ules of procedure gave no unfair
advantage to the Crown, there was no reason for altering them; and if,
as was generally admitted, they did give an unfair advantage to the
Crown, and that against a defendant on trial for his life, they ought
not to have been suffered to continue in force a single day. But no
blame is due to the tribunals for not acting in direct opposition both
to the letter and to the spirit of the law.

The government might indeed have postponed the trials till the new Act
came into force; and it would have been wise, as well as right, to do
so; for the prisoners would have gained nothing by the delay. The case
against them was one on which all the ingenuity of the Inns of Court
could have made no impression. Porter, Pendergrass, De la Rue and others
gave evidence which admitted of no answer. Charnock said the very little
that he had to say with readiness and presence of mind. The jury found
all the defendants guilty. It is not much to the honour of that age that
the announcement of the verdict was received with loud huzzas by the
crowd which surrounded the Courthouse. Those huzzas were renewed when
the three unhappy men, having heard their doom, were brought forth under
a guard. [676]

Charnock had hitherto shown no sign of flinching; but when he was again
in his cell his fortitude gave way. He begged hard for mercy. He
would be content, he said, to pass the rest of his days in an easy
confinement. He asked only for his life. In return for his life, he
promised to discover all that he knew of the schemes of the Jacobites
against the government. If it should appear that he prevaricated or that
he suppressed any thing, he was willing to undergo the utmost rigour
of the law. This offer produced much excitement, and some difference of
opinion, among the councillors of William. But the King decided, as in
such cases he seldom failed to decide, wisely and magnanimously. He
saw that the discovery of the Assassination Plot had changed the whole
posture of affairs. His throne, lately tottering, was fixed on an
immovable basis. His popularity had risen impetuously to as great a
height as when he was on his march from Torbay to London. Many who
had been out of humour with his administration, and who had, in their
spleen, held some communication with Saint Germains, were shocked to
find that they had been, in some sense, leagued with murderers. He would
not drive such persons to despair. He would not even put t