without any division, that he should be sent to the Tower, that
he should be kept close prisoner there, that he should be
expelled from the House. Whether any further punishment could be
inflicted on him was a perplexing question. The English law
touching forgery became, at a later period, barbarously severe;
but, in 1698, it was absurdly lax. The prisoner's offence was
certainly not a felony; and lawyers apprehended that there would
be much difficulty in convicting him even of a misdemeanour. But
a recent precedent was fresh in the minds of all men. The weapon
which had reached Fenwick might reach Duncombe. A bill of pains
and penalties was brought in, and carried through the earlier
stages with less opposition than might have been expected. Some
Noes might perhaps be uttered; but no members ventured to say
that the Noes had it. The Tories were mad with shame and
mortification, at finding that their rash attempt to ruin an
enemy had produced no effect except the ruin of a friend. In
their rage, they eagerly caught at a new hope of revenge, a hope
destined to end, as their former hope had ended, in discomfiture
and disgrace. They learned, from the agents of Sunderland, as
many people suspected, but certainly from informants who were
well acquainted with the offices about Whitehall, that some
securities forfeited to the Crown in Ireland had been bestowed by
the King ostensibly on one Thomas Railton, but really on the
Chancellor of the Exchequer. The value of these securities was
about ten thousand pounds. On the sixteenth of February this
transaction was brought without any notice under the
consideration of the House of Commons by Colonel Granville, a
Tory member, nearly related to the Earl of Bath. Montague was
taken completely by surprise, but manfully avowed the whole
truth, and defended what he had done. The orators of the