Isabel was herself under the influence of Mortimer. Edward II. being dethroned could not hope to live long. The power of the favorite over the queen became a matter for alarm; several monks preached against him; the Earl of Lancaster, to whose keeping the deposed king had been entrusted, seemed to have conceived a feeling of pity for his prisoner, so the latter was removed to another place. Being consigned to the charge of Lord Berkeley and Sir John Maltravers, he was taken to Bristol, where also the people began to be touched at his fate. Two scoundrels who had been sent to him as gaolers, dragged him out half naked and took him to Corfe Castle. The poor king asked to be allowed to dress himself; some dirty water was brought him in a helmet. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I have some purer water, in spite of you," he said. A crown of dry herbs had been placed upon his head. At length, moving from place to place, the dethroned monarch was brought to Berkeley Castle, on the river Severn, where an attempt was made to poison him, but without success. At length, one night, the governor of the castle being away, piercing cries were heard, and immediately afterwards all was silent again. The inhabitants of the neighborhood shuddered on hearing them. On the morrow, when the doors were opened, the death of Edward II. was announced, and the country people were admitted to view the corpse of him who had been their king. The expression of agony which rested upon the once handsome features of the unhappy monarch, terrified all who saw it. The body was taken to the abbey of Gloucester and buried soon afterwards; but the people went in crowds to the tomb of this king whom no one had defended during his life-time. The offerings made in his honor at the convent were so considerable that the monks were enabled to add an aisle to their church. This unfortunate monarch, so weak and so frivolous, consistent only in his affection, so harshly abandoned and so cruelly murdered, was not yet forty-three years of age when he expired on the 21st of September, 1327.
The young king, Edward III., was but fifteen years of age when he was raised to the throne of his deposed father. The Parliament appointed a council of Regency, composed of five prelates and six great noblemen, and consigned the young monarch into the keeping of the Earl of Lancaster. No power was formally vested in the dowager queen; but her debts were discharged, and a large pension was granted her, by means of which she was enabled to strengthen her own influence and increase the authority of Mortimer.
While England had been engrossed in its internal dissensions and struggles, Scotland, under the firm government of Robert Bruce, had been recovering from the effects of its misfortunes. The thirst for vengeance raged, however, in the hearts of all the Scots; and respect for the truce was powerless to restrain them. Hearing that King Edward II. had been dethroned, and that a council of Regency had been appointed, they crossed the frontier on the 3rd of February, 1327, and began to lay waste the northern counties. Their army gradually increased in numbers. King Robert was ill, but his two faithful friends, James, earl of Douglas, and Randolph, earl of Moray, were at the head of his troops. The Scottish army consisted entirely of mounted soldiers, whose light, robust steeds, steady as themselves, bore them with the swiftness of the wind, without rest, and almost without provender. No baggage, no tents,—a bag of oatmeal in front of each horseman, under his saddle an iron plate, which served for baking his cakes; the English farms and villages furnished the rest.
Rumors of the ravages to which the northern counties had been subjected, touched the feelings of the young king, and awakened his martial ardor. In the beginning of July, the English troops, supported by an army corps from Hainault, the members of which had been brought with great difficulty to live at peace with their English allies, arrived at Durham. The exact whereabouts of the Scottish army was unknown; but the king pressed forward in pursuit. Like his enemies, he had left the camp baggage behind him. After a week of pursuit, the Scots were still invisible, and the English, on the verge of starvation, were beginning to murmur. The king promised the honor of knighthood and a pension of a hundred pounds to whoever should bring tidings of the enemy. They had crossed the Wear; on the fourth day a messenger galloped up on horseback. "Sire," said Thomas Rokeby, "the Scots are within three leagues of this spot, encamped upon a mountain. I have been their prisoner for a week; but they liberated me that I might come and inform you that they await your arrival." The king immediately marched towards the enemy.
They had arrived on the banks of the Wear; and this time the Scots were perceived, encamped on the summit of a hill. They were drawn up in battle array, but they did not stir. Edward despatched a herald to them, with a proposal that they should cross the river, in order that the combat might take place upon the open plain. "I have not come here for the king's pleasure," said Douglas, "and I will not leave my post for love of him. If he is not satisfied, let him cross the water and drive us before him." The undertaking was too perilous, and the two armies remained in their respective positions for two days. On the third night, the Scots raised their camp, and were soon afterwards perceived to have taken up a still stronger position, upon another hill. The King of England broke up his camp likewise, and followed them. For eighteen days the two armies had watched each other without result, not a blow being struck; the English troops were sleeping in their tents, when a loud cry was heard amid the silence: "Douglas! Douglas! Death to the English robbers!" The terrified soldiers rose in confusion, and in a half-sleeping condition, and groped about in the dark for their weapons. Meanwhile sounds of strife were heard, and suddenly the ropes supporting the royal tent were cut, and by the side of the couch whereon the young king was sleeping, Black Douglas, the most valiant knight in Scotland, appeared like a threatening phantom. The chamberlain and chaplain of the young king sprang forward to protect their master. The youth had hidden himself within the folds of the tent. Douglas, however, did not pursue his adventure further; sounding the horn, he recalled the three hundred men who had followed him. "What have you done?" asked Randolph, when the Scots had regained their intrenchments. "We have shed a little blood, my lord, that is all," said Douglas. "We should have crossed over with the whole of our army," insisted his friend; "our provisions are exhausted." On the following night, the Scots disappeared in silence, carrying with them a rich booty, while King Edward, incensed and humiliated, again marched towards York, whither his affianced bride, Philippa of Hainault, was being conducted by John of Hainault. The marriage was celebrated on St. Paul's day, 1328. The king was sixteen years of age, while the queen was one year younger. Peace had just been concluded with Scotland; the independence of that kingdom had thereby been acknowledged; the crown jewels, which had been seized by Edward I., had been restored, and the little Princess Joan, who was betrothed to David, the young son of Robert Bruce, had been taken to Berwick and given up to the Scots. It seemed as though the deliverer of Scotland had waited for this great triumph before going to his last rest. He died in the following year, the fifty-fifth of his age, leaving wise counsels to his countrymen; and to his faithful friend, the good lord James Douglas, the task of carrying his heart to Palestine, in order that his vow to visit the Holy Land might be fulfilled. The evils of a minority threatened Scotland at the very moment when England was escaping from that calamity.
The arrogance of Mortimer had increased with his power, and the great noblemen were beginning to chafe under the yoke which he imposed upon them. The Earl of Lancaster was the first to make an attempt against the favorite; but he had been defeated, notwithstanding that he obtained the temporary support of the king's uncles, the Earl of Kent and the Earl of Norfolk. Mortimer ravaged the possessions of Lancaster like a conqueror. A rumor had been spread abroad that King Edward II. was not dead, and the Earl of Kent had perhaps been encouraged in this illusion, which was the cause of his ruin. He was accused of high treason, and condemned for the strange crime of having endeavored to replace a dead man upon the throne. The execution took place on the 19th of May, 1330, in spite of the noble birth of the victim, and the public indignation reached its climax. The young king had hitherto remained silent concerning State matters, and had appeared as a docile instrument in the hands of his mother and Mortimer, although he had kept aloof from them since his marriage, not permitting his young wife to frequent a corrupt and licentious court.
It was on the 13th of June, 1330, that a son was born to King Edward, who was to achieve a mighty reputation as Prince of Wales. The young king, already a father at eighteen years of age, began to feel the disgrace of his situation, and to experience some remorse for the wrongs which were perpetrated in his name. Slowly and prudently, he communicated his opinions to Lord Montacute, one of his advisers. A Parliament was convoked at Nottingham, in the month of October, the king being then lodged in the castle with Mortimer and his mother. On the night of the 19th, the keys of the fortress had been brought as usual to Queen Isabel, when Lord Montacute, accompanied by several friends, crept silently into the vaults of the castle, which had been opened to him by the governor. The king awaited him with great anxiety at the door of the great tower. The conspirators ascended a dark staircase and found themselves at the door of the queen's antechamber. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the voice of Mortimer was heard discussing with some of his adherents. Montacute and his friends broke open the door, and killed two sentinels who endeavored to defend it. Hearing the commotion, the queen ran forward, calling loudly upon her son, who had remained behind the door, but whose presence she guessed. "My dear son," she cried, "spare the gentle Mortimer, my beloved cousin." The favorite was, however, dragged out, and, at daybreak, he was already on his way, under strong escort, to the Tower of London. Nottingham rang with sounds of joy.
The king had seized the reins of government; this he announced to his subjects in dissolving the Parliament and convoking a new representative assembly at Westminster. On the 26th of November, 1330, the favorite was cited before his judges, the king himself being present at the trial. His crimes were notorious; and consequently the decision did not long remain doubtful. As he had put Hugh le Despencer to death without allowing him time to make any defence, Mortimer was himself drawn to Tyburn and hanged, with Sir Simon Beresford, one of his accomplices. His property, however, was not confiscated, and his family retained the title of Earl of March, which had been granted by the queen to her favorite. Isabel was imprisoned in the castle of Rising, treated with respect by her son, who paid a visit to her every year and ministered liberally to all her necessities; but she never again left the retreat, in which she lived for more than twenty-seven years afterwards. The Regent of Scotland, the Earl of Moray, was dead. The valiant Douglas had been slain in an expedition against the Moors of Spain, the first episode in the crusade which he had undertaken in company with the heart of Bruce. Scotland was now governed by the Earl of Mar, a warrior far inferior to the great champions of liberty, the friends and supporters of Robert Bruce. The time had come when England was to be raised out of the disgrace of the last treaty. The pretensions of Edward Baliol, the son of the exiled king, were advanced by several English peers who had been deprived of property pertaining to them in Scotland. Baliol advanced into the northern counties, and a certain number of Scottish malcontents crossed the frontier and rallied round his standard.
He then marched into Scotland, but soon confronted two armies superior to his own; a skilful movement, however, placed the invaders in an advantageous position; the Earl of Mar imprudently gave battle in a defile on Duplin Heath, where he and many others were defeated and killed. Baliol had had time to fortify himself within Perth before the arrival of the Earl of Mar, and the Scottish fleet was destroyed by the little squadron brought over by the pretender. Baliol's forces were increasing day by day; he was crowned at Scone on the 2nd of September, having secretly renewed to King Edward III. the allegiance which his father had rendered to Edward I.
But the crown thus acquired in seven weeks was destined to be lost in less than three months. On the night of the 16th of December, the new king was taken by surprise at Annan, in the county of Dumfries, by a Scottish corps under the command of the young Earl of Moray and Sir Archibald Douglas. Baliol, in a semi-naked condition, and mounted upon a barebacked horse, which, for want of time, he had been unable to properly equip, contrived to escape to the English frontier, leaving his father, Henry, dead behind him. King Edward received him so amicably that the Scottish people, indignant at the support accorded the pretender, invaded the northern counties of England on several occasions, carrying their ravages to such an extent that King Edward determined to enter Scotland. In the month of May, 1333, he joined Baliol, who, during two months, had been besieging the town of Berwick. The garrison was preparing to surrender, when, on the 19th of July, Archibald Douglas, now regent of Scotland, appeared in sight of the town. The English army was posted on the heights of Halidon Hill, protected by the marshes. The Scots were excited by the peril threatening Berwick; they attacked the enemy in spite of obstacles. Arrows fell thick in their midst during their passage across the marshes, and disorder had already broken out in their ranks, when they began their fierce onslaught on the hill. The assault was so vigorous that for a moment victory seemed to incline in their favor; but the regent fell, and with him and beside him his most valiant knights. King Edward sprang forward in pursuit of the Scots, who were beginning to fly. Lord Darcy, who was in command of the Irish peasants who had joined as auxiliaries, slaughtered the stragglers. Scotland had never suffered so lamentable a defeat. King David and his wife took refuge in France, and spent several years at Château-Gaillard. Baliol was reinstalled upon the throne, not, however, without ceding to his powerful ally the finest counties in the south of Scotland, to the general indignation of the Scottish people. They soon compelled him to take refuge in the territory which he had thus abandoned, and there he maintained his position with great difficulty, although supported from time to time by fresh troops from England. A more ambitious project had been formed in the mind of the King of England, and the war with Scotland languished while Edward was dreaming of conquering France.
The King of France, Charles IV., surnamed the Fair, had died in 1328; and, a short time after his death, the queen his wife had given birth to a daughter. The Salic law prohibiting the accession of females to the throne, the peers of the kingdom and the States-general had decreed that the crown belonged to the cousin of the deceased king, Philip of Valois, grandson of Philip the Bold, by his youngest son, Charles of Valois; and the new sovereign had taken undisputed possession of the throne. King Edward III. was scarcely sixteen years of age, and, although maintaining from that time forth, in England, that his right was superior to that of Philip of Valois, his mother Isabel being the daughter of Philip the Fair, he accepted the invitation of the King of France to render fealty and homage to him for the Duchy of Aquitaine, and again performed the same ceremony in 1331, when he had attained his majority and was king de facto. But, in 1336, the young King of England felt that he was securely seated upon his throne, and being piqued by the support which Philip of Valois openly gave to the Scotch, he publicly declared that the peers of France and the States-general had acted as rogues and robbers rather than as judges, and that for the future he would not recognize their decisions, but would maintain his own just rights. Thus began that disastrous war which has been called the "Hundred Years' War," but which, in reality, was waged from 1338 until 1453, during the reigns of five kings of France—Philip VI., John the Good, Charles V., Charles VI., and Charles VII.—and of as many kings of England—Edward III., Richard II., Henry IV., Henry V., and Henry VI. It cost the lives of millions of men, brought plague and famine with it, and caused unheard-of misery, without any result for the two nations other than a feeling of international hatred which has scarcely died out in our own time.
The preparations on both sides were gigantic. The English people looked with favor upon the war against France, and, in spite of the Magna Charta, the king was allowed to seize the Cornish tin and all the wool grown during the year, although they had already granted him all the subsidies and loans which he had demanded. Edward embarked at Orwell on the 15th of July, 1338, and landed four days afterwards at Antwerp. The Count of Flanders was an ally of the King of France, but his towns scarcely obeyed him, as they were then under the influence of a brewer of Ghent, named Jacques van Arteveldt, who contracted a friendship with King Edward. He had negotiated with even more illustrious allies; the Emperor of Germany, the Dukes of Brabant and Gueldres, the Counts of Hainault and Namur. All had received his money; but the troops did not arrive, and when, on the 1st of July, 1339, the King of England at length succeeded in crossing the French frontier, the Counts of Namur and Hainault immediately abandoned him, and his other confederates soon did likewise. The king was compelled to return, after having, by the advice of Arteveldt, assumed the title of King of France, and added to his coat of arms the lily side by side with the lions of England. The Parliament, as ardent in the cause of the war as the king himself, voted enormous subsidies, and, on the 22nd of June, 1340, Edward again left England, to attack the French vessels of war, huddled together in the port of Sluys. Queen Philippa had accompanied her husband, taking with her a great number of ladies in waiting. The French and Genoese vessels hired by King Philip were numerous and very large; when they sailed out of port, attached together by iron chains and formed in four divisions, and advanced to dispute his passage, Edward uttered a cry of joy. "Ah!" said he, "I have long desired to fight with the French. So shall I meet some of them to-day, by the grace of God and St. George." He began to gain the offing; his adversaries already imagined that he declined an engagement, but he was really desirous of avoiding the ardent rays of the sun and of attacking briskly the first division of the French fleet, of which he soon made himself master in spite of a vigorous resistance.
The Battle Of Sluys.
A reinforcement arrived at the same time under the command of Lord Morley; the victors thereupon assailed the three French divisions at the same time. The French sailors became alarmed; they could not manage their vessels nor disengage them to facilitate a retreat. After having fought during several hours, the French and Genoese sprang into the water, in order to escape by swimming. Many of them were drowned, and the defeat was so decisive that nobody was bold enough to communicate the news to King Philip. His court jester presented himself before the French monarch. "The English are cowards," he said. "Why so?" inquired the king. "Because they had not the courage to spring into the sea at Sluys as did the French and Normans." The king guessed the sad truth. Edward had landed on French soil, surrounded by the allies whom his victory had attracted toward him; he laid siege to Saint-Omer and Tournay, sending thence a challenge to Philip of Valois, proposing to arrange their quarrel by a singular contest. He suggested that the fate of the two kingdoms should be entrusted to a hundred combatants on each side, or that a day should be fixed on which a pitched battle should be fought. Philip answered with disdain; and, as in the preceding year, he left his enemy free to exhaust his strength and resources on insignificant places, without ever according him the opportunity of a general engagement The coffers of the King of England soon became empty, and his allies refused to fight; he was compelled to consent to the armistice which Pope Benedict XII. advised, and he returned to his kingdom infuriated by the ill-success of a campaign which had begun under brilliant auspices. He unexpectedly appeared in London, cast three judges into prison, deposed the chancellor and the treasurer, who had not been able, he said, to supply him with the subsidies necessary to his requirements, and immediately engaged in a contention with the Archbishop of Canterbury, president of the council. The archbishop exonerated himself before the Parliament, which, according to its wise custom, refused the subsidies until the king had promised to reform some existing abuses, and to give new guarantees against others in the future.
Meanwhile King David Bruce had returned to Scotland; he was eighteen years of age, was handsome, well shaped, and skilled in all athletic exercises. The joy of his subjects, therefore, was great at his arrival. Baliol had been driven back into England, and, notwithstanding several attempts of the young Scottish king upon the northern counties, Edward concluded an armistice with him in 1342, at the same time entrusting him with the task of defending the English frontier, so much was he absorbed in the war with France, and in thoughts of revenge for his past checks.
A new opening had presented itself to him upon the French territory. John III., duke of Brittany, had died without issue in 1341, and his brother, John de Montfort, had immediately seized the treasury, as well as several important towns. But Joan of Penthièvre, otherwise Joan the Lame, wife of Charles, Count of Blois, claimed the duchy as the daughter of Guy de Montfort, a younger brother of the deceased duke. The Count of Blois was the nephew of Philip of Valois, and he had invoked the aid of his uncle. Montfort had been summoned to Paris to render an account of his claims. After having appeared before the king, he had fled secretly, and his first care was to repair to London, there to do homage to the King of England in respect to Brittany. Edward had promised to support him, but already a French army had marched into Brittany. John de Montfort had been captured at Nantes, and his wife, Joan of Flanders, had with difficulty contrived to escape with her son to the castle of Hennebon, where she was besieged by the Duke of Normandy. The countess "had indeed the heart of a man and a lion," says Froissart, and she valiantly encouraged her partisans, while waiting the succor which she had demanded from England. The wind was unfavorable; the English vessels did not arrive, and treachery began to do its work in the town, when Joan, leaning on her casement, perceived sails in the horizon. "Behold there! behold there!" she cried, "the succor which I have so long desired." The rising tide brought to her Gautier de Manny, a valiant knight of Hainault, who had become a faithful servant to the King of England, and one of the most illustrious amongst his warriors. He was accompanied by a goodly number of knights and men-at-arms, and soon caused the siege to be raised. But the war continued in Lower Brittany. With singular inconsistency, the King of France, who owed his elevation to the throne to the Salic law, was maintaining in Brittany the cause of female succession, while Edward was defending the rights of the male sex, which he had refused to recognize in the case of Philip of Valois. An armistice enabled the Countess de Montfort to cross over to England to obtain reinforcements. When she returned to Brittany, she was accompanied by Robert of Artois, brother-in-law of King Philip and his mortal enemy. The town of Vannes was captured and recaptured. Robert of Artois, wounded, succeeded, although not without great difficulty, in escaping to England, there to die at the very moment when Edward was setting sail with the resolution of directing the war in Brittany in person. He landed in the month of October, 1343, at Hennebon, with twelve thousand men, and immediately laid siege to Vannes, Rennes, and Nantes, with no other result than the devastation of the country, already overrun by so many enemies, and the retreat of Charles of Blois, whose forces had been greatly reduced.
The arrival of the Duke of Normandy, the eldest son of King Philip, soon enabled the French troops to act once more upon the aggressive by besieging Edward, encamped before Vannes. The two armies were suffering severely from the inclemency of the weather. The Duke of Normandy dreaded the reinforcements which were expected by the English. Edward foresaw that his provisions would shortly be exhausted, when the legates of the Pope arrived, and, by dint of their exertions, a truce of three years was arranged; the siege of Vannes was then raised.
Notwithstanding the truce, the war still raged in Brittany. King Philip of Valois aroused a widespread feeling of indignation by arresting, at a tournament, several Breton nobleman, Oliver de Clisson, among others, and by causing them to be beheaded without trial, as guilty of relations with the English. The head of Clisson was sent to Nantes; but the king had created an implacable foe in the person of Joan of Belville, the widow of Clisson, who immediately armed all her vassals and soon vied with Joan de Montfort herself in courage and intrepidity. The Countess had recently had the satisfaction of seeing her husband, who had escaped from prison, where he had been incarcerated for six years. He brought with him, from England, a small body of troops, which he landed at Hennebon in the middle of September, 1345; but his health was impaired, and he died on the 26th of the same month, naming King Edward guardian of his son.
Van Artevelde At His Door.
Hostilities recommenced openly. During the truce the two kings had made preparations for a desperate struggle. Among the means which King Philip had devised for the purpose of filling his coffers, was the monopoly of salt. "It is indeed by the Salic law that Philip of Valois reigns," said Edward. "The King of England is but a wool merchant," was the reply at the court of France. The parliament had granted fresh subsidies, recommending merely to the king that he should put an end to the war promptly either by battle or by treaty.
The Earl of Derby was already in Guienne, retaking, one by one, all the places which had been captured by the enemy, when King Edward landed in Flanders, on the 26th of June, 1345, in order to obtain an interview with the deputies of the great towns of Flanders. The citizens, under the command of Jacques van Arteveldt, had by degrees deprived their ruler of his power, and King Edward had conceived the hope of substituting his son, the Prince of Wales, for Count Louis of Flanders, who refused to renounce his alliance with the King of France. But when he unfolded his plans before the deputies of the cities, and although ardently supported by Arteveldt, the Flemings eyed each other, and asked that they might be allowed to consult their fellow-citizens. "Yes," said the King of England, "by all means;" and he waited at Sluys while Arteveldt proceeded to Bruges and to Yprès, there to plead the cause of his patron and ally. He placed too much reliance, however, upon his good city of Ghent; there the disaffection on his return was general. "They began to murmur and bouter trois têtes en un chaperon (says the Chronicle,) saying, 'Here is a man who is too much the master, and who would compel the county of Flanders to do his behest, which cannot be tolerated.'" "As Jacques van Arteveldt rode through the streets he soon perceived that there was some change in the feeling towards him, and returning quickly to his residence, he caused the doors thereof to be closed."
This precaution was not taken too soon; a furious crowd already surrounded the house, demanding the public treasure of Flanders, which had been sent, they said, to England by Arteveldt. "He therefore replied very meekly, 'Verily, gentlemen, as to the treasures of Flanders, I have not taken one single penny.' 'No, no,' they cried, 'we know the truth, that you have emptied the public coffers and sent the contents to England secretly, for which act you must suffer death.' When Arteveldt heard these words, he clasped his hands and burst into tears, saying at the same time, 'Gentlemen, such as I am so have you made me, and you formerly swore that you would defend and protect me. Do you not know how trade languished in this country? I restored it to you. And then I governed you so peacefully that you have had everything at will: wheat, wool, and every species of commodity with which you have been clothed and become fat.' But the people cried out, 'Come down, and do not preach to us from so great a height.' (Arteveldt was at a window.) Thereupon Arteveldt closed the shutter of the window, and determined to go out at the rear and take refuge in a church which adjoined his residence; but already the doors had been burst open, admitting more than four hundred persons, all eager to capture him. Finally, he was captured among them and slain on the spot without mercy. Thus ended the career of Arteveldt, who in his time was so great a ruler in Flanders. To the poorer classes he owed his princely elevation, and at the hands of the malignant populace he came to his end."
When the news of the death of Arteveldt reached King Edward at Sluys, he was irritated and despondent; all his schemes were frustrated through the loss of his faithful ally, and he therefore set sail for England, vowing to be avenged on the Flemings. The latter greatly feared his resentment; the wool which was so necessary in their manufactures was imported almost exclusively from England. They despatched an embassy to London for the purpose of exonerating themselves, and in order to hint at the possibility of a marriage between the daughter of King Edward and the young damoiseau, the heir of Flanders. "Thus would the county of Flanders always remain to one of your children." These representations, together with others, softened greatly the resentment of King Edward, who finally declared himself well pleased with the Flemings, as were the Flemings with him; and thus by degrees was the death of Jaques van Arteveldt forgotten on both sides.
Meanwhile the preparations for the passage to France were completed. The army was numerous and spirited; the project openly announced was to pass into Gascony, there to sustain the Earl of Derby, who was hemmed in by the Duke of Normandy; but Godefroy d'Harcourt, a French baron in exile in England, urged Edward to attack Normandy, a rich and undefended country. The king resolved to adopt the course proposed, and, on the 12th of July, 1346, he disembarked at La Hogue; immediately on landing his foot slipped, and he fell. "Come hither into our ship, cher sire," said the English knights, "for behold a little omen for you;" to which the king replied pointedly and without hesitation, "Why so? It is a very good sign, for the land evidently wishes for me." At which all the barons were greatly rejoiced.
The soil of Normandy was unwise to wish for King Edward, for he pillaged and burnt down everything before him. Barfleur, Carentan, and Saint-Lô had already succumbed when he appeared before Caen. The burghers had mustered all their forces, and the Count d'Eu, the Constable of France, with the Count de Tancarville, was there, supported by gallant knights. "But as soon as the burghers beheld the English, who were approaching in three lines, close and compact, and saw their banners and pennants flying and streaming in the wind, and heard the cries of archers whom they were not accustomed to see or hear, they were so alarmed and discomfitted that nothing in the world could have hindered their taking to flight; accordingly they dispersed towards their town in disorder, without consulting the Constable of France in the matter."
When the knights found that they were no longer supported by the burghers they surrendered to Sir Thomas Holland, and the King of England commanded that no harm should be done in the city of Caen, where "the English remained during three days, and therein captured such magnificent booty, marvellous to think of, which they immediately despatched to England, while the king was riding towards Paris;" taking Louviers, Vernon, and Verneuil, they arrived at Poissy. The quarter-masters of the English army even advanced as far as Saint-Germain, Montjoie, Saint-Cloud, Boulogne, and Bourg-la-Reine, "whereat the inhabitants of Paris were grievously disquieted."
King Philip had convoked all his followers, and a large army was beginning to assemble round him; the French endeavored to gain time, in order to muster in numbers and overwhelm their enemies by superior forces. The depredations committed around Paris had meanwhile spread uneasiness at the court, and the king proceeded to St. Denis, where his allies were assembled, "the King of Bohemia, John of Hainault, who had become French; the Duke of Lorraine, the Count of Flanders, the Count of Blois, and a great number of barons and knights. When the inhabitants of Paris saw that their sovereign was leaving them, they were more alarmed than before, and came and knelt down before him. 'Ah! sire and noble king, what would you do? Would you thus depart and leave the good city of Paris? Here your enemies are but two leagues distant and soon will be in this city, where we have not and shall not have any one to defend us against them!'—'Fear nothing, my good folk,' said the king, 'the English will not come to you, for I shall march against them and attack them, howsoever they may be.'"
King Edward had left Poissy on the 16th of August, 1346, taking the road to Picardy; he was expecting a reinforcement of the Flemings, who had promised to invade the French territory, and he was anxious to be nearer his auxiliaries. King Philip followed closely upon his steps. The army of the French monarch increased day by day, and he hoped to overtake his enemies, in order to give battle to them before they could cross the Somme. The English were vainly seeking a ford, and tidings had been received that Philip had arrived at Amiens. Edward had caused all the prisoners who had been taken in the county of Ponthieu to be brought to Oisemont, where he was encamped, and said to them, "very courteously, 'Is there a man among you who knows of a passage which should be below Abbeville, where we and our army may cross without danger? If there is any one who will inform us of this, we will release him from prison, as well as twenty of his comrades, in gratitude to him.' Whereupon a fellow named Gobin Agace, who had been born and bred near the passage of the Blanche-Tache, advanced and said to the king, 'Sire, yes, in the name of God, I know it and will conduct you to it' When the King of England heard these words, he was rejoiced, and orders were given to his soldiery to be in readiness by sunrise; for the salt tide flowed as high as the Blanche-Tache, and it was desirable to take advantage of the ebb for crossing over." On arriving before the ford, they there saw a noble knight named Godemar de Fay, who bravely defended the passage, "but he was defeated with all his men," and the English found themselves on the other side, whither King Philip was eager to follow them, when he heard the news; but the flood tide had already returned and it was necessary to wait until the morrow, while King Edward, who was still riding forward, had taken possession of Le Crotoy, and had arrived at the county of Ponthieu.
He was in the open country not far from Crécy, when he said to his men, "Let us halt here for awhile. I will go no further until I have seen our enemies, for I stand upon the rightful inheritance of that noble lady my mother, which was given to her on her marriage; so will I defend it against my adversary, Philip of Valois!" And the king and his followers encamped on the open plain, the king superintending all its labors; for his army was small in comparison with that of the King of France, who was constantly being joined by fresh barons and allies, who were unable to find quarters in the good town of Abbeville, but were encamped in the surrounding neighborhood.
It was on the morning of the 26th of August. King Edward had attended mass and taken the communion, as had also his son, the Prince of Wales; and he had drawn up his men in three battle corps, entrusting the first to the command of the young prince, supported by the Earls of Warwick and Oxford; Northampton and Arundel were placed at the head of the second, while the third he reserved for himself. "When the three divisions were arranged, and every earl, baron and knight knew what he had to do, the King of England, seated upon a small white palfrey, and staff in his hand, marched slowly from line to line, admonishing and exhorting the earls, the barons, and the knights to understand and reflect that for his honor they must guard and defend his right; and he said these things to them smiling so pleasantly and with so joyous a manner, that whoever had been previously quite dejected began to take comfort on hearing and beholding him. He then commanded that all the men should eat at their ease and drink a draught; after which they sat down upon the ground with their casques and crossbows in front of them, in order to be more fresh and better prepared on the arrival of their enemies, for it was the intention of the King of England to await his enemy, the King of France, upon that spot, and there to oppose him and his power."
Meanwhile King Philip had marched forward with all his forces, despatching before him four of his best knights to examine the position of the English. "Sire," said the most renowned among them, on his return, called the Monk of Basèle, "the English are drawn up and arranged in good order, and await you. Therefore it is well that your men should halt in the fields and rest for the remainder of this day, for they are fatigued. It is late, and tomorrow you will be able with more leisure to consider on which side you can attack your enemies, for you may rest assured that they will await your coming."
The king perceived the wisdom of the advice, and the quarter-masters of the army rode on, one in front and the other in the rear, exclaiming, "Halt, banners! in the name of the Lord and of his Highness St. Denis." The foremost among them obeyed at once and drew up; but not so those in the rear, who still urged their horses forward, saying they would not stop until they had gone as far as those in advance of them. Whereupon the front ranks recommenced their onward march, "and through their great pride and vanity, neither the king nor his quarter-masters could exact obedience from them, for there were such distinguished warriors and such a large number of great noblemen, that each desired on this occasion to show his power."
This marching soon brought them within sight of the English. When the French knights in the front ranks first saw them, they were smitten with shame at their disorderly appearance, and fell back a few steps; those who were behind thought that an engagement had taken place, and that they had been defeated, and pressed forward with all the citizens and inhabitants of Abbeville who had followed the army. When they saw the enemy, they cried, "Death to them! Death to them!" drawing and brandishing at the same time their swords. The confusion increased every minute.
King Philip had seen the enemy, as well as his soldiers, "and his blood was stirred, for he hated them." He forgot all; the prudent advice of the Monk of Basèle, the fatigue of his troops and their disorder; and he exclaimed, "Send our Genoese troops in front, and let us begin the battle in the name of God and of His Highness St. Denis."
The Genoese soldiers were weary after their long march; they murmured; at the same instant a violent tempest arose; the rain fell in torrents. They were in the presence of the English troops, who had risen in "very good order, and without any alarm," and had taken up the positions assigned to them. When the sky became clear again the sun shone in the faces of the French soldiers; the Genoese shouted as they marched to the combat, "so very loud that it was marvellous, in order to terrify the English; but they kept quite quiet and made no show." The crossbow-men began to shoot; but in the midst of their compact numbers the redoubtable English arrows were pouring down like hail, and the Genoese, "who had not learnt to encounter such archers as those from England, when they felt these bolts and arrows which pierced their arms, heads, and lips, were immediately discomfited, and fell back upon the bulk of the army."
The knights were ready, lance in hand, awaiting their turn. King Philip became incensed on beholding the rout of the Genoese, who impeded his progress. "Now then," he cried, "kill all this rabble who bar the way to no purpose." And the unhappy Genoese fell by the swords of their allies as they had previously fallen by the arrows of their enemies. The French horsemen waded through their blood to approach the English.
The mêlée commenced, terrible and confused; the old King of Bohemia, blind and surrounded by his followers, inquired how matters were progressing. This was at the moment when the Genoese were being slaughtered. "They fall back upon each other, and prevent our advancing," said his knights. "Ah!" replied the king, "this is the signal for us; therefore, I beg you, my men, friends and comrades, to lead me so far forward that I may wield a sword against the enemy." And they, fearing to lose the king in the confusion, bound their horses together by the bridles, and "placed the king their lord in front, and thus fell upon the enemy; on whom the king inflicted blows one after the other, and all remained there and not one stirred," for all the knights were on the morrow found dead around their master.
Meanwhile the king of England did not fight; he had not even donned his helmet, while watching the battle from a little eminence. The French cavalry were closely pressing the Prince of Wales; the Earl of Northampton demanded reinforcements from the king. "Is my son dead or overthrown, or so wounded that he cannot help himself?" asked Edward of the messenger. "No, my lord, but he is in the thick of the fray and is in great need of your assistance." "Return to those who sent you," retorted the king, "and tell them not to send a request again while my son is still alive, but to let the youth win his spurs; for I intend, if it please God, that this day may be his." And thus was it done.
The French were exhausting themselves in vain; their numbers and their valor had not been able to triumph over the disorder and the unskilful arrangement of the troops. Their best warriors lay stretched upon the field of battle, and nightfall approached. John of Hainault seized the bridle of the horse upon which the King of France was seated, and dragged him away from the struggle. They rode along in silence; five horsemen only followed the king. They arrived at the gate of a castle, but the drawbridge was raised. "Open," said Philip, "it is the unfortunate King of France who entreats you." After resting for a while he resumed his journey towards Amiens, while the English, who had not pursued the enemy, were gathering together by torchlight around the tent of King Edward. The latter had just left the hill and advanced towards the prince, whom he embraced. "My gallant son," he said, "God has endowed you with great perseverance; you are my son, and have loyally justified your title; you are worthy to hold land." The dead being interred, King Edward marched towards Calais, to which he laid siege on the 31st of August. The town was strong, and the garrison was known to be resolute. The English proceeded to build a town of wood around the ramparts. King Philip had recalled from Guienne the Duke of Normandy, thus relieving the Earl of Derby, who was closely besieged in Bordeaux, and Sir Walter de Manny, who was defending Aiguillon. These two knights had nothing more at present to do than to rejoin King Edward before Calais. They did not know how long a time was destined to elapse before the surrender of that town.