A Popular History of England, From the Earliest Times to the Reign of Queen Victoria; Vol. I

by François Guizot

Queen Philippa On Her Knees Before The King.

Then the queen rose, saying, "My lord, many thanks!" And she took with her the six citizens, and caused them to be clothed and fed at their ease; she then sent them away from the army in safety. They went and established themselves in different towns in Picardy, while Edward took possession of Calais, on the 3rd of August, 1347. Queen Philippa was quartered in the house of John d'Aire, which the king had given to her, "and there was such merrymaking as was marvellous," except among the poor inhabitants of Calais, who wept secretly in their dwellings. The king had resolved to establish an English population at Calais, and the former possessors were about to quit forever that town, which they had so valiantly defended.

Calais had fallen, and King Edward's vengeance was appeased. The legates of the Pope had recommenced their work of conciliation. A truce was concluded, for a few months at first, and afterwards prolonged from time to time for six years. The finances of France were exhausted; the English Parliament refused the subsidies, and the Black Plague, from the East, was ravaging Europe. France and England, already weakened by wars, saw their populations decimated by the pestilence. It was in vain that the Flagellants overran the towns and villages, lacerating themselves with whips, to appease the anger of God; it was in vain that the Jews, accused of poisoning the fountains, were slaughtered; the cemeteries of London could not contain the dead, so that Sir Walter de Manny made a present to the city of a new site. King Edward issued an edict, to compel all able-bodied men to accept work; the fields remained uncultivated, and famine threatened the districts ravaged by the plague. Notwithstanding the amnesty, fighting was still carried on in Guienne, in Brittany, and as far as Calais. The governor, Aymeric of Pavia, had promised to surrender the town to the French for a large sum. Was it an act of treachery, and did he himself cause King Edward to be informed of the bargain which he had concluded? This may be supposed, since he escaped the anger of his master; but the King of England crossed the Channel very secretly, and arrived at Calais at the moment when Geoffrey de Chargny was approaching to enter the town. The knights proceeded towards the gates. Edward had put aside all his insignia of royalty and fought under the standard of Walter de Manny. Twice he staggered under the blows of Eustace of Ribaumont; but, having at length triumphed over the brave Picard, at the moment when the French were retreating in disorder, he led him into the castle, Ribaumont not knowing the name of his conqueror. At supper, Edward rose, and taking the pearl necklace which he wore on his hood, he placed it upon that of Sir Eustace. "Sir Eustace," said he, "I give you this chaplet, as the best combatant of the day, of those within and without the town, and I beg that you will wear it this year, for love of me, saying everywhere that I gave it to you. I release you from your prison, and you can depart to-morrow, if you please." "And Sir Eustace of Ribaumont was much rejoiced." Aymeric of Pavia had less reason to congratulate himself upon the success of the day. Geoffrey de Chargny surprised him in the castle wherein he had taken refuge, and put him to death as a traitor.

Another occasion caused graver danger to the life of King Edward. The Spanish pirates of the Bay of Biscay were desolating the coast of Flanders and hampering the commerce with England. King Edward resolved to punish their insolence, and, on the 20th of August, 1350, after having cruised about during three days between Dover and Calais, announcement was made of the approach of the vessels led by Don Carlos de La Cerda, the chief of the association of pirates. The engagement began with great fury on both sides. The king had directed his vessel against a large Spanish ship; several leaks had been opened by the shock, and the English vessel was about to founder, when the sailors, making a desperate effort, boarded and seized the enemy's ship, and took refuge upon their conquest. The Prince of Wales, in a similar peril, had been saved by the Earl of Derby. After the victory, which had been dearly bought, King Edward proceeded to rejoin the queen at Winchelsea. Her servants had already brought her tidings of the battle, which they had anxiously watched from the heights. A truce of twenty years was concluded between the King of England and the seaport towns of Castile.

The armistice, traversed by so many different combats and perils, was about to expire. Philip of Valois had died in 1350, and his son John the Good, had at first appeared disposed to accept the proposals for peace of the King of England. At a conference which had taken place at Guienne, Edward offered to relinquish his pretensions upon the kingdom of France, provided that he might obtain absolute possession of the provinces which he held as vassal, in his own name or in that of the queen; but the French barons would not agree to this dismemberment of the territory. The king was young, ardent, and fond of glory, so did not resist their entreaties. The proposals of the King of England were rejected. He complained loudly of the bad faith of his adversaries, and obtained money of Parliament to prepare for the renewal of hostilities. An expedition of the Prince of Wales in Guienne and an incursion of King Edward into the north of France, had not achieved great success. The king was soon recalled to England by an attack of the Scots upon Berwick. The unhappy town, buffeted about from master to master by bloody sieges, had recently been retaken by Edward, who penetrated further into Scotland, and ravaged the whole country. According to the doctrine of the period, that a people could be sold or bought, Edward had paid Baliol for his rights to the throne of Scotland, a pension of two thousand marks of silver, and once more claimed to enslave the Scotch. The want of provisions in a devastated country compelled him to retire. For a long time the memory of this expedition served to animate the ardor of the Scots during their invasions into England. "Remember burnt Candlemas," they would cry to each other. It was the title which had been given to that series of pillages and conflagrations.

Edward had not yet quitted England, had not even been able to send reinforcements to the Black Prince, as the Prince of Wales was called, by reason of the color of his arms, when the latter took to the field, towards the end of June, 1356, with the object of ravaging the French provinces. An expedition of this kind, in the preceding year, had brought him a great deal of booty. He had overrun Agénois, Limousin, Auvergne, and had arrived as far as Berry. Repulsed before Bourges and Issondun, he had taken Vierzon, burnt down Romorantin, and was beginning to fall back in the direction of Guienne with the fruits of his pillage, when King John quitting Chartres, advanced towards Poictiers. The devastation caused by the Black Prince had exasperated the country populations. Nobody had warned him of the danger to which he was about to expose himself, when, in his turn, he took the road to Poictiers with his little army. Suddenly, on the 17th of September, 1356, the English advanced guard found itself immediately in the rear of the French forces; the couriers saw the country covered with troops; the retreat towards Guienne was cut off. "May God interpose," said the Prince, seized with great anxiety; "we must have advice and counsel how we shall fight them with advantage." And at the same time the King of France was saying in his army, "Truly, gentlemen, when you are at Paris, at Chartres, at Rouen, or at Orleans, you threaten the English and you wish to stand before them ready for the fray. Now are you there, I show them to you; here you must show your displeasure, for, without mishap, we shall fight them," And those who had heard him answered: "May God decide, all this will we willingly see."

It was on the 18th of September, in the morning. All the flower of the French chivalry thronged around the king and his four sons. It is affirmed that the French army numbered more than fifty thousand men. The forces of the Black Prince did not amount to twelve thousand; but the English had prudently intrenched themselves behind some hedges and underwood in the midst of the vines, so they could only be approached by a narrow road, lined with archers. At the moment when, by the advice of Eustace of Ribaumont, the French knights prepared to alight to make an attack, the Cardinal of Périgord arrived, begging the king to permit him to negotiate between the two armies. "The English are but a handful compared with you; if you can capture them, and cause them to place themselves at your mercy without giving battle, this manner would be more honorable and profitable to you." The king consented thereto, and the cardinal promptly galloped towards the English army. "Gallant son," he said to the Black Prince, "if you had justly considered the power of the king of France, you would suffer me to arrange terms with him for you, if I could." Therefore the Prince, who was then a young man, answered, "My lord, saving my honor and that of my men, I am ready to listen to anything in reason." Thus the cardinal galloped throughout the day between the two armies. But no agreement could be made, for although the English willingly consented to surrender to King John all the towns and castles taken on their way, to conclude a truce of seven years, and to release the prisoners; the French demanded that the Prince of Wales and a hundred of his knights should surrender before allowing the remainder of the army to pass, "to which the English could not listen;" and on Monday morning the French king angrily told the cardinal to return to Poictiers, or wherever he pleased, and never more to speak of treaty or agreement, for that he might give offence. Quickly going away, the cardinal proceeded to the English army. "My gallant son," he said to the Prince, "do as you are able; you must fight, for I cannot discover any disposition for concord or peace in the King of France." And the Prince answered, greatly irritated, "That is the intention of us and ours, and may God help the right."

The French army was divided into three great battle-corps: the first was commanded by the marshals of France; the second by Charles, duke of Normandy; King John was at the head of the third, and he had retained by his side his youngest son, Philip.