After the great sea-fight at the end of August, 1350, England had peace
for some years. Phillip of France had died a week before that battle,
and had been succeeded by his son John, Duke of Normandy. Upon the part
of both countries there was an indisposition to renew the war, for their
power had been vastly crippled by the devastations of the plague. This
was followed by great distress and scarcity owing to the want of labour
to till the fields. The truce was therefore continued from time to time;
the pope strove to convert the truce into a permanent peace, and on the
28th of August, 1354, a number of the prelates and barons of England,
with full power to arrange terms of peace, went to Avignon, where they
were met by the French representatives. The powers committed to the
English commissioners show that Edward was at this time really desirous
of making a permanent peace with France; but the French ambassadors
raised numerous and unexpected difficulties, and after lengthened
negotiations the conference was broken off.
The truce came to an end in June, 1355, and great preparations were made
on both sides for the war. The King of England strained every effort to
furnish and equip an army which was to proceed with the Black Prince to
Aquitaine, of which province his father had appointed him governor, and
in November the Prince sailed for Bordeaux, with the advance-guard of
his force. Sir Walter Somers accompanied him. During the years which had
passed since the plague he had resided principally upon his estates,
and had the satisfaction of seeing that his tenants escaped the distress
which was general through the country. He had been in the habit
of repairing to London to take part in the tournaments and other
festivities; but both he and Edith preferred the quiet country life to
a continued residence at court. Two sons had now been born to him, and
fond as he was of the excitement and adventure of war, it was with deep
regret that he obeyed the royal summons, and left his house with his
retainers, consisting of twenty men-at-arms and thirty archers, to join
the prince.
Upon the Black Prince's landing at Bordeaux he was joined by the Gascon
lords, the vassals of the English crown, and for three months marched
through and ravaged the districts adjoining, the French army, although
greatly superior in force, offering no effectual resistance. Many towns
were taken, and he returned at Christmas to Bordeaux after a campaign
attended by a series of unbroken successes.
The following spring the war recommenced, and a diversion was effected
by the Duke of Lancaster, who was in command of Brittany, joining his
forces with those of the King of Navarre, and many of the nobles of
Normandy, while King Edward crossed to Calais and kept a portion of the
French army occupied there. The Black Prince, leaving the principal
part of his forces under the command of the Earl of Albret to guard the
territory already acquired against the attack of the French army under
the Count of Armagnac, marched with 2000 picked men-at-arms and 6000
archers into Auvergne, and thence turning into Berry, marched to the
gates of Bourges.
The King of France was now thoroughly alarmed, and issued a general
call to all his vassals to assemble on the Loire. The Prince of Wales,
finding immense bodies of men closing in around him, fell back slowly,
capturing and levelling to the ground the strong castle of Romorentin.
The King of France was now hastening forward, accompanied by his four
sons, 140 nobles with banners, 20,000 men-at-arms, and an immense force
of infantry. Vast accessions of forces joined him each day, and on the
17th of September he occupied a position between the Black Prince and
Guienne. The first intimation that either the Black Prince or the King
of France had of their close proximity to each other was an accidental
meeting between a small foraging force of the English and three hundred
French horse, under the command of the Counts of Auxerre and Joigny, the
marshal of Burgundy, and the lord of Chatillon. The French hotly pursued
the little English party, and on emerging from some low bushes found
themselves in the midst of the English camp, where all were taken
prisoners. From them the Black Prince learned that the King of France
was within a day's march.
The Prince despatched the Captal de Buch with 200 men-at-arms to
reconnoitre the force and position of the enemy, and these coming upon
the rear of the French army just as they were about to enter Poitiers,
dashed among them and took some prisoners. The King of France thus first
learned that the enemy he was searching for was actually six miles in
his rear. The Captal de Buch and his companions returned to the Black
Prince, and confirmed the information obtained from the prisoners, that
the King of France, with an army at least eight times as strong as his
own, lay between him and Poitiers.
The position appeared well-nigh desperate, but the prince and his most
experienced knights at once reconnoitered the country to choose the best
ground upon which to do battle. An excellent position was chosen. It
consisted of rising ground commanding the country towards Poitiers, and
naturally defended by the hedges of a vineyard. It was only accessible
from Poitiers by a sunken road flanked by banks and fences, and but wide
enough to admit of four horsemen riding abreast along it. The ground on
either side of this hollow way was rough and broken so as to impede the
movements even of infantry, and to render the maneuvers of a large
body of cavalry nearly impracticable. On the left of the position was a
little hamlet called Maupertuis. Here on the night of Saturday the
17th of September the prince encamped, and early next morning made his
dispositions for the battle. His whole force was dismounted and occupied
the high ground, a strong body of archers lined the hedges on either
side of the sunken road; the main body of archers were drawn up in their
usual formation on the hillside, their front covered by the hedge of the
vineyard, while behind them the men-at-arms were drawn up.
The King of France divided his army into three divisions, each
consisting of 16,000 mounted men-at-arms besides infantry, commanded
respectively by the Duke of Orleans, the king's brother, the dauphin,
and the king himself. With the two royal princes were the most
experienced of the French commanders. In the meantime De Ribaumont, with
three other French knights, reconnoitered the English position, and on
their return with their report strongly advised that as large bodies of
cavalry would be quite useless owing to the nature of the ground, the
whole force should dismount except 300 picked men designed to break the
line of English archers and a small body of German horse to act as a
reserve.
Just as the King of France was about to give orders for the advance, the
Cardinal of Perigord arrived in his camp, anxious to stop, if possible,
the effusion of blood. He hurried to the King of France.
“You have here, sire,” he said, “the flower of all the chivalry of your
realm assembled against a mere handful of English, and it will be
far more honourable and profitable for you to have them in your power
without battle than to risk such a noble array in uncertain strife. I
pray you, then, in the name of God, to let me ride on to the Prince of
Wales, to show him his peril, and to exhort him to peace.”
“Willingly, my lord,” the king replied; “but above all things be quick.”
The cardinal at once hastened to the English camp; he found the Black
Prince in the midst of his knights ready for battle, but by no means
unwilling to listen to proposals for peace. His position was indeed
most perilous. In his face was an enormously superior army, and he was
moreover threatened by famine; even during the two preceding days his
army had suffered from a great scarcity of forage, and its provisions
were almost wholly exhausted. The French force was sufficiently numerous
to blockade him in his camp, and he knew that did they adopt that course
he must surrender unconditionally, since were he forced to sally out and
attack the French no valour could compensate for the immense disparity
of numbers. He therefore replied at once to the cardinal's application,
that he was ready to listen to any terms by which his honour and that of
his companions would be preserved.
The cardinal returned to the King of France and with much entreaty
succeeded in obtaining a truce until sunrise on the following morning.
The soldiers returned to their tents, and the cardinal rode backward and
forward between the armies, beseeching the King of France to moderate
his demands, and the Black Prince to submit to the evil fortune which
had befallen him; but on the one side the king looked upon the victory
as certain, and on the other the Black Prince thought that there was at
least a hope of success should the French attack him. All, therefore,
that the cardinal could obtain from him was an offer to resign all he
had captured in his expedition, towns, castles, and prisoners, and
to take an oath not to bear arms against France for seven years. This
proposal fell so far short of the demands of the French king that
pacification soon appeared hopeless.
Early on the Monday morning the cardinal once more sought the presence
of the French king, but found John inflexible; while some of the leaders
who had viewed with the strongest disapproval his efforts to snatch what
they regarded as certain victory from their hands, gave him a peremptory
warning not to show himself again in their lines. The prelate then bore
the news of his failure to the Prince of Wales. “Fair son,” he said, “do
the best you can, for you must needs fight, as I can find no means of
peace or amnesty with the King of France.”
“Be it so, good father,” the prince replied, “it is our full resolve to
fight, and God will aid the right.”
The delay which had occurred had not been without advantages for the
British army, although the shortness of provisions was greatly felt.
Every effort had been made to strengthen the position. Deep trenches
had been dug and palisades erected around it, and the carts and baggage
train had all been moved round so as to form a protection on the weakest
side of the camp, where also a rampart had been constructed.
Upon a careful examination of the ground it was found that the hill on
the right side of the camp was less difficult than had been supposed,
and that the dismounted men-at-arms who lay at its foot under the
command of the Dauphin would find little difficulty in climbing it to
the assault. The prince therefore gave orders that 300 men-at-arms and
300 mounted archers should make a circuit from the rear round the
base of the hill, in order to pour in upon the flank of the Dauphin's
division as soon as they became disordered in the ascent. The nature
of the ground concealed this maneuver from the enemies' view, and the
Captal De Buch, who was in command of the party, gained unperceived the
cover of a wooded ravine within a few hundred yards of the left flank
of the enemy. By the time that all these dispositions were complete the
huge French array was moving forward. The Black Prince, surrounded by
his knights, viewed them approaching.
“Fair lords,” he said, “though we be so few against that mighty power
of enemies, let us not be dismayed, for strength and victory lie not in
multitudes, but in those to whom God give them. If He will the day be
ours, then the highest glory of this world will be given to us. If we
die, I have the noble lord, my father, and two fair brothers, and you
have each of you many a good friend who will avenge us well; thus, then,
I pray you fight well this day, and if it please God and St. George I
will also do the part of a good knight.”
The prince then chose Sir John Chandos and Sir James Audley to remain by
his side during the conflict in order to afford him counsel in case of
need. Audley, however, pleaded a vow which he had made long before, to
be the first in battle should he ever be engaged under the command of
the King of England or any of his children. The prince at once
acceded to his request to be allowed to fight in the van, and Audley,
accompanied by four chosen squires, took his place in front of the
English line of battle. Not far from him, also in advance of the line,
was Sir Eustace D'Arnbrecicourt on horseback, also eager to distinguish
himself.
As Sir James rode off the prince turned to Walter. “As Audley must needs
fight as a knight-errant, Sir Walter Somers, do you take your place by
my side, for there is no more valiant knight in my army than you have
often proved yourself to be.”
Three hundred chosen French men-at-arms mounted on the strongest
horses covered with steel armour, led the way under the command of the
Marechals D'Audeham and De Clermont; while behind them were a large body
of German cavalry under the Counts of Nassau, Saarbruck, and Nidau, to
support them in their attack on the English archers. On the right was
the Duke of Orleans with 16,000 men-at-arms; on the left the Dauphin and
his two brothers with an equal force; while King John himself led on the
rear-guard.
When the three hundred elite of the French army reached the narrow way
between the hedges, knowing that these were lined with archers they
charged through at a gallop to fall upon the main body of bowmen
covering the front of the English men-at-arms. The moment they were
fairly in the hollow road the British archers rose on either side to
their feet and poured such a flight of arrows among them that in an
instant all was confusion and disarray. Through every joint and crevice
of the armour of knights and horses the arrows found their way, and the
lane was almost choked with the bodies of men and horses. A considerable
number, nevertheless, made their way through and approached the first
line of archers beyond. Here they were met by Sir James Audley, who,
with his four squires, plunged into their ranks and overthrew the
Marechal D'Audeham, and then fought his way onward. Regardless of the
rest of the battle he pressed ever forward, until at the end of the day,
wounded in a hundred places and fainting from loss of blood, he fell
from his horse almost at the gates of Poitiers, and was borne from the
field by the four faithful squires who had fought beside him throughout
the day.
Less fortunate was Sir Eustace D'Ambrecicourt, who spurred headlong upon
the German cavalry. A German knight rode out to meet him, and in the
shock both were dishorsed, but before Sir Eustace could recover his seat
he was borne down to the ground by four others of the enemy, and was
bound and carried captive to the rear.
In the meantime the English archers kept up their incessant hail of
arrows upon the band under the French marshals. The English men-at-arms
passed through the gaps purposely left in the line of archers and drove
back the front rank of the enemy upon those following, chasing them
headlong down the hollow road again. The few survivors of the French
force, galloping back, carried confusion into the advancing division of
the Dauphin.
Before order was restored the Captal De Buch with his six hundred men
issued forth from his place of concealment and charged impetuously down
on the left flank of the Dauphin. The French, shaken in front by the
retreat of their advance guard, were thrown into extreme confusion by
this sudden and unexpected charge. The horse archers with the captal
poured their arrows into the mass, while the shafts of the main body of
the archers on the hill hailed upon them without ceasing.
The rumour spread among those in the French rear, who were unable to see
what was going forward, that the day was already lost, and many began
to fly. Sir John Chandos marked the confusion which had set in, and he
exclaimed to the prince:
“Now, sir, ride forward, and the day is yours. Let us charge right over
upon your adversary, the King of France, for there lies the labour and
the feat of the day. Well do I know that his great courage will never
let him fly, but, God willing, he shall be well encountered.”
“Forward, then, John Chandos,” replied the prince. “You shall not see me
tread one step back, but ever in advance. Bear on my banner. God and St.
George be with us!”
The horses of the English force were all held in readiness by their
attendants close in their rear. Every man sprang into his saddle, and
with levelled lances the army bore down the hill against the enemy,
while the Captal De Buch forced his way through the struggling ranks of
the French to join them.
To these two parties were opposed the whole of the German cavalry, the
division of the Dauphin, now thinned by flight, and a strong force
under the Constable de Brienne, Duke of Athens. The first charge of the
English was directed against the Germans, the remains of the marshal's
forces, and that commanded by the Constable. The two bodies of cavalry
met with a tremendous shock, raising their respective war-cries, “Denis
Mount Joye!” and “St. George Guyenne!” Lances were shivered, and horses
and men rolled over, but the German horse was borne down in every
direction by the charge of the English chivalry. The Counts of Nassau
and Saarbruck were taken, and the rest driven down the hill in utter
confusion. The division of the Duke of Orleans, a little further down
the hill to the right, were seized with a sudden panic, and 16,000
men-at-arms, together with their commander, fled without striking a
blow.
Having routed the French and German cavalry in advance, the English now
fell upon the Dauphin's division. This had been already confused by the
attacks of the Captal De Buch, and when its leaders beheld the complete
rout of the marshals and the Germans, and saw the victorious force
galloping down upon them, the responsibility attached to the charge of
the three young princes overcame their firmness. The Lords of Landas,
Vaudenay, and St. Venant, thinking the battle lost, hurried the princes
from the field, surrounded by eight hundred lances, determined to place
them at a secure distance, and then to return and fight beside the king.
The retreat of the princes at once disorganized the force, but though
many fled a number of the nobles remained scattered over the field
fighting in separate bodies with their own retainers gathered under
their banners. Gradually these fell back and took post on the left of
the French king's division. The Constable and the Duke of Bourbon with
a large body of knights and men-at-arms also opposed a firm front to
the advance of the English. The king saw with indignation one of his
divisions defeated and the other in coward flight, but his forces were
still vastly superior to those of the English, and ordering his men to
dismount, he prepared to receive their onset. The English now gathered
their forces which had been scattered in combat, and again advanced to
the fight. The archers as usual heralded this advance with showers of
arrows, which shook the ranks of the French and opened the way for the
cavalry. These dashed in, and the ranks of the two armies became mixed,
and each man fought hand to hand. The French king fought on foot with
immense valour and bravery, as did his nobles. The Dukes of Bourbon and
Athens, the Lords of Landas, Argenton, Chambery, Joinville, and many
others stood and died near the king.
Gradually the English drove back their foes. The French forces became
cut up into groups or confined into narrow spaces. Knight after knight
fell around the king. De Ribaumont fell near him. Jeffrey de Charny,
who, as one of the most valiant knights in the army, had been chosen
to bear the French standard, the oriflamme, never left his sovereign's
side, and as long as the sacred banner floated over his head John would
not believe the day was lost. At length, however, Jeffrey de Charny was
killed, and the oriflamme fell. John, surrounded on every side by foes
who pressed forward to make him prisoner, still kept clear the space
immediately around himself and his little son with his battle-axe; but
at last he saw that further resistance would only entail the death of
both, and he then surrendered to Denis de Montbec, a knight of Artois.
The battle was now virtually over. The French banners and pennons had
disappeared, and nothing was seen save the dead and dying, groups of
prisoners, and parties of fugitives flying over the country. Chandos now
advised the prince to halt. His banner was pitched on the summit of a
little mound. The trumpets blew to recall the army from the pursuit, and
the prince, taking off his helmet, drank with the little body of knights
who accompanied him some wine brought from his former encampment.
The two marshals of the English army, the Earls of Warwick and Suffolk,
were among the first to return at the call of the trumpet. Hearing that
King John had certainly not left the field of battle, though they knew
not whether he was dead or taken, the prince at once despatched the Earl
of Warwick and Lord Cobham to find and protect him if still alive. They
soon came upon a mass of men-at-arms, seemingly engaged in an angry
quarrel. On riding up they found that the object of strife was the King
of France, who had been snatched from the hands of Montbec, and was
being claimed by a score of men as his prisoner. The Earl of Warwick and
Lord Cobham instantly made their way through the mass, and dismounting,
saluted the captive monarch with the deepest reverence, and keeping back
the multitude led him to the Prince of Wales. The latter bent his knee
before the king, and calling for wine, presented the cup with his own
hands to the unfortunate monarch.
The battle was over by noon, but it was evening before all the pursuing
parties returned, and the result of the victory was then fully known.
With less than 8000 men the English had conquered far more than 60,000.
On the English side 2000 men-at-arms and 1500 archers had fallen.
Upon the French side 11,000 men-at-arms, besides an immense number of
footmen, had been killed. A king, a prince, an archbishop, 13 counts,
66 barons, and more than 2000 knights were prisoners in the hands of
the English, with a number of other soldiers, who raised the number
of captives to double that of their conquerors. All the baggage of the
French army was taken, and as the barons of France had marched to the
field feeling certain of victory, and the rich armour of the prisoners
became immediately the property of the captors, immense stores of
valuable ornaments of all kinds, especially jewelled baldrics, enriched
the meanest soldier among the conquerors.
The helmet which the French king had worn, which bore a small coronet of
gold beneath the crest, was delivered to the Prince of Wales, who sent
it off at once to his father as the best trophy of the battle he could
offer him.
Its receipt was the first intimation which Edward III received of the
great victory.
As the prince had no means of providing for the immense number of
prisoners, the greater portion were set at liberty upon their taking an
oath to present themselves at Bordeaux by the ensuing Christmas in order
either to pay the ransom appointed, or to again yield themselves as
prisoners.
Immediately the battle was over, Edward sent for the gallant Sir James
Audley, who was brought to him on his litter by his esquires, and the
prince, after warmly congratulating him on the honour that he had that
day won as the bravest knight in the army, assigned him an annuity of
five hundred marks a year.
No sooner was Audley taken to his own tent than he called round him
several of his nearest relations and friends, and then and there made
over to his four gallant attendants, without power of recall, the
gift which the prince had bestowed upon him. The prince was not to be
outdone, however, in liberality, and on hearing that Audley had assigned
his present to the brave men who had so gallantly supported him in the
fight, he presented Sir James with another annuity of six hundred marks
a year.