f
Knox. Morton's epitaph is well known.

"There lies one," said the Earl over the coffin, "who never feared
the face of mortal man." "Morton," says Froude, "spoke only of what
he knew; the full measure of Knox's greatness neither he nor any man
could then estimate. It is as we look back over that stormy time,
and weigh the actors in it one against the other, that he stands out
in his full proportions. No grander figure can be found, in the
entire history of the Reformation in this island, than that of Knox.
Cromwell and Burghley rank beside him for the work which they
effected, but, as politicians and statesmen, they had to labour with
instruments which soiled their hands in touching them. In purity, in
uprightness, in courage, truth and stainless honour, the Regent and
Latimer were perhaps his equals; but Murray was intellectually far
below him and the sphere of Latimer's influence was on a smaller
scale. The time has come when English history may do justice to one
but for whom the Reformation would have been overthrown among
ourselves; for the spirit which Knox created saved Scotland; and if
Scotland had been Catholic again, neither the wisdom of Elizabeth's
Ministers, nor the teaching of her Bishops, nor her own chicaneries,
would have preserved England from revolution. His was the voice that
taught the peasant of the Lothians that he was a free man, the equal
in the sight of God with the proudest peer or prelate that had
trampled on his forefathers. He was the one antagonist whom Mary
Stuart could not soften nor Maitland deceive. He it was who had
raised the poor commons of his country into a stern and rugged
people, who might be hard, narrow, superstitious and fanatical, but
who nevertheless were men whom neither king, noble, nor priest could
force again to submit to tyranny. And his reward has been the
ingratitude of those who should have done most honour to his
memory."

The spirit of this fine passage may be due to the great Scotsman
with whom Froude's name will always be inseparably associated. But
Froude knew the subject as Carlyle did not pretend to know it, and
his verdict is as authoritative as it is just. It is knowledge, even
more than brilliancy, that these twelve volumes evince. Froude had
mastered the sixteenth century as Macaulay mastered the seventeenth,
with the same minute, patient industry. When he came to write he
wrote with such apparent facility that those who did not know the
meaning of hi