forth; and if this is all he has yet written of his Book, I could almost advise him to start afresh, and remodel all this second chapter.  This is a high demand; but the excellence attainable by him seems also high.  The rule throughout is, that events should speak.  Commentary ought to be sparing; clear insight, definite conviction, brought about with a minimum of Commentary; that is always the Art of History.  Alter or not, however, there is such a generous breadth of intelligence, of manly sympathy, sound judgment, and in general of luminous solidity, promised in this Book, that I will gladly read it, however it be put together.  Would it not be better to specify a little what Martin Luther is about, and keep up a chronological intercourse, more or less strict, with the great Continental ocean of Reform, the better to understand the tides from it that ebb and flow in these Narrow Seas?  Some notice of Wiclif too I expected in some form or other.  Once more, Go on and prosper!”

The notice of Wycliffe does seem a rather unreasonable expectation, and a history of England loses identity if it becomes a history of Europe.  But Carlyle’s principles, whether he always acted upon them himself or no, are excellent, and, though Froude’s second chapter was not quite rewritten, the effect of them may be seen in the rest of the book.

Carlyle’s influence upon Froude, which happily never extended to his style, confirmed him in his attachment to Protestantism and his hatred of Rome.  It also accounted for much of Froude’s belief in despots.  In democracy he had no faith.  Manhood suffrage in England, would, he thought, even in the wonderful year 1588, the last of his History, have restored the Pope.  This was perhaps a little inconsistent with his theory that Henry viii. had been popular with all classes.  Yet at least Froude could distinguish one despot from another.  He was entirely opposed, as we have seen, to the alliance with Louis Napoleon against Russia, which culminated in the Crimean War.  Otherwise his sympathy with Liberalism was chiefly academic.  He rejoiced in the University Commission, and in the consequent removal of religious tests for undergraduates.  But he took Carlyle’s Latter-Day Pamphlets for gospel, and had no faith in peace by great Exhibitions, or progress by political reform.  The war with Russia justified the first part of his creed, and even Liberals in the House of Commons seemed tacitly to agree with the second.  To the glorification of mere money-making, the worship of the golden calf, the sincerest and the most fashionable of all worships, both he and Carlyle were equally opposed.  They were agreed with the Socialists and with Ruskin in their dislike of seeing bricks and mortar substituted for green fields, smoky chimneys for church towers, myriads of factory hands for the rural population of England.  Carlyle still called himself a Radical, a believer in root and branch change, but moral rather than political.  His faith in representative institutions