How England lost Calais is more than a story of military defeat—it’s the end of a centuries-long English presence in France and a major turning point in Tudor history. When Calais fell to the French in January 1558, it wasn’t just a territorial loss; it shattered a powerful symbol of English identity and pride. Calais had been England’s last stronghold on the continent, a thriving outpost held for over 200 years, deeply tied to trade, politics, and royal ambition. Its fall devastated Queen Mary I, enraged Parliament, and marked the final collapse of England’s medieval dream of empire in France.
Let’s explore how England gained Calais, why it mattered so much, and how England lost Calais in a matter of days—changing the nation’s future forever.
Transcript of Calais: How England Took — and Lost — Its Last Foothold in France
When the news reached England in January of 1558 that Calais had fallen to the French, it was received with shock. Calais wasn’t a distant outpost for people in England—it was part of their national identity. It was the last foothold of the once-great English empire in France. It had belonged to the English for over two centuries, and now it was gone.
Today, we’re going to talk about Calais—how the English got it, how they kept it, how they lost it, why it was so important, and what its loss did to Mary I. Calais played such an important role in so many different parts of Tudor history. We think about Anne Boleyn going on that famous trip to Calais with Henry VIII, where they kind of solidified their relationship. She was presented as a consort before they were even married.
It played such an enormous role in English history, and when it was lost, it devastated Mary I. But how did Calais become part of England? How did this happen? So we’re going to go back and talk about that.
When the news came that Calais had fallen, Mary I—who was already quite unwell and whose popularity was dipping—is said to have taken the loss quite deeply. According to legend, she told her ladies that if they opened her after death, they would find “Calais” written on her heart.
Whether or not she actually said it, the line stuck, because that is how much Calais meant to the English. But to understand why the loss stung so much, we have to go back to how England got Calais in the first place.
Our story begins in the reign of Edward III, in the early years of the Hundred Years’ War. In 1346, after the crushing English victory at the Battle of Crécy, Edward moved to consolidate his position in northern France by laying siege to Calais. The siege dragged on for eleven months. Edward knew that attacking the heavily fortified town head-on would be disastrous, so instead he blockaded the port and waited. Calais was cut off from supplies, and with its population slowly starving, they finally surrendered in August of 1347.
Edward’s terms were harsh. The original French inhabitants were expelled—some say around 3,000 people—and the town was repopulated with English settlers. This was more than a military base; it was a colonial experiment—a little slice of England placed on the northern coast of France. For 200 years, it stayed that way.
Calais became a military outpost, a trading hub, and a political tool all rolled into one. It was governed by a lord deputy, or captain appointed by the king—often a nobleman of significant stature. A council managed the day-to-day affairs, and it remained directly under the control of the English Crown.
It wasn’t part of any French duchy or region. It was the Pale of Calais, a defined and fortified area that stretched a few miles inland. The English built up its defenses—Henry VIII in particular spent enormous sums reinforcing its walls and updating the artillery. It was one of the most fortified towns in Europe.
Calais also wasn’t just a military zone. Economically, it was critical. English wool exports passed through Calais under the Staple system. This was a medieval monopoly that designated certain ports for official trade. English merchants had major privileges in Calais, including tax breaks and certain protections.
It became a gateway for English goods heading to the continent and vice versa. This blend of martial and mercantile life made Calais truly unique and distinct. It was English territory, but always on the edge—geographically and politically—surrounded by French towns, always under threat. Yet it was a thriving, bustling area that, as mentioned, was one of the most fortified towns in Europe.
While Calais was a garrison town, it wasn’t just soldiers marching around in armor. It developed into a functioning community with families, schools, markets, churches, and taverns. English settlers made their lives there, with some born and raised without ever setting foot in England. These so-called “Calais English” formed a unique identity.
They were loyal to the English Crown, but they were shaped by the rhythms of life in a continental port. They would have had much more experience with French, and with trading with the French. Traveling to France was much easier.
The population of Calais at the end of the 15th century was between 3,000 and 4,000 people. This included soldiers, administrators, merchants, artisans, and their families. The entire Pale of Calais—a fortified region of about 20 square miles extending inland from the town—had an estimated population of about 12,000 people at this time. This broader area included several small villages like Guînes, and it was used for agriculture, defensive outposts, and that sort of thing.
The garrison, of course, was a major part of the population. It had about 1,200 soldiers or so, depending on the decade and the threat level. During Henry’s reign, when he was invading France, that number naturally went up. Compared to other English towns, Calais was really modest in size—it was smaller than places like Norwich or York. But economically and strategically, it was far more important than its size alone would suggest.
Trade was the engine of daily life. Merchants came and went, goods were weighed and taxed. So even though the permanent population was around 4,000 people, there were likely many more people passing through—trading, staying temporarily—who weren’t official residents.
The wool trade dominated the docks and craftsmen produced everything from cloth to leather goods. Bakers and butchers kept the garrison fed. There was always a military presence, but it didn’t drown out the hum of ordinary life.
Still, everyone lived with a kind of low-level tension all the time. Skirmishes with the French were common. Every resident knew that war could flare up at any moment. It was a frontier town—civilized, but never entirely safe. Calais was the last relic of England’s old claim in France, a physical reminder of Edward III, Henry V, and the days when English kings dreamed of ruling both realms.
Militarily, it gave England a base for launching campaigns into the continent. Economically, it anchored the wool trade and gave merchants a foothold in Europe. Symbolically, it mattered even more. Losing Calais didn’t just shrink the map by a little—it bruised the national ego. It marked the end of an era. England was no longer a European power with land in France. It was back to being an island. So what went wrong?
By the time Mary came to the throne, Calais was still seen as vital, but it had become more symbolic than strategic. The town’s defenses had been allowed to decline. The garrison was underpaid and undermanned. And England—locked in an expensive war alongside Spain against France—was stretched incredibly thin.
In January 1558, the French made their move. Under the command of François, Duke of Guise, they launched a swift winter offensive. This was highly unusual; winter was not typically a time for military campaigns. Calais was caught off guard and poorly defended. It fell in less than a week. There was no serious attempt at any kind of relief, and the English were humiliated.
Their last continental possession was gone. The loss was devastating. English merchants lost their privileges. Parliament fumed. Mary was inconsolable and died within the year. Elizabeth was more pragmatic, and she quietly abandoned any plans to try to retake Calais.
In England, though, the memory lingered. Calais became a symbol of what had been lost—not just land, but prestige, pride, and the last link to the old Plantagenet dream of an Anglo-French empire.
From that point on, English ambitions turned seaward. The age of colonies and maritime power was beginning. But for many, Calais remained a sore spot—the wound that marked the end of England’s time as a continental power. England, as we said, would begin to turn westward—to Ireland, and eventually to the Americas—but they never again had that place in Calais, in France, a European outpost.
So there we go, my friend—a little bit about the taking and losing of Calais, and why it was so important to the English. We’ll leave it there for now. Let me know what you think about Calais in the comments. Should Elizabeth have tried to retake it, or was it better for her to look westward—to Ireland and to the Americas—and build up England’s maritime power?
Related links:
Melita Thomas on Mary Tudor
Episode 247: Tudor and Elizabethan Exploration
Episode 067: Henry VII and his foreign policy