Chapter XXXI: EDWARD III. (concluded) (1)

Siege of Calais--Battle of Neville's Cross--Capture of
the Scottish King--Institution of the Garter--The Black
Death--Disturbances in France excited by the King of
Navarre--Battle of Poitiers--The King of France taken Prisoner
and brought to England--Disorders in France--Affairs in
Scotland--Fresh Invasion of France--The Peace of Bretigny--Return
of King John to France--Disorders of that Kingdom--The Free
Companies--Expedition of the Black Prince into Castile--Fresh
Campaign in France--Decline of the English Power there--Death of
the Black Prince--Death of Edward III.--Character of his Reign and
State of the Kingdom.

Within six days of the victory of Creçy, Edward had sat down before the city of Calais. He had now fully adopted Sir Godfrey de Harcourt's plan of conquering France through Normandy; and the only remarkable thing is, that, having once entertained the idea of that conquest, he should have overlooked for a moment its unparalleled advantages. Guienne was distant, and only to be reached by a voyage which, at that time, must often be formidable, across the stormy Bay of Biscay. Even in sending succours to the much nearer parts of Brittany, we have just seen that they were detained by contrary winds forty days. Once there, he was surrounded in a great measure by hostile provinces; while, on the other hand, Calais lay within twenty-four miles of his own coast, which gave him most easy access to Normandy, Picardy, and Artois. Seeking the alliance of the Flemings, this province lay near to their own, and no doubt he would have found that people much more disposed for an invasion of a rich and proximate country than for that of the remote Guienne. Rouen, the capital of the province, could be approached direct by the Seine, and placed the king on the very highway to Paris, and only eighty miles distant from it.

In investing Calais with his victorious army, Edward calculated on the effect which his destructive overthrow of the French must produce on the inhabitants. Moreover, to secure his capital and northern provinces, Philip was compelled to recall his son, the Duke of Normandy, with his army. No sooner did he retreat than the Earl of Lancaster, formerly Earl of Derby--who had been much pressed by the French, and enabled to hold his ground only by assistance which Sir Walter Manny brought up from Brittany--leaving Bordeaux, crossed the Garonne and the Dordogne, took Mirabel, Lusignan, Taillebourg, St. Jean d'Angély, and laid waste the country as far as Poitiers, which he also took by storm, and plundered. He thence extended his incursions to the Loire, and ranged through the southern provinces of the kingdom, carrying terror and devastation everywhere.

All this time the war was raging in Brittany, where the Countess de Montfort was creating a powerful diversion in favour of her ally, the King of England, and against her enemy, the King of France. Uniting her forces with those of the English under Sir Thomas Dagworth, they raised the siege of Roche Derrien, which her rival, Charles of Blois, was investing with 15,000 men, and took Charles of Blois prisoner. The countess sent him to London for safe keeping, where he was confined for nine years in the Tower, as her husband had been in the Louvre. On the captivity of Charles, his countess, Jane the Lame, took on herself the conduct of affairs, and for some time maintained valiantly the cause of her house; though neither she nor her husband, on his restoration to liberty, could ever overcome the brave-hearted Countess of Montfort, who transmitted her province to her descendants.

In this, truly called the age of great women, another of still higher rank, Queen Philippa of England, was at the same time showing herself equally courageous, and capable of transacting public affairs. Philip of France, alarmed at the vast success and the military genius of Edward III., exerted his influence with David II., King of the Scots, to make a diversion on his behalf by invading England during Edward's absence. David Bruce had passed many years with his young queen in France, and was, therefore, under many obligations to the king. He was recalled by the Scots to his throne in 1342, and had kept up a friendly correspondence with his old host. Though David was a brave young prince, he did not possess the sagacity, or his years did not give him the experience, of his father. He was equally impelled by resentment to his brother-in-law, the King of England, who had driven him from his throne, and by the instigations of the French king, to make occasional raids into England. In the four years since he had been reinstated he had made no less than three successful expeditions of this kind, and now that his old benefactor was so sorely worsted, he prepared for a still more decisive invasion. He placed himself at the head of 3,000 cavalry and 30,000 other troops, mounted on galloways. Marching from Perth, he reached the borders, his forces then numbering, it is said, 50,000 men. He took the castle of Liddel, burnt Lanercost, sacked the priory of Hexham, advanced into the diocese of Durham, and encamped at Beaurepaire, or Bearpark, near the city of Durham. David calculated on an easy triumph over the English, nearly the whole of the nobility being absent at the siege of Calais. But Philippa, Edward's queen, assembled a body of 12,000 men, and, advancing rapidly northward, came up with the Scots as they were laying waste the country round Durham, and pitched her camp in Auckland Park. She gave the command of her army to Lord Percy, but, according to Froissart, she herself mounted her horse, and rode through the ranks, exhorting the men to remember that their king was absent, that the honour and safety of England were in their hands, and appealing to them to defend the realm and punish the Scots for their barbarous ravages. She could not be persuaded to quit the field for a place of safety till the armies were on the point of engaging. It has been doubted how far this proceeding of the queen is strictly true, not being mentioned by the old English chroniclers; but, besides the testimony of Froissart, it is unquestionable that Philippa's bold and able management did much to ensure the victory which followed.

The Scots, who appear to have been thrown off their guard by over-confidence, and who were thinking more of plunder than of the enemy, were taken by surprise. Douglas, the famous knight of Liddesdale, was intercepted at Sunderland Bridge on his return from a raid as far as Ferry-on-the-Hill, and narrowly escaped being caught, 500 of his followers being cut to pieces. David, also, taken by surprise, still mustered his troops, and took his stand at Neville's Cross, near the city of Durham. The English archers, securing themselves under the hedges, shot down the horses of the Scots, threw them, crowded as they were together, into confusion, and laid their riders prostrate in the dust. David fought undauntedly; but Edward Balliol, who commanded the reserve, made a skilful attack of cavalry on his flank, and his troops giving way on all sides, he was forcibly taken prisoner by one John Copeland, a Northumberland squire--a man of huge stature and strength--but not before he had received two arrow wounds, and, refusing to listen to calls to surrender, had knocked out two of the front teeth of his captor by a blow of his gauntlet. Copeland conveyed his royal prize to his castle of Ogle, and was careful not to give him up except to properly authorised royal commissioners, when he received the title of banneret and an estate of £500 a year--equal to as many thousands now--and was made sheriff of Northumberland and governor of Berwick.

The joy of the people of Durham was unbounded, for their nobles and dignitaries of the Church fought in the foremost ranks, having the deepest hereditary hatred to the Scots, from their numerous spoilings by them. The Bishop of Durham led off the first division with Lord Percy; the Archbishop of York led the second with Lord Neville; and the Bishop of Lincoln the third with Lord Mowbray. The Prior of Durham, it was said, had been commanded the night before, in a dream by St. Cuthbert, "to raise the _corporax cloth_ with which St. Cuthbert, during mass, did cover the chalice," as a banner on a spear point; and accordingly he and a body of monks, at a spot called the Red Hills, in sight of both armies, knelt round it in prayer, while another body of the brethren on the top of the great campanile, or bell-tower of the cathedral, sang hymns of praise, which, says Knighton, were distinctly heard by both armies. A third body of the clergy were engaged in the very hottest of the battle.

The third division of the Scots, under the Earl of Moray, was actually cut to pieces on the field, only eighty of them being left at the time of the king's surrender. With the king were taken the Earls of Sutherland, Monteith, Fife, Carrick, Moray, and Strathearn; Sir William Douglas, John, and Alan Stuart, and a long list of nobles and knights. Monteith was beheaded as a traitor, having accepted office under Edward.

Never did the Scots receive a more fatal overthrow; some historians say they had 15,000, others 20,000, slain, amongst whom were the Earl Marshal Keith and Sir Thomas Charteris. Of the English leaders, only Lord Hastings fell. King David was conveyed to London and lodged in the Tower. This memorable battle of Neville's Cross took place on the 17th of October, 1346.

Having secured her royal prisoner, Queen Philippa went over to Calais, where she was received with all the triumph and honour which her meritorious conduct deserved. She found Edward in the midst of the siege, which continued obstinate. John of Vienne, the governor, supported by a strong garrison, and well provisioned, maintained a spirited defence. The place, lying in a flat, swampy situation, was trying to the health of the English army, and was immensely strong, with its ditches, ramparts, and impassable morasses. The king, therefore, quite aware that it was not to be taken in a hurry, fixed his camp in the most eligible spot he could find, drew entrenchments round the city, built huts for his soldiers, which he thatched with straw or broom, and prepared by various means to render their winter campaign tolerable. His huts presented the appearance of a second town, called by the French chroniclers the Ville du Bois, or town of wood, and the harbour was blockaded to prevent the entrance of relief of any kind.

John of Vienne, perceiving the king's intention to starve them out, collected all the inhabitants of both sexes who were not necessary to the defence, and sent 1,700 of them out of the city. Edward not only allowed the poor creatures to pass, but gave them a good refreshment, and each a small piece of money. But as the siege continued, and John of Vienne again put out 500 more of what he considered useless mouths, Edward lost patience and is said to have refused them a passage; and the governor of Calais declining to allow them to re-enter the city, they are reported to have perished of starvation between the town walls and the English lines.

As the siege grew desperate, violent efforts were made to relieve the city. The King of France sent ships to force a passage, but in vain. The English fleet had gradually grown to upwards of 700 sail, carrying more than 14,000 men, and of these, eighty of the largest ships, under the Earl of Warwick, constantly swept the Channel. The King of France was meantime making the most strenuous exertions to raise a force sufficient to expel the invader. He succeeded in winning over the young Count of Flanders, as he had done his father. This young nobleman appears to have been capable of playing a very mean part. The Free Towns proposed to him to marry Isabella of England, a princess of great beauty, and the young man, pretending to fall in with their wishes, came to the English camp, and paid his addresses to the princess as if with the most serious intentions; but having carried on his dissimulation to a disgraceful length, he seized the opportunity afforded by a hawking excursion to slip away, and made off to the French camp.

Philip levied everywhere men and money, and compelled the clergy, as well as the laity, to yield their treasure, and even their church plate; a massive cross of gold belonging to the Abbey of St. Denis being carried off. He at length appeared before Calais with an army which the writers of the age assert to have amounted to 200,000 men. The governor of Calais had, indeed, sent letters to him, announcing that the inhabitants had eaten their horses, dogs, and rats, and, unless relieved, must soon eat each other. These letters were intercepted. The King of England, however, sent them on, tauntingly asking Philip why he did not come and relieve his people. But Philip found Edward so entrenched amongst marshes and fortifications that he could not force a passage anywhere. Two roads only were left to the town--one along the sea-shore, and the other by a causeway through the marshes; but the coastway was completely raked by the English ships and boats, crowded with archers, drawn up on the strand, and the causeway was defended by towers and drawbridges, occupied by a great force of the most daring men in the army, under the command of the Earl of Lancaster and Sir Walter Manny, who had come hither from their victorious demonstration in Gascony, Guienne, and Poitou.

The King of France looked on this densely armed position with despair, and after vainly challenging King Edward to come out and fight in the open field, he withdrew. The starving people of Calais, who, on seeing the approach of the vast royal host, had hung out their banners on the walls, lighted large bonfires, and sounded all their instruments of martial music, now changed their joyous acclamations into shrieks and groans of despair. They lowered all their banners but the great banner of France, which floated on the loftiest tower of the city, in their dejection, and the next day they pulled that down in desperation, and displayed the banner of England in its place, in token of surrender.

To Sir Walter Manny, who was sent to speak with John of Vienne over the wall, that brave commander declared that they were literally perishing with hunger, and asked the lives and liberties of the citizens as the sole condition of surrender. Sir Walter told the governor that he knew well his royal master's mind, and that he could not promise them the acceptance of that proposal, the king being incensed at their obstinate resistance, and determined to punish them for it. It was in vain that the governor represented that it was this very conduct that a gallant prince like Edward ought to honour--that it was what he would have expected from an English knight. Sir Walter Manny acknowledged the justice of the sentiment, and returned to soften the king's resolution; but he could obtain only this mitigation, that six of the principal citizens should be sacrificed instead of the whole people; and they were required to come to the camp in their shirts, bare-headed and bare-footed, carrying the keys of the city and castle in their hands, and with halters about their necks.

When this ultimatum was made known to the people of Calais, they were struck with horror. John of Vienne, despairing of fulfilling the demand of the stern English king, caused the church bells to be rung, and, collecting the people in the market-place, laid the matter before them. There was much weeping and lamenting, but all shrank from the dreadful sacrifice. At length, Eustace de St. Pierre, one of the most eminent men of the place, arose and said, "Gentlemen, great and small, he who shall save the people of this fair town at the price of his own blood shall doubtless deserve well of God and man. I will be one who will offer my head to the King of England as a ransom for the town of Calais." At this noble resolve the assembly was moved to tears, and very soon other great burgesses, Jehan d'Aire, Jacque Wisant, and Peter Wisant, his brother, and two others, offered themselves.

They presently took off their ordinary dress, reduced themselves to the condition dictated by the conqueror, and thus they were conducted by the brave John of Vienne, very sorrowfully, and mounted on a small palfrey, for he was too weak to walk from wounds and fasting. Thus they came, followed by the sad people, men, women, and children, to the gates. The six voluntary victims were admitted into the English camp, and thus conducted before Edward, when they knelt before him, and presenting him the keys, implored his mercy. But Edward, looking on them with much displeasure, ordered them to instant execution. Then the noble barons and knights entreated that he would not refuse to listen to their petitions for their pardon, in which the Prince of Wales joined. Nothing, however, seemed to move the grim monarch. The brave Sir Walter Manny ventured to remind him of the greatness of his name, and of the stain this action would be upon it. At this the king made a stern grimace, and ordered the headsman to be summoned. Then the queen, falling on her knees, said, "Ah, gentle sire! since I have crossed the seas in great danger I have asked you nothing; but now I implore you, for the sake of the son of the Holy Mary, and for your love of me, you will have mercy on these six men."

The queen had every right to ask such a boon. She had come to announce to the king that she had been able to defend his kingdom in his absence from the Scots, to win a great victory at Neville's Cross, and to take the King of Scots captive. She was, moreover, far advanced in pregnancy, and yet had run every hazard to bring him such tidings.

"Ah, dame," he said, "I could well wish that you had been elsewhere this day; but how can I deny you anything? Take these men, and dispose of them as you will."

The delighted queen thanked the king heartily, had befitting attire brought for these worthy citizens, gave them in her tent a good repast, and presenting them each with six nobles, sent them away, giving orders that they should be guarded safely through the host to the town gates.

This scene, which is related on the testimony of Froissart, who dedicated his history to the queen herself, has been questioned by some historians as doubtful, particularly as Avesbury, who is minute in his relation of the surrender of Calais, is silent about it; and as it seems too derogatory to the magnanimity of Edward III., after suffering so many of the inhabitants to pass out of the city, and even relieving their wants. But we must remember what was the king's conduct at Caen, and also what is asserted of his immovable disregard to the perishing cries of the second crowd sent out of the city; and that Froissart was a contemporary. Under all these circumstances, the transaction appears highly probable, and mankind will not readily give up a passage of human life, so full of noble sacrifice and sympathy, and which has held its place firmly in history and tradition for five hundred years.

The day following the surrender, August 4th, 1347, the king and queen rode into the town amid the sound of martial music, and followed by all their great lords and many men-at-arms. There they took up their quarters, and remained till the queen was delivered of a daughter, thence named Margaret of Calais. Immediately on taking possession, he ordered every inhabitant to quit the city, dispossessing them of their houses and property within the town, and substituting a thoroughly English population. The new inhabitants of the town were substantial citizens of London, and large numbers of agricultural people from the adjoining county of Kent, to whom he gave the surrounding lands. From that day to the reign of Queen Mary, Calais became altogether an English colony. He made it the mart of wool, leather, lead, and tin, the four principal articles which England furnished to the Continent, and where the foreign merchants could come to procure them. Having strengthened the defences of the town, Edward concluded a truce with Philip, which was by degrees extended to six years. Neither of these monarchs, however, would have listened to terms of peace but for the constant and meritorious entreaties of the Pope.

At this period originated the celebrated Order of the Garter, which still retains its value in the eyes of aspirants to royal rewards. This Order was instituted to excite emulation amongst the aristocratic warriors of the time, in imitation of orders of a similar nature, both religious and military, which had been created by different monarchs of Europe. The number was, and is still, confined to twenty-five persons, besides the sovereign, except princes of the blood and illustrious foreigners, who have been admitted since the reign of George III., and hence the high value attached to this badge of distinction. The traditionary story of its origin is, that at a State ball the king's mistress, a Countess of Salisbury, dropped her garter, which the king picked up, and, observing some of the courtiers smile at the action, as if they thought he had not obtained that favour merely by accident, he exclaimed, "_Honi soit qui mal y pense!_" ("Evil be to him who evil thinks"), which became the motto of the Order. Historians have chosen to doubt on this subject as on many others, and antiquarians have puzzled themselves to discover some other origin; but still the story is a very probable one, and the tradition retains its full hold on public belief. The Order was founded, according to the statutes, in 1350, and, even to the time of Edward IV., ladies were admitted, and wore the badge of the Order. The wives of the knights companions and other great ladies had robes, the gift of the sovereign, ornamented with small garters. Our queens generally wear the Garter, set with diamonds, on the left arm.

But in the midst of the gaieties, giving of honours, and festivities which succeeded the conquest of Calais and the glory of Creçy, there came one of those terrible visitations which from time to time have swept over Europe under the general name of plague or pestilence--awful messengers of Providence to men, warning them to observe cleanly and healthy habits of life. It was known as the "Black Death." These fatal epidemics have always appeared to originate in the same quarter--eastern Asia--and to sweep over the earth in every direction, as in radiation from that centre, carrying wholesale destruction into every place where the inhabitants were not careful to observe sanitary regulations. By medical men the disease has been regarded as a virulent species of typhus fever, which in modern times has assumed the character of cholera, which issues periodically from the same regions, and travels the earth, fixing on every spot where there is a crowded population living in dirty dwellings, ill-drained streets, swampy hollows, and amid any vapours of putridity. Like the cholera, the plague had its cold, succeeded by its hot, fits, attended by vomiting, diarrhoea, and great depression of the vital powers. The cholera now issues from India; the plague of the time of Edward III. was traced to China, and visited on its way India, Egypt, Greece, and most of the western nations of Europe. Stowe says that in one churchyard in London, purchased by Sir Walter Manny for the poor 50,000 bodies were buried. In fact, it fell, like the cholera, most severely on the poorer and worst lodged and fed people; it is said to have half depopulated England; and so many of the inferior clergy perished, that very many churches were left without any one to perform the service.

FROM THE PAINTING BY J. D. PENROSE.]

The mass of wealth brought from France by the victorious army did not prevent the finances of Edward from being in a very exhausted and unsatisfactory state. Those of the King of France were worse; and these causes tended to prolong the truce. Edward several times proposed to Philip to make a permanent peace, on condition that the sovereignty of Guienne, Calais, and other lands held in fief by the English in France should be acknowledged on Edward's renouncing all claim to the crown of that country. Philip steadfastly refused to listen to such terms. He died during this truce, and Edward renewed his offer to his successor, John, but with like effect.

About this time Edward and his son, the Black Prince, put to sea with a good fleet to chastise the Spaniards of the ports on the Bay of Biscay, who had repeatedly joined the French in intercepting and seizing his merchant vessels. The battle was fought within view of the English coast, and was watched by the queen's attendants from the hills behind Winchelsea. The engagement was contested with much valour on both sides; and in it both the king and prince had very nearly terminated their lives, for their ship was sinking, and they were only just saved by the Earl of Lancaster coming to their assistance. The result was a victory to the English, and the capture of fourteen of the Spanish vessels, though with great loss of life on our side.

But circumstances were ripening, destined to involve England and France again in war. John, the son of Philip, whom we have often met under the name of the Duke of Normandy, commanding the armies against the English and Bretons, succeeded his father in 1350. He was then about thirty-one years of age, courageous, of great integrity of mind, possessing much experience for his age, and altogether a far more honourable prince than his father, whom his subjects hated for his avarice and for his reckless invasion of their rights. Philip had, in his youth, been termed the Fortunate, but proved eventually more entitled to the name of the Unlucky. John was now, by contrast, styled the Good; but John, however well-meaning, was evidently destitute of real sagacity, and his very sense of honour hurried him into the commission of deeds which early shook his popularity. The Count de Brienne, Count of Eu and Guisnes, and Constable of France, was accused of an intention to betray his county of Guisnes, adjacent to the town of Calais, to the English monarch. John caused him to be seized at a festival at Paris immediately after his coronation, and threw him into a dungeon, whence, three days afterwards, he brought him out before the lords of his council, and, without any form of trial or permission of defence, had his head struck off. This arbitrary act excited great fears of the future proceedings of the king amongst his nobility.

But John's authority was very soon invaded and disturbed by his near kinsman, Charles, King of Navarre. This young prince was of the blood royal of France, his mother being daughter of Louis X. Charles of Navarre came to court, and sought to render himself highly popular with both king and people. He succeeded so well, that he obtained the king's daughter, Joan, who must have been a mere girl at that time. It was soon found, however, that he was a mixture of the most shining talents and the most diabolical qualities. He was handsome, bold, eloquent, affable in his manners, and most insinuating in his address, but, at the same time, intriguing, ambitious, unprincipled, and revengeful. He had always some daring scheme on foot, and, if he failed, abandoned it without care, and plunged into another. He demanded of the king the post of Constable of Normandy, vacated by the execution of De Brienne; and when the king, fearing his possession of that important command, bestowed it upon his favourite, Charles de la Cerda, the King of Navarre assassinated him in his castle of L'Aigle, in Normandy. He then boldly avowed the deed, put himself at the head of an armed force, called around him all the hot and disaffected young nobility of France, declared himself independent of the French crown, and made offers of alliance with the English. John called upon him to lay down his arms, and resume his place as a good subject; but he refused, except on condition of an absolute pardon for the murder of the Constable, large grants of money and lands, and, above all, the delivery of the second son of John as a hostage for the faithful maintenance of the contract.

The French king was weak enough to comply; and then Charles of Navarre, in March, 1355, went to court, where John sat imposingly on his throne, and Navarre went through a farce of submission. The King of England, believing that it would not be long before the intrigues of the King of Navarre would produce civil discord in France, and expose it to his own plans of invasion, sent the Prince of Wales, now universally called the Black Prince, from the colour of his armour, into Gascony and Aquitaine, as his lieutenant, with an army which soon grew there to 60,000 men. From thence he entered the country of Toulouse, and took Carcassonne, Narbonne, and several other towns, committing great ravages.

Edward, at the same time, attacked France on the side of Normandy. He advanced to St. Omer, where the King of France had posted himself in expectation of this attack, but John took care not to come to open battle. The state of the internal affairs of his kingdom probably inspired John with caution, for his treacherous cousin of Navarre had resumed his seditious courses. He had united himself with the factious Sir Godfrey de Harcourt, and had succeeded in even winning over for awhile Charles, the king's eldest son, only seventeen years of age, to his party. But the young prince--the first Prince Royal of France who ever bore the title of dauphin, from his father having purchased that duchy for 100,000 florins, and conferred its feudal title on him--was soon repentant of his unfilial conduct, and betrayed Charles of Navarre, and a number of his noble associates, into his father's hands. The most guilty of the nobles were at once executed, and the King of Navarre thrown into prison. But this did not mend matters. The brother of Charles, Philip of Navarre, assumed the management of affairs, put all his towns and castles into a state of defence, and renewed the alliance with the English. Thus situated, John avoided an engagement which might be followed by an overthrow, and leave France exposed to the united efforts of his internal and foreign enemies. He contented himself with sending a challenge to fight a battle with Edward, for which he made no disposition whatever, so that Edward treated the offer with contempt, and retired to Calais.

From Calais he was speedily recalled to England by an incursion of the Scots, the usual diversion now of the French kings. Edward appeared before Berwick in the middle of winter, January, 1356, and, as usual, at his appearance the Scots withdrew. Edward, determined this time, if possible, to finish the subjugation of Scotland, made a contract at Roxburgh, on the 20th of January, with Edward Balliol, by which he purchased all the rights of Balliol to the Scottish throne for 5,000 marks and an annuity of £2,000. These rights were about as real as the rights of Edward to the crown of France. The Scots had expelled Balliol in 1341, and renounced him and his claims for ever. But with this pretension Edward once more marched through the Lothians with fire and sword, burnt Edinburgh and Haddington, and then retreated for want of provisions, pursued by the Scots, who now advanced from their hiding-places, and dreadfully harassed the rear of his army. After this Edward Balliol, freed from any pretence on the crown of Scotland, lived in retirement, and died without heirs in 1367.

Affairs in France were now approaching a crisis which well nigh proved fatal to the independence of that country. Edward III., learning that the internal disorders of France increased in consequence of the imprisonment of Charles of Navarre, sent out a small army under the Earl of Lancaster, to co-operate with the party of that prince in Normandy. At the same time the Black Prince, who had returned from his Toulouse expedition to Bordeaux, set out once more with an army not exceeding 12,000 men, and few of them English except a body of archers. He now directed his marauding expedition northwards, and went on laying waste the country, and burning and plundering towns, in a style which this young prince, celebrated by the historians for every virtue, appeared especially to delight in. He ravaged the Agenois and Limousin, Auvergne, Marche, and Berri. He attacked Bourges, but without success; and it then appeared that his intention was to advance to Normandy, and join his forces to those under Lancaster. But he found all the bridges on the Loire broken down, and the news which reached him of the motions of the King of France inclined him to retreat. John, exasperated at the devastations of the prince, and thinking that he had every chance of defeating him in his rash advance into the heart of the kingdom with so small a force, set out to intercept his return with an army of upwards of 60,000 men.

John marched for Blois, and, crossing the Loire, advanced for Poitiers; and the country people, naturally enraged at the prince's wanton destruction of every place he approached, kept him in ignorance of the king's approach. Edward, therefore, unconsciously advanced on Poitiers, and on the 17th of September came, all unawares, on the rear of the French army at the village of Maupertuis, only two leagues from Poitiers. His scouts came galloping in, announcing that the whole country was filled by the great army. And, in fact, never did a King of France command a more promising force. Consisting of 60,000 men, there were in it 20,000 men-at-arms, including 2,000 men-at-arms, or cavalry, sent by the Scots. Most of the princes of the blood were with him and the greater part of the nobility. On the other hand, the Prince of Wales's troops had decreased to about 10,000, of whom the bulk were Gascons; but he had 4,000 archers, and on them was the grand dependence.

The circumstances were such as to confound the bravest and most experienced commander; but the prince, though sensible of the seriousness of his situation, did not for a moment lose heart. With consummate ability he took up his position on the summit of a gentle declivity, planted with vineyards, approachable only by one narrow road, flanked with hedges and thickets. This ground, so strong by nature, he employed the whole army to make stronger by trenches and embankments. Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont, a stalwart knight, who had fought with his father at Calais, went out with three other knights to reconnoitre the English army, and brought this word to the King of France:--"Sire, we have seen the enemy. By our guess they amount to 2,000 men-at-arms, 4,000 archers, and 1,500 or 2,000 other men; and appear to form one division. They are strongly posted, wisely ordered, and their position is well nigh inaccessible. In order to attack them, there is but one passage, where four horsemen may ride abreast, which leads to the centre of their line. The hedges that flank this passage are lined with archers, and the English main body itself consists of dismounted men-at-arms, arranged in the form of a _herse_ or harrow. By this difficult passage alone can you approach the English position; consider, therefore, what is best to be done."

King John hearing this, determined to charge the English on foot, ordering all his men-at-arms to dismount, take off their spurs, and cut their spears to the length of five feet. Three hundred horsemen only were to remain mounted, in order to break the line of archers by a violent charge, and make way for the infantry.

Edward, on his part, drew up his forces, not in one division, as when seen by De Ribeaumont, but in three, with a detachment of cavalry apart, under the celebrated Captal de Buch, who was to take a compass round the hill during the fight, and fall on the rear of the French.

When about to engage, however, two legates from the Pope, Cardinals Talleyrand de Périgord and Capoccio, came into both the French and English camps, and used every endeavour to incline the two princes to peace. The Prince of Wales was so sensible of his critical situation that he made the most liberal offers. "Save my honour," he said, "and that of my army, and I will listen to anything." He proposed, indeed, to give up all the towns and castles which he had taken both in this and the former campaign, give up all his prisoners without ransom, and swear never again for seven years to bear arms against the King of France.

Never was a finer opportunity for securing a splendid triumph, in the surrender of so renowned an enemy; but John the Good again showed that he was not John the Wise. He was elated with the persuasion that he had the prince wholly in his power; and the very liberality of his offer only confirmed the fatal idea. He therefore insisted on the surrender of the prince and a hundred of his best knights, flattering himself that in holding them he held the restitution of Calais. The prince at once and indignantly rejected the proposal. The Christian efforts of the humane cardinals were abortive; the greater part of the day, which was Sunday, had been wasted in these negotiations. The prince's army was badly off for provisions for either man or horse; but they cheerfully spent the remainder of the day in strengthening their defences, and arranging their baggage behind them, as at Creçy.

The next morning, Monday, the 19th of September, the French army was again drawn out; and again Cardinal Talleyrand endeavoured to move the mind of the French king; but he repulsed him rudely. John had arranged his army in three divisions: the first commanded by his brother, the Duke of Orleans; the second by the dauphin, and two of his younger brothers; the third by the king himself, who had at his side his fourth and favourite son Philip, then about fourteen years of age. Edward, on the other hand, commanded the main body of his army, and placed the van under the Earl of Warwick. Just before the battle, Sir James Audley came before the prince and begged that he might begin the battle, in accordance with a vow he had made to do so in every battle of the prince's or of his father. The prince consented, and Sir James took his place with four stout esquires in the van; and thus the battle began.

The Marshals of France were ordered to advance and take possession of the lane leading to the English position, and scatter the archers who lined the hedges; but as fast as they entered the lane they were shot down. The horsemen, rapidly thinned, reached the end of the lane only to encounter the main body of the Black Prince's army. There Sir James Audley led on the charge, beating down all who approached. At the same instant the detachment of Captal de Buch, attended by 600 bowmen, made their attack on the flank of the dauphin's division. This movement threw the whole division into confusion. The archers shot so well and thickly that the dauphin's second division dispersed in haste. The knights, alarmed for their horses left in the rear, were the first to run from their banners, and all was instantly one scene of flight. The dauphin and his brother were escorted from the spot by 800 lances, and the army of the Black Prince seeing this, and that the Duke of Orleans was in full retreat with his vanguard, sprang to their saddles, shouting, "St. George for Guienne!" and Sir John Chandos exclaimed to the Prince, "Sire, ride forward; the day is won! Let us charge on the King of France, for well I know that he is too bold to flee, and there only will the battle be; and we shall take him, please God and St. George!" "Advance banners, in the name of God and St. George!" cried the prince, and they dashed down the lane, bearing all before them, riding over dead and wounded, till they came out on the plain where the king yet stood with his division, and they burst upon them with a fearful shock. But the king stood his ground, fighting manfully, leading up his division on foot, and hewing his way with his battle-axe; so that, says Froissart, had the knights of King John fought as well, the issue of the day might have been different. The Constable of France stood firmly by his sovereign with his squadron of horse, shouting "Mountjoy, St. Denis!" but before the impetuous onset of the English men-at-arms, his troops were cut down and himself was slain. Then the Prince of Wales attacked a body of German cavalry, and there was a desperate conflict; but the German generals were all killed, and then the cavalry gave way and left the king almost alone. Still the king fought on, and refused to surrender, though his few remaining followers were fast falling, and his nobles one after another sank around him. His son, the boy of fourteen, fighting bravely in defence of his father, was wounded, and the king might easily have been slain, but every one was anxious to take him alive. Several who attempted to seize him he felled to the ground. When called upon to yield, he still cried out, "Where is my cousin, the Prince of Wales?" unwilling to surrender to any one of less rank. A knight from St. Omer, who had been banished for homicide, said, "Sire, the prince is not here; but I will conduct you to him." "But who are you?" demanded the king; and the answer came, "I am Denis de Morbecque, a knight of Artois, but serving the King of England because I cannot belong to France, having been banished thence." "I surrender to you," said the king, giving his glove to Sir Denis. But there was violent struggling for possession of the king, every one saying, "I took him," and some of the rude soldiers declaring that they would kill him if not surrendered to them. At this moment arrived the Earl of Warwick, sent by the Black Prince to discover what was become of the king, and he conducted John and his son with great respect to the prince's tent.

Thus terminated the battle of Poitiers, one of the most wonderful victories ever achieved, being won by an army numerically only one-sixth of that which it defeated, and fighting under the disadvantage of being surrounded in the enemy's country, and against the King of France in person, with all his chivalry. Thus stood King John, a captive, at the end of the fight, where, without striking a single blow, he might have expelled the English army from his soil, and bound the Prince of Wales to a peace of seven years.

The true glory, therefore, of the Black Prince was that, so far from taunting John with this, he received him with the utmost courtesy. He advanced from his tent to meet the captive king with every mark of respect and regard. He bade him not think too much of the fortune of war, but to bear in mind that he had won the admiration of both armies, and the fame of the bravest man who had fought on that side. He caused a banquet to be spread in his tent for the king and his son. Edward refused to sit down at the table, as being only a vassal of the King of France. He said, "You shall find my father ready to show you all honour and friendship, and you shall, if you will, become such friends as you have never yet been." The king was so much touched by the respect and kindness of Edward, that he declared, though defeated, it was no loss of honour to yield to a prince of such consummate valour and generosity.

The attendants of the king are said to have been affected to tears by the noble conduct and consoling words of the prince to their royal master, and the spirit spread through the army towards all the prisoners. Edward also showed the same spirit of justice and liberality towards others. He presented to Sir James Audley 500 marks of yearly revenue for his services in the action; and when he found that he had transferred the whole of it to his four squires, he again settled £400 yearly upon him. He also heard all the eager and conflicting claims respecting the capture of the king, the distinction and the ransom being alluring objects; and finally adjudged it impartially, not to any of his own great barons, but to the poor French exile Sir Denis de Morbecque.

The prince conducted his royal prisoner to Bordeaux, whence, in the following April, he set sail with him and his son for London. They made their entrance into the English capital on the 24th of that month, 1357, landing at Southwark, whence they rode in procession through the city of Westminster, vast crowds attending them all the way to satiate their wonder at the novel spectacle of the monarch of France riding there as a captive. He was clad in his royal robes, and mounted on a white steed of remarkable size and beauty; while the Prince of Wales rode by his side, clad in a much plainer dress, and on a black palfrey. This might, to our present ideas, have appeared an aping of humility; but it was doubtless dictated to the prince by a chivalrous courtesy, and presented a fine contrast to the savage pomp of a Roman triumph, in which great kings and queens, amid all the spoils of their ravaged realms, were made to walk in chains, while the proud conqueror rode in his chariot blazing with gold.

_Penny of Edward III._

_Groat of Edward III._

_Gold Noble of Edward III._

COINS OF THE REIGN OF EDWARD III.]

It was, indeed, a time of singular triumph to the English people, for there were now two captive kings, those of France and Scotland, in their metropolis. Edward III. advanced to meet King John at the gates of his palace with the greatest courtesy, and received him, not as a prisoner, but as a neighbouring potentate arrived on a social visit.

The King of Scots had now been a captive in England eleven years. There had been no want of endeavours on the part of the Scots or of the King of England to effect his liberation. During the early portion of David's captivity this was not so much the case, because there was a strong leaning in him towards the French alliance--a natural result of his nine years' kind entertainment in that kingdom in his early youth. But his sojourn in England produced as decided an attachment to the English; and Edward, perceiving this, was willing to have on the throne of Scotland a friend who might counteract the hostile tendency of the nobles. During the last six years various negotiations had been entered into with the Scots for the release of David, but the ransom was considered by them too high. In 1351 this cause broke off the treaty: in 1354 the Scots agreed to give a ransom of 90,000 marks, payable in nine years. But their French allies, dreading an amicable state of things between Scotland and England, having lately lost Calais, and being then threatened with a fresh invasion by the English, induced the Scots to break the agreement. The effect of this measure was speedily seen in an invasion of England by the Scots, which compelled Edward to return from Normandy, and was followed by his celebrated raid, called the "Burnt Candlemas," into Scotland. Now, however, a treaty was concluded, in which the Scots consented to pay 100,000 marks in ten years, giving hostages for the due fulfilment of this compact. In November of this year, 1357, David was restored to liberty, and returned to his kingdom; and, before reverting to the prosecution of the war with France, we may briefly state what were the consequences of this transaction.

It soon became evident that the abode of David at the English court had produced the same effect as that formerly made upon him by his residence in the court of France. His facile and amiable but weak mind had been completely won over by Edward, who now saw, as he imagined, a quieter and more effectual mode of securing the crown of Scotland than by war. David had lost his wife, the sister of Edward, but had no children. He had grown fonder of the more polished and luxurious court of England than of his own ruder country and turbulent nobles. He did not, therefore, hesitate, after the death of his wife, to propose to the Scottish Parliament that, in case of his dying without issue, Edward's third son, the Duke of Clarence, should succeed him. The Scots, of course, rejected the proposal without ceremony. Still it was well known that a secret treaty existed between David and Edward III. for this object. In 1371 David died, and Robert Stewart, the grandson of Robert Bruce, by David's eldest sister, Marjory, succeeded to the throne, by the full consent of the Scottish Parliament, under the title of Robert II. Though Edward menaced, he never asserted his new claim to the crown, for his hands were full with the French war, and soon after, the death of his son, the Black Prince, put an end to all such ideas. From that time to the reign of James VI., a period of 232 years, the Stewarts continued to reign, when they also succeeded to the crown of England, and thus prepared the way for the ultimate and entire union of the kingdoms.

The battle of Poitiers filled up the measure of the calamities of France. Creçy was a decisive blow; the loss of Calais was another. But these were still only a minor portion of the losses and miseries which had been crowding upon her through ten years of invasion. Normandy, Artois, Picardy, and the southern provinces of France had been repeatedly traversed by hostile armies, their fields laid waste, their cattle driven off or destroyed, their crops trodden under foot, their cities, towns, and villages burnt or pillaged. By sea and by land France had suffered defeat and heavy loss of men, ships, and property. At Sluys, in mid-Channel, and on various parts of the coast, the English had destroyed her fleets. In defending her ally of Brittany, Charles of Blois, her treasures had been largely drawn upon; and now came this desolating overthrow, in which the flower of her nobility was crushed or made captive with their king.

That captivity let loose all the elements of disorder which had been accumulating through these terrible years. The people were impoverished, and numbers of them utterly ruined; all were wretched and discontented. The nobles were grown arrogant with the weakness of the state, and the country was overrun with bands of armed marauders, calling themselves "Free Companies," who preyed at will on the already sorely fleeced people, committing every species of outrage, and thus aggravating awfully the miseries of the nation.

The dauphin was only a youth of eighteen, and, though possessed of superior talents, and unusual prudence and spirit for his age, was necessarily destitute of that authority and that experience which such a crisis required, and his two younger brothers could afford him no assistance in so difficult a position. Besides the want of support from members of his own family, he had a most dangerous and indefatigable enemy in his relative, the King of Navarre, who possessed that determined disposition to mischief which most truly entitled him to the name given him by the people, Charles the Bad.

The latter was still in prison, but he found means through stone walls to exercise his talents for intrigue, treachery, and malicious machinations. Pretending even to the crown, he had all the seditious arts and fiery recklessness of the demagogue; and he stooped to ally himself with any malcontent class, or to work with any dirty tool. Accordingly, when the dauphin called together the States-General of the kingdom, to enable him to obtain supplies, and reasonably imagining that he should find all classes, under the calamitous condition of the country, ready to unite with him for the restoration of the king and the re-establishment of order, he was met by demands for the limitation of the royal prerogative, the punishment of past offenders, and, especially, for the release of the King of Navarre.