# Cassell's Illustrated History of England/Volume 1/Chapter 64

CHAPTER LXIV.
We are now arrived at a crisis in our history which marks at once the valour and the unscrupulous ambition of the English kings. There is no period of our annals in which the bravery of our countrymen assumed a more marvellous character, or in which it was displayed in a more unjust cause. Whenever we would boast of the martial ascendancy of the nation, we are sure to pronounce the words Creçy and Poietiers, but we are quite as certainly silent as to the political merits of the contest in which those names became celebrated. The invasions of France by Edward III. raised the martial glory of England to the highest pitch. There is nothing in the miracles of bravery done at Lenctra, Marathon, or Thermopylæ which can surpass those performed at Creçy, Poietiers, and on other occasions; but there the splendour of the parallel ends. The Greek battle-fields are sanctified by the imperishable renown of patriotism; those of England, at that period, are distinguished only by empty ambition and unwarrantable aggression. The ​Greeks fought and conquered for the very existence of their country and their liberties; the English, to crush those of an independent people. The wars commenced by Edward III. inflicted the most direful miseries on France, were continued for generations, and perpetuated a spirit of hostility between the two great neighbour countries, which has been prolific of bloodshed, and most injurious to the progress of liberty and civilisation. The contest, as far as Edward III. was concerned, ended with a formal renunciation of his pretensions on the French crown, and in the acquisition of nothing but the town and district of Calais and Guisnes, destined to be lost, at a future day, with every other English fief and freehold in France.
The impolicy of Edward III. was equal to his spirit of aggression. He was not content to attempt the complete subjugation of Scotland, which his grandfather had invaded on pleas as empty as his own regarding France, and where, during the wars of three reigns, all the power and wealth of England had been put forth, only to prove that you may exterminate a brave people, but you cannot conquer it. While he was no nearer the real annexation of Scotland than his grandfather was the first day that he advanced beyond Berwick, he aspired to coerce a still more extensive empire. The real source of this great movement was merely military ambition.
Edward claimed to be the rightful heir to the crown of France through his mother. But it had always been held in that country that no female could succeed to the throne: no such occurrence had ever taken place. It was declared that this succession was prohibited by a clause in the Salic code—the code of an ancient tribe among the Franks. This clause, when carefully examined by the highest legal antiquaries, has been asserted not to bear out this principle of exclusion positively, but only to favour such exclusion. On this presumption, however, the French nation had uniformly acted for nearly 1,000 years. The ancient Franks were too barbarous and turbulent to submit to a female ruler, and those who succeeded them steadily pursued the same practice, passing over female heirs, and placing on the throne men in their stead. The third race of French kings had transmitted the crown in this manner from Hugh Capet to Louis Hutin, for eleven generations; during which period no female, nor any male, even, who founded his title on a female, had been suffered to mount the throne.
Edward asserted that in England and in other countries such claim was always considered valid; that a son could and would succeed to his mother as well as to his father; and this view of the case was supported by the Government lawyers of England and some jurists abroad in English pay; but then the succession was not to take place in England, but in France, whose whole history and practice wore opposed to it. The French maintained, and truly, that it was a fundamental law that no foreigner could reign in France; and that it was a chief object of this law to exclude the husbands and children of those princesses of France who married foreigners. To put the matter still further beyond question, the Parliament of France, in the time of Philip the Long, had passed a solemn and deliberate decree, declaring expressly that all females were for over incapable of succeeding to the crown of France.
What right, then, had Edward to dictate to the French nation his own views in opposition to theirs? None whatever. By custom, the usage of nearly 1,000 years, and by express recent law, the principle of the French nation was clearly established. True, Edward was nearer in blood to the throne than Philip of Valois, who had now succeeded. He claimed from his mother, who was daughter of the fourth preceding king, Philip the Fair, and sister of the three preceding kings; while Philip de Valois was only cousin-german to the deceased king, Charles le Bel. But all this the laws and practice of Franco pronounced to amount to nothing. That no female could succeed, or could transmit succession to her offspring, over that there was no passing legally; and if Edward had succeeded in proving a valid claim from the female side, he would only have proved his own exclusion; for the last three kings had all left daughters who were still alive, and who all stood before him in the order of succession.
In a legal point of view, then, Edward had not a leg to stand upon in this question, whether as a king of French or of English descent; for no race of monarchs had made such arbitrary work with succession as the kings of England, from the Conqueror downwards. Besides this, Edward, according to all the laws of honour and of nations then prevailing, had practically renounced any claims of the kind which he might pretend to. The French king had succeeded to the throne in 1329. The peers of the realm had declared the crown his. The Parliament of Paris, and after that the states general of the kingdom had confirmed their judgment; and not only all France, but all Europe had recognised him as rightful possessor of the throne. In 1331 the King of France called upon Edward to come over and do homage for his province of Guienne. Philip, who was an able man, and of years of experience, was too prudent to allow any one to retain the shadow of a claim against him. He lost no time in summoning so powerful a rival as the King of England to do that homage which would at once cut off any real claim, had it existed; and, on Edward seeming to hang back, was preparing to seize his fief by force of arms as forfeited. To have refused to yield this feudal homage would have been virtually to renounce his right to the province, or to involve him in a war with this powerful monarch. He therefore went over to France, having first, as if that would have any legal or rightful effect, secretly in his own council entered a protest against this act prejudicing his own claims on the French crown through his mother. Such have often been the private reservations by which kings and other men have sought to give a plea to their own consciences for the violation of the most public and binding acts.
Edward was at that time about eighteen years of ago, brave and ambitious. Ho was attended by a splendid retinue of peers and knights, and was met by the King of France with a similarly imposing train. The act of homage was publicly performed in the cathedral of Amiens. Edward appeared in a robe of crimson velvet, embroidered with leopards of gold. He came wearing his armour, girt with his sword, and with his golden spurs of knighthood on his heels. Philip of France received him seated in a chair of state, before which was placed a cushion for the King of England to kneel upon. No ​doubt, as this act implied vassalage, so far as any lands in France were concerned every precaution was taken that so powerful a monarch of a neighbouring nation, and a suspected rival, should make no equivocal submission. Edward, on his part, was careful to give none but the smallest and most indispensable tokens of dependence, and refused to kneel. On this the grand chamberlain of France, unquestionably well instructed beforehand by his royal master, not only insisted that he should kneel, but that he should perform his homage by laying aside his regal ornaments, his sword and girdle and spurs, his anger at this humiliating demand before the assembled chivalry and high-born ladies of Franco was excessive; but no remonstrance could move the grand chamberlain, and he was obliged to submit, and kneel bare-headed and stripped of all the marks of his royal rank. There can be no doubt that his indignation at this proceeding whetted his enmity against Philip de Valois, and led in no trifling degree to his future terrible invasions of his kingdom. Yet it was not till 1336, five years afterwards, and seven after Philip had sat quietly on his throne, that he openly declared the superiority of his own claims to it, and his determination to assert them.
The King of England had just cause of quarrel with Philip of France, which might deserve chastisement, but could afford no ground for an attempt to dethrone him. He had repeatedly sent money and men to the aid of the Scots, and to pave the way for the return of the young king and queen, who were exiles in France. But the immediate instigator of this enterprise was the brother-in-law of Philip, Robert of Artois, who had justly incurred the king's resentment, and had fled the country in disguise. This Robert, Count of Artois, was a man of a fiery temper, and unprincipled. He had married the king's sister; and, being in high favour with him, hoped to prevail upon him to reverse the acts of Philip the Fair, which had prevented his succession to the earldom of Artois. Robert was undoubtedly the male heir; but his aunt Matilda being married to Otho, Duke of Burgundy, and his two daughters to two sons of Philip the Fair, that monarch adjudged the county of Artois to the heir female, and this judgment was confirmed by Philip the Long. The count had clearly just cause of complaint, and on the death of Charles the Fair he zealously supported the claims of Philip of Valois, and hoped, from the services which he then rendered, as well as from his alliance by marriage, that the king would now reverse this settlement of the county of Artois in his favour. Philip, however, though he held the count in the highest favour, and consulted him on all occasions of state, yet declined to reverse the decisions of his two predecessors, and satisfied himself with conferring on him the earldom of Beaumont le Roger.
But this by no means contented Robert of Artois. He forged a will, as that of his grandfather, settling the county upon him, and presented it to the king. Philip, who instantly recognised the forgery, denounced so mean and criminal an act in no measured terms; and the count retired, muttering that he who placed the crown on Philip's head knew how to take it off again. These words being reported to Philip, he appeared to have lost all command of himself: he denounced and condemned the count for forgery, degraded him from all honours and offices, confiscated his property, and banished him from Franco. His rage did not stop there. He seized and imprisoned the count's wife, though his own sister, on pretence of her cognisance of the fraud; burnt at the stake a woman of the house of Bethune, as the actual framer of the deed, and as having practised by sorcery against the king's life. He still pursued the fugitive count, by interfering to prevent his stay in Brabant, where ho had taken refuge.
However righteous might be this indignation, it was far from politic, for Robert of Artois was a very able man, and was thus driven into the arms of Edward of England, where he proved a most formidable and most persevering enemy. He exerted all his art and persuasion with Edward to assert his title to the crown of France. The king and Robert were united by no common principle, except that of professed resentment against the King of France, and of having just claims in his country; though one was excluded by male heirship and the other by female. The King of France, sensible of the mischief the count might create in the English court against him, called upon Edward to expel him from the country, and threatened, in case of refusal, to fall upon Guienne. This only added to the anger of Edward and to the ostensible motives of invasion. The King of France issued a sentence of felony and attainder against the count and against every vassal of his crown who harboured him. Edward retorted the protection which he had given to his enemy, the King of Scots, and commenced active measures for invading France. He made alliances with various princes of the Netherlands and Germany; his father-in-law, the Count of Hainault, was his active agent, and very soon wore engaged the Duke of Brabant, the Duke of Gueldres, the Archbishop of Cologne, the Marquis of Juliers, the Count of Namur, the Lords of Baquen and Fauquemont, and the people of Flanders. The Earl of Flanders adhered to Philip, who also engaged the Kings of Navarre and Bohemia, the Dukes of Brittany, Austria, and Louvain, the Palatine of the Rhine, and some other petty princes of Germany.
Edward expected more efficient aid from the Flemings than from any other of his allies; they had grown rich and considerable through trade, and had dealings with England, whence they received wool, and where they found good customers for their manufactures. They were the first people in the northern countries of Europe who had made progress in the arts and in manufactures, and their self-earned affluence had the usual effect of inspiring them with a spirit of independence. They had resisted and thrown off the oppressions of their nobles, and expelled the earl, who was not disposed to consent to their bold assumptions. A wealthy brewer, Jacob van Artavelde, a sort of Cromwell of the Netherlands, had, by the force of his character, not only led them on, but placed himself at their head, and now exercised a power equal to that of any sovereign. To him Edward applied to enlist the Flemings in his favour; and though he was himself as deeply imbued as any man living with the feudal spirit and all its ideas of the subservience of the people, in this case it was convenient to overlook it. Van Artaveldo entered heartily into Edward's views, and inspired his countryman with them, who had a great dislike to Philip of France, because he had supported ​their earl against them. He invited Edward over to Flanders, and promised him vigorous aid.
Edward, before embarking in this serious undertaking, called for the advice of his Parliament, and solicited its support, which was promptly given. It voted him 20,000 sacks of wool, the very commodity of all others acceptable to the Flemings, and of the supposed value of £100,000. With the price of this wool he could also pay his German allies. Besides this grant, he levied a heavy contribution on the tin of Cornwall, pawned the jewels of the crown, and raised money by all possible means—amongst others, seizing on the property of the Lombards, who now exercised the trade of money-lending, formerly carried on by the Jews. With a numerous fleet, he set sail from Orwell, in Suffolk, on the 15th of July, 1338, attended by a considerable body of English troops and some of his nobilty.
On landing at Antwerp he found it difficult to move his various allies, who, like continental allies in all ages, were much fonder of receiving their subsidies than of fighting. The Germans demurred to advance against France except by authority of the Emperor of Germany, who, therefore, conferred on Edward the title of vicar of the empire. The Flemings, who wore vassals of France, had like scruples to combat, which were eventually overcome by Edward assuming, at the instigation of Van Artavelde, the style of King of Franco, and, under plea of the right it conferred, claiming their aid in deposing Philip of Valois as the usurper of his realm.
By this act Edward made that breach between this country and France which it has taken so many ages to heal, and which has been the spring of incalculable miseries to both countries. Till then the nobility, coming originally from Normandy, were to be found almost as frequently at the English court as at that of France, and the two countries seemed little different from the wide empire of one people under two or more sovereigns. In this fatal epoch, however, that unanimity was destroyed, and rivalries, animosities, and rivers of blood took its place.
This step was not taken by Edward without great misgivings and reluctance; and no sooner was it made, than his allies began to show symptoms of backwardness. The Duke of Brabant, the most powerful amongst the princes, seemed inclined wholly to withdraw from his alliance, and could be only held to his engagements by fresh privileges of trade being granted to his subjects, and a marriage contracted between the Black Prince and the daughter of the duke. To move the Germans, who were only concerned to get as much of the king's money as possible, he found it necessary to promise an attack on Cambray, a city of the empire which Philip had seized upon, or, in other words, to pay them for allowing him to fight their own battles. Finding that the attempt was useless, he then led his allies to the frontiers of France, where many of them threw off all pretence of doing that (or which they had been so liberally paid, and refused to fight against France. Amongst these were the Count of Namur and the Count of Hainault, Edward's own brother-in-law (the old count being dead), who now discovered that they were vassals of France, and could not possibly direct their arms against it. "We do not read that on this discovery they attempted to refund the money they had pocketed for this very purpose.
Deserted by these mercenaries, Edward, however, still advanced and entered France, encamping at Vironfosse, near Capelle, with 50,000 men, chiefly foreigners. Philip came against him with an army of nearly twice that amount, consisting of his own subjects, and having the advantage of being accompanied, blessed, and encouraged by the Pope—a most inspiriting circumstance in that age. Benedict XII. lived then at Avignon, and was a dependent on Franco, besides being incensed at Edward making an alliance with Ludvig of Bavaria, who lay under the ban of his excommunication. Edward marched as far as Peronne and St. Quentin, burning the villages and laying waste the country. The French king, however, avoided hazarding an engagement, and Edward, having made a detour by the Ardennes, found his armies exhausted, and returned to Ghent. There Benedict endeavoured to negotiate a peace between the two monarchs; but Edward, spite of the utter failure of his campaign, refused to listen to it. Yet his situation was pitiable, and his feelings could be by no means enviable. He had consumed and, indeed, anticipated, his whole year's revenue; he had seized largely on the substance of his subjects, had pawned everything belonging to himself and his queen, and was now in a manner in pawn himself, for he had incurred debts to his miserable, useless allies to the amount of £300,000. They would not allow him to return to England even to raise fresh resources, without leaving his queen behind, as a pledge of his return. Thus all his grand undertaking had ended in worse than smoke; in nothing whatever performed, and in formidable engagements incurred.
The Battle of Sluys. (See page 376.)
While the king was making these preparations for the renewal of the war, Philip of France was using strenuous axertions to collect a fleet powerful enough to prevent his landing. He had sought this aid from the Genoese, at that time the great maritime power; as we shall soon find that he had also employed them, to a great extent, as archers in his army. The fleet numbered 400 sail, manned by Genoese sailors, and containing an army of 40,000 men; that is, about 100 men on an average to a vessel; from which we may form some idea of the smallness of the ships of those times. Edward, informed of this, collected also a fleet, with which, though consisting of only 240 sail, he was impatient to set out and engage that of his rival. His council advised him to wait till he had a force more equal; but Edward set out on the 22nd of June, many English ladies going over in other vessels to pay their respects to the queen. On the 24th the English fleet was off the harbour of Sluys, in Flanders, and there found the French fleet lying to prevent their disembarkation. Their masts and streamers, says Froissart, appeared like a wood. When Edward saw them, he exclaimed, "Ha! I have long desired to fight the French, and now I will do it, by the grace of God and St. George!"
The next morning, having placed the vessels bearing the ladies at such a distance that they might see the battle in safety, Edward, with the instinctive address of a British naval captain, manoeuvred so as to get the wind of the enemy. This movement, being mistaken by the French for a sign of fear in the king, induced them to come pouring out of the harbour; by which Edward gained another object which ho sought, that of having them more in his power of attack. The battle commenced at ten in the morning, and lasted nine hours. During the fight the Genoese showered in upon the English their arrows from their deadly crossbows; but they were briskly answered by the long bows of the English; and when all the arrows were spent, they seized each others' ships with grappling irons and chains, and the men-at-arms fought hand to hand with swords and axes, as if on land. The English, fighting in the presence and under the daring example of their king, displayed the utmost courage, and finally victory decided for them. They took or destroyed nearly the whole of the French fleet. Fifteen thousand of the enemy—some authors say more—were killed, or perished in the sea. To make the catastrophe the more complete, the Flemings, seeing the battle incline for the English, rushed down to the shore in great numbers, and cut off the retreat of the French, making terrible slaughter amongst them. Edward then accomplished his landing with the greatest éclat, inspiring his allies with some temporary spirit.
This is a remarkable engagement, being the first great naval victory of England, the first brilliant proof of that maritime ascendancy which awaited this country. So great was the defeat of the French, that no one dared to breathe a syllable of it in the hearing of Philip; and it was only made known to him by the court jester. Someone speaking of the English, "Pho!" said the fool, "the English are but cowards." "Why so?" said the king. "Because," added the fool, "they did not dare the other day at Sluys to leap into the sea from their ships like the French and Normans."
Edward had lost about 4,000 men himself in the battle, but still he had no lack of followers. The splendour of this victory, and the fame of the large sums which he had brought with him, gathered his allies about him like swarms of locusts. Nearly 200,000 men advanced with him towards the French frontiers, but achieved nothing of consequence. Of these, 50,000, under Robert of Artois, laid siege to St. Omer. A single sally of the governor was enough to squander these untutored forces, and notwithstanding the abilities of Robert of Artois, they could never again be collected. Edward invested Tournay, which was defended by a strong garrison; and when reduced to distress, Philip appeared with a large army, but avoided coming to action. Edward, provoked at this caution, sent him a challenge to single combat, which he declined. While the armies lay in this position, and Edward had wasted ton weeks, effecting nothing and paying his numerous army of useless allies, Jane, Countess of Hainault, sister to Philip and mother-in-law of Edward, came forward as a mediatrix between them. She had retired from the world to a convent, but this destructive quarrel between persons so near to her called her forth to endeavour to reconcile them. Her exertions were seconded by the Pope and cardinal; but all that they could effect was a truce for one year.
Philip managed soon after to win over the Emperor of Germany, who revoked Edward's title of imperial vicar, and his other allies rapidly withdrew as his money failed. He was now harassed by them as most importunate creditors, and was glad to steal away to England, where he arrived in the worst of humours. He had involved himself deeply in debt, and had achieved nothing but his naval victory. The anger which was excited by his foreign creditors fell on his subjects at home. Landing unexpectedly, he found the Tower very negligently guarded, and he immediately committed the constable and all in charge of it to prison. He then let his vengeance fall on the officers of the revenue, and collectors of the taxes, who had so greatly failed him in his need. Sir John St. Paul, keeper of the privy seal, Sir John Stonore, chief justice, and Andrew Aubrey, Mayor of London, were displaced and imprisoned, as were also the Bishops of Chichester and Lichfield, the chancellor and treasurer. Stratford, Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom the charge of collecting the new taxes had chiefly been entrusted, also fell under his displeasure; but he assumed an attitude of defiance, threatening excommunication against any one daring to execute these which he termed illegal arrests, and appealed to Magna Charta in behalf of himself and brethren. The king appointed commissioners to inquire into the guilt of all concerned. He issued a proclamation, accusing the archbishop of having embezzled or misapplied the taxes intended for the king's use. The archbishop denied the charge, and, supported by the clergy in a, regular combination against the king ​accused him of arbitrary acts and infringements of the constitution, telling him that the favour of the Church was higher than that of the state, inasmuch as the priests had to answer at the Divine tribunal for the conduct of kings themselves, and reminding him that prelates before then had cited emperors to their seats of judgment. This dispute was carried on with great heat on both sides; but the king, driven by the clamours of his creditors, was obliged to call a Parliament; and though he omitted to summon Stratford, the archbishop appeared before the gates arrayed in full pontificals, with crozier in hand, and attended by an imposing train of bishops and priests. He demanded admittance as the highest peer of the realm; but it was not till Edward had kept him there two days that he admitted him, and even became reconciled to him.
Genoese Bowman.
The king's necessities, no doubt, made him give way, for he had difficulties sufficient without the opposition of the clergy. He was overwhelmed with debts, for which he was paying ruinous interest, and was worried both by his foreign and domestic creditors. His attempts on France, which had brought him into this humiliating condition, had proved utter failures. Parliament declined to assist him, except on its usual conditions of fresh restrictions on his power. The barons claimed that peers should only be tried by peers; they called for a new subscription of the Great Charter; they demanded that no offices should be filled, except by the advice of his council; and that, at the commencement of every session, he should resume all offices, in order to inquire into their faithful discharge. Edward, as was his wont, signed all these and other demands, obtained his grant of 20,000 more sacks of wool, and then declared that the conditions to which he had agreed were void, because they had been extorted.
It was hoped that the truce which had been entered into between France and England might be succeeded by a peace. Edward's total want of success might naturally have been expected to incline him to it; but he claimed exemption from rendering homage for Guienne, and that Philip should cease to support the King of Scots against him. Neither of these points would Philip yield, when an event took place which renewed the war with fresh spirit, and with the most wonderful change of fortune.
This event was the disputed succession to the dukedom of Brittany. John III., duke of that province, died in April, 1.341. He had no children, but desiring that his niece Jane, the daughter of his younger but deceased brother Guy, Count of Penthievre, should succeed him, he had married her to Charles of Blois, nephew of the King of France. Before doing this, he had assembled the states of Brittany, which had fully assented; all his vassals, and amongst them John do Montfort, the son of his also deceased brother Ai-thur. But, though John do Montfort had not dared to oppose the will of his uncle during his lifetime, no sooner was he dead than he asserted his own higher claim to the duchy. He was, in fact, the true heir male. While Charles of Blois was at the court of France, soliciting the investiture of the duchy, John do Montfort rode at once to Nantes, took possession of the late duke's house and treasures, prevailed on the chief barons and bishops to recognise his right, and made himself master of Brest, Rennes, Hennebon, and other towns and fortresses.
De Montfort, convinced that Philip would take part with his own kinsman, Charles of Blois, hastened to England, where he did homage to Edward, as the rightful king of France, for the duchy of Brittany, and proposed an alliance for the mutual maintenance of their claims in France. Edward instantly perceived the immense advantages which this new connection would give to his designs on that kingdom. All his enthusiasm for its conquest revived; and this feeling was fanned into flame by Robert of Artois. Edward closed with the offer, and De Montfort returned to Brittany to put it into a state of complete defence. He was speedily summoned to Paris to appear before the Parliament called by the king to decide this great cause. De Montfort boldly went; but, finding himself charged with the offence of doing homage to Edward of England as his superior, he took just alarm, and made his escape from the city.
The Parliament, as might have been expected, adjudged the duchy to Charles of Blois, declaring that John de Montfort had forfeited whatever claim ho might have by his treasonable homage to the King of England. Philip ordered his eldest son to march into Brittany at the head of an army to assist Charles of Blois to expel John de Montfort. Under him, but the actual commander of the forces, was a celebrated warrior, Louis de la Cerda, commonly called Don Louis of Spain; and by his able conduct Nantes was speedily recovered, and De Montfort taken prisoner, sent to Paris, and confined in the Louvre, where he long remained. By this event the claims of De Montfort, and the new hopes of Edward, appeared extinguished together. Charles of Blois considered the war at an end, took possession of Nantes and other towns, and appeared to have before him a very easy business to establish himself in the duchy. But all parties were suprised by a new incident, which very soon gave a more determined character to the contest. Jane, the wife of De Montfort, sister to the Earl of Flanders, was in Rennes when her ​husband was made prisoner at Nantes. She instantly displayed the spirit of a great woman, and, instead of weakly holding to grief or fear, she immediately assembled the people of Rennes, presented her infant son to them, recommending him to their protection as the last remaining hope of their country, and declared her resolve to defend the duchy to the last against the usurper. She reminded them of the alliance of England, and promised them certain success. The audience, struck with wonder at her courage, and moved to tears by her appeal, vowed to stand by her to the death, and the same spirit animated all the other towns of Brittany. The brave lady, whom Freissart declares "had the courage of a man and the heart of a lion," went from place to place rousing the people, encouraging the garrisons, and seeing that they were well provisioned and placed in a condition of the greatest strength. Finding that she could not hold Rennes against Charles of Blois and the French army, she shut herself up in Hennebon, and awaited succour from England. She dispatched to Edward fresh information of her situation, and with it her son, to be there in a place of safety, and, as it were, a pledge to the King of England of her fixed determination to defend her cause to the utmost.
Charles of Blois speedily sat down before Hennebon with a great army of French, Bretons, Spaniards, and Genoese, and trusted to take the countess prisoner, and so put a real finish to the war. But the countess, inspirating everybody by her words and example, made a stout defence. She herself put on armour, and rode through the streets on a noble charger, exhorting the citizens to show themselves valiant. She -was at every post of danger, at the gates or on the walls, where the enemy's arrows fell thickest. The very women, fired by her bravery, cut short their gowns, that they might be the more active, and, tearing up the pavement of the streets, carried the stones to the walls, or prepared pots of quicklime and other missiles to discharge on the besiegers. Women of all ranks were seen engaged in these labours without distinction, and the countess continually headed sorties on the enemy. One day, during a long and desperate assault, watching its progress from the walls, she perceived that Charles of Blois had directed such a force against the city, that a part of his camp was quite deserted. She instantly dismounted, called together a body of 300 brave knights and esquires, and, issuing from a gate opposite to that where the French were so intently engaged, she led them, under the cover of some woods and hills, to the unguarded camp, upon which they fell, setting fire to the tents, baggage, and magazines, and doing immense mischief. When the besiegers saw their own quarters in flames, they cried "Treason! treason!" and rushed to the defence. The brave countess, seeing that her retreat was cut off, instantly adopted her plan, bidding her followers to disband and make their way as they could to Brest. The countess herself galloped off, but was hotly pursued by Don Louis of Spain, as vindictive as he was brave, who came so near her as to kill several of her followers. The countess, however, made good her rendezvous with her followers, and speedily was on her way back, at the head, not of 300, but of 500 men. Taking refuge in the castle of Aulray, and watching their opportunity. they left the castle at midnight, reached the neighbourhood of Hennebon at sunrise, and, darting past the astonished besiegers, made good their entrance into the city on the sixth day after they had left it. This gallant and successful action on the part of the countess greatly amazed Charles of Blois and his army, and encouraged her own people, who received her with trumpets sounding and every demonstration of triumph.
Still the French pressed on, and the English succours, daily and hourly looked for, did not arrive. The besiegers had already made several breaches in the walls; provisions were growing scarce; the garrison was overwhelmed with fatigue and watching; and, still worse, the Bishop of Leon, a friend. of Charles of Blois, was in the city, under the double character of an ecclesiastic and an ambassador, and was using all his endeavours to induce the countess to yield the city. His words had the worst effect on the inhabitants. He was continually going about describing the horrors attending a city given up to pillage, and recommending a capitulation. It was surprising that the countess, so quick to perceive her interests in other respects, should have tolerated his mischievous presence there. At length, however, he prevailed on her followers to propose a surrender. The brave countess implored them to wait, assuring them that the English succours must arrive; but the bishop now pressed his advantage: he called the Breton lords together again the next day, and, keeping up his communications with the besiegers without, they drew nearer, with Charles of Blois at their head, in readiness to take possession. The countess, in the greatest anxiety, kept a constant look-out from a tower commanding a view of the sea, and at the very moment when the traitorous Bishop of Leon was about to make over the city she descried a large squadron steering towards Hennebon. She immediately shouted—"Behold the Bed Cross! the English succours! No capitulation!" The people of the town all rushed to the ramparts to see the joyful sight. It was indeed the English fleet, which had been detained at sea forty days by contrary winds, but now was coming on with full sail.
All thoughts of surrender, of course, were abandoned; the disappointed bishop was dismissed to his equally disappointed master; and the English forces, consisting of 6,000 archers, and a body of heavy-armed cavalry, under Sir Walter Manny, a Flemish knight, one of the greatest captains of the age, in Edward's service, landing, drove the besiegers back, and entered the town amid the joyful acclamations of the inhabitants. The delighted countess received her deliverers with every courtesy. She admitted the knights and captains into her own castle, decorated with her finest tapestry, and dined herself at table with them. The next day, after dinner. Sir Walter Manny proposed to make a sally, and break down the battering rams of the French. The challenge was enthusiastically answered by all the knights and warriors present. They united and rushed forth with 300 archers, charged the French furiously, took and broke to pieces the engines of the siege, drove back the besiegers, and, following up their advantage, fell on the camp and set fire to it, killing many of the enemy. The countess was so overjoyed at this signal triumph, that, on the return of Sir Walter to the city, she hastened to receive him. ​and, says Froissart, kissed him and his companions twice or thrice, "like a valiant lady."
The siege was raised, and the French removed the war to Lower Brittany. Don Louis of Spain wont along the coast attended by a strong force of Spaniards and Genoese, and indulged his disposition for cruelty by burning Guerante, and sacking the whole country as far as Quimperlé. Sir Walter, informed of this, pursued Don Louis with all speed, taking ship with 3,000 archers and a sufficient proportion of men-at-arms. He came up with him at Quimperlé, seized his fleet and all his booty in the harbour, fell upon Don Louis's force, killed his brother Don Alphonso, severely wounded Don Louis himself, who hurriedly escaped in a skiff, and totally destroyed or dispersed his followers.
Brilliant as these actions were, the forces sent to support the countess were far too inadequate to this object. Don Louis, smarting under this defeat, had again joined Charles of Blois, who had in the interim taken the important towns of Vannes and Karhuis, and together they returned to invest Hennebon, against which they reared sixteen engines of the largest size, with which they dreadfully battered and shook the walls. The undaunted countess, however, defended the ramparts with wool-sacks, and jeered the assailants by asking them why they did not bring up their army from Quimperlé. Don Louis, against whom this was aimed, burned for revenge, and endeavoured to obtain it in a most dastardly and unknightly manner. Amongst the prisoners of Charles of Blois were two gallant Englishmen, Sir John Butler and Sir Matthew Trelawney. These brave men, out of spite to the English, who had so signally defeated him, Don Louis demanded to be delivered up to him, that he might put them to death in the sight of the whole army and city. Charles, who revolted at so dishonourable a proposal, refused; but on Don Louis declaring that he would renounce the cause of Charles for ever, they were given up. Don Louis had them bound ready, and declared that after dinner he would strike off their heads under the city walls. No persuasions of his knights could divert him from his savage purpose. But Sir Walter Manny hearing of it, made a sally, in which Sir Aimery of Clisson, a Breton knight, attacking the French in front, and Sir Walter, issuing from a private postern, and falling on the camp, found the two condemned knights, and rescued them. The French were soon after compelled to raise the siege, and concluded a truce with the countess till the following May, 1343.
This interval the Countess of Montfort employed in a voyage to England, soliciting fresh forces, which were dispatched in forty-six vessels, under Robert of Artois. The countess sailed with them; and off Guernsey they encountered a French fleet of thirty-two ships, much larger and better than the English ones, commanded by the redoubtable Don Louis of Spain, and manned by 1,000 men-at-arms and 3,000 Genoese crossbowmen. The engagement was very fierce, the countess in full armour taking the deck, and fighting sword in hand. The battle was interrupted by night, accompanied by a terrible tempest. The English fleet, however, escaped safely into Hennebon. Soon after landing they took Vannes by surprise, and then they divided their forces; Sir Walter Manny and the countess defending Hennebon, and the Earls of Salisbury and Pembroke attacked Rennes, leaving Robert of Artois in Vannes. Here he was suddenly surrounded by 12,000 French troops under Olivier de Clisson and De Beaumanoir, who took the city by storm. Robert of Artois narrowly escaped, but so severely wounded that he took shipping for England, where he soon died. So perished a man who more than any other had caused this bloody war. Edward III. was so affected by his loss, for he was greatly attached to him, that he vowed to avenge his death; and accordingly he crossed the sea to Morbihan, near Vannes, with an army of 12,000 men, in October of that year.
Edward marched to Rennes and Nantes, destroying the country as he went, and laying siege to Vannes, Rennes, and Nantes all at once. By dividing his forces he failed in all his attempts, for Charles of Blois had obtained an army from the King of France of 40,000 men under the Duke of Normandy, his eldest son. Edward, on the approach of this formidable force, entrenched himself before Vannes, and the Duke of Normandy sat down at a short distance from him, and entrenched himself likewise in his camp. Here the two forces lay for some weeks, neither venturing to strike the first blow; and the Pope now stepped in by his legates, and persuaded them to sign a truce for three years and eight months. Edward having secured honourable terms for himself and allies, returned home.
But the truce was by no means obsessed by either side. The different parties were become so exasperated against each other that they went on fighting as though there wore no truce at all. Philip of Franco was bound by one of its conditions to liberate John de Montfort; but he still kept him in prison, notwithstanding the remonstrances of the Pope, and persevered in his attacks on Brittany, which the countess defended with her accustomed spirit. Several knights of distinction were in treaty to pass over to the side of De Montfort, and Philip making the discovery, lured them to a grand tournament, and had their heads struck off in the centre of the Halles, or market-place, at Pons. Amongst these wore the brave knight Olivier de Clisson, already mentioned. John de Montaubon, and many others there and in Normandy, were as ruthlessly dealt with. This perfidious and sanguinary conduct produced a feeling of horror everywhere, and such of the Breton knights as had fought for Charles of Blois went over to the Countess de Montfort. Foremost amongst the malcontents thus created was Jane de Belville, the widow of the murdered Olivier de Clisson, who became a determined enemy, and who, carrying her son to the Countess of Montfort to be brought up with hers, became indefatigable in her pursuit of vengeance on the French. It was a remarkable circumstance that these wars produced three women, all named Jane, the wives of Charles of Blois, of De Montfort, and of De Clisson, who displayed the most extraordinary spirit, each rivalling the other in their heroic actions.
This contempt of the truce roused the English nation to support the king in the continuance of the war. The Parliament granted him liberal supplies, and he sent over his near kinsman, the Earl of Derby, son of the Earl of Lancaster, with an army, to protect Guienne, and give assistance to the Countess de Montfort. The Earl of Derby was a nobleman of great ability and integrity of ​character, as distinguished for his humanity as his bravery. He very soon placed Guienne in a posture of strong defence, and then made a bold advance into the enemy's country. He attacked and defeated the Count de l'Isle at Bergerac, reduced a great part of Perigord, and took the strong castle of Auberoche in Gascony. This castle was again attempted by De l'Isle, being left only with a weak garrison; but a spy whom Derby had in the French camp apprised the earl of its situation. He advanced into the neighbourhood with 1,000 cavalry, and found the castle invested by 10,000 or 12,000 men. The earl had sent to the Earl of Pembroke at Bergerac to meet him with a large force, but ho had not come up. To ordinary men the idea of attacking the French army of 10,000 or more with his 1,000 would have appeared insane; but the earl had with him the able commanders Sir Walter Manny, Lord Ferrars, Sir Richard Hastings, and others, and, taking advantage of a wood, they came suddenly on the French camp as the soldiers were cooking their suppers. Darting amongst them with loud shouts of "A Derby! a Derby!" the sudden apparition of the enemy threw the whole French host into such confusion that a total rout took place, and the Count de l'Isle, with nine earls and viscounts, and nearly all the barons, knights, and squires of his army, were taken.
Edward the Black Prince.
Combat between the French and English Cavalry at the Passage of the Somme. - (See page 381)
While those events were taking place, Edward III. was earnestly at work at home, endeavouring to organise an efficient scheme for achieving something more than the defence of Guienne, or the aid of Brittany; namely, his great dream of the total conquest of France. His first attempt was to secure the co-operation of his old friend, Jacob van Artavelde, the brewer of Ghent. He had the daring to propose that his son, the Black Prince, should be offered to the people of Flanders in lieu of their old earl, who had gone over to the French interest. But this scheme cost the stout old Artavelde his life. No sooner was the overture made than the burgesses took alarm at it, and lost their faith in Van Artavelde as a patriot. Bruges and Ypres were brought over by the promised advantages of trade with England, but his own town of Ghent broke out into open insurrection. When he rode into the city attended by a body of Welsh, whom Edward had sent, he was received with the most hostile looks and expressions. He hastened to his house, and endeavoured by a speech from an upper window to appease the incensed people; but it was ill vain. They broke into his house and murdered him on the spot. The man who had reigned like a king, from the opinion of his patriotism, now fell by the hand of a saddler, and amid the execrations of the mob, as a traitor. Hope of assistance was gone for Edward in that quarter.
He was equally unfortunate in Hainault. His brother-in-law, the young Count of Hainault, was killed also in a revolt of the Frieslauders; and his uncle, the well-known John of Hainault, so long allied with England, wont over to the French on the plea that Edward had not duly estimated or rewarded his services. About the same time, too, John do Montfort, so long a captive in Paris, was liberated, but died of a fever before Quimperlé. All hope appeared closed on the side of the Netherlands and of Brittany; but a new light sprung up in an unexpected quarter, giving an entirely new turn to his enterprise.
Sir Godfrey de Harcourt, Lord of Saint Sauveur le Vicompte, and brother of John, Earl of Harcourt, long in the service of England, had stood high in the favour of Philip of France; but having offended him by resisting one of his arbitrary acts, he had a narrow escape of sharing the fate of Olivier de Clisson. He fled to England, and, like his predecessor, Robert of Artois, he exerted all his talent to persuade the king to invade France on the side of Normandy, Sir Godfrey's own country, and where, of course, lay his forfeited estates. He represented to Edward that it was one of the most fertile and beautiful provinces of France—abounded with wealth, for it had not been the scene of war for two centuries; that the numerous and opulent towns had scarcely any fortifications, and were now deserted by the nobility and their vassals, who were with the Duke of Normandy in Gascony. He reminded Edward that it was an ancient possession of England, lay near the English coast, might be secured almost without a blow, and would strike the French king dumb with consternation, for it would bring his capital within easy reach of attack.
It is surprising that those facts had not presented themselves to Edward before; but, once offered to his mind, he embraced them with avidity. He assembled a fine army of 30,000 men, consisting of 4,000 men-at-arms, 10,000 archers, 10,000 Welsh infantry, and 6,000 Irish. Circumstances, rather than his own wishes, had brought him to depend no longer on mercenary and treacherous allies, but upon his own subjects; and from this moment he began to perform those prodigies of arms which raised the name of Englishmen above all others for steady and transcendent valour. He set sail from Southampton in a fleet of near 1,000 sail of all dimensions, carrying with him all the principal nobility of the realm, and his son, the Black Prince, now fifteen years of age. He landed his army at La Hogue, on the coast of Normandy, and there divided it into three bodies, one of which he placed under the command of the Earl of Warwick, another under Sir Godfrey de Harcourt, whom he created marshal, and the third under the Earl of Arundel, whom he made constable; he himself was generalissimo, and before setting out on his march he knighted the Prince of Wales and a number of the young nobility. He next caused the French ships in La Hogue, Barfleur, and Cherbourg to be destroyed. This work was committed to the English fleet, and the plunder of these seaports was given up to those who manned it. Advancing into the country, Edward found it almost wholly defenceless, as Harcourt had represented. Montebourg, Carentan, St. Lo, Valognes, and other places in the Cotentin were taken and pillaged.
One of the king's objects was to create an alarm and thus draw off the French forces from Guienne; and in this he succeeded. The King of France, startled by this unexpected invasion, hastened to assemble troops from all quarters. He was soon at the head of a numerous army, which, from the sounding titles of many of the allies and generals, appeared extremely formidable. Amongst them were the Kings of Bohemia and Majorca, the Emperor elect of Germany, the Duke of Lorraine, John of Hainault, and the Earl of Flanders. He dispatched the Count of Eu, Constable of France, and the Count of Tankerville to defend the populous and commercial city of Caen; but they were speedily overthrown by Edward, who took the two counts prisoners, and, entering the city, massacred the inhabitants without distinction of age, sex, or rank. The scenes perpetrated in Caen are frightful to record, and present a revolting picture of the savage spirit of the age in war. It never seems to have entered the heads of these feudal conquerors that the wealth of the inhabitants, in case of success, would become national wealth, or that to massacre and ill-treat those inhabitants was the certain way to render them for ever hostile. Plunder and destruction were the only ideas of Edward's soldiers. The wretched people of Caen, driven to desperation, barricaded their doors against the ruffianly invaders. They, in turn, set fire to the houses, till Edward, at the earnest entreaty of Sir Godfrey Harcourt, put a stop to the burning, but gave up the town to three days' pillage, reserving for his own share the jewels, plate, silks, fine cloths, and linen. These he shipped for England, with 300 of the richest citizens, for whom ho meant to demand heavy ransoms. Two cardinal legates, who had come with the benevolent hope of negotiating a peace, beheld instead this fearful butchery. The Church at this ​period was the only power which endeavoured to bring to men's remembrance the benign influence of Christianity, and, in exerting itself to check the spirit of military carnage and devastation, certainly discharged its sublime duty well. As for these martial monarchs, they seemed to forget in the fury of war all compassion; and both Edward and his youthful son displayed a hard and sanguinary disposition in their campaigns, in melancholy contrast with the high professions of chivalrous courtesy. Edward, on this occasion, as afterwards at Calais, was wrought to a pitch of vindictiveness greatly derogatory to the character of a hero; in that temper he forgot all magnanimity.
Edward, having inflicted this terrible chastisement on Caen, then advanced towards Rouen, intending to treat it the same; but, on arriving opposite to that city, he found the bridge of boats was taken away, and Philip of Valois occupying the right bank of the Seine, with an array far superior to his own. Edward then continued his march up the left bank of the river towards Paris, destroying all the towns and the country as he went along. The French king marched along the right bank, breaking down all the bridges, and taking every means to prevent his crossing. After sacking Vernon and Mantes, the English king arrived at Poissy, within nine miles of Paris. Here finding the bridge only partially destroyed, he resorted to this stratagem in order to cross the Seine:—He still ascended the river, as if intending to march on Paris; while his advanced lines scoured the country up to its very gates, burning St. Germains, St. Cloud, Bourg-la-Eeine, Nanterre, and Nouilly. Having thus drawn the French king to Paris, he suddenly made a reverse march, reached Poissy, hastily repaired the bridge, and passed his troops over. Once across the Seine, he proceeded by hasty marches towards the river Somme. His vanguard, commanded by Harcourt, met with reinforcements proceeding from Amiens to the king's camp, and defeated them with great slaughter. Poaching Beauvais, he burnt its suburbs, and plundered Pois. As he drew near the Somme, he found himself in the same difficulties as at the Seine. All the bridges were destroyed; and he endeavoured, but unsuccessfully, to pass at Pont St. Eemi, Long, and Pequiny. He was now fast being enclosed by the enemy. The Somme was a deep and, so far as they could find, impassable river; on its right bank showed a strong force under Godomar de Faye, a powerful baron of Normandy, supported by the gentlemen of Artois and Picardy. Approaching the sea, near Oisemont, he was thus cooped up between it and the Somme, with Philip and an army of 100,000 men pressing on his rear. In this urgent extremity, the marshals of the army ware sent out to see whether they could not possibly discover a ford, but in vain. Edward now appeared in a very serious dilemma; but, assembling all the prisoners belonging to that part of the country, he offered to any one who would point out a ford his own liberty and that of thirty of his companions. On this a peasant, named Gobin Agaco, said, "Know, sir, that during the ebb-tide, the Somme is so low at a place which I can show you, that it may be passed either by horse or foot with ease. The bottom is plain to see, for it is of chalk, quite white, and so is called Blanchetaque, that is, while water."
On hearing this agreeable news, Edward ordered the trumpets to sound at midnight, and set out from Oisomont for the ford. There he arrived some hours before the ebb, and was compelled to wait, seeing Grodemar de Faye ready with 12,000 men on the other side to oppose his passage, and every minute expecting the arrival of Philip. As soon as the ford was passable he ordered the marshals to dash into the river, and to drive back the enemy in the name of God and St. George! So great was his impatience that ho himself led the way, crying, "Let those who love me follow me." The French force.-: met them half way, and valiantly disputed the passage; but they were driven back. The English, however, found the main body strongly posted on the right bank at a narrow pass through which they were compelled to force their way by hard fighting. The Genoese crossbowmen here galled them severely with their arrows; but the English archers replied so vigorously that they drove the enemy from the ground and landed in safety. It was still but just in time, for Philip came galloping up before the rear-guard had reached the other side, and did some damage amongst them. The tide, however, was now too high to permit him to follow; he therefore took his way up the river to Abbeville, and crossed at the bridge there.
Meantime Edward, having made this admirable passage, resolved to march no further. He had hoped to receive reinforcements promised him by the repentant Flemings, but they did not appear, and he considered it hazardous to attempt to cross the open plains of Picardy in the presence of so preponderating a force, especially of French cavalry. He resolved to make a stand. He selected a strong position in the forest of Cressy, or Creeçy, and near a village of that name. "Here," said he, "I am on the rightful heritage of my lady-mother, upon the lands of Ponthieu, given to her as her marriage dower. I now challenge them as my own, and may God defend the right!" He took his station on a gentle ascent, having in his rear a wood, where he placed all his baggage, and defended it with an entrenchment. He also throw up entrenchments on his flanks to secure them, and divided his army into three divisions. The first he put under the command of Edward, the Prince of Wales, now in his sixteenth year, to fight his first battle. Under him wore the Earls of Warwick and Oxford, Sir Godfrey Harcourt, the Lord Holland, and Sir John Chandos; but the king confided the especial care of the prince to Sir John and to the Earl of Warwick, who were to assist him by their counsel and defend him in difficulty. The second line was commanded by the Lords Willoughby, De Roos, Bassett, and others. The king himself took the charge of the third, to hold it in readiness to support either of the other two, or secure their retreat, as circumstances might decide. The amount of the English army has been variously stated at from 10,000 to 30,000; but the most authentic accounts state it to be about one-fourth of the French, who were estimated at 120,000. The King of England, having made his arrangements, ordered the troops to take up their ground on the spot where they were to fight, and to await the next morning with confidence of victory. The soldiers set about vigorously polishing their arms, and repairing and burnishing their armour. They were well fed, and refreshed by abundant wine and provisions which had been seized ​in the port of Crotoy. The king gave a supper to his barons in his tent, where he made good cheer. When it was concluded he entered into the tent set apart as an oratory, and, falling on his knees, prayed God to bring him "out of the morrow with honour."
The night was warm; and the soldiers, having well supped, slept on the grass in their arms. With the early dawn the king and prince were up and amongst their forces.
Edward, mounted on a white palfrey, and attended on each hand by a marshal, rode through the ranks, spoke to the different officers, and exhorted the men to remember that they had to-day to fight against superior numbers, and must therefore do their best for the honour of their country. He reminded them of the decided advantage which they had hitherto shown over the enemy; and he had such an air of confidence and cheerfulness that every one augured nothing but victory. Thus they sat, each in his place, with his helm and bow before him, and so awaited the foe. When they had thus continued till three in the afternoon, and no enemy was yet come up, the king ordered that every man should eat and take a little wine, which they did in great satisfaction.
Meantime the King of France, having passed the night at Abbeville, set out, re-enforced by 1,000 lancers under Amadius, Earl of Savoy. He deemed that ho had nothing to do but to overtake the English army in order to annihilate it. For weeks it appeared to have been flying before him, and by hastily crossing the Seine and the Somme it had borne every appearance of wishing, at all costs, to avoid a conflict. He therefore pushed on hastily and in great confusion. By the time that his advanced guard came in sight of the English lines his forces were tired and his rear-guard far behind. A veteran Bohemian officer, being sent forward to reconnoitre the English army, rode back to Philip, and strongly recommended him to put off the battle till the next day. He assured him that the English were fresh and strongly posted, and would undoubtedly make a desperate defence. The French, depressed and exhausted by the haste of their march from Abbeville, must fight at vast disadvantage.
The king commanded a halt; but the ill-disciplined troops still pressed on, the van brandishing their swords, and crying, in their over-confidence, "Attack, take, slay!" and those behind, hurrying forward, declaring they would not stop till they were as forward as the foremost. So they rushed on pell-mell. Froissart says no one, except he had been present, could form any idea of the confusion of the scene. Philip had divided his army into three divisions; the first commanded by the King of Bohemia, supported by his son, Charles of Luxembourg, Emperor-elect of Germany, and Charles, Count of Alençon, the brother of King Philip, a brave but haughty and rash youth. In this division were 15,000 Genoese crossbowmen, headed by Anthony Doria and Carolo Grimaldi. These bowmen were looked upon as the great strength of the army—an overmatch for the English archers, whom they were quickly to drive from the field. They were backed by 20,000 infantry. The second division was led by Philip himself, consisting of 6,000 men-at-arms and 40,000 foot. The broad banner of France was displayed before the king, and at his side rode the titular King of Majorca. The rear division followed, conducted by the Earl of Savoy, with 5,000 lances and 20,000 foot. The last was most formidable in numbers; but all superiority was lost in the disorder of the march. The kings and dukes and great lords were hurried along without power to exert any command, and Philip himself, in striving to enforce a halt, was borne onward as by a torrent. Finding himself face to face with the enemy, he cried, "Bring up the Genoese; begin the battle, in the name of God and St. Denis!"
But these Italians, who were brave and famous men, very reasonably complained of thus being hurried into battle, worn-out as they were with carrying their heavy crossbows in the hasty march of six leagues, and said they had more need of rest than to fight that day. On hearing this the Count Alençon cried out, "See! that is the help we get by employing these fellows, who thus fail us at the pinch." The sensitive Italians heard these words with deep anger, and moved on to battle. At this moment the heavens seemed to announce that a great and terrible conflict was about to take place. A thunder-storm, making it almost as dark as night, burst over the opposing hosts, and before it went a great flight of crows and ravens, sweeping over the armies. When the sun broke out again it flashed in the faces of the Genoese, and the strings of their crossbows had become relaxed with the wet. On the other hand, the sun was on the backs of the English, and they had kept their longbows dry in their cases. They were drawn up by the king in ranks crossed in the manner of a herse, or harrow, so that the discharges of the different ranks might support each other, like the discharges of combined squares of musketry in these times. No sooner, therefore, did the Genoese crossbowmen, after giving three leaps and three loud shouts to intimidate the English, let fly a shower of arrows, than the English archers stepped each of them one pace forward, and shot their arrows so thick that, as the chronicler describes it, it seemed to snow. The Genoese, confounded by the perpetual hail of the English arrows, which pierced their armour, fell back on the men-at-arms, and the confusion then became fearful. The Genoese cut their bowstrings or threw away their bows, and endeavoured to make their escape amongst the horses of the cavalry. The King of France, seeing this, cried out, "Slay me these cowards, for they stop our way, without doing any good!" The men-at-arms advanced at full gallop right over the wretched Genoese, cutting them down right and left, and numbers were trodden under foot; while the cavalry itself was thrown into disorder by thus riding over their own bowmen to come at the enemy.
All this time the English archers kept pouring in their deadly shafts, dropping the knights and soldiers of Alençon's fine cavalry rapidly from their saddles; while the Cornish men and Welsh, armed with large knives, stole amongst the ranks and dispatched those knights as they lay.
Edward had given strict orders to take no prisoners, because the enemy was so much more numerous, that it would encumber his fighting men, and keep them from the battle in looking after their captives.
In spite of the confusion, the Count of Alençon and the Earl of Flanders broke at length through it, and, charging past the line of English archers, took the cavalry of the ​Prince of Wales in flank. Both sides now fought desperately; but the English men-at-arms handled the French cavalry so roughly, that the greater part of them were slain. Notwithstanding, three other squadrons of French and Germans, rushing forward impetuously, broke through the archers, and pushed their way into the very place where the young prince was performing prodigies of valour. The second division, under the Earls of Arundel and Northampton, advanced to support the prince, and the contest became furious. Alençon displayed the most fiery courage, and, amid a crowd of French, Germans, Savoyards, and Bohemians, pressed upon the prince with a vigour which threatened to carry all before it. The French king, eager to support Alençon, charged nobly on the archers, but could not penetrate their line, or the event might have been doubtful. The Earl of Warwick, alarmed by the dangerous position of the prince, dispatched Sir Thomas Norwich to Edward, entreating him to send aid to his son.
Edward, who was watching the progress of the battle from a windmill on the hill-top, demanded of the messenger whether the prince were dead, wounded, or felled to the ground. "Not so, thank God," answered the messenger; "but he needs assistance." "Nay, then," said the king, "he has no aid from me. Tell him from me that I know he will bear him like a man, and show himself worthy of the knighthood I have so lately conferred on him. In this battle he must win his own spurs."
This being reported to the prince, gave new courage and strength to both him and his attendants. The force thrown in by Arundel and Northampton bore down the enemy, and slew the gallant Count Alençon and dispersed his battalions; the Welsh, with their long knives, destroying all left alive on the ground.
The King of France, still struggling to come up to the rescue of his brother, only arrived to find him killed and his forces scattered. The flying cavalry communicated their panic to the king's own followers; but the king himself scorned to fly, and fought most bravely. His horse was killed under him; he mounted another, and still fought on till only about sixty of his bravest attendants remained around him. Repeatedly wounded, he would probably have lost his life; but John of Hainault, having in vain urged him to quit the field, forcibly seized the bridle of his horse and led him away. The whole French army was in flight, the English pursuing and putting to the sword without mercy all whom they could reach.
The King of France rode away till he came to the castle of Broye, where, summoning the warder to open the gates, that officer demanded who was there, for it was a dark night. "It is the fortune of France," said the king, probably in bitter recollection of the flatteries which had styled him "the Fortunate." On entering, the king had only five of his barons with him. They refreshed themselves with wine, and then continued their flight, by the assistance of guides, to Amiens.
Such was the memorable battle of Crecy, one of the greatest and most surprising victories which ever was gained by any king. It was fought on Saturday, the 26th of August, 1346. On that fatal field lay slain two kings, eleven great princes, eighty bannerets, 1,200 knights, and 30,000 men. It began after three o'clock in the afternoon, and continued till the darkness ended the conflict.
Amongst the great men killed, besides the Count Alençon, the king's brother, were the Dukes of Lorraine and Bourbon, the Counts of Blois, Vaudemont, Aumale, and Philip's old ally the Earl of Flanders. Of the two slain Kings of Majorca and Bohemia, the death of John of Bohemia was very remarkable. He was old, and nearly blind. When all seemed lost, inquiring after his son, and hearing that he was wounded and compelled to fly, and that the Black Prince showed himself irresistible, he said, "Sirs, ye are my knights and good liegemen; will ye conduct me so far into the battle that I may strike one good stroke with my sword?"
His faithful knights regarding these as the words of sad despair, four of them agreed to sacrifice their lives with him, and tying his bridle rein on each side to their own, they thus charged into the thickest of the fight, and were found the next day lying dead together, the reins of their horses still unsevered.
The rejoicing on the part of the English may be imagined. The soldiers lit up great fires and torches to disperse the darkness, and by that light King Edward descended from his eminence, and, taking his valiant son in his arms before the whole army, he kissed him, and, according to Froissart, said, "Sweet son, God gave you good perseverance. You are my true son, for valiantly have you acquitted yourself to-day, and shown yourself worthy of a crown." The prince bowed lowly, and declared that the victory was owing to the king.
The next day it proved foggy, and the king sending out a detachment of 500 lancers and 2,000 archers to scour the fields and discover whether any bodies of French were yet keeping their ground, they met with two numerous detachments hastening to the assistance of the King of France, one of them headed by the Bishop of Rouen and Grand Prior of France. They were coming from Beauvais and Rouen, and made a vigorous resistance; but were all cut to pieces, in accordance with the barbarous policy of Edward on that occasion. Some historians have asserted that the English raised a number of French standards, which they took, on an eminence; which thus attracting stragglers of the French army, they were butchered as they arrived. These are blots on the glory of that great victory which it is painful to record.
The king sent out the Lords Cobham and Suffolk, with attendant heralds, to recognise the arms, and secretaries to write down the names of the fallen, and they returned an account of the numbers we have given; but of the English only three knights, one esquire, and a few of inferior rank.
The king on Sunday having attended mass, and returned solemn thanks to Heaven for this great victory, on the Monday morning ordered the bodies of the kings and great nobles and knights to be borne to the monastery of Montenay for burial, and proclaimed three days' truce that the people of the country might come in and bury their dead. Having discharged this duty, he marched north, taking the way by the coast, through Montreuil-sur-mer, towards Calais, which he had resolved to take possession of, as a secure and necessary entrance into the kingdom of France for the prosecution of his great design on it.