e tarnished name of Monmouth; and he soon added new lustre
to the name of Peterborough. He was still all air and fire. His
ready wit and his dauntless courage made him formidable; some amiable
qualities which contrasted strangely with his vices, and some great
exploits of which the effect was heightened by the careless levity with
which they were performed, made him popular; and his countrymen were
willing to forget that a hero of whose achievements they were proud, and
who was not more distinguished by parts and valour than by courtesy and
generosity, had stooped to tricks worthy of the pillory.

It is interesting and instructive to compare the fate of Shrewsbury with
the fate of Peterborough. The honour of Shrewsbury was safe. He had been
triumphantly acquitted of the charges contained in Fenwick's confession.
He was soon afterwards still more triumphantly acquitted of a still more
odious charge. A wretched spy named Matthew Smith, who thought that
he had not been sufficiently rewarded, and was bent on being revenged,
affirmed that Shrewsbury had received early information of the
Assassination Plot, but had suppressed that information, and had taken
no measures to prevent the conspirators from accomplishing their design.
That this was a foul calumny no person who has examined the evidence
can doubt. The King declared that he could himself prove his minister's
innocence; and the Peers, after examining Smith, pronounced the
accusation unfounded. Shrewsbury was cleared as far as it was in the
power of the Crown and of the Parliament to clear him. He had power and
wealth, the favour of the King and the favour of the people. No man had
a greater number of devoted friends. He was the idol of the Whigs; yet
he was not personally disliked by the Tories. It should seem that
his situation was one which Peterborough might well have envied. But
happiness and misery are from within. Peterborough had one of those
minds of which the deepest wounds heal and leave no scar. Shrewsbury
had one of those minds in which the slightest scratch may fester to
the death. He had been publicly accused of corresponding with Saint
Germains; and, though King, Lords and Commons had pronounced him
innocent, his conscience told him that he was guilty. The praises which
he knew that he had not deserved sounded to him like reproaches. He
never regained his lost peace of mind. He left office; but one cruel
recollection accompanied him into retirement. He l