At Cre'cy (S238) small cannon appear to have been used for the first time in field warfare, though gunpowder was probably known to the English friar, Roger Bacon (S208), a hundred years before. The object of the cannon was to frighten and annoy the horses of the French cavalry. They were laughed at as ingenious toys; but in the course of the next two centuries those toys revolutionized warfare (S270) and made the steel-clad knight little more than a tradition and a name. In its day, however, knighthood (S153) did the world a good service. Chivalry aimed to make the profession of arms a noble instead of a brutal calling. It gave it somewhat of a religious character. It taught the warrior the worth of honor, truthfulness, and courtesy, as well as valor,--qualities which still survive in the best type of the modern gentleman. We owe, therefore, no small debt to that military brotherhood of the past, and may join the English poet in his epitaph on the order: "The Knights are dust, Their good swords rust; Their souls are with the saints, we trust."[1] [1] Coleridge; see Scott's "Ivanhoe." 240. Edward III takes Calais, 1347. King Edward now marched against Calais. He was particularly anxious to take the place: first, because it was a favorite resort of desperate pirates; secondly, because such a fortified port on the Strait of Dover, within sight of the chalk cliffs of England, would give him at all times "an open doorway into France." After besieging it for nearly a year, the garrison was starved into submission and prepared to open the gates. Edward was so exasperated with the stubborn resistance the town had made, that he resolved to put the entire population to the sword. But at last he consented to spare them, on condition that six of the chief men should give themselves up to be hanged. A meeting was called, and St. Pierre, the wealthiest citizen of the place, volunteered, with five others, to go forth and die. Bareheaded, barefooted, with halters round their necks, they silently went out, carrying the keys of the city. When they appeared before the English King, he ordered the executioner, who was standing by, to seize them and carry out the sentence forthwith. But Queen Philippa (S236), who had accompanied her husband, now fell on her knees before him, and with tears begged that they might be forgiven. For a long time Edward was inexorable, but finally, unable to resist her entreaties, he granted her request, and the men who had dared to face death for others found life both for themselves and their fellow citizens.[1] Calais now became an English town and the English kept it for more than two hundred years (S373). This gave them the power to invade France whenever it seemed for their interest to do so. [1] Froissart's "Chronicles." 241. Victory of Poitiers (1356).