welfare of a nation is more important in history than the observance
of any marriage; and if Henry had been guided by mere desire, there
was no reason why he should marry Anne Boleyn at all. Froude's
achievement, which, despite all criticism, remains, was marred or
modified by his too obvious zeal for upsetting established
conclusions and reversing settled beliefs.

The moment that Froude had made up his mind, which was not till
after long and careful research, he began to paint a picture. The
lights were delicately and adroitly arranged. The artist's eye set
all accessories in the most telling positions. He was an advocate,
an incomparably brilliant advocate, in his mode of presenting a
case. But it was his own case, the case in which he believed, not a
case he had been retained to defend. When he came to deal with
Elizabeth he was on firmer ground. By that time the Reformation was
an accomplished fact, and the fiercest controversies lay behind him.
Disgusted as he was with the scandals invented against the virgin
queen, he did not shrink from exposing the duplicity and meanness
which tarnish the lustre of her imperishable renown. Like Knox, he
was insensible to the charms of Mary Stuart, and that is a
deficiency hard to forgive in a man. Yet who can deny that Elizabeth
only did to Mary as Mary would have done to her? The morality of the
Guises was as much a part of Mary as her scholarship, her grace, her
profound statecraft, the courage which a voluptuous life never
imparted. Froude was not thinking of her, or of any woman. He was
thinking of England. Between the fall of Wolsey and the defeat of
the Armada was decided the great question whether England should be
Catholic or Protestant, bond or free. The dazzling Queen of Scots,
like the virtuous Chancellor and the holy Bishop, were on the wrong
side. Henry and Elizabeth, with all their faults, were on the right