tes
on the currency subsided; and, from that time till the fourth of May,
the want of money was not very severely felt. The recoinage began. Ten
furnaces were erected, in the garden behind the Treasury; and every day
huge heaps of pared and defaced crowns and shillings were turned into
massy ingots which were instantly sent off to the mint in the Tower.
[650]

With the fate of the law which restored the currency was closely
connected the fate of another law, which had been several years under
the consideration of Parliament, and had caused several warm disputes
between the hereditary and the elective branch of the legislature. The
session had scarcely commenced when the Bill for regulating Trials in
cases of High Treason was again laid on the table of the Commons. Of
the debates to which it gave occasion nothing is known except one
interesting circumstance which has been preserved by tradition. Among
those who supported the bill appeared conspicuous a young Whig of
high rank, of ample fortune, and of great abilities which had been
assiduously improved by study. This was Anthony Ashley Cooper, Lord
Ashley, eldest son of the second Earl of Shaftesbury, and grandson of
that renowned politician who had, in the days of Charles the Second,
been at one time the most unprincipled of ministers, and at another
the most unprincipled of demagogues. Ashley had just been returned to
Parliament for the borough of Poole, and was in his twenty-fifth year.
In the course of his speech he faltered, stammered and seemed to lose
the thread of his reasoning. The House, then, as now, indulgent to
novices, and then, as now, well aware that, on a first appearance, the
hesitation which is the effect of modesty and sensibility is quite
as promising a sign as volubility of utterance and ease of manner,
encouraged him to proceed. "How can I, Sir," said the young orator,
recovering himself, "produce a stronger argument in favour of this
bill than my own failure? My fortune, my character, my life, are not at
stake. I am speaking to an audience whose kindness might well inspire me
with courage. And yet, from mere nervousness, from mere want of practice
in addressing large assemblies, I have lost my recollection; I am unable
to go on with my argument. How helpless, then, must be a poor man who,
never having opened his lips in public, is called upon to reply, without
a moment's preparation, to the ablest and most experienced advocates in
the kingdom, an