taxes, he had employed a knavish Jew to forge endorsements of names, some real and some imaginary.  This scandalous story, wrung out of his own lips, was heard by the opposition with consternation and shame, by the ministers and their friends with vindictive exultation.  It was resolved, without any division, that he should be sent to the Tower, that he should be kept close prisoner there, that he should be expelled from the House.  Whether any further punishment could be inflicted on him was a perplexing question.  The English law touching forgery became, at a later period, barbarously severe; but, in 1698, it was absurdly lax.  The prisoner’s offence was certainly not a felony; and lawyers apprehended that there would be much difficulty in convicting him even of a misdemeanour.  But a recent precedent was fresh in the minds of all men.  The weapon which had reached Fenwick might reach Duncombe.  A bill of pains and penalties was brought in, and carried through the earlier stages with less opposition than might have been expected.  Some Noes might perhaps be uttered; but no members ventured to say that the Noes had it.  The Tories were mad with shame and mortification, at finding that their rash attempt to ruin an enemy had produced no effect except the ruin of a friend.  In their rage, they eagerly caught at a new hope of revenge, a hope destined to end, as their former hope had ended, in discomfiture and disgrace.  They learned, from the agents of Sunderland, as many people suspected, but certainly from informants who were well acquainted with the offices about Whitehall, that some securities forfeited to the Crown in Ireland had been bestowed by the King ostensibly on one Thomas Railton, but really on the Chancellor of the Exchequer.  The value of these securities was about ten thousand pounds.  On the sixteenth of February this transaction was brought without any notice under the consideration of the House of Commons by Colonel Granville, a Tory member, nearly related to the Earl of Bath.  Montague was taken completely by surprise, but manfully avowed the whole truth, and defended what he had done.  The orators of the opposition declaimed against him with great animation and asperity.  “This gentleman,” they said, “has at once violated three distinct duties.  He is a privy councillor, and, as such, is bound to advise the Crown with a view, not to his own selfish interests, but to the general good.  He is the first minister of finance, and is, as such, bound to be a thrifty manager of the royal treasure.  He is a member of this House, and is, as such, bound to see that the burdens borne by his constituents are not made heavier by rapacity and prodigality.  To all these trusts he has been unfaithful.  The advice of the privy councillor to his master is, ‘Give me money.’  The first Lord of the Treasury signs a warrant for giving himself money out of the Treasury.  The member for Westminster puts into his pocket money which his constituents must be taxed to replace.”