to be compelled to capitulate. At first Edward resolved to put them all to the sword. By the persuasion of Sir Walter Manney, he somewhat relaxed from his bloody intentions. He bade Sir Walter, says Froissart, return to Calais with the following terms: the garrison and inhabitants shall be pardoned, excepting six of the principal citizens, who must surrender themselves to death, with ropes round their necks, bareheaded and barefooted, bringing the keys of the town and castle in their hands.

'Sir Walter returned to the brave governor of Calais, John de Vienne, who was waiting for him on the battlements, and told him all he had been able to gain from the king. The Lord of Vienne went to the market-place, and caused the bell to be rung, upon which all the inhabitants assembled in the town-hall. He then related to them what he had said, and the answers he had received, and that he could not obtain better conditions. Then they broke into lamentations of grief and despair, so that the hardest heart would have had compassion on them; and their valiant governor, Lord de Vienne, wept bitterly. After a short pause, the most wealthy citizen of Calais, by name Eustace St. Pierre, rose up, and said 'Gentlemen, both high and low, it would be a pity to suffer so many of our countrymen to die through famine: it would be highly meritorious in the eyes of our Saviour if such misery could be prevented. If I die to save my dear townsmen, I trust that I shall find grace before the tribunal of God. I name myself first of the six.'

"When Eustace had done speaking, his fellow-citizens all rose up, and almost adored him, casting themselves on their knees, with tears and groans. Then another citizen rose up, and said he would be the second to Eustace; his name was John Daire: after him James Wisant, who was very rich in money and lands, and kinsman to Eustace and John; his example was followed by Peter Wisant, his brother; two others offered themselves, which completed the number demanded by King Edward. The governor mounted a small horse, for it was with difficulty he could walk, and conducted them through the gate to the barriers; he said to Sir Walter, who was there waiting for him

"I deliver up to you, as Governor of Calais, these six citizens, and swear to you they were, and are this day, the most wealthy and respectable inhabitants of the town: I beg of you, gentle sir, that of your goodness you would beseech the king they should not be put

to death.'

"I cannot answer what the king will do with them,' replied Sir Walter, but you may depend upon this, I will do all I can to save them.'

"The barriers were then opened, and the six citizens were conducted to the pavilion of King Edward. When Sir Walter Manney had presented these six citizens to the king, they fell upon their knees, and with uplifted hands said—

"Most gallant king, see before you six citizens of Calais, who have been capital merchants, and who bring you the keys of the town and castle. We surrender ourselves to your absolute will and pleasure, in order to save the remainder of our fellow-citizens and inhabitants of Calais, who have suffered great distress and misery. Condescend then out of your nobleness to have compassion on us.'

"All the English barons, knights and squires, that were assembled there in great numbers, wept at this sight; but King Edward eyed them with angry looks, for he hated much the people of Calais, on account of the great losses which he had suffered at sea by them. Forthwith he ordered the heads of the six citizens to be struck off. All present entreated the king to be more merciful, but he would not listen to them. Then Sir Walter Manney spoke :

"Oh, gentle king, I beseech you restrain your anger. Tarnish not your noble reputation by such an act as this! Truly the whole world will cry out on your cruelty, if you put to death these six worthy persons.'

"For all this, the king gave a wink to his marshal, and said, 'I will have it so,' and ordered his headsman to be sent for, adding, 'The men of Calais had done him much damage; it was fit they should suffer for it.'

"At this the Queen of England, who was very near her lying-in, fell on her knees before King Edward, and with tears said—

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Ah, gentle sir, sithence I have crossed the sea with great peril to see you, I have never asked you one favour; now, I most humbly ask as a gift for the sake of the Son of the blessed Mary, and as a proof of your love to me, the lives of these six men.'

said

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'King Edward looked at her for some time in silence, and then

"Ah, lady, I wish you had been anywhere else than here; you have entreated in such a manner that I cannot refuse you. I therefore give them to you-do as you please with them.'

"The queen conducted the six citizens to her apartments, and had the halters taken from about their necks, after which she newclothed them, and served them with a plentiful dinner; she then presented each with six nobles, and had them escorted out of the camp in safety."

Of this celebrated incident it may be said, Se non e vero, e ben trovato. That it is almost entirely fictitious is highly probable.

After the siege of Calais followed another truce; during which, by an act of detestable treachery, Edward very nearly lost the city he had so hardly gained.

In 1347 Edward was elected Emperor of Germany, but wisely declined the honour. In 1348 broke out the pestilence called the Black Death, which swept off vast numbers both in England and on the continent, and amongst the number the Princess Joanna, the daughter of Edward and Philippa, celebrated for her great beauty. She died at Bayonne, whither she had gone to meet Don Pedro of Spain, to whom she was betrothed.

We have now briefly followed public events until the commencement of 1349; and it is time to give some domestic account of Philippa. Her family largely increased in 1338, Lionel, Duke of Clarence, was born; in 1340, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster; and between this period and 1347 she had four other children-Mary, who afterwards married the Duke of Brittany; William, who died in his youth; Edmund, Duke of York; and Blanche. Nor have we the means of ascertaining at this moment the precise dates of the births of her youngest children, Margaret, who afterwards married the Earl of Pembroke, and Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; but probably she had not been married very much less than thirty years when this her last son was born.

Philippa's life was that of a thoroughly peaceful nature in the midst of endless strife. During the whole of her reign, the temple of Janus was open; and the adverse Fates and her fierce lord tied her to their chariot-wheels, and dragged her ceaselessly through paths of war and desolation. But admirably does she seem to have bent to this ungenial career; and whenever a moment's pause could be obtained, there was Philippa's hand ever promptly ready to disseminate the useful virtues, and to promote and cultivate the general good. Hers was no visionary fantastic mind, vainly and frivolously aspiring to imaginary and vapid excellences; all that she did was real, substantial, and productive always of actual good, and frequently so permanent, that its effects have endured until our own times. In fact, she does not appear to have had in her disposition one spark of sentimental romance, but to have been prudent, affectionate, benevolent, active, generous, and signally endowed with the faculty of perceiving and advocating homely and beneficial truths. She was not, however, devoid of a sense of queenly state, or incapable of magnificence; she was far from being ignoble or penurious; yet

even in her pageantries she had an eye to the public weal. Unlike the French signioral lady of the last century, who attempted to rejoice her retainers' hearts by supplying the prettiest of their children with spangled tunics, silk breechings, and wings of silver foil, Philippa's more prosaic philanthropy would have detected that the peasant parents of the spurious Cupidons had themselves not only an equally scanty clothing for a wintry climate, but also an insufficiency of fuel and sustenance. In fact, she was a judicious and benevolent princess, and a good and amiable woman.

In 1355, owing to the detestable Charles the Bad, the war with France was renewed. The storm first issued from Guienne, whence the Black Prince carried fire and sword to Languedoc, Thoulouse, Carcassonne, and Narbonne; and returned laden with spoils and prisoners. Edward, in the south of France, pursued a similar career of desolation, and everywhere plundered and ravaged. This cruel and lamentable warfare was terminated in 1356, by the battle of Poictiers. But the unhappy kingdom little benefited by the suspension of English murdering and marauding; for immediately after the captivity of the head of the state, the infernal Jacquerie commenced, and "Jacques bon homme" proved that, when the bridle was removed, he could become a greater miscreant than his oppressor.

The Black Prince landed at Sandwich, May 5th, 1357, with John, King of France, and his son Philip, a boy of fourteen. With them also was the famous knight Bertrand du Guesclin. At the commencement of 1358 a grand festival was held at Windsor, where were present the captive monarchs of both France and Scotland.

In 1360, France and England agreed to the peace of Bretagne ; and in 1364, John, a monarch who seems to have merited his surname of Good, died. He was succeeded by his son, Charles the Fifth, the Wise, who ultimately made the English feel that he also had no small claim to the title which his people conferred upon him. In 1367 occurred the most impolitic and unhappy expedition into Spain, to re-instate on the throne the sanguinary tyrant, Peter the Cruel. In this arbitrary and unjust deed originated principally all the disasters which subsequently befell Edward in the field; for it arrayed inveterately against him Henry of Transtamare, a singularly active and intrepid prince.

But both space and inclination are wanting to follow Edward closely through his declining fortunes and years; we shall now, therefore, merely record his own death and that of his queen. Froissart says:

"I must now speak of the death of the most courteous, liberal, and

noble lady that ever reigned in her time, the Lady Philippa of Hainault, Queen of England. While her son, the Duke of Lancaster, was encamped in the valley of Tonneham, ready to give battle to the Duke of Burgundy, her death happened in England, to the infinite misfortune of King Edward, his children, and the whole kingdom. That excellent lady the queen, who had done so much good, aiding all knights, ladies, and damsels, when distressed, who had applied to her, lay at this time dangerously sick at Windsor Castle, and every day her disorder increased.

"When the good queen perceived that her end approached, she called to the king, and extending her right hand from under the bedclothes, put it into the right hand of King Edward, who was oppressed with sorrow, and thus spoke :

"We have, my husband, enjoyed our long career in happiness, peace, and prosperity. But I entreat, before I depart, and we are for ever separated in this world, that you will grant me these requests.'

"King Edward, with sighs and tears, replied- Lady, name them; whatever be your requests, they shall be granted.'

"My lord,' she said, 'I beg you will fulfil whatever engagements I have entered into with merchants for their wares, as well on this as on the other side of the sea; I beseech you to fulfil whatever gifts or legacies I have made or left to churches wherein I have paid my devotions, and to all my servants, whether male or female; and, when it shall please God to call you, choose no other sepulchre than mine, and that you will lie by my side in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey.'

"The king, in tears, replied-Lady, all this shall be done.' "Soon after, the good lady made the sign of the cross on her breast, and having recommended to the king her youngest son, Thomas, who was present, praying to God, she gave up her spirit, which I firmly believe was caught by holy angels, and carried to the glory of heaven, for she had never done anything, by thought or deed, to endanger her soul.

"Thus died this admirable Queen of England, in the year of grace 1369, the vigil of the Assumption of the Virgin, the 14th of August." Our readers, we trust, will thank us for this extract; for a picture of a more honourable, virtuous, affecting, and exemplary death-bed, it would be difficult to find.

The king lived but eight years after this deplorable event. He died on the 21st of June, 1377; and before him died, in fact, with Philippa, his happiness, his prosperity, and his respectability as a man. Strife, intrigue, trouble, and disgrace reigned in that court where the noble Philippa had so long maintained harmony and a virtuous magnificence.