though weakened by the defection of some considerable men, was still a majority, and would hear of no terms of compromise.  The third reading was carried by only sixty-eight votes to sixty-one.  Fifty-three Lords recorded their dissent; and forty-one subscribed a protest, in which the arguments against the bill were ably summed up.771 The peers whom Fenwick had accused took different sides.  Marlborough steadily voted with the majority, and induced Prince George to do the same.  Godolphin as steadily voted with the minority, but, with characteristic wariness, abstained from giving any reasons for his votes.  No part of his life warrants us in ascribing his conduct to any exalted motive.  It is probable that, having been driven from office by the Whigs and forced to take refuge among the Tories, he thought it advisable to go with his party.772

As soon as the bill had been read a third time, the attention of the Peers was called to a matter which deeply concerned the honour of their order.  Lady Mary Fenwick had been, not unnaturally, moved to the highest resentment by the conduct of Monmouth.  He had, after professing a great desire to save her husband, suddenly turned round, and become the most merciless of her husband’s persecutors; and all this solely because the unfortunate prisoner would not suffer himself to be used as an instrument for the accomplishing of a wild scheme of mischief.  She might be excused for thinking that revenge would be sweet.  In her rage she showed to her kinsman the Earl of Carlisle the papers which she had received from the Duchess of Norfolk.  Carlisle brought the subject before the Lords.  The papers were produced.  Lady Mary declared that she had received them from the Duchess.  The Duchess declared that she had received them from Monmouth.  Elizabeth Lawson confirmed the evidence of her two friends.  All the bitter things which the petulant Earl had said about William were repeated.  The rage of both the great factions broke forth with ungovernable violence.  The Whigs were exasperated by discovering that Monmouth had been secretly labouring to bring to shame and ruin two eminent men with whose reputation the reputation of the whole party was bound up.  The Tories accused him of dealing treacherously and cruelly by the prisoner and the prisoner’s wife.  Both among the Whigs and among the Tories Monmouth had, by his sneers and invectives, made numerous personal enemies, whom fear of his wit and of his sword had hitherto kept in awe.773 All these enemies were now openmouthed against him.  There was great curiosity to know what he would be able to say in his defence.  His eloquence, the correspondent of the States General wrote, had often annoyed others.  He would now want it all to protect himself.774 That eloquence indeed was of a kind much better suited to attack than to defence.  Monmouth spoke near three hours in a confused and rambling manner, boasted extravagantly of his services and sacrifices, told the House that