CRECY AND POITIERS
A few months after the accession of Edward III., his uncle the king of
France died. Edward had a claim in right of his mother, which, if the
crown of France had been a bit of land, to be inherited according to
the subtleties of English real property law, would have been plausible,
if not sound. The conclusive answer to his claim however lay in the
fact that France had a right to settle the matter in her own way.
If there was a law of succession, which from the jurist's point of
view is more than doubtful,[20] it was against Edward: if there was
not, the peers of France, who must be taken to constitute France for
this purpose, chose Philip of Valois. Edward's pretensions were not
seriously urged, and he acknowledged the new king as his suzerain for
the duchy of Guienne; but disputed questions were left open both as
to the amount of territory belonging to Edward, and as to the nature
of his homage for it to the king of France. Peace was not broken for
ten years, but Philip VI. showed himself steadily hostile, assisting
Edward's enemies in Scotland, interfering with English commerce,
encroaching in Guienne. Philip was entirely unscrupulous, and naturally
desirous of carrying on the work of his predecessors, by obtaining
effective possession of another of the great feudal domains over which
the king of France had titular suzerainty. The south-west had never
acknowledged more than the most nominal inferiority: it is no paradox
to say that the Plantagenets defended the ancient independence of
Aquitaine against French aggression.[21] Nevertheless the people of
Aquitaine had closer affinities of race and language with France than
with England: the ultimate and natural result of the war was to make
them French subjects.
Finding war inevitable, Edward III. thought to rouse the enthusiasm
of his subjects by reviving his claim to the French crown. Without
the cordial support of England Edward was weaker than his rival; with
it he was, as the event showed, very decidedly stronger. England
was, and had been for two centuries, a nation in the true sense of
the word: it needed the long agony of the Hundred Years' War to give
France real national coherence. Henry II. had given England a strong
central administration, with a system of law fairly equal and well
enforced. Ever since the barons had extorted Magna Charta from John,
not for themselves only but for the whole people, the powers of the
Parliament, and its significance as the representative body of the
nation, had been growing. No laws could be made, no new taxation could
be imposed, without the advice and consent of Parliament. This was only
the beginning of political liberty, in the modern sense, but it was a
beginning. In France on the other hand the king ruled over a number of
vassals who had little or no relation to each other, and each of whom
was much more effectually master of his dependents than the king. The
political contrast showed itself in the military organisation of the
two kingdoms. Though Edward III. was deeply imbued with the spirit of
chivalry, he was far too sensible to carry into the field the noble's
absolute contempt for the villein. Moreover there existed in England
a class of yeomen who were in fact completely above villeinage, from
which on the whole the archers were drawn. The feudal rule, by which
the king summoned his vassals to serve him in war, and they came with
their following (or did not come if they were disinclined, and the
king lacked force to coerce them), had long been obsolete in England.
The Parliament granted the king money for war, to supplement his own
resources; and the king agreed with individual noblemen to bring so
many men into the field, who were adequately paid and came voluntarily;
hence they tended to make war their business, and to acquire something
like discipline.
Edward had not far to look for allies. The commercial relations between
England and Flanders were close, and highly important to both. The
Flemish cities, then at the height of their prosperity, had recently
quarrelled with their count, who appealed to his suzerain the king of
France; and they promised Edward much more assistance than in fact they
afforded. However Flanders gave him a base of operations as against
France, and the first years of the war were occupied in more or less
futile efforts at invasion, though they brought an overwhelming victory
over the French fleet at Sluys on the Flemish coast. Later, a disputed
succession to the duchy of Brittany, in which the candidate rejected
by the king of France naturally asked help from England, opened a new
field for hostility. In 1345 there was serious fighting in Guienne, in
the course of which the earl of Derby won a considerable victory at
Auberoche. On the other hand the murder of Jacques van Artevelde, the
virtual ruler of Flanders and a strong partisan of England, made the
prospects of effectual support from the Flemings worse than ever. The
English Parliament, though desiring peace, probably realised that it
was hopeless except at the price of abandoning Guienne, and therefore
wisely desired that war should be waged in earnest. Great preparations
were made for the campaign of 1346, which the king was to conduct in
person. The king of France had raised a very large army, which was
commanded by his son the duke of Normandy, and which early in 1346
occupied part of the English possessions in the south-west of France.
The obvious thing for Edward to do with the large expedition he was
fitting out was to defend his own provinces, since Flanders now offered
a very unpromising field. Instead of this he decided suddenly to invade
Normandy,[22] and on July 12 he landed at Cape La Hogue.
[Illustration:
_Map IV._
_Outline Map
to illustrate the
Campaigns of Crecy
& AGINCOURT_]
There is no evidence that Edward had formed any coherent plan of
operations. Able tactician as he showed himself at Crecy, he was no
strategist; indeed no one in that age had any idea of strategical
combinations, though of course it is easy after the event to see that
a particular direction given to an army was or was not judicious
from this point of view. This invasion of France might have been an
extremely brilliant stroke. The English command of the sea made it
feasible to land almost anywhere; the main French army was engaged
in the south-west: there were no preparations for attempting to meet
invasion anywhere else. Had Edward landed near the mouth of the Seine,
at the nearest point to the capital, and marched straight on Paris,
he would have had the king of France almost at his mercy, for Paris
might have been in his hands before the duke of Normandy could come
to its rescue. Instead of this, Edward landed at the extremity of
the Cotentin peninsula, and then marched in a leisurely way through
Normandy, capturing and plundering town after town, there being
virtually no resistance. The absolute vagueness of his intentions may
be gathered from his having sent away his fleet, laden with the booty
of the Norman towns, thus depriving himself of the means of retreat in
case of need. If Froissart is to be believed, he had already determined
to march on Calais and attempt to seize it; but if so, it is still
more difficult to explain his having landed in the Cotentin, Calais
being within a march or two of Flanders, where if he had not met with
much support he would have at least found a friendly reception. The
only thing which looks as if he really meant to go towards Calais is
that having reached Louviers, he seems to have marched some way down
the Seine again towards Rouen; but this may have been in the hope of
being able to plunder the capital of Normandy. The French meanwhile
had broken down all the bridges on the Seine, which can only have been
in order to prevent the English from extending their ravages to the
right bank of the Seine, as it was obvious that they could reach the
coast as easily on one side as on the other. Whatever may have been
his original plan, or want of one, Edward, unable to cross the Seine
in Normandy, did what he ought to have done weeks before, and marched
up the left bank towards Paris. The king of France had used the
breathing time unwisely allowed him to collect an army, which is said
to have amounted to 100,000 men. Why he made no attempt to interfere
with Edward earlier is a mystery. The English king marched unopposed
to Poissy, a few miles below Paris, and there amused himself, while
the bridge was being rebuilt, in ravaging the country to the very
gates of the capital; he no doubt knew that the city was by this time
full of soldiers, and therefore not open to attack. On August 16 the
bridge was finished, and Edward crossed the Seine, his advanced guard
having a sharp but successful fight with a large body of men coming
from Amiens to join king Philip. Seeing that the huge French army was
gathered at St. Denis, on the right bank, nearly half-way to Poissy,
it is equally mysterious to find Edward crossing the Seine close to an
enormously superior force, and Philip making no attempt to take him
at a disadvantage. However Edward had by this time resolved on making
for Flanders, and marched hastily northwards, sending out a strong
detachment to endeavour to seize some point of passage over the Somme.
As was natural, these were all broken or defended; Edward went on down
the Somme, with an enemy of four or five times his strength behind him,
till on August 23 he came opposite Abbeville, below which the river
becomes a tidal estuary. The town was fortified and garrisoned, and
there was a large body of troops on the right bank: it looked as if
Edward's reckless movements had led him at last into a trap, as if the
king of France had achieved a success which his own military management
had by no means deserved. In the nick of time a peasant told Edward of
a ford some way below Abbeville, broad and firm, but available only at
low water. Early on the morning of the 24th the English army crossed
by this ford, the archers giving a foretaste of what was to happen at
Crecy by completely driving off the French force stationed to defend
it. They were barely across when Philip was upon them; but the rising
tide prevented pursuit.
Edward was now safe: he had only a short march before him to reach
Flanders. Here however the spirit of chivalry took possession of him:
he chose to turn and await battle, saying that he was now in his own
heritage,[23] and would defend it against the usurper. Accordingly he
encamped on August 25 near the little village of Crecy, and selected a
position in which to give battle, into which he moved the next morning.
The army was divided as usual into three "battles," each consisting of
about 800 men-at-arms and 2000 archers, besides light-armed infantry,
chiefly Welsh. The prince of Wales commanded the first, the earl of
Northampton the second: the king kept the third, which was to act as a
reserve, under his own immediate orders. The exact position is not easy
to determine: but it was on a piece of sloping ground, with a wind-mill
on the upper part of it at which the king took up his station, facing
the south-east or nearly so. The French attacked in such a hasty
and irrational manner that it is not safe to infer anything from
what they did: but certainly they did not attempt, with all their
vast superiority of numbers, to turn Edward's position. A competent
tactician would most probably have taken care that his flanks were
protected in some way; and therefore it is probable that the English
right rested on Crecy, through which flows the little river Maye, in
which case its left may have been covered by the adjoining hamlet of
Wadicourt. This position is shown in the accompanying map, not as
ascertained, but as answering well to the conditions.
The essential novelty in Edward's tactics, the fact which makes
Crecy an epoch in the history of the art of war, was that having to
fight with very inferior numbers he discerned an effective way of
combining the two elements of his army. He caused all the men-at-arms
to dismount, and placed the horses with the baggage in an enclosed
park in rear. The men-at-arms were to serve simply as spearmen, like
the Scots at Falkirk and Bannockburn: they were to form the solid
line of resistance, while the archers shot down the assailants. There
is a certain discrepancy between the accounts, as to the position of
the archers. Froissart says that they were drawn up in front, after
the fashion of a harrow (_herse_).[24] Baker of Swinbrook says very
precisely that they were put on the wings, so as not to be in the way
of the men-at-arms, nor meet the enemy in front, but shoot into their
flanks. The two may be reconciled, if we bear in mind that the archers
would naturally not be drawn up in the same straight line with the
men-at-arms, but thrown forward at an angle, so as to allow them to
shoot more freely at the advancing enemy. Moreover it is certain that
the prince of Wales' "battle" was on the right, in front, Northampton's
on the left, a very little further back, perhaps because of some slight
irregularity in the ground. If each division had part of its archers
on each flank, thrown somewhat forward, the two inner lines of archers
would meet at an angle: and the whole front would present an appearance
not very unlike a harrow.[25]
[Illustration]
All through the middle of the day (August 26) the English sat in their
lines, waiting quietly for the enemy. As evening drew near the French
host came in sight: the knights and men-at-arms were divided into nine
"battles," but no attempt had been made to form any plan of action, or
even to make the commanders of them understand that they were expected
to obey general orders. There was also a large body, 15,000 it is said,
of Genoese cross-bowmen, besides an indefinite number of ill-armed
peasants who only served to cumber the space. On hearing from certain
knights who had pushed forward that the English were drawn up to await
attack, the king of France, in accordance with their advice, ordered a
halt, intending his army to bivouac where it was, and to form regularly
for battle the next morning. On the word being given, the front halted,
but those in rear pushed on, saying they would not halt till they were
equal with those in front. Neither the king nor the marshals could
assert any authority over the rabble of nobles and knights, and they
advanced anyhow till they were close in front of the English position.
Then the king, seeing that it was too late to avoid an action, ordered
the Genoese forward. Just as the sun was close on its setting, and
shining full in the face of the French line, the battle began. The
cross-bowmen advanced, shouting, but the English never stirred;
presently they began to shoot. The English archers then took one step
forward, and shot their arrows with such force and quickness that it
seemed to be snowing. The cross-bow bolts fell short: the clothyard
arrows totally discomfited the Genoese,[26] already worn out with a
long hot march. Therefore the king of France, with the true feudal
contempt for all that was not noble, bade the men-at-arms trample
down these rascals. The knights, nothing loth, rode over the unhappy
Genoese, and charged tumultuously on the English front. Men and horses
went down in heaps before the arrows, which were shot from both flanks
into the surging mob. Those who escaped fell furiously on the English
line, and were with difficulty kept at bay. It shows how blindly the
French came on, that the main stress fell on the prince of Wales, who
was on the right, and therefore in the part of the line nearest to the
French coming from Abbeville: Northampton on his left seems to have had
much less to do. Time after time the French charged, with the effect
of adding to the heaps of dead and wounded: between the charges the
English bill-men slipped out through the front line to kill and take
prisoners. Edward, who was watching the whole course of the action from
his post on the higher ground, was once appealed to for help for his
son: he could see that there was no real need, and refused it, saying,
according to the well-known story, "Let the boy win his spurs." One
account tells how the king sent twenty knights down, who found the
prince and his men sitting on the heaps of slain, resting themselves
while the enemy were withdrawn and preparing for a fresh charge.
Darkness at length put an end to the battle. Edward was far too prudent
to attempt a counter attack: he owed his victory to firmly maintaining
the position he had chosen, and could not afford to risk a disaster by
quitting it. The slaughter on the French side had been frightful—4000
knights and men-at-arms, and uncounted multitudes besides: the English
loss had naturally been but slight.
A tinge of romance is always supposed to be thrown over Crecy by the
conduct of the blind king of Bohemia, who caused some of his knights to
lead him in one of the charges, the bridles of the whole party being
fastened together, with the natural result of all being killed. But as
he had no sort of concern with the quarrel, one feels rather inclined
to dismiss him with Polonius' epitaph—
"Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell."
It would seem as if, after such a victory, Edward III. might have
resumed the offensive, with good prospect of reducing the king of
France to sue for peace. But it must be remembered that his army was
relatively small, that the battle had been won in a defensive position,
and that he could not possibly know how soon he might find himself face
to face with the duke of Normandy's army recalled from Guienne. It
rather speaks well for Edward's military judgment that he should have
quietly carried out his previous design, and marched on Calais, which
he succeeded in taking after an unexpectedly long siege, and which
furnished from that day forth a ready door into France. Small however
as the direct and immediate results of the battle of Crecy were,
it was in its ultimate consequences of incalculable importance.
Superficially it resembles Bannockburn: a very superior army, badly and
presumptuously led, attacks an inferior enemy well posted for defence,
and is decisively and deservedly beaten. The difference lies a little
deeper, in the fact that the foremost kingdom in Europe in point of
national organisation, ruled as it was by a king who was the mirror
of chivalry, adopted tactics which could and must overthrow feudal
chivalry. All ranks and classes fought side by side, and fought on
foot; the men-at-arms, the archers, the bill-men all contributed their
share. Such a victory would naturally stimulate national feeling more
than twenty won by the knights alone. And such victories, as the event
showed, were sure to be repeated, as often as opportunity offered. The
French, as will be seen, were slow to learn the lesson: but from Crecy
may fairly be dated the preponderance of infantry, though much time
elapsed, and many changes in the battle-field were seen, before this
was finally established.
[Illustration:
_Map V._
_Map of W. Central France._
Battle of Poitiers.]
The capture of Calais in 1347 was followed by a truce, which, largely
on account of the frightful ravages of the Black Death in both
countries, was renewed again and again. In 1350 Philip VI. died, and
was succeeded by his son John, who continued his father's policy.
Year after year there were acts of hostility, chiefly but by no means
exclusively on the French side, and abortive negotiations for peace.
Edward offered repeatedly to resign his claims to the French crown
on terms, but the price he asked was larger than the king of France
could be expected to pay. At length in 1355 Edward was led by offered
co-operation from the king of Navarre, which however came to nothing,
to invade France in earnest once more. Two subsidiary expeditions
were foiled by the winds, but the main one was carried out, and led
to the great victory of Poitiers. The Black Prince, who commanded it,
and who thenceforth was his father's representative in France, led a
successful plundering expedition from Bordeaux across the south of
France, but avoided serious fighting. Early in July the next year the
prince started for a similar expedition on a larger scale, striking
this time into the very heart of France. Two or three weeks earlier,
the duke of Lancaster had left Brittany to unite with some Norman
nobles who had risen in rebellion: and it is supposed by some writers
that the two invasions were parts of a concerted scheme, by which the
English hoped finally to conquer France. The direction of the Black
Prince's march, the leisurely character of his proceedings, and the
amount of plunder carried off, make this view highly improbable.
Ignorance of topography, and the necessity of avoiding strong places
which could not be captured, might account for some deviations from the
straight route; the necessity of living on the country might account
for the loss of a few days. It is not impossible that, aiming merely
at the Loire, he should have gone as far east as Vierzon, instead of
taking the direct route by Poitiers to Tours. But it is incredible
that with such an object in view he should have consumed about three
times the number of days necessary for covering the distance, or that
he should have deliberately burdened his march with vast quantities
of plunder. The prince was certainly a competent soldier for his age:
and all accounts agree that his army was thoroughly under control, and
that the plundering was systematic. He doubtless knew of his cousin's
enterprise: but that there was intended to be real co-operation between
them could only be believed on very good and positive evidence, which
does not exist.
The duke of Lancaster had in fact effected nothing: he had been obliged
to retreat before the vastly superior armies brought to bear against
him: but king John was still occupied in reducing the rebellious
towns, when he heard somewhat tardily of the Black Prince's march. He
instantly went to Chartres, and there gathered a large army, besides
garrisoning every town on the Loire, to guard against the Black Prince
crossing that river and making his way into Normandy.
The prince had by this time reached Vierzon, after plundering and
destroying unresisted across Angoumois, La Marche and Berri. He there
heard that the king of France was assembling a large army on the Loire,
and therefore gave up all thought of continuing his elaborate raid. One
would have thought that the necessity of prompt action, seeing that he
had only from 8000 to 10,000 men, would have been sufficiently obvious:
but the chivalric point of honour was of so much importance that he
wasted several days in taking the castle of Romorantin, which had
offered unexpected resistance. It was a fortunate piece of rashness,
for otherwise the French king would not have compelled him to fight at
Poitiers.
There seems to be no doubt that the Black Prince thought of crossing
the Loire; but this gives no real support to the theory that his whole
expedition was made in concert with Lancaster. Of course each was
generally aware that the other was going to move, which would imply the
possibility, if both succeeded, of their meeting somewhere thereabouts;
but this is a very long way from deliberate co-operation. He might well
have thought that if he could pass the Loire he would have as safe a
refuge, would harass and perplex the French king more, and would not
seem to have been driven to retreat; otherwise he would certainly have
never gone near Poitiers, but would have followed a line of retreat as
straight on Bordeaux as possible, every march in which would take him
further from king John's overwhelming army. Some of the authorities
trace his route, some do not; the places named do not always agree, and
are not all to be certainly identified. The most precise of them says
that he went straight to Tours, remained near that city several days
hoping to cross the river there, and decamped south on hearing that the
French king was crossing at Blois. The same account states that king
John through his scouts was acquainted with the prince's movements: if
so, one would think he ought to have made a little more haste. When
he did move however the French king marched not straight towards his
enemy, but in a direction intended to intercept his retreat, a piece of
strategy which may seem obvious enough, but not so common in the middle
ages. From Loches he directed his army on Poitiers, the main part with
the king in person crossing the Vienne at the bridge of Chauvigny,
fifteen miles east of that city. The slight information which each
side had of the other, seems to have failed totally at the critical
juncture. On Friday September 16 king John slept between Chauvigny and
Poitiers, in complete ignorance where the Black Prince was. The same
night the prince was a few miles north of the Chauvigny-Poitiers road,
in equal ignorance that his enemy was between him and safety. Starting
early on the 17th, the prince took, none too soon, the precaution of
sending a small troop of men-at-arms forward to reconnoitre. These
fell in with the last of king John's great army to cross the bridge of
Chauvigny; it would be an abuse of language to call them a rearguard.
Outnumbered four to one, the English[27] fell back on the main body,
and the French pursuing heedlessly were nearly all killed or captured.
The prince, thus warned of the proximity of his enemy, pushed on a few
miles further, till he was well on the Bordeaux side of Poitiers, and
there halted. King John, on hearing the news, ordered his forces to
retrace their steps, and passed the night of the 17th about three miles
south-east of Poitiers.
The locality of the battle of Poitiers, or Maupertuis as the French
name it, has now been ascertained. Documentary evidence shows that
the spot formerly called Maupertuis is La Cardinerie, a farm near the
Limoges road, about five miles south-east of Poitiers. This disposes
of the theory of the battle, based upon expressions of the chroniclers
to the effect that the Black Prince could not help fighting, that the
French army was between him and Bordeaux. It also destroys all ground
for the charge against king John of wasteful folly in attacking his
enemy strongly posted, when that enemy had no choice, unless he would
starve or surrender, but to attack an enormously superior force. The
Black Prince, it is clear, was not cut off: he had the choice between
standing to fight, and attempting to escape from the French, who were
within two or three miles of him, and several times his strength. There
is no doubt, further, that the Black Prince selected the strongest
position available, fortified it to the best of his power, and there
awaited attack. He evidently thought that it was scarcely possible
to get away in safety, or else he would certainly not have halted
comparatively early in the day.
The position was a strong one, for the arms of that age. Like his
father, the Black Prince, though his strategy might be faulty,
possessed great tactical skill, and coolness in encountering danger.
The essentials for his situation were, ample scope for his archers,
all possible impediments to the French horsemen, and some security
against being attacked on all sides at once, seeing how great were the
odds against him. All these conditions he managed to fulfil, and all
would hardly have sufficed to save him from destruction, but for the
disastrous blunder of the French, in dismounting to attack.
The scene of the battle is slightly undulating country, the variations
of level being only a few feet. The chroniclers, to whom language
for expressing minute differences was wanting, talk of hills and
deep valleys, and have thereby misled writers who have not seen the
ground, nor examined with attention a contoured map. South-eastwards
from Poitiers runs the modern Limoges road, almost parallel to an
ancient Roman road, which may have been still the working road of the
fourteenth century. A small rivulet, the Miosson, flows at the bottom
of a ravine, about 100 feet below the level of the battle-field, and
joins the Clain just above Poitiers. The bottom is presumably muddy,
and the quantity of water varies greatly with the season. But there
is a ford (the Gué de l'Homme marked on the map) to which a narrow
road, believed on good evidence to be ancient, leads from close to
La Cardinerie. That farm itself is not so old as the battle, having
taken the place of the hamlet of Maupertuis, which stood somewhere
in the same neighbourhood, and is said to have been destroyed at the
time of the battle. Maupertuis was[28] supplied with water from a
pond, now almost filled up, which used to be known as "la mare aux
Anglais," and out of which sundry relics of the battle have been taken.
The overflow of this pond, and doubtless the surface drainage of the
immediate neighbourhood, which in rainy weather might be considerable,
passed down a very slight hollow running nearly north and south on the
Poitiers side of La Cardinerie. As the soil is soft, and the slope
very gentle till near the Miosson, the bottom of this hollow may
well have been boggy. It is a good illustration of the exaggerated
impression conveyed by the defective vocabulary of the chroniclers,
that this depression of a very few feet is the place best answering
to the _profunda vallis_, and the _torrens_ of Baker of Swinbrook,
the chronicler whose narrative of the battle has a far greater air of
precision in details than any other.
Not far on the east side of this little depression was the Black
Prince's position. His front was covered by a hedge with a ditch
in front: Baker expressly mentions a _sepes subterfossata_, and it
was the usual custom in Poitou to fence in this way. Behind it was
a space partly planted with vines, but by no means clear of bushes,
on which the English encamped. The hedge was apparently on rather
lower ground, for the French knights sent to reconnoitre were able to
bring back a pretty accurate report of the position and numbers of
the enemy. Somewhere in this hedge was a gap left for carts to reach
the upper level, the hedge apparently curving up to it so as to form
a sort of funnel-shaped opening. There is now no long hedge anywhere
east of the wood of Nouaillé, half a mile to the south-eastwards; but
hedges and ditches disappear easily in a fertile soil under continuous
cultivation. It is most probable, though it cannot be said to be
certainly known, that the Black Prince's hedge ran from very near La
Cardinerie towards the hamlet of Les Bordes, and that through the gap
passed the road to the Gué de l'Homme.
On the morning of Sunday September 18, king John, according to
Froissart, sent some knights to reconnoitre the English position,
which he proposed to attack at once. On hearing their report, the
king, we are told, asked them in what way the attack should be made;
and Eustace de Ribeaumont, their chief, advised the king to make all
his men-at-arms dismount, except a few who were to charge and break
the English archers. According to Baker of Swinbrook the advice was
given by a Douglas, who had fought many times against the English,
and affirmed that the English always dismounted their men-at-arms,
ever since their defeat at Bannockburn. Whoever gave the advice, it
was suicidal folly. A little learning is proverbially a dangerous
thing; probably the most dangerous form which a little learning can
assume is to know a fact, and to draw utterly baseless and absurd
inferences from it. Edward II. was not routed at Bannockburn because
his men-at-arms fought on horseback, but because they attacked in a
confused and tumultuous manner on ground too narrow for their numbers.
Edward III. did not win Crecy merely because his men-at-arms fought on
foot, but because he had learned, alike from the victory of Falkirk and
from the defeat of Bannockburn, how to combine the destroying force
of archers with the defensive firmness of spearmen on foot. Moreover
the difference between offensive and defensive tactics is fundamental.
Horsemen obviously by dismounting lose most of their _momentum_ for
attack; as obviously, they cannot in any other way stand firm to
sustain a charge. Want of numbers compelled the English, at Crecy and
at Poitiers alike, to stand on the defensive: therefore, and therefore
only, their men-at-arms abandoned their natural mode of fighting.
Reminiscences of Crecy may well have inclined king John to try whether
some other tactics would not succeed better than the tumultuous rush of
mailed horsemen straight on a front better protected than at Crecy: but
the choice he made, whether inspired by sheer stupidity, or dictated
by the insane class pride which refused to see in the plebeian archers
the real victors over noble knights, was the worst possible. With his
overwhelming numbers he could have surrounded the English; he could
have kept them fully occupied in resisting attack while detaching a
superior force to cut their retreat; he could have done anything he
pleased. His defeat was even more crushing than his father's, and was
all the more discreditable, in that it was due to his own deliberate
orders, and not to the undisciplined rush of nobles too vain-glorious
to obey.
Before the battle could begin, however, the cardinal of Perigord
begged John to let him try to arrange terms with the Black Prince.
There was some division on the subject in the French councils, some
of the king's advisers thinking that the English could not escape
destruction, and that therefore any concession was folly. The king
ultimately consented, and the whole day was spent by the cardinal in
going to and fro between the two camps. The accounts vary as to the
exact course of these negotiations: very possibly several offers and
counter offers were exchanged. The king, if he thought his enemies in
his power, may reasonably have proposed very severe terms as the price
of their lives; the prince was apparently ready to concede a good deal;
but all the efforts of the cardinal were unavailing to bring about an
agreement. Whatever the terms finally offered by the king of France may
have been, they were such as the prince felt he could not honourably
accept, while an appeal to the arbitrament of battle was still open.
The delay enabled the English to improve their defences, probably by
intrenching on their right flank and rear, which had been protected
on their first taking up the position by a _lager_ of waggons. It was
injurious in another way, as they were very short of food; but this
mattered little, as the morrow must bring victory or destruction.
Down to the morning of September 19, the day of the battle, every
detail can be determined, if not with certainty, yet with reasonable
probability. At this point, however, we encounter very serious
difficulties. The two authorities which describe the battle minutely,
Froissart and Baker, differ from one another in points too important to
be called details, though they agree in representing the Black Prince
as having remained in his position. The Chandos Herald, whose testimony
is _primâ facie_ deserving of the highest respect, affirms that the
prince had in the night made up his mind to retreat, that he had sent
off his vanguard to convey the baggage across the stream, and would
have followed with his whole army, had not the French made haste to
attack the rear-guard. The discrepancy is obviously fundamental;[29]
one side or the other must start from a total misconception, and if
so, it is hardly worth while to speculate as to what rags of truth may
be left in the narrative.
The Black Prince's army was as usual divided into three parts, under
the earl of Warwick, the prince himself, and the earl of Salisbury.
The numbers are disputed, the French being naturally inclined to raise
the total, the English to diminish it. The authorities on the English
side agree in giving about 8000, and they obviously would have the best
means of knowing. A real element of uncertainty is, however, always
present, in the doubt whether the attendants on the knights are to
be added, or are meant to be included in the number given of other
soldiers besides the men-at-arms and archers. Probably it would be safe
to affirm that the number did not exceed 10,000 of all arms. Having
to fight a defensive action against very superior forces, the prince
necessarily resorted to tactics much like those of Crecy. The earl of
Warwick's division, comprising comparatively a large proportion of
archers, lined the hedge in front. Salisbury's men-at-arms, dismounted,
were drawn up in line, a stone's-throw back from the gap in the hedge,
with archers on their flanks, who would naturally be thrown forwards.
The prince's own "battle" he moved[30] up on to a gentle eminence on
one flank; this was at the spot marked Bernon on the map, and on the
left flank, assuming Colonel Babinet to be right in his identification
of the position. From this point he returned after the battle had
begun, to sustain Warwick and Salisbury, except that he throughout kept
some hundreds of men-at-arms mounted, in reserve.
The numbers on the French side are stated with much greater discrepancy
than on the English. Froissart gives no less than 60,000, but there
seems reason to believe that the real amount was about 40,000, or fully
four times the Black Prince's total. A picked body of 500 horsemen,
under the two marshals Audrehen and Clermont, was to lead the attack.
This was followed by the first of the main "battles" under the duke of
Normandy, John's eldest son. The second was commanded by his brother
the duke of Orleans, the third by the king in person; both of these
remained apparently at some distance. As the marshals advanced up
the funnel-shaped opening leading to the gap, which was itself only
wide enough for four horsemen abreast, the archers, protected by the
hedge, poured in volleys of arrows. Thanks to their armour, the French
were not all shot down, and engaged in a hand-to-hand conflict with
Salisbury's men, ranked beyond the gap. The first French line, as they
followed, engaged with Warwick's troops along the whole line of the
hedge.
Seeing that many arrows were broken on the stout armour, or glanced
from it, the earl of Oxford bade the archers, who were closing round
the flank and rear of the mounted force, aim at the horses, which
were less protected. In this way the horsemen were soon routed; one
marshal was killed, the other taken prisoner, their immediate command
was nearly destroyed, and the whole first line was driven back in
confusion. The temptation to pursue must have been strong: but the
English leaders knew that their work was only begun. They reformed
their ranks, and awaited a fresh attack, which was not long in coming.
The French second line under the duke of Orleans advanced in its turn,
and after a similar struggle was repulsed even more completely. Still
the English commanders would not allow pursuit, though Sir Maurice
Berkeley[31] charged on his own private account into the retreating
mass, and was, as might be expected, taken prisoner, desperately
wounded, after performing prodigies of valour. The breathing time was
spent in carrying back the wounded into safety behind the hedges, and
in gathering as many arrows as possible, for the stock was running
short. It speaks volumes for the deadliness of the shooting at that
short range, that the chronicler speaks of the archers drawing the
arrows out of the bodies of the dead and wounded, not picking them up
from the ground. The French king, on hearing that his son had been
beaten back, swore solemnly that he would not leave the field that day,
unless dead or a prisoner, and led on the third line. The English, all
of whom, except the prince's small reserve, had now been fighting for
hours against heavy odds, were nearly worn out; a great many had been
wounded, and the numbers left seemed too small to withstand another
onset. At this juncture some dismay was caused by the Captal de Buch,
a Gascon noble who won a great reputation in the latter part of the
war, riding off the field followed by a handful of men-at-arms and
a hundred archers. It was naturally imagined that he was flying or
deserting: instead of this, he had obtained the prince's permission to
make a bold stroke for victory, by circling round the French flank and
attacking them in their left rear. This third conflict was the severest
of all, the more so as the archers, their arrows being exhausted,
had to resort to their bills. At length the Captal de Buch was seen
emerging from beyond the slightly rising ground which had masked his
movements from the French, displaying the red cross of St. George as a
signal: thereupon the Black Prince charged with his reserve of mounted
men-at-arms. The day was finally won: though the king of France fought
on desperately for awhile, showing himself as good soldier as he was
bad general, he was at length obliged to surrender himself prisoner.
A long list of nobles and knights interred in the churches of Poitiers,
another long list of distinguished captives, mark the overwhelming
nature of the defeat which the French had sustained. So great was the
number of prisoners that the Black Prince released a very large part,
on their undertaking to pay their ransom at Bordeaux. The English
loss must have been severe, relatively to the force engaged, though
no authoritative figures can be given. The French of course lost much
more heavily; but the mere number of slain was as nothing compared to
the crushing effect of the unexpected blow. Had there been any spirit
of resistance left in the French, the Black Prince could hardly have
reached Bordeaux in safety. The relics of the army defeated at Poitiers
must have amounted to several times his diminished force: yet he
carried off his noble prisoners, with all the spoil of the royal camp
and of his previous raid, without a trace of opposition.
It would almost seem as if Edward III. and his son never seriously
contemplated the subjugation of France: for instead of attempting to
take advantage of the virtual dissolution of all government resulting
from the defeat of Poitiers and the king's capture, the Black Prince
returned to England with his prisoner. The treaty of Bretigny, by
which Edward resigned his claims to the French crown, and the French
king abandoned all suzerainty over the south-west, was a reasonable
solution of the difficulty, if nothing had been at stake but the
personal pretensions of the two monarchs. But the national feelings of
the French were too strongly roused: the treaty was never carried out.
John's son and successor Charles V., or rather his military adviser the
Constable Duguesclin, learned wisdom from the crushing defeats of Crecy
and Poitiers, and steadily abstained from confronting English armies in
the field. All the arts of minor warfare, raids, surprise of castles,
cutting off of small parties, were adopted against the English, and
the success though slow was steady, and was twofold. Outnumbered
from the nature of the case, the English could not but lose in a war
thus carried on; and the French subjects of the Black Prince were
alienated, through being exposed both to injury at the hands of their
own countrymen, and to heavy demands on their resources made by the
prince to help him fight a losing game. Gradually things went more and
more against the English, until by the time the Black Prince's health
failed, and he went home to die, little was left beyond a few towns,
which were bound to England by commercial ties. Nor was this all; in
the second active stage of the great war, when Henry V. was formally
accepted as heir to the French crown, the south-west was the region in
which the cause of the Dauphin, the national cause, was most steadily
supported.