f the statue of Pompey.

XII

SPAIN AND THE SCHISM OF NATIONS

The revolution that arose out of what is called the Renascence, and
ended in some countries in what is called the Reformation, did in the
internal politics of England one drastic and definite thing. That thing
was destroying the institutions of the poor. It was not the only thing
it did, but it was much the most practical. It was the basis of all the
problems now connected with Capital and Labour. How much the theological
theories of the time had to do with it is a perfectly fair matter for
difference of opinion. But neither party, if educated about the facts,
will deny that the same time and temper which produced the religious
schism also produced this new lawlessness in the rich. The most extreme
Protestant will probably be content to say that Protestantism was not
the motive, but the mask. The most extreme Catholic will probably be
content to admit that Protestantism was not the sin, but rather the
punishment. The most sweeping and shameless part of the process was not
complete, indeed, until the end of the eighteenth century, when
Protestantism was already passing into scepticism. Indeed a very decent
case could be made out for the paradox that Puritanism was first and
last a veneer on Paganism; that the thing began in the inordinate thirst
for new things in the _noblesse_ of the Renascence and ended in the
Hell-Fire Club. Anyhow, what was first founded at the Reformation was a
new and abnormally powerful aristocracy, and what was destroyed, in an
ever-increasing degree, was everything that could be held, directly or
indirectly, by the people _in spite of_ such an aristocracy. This fact
has filled all the subsequent history of our country; but the next
particular point in that history concerns the position of the Crown. The
King, in reality, had already been elbowed aside by the courtiers who
had crowded behind him just before the bursting of the door. The King is
left behind in the rush for wealth, and already can do nothing alone.
And of this fact the next reign, after the chaos of Edward VI.'s,
affords a very arresting proof.

Mary Tudor, daughter of the divorced Queen Katherine, has a bad name
even in popular history; and popular prejudice is generally more worthy
of study than scholarly sophistry. Her enemies were indeed largely wrong
about her character, but they were not wrong about her effect. She was,
in the limited sense, a good wom