THE SIX HEROES OF CALAIS

In 1328, the King of France lay hopelessly ill, and who should succeed him was a question. He had no children, but he had a sister, Isabella, and in England the crown would have been given to her. Among one branch of the ancient Franks, however, the Salians, who lived on the lower Rhine, there was a law that no woman should rule the Salic lands. Therefore, when the king died, the French gave the crown to his cousin Philip.

But in England Edward III, a shrewd, wide-awake sovereign, was watching matters closely. He was the son of Isabella, and he argued that even if a woman could not reign, her son could. The lawyers of Europe did not agree with him, but, nevertheless, he took the title of King of France and in 1337 set to work to make it valid by force of arms.

He won a great naval victory off Sluys, on the Flemish coast, and destroyed the French fleet. He ravaged Normandy, won the famous battle of Crécy, and then marched on to Calais. He settled his troops as comfortably as possible, building for them a town of wooden huts thatched with straw. These were arranged in streets, and there was also a market-place where twice a week bread, meat, cloth, and many other comforts from England were for sale.

The wealthy people of Calais had been filling their houses with provisions, but the poorer people had not been able to do this, and the governor of the place now sent them out from the city to seek homes and food wherever they might. Edward III was a stern ruler, but his heart was touched by the sight of these hungry, suffering folk. He told his men to pass them through the lines in safety, and he ordered a hearty dinner to be prepared for them. Then he gave some money to each one, and so let them go.

The French king had not forgotten the plight of Calais, and he bade every knight and every squire of his realm come with him to its aid; and before long, the watchmen on the walls of the city saw two hundred thousand men marching to their help with banners flying in the moonlight.

But even after they had come, the passes were so carefully guarded that they found no opportunity for battle. They sent envoys to Edward and asked him, in rather childlike fashion, if he would name some place for a battle. Edward replied that if the French were so eager to fight, they might have come sooner; but that he had now done so much that he expected to be master of Calais in a very short time; and in any case, he had no idea of arranging his affairs to suit their convenience. At this the King of France withdrew and disbanded his troops.

The governor of Calais, however, was of quite different mettle. He had no idea of surrender, but the people of the town had now held out for nearly a year, and they begged the governor to ask for a parley; so he mounted the battlements and made a sign that he wished to talk with envoys from the English king. Edward sent Sir Walter de Manny, a brave and honorable knight, to hold a parley with them. Of Sir Walter the governor asked that his people might be allowed to go free, leaving the city with all its wealth to King Edward.

“That will not satisfy him,” replied Sir Walter. “Your obstinate defense has cost him not only money, but many lives. He is enraged, and he declares that the life of every one in this town must be given into his hands, that he may do as he pleases with it, either accept ransom or destroy it, as he will.”

Then said the governor: “We have served our king as you would have served yours. We have endured much, but we will endure as much more before we will consent that the smallest boy in this town shall fare worse than the best. I beg of you to go to the king and entreat his compassion upon us.”

Sir Walter reported the parley to Edward, but the king declared firmly that he would accept nothing but unconditional surrender. Then said Sir Walter: “But, my lord, the time may come when we shall be in the hands of the French, and if you put these people to death, the French will take their revenge on us. You could not under such circumstances expect us to obey you cheerfully when you order us to go to any of your castles.”

Many of the other barons agreed with Sir Walter, and at last the king said: “I am not so obstinate as to insist upon my opinion against you all. Sir Walter, go you to the governor of Calais, and say to him that the only grace he will get from me is this: If six of the chief men of Calais will come to me, bareheaded and barefooted, with ropes around their necks and the keys of the town in their hands, then shall the rest of the people have pardon, but with these six, I will do as I please.”

When the governor heard these words, he went down from the battlements into the market-place and had the bell rung for the people to come together. After they had heard the hard terms, there was great weeping and wailing, but soon Eustace de Saint-Pierre, the richest citizen of the town, rose to his feet, and said: “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. I have such faith and trust in finding grace before God if I die to save my townsmen that I name myself as first of the six.” “I will be the second,” said John Daire, another man of wealth, and four others quickly followed their example.

Amid the tears and lamentations of the people, the governor led the six heroes to the city gate where Sir Walter de Manny stood waiting. “I swear to you,” said the governor, “that these six citizens are the most wealthy and respected inhabitants of Calais. I beg of you, gentle sir, to beseech the king that they may not be put to death.”

“I cannot answer for what the king may do with them,” replied Sir Walter sadly, “but you may be sure that I will do all in my power to save them.”

When the six heroes had come before King Edward, they fell upon their knees before him and begged for mercy. All the barons and knights and squires wept at the sight, but the king, angry for what the people of Calais had made him endure, ordered them to be taken away and beheaded. Sir Walter and the others present pleaded for mercy, but the king would not yield. “Send for the executioner,” was his only reply. But Queen Philippa now knelt before him and pleaded for the men. “With great danger I crossed the sea to come to you,” she said, “and I have never yet asked a favor of you. I ask you now, for the sake of the Son of the Blessed Mary and for your love to me, that you will be merciful to these six men.”

The king stood looking at her in silence. Then he said: “Ah, lady, I wish you had been anywhere else than here, but I cannot refuse you. Take them and do with them as you please.” So the queen took the six men to her own apartments. She cast off the halters from their necks, gave them new clothes, and served them with a generous dinner. Then they were escorted back to the city gates in safety, and for the sake of the six heroes the lives of the men of Calais were spared.

This is the story of the heroes of Calais as it is told by Froissart, a French historian who spent much time talking with men who had fought in the wars and visiting the fields where great battles had taken place. Queen Philippa was especially kind to him, and he must have enjoyed writing this story of her goodness and mercy.