ed, when Sheriff, been
very unwilling to employ as his deputy a man so violent and unprincipled
as Goodenough. When the Rye House plot was discovered, great hopes
were entertained at Whitehall that Cornish would appear to have been
concerned: but these hopes were disappointed. One of the conspirators,
indeed, John Rumsey, was ready to swear anything: but a single witness
was not sufficient; and no second witness could be found. More than two
years had since elapsed. Cornish thought himself safe; but the eye of
the tyrant was upon him. Goodenough, terrified by the near prospect
of death, and still harbouring malice on account of the unfavourable
opinion which had always been entertained of him by his old master,
consented to supply the testimony which had hitherto been wanting.
Cornish was arrested while transacting business on the Exchange, was
hurried to gaol, was kept there some days in solitary confinement, and
was brought altogether unprepared to the bar of the Old Bailey. The case
against him rested wholly on the evidence of Rumsey and Goodenough. Both
were, by their own confession accomplices in the plot with which they
charged the prisoner. Both were impelled by the strongest pressure of
hope end fear to criminate him. Evidence was produced which proved that
Goodenough was also under the influence of personal enmity. Rumsey's
story was inconsistent with the story which he had told when he appeared
as a witness against Lord Russell. But these things were urged in vain.
On the bench sate three judges who had been with Jeffreys in the West;
and it was remarked by those who watched their deportment that they had
come back from the carnage of Taunton in a fierce and excited state. It
is indeed but too true that the taste for blood is a taste which even
men not naturally cruel may, by habit, speedily acquire. The bar and
the bench united to browbeat the unfortunate Whig. The jury, named by a
courtly Sheriff, readily found a verdict of Guilty; and, in spite of the
indignant murmurs of the public, Cornish suffered death within ten days
after he had been arrested. That no circumstance of degradation might
be wanting, the gibbet was set up where King Street meets Cheapside, in
sight of the house where he had long lived in general respect, of the
Exchange where his credit had always stood high, and of the Guildhall
where he had distinguished himself as a popular leader. He died with
courage and with many pious expressions, bu