression on 
 Dodd, who, the very next day, sent a perfect photo- 
 gi'aph of the " great moralist" to his friend Park- 
 hurst — the same who had been so impressed after 
 dinner by Dodd's soliloquy upon divine things. 
 
 " I spent yesterday afternoon," he wrote, " with 
 Johnson, the celebrated author of ' The Rambler,' 
 who is of all others the oddest and most^ peculiar 
 fellow I ever saw. He is six feet high, has a violent 
 convulsion in his head, and his eyes are distorted. He 
 speaks roughly and loud, listens to no man's opinion 
 — thoroughly pertinacious of his own. Good sense 
 flows from him in all he utters, and he seems pos- 
 sessed of a })rodigious fund of knowledge, which he 
 is not at all reserved of communicating ; but in a 
 manner so obstinate, ungenteel, and boorish, as renders 
 it disagreeable and unsatisfactory." 
 
 He little th'eamt, then, what profit, or what sort of 
 help, he was to obtain from '' the ungenteel " nature. 
 No wonder the fashionable clerg}inan was repelled by 
 the moralist's bluff manner. 
 
 The feeling that brought him to Dodd's assistance 
 is quite intelligible. With his almost morbid terror 
 of death, even under its most ordinary condition, and 
 of all that was associated with death, this snatching 
 away of a man, who seemed removed from it by sound 
 health and long years and the refinements of society, 
 must have had something horrible and appalling. 
 We can fancy his shrinking from the whole episode, 
 or thinking of it with groans and sore convulsions of 
 
 K
 
 130 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 his great figure. Aiid wlien we tliink how manly 
 and independent he was — ^liow reluctant to canvass 
 any one of rank or influence — how little he chose 
 to run the risk of being unsuccessful in any imder- 
 taking — above all, how he believed in the King — it 
 must be said that the earnest, eager way in which 
 he took up this unhappy case, makes one of his many 
 claims to that affection and respect with which we 
 regard him. But when we consider the natures of the 
 two men, as opposed as fire and water, as repugnant 
 as truth and falsehood — since he was a man whom, if 
 he had crossed his path in life, Johnson woukl have 
 scorned and exposed, and stripped of liis tinsel and 
 shams, — ^this makes the sacrifice yet more extraordi- 
 nary. Above this, aid was given with a tenderness and 
 delicacy not to be reckoned on in one who was po- 
 pularly said to be " a bear," but who had, indeed, only 
 the sldn of the bear. 
 
 It is illustrative of this morbid feeling on John- 
 son's side that he could not bring himself to -sasit 
 Dodd in his prison. To him there would have been 
 something almost appalling in the sight of a fellow- 
 creature, full of health and strength, l}^ng in a gaol 
 under sentence. With ti'uth he said, " It would have 
 done me more liann than good to himJ' Once, in- 
 deed, Dodd expressed a desire to see lura, but did not 
 press it fiu'ther. 
 
 Great hopes were entertained of the law point. Ex- 
 ertions were still being made outside — faint, however, 
 as compared with the exertions to be made later. 
 More petitions were signed. Nearly three months 
 passed over, and it came to the middle of May, Avhen
 
 SENTENCE. 131 
 
 eleven of the judges — the Chief Justice De Grey 
 being absent — met at their chambers in Serjeants' 
 Inn, and discussed the question of Robertson's evi- 
 dence. They were unanimous in hokUng that it was 
 legally admitted. 
 
 Tlie gi'ound was fast slipping from beneath him. 
 It shows how deep was the interest in the matter, that 
 on that very same day a pri^y council was held at 
 St. James's, at which Lords Mansfield, North, Hert- 
 ford, Hillsljorough, Carlisle, and othei's, with the Lord 
 Chancellor, assisted, where they debated upwards of 
 an horn' on the propriety of suffering the law to take 
 its coiu'se. There can be no question but that Lord 
 Mansfield formed a harsh and adverse opinion from 
 the very outset. This was the popular belief ; and it 
 is confirmed by a bitter newspaper remark of nearly 
 the same date, which shows him takin<>; then a strong 
 Hue of severity to the wretched prisoners who were 
 rotting away in the Thames hulks. To the same 
 privy council, Lord We^Toaouth was seen to go in, 
 caiTjdng "a bundle of petitions;" but no decision 
 was arrived at. 
 
 Never was an mihappy prisoner of such sensibility 
 to pass tlu'ough such trials. He must have suffered 
 the bitterness of death many times ; and the dramatic 
 f onus of mental tortui'e seem to ha^'e been ingeniously 
 multiplied to increase his agony. On the 14th of 
 May he was carried to the bar of the Old Bailey, 
 and again exposed to a crowded and cm'ious court. 
 The judge told the result of the argument, and that 
 he had sent for him to give liim this early notice to 
 prepare for his sentence. This was another scene for 
 k2
 
 132 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 tlie unhappy prisoner, who would only murmur a few 
 words as to his having perfect reliance on the equity 
 and wisdom of the judges. His piteous gi'oans then 
 filled the court, and when he was taken away he fell 
 senseless on the floor of the dock. 
 
 The Old Bailey sessions were now at hand, and on the 
 26th of May he was brought up to receive sentence. 
 This was to be another scene. He was asked what he 
 had to say. He faltered, tried to get out a few 
 Avords with clenched hands and streaming eyes, and 
 tottered. Then the Recorder proceeded AAdth his duty, 
 and addressed him : "Doctor William Dodd !" A 
 sensible and almost sjinpathising address, in which 
 he plainly glanced at the prisoner's appeals to the 
 public. He was glad to see this expression of sorrow. 
 "But one thinglmsh you to avoid — that is, any pal- 
 liation of yoiu' crime. From your education and 
 abilities you had no excuse. By no means, therefore, 
 go about to extenuate your offence, but prepare 
 yourself for the awful event." This was a very sig- 
 nificant hint. The miserable di"sdne beino; asked what 
 he had to say why it should not be passed upon him, he 
 delivered what was called " an animated and pathetic 
 address," written for him by the manly hand of his 
 new friend. It merely touched, very lightly and 
 judiciously, on the merits of a past life — on the 
 sudden fall— and moderately took credit for thirty 
 years passed in charity. Can Ave not hear the A'oice 
 of Johnson in this passage : 
 
 " I have fallen from reputation AAdiich ought to 
 haA'e made me cautious ; and from a fortune AA-hich 
 ought to have given me content. I am sunk at once
 
 SENTENCE. 133 
 
 into poverty and scorn ; my name and my crime fill 
 the ballads — the sport of the thoughtless, and the 
 triumph of the wicked." 
 
 It was truly Johnsonian to say he did not mean to 
 be " finally fraudulent," which expressed in two words 
 all the refinements and excuses about meaning to 
 
 o 
 
 restore the money. And with this pathetic close it 
 ended : 
 
 " Let not a little time be denied me, in which I 
 may, by meditation and contrition, be prepared to 
 stand at the tribunal of Omnipotence, and support 
 the presence of that Judge who shall distribute to all 
 according to their works, who will receive to pardon 
 the repenting sinner, and from whom the merciful 
 shall obtain mercy. 
 
 " For these reasons, amidst shame and misery, I 
 yet wish to live ; and most humbly entreat that I may 
 be recommended by youi' lordship to the clemency of 
 his Majesty." 
 
 Yet it may be questioned if these studied periods 
 of weighty English wovild have been as effective for 
 an audience, as the agitated, unprepared address fresh 
 from Dodd's own heart. But Johnson Avisely saw 
 that all was dependent on argument ; and there is 
 real skill all through these papers, in the A\ay the very 
 delicate topics are put. He was then led away (piite 
 helpless, and groaning with unutterable anguish, and 
 exclaiming in the most lamentable moanings, " Lord 
 Jesus receive my soul !" After the excitement had 
 subsided, Eliot, the foreman of the juiy, presented 
 their petition, saying that the severe course taken on 
 the day of trial had filled them with the deepest con-
 
 134 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 cern — that tliey then " retamed a wish to sen-e him," 
 but finding themselves obliged to pronounce him 
 guilty, there was no other course or hope but to im- 
 plore mercy for him. 
 
 For his assistance he "vvrote 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 siu'e, had I your 
 sentiments constantly to deliver for them, in all their 
 mighty force and poioer^ not a soid could he left tmcon- 
 verted^^ — a strain of comphment that must have jarred 
 on Johnson. He winds up by calling hun " the first 
 man of om' times."* 
 
 * As to Dodd's "point" about not being "finally fraudulent," it is 
 curious that the very subject should have been discussed at the Slitre 
 Tavern some nine years before. Bostvell: " I cannot think that his" 
 (Rousseau's) " intention was bad." Johnsox : " Sir, that will not do. 
 "We cannot prove any man's intention to be bad. You may shoot a 
 man through the head, and saj- you intended to miss him ; but the judge 
 will order you to be hanged. An alleged zcant of intention, iclten evil is 
 committed, will not he alloioed in a court oj" justice." This summary, 
 contained in a sentence or two, is far more forcible than the judge's 
 more lengthy exposition of the law.
 
 " THE UNFOETUNATE DOCTOR DODD." 135 
 
 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. 
 "the unfortunate doctor dodd." 
 
 From this time his life became, as Walpole put it, 
 "a series of protracted horrors." It was more a 
 flmny and a fever than a hfe ; and in this fever tlie 
 sands of life were fast slipping away. Nor was this 
 agitation inside the prison only ; the whole conntry 
 was in a fennent. Monster petitions were presented 
 from various sovu-ces. 
 
 The Methodists, to whom he was not thought to 
 be partial, took up his case vnth extraordinar}^ eager- 
 ness; a petition was drawn up by Johnson — "one of 
 the most energetic compositions ever seen," says 
 Hawldns; conceived in a tone of lowly contrition, 
 prajdng for mercy for " the most distressed and 
 "WTetched of your Majesty's subjects, William DodcV^ 
 
 The petition was engrossed upon a large sheet of 
 parchment, in an exquisite specimen of caligi'apliy, 
 by " Tomkins, of Sennon-lane," one of the most 
 famous penmen that ever lived. He made his way to
 
 136 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 the Doctor's cell, and offered these charitable sendees, 
 such as they were — which were gratefully accepted. 
 The poor Doctor was, indeed, likely enough to be 
 gi'ateful 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 talk- 
 ing over the great subject, Mdien Cipriani and Mor- 
 timer 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.* 
 
 The petition was taken round. Everybody can- 
 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 inde- 
 fatigable. A boy long recollected three gentlemen 
 coming round Soho with the roll of paper and ink- 
 horns, collecting names. These were the elder She- 
 ridan, Dudley Bate, and Dr. Kennedy.! They called 
 on Home 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 re- 
 markable 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 jwry, who 
 
 * Angelo's Memoirs. f Ibid.
 
 "the unfortxjnate doctor DODD." 1o7 
 
 prayed his Majesty " to consider that he is truly dis- 
 tressed at fincUng the Doctor included in the dead 
 list." It was called the petition of the gentry, mer- 
 chants, and traders of London. Siu'ely, 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 WTote 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, out- 
 side, 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 throuo;h. Aliout this time ^Ir. Wil- 
 liam A^^oodfall received an earnest api)eal from him, 
 requesting a visit at the prison. Thinking that this 
 had reference to the insertion of some paragraph in
 
 138 A FAMOUS rOEGEET. 
 
 his Morning Chronicle, lie set off, with some reluctance, 
 however. On entering, he began "s\ith embarrassment 
 the usual platitudes of condolence, but was at once inter- 
 rupted by tlie Doctor, who said lie 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 JVIi*. 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 Mi'. Akemian, the keeper 
 of the gaol, had just told him of the arrival of the 
 order for execution. Naturally, he endeavom-ed to 
 divert the prisoner's mind from so unsuitable a topic ; 
 but the Doctor turned the matter off repeatedly, 
 sapng, "O, they %\'ill never hang me." Much re- 
 lieved at this business-like proposal, the printer agreed 
 with alacrity, and took it away ^^atli him. He, later, 
 suggested a few alterations, which were adopted. It 
 f omid its way to Mr. Harris, of Covent Garden, where, 
 no doubt, it perished by fire, ■ndth others of greater 
 merit, but not so ciu'ious in origin.* 
 
 Even from the gaol we get hints of that old un- 
 soundness of life ; and while writing those complacent 
 blank paneg}i*ics of himself and his vu'tues, he re- 
 ceived a strange appeal from Toj)lady, the ^letho- 
 dist, which is very significant : " Reverend Su-," it 
 ran, "believe me when I assm*e 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 Bto[iraplda Dramalica, article " Sir Roger de Coverley," and 
 Tayl or's Recollections.
 
 "the unfortunate doctor dodd." 139 
 
 the liberty wliicli I now take, neither from want 
 of tenderness nor of respect," and then he proceeds to 
 
 recal to Doctor Dodd's mind a certain " Mrs. G , 
 
 whose circmnstances are considerably reduced and em- 
 barrassed, through the unsuspecting confidence she re- 
 posed in your veracity, justice, and honour^ He con- 
 jm'es him pathetically, " by eveiy sacred and moral 
 consideration, not to depart this world without repay- 
 ing as much of that iniquitous debt as you possibly 
 can. I say," he goes on, "before you depart this 
 world, for it is but too well understood that there is 
 not a smgle ray of hope from any one quarter of your 
 avoiding the utmost effect of that terrible sentence 
 which impends." He then hinted at the Doctor's 
 supposed employment of "writing notesto Shakspeare," 
 a rumom' which may have arisen from his being busy 
 with the " Prison Thoughts."* 
 
 The "iniquitous debt" was clearly a breach of 
 trust of some kind ; whether it was ever discharged, 
 we have no means of knowing. 
 
 Years and years before he had known Eomaine, 
 the popular " minister," and had been assisted by him in 
 his Hebrew studies. When the Doctor rose in the 
 world, he told Eomaine that he would be glad to 
 see him privately at his house, but that he hoped 
 not to be acknowledged by Romaine in public. An 
 acquaintance on such terms was naturally declined. 
 Now, a friend coming from Newgate, met Romaine 
 near the Old Bailey, and they began to talk of the 
 prisoner. Romaine said he was som' to hear Dodd 
 
 * Toplady's "Works.
 
 140 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 was visited by all " sorts of liglit and trifling })eople." 
 The other, mucli hurt, refuted the charge, though it 
 is to be suspected there was some truth in it, on 
 which E-omaine promised to \dsit Dodd. He was 
 afterwards asked if he " who knew so much of the 
 human heart" thought Dodd a real penitent ? and he 
 replied, " I hope he is a real penitent, but there is a 
 great difference between saving and feeling ' God be 
 merciful to me a sinner.' " 
 
 Allowing a little margin for the intolerance with 
 which a man like Romaine would look on a man like 
 Dodd, and -wdth the versified penitence of the " Prison 
 Thoughts" before us, this seems about a just xiew of 
 the prisoner's state of mind. An admiring lady friend 
 of Romaine's said that the sentiment ought to be put 
 in letters of gold. 
 
 Inflammatory pamphlets were printed, addressed 
 personally to the prosecutors — Fletcher and Peach — 
 and abusing them in unmeasured terms. One of 
 them concluded: " On the whole, if Dodd be hanged, 
 you must allow me the liberty of supplicating your 
 God to receive his soul, and by a reforaiation in the 
 manners of his smwivors to render them deserving of 
 His mercy." 
 
 Never was there such an absorbing topic of con- 
 versation. He was a friend of a certain good but 
 odd Doctor Kennedy, who was the friend of Foote, 
 Sterne, and Garrick. For this gentleman Gains- 
 borough had painted a fine picture of a fashionable 
 Black who was then the town talk, and it is a sHght 
 evidence of Dodd's power of attracting friends, that
 
 " THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOE DODD." 141 
 
 Doctor Kennedy presented tins pictiu'e to the Duchess 
 of Queensbeny, in the hope of getting her to forward 
 his friend's interests. Now, at this crisis, he exerted 
 liimself afresh. ^^Hien the petition came to be signed? 
 he Avent round and canvassed all his friends. In 
 short, at every house the conversation came round to 
 that one topic, and the tone of the conversation was to 
 that one chant, " Poor Doctor Dodd." * 
 
 Yet, those who could not reach him personally, 
 contrived to reach him in another way ; and the un- 
 fortunate man was persecuted by a flood of letters of 
 a "most unchristian, horrid, and cruel nature," pom*ed 
 in on him without ceasing, and yet signed, " A Clu'is- 
 tian," "A Lady," or " A Christian Brother." Officious 
 zeal prompted other appeals to him " to be con- 
 verted." The only one of this class that seems to 
 have been acceptable, were the really affectionate 
 appeals of Miss Bosanquet, one of his old friends 
 and admirers, and whose letters were really kind, 
 thoughtful, practical, and consolatory'. 
 
 * In the old Newgate Calendar is given a portrait of the Doctor as 
 he appeared " writing his Prison Thoughts." The dungeon is the true 
 stage dungeon : he has on enormous fetters, and a pitcher of water is in 
 the corner. The Doctor fared very differently.
 
 142 A FAMOUS FORGERY, 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. 
 
 THE convict's ADDRESS. 
 
 From this time forth, he was to be spoken of as 
 " the unfortunate Doctor Dodd," everj^vhere, in con- 
 versations as well as in newspapers — a title, Sir J. 
 Hawkins remarks, in one of his very few just obser- 
 vations, which contributed a good deal to send abroad 
 a false idea of his situation, as though he had been 
 altogether the \dctim of . circumstances. The name 
 filled the air. He was the universal subject in club, 
 coffee-house, and drawing-room. It was mentioned 
 with commiseration. 
 
 The town appears to have ranged itself on the two 
 sides,' and to have taken the question up with the 
 heat and fury of partisanship. Nothing illustrates 
 this better than the tone of the little Memou's, which, 
 both before and after his end, went fluttering into 
 the air; those against him conceived in a bitterly 
 hostile and, considering the season, almost indecent 
 spii-it; those for him, in a smooth and exaggerated
 
 THE convict's addeess. 143 
 
 paneg}TL'ic, ludicrously untrue, representing his whole 
 life as one growing ciUTent of virtue and charniino- 
 piet}\ These were, to some extent, the justification 
 of the former class, for there ■s^'ere numbers who 
 knew how false the pictm'e was, and that his life 
 could not be t'\\dsted into that of some pious Methodist 
 minister, whose good deeds and sapngs were to be 
 published for the ecUfication of the faithful. As an 
 instance of this oily euphuism, his success as a good 
 " dra"\ving " preacher was thus accounted for : " Hence 
 the beauty of hohness appears so enticing in a young 
 man, and whenever he preached the church was 
 crowded." Iii the same fashion his early indiscre- 
 tions were varnished over, or rather wholly ch'opped 
 out, and he appears, during the awkward season of 
 his early London escapade, and during the time he 
 was busy embodying scenes from a wild life in his 
 novel, as a sort of virtuous and overworked cm*ate. 
 
 It was a proof of his favour in the City, when the 
 Com't of Common Council met expressly to consider 
 the propriety of petitioning for him. In this assembly 
 there Avas about the same division of party as there 
 was outside. Deputy Jones pleading his cause in a 
 most pathetic speech, showing how the good he had 
 done outbalanced any evil, and introducing secreta- 
 ries to the various charities as witnesses in his favom*. 
 Alderman Woolridge, vnth. good sense, questioned the 
 propriety of the course they were taking as quite un- 
 jjrecedented, though he added he heartily wisliod him 
 all mercy. To whom a Deputy Fisher ingeniously 
 replied — taking a truly " City view " of the matter — 
 that there could be no impropriety in the matter, as
 
 144 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 the forgery laws were made sanguinary purj^osely for 
 the commercial world. Hence the}', as representing 
 the City of London, the very heart of commerce, 
 might fairly ask for lenity. The petition was adopted 
 finally, though with reluctance. 
 
 This application was prepared by Johnson, though 
 he afterwards seemed to complain of their having 
 " mended it." * 
 
 One of the great subjects of conversation outside 
 was the behaviour of Lord Chesterfield. It was 
 believed he could have saved his tutor; and cer- 
 tainly in those times, when a rich and influential 
 nobleman could do much that w^as illegal, it seemed 
 likely that some method could have been found 
 to check the law's progress. It is hard for us 
 to know, at this distance of time, what could have 
 been done; but it has been sho^^^l that he Avas all 
 but helpless in the matter. The public made no 
 
 * Strange to say, the City petitioners marvellously improved the 
 composition, both in sense and force, as will be seen at a glance, by 
 comparing a passage or two. Johnson wrote. " and we have reason 
 to believe has executed his ministry with great fidelity and efKcacy ;" 
 which, besides the uncertainty of the assertion, is a little too general. 
 For this the " menders" substituted the more forcible, " which in many 
 instances has produced the happiest effect." Johnson wrote, " that 
 he has been the first initiator, or a very earnest and active promoter of 
 several modes of useful charity." Meaning to convey with nice logical 
 accuracy that he had founded some charities, and forwarded others 
 which he had no share in founding. The common councillors removed 
 the uncertainty of the disjunctive, substituting an " and." They in- 
 serted an humble " encouraged by your Majesty's well-known cle- 
 mency," substituted " not an unworthy object of pardon" for " not 
 unfit object," and pruned down many of Johnson's correct but clumsy 
 " thats."
 
 THE convict's ADDRESS. 145 
 
 such allowance ; and liis share in the proceechnor 
 was long recollected. When he said, jocularly, to 
 the well-known Colonel Berkeley, who had had 
 several encounters on Hoimslow Heath, "Berkeley, 
 how long is it since you shot a highwayman '? " the 
 other replied, promptly, " How long is it since you 
 hung a parson ? " * Seven years later he was named 
 ambassador to MacWd ; set off, and stayed nearly two 
 years in the country romid Marseilles, ch-awing his 
 salary all the time. This job caused loud complaints. 
 He, however, was a gi-eat favomite of the king's, 
 having "pleasing and lively manners," which, per- 
 haps, he learnt from his luckless tutor. To improve 
 this royal intercourse, he actually for years gave up 
 his fine seat at Bretby, and took a little i)lace near 
 Windsor. He lived into the year 1815. 
 
 On Friday, Jvine 6, was witnessed, in tlie chapel 
 of Newgate, a very strange spectacle, and one of a 
 very tragic significance. The convicts were all 
 gathered there; and from the pulpit a sermon was 
 delivered to them by a clergyman who was himself 
 a con^-ict — and a condemned convict. It must have 
 been an awful and deeply impressive sight. And 
 indeed we can conceive that nothing could have more 
 weight, or have been more profitable for the aban- 
 doned miscellany of convicts about him, tluin some 
 earnest words adcbessed to them from one who was 
 adcU-essing them, as it were, half way out of his 
 grave. A truly sincere penitent woidd lune eagerly 
 
 * Tliis story was told long ago by Wraxall, who bad it from Colonel 
 Berkeley, through Lord Sandwich. He is now contirraed by Colonel 
 Berkeley's son, Mr. Grantley Berkeley. 
 
 L
 
 14G A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 seized on the opportunity. But it looks as tlioug;li this 
 hajiless Dock! had ckitched at it only as another 
 possible plank to wliich he might chug, and get 
 to shore. Johnson was made to write the sermon.* 
 It was then carefully altered, pruned, and added to, 
 in Newgate — and even furnished with notes ; for the 
 truth was, it was intended to be preached, not to the 
 miserable comdcts in the gaol, but to the great London 
 congregation outside. All this looks like some of the 
 old theatricals ; but still, in such dark and desperate 
 straits, it is hard to deal severely with liim. Very 
 shortly " The Convict's Address to his Unhappy 
 Brethren" (a melodramatic title) was published, and 
 greedily read. 
 
 Great hopes were now begmi to be entertained, 
 and not without reason. At times his fate did seem 
 to rest on, Hterally, the tm*n of a card. It was 
 debated many times. The kmg could not make up 
 his mind. Walpole represents Lord Mansfield as play- 
 ing a most malignant part. It was artfully put, as a 
 question between that th'eadful and dangerous en- 
 tity, " the people" and the royal power. The people 
 were gromng very daring, and this looked like 
 pressure. It was said, even before the judges had 
 given their opinion, he had declared that the law 
 should be carried out. 
 
 * Johnson began verj' strikingly, " You see uith -n-hat confusion I 
 now stand before you. No more in the pulpit of instruction, but in the 
 humble seat with yourselves." Dodd, however, weakened it by in- 
 truding a passage preceding it. He also added "notes" — a shape of 
 his almost incorrigible vanity. Johnson was naturally proud of a com- 
 pliment of Miss Porter's: "When I read Dr. Dodd's Sermon to the 
 Prisoners, I said Dr. Johnson could not make a better."
 
 THE CONYICT S ADDEESS. 147 
 
 It has been popularly said that the king had de- 
 clared that if he pardoned Dodd, he would have con- 
 sidered that he had murdered the Perreaus — two 
 forgers who had been executed the year before. This 
 was actually imputed to Johnson, which was impro- 
 bable on the face of it ; but with more likelihood was 
 said by Hawkins to have appeared in a newspaper. 
 
 It had now come to June. The time was drawing 
 on. The exertions were being redoubled and made 
 witli almost frantic ardom*. In the second week of 
 this month the Recorder " made his report to his Ma- 
 jesty of such prisoners as were lying under sentence 
 of death in Newgate — viz. Doctor Wilham Dodd and 
 Joseph Harris." It is a hon'ible testimon}^ to the 
 barbarous code of the times, that Joseph Han'is's 
 offence was the robbing of a stage-coach passenger of 
 " hvo half guineas and about seven sJiillings." But no 
 one seems to have ever dreamt of interfering for the 
 life of luckless Joseph Harris. 
 
 On the 15th of June the pri\y council assembled, 
 and deliberated for the last time on the case of the 
 several prisoners. A final decision was at last arrived 
 at : and it was to be read in the Londijn pa})ers of 
 that evening that a warrant had been made out for 
 the execution of Doctor Dodd, on Friday, the 27th. 
 
 l2
 
 148 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. 
 
 THE PREROGATIVE OF MERCY. 
 
 There is reason to believe that it was Lord Mans- 
 field who really decided the question of Dodd's fate. 
 It was the popular impression, and it was, besides, 
 exactly the view that we shoidd ex])ect a man of such 
 rigid constitutional views as he entertained, to take.* 
 Walpole, too, had heard it on good authority; and 
 Wraxall had been told of it by one who was ac- 
 tually present at the council. Walpole had heard 
 that he had " indecently" declared for execution be- 
 fore even the judges had given judgment. The story 
 went that the king had been long midecided and irre- 
 solute, then had finally tiu'ned to the Chief Justice 
 and had asked his opinion, and on finding that he was 
 against mercy, had taken up the pen A\'ithout a word 
 and signed the dreadful paper.f Dodd himself had 
 
 * Lord Campbell, in his Lives, passes over Mansfield's share in this 
 transaction -without a word of notice. 
 
 f In ordinary criminal cases there was no regular warrant signed, 
 and the judge merely wrote in a column opposite the prisoner's name
 
 THE PREROGATIVE OF MERCY. 149 
 
 an instinct of this fatal influence, and on the 11th 
 of June got Johnson to addi'ess him a pathetic letter, 
 signed, "Your lordship's most himible suppliant, 
 William Dodd.* This pathetic appeal had no effect 
 on the cold heart of the Chief Justice. 
 
 And here in this place naturally arises the ques- 
 tion — which in those times arose and was debated 
 with such heat and eagerness — Should the king have 
 spared Dodd ? Taking the case in all its bearings, 
 the temptation, the little injury that was done, his 
 profession and station, Ave may safely come to the 
 conclusion that he would have been a fit object for 
 royal mercy. Not but that it might have been 
 forcibly ai'gued that the bloody code of those days 
 required at least impartiality in its administration ; 
 and it must not be forgotten that the very sessions at 
 which Dodd was tried, a wretched man was sentenced 
 to death for washing a halfpenny over to make it pass 
 for a shilling, and a woman to be burnt in the hand 
 for assisting in the same offence ! 
 
 The bloody code, as then achninistered, was marked 
 by indecent haste and carelessness ; frightful mistakes 
 arising out of that carelessness ; a cold-blooded in- 
 difference in those in authority, and revolting Ijut 
 
 the words (not even at full length) " sus. per col." This little memo- 
 randum was all the authority the sheriff had to act on, for taking 
 away a man's life. It is characteristic that at this time, in matters 
 of distraint, or anything affecting the Uikiny away of property, the law 
 actually bristled with points, and the nicest scrutiny was made into the 
 question of authority. Human life was far cheaper. 
 
 * It is in the same key as the other letters. It escaped Boswell, 
 Croker, and other commentators on Johnson's writings, and is only to 
 be found in Archenholtz's Travels.
 
 150 A FAMOUS FORGEKY. 
 
 natural callousness on the part of the convicted. It 
 has been said, indeed, and accepted generally because 
 said so often, that this severity actually frustrated its 
 o-w^i end, and that jui'ies used to acquit from a disin- 
 clination to send men to death for such light offences. 
 But this accounts for but a small margin, and we 
 need only look at the newspapers of the time, and 
 the epitomes of the bloody work of the circuits that 
 found their way into magazines, to see what a whole- 
 sale judicial butchery went on. " We hanged," says 
 Mr. Philips, " for eveiything — for a shilling, for five 
 shilluigs, for forty shillings, for five pounds, for cut- 
 ting down a sapling." A young woman of nineteen, 
 whose husband had been pressed, and who had been 
 starving in consequence, took up a bit of coarse Imen 
 on a counter, and laid it down again when she was 
 noticed ; and for this was hung with her child at her 
 breast. ReacUng of such horrors and not interfering, 
 with what equity could the king have yielded to 
 influential pressure and spare the life of the gen- 
 teel clergjTiiau who had forged a bond of such 
 large amoimt? 
 
 Yet we cannot think there was any thought of the 
 man who washed over the shilling, and who only made 
 one of the doomed herd who were carted away to 
 Tybuni of Monday mornings. The king, indeed, 
 said, " If I pardon Dodd, I shall have mui'dered the 
 Perreaus" — wealthy traders in Dodd's owai station, 
 who had been executed for forgery also, a year or 
 two before.* 
 
 * This royal argument has been often commented on as weak. But 
 there is really some force in it. If the reasons against mercy -vrere as
 
 THE PKEEOGATIVE OF MEKCY. 151 
 
 But the truth was, there was a popuhu" agita- 
 tion abroad, and a sort of chimorous pressiu'C, 
 which, it being now only a few years before the re- 
 vokitionary times, seemed a little alarming to the 
 advisers of the Crown. It was action on the part 
 of the people, which at that time, however constitu- 
 tional, was looked upon as dangerous. There can be 
 little doubt — especially considering Lord Mansfield's 
 share in the matter — that this was the motive that 
 guided the issue. Something, too, must be placed to 
 the account of that stubborn purj)ose and almost 
 mulish obstinacy of the " great George" the Third, 
 which broke out in dealings with his ministers, and 
 in dealings with his chikben ; and which, perhaps, 
 made him resist, because every one was appealing to 
 him to give way. Exactly twenty years before an 
 admu'al had been hanged to " encourage the others," 
 and it was now almost a pity that general criticism 
 on Dodd's approaching fate could not be compressed 
 into another and as happy a saying of Voltaire's. 
 
 This, " the most amiable prerogative of the Crown," 
 as Blackstone calls it, might indeed have been fairly 
 exercised. It would have been gracious, for there 
 was, as Johnson put it, a general desire that the 
 prisoner's life should be spared. 
 
 It was exactly the sort of case where the king might 
 indulge himself with the luxury of forgiA'eness, which 
 the law allows him, as an almost arl)itrary ])ri\ik'ge. 
 Tliis is the true view of this ])rerogative ; namely, its 
 being a jjersonal act of the scnxn'eign's ; and it is in 
 
 strong in one case as in tlie other, and Dodd was spared, it ■would cer- 
 tainly liave scarcely au iiniiartial air.
 
 152 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 this ^^ew tliat the Recorder of London had to report 
 to the king the names of all the prisoners under 
 sentence, and had " to take his pleasure" thereon. This 
 power, which is quite intelligible, has gradually been 
 delegated to the Home Secretaiy, who exercises an 
 irregular and utterly anomalous jurisdiction ; review- 
 ing trials, altering sentences, and becoming, in fact, a 
 sort of " Cassation Judge ;" only a cassation judge 
 who has had no legal training, and is bound by no 
 precedents or fixed procedure. We can see what a 
 distortion this is of the " amiable prerogative" granted 
 to the king. The question is too long to be entered 
 on here ; but the true course would be to establish a 
 Court of Criminal Appeal, who would do in a legal 
 and regular way what the Secretaiy of State is 
 allowed to do so illegally and irregularly, and restore 
 to the sovereimi the more limited but oracious exer- 
 cise of his old prerogative. 
 
 The distinction may be illustrated by an instance 
 or two. At the sessions when Dodd was tried, was 
 found guilty and sentenced to death a Spaniard who, 
 in a fit of frantic jealousy, had stabbed his mistress. 
 Supposing the existence of a proper Couii; of Criminal 
 Appeal, the course would have been as follows : Had 
 the evidence been circumstantial, and there had been 
 doubts as to whether it supported the verdict, an 
 appeal could have been made to the Criminal Court, 
 and a new trial ordered. Was the case considered 
 murder, but yet under circmnstances of some allow- 
 ance, the appeal could have been to the " gi-acious" 
 feeling of the king, who might have pardoned or com- 
 muted. Thus there would be two distinct provinces.
 
 THE PEEEOGATIVE OF MEECY. 153 
 
 Thus the cases of Kirwan and Jessie ^lachichlan 
 would not have remained monuments of incon- 
 sistency in oiu' criminal annals. If there had been 
 such a court, the grave doubts as to the weight of 
 the e\'idence that convicted them, might have been 
 taken there, examined by skilled men famihar Avith the 
 true tests of evidence, and accepted or rejected as 
 they deserved to be. And we would not have had a 
 wild jm'isdiction interposing to save the accused from 
 death, by an interference utterly illogical. The whole 
 lias, in short, gi'own into a tribunal that is both secret 
 and incapable (because luiinstructed) — about two of 
 the worst qualities that could infect any earthly 
 tribunal. It is mere accident that has saved the ad- 
 ministration of criminal justice from (Usgi-aceful en- 
 tanglement. 
 
 Suppose, in the recent case of ^liiller, some really 
 gi'ave e^'idence in his favour liad been brought to 
 light after his conviction — so important as to require 
 serious investigation, yet not conclusive as to the 
 point of guilt or innocence — how does this irre- 
 gular tribunal act? Call in the aid of the judges 
 Avho tried the case — as was actually done. But how 
 are they entitled to re-try a case which should pro- 
 perly go to a jury ? And supposing that they report 
 that the evidence is of importance on the side of the 
 accused, the tribunal of the Home Office will have 
 either to gi-ant a free pardon — to which the convict is 
 not entitled — or, which it will most probabl}- do, enter 
 into a compromise with him and commute the sen- 
 tence to penal servitude. This is, in fact, the un- 
 worthy device by which the system is at present saved
 
 154 A FAMOUS FORGEEY. 
 
 from exposure. Some doul)t arises after the trial ; 
 the prisoner cannot be pardoned, and is too glad to 
 be let off with a mitigated punishment, unmerited if 
 he be legally innocent, and too light if lie be guilty. 
 In the recent cases of Wright and of Townley, the 
 same remark might have been made as was made by 
 the king in the case of Dodd and the Perreaus. 
 
 But a case still more in point is the recent one of 
 Dr. Smethm-st, who, it will be recollected, was found 
 guilty of poisoning Miss Bankes. Substantial evi- 
 dence turned up after the trial, the weight of which 
 seriously affected the verdict. In a civil case, how 
 would such a matter be dealt with? A conditional 
 order for a new trial would be applied for and gi'anted ; 
 later, the conditional order would be argued, the 
 matter investigated by several judges, the csidence 
 carefully weighed, and finally a new trial granted. 
 But in Smethm'st's case — a case regarding life and 
 death — a Home Secretary, a layman, goes tlu'ough 
 all these processes himself. True, he has assistance, 
 and calls in the aid of the judge who tried the case, 
 and these two authorities take on themselves the 
 unconstitutional dut}^ of re-trying the case and 
 settmg aside the verdict of a juiy. True, the 
 kmg can pardon or mitigate pmiishment, and this ap- 
 pears to be done under cover of his authority, but the 
 king cannot do what is done by tliis process, overhaul 
 the proceedings of a com-t — ^Aveigh evidence, and set 
 aside a verdict because agamst evidence. He may 
 extend mercy, because the case is what is called " a 
 hard one," because there are "extenuating cu'cimi- 
 stances," but not because he thinks it should he tried 
 different I II.
 
 LAST DAYS. 155 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH. 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 The miserable wife had a room in Ludgate-liill, so 
 as to be near her husband. She came to him eveiy 
 day. Every night, after he was ordered for execntiou, 
 he used to write her a letter. She was a true comfort 
 in these days of horror. The house in Ai'gyle-street 
 had been seized on and almost wrecked under the 
 bills of sale. A gentleman who Hved till lately, 
 recollected being present at the auction of the fm'ni- 
 ture, and found the ch'awing-room table piled up with 
 letters, lying open there, signed by the most famous 
 names of the day.* These were sold with the 
 " elegant French wines" which were such a feature 
 at the Doctor's entertainments. 
 
 Even at this stage we see the mihappy man busy 
 with what seems his old intriguing, and though his 
 " Convict's Address" was said to have displeased the 
 Methodists, they to the end made unusual exertions 
 in his behalf. He received the religious assistance of 
 
 * Taylor.
 
 156 A FAMOUS FOEGERY. 
 
 a Moravian minister ; and it does almost seem as 
 though he were in some sort bidding for the enormous 
 Methodist interest outside, by coquetting a Httle with 
 their doctrines. 
 
 Up to this moment there had been great liope. A 
 belief had got abroad that he would not be included 
 in the order. The crowd of well-meaning friends 
 buoyed him up with the assurance that it was almost 
 impossible. One, even more cruelly injudicious than 
 the rest, had accepted a false rmnom* without inquiry, 
 and had written offering sincere congi'atulations on 
 his pardon, obtained through the interest of the 
 Prince of Wales. At every stage, sufferings seemed 
 to be gratuitously accmnulating for him. The night 
 before the list of those " ordered for execution" arrived 
 at the gaol, he passed in a very miserable condition. 
 He was full of anxiety to know the result. Next 
 morning the " friends" came to break the news gently 
 to him; but mth a natural instinct he stopped them, and 
 said he read the whole in their faces. He afterwards 
 told the ordinary that it Avas only during these last 
 tlu'ee days that he had really been persuaded to enter- 
 tain any hope — that is, from the receipt of the letter 
 about the Prince of Wales — Ijut that from the very 
 first he had looked on himself as a lost man. On the 
 Sunday morning he complained, as he lay in bed, of a 
 pain in his side, and the ordinary asked what it came 
 from. He replied "with something of pathos, " Lethalis 
 arundo ! and a deadly arrow indeed ! " 
 
 To the end Johnson proved himself the true 
 friend. As soon as the fatal warrant was signed, 
 he took the trouble of obtaining, through his friend 
 ]SIi\ Chamier, an exact account of the disposition of
 
 LAST DAYS. 157 
 
 the Court, and what real chances there were of even a 
 respite. This letter, whicli, tlioiigh unfavoura1)le, was 
 to be depended on, he had sent to the condemned. 
 He had worked wliile there was hope, and a cliance of 
 hope. Now there were but a few days left, and it 
 was charity and true kindness to let the prisoner con- 
 centrate his thoughts on a more suitable suliject. 
 
 Johnson had done all he could, but there was more 
 required from him. It was Sunday, June the 22nd, 
 and the terrible day, fixed for Friday, was drawing 
 on rapidly. Johnson had gone down to Streatham, and 
 was sitting in the Thrale pew of the little church of 
 that place, his mind perhaps wandering away to the 
 miserable prisoner up in London, when a letter was 
 hurriedly brought in to him, dm'ing the serWce, Avhich 
 he read as hurriedly, and then left the church. He 
 said afterwards, himibly, that he trusted that he 
 shovild be forgiven, if he for once deserted the service 
 of God for that of man. It would be only a Pharisee 
 — and there was found such a Pharisee — that could 
 bring him to task for such a dereliction. 
 
 The letter was an agitated letter, written that very 
 morning by the miserable prisoner, and sent down by 
 express to Johnson. It is in a tone of prostration — 
 almost of despair. "If his Majesty," it said, pite- 
 ously, " could be moved to spare me and my family 
 the horrors and ignominy of a public death, Avliich the 
 jmhlic itself is solicitous to waive, and grant me in 
 some distant, silent corner of the globe, to pass the 
 remainder of my days in penitence and prayer, I 
 would bless his clemency and be humbled." Johnson 
 went home, and wrote a letter to the king — a well • 
 AATitten document ; but, like all the rest, fatally be-
 
 158 A FAMOUS rOKGEKY. 
 
 traying the hand that wrote, and the head that 
 dictated. It ended in the same sentiments with 
 which Dodd had written to Johnson, only Johnson 
 put " to hide my guilt in some obscure corner of a 
 foreign country," instead of that, " silent, distant 
 corner of the globe." After all, a simple letter from 
 the prisoner might have been more efficacious than 
 this vicarious entreaty. Part of it ran : 
 
 " Sir, — May it not offend your Majesty that the 
 most miserable of men applies himself to yom' cle- 
 mency as his last hojae and last refuge from the 
 horror and ignominy of a public execution." And he 
 then forcibly alludes to " the spectacle of a clergy- 
 man dragged through the streets to a death of in- 
 famy, amidst the derision of the profligate and the 
 profane." This was skilfully adapted to appeal to 
 the royal mind.* 
 
 With this letter he sent a wholesome caution, 
 which yet reflects his honest s;y^npathy and goochiess 
 of heart. 
 
 " Sir, — I most seriously enjoin you not to let it be 
 at all known that I have written this letter, and to 
 retmni the copy to Mi*. Allen in a cover to me. I 
 hope I need not tell you that I msh it success. But 
 do not indulge hope. Tell nobody." 
 
 He had interpreted truly and sagaciously the Kttle 
 signs of mercy. 
 
 But this true and manful ally went yet fm'ther. 
 
 * Boswell, ill his incomparable Biography, has given a list of all 
 Johnson's contributions to this unhappy case.
 
 LAST DATS. 159 
 
 We kiiow him to have been full of a rough, sturdy 
 pride, which made him always disinchned to ask 
 personal favoui's, especiall}' where a poor chance of 
 success would bring with it the mortification of a 
 refusal. But he did not scruple to sacrifice all jDer- 
 sonal feeHngs. He actually brought himself to write 
 an application, in his own name, and signed with the 
 well-known "SA3I. Johnson," to Mr. Jenkinson, 
 then Secretar}-at-War, begging his interposition — a 
 very short letter, but a ver}^ close and admirable 
 letter, in which he urged the topics he had put 
 forward in the newspaper article ; and it will be seen, 
 by a single dramatic expression, hoAV forcibly he could 
 put it. One motive he m-ged was that he was " the 
 first clerg}^Tnan of oui* Church who has suffered public 
 execution for immorality ; and I know not whether it 
 would not be more for the interest of religion to bury 
 such an offender in the obscurity of perpetual exile 
 than to expose him in a cart, and on the gallows, to 
 all who, for any reason, are enemies to the clergy." 
 This was well put, in days when the ciy was, that 
 there were many such enemies abroad. And he added 
 to it another weighty motive. " Supreme power," he 
 said, " has in all ages paid some attention to the voice 
 of the people ; and that voice does not least deserve 
 to be heard when it calls out for mercy. There is 
 now a very general desire that JJodcVs life slumld be 
 spared. More is not wished ; and, perhaps, this is 
 not too much to be granted." 
 
 He was naturally reluctant to make this personal 
 appKcation, but he said later, that ^hen Dodd was on 
 the scaffold he would say to himself, " I would not
 
 160 A FAMOUS FOKGEKY. 
 
 have been here, if lie had written ;" and then added, 
 a httle vehemently, " Sir, I could not hear the 
 thought of thaty He could not ; for with that great, 
 feeling heart, the idea of a fellow-man suffering 
 through some moral omission of his, was indeed 
 agony. 
 
 Ml*. Jenkinson was Secretary-at-War — scarcely the 
 proper source of mercy to apply to. That letter was 
 never noticed. Perhaps, it was thought " an intru- 
 sion," as Johnson put it in his letter ; but it does not 
 seem likely ; as Mr. Jenkinson (later becoming Lord 
 Hawksbmy) ■v\Tote in his " polite answer" to Boswell, 
 that it never reached its destination. That noble 
 person said, he never received it ; which, however, 
 may be read, that he never recollected receiving it. 
 
 It was now the very last day before the execu- 
 tion. In the morning he said to the ordinary, " What 
 a dreadful day of trial was before him, as he had to 
 go through the parting with his wife." 
 
 ;Mi'. Thicknesse pinade his way in to visit him, in 
 the stream of "friends." Justly he says, that the 
 wretched man " suffered a thousand deaths" before he 
 died. He found ^Ii's. Dodd there, delirious, and in a 
 fever. The prisoner, himself, had not closed his eyes 
 all night, on accomit of the crash of fetters being mi- 
 riveted, for the execution of some criminals in the 
 morning. " Every blow was a shock." He had got 
 Thicknesse to go to Lord Orwell to get his signa- 
 ture. But that nobleman, who was glad to have the 
 fashionable clergjanan to dinner, declined to have 
 anything to do with him, noAv that the bhght of
 
 LAST DAYS. 161 
 
 Newgate liacl settled on him — a truly characteristic 
 trait. 
 
 I wonder, on this occasion, did that curious passage 
 in his early novel occur to him, which seems an anti- 
 cipation of his own fate ? " The time for his execu- 
 tion is fixed He applied to all those great 
 
 friends .... and begged them to use all their in- 
 terest in his favoui'. One of his friends, more espe- 
 cially mth whom he had lived in great esteem, gave 
 him the severest shock. In answer he received the 
 following letter .... 'It surprises me, that you 
 have the confidence to make any application to me, 
 when you well know that I am perfectly con\-inced you 
 deserve the fate you are about to suffer^ " xVlmost 
 the answer Lord Orwell gave. 
 
 The " friends" were still exerting themselves. As 
 the interval narrowed, the expedients grew more des- 
 perate. A thousand pounds were easily got together ; 
 and, it is said, his gaoler's fidelity was tempted with 
 this large sum ; but ^Ii\ Akerman declined it.* Dimng 
 his last days, a man hung about the gaol with five 
 hundred pounds in his pocket, seeking to gain over 
 some of the meaner officials. But a yet more difficult 
 plan was then laid out. 
 
 There was a Mrs. Wright in London about this 
 time, very cunning in wax modelling, and of some 
 reputation in that art. She told Mr. Thicknessc how 
 she had actually modelled Dodd's head, and " carried 
 it to him under her petticoats." The plan offered some 
 favourable chances. The room was large and long. 
 
 * Johnson and others confirm this story. 
 M 
 
 I
 
 162 A FAMOUS FORGEEY. 
 
 There was always a stream of friends coming and 
 going, and it did seem feasible to dress up a figui-e in 
 the Doctor's clothes, place it at the table, with his 
 " large hat flapped down over his eyes." The keeper, 
 who would look in at the door, would be quite satisfied. 
 But Doctor Dodd, it was said, had not the intrepidity 
 to carry out the scheme (and it did require intre- 
 pidity) ; and, what is a more honourable motive for 
 not adopting it, was afraid of compromismg the gene- 
 rous governor. Mi*. Aterman, who had shown him 
 great indulgence, and relaxed the prison rules. But 
 the truth was, the chances were too desperate, and 
 an escape after the pattern of Lord Nithsdale, only 
 thirty years before, was not to be so readily compassed. 
 It was accordingly given up. 
 
 As I have said, a stream of friends kept pouring in 
 and passing out, comforting, planning, talking, so that 
 the unhappy man had small opening for the serious 
 thought his situation requii'ed. This excitement, it 
 is to be feared, to his very end, buoyed him up with 
 the hopes of a reprieve — he being shut out from the 
 world, with powerful agencies reporting to him 
 every hour lioio they had been at work. He was 
 shocked and overwhehned when he was told that 
 there was in truth no hope. But in a short time he 
 recovered himself and beha^■ed ^vith calmness. Yet 
 horrors only seemed to gather. Mrs. Dodd's sister, 
 "Eleonora," had actually sunk mider the wearing 
 anxiety. Yet the friends continued to come and go 
 to the very end, eager to see, to comfort, possibly to 
 talk, certainly to distm'b.* Those well-meant offices 
 * It suggests very forcibly the last hours of Palmer.
 
 LAST DAYB. 163 
 
 must have kept liim in a perfect tumult, and hindered 
 him from getting ready for the tremendous ordeal 
 before him. 
 
 Dm-ing this last day he wrote a farewell letter to 
 his faithful Weedon Butler. 
 
 " As this is the last letter you are likely ever to 
 receive from me, I have taken a large sheet of paper 
 . . . Oh, pray for me, my friend, in the last dread 
 scene ! I am all weakness and imperfection ! May 
 the Lord Jesus vouchsafe to support and strengthen my 
 feeble soul. . . . On Friday, my friend, my beloved, I 
 shall be no more ! Weej) my sad fate, and with tender 
 affection remember that you knew a man once, by 
 God's love, the happiest that could be in His blessed 
 ser\ace, but who, seduced by the world and sin, 
 plunged into woe as bitter as ever was experienced on 
 earth. Adieu! Adieu!" 
 
 It was now come to the Wednesday, and at mid- 
 night of that day, perhaps the first disengaged mo- 
 ment he could find, he sat doAVii and wTote a few lines 
 to Samuel Johnson, dated June 23, midnight. 
 
 ^^ Accept," it ran, " thou great and good heart, my 
 earnest and fervent thanks and prayers ;" and then 
 alludes pathetically to having sought his knowledge 
 at an early horn' in life. " I pray to God most sin- 
 cerely to bless you with tlie higliest transports, and 
 admitted, as I trust I shall be, to the realms of bliss 
 before you, I shall hail your ai'rival there with trans- 
 port, and rejoice to acknowledge that you were my 
 comforter, my advocate, and my friend. God be 
 ever with you ! " 
 
 That morning Johnson had sent him the following 
 m2
 
 1G4 A FAMOUS FOKGERT. 
 
 letter, admirable, as it seems to me, for its brevity, for 
 its Aveight, and for its words of true comfort ; and, in 
 truth, worth pages of the common-places which an- 
 other — as well meaning, perhaps, but who did not 
 know the human heart so well — might have written : 
 
 " Dear Sir, — That which is appointed to all men 
 is now coming upon you. Outward circumstances in 
 the eyes and thoughts of men are below the notice of 
 an immortal being about to stand the trial for eternity 
 before the Supreme Judge of heaven and earth. Be 
 comforted : your crime, morally or religiously con- 
 sidered, has no very deep dye of turpitude ; it cor- 
 rupted no man's principles ; it attacked no man's life ; 
 it involved only a temporary and reparable injuiy. 
 Of this and of all other sins you are earnestly to 
 repent, and may God, who knoweth youi' frailty and 
 desireth not our death, accept your repentance, for 
 the sake of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 
 "In requital of these well-intended offices which 
 you are pleased so emphatically to aclviiowledge, let 
 me beg that you make in your devotions one petition 
 for my eternal welfare. 
 
 " I am, dear Sir, yoiu* affectionate servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 We almost hear these manly practical words. Let 
 us think, too, how delicately he moderated his own 
 strong sentiments, without at the same time any 
 delusive flatteries — for there was no one who thought 
 so awfully of the terrors of death and the tremendous 
 responsibilities it brought with it. There is even an
 
 LAST DAYS. 165 
 
 artful topic of comfort suggested in the first sentence, 
 as though what %Yas coming on Dodd was onh- a 
 httle in anticipation of what was coming on all. 
 
 There were people who had the hardihood to bring 
 Johnson to task for the charitable close of his letter. 
 The criminal, on receipt of it, put it into his wife's 
 hand, and charged her never to part with it ; for this 
 Avas now his last day, and she was come to take leave 
 of him. 
 
 To the very end the stream of friends kept pouring 
 in and pouring out. To the very last, hope was kept 
 fluttering before his eyes. Towards night, however, 
 he took the opportunity of justifying the king and 
 his councillors, and called his friends to witness that 
 he did not in the least blame them for the decision 
 that had been arriA'cd at, and which he was sure was 
 conceived in a spirit of justice. He then lifted up 
 his hands and prayed for the king. 
 
 The well-meaning but intrusive Thicknesse found 
 his way in even at this sacred moment, and de- 
 scribes with much natm'al pathos a scene of dreadful 
 anguish — his parting with his wife. "A situation," 
 he says, " not to be described or conceived." " I 
 walked up to them," he goes on, "and found their 
 hands locked in each other's, and their minds 
 as much departed as if they had both been dead. 
 Plainly perceiving that they neither saw me nor one 
 another, I quitted the room. At that moment," he 
 adds, " I coveted sovereign power." Others who saw 
 the same dreadful scene, say that she coidd just 
 murmur, " God give me strength to bear this !" and 
 fainted off into a dead swoon. Going home, he wrote
 
 1G6 A FAMOUS FOKGERY. 
 
 the Doctor a letter containing some proposals " such 
 as no rational man would have given ;" and received 
 this reply, which is even now almost distressing to 
 read, and which seems actually to reflect agitation 
 and despair : 
 
 " Dear Sir, — I am just at present not veiy well, 
 and incapable of judging. I shall communicate your 
 kind paper to my friends. Many thanks for your 
 attention. I rather think it would do hurt, and be 
 deemed a mob. 
 
 " Void's in great misery^ 
 
 " W. D." 
 
 Yours in great misery ! This was his last day, and 
 yet the friends were coming and going, distracting 
 him with plans. A terrible day. Outside, the exer- 
 tions went on. Toplady, a Methodist preacher, was 
 putting up public prayers for him ; and a Methodist 
 woman actually got close up to the king's carriage 
 window and poured in a volley of imprecations for 
 his inhumanity. On this day, too, was seen a 
 man — the man with the five hmidi'ed pounds in his 
 pocket — skulking about the gaol trying to coiTupt the 
 gaoler ; but there was no hope. But a wild scheme 
 for the day of execution had been thought of, and 
 planned. 
 
 His friends stayed with him until veiy late, some 
 of them comforting him with the old " common form" 
 of comfort, that it was " a wi'etched world," and 
 the lilce. " No, no," said the wretched prisoner, " it 
 has been a very pleasant world to me !" "I respect
 
 LAST DAYS. 167 
 
 him," said Johnson, "for thus speaking the truth." 
 "Sir," he said later, in his forcible way, " Dodd would 
 have given hoili his hands and both his legs to have 
 lived" He was, indeed, hungering and thirsting after 
 life, and it was growing sweeter to him as it was 
 growing shorter. Later the friends departed — the 
 last night of life ended for him. He went to rest — 
 and slept.* 
 
 * " Of all states upon earth none is so distracting as that of sus- 
 pense : how dreadful are tfie long hours of expectation." Thus wrote 
 Doctor Dodd in his novel, many years before.
 
 168 A FAMOUS FORGEEY. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH. 
 
 THE PROCESSION. 
 
 It was now the morning of Friday, the 27th. When 
 they went to call the hapless criminal, he did not at first 
 recollect what was to take place, and presently, on its 
 coming back upon him, suffered the most cbeadful 
 horror " and agony of mind," becoming outrageously 
 vehement in his speech and looks; but, on lea^dng 
 the chapel, his face was seen to exhibit the greatest 
 calmness and composure. 
 
 Mr. Villette, who filled the dreadful ofiice of " Or- 
 dinary of Newgate," attended on him, together with 
 the chaplain of the Magdalen, ^Ir. Dobey. The 
 friends who had been there the preceding night also 
 appeared upon this occasion ; and all moved on to the 
 chapel. In the vestry they met the other criminal, 
 who was to suffer also — Harris, the youth convicted 
 for the " two half sovereigns and some silver," and 
 who had attempted suicide in his cell. Him Doctor 
 Dodd addressed with " great tenderness and emotion
 
 THE PEOCESSIOX. 169 
 
 of heart" on the heinousness of his offence, and begged 
 that the other clergjanan might be called in to assist 
 in moving the heart of the poor youth. But "the 
 Doctor's words/' says one who stood by, "' were the 
 most pathetic and effective." All who looked on were 
 greatly affected, and shed tears. 
 
 Coming from the chapel, he prayed aloud for his 
 friends ; then said to some one near him : " Now, my 
 dear friend, speculation is at an end; all must be 
 real." It was now half-past eight, and they were 
 waiting for the officers. He bid his friends, avIio were 
 all weeping round, j)ray for him ; to Avhom they said, 
 " We pray more than language can utter." 
 
 The Doctor was now gently told that he must 
 submit to being bound ; but he looked up and said, 
 " I feel I am free : my freedom will be there." In 
 this last act, we may accept all his behaviour as 
 natural, genuine, and untheatrical. Even the men 
 apologised to him for their duty ; but he thanked them 
 heartily for their consideration. The miserable Harris 
 was utterly overcome, and it was noticed that his 
 limbs had got all distorted. 
 
 He was offered assistance as they crossed the yard, 
 but he declined it with " seeming pleasure." " No," 
 he said, " I am firm as a rock." Then they j)assed 
 out at what was called "The Felons' Gate," through 
 which the malefactors always left the gaol to ascend 
 the fatal cart. 
 
 The deep bell of St. Sepulchre's had been booming 
 out solemnly from seven o'clock. In the press-yard a 
 crowd of respectable persons were waiting; and by 
 nine o'clock the mihappy Doctor, with his fellow-
 
 170 A FAMOUS rOEGEEY. 
 
 sufferer, Harris^, made his appearance. He was in 
 deep black, and in a large full-bottomed wig. At 
 what was called the " Little Gate of Newgate," that 
 looked into the yard, an inunense crowd was gathered 
 of a more indiscriminate sort, from whom the tmii- 
 keys levied a shilling each for the short glimpse they 
 were to have of the criminals. But nothing could 
 have been more decent than their behaviour. There 
 was not a dry eye there, but the name of the Chief 
 Justice was said to have been often heard. 
 
 It was now a quarter past nine. From an early 
 hour all London had been astir. Tens of thousands 
 had come in from the coimtry to see the spectacle. 
 With the lower class of workmen, " hanging days," as 
 they were coarsely called, even on common occasions, 
 were always taken as holidays ; and customers press- 
 ing to have orders executed hurriedly, were reminded 
 of this. Among the "bucks" of higher rank it had 
 become a favom-ite sensation. Selwyn's craze is AveU 
 kl^o"s^^l — a taste, too, that was shared by Tliomas 
 Warton the poet, and the Duke of Montagu, some 
 of whom Foote, in his rude joculai-ity, called " The 
 Hanofine Committee," Amono; a less distinguished 
 class, it was common to meet at " The Rainbow," in 
 Bedford-row, and notably at " The Shakspeare," to 
 make up little pleasant parties to sit up all night and 
 go and see the " hanging" next morning. A strange, 
 almost brutal, sensational fancy, but quite in keepmg 
 with the savage tone of manners of the time. 
 
 The hapless Doctor's last procession was about to 
 begin. This, too, was another stage of the barbarity;
 
 THE PEOCESSIOX. 171 
 
 for lie was to be led alono- slowly a distance of three 
 miles, all through London, to Tybm-n. A crowd of 
 the sturdier ruffians waited round "The Felons' 
 Gate" to see him ascend his carriage, and these were 
 to be his attendants to the end ; for they put their 
 strong thews to profit, and took pride in keeping their 
 place through the whole journey. 
 
 The Doctor was allowed to £>;o in a mom'nme- 
 coacli with four horses, a favour accorded to the 
 more respectable criminals.* Hams was placed in 
 a cart draped with black baize. With the Doctor were 
 Villette, the Newgate ordinary, who had seen scores 
 of these ceremonials ; Mr. Dobey, the clergyman ; 
 and Leapingwell, the sheriff's officer. After tliem 
 came a hearse and four, containing a wliite open 
 shell. Then it began to move. Even under a great 
 flapped hat which he wore, his "corpse-like"' ap- 
 pearance was noticed by many. During this time he 
 scarcely spoke, but kept his eyes shut, tiying to medi- 
 tate. The chaplain was saymg prayers beside liim, 
 when he broke out veiy naturally, that it was very 
 hard that mankind should not be more merciful. lie 
 
 * The Perreaus had been thus indulged, as was also Eyland the en- 
 graver a little later, and the Eeverend Mr. Hackman, who shot Miss 
 Ray. It is surprising that Boswell was not present at this execution. 
 He had been at the Perreaus' trial and execution, and had made ac- 
 quaintance with the notorious Mrs. Rudd, who had figured so con- 
 spicuously in that affair. He was at Ryland's, and had seen many 
 convicts of a more common description at Tyburn. Shortly aftor Dodd's 
 death, he actually secured a place in the mourning-coach with Hack- 
 man and the clergyman, and travelled with him all that dismal route 
 from Newgate to Tyburn. This is a feature in Boswell not yet noted.
 
 172 A FAMOUS FOKGERY. 
 
 added presently, however, " Why should my fleshy 
 heart repine at death ? " 
 
 Can a more terrible pageant be conceived than that 
 funeral, as it were, of the living, trailing by slowly 
 past the Old Bailey, through Newgate-street, Snow- 
 hill, and Holborn, and into Oxford-street — for we 
 have the whole details of the day from one who was 
 actually present, and who stood in Mr. Langdale the 
 distiller's window, with Abel and Bach the musicians, 
 and saw it go by. 
 
 All along that three miles the whole of London 
 was out in the streets, waiting and expectant. The 
 authorities were scared by the popular feeling, and 
 two thousand men were kept dra'uii up in Hyde Park, 
 ready for an elnergency. Every window was open up 
 to the roof, and eager faces filled every window, look- 
 ing out. There was a fever of expectation and a 
 roar of voices. Then the crowds were seen coming 
 — specially the strong ruffians, who had begmi their 
 march at "The Felons' Gate," heading the dismal 
 progress, and gathering as they came; and the 
 lugubrious mom'ning-coach moving along slowly; 
 and the cart behind it, on which was the other 
 criminal. As it passed, a glimpse was seen of the 
 ^^Tetched Doctor within, whose face, of a " ghastly 
 and sepulchral" paleness, struck every spectator. 
 People in the windows sobbed aloud. But the 
 strangest effect is described to have been, when, "^dth 
 a decorous respect, ten thousand hats were swept from 
 ten thousand heads ; and the strange, chameleon-like 
 change of the seething, floating mass from darkness 
 to light and whiteness, struck one who was looking
 
 THE PEOCESSION. 173 
 
 down from above. What contributed, too, to the tragic 
 effect, was the father of the other convict, who sat 
 on the cart and supported his son's head on his hip, 
 and whose gi'ey hairs and streaming eyes moved every 
 heart, and, it is said, even diverted sympathy fi'om the 
 leading sufferer. 
 
 Opposite St. Sepulchre's they stopped, according to 
 old custom, to hear some solemn words from "the 
 Bellman" — exactly as William Griffith, the highway- 
 man wdiom Doctor Dodd had convicted, had stopped 
 not long before. 
 
 Here the miserable Harris quite fainted away, so 
 that water had to be brought to recover him. " The 
 Bellman" then did his office, of which the other 
 seemed quite insensible, and his cart moved on to give 
 place to the mourning-coach, and to the AATetched 
 Doctor at its window. Nothing more touching or 
 more effectual can be conceived for producing a 
 fitting tone in the crowd, or even in the criminal, 
 than this exhortation. This also was devised by the 
 charity of Master Robert Dowe. "The Bellman," 
 stepping forward and ringing his bell, thus adcbessed 
 the unhappy Doctor : 
 
 " All good people, pray heartily unto God for these 
 poor sinners, who are now going to their death, for 
 whom this great bell doth toll. 
 
 " You that are condemned to die repent witli la- 
 mentable tears ; ask mercy of the Lord for the sal- 
 vation of yoiir soids though the merits, death, and 
 passion of Jesus Christ, who now sits at the right 
 hand of God, to make intercession for as many of 
 you as penitently return unto Him.
 
 174 A FAMOUS FOEGEEY. 
 
 " Lord have mercy upon you ! Christ have mercy 
 upon you ! Lord have mercy upon you ! Christ 
 have mercy upon you ! " 
 
 When he came to the close of this touching appeal, 
 " Lord have mercy upon you!" Doctor Dodd wrung 
 his hands bitterly. With a strange want of decency, 
 the old churchyard had been built up with Avooden 
 Stands, and was blackened over with human figures, 
 who looked on at this dismal spectacle. 
 
 Then they moved on again. At St. Giles's the 
 block became tremendous, and they had to stop often. 
 It must have been an agonising pilgrimage for the 
 chief actor, whose "corpse-like face," says one who 
 saw it, was framed, as it were, in the mourning- 
 coach window. No wonder he said that he would 
 gladly have died in the prison yard. He prayed all 
 the way. They had actually to pass by his foraier 
 house — the one in Pall-Mali, where he took in his 
 genteel pupils — and it affected him greatly. At last 
 it all ended, and they were now at Tyburn. 
 
 Johnson had written an address for him, a sort of 
 contrite confession, Avhich Avas to have been read at 
 the gallows ; but, owing to the enormous crowds, who 
 would not have heard a word of it, it was AA-isely and 
 decorously omitted. 
 
 They were more than two hom's reaching the place, 
 and the scene there was yet more exciting.
 
 TYBUBN. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 TYBURN. 
 
 From eight o'clock it had been crowded. All 
 the house-tops that commanded a view were covered. 
 The windows were filled. The trees — and there 
 were many trees then in Tybiirnia — were literally 
 loaded with human beings. Huge galleries — erected 
 by a notorious speculator, the wife of a cow- 
 keeper, and kno\\ai popularly as " Mother Proctor's 
 Pews" — grew up the day before, like a stand at a 
 race-com'se, and furnished an excellent view of the 
 dismal show. Places here brought high prices, and 
 it was said that at Earl Ferrers's executioii o\er five 
 hmidred pounds had been cleared by the "Tyburn 
 Boxes." Others, of humbler degree, paid a shilling for 
 standing room on a cart. 
 
 In Hogarth's plate of the Idle Api)rentice's execution 
 we have the whole scene — the mom-ning-coach, with 
 the chaplain's face in the window ; the loaded trees, 
 and the open country, where fashionable streets now
 
 176 A FAMOUS FOEGEKY. 
 
 cluster tliicklj; and even Mother Proctor's Boxes, 
 built of rude timber, with men at the top letting off 
 pigeons. Here are the women and their babies, the 
 ballad-singers selling the "Last Dying Speech," 
 printed the day before ; and the cart, shaped like 
 a two-wheeled Pickford's van, with the officers in 
 front. 
 
 On the top of an unfinished house close by 
 were seen Charles Fox and the Abbe Raynal.* 
 There was much impatience, as the procession was 
 delayed. Just before it arrived — as if to throw an 
 air of burlesque over the unhappy prisoner's suffer- 
 ings — a sow got into the enclosed space, and was 
 baited after the usual fashion, its distress causing 
 roars of laughter in the crowd. 
 
 At last, the head of the procession came in sight. 
 From the loaded trees, from the carts, from the 
 Tyburn Boxes, the roar of voices and excitement 
 became tremendous. Sheriff Thomas led the way, 
 and after him the City marshals and mounted con- 
 stables ; then the mourning-coaches slowly debouched. 
 
 Selwyn, that notorious amateur, was, strange to 
 say, not present ; but he had friends who knew his 
 taste, and who fm'nished the fullest details. Storer, 
 one of the "svild, unprincipled set who were his 
 friends, had a good place, and obsen^ed every^thing.f 
 To this hlase man of fashion, who thought the whole 
 
 * See " Love and Madness," p. 102. Sir Herbert Croft, the author 
 gives his honour for this fact. 
 
 f This taste of Selwyn's, for which a " morbid fancy" is too lenient 
 a term, was questioned seriously some years ago, but has been perfectly 
 well established.
 
 TYBUEX. 177 
 
 performance very insipid, we owe a sort of pliotogi-apli 
 of the proceedings. 
 
 The weather had been variable all the raorninfr, ^ 
 strong wind being abroad, with heavy showers coming 
 on every now and then. The ghastly ceremonial 
 then began. Harris was speedily despatched ; then 
 the moui'ning-coach di'ew up closer, and the Doctor 
 descended. 
 
 Every eye was turned on that gliastlj- face, seen 
 under the hea^y broad-brimmed hat, " flapped down" 
 so closely all over his face. Mr. Storer was quite 
 near, and said he seemed stupid from despair ; but a 
 constable, a better judge in such matters, who told 
 the whole story to Lord March, said he never saw a 
 man behave better.* It was told, also, how earnestly 
 he prayed; but, adds this fashionable scoffer, who 
 was writing at Almack's, and in a hmiy to get to 
 Ranelagh, " that was in his profession." 
 
 As he appeared on the fatal cart a hea\y shower 
 came down. Under the gi'eat flapped hat his eyes 
 were never lifted, and the corpse-like face was turned 
 to the gi'ound. He was heard praying aloud for his 
 wretched self and for his more wretched wife. The 
 clerg}-men prayed with him ; but it was noted how 
 one, ^Ii'. Dobey, was deeply affected, while the other, 
 Villette, hardened to his office, was "perfectly in- 
 different and unfeeling in everything he said and 
 
 * Several spectators — besides the reporters of newspapers — have left 
 accounts of what they saw. Storer was in the " Tyburn Boxes;" 
 Angelo, the fencing-master, at Mr. Langdale's, the distiller's ; and 
 Archenholtz, a Prussian traveller, was at Tyburn. They all agree 
 ■wonderfully. 
 
 1 ^
 
 178 A FAMOUS FOKGEEY. 
 
 tlid." * There seems to have been no limit to the 
 indulgence of time, and this praying, and instruc- 
 tions, and preparation, went on for nearly an hoiu' ; 
 so that the people gi'ew very impatient, and were 
 eager for what they had come to see, to begin. 
 
 The executioner now drew near, and put the rope 
 about his neck, which he himself assisted in adjust- 
 ing ; but he still kept on his broad flapped hat and 
 wig. Suddenly a gust came and blew it off, and a 
 murmur went round as the corpse-like face was ex- 
 posed to a full gaze. He was a little embarrassed, 
 but resumed his praying when it was restored to 
 him. Another spectator remarked the almost piteous 
 bui'lesque in the fitting on of the nightcap. Even 
 the tenderest, it was said, could not but be sensible of 
 this impression.f 
 
 Now at last the moment was come, and the un- 
 happy man was making his final preparations. Even 
 at this awful moment everything seemed to go 
 wroncr. He took off his great hat, and with it came 
 his wig, which the executioner gave liun back, and 
 which he put on $ and took off again. He then took 
 
 * Archenboltz, who was a stranger, tells a story of this heartless- 
 ness of the ordinary. Villette worked his experiences of Dodd's last 
 moments into a pamphlet (on every copy of which he wrote his 
 name), which was sold enormously for his own benefit. But a more 
 significant act of his, was the publication, only a year before, of the 
 Newgate Calendar, with " virtuous" and " improving" reflections 
 attached. (See Appendix VII.} 
 
 f Sir Herbert Croft. Though this account is thrown into the form 
 of a novel, the details may be accepted as accurate. " Every guinea 
 in my pocket," says the writer, " would I have given that he had not 
 worn a wig ; or that, wearing one, the cap had been bigger." 
 
 X " Why he put on his wig again," wrote Storer, " I know not."
 
 TYBUEN. 179 
 
 out a cap, and tried to fit it on, but found it too 
 small, and had to get aid. The truth was, the poor 
 wi'etch scarcely knew what he was doing. A sort of 
 ghastly smile was seen on his face as it was fitted to 
 his head. He prayed with extraordinary intensity, 
 and took leave of his friends. Just before he drew 
 the cap down on his face he gave money to the execu- 
 tioner, and it was remembered afterwards that he had 
 whispered him very earnestly. This was thought 
 to be an in j miction to put him out of pam speedily, 
 by hanging on his legs, and thus shorten the struggle. 
 But the huiTied instructions were in a very different 
 spirit. Even now, at the end, a dismal, ghastly will- 
 o'-the-wisp of a hope Avas to flutter over his dying 
 agony, and he was to die Avith a faint and horrible 
 possibility that after all he might be saved. For the 
 hangman had been gained by a large bribe, and he 
 had adjusted the rope in some way by which it was 
 believed it would not press so much on the throat; 
 and the Doctor had been cautioned not to stir or 
 struggle if he could help it. 
 
 The cart now moved away. For a second there 
 was an awful silence. Then there was heai'd a sort 
 of prolonged gasp, or hissing, as of air drawn in 
 between many teeth.* There was heard the sliarj), 
 
 The quiet and perfectly genuine manner in -which the London rake 
 writes of the whole husiness, as a sort of bore which he was enduring 
 for the sake of his friend, is truly characteristic. " I stayed till he 
 was cut down : and could not conceive an execution with so few inci 
 dents." Lord March intended going, but was too late; "though I 
 believe," he adds, " from what I have heard, the Doctor would have 
 been very glad to have waited for me." This wild company had their 
 jest at everything. 
 
 * " This was done so universally at the fatal moment, that I am 
 
 n2
 
 180 A FAMOUS FORGERY. 
 
 sudden scream of a woman, as tlie dark figure SA\Ting 
 in the air. At such a moment how was he to think 
 of those last private instructions or avoid strugghng. 
 After about two minutes all was over, and the hapless 
 man hung motionless. 
 
 But this was not to be the end. A sort of ghastly 
 mystery was destined to wait on the end of another 
 gay clergyman — Laurence Sterne, who li^■ed gaily 
 and died miserably, and even after death was dragged 
 from his grave by resurrection-men and sold for 
 dissection. . For Doctor Dodd, as clerical, as gay 
 and almost as fashionable as Yorick, was to begin 
 another mystery. The indefatigable " friends " had 
 been busy to the end, and had hope even after the 
 end. 
 
 Everything had been arranged. At IVIr. DaA^ies's, 
 an undertaker in Goodge-street, a warm bath was 
 kept ready, and there also was waiting John Hunter, 
 the famous sui'geon, who had just been attracting 
 notice for some remarkable experiments for restoring 
 the droAvned to life.* IMr. Hawes, the founder of 
 the Humane Society, who had before exerted him- 
 self for Dodd, seems to have originated this idea. 
 Long after wild stories went about as to the means 
 
 persuaded the noise might have been heard at a considerable distance. 
 For my own part, I detected myself, in a certain manner, accompany- 
 ing his body with a motion of my own ; as you have seen people 
 wreathing, and twisting, and biassing themselves, after a bowl which 
 they have just delivered." — Love and Madness. 
 
 * The whole of this account is vouched for by Hutton, the mathe- 
 matician, who heard Hunter tell it at a sort of club held at Slaughter's 
 Coffee-house, of which Doctor Banks and Doctor Solander, and other 
 men of science, were members. — See Newcastle Magazine, vol. i. p. 18.
 
 TYBUEN. 181 
 
 that had been employed to give success to the 
 attempt. It was said that a heavy weight had been 
 sewn up in his clothes, to which a small cord ^\as 
 attached, so as by some means to keep the pressure 
 off the neck.* And it is perfectly certain that in- 
 structions were given that his legs were not to be 
 pulled. 
 
 Nor Avas there anything so wild in the idea of 
 success. The pleasant Doctor Glover had earned a 
 sort of celebrity in Dublin by restoring to life a 
 criminal who had been hanged; but who repaid the 
 service by persecuting his preserver for monc}-, al- 
 leging that the hand that had given him life was bound 
 to preserve it. f But what may have suggested the 
 idea more directly Avas a more remarkable instance 
 which Avas seen in the Irish papers, amoug the cu'cuit 
 news — mentioned almost as a thing of com*se — where 
 a man had been hung at CarloAv, and being cut 
 doAvn after the usual time, had come back to con- 
 sciousness. With the barbarity of the da}^, he Avas 
 kept a month, brought out, and hung once more ! 
 
 After hanging the usual time, the body was cut 
 doAAai, and giAcn over to his friends, who had a 
 mourning-coach Avaitiug.J But the croAvd Avas so 
 enormous and so excited, and their curiosity so vehe- 
 ment, that it Avas fomid impo:*sible almost to get to 
 the coach. Eacu then the passage Avas blocked. 
 Thus precious minutes, and even precious hours, 
 Avere lost. The undertaker's house Avas far uAvay ; 
 
 * Nev:<:asth Magazine^ vol. i. p. 18. 
 
 t Taylor, Recollections, i. 219. 
 
 % It was only in cases of murder that the body was not given up.
 
 182 A FAMOUS FOKGEEY. 
 
 and when, at last, John Hunter was readied, it 
 seemed quite hopeless. He worked long and per- 
 severingly, but fruitlessly. In the unha])py Doctor's 
 case eveiything was to fail.* 
 
 But the story of the attempt at restoration got 
 abroad, even on the next day ; and a firm persuasion 
 seized on many minds, which was kept alive long 
 after, that the Doctor had been seen in foreign coun- 
 tries. By one account he had been at Dunkirk ; and 
 a few years later, an Aberdeen paper published a 
 letter from Provence, dated July 12, 1777, which de- 
 scribed the Doctor as living there happily, " and be- 
 yond the reach of his enemies." f 
 
 Complaints were made of his body being smuggled 
 away for private biu'ial, whereas the Perreaus were 
 interred ojienly. This sort of suspicion was the only 
 foundation for such rumom's. The unhappy Doctor 
 was indeed dead ; and it is only to be lamented that 
 the last moments of such a life should have been dis- 
 tui'bed by such a vain ignis fatuus, the veiy ghost of 
 a hope. 
 
 That night his faithful friend Weedon Butler had 
 him carried away down to Cowley, in JNiiddlesex, 
 where he was buried with quick lime in the coffin, at 
 the north side of the church ; where, too, the faithful 
 Butler came often afterwards, and wept over his 
 mihapp}' friend's grave. An inscription, the baldest 
 
 * The real difficulty in these cases of suspended animation lies in 
 this : from the absence of air, the blood gets corrupted, and the sub- 
 stance of the brain injured. The popular belief is, that the mere stran- 
 gulation and stoppage of air to the lungs causes death. 
 
 •f Newcastle Magazine.
 
 TTBUEN. 183 
 
 and simplest tliat could he given, was placed over it, 
 without the usual " Hie jacet :" 
 
 REV. WILLIAM DODD, 
 
 BOKN MARCH 29, 1729 ; 
 
 DIED JTJ2CE 27, 1777, 
 
 IN THE 49in VEAH OF HIS AGE. 
 
 The clerk of his Bedford Chapel, who was present 
 diu'ing the attempts at resuscitation, took a cast of 
 the head, and made several plaster busts, Avhich were 
 considered excellent likenesses. And on the Sunday 
 after the Doctor's execution, the same person invited 
 attention to the suit of black he wore, which he as- 
 sui'ed a gentleman, was the very one in whicli the 
 Doctor died. 
 
 The hapless vnfe never held up her head iigahi. 
 The verger's daughter — so tolerant, so enduring, so 
 faithful to the end — di'agged on a hopless life at 
 Uford, in Essex, "in cu'cumstances of corporal and 
 mental inanity," says one who knew her and relieved 
 her wants, until the year 1784, when she died. A 
 short paragraph in the papers mentioned the fact, 
 and reminded the public that she was the relict of the 
 "unfortunate Doctor Dodd," who luid"suffeivd at 
 Tyburn a few years before." 
 
 Which ends the history of this curious tragedy. 
 There is no need to sum up his character. That can 
 be gathered sufficiently from the story that has just 
 been told. Or may we accept the bitter etcliing 
 given in Walpole's Journal, and which, as Doctor 
 Doran has remarked, is not overdone :
 
 184 A FAMOUS FOKGEEY. 
 
 " He was, undoubtedly, a bad man, who employed 
 religion to j)romote his ambition ; humanity to esta- 
 blish a character, and, it is to be hoped, to indulge his 
 good-natured sensations ; and any means to gi'atify 
 his passions or vanity, and to extricate himself out 
 of their distressing consequences. Not a professed 
 Methodist ; but his vices, pleasm'es, fondness for 
 dress and luxury being less under command than the 
 hypocritical self-denial of those more artful impostors, 
 and his thu'st for preferment being more imf)etuous 
 than their patient appetite for solid power, he made 
 use of their credit as a party, rather than attached 
 himself to their party." A life, too, from which we 
 could di-aw a moral — either in one of the suspicious 
 common-places with which the Ordinary of Newgate 
 wound up the written lives of his malefactors, " Thus, 
 then, we see, how," &c. ; or more effectually in Dodd's 
 own words taken from his questionable novel : " Ye 
 sons of lawless pleasure contemplate and be abashed, 
 boast no more of yom* speedy palling joys ; but to 
 obtain happiness, sure and lasting, scorn the delusions 
 of flattering iniquity, and live under the protection 
 of real honour and firm integrity."
 
 A P P E N D I X.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 EXTEACT FKOM YILLETTE S ACCOUNT. 
 
 " On the morning of his death I went to him, with 
 the Reverend Mr. Dobey, chaplain of the Magdalen, 
 whom he had desired to attend him to the place of 
 execution. He ajipeared composed; and when I 
 asked him how he had been supported, he said he had 
 had some comfortable sleep, by which he should be 
 the better enabled to perform his duty. 
 
 "As we went from his room, in om" way to the 
 chapel, we were joined by his friends, who had s])ent 
 the foregoing eyening mth him, and also by another 
 clergyman. "V^lien we were in the vestry adjoining 
 the chapel, he exliorted his felloAV-sufferer, ^^•ho ha<l 
 attempted to destroy himself, but had been prevented 
 by the vigilance of the keeper. He spoke to him 
 wth great tenderness and emotion of heart, entreat-
 
 188 APPENDIX. 
 
 ing liim to consider that lie had but a short time to 
 live, and that it was highly necessary that he, as well 
 as himself, made good use of their time, implored 
 pardon of God under a deep sense of sin, and looked 
 to that Lord by whose mercy alone sinners coiild be 
 saved. He desired me to call in the other gentle- 
 man, who likewise assisted him to move the heart of 
 the poor youth : but the Doctor's words were the 
 most pathetic and effectual. He lifted up his hands, 
 and cried out, ' O Lord Jesus, have mercy on us, and 
 give, O give unto him, my fellow-sinner, that as we 
 suffer together, we may go together to Heaven !' His 
 conversation to this poor youth was so moving, that 
 tears flowed from the eyes of all present. 
 
 " When we went into the chapel to prayer and the 
 holy communion, true contrition and warmth of devo- 
 tion appeared evident in him throughout the whole ser- 
 vice. After it was ended, he again addressed himself 
 to Harris in the most moving and persuasive manner 
 and not without effect : for he declared that he 
 was glad he had not made away with himself, and 
 said he was easier, and hoped he should now go 
 to heaven. The Doctor told him how Christ had 
 suffered for them ; and that he himself was a greater 
 sinner than he, as he had sinned more against light 
 and conviction, and therefore his guilt was greater; 
 and that, as he was confident that mercy was shown 
 to his soul, so he should look to Christ, and tmst in 
 His merits. 
 
 " He prayed God to bless his friends who were 
 present with him, and to give his blessing to all his 
 brethren the clergy ; that he would pour out his
 
 APPENDIX. 189 
 
 spirit upon them, and make them true ministers 
 of Jesus Christ, and that they might follow the 
 di\dne precepts of their heavenly Master. Tiu-ning 
 to one who stood near him, he stretched out his hand, 
 and said, 'Now, my dear friend, speculation is at an 
 end ; all must he real ! what poor, ignorant beings 
 we are ! ' He prayed for the Magdalens, and wished 
 they were there, to sing for him the 23rd Psalm. 
 
 "After he had waited some time for the officers, 
 he asked what o'clock it was ? and being told that it 
 was half an houi* after eight, he said, ^ I wish they 
 were ready, for I long to be gone.' He requested of 
 his friends, who were in tears about him, to pray for 
 him : to which he was answered by two of them, ' We 
 pray more than language can utter.' He replied, ' I 
 believe it.' 
 
 "At length he was summoned to go down into a 
 part of the yard which is enclosed from the rest of 
 the gaol, where the two unhappy convicts and the 
 friends of the Doctor were alone. On his seeing two 
 prisoners looking out of the windows, he went to 
 them, and exhorted them so pathetically, that they 
 both wept abundantly. He said once, 'I am now 
 a spectacle to men, and shall soon be a spectacle to 
 angels.' 
 
 "Just before the sheriff's officers came with the 
 halters, one who was walking ^^^th him told him that 
 there was yet a little solemnity he must pass through 
 before he went out. He asked, ' \Miat is that V 
 < You will be bound.' He looked up, and said, ' Yet 
 I am free ; my freedom is there,' pointing upwards. 
 He bore it with Christian patience, and beyond w^hat
 
 190 APPENDIX. 
 
 miglit have been expected ; and when the men 
 offered to excuse t}dng his hands, he desu'ed them to 
 do their duty, and thanked them for their kindness. 
 After he was bound, I offered to assist hun with my 
 arm in conducting him through the yard, where 
 several people were assembled to see him; but he 
 replied with seeming pleasm'e, ' No ! I am as firm as 
 a rock.' — As he passed along the yard, the spectators 
 and prisoners wept and bemoaned him; and he in 
 retuni, prayed God to bless them. 
 
 " On the way to execution he consoled himself in 
 reflecting and speaking on what Christ had suffered 
 for him ; lamenting the depravity of human natui'e, 
 which made sanguinary laws necessary ; and said he 
 could gladly have died in the prison yard, as being 
 led out to public execution tended greatly to distress 
 him. He desired me to read to liim the 51st Psahn, 
 and also pointed out an admirable penitential prayer 
 from Rossel's Prisoner's Director. He prayed again 
 for the king, and likewise for the people. 
 
 " Wlien he came near the street where he formerly 
 dwelt, he was much affected, and wept. He said, 
 probably his tears would seem to be the effect of 
 cowardice, but it was a weakness he could not weU 
 help ; and added, he hoped he Avas going to a better 
 home. 
 
 " "WTien he arrived at the gallows, he ascended the 
 cart, and spoke to his fellows-sufferer. He then prayed, 
 not only for himself, but also for his wife, and the 
 mifortunate youth that suffered with hun; and 
 declared that he died in the true faith of the gospel 
 of Christ, in perfect love and charity with all man-
 
 APPENDIX. 191 
 
 kind, and with thankfulness to his friends, he was 
 humched mto eternity, imploring mercy for his soul 
 for the sake of the blessed Kedeemer." 
 
 II. 
 
 The following Paper icas intended to have been read by 
 Mr. ViLLETTE at the Place of Execution, but ivas 
 omitted, as it seemed not possible to communicate the 
 hnoioledge of it to so great a number of persons as 
 ivere then assembled. 
 
 "To the words of dying men regard has always 
 been paid. I am brought here to suffer death for an 
 act of fraud, of which I confess myself guilty, wdth 
 shame, such as m}^ former state of life natm'ally pro- 
 duces, and I hope with such sorrow as He, to whom 
 the heart is known, will not disregard. I repent that 
 I have -violated the laws by which peace and confi- 
 dence are established among men ; I repent that 1 have 
 attempted to injm'e my fellow-creatures ; and I repent 
 that I have brought disgrace upon my order, and cHs- 
 credit upon my religion : but my offences against God 
 ai'e without any name or number, and can admit only 
 of general confession and general repentance. Grant, 
 Almighty God, for the sake of Jesus Christ, that my 
 repentance, however late, however imperfect, may not 
 be in vain ! 
 
 " The little good that now remains in my power, is 
 to warn others-, against those temptations by which I 
 have been seduced. I have always sinned against 
 conviction ; my principles haAC never been shaken ; I
 
 192 APrENDIX. 
 
 have always considered the Christian rehglon as a 
 revelation from God, and its divine Author as the 
 Saviour of the world : but the laws of God, though 
 never disowned by me, have often been forgotten. I 
 was led astray from religious strictness by the delu- 
 sion of show and the delights of voluptuousness. I 
 never knew or attended to the calls of frugality, or 
 the needful minuteness of painful economy. Vanity 
 and pleasure, into which I plunged, required expense 
 disproportionate to my income; expense brought 
 distress upon me ; and distress, importunate distress, 
 urged me to temporary fraud. 
 
 " For this fraud I am to die ; and I die declaring, 
 in the most solemn manner, that however I have 
 deviated from my own precepts, I have taught others, 
 to the best of my knowledge, and with all sincerity, 
 the true way to eternal happiness. My life, for some 
 few unhappy years past, has been dreadfully erroneous ; 
 hut my ministry has heen alicays sincere. I have con- 
 stantly believed, and I now leave the world solemnly 
 avowing my conviction, that there is no other name 
 under heaven by which we can be saved, but only the 
 name of the Lord Jesus ; and I entreat all who are 
 here to join me in my last petition, that for the sake 
 of that Lord Jesus Christ, my sins may be forgiven, 
 and my soul received into his everlasting kingdom. 
 
 " William Dodd. 
 
 " June. 27, 1777."
 
 thus 
 
 APPENDIX. 193 
 
 in. 
 
 In a postscript to a friend, the author writes 
 
 " I forgot to request my good friend to tell Mr. 
 Hanway, that in one of my little melancholy poems, 
 WTitten in this cbeary place, I have made such men- 
 tion of him as I think his attention to the improve- 
 ment of gaols demands : that I earnestly press him, 
 as a Christian and a man, to pursue that improve- 
 ment mth zeal ; that much, very much is to be done ; 
 and that while the state of prisons remains as it is, 
 the legislatm-e has some reason to charge itself with 
 the greater part of the robberies, &c., committed. For 
 the offenders for petty crimes are here hardened in 
 almost every species of vice ; and tmnied out, neces- 
 sary plunderers of the public, from the depravity 
 of their unaltered disposition, and the deficiency of 
 proper emplo}Tnent. I have felt much on this sub- 
 ject since I have been here, and expressed something 
 of it in the poem. Week the Thu'd." 
 
 PIECES EOUND AMONGST THE AUTHOR'S PAPERS 
 IN PRISON. WITH HIS LAST PRAYER. 
 
 I. 
 THE ADMONITION. 
 
 Afflicted prisoner, whosoe'er thou art, 
 To this lone room unhappily confined ; 
 
 Be thy first business here to search thy heart. 
 And probe the deep coiTuptions of thy mind ! 

 
 194 APPENDIX. 
 
 Struck mth the foul transgressions thou liast wrought, 
 With sin — ^the source of all thy worldly woe ; 
 
 To shame, to soitow, to con^-iction brovight, 
 Oh, fall before the throne of mercy low ! 
 
 With true repentance pom* thy soul in prayer, 
 And fervent plead the Saviour's cleansing blood : 
 
 Faith's ardent cry "v^dll pierce the Father's ear. 
 And Christ's a plea which cannot be withstood ! 
 
 II. 
 REFLECTIONS (UNFINISHED). 
 
 Here, secluse from worldly pleasure, 
 
 In this doleful place confin'd, 
 Come, and let's improve the leism'e, 
 
 Meditate, my thoughtful mind ! 
 
 Soul alike and body sharing, 
 
 How have I the one forgot ! 
 T\^iile for t'other only caring, 
 
 Lo ! my miserable lot ! 
 
 Yet the one I so much cherish, 
 
 Doom'd to death when gi^-'n to life, 
 
 Soon, perhaps, must sink and perish, 
 Dust to dust — must end the strife ! 
 
 From a tedious toui* retiu'ning. 
 
 Into distant foreign land. 
 How my anxious heart is biu'ning 
 
 News of liome to understand !
 
 APPENDIX. 195 
 
 IV. 
 
 HIS LAST PRAYER : 
 
 Wi'itten June 27, in the night previous to his 
 suffering. 
 
 Great and glorious Lord God I Thou Father of 
 mercies, and God of all comfort ! a poor and humble 
 imhlican stands trembling in Thy awful presence ; and 
 mider the deep sense of innmnerable transgressions, 
 scarce dares so much as to lift up his eyes, or to say, 
 Lo7'd, he merciful to me, a sinner ! 
 
 For I have sinned, oh Lord ! I have most grievously 
 smned against Thee ; sinned against light, against 
 conviction ; and by a thousand, thousand offences, 
 justly provoked Thy WTath and indignation ! ^ly sins 
 are peculiarly aggravated, and their burden more 
 than ordinarily oppressive to my soul, from the sight 
 and sense I have had of Thy love, and from the high 
 and solemn obligations of my sacred character ! 
 
 But, oppressed with consciousness, and broken in 
 heart luider the sense of guilt, I come, oh Lord ! with 
 earnest prayers and tears, supplicating Thee of Th}' 
 mercy, to look upon me ; and forgive me for His 
 precious merits' sake, which are infinitely more un- 
 bounded than even all the sins of a whole sinful 
 world ! By His cross and passion I implore Thee, to 
 spare and to deliver me, Lord ! 
 
 Blessed be thy mispeakable goodness, for tliat won- 
 derful cUsplay of divine love, on which alone is my 
 hope and my confidence! Tiiou hast invited, oh 
 blessed Redeemer! the bm-dened and heavy-laden, 
 o2
 
 19G APPENDIX. 
 
 tlie sick in soul, and wearied with sin, to come to Thee, 
 and receive rest. Lord, / come! Be it unto me 
 according to Thy infalhble word ! Grant me Thy 
 precious, thy inestimable rest ! 
 
 Be wdth me, thou all-sufficient God, in the dread- 
 ful trial through which I am to pass ! and gi'aciously 
 vouchsafe to fulfil in me those 2:>recious promises, ^yhlch. 
 Thou, in such fatherly kindness, hast delivered to 
 Thy afflicted childi'en ! Enable me to see and adore 
 Thy disposing hand, in this aAvful, but moui'nful 
 event ; and to contemplate at an humble distance 
 Thy great example ; who didst go forth, bearing Thy 
 cross, and endiu'ing its shame, under the consolatory 
 assurance of the joy set before Thee ! 
 
 And oh, my triumphant Lord ! in the moment of 
 death, and in the last hoiu' of conflict, suffer me not 
 to want Thine esjiecial aid ! Suffer me not to doubt 
 or despond ! But sustain me in Thy arms of love ; 
 and oh receive and present faultless to Thy Father, in 
 the robe of Thy righteousness, my poor and unworthy 
 sovd, which Thou hast redeemed "s^^th Thy most pre- 
 cious blood ! 
 
 Thus commending myself and my eternal concerns 
 into Thy most faithful hands, in finii hope of a happy 
 reception into Thy Idngdom ; oh my God, hear me, 
 while I hmnbly extend my supplications for others ; 
 and pray, that Thou wouldst bless the king and all his 
 family ; that Thou wouldst presei've the crow^l in his 
 house to endless generations ; and make him the 
 happy minister of tinith, of pmee, and of prosperity to 
 his people ! Bless that p)eople, oh Lord I and shine, as 
 Thou hast done, with the light of Thy favour on this
 
 APPENDIX. 197 
 
 little portion of Thy boundless creation. Diffuse more 
 and more a spirit of Christian piety amongst all ranks 
 and orders of men ; and in particular fill their hearts 
 with universal and undissembled love — love to Thee, 
 and love to each other ! 
 
 Amidst the manifold mercies and blessings voucli- 
 safed through Thy gracious influence, Thou Sove- 
 reign Ruler of all hearts ! to so unworthy a wonii, 
 during this dark day of my sorrows : enable me to 
 be thankful ; and in the sincerity of heartfelt grati- 
 tude to implore Thine especial blessing on all my 
 beloved fellow-creatures, who have by any means in- 
 terested themselves in my preservation ! ^lay the 
 prayers they have offered for me return in mercies on 
 their own heads ! May the sympathy they have 
 shown refresh and comfort their o^\^l hearts ! And 
 may all tlieir good endeavours and kinchiesses be 
 amply repaid by a full supply of Thy grace, and 
 abundant assistance to them in their day of distress — 
 in their most anxious hours of need ! 
 
 To the more particular and immediate instruments 
 of Thy providential love and goodness to me, oh 
 vouchsafe to impart. Author of all good ! a rich supply 
 of Thy choicest comforts ! Fill their hearts with Tin- 
 love, and their lives with Thy favour ! Guard them 
 in eveiy danger : soothe them in every sorrow : liless 
 them in eveiy laudable undertaking: restore an luui- 
 di-edfold all their temporal supplies to me and mine, 
 and, after a course of extensive utility, advance them, 
 through the merits of Jesus, to lives of eternal bliss. 
 
 Extend, great Father of the world! Thy more 
 especial care and kindness to my nearer and most
 
 198 APPENDIX. 
 
 dear connexions. Bless with Thy continual presence 
 and protection my dear brother and sister, and all 
 their children and friends ! hold them in Thy hand 
 of tender care and mercy ; and give them to expe- 
 rience that in Thee there is infinite loving-kindness 
 and trntli ! Look with a tender eye on all their tem- 
 poral concerns ; and after lives of faithfulness and 
 truth, oh bear them to Thy bosom, and unite us to- 
 gether in Thy eternal love ! 
 
 But oh, my adorable Lord and Hope ! suffer me in 
 a more particular manner to offer up to Thy sovereign 
 and gracious care my long-tried and most affectionate 
 wife ! Husband of the widoio, be Thou her support ! 
 Sustain and console her afflicted mind ! Enable her 
 "snth patient submission to receive all Thy will : — and 
 when, in Thy good time, Thou hast perfected her for 
 Thy blessed kingdom, unite again our happy and 
 immortal spmts in celestial love, as Thou hast been 
 pleased to unite us in sincere earthly affection ! Lord 
 Jesus, vouchsafe unto her Thy peculiar gi'ace and 
 all-sufficient consolation ! 
 
 If I have cmi/ enemies, oh Thou who diest for Thy 
 enemies, hear my prayers for them ! Forgive them 
 all their ill will to me, and fill their hearts with Thy 
 love ! And, oh, vouchsafe abundantly to bless and to 
 save all those who have either \\'ished or done me 
 evil ! Forgive wie, gracious God, the wrong or injury 
 I have done to others ; and so forgive me my tres- 
 passes as I freely and fully forgive all those who 
 have in any degree trespassed against me. I de- 
 sire Thy grace to purify my soul from every taint 
 of malevolence, and to fit me, by perfect love, for the
 
 APPENDIX. 199 
 
 society of spirits, whose business and happiness is 
 love ! 
 
 Glory be to Thee, oh God ! for all the blessings 
 Thou hast gi'anted me from the day of my creation 
 until the present hour ! I feel and adore Thy exceed- 
 ing goodness in all : and in this last and closing 
 affliction of my life, I acknowledge most hmiibly the 
 justice of Thy fatherly correction, and bow my head 
 with thankfulness for Thy rod ! Great and good in 
 all ! I adore and magnify Thy mercy : I behold in all 
 Thy love manifestly displayed; and rejoice that I am 
 at once Thy creature and Thy redeemed ! 
 
 As such, oh Lord, my Creator and Redeemer^ I 
 commit my soul into Thy faithful hands ! Wash it 
 and pm'ify it in the blood of Thy Son from every 
 defiling stain ; perfect what is wanting in it : and 
 grant me, poor retm-ning, weeping, Avretched pro- 
 digal — gi'ant me the lowest place in Thy heavenly 
 liouse ; in and for His sole and all-sufficient merits — 
 the adorable Jesus ; who, with the Father and the 
 Holy Ghost, liveth and reigneth ever one God, world 
 without end. 
 
 Amen and amen. Lord Jesus ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Dodd was a sui'prisingly voluminous writer. The 
 list in "Watts's Bibliotheca" is a wonderful testi- 
 mony to his industry. It should be supplemented, 
 how^ever, by some additional titles given in the
 
 200 APPENDIX. 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine for 1777. Nicholls speaks of 
 some quarto MS. sermons as existing a few years 
 aso. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Johnson's industry for his wretched client was 
 marvellous. His letter to Lord Mansfield, of which 
 Archenholtz somehow obtained a copy, will be read 
 with interest : 
 
 " My Lord, — But a few days — and the lot of the 
 most unhappy of created beings will be decided for 
 ever ! I know the weight of your lordship's opinion. 
 It is that which will undoubtedly decide, whether i 
 am to die an ignominious death, or di'ag out the rest 
 of my Hfe in dishonourable banishment. O my Lord ! 
 do not refuse to hear what I in my humility dare to 
 oppose to the severity of the laws. 
 
 "I feel how frightful my crime is; the sentence 
 which condemns me is but too just : I hoM'ever flatter 
 myself, that, amidst all the reproaches cast against me 
 on account of my crime, it will still be remembered 
 how useful my charitable endeavoiu's have been to 
 that veiy society which I have injm'ed. I ask for 
 nothing but the preservation of my life, a hfe which 
 I shall drag out in dishonour and perhaps in miseiy ! 
 Have compassion, my lord, on a man coA^ered with 
 infamy, without fortune, and without resource, but 
 not, however, without fear at casting his eyes towards 
 the abyss of eternity !
 
 APPENDIX. 201 
 
 " However great that miseiy which will be my lot, 
 yet still allow me to live. That very misery under 
 which I shall languish the rest of ray days, mil fore- 
 warn all those who were witnesses of it, to beware of 
 indulging their passions, and to guard against a fatal 
 vanity and a spirit of dissipation. 
 
 " For the last time, I conjui*e you, my lord, to 
 suffer me to live ; and when you see me passing from 
 the frightful dungeon which now encloses me, to an 
 ignominious exile, be assured that justice will be suffi- 
 ciently satisfied by the sufferings of him who is, 
 "My Lord, 
 " Your Lordship's most humble suppliant, 
 
 "William Dodd. 
 
 "Newgate, June 11, 1777." 
 
 VIL 
 
 Allusion has been made in the text to the behaviour 
 of Villette, the Ordinary of Newgate. The following 
 curious story is told by Archenholtz : 
 
 As my sole intention in recounting these transactions 
 is to give, by an authentic recital of facts, a just 
 idea of the present state of the laws of England, 
 and the mode of putting them in execution, I will 
 here recite an event that happened in London in the 
 year 1778, and of which, to my gi-eat astonishment, I 
 myself was a witness. 
 
 A young man of twenty years of age was con- 
 demned to death on the evidence of a highwayman, 
 who accused him of being an accomplice. His own
 
 202 ArrENDix. 
 
 bad character and the testimony of the rohbcr, 
 accompanied with all the requisite proofs, seemed to 
 leave no doubt of his guilt. The unhappy wretch 
 was m consequence of this conducted in a cart to 
 Tybiu'n, with some other criminals. He remained 
 with the rope about his neck, according to the per- 
 mission which the law allows, one whole hour at the 
 foot of the gibbet. During that hour the culprit is 
 permitted to say whatever he chooses ; were he to 
 utter high treason against the sovereign, or inflame 
 the peoj)le to a revolt, it would be illegal to j)revent 
 him. They think humanity requires that such an 
 alleviation should be permitted to one who is about 
 to be launched out of the world by a violent death. 
 There are actually a great many men, who on this 
 sad occasion experience a certain pleasure in commu- 
 nicating those sentiments Avitli which they are affected. 
 Lord Lovat, wdio after the rebellion in Scotland 
 perished on a scaffold, made use -of this privilege. 
 He declared that George H. had no right to the 
 crown, which belonged to the Pretender alone ; and 
 added, it was with great pleasui'e that he "v^as then 
 about to shed his blood for the la-s\^ul sovereign. 
 
 The young man whom I have just mentioned said 
 not a word, but trembling with fear, sat expectant of 
 the awful period which was to put an end to his ex- 
 istence. The fatal moment at last arrives, and eveiy- 
 thing is prepared ; when his accuser, turning toAvards 
 Villette, the chaplain of Newgate, who is obliged to 
 accompany the criminals to Tybmni, declares in the 
 most solemn manner that the poor young man was 
 innocent ; and that he had been led away by the spirit
 
 APPENDIX. 203 
 
 of revenge to fabricate a story on piTi*pose to procure 
 his death. This declaration made all the spectators 
 tremble ; but the ordinary, who was accustomed to 
 these kind of scenes, answered coldly, that it was now 
 too late to retract. In the mean time, the people 
 began to murmm-, and some respectable persons 
 addressed themselves to the under-sheriff, who offici- 
 ated in the absence of his principal. 
 
 He having heard nothing of the confession, was 
 about to give the fatal signal ; the conductor of the 
 cart had his whip uplifted in the air, and the cries 
 and prayers of the unhappy wretch were still sound- 
 ing in the ears of the assistants, when all on a sudden 
 somebody cried, Halt ! It was then represented to 
 the under-sheriff how barlDarous it would be to allow 
 an innocent man to perish. The emotions of this 
 gentleman was equally great with his astonishment : 
 for this was a case entirely new, and without any 
 precedent. Everybody was of opinion, that this 
 young man ought not to be executed w^th the others : 
 the cmel Villette alone insisted that he could not be 
 saved, as the laws do not give to the officer the power 
 of suspending the execution for a quarter of an hour. 
 The sub-sheriff, who was acquainted with the laws, 
 and fully convinced of the justice of Villette's obser- 
 vations, was now about to perform his duty with an 
 aching heart. He had almost given the fatal order, 
 when the high-constable addresses him as follows : 
 " In the name of God, sir, is it possible that you can 
 give your consent to the death of this guiltless per- 
 son!" "What can I, what sliall I dof' re])lied he. 
 "If you will delay the execution, I will instantly
 
 204 APPENDIX. 
 
 mount my horse and go to the king." He accord- 
 ingly departs, without hearing the cruel pleasantries 
 of the ordinary, who prognosticated that the journey 
 would be unsuccessful. 
 
 Four other persons were joined in the sentimental 
 embassy, who make towards Westminster in full 
 gallop. Tyburn is distant from St. James's two 
 English miles. They soon arrive at the palace ; but 
 the king was gone to Richmond, and all the ministers 
 were gone to the country, it being then the height of 
 summer. 
 
 They then instantly repair to the offices of the 
 secretaries of state, hoping to find some person there 
 of Avhom they could receive advice ; but all the clerks 
 shrugged uj) their shoulders, saying, that the officer 
 himself ought to know the extent of those powers 
 which the law gave him. On this they retm-n after 
 an absence of an hour and a half, and relate the event 
 of their unfortunate journey. 
 
 The execution of the other criminals had been 
 vsuspended during this period, and Villette now in- 
 sisted on the under-sheriff's giving the signal; me- 
 nacing him at the same time with a criminal process, 
 and affirming that, if he did not execute the culprit, 
 the gaoler of Newgate would not receive him back after 
 he had been delivered over to the executioner. The 
 high-constable, on the other hand, asserted the con- 
 trary, and did not cease to address him with the most 
 masculine and persuasive eloquence, until he agi-eed 
 to his request. The eight other criminals were 
 immediately hanged; and the young man, who had 
 fainted with excessive joy, was earned back to New- 
 gate.
 
 APPENDIX. 205 
 
 The king, being informed of this event, extended 
 liis clemency that very evening to the prisoner, who, 
 after having been conducted to the foot of the gibbet, 
 found himself in a few hours free and happy. His 
 Majesty also granted a pardon to the under-sheriff for 
 having arrogated a power which he did not possess, 
 and he received the praises of the whole nation for 
 his boldness and humanity. To him might be ap- 
 plied the following line from Shakspeare : 
 
 To do a great right, he did a little wrong. 
 
 They have not in England a set of men who can 
 properly be styled executioners. The hangman is a 
 person employed by the sheriff ; and he might gain 
 his livelihood by any other occupation, for infamy is 
 not there attached to his employment. It is con- 
 temptible, indeed, but it is not dishonourable ; and 
 this contempt is not attached to the action of hanging, 
 but to the idea of its proceeding from a sordid desire 
 of gain ; for, if he could procure no other person, the 
 sheriff would be obliged to perform the duty himself. 
 Of this there was an instance some years since, not 
 indeed in London, but in the country. The two men 
 appointed for this purpose happened to die, almost at 
 the veiy moment when they were about to execute 
 their office ; and the sheriff, not being able to procure 
 any other, nor dcxring to delay the day or even the 
 hour of execution, w^as obliged to put the criminal to 
 death with his own hands. 
 
 The nobility in certain cases have the privileges of 
 being beheaded : murderers, however, such as Lord 
 Ferrers, are denied this favom\ A butcher, who by 
 his trade is best qualified for this operation, is gene-
 
 206 APPENDIX. 
 
 rally employed. The family of the culprit employ 
 him, and for this purpose commonly make him a pre- 
 sent of a hatchet with a silver handle. (!) 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The following are Johnson's letters to the King 
 and Queen : 
 
 " To the King's most excellent Majesty. 
 
 " Sir, — It is most humbly represented to your 
 Majesty by William Dodd, the unhappy convict now 
 lying under sentence of death : 
 
 " That William Dodd, acknowledging the justice of 
 the sentence denounced against him, has no hope or 
 refuge but in your Majesty's clemency. 
 
 " That though to recollect or mention the useful- 
 ness of his life, or the efficacy of his ministry, must 
 overwhelm him, in his present condition, with shame 
 and sorrow; he yet humbly hopes, that his past 
 labours will not wholly be forgotten; and that the 
 zeal with wliich he has exliorted others to a good life, 
 though it does not extenuate his crime, may mitigate 
 his punishment. 
 
 " That debased as he is by ignominy, and distressed 
 as he is by poverty, scorned by the world, and detested 
 by himself, deprived of all external comforts, and 
 afflicted by consciousness of guilt, he can derive no 
 hopes of longer life, but that of repairing the injury 
 he has done to mankind, by exliibiting an example of 
 shame and submission, and of expiating his sins by 
 prayer and penitence.
 
 APPENDIX. 207 
 
 " That for this end, he humbly implores from the 
 clemency of your Majesty, the continuance of a life 
 legally forfeited: and of the days which, l)y your 
 gracious compassion, he may yet live, no one shall 
 pass without a prayer, that your ]\Iajesty, after a long 
 life of happiness and honour, may stand, at the day 
 of final judgment, among the merciful tliat obtain 
 mercy. 
 
 " So fervently prays the most distressed and wretched 
 of yom' Majesty's subjects, 
 
 " William Dodd." 
 
 " To the Queen's most excellent Majesty. 
 
 " Madam, — It is most humbly represented by Mary 
 Dodd, yviie of Doctor William Dodd, now lying in 
 prison under sentence of death : 
 
 " That she has been the wife of this unhappy man 
 more than twenty-seven years, and has lived with him 
 in the greatest happiness of conjugal union, and the 
 highest state of conjugal confidence. 
 
 " That she has been a constant ^Adtness of his un- 
 wearied endeavours for public good, and his laborious 
 attendance on charitable institutions. Many are the 
 families whom his care has delivered from want ; 
 many are the hearts which he has freed from ])ain, 
 and the faces which he has cleared from sorrow. 
 
 " That, therefore, she most humbly throws herself 
 at the feet of the queen, earnestly entreating, that the 
 petition of a distressed wife asldng mercy for a hus- 
 band, may be considered as naturally soliciting the 
 compassion of her Majesty ; and that, when her wis-
 
 208 APPENDIX. 
 
 dom has compared the offender's good actions with his 
 crime, she will be pleased to represent his case to our 
 most gracious sovereign, in such terms as may dispose 
 him to mitigate the rigour of the law. 
 
 " So prays your Majesty's most dutiful subject and 
 supplicant, 
 
 " :Mary Dodd." 
 
 IX. 
 DOCTOR DODD'S CHARITIES. 
 
 (From the London Chronicle.') 
 
 Magdalen House, Dec. 17, 1767. 
 
 It having been already maturely considered, and 
 resolved, that in order to give a stability to this 
 charity, it would be necessary to build a proper house, 
 the present dwelling being no longer in a condition 
 capable of repair for such a purpose, but at an ex- 
 pense which will render a new building far pre- 
 ferable. 
 
 At a General Court of the Governors of this 
 Charity held this day, it was resolved : 
 
 1. To build a new Magdalen House upon the spot 
 where the present house stands. 
 
 2. That the expense of such building shall not ex- 
 ceed 4000/. 
 
 3. To begin such building as soon as the said sum 
 of 4000/. shall be subscribed. 
 
 And it was also judged, that as soon as the above 
 resolutions were made know^n, the friends to this 
 charity would contribute towai'ds so pious an under-
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 209 
 
 taking, every day's experience furnishing the strongest 
 evidence of its real uscfuhiess and humanity. 
 
 The following sums have been already subscribed 
 for this purpose; and whatever further assistance 
 may be yet given (to complete the sum), be it little 
 or great, will be veiy accej)table, and gratefully ac- 
 knowledged. 
 
 A List of Subscribers for building a new Magdalen 
 House : 
 
 Her Majesty . . . . 
 
 The Right Hon. the Earl of Hertford, President 
 
 Sir George Savile, Bart., one of the Vice-Presidents 
 
 Sir Alexander Grant, Bart., one of the Vice-Presidents 
 
 Isaac Akerman, Esq. 
 
 Thomas Farrar, Esq. 
 
 John Anthony Rucker, Esq. . 
 
 Jonas Hanway, Esq. 
 
 Thomas Fletcher, Esq. 
 
 Andrew Thompson, Esq. . 
 
 John Barker, Esq. 
 
 Mrs. Barker, by ditto 
 
 Mr. John Barker Church, by ditto 
 
 John Dorrien, Esq. 
 
 The Rev. William Dodd, LL.D. 
 
 Philip Milloway, Esq. 
 
 John Cornwall, Esq. 
 
 George Peters, Esq. 
 
 Francis Lawson, Esq. . 
 
 Mr. Timothy Lacy 
 
 Mr. Edward de Sante 
 
 George Adey, Esq. 
 
 Richard Mothall, Esq. 
 
 Messrs. Jolmson and Langley 
 
 Mr. Sanders Oliver . 
 
 Joseph Skinner, Esq. . 
 
 Mr. Samuel Butler . 
 
 £ s. d. 
 
 300 
 
 100 
 
 100 
 
 100 
 
 50 
 
 100 
 
 100 
 
 20 
 52 10 
 30 
 
 100 
 
 60 
 
 40 
 
 50 
 
 21 
 30 
 30 
 
 20 
 
 21 
 21 
 21 
 21 
 50 
 21 
 21 
 21 
 20
 
 210 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Michael James, Esq. 
 Mr. Charles Wray . 
 Timothy Mangles, Esq. 
 Alexander Fordyce, Esq, 
 George Bristow, Esq. 
 Peter Duval, Esq. 
 Albert Nesbitt, Esq. 
 William Jacomb, Esq. 
 Peter Bennet, Esq. 
 Eobert Halcrow, Esq. 
 Edmund Boehm, Esq. 
 Andrew Grote, Esq., by Mr. de Sante 
 Jonathan Barnard, Esq. 
 Mr. Richard Salmon 
 J. R. Siebel, Esq. 
 Roger Staples, Esq. . 
 Mr. Isaac Walker 
 Mr. James Morgan . 
 Mr. Herman Sleyer 
 Mr. Henry A. Langkoif 
 Mr. Alexander Mahlstede 
 Vansittart Hudson, Esq. 
 Mr. William Scholey 
 Henry Vansittart, Esq. 
 .William Fauquier, Esq. . 
 Robert Baldy, Esq. . 
 Nathaniel Castleton, Esq. 
 Peter Gaussen, Esq. . 
 Master PhUip Stanhope, by Br. Dodd 
 Thomas Godfrey, Esq., by Mr. Barker 
 John Delme, Esq. 
 Joseph Chapliu Hankey, Esq., by Mr. Skinner 
 Sundry Persons by the hands of Mr. de Sante 
 Kirkes Townley, Esq., by Dr. Dodd 
 James Conningham, Esq. 
 Stephen Peter Godin, Esq., by Mr. Mangles 
 John Dick, Esq., by ditto 
 The Right Hon. Sir Edward Hawke 
 Robert Nettleton, Esq.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 
 
 21 
 
 
 £ 
 
 5. 
 
 d. 
 
 Samuel Eickards, Esq. 
 
 2,5 
 
 
 
 
 
 Thomas Edward Freeman, Esq. 
 
 50 
 
 
 
 
 
 Samuel Watson, junior, Esq. . 
 
 21 
 
 
 
 
 
 Lady Frances Conningsby 
 
 100 
 
 
 
 
 
 William Davidson, Esq. 
 
 25 
 
 
 
 
 
 W. S. . , . , . 
 
 20 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Right Hon. Lord Om-ell . 
 
 20 
 
 
 
 
 
 T. H. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Thomas Hanwav, Esq. 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 Mr. Abraham Winterbottom 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 John Grant, Esq. 
 
 10 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 Monkhouse Davidson, Esq. 
 
 10 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 A Gentleman unknown, by Mr. Winterbottom 
 
 20 
 
 
 
 
 
 His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury 
 
 10 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 Freeman Flower. Esq. 
 
 20 
 
 
 
 
 
 Paul Blagrave, Esq. . 
 
 . 10 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 Elisha Biscoe, Esq. 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 
 
 Unknown, by Mr. Hanway 
 
 100 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sir George Pocock 
 
 . 20 
 
 
 
 
 
 Hon. Baron Perrott . 
 
 31 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 Charles Hornby, Esq. 
 
 2.5 
 
 
 
 
 
 H. E., by Mr. Milloway 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 M. Morten Rockcliffe 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 Capt. Wyville 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 Dr. Herberden 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 Hon. Thomas Harvey 
 
 , 20 
 
 
 
 
 
 Samuel Roflfey, Esq. 
 
 . 52 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Ann Cottesworth 
 
 20 
 
 
 
 
 
 Laurence Sulivan, Esq. 
 
 31 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 George Prescot, Esq. 
 
 . 21 
 
 
 
 
 
 Subscriptions are received by the treasurer, Robert 
 Dingley, Esq., and by the following bankers : — Sir 
 Charles Asgill, Nightingale and Wickenden, Messrs. 
 Brass,ey, Lee and Son, Messrs. Brown and Collison, 
 Messrs. Martins, Stone and Blackwell, ^lessrs. Koifey, 
 Keal, James and Fordyce, Messrs. Boldero, Kendal 
 p2 
 
 \
 
 212 APPENDIX. 
 
 and Adey, in Lombard-street ; Messrs. Fuller and Co., 
 Birchin-lane ; Sir Joseph Hankey and Partners, Fen- 
 cluu'ch-street ; Messrs. Colebrooke and Co., Thread- 
 needle-street ; Messrs. H. R. and R. Hoare, Sir F. 
 Gosling, Gosling and Clive, Messrs. Child and Co., 
 Fleet-street ; Messrs. Andrew Drummond and Co., 
 Charing-Cross ; Messrs. Backwell and Croft, in Pall- 
 Mali ; and the secretary, ]Mi\ Winterbottom, in 
 Threadneedle-street. 
 
 The reader ^yill observe the name of " Master 
 Philip Stanhope," by Doctor Dodd, for the large sub- 
 scription of twenty guineas ; also that of Lord Orwell, 
 and of ]Mr. Akerman. 
 
 Society for the Discharge and Relief of Persons im- 
 prisoned for Small Debts : 
 
 Craven-street, Strand, July 20, 1774. 
 
 £ s. d. 
 Benefactions as by the last report . . 5286 5 7 
 
 Benefactions received since, viz. : 
 S. W. . . . ..220 
 
 C. B., second benefaction . . . 1116 
 
 C. D., value of two light moidores . . . 2 7 6 
 
 5292 G 
 
 Since the last advertisement the Society have re- 
 leased 67 prisoners, amounting in all to 2059 
 (most of whom are useful manufacturers with 
 large families), for the sum of . .5280 
 
 Balance in hand . . . . 5 19 
 
 From the above state of accounts, the public will
 
 ArrENDix. 213 
 
 see liow small is the balance left in tlie treasnrer's 
 hands, exclusive of the annual benefactions, which 
 have been very lately advertised. Depending, how- 
 ever, on the aid of the generous public, and finding 
 from a vai-ietj of applications, and frequent careful 
 inquiries on the subject, that many distressed prisoners, 
 though entitled to relief by the present Insolvent Act, 
 are incapable of papng the fees and expenses neces- 
 saiy on that occasion ; the Society have ordered near 
 Uvo hundred persons to be discharged, in the regular 
 course of business, and as expechtiously as possible. 
 Many other prisoners whose circumstances do not 
 come within the intention of the Act, and who are in 
 great distress, wait for relief, and will be cUscharged 
 so soon as the charity's finances \^'ill allow. 
 
 Benefactions continue to be received at No. 7, 
 Craven-street, Strand ; also at the Thatched House 
 Tavern, in St. James's- street ; by Mr. Leacroft, book- 
 seller at Charing-Cross ; and at the following bankers, 
 viz. : Messrs. Dorrien, Rucker and Carleton, in Finch- 
 lane, Cornhill ; Messrs. Hoares, in Fleet-street ; 
 Messrs. Biddulph and Cocks, at Charing-Cross ; the 
 London Exchange Banking Company, in St. James' s- 
 street ; Messrs. Fullers, and Messrs. Lo^ny and Co., 
 in Lombard-street. 
 
 Doctor Dodd's programme for reforming young fe- 
 males may be also given here ; but its tone leaves a 
 veiy disagreeable impression, and is quite in the key 
 of his novel, " The Sisters."
 
 214 APPENDIX. 
 
 To the Author of the London Chronicle. 
 
 SiK, — As you have inserted Mr. Fielding's and Mr. 
 Dingley's plans in your paper, and as I have the 
 pleasure to assure you that the beneficent design 
 therein proposed succeeds very happily, I have trans- 
 mitted to you a pathetic paper, written upon this 
 occasion, and for these plans, by the Reverend Mr. 
 Dodd; which, if you think proper^ to insert in your 
 paper, it may serve still more and] more to promote 
 the laudable undertaking, to which every member of 
 the community must wish success, and be glad to 
 contribute all the aid in his power. 
 
 I am, Sir, your constant reader, 
 
 T. G. 
 
 London, April 19, 1758. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO A PLAN FOE PRESERVING AND 
 REFORMING YOUNG FEMALES, ETC. 
 
 To smoothe the rugged brow of affliction, to soften 
 the severe strokes of calamity, to alleviate the sorrows, 
 and proA-ide kindly remedies for the miseries of our 
 fellow-creatm'es, must be acknowledged midertakings 
 highly worthy of man, becoming his natm'e, befitting 
 his place, honourable to himself, and acceptable to his 
 God. 
 
 It is pleasing to observe in om* nation, famed for its 
 humanity, and justly esteemed for its generosity and 
 benevolence, so many great and public works dedi- 
 cated to this good end ; and in our metropolis espe- 
 cially, so many noble buildings, rising with their 
 awful battlements to heaven, and bearing on their
 
 APPENDIX. 215 
 
 speaking fronts, " sacred to God, to man, to charity, 
 to luunanity." 
 
 Here the naked are clothed, the hungry- fed, the 
 sick, the wounded, the maimed are visited and reheved, 
 helpless innocents rescued from death and from dis- 
 tress ; as helpless mothers in the sad moments of their 
 anguish comforted and sup]iorted, A^Tetched A\idows 
 made to sing for joy, deserted orphans sheltered and 
 protected, ignorance instructed, and the strong basis 
 for present and future happiness laid in young and 
 waxen minds. And it deserves serious notice and 
 much congratulation, that though these beneficent 
 midertakings have much increased, during late years, 
 yet the one is not found materially prejudicial to the 
 other ; the blessing of God is evidently upon all ; for 
 they all floiu'ish, and answer the gracious ends for 
 which they were designed ; and no instance can be 
 given of any works of this nature, sinking for want 
 of support, or languishing through deficiency of 
 proper encoui'agement ; an abundant proof of the fa- 
 vourable eye of providence u})on them. 
 
 Yet though ewerj kind of sufferer seems thus pro- 
 vided with a kindly relief, one species there is wliich 
 the watchful eye of public benevolence hath hitherto 
 overlooked, whose circumstances nevertheless demand 
 all oru' compassion, and have a just claim to the 
 tenderest regard. These are those unhappy Avomen, 
 whom one false and fatal step hath plunged in all the 
 miseries of prostitution, and left them no return 
 from shame, from sorroAV, from diseases, and from 
 death ! 
 
 Deluded, perhaps, in the veiy flower of their youth.
 
 216 APPEND IX. 
 
 nay, or ere the promising bud is full blown in all 
 its beauty ; deceived by flattering vows and impious 
 oaths, betrayed by yielding nature and soft passion, to 
 which all the arts of love, and elegancies of di*ess and 
 person have labom-ed to win them ; and to which, 
 perhaps, worse arts and viler means have been em- 
 ployed to* warm and irritate them : they fall a sacrifice 
 to unbridled lust ; which, once satiated, leaves the 
 miserable object a prey to infamy, remorse, and, 
 what is worse, to ine^vitable destruction ! 
 
 For who shall receive the ruined outcast ? Or what 
 asylum can she find to hide her wretched head? "The 
 world is not her friend, nor the world's law." Shame 
 and pride, the two strongest passions of the mind, 
 prevent a return to those friends, where she is very- 
 doubtful either of pardon or reception : lost character 
 forbids admittance under any roof ; for who, of the 
 austere and rigid vu'tuous, will receive or countenance 
 a shameless prostitute? Want and hunger pinch 
 hard ; opportunity, too commodious, alas ! presents 
 itself ; again she plunges into the same dire mischiefs, 
 becomes a slave to lust, and the M'^orse than savage 
 tyranny of bawds and panders. Her wretched situa- 
 tion compels her to the use of intoxicating liquors, 
 that she may destroy all reflection, and be enabled 
 wholly to forget herself ; her body, late so fair and 
 beautiful, becomes offensive through loathsome dis- 
 eases : cast out from every dwelling, she languishes 
 in extreme distress, and foul corruption making eveiy 
 limb its prey; her mind meanwhile no less corrupted, 
 she dies in all the bitterness of anguish here, to enter 
 only on a scene of bitter anguish hereafter !
 
 APPENDIX. 217 
 
 But, liow faint this sketch, how imperfect this 
 draught to set forth the miseries of the numherless 
 unhappy sufferers of this sort who crowd our streets, 
 and nightly are sent out, poor vagabonds, to entice 
 and betray the unwary and unwise, that seek for 
 pleasiu'e where it is never to be found — 
 
 Not in the bought smiles 
 
 Of harlots loveless, joyless, unindear'd ; 
 Casual fruition. — Milton. 
 
 — and that hope for joy from these, who know no joy, 
 yiekling to the lust of others, merely for a horrid 
 maintenance, and to whom, for a few "vdle pence, every 
 man is equally acceptable ! 
 
 And yet each one of these have had tender parents, 
 affectionate friends ; each of these have been objects 
 of those parents' cares and wishes, their fond eyes 
 have viewed with delight their infant beauties ; their 
 fond hearts have planned imaginary pleasures, and 
 uoted with transport their innocent and promising 
 endearments. Can, then, any parent's eye look other- 
 wise than with feeling compassion on these unhappy 
 objects ; so young, so wretched ? Can any parent's 
 heart do other than bleed and sympathise with the 
 afflicted parents of such ruined daughters ? Can any 
 parent refuse his utmost endeavours, to prevent, as 
 far as may be, so dreadful evils, to restore and retrieve 
 such daughters ; to preserve other daughters from 
 such ruin, other parents from such affliction ! 
 
 But not as parents only, as fellow-creatures, we 
 see enough in their piteous case to call forth all our 
 compassion, and to cause the exertion of our utmost 
 efforts on their behalf. To sec their beauties, from
 
 218 ArPENDIX. 
 
 whence their social life derives so much of its com- 
 fort, prostituted to the \'ilest purposes, and abused 
 by the foulest lust ; to see them, languishing, 
 decaying, dying, before these beauties are in their 
 bloom ; to see those beauties wholly "wij^ed out and 
 defaced by nauseating diseases ; and they of late so 
 fair, now so filthy and disgusting, that their once 
 most jovial lovers behold them A\'ith horror. What 
 mind on the reflection, but must be filled with gloomy 
 sadness, and a generous distress, but must lament 
 their fate, but would rejoice to have preserved, or to 
 rescue them from it ? 
 
 But when from the beauties of the body we con- 
 sider the sad havoc made at the same time with the 
 noble rational mind, when we consider their souls, as 
 men, much more when we consider them as Christians, 
 compassion, humanity, and duty, all call upon us on 
 then* behalf. The soft and pleasing tenderness of the 
 sex, then' amiable converse, their chaste and modest 
 cheerfulness, serve, above all things, to make life's 
 uneven path smooth and easy, to hghten the burden 
 of care, and soften the frowns of anxiety. But to 
 hear from their Mps hoarse and direful curses, tori'ents 
 of miclean and shameful lasciviousness, sad proofs of 
 their minds' total overthrow ; how doth it at once 
 disgust and pain ; what a mournful evidence is it 
 of their abandoned profligacy ; and how should it 
 quicken us, if possible, to remove that disease also, 
 lest the soul, totally absorbed, perish with the body, 
 and both be lost, eternally lost and undone ! 
 
 Moved by considerations of this sort, and by a
 
 APPENDIX. 219 
 
 tender regard to tlie welfare of their fellow-creatures, 
 it is resolved, by some gentlemen, to attempt a ciu'e 
 for these evils, and to provide an asylum for these 
 sufferers, tnily desenang every man's compassion : 
 that when influenced by whatever motive, Avhether 
 from the body or mind, they are desu'ous to redeem 
 themselves from theu' unhappy crimes and situation, 
 they may have a place to fly to, a safe shelter to 
 receive them from the storm. And it is not doubted 
 but every member of the society (to whom these poor 
 objects became a fatal nuisance, by being thus let out 
 nightly in swarms to ruin and decoy) will unite theii' 
 utmost endeavours to promote the charitable under- 
 taking. The concurrence of all parents is natm'ally 
 expected: when they view their own daughters, let 
 them learn to pity these, and to yearn on their behalf. 
 And for the gay and gallant, there can be no reason 
 to suppose they will be backward to promote so bene- 
 volent a design ; whereby they will be empowered to 
 make some little restitution, and to pay a debt of 
 honour and of duty, for the injm'ies, they may have 
 brought on some of these unhappy objects.* And all 
 Christians, in general, viewing the example of their 
 great lord and master, who came to seek and to save 
 that which was lost, will readily, ^ve are persuaded, join 
 heart and hand, and rejoice to be instrumental in a 
 work, calculated, by God's blessing, to bring many 
 sinners to repentance. 
 
 * May I be permitted to hint, over and above the motives Mr. Dodd 
 suggests, an additional one to these gentlemen, which is, " the advan- 
 tage they have over the T\'omen in respect of this crime."
 
 220 ArrENDix. 
 
 To prevent the destruction of as many as possible, 
 to preserve them from the dire consequences of pros- 
 titution above described, and to render tlicm useful, 
 instead of noxious members of the community ; must 
 be confessed by far the most eligible method of 
 reforming ; this is laying the axe to the root : to pre- 
 serve the body in health and soundness, is doubtless 
 preferable to the application of severe medicines, or 
 the amputation of corrupted members. And as from 
 the wretched families of the lower class of people in 
 and about this city, uninstinicted and profligate sons 
 grow up a nuisance to the community, and commence 
 thieves and robbers ; so the daughters, no less igno- 
 rant and uninstructed, and exposed to innumerable 
 evils, overrun the streets, desperately abandoned, and 
 even at an age, very frequently, when their minds 
 are scarce capable of consideration. 
 
 To jDreserve the boys a late laudable plan hath been 
 proposed, and happily executed. To preserve the 
 girls, and render them no less useful in their station, 
 to keep them from early prostitution, and early death, 
 and thus to do them and the community signal service 
 — it is proposed, that a house be pro\dded, consisting 
 of two parts, calculated at once for preservation and 
 reformation : the first, the preservatory, for the pre- 
 servation of such young girls as shall be detennined 
 on, and whose circumstances in life would probably 
 lead them to prostitution : the second, the ref ormatoiy, 
 for the reception of such, as have been prostituted, 
 and are desirous to repent and reform, &c. See the 
 Plans, London Chronicle^ p. 149, and p. 348.
 
 APPENDIX. 221 
 
 This suspicious document suggests the story tliat 
 went round the papers after his death, of liis having 
 once estabHshed a home at Broniley, in Kent, for 
 " female boarders, ladies of small fortunes, who were 
 desirous of being introduced into polite life . . . that 
 a coach was kept in the family, and every elegant 
 accommodation that could be required." The scheme 
 answered tolerably well at first, but, adds the account, 
 " the sequel of this narrative we wish could be more 
 favoui'able in the Doctor's behalf." Some sort of 
 esclandre took place, and the establishment was 
 broken up. 
 
 X. 
 
 Histories of the Tete-a-Tete annexed ; or, jSIemoirs of 
 Sir Simony Scruple and the Subtle Sinner. (From 
 one of the Monthly Magazines, No. 37, 38.) 
 
 The period is again arrived, when, agreeable to oiu' 
 promise, we must use our utmost endeavours to re- 
 claim four-and-twenty very polite people, whom we 
 have introduced to our readers in the course of this year 
 as Tete-a-Tetes. We should not bo under any appre- 
 hensions of not accomplishing our design, had we only 
 to do with the ladies, when Ave have such a source of 
 persuasive rhetoric at hand, never yet known to fail the 
 learned, agreeable, insmuating* Sir Simony Scruple ; 
 
 * He that has taken his degree at the university is, in the academical 
 style, called Dominus, and in common language was heretofore termed
 
 222 APPENDIX. 
 
 but as their intimate friends of the other sex may point 
 out to them the danger of listening to so danojerous a 
 rival, we must also use our good offices in promoting 
 his advice and doctrines, which we will, \nth the 
 utmost impartiality, set forth, and which must neces- 
 sarily remove every possible prejudice that can be 
 raised against him. On his part, we have not the 
 least doubt (though veiy scrupulous when the least 
 infringement is made upon the ecclesiastical rights), 
 as we do not intend any one pair shall be legally 
 united, without pajdng the just fees, agreeable to their 
 station, that Sir Simony will refuse liis clerical 
 assistance to join in wedlock a dozen couple who 
 have strayed out of the pale of matrimony ; and in this 
 persuasion we think ourselves peculiarly happy in 
 having an opportunity of recommending a gentleman 
 of IVIr. Scruple's elegant appearance and address, 
 upon so laudable an occasion. 
 
 It may appear somewhat singular to many of om' 
 readers, that this gentleman, after having completed 
 his education at the university, should give the pre- 
 ference to the pvu'suits of the law, rather than the 
 vocation of the gospel ; but it should be remembered 
 that he was at this time a young man, unexperienced 
 in the world, hurried away by tm-bulent passions, and 
 bewildered by the modish pastimes and polite amuse- 
 
 Sir. This was not always a word of contempt ; the graduates assumed 
 it in their own writings ; so Trevisa the historian writes himself Syr 
 John Trevisa. — Johnson. AVith how much more propriety may this 
 be applied to our hero, who has jiuUciousIi/]qmtted the profane study of 
 the law, for the pure dictates of the gospel !
 
 APPENDIX. 223 
 
 ments whicli surround this great capital ; in a word, 
 lie had not had at this time any other call than that 
 of natui'c, to prompt him to action ; and without pro- 
 perly reflecting upon the sin and danger of a life of 
 gaiety and dissipation, he gave in to the fashionable 
 errors so common in youth, and indeed so little 
 exploded by age. 
 
 He took chambers in the Temple, and began to 
 study Coke upon Littleton, with as much attention as 
 is generally bestowed by the students of George's and 
 Nando's. He usually breakfasted at the coffee-house, 
 dined at the tavern, took a slice of the play in the pit, 
 supped in a convivial manner in the garden, and the 
 next morning left the diy discussions of John Xokes 
 and Thomas Styles to barristers of fifty, and Serjeants 
 past their grand climacteric. A Templer of taste and 
 genius considers the study of the law as only a decent 
 apology for having chambers in the Temple, so instru- 
 mental in conducting an intrigue ^^^th delicacy, and 
 cornuting an alderman, without prejudicing his lady's 
 reputation. This is a science pursued with infinite 
 more labour and industry in this seminary of jm'is- 
 pmdence, than in any spot of the same extent inidcr 
 the smi. The seraglios of the East may be filled 
 with confined sultanas; but in this land of liberty 
 free egrees and regress is allowed every female 
 devoted to Venus, wdio pays her devotion in tliis 
 Temple, so immediately consecrated to that goddess, 
 and Avhere the numbers are at least equal to tliosc of 
 the Grand Siguier's harem. 
 
 Mr. Scruple, whose conscience at this time was not
 
 224 APPENDIX. 
 
 contracted by any of those puritanic notions he has 
 since imbibed, was soon initiated into all the mysteries 
 of the Temple. Being then a genteel, agreeable 
 young fellow, master of an uncommon share of 
 address, possesssed of that degree of assurance so 
 necessary to carry a man through life upon every 
 critical occasion, and being also natm'ally of an amo- 
 rous disposition (though like Socrates, we must now 
 suppose he has completely suppressed it by philosophy 
 or methodism), he failed not to avail himself of those 
 talents so bountifully bestowed upon him by our 
 common jDarent. To aver the truth, few fellow- 
 students had more intrigues upon their hands than 
 young Scruple : Simony had almost a constant levee 
 and succession of beauties, from the Honom'able jVlrs. 
 
 D down to Betty L , his sempstress ; and he 
 
 timed his appointments so well, and was so happily 
 calculated for prosecuting his business, that no one 
 of his numerous mistresses ever suspected she had a 
 rival. 
 
 In this romid of pleasure and dissipation our hero 
 moved for near five years, mthout any alloy, or one 
 single pang of conscience intruding upon the felicity 
 of his hom-s. His vanity was, indeed, gratified on 
 every side ; for whilst the ladies admii*ed him for the 
 elegance and symmetry of his person, the wits and 
 critics paid the highest encomiums on his taste and 
 judgment : he was com'ted by li\ing authors for his 
 profomid knowledge of the dead ; and the dramatic 
 writers curried his favom', that the Bedford and 
 George's might not receive the first lash of literary 
 d n to their works from the breath of Scruple.
 
 APPENDIX. 225 
 
 When the time approached of his being called to 
 the bar, he began to find that he had made very little 
 progress in the law ; and that in all probability he 
 would, from his ignorance in the science, not onlv 
 make a very contemptible figm'e in the court of 
 King s Bench, but that more likely his practice would 
 not defray the expense of coach-hire, even in the 
 usual party quarre dm'ing term time. His patrimony, 
 which was originally not considerable, he had greatly 
 diminished, and the residue of it would scarcely 
 support him a twelvemonth in his usual gaiety and 
 expense. These considerations brought him to some 
 serious reflections, and these rimiinations carried him 
 one evening to St. Dunstan's, where he heard the 
 great Komaine. He caught the enthusiastic fire of 
 devotion — was from that moment a proselyte, and re- 
 solved soon to be a preacher. 
 
 Let it not astonish our readers to find, that talents 
 which would starve a man in Westminster Hall, may 
 make his fortune in a pulpit : the genius that forms 
 an excellent pathetic preacher, may make but a very 
 contemptible pleader; and yet in Scruple how easy 
 the transition, from the glorious uncertainties of the 
 law, to the ideal jargons of methodism ! 
 
 We may now suppose that ]\Ii-. Simony Scruple 
 has quitted his chambers In the Temple, his gallantrv, 
 intrigues, convivial companions, playhouse critics, and 
 coffee-house politicians, and like a man new made, 
 having a proper call, is regenerated into a pious 
 divine. 
 
 The reverend Sir Simony soon made himself con- 
 spicuous as a preacher : he had many followers, even 
 
 \
 
 226 APPENDIX. 
 
 in the circles of Grosvenor and Berkeley squares, and 
 in a short time he had the care of the souls of many 
 women of quality, whose former irregularities began 
 to prey upon their consciences, and make them think 
 it was time for them to have a spiritual guide. On 
 his part he did eveiything to comfort them and as- 
 suage their affliction, as he did not, like his brethren 
 
 W d, W y, and E, ne, preach up near so 
 
 much damn n ; and offered them hopes of happi- 
 ness in this world, as well as that to come. The 
 orthodoxy of his doctrine prevailed beyond liis most 
 sanguine expectations, and lie was esteemed the 
 politest methodist preacher that ever banged a pulpit. 
 In proportion as Ins fame extended his purse increased, 
 and he found profit and honoui* flow in on every side. 
 It was at the time he had attained this zenith of 
 renown that the affair from which he has so justly 
 derived his title, occmTed, and made him still more 
 talked of, than his preaching or his doctrines. Mr. 
 K., the patron of the living of Al kle, being em- 
 barrassed in his circumstances, at the time the living 
 was vacant in 1763, he proposed disposing of the 
 perpetual advowson. A pm'chaser had agreed for it 
 at the price of eleven hmidred pounds, but within 
 fom'teen days of a lapse, repented of his bargain, and 
 threw up the agreement. In this dilemma the un- 
 fortunate patron applied to Mr. Scruple for his 
 advice, and it was agreed that the living should be 
 put into the hands of some person who shoidd hold it 
 for a limited time. IVIr. Scruple recommended Mr. 
 H.,* his deputy and dependent, and this pious gen- 
 
 * It is with unfeigned pleasure we can acquaint our readers that
 
 APPENDIX. 227 
 
 tlenican " was" (to use his own words) " ready to stand 
 in the gap." Mr. K., confiding in their integrity, 
 gave Mr. PI. the living in the year 1764 ; from that 
 time 'Mr. K. frequently applied to the two reverend 
 gentlemen, earnestly requesting them to consider and 
 compassionate his case, either to make him satisfac- 
 tion, by purchasing the advowson, or consent to a 
 resignation, as the disappointment he had met A^ith in 
 this transaction had been the ruin of him and liis 
 family. But so religiously bent upon justice were 
 these charitable gentlemen, that though thoroughly 
 convinced of the patron's distress, they refused to 
 make him any sort of recompense, because it would 
 be — Simonical ! By this legal refusal of restoring the 
 living, or making any kind of acknowledgment for 
 it, they piously possess one hundi*ed and thirty-five 
 povnids per annum, for which they paid nothing — but 
 a little wholesome advice in favour of themselves. 
 
 It was upon this occasion that jNIr. Foote intro- 
 duced in his comedy of " The Devil upon Two 
 Sticks" that justly satirical stroke, where he says, 
 " Simony is a new devised canon of our modern 
 saints, which makes it not criminal to betray one's 
 trust, and piously plunder the little property of an 
 indigent man and his family." When a man has 
 once got a good name, he may do anything with im- 
 punity: we have plenty of proverbs in su})port of 
 
 this worthy limb of Methodism is this month fortunately united in 
 wedlock to a lady, possessed not only (in the style of our news-writers) 
 of every accomplishment necessary to render the marriage state happy, 
 but to recompense the many uncommon social virtues of her pious 
 husband. 
 
 q2
 
 228 APPENDIX. 
 
 this opinion ; but the followers of Scruple are still 
 greater evidences of the rectitude of the assertion. 
 His fame was no way diminished by this public act of 
 injustice, his chapel was as crowded, his pews were 
 filled with as good company, and his female disciples 
 were as anxious as ever for his pious labours in their 
 behalf. Husbands, so far from entertaining the least 
 shadow of jealousy at his frequent visits to their 
 wives in their absence, ascribed to his valuable ex- 
 hortations many virtues they had never before disco- 
 vered in their ladies. Among the foremost of these 
 was a reformation in point of gaming and vigils, 
 which hurt their constitutions, and in many had 
 hitherto so greatly impaired them, that they had 
 been prevented being mothers, and giving heirs to 
 great titles and large estates ; an evil that had been 
 in a great measure removed by the excellent precepts 
 of the reverend reformer. 
 
 Sir Simony's renown in this respect reached the 
 ears of the comely Subtle Sinner, who had been 
 married to her worthy mate near twenty years, and 
 yet their wealth was likely to devolve to a second 
 cousin. This lady's husband was just returned from 
 the East Indies, with an Asiatic fortune and a 
 broken constitution. She resolved upon being a 
 disciple to the justly-admired orator, and accordingly 
 purchased a seat in his chapel, which she constantly 
 attends every time he preaches. 
 
 Oui' heroine took the earliest opportunity of giving 
 Sii* Simony a general invitation to her house, and he 
 was too polite to refuse a lady's mandate. The nabob 
 was not, how^ever, of so tractable a tui'n as many of
 
 APPENDIX. 229 
 
 the lielpmates of Sir Simony's female disciples. He 
 had his scruples as well as tlie divine, but they were 
 of a different complexion. In vain he remonstrated 
 with his good lady to dismiss their clerical guest : the 
 more urgent he was against Sir Scruple's visits, the 
 more firmly resolved she was to admit of them. His 
 doubts, his suspicions, his jealousy, were hence in- 
 creased. He communicated his apprehensions to a 
 trusty valet, ^\-ith whom it was concerted to watch all 
 Simony's motions. A letter was intercepted from the 
 Subtle Sinner to the preacher, penned in such terms 
 as redoubled every alarm ; and the Asiatic plumb 
 resolved to inflict the punishment of an Abelard on 
 Scruple if the event corroborated his guilt. Luckily 
 for the pious teacher, the nabob Avas seized vath a fit 
 of the gout that very afternoon, which confined him 
 to his room ; and the valet was troubled with some 
 pious qualms, that made him refuse executing the 
 commission. 
 
 These pious qualms of the valet were in some 
 degree owing to the perusal of one of his mistress's 
 good books, which operated so strongly upon him 
 that he was convinced Sir Simony was a worthy 
 pastor, who had been grossly injured by a suppositi- 
 tious letter ; and resolving instantly to become one of 
 his flock, he may now be seen in the front of the 
 gallery, sighing and sobbing with the old hulies vxcvy 
 time Scruple preaches. Tlie blabbing valet had, liow- 
 ever, a few nights before his conversion, tlu'own out 
 some hints in the company of an Irish gentleman (who 
 had repaired to this metropolis to make his fortune, 
 either by the aid of the blind goddess at tlie hazard-
 
 230 APPENDIX. 
 
 table, or some equally blind mortal female, at the 
 still more hazardous game of matrimony) that the 
 Subtle Sinner was certainly very fond of Sir Simony, 
 and, after drinking a few more glasses, mentioned 
 the precise place of their rendezvous, at the same 
 time gi^^ng a description of the Methodist's person 
 and dress. The Hibernian hero, not ignorant of the 
 advantages that might be derived from such an alli- 
 ance, resolved to personate his reverend rival. He 
 accordingly hired a gown and cassock, with a proper 
 peruke, and repairing to the place of assignation, had 
 ah'eady given the lady a lectiu'e upon moral philo- 
 sophy before her expected master amved. When 
 Sir Simony came he was denied admittance, and, 
 like Castalio, in " The Orphan," cursed the unfaithful 
 sex for the deception. The next day (after he had 
 sermonised near Hyde Park-corner) an eclaircissement 
 took place. She vowed she thought she perceived a 
 difference ; and that, to own the truth, she now found 
 she must have been imposed upon, for that she gi-eatly 
 prefeiTed the usual teaching of Sir Simony. 
 
 It is above four months since the Subtle Sinner has 
 been a convert to his doctrines, and the benefit she 
 has already reaped from them is incredible. She has 
 not once touched a card, or sat up after twelve during 
 this period, and as her husband is now gone to Bath 
 for the recoveiy of his health, there ai'e gi'eat hopes, 
 from Sir Scruple's constant visits and efficacious 
 exhortations, that, in a short time, the great object of 
 all her pious wishes will be accomplished, as she 
 seems still every way capable of doing justice to pos- 
 terity, and making amends for the time lost by her
 
 APPENDIX. 231 
 
 husband's absence. Our engraver lias communicated 
 a very striking likeness of her person, Avhich must 
 convince the obsen^er that she is of that complexion 
 to profit by the orthodox labom-s of her wortliy 
 pastor. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The following advertisement is quite characteristic 
 of the Doctors " sensational" administration of the 
 Magdalen charity. The delivery of the " two tickets 
 for the chm-ch" with " each ticket for the feast" is ad- 
 mirable. 
 
 MAGDALEX HOSPITAL. 
 
 THE Anniversary Meeting of the Govcniors of this 
 Hospital, will be held at DRAPERS' HALL, in Thro^raorton- 
 street, on Thursday, the 25th day of this instant April, after a Sermon 
 to be preached at the parish church of St. George's, Hanover- square, 
 before the Right Hon. the Earl of Hertford, President, the A'ice-Pre- 
 sidents, Treasurer, and the rest of the Governors, by the Rev. John 
 Craven, A.M., Rector of Woolverton, in the county of Southampton, 
 and chaplain to the Right Hon. the Earl of Denbigh. 
 Prayers ■will begin at Eleven o'clock. 
 Dinner on table at half-past Three precisely. 
 
 Sir Robert Clayton, Bart. 
 Sir George Pocock, Knight of 
 
 the Bath. 
 John Shakespeare, Esq., and 
 
 Alderman. 
 The Hon. Thomas Harvey. 
 
 John Regnier, Esq. 
 Robert Salmon, Esq. 
 Philip Stanhope, Esq. 
 James Vere, Esq. 
 John Weyland, Esq. 
 Robert Wilsonn, Esq. 
 
 Te Deum, Jubilate, and several new Anthems adapted to the charity, 
 •will be performed in the course of the service. 
 
 Two tickets for the church Mill be delivered with each ticket for the 
 feast. 
 
 Tickets for the church or feast will be delivered to the order in 
 writing of any governor by the secretary', Mr. Wintcrbottom, at No. 32, 
 Threadneedle-street, London. 
 
 Dinner tickets at Ijg. each with two tickets for the church may be hud 
 at the following places: — Waghome's Cotl'ee-house, in the Court of Re- 
 quests ; Arthur's, St. James's-street ; IMount Coffee-house, Grosvenor- 
 street; Richard's Coffee-house, near Temple-bar; Bntson's, John's and 
 Tom's, CornhiU.
 
 232 APPENDIX. 
 
 Even the ordinary advertisements of liis books have 
 the old " Dodd-Hke" flavom- : 
 
 West Ham, February 24, 1764. 
 
 MR. DODD begs leave to iiifonn his Friends and the 
 Public, that his COMMENTARY on the SACRED SCRIP- 
 TURES, with Mr. LOCKE'S ANNOTATIONS, has been for sometime 
 in the press; but he has determined to postpone the publication till 
 October next, that the sheets may be sufficiently dry and fit for use. 
 In the mean time a specimen of the work may be seen at jNIr. Davis's, 
 the corner of Sackville-street, Piccadilly ; Mr. Newbery's, in St. Paul's 
 Church-yard; and at Messrs. Davis and Reymer's, in Holborn. And 
 if any friends to Sacred Literature shall please to communicate their 
 observations on any parts of the Scriptures, due respect will be paid to 
 them in the course of the work ; as no pains or attention are spared to 
 render the Commentary complete and useful, and such as may answer 
 the wishes of those who desire to see a free and rational interpretatioa 
 of the Scriptures. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 DR. DODD\S COMMENTARY on the BIBLE, which 
 began to be published in April, 1765, being now far enough ad- 
 vanced to enable him to ascertain the number of sheets it will contain ; 
 he thinks proper to inform the subscribers and the public, that it will 
 be comprised within 190 numbers; and that a republication is going 
 to be made from the beginning. The materials are great, but due care 
 has been and will be taken not unnecessaril}- to swell the w'ork. Those 
 who are inclined to encourage this undertaking, but postponed giving 
 their orders till they could know the quantity it would make, have now 
 an opportunity of beginning with No. I. and being served progressively, 
 either in weekly or monthly numbers. 
 
 On Saturday, May 10, will be republished, 
 Number I. of 
 THE HOLY BIBLE. 
 Printed on a large and beautiful type, and illustrated with a Commentar}- 
 and practical improvements. In these are inserted the Notes and Col- 
 lections of John Locke, Esq., the Rev. Daniel Waterland, D.D., the 
 Right Hon, Edward Earl of Clarendon, and other learned persons. 
 By WILLIAM DODD, LL.D., 
 
 Prebendary of Brecon, and Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majesty. 
 
 N.B. This work will be regularly republished, in both weekly and 
 monthly numbers ; the first will contain three large sheets, inclosed in 
 blue paper, and be delivered every Saturday, price Gd., and the last will 
 contain twelve sheets, and will be published the first day of every 
 month, and delivered with the magazines, price '2s. 
 
 Proposals at large may be had of the proprietors, R. Davis, in Pic- 
 cadilly ; J. Newbery, St. Paul's Church-yard ; L. Davis and C. Rey- 
 mers, Holborn ; also of the publisher, F. Newbery, Paternoster-row ; 
 and of all booksellers and news-carriers. 
 
 The former publication of this work is carried on as usual, and will 
 be continued till the whole is completed.
 
 ArrENDix. 233 
 
 By the prominent position given to the following 
 notices of the Doctor's motions, it -will be seen what a 
 remarkable public character he was considered : 
 
 Yesterday the Reverend Doctor Dodd preached l)c- 
 fore their Majesties, and their Royal Highnesses the 
 Dukes of Gloucester and Cumberland, at the Chajxd 
 Royal, St. James's. The sword of state was carried 
 to and from chapel by the Right Hon. Lord Cadogan. 
 
 On Monday the Reverend Doctor Dodd had the 
 honour to present to his Royal Highness the Prince 
 of Wales a volume of sermons on the " Duties of the 
 Great,"' which their Majesties have permitted him to 
 dedicate to the Prince, and which were most graciously 
 received. 
 
 Yesterday morning the new chapel in Charlotte- 
 street, near Buckingham-gate, was opened, and a 
 sermon preached to a numerous audience by the 
 Reverend Doctor Dodd. In the afternoon the same 
 gentleman preached his farewell sermon at St. Olave, 
 Hart-street, he having resigned the lectureship of that 
 parish, and for which there are several candidates. 
 
 To-morrow the Earl of Hertford, President of the 
 Magdalen House, the Vice-Presidents, Treasurer, &c., 
 are to meet at Charlotte Chapel, near the Queen's 
 Palace, and after divine service, and a sermon by the 
 Reverend Doctor Dodd, will go to St. George's-tields 
 and lay the first foundation-stone of the new intended 
 building for that charity, and afterwards dine at the 
 London Tavern.
 
 234 APrENDix. 
 
 In regard to the " Simony" affair, a letter was ad- 
 dressed to the 2:>apers giving the Doctor's own version, 
 which betrays the hand of Governor Thicknesse. It 
 does not improve his case : 
 
 To the Printer. 
 
 SiK, — Had it not been for the unfortunate letter 
 supposed to be wrote by an imfortunate man to a 
 very fortunate one, I am thoroughly satisfied he 
 would haA-e withheld his hand from that deed which 
 brought such severe affliction on himself, his famih', 
 and friends ; and therefore his own account of that 
 stor}', which he told me soon after it came out, and 
 confirmed again a short time before he suffered, 
 ought to be publicly kno^^-n. 
 
 Upon my expressing my surprise that he could 
 have been so injudicious in taking so chrect a line to 
 preferment, he expressed an equal surprise that I 
 could suppose him so totally ignorant of the world, 
 but added, that two women, one nearly related to 
 him, and another (very rich) warmly attached to his 
 family and interest, had laid their heads together to 
 sui-prise him mtli this gi-eat j^iece of preferment, and 
 then observed that the affection he bore for one, and 
 the obligations he lay under to the other, deteraiined 
 him to bear the impiitation of folly, rather than 
 expose the weakness of his two best friends. Tliis 
 was his miiform accomit of the matter to me, 
 when that offence was recent, and since it has been 
 covered by a gi'eater; nor can his enemies advance 
 but one single reason to suppose him capable of taking
 
 APPENDIX. 235 
 
 tliat weak step, i.e. liis ]iavin<2; taken that for Avhicli 
 lie suffered since. Thus much I know to be true, 
 that a certain rich lady (since dead) did at times 
 
 make !Mrs. D very liberal presents, and there is 
 
 nothing extraordinary in supposing that such a 
 woman mi£[ht asree to advance a considerable sum 
 of money, in order to advance a man for whom, and 
 his family, she had a most particular regard. The 
 unfortunate man seemed from the first moment that 
 affair and the consequences became public, to sink, 
 and to be in the state of a poor girl, who, being 
 seduced by a lover, and discarded by her friends, 
 becomes a common prostitute, more from necessity 
 than choice. When once a man has lost his good 
 name, he loses the strongest tie to keep him a good 
 man. I wish he had found mercy where mercy is to 
 be found ; were it for no other reason but that I 
 know, great as his crime was, he had suffered punish- 
 ment enough before he left Newgate, for a ci'ime 
 even of a deeper dye. Greater criminals have been 
 pardoned ; greater criminals will be pardoned. He 
 was a great object of justice, but he was also a 
 greater object of mercy. After what he had suffered 
 in confinement, if he was really a believer himself, 
 there cannot be a doubt l)ut that his life woidd have 
 been a more useful one to society than his death 
 was an example. His adchvss to his fellow- jii'isoncrs, 
 and his resignation and composed behaviour, prove 
 him to have been a Christian penitent ; and he often 
 assured me, that if his life was spared, the remainder 
 of it should be employed in the practice as well as
 
 236 ArrENDix. 
 
 the preaching of piety. Perhaps, if he had employed 
 his pen on the favourable side in politics, it might 
 have done him more service than in matters of re- 
 ligion. Perhaps, his having latterly employed it 
 another way, did him no service with the Tories. 
 The voice of the people is the voice of God. 
 
 A RELATION OF THE BEHAVIOUR OF DOCTOR DODD 
 IX XEWGATE, ETC. 
 
 Doctor Dodd, though by his own confession he had 
 for some years past indulged himself in a voluptuous 
 life, yet, after his confinement, lived witJi great tem- 
 perance, according to Mr. Villette the Ordinary of 
 Newgate's account ; though he might, as he himself 
 said, have lived luxuriously, through the benevolence 
 of his friends. 
 
 Mr. Villette says, that as several of the stories 
 spread abroad against the Doctor came to his ears, he 
 thought it incumbent on him to ask him several 
 questions relative to the truth of them ; and that he 
 answered in such a manner, as plainly evinced that 
 MOST of them were absolutely false, or greatly and 
 inhumanly exaggerated. It is to be wished that ISIi*. 
 Villette had expressed himself more fully and expli- 
 citly on this subject. 
 
 The Doctor employed part of his time in amending 
 a Book of Devotions for the Use of Prisoners, written 
 by one Rossell, as appears by a letter he wrote to the 
 ordinary :
 
 APPENDIX. 237 
 
 " Dear Sir, — In consequence of oiu' conversation, 
 I have perused Eossell's book* with attention. There 
 is a great deal of good matter in it, but ill-digested, 
 and often very ill expressed. I have been at much 
 pains to reform what appeared to me erroneous, and 
 to arrange what is irregular and confused. To say 
 the truth, I have spent many hours in an endeavour 
 to render his work more uniform, and consequently 
 more useful. How far I have succeeded, I cannot 
 tell ; for I freely own to you, that his multiplicity of 
 chaotic matter has often so entangled and })er[)lexed 
 me, that I have been scarce master of my own ideas, 
 and, I verily believe, could have composed a work on 
 the subject witli less trouble than it lias cost me to 
 revise this. And, after all, I am doubtful whether the 
 upshot of the matter, in this arrangement, will not be 
 the same with me, as with those who, under a notion 
 of saving expenses, repair, add to, and reform an old 
 building, which, after all, is but an old one, and in 
 the end commonly turns out as expensive, though by 
 no means so commodious, as one entirely new would 
 have proved. Of this, however, you, sir, must be the 
 best jvidge, whose experience on these heads is pre- 
 ferable to any mere ideas of my poor brain, especially 
 in its present disturbed and unsettled state. Had I 
 been master of more leisure, or longer time, I think I 
 could have made the book better, and more calculated 
 to answer its humane design. As it is, and solicitous 
 as I am to improve every moment in my present awfid 
 state, you will accept what I have done as a little 
 tribute of my good will to you, and as a proof that I 
 * A Book of Devotions for the Use of Prisoners.
 
 238 APPENDIX. 
 
 am desirous, in eveiy situation, to do all in my humble 
 power to contribute a mite to the best welfare of my 
 fellow-creatm'es. I could wish that a short Address 
 to my unhappy fellow-prisoners, which I have Amtten, 
 and will commu.nicate to you, might be prefixed to the 
 work ; as, perhaps, from the sad singularity of my 
 unfortunate circumstances, it may gain more atten- 
 tion from them than the much better labours of 
 another person. That God may bless and assist you 
 in the performance of your doleful but necessary and 
 important office, is, sir, the fervent prayer of 
 " Yom' dj-ing brother, 
 
 " (In our common Lord) 
 
 "William Dodd." 
 
 He was led by the flattery of his friends, before the 
 order for execution arrived, that he should find mercy. 
 One of his friends had, some days before, sent him a 
 congi'atulatory letter upon obtaining his pardon, which 
 he told him he heard was procured through the mter- 
 cession of the Prince of Wales. His mind was, in 
 consequence, greatly agitated between hope and fear, 
 so that he had a very distressed night before the order 
 came, and was not Avell prepared for the dreadfid 
 news. His friends began to open it to him by degrees, 
 but he requested them to tell him the truth at once ; for 
 he imagined by their countenances how the matter was. 
 He told the ordinary soon after, that he had only m- 
 dulged himself for the three preceding days with hopes 
 of mercy from what his friends had said to him ; for 
 that he had all along, even from his first entrance mto 
 the gaol, given himself up as a lost man. After the
 
 ArrENDix. 239 
 
 first shock of the news of his being included in the 
 death warrant was subsided, he became more com- 
 posed, and his mind, in general, intent upon a prepa- 
 ration for death. 
 
 Dm-ing his confinement he had a nmnber of letters 
 sent to him from different persons, among which was 
 the following letter from the Right Honourable the 
 Countess of Huntingdon : 
 
 " Reverend Sir, — From the first hearing of your 
 unfortunate situation, I could not look for any less 
 supphes of support and comfort for you, than to Him 
 who chose for our sakes to he numbered with the 
 transgressors. You are master of every rational and 
 scripture argument, and in this, perhaps, inferior 
 to few. And I earnestly pray God these may have 
 their place, and their times of consolation for you. 
 
 " But reason, or the msest conclusions drawn from 
 even trutli itself, neither removes the stino;s of o-uilt, 
 nor possesses the soul with that peace, which ever 
 passes the best informed understanding. O no ! no- 
 tliing but that voice of Almighty power that spoke 
 from the Cross to your suffering companion there, can 
 be your point now : and we all, like him, must pass 
 sentence upon ourselves, and say. We indeed receive 
 the due reward of our deeds. How soon the welcome 
 request, Lord remember me, &c., reached the heart of 
 oiu" divine substitute ; how speedy the relief ; how 
 lasting and complete the comfort. The meaning of 
 my prayers and tears for your grief, wouUl have no 
 other language but Go and do thou likewise. Forgive, 
 and do not wonder you should find m\- ^•iews so
 
 240 APPENDIX. 
 
 limited as this seems for your only relief. Were life 
 extended to its latest possible period, the alone solid 
 or well-grounded hope of happiness must subsist 
 purely by this interior blessing ; as making the little 
 good we have on earth have all its safety, and all the 
 various evils of a miserable world wisely or rationally 
 supported by it. Thus everything unites to render 
 the importunity of your suffering heart tlie happy 
 subject of this mercy. This mercy, once obtained, 
 will bear you through the fluctuating emotions, and 
 various views of life and death, which so immediately 
 and naturally operate upon you, and even cause you 
 to glory in tribulation. 
 
 " May you thus rejoice in the truth and power of 
 that religion you have so long professed and taught 
 to others, and becoming a witness of our Saviour's 
 grace to sinners, be enabled to preach the best seniion 
 you ever preached in your life, and to people the most 
 miserable and ignorant of the high Christian privilege 
 of salvation by the cross of oiu' Lord Jesus Christ ! 
 Should He answer the affectionate cries of his j)oor 
 unworthy j)eople for you, and that arm of infinite 
 consolation be stretched out for your strength and 
 eternal blessedness, how little mil the appendages of 
 death appear, which to mere suffering nature is so 
 bitter ; and how thankfully will you see Justice and 
 Mercy thus met together, and mixed in that cuj), so 
 severe in the eyes of others ; or should the tender 
 compassions of royal mercy be extended to save from 
 the present suffering hovu", yet only in life, or in the 
 more remote event of death, this gi'ace must be the 
 one cause of praise, through time and eternity for
 
 ArrENDix. 241 
 
 you. It is for tills I woukl most affectionately re- 
 commend you day and night. And it is to Ilim who 
 is able to do abundantly above all we can ask or 
 think; and thus I beg to remain a sj-mpathising 
 friend, and, reverend sir, 
 
 " Your humble Servant, 
 
 " S. Huntingdon. 
 
 " S. Wales." 
 
 Books of very different contents Avere also sent to 
 him ; so that he had such a collection of different 
 systems of doctrine forced upon him in books and 
 letters, as might, according to the ordinary's expres- 
 sion, distress and perplex any human being. He was 
 also visited by persons of very different sentiments 
 and complexions, but always mentioned his satisfac- 
 tion when visited by men of sense and piety. Among 
 others, he spoke respectfully of Mr. Wesley, and like- 
 wise of ]Mr. Romaine, who paid him a visit a short 
 time before his death : from ihe last of these gentle- 
 men he received peculiar comfort, and said that they 
 parted mutually satisfied. He frequently appeared to 
 have a deep sense of his past offences ; and expressed, 
 when he reflected upon the gi'eat love of God in the 
 redemption of the w^orld through Christ, his un- 
 worthiness, and a gi-eat abhorrence of his ingratitude 
 towards Him in having deviated from Him and His 
 divine precepts : this he often did with tears. He 
 frequently bemoaned his having brought such a dis- 
 honour upon religion, and upon the sacred function ; 
 and declared with great emotion, that if he could wipe 
 off the offence he had thus given, he would gladly 
 
 11
 
 242 APPENDIX, 
 
 submit to the greatest tortures ; and would rather die 
 thau return into the world again to offend his God, 
 and act inconsistent with His holy will. He often ex- 
 pressed his willingness to che a uatural death, but 
 painful apprehensions of a public execution, attended 
 with all the tragic, and yet disorderly parade, usual in 
 this country. He spoke of the execution of others w^ho 
 had suffered on account of their crimes, and said he 
 cUd not think that heroism was a proper state of mind 
 for such ; humble hope was the highest they could 
 aspire to : heroism and triumph belonged to martp's. 
 He uttered frequently his thankfulness that he had 
 enjoyed so much composure of mind, health, and com- 
 fortable rest, free from any distressing dreams, since 
 his confinement, and fomid himself more happy after 
 his detection than before. He said that he esteemed 
 his affliction as a fatherly connection from God, to 
 bring him into those paths of rectitude from which 
 he had for some years erred. 
 
 The day before his execution, he expressed what a 
 trial it would be to take a final leave of his wife, who 
 had been remarkably affectionate to him dimng the 
 twenty-seven years they had been maiTied. Li the 
 evening of the same day, after he was in his room, he 
 said, " Now the bitterness of death is past." He then 
 related that he had taken a tender leave of his friends, 
 and from his dearest friend, his wife. He said, " I 
 was much afraid of this scene, but it passed over 
 much easier than I could have possibly imagined, and 
 !Mi*s. Dodd behaved on the occasion better than I ex- 
 pected : we j)arted as those who hope to meet again." 
 He declared repeatedly, and yet with deep contrition,
 
 APPE^T)IX. 243 
 
 his readiness to die, and tliat lie relied -wholly and 
 confidently on the merits of his Lord and Saviour. 
 He spoke of the love of God in Christ Jesus Avitli pe- 
 culiar energy, and vdt\i such a sense of his (nni un- 
 worthiness as was a proof that he was sincere, and 
 that his resignation to the execution of justice was not 
 at all dissembled, but genuine. He praised the Lord 
 for the great work of redemption, by which sinners 
 could be saved ; and compared the great difference 
 between the death of the most renowmed heathens, 
 who lost all sight of their evil actions, and that of the 
 humble, contrite Christian, who saw at one view the 
 wisdom, holiness, and justice of God, and at the same 
 time His infinite love and mercy in the salvation of 
 sinners by Jesus Christ. He had sometimes expressed 
 his thoughts about oiu* penal laws, that they were too 
 sanguinary ; that they were against not only the laws 
 of God, but of nature ; and that his awn case was 
 hard ; that he should die for an act which he always 
 declared to be-s\Tong, but liy which he never intended 
 to injure any one individual ; and, that as the public 
 had forgiven liim, he thought he might have been 
 pardoned. But now he laid all these thoughts touch- 
 ing himself aside, though he continued to think in the 
 same manner of the penal laws to his end. 
 
 Upon the coming in of a faithful and steady friend, 
 and a clerg}Tnan, he said, among other things, " I 
 have requested of my friends to-day what I now re- 
 quest also of you. It is possible that, after my death, 
 some of my kind friends, who have so earnestly soli- 
 cited my pardon, but in vain, and others, may cliarge 
 the king and his councillors with cruelty, and use ini-
 
 244 APPENDIX. 
 
 proper language out of love to me ; make it knoA\m, 
 that I declare this to be far from my thoughts : I 
 love and honour the king ; I doubt not his humanity: 
 he and his councillors have acted according to jus- 
 tice ; and his ISIajesty would have extended mercy, if 
 he could have thought it consistent with the welfare 
 of the nation." He then lifted up his hands, and 
 prayed, " O Almighty God, thou King of Kings, bless 
 our gracious king ; support and strengthen him, esta- 
 blish his throne in righteousness ; give peace in his 
 day, O Lord ; make an end of dissension, and put a 
 stop to the present unnatui-al war. O give his coun- 
 cillors wdsdom, and bless them. Amen." After this, 
 going to prayer, he shed many tears, and concluded 
 Avith saving, " O Lord Jesus Christ, let a poor sinner 
 yet speak unto Thee, though unworthy : O strengthen 
 my faith, comfort and support me, have mercy upon 
 me, and forgive me my sins, for the sake of Thy holy, 
 precious blood. Amen." He said, that if the Lord 
 would leave it to his choice to be now annihilated, by 
 which means all would be over, or that he should die, 
 and stand the chance of eternal life, or eternal miseiy, 
 he would not give up his hope of the glorious inhe- 
 ritance, no, not for ten thousand worlds. 
 
 On the morning of his execution he appeared com- 
 posed, and being asked how he had been supported, 
 he said he had had some comfortable sleep, whereby 
 he should be the better enabled to perform his duty.
 
 APPENDIX. 245 
 
 In the curious Dodd miscellany belonging to Mr, 
 Forster, are some characteristic engravings relating to 
 the execution. One is of the Doctor " taken from life 
 in Newgate, the morning of the execution," and re- 
 presents him in a decent suit of black, and the full- 
 bottomed wig ; but in an aifected and dramatic atti- 
 tude. Another is far more chai'acteristic, showing 
 Dodd and Harris on the fatal cart, each attended by 
 his clergpuan, with the rows of spectators, constables, 
 sheriffs, hangman, and other actors. It is excellently 
 drawn, and, cm'iously enough, the artist's name was 
 Dodd. A thii-d illustration is in the rude style peculiar 
 to chap books, and shows the Doctor swinging in 
 the air, with the " eye of Providence" looking down, 
 and Mrs. Dodd Aveeping at one side. 
 
 The whole of Doctor Dodd's career, from his 
 first appearance as a preacher to his "fatal exit at 
 Tyburn," was worked into an effective Surrey melo- 
 drama, not many years back. The hero was j)layed 
 Avitli excellent spirit by Mr. Cowper, and the Doctor's 
 tastes for dissipation afforded an op})ortunity of intro- 
 ducing Ranelagh and other effective scenes of amuse- 
 ment. "Doctor Dodd" had a Ions: run. 
 
 EEVIVIFICATION AFTEIi HANGING, p. 180. 
 
 " The subjoined incident we had from a friend, 
 whose father Avas high sheriff of T}Tone about forty 
 years ago. A country lad was hung at Omagh, for 
 sheep-stealing ; a penalty and offence fref|uent]y as- 
 sociated at that epoch. After the prescribed time 
 
 s
 
 246 APPENDIX. 
 
 the criminal was cut down and delivered to his 
 friends for interment. They made the usual attempt 
 at reviving him, and in this instance succeeded. The 
 man recovered, retaining no outward marks of wliat 
 had happened beyond a slight distortion of the neck. 
 It was thought by many he had no right to be 
 amongst the living, and that unholy agencies had 
 helped him. He was shunned by his former com- 
 panions, could obtain no work, and wandered about 
 an alms-beggar. Necessity drove him to the house 
 of the gentleman who, in his official duty, had super- 
 intended the execution. He recognised, relieved, and 
 dismissed him, not being disposed to pursue the 
 matter fui'ther. But, first, as a physical inquiiy, 
 asked him to describe his sensations on being tiu*ned 
 off. He replied that he felt the jerk, but not so 
 acutely as to produce insensibility or even confusion. 
 He appeared to have the power of looking above, 
 below, and around. All was of a bright veraiilion 
 colour. An agreeable sensation then crept through 
 his frame imtil he became insensible. " But," he 
 added, " I can find no words to express the agony of 
 gi'adually returning to consciousness !" Necessity, or 
 natural bent, or what modern cant would call " his 
 mission," drove him back to his old trade, which 
 drove him again to the gallows, but this time without 
 benefit of resuscitation." — Duhlin University Magazine^ 
 January, 1865. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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