CHAPTER XXXIV
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.
CHAPTER XXXV
A RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM
While the English were prosecuting the siege of Calais, and Philip of Valois was preparing to march, when too late, to relieve the town, and while King Edward was rendering his position too strong to be approached even by the boldest of foes, the match between the young Count of Flanders and the Lady Isabel of England continued to excite much interest, and to furnish material for many a dialogue. It was understood that the ideas of the Count of Flanders on the important subject of matrimony had undergone a total change, and that he had become not only reconciled to his fate, but all eagerness for the celebration of a marriage to which he had formerly expressed such a very decided aversion; and preparations were heartily made, on one side at least, for the great event which was to bind Flanders still more closely to her chief commercial ally. No expense was spared. The King of England provided rich gifts of cloths and jewels to distribute on the wedding-day, and the queen was similarly employed, as she was anxious to acquit herself on the occasion with honour and generosity.
In the meantime the Count of Flanders had returned to his own country, and at Ghent he was residing under the eye of his somewhat imperious subjects. But he was no longer a captive, nor even an object of jealousy. Not only had he done what they wished, but he talked in such a way as highly to gratify them. He professed to be much pleased at everything which, at their instance, he had done – pleased with the English match, and also with his prospective bride; and he declared that the alliance with England was perfectly agreeable to him, in such terms that they, believing all he said, refrained from keeping any strict watch over him, and left him to pursue his sports without let or hindrance.
Now, as I have before said, the Count of Flanders was marvellously fond of hawking, and seldom allowed a day to pass without indulging in his favourite sport. With him it was not pursued merely as a recreation, as with most princes, but it was a passion. No one was surprised, therefore, when one day in the week in which he was to receive the hand of the English princess, he mounted his horse and fared forth, as usual, with a slight attendance; which was rather a train than a guard, and with a falconer by his side, each with a hawk on his wrist, made for the fields outside the city.
No sooner did the party enter the fields in search of game than a heron rose. The falconer immediately flew his hawk, and the count, having done likewise, pretended to be absorbed in calculating the probable result. Watching the birds attentively as they pursued their game, and shouting "Hoye! hoye!" he followed them at a gallop till he was at some distance from his attendants, and deliberately put in execution a project he had formed for making his escape.
Fortunately for the count, not the slightest suspicion was entertained that he any longer felt discontented with his position, and his attendants ascribed his gallop to his ardour for hawking. No sooner, however, did he gain the open field, than he struck spurs into his horse, went off at a pace which set pursuit at defiance, and pursued his way without stopping till he reached the county of Artois, and knew that all danger of being captured was past.
But the Count of Flanders did not linger in Artois. Forward to the court of France, where his heart had ever been, went he joyfully, and chuckled with glee as he related to Philip of Valois all that had happened.
"You have acted wisely, cousin," said Philip. "As for your betrothal, heed it not. A forced contract is of no avail; and for the rest, I will ally you otherwise, and more to your honour and profit."
So spake Philip of Valois; but not so spake the warriors of England, when the Flemings, enraged and mortified, came to Calais with tidings of their count's escape, and with befitting excuses to the English king.
"Shame upon the dog of a Fleming!" cried every one; "he has deceived and betrayed us."
"It is true," said the king, more calmly than might have been expected. "Nevertheless," added he, "we must not blame the Flemings, who are our friends; but we are bound to cultivate their friendship in spite of what has happened on this occasion; for what has happened has not been with their consent or connivance. On the contrary, they are much, and justly, enraged with their count's conduct."
And so King Edward accepted the excuses of the Flemings, and the matter ended; and, ere twelve months passed over, the Lady Isabel learned that her runaway bridegroom had espoused the daughter of the Duke of Brabant.
CHAPTER XXXVI
HOW CALAIS WAS REPEOPLED
Melancholy, I must confess, it was on that memorable August day, even in the eyes of the conquerors of Calais, to see the citizens expelled from the homes which hitherto they had called their own, and compelled to wander forth, not knowing whither they went. Nor with them did they carry aught to aid them in forming new settlements. Everything they possessed was left behind; and, atoning for their fidelity to Philip of Valois by the loss of wealth and goods, as well as houses and heritage, men, women, and children, of various ages and conditions, passed, weeping, through the opened gates, to seek among strangers for new abodes and new friends.
All who witnessed their departure commiserated their hard fate. Even King Edward, albeit exasperated at the Calesians, must, in his heart, have deplored the stern necessity under the influence of which he acted. But, as I have said, the king had expressed his determination to repeople Calais with English, and so thoroughly was his mind made up on the subject, that nothing could have turned him from the plan he had formed for securing his conquest to England, and making it advantageous to Englishmen.
In order to contribute to the result which he contemplated, the king gave to Sir Walter Manny and the Earl of Warwick, and other lords and knights, very handsome houses in Calais, that they might aid him in the work, and intimated his resolution to lose no time in doing his part.
"Immediately on reaching England," said the king, "I will hasten to send hither a number of substantial citizens, with all their wealth, and exert myself in such a manner that the inhabitants shall be wholly English. Not even a dog not of English breed should remain in the city if I could help it."
At the same time the king gave orders for dismantling the temporary town and fortifications which he had raised during the siege, and also the great castle which he had erected in the harbour. Having done this, and repaired the gates and walls, he took such measures for guarding the gates and defending the walls as he deemed essential to the security of the town, and then flattered himself that he had nothing more to fear.
"Nothing," said he, "save treachery from within, could now deprive me of this town, which has cost me so much time and money to gain; and to provide at once against treachery, I intend to appoint as its governor a man in whose perception and fidelity I have full confidence."
Accordingly, the king appointed to the important post of Governor of Calais a Lombard, named Aymery de Pavie, whom he had brought up from youth, whom he had greatly befriended, whom he had highly promoted, and who was destined to requite so many favours with the very blackest ingratitude.
It was a grave mistake on the king's part, I must admit, to appoint an avaricious Lombard to such a post; and he well-nigh atoned for his misplaced confidence by the loss of a conquest which he was so proud to have made, and which any king might have been proud to make. But in the meantime everything seemed fair, and Aymery de Pavie received the keys of Calais from the royal conqueror with the air of a man who was incapable of thinking a dishonourable thought. However, there were then Englishmen and warriors of fame in Calais who had little faith in the Lombard's honesty, and who murmured that, in trusting a foreigner so much, the king was showing less than his wonted sagacity. None, however, ventured to speak, save in a whisper, on a subject so delicate, and not an echo of what was said ever reached the king's ears.
Meanwhile, many men – both English and French – were tired of the war, and talking about "peace;" and Pope Clement, in the exercise of his discretion, deemed it a fitting time to interfere. Before the surrender of Calais, indeed, and ere yet Philip of Valois had left the Calesians to their hard fate, the Pope had sent two cardinals to make an effort at negociating a peace. But Edward would listen to no terms likely to interfere with his gaining possession of Calais; and the cardinals, after wasting three days in a fruitless attempt at negociation, gave up the business in despair, and returned to Avignon.
But Clement did not abandon his design. No sooner, indeed, did the Pope learn that Edward had gained his object – in so far as Calais was concerned – than he resolved on renewing his attempt to terminate the war. With this object he sent into France, as his ambassador, the Cardinal Guy of Boulogne, who, meeting Philip of Valois at Amiens, exercised all his tact and skill to induce the vanquished prince to agree to a peace on practicable terms, and then appeared at Calais to try his powers of persuasion on the King of England.
At first the cardinal had not much reason to congratulate himself on the success of his negociations. His mission, in fact, was one of great difficulty; for Philip hated Edward's name as death, and Edward's contempt for Philip was by no means so slight as to be easily concealed. But the cardinal comprehended his own position and theirs, and felt sure that he would succeed in the end.
And so, indeed, it came to pass. Both parties, after reflecting deliberately, arrived at the conclusion that, for the time being, at least, they had had enough of the war. The English were – as well they might be – contented with the victories they had won, and anxious to return to their homes; the French, depressed and disheartened with defeat and disaster, were the reverse of eager to continue a struggle in which they instinctively felt they were almost certain to have the worst.
Such being the circumstances in his favour, the cardinal persevered, and, with so skilful a mediator as Guy of Boulogne whispering into their ears, both Philip of Valois and King Edward began gradually to listen more earnestly to his representations and his counsels.
At length the cardinal's endeavours were, in some degree, rewarded, and he had the gratification of bringing the rivals to consent to a truce for two years. On the 28th of September, 1347, the truce was signed with all due form, and the King and Queen of England, with the Prince of Wales and the Lady Isabel, embarked for England. The squires and pages of the prince prepared to follow more leisurely.
And on reaching England, where he met with a boisterous welcome, King Edward did not forget to neglect his scheme of repeopling Calais. Forthwith he adopted measures for putting it into execution. Thirty-six citizens of worth and substance, with their wives and families, were sent, in all haste, to inhabit the conquered town, and others speedily followed in large numbers, so that in manners, and customs, and language, Calais differed little from any town in England.
And, as time passed on, the temptation to cross the narrow seas became every year stronger. In fact, King Edward was all anxiety to see Calais prosper and grow rich under his rule; and he, to stimulate its trade, so multiplied the privileges of the English colonists, that adventurous Englishmen flocked eagerly to it as the place where, of all others in Europe, industry was best rewarded, and where fortunes were most easily gained.