uch the same might be said of his lifelong friend and illustrious
predecessor in the chair of history (Dr. Stubbs), whom Freeman had
been generously extolling for many years before the merits of that
admirable scholar became known to the public. Stubbs disliked
lecturing; and though once a year he delivered a "public lecture" full
of wisdom, and sometimes full of wit also, he was not effective as a
teacher, not so effective, for instance, as Bishop Creighton, who won
his reputation at Merton College long before he became Professor of
Ecclesiastical History at Cambridge. But Stubbs, by his mere presence
in the University, and by the inexhaustible kindness with which he
answered questions and gave advice, rendered great services to the
studies of the place. It may be doubted whether, when he was raised to
the episcopal bench, history did not lose more than the Church of
England gained. Other men of far less ability could have discharged
five-sixths of a bishop's duties equally well, but there was no one
else in England, if indeed in Europe, capable of carrying on his
historical researches. So Dr. Lightfoot was, as Professor at
Cambridge, doing work for Christian learning even more precious than
the work which is still affectionately remembered in his diocese of
Durham.

Few men have had a genius for friendship equal to Freeman's. The
names of those he cared for were continually on his lips, and their
lives in his thoughts; their misfortunes touched him like his own;
he was always ready to defend them, always ready to give any aid they
needed. No differences of opinion affected his regard. Sensitive
as he was to criticism, he received their censure on any part of his
work without offence. The need he felt for knowing how they fared and
for sharing his thoughts with them expressed itself in the enormous
correspondence, not of business, but of pure affection, which he kept
up with his many friends, and which forms, for his letters were so
racy that many of them were preserved, the fullest record of his
life.

This warmth of feeling deserves to be dwelt on, because it explains
the tendency to vehemence in controversy which brought some enmities
upon him. There was an odd contrast between his fondness for
describing wars and battles and that extreme aversion to militarism
which made him appear to dislike the very existence of a British army
and navy. So his combativeness, and the zest with which he bestowed
shrewd blows on