A short account may not be out of place here, however, since the battle, whether in or out of Poitiers, does, nevertheless, stand out as a landmark in the long struggle between English and French. Having stormed and taken the Castle of Pomerantin, Prince Edward marched downwards through Anjou and Touraine; and from the scarcity of fodder on the way he began to conclude that the French king could not be far off. Arrived at a village near Chauvigny, on the Vienne, he engaged in a skirmish with some of the enemy, and learned that John’s army had marched forward towards Poitiers; therefore, forbidding any further engagement, he pushed on with all possible speed, and came up with the French some leagues from the town, on the plains of Maupertuis. The French king himself was just about to enter Poitiers, but hearing that the English had come up and were attacking his rear-guard, he turned back into the fields and there encamped his forces. Meanwhile the English entrenched themselves in a well-guarded position between hedges and vineyards, and waited there until the morning, when John’s army rode out into the plain. “Then might be seen all the nobility of France, richly dressed out in brilliant armour, with banners and pennons gallantly displayed; for all the flower of the French nobility were there; no knight or squire, for fear of dishonour, dared remain at home.” At the last moment an attempt at mediation was made by the Cardinal de Périgord; but as the French king would listen to no terms save unconditional surrender, which the English prince refused, his labour was in vain; and the following day the armies drew up in line of battle. “When the Prince of Wales saw, from the departure of the Cardinal without being able to obtain any honourable terms, that a battle was inevitable, and that the King of France held both him and his army in great contempt, he thus addressed himself to them: ‘Now, my gallant fellows, what though we be a small company as in regard to the puissance of our enemy, let us not be cast down therefore, for victory lieth not in the multitude of people, but where God will send it; if it fortune that the journey be ours, we shall be the most honoured people of all the world; and if we die in our right quarrel, I have the king, my father, and brethren, and also ye have good friends and kinsmen; these shall avenge us. Therefore, for God’s sake, I require you to do your devoirs this day, for if God be pleased and Saint George, this day ye shall see me a good knight.’” Then the battle began in earnest, the English shouting “Saint George for Guienne!” The French answering with “Montjoie Saint Denis!” Froissart gives a very long and detailed account of the fight in all its part, with lists of the nobles and knights who were killed and wounded, and in many cases stories of their several adventures—none of which have place here. It will be enough to say with the old chronicler himself, that, in spite of the odds against the Black Prince, “it often happens that fortune in love and war turns out more favourable and wonderful than could have been hoped for or expected. To say the truth, this battle which was fought near Poitiers, in the Plains of Beauvois and Maupertuis, was very bloody and perilous; many gallant deeds of arms were performed that were never known, and the combatants on each side suffered much.” The rest is known to every one, the taking of King John of France, the gallant work of the archers, and the commendation of the Prince by his father, who had watched the fight from afar.
Even without the battle the story of Poitiers is a sufficiently varied one, and connected in a great measure with the story of England, if it be remembered that Eleanor, wife of our Henry II., was also Countess of Poitou and brought it to England as part of her dowry; and in English hands it remained until Philip Augustus saw fit to confiscate all our French territory in 1204. After the peace of Brétigny Poitou passed to England once more, only to be surrendered to Bertrand du Guesclin in the course of the next ten years. Here at Poitiers Charles VII. was proclaimed King of France; and, in contrast, it is likewise interesting to note that here also was held a court of inquiry upon the misdemeanours of Joan of Arc, by whose aid Charles was not only proclaimed but crowned King. After this the English prestige in France dwindled to nothing, and therefore the joint history stops at this point, and the history of Poitou and Poitiers stands for France alone.
LA ROCHELLE AND BORDEAUX
A Rochelle calls to mind two things principally: first, the great resistance of the Huguenots in the sixteenth century, and then the siege and the expeditions under Buckingham in the early days of Charles I. These two events are really part of the same struggle for supremacy between Calvinist and Romanist, only divided by a period of quiescence under the rule of Henri de Navarre, who, having professed both faiths in his day, probably knew how to keep the two parties at peace. Before the religious wars La Rochelle was known as a flourishing and peaceful seaport town; but no sooner had Condé and Coligny shown their faces there in 1568 as leaders of the Huguenot faction, than a spirit of warfare, provocative as well as defensive, seemed to pervade the town, and even on the high seas the cruisers of La Rochelle were a terror to the Romanist, since in the cause of the true faith no Huguenot stopped at piracy and plunder. From this first struggle La Rochelle emerged with flying colours, but in the days of Richelieu and Buckingham it was less successful, and traces of its surrender exist to-day in the mole, cutting off the outer harbour, which Richelieu laid down to prevent the English fleet from gaining further entrance to the port.
The first attack on Buckingham’s part was made in the summer of 1627. A war with France, impending only in 1625, but swift to take definite shape, was among the inconvenient legacies bequeathed by James I. to his son. With the utmost difficulty a forced loan was obtained from Parliament in order to meet the war expenses, and the Duke of Buckingham was put in command of the fleet which sailed from Portsmouth in June to the relief of the Huguenots whom Richelieu was besieging in La Rochelle. This task was not an easy one. Before gaining the harbour the fleet must pass the fort of Saint Martin on the island of Ré. This island had been strongly garrisoned by Richelieu, but the English squadron lay between the fort and the mainland, cutting off all possibility of relief; and after being blockaded for nearly two months the French commander signified to Buckingham his willingness to surrender the next morning. The duke was in the highest spirits when the welcome news arrived, and lay down to rest that night with the joyful certainly of carrying all before him, driving the Cardinal from before the port and entering La Rochelle in triumph. But the morning broke on a very different picture. During the night an easterly gale had sprung up and had blown a fleet of French provision boats over to Ré, through the very midst of the English ships; and once more Saint Martin’s prepared for defence. Nothing daunted, Buckingham sent to England for fresh troops, and if the supply had depended upon the king he might still have gained his victory; but the Parliament, now a growing power in England, and a power whose growth was making itself felt, overruled the royal pleasure, and found here the long-wished for opportunity of crushing out the war, of which the country was heartily tired, by refusing to grant further supplies. Probably the fact that Buckingham was no favourite with the people also helped to turn the scale against him. At any rate a French force came up before any word was sent from England, and the duke was obliged to withdraw from La Rochelle with considerable losses. The sequel is well known. In the following year Charles prorogued his troublesome Parliament, and once more the favourite set off for Portsmouth, never to reach France, since the dagger of John Felton put an end to his ambitions and avenged, so said the English people, his country’s wrongs. Thus La Rochelle was left entirely to the tender mercies of Richelieu. The Huguenot power was utterly broken by the year’s siege which followed, and La Rochelle found itself despoiled of the prestige which it enjoyed as the stronghold of the Protestant faith.
