When Edward III., after the battle of Cressy, laid siege to Calais, the citizens, under the command of Count Vienne, the governor, made an admirable defence. Day after day the English effected many a breach, which they expected to storm by break of day; but, when morning appeared, they beheld new ramparts raised nightly, erected out of the ruins which the previous day had made. France had now put her sickle into her second harvest, since Edward, with his victorious army, sat down before the town. The eyes of all Europe were intent upon the issue. The English made their approaches and attacks without remission; but the citizens were as obstinate in repelling all their efforts. At length, famine did more for Edward than arms. After the citizens had devoured the lean carcases of their half-starved cattle, they tore up old foundations and rubbish in search of vermin. They fed on boiled leather and the weeds of exhausted gardens, and a morsel of damaged corn was accounted a matter of luxury. In this extremity they resolved to attempt the enemy's camp. They boldly sallied forth the English joined battle, and after a long and desperate engagement, Count Vienne was taken prisoner, and the citizens who survived the slaughter retired within their gates. The command now devolved on Eustace St. Pierre, the mayor of the town, a man of humble birth, but of the most exalted virtue. Eustace soon found himself under the necessity of capitulating, and offered to deliver the city up to Edward, with all the wealth and possessions of the citizens, provided that they might be permitted to depart with life and liberty. As Edward had long expected to ascend the throne of France, he was exasperated against these people, whose sole valour had so long defeated his warmest hopes; he therefore determined to take an exemplary revenge. He answered, by Sir Walter Manny, that they all deserved capital punishment, as obstinate traitors to him, their true and lawful sovereign; that, however, in his wonted clemency, he consented to pardon the bulk of the inhabitants, provided they would deliver up to him six of their principal citizens, with halters about their necks, as victims of due atonement for that spirit of rebellion with which they had inflamed the common people. All the remains of this desolate city were convened in the great square; and, like men arraigned at a great tribunal from whence there was no appeal, expected, with throbbing hearts, the sentence of their conqueror. When Sir Walter had declared his message, consternation and dismay were impressed on every face. Each looked upon death as his own inevitable lot, for how should they desire to be saved at the price proposed? Whom had they to deliver up, save parents, brothers, kindred, or valiant neighbours, who had so often exposed their lives in their defence? To a long and dead silence, only deep sighs and groans succeeded, until Eustace St. Pierre, ascending a little eminence, thus addressed the assembly :— "My friends and fellow-citizens, you see the condition to which we are reduced. We must either submit to the terms of our cruel and ensnaring conqueror, or yield up our tender infants, our wives, and chaste daughters, to the ferocity of the soldiery. We well know what the tyrant intends by his specious offers of mercy. It does not satiate his vengeance to make us merely miserable; he would make us criminal; he would make us contemptible; he will grant us life on no condition, save that of being unworthy of it. Look about you, my friends, and fix your eyes on the persons whom you wish to deliver up as the victims of your own safety. Which of these would you appoint to the rack, the axe, or the halter? Is there any here who has not watched for you, who has not fought for you, who has not bled for you ;—who, through the length of this inveterate siege, has not suffered fatigues and miseries a thousand times worse than death, that you and yours might survive to peace and prosperity? Is it your preservers, then, whom you would destine to destruction? You will not-you cannot do it. Justice, honour, humanity, make such a treason impossible. Where, then, is our resource? Is there any expedient left whereby we may avoid guilt and infamy on the one hand, or the desolation and horrors of a sacked city on the other? There is, my friends, one expedient left-a gracious, an excellent, a godlike expedient! Is there any here to whom virtue is dearer than life?-let him offer himself an oblation for the safety of his people! He shall not fail of a blessed approbation from that Power who offered up His only Son for the salvation of mankind.” Each man He spoke, but a universal silence ensued. looked around for the example of that virtue and magnanimity in others which all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted the resolution. At length St. Pierre resumed : : "It had been base in me, my fellow-citizens, to promote any matter of danger to others, which I myself had not been willing to undergo in my own person. But I held it ungenerous to deprive any man of that preference and estimation which might attend a first offer on so signal an occasion; for I doubt not but there are many here as ready, nay, more zealous for this martyrdom than I can be, however modesty and the fear of imputed ostentation may withhold them from being foremost in exhibiting their merits. Indeed, the station to which the captivity of Count Vienne has unhappily raised me, imports the right to be the first in giving my life for your sakes. I give it freely; I give it cheerfully. Who comes next?" "Your son!" exclaimed a youth, not yet come to maturity. Ah, my child!" cried St. Pierre, "I am then twice sacrificed. But no! I have rather begotten thee a second time. Thy years are few, but full, my son; the victim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose and goal of mortality. Who next, my friends? This is the hour of heroes." "Your kinsman!" cried John de Aire. "Your kinsman!" cried James Wissant. "Your kinsman !" cried Peter Wissant. "Ah!" exclaimed Sir Walter Manny, bursting into tears, why was I not a citizen of Calais ?" 66 The sixth victim was still wanting, but was quickly supplied by lot, from numbers who were now emulous of so ennobling an example. The keys of the city were then delivered to Sir Walter, who took the six prisoners into his custody; and ordering the gates to be opened, he gave charge to his attendants to conduct the remaining citizens, with their families, through the camp of the English, while he, with this little band of patriots, passed into the presence of the king, to hear from his lips their awful doom. To the eternal honour of Philippa, the Queen of Edward, the lives of these virtuous citizens were spared through her intercession. D |