record that Macaulay's unfairness to Cranmer in the celebrated
review of Hallam's Constitutional History first suggested to him the
project of his own book. His besetting sin was not so much
Erastianism, or secularism, as a love of paradox. Henry VIII seemed
to him not merely a great statesman and a true patriot, but a victim
of persistent misrepresentation, whose lofty motives had been
concealed, and displaced by vile, baseless calumnies. More and
Fisher, honoured for three centuries as saints, he suspected, and,
as he thought, discovered to have been traitors who justly expiated
their offences on the block. He was not satisfied with proving that
there was a case for Henry, and that the triumph of Rome would have
been the end of civil as well as spiritual freedom: he must go on to
whitewash the tyrant himself, and to prove that his marriage with
Anne Boleyn, like his separation from Katharine of Aragon, was
simply the result of an unselfish desire to provide the country with
a male heir. The refusal of More and Fisher to acknowledge the royal
supremacy may show that they were Catholics first and Englishmen
afterwards, without impugning their personal integrity, or
justifying the malice of Thomas Cromwell. To judge Henry as if he
were a constitutional king with a secure title, in no more danger
from Catholics than Louis XIV was from Huguenots, is doubtless
preposterous. If the Catholics had got the upper hand, they would
have deposed him, and put him to death. In that fell strife of
mighty opposites the voice of toleration was not raised, and would
not have been heard. Tyrant as he was himself, Henry in his battle
against Rome did represent the English people, and his cause was
theirs. Froude brought out this great truth, and to bring it out was
a great service. Unfortunately he went too far the other way, and
impartial readers who had no sympathy with Cardinal Campeggio were
revolted by what looked like a defence of cruel persecution. The