In August, William sent Portland over from Flanders, where the campaign was almost wholly barren of events, to bring him money for the subsistence of his troops by some means. The failure of the Land Bank made his demand appear hopeless; but the Government applied to the Bank of England, and, notwithstanding it's own embarrassments, it advanced to the Government two hundred thousand pounds on the 15th of August, and that in hard cash, for it was plainly told that its paper was of no use in Flanders. Yet to such extremities was the bank reduced that at the same time it was obliged to pay its demands by three-fourths the value of its notes in cash, marking that amount as paid on the notes, and returning them into circulation reduced to one-fourth of their original value. As the bank, however, so bravely supported the Government, the Government determined as firmly to support the bank; and the public confidence, which had never entirely failed it, from this moment grew stronger and stronger. As the year drew towards a close, the rapidly increasing issue of the new coin began to reduce the intensity of the distress, and the forbearance of creditors of all kinds enabled the nation to bear up wonderfully, much to the chagrin of its enemies both at home and abroad, where the most ridiculous stories of English poverty and ruin were circulated.

But, except the trouble arising from the coinage, the great event during William's absence had been the capture of Sir John Fenwick, and his examination, with the view of tracing the further ramifications of the conspiracy in which he had been engaged. Fenwick, if not engaged in the assassination scheme, was charged by Porter and the other king's evidence with being fully privy to it, and deep in the plot for the invasion. He was a man of high birth, high connections, being married to a sister of the Earl of Carlisle, had held high office in the state, and was a most indefatigable and zealous traitor. During the king's absence, and when the Jacobites were in great spirits, hoping to drive out William, he had shown the most marked and unmanly disrespect to the queen. It was not, therefore, likely that he would escape the just punishment of his treason if he were caught. For a long time he managed to conceal himself, and during his concealment he and his friends were hard at work to remove the only witnesses that he dreaded. These were Porter and a person named Goodman. The Earl of Aylesbury, who was also in the Tower on a similar charge, was equally anxious to have these two men out of the way, and the friends of both plotters united to get rid of them by bribery. For this purpose, besides the active personal exertions of Lady Fenwick, they employed two Irishmen of their party—one Clancey, a barber, and Donelagh, a disbanded captain.

Clancey met Porter at a tavern, and offered him three hundred guineas down, three hundred more as soon as he landed in France, and an annuity of one hundred pounds a year. Porter was greatly tempted by the offer, and at length consented to accept it. A day was fixed for the payment of the first three hundred guineas at the tavern, but, on reflection in the interval, he did not like the prospect of having to face at St. Germains the king whose agents he had betrayed to death, and the friends and associates of those agents. He saw that nothing could obtain their forgiveness, or prevent them from taking mortal revenge on him. He therefore posted to the Secretary of State, and revealed the whole affair. The necessary measures were taken, and Porter attended punctually at the meeting with Clancey. He received the three hundred guineas, and then, giving a concerted signal, the officers of Government rushed in and secured Clancey, who was tried for subornation, convicted, and set in the pillory.

This discovery, through the double treachery of Porter, alarmed Fenwick for his personal safety. He no longer deemed himself secure in the kingdom, for he had taken such part in the attempt to win over Porter—writing a letter for him to take with him to St. Germains to secure his good reception there—that it was too obvious that he was not far off. Porter was indemnified for his loss of the promised annuity by a much better one from William's government—no less than two hundred and fifty pounds a year—and would undoubtedly, if possible, hunt out Fenwick. Sir John, therefore, made prompt arrangements for his own escape to France. There was no time to be lost; he was indicted at the next sessions in the City for treason. Porter and Goodman gave evidence before the grand jury, who returned a true bill. Sir John managed to escape to near Romney Marsh, where a vessel was to take him off, but, unfortunately, on the way he met an officer, who had been apprehending two smugglers. The man knew him, and offered the smugglers a pardon and reward to assist in seizing him. Sir John fled, and they pursued; and he is said to have been taken in the end near Slyfield Mill, between Stoke Dabernon and Bookham, in Surrey.

Sir John had contrived, after being taken, to write a letter to his wife, by one Webber who was with him, in which he declared that all was now over unless she could get her relatives, the Howards, to intercede for him. They might promise for him that he would spend his life abroad, and would pledge himself never to draw a sword against the present government. If that could not be done, the only chance left was to bribe a juryman to starve out the jury.

This letter was intercepted, and when Sir John was brought before the Lords Justices at Whitehall, and he appeared very high, and denied the charges against him indignantly, it was laid before him to his sudden terror and confusion. He saw how completely he had committed himself by his confession, and he turned pale, and seemed half inclined to admit his guilt. In the silence of his prison he revolved another scheme, and on the 10th of August, two months after his apprehension, he presented a memorial to the Duke of Devonshire, offering to disclose to the king all that he knew of the plots, with every one concerned in them, and throwing himself on the mercy of the king. Having so fully betrayed his own guilt, this seemed the only chance of obtaining a lenient judgment. Devonshire sent over the memorial to William in Holland, and was desired by him to receive Fenwick's confession.

OLD MERCERS' HALL, WHERE THE BANK OF ENGLAND WAS FIRST ESTABLISHED.

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This was in due time written down and delivered, and, had it been a real revelation of the plots and their agents, would have probably obtained considerable indulgence for him. But it disclosed nothing that was not already well known to William. Passing over all the other parties who were secretly engaged in labouring for the overthrow of William's government and the restoration of James—persons whose names and doings would have been of the utmost value to the Government—he merely accused Marlborough, Russell, Godolphin, and Shrewsbury. The intrigues of all these were far more familiar to William and his intimate friends than they were to Fenwick. William and Devonshire were disappointed. The whole thing had the air of a ruse to hide the still undiscovered delinquents, and make a merit of a stale and useless piece of information. Devonshire, on forwarding the list, observed that, whatever these noblemen had been, they were, to all appearance, very firm to the king now. William, on reading Fenwick's paper, was incensed. "I am astonished," he wrote to Shrewsbury, "at the fellow's effrontery. Observe this honest man's sincerity: he has nothing to say, except against my friends. Not a word about the plans of his brother Jacobites." He ordered the prisoner to be brought to trial without delay.