For Edward it was a serious check not to have dared to attack the king whose kingdom he made a pretence of conquering; and he took it grievously to heart. At Brussels he had an interview with his allies, and asked their counsel. Most of the princes of the Low Countries remained faithful to him, and the Count of Hainault seemed inclined to go back to him; but all hesitated as to what he was to do to recover from the check. Van Artevelde showed more invention and more boldness. The Flemish communes had concentrated their forces not far from the spot where the two kings had kept their armies looking at one another; but they had maintained a strict neutrality, and at the invitation of the Count of Flanders, who promised them that the King of France would entertain all their claims, Artevelde and Breydel, the deputies from Ghent and Bruges, even repaired to Courtrai to make terms with him. But as they got there nothing but ambiguous engagements and evasive promises, they let the negotiation drop, and, whilst Count Louis was on his way to rejoin Philip at St. Quentin, Artevelde, with the deputies from the Flemish communes, started for Brussels. Edward, who was already living on very confidential terms with him, told him that “if the Flemings were minded to help him to keep up the war, and go with him whithersoever he would take them, they should aid him to recover Lille, Douai, and Bethune, then occupied by the King of France. Artevelde, after consulting his colleagues, returned to Edward, and, ‘Dear sir,’ said he, ‘you have already made such requests to us, and verily if we could do so whilst keeping our honor and faith, we would do as you demand; but we be bound, by faith and oath, and on a bond of two millions of florins entered into with the pope, not to go to war with the King of France without incurring a debt to the amount of that sum, and a sentence of ex-communication; but if you do that which we are about to say to you, if you will be pleased to adopt the arms of France, and quarter them with those of England, and openly call yourself King of France, we will uphold you for true King of France; you, as King of France, shall give us quittance of our faith; and then we will obey you as King of France, and will go whithersoever you shall ordain.’”
This prospect pleased Edward mightily: but “it irked him to take the name and arms of that of which he had as yet won no tittle.” He consulted his allies. Some of them hesitated; but “his most privy and especial friend,” Robert d’Artois, strongly urged him to consent to the proposal. So a French prince and a Flemish burgher prevailed upon the King of England to pursue, as in assertion of his avowed rights, the conquest of the kingdom of France. King, prince, and burgher fixed Ghent as their place of meeting for the official conclusion of the alliance; and there, in January, 1340, the mutual engagement was signed and sealed. The King of England “assumed the arms of France quartered with those of England,” and thenceforth took the title of King of France.
Then burst forth in reality that war which was to last a hundred years; which was to bring upon the two nations the most violent struggles, as well as the most cruel sufferings, and which, at the end of a hundred years, was to end in the salvation of France from her tremendous peril, and the defeat of England in her unrighteous attempt. In January, 1340, Edward thought he had won the most useful of allies; Artevelde thought the independence of the Flemish communes and his own supremacy in his own country secured; and Robert d’Artois thought with complacency how he had gratified his hatred for Philip of Valois. And all three were deceiving themselves in their joy and their confidence.
Edward, leaving Queen Philippa at Ghent with Artevelde for her adviser, had returned to England, and had just obtained from the Parliament, for the purpose of vigorously pushing on the war, a subsidy almost without precedent, when he heard that a large French fleet was assembling on the coasts of Zealand, near the port of Ecluse (or Sluys), with a design of surprising and attacking him when he should cross over again to the Continent. For some time past this fleet had been cruising in the Channel, making descents here and there upon English soil, at Plymouth, Southampton, Sandwich, and Dover, and everywhere causing alarm and pillage. Its strength, they said, was a hundred and forty large vessels, “without counting the smaller,” having on board thirty-five thousand men, Normans, Picards, Italians, sailors and soldiers of all countries, under the command of two French leaders, Hugh Quiret, titular admiral, and Nicholas Behuchet, King Philip’s treasurer, and of a famous Genoese buccaneer, named Barbavera. Edward, so soon as he received this information, resolved to go and meet their attack; and he gave orders to have his vessels and troops summoned from all parts of England to Orewell, his point of departure. His advisers, with the Archbishop of Canterbury at their head, strove, but in vain, to restrain him. “Ye are all in conspiracy against me,” said he; “I shall go; and those who are afraid can abide at home.” And go he did on the 22d of June, 1340, and aboard of his fleet “went with him many an English dame,” says Froissart, “wives of earls, and barons, and knights, and burghers, of London, who were off to Ghent to see the Queen of England, whom for a long time past they had not seen; and King Edward guarded them carefully.” “For many a long day,” said he, “have I desired to fight those fellows, and now we will fight them, please God and St. George; for, verily, they have caused me so many displeasures, that I would fain take vengeance for them, if I can but get it.” On arriving off the coast of Flanders, opposite Ecluse (or Sluys), he saw “so great a number of vessels that of masts there seemed to be verily a forest.” He made his arrangements forthwith, “placing his strongest ships in front, and manoeuvring so as to have the wind on the starboard quarter, and the sun astern. The Normans marvelled to see the English thus twisting about, and said, ‘They are turning tail; they are not men enough to fight us.’” But the Genoese buccaneer was not misled. “When he saw the English fleet approaching in such fashion, he said to the French admiral and his colleague, Behuchet, ‘Sirs, here is the King of England, with all his ships, bearing down upon us: if ye will follow my advice, instead of remaining shut up in port, ye will draw out into the open sea; for, if ye abide here, they, whilst they have in their favor sun, and wind, and tide, will keep you so short of room, that ye will be helpless and unable to manoeuvre.’ Whereupon answered the treasurer, Behuchet, who knew more about arithmetic than sea fights, ‘Let him go hang, whoever shall go out: here will we wait, and take our chance.’ ‘Sir,’ replied Barbavera, ‘if ye will not be pleased to believe me, I have no mind to work my own ruin, and I will get me gone with my galleys out of this hole.’” And out he went, with all his squadron, engaged the English on the high seas, and took the first ship which attempted to board him. But Edward, though he was wounded in the thigh, quickly restored the battle. After a gallant resistance, Barbavera sailed off with his galleys, and the French fleet found itself alone at grips with the English. The struggle was obstinate on both sides; it began at six in the morning of June 24, 1340, and lasted to midday. It was put an end to by the arrival of the re-enforcements promised by the Flemings to the King of England. “The deputies of Bruges,” says their historian, “had employed the whole night in getting under way an armament of two hundred vessels, and, before long, the French heard echoing about them the horns of the Flemish mariners sounding to quarters.” These latter decided the victory, Behuchet, Philip of Valois’ treasurer, fell into their hands; and they, heeding only their desire of avenging themselves for the devastation of Cadsand (in 1337), hanged him from the mast of his vessel “out of spite to the King of France.” The admiral, Hugh Quieret, though he surrendered, was put to death; “and with him perished so great a number of men-at-arms that the sea was dyed with blood on this coast, and the dead were put down at quite thirty thousand men.”
The very day after the battle, the Queen of England came from Ghent to join the king her husband, whom his wound confined to his ship; and at Valenciennes, whither the news of the victory speedily arrived, Artevelde, mounting a platform set up in the market-place, maintained, in the presence of a large crowd, the right which the King of England had to claim the kingdom of France. He vaunted “the puissance of the three countries, Flanders, Hainault, and Brabant, when at one accord amongst themselves, and what with his words and his great sense,” says Froissart, “he did so well that all who heard him said that he had spoken mighty well, and with mighty experience, and that he was right worthy to govern the countship of Flanders.” From Valenciennes he repaired to King Edward at Bruges, where all the allied princes were assembled; and there, in concert with the other deputies from the Flemish communes, Artevelde offered Edward a hundred thousand men for the vigorous prosecution of the war. “All these burghers,” says the modern historian of the Flemings, “had declared that, in order to promote their country’s cause, they would serve without pay, so heartily had they entered into the war.” The siege of Tournay was the first operation Edward resolved to undertake. He had promised to give this place to the Flemings; the burghers were getting a taste for conquest, in company with kings.
They found Philip of Valois better informed, and also more hot for war, than perhaps they had expected. It is said that he learned the defeat of his navy at Ecluse from his court fool, who was the first to announce it, and in the following fashion. “The English are cowards,” said he. “Why so?” asked the king. “Because they lacked courage to leap into the sea at Ecluse, as the French and Normans did.” Philip lost no time about putting the places on his northern frontier in a state of defence, he took up his quarters first at Arras, and then three leagues from Tournay, into which his constable, Raoul d’Eu, immediately threw himself, with a considerable force, and whither his allies, the Duke of Lorraine, the Count of Savoy, the Bishops of Liege, Metz, and Verdun, and nearly all the barons of Burgundy came and joined him. On the 27th of July, 1340, he received there from his rival a challenge of portentous length, the principal terms of which are set forth as follows:
“Philip of Valois, for a long time past we have taken proceedings, by means of messages and other reasonable ways, to the end that you might restore to us our rightful heritage of France, which you have this long while withheld from us and do most wrongfully occupy. And as we do clearly see that you do intend to persevere in your wrongful withholding, we do give you notice that we are marching against you to bring our rightful claims to an issue. And, whereas so great a number of folks assembled on our side and on yours, cannot keep themselves together for long without causing great destruction to the people and the country, we desire, as the quarrel is between you and us, that the decision of our claim should be between our two bodies. And if you have no mind to this way, we propose that our quarrel should end by a battle, body to body, between a hundred persons, the most capable on your side and on ours. And, if you have no mind either to one way or to the other, that you do appoint us a fixed day for fighting before the city of Tournay, power to power. Given under our privy seal, on the field near Tournay, the 26th day of July, in the first year of our reign in France and in England the fourteenth.”
Philip replied, “Philip, by the grace of God King of France to Edward, King of England. We have seen your letters brought to our court, as from you to Philip of Valois, and containing certain demands which you make upon the said Philip of Valois. And, as the said letters did not come to ourself, we make you no answer. Our intention is, when it shall seem good to us, to hurl you out of our kingdom for the benefit of our people. And of that we have firm hope in Jesus Christ, from whom all power cometh to us.”
Events were not satisfactory either to the haughty pretensions of Edward or to the patriotic hopes of Philip. The war continued in the north and south-west of France without any result. In the neighborhood of Tournay some encounters in the open country were unfavorable to the English and their allies; the siege of the place was prolonged for seventy-four days without the attainment of any success by assault or investment; and the inhabitants defended themselves with so obstinate a courage, that, when at length the King of England found himself obliged to raise the siege, Philip, to testify his gratitude towards them, restored them their law, that is, their communal charter, for some time past withdrawn, and “they were greatly rejoiced,” says Froissart, “at having no more royal governors, and at appointing provosts and jurymen according to their fancy.” The Flemish burghers, in spite of their display of warlike zeal, soon grew tired of being so far from their business and of living under canvas. In Aquitaine the lieutenants of the King of France had the advantage over those of the King of England; they retook or delivered several places in dispute between the two crowns, and they closely pressed Bordeaux itself both by land and sea. Edward, the aggressor, was exhausting his pecuniary resources, and his Parliament was displaying but little inclination to replenish them. For Philip, who had merely to defend himself in his own dominions, any cessation of hostilities was almost a victory. A pious princess, Joan of Valois, sister of Philip and mother-in-law of Edward, issued from her convent at Fontenelle, for the purpose of urging the two kings to make peace, or at least to suspend hostilities. “The good dame,” says Froissart, “saw there, on the two sides, all the flower and honor of the chivalry of the world; and many a time she had fallen at the feet of her brother, the King of France, praying him for some respite or treaty of agreement between himself and the English king. And when she had labored with them of France, she went her way to them of the Empire, to the Duke of Brabant, to the Marquis of Juliers, and to my Lord John of Hainault, and prayed them, for God’s and pity’s sake, that they would be pleased to hearken to some terms of accord, and would win over the King of England to be pleased to condescend thereto.” In concert with the envoys of Pope Benedict XII., Joan of Valois at last succeeded in bringing the two sovereigns and their allies to a truce, which was concluded on the 25th of September, 1340, at first for nine months, and was afterwards renewed on several occasions up to the month of June, 1342. Neither sovereign, and none of their allies, gave up anything, or bound themselves to anything more than not to fight during that interval; but they were, on both sides, without the power of carrying on without pause a struggle which they would not entirely abandon.
An unexpected incident led to its recommencement in spite of the truce: not, however, throughout France or directly between the two kings, but with fiery fierceness, though it was limited to a single province, and arose not in the name of the kingship of France, but out of a purely provincial question. John III., Duke of Brittany and a faithful vassal of Philip of Valois, whom he had gone to support at Tournay “more stoutly and substantially than any of the other princes,” says Froissart, died suddenly at Caen, on the 30th of April, 1341, on returning to his domain. Though he had been thrice married, he left no child. The duchy of Brittany then reverted to his brothers or their posterity, but his very next brother, Guy, Count of Penthievre, had been dead six years, and had left only a daughter, Joan, called the Cripple, married to Charles of Blois, nephew of the King of France. The third brother was still alive; he too was named John, had from his mother the title of Count of Montfort, and claimed to be heir to the duchy of Brittany in preference to his niece Joan. The niece, on the contrary, believed in her own right to the exclusion of her uncle. The question was exactly the same as that which had arisen touching the crown of France when Philip the Long had successfully disputed it with the only daughter of his brother Louis the Quarreller; but the Salic law, which had for more than three centuries prevailed in France, and just lately to the benefit of Philip of Valois, had no existence in the written code, or the traditions of Brittany. There, as in several other great fiefs, women had often been recognized as capable of holding and transmitting sovereignty. At the death of John III., his brother, the Count of Montfort, immediately put himself in possession of the inheritance, seized the principal Breton towns, Nantes, Brest, Rennes, and Vannes, and crossed over to England to secure the support of Edward III. His rival, Charles of Blois, appealed to the decision of the King of France, his uncle and natural protector. Philip of Valois thus found himself the champion of succession in the female line in Brittany, whilst he was himself reigning in France by virtue of the Salic law, and Edward III. took up in Brittany the defence of succession in the male line which he was disputing and fighting against in France. Philip and his court of peers declared on the 7th of September, 1341, that Brittany belonged to Charles of Blois, who at once did homage for it to the King of France, whilst John of Montfort demanded and obtained the support of the King of England. War broke out between the two claimants, effectually supported by the two kings, who nevertheless were not supposed to make war upon one another and in their own dominions. The feudal system sometimes entailed these strange and dangerous complications.