ord (1556),
had been zealous in sending to the flames those who differed from
him. Even Latimer (S361), who died bravely at the stake, exhorting
his companion Ridley (1555) "to be of good cheer and play the man,
since they would light such a candle in England that day as in God's
grace should not be put out," had abetted the kindling of slow fires
under men as honest and determined as himself but on the opposite
side.

In like spirit Queen Mary kept Smithfield, London, ablaze with
martyrs, whose blood was the seed of Protestantism. Yet persecution
under Mary never reached the proportions that it did on the
Continent. At the most, but a few hundred died in England for the
sake of their religion, while Mary's husband, Philip II, during the
last of his reign, covered Holland with the graves of Protestants, who
had been tortured and put to cruel deaths, or buried alive, by tens of
thousands.

373. Mary's Death (1558).

But Mary's career was short. She died (1558) near the close of an
inglorious war with France, which ended in the fall of Calais, the
last English possession on the Continent (S240). It was a great blow
to her pride, and a serious humiliation to the country. "After my
death," she said, "you will find Calais written on my heart." Could
she have foreseen the future, her grief would have been greater
still. For with the end of her reign the Pope lost all power in
England, never to regain it.

374. Mary deserving of Pity rather than Hatred.

Mary's name has come down to us associated with an epithet expressive
of the utmost abhorrence (S342); but she deserves pity rather than
detestation. Froude justly says, "If any person may be excused for
hating the Reformation, it was Mary."

Separated from her mother, the unfortunate Catharine of Aragon, when
she was only sixteen, Mary was ill-treated by Henry's new Queen, Anne
Boleyn, and hated by her father. Thus the springtime of her youth was
blighted.

Her marriage brought her no happiness; sickly, ill-favored, childless,
unloved, the poor woman spent herself for naught. Her first great
mistake was that she resolutely turned her face toward the past; her
second, that she loved Philip II of Spain (S369) with all her heart,
soul, and strength; and so, out of devotion to a bigot, did a bigot's
work, and earned that execration which never fails to be a bigots
reward. But the Queen's cruelty was the cruelty of sincerity, and
never, like her father's han