SURRENDER OF CALAIS
It was the morning of the 3rd of August, 1347; and there was woe and
lamentation within the walls of Calais. After having held out sternly
for well-nigh a year, the town, left to its fate by Philip of Valois,
already exposed to some of the horrors of famine, and now almost at the
mercy of the King of England, was on the point of surrendering to the
besiegers, and under such circumstances as made the necessity appear
all the more cruel.
In fact, the parley which John de Vienne, the governor, had demanded,
and which he had held in the usual form with Sir Walter Manny, had not
resulted as anticipated by the Calesians; for King Edward insisted on
an unconditional surrender, and, at first, would listen to no other
terms. In vain Sir Walter Manny and the nobles of England pleaded for
the unfortunate town. The only condition to which Edward would consent
was one which added to the melancholy of the occasion, and melted the
sternest hearts.
"Gentlemen," said Edward in a conclusive tone, "I am not so obstinate
as to hold my opinion against you all."
Every eye sparkled with satisfaction, as the idea that the king was
about to yield to their wishes, occurred to all.
"Sir Walter," continued Edward dryly, "you will therefore inform the
Governor of Calais that the only grace that he may expect from me is,
that six of the principal citizens march out of the town with bare
heads and feet, with ropes round their necks, and the keys of the town
and castle in their hands. These six citizens shall be at my absolute
disposal; the remainder of the inhabitants pardoned."
When the decision at which the royal conqueror had arrived was made
known to John de Vienne, he ordered the bell to be rung; and, having
assembled all the men and women of Calais in the town hall, he informed
them of the answer which he had received, and that he could not obtain
any more favourable conditions. Mournful was the scene which ensued.
Immediately the assembly raised the cry of despair; and the distress
was so great that even the fortitude of John de Vienne gave way, and he
wept bitterly. After a short pause, however, Eustace St. Pierre, one of
the richest men in Calais, and one of the most virtuous, rose slowly,
and with serene dignity addressed the populace.
"Gentlemen, both high and low," said Eustace gravely, "it would be a
very great pity to suffer so many people to die through famine, if any
means could be found to prevent it; and it would be highly meritorious
in the eyes of our Saviour if such misery could be averted."
A low murmur of approbation ran through the assembly, and all present
kept their eyes fixed on the countenance of the speaker.
"And such being the case," continued Eustace, "and such faith have I in
finding grace before God, if I die to save my townsmen, that I venture
to name myself as one of the six."
As may be supposed, a mighty effect was produced by this speech; and,
as Eustace concluded, the populace were almost inclined to worship him.
Many, indeed, cast themselves at his feet with tears and groans, and
sought to kiss the hem of his garment. Nor was this example lost on
those who, like himself, had hitherto held their head highest in the
now imperilled community. With little delay, and as little reluctance,
five of the principal citizens rose, as Eustace had done, and
volunteered, like him, to give themselves up for their fellow-townsmen,
and if necessary, seal the sacrifice with their blood.
No time was now lost in bringing matters to a conclusion. Mounting a
hackney, John de Vienne conducted the six citizens to the gate, and,
having passed through, led them, barefoot and bare-headed, with halters
round their necks, and the keys of Calais in their hands, to the
barrier, and delivered them to Sir Walter Manny, who was there waiting.
"Sir knight," said John de Vienne, "I, as Governor of Calais, deliver
to you with the consent of the inhabitants, these six citizens; and I
swear to you that they were, and are to this day, the most wealthy in
Calais. I beg of you, gentle sir, that you would have the goodness to
beseech your king that they may not be put to death."
"On my faith," replied Sir Walter, much affected, "I cannot answer for
what the king will do with them; but you may depend on this, that I
will do all in my power to save them."
And now the barriers were opened, and Sir Walter Manny, leading the six
citizens to the royal pavilion, presented them to the victor king.
Immediately on coming into Edward's presence, the six citizens fell on
their knees, and, with uplifted hands, implored mercy.
"Most gallant king," cried they, in accents that moved every heart,
"see before you men of Calais, who have been capital merchants, and who
bring you the keys of the castle and the town."
All the lords and knights of England who surrounded their king on the
occasion wept at the sight. At first, however, it seemed that the
citizens were doomed. In fact, Edward greatly disliked the Calesians,
not only for the blood and treasure they had cost him during the siege,
but for the many injuries which, in other days, their cruisers had done
the English at sea; and, far from sympathising with the pity expressed,
he eyed them with angry glances, and ordered them to be straightway
led to execution. But loud murmurs arose from the barons who stood
around; and one noble, bolder than the others, protested frankly. It
was the young Lord Merley.
"My lord," said he, "reflect before doing in this matter what can never
be undone, nor, as I believe, justified. Remember, my lord, what was
said by your grandsire of illustrious memory, when advised to show
mercy to men infinitely more criminal than these citizens. 'Why,' said
he, 'talk to me of showing mercy? When did I ever refuse mercy to
mortal man who asked it? I would not refuse mercy even to a dog!'"
Edward, however, shook his head, and appeared inexorable. But Sir
Walter Manny, trusting to his influence, ventured on a last appeal.
"Gentle sir," said Sir Walter, "let me beseech you to restrain your
anger. You have the reputation of great and true nobility of soul. Do
not tarnish your reputation by such an act as this, nor allow any man
to speak of you as having so tarnished it. All the world would say that
you have acted cruelly if you put to death six men who have surrendered
themselves to your mercy to save their fellow-citizens."
"Be it so," replied the king, with a significant wink, "and meantime
let the headsman be sent for."
At that moment the fate of the citizens appeared to be sealed; and
they must have given up all hope. But they had still another chance
of escape. Almost as the king spoke, Queen Philippa approached, and,
falling upon her knees, implored her husband to show mercy to the
unhappy men.
"Ah, gentle sir," said the queen, with tears in her eyes, "since I, in
spite of great dangers, have crossed the seas to meet you, I have never
asked you one favour. Now I do most humbly ask, as a gift, for the sake
of the Son of the Blessed Mary, and for your love of me, that you will
be merciful to these six men."
For some time the king regarded his spouse without speaking, and as if
struggling with himself. At length he broke silence, and, as he spoke,
all present listened to his words, as if the life of each depended upon
the answer.
"Lady," said he, "I wish that, at this moment, you had been anywhere
else than here. But you have intreated in such a manner that I cannot
refuse you. I therefore give these citizens to you to do as you like
with them."
As the king concluded, all the nobles and knights breathed more freely;
and the queen, having conducted the citizens to her apartments, caused
their halters to be taken off, and clothes to be given to them, and
ordered that they should be served with dinner; and then, having
presented each with six nobles, she commanded that they should be
safely and honourably escorted out of the camp.
Meanwhile Edward, now secure of his prize, turned to Sir Walter Manny
and the two marshals, and handed them the keys which had been brought
by the six citizens.
"Gentlemen," said he, "here are the keys of the town and castle of
Calais. Go and take possession."
"And what of the governor and inhabitants?" asked they.
"As to them I will explain my views," replied the king. "You will first
put into prison the governor and the knights whom you find there; and
then all the other inhabitants you will send out of the town, and all
soldiers who were serving for pay. I am resolved to repeople the town,
and to people it with English, and none but English."
Forthwith, and right willingly, Sir Walter Manny and the marshals
proceeded to execute the king's commands. With a hundred men they
entered Calais, and took formal possession. John de Vienne and his
knights having been taken into custody, arms of every sort were brought
to the market-place, and piled up in a heap; and the inhabitants of
all ages and sexes were ordered to leave the town, with the exception
of an old priest and two other old men, who were well acquainted with
the place and its customs and likely to be useful in pointing out the
different properties.
At the same time, directions were given for preparing the castle to
receive the King and Queen of England; this done, Edward and Philippa
mounted their steeds, and entered the gates in triumph. All were gay
and exultant; trumpets and tabours sounded loudly; and the standard of
England waved from tower and turret.