ON the evening after the battle of Poitiers a splendid entertainment was
served in the tent of the Prince of Wales to the King of France and
all the principal prisoners. John, with his son and six of his highest
nobles were seated at a table raised above the rest, and the prince
himself waited as page upon the French king. John in vain endeavoured
to persuade the prince to be seated; the latter refused, saying, that
it was his pleasure as well as his duty to wait upon one who had shown
himself to be the best and bravest knight in the French army. The
example of the Black Prince was contagious, and the English vied with
each other in generous treatment of their prisoners. All were treated
as friends, and that night an immense number of knights and squires were
admitted to ransom on such terms as had never before been known. The
captors simply required their prisoners to declare in good faith what
they could afford to pay without pressing themselves too hard, “for they
did not wish,” they said, “to ransom knights or squires on terms which
would prevent them from maintaining their station in society, from
serving their lords, or from riding forth in arms to advance their name
and honour.”
Upon the following morning solemn thanksgivings were offered up on
the field of battle for the glorious victory. Then the English army,
striking its tents, marched back towards Bordeaux. They were unmolested
upon this march, for although the divisions of the Dauphin and the Duke
of Orleans had now reunited, and were immensely superior in numbers to
the English, encumbered as the latter were, moreover, with prisoners and
booty, the tremendous defeat which they had suffered, and still more the
capture of the king, paralysed the French commanders, and the English
reached Bordeaux without striking another blow.
Not long after they reached that city the Cardinal of Perigord and
another legate presented themselves to arrange peace, and these
negotiations went on throughout the winter. The prince had received full
powers from his father, and his demands were very moderate; but in
spite of this no final peace could be arranged, and the result of the
conference was the proclamation of a truce, to last for two years from
the following Easter. During the winter immense numbers of the prisoners
who had gone at large upon parole, came in and paid their ransoms, as
did the higher nobles who had been taken prisoners, and the whole army
was greatly enriched. At the end of April the prince returned to England
with King John. The procession through the streets of London was a
magnificent one, the citizens vying with each other in decorating their
houses in honour of the victor of Poitiers, who, simply dressed, rode
on a small black horse by the side of his prisoner, who was splendidly
attired, and mounted on a superb white charger. The king received his
royal prisoner in state in the great hall of his palace at Westminster,
and did all in his power to alleviate the sorrows of his condition. The
splendid palace of the Savoy, with gardens extending to the Thames, was
appointed for his residence, and every means was taken to soften his
captivity.
During the absence of the Black Prince in Guienne the king had been
warring in Scotland. Here his success had been small, as the Scotch had
retreated before him, wasting the country. David Bruce, the rightful
king, was a prisoner in England, and Baliol, a descendant of the rival
of Robert Bruce, had been placed upon the throne. As Edward passed
through Roxburgh he received from Baliol a formal cession of his rights
and titles to the throne of Scotland, and in return for this purely
nominal gift he bestowed an annual income upon Baliol, who lived
and died a pensioner of England. After Edward's return to England
negotiations were carried on with the Scots, and a treaty was signed by
which a truce for ten years was established between the two countries,
and the liberation of Bruce was granted on a ransom of 100,000 marks.
The disorganization into which France had been thrown by the capture of
its king increased rather than diminished. Among all classes men strove
in the absence of a repressive power to gain advantages and privileges.
Serious riots occurred in many parts, and the demagogues of Paris,
headed by Stephen Marcel, and Robert le Coq, bishop of Leon, set at
defiance the Dauphin and the ministers and lieutenant of the king.
Massacre and violence stained the streets of Paris with blood. General
law, public order, and private security were all lost. Great bodies of
brigands devastated the country, and the whole of France was thrown into
confusion. So terrible was the disorder that the inhabitants of every
village were obliged to fortify the ends of their streets, and keep
watch and ward as in the cities. The proprietors of land on the banks of
rivers spent the night in boats moored in the middle of the stream, and
in every house and castle throughout the land men remained armed as if
against instant attack.
Then arose the terrible insurrection known as the Jacquerie. For
centuries the peasantry of France had suffered under a bondage to which
there had never been any approach in England. Their lives and liberties
were wholly at the mercy of their feudal lords. Hitherto no attempt at
resistance had been possible; but the tremendous defeat of the French at
Poitiers by a handful of English aroused the hope among the serfs that
the moment for vengeance had come. The movement began among a handful of
peasants in the neighbourhood of St. Leu and Claremont. These declared
that they would put to death all the gentlemen in the land. The cry
spread through the country. The serfs, armed with pikes, poured out from
every village, and a number of the lower classes from the towns joined
them. Their first success was an attack upon a small castle. They burned
down the gates and slew the knight to whom it belonged, with his wife
and children of all ages. Their numbers rapidly increased.
Castle after castle was taken and stormed, palaces and houses levelled
to the ground; fire, plunder, and massacre swept through the fairest
provinces of France.
The peasants vied with each other in inventing deaths of fiendish
cruelty and outrage upon every man, woman, and child of the better
classes who fell into their hands. Owing to the number of nobles who had
fallen at Cressy and Poitiers, and of those still captives in England,
very many of their wives and daughters remained unprotected, and these
were the especial victims of the fiendish malignity of the peasantry.
Separated in many bands, the insurgents marched through the Beauvoisis,
Soissonois, and Vermandois; and as they approached a number of
unprotected ladies of the highest families in France fled to Meaux,
where they remained under the guard of the young Duke of Orleans and a
handful of men-at-arms.
After the conclusion of the peace at Bordeaux, Sir Walter Somers had
been despatched on a mission to some of the German princes, with whom
the king was in close relations. The business was not of an onerous
nature, but Walter had been detained for some time over it. He spent a
pleasant time in Germany, where, as an emissary of the king and one of
the victors of Poitiers, the young English knight was made much of.
When he set out on his return he joined the Captal De Buch, who, ever
thirsting for adventure, had on the conclusion of the truce gone to
serve in a campaign in Germany; with him was the French Count de Foix,
who had been also serving throughout the campaign.
On entering France from the Rhine the three knights were shocked at
the misery and ruin which met their eyes on all sides. Every castle
and house throughout the country, of a class superior to those of the
peasants, was destroyed, and tales of the most horrible outrages and
murders met their ears.
“I regret,” the Count de Foix said earnestly, “that I have been away
warring in Germany, for it is clear that every true knight is wanted at
home to crush down these human wolves.”
“Methinks,” the Captal rejoined, “that France will do well to invite
the chivalry of all other countries to assemble and aid to put down this
horrible insurrection.”
“Aye,” the Count said bitterly; “but who is to speak in the name of
France? The Dauphin is powerless, and the virtual government is in the
hands of Marcel and other ambitious traitors who hail the doings of the
Jacquerie with delight, for these mad peasants are doing their work of
destroying the knights and nobles.”
The villages through which they passed were deserted save by women, and
in the small towns the people of the lower class scowled threateningly
at the three knights; but they with their following of forty
men-at-arms, of whom five were followers of Walter, fifteen of the
Captal, and twenty of the Count de Foix, ventured not to proceed beyond
evil glances.
“I would,” de Foix said, “that these dogs would but lift a hand against
us. By St. Stephen, we would teach them a rough lesson!”
His companions were of the same mind, for all were excited to fury by
the terrible tales which they heard. All these stories were new to them,
for although rumours had reached Germany of the outbreak of a peasant
insurrection in France the movement had but just begun when they
started. As far as the frontier they had traveled leisurely, but they
had hastened their pace more and more as they learned how sore was the
strait of the nobles and gentry of the country and how grievously every
good sword was needed. When they reached Chalons they heard much fuller
particulars than had before reached them, and learned that the Duchess
of Normandy, the Duchess of Orleans, and near three hundred ladies,
had sought refuge in Meaux, and that they were there guarded but by a
handful of men-at-arms under the Duke of Orleans, while great bands of
serfs were pouring in from all parts of the country round, to massacre
them.
Meaux is eighty miles from Chalons, but the three knights determined
to press onward with all speed in hopes of averting the catastrophe.
Allowing their horses an hour or two to rest, they rode forward, and
pressing on without halt or delay, save such as was absolutely needed by
the horses, they arrived at Meaux late the following night, and found to
their delight that the insurgents, although swarming in immense numbers
round the town, had not yet attacked it.
The arrival of the three knights and their followers was greeted with
joy by the ladies. They, with their guard, had taken up their position
in the market-house and market-place, which were separated from the
rest of the town by the river Maine, which flows through the city.
A consultation was at once held, and it being found that the Duke of
Orleans had but twenty men-at-arms with him it was determined that it
was impossible to defend the city walls, but that upon the following
morning they would endeavour to cut their way with the ladies through
the peasant hosts. In the night, however, an uproar was heard in the
city. The burghers had risen and had opened the gates to the peasants,
who now poured in in thousands. Every hour increased their numbers.
The market-place was besieged in the morning, and an hour or two
afterwards a large body of the ruffians of Paris, under the command of a
brutal grocer named Pierre Gille, arrived to swell their ranks.
The attack on the market-house continued, and the Duke of Orleans held
a consultation with the three knights. It was agreed that against such
a host of enemies the market-place could not long be defended, and that
their best hope lay in sallying out and falling upon the assailants.
Accordingly the men-at-arms were drawn up in order, with the banners of
the Duke of Orleans and the Count de Foix, and the pennons of the
Captal and Sir Walter Somers displayed, the gates were opened, and with
levelled lances the little party rode out. Hitherto nothing had been
heard save yells of anticipated triumph and fierce imprecations and
threats against the defenders from the immense multitude without; but
the appearance of the orderly ranks of the knights and men-at-arms as
they issued through the gate struck a silence of fear through the mass.
Without an instant's delay the knights and men-at-arms, with levelled
lances, charged into the multitude. A few attempted to fight, but more
strove to fly, as the nobles and their followers, throwing away their
lances, fell upon them with sword and battle-axe. Jammed up in the
narrow streets of a small walled town, overthrowing and impeding each
other in their efforts to escape, trampled down by the heavy horses
of the men-at-arms, and hewn down by their swords and battle-axes,
the insurgents fell in vast numbers. Multitudes succeeded in escaping
through the gates into the fields; but here they were followed by the
knights and their retainers, who continued charging among them and
slaying till utter weariness compelled them to cease from the pursuit
and return to Meaux. Not less than seven thousand of the insurgents
had been slain by the four knights and fifty men, for ten had been left
behind to guard the gates of the market-place.
History has no record of so vast a slaughter by so small a body of men.
This terrific punishment put a summary end to the Jacquerie. Already
in other parts several bodies had been defeated, and their principal
leader, Caillet, with three thousand of his followers, slain near
Clermont. But the defeat at Meaux was the crushing blow which put an end
to the insurrection.
On their return to the town the knights executed a number of the
burghers who had joined the peasants, and the greater part of the town
was burned to the ground as a punishment for having opened the gates to
the peasants and united with them.
The knights and ladies then started for Paris. On nearing the city they
found that it was threatened by the forces of the Dauphin. Marcel had
strongly fortified the town, and with his ally, the infamous King of
Navarre, bade defiance to the royal power. However, the excesses of the
demagogue had aroused against him the feeling of all the better class
of the inhabitants. The King of Navarre, who was ready at all times to
break his oath and betray his companions, marched his army out of
the town and took up a position outside the walls. He then secretly
negotiated peace with the Duke of Normandy, by which he agreed to yield
to their fate Marcel and twelve of the most obnoxious burghers, while
at the same time he persuaded Marcel that he was still attached to
his interest. Marcel, however, was able to bid higher than the Duke of
Normandy, and he entered into a new treaty with the treacherous king, by
which he stipulated to deliver the city into his hands during the night.
Everyone within the walls, except the partisans of Marcel, upon whose
doors a mark was to be placed, were to be put to death indiscriminately,
and the King of Navarre was to be proclaimed King of France.
Fortunately Pepin des Essarts and John de Charny, two loyal knights who
were in Paris, obtained information of the plan a few minutes before
the time appointed for its execution. Arming themselves instantly,
and collecting a few followers, they rushed to the houses of the chief
conspirators, but found them empty, Marcel and his companions having
already gone to the gates. Passing by the hotel-de-ville, the knights
entered, snatched down the royal banner which was kept there, and
unfurling it mounted their horses and rode through the streets, calling
all men to arms. They reached the Port St. Antoine just at the moment
when Marcel was in the act of opening it in order to give admission to
the Navarrese. When he heard the shouts he tried with his friends to
make his way into the bastille, but his retreat was intercepted, and a
severe and bloody struggle took place between the two parties. Stephen
Marcel, however, was himself slain by Sir John de Charny, and almost all
his principal companions fell with him. The inhabitants then threw open
their gates and the Duke of Normandy entered.
Walter Somers had, with his companions, joined the army of the duke,
and placed his sword at his disposal; but when the French prince entered
Paris without the necessity of fighting, he took leave of him, and with
the Captal returned to England. Rare, indeed, were the jewels which
Walter brought home to his wife, for the three hundred noble ladies
rescued at Meaux from dishonour and death had insisted upon bestowing
tokens of their regard and gratitude upon the rescuers, and as many of
them belonged to the richest as well as the noblest families in France
the presents which Walter thus received from the grateful ladies were of
immense value.
He was welcomed by the king and Prince of Wales with great honour, for
the battle at Meaux had excited the admiration and astonishment of all
Europe. The Jacquerie was considered as a common danger in all civilized
countries; for if successful it might have spread far beyond the
boundaries of France, and constituted a danger to chivalry, and indeed
to society universally.
Thus King Edward gave the highest marks of his satisfaction to the
Captal and Walter, added considerable grants of land to the estates of
the latter, and raised him to the dignity of Baron Somers of Westerham.
It has always been a matter of wonder that King Edward did not take
advantage of the utter state of confusion and anarchy which prevailed
in France to complete his conquest of that country, which there is no
reasonable doubt he could have effected with ease. Civil war and strife
prevailed throughout France; famine devastated it; and without leaders
or concord, dispirited and impoverished by defeat, France could have
offered no resistance to such an army as England could have placed in
the field. The only probable supposition is that at heart he doubted
whether the acquisition of the crown of France was really desirable, or
whether it could be permanently maintained should it be gained. To the
monarch of a country prosperous, flourishing, and contented, the object
of admiration throughout Europe, the union with distracted and divided
France could be of no benefit. Of military glory he had gained enough
to content any man, and some of the richest provinces of France were
already his. Therefore it may well be believed that, feeling secure very
many years must elapse before France could again become dangerous, he
was well content to let matters continue as they were.
King John still remained a prisoner in his hands, for the princes and
nobles of France were too much engaged in broils and civil wars to think
of raising the money for his ransom, and Languedoc was the only province
of France which made any effort whatever towards so doing. War still
raged between the Dauphin and the King of Navarre.
At the conclusion of the two years' truce Edward, with the most
splendidly-equipped army which had ever left England, marched through
the length and breadth of France. Nowhere did he meet with any
resistance in the field. He marched under the walls of Paris, but took
no steps to lay siege to that city, which would have fallen an easy
prey to his army had he chosen to capture it. That he did not do so is
another proof that he had no desire to add France to the possessions of
the English crown. At length, by the efforts of the pope, a peace was
agreed upon, by which France yielded all Aquitaine and the town of
Calais to England as an absolute possession, and not as a fief of the
crown of France; while the English king surrendered all his captures in
Normandy and Brittany and abandoned his claim to the crown of France.
With great efforts the French raised a portion of the ransom demanded
for the king, and John returned to France after four years of captivity.
At the commencement of 1363 Edward the Black Prince was named Prince
of Aquitaine, and that province was bestowed upon him as a gift by the
king, subject only to liege homage and an annual tribute of one ounce
of gold. The prince took with him to his new possessions many of the
knights and nobles who had served with him, and offered to Walter a high
post in the government of the province if he would accompany him. This
Walter begged to be excused from doing. Two girls had now been added
to his family, and he was unwilling to leave his happy home unless the
needs of war called him to the prince's side. He therefore remained
quietly at home.
When King John returned to France, four of the French princes of the
blood-royal had been given as hostages for the fulfilment of the treaty
of Bretigny. They were permitted to reside at Calais, and were at
liberty to move about as they would, and even to absent themselves from
the town for three days at a time whensoever they might choose. The Duke
of Anjou, the king's second son, basely took advantage of this liberty
to escape, in direct violation of his oath. The other hostages followed
his example.
King John, himself the soul of honour, was intensely mortified at this
breach of faith on the part of his sons, and after calling together the
states-general at Amiens to obtain the subsidies necessary for paying
the remaining portion of his ransom, he himself, with a train of two
hundred officers and their followers, crossed to England to make excuses
to Edward for the treachery of the princes. Some historians represent
the visit as a voluntary returning into captivity; but this was not
so. The English king had accepted the hostages in his place, and was
responsible for their safe-keeping, and had no claim upon the French
monarch because they had taken advantage of the excess of confidence
with which they had been treated. That the coming of the French king was
not in any way regarded as a return into captivity is shown by the
fact that he was before starting furnished by Edward with letters of
safe-conduct, by which his secure and unobstructed return to his own
country was expressly stipulated, and he was received by Edward as an
honoured guest and friend, and his coming was regarded as an honour and
an occasion for festivity by all England.
At the same time that John was in London the King of Cyprus, the King
of Denmark, and the King of Scotland were also there, and the meeting
of four monarchs in London was the occasion of extraordinary festivities
and rejoicing, the king and his royal guests being several times
entertained at sumptuous banquets by the lord-mayor, the ex-mayor Henry
Pickard, and several of the aldermen.
Six weeks after John's arrival in London he was seized with illness
at the palace of the Savoy, and died on the 8th of April, 1364. The
Dauphin, Charles, now succeeded him as Charles V, and the war between
the houses of Navarre and Valois was carried on with greater fury than
ever. The armies of Navarre were commanded by the Captal de Buch, who
was a distant relation of the king; while those of Charles were headed
by the Marechal de Boucicault and Bertrand du Guesclin, one of the most
gallant of the French knights. A great battle was fought near Cocherel.
Contrary to the orders of the Captal, his army, which consisted
principally of adventurers, descended from the strong position he had
chosen, and gave battle in the plain. They were completely defeated, and
the Captal himself taken prisoner.
In Brittany John of Montford and Charles of Blois had renewed their
struggle, and King Charles, seeing the danger of Brittany falling into
the hands of De Montford, who was a close ally of England, interfered in
favour of Charles of Blois, and sent Du Guesclin to his assistance.
This was a breach of the treaty of Bretigny, and De Montford at once
sent to the Black Prince for assistance. The Prince did not treat the
conduct of Charles as a breach of the treaty, and took no part himself
in the war, but permitted Sir John Chandos, who was a personal friend of
De Montford, to go to his aid. De Montford's army, after the arrival of
Chandos with 200 spears, amounted to but 1600 men-at-arms and from
800 to 900 archers, while Charles of Blois had 4000 men-at-arms and a
proportionate number of infantry. De Montford tried to negotiate.
He offered to divide the dukedom, and to agree that in case he died
childless it should revert to the family of Charles. Charles, however,
refused all terms, even to grant his adversary's request to put off
the battle until the morrow, so as to avoid violating the Sabbath; and
having given orders that all prisoners taken in the battle should be
hung, he advanced upon De Montford.
Both forces were divided in four bodies. The first on De Montford's side
was commanded by Sir Robert Knolles, the second by Oliver de Clisson,
the third by Chandos and De Montford, the fourth by Sir Hugh de
Calverley. Du Guesclin led the front division of Charles's army, the
Counts of Auxerre and Joigny the second, Charles himself the third, and
the Lords of Roye and Rieux the reserve. The ducal arms of Brittany were
displayed on both sides.
By slow degrees the two armies closed with each other in deadly strife.
Both parties had dismounted and fought on foot with lances shortened
to five feet. Du Guesclin and his division attacked that of Knolles.
Auxerre fell upon De Clisson, while the divisions of the two rival
princes closed with each other. After desperate fighting numbers
prevailed. De Montford was driven back, but Calverley advanced to his
aid, fell upon the rear of the French, threw them into disorder, and
then having rallied De Montford's men, retired to his former position in
readiness to give succour again where it might be needed.
In the meantime Clisson had been engaged in a desperate struggle with
the Count of Auxerre, but was obtaining no advantage. Clisson himself
had received the blow of a battle-axe which had dashed in the vizor of
his helmet and blinded for ever one of his eyes. He was still leading
his men, but the enemies' superior numbers were pressing him back,
when Chandos, the instant the assistance of Calverley had relieved De
Montford's division, perceiving his danger, drew off a few men-at-arms,
and with them fell upon the rear of the Count of Auxerre, and dashing
all who opposed him to the ground with his battle-axe, cleft his way to
the very centre of the enemy. Pressed by De Clisson in front and broken
by the sudden attack of Chandos in the rear, the French division gave
way in every direction. Auxerre was desperately wounded, and he and
Joigny both taken prisoners.
Chandos then returned to De Montford, who had gallantly followed up the
advantage gained by the confusion into which Charles's division had been
thrown by the attack of Calverley. Charles was routed; he himself struck
down and slain by an English soldier, and the division defeated with
great slaughter. De Montford's whole force now gathered round Du
Guesclin's division, which now alone remained, and after fighting
gallantly until all hope was gone, the brave French knight and his
companions yielded themselves as prisoners.
The battle of Auray terminated the struggle between the houses of Blois
and Montford. More than 1000 French men-at-arms died on the field, among
whom were many of the noblest in Brittany. Two counts, 27 lords, and
1500 men-at-arms were made prisoners. De Montford now took possession of
the whole of Brittany, and at the suggestion of King Edward himself
did homage to Charles V for the duchy, which he afterwards ruled with
wisdom.