Her tomb was ordered to be made of "neat black marble, with her image thereon in polished alabaster, and round the pedestal, sweetly carved niches, with images therein." But what makes this monument specially interesting is that the figure of Queen Philippa is really a likeness and not a beautiful fancy picture, so that as you look at that kind, motherly face you can quite easily picture to yourself the queen who pleaded for the lives of the citizens of Calais, and of whom it was said at her death, "She had done many good deeds in her lyfe; having succoured so many knyghts and comforted ladyes and damosels." Eight years later, King Edward was laid beside her, all the glory of his life having passed from him with her. "In his time, England had seemed to shine in her meridian; learning was encouraged; gallantry, and that the most honourable, was practised; the subjects were beloved; the king was honoured at home and feared abroad." But after Philippa’s death strength of mind and body alike failed him; his favourite son, the Black Prince, had died; his other sons neglected him, his courtiers robbed him, and when the end came, there was only a poor priest by his bedside, who pressed the crucifix to his lips and caught his last dying word—Jesus. His funeral, however, was magnificent; he was carried through London with his face uncovered, followed by his children and by the nobles and prelates of England, and afterwards a fine tomb was set up to him with figures of his twelve children kneeling around. But it was only round the tomb and in the sculptor’s fancy that those strong, high-spirited sons of Edward and Philippa knelt in one accord, for from them arose the quarrels and strife which later on brought to England the greatest calamity which can come to any nation—a civil war in its midst. [Illustration: TOMBS OF RICHARD II. AND EDWARD III.] *CHAPTER VII* *RICHARD II. AND QUEEN ANNE* Edward the Black Prince, that flower of English chivalry, had left his little son Richard as his legacy to the people who loved him so well. "I commend to you my son," he said, as he lay dying in Westminster Palace, "for he is but young and small. And I pray that as you have served me, so from your heart you will serve him." One year afterwards, this boy of eleven was crowned in Westminster, and so "young and small" was he that the long day with all its wearying ceremony was too much for him; he fainted away, and had to be carried from the Abbey to the Palace on a litter.