recollection accompanied him into retirement.  He left England; but one cruel recollection pursued him over the Alps and the Apennines.  On a memorable day, indeed, big with the fate of his country, he again, after many inactive and inglorious years, stood forth the Shrewsbury of 1688.  Scarcely any thing in history is more melancholy than that late and solitary gleam, lighting up the close of a life which had dawned so splendidly, and which had so early become hopelessly troubled and gloomy.

On the day on which the Lords passed the Bill of Attainder, they adjourned over the Christmas holidays.  The fate of Fenwick consequently remained during more than a fortnight in suspense.  In the interval plans of escape were formed; and it was thought necessary to place a strong military guard round Newgate.777 Some Jacobites knew William so little as to send him anonymous letters, threatening that he should be shot or stabbed if he dared to touch a hair of the prisoner’s head.778 On the morning of the eleventh of January he passed the bill.  He at the same time passed a bill which authorised the government to detain Bernardi and some other conspirators in custody during twelve months.  On the evening of that day a deeply mournful event was the talk of all London.  The Countess of Aylesbury had watched with intense anxiety the proceedings against Sir John.  Her lord had been as deep as Sir John in treason, was, like Sir John, in confinement, and had, like Sir John, been a party to Goodman’s flight.  She had learned with dismay that there was a method by which a criminal who was beyond the reach of the ordinary law might be punished.  Her terror had increased at every stage in the progress of the Bill of Attainder.  On the day on which the royal assent was to be given, her agitation became greater than her frame could support.  When she heard the sound of the guns which announced that the King was on his way to Westminster, she fell into fits, and died in a few hours.779

Even after the bill had become law, strenuous efforts were made to save Fenwick.  His wife threw herself at William’s feet, and offered him a petition.  He took the petition, and said, very gently, that it should be considered, but that the matter was one of public concern, and that he must deliberate with his ministers before he decided.780 She then addressed herself to the Lords.  She told them that her husband had not expected his doom, that he had not had time to prepare himself for death, that he had not, during his long imprisonment, seen a divine.  They were easily induced to request that he might be respited for a week.  A respite was granted; but, forty-eight hours before it expired, Lady Mary presented to the Lords another petition, imploring them to intercede with the King that her husband’s punishment might be commuted to banishment.  The House was taken by surprise; and a motion to adjourn was with difficulty carried by two votes.781 On the morrow, the last day of Fenwick’s life, a similar