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 confession, but declined to pledge himself to grant a pardon until he saw the nature of Fenwick's revelations. Fenwick now resolved only to reveal as much as would implicate his political enemies. His so-called confession was almost of itself sufficient to seal his fate. It supplied no information whatever in reference to the Jacobite plots in which he had himself been specially engaged, but was wholly confined to accusations against some of the more prominent members of the whig party, especially Marlborough, Godolphin, Russell, and Shrewsbury. The accusations had the merit of being substantially true, and were not only sufficiently unpleasant to all whom they implicated, but caused a dismay from which Shrewsbury never fully recovered, while Godolphin became so unpopular that he was compelled to resign. Had there been no truth in Fenwick's allegations, the king would have been less indignant than he professed to be at the ‘fellow's effrontery.’ He directed the confession to be sent to the lords justices, expressing at the same time his astonishment and incredulity, and gave orders that Fenwick should be sent immediately before a jury. The whigs, however, deemed it advisable that the matter should be brought under the notice of parliament, but before doing so they advised that Fenwick should be brought for examination before the king. The king with extreme reluctance consented, and Fenwick now again became bold. He declined to modify his former statement either by withdrawing his accusations or by revealing matters in which he himself had been personally concerned. As he positively refused to make any further statement without more time to consider, the king finally said: ‘Be it so, I will neither hear you nor hear from you any more.’ Fenwick had succeeded in getting rid of Goodman, the principal witness against him, and was probably encouraged by the rumours of the man's disappearance. When brought to the bar of the House of Commons he was still obstinate, and it was moved and carried without a division that his confession was false and scandalous. Many members then left the house, supposing the business to be over. A motion, however, was made to bring in a bill of attainder, and carried by 179 to 61. The subsequent proceedings in connection with the attainder caused protracted and exciting debates. The minority increased considerably as the debates proceeded, but the bill was finally carried in the House of Commons by 189 to 156, and in the House of Lords by 68 to 61. While the guilt of Fenwick was morally certain, and was aggravated by his subsequent disingenuous conduct, it can scarcely be affirmed that the procedure against him was justifiable, as regards either the tribunal by which he was tried, or the manner in which the trial was conducted. In fact his attainder was decided on to render escape impossible, and for the same reason the law requiring the evidence of two witnesses in cases of treason was dispensed with, and the indirect evidence of Goodman was also admitted in violation of the usual methods of procedure. Smallridge, afterwards bishop of Bristol, wrote to Walter Gough, 29 Nov. 1696: ‘I do not find many concerned for his person; the course of his life has been such, and the management of the part he had now to act so bad, that he has few friends; but the method of punishing him being out of the common road, and such as has not been often used, and, when it has, been condemned by those who have judged coolly, is what some are startled at’ (, Illustrations of Literatureas before the lords, Monmouth, afterwards earl of Peterborough, who ‘at one time thought himself named in Sir John Fenwick's paper’ (Vernon to Lexington, 24 Nov. 1696, Lexington Papers, p. 237), but learned from the Duchess of Norfolk the exact information possessed by Fenwick, advised him, because ‘he liked the accusation so well’ (ib.), boldly to challenge inquiry into the truth of his allegations against the whig leaders; but Fenwick shrank from endangering himself by adopting Monmouth's advice, though his conviction, if he did not adopt it, was morally certain. Monmouth, when his advice was scouted, became one of the most vehement against Fenwick. Fenwick's wife, Lady Mary, used every effort to save her husband's life by petitioning both the king and the House of Lords, but Fenwick's maladroitness in putting forward the plea that he had been privy to an assassination plot in 1695, and had frustrated it, only served to prove how deeply he was in the confidence of the conspirators against William's throne. Fenwick, when no hope was left, desired the services of one of the deprived bishops, a favour which he obtained through the courteous help of Bishop Burnet. He was beheaded on Tower Hill on 28 Jan. 1696–7. Owing to his connection with so many noble families, and possibly also to the fact that he had been proceeded against by attainder, the formalities employed at his execution were similar to those used in the case of a peer of the realm. Burnet states that he ‘died very composed, in a much better temper than was to be expected, for his life had been very irregular’ (Own Time, ed. 1838, p. 637). He delivered a sealed paper to the sheriffs, in which he commented