The Reign of Mary Tudor | Page 2

own
contemporaries. Two reasons probably account for it. The first was her
marriage with Philip of Spain. There is no nation in Europe which has
shown itself more tolerant of alien sovereigns than the English. They
submitted to William of Normandy almost without a struggle after
Senlac. They adopted the Plantagenet as their national line of kings.
The Tudors were Welsh; the Stuarts Scotch; William III. was a
Dutchman; the Hanoverian dynasty was German. But though tolerant
of foreign dynasties, the English have, since the days of John, been
excessively jealous of foreign influences. One of the main causes of
Henry III.'s unpopularity was the overweening influence of his foreign
favourites. From Edward I. downwards the Plantagenets ruled as
English sovereigns. Henry VII., though he was crowned on the field of
battle and claimed the throne by right of conquest, was too discreet to
maintain his power, as Mary was once tempted to do, by the aid of
Welsh guards. The fiercest hostility was evoked by James I., William
III., and the first two Georges, because they surrounded themselves

with favourites from their own countries. Foreigners might sit on the
throne of England, but they had to rule as English sovereigns and rest
their power on the support of the English people. This intense national
jealousy was unhappily aroused by Mary. The strict limitations which
were placed on her husband's powers should have warned her of her
danger. Philip was allowed the empty title of king, but from the
realities of power he was studiously excluded. Philip was careful to
maintain the spirit as well as the letter of his obligations. He made no
attempt to encroach upon the sovereignty of Mary. He advised her, as it
was his duty to do, but he did not interfere with the government of the
country. No {p.ix} Spanish troops were landed in England, even when
war had broken out with France, and the coasts of England were
unguarded. Yet the morbid suspicions of the people were not allayed.
The Dudley plot and the Stafford invasion were justified by their
authors, not on the ground of Mary's bloody persecutions, but because
it was feared that Philip was planning a coup d'état. Mary's popularity
began to wane with her marriage; it sunk lower and lower till it almost
disappeared when England was dragged into a war with France in the
interests of Spain. St. Quintin and Gravelines for a time roused a feeble
enthusiasm for the war, but the loss of Calais finally extinguished the
Queens popularity. Mary is reported to have said that if her body were
opened Calais would be found written on her heart. Froude disbelieves
the report. But whether the story be apocryphal or not, there is no doubt
that the loss of Calais was accountable, if not for the death of the Queen,
for the permanent destruction of her fame.
Calais was called the "brightest jewel in the English crown." It was the
last relic of the French possessions of the Plantagenets. It was the
Gibraltar of the sixteenth century. It helped to make of the narrow seas
an English channel. It was a mart for English goods. It afforded a
foothold for Continental enterprises. To some extent it linked England
with her traditional allies, the old Burgundian possessions in the
Netherlands. By us, looking back over the chequered story of the last
three centuries, the loss of Calais is seen to have been a blessing in
disguise. England gained by it as she did by the loss of Normandy
under John, and of Hanover at the accession of Queen Victoria. But to
Mary's subjects it was a corroding humiliation.

"If Spain should rise suddenly into her ancient strength," Froude truly
remarks, "and tear Gibraltar from us, our mortification would be faint,
compared to the anguish of humiliated pride with which the loss of
Calais distracted the subjects of Mary."
It was the galling reflection that Calais was lost to the French in a
Spanish quarrel that crowned the poor Queen's obloquy. She had lost it
through wanton neglect. Had the warnings of Wentworth and Grey
been heeded, Calais might have been saved. Calais need never have
been imperilled had the Queen thought more of English interests and
less of the needs of her Spanish husband.
{p.x} The odium in which Mary's memory was held was turned to
account by the friends of the new religion. Early in the next reign there
appeared one of the most remarkable books ever written--Foxe's Book
of Martyrs. The authenticity of its narrative has been impugned by
Lingard and other Catholic historians; Froude bears testimony to its
trustworthiness wherever it can be tested, except when it deals with
purely hearsay evidence. When Foxe's narrative of the horrible
Guernsey case was challenged by a Catholic controversialist