Glass _X<^ ^0 4 
 Book ^^±.'^ 
 
TALES 
 
 FROM 
 
 FRENCH HISTORY. 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 
 
 from the last revised edition, containing m^ 
 author's final corrections, etc. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 HENRY T. COATES & CO. 
 
A^' 
 
 t>7 
 
 oU 
 
 • • e 
 
 • • 
 
 • •• 
 
TO 
 
 MASTER JOHN HUGH LOCKHART. 
 
 My Dear Boy, 
 
 I MUST no longer treat you as a child ; so I now 
 lay aside the pet appellation of Hugh Littlejohn, Esq 
 and address you by your name. Heaven, at whose 
 pleasure we receive good and evil — and we are bound 
 to receive both with thanks and gratiiuae — nas afflicted 
 you from infancy with a delicacy of constitution. With 
 this nnslbrtune there are often connected tastes and hab- 
 its the most valuable any man can acquire, but which 
 are indispensable to those who are liable, from indilierent 
 heahh, to be occasionally confined to the solitude of 
 their own apartment. The hours you now employ in 
 reading are passed happily, and render you independent 
 of the society of others, but will yet prove far more val- 
 uable to you in future life, since, if your studies are well 
 directed, and earnestly pursued, there is nothing to pre- 
 vent your rising to be at once an ornament and a benefit 
 to society. It is with great pleasure, my dearest boy, 
 that your parents remark in you early attention to youi 
 book, and a marked desire to profit by what you read; 
 nor can I, as one of the number, make a better use of 
 a part of my leisure time than to dedicate it to jour ad- 
 vantage and that of your contemporaries, who, I trust, 
 will play their parts honourably in tlie world, lung aftei 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 the generation to which your grandlbther belongs has 
 mouldered into earth. 
 
 Tlie volumes which I formerly inscribed related to a 
 part of Great Britain only : but it was to that portion 
 which should be dear to us both, as the land of our fath- 
 ers ; and I was therefore induced to descend mo^e into 
 particulars than I should have ventured upon in any othe" 
 narrative. 1 have been assured from many quarters that 
 the Tales from Scottish History have been found useful 
 and interesting to the young persons to whom they were 
 addressed, ai.d that some even of those whose wild spir- 
 its and youthful years had hitherto left them Httle time or 
 mclination to study, have been nevertheless captivated 
 by stories, which, while they are addressed to the imagi- 
 naiion, are, at tiie same time, nistructive to the under- 
 standing. 
 
 It would have been natural that I should next have 
 adopted English history as my theme ; but there are so 
 many excellent abridgments, that 1 willingly leave you 
 to acquu'e a knowledge of that important subject from 
 other sources. The History of England, in Letters, said 
 to be from a nobleman to his son, and sometimes called 
 Lord Lyttleton's Letters, but in reality written or com- 
 piled by Dr. Oliver Goldsmith, gives the hveliest and 
 best views of it ; to this you must, in due time, add the 
 perusal of the many and interesting volumes which give 
 a fuller account of the history of the more important part 
 of our island of Britain. 
 
 In the meantime, it is highly proper you should know 
 something of the history of France, whose influence upon 
 the Conti/ient of Europe has almost always been strug- 
 gling and contending with that of England herself, and 
 with sucn obstinacy as to give rise to wars the most 
 
DEDICA.TIO?r. 
 
 bloody by which the peace of the world has been at any 
 period disturbed. 
 
 I have, as you will observe, been occasionally called to 
 interrupt the current of the work by remarks which th« 
 incidents demanded. Still, however, 1 hav^e endeavoured 
 to make amusement the mode of introducing instruction ; 
 remembering always that I am no Icnger writing for the 
 amusement of a chiM of five years, but composing a 
 work to be submitted to the criticism of a young person 
 who wears masculine garments, and will soon be nine 
 years old. Under these increasing difficulties, it will give 
 me pleasure to find that 1 still possess the power to inter- 
 est and instruct you ; being, with warm regard, 
 My dear John Hugh, 
 Your very affectionate Grandfather, 
 
 Walter Scott. 
 
 Abbotsford, 29M July, 1830. 
 
TALES FROM FRENCH HISTORY, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The most Patriotic States have been generally the mcst 
 Ambitious — Aggressions of Rome upon the Independ' 
 ence of Foreign JVations — Gaul — its Description 
 and Inhabitants — Their Religion — The Order of 
 Druids — The Military Character of the Gauls — 
 They invade Italy — and Greece — Their vicinity dan- 
 gerous to Rome — Caesar appointed General in Gaul 
 — Resolution of the Helvetians to emigrate — The 
 difficulties of their Route — Ccesar blocks up the Pas- 
 sage between Geneva, and JSIount Jura — Pursues the 
 Hdvetians as far as the Arar, and destroys their 
 Rear-guard — At last, totally defeats them — The Ger^ 
 mans cross the Rhine to invade Gaul — Their Char-- 
 acter, Genius, and Manners — The Roman Soldiers 
 mutiny, but are pacified by Ccesar'' s Address — Ccesar 
 defeats Ariovistus and the Germans — Conquest of 
 Gaul by Ccesar, 
 
 The jove of power is deeply impressed on mankind, 
 whether they have a poHtical existence in the relation of 
 states and empires, or remain in their individual capacity. 
 Even in those strict republics, where individuals find it 
 most difficult to raise themsrives to superior stations, 
 whether by address, eloquence, or any other influential 
 superiority, the desire to add to the power which may he 
 enjoyed and wielded by the public at large, is more strongly 
 
y LOVE OF CONQ,UEST UNJUSTIFIABLE. 
 
 felt b}' each person, exactly in proportion to his owri ex- 
 clusion from individual authority ; and the reason is piain^ 
 because the poorest and most humble citizen beholds him- 
 self, in idea, enriched with a portion of the fame and 
 power acquired by the state, and considers himself as a 
 gainer in the good fortune of the commonwealth. It thus 
 follows, that, for a time at least, the love of the republic 
 supersedes the plans wliich men entertain under other 
 forms of government for their private advantage. 
 
 It cannot be denied, that a state which can thus engross, 
 for the public service, all the estimable and useful quali- 
 ties of its citizens, presents an imposing spectacle, grand 
 and unconquerable in the talents and capacities which it 
 unites, and commanding at pleasure all that can be sacri- 
 ficed in its cause, from the knowledge of the most pro- 
 found philosopher, to the courage and life of its hardiest 
 peasant. Yet, pushed to excess, this disinterested patri- 
 otism must, far from a virtue, be numbered in the rolls of 
 vice. To ])illage and oppress, to conquer and subdue the 
 freedom and independence of other states, is not laudable, 
 any more than to rob and slay for the maintenance of pur 
 own household ; though, to provide for our family by law- 
 ful means, is an imperious duty. Rome, the mistress, or 
 rather the tyrant, of the world, as it was then known to 
 exist, grew to her excess of power by the injustice of her 
 children, who held it as the pnnci})le of their being, that 
 the empire should be extended as far as the habitable 
 world permitted. 
 
 That extensive yet compact country, now called France, 
 and at an earlier period known by the name of Gallia, or 
 Gaul, was one of the most important wdiich was liable to 
 the general encroachments made by Rome on her neigh- 
 bours. But the inhabitants being a very numerous, cour- 
 ageous people, and much disposea to martial achieve- 
 ments, were addicted, like most other nations, to leave 
 their own country when they found their population in- 
 crease, and hive off in military colonies, to establish new 
 settlements elsewhere. They were, in this respect, neigh' 
 boars w^hci struck terror even into the Romans themselv^^s, 
 
EXTENT AND INHABITANTS OF o'AUL. i) 
 
 and who, although often at war with that great republic, 
 were not finally or eifectually subdued until the last days 
 of Roman freedom. 
 
 Gaul was understood to contain the whole countr}? 
 bounded by the Pyrenees, the Alps, the Rhine, the Med- 
 iterranean Sea, and the Ocean, but considerable portions 
 have been since detached from modern France. Such 
 were the Cantons of Switzerland, with the German terri- 
 tories on the Rhine. 
 
 This portion of Europe, considerable not only from its 
 extent, but from its climate and fertility, was chiefly, but 
 not entirely, inhabited by the descendants of the Celtic 
 race. These Celts, by whom Gaul was first peopled, ap- 
 pear to have been the great family by which the habitable 
 parts of Europe were first settled, though their descend- 
 ants were afterwards conquered and overcome by the 
 Gothic tribes — the second great colonists of the most 
 civihzed quarter of the globe. 
 
 But two great portions of the Gallic Celts had admitted 
 such modifications of language and manners, the one from 
 the neighbouring Germans, the other from its connexion 
 with the Si)aniards, that the one people were called Bel- 
 gae, the other Celtiberians, distinguishing them from the 
 more genuine and unmixed Celts. That they were orig- 
 inally all descended from the same race, is proved by the 
 remains of their language, names, and customs. 
 
 The manners of the Celts, and especially their religious 
 institutions, were peculiar. They had one supreme Deity 
 whom they called Esus, and they performed their rites 
 of adoration in tlie depths of forests, or surrounded by 
 huge circles of stones, rough, unhewn, and placed upright. 
 Their chief priests were the Druids, a race set apart 
 among them for conducting the public worship, as well 
 as for preserving the knowledge of their laws and histo- 
 ries. These were usually couched in poetry, which 
 the Druids conmiilted to memory, and recited at their 
 periodical meetings and festivals. 
 
 These Druids seem to have erected one of the most art- 
 ful and complete systems of priesthood which the world 
 1* 
 
10 TKE BARDS. 
 
 ever saw. The authority permitted to magistrates,, kings, 
 or princes, according to the constitution of the community, 
 was always held to be sanctioned and delegated by the 
 priests, and the government was always directed by their 
 opinion. They had absolute influence over the gentry of 
 the tribe, to whom they gave the epithet of riders, oi 
 horse-men, the value of a warrior being always raised by 
 the possession of-'a horse. Human sacrifices were fre- 
 quently offered up, under a mistaken impression, that we 
 ought to present to the Deity what our race holds most 
 dear, which undoubtedly is the principle of human life. 
 
 The Bards were a class of men only inferior to the 
 Druids in importance. Music and poetry were eagerly 
 cultivated by the Gauls. These national poets sung 
 hymns to their deity, and the praises of deceased war- 
 riors ; and such was the affection of the people for these 
 arts, that when, at a later period, it was the object to fix 
 their attention upon the Scriptures, it was found the best 
 method to translate the Sacred Writings into poetry, and 
 set them to music. 
 
 The government in Gaul was various among the differ- 
 ent independent states, which, according as custom pre- 
 vailed among them, were governed by kings, or by elec- 
 tive magistrates. They were prompt and ready in battle ; 
 a bold, fiery, warlike race, whose very women used to 
 sustain the fight when the men were defeated, and who 
 often slew themselves rather than surrender to an enemy. 
 
 In appearance they were a handsome people ; bold iiv 
 their manners, yet not untinctured with civility. They 
 combed their hair forward, so as to give a wildness and 
 ferocity to their aspect, wore tight trowseis and a loose 
 mantle. Their chiefs wore a chain of gold, twisted out 
 of flexible rods of that metal, such as children make out 
 of bulrushes. Manlius, an ancient Roman, who killed a 
 champion thus decorated, assumed from thence the addi- 
 tional name of Torquatus, or him with the Chain. Be- 
 sides this Torques, or Twist, as it was called, the Gauls 
 tvon^ bracelets, and ornaments round the ankle, and the 
 iveaUliy had them made of the same precious metal. 
 
EMIGRATION OF THE GAULS I \ 
 
 The Gauls carried hospitality to strangers to the utmost 
 extent. They were profuse in eating, and still more in 
 the use of strong liquors. The Romans accused them 
 of being fickle, uncertain, and treacherous to their en- 
 gagements. But they were probably not more so than 
 the Romans themselves. 
 
 We have mentioned that the nation of Gaul, or rather 
 the infinity of small states into which it was divided, 
 were so very populous, that, when their numbers seemed 
 about to exceed the means of subsistence produced by 
 their imperfect agriculture, great colonies of them depart- 
 ed from their native country, with a view to provide 
 themselves new settlements at the expense of some richer 
 or more thinly peopled region. 
 
 In this manner the Gauls, in olden times, were fre- 
 quently troublesome neighbours to the Romans, sur' 
 mounting the Alps, and extending themselves to Lombar- 
 dy, where they established strong colonies. They 
 frequently invaded the southern parts of Italy, acquired 
 lands there, and under their general, Brennus, burnt and 
 pillaged the city of Rome itself, three hundred and eighty- 
 five years before the Christian era ; they were, however, 
 obliged to retreat from the citadel, or Capitol, and were 
 finally defeated by the Dctator Camillus. The Gauls 
 also rendered themselves formidable at a later period, by 
 an invasion of Greece under a second general of the 
 name of Brennus, who seized upon the treasures which 
 had been stored up by the devotion of ages, in the cele- 
 brated Temple of Apollo at Delphos. In these excur- 
 sions, you must not conceive that the Gallic invaders 
 acted as the forces of one united kingdom, but rather as 
 an assembly of independent bands belonging to the vari- 
 ous states, cities, and communities, into which the coun- 
 tiy was subdivided, convoked for a time under a single 
 chief, to whom the rest yielded the supreme authority, 
 as to the most powerful or the most skilful in war. 
 
 The rapine of these desultory hosts was the more 
 dreaded and execrated, that from their religious principles 
 turning on the worship of one only Deity, whonn Ihey 
 
12 THE GAULS FORMIDABLE TO ROME. 
 
 ad3red in the depths of forests, and not \a houses made 
 with human hands, they were in the habit of dishonour- 
 ing and destroying the temples and altars of other nations. 
 
 Nor was their conduct in battle less formidable than 
 llieir principles were obnoxious. The Gauls were famous 
 for their bravery and love of war, which they carried so 
 far, that they accounted it cowardice to make use of de- 
 fensive armour, and rushed upon the spears of their ene- 
 mies with undefended bosoms. This contempt of pre- 
 caution was joined with other faults, which exposed them 
 to great loss in regular actions with the experienced 
 Remans; yet, so dangerous w^ere they, from their great 
 numbers, and the fury of their assault, undisciplined as it 
 was, that Cicero declares, that had not the passage of the 
 Alps, by which alone they could reach Italy, been too 
 difficult, and had not the mountains possessed too few 
 means of sustenance for the passage of a Gallic army in 
 its full numbers, that nation must have destroyed the city 
 of Rome itself, even before its greatness was established. 
 On this account, according to the opinion of Cicero, the 
 Gauls, until the conquests of Julius Cassar, continued to 
 be the most obstinate and formidable enemies of the 
 Romans. So generally were they considered as such, 
 that in the celebrated conspiracy of Catiline, it was partly 
 the intention of the plotters to have drawn from Gaul a 
 considerable force for the execution of their purpose, 
 which comprehended nothing less than the total destruc- 
 tion of the Roman form of government. The Gauls, 
 indeed, did not snatch at this bait ; certain ambassadors of 
 the Allobroges, a people of Savoy in alliance with Rome, 
 having informed the Consul Sanga of the proposals 
 which had been made to them, materially assisted the 
 discovery of the plot. Nevertheless, the risk of their 
 future interference with other internal feuds of the same 
 nature, was a secret reason for urging the subjugation of 
 this powerful people. 
 
 The Romans also possessed one small province in 
 Gaul, in which they claimed a special and peculiar inter- 
 est. It was more than a century before Christ's birlh 
 
DISSENSIONS OF THE GAULS. 13 
 
 that the Consul Marcius Rex took one step towards tha 
 subjection of Gaul, by establishing a Roman colony 
 between the Pyrenean chain of mountains and the chy 
 of Toulouse, where he founded the state called Narbonne. 
 This colony was connected with Italy by a military road 
 between the Alps and Pyrenees, and afforded, as you will 
 presently see, most of the pretexts which the Republic 
 brought forward for interfering with the affairs of Gaul. 
 The protection of the Allobroges, and other states in the 
 neighbourhood of the province who had embraced the 
 friendship of Rome, formed a perpetual apology for such 
 intermeddhng. 
 
 Thus the conquest of Gaul, though undoubtedly Caesar 
 was encouraged in the atten]pt by the hope of adding to 
 the power and renown of the Republic, and raising him- 
 self in the opinion of his fellow-citizens, was, in a cer- 
 tain degree, founded on state necessity. But, besides the 
 ordinary reasons for which Rome took up arms, grounds 
 of serious political envy and hatred impelled the conquer- 
 ors of the world to make a war of subjection on a people 
 who were always restless neighbours, and occasionally 
 dangerous enemies. 
 
 In Caesar, the Romans enjoyed the advantage of a 
 general equally wise and skilful, and who, considering his 
 own ambitious views as inseparably connected with the 
 conquest and final subjection of Gaul, neglected no means 
 of accomplishing an object so much desired by his coun- 
 trymen, and so essential to his own fortunes. 
 
 The principal circumstance which afforded exercise for 
 Julius Ca3sar's political sagacity, and a pretext at the 
 same time for his military exploits, was the subdivision of 
 this great country into a numberless variety of cities, gov- 
 ernments, and states, trespassing almost always on each 
 other, and engaged in endless and complicated feuds, 
 which perpetually called for, or at least served to excuse, 
 the interference of the Roman general, who, while he 
 pretended to advocate the rights, and protect the cause, 
 of such Gallic nations as were the aUies of Rome, failed 
 
14 INVASION OF GAUL. 
 
 not to seize the opportunity of destroying Mie slate by 
 the arms of another, of which his Commentaries, as you 
 are already aware, afford a most curious, as well as ele- 
 gant narrative. 
 
 A singular resolution on the part of the Helvetians, a 
 Gallic tribe of great numbers and bravery, afforded the 
 Romans the first opportunity and apology for armed in- 
 terference in the affairs of Gaul. This nation were the 
 more hostile to the Romans, that they had, at no distant 
 period, defeated a considerable army of the Republic, 
 forced them to lay down their arms, and only spared their 
 lives on condition of their passing beneath the yoke, ac- 
 counted at the time an acknowledgment of the most ab- 
 ject surrender. One of Caesar's own relatives had shared 
 in this degradation. 
 
 The habit of emigration was then so general, that the 
 spirit of local attachment, which is at this day one of the 
 strongest principles of the modern Swiss, had no weight 
 with the ancient Helvetians. With the same impatience 
 which had formerly induced their Celtic forefathers to 
 change their position from one place to another, the Hel- 
 vetians determined to quit the barren mountains where 
 they were born, and march forth in a body to establish, 
 by fair means or by force,^ new settlements in other re- 
 gions. After some feuds among themselves, which ter- 
 minated in the death of a great chief, named Orgetorix, 
 with whom the design of emigration originated, the Hel- 
 vetii set forth as a nation upon their adventurous expedi- 
 tion. Turning their backs, as they designed, for ever, 
 on their native valleys and mountains, they burnt their 
 towns, twelve in number, with forty villages, and, with 
 their wives and children, cattle and slaves, set out upon 
 their extraordinary adventure. In our day, hardly any 
 thing could be accounted so strange as the resolution of 
 a nation to leave its own familiar abode, and set forth on 
 a vague expedition to settle in foreign parts But, at the 
 period 1 mention, fifty-eight years before the birth of our 
 Saviour, this wandering people had little of what we now 
 call love of their native land, and willingly undercook tlio 
 
WARS AMONG TUi: GALLIC TRIBE3. 15 
 
 labour and lisk of such a journey, in the hardy confidence, 
 that they would easily find a country more pleasant and 
 fertile than their own barren regions, and that they couU 
 scarcely be obliged to encounter, in defence of it, a na- 
 tion of more bravery and warlike temper than they were 
 conscious of bringing along with them. 
 
 An incursion so bold as that which the Helvetians pro- 
 posed, the Romans had a fair pretence for resisting ; the 
 more, as the Helvetians proposed to march into Gaul 
 itself through the territory of the Allobr(Dges, whom we 
 have already mentioned as allies of the Romans, and near 
 neighbours to the Roman province, and of course under 
 the protection of the Republic. 
 
 At this extraordinary inteUigence, Caesar, who had been 
 lately appointed Praetor, set oflf with the utmost speed 
 from Rome, to look after the pressing aflrairs of the Gal- 
 lic province which had been committed to his charge. 
 Here he defended the frontiers of the Allobroges by 
 raising a long wall, flanked with towers, hastily erected, 
 indeed, but with such judgment, that the Helvetians did 
 not venture to attack it. 
 
 The expatriated nation being obliged to change their 
 line of march, had only one road remaining, which led 
 into Gaul through the territory of the Sequani, now 
 called Burgundy. This road, running among clifl^s and 
 torrents, was judged totally inaccessible without the con- 
 sent of the Sequani themselves ; but by the intercession 
 of Dumnorix, a chief of the jEduans, a people whose terri- 
 tory lay near Autun, the Helvetians obtained permission 
 to pass through the defiles of the Burgundians unop- 
 posed, so that they might afterwards march in a direction 
 which should enable them to approach the ancient Tolo- 
 satium, now Toulouse. By this movement the Roman 
 province was highly endangered. The ^duans, friends, 
 if not allies of the Romans, were mortal enemies of the Se- 
 quani, and besought assistance from Caesar against the 
 Stream of Helvetians, who were thus poured into their 
 territory. Csesar hastened the motions of his army, for 
 the purpose ol intercepting the proposed mtirch of tlw 
 
16 WARS AMONG THE GALLIC TRIBES 
 
 Helvetians, and preventing the threatened devastation o( 
 (iaul. So rapid were his movements, that finding the 
 rear of their army, consisting of one-fourth of the whole, 
 still encamped on the eastern banks of the Arar, or Saone, 
 though the other three-fourths had passed the river, he 
 fell upon the rearmost division, thus separated from their 
 main body, surprised and cut them to pieces, astpnishing 
 the invaders not less with this unexpected blow, than 
 with the activity with which he constructed, in a single 
 day, a bridge to pass his army across the Arar, although 
 the task had occupied the barbarians twenty days. After 
 he had crossed the river, Cgesar detected the treachery 
 of Dumnorix, but forgave it, in consideration of the 
 fidelity to the Romans exhibited by his brother Divitiacus. 
 He then engaged in a decisive battle with the main body 
 of the Helvetians, whom, after a severe contei^tj he 
 defeated with much slaughter. The Helvetians, sub- 
 mitted to the conqueror, and by Caesar's order re- 
 turned to their ancient possessions, excepting only one 
 tribe, called the Boii, who, at the intercession of the 
 IZdui, were permitted by that tribe to settle in the 
 territory of Autun, their junction being considered as a 
 decided advantage. 
 
 Juliis Caesar having thus established the terror of his 
 name by the conquest, and almost the annihilation of the 
 warlike Helvetians, was soon called to undertake a war, 
 which, according to the belief of the Gauls, brought him 
 in contact with adversaries still more formidable. Of 
 this he was informed in a private council held by the 
 Mdui. They acquainted him, that, according to the 
 custom of the Gauls, who were constantly divided 
 among themselves, a long feud had existed between them 
 (the ^duans) on one hand, and on the other the Sequani, 
 already frequently mentioned, as well as another power- 
 ful tribe, called the Arverni, a people situated on the 
 Loire, and who were united with the Sequani against the 
 ^dui. Finding that their combined strength was unable 
 to conquer the ^Edui, these tribes agreed to cull to tiieii 
 «issirtance the warlike German nations which inhabite'l 
 
CHARACTER OF TilE GOTHIC TRIBES. 17 
 
 the opposite side of the Rhine, where that river bounded 
 the country of the Gauls. 
 
 I must here briefly remind you, that though a part of 
 Germany had been originally settled V>y the Celtic tribes, 
 yet the successors of these first colonists had been at a 
 subsequent period subdued, or banished, oy a people so 
 different in manners, language, religion, and even in form 
 and countenance, as to present in their general appear- 
 ance all the qualities of a different race. This great and 
 most important division of mankind, finally constituted 
 the grand source from which the modern nations of Eu- 
 rope have derived their principal materials of population, 
 and the peculiarities of their several governments. They 
 were generally termed Got! is, having among themselves 
 a great variety of distinctive names. They spoke anoth- 
 er language, differing from and opposed to that of the 
 Celts, insomuch that some wTlters have held them alto- 
 gether different. They are found, however, by more 
 accurate inquirers, so far connected as to warrant their 
 being referred to a common source, at a period probably 
 previous to the remarkable event described in Scripture 
 as the Confusion of tongues. The Goths did not follow 
 the religion of the Celtic tribes, nor were they acquainted 
 with the order of the Druids, neither did they acknowl- 
 edge the existence or worship of Esus, the one and only 
 deity of the Gauls. They worshipped the sun and the 
 moon, to which they added several imaginary deities. 
 They were much attached to the arts of divination, and 
 as these were chiefly used by the matrons of the tribe, 
 the females received, from this cause, as well as others 
 presently to be mentioned, a degree of honour seldom 
 paid to them by the males of barbarous tribes ; who gen- 
 erally devolve on their women all labour save those of 
 hunting and war. 
 
 This race of Goths possessed some qualities, which, in 
 the eyes of barbarians, are of high value. They were 
 large-limbed, tall, and of great personal strength, having 
 generally red hair and blue eyes. Their chiefs only 
 
 941 
 
J8 GOTHIC TRIBES OF GERMANY. 
 
 enjoyed command during the time of war, and a species 
 of princes, called kings by the Romans, were elected as 
 their judges during peace ; each of these magistrates had 
 a council of one hundred persons, supported by the pub- 
 lic. Their women, who held a high rank amongst them, 
 were remarkable for their chaste and honourable charac- 
 ter ; and as no one was allowed to marry until he wa3 
 one-and-twenty at least, their young men looked forward 
 with anxiety and hope to a period when they should un- 
 dertake the duties and dignities of men, and in the mean- 
 while practised tliosejiabits of patient restraint and sub- 
 dued passions, which made them fit for the duties of 
 manhood, when the period should arrive that they were 
 permitted to assume the situation of a husband and a 
 father. The women, on their part, finding themselves 
 the universal objects of respect and attention, were anx- 
 ious to assume a higher and more lofty character in soci- 
 ety, than is usually assigned to females in the savage 
 state. They partook in the toils and dangers of war, 
 accompanied their husbands in their expeditions, and 
 when the battle was irretrievably lost, they often, by 
 slaying themselves and their children, gave dreadful ex- 
 amples that they preferred death to slavery. 
 
 The character of these Gothic tribes had something 
 superior even to that of the Gauls ; braver they could 
 hardly be, but in war they were more steady, more per- 
 severing, could better endure the fatigues of a long and 
 doubtful fight ; and if inferior to the Gauls and other 
 Celtic nations in the fury of a headlong onset, they pos- 
 sessed powers of keeping their ground, and rallying 
 which rendered the event of the day doubtful, even aftei* 
 a long struggle. We can dimly perceive, by the history 
 of ancient times, that the approach of these Goths from 
 the east gradually overpowered and subdued the Celtic 
 colonies who occupied Germany ; some penetrating 
 northwards into Scandinavia, while others rolled their 
 emigration rather to the south and east, till their course 
 was checked by the mountainous regions of Switzerland 
 and the Tyrol, and by the broad course of the Rhine 
 
CJESAK DEFEATS AR10VI5TUS. 19 
 
 It followed, as a matter of course, that the fair ret;ion? 
 of Gaul beyond this great river should become objects 
 of covetousness to the Germans, whose crops were raised 
 with difficuhy, and who were as much strangers to wine 
 as they were enamoured with the occasional use of it. 
 It is not therefore wonderful, that the Germans, under the 
 command of a powerful and haughty chief, named Ario- 
 vislus, should have willingly accepted the invitation of 
 the Arverni and Sequani, to cross the Rhine, as I have 
 told you, to support them against the ^dui ; nor was it 
 surprising that Caesar, foreseeing the danger of permit- 
 ting these martial people to establish settlements beyond 
 the great river which had hitherto been their barrier, 
 willingly inquired into the nature of their proceeding, 
 with the purpose of putting a stop to it. He soon learned 
 that Ariovistus and the Germ s had already taken from 
 the Sequani one third of their territory, and occupied 
 the lands wMth his people, while he demanded a third 
 more for the accommodation of reinforcements, which 
 were about to join him from Germany. 
 
 When Caesar ap})lied to Ariovistus to know why he as- 
 saulted and injured the allies of the Roman people, the 
 German prince returned him the contemptuous answer, 
 that he was yet to learn what pretence Caesar or the Ro- 
 mans could have for interfering with his operations in 
 Gaul. The Romans marched against this new enemy ; 
 but tlie Gauls raised such exaggerated reports concern- 
 ing the strength and ferocity of the Germans, that they 
 spread a sort of panic even among the legionary troops 
 themselves. Caesar, by his address and eloquence, put a 
 stop to this mutiny of the trooj)s. He declared that he 
 himself would proceed on the expedition, though only 
 the Tenth Leirion should attend him. This select body 
 of men were flattered by the praise and confidence of 
 their general, while the rest called ont to be led against 
 the Germans. 
 
 Caesar then marched against Ariovistus, and after som« 
 manoeuvres, forced the German prinre to come to an ac- 
 tion, in which he routed his whole army with mu<!h 
 
20 END OF CiESAR's WARS IN GAUL,. 
 
 slaughter, eighty thousand Germans fallmg, anc Ariovii 
 tus himself escaping with great difficulty across the 
 Rhine. 
 
 By this decisive victory over the Germans, to whom 
 the Gauls yielded the superiority in valour, the reputation 
 of the Roman general was so highly raised, that it ena- 
 bled him to assume the situation most convenient for re- 
 ducing the whole country to obedience, which was the 
 ultimate purpose to which he directed his schemes and 
 interest. He became, or constituted himself, judge in 
 the numerous quarrels which took place amid so many 
 independent states. His decisions encouraged wars 
 amongst them, which he so managed that the victory 
 always fell to the side on which the Roman eagles were 
 ranked. The Belgae, a people of Gaul, who occupied 
 modern Flanders, were the first to see in this supremacy 
 of the Roman general, the future seeds of absolute sub- 
 jugation. This people, residing nearest to the Germans, 
 and probably being rather of German than GaUic descent, 
 were remarkable above the proper Gauls for their cour- 
 age and skill In war. Yet their alliance against the Ro- 
 mans was only the means of weakening their country by 
 repeated invasions, and very bloody defeats, which in- 
 creased the fame of Caesar's arms, and rendered the other 
 nations careful how they provoked a contest with a peo- 
 ple whose attacks the most powerful nations of Gaul had 
 proved unequal to sustain. 
 
 But although it was easy for Caesar to maintain the of- 
 fice of a Governor of Gaul for a short time, yet the tem- 
 per of that people, equally fierce and fickle, was scarcely 
 subdued, or the country, as a Roman would have said, 
 half pacified, before they were again forming plans and 
 alliances together for the purpose of throwing off the 
 yoke of Rome. Ten years of the active life of Caesar 
 were spent in constant labour to reduce Gaul to the con- 
 dition of a Roman province, but tor a long time with very 
 little success ; for no sooner did there appear a show o( 
 tranquillity, than it became the signal of wider combina- 
 tions agamst the foreigners tban had taken place before. 
 
FND OF CiESAR's WARS IN GAUL. 2\ 
 
 It was in vain that Caesar laid aside the clemency which 
 he practised, both from policy, and as most agreeable to 
 his own temper. It was in vain, that in one action the 
 river Aisne was so filled up and gorged with the dead 
 bodies of the Gauls, that the corpses served as a bridge 
 to their comrades who escaped from the slaughter. The 
 victory only led to a more terrible obstinate struggle with 
 the Nervii and other Belgic clans. Fifty thousand of a 
 nation called Aduatici were sold at once for slaves. All 
 these, and other severities, did not prevent a more pow- 
 erful and almost universal insurrection against the Ro- 
 mans, in which the iEdui themselves, the constant friends 
 of Rome, wearied out by exactions of various kinds, did 
 not refuse to join. The chief of the league, whose 
 name was Vercingetorix, after many brave exploits, was 
 at length made prisoner, and Caesar remained finally tri- 
 umphant. 
 
 The wars of Gaul, of w^hich this is a very hasty and 
 imperfect review, terminated by the storming of a very 
 strong fortress, called Uxellodunum, where Caesar cruelly 
 commanded the right hands of all the garrison who were 
 fit to bear arms to be struck off. 
 
 The nature of the labours undergone by Caesar will 
 best appear from Plutarch's catalogue of his victories. 
 ** In less than ten years, during the Gallic war," says that 
 biographer, " Caesar took more than eighty cities by storm, 
 subdued three hundred states or communities, and fought 
 upon different occasions with no less than thirteen mil- 
 lions of men, one million of whom had fallen into captivity, 
 and another had been taken captive and driven into slave- 
 ry." The marvel in this report will be greatly dimm- 
 ished, if the reader recollects that Caesar seldom encoun- 
 tered one nation of Gauls without the aid of auxiliaries^ 
 money, and provisions from the others with whom he was 
 in alliance at the time ; and thus, though it was the tal- 
 ents of the Roman general which conducted the cam- 
 paign, yet, considering the actual character of the soldiers 
 engaged. Gaul was principally overcome by the disunion 
 of he'' own native forces. 
 
22 SUBJECT OF THE NEXT CHAPTER. 
 
 Ill ihe 49th year before the Christian era, Caesar ro* 
 turned lo Rome to exercise against thelibeities of his own 
 countrymen, those troops, and that discipline, which had 
 been so admirably formed during ten years' wars against 
 the Gauls. In this manner. Providence makes our own 
 crimes the means of bringing on our punishment. The 
 unjust ambition of the Romans was the proximate cause 
 of their own loss of freedom. The effects produced upon 
 Gaul by the conquest of the Romans, will form the sub- 
 ject of the next chapter, which will bring us down to the 
 time when the reviving free spirit of Europe began to 
 burst asunder, and cast from her the fetters of Rome ; or 
 rather, when Rome herself, who had deprived so many 
 nations of their freedom, and who had so absolutely lost hei 
 own, found she had at the same time lost her hardihood, 
 her discipline, and her powers of conflict, and lay expos- 
 ed at the mercy of her own armies, like the fabled hun- 
 ter to the attack of his own hounds. 
 
POLICY OF THK ROMANS. 23 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 Policy of the Romans towards the Conquered Tribes — ■ 
 Human Sacrifice Forbidden — Polytheism Introduced 
 — Human Victims Secretly Sacrificed by the Druids 
 — Plans of Insurrection agitated at these Solemnities 
 — Combination among the Gallic Provinces against 
 Rome — Expedition of Drusus — Insurrection of Vin- 
 dex in JVero^s time — Its Suppression — Persecution oj 
 Christians in Gaul in the reign of Severus — Origin 
 of the Franks — Inroads of the Franks into the Ro- 
 man Provinces in the time of Posthumus and Gallie- 
 nus — TheAllemanni Defeated, and Peace for a time 
 Restored to Gaul, by Julian the Apostate — Radagai- 
 sus, King of the Goths, invades Italy, is taken Cap- 
 five with part of his Army — The rest of his Forces 
 Invade and Ravage Gaul. 
 
 When Rome seized upon the dominions of an inde- 
 pendent state, she usually prevailed on the suffering par- 
 ty to rest satisfied with some mess of pottage, like Esau 
 in the Scriptures, in place of what may be justly termed 
 the most precious birthright of humanity, excepting that 
 spiritual benediction which the eldest born of Jacob so 
 rashly exchanged for a dish of food. 
 
 Rome professed to give to the conquered states her pro- 
 tection, her acknowledgment of the authority of their 
 magistrates, with perhaps a golden diadem, a curule chair 
 of ivory, or some other emblem of more show than use ; 
 the true sense of which toys implied, that ine laws, ordi- 
 nances, and authorities of the once free country could not 
 now be said to exist, unless in so far as they were acknowl- 
 edged by Rome. The various cities, states, or provinces 
 throughout Gaul, were all subjected to Rome ; but the 
 servile connexion they bore to her varied according to the 
 'circumstances of surrend'sr. Some cities or common- 
 
21 HUMAN SACRIFICE FORBIDDEN. 
 
 wealths were permitted to retain the name of freedom ; 
 others were termed confederates of the Roman -^eople ; 
 while others were reduced to the condition of a province, 
 to which a Roman governor was appointed, with fuli 
 power over the property and persons of the unhappy na- 
 tives. But in all those cases, whether the subjugated 
 Gauls were mocked with the name of freemen or confed- 
 erates, or called in plain terms subjects, the Roman le- 
 gions alike occupied their strongholds. A capitation tax 
 was levied for the benefit of the Republic, and the chil- 
 dren of the soil, forcibly arrayed as soldiers, were made 
 to serve in different countries, so that, having lost their 
 own freedom, they might be used as tools to deprive other 
 nations of theirs. 
 
 But the vain and imaginary distinctions, comprehended 
 in these various orders of subjugation, were soon entirely 
 melted down, and merged into sixteen grand divisions, 
 called provinces, which, it is believed, was an arrange- 
 ment made under the reign of Augustus ; for so short a 
 time were the Romans disposed to abide by the veil of 
 decency with which they themselves had m the com- 
 mencement thought it necessary to disguise their conquest. 
 
 What, then, you may be tempted to ask, did the con- 
 quered Gauls obtain in exchange for the right of manag- 
 ing their own affairs, which the Romans had wrested from 
 them ? In reply, it cannot be denied that the coin in 
 which the Repubhc of Rome paid for her aggressions was 
 not all false money. It was her boast to extend some de- 
 gree of civilization among the prostrated vassals of her 
 ompirCj and to impress on them a milder species of spir- 
 itual rites than that which had animated them in their 
 days of savage freedom. With this view, the abominable 
 mode of worship by human sacrifice was forbidden 
 throughout the Gallic states, so soon as they had bent the 
 knee to Rome. In abolishing this wretched and barba- 
 rous custom, whatever might be the intention of the Ro- 
 mans, there can be no doubt that the morals of the peo- 
 ple were proportionally amended. Nor, when it is con-» 
 sidered what a species of priestcraft was exercised by the 
 
POLYniEISM INTRODUCED. 25 
 
 Druids, and how much they strove to keep their votaues 
 in ignorance hi order to increase llieir own power, can 
 we blame the means by which the Romans endeavoured 
 to diminish that po^ver, although the actual cause of tlieir 
 doing so was the reiterated efforts of this peculiar priest- 
 hood to inflame their countrymen against the yoke of the 
 conquerors. 
 
 But if the injunctions of Rome were highly laudable in 
 prohibiting the practice of human sacrifices, and were in 
 a great measure salutary, as they tried to loosen the fet- 
 ters w^hich an ambitious priesthood had fixed on the peo- 
 ple, other innovations which they introduced upon the 
 Gallic creed were of a different nature, and tended to 
 deprive them of their primitive worship, which, although 
 erroneous, was founded upon the grand sytem of acknowl- 
 edging one sole divinity. The Druids resisted these in- 
 novations at first with tolerable success, for it is said that 
 no temples were built in Gaul until the time of Tiberius, 
 when a general tax, or census, over the whole country 
 was proposed at RomiC, and only abandoned on the chiefs 
 of Gaul consenting to erect a temple to the memory of 
 Ca3sar, and for the adoration of Augustus. Thus, as as- 
 sociates in the throne of the single deity, Esus, in whom, 
 no doubt, they recognised, though imperfectly, the unity 
 and power of the Creator of all things, were placed 
 that very Julius Caesar, who had been the invader and 
 tyrant of their own country, and that Augustus himself, 
 the cruelties of whose early life were combined with the 
 brutal pollutions of his later years. 
 
 Polytheism, or a variety of deities, being thus intro- 
 duced into Gaul, that belief took root and throve anions: 
 
 ^ 
 
 that people to a most wonderful degree. The rich ex- 
 hausted themselves in building temples, some to the gods 
 recognised by the Romans, but fancifully distingui5:hed 
 by other epithets and attributes ; and others to imaginary 
 deities, whom they had sanctified according to their own 
 wild fancy. Another melancholy part attending this per- 
 version to the grossest errors of paganism, w^s, thai 
 2 VOL. I. 4th Ser. 
 
2G HL'MAN SACRIFICE FORBIDDEN. 
 
 wliilsi iiie Gauls imbibed all the superstitions of ido atr) 
 ajid polytheism, and renounced the approach which they 
 had made to the grand truth, that the world was created 
 and governed by one great being, they retained at the 
 same time their custom of human sacrifice. 
 
 These infernal rites, the worst j^art of the original wor- 
 ship of the Diiiidical system, the Gauls continued to prac- 
 tise in secret, in defiance of the edicts of the Em})eror3 
 for abolishing it, thus perversely retaining what was in- 
 human and cruel in their original system, and adopting 
 from that of their victors the whole childish puerihties of 
 a superstition which the Romans had been borrowing for 
 so many centuries from every country, whenever any thing 
 could be found to mterweave into their own creed. But 
 it must not be supposed that the human \ictims of the 
 Drujdical system were, after the conquest of Gaul, exe- 
 cuted in the temples which they had erected after the 
 fashion of the Romans. It would appear that animals 
 alone were sacrificed within these new places of worship ; 
 nor is it natural to believe that the Gauls should trangress 
 the edict of the conquerors, under the eye of their gar- 
 risons, or governors. The people, who, looking back to 
 the days of their freedom, desired to worship as they had 
 formerly worshipped, met by appointment in some dark 
 recess of unfrequented woods, under the direction of the 
 Druids, who resumed, at such secret conclaves, the power 
 which they were no longer permitted to exercise in pub- 
 lic. Bearing on their head the coronet of oak leaves, 
 which they esteemed sacred — clad in white robes, as was 
 their custom, the ancient priests then met the people in 
 the deep forest, to adore in secrecy and silence, accord- 
 ing to the bloody rites of their forefathers. The victim 
 who fell under the axe of the sacrificing pontiff, or who, 
 sometimes bound to a tree, was shot to death with arrows, 
 ivas usually a cnrainal who had deserved death, or some 
 individual of small account, who had been kidnapped and 
 reserved for this inhuman purpose. A other times, ic 
 was a voluntary victim, who offered himself as an expia- 
 tory offering for the sins of the people, like the scape- 
 
HUMAN SAC RIFICE. 27 
 
 gf)at of the Israelites. When an individual could be 
 urcught up to such a point of insane patriotism, the 
 Druids announced to him, as his reward, eternal happines? 
 in the society of the gods, to propitiate whom, he con- 
 sented to suffer death ; and the people, if circumstances 
 permitted, took care that he whose sacrifice was to be the 
 price of the public prosperity, should, for some time be- 
 fore his death, taste of as many of the pleasures of this 
 life as they had tlie means of procuring him. His death 
 then took place by the hand of the consecrated Druids. 
 They observed every circumstance of his mortal agony ; 
 the manner in which he fell ; the course of his blood down 
 the rugged front of the sacred stone : and from these cir- 
 cumstances affected to divine how far the deity was pro- 
 pitious to their designs. It may be well believed that, at 
 these secret meetings, the occasional return of the Gauls 
 to the barbarous rites of their Celtic ancestors, the bards 
 were also called in to assist, by music and melody, the im- 
 pression which was made on the assistants by the elo- 
 quence and mystic predictions of the priests. The themes 
 naturally chosen were the ancient glory of Gaul and her 
 inhabitants, who, having been long the terror of distant 
 countries, were now found unable to protect their own 
 against the Romans. The feelings of the hearers, a na- 
 tion readily excited, passionately fond of fame, their pre- 
 judices easily acted upon by the gloomy fanaticism of their 
 priests, and tJieir quick fierce tempers, resentful of the 
 injuries received from the Romans, became much agitated 
 by such solemnities, and it was not 'to be wondered at 
 that general schemes of revolt were laid or extended at 
 such meetings. 
 
 Besides these internal plans of insurrection against the 
 foreign yoke, the vicinity of the free Germans, and their 
 incursions and conquests upon the Gallic territory, were 
 another vexation which instigated the inhabitants to re- 
 volt. The Gauls had a right to complain, that while the 
 Romans assumed the title of their masters^ and drained 
 the provinces of the youth with whom th.ey could have 
 
58 EXPEDITION OF DRUSUS. 
 
 maintained their own defence, they left them exposed to 
 the inroads of a barbarous and formidable enemj . 
 
 These dissensions produced very general convulsions 
 throughout Gaul, in the year 741, after the foundation of 
 Rome. The various states and principalities of the whole 
 sixteen subdivisions or provinces, communicated and com- 
 bined together. Drusus, who was sent by the emperor 
 to still these commotions, had art and authority sufficient 
 to convoke all the Gallic chiefs and principal magistrates 
 at Lyons, under pretence of dedicating the temple to 
 Augustus, whicli we have already noticed.— Here, by 
 promises and actual benefits, he managed to disconcert 
 the plot of the disaffected. And as he proceeded across 
 the Rhine, and repulsed the Germans, the time when the 
 Gauls might have at least shaken off the Roman yoke 
 passed away in inactivity. 
 
 In the year of the Christian era 78, during the reign of 
 the tyrant Nero, an opportunity occurred, when the Gauls, 
 by the rise of an enterprising leader, were very near ac- 
 complishing their often meditated project of successful 
 insurrection. The leader, according to Dion Cassius, 
 named Caius Julius Vindex, was the son of a Romanized 
 Gaul, whose father had become a Roman senator. He 
 was descended from the line of one of the ancient kings 
 of Aquitaine, endowed with great strength of body, and 
 wisdom ; above all, an accomplished soldier. 
 
 Availing himself of the cruel exactions with which the 
 tyrant then oppressed Gaul, Vindex, who was governor 
 of Celtic Gaul, ascended the tribunal, and in an animated 
 oration denounced the vices of Nero, his cruelties, his in- 
 famies, the death of his mother by his orders, and the 
 crimes which to this day cling to his memory, as one of 
 the most depraved monsters that ever existed. He called 
 upon his hearers, not to rise in insurrection against the 
 Roman empire, but to combine for the more limited pur- 
 pose of removing Nero from the government. The peo- 
 ple, being, already greatly exasperated, took armi at ihi? 
 exhortation, and Vindex was soon at the head of a umdred 
 thousand men. It is said that Nero was lathor pleaseia 
 
INSURKECTION AND DEATH OF VINJEX. 29 
 
 thaw alarmed by this formidable insurrection, concei^AJng 
 it would afford his treasury great wealth from the forfeit- 
 ed estates of the insurgents. He placed a reward of two 
 hundred and fifty myriads of drachms upon the head of 
 Vindex. When this was told to the daring leader, he re- 
 plied, " To whomsoever will deliver to me the head of 
 Nero, I will be contented to resign my own life in return, 
 for having destroyed so great an enemy of the human 
 race." But of all Vindex's reproaches, Nero was most 
 moved by that in which the Gallic insurgent called him a 
 wretched fiddler. Leaving the topic of his mother's 
 death, and similar horrors, he complained bitterly to the 
 Roman people of the aspersions thrown out against his 
 taste and power as a musical performer ; and, that the Ro- 
 mans might judge how little they were deserved, he in- 
 troduced a voluntary or two into the oration which lie 
 delivered on that occasion. 
 
 Meantime, Virgilius Rufus, a Roman general who com- 
 manded on the banks of the Rhine, advanced against 
 Vindex. It was thought the two commanders would have 
 come to an understanding ; but the armies approaching 
 each other, skirmishes ensued, which led to a general ac- 
 tion, in which Vindex was defeated, with the loss of twen- 
 ty thousand men. Hurried on by a species of despair, 
 of which the ancient Romans were but too susceptible, 
 the defeated general killed himself just before the time 
 of Nero's dethronement and death. 
 
 After the death of Vindex, there is little worthy of no- 
 tice in the history of Gaul, except that, like other pro- 
 vinces of the empire, it suffered the most sev3re and ty- 
 rannical exactions at the hands of the Roman governors ; 
 and that the generals who commanded there often as- 
 sumed the purple, and gave place, by their ambition, to 
 wars, of which Gaul became the scene. The Gauls were, 
 for example, among the first to recognise as emperor the 
 celebrated Septimius Severus, who, in beginning his career 
 of ambition, was governor of the province of Lyons. The 
 .ast scene of the civil wars which completed the elevation 
 
80 ORIGIN OF THE FRANAS. 
 
 of Severus to the imperial throne, was the defeat «f his 
 ri\al Albinus, at a place ca\led Timurteum, about twenty 
 leagues from Lyons. A severe, but local persecution of 
 the Christians disturbed Gaul under the reign of this able 
 emperor, who was indignant at a Christian soldier v/ho 
 refused to wear a crown or coronet, delivered to him as 
 a donation, agreeably to the command of his general, but 
 which a religious dread of committing idolatry prohibited 
 him from making use of. St. Irenaeus, the bishop of 
 Lyons, fell, among other martyrs, about the year of 
 God 202. 
 
 As the Roman empire began now to totter towards its 
 fall, different barbarous nations, whom by force of arms 
 she had first compelled to retire from her boundaries, be- 
 gan to thicken around her, in some instances with the pur- 
 pose of mere ravage and plunder, in others, with the more 
 resolved intent of making conquests and settlements with- 
 in the imperial territory. Three of the nations or coalitions 
 of tribes, who had regarded Gaul as their natural conquest, 
 require to be distinguished from each other. The most 
 remarkable, from their becoming the corner stone of the 
 great monarchy to which they afforded a name, are the 
 Franks, the undoubted founders of the present kingdom 
 of France. From whence the people were derived, 
 whose memory has been preserved by such distinction, 
 has been the subject of much discussion. 
 
 In olden times, a fanciful origin was imagined for the 
 Franks, which England had also adopted, namely, that 
 they claimed their descent from the Trojans of classical 
 antiquity. At a later period, Pannonia and Gaul were 
 fixed upon as the native country of the Franks. But a 
 more probable opinion has gained ground in later days, 
 which has been generally recommended by its simplicity. 
 The Germans, the most formidable enemies of Rome since 
 the days of Ccesar, repeatedly defeated by the discipline 
 of the Romans, but always resisting them, and often vic- 
 torious in their turn, are supposed, about the middle of 
 the third century, to have formed a new associatiop or 
 alliance among their eastern tribes, for the purj)os$' o( 
 
THE ALLEMANNI, 
 
 31 
 
 mutual defence, to which, in token of their love of liber 
 tv, and their resolution to maintain it, they gave the nam»i 
 of Franks, or Freemen, though each tribe was individu- 
 ally known from the others by its own name. In this 
 confederacy, they at first acknowledged no supreme head, 
 nor was authority assumed by any one state over the 
 others. The purest equality, and the plan of acting for 
 each other's mutual support, seem to have been at once 
 the object and the conditions of the confederacy. Tliis 
 formidable people commenced a set of furious incursions 
 upon Gaul, which the Romans, under Gallienus and 
 Posthumus, endeavoured to repel, in a long series of 
 bloody wars, and in which both parties unquestionably 
 sustained great losses. The province itself suffered 
 greatly from the military operations, being necessarily 
 exposed to the ravages of both parties, whether Romans 
 or Franks. Indeed, notwithstanding the opposition of 
 Gallienus and Posthumus, the south-eastern provinces 
 of Gaul were so cruelly ravaged, that they afforded lit- 
 tle spoil to the invaders ; so that latterly the Franks only 
 used them as a road to the Pyrenees, and from thence 
 into Spain, which, unharassed as yet by similar invasions, 
 contained a spoil far more tempting. They even seized 
 upon vessels, and crossed to Africa, where they also found 
 provinces plentiful of spoil, and colonies little acquainted 
 with the art of war. 
 
 The Franks, who thus laid waste by rapid excursions 
 the provinces of the Roman empire, had yet a country 
 which they called their own, where they resided, when 
 they chose for a time to abide at rest. To their original 
 settlements on the eastern or German side of the Rhine 
 they had added a considerable tract, called at that time 
 Toxandria, which appears to have comprehended great 
 part of the present province of Brabant, their habitations 
 being in woods and morasses, or on the adjacent banks of 
 lakes and rivers, as they could best surround them with 
 mde fortifications, formed out of the trunks of trees. 
 
 The Allemanni were another and separate association, 
 resembling that of the Franks, and instituted ipon simi 
 
32 JULIAN THE APOSTATE. 
 
 !ar principles. The Suevi formed the strength of this 
 confederation; a tribe so much esteemed for couiage by 
 the neighbom'ing nations, that the Germans told Caesa/ 
 even the immortal gods could scarcely match them in 
 fight. This brave people comprehended, besides, so many 
 members, that they assumed the title of Allemanni, or 
 All-men, to mark the comprehensive principle of general 
 oiion on which their league rested. Besides making dis- 
 tant and extensive excursions, one of which brought 
 them almost to the city of Rome itself, which was in 
 great danger of falling into their hands, they, like the 
 Franks, had a fixed abode. This second confederacy 
 of the German tribes had their settlements on the east- 
 ern banks of the Upper Rhine ; and their vicinity was 
 not less formidable to Gaul than that of the Franks, 
 
 About the year 357, Julian, who, from his renouncing 
 the Christian religion, obtained the hateful epithet of the 
 Apostate, was sent, with very insufficient forces, to 
 rescue Gaul from the ravages of the barbarians, and dis- 
 charged his duty with unexpected success. He defeated 
 the Allemanni in the battle of Strasburg, and after obtain- 
 ing this victory, he crossed the Rhine three times, and 
 upon each occasion took forts, won battles, or gained 
 other successes ; so that Gaul was for a time relieved from 
 the incursions of these barbarous enemies, and with tlie 
 assistance of Julian, its towns were rebuilt, and its pros- 
 perity re-established. 
 
 The historian Gibbon, who, from his enmity to the 
 Christian religion, shows a great desire to make a hero 
 out of Julian, has not, it is true, said more than enough in 
 praise of his talents. But though certainly a prince of 
 lively parts, and great personal activity, we cannot attrib* 
 ute soundness of understanding to the man of education, 
 who should ycefer the mysterious jargon of Plato's phi' 
 losophy, and the coarse polytheism of the heathen reli- 
 gion, to the pure simplicity of the Gospel. 
 
 The provinces of Gaul shared for some time the advan- 
 tages procured by the active talents of Julian ; and it 
 Hould seem, that although the Franks were celebrated 
 
RADAGAISUS INVADES ITAL\. 3f3 
 
 for a rude and fickle temper, yet for a period of years? 
 they remained faithful to Rome ; a fidelity which waa 
 probably purchased by occasional subsidies. They even 
 resisted the strong temptation of an opportunity to break 
 their alliance with the Romans, in the great invasion of 
 Rhodagast, or Radagaisus, which may be said in its event 
 altogether to have destroyed the very slight remains of 
 the Roman empire, excepting in Italy itself. This barba- 
 rian prince had collected an immense army from the 
 shores of the Baltic sea, in which so many w^ere sprung 
 of pure Gothic descent, that the name of King of the 
 Goths was generally, though inaccurately, given to then' 
 commander. The Vandals, the Suevi, the Burgundians, 
 jomed his standard. But though the Western Emperor 
 Honorius was a timid and inefficient prince, his minister, 
 Stilicho, a man of ambition, warlike skill, and political 
 talent, with an army, the last apparently which he could 
 raise, came upon the King of the Goths while he was 
 engaged in the siege of Florence, and by a hasty circum- 
 vallation, surrouncled the besiegers, who, in their turn 
 were besieged, reduced to a starving condition, and 
 obliged to surrender. 
 
 But though Radagaisus and his host were made cap- 
 tive, yet two-thirds of his original forces, amounting to 
 one hundred thousand men, were still in arms in the 
 north of Italy. It is said that Stilicho insinuated to them 
 the advice to attack Gaul, as perhaps the only means by 
 which he could relieve Italy of such unwelcome guests. 
 They took the hint accordingly, and, ascending the Alps 
 at different points, and approaching the Rhine on various 
 quarters, appeared as invaders on the frontiers of Gaul. 
 In this exploit, those who attacked Gaul from the Upper 
 Rhine experienced neither assistance nor opposition from 
 the Allemanni. But the Vandals, whose great numbers 
 had enabled, or perhaps obliged, them to separate from 
 the barbaric host, approached the territories occupied by 
 the Franks, on the lower part of the river. The Franks, 
 faithful to their engagements with the Romans, advanced 
 m arms to oppose them and in the battle which emsueJ 
 942 . 
 
34 SUCCESSIVE TRIBES OF BARBARIANS, 
 
 twenty thousand Vandals were slain. But the ariival oj 
 the Alanij another nation of barbarians, who came up 
 during the conflict, compelled the Franks to retreat, and 
 :o desist from the defence of the river, to which their 
 numbers w^ere unequal. Without further opposition then, 
 the roving barbarians, consisting of several tribes, the re- 
 mains of the army of Hadagaisus, crossed the Rhine, which 
 was then frozen, and carried fire and sword into the rich 
 country, which had in a few years recovered from the 
 devastations of the Franks and Allemanni, and reduced 
 It again to a smoking desert, never more to assume the 
 name of a civilized province of Rome, but to remain the 
 theatre in which contending races of barbarians were to 
 exercise themselves against each other in bloody conflict 
 This invasion of Gaul took place in 407. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Successive Tribes of Barbarians by whom Europe was 
 overrun — the Celts its Original Settlers — Invasions 
 of the Goths, Sarmatians, and Alani — Irruption of 
 the Huns, who settle in the Eastern parts of Germany, 
 — Wars of Attila with the Eastern Empire — League 
 between ^tius, the Roman Patrician, and Theodoric, 
 King of the Goths — Attila invades Gaul, and besieges 
 Orleans — ^tius and Theodoric advance against him, 
 and defeat his Army in the Battle of Chalons — the 
 Victors suffer the Defeated Army to retreat, without 
 molestation — Death of Attila — Extinction of the Wes- 
 tern Empire — Erection of Italy into a Kingdom. 
 
 Gaul could be no longer considered as an appendage 
 tc the Roman empire, if indeed the empire itself could be 
 Baid still to exist. The province was filled w^ith tribes of 
 barbarians of Gothic or Celtic descent, carrying on de- 
 Bultoiy warfare with each other, which having neither a 
 permanent residt nor motive, becomes of as little conse- 
 
BY WHOiM EUROPE WAS OVERRUN. 35 
 
 quence to history, as, to use an expression of Milton, the 
 battles of the kites and the crows. The name of Rome 
 was still used in these scenes of confusion ; jEtius, thft 
 minister and general of Valentinian HI., a man of courage, 
 doubtless, but who had no means to follow up his attempts 
 to reclaim the province of Gaul from the barbarous hordes 
 by which it had been ravaged, save by the arms of others 
 yet more barbarous than those by which Gaul was over- 
 run and occupied, made, nevertheless, by the aid of such 
 auxiliaries, a considerable stand. We are compelled to 
 notice one or two of the more important nations, to whom 
 some degree of settled government had given the appear- 
 ance of a certain advancement in social life. 
 
 The Franks are in this case to be peculiarly attended 
 to, as in their descendants we must look for the origin of 
 the powerful kingdom of France we have already s-een 
 that they occupied both sides of the Rhine in its lower 
 course, and at first opposed the remains of Radagaisus'g 
 army, till overpowered by the joint force of the Vandals 
 and the other hordes. The Franks seem then to have 
 resolved to seize upon a share of the prize which they 
 could no longer defend. They advan< ed their banners 
 accordingly, and amidst the general confusion, found no 
 difficulty in adding to their western frontier a large por- 
 tion of territory, comprehending nearly two of the prae- 
 torian governments, into sixteen of which the Romans 
 had divided Gaul. At this period they had established 
 kingly government by hereditary descent in the Merovin- 
 gian family. These princes allowed their hair to descend 
 in long curls over their shoulders, while the rest of the 
 Franks shaved the hair on the back part of the head, 
 from whence the Merovingian dynasty were entitled the 
 Long-haired Kings. Their dominions extended as far 
 westward as the eastern bank of the Somme. 
 
 The Goths, meaning that part of them called Visigoths, 
 or Western Goths, had established themselves m the pro- 
 vince of Gascony, and the adjacent parts of Spain ; and 
 their chief, Theodoric, a prince of great resolution, having 
 been converted with his subjects to the Christian faitn^ 
 
36 INVASION OF THE xlUNS. 
 
 had shown more wisdom and strength of mind than wore 
 usually the attributes of barbaric princes. With Theodo- 
 ric, ^tius, the Roman general, made war, as one by 
 whose arms Gaul was most likely to be detached from the 
 empire. But a common enemy was approaching, of a 
 power so formidable as to compel both parties to unite in 
 'resisting him. 
 
 The latter days of the Roman empire were marked by 
 many of those emigrations upon a great scale, by which 
 the nations who were put in motion were precipitated 
 upon such as remained quiet, with the impulse of a river 
 in inundation, overwhelming or bearing before them the 
 settlements of former ages, and sometimes destroying all 
 memory of their existence. Thus had one race succeed- 
 ed another in Europe. The Celts had been its original 
 settlers, the Goths, more strong, wise, and powerfu., had 
 driven this primitive people into the retreats of the moun- 
 tains and valleys, where their remains are still to be found. 
 The Sarmatian race also showed itself amid these succes- 
 sive revolutions; and the Alani, sometimes the scourge, 
 sometimes the protectors, of the Roman provinces, were 
 of the third great family, who were distinguished by a lan- 
 guage and manners considerably different from those 
 of the Goths, and their predecessors the Celts. But this 
 unhappy period, the fourth and fifth centuries, was yet to 
 see and suffer the lemorseless rage of a fourth division of 
 mankind, a race yet different from those by whom they 
 had hitherto suffered. It seemed the will of Heaven, to 
 punish perhaps the wickedness of the Roman people, that 
 so fast as one horde of barbarians had begun to settle 
 into peaceful inhabitants of the regions which they had 
 wasted, new bands were brought from the extremities of 
 the earth to renew the devastations, which had become 
 more infrequent ; and between the fresh invaders and 
 their precursors, there was so little of connexion, or pos- 
 '^ibiJUy of alliance, that tliey dia not even und(Ts:and 
 each other's language. A remarkable feature of this 
 ijxtraordinary course of events, was the unexpectfid ap 
 
INVASION OF THE HUNS. 37 
 
 poarance of a countless army of Asiatics on the borders 
 of the still harassed Eastern Empire. 
 
 This extraordinary emigration had arisen out of convul- 
 sions so far to the eastward as the Great Wall, by which 
 the Chinese emperors endeavoured in vain to protect 
 themselves against the Tartars of the desert. Whatever 
 was the original cause of communicating a movement so 
 general, it must have been of a most formidable cliaracter, 
 since it acted so widely upon the bosom of the Great 
 Desert. Myriads of the mounted Tartar tribes collected to- 
 gether, dragging or driving on each other, and poured on 
 to the westward, as if directed by the instinct of the lo- 
 cust-swarm, which holds undeviatingly upon its destined 
 track to the country which it is called to ravage and de- 
 stroy. Wherever this tide of armed emigration came, it 
 struck universal terror. Their numbers were in them- 
 selves great, and the velocity with which their equestrian 
 habits enabled them to move, magnified them into innu- 
 merable shoals. Nor was their external appearance less 
 terrible than their numerical force. The Gothic and Ger- 
 man tribes had shown the astonished provincials a strength 
 of limb, and a loftiness of stature, seemingly beyond the 
 usual growth. On the other hand, the Huns, as these new 
 invaders were called, were dwarfish in stature, and their 
 limbs, though strongly formed, exhibited a disproportion 
 to each other, which almost amounted to deformity. Their 
 countenances were of the cast commonly called Chinese ; 
 and their small sparkling eyes deep sunk beneath the 
 skull, were placed at a distance from each other on the 
 extremities of an unnatural breadth of forehead, while a 
 flat nose and a large mouth added peculiar hideousness to 
 the wild and frightful expression of the face. Their man- 
 ners were almost as horrible as their appearance. Under 
 the arbitrary despotism of their chiefs, they became famil- 
 iarized with all the evils which despotism usually teaches 
 its subjects to inflict, and to submit to. Their manners 
 were altooether ferocious and brutal, and if we could im- 
 plicitly tmst the accounts transmitted to us, lew mortals 
 
88 THE HUNS SETTLE IN EASTERN GEKMANY. 
 
 could more resemble demons in features and actions, than 
 did these hordes of Tartar savages, who appeared m 
 Europe towards the end of the fourth century. 
 
 The Gothic tribes who inhabited the northern bank of 
 the Danube, were the first to experience the furious at- 
 tack of these new enemies, and were so much struck with 
 terror, that, hke one wave pursued by another, the body 
 of the nation poured towards the banks of the Danube, 
 and implored permission to cross that mighty barrier, and 
 to take shelter under the protection of the Roman Empe- 
 ror of the East, from the tide of barbarians which were 
 pouring upon them from the deserts of Tartary. The 
 Goths were incautiously admitted to take refuge within 
 the limits of the empire ; but as at the same time, the venal 
 lieutenants of the frontier treated them with harshness and 
 injustice, the incensed strangers became the most formi- 
 dable enemies to its tranquillity. They never again left 
 the territory of the Empire, but remained there, some- 
 times in the character of avowed enemies, and at others in 
 that of doubtful auxiliaries and friends, changing their re- 
 lations as often as caprice or desire of gain could afford a 
 motive for doing so. 
 
 The Huns, whose approach had impressed so much ter- 
 ror on the Goths, and constrained that redoubted nation 
 to advance upon the Roman Empire, did not themselves 
 take the same direction with the fugitives. They took 
 undisturbed possession of Hungary, to which they gave 
 their name, and of great part of eastern Germany. These 
 fertile regions seemed sufficient for their wants, and whai 
 incursions they might make upon the Empire of the East, 
 were not of a grand or terrific character. It may be con- 
 jectured, that at this period the power of this wandering 
 people was not combined under one general head, and 
 ihat the thousand tribes of the Huns lived for the time 
 each under the dominion of its own chief, in consequence 
 of which the strength ofthewliole nation was not readily 
 orought to exert itself. 
 
 But in 433, (A. D.) we find the forces of the Hana 
 again core bined under the guidance of one well qualified to 
 
attii^a's invasion of gau::.. 39 
 
 use a power so tremendous. This was Attila, oi Etzell,, as 
 lie is called by German tradition, surnamed by his terrified 
 contemporaries the Scourge of God. By the ferocious ac- 
 tivity of his followers actively seconding his own natural 
 disposition, he was enabled to make good the inhuman 
 boast, that grass never grew on the spot over which he 
 passed. His first wars were with the Eastern Empire, 
 from which he exacted a large yearly tribute, besides an 
 extensive cession of territory, and obliged Theodosius, 
 then Emperor of the East, to submit to the most humili- 
 ating demands. His protection was eagerly sought after 
 by ^tius, called the Patrician, already mentioned, who 
 obtained, by the influence, of the king of the Huns, the 
 highest position of power and trust at the court of Theo- 
 dosius. But jEtius forgot gratitude in the virtue of pat- 
 riotism. 
 
 Attila, after hesitating whether he should attack the 
 Eastern or Western Empire, and after having insulted the 
 weakness of both, determined at last to pour upon Gaul 
 the terrors of a Tartar invasion. iEtius, so much was the 
 ))nde of Rome fallen, could only attempt to defend the 
 Roman province against the barbarians of the east, by 
 forming an alliance with one of those nations of barbarians 
 which issued from the north. I have already told you 
 that the Visigoths, or Gothic tribes of the west, were in 
 possession of Aquitaine, and had fixed their capital at 
 Toulouse. This powerful nation was commanded by 
 Theodoric, the son of a king of the Goths, called Alaric, 
 and the policy of ^tius induced him to obtain the aid of 
 the Gothic king for the defence of Gaul against the Huns. 
 These Tartars advanced with all their tribes ; and Attila, 
 whose policy, like that of most barbarians, consisted chief- 
 ly in cunning and duplicity, flattered ^tius and Theodo- 
 ric alternately with his friendship, and threatened them 
 with his formidable enmity ; thus preventing them, foi a 
 time, from combining their forces for the common safety, 
 by suggesting to each that the peril respected the other 
 alone. While thus amusing Theodoric and jEtius, Attila, 
 by a march seldom equalled passed from Hungary to Gaui, 
 
40 BATTLE OF CHALONS. 
 
 crossed tlie Rhine, by a bridge of boats, penetrated into 
 the centre of the province of Gaul, which he wasted, and 
 laid siege to the important town of Orleans. But mutual 
 alarm had now accomplished that union between the Ro- 
 man patrician and the valiant Gothic monarch, which mu- 
 tual distrust had so long impeded. Theodoric raised a 
 powerful army, and appeared at their head ; jEtius called 
 to arms the other barbarous people in Gaul, who still set 
 some value on the name of Roman confederates, and 
 among them brought to the field Merovaeus, the long- 
 haired king of the Franks, though Attila called that na- 
 tion his allies. Having formed the plan of their campaign, 
 the allies marched forward with such rapidity, that they 
 well-nigh surprised Attila while he was engaged in the at- 
 tack on Orleans. On their approach, he was compelled 
 to raise the seige, and, recrossing the river Seine, concen- 
 trated his immense clouds of cavalry near Chalons, in the 
 province of Champagne. The Goths, with the army of 
 iEtius, advanced against him, and the crisis seemed to ap- 
 proach, in which the fate of battle was to decide to whom 
 this fair portion of Europe was doomed to belong. Both 
 were barbarians ; but the Goths, having received the Chris- 
 tian faith, had at the same time adopted some of the atten- 
 dant doctrines of morality, which mitigated the ferocity 
 of their natural manners. But even ere they enjoyed 
 these inestimable advantages, they possessed as much su- 
 periority over the Tartars in the turn of their mind and 
 manners, as in their stately and well-formed persons, which 
 showed to such advantage, compared to their misshapen 
 and fiendish-looking enemies. They were a people ac- 
 custom.ed to pride themselves in subduing and resisting 
 the brutal impulses of their nature ; without which power 
 of restraint man is levelled with the beasts that perish. 
 The Huns, on the contrary, wallowed in every pleasure 
 that could gratify their animal instinct. The plurality of 
 wives in which they indulged, produced among them all 
 the usual consequences of degradation of the female sex, 
 and indifference between the parents and the offspring. 
 The battle of Chalons, therefo^-e, was likely to determine! 
 
DEATH OF ATTILA. 41 
 
 whether the Eurooean or the Asialic savage, aliKe in iiide 
 and ferocious courage, but differing in so many other qual- 
 ities, was to predominate in the province of Gaul. This 
 engagement, fought in the year 450, (A. D.) was disput- 
 ed with an obstinacy and fury, befitting the great stake for 
 which these fearless nations, on fire with rivalry, and each 
 proud of its ancient name, pursued the bloody game of 
 war. The aged but valiant king of the Goths, Theodo- 
 ric, was killed in the front of the battle, but his place be- 
 ing bravely filled by his eldest son, Torrimond, the im- 
 petuous career of his followers was not checked, and Attila 
 himself was compelled, by the strength and fury of the 
 Goths, to seek, after the Scythian custom, a retreat among 
 his wagons, which were sometimes the means of trans- 
 porting their families, and sometimes their fortification 
 against a prevailing enemy. The troops, which sustained 
 the once formidable name of Romans, suffered greatly, 
 and iEtius, their leader, was separated from his soldiers, 
 and with difficulty found refuge in the camp of his allies. 
 But such a battle was dreadful to the victors as well as 
 the vanquished, and the Goths and Romans judged h 
 more prudent to suffer Attila to effect a sullen and slow 
 retreat, watched by a part of their army, than to risk the 
 glory of their hard-won victory, in an attempt to cut off 
 the retreat of the Tartar prince. Attila arrived in the 
 northern parts of Italy, w^ithout having, in his retreat, 
 suffered any considerable abatement of power, or by his 
 defeat lost much of his renown. He died not long after, 
 having compelled the Roman emperor of the East to giv*3 
 to him, as one of his many wives, a beautiful Daughter 
 with an immense dowery. Shortly after this event the 
 Western Empire was entirely extinguished, ana a king- 
 dom of Italy erected in its place. 
 
12 CONQ,UESTS OF CLOVIS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Conquests of Clovis — His Conversion to Chrutlamfd 
 — War between him and Alaric, King of the Visi- 
 goths — Defeat of the Goths at Poitiers — Laivs and 
 Customs of the Franks — Death of Clovis — Division 
 of his Empire among his Sons — The Saracens in^ 
 vade France, and are repulsed by Charles Martel-^ 
 The Merovingian Race of Kings deposed by Pepin 
 Founder of the Carlovingian Dynasty — Conquests 
 of Charlemagne — Division of the Empire among his 
 Successors— Invasion of the JVorthmen or JYormans — 
 Charles the Gross deposed. 
 
 I HAVE already fixed your attention upon the Franks as 
 iLe people who were destined to become the founders of 
 modern France. But the original extent of their domin- 
 ions was small ; the increase of their power slow ; nor 
 did they for a length of time bear much comparison with 
 the Burgundians, who occupied the south-east of France, 
 or with the still more numerous Visigoths, who repulsed 
 the formidable host under Attila. We have already given 
 some account of them and their long-haired kings, who 
 were called after Merovgeus, the ally of jEtius and ofThe- 
 ndoric, at the famous battle of Chalons. But in his time 
 tiie Franks can only be said to have kept their ground. In 
 the tinne of Clovis (which is the same name with Louis, 
 the chl of the Celtic tribes resembling the aspirated con- 
 sonant hi,) the power of the nation made great advances, 
 rather oy the address and ability of the monarch, than by 
 the suoerior valour of his followers, though the Franks 
 were allowed to be among the bravest of the German 
 tribes who invaded Gaul. Such of the Gallic colonists 
 as still chose to retain the name of Romans, endeavoured 
 to embody themselves under the command of one Sya- 
 grius, who established his head-quarters at Soissous. 
 
CONQ,UESTS OF CLOVIS. 43 
 
 But Clovis, with bis warlike Franks, commenced hh 
 career of conquest by defeating liim ; and obtaining pos- 
 session ©f his person, caused him to be beheaded, and 
 seized upon his dominions, which added to the territo- 
 ries of the Franks tlie provinces of Gaid betwixt the 
 Rhine and the Loire. (486.) Clovis afterwards conquered 
 a king of Thuringia, named Basin, and extended his sway 
 over his country, the inhabitants of which were the more 
 severely treated, that they had formerly joined Attila, and 
 committed frightful cruelties upon the Goths and Franks, 
 after the battle of Chalons. 
 
 But Clevis's destiny was principally determined by his 
 adopting the Christian faith. The chief agent in his 
 conversion, was his queen, Clotilda, daughter of Gundo- 
 bald. King of Burgundy, his neighbour and ally. By 
 her affectionate exhortations, the mind of her husband was 
 disposed to Christianity, though he long hesitated to em- 
 brace a religion which imposed many restrictions. At 
 length, in a battle with the x\llemanni, often already men- 
 tioned as holding the upper part of the Rhine, Clovis, 
 hard pressed, was induced to vow, that if he should obtain 
 a. victory, which seemed extremely doubtful, he would 
 become a Christian. The King of the Allemanni was 
 slain, his army discomfited, and the acquisition of his 
 dominions greatly augmented the power of the Franks. 
 ^A. D. 496.) After this conquest, Clovis adopted the 
 Christian faith, according to his vow, and was baptized 
 m the Cathedral of Rheims, where it has been ever since 
 the custom to crown and consecrate the monarchs of 
 France. 
 
 Burgundy, the country of his wife, was afterwards sub- 
 jected by this ambitious King ; for Clovis was equally a 
 dexterous politician, an accomplished soldier, and, we 
 must add, an ambitious and unscrupulous man : by such 
 chaiacters are kingdoms acquired, and their limits aug- 
 mented. Gundobald was attacked and defeated, and, 
 after his death, his son Sigismond was taken and put to 
 death ; the sons of Clovis causing him and his family to 
 bo thrown into a well. 
 
44 WAR BETWEEN THE FRANKS AND GOTHS. 
 
 But. b(3fore the conquest of Burgundy was parfectea 
 a war broke out between Clovis and those Visigoths 
 who, in the time of Tiieodoric, had assisted in defeating 
 Attila at the battle of Chalons. These Visigoths were 
 Arians, that is, they held certain opinions on the most zh- 
 siruse and mysterious doctrines of Christianity, taught by 
 a clergyman called Arius, which are contrary to those ac- 
 cepted by the Catholic Church. Unhappily for both 
 sides, the Christians of those early ages chose rather to 
 make these differences in speculative opinion the means 
 of persecuting each other, than listen to the great pre- 
 cept of the Gospel, which imposes on us the duty to 
 love our neighbour as ourselves. 
 
 The Visigoths were at this time governed by a prince 
 called Alaric, who was stirred, doubtless, by the blood of 
 his renowned ancestor of the same name, and jealous of 
 the growing conquests of the Catholic Clovis. The two 
 monarchs met as friends upon an island in the Loire, which 
 now divided their dominions. But it is remarkable how 
 f^eldom such interviews serve to prolong peace and good 
 understanding betwixt princes. They feasted together, 
 and parted in appearance as friends, but with mutual ran- 
 cour at heart. Clovis held a council of his barons ; — "Let 
 not these Arlan heretics," he said, " longer enjoy jho 
 choicest portion of Gaul !" He was answered by lojjd ac- 
 clamations, and, to give evidence of his ow^n zeal, rode to 
 the front of his nobles, and darting his battle-axe forward 
 with a strong arm and desperate aim, " Where my froncis- 
 ca alights," he said, (such was the name which the Franks 
 gave to their war-axes,) " will 1 dedicate a church lo the 
 blessed St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and to his holy 
 brethren !" The weapon lighted on the spot wheie Clo- 
 vis erected the Great Church, now called that of St. 
 Genevieve, formerly of St. Peter and St. Paul. 
 
 Under these auspices, Clovis advanced against Alaric, 
 who a]»peared at the head of an army of Goths, far supe- 
 rior to that of the Franks. In the anxiety of the momeni, 
 Clovis endeavoured to propitiate the saints by magnificent 
 pvomib-^'s. St. Martin of Tours, who had been active iu 
 
CHARACTER OF CLOVIS. 45 
 
 the general conversion of Gaul, was the piiiicl])al object 
 of his vows. He endeavoured to propitiate that saint with 
 many promises, and particularly that of dedicating to him 
 a favourite charger, which was perhaps the thing in the 
 world which he loved most dearly. The King of Franks 
 iohicd battle with Alaric, near Poitiers, wtiere the usual 
 good fortune of Clovis prevailed. (A.D.500.) He showed 
 his personal gallantry in the pursuit, and, attaching himself 
 to the person of Alaric, slew him with his own lance, w^hile 
 at the same time he made his escape with difficulty from 
 two desperate Gothic champions, who united to avenge 
 their monarch's death by that of his conqueror. The risk 
 which Clovis had eluded by his own dexterity, and the 
 excellent qualities of his approved charger, endeared the 
 noble animal to him, and he endeavoured to repurchase 
 him at the price of one hundred golden pieces, from the 
 saint to whom the good horse had been pledged by the 
 royal vow. But he was displeased to learn that St. Mar- 
 tin had vindicated his property, and that the steed would 
 not stir from his stable till redeemed at a higher rate by 
 his secular master. " An excellent friend in time of need, 
 this St. Martin," said the king, somewhat fretted at the 
 saint's tenacity ; " but rather difficult to transact business 
 v/ith." He continued, however, his attachment to the 
 saint, and his bounty to the existing clergy, which secured 
 for the founder of the Frank monarchy a fairer charactei 
 in the pages of the monkish historians than his crimes de- 
 serve. Clevis's reputation as a conqueror was, in his lat- 
 ter years, somewhat tarnished by a defeat received before 
 Aries, from Theodoric the Great, King of the Ostrogoths, 
 but it did not greatly affect his power. His religion, how- 
 ever, consisted chiefly in superstition, and his esteem for 
 St. Martin never interrupted the course of unscrupulous 
 ambition which, on every possible occasion, seized the op- 
 portunity of extending his dominions either by fraud or 
 violence. Such princes of the Merovingian race, whose in- 
 terests seemed likely to interfere with his own family, he 
 <5ut off without mercy. Of others, he shaved the long hair, 
 and having thus rendered them inacapable of assuming the 
 
46 LAWS AND CUSTOMS OF THE FRANKS. 
 
 established mark of regal sway, shut t.iem up in cloisters, 
 If he suspected them to be capable of reflecting that 
 their hair would grow again, he took sternei and more fatal 
 mean- of shutting the paths of ambition against them. 
 
 Yet, though stained with the blood of his own relatives 
 as well as others, Clovis, with many crimes as an individ- 
 ual, had great virtues as a monarch. He not only extend- 
 ed the power of his tribe, over what we must in future call 
 Fiance, combining into one strong monarcliy the shattered 
 and broken fragments of so many barbarous tribes, as well 
 as the feeble remains of the Roman settlers in Gaul ; but 
 he ruled therji by equitable and humane laws, being the 
 first of the barbarous conquerors of what had constituted 
 the Roman empire, who tried to restore order in the do- 
 minions he acquired, and engaged himself in creating, as 
 well as destroying, the social union. His code of laws 
 were called the Salic and R.ipuarian,, from having theii 
 origin on the banks of the Saal, and the eastern side of 
 the Rhine ; and in their peculiar character they bore the 
 stamp of the warlike freedom which distinguished the an- 
 cient Franks. The King of the Franks gave to his friends 
 and followers the personal and temporary possession of 
 benefices, fiefs, or farms, varying in extent and value, 
 stipulating the service of the vassal, in peace or war, in 
 return for abandoning to him the profits of the soil. 
 Originally, these grants terminated at the will of the 
 holder of the soil, at least at the death of the tenant ; 
 but at last it became usual to renew the grant, as a matter 
 of course, on the death of the vassal, and in favour of his 
 eldest son, or nearest heir, who paid, or rendered, a cer- 
 tain acknowleflgment for receiving this preference. 
 
 The female inheritance jpf fiefs was' prohibited by the 
 Salic lav\^, and the consequence, by excluding the Kings 
 of England from the throne of France, led to those long 
 and bloody wars which perpetuate the remembrance of 
 the original edict. 
 
 In many respects, the Frank institutions were those of 
 barbarians. Slaughter was only punished by a fine, which 
 Jifiered according to the arbitrary value at which the law 
 
LAWS AND CUSTOMS OF IHE FRANKS. 4*7 
 
 rated the persons slain. Ordeals of various kin. Is were 
 referred to, in which the Deity was expected to work a 
 miracle, in order to make manifest the guilt or innocence 
 of an accused person, by protecting him from being burnt 
 when walking bare-foot among masses of hot iron ; and 
 similar unreasonable appeals were admitted, for obtaining 
 a special testimony of innocence, at the expense of a 
 suspension of the laws of nature. But a mode of trial, 
 far more suitable to the manners of these martial barbari- 
 ans, was the referring the issue of a lawsuit, or dispute 
 of any kind, to the encounter of two champions, espous- 
 ing the different sides of the contest in the lists. This 
 regulation was so well suited to the genius and disposition 
 of the barbaric tribes, that it was soon generally introduced 
 throughout Europe. Thus arose in France, the first 
 germ of those institutions, called the feudal system, the 
 trial by combat, and other peculiarities, which distinguish- 
 ed the jurisprudence of the middle ages. 
 
 We can also trace, in the customs and laws of the Franks, 
 the same rude marks of the trial by jury, which seem orig- 
 inally to have been formed among all the northern peo- 
 ple, — though it is very worthy of your notice, t-hat the 
 British alone have been able to mould it into such a form 
 as to adapt it to a civilized state. The jurymen were, in 
 the days of the origin of law, called compurgators. They 
 were little more than witnesses brought forward to give 
 evidence in behalf of the character of an accused person. 
 " You have heard things alleged against me," said the 
 accused, "but I will produce a certain number of com- 
 purgators, men that are well acquainted with me, and who 
 will pledge their oath that I am incapable of what has 
 been imputed to me." By steps which it is something cu- 
 rious to trace, the compurgators, limited to a convenient 
 number, came to be the judges in the cause, listening to the 
 proof adduced, whether in favour of guilt or innocence, 
 and deciding by their verdict which of the two predomi- 
 nated. So that, from being witnesses in behalf of the 
 accused, the opinion of the compurgatoYs became <.he 
 
18 SUCCESSORS OF CLOVIS. 
 
 means of deciding the truth or falsehood of the charge 
 against hini. 
 
 The high and excessive preponderance which the 
 Franks allowed to their own warlike habits induced them 
 to claim such superiority over the Gallic or Roman colo- 
 nists, that it must have reduced the whole, as it doubtless 
 did a very great part of them, into the condition of bonds- 
 men and Helotes to their haughty conquerors, had not 
 the more refined, but less gallant provincialists, fuind a 
 retreat in the church, by which they were raised sn gene- 
 ral opinion above the condition of their conquerors, and, 
 in their character as priests, dealt forth to them, as they 
 pretended, the good and evil things of the next world, 
 in consideration of being admitted to a large share of 
 temporal wealth and power as a recompense in the pres- 
 ent. As the clergy w^ere men of information, and pos- 
 sessed what learning still existed in Europe, their lot was 
 gradually rendered better than at first was threatened, and 
 the rude warriors were frequently, even to their own sur- 
 prise, obliged to submit to the well-informed and wily 
 priest. But when the oppressed ^provincial of Roman 
 or Gallic descent remained in a lay condition, he w^as 
 considered as incalculably meaner and more worthless than 
 the descendant of the Frank, or freeman, by whom he 
 had been conquered, and the distinction betwixt him and 
 the warlike barbarian remained long, and may be traced 
 deep in the history and manners of the kingdom of 
 France., 
 
 Clovis having laid the foundation of a mighty state, 
 which he extended by victory, and guarded by laws, died 
 at Paris, which he had fixed upon for the capital of his 
 dominions, in the year of God 511. The m.onarchy 
 which he founded was not in all appearance likely to sur- 
 vive him ; for upon his death, it was divided among his 
 four sons ; but it was the singular fortune of the French 
 monarchy to be often put in danger of dismemberment by 
 a division of territory, from which it repeatedly escaped, 
 by \he reunion of the detached portions, upon the first 
 opportunity. This spirit of individuality it perliaps re 
 
J5UCCESS0RS OF CLOVMS. A'J 
 
 icived from the impulse of the institutions of C'ovis, 
 since those people who live under the same laws are pro- 
 disposed to unite in the same government. 
 
 But it is at least unnecessary to trace with accuracy 
 the minute actions, separations, and reunions of territory, 
 during the sway of the kings of tlie First, or Merovin- 
 gian race. They were never remarkable for family con- 
 cord, and while their empire was divided into departments, 
 they seem to have fallen into absolute anarchy. Their 
 wars against their neighbours and each other were con- 
 ducted with the utmost cruelty, and their social regula- 
 tiv^ns seem to have been broken through by the general 
 propensity to insubordination. One of Clovis' grandsons, 
 Theodibert, King of Metz, passed the Alps into Italy ; 
 and although that irruption, like all which the French 
 have hitherto directed against their transalpine neighbours, 
 w^as in the end nugatory, yet he might have revived it 
 with greater advantage at the head of a more numerous 
 army, had he not been slain at a hunting-match by a w^ild 
 bull, no unfit opponent to a headlong conqueror. 
 
 He left a son, but Clotaire, his uncle, had the address 
 to seduce the allegiance of the people from the young 
 heir of Metz, and to prevail on them to acknowledge his 
 own better right, as nearer to the blood of the great Clo- 
 vis ; and in the end this prince succeeded, by one means 
 or other, in uniting once more under his sway all the 
 dominions of that great conqueror and legislator. After 
 the death of Clotaire, the Frank empire was again sub- 
 divided, and then again followed a succession of wars, 
 murders, and treacheries, which might be the stain of any 
 kingdom, if the like could be found elsev^^here. 
 
 About this time, the punishment of the kings of the 
 Merovingian race began to descend upon them in a manner 
 which was the natural fruit of their offences. These 
 princes had repeatedly neglected their kingly duties, to 
 plunge themselves into sensual pleasures, and had used 
 their regal power for the gratification of their own selfish 
 wishes and desires, instead of applying it to th"* aiiminis 
 
 943 
 
50 POWER OF THE MAIRE DU PALAIS. 
 
 tration of justice among their subjects, or the nialnteiiaLC- 
 of the laws. By a natural consequence, their powers oi 
 understanding became limited to tiie petty subjects in 
 which alone their own unworthy passions induced them 
 to take interest, while the real exercise of authority, 
 whether in time of peace or war, devolved upon a minis- 
 ter known by the name of Maire du Palais, or, as we 
 would say, the high-steward of the royal household, who. 
 had the complete administration in his own hand, to the 
 total exclusion of the monarch. The kings, retiring into 
 the interior of their palace, led a life so useless, and so 
 totally without object, that they attained the name of 
 Rois Faineans, or Idiot Princes, while their Maires de 
 Palais, or ministers, assumed the command of the armies, 
 administered justice, invaded some provinces, and pro- 
 tected others, and made war and peace at pleasure, with- 
 out even consulting the wish or inclination of the long- 
 haired puppet who held the name of king. 
 
 There are few countries which have not at some time 
 or other been cursed by imbecile princes, who have let 
 their pov^^er slip from their hands, and abandoned them- 
 selves to the pleasures of luxurious indolence, while their 
 ministers discharged the duties of government. But at 
 no time in Europe has the surrender been so complete, 
 so absolute, and so enduring, as in the case of the Mero- 
 vingian family. 
 
 Pepin de Heristhal, so called from chiefly residing in a 
 castle of that name, upon the Mouse, was one of the 
 most distinguished of those ministers whose increasing, and 
 .Anally exclusive power, prepared the way for the final 
 extinction of the race of Merovaeus. Yet he still observed 
 decency towards his supposed master. The unfortunate 
 mon?rch was treated with such state as fully satisfied the 
 popular regard, which still venerated the blood of Clovis. 
 This sort of parade was but of a coarse clumsy charac- 
 ter, suitable to the rudeness of the age. The king, when 
 exhibited to the people, was driven about the streets, like 
 R show of modern days, in a large wagon drawn by oxen, 
 surrounded by guards, who, under pretence of protecting 
 
DEATH OF PEPIN. 51 
 
 liis f vnr?r'ii, suffered no one to approach him , and on pub- 
 /ic jccasRuis he kept aloof from his pBople, ana was en- 
 vironed b^ the great officers of state. Thus, though an 
 f^ssential j art of tlie ceremony, the kiiig took as Tittle 
 interest in d as one of his own draught oxen. Every 
 thing appn^aching to real business was settled by Pepin, 
 who, to the title of ]\Iaire du Palais, expressive of the 
 highest ministerial authority, added that of Duke, or leader 
 of the Franks; and under these modest epithets, disposed 
 of the full powder of the crown, preserving in his person a 
 simplicity of manners and appearance wliich astonished 
 all strangers when contrasted with the idle pomp which 
 attended on the king's person. 
 
 Pepin d'Heristhal did not escape the dangers attendant 
 on the actual possession of power. He was attacked 
 and stabbed at his devotions, by the dagger of an emu- 
 lous rival. He recovered, however, and his authority 
 was so easily transmissible, that he named his son Theo- 
 bald his successor, as Maire du Palais, though only six 
 years old, and died shortly after having done so. (A D. 
 714.) 
 
 But the fortunes of this favoured child, though the 
 only legitimate son of Pepin de Heristhal, gave way be- 
 fore those of the illegitimate offspring of the same minis- 
 ter. This was the famous Charles, called Martel, or the 
 Hammerer, from the resistless weight of the blows which 
 he discharged on his enemies in battle. After various 
 victories, improved with talent, he found himself able to 
 compel the king, Thierry of Chelles, who then supported 
 the dignity of the long-haired and weak descendants of 
 Clovis, to admit him to the dignity of Maire du Palais, 
 that is, to the administration of the kingdom of France. 
 Most fortunate that kingdom was, in possessing his abili- 
 ties at the time, for an awful crisis was approaching, 
 threatening more imminent danger to France, than had 
 menaced it since the great inroad of Attila. 
 
 As in the days of that Scythian monarch, the rising 
 kingdom was threatened with the invasion, to use tho lan- 
 guage of Scripture, of " a nation from far, whose tcngue 
 
b'Z INVASION OF THE SARACENS. 
 
 •hey did not understand," and who, in all the pride of 
 victory, came with the Moslem form of faith in the one 
 hand, and the sword in the other, to propound to the 
 Christians of France the choice of apostacy or death. 
 These were the Saracens, or descendants o the Arabia-i 
 believers in Mahomet, who, having acceptea the law of 
 that impostor, had burst forth from their deserts, their 
 natural ferocity and courage enhanced by their fanaticism, 
 to lay waste the world, and preach the Alcoran. From 
 the extremity of Africa, they crossed into Spain, and de- 
 stroyed, after a brief struggle, the kingdom which the 
 Goths had erected there, and which they found under the 
 government of a profligate and unpopular monarch. (A. D. 
 713.) And now their arms were turned against France. 
 Aquitaine, an independent dukedom, a remnant of what 
 had been the empire of the Visigoths in that province, 
 was first exposed to their inroads. Jt was governed by 
 a prince named Eudo, who had hitherto been opposed to 
 Charles Martel and his family, but now implored his as- 
 sistance against the common enemy of Christianity. 
 
 As the kingdom of the Franks still preserved exten- 
 sive possessions on the east side of the Rhine, the Maire 
 du Palais levied in Germany a large body of troops, whose 
 lofty size, massive strength, and fair complexion, were 
 likely to inspire surprise and terror into the swarthy and 
 slender Arabs. Charles Martel, having communicated 
 his plans to Eudo, took his measures for the approaching 
 campaign, where a defeat might have proved irreparable, 
 with a degree of caution which seemed foreign to his 
 character. Permitting, and almost encouraging, the nu- 
 merous bands of the invaders to enfeeble their force by 
 dispersing themselves through the country in search of 
 plunder, he kept his own army strongly concentrated. 
 The Saracens and Christians at length encountered neat 
 the city of Tours, and the contest, which lasted several 
 days, seemed to endure with an obstinacy worthy of the 
 object of debate, namely, to w4iat religion, and whose 
 gt>vernment, this fair portion of the European w^orld should 
 in future be subjected. (A. D. 132.) While the battle 
 
DEFEAT OF THE SARACENS. bui 
 
 continued desultory, which was the case during the (irst 
 days of the strife, the Saracens, from tlie numbers and 
 activity of their hght squadrons, obtained some advan- 
 tage over the Christians. But this was lost wlien the 
 light-armed Arabs came to mingle In close combat wlih 
 the warriors of the north, who were so much stronger in 
 their persons, mounted on more powerful horses, and. 
 above all, accustomed to seek out and to sustain the dan- 
 gers of close encounter. Thus the battalions of the 
 Saracens were already hard pressed, and beginning tc 
 give ground, when the cry of conflict was heard in theii 
 rear, and the Infidels discovered that their camp was as- 
 saulted by Eudo, at the head of the people of Aquitaine, 
 who had concerted with Charles JMartel the time and 
 manner of so seasonable an attack. The Saracens then 
 gave way, and were defeated with an immense slaughter ; 
 even if we decline believino; that no less tlian three hun- 
 dred and seventy-five thousand infidels, and only fifteen 
 hundred Christians, were slain In the battle. This great 
 victory decided the campaign, and the event of the war ; 
 and Charles Martel pressed his success vigorously. The 
 Saracens lost the footing they had gained beyond the 
 Pyrenees, and Europe was saved from the imminent risk 
 it had run of being darkened by the religious dreams of 
 the African prophet. Charles, planning yet more impor- 
 tant achievements than he had executed, was removed by 
 death. (A. D. 741.) The clergy, notwithstanding his 
 great services to Christianity, pretended that, his tomb 
 being opened by accident, nothing was discovered but an 
 ugly dragon, which, they boldly affirmed, was an exphcit 
 mark of his eternal reprobation. The truth Is, he had 
 offended the churchmen, by calling upon tliem, with an 
 irresistible voice, to surrender part of their wealth for the 
 service of the state. 
 
 Charles Martel w^as succeeded in his title of Duke and 
 Princft of France, and guardian of its long-haired kings, 
 by his sons, Carloman and Pepin, whilst a third son, Gri- 
 poi\, strugrled hard to obtain a share of authority. Cur- 
 
54 DEPOSITION or CHILUERIC. 
 
 loman ea;ly retired from the world into an Italian convent 
 and Gripon died, after various attempts agauist Pep'n 
 which had been repeatedly forgiven. 
 
 About this period, Pepin, who had been hitherto con 
 tent to govern in the name of Childeric, tlie last of the 
 IMerovingian kings, to whom, as to his fathers, the empty 
 lionours of sovereignty had been paid, began at last to 
 tire of the obstacle interposed betwixt him and the name 
 of king, while he already possessed the power. (A. D. 
 750.) The important question, whether the Faineant, 
 or Simpleton, should continue to possess the royal title, 
 rather than the active and effective minister who dis- 
 charged the duties of the situation, was referred to Pope 
 Zacharias, then Bishop of Rome. This pontiff had al- 
 ready received the most important services from Pepin, 
 who had protected him against the arms of the Lombards, 
 a nation of barbarians who had usurped the command of 
 Jtaly. He was therefore warmly disposed to favour Pe- 
 pin in his present object, on account of the regard he had 
 for one w^ho had rendered him such services ; and at the 
 same time, by assuming the office of arbitrator in a matter 
 of such consequence, Zacharias established a precedent 
 for the superb claims which the Popes of Rome had al- 
 ready formed to become the general umpires of the Chris- 
 tian world. He had no hesitation to declare his opinion, 
 that, in a contract like that betwixt the kings of France 
 and their people, if the former should totally neglect and 
 retire from all the duties of a sovereign, they lost the right 
 of exacting allegiance from their subjects. Founding on 
 the award or sentence of the pontiff, and availing him- 
 self of the power which was entirely in his hands, Pepin 
 held an assembly of the Frank nobles, and degraded 
 Childeric HI., the last of the race of Merovasus. Hi^ 
 long hair was shaved, to prevent him from again ascend- 
 mg the throne ; and for the same reason he was obliged 
 to take religious vows, and retire into a monastery. Thus 
 ended ^he First, or Merovingian race of the kings of 
 France, in consequence of their total indolence and m- 
 aoa^^ilv. You will hereafter see, that the family of Pe 
 
TEMPORAL POWER OF THE POPE. 55 
 
 pin did not themselves profit by the severe lesson imparted 
 by thejr ancestor to his predecessors, and had in their turn 
 their term of decay and degradation. 
 
 Pepin, called by his historians Bref, or the Short, to 
 distinguish him from his ancestor Pepin d'Heristhal, was 
 elevated upon a buckler, after the ancient custom of the 
 Franks, and declared king of the nation, of which he had 
 been long the eiFectual ruler. He became the parent of 
 the Carlovingian, or second race of French kings, who, 
 like the Merovingians, their predecessors, commenced 
 their dynasty in glory and conquest, and declined into de- 
 generacy, sloth, and effeminacy, until they were super- 
 seded by another royal family, as their ancestor succeeded 
 Childeric. At this period, what had been the fragments 
 of the Roman empire, had been repeatedly conquered 
 and divided by barbarians of different origin, but yet, like 
 the animal called a polypus, the severed parts showed a 
 disposition to frame new combinations of government. 
 Pepin and his son Charles, who obtained the name of 
 Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, made great progress 
 m erecting a new Western empire, differing widely from 
 that which had formerly existed under the name and 
 authority of the Romans, both in laws and institutions, 
 the more recent of which were in a great measure founded 
 on those of the Franks, which we have since called the 
 Feudal System. 
 
 To give their power the venerable aspect of religion, 
 and the better to confirm their sway, both Pepin and 
 Charlemagne engaged in repeated invasions of Italy, for 
 the purpose of supporting the Bishops of Rome against 
 the oppressions of the Lombards, a people already men- 
 tioned. This nation was finally conquered and annihilated 
 by Charlemagne. He was then not unmindful that the 
 Popes, as they were called, had been the first to sanctify 
 Pepin's assumption of the crown by a formal sentence, 
 and began to study a recompense which should at once 
 attest his gratitude and his devotion. For this purpose, 
 Charlemagne gave to the Bishops of Rome, who had 
 hithoif) been .spiritual prelates only, a right of temporal 
 
5S TEMPORAL POWER OF THE POP 15. 
 
 dominion over their city and territories adjacent, which 
 raised them to the rank of princes of this world. Future 
 Popes were discontented that their power should be sup- 
 posed to rest on the narrow basis of Charlemagne's grant, 
 and asserted that they possessed a right of the same tenoi 
 from Constantino the Great, not only more ancient, but 
 more ample. But this pretended document is generally 
 supposed to have been a forgery. At any rate, you must 
 observe, and remember, that it was by the grant of Charle- 
 magne ,that the Pope first laid the foundation of his power 
 as a temporal prince, as it w^as in the case of Pepin Bref 
 that Pope Zacharias first exercised his authority in dis- 
 posing, or authenticating the disposal of the crown of 
 France, as if he could have had any title either to depose 
 the Long-haired Simpleton, or to elevate the Maire du 
 Palais to the throne in his room. 
 
 The Popes failed not to evince their gratitude to Charle- 
 tnagne, from whom they had experienced so many favours. 
 In return for having made the Bishop of Rome a tempo- 
 ral prince, that prelate solemnly raised his benefactor, 
 Charles, to the rank of Emperor. The realms which 
 were united under the sway of this victorious prince, might 
 w^ell be termed a renewal of the Roman empire. As king 
 of the Franks, he succeeded to their dominions both in 
 France and Italy ; for when, under the long-haired kings, 
 that people advanced their conquests in France, they still 
 retained their original German possessions on the east of 
 the Rhine, which had been the land of their fathers, when 
 they first formed their association, or league of freemen. 
 But Charlemagne greatly enlarged these German pos- 
 sessions by overrunning Saxony. That province was in- 
 habited by a fierce people, still heathens ; and it cost a 
 war of thirty years and upwards, ere they were conquered 
 and converted. In Germany, Charlemagne also defeated 
 the remains of the great nations of the Huns, or Tartars, 
 and added to his limits the provinces of Bohemia and 
 Pannonia, so as to reach the frontiers of the Eastern, oi 
 Grecian empire. In Spain, he gained considerable ad« 
 vfinrasjef over th?; Saracens, until he extended his Chns 
 
SUCCESSORS OF CHARLEMAGNE. 51 
 
 tian power from the line of the Pyrenees, the natural 
 boundary between France and Spain, to the banks of thti 
 Ebro, which river bounded his empire. It was especially 
 in his battles with the Saracens, that the romancers, who 
 made the adventures of this great prince the subject of 
 their poems, found materials for the numerous fables with 
 which they altogether disguised and obscured his exploits. 
 The battle of Roncesvalles, in which Charlemagne, though 
 the chief of Christian and European chivalry, suffered a 
 terrible defeat, and lost a great part of bis Paladins, a se- 
 lect band of renowned champions so called, is supposed 
 to have taken place in a pass of the Pyrenees, descend- 
 ing from these mountains. The rear-guard of the Franks 
 was attacked by the natives of Gascony, whom ihs 
 Moors had bribed to assist on the occasion, and very 
 many slain. The celebrated Orlando, or Roland, ol 
 whom romance says so much, and history so little, fell on 
 this occasion. 
 
 But although the incidents of the reign of Charlemagne 
 have been made the theme of many fables or exaggera- 
 tions, there can be no doubt that Charles, by his courage, 
 constant activity, and frequent successes, deserved the thle 
 of Great. He was a legislator as well as a conqueror 
 and studied those arts by which society is cemented and 
 bound together, as well as the rules of war, by which its 
 frame is dissolved and burst asunder. 
 
 It would be difficult to compute the consequences to 
 the world at large, if Charlemagne could have transmitted 
 his great and powerful empire to a single successor, as 
 capable as himself of wielding the government. But the 
 French diadem, it would seem, had sometliing benumbing 
 in its effect upon tlie wearer ; and the desire among the 
 descendants of Charlemagne to divide the succession, 
 each seizing upon independent portions of the empire, 
 prevented this great experiment from being made. The 
 German Empire, so much more feeble than that of the 
 French, has subsisted, as a rickety and unhealthy child 
 sometimes survives its more robust brother. Habit, in the 
 r)nr f'.ase, kept together a people accustomed to one lan- 
 3* 
 
58 SUCCESSORS OF CHARLEMAGNE. 
 
 guage and the same system of laws. The Carlovingiaif 
 Empire, on the other hand, fell to pieces for want oi those 
 princij)les of cohesion. 
 
 Charlemagne, indeed, transmitted great part of his do- 
 minions to his only surviving son Louis, previously created 
 King of Aquitaine, and associated with his father in the 
 empire. But in the course of two or three generations, 
 the various descendants of the great Emperor Charles 
 made war among themselves, and by treaties divided and 
 subdivided their empire into fragments. It had, indeed, 
 required all the sagacity and activity of Charles, from 
 whom they derived their descent, to keep together a large 
 empire, consisting of unconnected kingdoms, inhabited in 
 most cases by distinct races of people, Huns, Alani, AUe- 
 manni, Lombards, and other tribes, who had in their turn 
 laid waste the European world. Charlemagne endeav- 
 oured to give strength and unity to this mass, by assigning 
 to vassals of warlike skill, and of distinction at his court, 
 the government of different provinces, they always hold- 
 mg their authority from and under himself as superior of 
 the whole : and while a man of such wisdom and power 
 was at the head of the empire, these governors were 
 compelled to do their duty, and as but few of them had 
 yet obtained hereditary rights to their offices, they were 
 liable to lose them upon incurring the emperor's displeasure. 
 In the assemblies of the crow^n vassals, Charlemagne 
 made, by the advice of his clergy and nobles, those laws 
 which were called Capitulars, and which regulated his 
 empire. In these general councils of the nation, there 
 reigned among the hardy vassals, who composed them, a 
 strong spirit of freedom, mingled with a deference to the 
 will of their emperor, which was naturally founded on 
 the wisdom and high talents of this great monarch, the 
 extent of his power, and the number of his conquests. 
 He had also a mode of giving advice to those around him 
 on such occasions, in which mirth was joined with sober 
 counsel, and a serious lesson given under the appearance 
 of a jest. For example, although Charlemagne himself 
 d'sp':ayed upon public occasions a considerable degree of 
 
ANECDOTE OF CHARLEMAGNE. 59 
 
 rude magnificence, yet it was merely for the support of 
 his imperial dignity in the public eye, and not from any 
 pleasure which he received from the gratification of per- 
 sonal vanity. He dreaded, therefore, the introduction of 
 luxury among his subjects. On one occasion, observing 
 that his nobility and vassals had indulged to extravagance 
 in silk dresses, lined with fur, he invited them, thus ar- 
 rayed, to a royal hunting party, though the weather was 
 the depth. of winter, and the day rainy. He then, after 
 they had been completely drenched in the forest, led them 
 back to the royal hall, where the heat of the fire shriv- 
 elled up the wet furs. Charles on this gloried in his 
 own plain sheepskin cloak, which had neither suffered 
 by the storm nor by the heat, and exhorted the tattered 
 crew by whom he was surrounded, to reserve silk and 
 furs for days of ceremony, and to use in war and in the 
 chase the, plain but serviceable dress of their ancestors. 
 
 In this anecdote there is more meaning than may be at 
 first seen. In the decay of the Roman Empire, the suc- 
 cessive defeats sustained by the various warlike tribes, 
 which, seizing on the provinces of that immense ruin, 
 had become in their turn a prey to luxury and effeminacy, 
 and sunk under the sway of barbarians, who retained 
 their wild courage and simple manners, there was a strong 
 lesson to future conquerors. From this, Charlemagne 
 was naturally led to foresee the degeneracy which might 
 sap the foundations of his own throne, and bring down 
 upon the Carlo vingian race, of which he himself was 
 the founder, a fate similar to that of the Merovingian 
 dynasty, which his father, Pepin Brtf, had extinguished. 
 Neither were his apprehensions far removed from the 
 truth. 
 
 Charles was succeeded in his throne by Louis, called 
 the Debonnaire, from his obliging and gentle character 
 (A. D. 814.) That character was, however, greatly too 
 soft for the times in which he lived ; and the instructions 
 with wl^'ch his father had carefully imbued him, proved 
 inadequate to form his courteous and yielding temper tc 
 tn(^oun^cr the difficulties of his situation. His sense o^ 
 
60 LOUIS THE DEBONNAIRE 
 
 leligion took an unhappy direction, and subjected hin^ to 
 undue influence on the part of the prelates and clergy, 
 who abused his weakness, and usurped the roygl privi- 
 leges. The near relations of the new emperor conspired 
 against his crown and life, and he felt a degree of remorse 
 at the necessity of punishing them, wdiich increased the 
 indirect authority of the priesthood, and induced him to 
 submit to the most degrading penances. The Empress 
 Judith, of the House of Guelf, obtained also a powder 
 over her husband's mind, which she used to pernicious 
 purposes, persuading him to raise Charles, a son whom 
 she bore to him, to a right of succession in the empire, 
 and estates dependent thereon. This incensed the sons 
 whom Louis the Debonnaire had by his former marriage. 
 Lothaire, Pepin, and Louis, engaged in an ungrateful and 
 unnatural rebellion against the good-natured king. (A. D. 
 835.) He even became prisoner to his insurgent sons, 
 and was solemnly degraded from his royal dignity, although 
 he was afterwards recalled to the throne. This was only 
 to be disturbed by fresh family intrigues, in which, em- 
 barrassed by the solicitations of his young wife, and the 
 pretensions of his adult sons, Louis the Debonnaire died 
 broken-hearted, but left no part of his dominions to his 
 son Louis, whom he considered as especially undutiful. 
 (A. D. 840.) "Yet you must forgive him as a Chris- 
 tian," w^as the suggestion of the Bishop of Mentz. " I 
 forgive him with all my heart," said the dying emperor , 
 " but let him beseech God's forgiveness for bringing my 
 gray hairs with sorrow to the ground." Thus died the 
 Emperor Louis !e Debonnaire, son of the Great Charles, 
 on whose tomb the adage might have been inscribed, 
 that, " Mere good -nature is only a fool." 
 
 Immediately upon the death of Louis, a general war 
 ensued among his children : and in a dreadful battle which 
 took place near Fontenoy, upwards of one hundred thou- 
 sand men of the Frank nation fell in defence of the pre- 
 tensions of the various claimants. It was not till five years 
 afterwards that this fraternal discord was terminated by a 
 '■^eaty, by which the dominions of Charlemagne w^ere divid 
 
DCATH OF LOUIS THE DEBONNaIRE, 61 
 
 ed into three parts, and shared among the three brothers 
 The eldest, Lotliaire, kept the title of Emperor ; he also 
 retained all Italy, with the city of Rome, and the whole 
 tract of country lying betwixt the rivers Rhine, Rhone, 
 Saone, Meuse, and Scheldt, which w^as from him called 
 Lotharingia, the memory af which word survives in the 
 word Lorrain, still applied to a part of what were Lothaire^s 
 dominions. Louis the Second, his brother, enjoyed all the 
 dominions of Germany beyond the Rhine, and was thence 
 ailed Louis the German. Charles, whose pretensions had 
 during his father's lifetime, given so much occasion for dis- 
 turbance, was declared King of the third portion into which 
 the empire of Charlem.agne was divided. This compre- 
 hended Aquitaine, and all the provinces lying between the 
 Loire and the Meuse. Thus the empire of Charlemagne 
 was once more partitioned among his descendants, and 
 their civil quarrels ended for a season. But their unnatu- 
 ral and bloody w^ar had reduced them to such a state of 
 weakness, as encouraged enem.ies to rise against them on 
 all sides 
 
 The Saracens, no longer restrained by such generals a* 
 Pepin, Charles Martel, or Charlemagne, again attempted 
 to extend their incursions into Gaul by land, into Italy by 
 sea, and afforded no rest to the afflicted provinces of Char 
 lemagne's empire. A still more formidable people had 
 taken up arms for the purpose of harassing the coasts of 
 Europe and at their pleasure filling their vessels with spoil, 
 or landing and acquiring settlements by force. These new 
 and powerful conquerors were the inhabitants of Norway, 
 Sweden, and Denmark, called by the ancients Scandina- 
 via, The fleets equipped by these people were extreme- 
 ly numerous, and commanded by such chiefs as, eithei 
 from hereditary descent or election, had aspired to author- 
 ity. Undaunted courage was necessary in the command- 
 er of a people, who scarcely knew even the name of fear, 
 and made it their boast that they signalized their courage 
 at the expense of all other people on earth. As they were 
 very expert sailors, they equipped numberless fieets, which 
 
62 INVASIONS OF THE NORMANS. 
 
 ravaged all the coasts of Britain, France, and Spain and 
 sometimes even entered the Mediterranean. Thoug!i of 
 various nations, yet being all of northern extraction, these 
 pirates were known to the inhabitants of the south under 
 the name of Northmen or Normans, by which they became 
 so formidable, that public prayers were put up to Heaven 
 for delivery from their visitations. The people, too ter 
 rified to resist a nation whose profession was piracy, their 
 religion heathenism, and their element war, endeavoured 
 to pacify them by humble submission : the kings attempt- 
 ed to bribe them by money. But though one squadron 
 might be thus induced to relinquish their purpose for a 
 season, the next summer was sure to bring fresh swarms 
 of spoilers ; and the invasions of the Normans upon the 
 coasts of Southern Europe make the most remarkable 
 feature of the ninth and tenth centuries. 
 
 To this incalculable evil the coasts of France w^re ex- 
 posed, while its interior was ravaged by the many evils 
 which attend on the inability and disunion of princes. The 
 epithets bestowed by history on the line of Charlemagne, 
 are taken from personal imperfections ; and such nick- 
 names as the Bald, the Simple, the Hammerer, and the 
 Gross, could only be conferred on men who were with- 
 out more worthy claims of distinction over the rest of man- 
 kind. It is impossible to suppose that these last descendants 
 of Charlemagne possessed either mental energy or virtue 
 from which a distinction could have been assigned to them 
 In the year 885, the disasters of France, from the mis- 
 conduct of their Princes, and the assaults of foreign ene- 
 mies, seemed to approach a crisis which threatened its 
 national existence. 
 
 At this period Charles, called the Gross, or fat, had 
 after the death of most of the direct descendants of Charle- 
 magne, obtained the title of Emperor, with which he 
 united for a time that of King of France. This prince 
 had been formerly induced to consent to the settlement 
 of a body of Normans in hi? province of Friezeland, hop- 
 ing their presence and co-operation might protect the 
 coast of the Netherlands against visitations from iheij 
 
TREACHERY OF CHARLES THE GROSS. 63 
 
 countrymen. Finding that the Normans continueil their 
 incursions, and tliat Godfrey, the king of the settlers, 
 intrigued against him with Hugo, a bastard nephew, he 
 resolved b)' a daring crime to redeem the consequences 
 of a pohtical error. Henry, Duke of Saxony, one of 
 the Emperor's high officers, by the orders of his master, 
 prevailed upon Godfrey to hold a friendly interview with 
 him. To this interview Duke Henry brought one Count 
 Berard, whom Godfrey had driven from his estate. The 
 consequence was easily to be foreseen. Berard upbraid- 
 ed the Norman prince with his wrongs, and in the alter- 
 cation killed him with his battle-axe. The Normaus 
 who attended their leader shared his fate. The Empe- 
 ror having, in like manner, treasonably obtained posses- 
 sion of his nephew Hugo's person, caused his eyes to be 
 put out, to render him incapable of reigning, and shut 
 him up in the great convent of St. Gal, in Switzerland. 
 
 The death of Godfrey was followed by the most alarm- 
 ing consequences. The furious Normans, justly incensed 
 at the treacherous murder of their leader, assembled a 
 fleet of seven hundred sail, small vessels certainly, since 
 they came up the Seine,which is inaccessible to large barks, 
 but having on board a great army of their countrymen. 
 Their object was to attack the city of Paris, the capital of 
 France since the time of Clovis. (A.D. 885.) When 
 assaulted by the Normans, the city occupied only what is 
 still called the Isle of Paris, which was surrounded by the 
 Seine on both sides, and accessible by two bridges, tlie 
 approaches to which were strongly fortified with towers. 
 In those times it held a high rank as a strong fortification^, 
 and was accounted one of the ramparts of Christendom. 
 To protect and defend these walls and towers, the city 
 was filled with the best of the French warriors, who de- 
 voted themselves to its defence. The Normans, who had 
 expected to carry tho place by surprise, were in that 
 respect disappointed. But although their habits did not 
 render them peculiarly fit for undertaking regular sieges, 
 they disembarked their numerous bands, and pressed the 
 city both with a blockade, and also by repeated assaults 
 
64 SIEGE OF PARIS 
 
 at tlie sword-point. Much courage was sh^wn \n llie 
 attack and defence, and all the weapons of war then 
 known were called into exercise. The oridges were 
 defended by Eudes, an officer of courage and talent. 
 Hugo the Abbot, so called from his possessing, though a 
 layman and a military leader, the revenues of some 
 abbeys, threw himself into the city of Paris, of which he 
 was count, and with Goselin, bishop of the diocess, ar- 
 ranged its defence. Both distinguished themselves by 
 their conduct, and both died in the course of the siege. 
 
 The Normans erected three movable towers, each 
 capable of sheltering sixty men, and mounted upon 
 wheels, by which they attacked the defences of the 
 bridges. But these tov/ers were dashed to pieces by the 
 stones hurled on them, or consumed by combustibles 
 discharged from engines for that purpose. Battering 
 rams were also used by the Northmen, with the like 
 indifferent success, being broken by the weight of stones 
 hurled from the machines of the besieged. The histori- 
 ans of Paris still commemorate the courage of twelve 
 warriors who defended to the last the tower of the Little 
 Chatelet. Being separated from the rest of the fortifica- 
 tions by a breach made by the river, they could receive 
 no assistance. When they perceived the desperation of 
 their situation, they gave liberty to the hawks which 
 each had along with him, and died in continuing an una- 
 vailing defence, with a resolution which would have sur- 
 prised any people but the Normans, to whom such deeds 
 of desperate valour were .familiar. 
 
 But though the defence of Paris was obstinate, the 
 loss of men and scarcity of provisions began to be dis- 
 tressing. Sigefroy, the king of the Normans, having 
 under him thirty thousand men of that warlike nation, 
 did not confine himself to the operations of the siege, 
 but spread his forces through France, laying waste the 
 country, and collecting supplies for his army. His cav- 
 alry and chariots of war (which are then for the last time 
 mentioned in history,) performed this duty so completely, 
 that the Parisians despatched Eudes, who had succeeded 
 
SIEGE OF PARIS RAISED. 6^ 
 
 Huf^o tlic Abbot, In the command of the place, to the 
 Emperor Charles the Gross, with an account of their 
 situation, and supplications for relief. 
 
 Charles sent Henry, Duke of Saxony the perfidious 
 agent in tlie murder of Godfrey, to try if his courage could 
 extinguish the flame which his treachery had kindled. 
 But as the Duke led but few troops, he could only throw 
 himself into the city with provisions and reinforcements. 
 Shortly afterwards, in an attempt to reconnoitre the lines 
 of the besiegers, I his leader fell, horse and man, into a 
 ditch covered with loose straw, laid upon slight hurdles., 
 out of which he could not extricate himself, but was 
 lain, and spoiled of his armour. 
 
 Paris was now more exposed than ever, for the troops 
 of Henry of Saxony disbanded after his death. Eudes 
 was now, as we have said, Count of Paris, and did what 
 man could to animate the spirit of resistance. Another 
 great danger was indeed approaching the Parisians. It 
 was the heat of summer, and the river Seine became so 
 low as to be fordable. Suddenly, at the hour of dinner, 
 when the besieged kept but slender watch, the Normans 
 rushed to the river side in one or two bodies, plunged in, 
 and, gaining the opposite bank, began to ascend, by lad- 
 ders, the low walls, with which, trusting to the usual 
 depth of the water, its margin had been defended. A 
 few gallant French champions rushed to arms, and made 
 good the defence, till more came up, and drove back the 
 besiegers, chiefly by the aid, according to the clerg}-, of 
 the relics of St. Genevieve, which were displayed upon 
 the rampart. 
 
 The day after these extreme dangers, the banners of 
 Prance appeared on the hill called Mont-Martre, whjch is 
 hard by Paris, and the approach of the army of the- em- 
 peror diffusing the utmost joy and hope among the citi- 
 zens, obliged the Normans to retire within their own 
 ines. Sigefroy was at bay, but he was a hon , and 
 Charles the Gross deserved his name too vfeli to ui?4er- 
 lake such a risk, as his ancestor, Churl.- «>itt^nei wo*»J<3 
 944 
 
Ob DEPOSITION OF CHARLES THE GROSS. 
 
 have willingly ventured upon. So soon as the Emperor 
 was convinced that the Normans would abide the evenl 
 of battle, or prosecute their siege of Paris, even in his 
 very sight, if he lay still to await the event, he resolved 
 to end the war by treaty, which he became unwilling to 
 peril upon the event of a battle. By a base composition, 
 he agreed to purchase the retreat of the Normans (whom 
 his own treachery had been the cause of bringing to 
 Paris,) for a sum of seven hundred pounds of silver, and 
 consented that the foreigners should take up their winter 
 quarters in Burgundy. For this purpose, the Normans 
 desired to ascend the Seine, and Charles would have 
 been willing to permit them to pass under the armed 
 walls of Paris, wliich they liad so often assaulted in vain. 
 But the Parisians, who were conscious that they owed 
 their escape frona plunder, conflagration, and massacre, 
 more to their own vigilance and bravery, than to tlie 
 tardy aid of the Emperor, refused to permit the Normans 
 to approach so near their ramparts, that a breach of faith 
 might have endangered their city. Sigefroy and i)is 
 Normans, therefore, had no other or convenient road to 
 Burgundy, than to draw" their light galleys over land, and 
 .again to launch them in the river Seine, at a certain dis- 
 tance above Paris ; and so loaded with spoil, they left 
 the neighbourhood of the metropolis, whose dignity they 
 had so long insulted. 
 
 As Charles the Gross hi\d made a great effort through- 
 out all his dominions, to collect the army which he head- 
 ed on this occasion, and, as very decisive and triumphant 
 results had been anticipated, his subjects were equally 
 mortified and incensed at the paltry and dishonourable 
 treaty, by which he bought what he might have gained 
 by the sword. Domestic quarrels with his wife, arising 
 out of jealousy, increased the pain, mortification, and 
 dishonour of his situation. His senses appear to have 
 given way under these complicated distresses. He sunk 
 into a kind of idiocy ; and it was only by the charity of 
 the Bishop of Mentz, that he was saved from being in 
 pvant of the most ord-nary necessaries of life. Arnold, 
 
DEATH OF CHARLES THE GROSS. 67 
 
 one of his nephews, was chosen emperor in his pLc^e ; 
 and the terms in wkich Charles petitioned him for even a 
 bare subsistence, seem to show that his mental disorder 
 had lucid intervals, since he was able to draw so touch- 
 in;^ a picture of the uncertainty of hum.an affairs. 
 
 " You," says the deposed emperor, " are now elevated 
 to the state from wliich 1 have lately fallen. I pray the 
 All-Powerful to confirm you in your place, and to grant 
 you the protection which He has withdrawn from me- 
 You are on the throne, and I am on the dunghill which 
 my misconduct has spread for myself. The advantages 
 of mind are still at my command ; and no king can grant, 
 or take these away. But for the support necessary to life, 
 I must ask it from others ; and from none so naturally as 
 from you, one of the race of my fathers, and holding the 
 place from which I have fallen. Among so numerous a 
 household, among so many knights and gentlemen, who 
 share your bounty daily, the simple necessaries of life 
 bestowed on an old man will be no additional burden." 
 The new emperor was touched by the petition of his 
 humbled predecessor, and fixed upon him the rent of 
 some villages for his maintenance. Charles the Gross 
 did not long survive his humiliation, dying (as some say] 
 by assassination, shr rtly after he was deposed. (A. D. 
 S88.) 
 
68 ELEVATION OF EUDfIS 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Elevaticn of Eudes to (he Throne of France-'— Disor 
 ders during the reign of Charles the Simple — En 
 crouchments of the JVobility — The Feudal System — 
 Its Advantages and Disadvantages — Invasion of RoU 
 lo, who obtains the Duchy of JYonnandy, and the 
 Daughter of Charles the Simple in Marriage — Death 
 of Charles — Reign of Louis d^Outremer — Descent 
 of Hugo the Great, ancestor of the Bourbons — Reign 
 of Lothaire — War with JVormandy, and with Ger^ 
 many — Dissatisfaction of the French on account of 
 Lothaire^s Treaty with Germany — Reign of Louis 
 the Faineant, the last of the Carlovingian Dynasty. 
 
 We have seen that Arnold, a prince of the blood of 
 Charlemagne, was chosen emperor on the deposition of 
 the unfortunate Charles the Gross. In that part of the 
 deposed monarch's dominions, however, which retained 
 the name of France, tlie inhabitants appear to have de- 
 termined to seek for the virtues and talents of Charle- 
 magne elsewhere than in his line, where these fair quali- 
 ties seem to have become extinct. Eudes, the vaiiant 
 Count of Paris, so distinguished for his defence of that 
 town, and dear to the people both for his own and his 
 father's virtues, was elevated to the throne by the voice 
 of the people. He showed himself worthy of their good 
 opinion ; for whem he proposed himself to the Emperor 
 Ai-nold, as a candidate for the crown of France, he 
 declared himself willing to resign his pretensions, rather 
 than incur the ^,uilt of causing a civil war. The Empe- 
 ror, struck with the generosity of Eudes, at once ac- 
 knowledged his title ; and he entered accordingly upon 
 the government of Fiance. But either the talents and 
 courage of Eudes, though allowed to be great, wera 
 iuade(j\iate to the purpose of saving this distracted king- 
 
TO THE THRONE OF FRANCE. C9 
 
 dom, or at least be had no opportunity of exercising 
 them to tliat extent. The harassing and repeated 
 encroachments of the Normans, and the rebellions among 
 his own subjects, continued, although the courage of 
 Eudes repressed the one, and subdued the other. (A. D. 
 898.) He died, esteemed as a patriot monarch by the 
 common people, whom he protected, but detested by tbe 
 nobility, whom he endeavoured to subject to the strict 
 dependence- on the crown, from which tliey were in the 
 course of altogether freeing themselves. We shall here- 
 after see, that he was an ancestor of the royal family of 
 Bourbon. 
 
 Eudes left a son, Arnold ; but he did not succeed to 
 the crown of thorns worn by his father, it being occupied 
 by Charles, a prince of the Carlovingian race, being the 
 son of one of tins degenerate family, called Louis the 
 Stammerer. This Charles wanted neither courage nor 
 good nature. Indeed, it seems to have been an excess of 
 the last, joined to a great degree of indolence, which pro- 
 cured him the historical distinction of The Simple, which 
 he does not seem otherwise to have deserved. Under 
 the reign of so weak a prince, the disorders of the state, 
 which had already risen to so great a pitch, had become 
 general and systematic. To understand this, you have 
 only to recollect, that in the time of Charlemagne, who 
 held his sceptre with a firm hand, governments, offices, 
 and even landed estates, were only granted for life to 
 such individuals as the Emperor chose to distinguish. At 
 the death of the person who held the benefice, as the 
 subject of the grant was called, it passed again to the 
 crown, and was conferred elsewhere. But in the de- 
 clining state of the French monarchy, the great men 
 who were in possession of offices or lands, were naturally 
 desirous of perpetuating their authority in their offices, 
 and their property in estates, to their families. Hence 
 arose, at first in a few instances and at length from gene- 
 ral custom, the formidable novelty, that the vassal had 
 an heieditary interest in the fief, and that, far from falling, 
 on tiie death of the original holder, it was transmitted to 
 
70 THE FEUDAL SYSTEM. 
 
 his eldest son as a matter of right, he being of course 
 obliged to perform the same services to which his ances- 
 tor had subjocted himself by accepting the benefice ia 
 the first instance. Thus the nobles of the first rank, 
 who now took the title indifFerenily of Duke. ^Jar- 
 quis, Count, or the like, were no longer the mere del- 
 egates of the sovereign who had conferred the gift upon 
 their predecessors, but in all respects, except the title, 
 formed an order of petty kings, distributing justice in 
 their own right, coining money, making laws and ordi- 
 nances, and, except the deference and allegiance which 
 they owed to their superior, the monarch who originally 
 conferred the fief, acting as independent princes, each in 
 his own province. 
 
 In the courts of these petty princes or great vassals of 
 the crown, the same form of feudal grants took place. 
 The Duke, Count, or Marquis, assigned offices, connect- 
 ed with his own little court, and distributed lands to 
 nobles of lower rank, on condition of obtaining their 
 assistance in war and their counsels in peace, being the 
 services which the great vassal himself rendered to the 
 sovereign. These tenures descended still lower. Thus, if 
 the great vassal had his officers of the household, and his 
 soldiers, who gave him their service, and that of their fol- 
 lowers in war, each of these persons had their own house- 
 hold arranged on the same footing, differing only as their 
 vassals and dependants were fewer in number, and less libe- 
 rally recompensed. The system descended so low, that even 
 private gentlemen had their domestic establishments upon a 
 scale resembling that of the sovereign himself; and though 
 he had only the rank of a vassal, w^iile rendering his attend- 
 ance on the court of the lord from whom he held his fief, 
 each was, notwithstanding, himself a prince when seated 
 m his own tower, and surrounded by his own dependants, 
 bearing the pompous epithets of chief steward, chief 
 butler, or grand huntsman, and distinguished as such by 
 these duties at home and abroad. 
 
 When this system of feudal dependence, from the high" 
 est to the lowest rank of society, began to assume the 
 
LEODES AND SERFS. Tl 
 
 form of fixed and assured law, it produced an itvfluence 
 upon government and manners, which was, on several 
 accounts, extremely advantageous, and on others very 
 much the reverse. In the first point of view, it gave a 
 high tone of independence and courage to the nation, 
 thus divided into vassals and superiors, each, from tlie 
 private gentleman to the sovereign upon the throne, ren- 
 dering the same or similar service to his superior, which 
 he received from his vassals, all jealous of their privileges 
 as freemen, tenaciously fond of tlieir personal rights, and 
 equally so of their military reputation. Each vassal paid 
 to his superior that service and homage which his fief, 
 in its peculiar nature, required ; but that being once dis- 
 charged, his obligation was ended, and he was as free a 
 man as his superior himself. This proud reflection seem- 
 ed the more justly founded, that those vassals who had 
 divided and subdivided among them the province of 
 Gaul, were almost all descended from the Franks, Bur- 
 gundians, and other tribes of the barbarous but free con- 
 querors of the Roman state, equal, therefore, from the 
 beginning, as natives of the same tribe of freemen, who 
 acknowledged no distinction. You will recollect that these 
 conquerors seized upon two-thirds of the land, and appor- 
 tioned it among themselv^es, assuming the title of Leodes, 
 signifying freemen. The Roman colonists, on the other 
 hand, whom the barbarians had subdued, were permitted 
 to cultivate the remaining third, which was left by the 
 conquerors for their subsistence. It was by their hands that 
 almost all the agriculture of the country was carried on, 
 which necessary, though irksome task, the Leodes left to 
 the charge of the serfs, or bondsmen, for to that station were 
 the unhappy Romans reduced, and by that disgraceful ep- 
 ithet were they known. Not only did their labours supply 
 the country with corn, but such tribute as was levied in the 
 province, was exclusively paid by this degraded class of 
 the nation. The freeman hunted, fished, or went to war, at 
 the call of his superior, or his own inclination ; but he paid 
 no tax, and pjt his hand to no labour. The pasturages 
 wore stfxjked with cattle, often the spoils of war, whivh 
 
72 
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF THE 
 
 were kepi either by serfs or domestic slaves ; la > h 
 kinds of servitude were known to the French, and the laws 
 of war placed the captive at the pleasure of the conqueror, 
 unless he was able to purchase his freedom by a ransom. 
 It naturally followed, that the men who thus enjoyed in- 
 dependence, and escaped every species of toil except that 
 of warfare, were a bold and high-spirited race, and that 
 sensible of the value of their freedom, accustomed to 
 connect their liberty with the feats of their ancestors, they 
 were alive to every encroachment upon it, and always 
 ready to vindicate what they held so dear, from the slight- 
 est attack of domestic oppression. Their nobles and 
 gentry grew up a fine race, and were improved by such 
 Normans as settled among them ; and you will presently 
 see that the numbers of these were very great. They 
 were ready warriors, generous, and true to their word, 
 and in so far the character of the French nation was 
 highly improved by the introduction of the feudal system. 
 
 In other respects, the independence of the crown vas- 
 sals on the king, and that of the barons of the second 
 order upon the crown vassals, an independence which 
 descended to the lowest link of the feudal chain, formed 
 but a feeble system of government, and gave an insecu- 
 rity to the ties which bound together the national compact. 
 The whole kingdom, instead of a country having one in- 
 terest and one government, seemed at first sight divided 
 among the great vassals of the crown, none of whom 
 was disposed to admit the king to possess or exercise 
 more power over him than the monarch was strictly en- 
 titled, to by the rules of the feudal tenure. This spirit 
 of resistance was the more awake, as these great feudatories 
 considered the diminution of the king's influence as the 
 ready mode of increasing their own, and many probably 
 looked forward to the time when each grand vassal might 
 altogether shake himself free from the feudal yoke, and 
 possess his dukedom or county in his own right, as an 
 independent prince. 
 
 l^pon looking at the condition of the crown vassals 
 more closely, it might be observed, that the same priiici- 
 
FRENCH VASSALS. 73 
 
 pie of disunion which induced them to encroach u'ion the 
 rightful claims of the crowji for obedience and support, 
 was undermining tlieir own, and that their vassals and do- 
 pendants were frequently disposed to refuse that servico 
 to them which they hesitated to grant to the crown. It 
 was the result of both circumstances, that the unanimous 
 power of the nation could not be easily exerted, wliile it 
 was divided and torn asunder by so many subjects of dis- 
 pute and hostility. To this disunion was also to be 
 attributed the oppressive rights assumed by the feudal 
 lords witliin their own territories, where the barons of in- 
 ferior rank, without even the pretence of right or justice, 
 oppressed and ruined the unhappy serfs, and robbed, 
 spoiled, and murdered without any check, save their own 
 haughty pleasure. It could not be said, as an excuse foi 
 these abuses, that there was no king in France, but it 
 might have been well urged, that the crown, besides being 
 placed on the head of the simple Charles, was divested 
 in a great measure of that authority which prevents 
 crimes, and the power which inflicts upon them condign 
 punishment. 
 
 Amid these internal disorders of the French, the re- 
 peated invasions of the Northmen assumed an aspect so 
 formidable, that it was plain they were not made with the 
 mere purpose of spoil, but in order to establish a lasting 
 conquest either of the whole kingdom, or of some of 
 its principal provinces. A large army and fleet of this 
 brave and lawless people appeared at the mouth of the 
 Seine, formidable from their unwonted degree of discipline, 
 and the respect and obedience which they paid to their 
 prince. This was Hrolfe, or Rollo. By birth he was 
 son of the King of Denmark, distinguished by his conduct 
 in many expeditions both in Britain and France, and hav- 
 ing in his personal character a respect for truth and fideHty 
 to his word, which was not a usual characteristic of his 
 countrymen. One large body of his forces sailed up (he 
 river Loire, and destroyed the cathedral of St. i\1ar1.n 
 of Tours, the same patron of whose rigid exactions Clovis 
 4 VOL. 1. 4th Ser. 
 
I 4 INVASION OF ROLLO. 
 
 fontierly complained, and whose shrine had been enriched 
 in propurtion to his popiiIarij;y. Another body, com- 
 manded hy Rollo in person, ascended the Seine, took 
 ihe city of Rouen, and treating the inhabitants with mode- 
 ration, fixed their head-quarters there, and deposited 
 within its walls the spoil which they accumulated from all 
 parts of the province of Neustria, of which Rouen is the 
 capital. 
 
 Charles the Simple, though courageous enough in his 
 person, was, according to the indolent habits of his race, 
 desirous of putting a stop to this peril by composition 
 rather than by battle. He made a truce with the Norm.an 
 prince, in order, as he pretended, to give time for a more 
 solid peace. But by the advice of Richard, Duke of 
 Burgundy, Charles broke the truce he had himself made, 
 and engagcpd in hostilities. Rollo was defeated near 
 Cliartres, owing, it is said, to the excitation given to the 
 French by the appearance of the Bishop of Chartres, in 
 front of the battle, in his episcopal robes, and holding in 
 his hand the supposed veil of the Virgin. After the bat- 
 tle, the victors drew a circumvallation around a hill to 
 which Rollo had retreated with the remainder of his army. 
 But the Norman was not without his resource. He 
 alarmed the camp of the French by a charge blown near 
 to their bulwarks at the dead of night, and while the be- 
 siegers were ruiwing about in terror and disorder, the 
 Norman prince cut his way through them, and his army 
 being greatly reinforced, soon found the means of mak- 
 »ng more merciless havoc than he had done before the' 
 truce. 
 
 Charles was now obliged to resume his negotiations 
 with the Norman prince, with more good faith than for- 
 merly. Using the Bishop as an ambassador, he suggested 
 to RoLo, that if he consented to embrace the Christian 
 '•eligion, and assume the character of a loyal vassal, the 
 king was willing to confer upon him as a fief the fertile 
 province hitherto called Neustria. This princely district 
 Charles proposed as the dowery of his daughter Gisele, 
 
ROLLO MADi: DUKE OF N0RMANI5Y. in 
 
 who was to become tne wife of Rollo, although she was 
 0'\]y len or twelve years old, and her redoubted bride- 
 groom fifty years at least. Rollo accepted of these fa- 
 vourable terms, with the sole addition, thav is Neustria, 
 the name of which he changed to Normandy, was ex- 
 liausted by his previous ravages, he stipulated that part 
 of Bretagne, or Bj-ittany, should be assigned to him in 
 the interim, for the more easy support of his army. Rollo 
 adopted the Christian faith with sufficient decency, and 
 at the- font exchanged the heathen name of Rollo for that 
 of Robert. But when the new Duke was to receive in- 
 vestiture of Normandy from Charles, his pride was startled 
 at the form, which required him, in acknowledgment of 
 the favour bestow^ed on him, to kneel to his liege lord, and 
 kiss his foot. " My knee shall never bend to mortal," 
 said the haughty Norman ; " and I will be, on no account, 
 persuaded to kiss the foot of any one whatever." The 
 French counsellors present suggested that thiij difficulty 
 might be surmounted by Rollo, or Robert, appointing a 
 deputy to kiss, in his name, the^ foot of Charles. Ac- 
 cordingly, the Duke commanded a common yoldier to 
 perform the ceremony in his stead. The man showed 
 the small value he attached to the ceremony, by the 
 careless and disrespectful manner in which he performed 
 it. Instead of kneeling to salute the royal foot, he caught 
 it up and performed the ceremony by lifting it to hij 
 mouth. In this awkward operation, the rude Norman 
 well-nigh overturned the simple ^ing, throne and all, and 
 exposed him to the laughter of all around. 
 
 The essentials of the treaty were more satisfactorily 
 settled. Rollo entered upon his new dominions, and 
 governed them with the strictest justice, becoming, from 
 a fierce and lawless pirate, a wise and beneficent prince. 
 lie was so severe in the execution of robbers, the multi- 
 tude of whom was one of the great abuses of his time, 
 that at ength, it is said, rings of gold were exposed pub- 
 licly in waste places, without incurring the least risk thai 
 any one should take them away. The very exclamatiow 
 
76 SETTLEMENT OF NORMANUl. 
 
 of the name of Raou., or Rollo,* was, long after the good 
 prince's death, uttered by persons who were suffering 
 wliat they conceived to be injustice. Hence the frequent 
 repetition of " Haro! and Well away !" as expressions of 
 sorrow, in our ancient authors. The Norman followers 
 of Rollo were also converted to the Christian creed, and 
 reclaimed from tlie errors of paganism. They abandoned 
 ihe bloody ritual of their own ancient faith, without losing 
 any part of the dauntless courage and contempt of death 
 which it inspired. They also received readily such ideas 
 of honour as the French began to entertain, which after- 
 Avards led to the system of chivalry ; and under that 
 process we shall soon see the Normans distinguished for 
 the eagerness with which they tempered their courage and 
 contempt of danger with the high-minded metaphysics 
 of Love and Honour. This is easily understood, if we 
 consider, that tlie hardest pebbles are most fit to receive 
 the highest polish. 
 
 The state of Normandy, thus established in Independ- 
 ence, save the uncertain allegiance of its Duke being a 
 crown vassal to the sovereign of France, was destined, a 
 century afterwards, to give a dynasty of kings to England, 
 and has been rendered illustrious by producing as many 
 men of courage and gallantry as have ever adorned any 
 country of the world. 
 
 The unfoi-tunate Charles the Simple was so sunk in 
 indolence, that he added to his other weaknesses that of 
 throwing himself ana his affairs into the hands of a gen- 
 tleman named Haganon, of moderate birth, and as mode- 
 rate talents. To this obscure and unworthy favourite 
 Charles was so obviously and extravagantly attached, that 
 die Duke of Saxony said, " Surely these men are so 
 ij]uch -united, that by and by they will be equal in con- 
 
 * Pronounced Haro, which shows, that the strict course of justice for 
 which this duke of Normandy was famous, had commenced before he had 
 adcaled the Christian name of Robert. Haro is the word still used in thp 
 riou'ts of .lersey and Guernsey, when a judgment is complained of, and an 
 ep^jeal entered. 
 
DEATH OF CHARLES THE SIMPLE. 77 
 
 Jition, either by Haganon becoming a king, like Charles 
 or Charles a private gentleman, like Haganon." 
 
 This unworthy attachment was the source of various 
 rebellions, in repressing which, Charles showed himself 
 to advantage, as a man of action, killing with his own 
 hand one of his most formidable competitors. But in 
 counsel he was as rash and impolitic as ever. His reign 
 was disturbed, not only by the invasion of bands of Nor- 
 mans, whom the Duke of Normandy's success had drawn 
 to the shores of France by shoals, but that of Hungari- 
 ans, or Bulgarians, a people descended from the ancient 
 Huns. These barbarians were guilty of great cruelty; 
 leavinga terrible impression upon the minds of the French, 
 which is said to survive in the nursery tales concerning'' 
 the cannibals called Ogres, the origin of which is to be 
 found in the atrocities of the Bulgarians, or Huns, of the 
 ninth and tenth centuries. 
 
 At length, amidst these disasters, the simple King 
 Charles intrusted himself in the power of a treacherous 
 subject, Hebert, Count of Vermandois, one of his over- 
 grown vassals, who, after a show of great respect, seized 
 upon his person, and imprisoned him in the Castle of 
 Peronne. Here he is at length supposed to have been 
 murdered. 
 
 Rodolph succeeded Charles, who, as regards the line 
 of Charlemagne, may be termed a usurper, for he was 
 not descended from that emperor. He filled the throne 
 for fourteen years of perpetual war and tumult, which his 
 talents, though considerable, were unequal to subdue 
 effectually. (A. D. 936.) 
 
 Charles the Simple had left a child, Louis by name, 
 who, upon his father's death, had been transported to 
 i'^ngland by his mother, Ogene, or Theagine, who was an 
 ICnglish woman, born soon after Rodolph's death. He 
 received encouragement to return and assume the throne 
 of France, when he became distinguished by the title of 
 liOuis d'Outremer, or from beyond sea. Like his prede^ 
 cessors he wac involved m the quarrels and intrigues of 
 
78 DESCENT OF HUGO THE GREAT. 
 
 ihe Dakes and Counts, who were too mighty suhje s to 
 endure the supremacy of the Crown, and whom he couJd 
 only rule by the pohcy of stirring up one against the otlier. 
 Louis was called from the scene of dissension by his death, 
 occasioned by his horse falling while at full speed, in pur- 
 suit of a wolf. (A. D. 954.) 
 
 It was now supposed that the Crown, or at least great 
 part of its remaining authority, would be seized on by 
 Hugo, the Duke of France, called the Great, who had 
 been one of those potent vassals with whom Louis d'Ou- 
 tremer had been repeatedly at war during his life. It is 
 certain that this peer, then the most powerful in France, 
 was descended from Robert, called the Strong, who 
 fiourished in the ninth cen-tury. Flattery, for the gratifi- 
 cation of his descendants, has invented several genealo- 
 gies for this person, one of which connects him with 
 Charlemagne, though by an illegitimate branch. It is 
 more certain that his successors rose to great consequence. 
 His eldest son, Eudes, distinguished at the siege of Paris, 
 was afterwards chosen King of Aquitaine, and was pro- 
 claimed King of Western France, in 888 ; but his line 
 was extinguished in the person of his son Rodolph. The 
 second son of Robert the Strong was that Robert II., 
 Duke of France, who made war against Charles the 
 Simple, and whom that monarch is said to have slain with 
 his own hand. The grandson of Robert I., and son of 
 RoDert II., was this Hugo, called the Great, Duke of 
 France and Burgundy, and Count of Paris. He had va- 
 rious disputes with Louis the Ultramarine, so that, as we 
 have hinted, it was expected by many that at his death 
 the Duke would have seized on the crown, which had 
 l>een worn by his uncle Eudes. But Duke Hugo, as was 
 prophesied of Banq.io, was destined, though he never 
 wore the crown himself, to be father of the powerful 
 fimiily of Bourbon, so distinguished in past ages for their 
 iviwer, and in our own for their misfortunes. 
 
 The Duke Hugo, of whom we have spoken, followed 
 the dictates of principle rather than ambition. He took 
 up the cause of Louis's son Lothaire, a boy of about 
 
WAR WITH GERMANY. 79 
 
 fourteen years old, and conducted him to Rbelms, where 
 ne directed the ceremony of his coronation, and afterwards 
 deported himself in every respect as a dutiful subject. 
 He defeated the Count of Poitiers in a decisive battle, 
 and gave a sharp lesson of submission to the great vas- 
 sals who might be disposed to rebel against the king. In 
 the subsequent year he died, leaving behind him four 
 sons. The eldest, Hugo, was distinguished from his 
 /ather of the same name, by the surname of Capet, 
 (or Caput,) but whether from the unusual size of his 
 head, or the extent of his powers of understanding, is 
 somewhat uncertain. The brothers of Hugo Capet were 
 Otho, Eudes, and Henry, who were successively Dukes 
 of Burgundy. For Hugo himself, fate reserved a fairer 
 diadem. 
 
 Lothaire, sensible of the father's merits, received the 
 sons into favour, and acknowledged them as successors in 
 the fiefs of the great Hugo. But he embroiled himself 
 in a quarrel with Duke Richard, of Normandy, the second 
 successor of Rollo, or Robert I., in that almost independ- 
 ent principality ; and, by advice of Theobald, Count of 
 Chartres, called the Trickster, endeavoured to overreach 
 him bv invitinor him to an interview. Duke Richard com- 
 pHed with the invitation without hesitation, and set out 
 on his journey to the place appointed. He was met by 
 two knights of the Count of Chartres, who, pitying his 
 unsuspicious loyalty, gave him indirect notice of the 
 design against his person, by asking him, whether he was 
 tired of his ducal coronet, and had a mind to become a 
 shepherd. Duke Richard, taking the hint which this 
 question conveyed, rewarded the knights who gave it, 
 bestowing on the one a gold chain which he wore, and 
 on the other his sword. He instantly returned to Rouen, 
 and took up arms against the treacherous king, obtaining 
 such succours from his original country of Denmark, as 
 soon brought Lothaire to "equest a peace, which wa.i 
 made 'accordingly. 
 
 Another war broke out between Lothaire, King of 
 Prance, and Otho, Emperor of Germany. Lothaire 
 
80 DEATH OF LOUIS THE FAINEANT 
 
 showed, in the commencement, botn spirit and aciwit;. 
 He marched with such rapidity upon Aix-la-Cbapelle, 
 that he had nearly made the Emperor prisoner, who fledj 
 leaving his dinner ready prepared and placed on the table. 
 Otho, to revenge this insult, invaded France with sixty 
 thousand men, and advanced to the gates of Paris, send- 
 ing word to Hugh Capet, count of the city, that he would 
 cause a mass to be sung on tlie summit of Mont JVlartre, 
 by so many voices, that the Count should hear the sound 
 in the Isle of Paris. The King of France and Hugo 
 Capet revenged this insult by a rapid movement to the 
 relief of Paris, and defeated the Germans with very great 
 slaughter. A nephew of Otho, who had sworn (for 
 oaths of chivalry were then becoming fashionable) to 
 strike his lance into the gate of Paris, was slain in the 
 battle. But Lothaire lost the fruit of this victory by 
 acceding to a peace, which disappointed the hopes of his 
 subjects, and especially of the army, elated by victory. 
 Conscious of a loss of reputation, he endeavoured to 
 strengthen himself in the love and affection of his subjects, 
 by raising to be the partner of his throne his son Louis, 
 known by the discreditable title of the Faineant, or 
 Foolish. But Lothaire was not permitted to receive any 
 benefit, if such could accrue, from such a stroke of poli- 
 cy, as he died at Rheims immediately afterwards, and no* 
 without the suspicion of poison. (A. D. 987.) 
 
 Louis, called the Faineant, did nothing which could be 
 termed inconsistent with his name. He quarrelled with 
 the queen, and wellnigh engaged in a new war with Ger- 
 many. But before he had reigned fourteen months, he 
 died under the same suspicion of poison which attached 
 to his father's demise. This weak and unhappy prince 
 was the last of the Carlovingian race, which had occu- 
 pied the throne of France for upwards of two hundred 
 find thirty years. 
 
REIGN OF HUGO CAPET. 81 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Cavses which led to the Third Change of Dynasty — 
 Accession and Reign of Hugo Capet, son of Hvgd 
 the Great — Tieign of Robert the Wise — Dissensions 
 between Robert's Sons — Accession of Henry I. — Pil- 
 grimage of Robert Duke of JVormandy to the Holy 
 Land — His son M^illiam (nfterivards the Conqueror 
 of England) left at the Head of the Government oj 
 JVormandy — War between JVormandy and France — 
 Defeat of the French at J\Iortemart — Pacification 
 between the two Countries — Death of Henry I. 
 
 You must keep in memory, that since the institution of 
 the government of France as a monarchy, two races of 
 kings had existed. The Long-haired monarchs, or kings 
 of the Merovingian race, who sank under the rising for- 
 tunes of Pepin and Charlemagne, were the first dynasty. 
 The Carlovingian race, deriving the title from Charles 
 the Great, which superseded that of Merovaeus, and 
 reigned in his stead, constituted the second. The third 
 change of dynasty, which took place at the death of Louis 
 le Faineant, may be attributed to causes which shall be 
 shortly touched upon. 
 
 \. Under neither of these dynasties was the right of 
 hereditary succession so well defined and understood as it 
 was latterly. The brother often succeeded to a deceased 
 monarch, instead of his son, without reference to the de- 
 gree of propinquity to the last king. After the deposi- 
 tion of the Merovingian line, the Bull of Pope Zachari- 
 as, which assigned the royalty to the race of Pepin, 
 enjoined the French in future, in choosing their emperor 
 to select him exclusively from the race of the chosen 
 candidate, to whose family it stood limited. This limi- 
 tation, however, did not establish a strict hereditary line 
 ol succession, for, as understood in practice, it was suiR 
 945 
 
S2 DECAY OF THE CARLOVINGIAN KINGS. 
 
 cieiitly adhered to, provided the candidate for sovereignty 
 was of the race of Pepin or Char'eiiiai^ne ; so that the 
 empire lay o^en as an object of temptation to all who 
 boasted a descent from the chosen family, however dis- 
 tant from the right of succession in a direct line. The 
 consequence was, that as the covetous eyes of so many 
 princes were fixed on the same tempting object, the want 
 of a regular and fixed rule of inheritance occasioned great 
 disputes, which led to the repeated division and subdivi- 
 sion of the royal dominions, not only weakening the body 
 of the 'empire, but often terminating in bloody civil wars, 
 by which it was still farther torn to pieces. 
 
 II. The empire of Charlemagne, comprehended a huge 
 mass of territory, extending from the Tiber to the Elbe, 
 and from the Pyrenean mountains to the borders of Hun- 
 gary, consisting of many nations, differing in descent, 
 laws, language, and manners whom chance and the abil- 
 ities of one individual had united for a time under one 
 government, but which had an mternal propensity to fall 
 asunder so soon as the great mind which held them 
 together was removed. Hence, it was not long before 
 the kingdom of France was separated from that of Italy, 
 and from the empire, latterly so called, of Germany. 
 
 III. The grants wliich were made to the great officers 
 of state, and vassals of the crown, had their natural influ- 
 ence in impoverishing the monarchs of France ; so that, 
 durins: the rei^jn of the two or three last monarchs of 
 the Carlovingian line, almost every considerable city in 
 the kingdom was in possession of some duke, count or 
 baron, who collected revenue from it, excepting only 
 Laon and Rheims, and some family estates, which the 
 kings possessed on the same footing, and managed in the 
 same manner, as they would have been administered by 
 private individuals. 
 
 The Carlovingian family bemg reduced to so low an 
 ebb in point of power and wealth, it was not to be won- 
 dered at, if the nobility of France resolved to fill the 
 ihrone with some more powerful prince. Charles, Duke 
 of Lorraine was, no doubt, the brother of Lothajre, and 
 4* 
 
HUGO CAPET CHOSEN KING OF FRANCE 83 
 
 ibe next heir, therefore, to Louis le Faineant, his deceas- 
 ed nephew. But he was far inferior in talents to Hugo 
 Capet, who had long been esteemed the first man of the 
 kmgdom in point of wealth, the second probably in point 
 of rank, and the first in actual power. He was Duke of 
 Burgundy and Aquitaine, Count of Paris and Orleans, 
 and in addition to these dignities, bore even the title of 
 Duke of France, though antiquaries do not fully state the 
 import of this last title. He brought far more wealth to 
 the crown of France, than he could inherit by succeed- 
 ing to it, and he was known to his contemporaries as the 
 best general and wisest statesman of his time. Hugo 
 Capet availed himself so well of these advantages, that, 
 on the death of Louis le Faineant, he assembled the 
 states of the kingdom, consisting probably of the princi- 
 pal crown vassals, with the bishops and prelates, and by 
 unanimous assent was chosen King of France. 
 
 With a view, probably, to establish the security of the 
 crown in his own family, Hugo Capet, who had already 
 b(5en successful against some of the lords who had refused 
 him their allegiance, proposed to associate his son Robert 
 in the same dignity, and obtained the assent of the 
 States to that association. Having thus, as far as human 
 prudence could command the future, done his best to 
 secure the crown in his family, Hugo Capet laid aside 
 the royal state and kingly attire, and lived simply and 
 modestly, as before his accession to the throne. Charles 
 of Lorraine, the Carlovingian heir to the crown, attempt- 
 ed, though tardily, to vindicate the succession, but was 
 surprised and made prisoner by the elected monarch ; 
 and being thrown into prison at Orleans, was detained 
 there till his death. The son of Charles succeeded him 
 n the Duchy of Lorraine, but died without male issue ; 
 and in his person, the legitimate succession of the 
 renowned Charlemagne became extinct. (A. D. 99L) 
 
 The head of the new race of kings behaved wiih a 
 wisdom and steadiness which tended to secure the suc- 
 cession of his family ; for though brave men may gain 
 Kinojdoms. it is wise men only who can transmit theit> to 
 
B'i REIGN OF ROBERT THE WISE. 
 
 their lineage. Hugo Capet bent his mind to soothe all 
 discontents, and to please every class of his subjects. He 
 flattered and gratified the clergy by resigning to them 
 such abbeys as he possessed, and induced many of his 
 nobles to follow his example, for which he was highly 
 lauded by the church. 
 
 As a wise man, he saw the danger arising to ihe king 
 dom from the independent state of the turbulent nobility ; 
 but he saw, also, that the evil was too great to be reme- 
 died, and w^as contented to confine himself to slow and 
 temporising measures. He demanded little more from 
 the crown vassals than the homage, which, while he lim- 
 ited his claim to it, they had no interest to refuse, and while 
 he encouraged them to weaken each other by intestine 
 wars, he determined silently to await the time when by 
 degrees th^ power of the crown should rise upon their 
 ruins. The spirit of the present race of nobles was such 
 as would have endured no control ; for when Audibert, 
 Vicomte of Periguex, laid siege to the city of Tours, and 
 the king wrote to him commanding him to desist, asking 
 him reproachfully who had made him vicomte, the feudal 
 chief replied with scorn it was those who had made Ca- 
 pet king ; and persevered in his attack upon Tours, in 
 defiance of the royal mandate. The monarch passed 
 over an insult which he had not sufficient power to 
 revenge. 
 
 By a rare mixture of wisdom and firmness, this king 
 transmitted to his family a tlu-one to which he had no 
 hereditary right, with little opposition, and almost without 
 bloodshed. (A. D. 996.) He died, leaving his dominions 
 in perfect tranquillity, after a reign of eight years. 
 
 Robert, son of Hugo Capet, long associated with his 
 father, was now sole king. He followed in all respects 
 the sagacious and prudent measures of his predecessor, 
 who had bred him up to an mtimate acquaintance with 
 his far-sighted and calm policy. From the steadiness of 
 his conduct, the rew king acquired the distinction of 
 The Wise. 
 
ROBERT SUCCEEDS HUGO ^APET. 85 
 
 For securing the succession, in particvilar, Robert fol- 
 owed bis father's policy, which seems for some time to 
 have been pecuHar to the Capet family, at least to their 
 earlier princes. He caused his son Hugh to be joined in 
 the government, and he having died without issue, 
 Robert's second son, Henry, was crowned in the same 
 manner, ten years after. By this provision, the chance 
 of an alteration in the succession was much diminished, 
 since the lineal successor was placed in possession of the 
 regal power before the death of his predecessor, and so 
 might instantly assume the reigns of government when 
 that event took place. 
 
 The peace of Robert was somewhat disturbed by the 
 political intrigues of his two successive queens, to whose 
 ambition he appears to have given more free course than 
 consisted with the prudence of his character in other re- 
 spects. He* had also some trouble from the disobedience 
 of his sons ; but these were only passing disturbances, 
 and soon appeased. 
 
 The reputation of Robert for wisdom and justice stood 
 so high, that the Emperor of Germany having some dis- 
 pute with the Count of Flanders, and others of his vas- 
 sals, both parties agreed to refer them to the decision of 
 the King of France. Upon this business the two princes 
 had a meeting on the banks of the Meuse. In these un- 
 happy times, such meetings had, from infidelity on the 
 one part or the other, often ended in assassination. The 
 ministers on both sides had accordingly adjusted articles 
 of meeting in person, by which it was proposed, that the 
 two princes should leave the opposite sides of the river, 
 and meet at the same moment in the middle. But the 
 generous emperor, confident in the character of King 
 Robert, set ceremony and suspicion at defiance, and, 
 crossing the Meuse without scruple, surprised the King of 
 France with a visit in his camp. After thus dispensing 
 with all etiquette, the business in dependence was settled 
 to the satisfaction of all parlies. 
 
 Two years after this interview^ the good Emperor, 
 
66 REIGN OF ROBERT THE WISE 
 
 Henry died, and was succeeded in his German dominions 
 by Conrade, Duke of Worms. The Italian subjects of 
 Henry by no mea'-iS wished to share the same fate, and 
 intimated their desire to submit themselves to the King 
 of France, to whom accordingly they offered the imperi- 
 al crown, and the kingdom of Italy. But Robert, though 
 this acquisition of another fair portion of Constantino's 
 empire was a brilliant and tempting offer, perceived at 
 the same time he should, by accepting it, be hurried into 
 a German war, for the sake of a territory separated from 
 France by the line of the Alps, and by no means likely 
 to form either an obedient or a useful part of that kingdom. 
 He therefore wisely rejected the dominion offered to him, 
 considering it preferable to increase his influence by the 
 improvement of his kingdom at home, than to expend its 
 strength in the task of making himself master of impos- 
 ing but useless and unprofitable acquisitions of foreign 
 territories. 
 
 King Robert's domestic government was of the same 
 judicious and moderate character which distinguished his 
 foreign politics. He used his royal power for the bene- 
 fit of his subjects, and protected the lower and oppressed 
 part of them, as much as the temper of the times per- 
 mitted. His private charity was so extensive, that up- 
 wards of a thousand poor persons dined at his expense 
 every day, and, in the excess of his royal humility, were, 
 notwithstanding their disgusting rags and sores, permitted 
 to approach his person. It is pretended he used to exer- 
 cise upon them the supposed gift, claimed afterwards both 
 by the Kings of France and England, of curing the dis- 
 ease; called the king's evil, by their touch and their pray- 
 ers. King Robert I. of France died universally regret- 
 ted in 1031. 
 
 Upon the death of Robert I., the line of Capet began 
 to sliow some symptoms of the dissension which had 
 brought to ruin those of Merovseus and of Charles the 
 Great. The succession of Henry, the eldest sen and 
 "ighiful heir of Robert, was disputed by his younger 
 3rc)thi : Robert. He was encouraged by his mothej;, \^hn 
 
DEATH OF ROBERT THE WISE. 67 
 
 had always hated Henry, and by several powerful nobles, 
 who were probably unwilling that in another reign 
 resembling in moderation and firmness that of Robert I., 
 the crown should again obtain the advantage which such 
 a tranquil period afforded the king over his nobility. 
 
 Robert took his measures so suddenly, and was so well 
 supported, that Henry, with a retinue of only ten or 
 eleven persons, was fain to save himself from captivity, 
 by flying to the country of Robert, then Duke of Nor- 
 mandy, for protection. He was received in the strong 
 castle of Fescamp, and the duke, discharging the duty 
 of a faithful vassal, raised all his forces in defence of his 
 liege lord, against the traitorous attempts of his younger 
 brother. The Duke of Normandy advanced into France 
 with his forces, and ravaged the country with such 
 extreme severity, that he obtained for himself the nick- 
 name of Robert le Diable, or Robin the Devil, which 
 gave rise to several fabulous legends, by which minstrels 
 and romancers attempted to account for the origin of so 
 strange an e])ithet. The two armies were on the point 
 of eniraii^infr in a decisive conflict, when Robert, returnino- 
 to a sense of duty, thought it better to submit to his elder 
 brother, than run the risk of so great a crime as that of 
 slaying him. He submitted accordingly, and was reward 
 ed with the Duchy of Burgundy, after wdiich the broth- 
 ers lived in concert together. Duke Robert of Normandy 
 was rewarded with a considerable accession of territory, 
 so that the strife between the brothers, though brief, was 
 attended with the usual consequences of weakening the 
 crown. 
 
 Henry 1., however, did not lose any opportunity which 
 events offered of strengthening his throne. Disturbances 
 arose concerning part of Burgundy, next to Mount Jura, 
 which was separate from the portion assigned to liie 
 king's brother Robert, as above noticed. In the course 
 of the wars which etisued, many forfeitures were made, 
 and the reunion of the fiefs so forfeited with the crown, 
 served to repair the losses it had sustained in the war 
 between tne brothers. 
 
bo REIGN OF HENRY 1. 
 
 Neither did Henry I. fail to avail himself cf troubles 
 ivhich arose in Normandy, although he ow^d a great debt 
 of gratitude to the Duke whose timely aid had, as we 
 have seen, replaced him on the throne. This prince, ad^ 
 vancing now in age, began to think of making amends for 
 those violent actions which had in the war procured him 
 the title of Robin the Devil. For this purpose, as wai 
 the custom of that superstitious period, he conceived no 
 mode of penitence could be so effectual as to go on a pil- 
 grimage to Palestine, called the Holy Land. The desire 
 to see the scenes of miracles, and sufferings the most 
 momentous which could be undergone, was sufficiently 
 rational, and they might no doubt be often visited with 
 effectual advantage to the pilgrim, since we can never be 
 so much disposed to devotion as when we are placed in 
 the very localities where such events have actually passed. 
 But to forsake the moral duties which we are called to 
 discharge, and to ramble over strange countries, neglect- 
 i/jg the subjects, families, or whomsoever else have been 
 designed by Providence to rely on our active exertions 
 for support, is gross superstition, not rational religion. 
 At this early period, however, the idea prevailed, thai 
 men obtained by tiieir toils, in such a journey, not only 
 pardon for past faults, but indulgence for such as they 
 should commit in future. 
 
 Duke Robert of Normandy, then, prepared for his pil- 
 gimage to Jerusalem. Previous to his departure, he as- 
 sembled a council of his prelates and high vassals ; for you 
 cannot have forgotten, that, like all other feudatories of 
 France, that prince had his own country divided among 
 vassals, who held of him by the same tenure by which he 
 held his duchy of the King of France. He placed before 
 .'.he assembly a son of his own, not born in lawful wed- 
 lock, but the child of a woman named Arlotta. This 
 was the famous William, afterwards Conqueror of Eng- 
 land. This youth was of so fair a person, and such 
 promising talents, that his father, notwithstanding his 
 illegitimacy, desired he should succeed him as his heir in 
 4ie dukedom. He prevailed on the states of Normandy' 
 
flLGRIMAGE TO THE HOLY LAND. 8? 
 
 U) recognise William in this capacity, recornmen Jed Lim 
 to the protection of Henry of France, and Alan, Duke of 
 Bretagne, and having thus provided for his succession, he 
 set off upon his pilgrimage, from which h3 never re- 
 turned. 
 
 William, the future Conqueror of England, vv^as thus 
 early put in a conspicuous situation, and was thereby ex- 
 posed to misfortunes and dangers, which undoubtedly 
 contributed to mature and exercise those qualities which 
 form the character of a great man. His feudal vassals, 
 no longer restrained by the authority of the duke himself, 
 took advantage of the minority of the sovereign to enter 
 into feuds with each other, to raise troops, fortify castles, 
 and levy wars at their own pleasure, without awaiting the 
 consent of William, or regarding his prohibition. On the 
 other hand, King Henry, taking advantage of these trou- 
 bles, invaded the Norman frontiers, burnt the town of Ar- 
 genton, and demolished the Castle of Thilleres, under 
 pretext that it ought not to have been fortified without 
 liis consent, as liege lord and paramount. William, or 
 rather those who acted in his behalf, beset with dangers 
 on every side, thought it best to accommodate these quar- 
 rels with the King of France, even at some sacrifices ; 
 and thus for a time secured the alliance and countenance 
 of Henry I. 
 
 It was time, indeed, to acquire some effectual support, 
 for a considerable number of malecontent Norman lords 
 had formed a league against Duke William, and had raised 
 an army amounting to twenty-five thousand men, having 
 for its head, Guy of Franche Compte. The united forces 
 of King Henry and the young Duke William, which to- 
 gether did not exceed three thousand men, marched 
 against the insurgents. They engaged the opposing 
 jorces near Caen, at a place called Val de Dunes. Kmg 
 Henry was unhorsed by a Norman knight, and nearly 
 slain ; he was rescued, however, and gained a decis' ve vie 
 lory, in which very many of the insurgents weie killed 
 William, whose subjects were completely red'iced to ob^ 
 
90 NORMAN INSURRECTION SURPRISED. 
 
 dieiice, reaped all the advantage ol this war. But Henry 
 soon after engaged in other quarrels and discussions, by 
 which new dissensions were created in Normandy. These 
 disputes he wilfully fostered, with the view of diminish- 
 ing the strength of this overgrown vassal, which he looked 
 upon as dangerous to the crown. He was not deterred 
 from this interference by the assistance faithfully and loy- 
 ally rendered him by Duke William, in his quarrel with 
 Stephen and Theobald, two sons and successors of Eudes, 
 Count of Champagne, or by the recollection that the 
 Duke of Normandy had involved himself in those quar- 
 rels, purely to serve him. On the contrary, Henry showed 
 either an enmity against William's person, or a jealousy 
 of his power, which he took the following method to 
 manifest : — First, he engaged William of Normandy in a 
 quarrel with Godefroy, Count of Anjou, called by the 
 formidable name of Martel, and thus involved these two 
 great feudatories in a war which must necessarily operate 
 to the diminution of the strength of both. 
 
 When the Duke of Normandy extricated himself from 
 this struggle also with reputation and advantage, he be- 
 came the object of the unconcealed jealousy and displea- 
 sure of the French king, who then publicly espoused 
 the cause of William of Arques, Count of Toulouse, who 
 laid claim to the duchy of Normandy, as son of Duke 
 Richard II., and therefore rightful heir to the crown, on 
 account of William's illegitimacy. Henry accordingly en- 
 tered Normandy with a strong army to dispossess the 
 young friend, with whom he had been so lately in alliance. 
 But William was now of an age to display his wisdom and 
 courage. (A. D. 1054.) By a rapid and sudden night 
 attack near Mortemart, and a severe battle on the follow- 
 ing day, he worsted the French army, with the loss often 
 thousand men. This, followed by other severe checks, 
 induced Henry to consent to peace. Cordiality, however, 
 aever was restored between William and the king ; and, 
 rn those mutual feuds,- first began that enmity which cost 
 so many bloody wars between the descendairts of Henry 
 
CHARACTER OF HENRY I. 91 
 
 King of France, and of William, whose posterity suc- 
 ceeded him as kings of England. 
 
 After his pacification with the Duke oi iVormandy, 
 Henry turned himself to that which was a favourite piece 
 of policy in the House of Capet. We have already ex- 
 plained, that this was the association of a successor in 
 the throne, in order to secure stability in the royal suc- 
 cession. Philip, the eldest of Henry's sons, was raised, 
 at the early age of seven years, to share the throne of his 
 father, who died in the same year, leaving his son under 
 the guardianship of Baldwin of Flanders, called, from his 
 worth and religion, the Pious. (A. D. 1060.) Henry left 
 behind him a tolerably fair character, except in regard to 
 his Machiavellian^ intrigues to diminish the power of his 
 great vassals. It is true, the precarious situaticwi of the 
 kings of France had, for some time, suggested such a pol- 
 icy ; but in following it, Henry I. trampled not only upon 
 the virtue of justice, but of gratitude. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Minority of Philip — Origin of Chivalry — Training oj 
 the young Knights — Ceremony of conferring Knight- 
 hood — Duties of those who acquired that honour — 
 Devotion to the Fair Sex — Wager of Battle — Tour- 
 naments — Chivalry took its rise in France — Its Insti- 
 tutions were speedily adopted by the JVormans, who 
 found a Field for ihe exercise of their valour in the 
 Wars of Italy — Bravery and Conquests of the Guis^ 
 cards — Battle of Durazzo. 
 
 It is necessary to say little more, of the minority of 
 Philip, than that, for a country so disturbed as France, it 
 passed with little interruption of the public peate. This 
 was chiefly owing to the wise government of Count Bald- 
 win, who remained always upon his guard against treachery 
 &om every quarter, taking care, at the same time, to givt 
 
92 MINORITY OF PHILIP. 
 
 no pretence for such practices, by ofTendlng any of the 
 great nobles. The Gascons indeed, a people of a fiery 
 and changeable disposition, at one period meditated a re- 
 volt. But the Count of Flanders, raising a considerable 
 force, under pretence of threatened invasion by the Sar- 
 acens, led an army so suddenly into Aquitaine, as to 
 render their design abortive. 
 
 But although France had, in its interior, little materials 
 for history during this period, enterprises were undertaken 
 by individuals who emigrated from thence during the reign 
 of Henry 1. and the minority of Philip, which strike the 
 mind with astonishment, considering the important effects 
 produced by the desperate courage of a kw men. The 
 ruling character of the agents, in the extraordinary eflbrts 
 which 1 am about to relate to you, requires now to be 
 stated. It was in many respects different from the prin- 
 ciples by which mere barbarians are guided, but varied no 
 less from those vqews and notions which direct civilized 
 nations. 
 
 On this account it becomes necessary, perhaps, to look 
 far back into the conmiencement of society, to find the 
 original germ of that system of chivalry, which occasioned 
 so many marvellous actions during the middle ages, and, 
 in some important particulars, still preserves its effects 
 jpon our present manners. 
 
 The oricrin of the institution of knighthood, bein^^ the 
 basis of chivalry, may be easily traced. The warriors of 
 the ancient Gallic tribes, who fought on horseback, and 
 wore more highly esteemed than the infantry, were 
 teimed, by the Romans, Equites, or horsemen, a rank of 
 soldiery possessing considerable precedence over others. 
 The Germans approached the modern ideas of knighthood 
 more closely. The youth w^as not accounted fit for shar- 
 ing the councils of his tribe, until the age of twenty-one 
 years was attained, when, certain ceremonies being used, 
 he was brought into the public assembly, invested with 
 arms resembling those of his elder brethren : and, in short, 
 admitted to all the privileges of an adult warrior. The 
 period vf his admission into the councils of the freemen 
 
ORIGIN OF CHIVALRY. 93 
 
 Olid warriors of the nation, added, of consequence, to the 
 young man's importance, and qualified him to act as a 
 eh'ief and princi})al in war, where- his services liitherlo 
 had been only used as a private soldier and follower. 
 
 These regulations led to the establishment of an order 
 of champions among tlie t'ranks, and other German na- 
 tions, who had achieved settlements in Gaul, or France, 
 as it was now called. Tiiose who were ambitious to dis- 
 tinguish themselves by military fame, which comprehend- 
 ed, speaking generally, almost all who held fiefs, whethei 
 of the sovereign or the subjects, or who were otherwise 
 entitled to the name of freemen, were carefully educated 
 jn horsemanship, the use of the lance and sword, man- 
 agement of the horse, and other warlike exercises. Dur- 
 ing this training, the young men, wlio were for the time 
 called pages, resided as a part of the household of some 
 king, noble, or man of rank, whose family w^as supposed 
 to be a school of military discipline. When arrived at a 
 certain age, the page, as able to support the duties of war, 
 became an esquire, and waited immediately upon his lord 
 in battle, or during travel, serving him as a close and con- 
 fidential attendant, and always ready to peril his life for 
 him. This, though a species of servitude, was not reck- 
 oned degrading ; but, on the contrary, the candidate for 
 the highest honours of chivalry was not accounted worthy 
 of them, until he had shown, by the patient obedience of 
 years as a squire, that he was worthy to command others 
 ni the capacity of a knight. When he was esteemed fit 
 for the rank, the candidate was then dubbed knight. In 
 the ceremony, some things were taken from the ancient 
 mode of receiving the youths into the councils of the 
 warriors, while their ancestors still inhabited the forests 
 and swamps of Germany. A sword was girded around 
 the aspirant's body ; spurs were bound upon his heels ; 
 the person by whom the ceremony was performed, struck 
 the acolyte of chivalry on the shoulders with the flat 
 ^f his naked sword, and he was thus invested with a 
 nigh military dignity, which, in a certain sense, placed 
 liim, however poor, upon a level with the wealthiest and 
 
94 CEREMONY OF MAKING KNIGHTS. 
 
 most powerful nobles ; for, in theory, all knigbti were 
 equal, except in so far as they excelled each other in 
 military fame. Other ceremonies were mingled wil4 
 those we have mentioned, which had been introduced by 
 the churchmen, who naturally desired to attach to a sokm- 
 nit} so striking something connected with the forms of relig- 
 ion. In many cases, accordingly, the young knight watched 
 his arms for the night in some church or chapel, and 
 occupied himself in watching and prayer. He also took a 
 solemn oath to protect, at his utmost risk, the cause of 
 the Catholic religion ; to redress by his valour such 
 wrongs, and abolish such evil customs as he might discover: 
 an Herculean task, at the time when almost every dis- 
 trict groaned under the tyranny of some petty despot, 
 who oppressed the poor without their having any one to 
 appeal to. The protection of widows and orphans, and 
 of the female sex in all ranks of society, was also enjoin- 
 ed. Lastly, fidelity to the king, chief, or lord, was sworn 
 to by the young knight. By these means the order of 
 knighthood was rendered in theory an association, bound 
 by oath to forward the discharge of all the social duties 
 which religion enjoined. It is not to be supposed thai 
 all, or many of the knights thus created, arrived even 
 within a few points of the excellence which they were 
 in this respect required to attain. Some, however, whose 
 character in adhering to these vows, had recommended 
 them to the age as very perfect examples of chivalry, ob- 
 tained the general approbation of prince and people ; and 
 he was most valued who exposed himself to the most ex- 
 travagant dangers in the support ofhis character for courage. 
 It cannot be denied, that while the institutions of chiv- 
 alry gave an air of romantic dignity and grandeur to the 
 manners of the age, while the system continued to flour- 
 ish, stigmatizing all that was base and selfish, and encour- 
 ao-inff the kni^-hts, who would be held desirous of public 
 applause, to seek it by exhibiting the purest faith, and 
 the most undaunted courage, without being seduced from 
 their purpose by the prospect of advantage, or deterred 
 trom it bv the most aHrming dangers, there mixed, nc\ 
 
DUTIES OF KNIGHTHOOD. 95 
 
 6rtlieless, with these generous maxims, much that wns 
 extravagant, wild, and sometimes absolutely ridicuious. 
 Every knight, for example, was expected to devote his 
 affections to some fair lady, whom he was to serve for 
 years, and with unaltered fidelity, although, perhaps, 
 neither her rank in life, nor her inclinations, entitled him 
 to expect any return of her affections ; nay although the 
 lady, having conferred her hand on some other person, 
 could return his supposed passion with no other regard 
 than gratitude might permit. All the deeds of valour 
 which he performed, were supposed to be owing to the 
 influence of this terrestrial goddess, and the champions 
 wearied out their imaginations in outvying each other in 
 the feats of arms which they did, or proposed to do, in 
 the name of their mistresses. 
 
 The system of chivalry also involved the great error 
 of intrusting the guardianship of ahnost all civil rights to 
 the decision of the sword, so that it was scarcely possible 
 for a man of low rank to obtain justice, unless he was 
 prepared to fight for it in the lists, or had some champion 
 willinDf to fio^ht in his cause. 
 
 o o 
 
 The very sports of chivalry involved the risk of life. 
 The military exercises of tilts and tournaments in which 
 they encountered each other with lances, each endeav- 
 ouring to keep his own saddle, and at the same time to 
 unhorse his antagonist, were their favourite pastime. On 
 this occasion each knight supported the beaifty and merit 
 of some particular lady, the influence of whose charms 
 was supposed to stimulate him to victory, as her fame 
 was, on the other hand, extended by his success. These 
 warlike entertainments were the delight of the age, and 
 though repeatedly prohibited by the church as inhuman 
 and unchristian, were solemnly practised, nevertheless, at 
 the courts of the difl^erent sovereigns of Europe, who 
 displayed their magnificence in the splendour with which 
 the feats of chivalry were performed in their own pres- 
 ence, while the ladies looked on from the balconies, to 
 grace the victors with their applause. The encounter 
 professed to be a friendly one, and amicable trial in arms. 
 
96 TOURNAMENTS. 
 
 and the combatants expressed the utmost regard for each 
 other. But this did not prevent the hves of many brave 
 champions being lost in the rough sport, whicli was 
 rather a regular and modified kind of actual battle, than, 
 as it professed to be, a mere imitation of war. 
 
 It is certain that, from the respect towards the female 
 sex enjoined by the laws of chivalry, our modern times 
 have derived that courteous deference and respect for 
 A^omen, which assigns to the ladies in the cultivated 
 countries of Europe, an importance in society so different 
 from the state of degradation to which they are reduced 
 in other quarters of the world. But it is more difficult 
 to imao-ine how this hitrh and romantic tone had been 
 
 o o 
 
 breathed into the institutions of the Franks while a bar- 
 barous people. It is probable, that the origin may have 
 been found in the institutions of the old Germans, which, 
 as we before noticed, admitted the females of the tribe to 
 a high degree of estimation ; and as they did not permit 
 their youth to marry till twenty-one years complete, their 
 young w^arriors were trained up in the habit of distant re- 
 spect, awe, and veneration for those who were to be the 
 companions of their future lives. 
 
 There is no precise account of the origin of chivalry ; 
 but there can be no doubt, that, considered under a mod- 
 ern aspect, that remarkable system had its rise in France, 
 to the natural manners of which country the gallantry 
 and devotion to the fair sex which it dictated — not to 
 mention a certain tone of national and personal vanity 
 which it was well calculated to advance — were peculiarly 
 congenial. 
 
 In France, the young warrior, when admitted to the 
 dignity of the new order, was called chevalier, that is, 
 horseman, from cheval, a horse, the ancient name o(eques, 
 translated into the language of the country, being seized 
 upon to express the newly inaugurated knight. In Ger- 
 many, the equivalent term of ritter, or rider, was made 
 use of. The origin of the English word knight, which 
 bears the same meaning, is more doubtful. In the Anglo- 
 Saxon language, where the meaning must be sought, 
 
CHIVALRY ADOPTED BY THE NORMAJVS. 91 
 
 knecht signifies a servant, and was applied, by way ol 
 distinction, to the select attendants on the prince (as we 
 still call a soldier a servant of the king) — a title readily 
 transferred to the newly-dubbed cavalier, as expressing a 
 chosen and trained warrior. The word does not, how- 
 ever, present the idea of the origin of the institution so 
 accurately as either the French or German word. Nor, 
 ahhough the order of chivalry rose to the highest esteem 
 in Britain, do vye suppose that it was, in a proper sense, 
 known in that island, till, as you shall presently hear, it 
 was brought thither by the Normans, who travelled in 
 arms into various parts of Europe during the 11th cen- 
 tury, overt liro wing ancient kingdoms, establishing new 
 ones, and outdoing, if that were possible, all the wonders 
 and marvels of chivalrous romance, by the display they 
 made of it in their own persons. 
 
 The Normans, we have seen, had now, for a conside- 
 rable time, been inhabitants of France, and established 
 themselves in the province to which they gave their name. 
 They had become softened, rather than corrupted oi 
 subdued, by the advantages and luxuries of their new 
 settlements. They still retained unimpaired the daring 
 and desperate courage with which their fathers had sallied 
 from their frozen oceans to ravage and to conquer the 
 domains of a milder climate ; but they exercised it with 
 more humanity, inspired doubtless by their conversion to 
 Christianity. The new institutions of chivalry were 
 speedily adopted by a nation which possessed already so 
 many points in common with them. So brave a race, 
 imbued f^om infancy with the principle that death was 
 preferable, not only to flight, but to the manifestation of 
 the least symptom of fear, thought little of the dangers 
 which might have terrified others in the exercise of chiv- 
 alry. Like other natioas of the north also, the Normans 
 had practised, ere they left their own climate, that reve- 
 rentrj?! and respectful conduct towards the female ses^ 
 which was another basis ©f chivalry. The tilt and toiT- 
 Dfiy were, in the opinion of these warlike nations only a 
 946 
 
98 WARS OF ITALY 
 
 variation of their own combats with clubs ano swords, in 
 which the pretence was sport, though often turned inte 
 earnest by the fury of the encounter. Above all, the 
 n)ore modern Normans united the utter carelessness of 
 danger, and contempt of life, which characterised theii 
 ancestors who fought under Rollo, with the gay valoui 
 and love of adventure which was proper to the inhabit- 
 ants of France, and which this race kept in practice by 
 the quarrels of their duke with his sovereign of France, 
 and with his compeers, the great vassals of the crown. 
 Cliivalry flourlslied in so fertile a soil, and the Norman 
 knights held the first rank among those of Europe. Such 
 being their character, a part of this brave nation found 
 sudden exercise for their feats of arras in the wars of Italy, 
 where they made conquests which flattered their vanity, 
 and gratified their love of glory. 
 
 To understand tliis, you must be informed, that, after 
 the descendants of Charlemagne had degenerated into 
 feeble princes, the towns and coasts of Italy became di- 
 vided between the Greeks (who reclaimed the possession 
 of that fine country as the original seat of the empire, 
 which was removed to Constantinople by Constantine) 
 and the Saracens. The various incursions of the latter 
 people upon the Christian world had been set on foot for 
 the purpose of conquering and converting the provinces 
 which they invaded. They conquered Sicily, and colo- 
 nized it. The dominions of the present kingdom of 
 Naples next invited their arms, and a strong colony, for 
 a long time maintained at Bari, placed the Adriatic gulf 
 under the command of the naval power of the Saracens, 
 Notwithstanding this, the Greeks, a politic and sagacious 
 nation, contrived to recover Bari, and to establish their 
 authority in a great part of the eastern half of Italy 
 Luxury, and its enervating consequences, had, however, 
 rendered their armies very unfit to meet the eastern fana- 
 tics. But the Empire of Constantinople still commanded 
 the services of experienced and cautious generals, and 
 they supplied the deficiencies of their own troops by the 
 daring courage of 1 'ranks, Lombards, and other barba- 
 
KORMAN AUXILIARIES. 99 
 
 rians, whom they engaged in their cause They were 
 also masters of the art of negotiation, and Httle scrupu- 
 lous in keeping the terms which tliey had made, when 
 an opportunity occurred of gaining an advantage, though 
 at the expense of good faith. By sucli means, the 
 Greeks maintained a doubtful struu-t^le with the Saracens, 
 
 DO 7 
 
 which of them should obtain the exclusive possession of 
 Italy. 
 
 About this period the natives of Normandy, whose 
 temper and habits we have described, began to think of 
 amending their fortunes, by undertaking expeditions on 
 their own account, to free the peninsula of Italy at once 
 from the bondage of the Greeks and of the Saracen«. 
 The former tliey considered as effeminate tyrants, here- 
 tics, also, as the Greek church holds some tenets different 
 from that of Rome. As to the Saracens, their character 
 of infidels was sufficient to render war against them not 
 only lawful, but a religious and meritorious task. The 
 first attempts of these Norman adventurers were under- 
 taken with too great inferiority of numbers, to be deci- 
 dedly successful. For a time they were only remarkable 
 for their desperate courage, which displayed itself in 
 behalf of Germans, Greeks, or even Saracens, who were 
 best able to reward their exertions ; and it was observed 
 that victory seemed to attend in every case the side on 
 which they fought. Their numbers, however, were 
 gradually increased by additional recruits from their own 
 country of Normandy, and by some Italians, who joined 
 their ranks, on the condition of observing their customs, 
 and emulating their valour. 
 
 In the year 1029, the Normans in Italy assumed a 
 more national appearance, and fixed their head-quarters 
 at Aversa, a town conferred on them by the Duke of 
 Naples. Here they lived under the government of 
 counts, or chieftains, of their own election ; and, joining 
 their forces with those of the Greek emperor, did much 
 to achieve the reconquest of Sicily. Being ungratefully 
 reijuited by the Grecian general, Maniaces, the Normani 
 look arms to pu lish the ingratitude of their allies. The 
 
 tolC 
 
100 SUCCESSES OF THE GUISfARDS, 
 
 Greeks issembled a large army, and, contident in rJieir 
 numbers, sent to the Normans to offer them either battle 
 or a safe retreat. " To battle !" exclaimed the Normans, 
 while one of their knights struck down with a blow of his 
 fist the horse of the Grecian messenger. The Greeks, 
 notwithstanding their superiority in numbers, received a 
 total defeat, and the Normans gained possession of a great 
 part of their dominions in Apulia, a few strong places 
 excepted. They now arrayed their forces under the 
 command of twelve counts, the chief of whom took the 
 title of Count of Apulia. 
 
 The first who held this title of eminence, was a dis- 
 tinguished warrior named William Braccio di Fer, which 
 means Iron-arm, from his irresistible strength, which he 
 displayed at the expense of both the Greeks and Sara- 
 cens. But his renown was eclipsed by that of the cele- 
 bated Robert Guiscard, a Norman, descended from a race 
 of Vavasours, or petty nobles, w^ho had originally their 
 family seat at Hauteville in Normandy. Robert w^as the 
 most distinguished among the family of Tancred de Haute- 
 ville, although consisting of twelve sons, all of whom, as 
 they became severally of age,. forsook their father's cas- 
 tle, and followed the steps of their elder brother, to seek 
 glory or death in the wars of Italy. They were distin- 
 guished by their valour and skill in obscure warfare, until 
 the convulsed stale of the times permitted them to start 
 foith as leaders and as heroes. Wherever any of these 
 l)relhren appeared, it would seem that fortune attached 
 herself to the standard under which they fought. The 
 great odds of numbers never prevented their obtaining 
 victory ; the utmost severity of suffering or distress never 
 effected the slightest change in their unyielding perse- 
 verance. The father of this heroic family raised him- 
 self from the rank of count to that of duke, and, m fact, 
 of sovereign prince of Apulia and Calabria. The valour 
 of his brother, Roger, achieved the conquest of Sicily 
 from the Saracens, and h.eld the sovereignty w>J) thh 
 title of count. Robeit Guiscard himself waged open 
 wai on A'exius Comnenus, the Grecian Emperor, and in 
 
SUCCESSES OF THE GUISCARD?. 101 
 
 ihe celebrated combat of Durazzo, gained a bloody and 
 well-disputed victory, which shook the very foundations 
 of the imperial throne, although then occupied by a 
 sovereign of peculiar sagacity and courage. (A. D. 
 ]0S5.) But four years afterwards, Guiscard, vvlio had 
 achieved so many wonders, died in his seventieth year, 
 while still waging war against Alexius, and endeavour- 
 ing, by improving his old and devising new resources, 
 to make up the loss he had sustained, rather by the 
 inclemency of the elements than by the sword of the 
 enemy. 
 
 The male line of this daring adventurer became ex- 
 linct, but that of Roger Count of Sicily survived, to 
 represent the courage, the enterprise, and the ambition 
 of the House of Guiscard. The exploits of the Normans 
 in Italy, and in the East, abound with many interesting 
 and highly chivalrous stories, which would attract your 
 attention, and repay me for the trouble of compiling 
 ihem, but their connexion with the History of France is 
 not so near as to permit them to enter into the present 
 collection. As brilliant, and a much more durable effect, 
 of the Norman valour was produced by the conquest if 
 Ensfland. 
 
102 SAXON CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Sai'on Conquest of England — Saxon Hiptarchy — 
 Court of Edivai'd the Confessor — Dislike between 
 the English and JVormans — Death of Edward, and 
 Jlccession of Harold — Preparations of William of 
 A^ormandy for invading England — Invasion and 
 Defeat of Harold of JVorway — Battle of Hastings — 
 Effects of the JVormaii Conquest — Forest Laws — 
 Couvrefeu — The Language changed by the intermix- 
 ture of JVorman- French — Introduction of Chivalry-—* 
 Connexion with Continental Politics, which was the 
 consequence of England falling into the hands of the 
 Duke of JYormandy. 
 
 The Norman Conquest — a great event, which con 
 tniues its effects even to our own day — was for many 
 centuries the abundant source of wars as inveterate and 
 bloody as the world ever saw. Like other revolutions 
 of that destructive period, it had its remote origin in the 
 feeble and decayed state in which the Romans left the 
 island of Britain, or at least its southern and more fertile 
 moiety, when they withdrew their experienced legions 
 from the defence of the colonists, and, having first de- 
 prived them of arms, and allowed their military habits to 
 fall into disuse, left them, unaided, to proteot themselves 
 against the unconquered barbarians of the northern parts 
 of the island, then termed Scots and Picts. Finding 
 themselves exposed to the attacks*of these fierce people, 
 It is well known that the dispirited Britons summoned to 
 their assistance the Saxons, a people inhabiting the north 
 of Germany, and the southern shores of the Baltic. A 
 nation thus imploring the defence of stranger tribes, ex- 
 posed themselves of course to their rapacity. The 
 Saxons repelled indeed the irruptions of the northern 
 baroaripns but sumrnoninir more of their brethren to 
 
SAXON CONQ,UEST OF ENGLISH. 103 
 
 share the conquest of a country which the natives cculd 
 not defend, tliey gradually occupied the fertile lowlands 
 of the island, which became 'rom them first distinguished 
 by the name of England, (land of the Anglo-Saxons,) 
 and drove the natives, who continued their resistance, into 
 the northern mountains of Westmoreland and Cumber- 
 land, and the provinces now called Wales — in which last 
 country the remains of the primitive Gael or Celtic inhab- 
 itants of the island are still to be found. This Saxon 
 conquest formed a nation not dissimilar in manners to that 
 of the Franks, as the victors in some degree incorporated 
 with their own nation the conquered Britons and Roman 
 colonists. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxons, like the Franks, had no very dis- 
 tinct notions of hereditary succession ; and, to add to this 
 great inconvenience, t^he invaders had been drawn from 
 separate tribes, each of whom expected their portion of 
 the spoil in settlements, and in the privilege of recog- 
 nizing an independent king or chieftain of their own. 
 Hence the impolitic division of England into seven petty 
 kingdoms, called the Heptarchy, which existed, exclusive 
 of the tract of country still possessed by the native 
 British. A series of intrigues, and of bloody, though 
 petty wars, was the natural consequence of the claims 
 of the little tyrants of each state. During these con- 
 tests, the country, as a whole, suffered much, though foi 
 some time no one kinglet could obtain any decided ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 Such small kingdoms have, nevertheless, the same 
 propensities to unite with each other, as may be observed 
 in drops of water which are running down the same plate 
 of glass. By succession, by composition, by conquest, 
 the petty states of the heptarchy were at length melted 
 down into one monarchy, which suffered its full share in 
 the distresses inflicted upon Europe by the invasion of 
 the Normans, indeed, at that time, the Danes, being 
 the nation of Northmen who chiefly harassed the coasts 
 of England, were able to establish a dynasty of kings 
 
104 CHARACTER OF THE NORMANS 
 
 on the English throne, a disgrace to which France had 
 never stooped. 
 
 On the death of Hardicanute, however, the last Danish 
 prince, the Saxons were again enabled to restore the 
 crown of England to tiieir own royal family, by the elec- 
 tion of Edward, called the Confessor, to that dignity. It 
 was chiefly in this prince's reign that the increasing inter- 
 course between the kingdom of England and the Duchy 
 of Normandy, prepared both countries for the important 
 events which afterwards took place. 
 
 The Normans, it must be remembered, were a race 
 possessed of as much civilization as the times admitted, who 
 valued themselves, and were prized in foreign nations, 
 both on account of the elevated and ardent chivalry which 
 they displayed in battle, and the lofty, and somewhat 
 fantastic manners, which were then accounted courtesy in 
 civil life. In their architecture, their theory of feudal 
 law, their habits of society, their rules of hunting, and 
 their piactice of military discipline, they affected a differ- 
 ence from, and a superiority over, the blunter manners 
 of the unrefined Saxons, for whose institutions and habits 
 the courtly and chivalrous Normans entertained a degree 
 of contempt amounting to disgust. But England was a 
 land in which estates were to be acquired, and the Nor- 
 mans, who were always of an emigrating and adventurous 
 disposition, came in numbers to the court of Edward the 
 Confessor, where they were courteously received, and 
 liberally provided for. The king was himself Norman 
 by the m,other's side, being descended from Emma, a 
 daughter of Richard I. Duke of Normandy, grandson of 
 Rollo, or Robert, who founded the principality. Besides, 
 in his youth, the Saxon king had found refuge at the 
 court of Normandy, during the tumults which agitated 
 England, and had become attached to the people and 
 their mode of life, which had in it somethino^ more agree- 
 nble to a youthful prince, than the blunt, hardy, and 
 almost rude character,, of the ancient English. Edward, 
 in consequence of this partiality, introduced into his court 
 fhe manners, customs, and lano;uao;e of the Normans 
 
NORMANS EXPELLED FROM ENGLAND. 105 
 
 The latter was French, for the descendants of Rcllo had 
 lono forgotten the Danish, or Norse language, spoken by 
 their father*. 
 
 The Saxons of England saw, with great resentment, 
 the preference given by the king to their Norman neigh- 
 bours. They were jealous of the freedom of their own 
 laws, unfettered by feudal dependence, wliich gave an 
 assembly of their estates, called Wittenagemot or the 
 convention of Wise Men, a wholesome control over tlie 
 will of the sovereign, and provided for the protection of 
 the lives ?nd libenies of the subjects, affording the ground- 
 work of that stubborn and steady independence of prin- 
 ciple, which has distinguished the bulk of tlie English 
 nation for so many ages. They laughed at and ridiculed 
 the affected refinements of the Normans, and, confident 
 in their own courage and their own weapons, were willing 
 to bid defiance to those mail-clad strangers, armed as they 
 were with bows and arrows, the artillery of the period, 
 in which the Normans were held to excel. These mis- 
 siles could not be totally unknown in Britain, but the 
 archers of Normandy were disciplined, and acted in battle 
 as a separate body. These mutual subjects for scorn 
 and jealousy, spread dislike and hatred between the Eng- 
 lish and their Norman visiters. 
 
 At the head of the English, or rather Saxon interest, 
 were the powerful Godwin, Earl of Kent, and his sons. 
 Under their guidance, the Norman aliens were expelled 
 from England, and the foundation of a lasting animosity 
 laid between them and the Saxons, or English. Edward, 
 the reigning monarch, retained, however, his partiality for 
 his mother's countrymen. The address and flattery of 
 the Normans pleased a monarch who was not a man of 
 strong mind, and their habits of civil deportment and 
 feudal observances were acceptable to a prince, who ob- 
 jected to the rude remonstrances and homely manners 
 of the English. Edward maintained an intimate corres- 
 pondence with William Duke of Normandy, and appears 
 lo have formed a plan of bequeathing to him his kingdom 
 of England. Tliis was, no doubt, a great infiingemenj 
 " 5* 
 
106 ACCESSION OF HAROLD. 
 
 of tljt) lawSj which assigned the king only a life inlet-esi 
 Ml his kingdom ; and besides, hy such a bequest the 
 feigning monarch did his utmost to disinherit the real 
 lieir of England, Edgar Atheling, in favour of an ille" 
 gitimate Norman, who, though connected with the Con- 
 fessor's Norman relations, (for Edward's mother Emma 
 was aunt to Duke William's father,)" yet had not a drop 
 of English blood in his veins. But the youth Edgar^ 
 who had the lawful title of succession to the crown, was 
 absent in Hungary ; and the conduct of Edward, if not 
 blameless, was at least excusable in a well meaning, but 
 weak monarch. 
 
 Upon the death of Edward, Harold, one of the sons 
 of Earl Godwin, conscious both of his own great power, 
 extensive influence, and known character for sagacity and 
 courage, resolved to disregard alike the claims of Edgar 
 Atheling, the lawful successor to the crown, and that 
 whicli was preferred by a more formidable competitor, 
 William Duke of Normandy. (A. D. 1066.) It is true, 
 that Harold, being driven ashore on the coast of Nor- 
 mandy, had taken an oath to favour the pretensions of 
 Duke William to the English throne, after the death of 
 Edward the Confessor ; but he denied that such an oath 
 was binding, having been, as he alleged, forcibly com- 
 pelled to take it. He availed himself, therefore, of his 
 extensive influence with the English nobles, obtained the 
 office of king by a grant from the assembled nobility, as- 
 sumed the crown, and was consecrated by the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury. 
 
 But the throne which Harold had thus taken possession 
 of, was menaced from three powerful quarters. The first 
 was his own brother Tosti ; the Second was Harold Har^ 
 drada, K ng of Norway, a veteran warrior, who threat- 
 ened instant invasion ; the third was William, Duke of 
 Normandy, who founded his claim on the alleged bequest 
 of Edward the Confessor, and on the oath of Harold to 
 suppoit it. Ot these dangers, the third is best deserving 
 of consideration. 
 
 William of Normandy, though an illegitimate son, had 
 
NORiMAN INVASION OF ENGLAND. 101 
 
 succeeded to the Dukedom of Normandy as the Inherit- 
 ance of his father, and had been engaged during his youth 
 in ?o many disputes and wars, both witli his own insurgent 
 nobihty, and with his hege lord, the King of France, that 
 his understanding was matured and his authority con- 
 firmed, so as to give Ijim confidence to embark in the 
 daring expedition wliich he meditated, being nothing less 
 than the conquest of a kingdom, containing dominions far 
 more extensive, and a population much more numerous^ 
 than his own. He was encouraged in this daring attempt 
 by tlie undaunted valour so peculiar to his Norman sub- 
 jects, and which they had displayed in such desperate 
 adventures as those of Robert Guiscard and his brethren. 
 If, he might argue, the sons of a simple knight, who led 
 a petty band of ten lances, had, by their indomitable 
 valour, rendered their small resources available to gain 
 great battles, and establish fair principalities, what effects 
 miglit not be expected from an army composed entirely 
 of Norman warriors, and headed by their duke himself? 
 Still, however, the forces of Normandy bore a fearful 
 vlisproportion to those of the kingdom which he purposed 
 to in-vade ; and Duke William strove to balance the supe- 
 riority by every means in his power. 
 
 For this purpose, he availed himself of his relation to 
 Baldwin, called the Pious, Count of Flanders, whose 
 dauojhter he had married. Baldwin was Resjent of France 
 during the minority of Philip the First, and, by his 
 license and management, the Duke of Normandy was 
 permitted to publish throughout France proposals to all 
 brave w^arriors, who wished to gain honour oi wealth, to 
 join him in his present enterprise. A vast number of 
 kniglits and warriors, from different parts of the kingdom, 
 hastened to join an expedition of a character so peculiarly 
 seductive to the imaginations of the age, and the army 
 of Normandy, was augmented, in point of numbers, by 
 the addit'^on of a larg^ proportion of those in France who 
 were ambitious of obtaining fame in chivalry. 
 
 Count Baldv/in has been in his capacity of Guardian 
 U" France, censured for affording the facilities which ena- 
 
1.08 BATTLE OF STi\MFORD. 
 
 bled a vassal of that kingdom, ali^ady toe pGwerful^ to 
 raise himself to a pitch of equality with his liege loidj 
 as was the final consequence of thk expedition. Bui 
 the issue of so dubious an attempt might have fallen out 
 oiherwise, and then the power of Normandy, instead of 
 heing increased, must have been broken by the invasion 
 of England. Besides, it must for ever remain a question, 
 whetlier, in granting these micans of augmenting the army 
 of William, Baldwin did not avert the risk of a war with 
 Normandy, at tlie expense of assisting him in a distant 
 and hazardous enterprise, the brilliant success of which 
 could not be foreseen. 
 
 The army which the duke assembled for his daring 
 expedition, amounted to fifty thousand horse, and ten 
 thousand infantry. These were all chosen men, and the 
 disproportion between the cavalry and infantry showed 
 William's superiority in the force which was then held 
 the most effective part of an army. To transport this 
 large body of men, William constructed, or assembled, a 
 fleet of three thousand vessels ; and to sanctify his under- 
 taking, he obtained the benediction of the Pope, who ap 
 pears to have had little to do with the quarrel. 
 
 Wliile this cloud was gathering on the coast of Nor 
 mandy, the attention- of Harold of England was with 
 drawn from its progress by a danger yet more imminent. 
 His brother Tosti, after an attempt at insurrection which 
 had been easily subdued, had fled to Harold Hardrada, 
 King of Norway. This gigantic champion and vahant 
 warrior united a large army with the followers of the in- 
 surgent Tosti, sailed up the Humber, gained several 
 advantages, and obtained possession of York. The at- 
 tention of Harold the Saxon was imperiously summoned 
 to this new enemy, against whom he instantly marched. 
 VV^hen he arrived in face of the invaders, he endeavoured, 
 by offering terms to his brother Tosti, to induce him to 
 withdraw' from his foreign ally. " But if I accept these 
 conditions," said Tosti, " what shall be the compensation 
 o tlie King of Norway, my ally?" — "Seven feet of 
 English, land," answered the envoy ; "or, as Hardrada 
 
BATTLE OF HASTINGS lOS 
 
 IS a giant, perhaps a little more." On these terms, the 
 English and Norwegians broke off their conference, and a 
 dreadful battle, at Stamford, near York, was the conse- 
 q lence. (A. D. 1066.) The armies fought with incredi- 
 ble valour, and there was much slaughter on both sides : 
 but Harold of Norway lost his life and the battle, while 
 Harold of England, though enfeebled by the loss of 
 many of his best troops, remained victorious. But he 
 was instantly called upon to meet more formidable adver- 
 saries in William and his army, who had arrived at Pe- 
 vensey. Unhappily for Harold, far too little respite was 
 allowed him to recruit his forces after so bloody an action. 
 Three days oidy intervened between the defeat of the 
 Norwegian, and the arrival of William on the English coast. 
 
 The Duke of Normandy was speedily apprized that 
 Harold was approaching at the head of an army flushed 
 with victory. William, who had no re-enforcements to 
 expect, determined not to avoid a battle. Harold, though 
 he might more prudently have delayed till he recruited his 
 diminished army, determined to seek for an encounter 
 without loss of time. Both princes met on the fatal and 
 memorable field of Hastings. 
 
 Taillifer, a minstrel of eminence at the court of ihe 
 Duke of Normandy, began the fight. He sung the war- 
 song of Roland, composed on the victories of Charle- 
 magne. As he advanced, he played tricks with his 
 sword, which he brandished in the air, tossing it up, and 
 again catching it with his hand, to mark, doubtless, his 
 calm courage and self-possession. In this manner, he 
 rushed on the Saxon ranks, killed two men, and was him 
 self slain by a third. The battle then joined with incred- 
 ible fury. The Saxons, or English, were chiefly drawn 
 up in one solid mass, impenetrable by cavalry. No 
 effort of Duke William's brilliant chivalry, though led 
 on by himself in person, had the least effect upon this 
 unbroken phalanx. At length a military stratagem ac- 
 complished what mere force failed in. A body of a thou- 
 sand Norman hoise charged the English with apparent 
 
110 FOREST LAWS. 
 
 tury , but retreating in well-dissembled panic, induced a 
 considerable part of their enemies to quit their ranks in 
 pursuit. Those who thus broke their array were cut off 
 by the Norman main body, as, aware of the stratagem, 
 they endeavoured to regain their ranks. But the encoun- 
 ter continued ol)stinate. In this dreadful battle, which 
 was to decide the fate of England, the Normans derived 
 great advantage from their skill in the long-bow. At 
 length Duke William directed his archers, instead of 
 shooting their arrows horizontally against the faces of the 
 English, to discharge their volleys into the air, so that 
 they might come down upon the heads of the Saxon pha 
 lanx with accumulated weight and effect. This species 
 of annoyance did much mischief among the more distant 
 ranks, on whom they descended like hail. One shaft, 
 more fortunate than the rest, decided the obstinate battle, 
 by striking Harold in the face, and piercing through his 
 eye into the brain. 
 
 The death of Harold terminated a conflict, one of the 
 most obstinate, as it was the most important, in the annals 
 of England. The immediate success of William's expe- 
 dition was ensured by the death of the English monarch ; 
 for, by submission or force, the Conqueror annexed to his 
 dominions the whole kingdom of England ; and though 
 vexed by repeated rebellions among his new subjects, 
 and even among the Normans themselves, disappointed 
 with the sliare of spoil assigned them, he held, neverthe- 
 less, with a firm grasp, the advantages which he had gained 
 by his wisdom and courage. 
 
 It is impossible to return to the history of France, from 
 which this is a digression, w^ithout pausing to consider the 
 effect of the Norman conquest, not only in its more im- 
 mediate, but after consequences. The immediate con- 
 sequence was, that the conquered Saxons became, speak- 
 ing generally, the serfs, or bondsmen, of the victorious 
 Normans, and that the conqueror di^^tributed his new ac- 
 quisitions of territory among the valiant partners of his 
 enterprise. In many cases, some colour of right was given 
 to this partition, is where a Saxon maiden, who had sue- 
 
ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Ill 
 
 ceedeJ a father or brother slain at Hastings, or elsewhere 
 m some large inheritance, was bestowed in marriage bj 
 the conqueror, on one of his fortunate and favoured com- 
 Danions in arms. More frequently, the estates of Saxons 
 of high birth and great property, were forfeited for alleged 
 insurrection against their new masters. 
 
 Upon the whole, the system of feudal law was intro- 
 duced into England by the conquest, and the Norman 
 knlgliis and nobles received grants of the richest manors 
 and baromes of the crown, to be held of the king by 
 military service. These they again granted in smaller 
 portions, to be enjoyed by men chiefly of their own coun- 
 try, who should depend on them, as they upon the mon- 
 arch. Such part of the land as the proprietors thought 
 proper to retain for their own use, was cultivated for their 
 advantage by the Saxon bondsmen, the haughty Norman 
 disdaining to employ himself In any occupation save that 
 of battle, tournament, or hunting. 
 
 On the last subject, they introduced into England the 
 severe and unjust laws of Normandy and France, which, 
 under the highest and most disproportioned penalties, re- 
 served the pleasure of pursuing the chase to the great 
 vassals alone. William the Conqueror himself led the 
 way in his extravagant passion for such amusements ; 
 and the rutldessness with which he sacrificed to his love 
 of silvan sport the comfort and happiness of his new 
 people, is almost Inconceivable. In the county of Hamp- 
 shire alone, an immense woodland tract of sixty-three 
 thousand acres still termed the New Forest, was reduced 
 to a mere waste, all towns and dwellings of man, as well 
 as the churches Intended for the worship of God, being 
 utterly destroyed, and the district reserved exclusively 
 for the abode of wild animals, and the exercise of hunting. 
 
 Other laws, peculiarly vexatious to the lower orders of 
 English, were introduced instead of the mild government 
 exercised by the native Saxon monarchs. The harassed 
 naxives were easily driven into rebellion, which answered 
 so far the purpose of the Conqueror, as it gave pretence 
 for new confiscations, b) which he enriched h's followers. 
 
112 IMPROVEMENTS BY THE CONQ.UEST. 
 
 At length, threatened insurrections among the English were 
 so general, and so much suspected, that the memorable 
 law of Curfew or Couvrefeu, was enacted, by which all 
 the lower classes were compelled to extinguisli tlieir fires 
 or lights at the sound of a bell, which rung towards bed 
 time. Numerous Norman garrisons, scattered over the 
 country, at once secured to the victors undisturbed pos- 
 session of the land, and enforced the subjection of the 
 harassed inhabitants. 
 
 In a word, tlie whole kingdom of England was divided 
 betw^een the Normans, who were the lords and gentry, 
 and the Saxons, who, with a few exceptions, became the 
 cultivators of the soil. These two races did not even 
 enjoy the ordinary means of communicating together, for 
 the Normans spoke French, as well as the king and cour- 
 tiers : the courts of law used tlie same language, and the 
 common people alone used or understood the Saxon, 
 which they employed in their own affairs. This separa- 
 tion of language lasted till about a hundred years after 
 the Conquest, when the English language began to be 
 used by all the inhabitants of the kingdom. The gen- 
 tlemen were, in general, acquainted with French also, 
 but every Englishman spoke the mixed language, which 
 had been gradually formed between the Norman-French 
 and the Anglo-Saxon. This is the language which has 
 finally superseded the use of all others In England, the 
 language of Newton and Bacon, the language of Milton 
 and Shakspeare, in which wisdom and genius have 
 achieved so much to instruct and delight mankind. 
 
 The Norman Conquest had another beneficial conse- 
 quence, though its effects operated slowly. We have 
 alr'.ady said, that the conquerors, when compared with 
 the vanquished, were a race of a civilized and refined 
 chaiacter, who affected the highest tone of chivalry, 
 mingled as it was with much that was gallant, certainly, 
 and that aspired to be laudable It is probable, that im- 
 mediately after the battle of Hastings, this distinction in 
 manners only operated to the disadvantage of the hum- 
 ble Saxons, whose rusticity afforded their conquerors an 
 
ENGLISH WARS ON THE CONTINENT. 113 
 
 additional reason for oppressing them, as beings of a lowei 
 grade, and beneath their regard. But in time the con- 
 querors and the conquered began to mingle together and 
 assimilate tliemselves to each other ; and there can be 
 no doubt that the refinement of the chivalrous Normans 
 extended its influence, in part at least, over the blunter 
 and ruder Saxons, and introduced among them the spirit 
 of unblemished honour and uncontaminated faith, which 
 was taught by the doctrines of chivalry, if not always 
 regularly practised. On the other hand, the blunt and 
 resolute Anglo-Saxons preserved that sense of their rights, 
 and jealousy of their independence, which has been so 
 long the characteristic of the English people. 
 
 It was, perhaps, less for the future advantage of Bri- 
 tam, that in becoming part of the dominions of the Duke 
 of Normandy, the country was necessarily involved in 
 the vortex of continental politics and continental quarrels, 
 with which her insular situation left her naturally uncon- 
 nected. It is not indeed unlikely that England, when- 
 ever she came to a feeling of her own strength, might 
 have been induced to take an interest in the affairs of lier 
 neighbours ; but it is not improbable that her eyes would 
 have been first turned to make conquests within her own 
 shores, in vvliich case Scotland, in all human probability, 
 must have been completely and permanently subdued, 
 and the crown of all Britain, as well perhaps as that of 
 Ireland, established on the brow of the English monarchs, 
 ere they engaged in more distant, more doubtful, and less 
 politic hostilities with France. But it is in vain to spec- 
 ulate on what mii^ht have been. It is sufficiently evident, 
 that the affairs of France must continue to interest the 
 King of England, while he occupied the fair duchy of 
 Normandy, with several feudal rights over Bretagne, 
 which were granted to Rollo along with the dukedom 
 Itself, as part of the dowery of the French princess 
 Gisele. And if the domestic security of England was 
 disturbed, and its internal security shaken, by her bei i« 
 engaged in wars with which she had no re?l concern, 1 
 
 947 
 
I 14 REBELLION OF ROBERT. 
 
 was some compensation that several brilliant pages wera 
 Rcided to her chronicles, recording victories, which, t! ough 
 fruitless, and gained by great sacrifices, contain noble 
 proofs of English valour and magnanimity. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Rebellion of Robert against his Father, William the 
 Conqueror, instigated by Philip I. of France— Prof- 
 ligacy of Philip — Wise Conduct of Louis — Attempt 
 of Philip^s Concubine to Poison Louis — Death of 
 Philip — Origin of the Crusades — Council of Cler- 
 mont — Army of Crusaders led by Peter the Hermit — 
 its Disasters — Crusade fitted out by the Four Prin- 
 cipal JVIonarchs of Europe — its Reception by the 
 Greek Emperor — Capture of JVice — Battle of Dory- 
 Icsum — Siege of Antioch — Siege and, Capture of Je- 
 rusalem — Subjugation of Palestine — Erection of the 
 Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. 
 
 Philip I. of France was not a little piqued and morti- 
 fied to find, that by this happy attempt against England, 
 his vassal the Duke of Normandy had started up king of 
 a realm as ample and fair as his own, which, though so 
 recently acquired, and disquieted by insurrections, was 
 upon the' whole, ruled by the Conqueror with more abso- 
 lute sway than France itself by the descendant of Cajx't. 
 
 Philip was determined to shake this new empire. He 
 not only entered into a war with the King of England, 
 but intrigued with his eldest son Robert, whom he encour- 
 aged to rebel against his father, William the Conqueror. 
 The pretext assigned for the French hostilities, and the 
 unnatural conduct of the son, was, that when Wilham 
 undertook his English conquest, he engaged, in case of 
 his being successful, that he would resign to his son his 
 Norman dominions. It is probable, that, if such a pron- 
 ise was made, it was given only to allay the fe«ir? of the 
 
DEATH OF WILLIAM THE CONQ,UEROR 115 
 
 Pren3h court that William, by succeeding in his exjiedi- 
 lion would become too powerful a vassal ; but the com* 
 pact was agreed to without any serious inlenticn of keep- 
 ing it. At any rate, it had become impossible for the 
 duke to yield up Normandy without incurring the risk of 
 losing England also, since it was only in his power to 
 defeat the insurrections of the English by the aid of the 
 soldiery which he drew from his native dominions. 
 
 Under tlie pretence, nevertlieless, that William the 
 (Jonqueror had failed in tliis agreement to surrender Nor- 
 mandy, his son Robert, a rash young man, and of fiery 
 passions, though in his person brave and generous, actu- 
 ally rebelled against his fatlier, and held out against him 
 the small fortified place of Gerberoi, a station very con- 
 venient for the annoyance of Normandy, and where 
 Philip placed his young ally for that very purpose. Wil- 
 liam of England, incensed at the rebellious conduct of his 
 son, hastened to lay siege to the place of his retreat. The 
 garrison sallied, headed by Prince Robert in person. 
 This leader, one of the bravest men of his time, singled 
 out for his antagonist a knight who appeared in front of 
 the besiegers, in armour, and having his face covered by 
 tlie visor of his helmet. The onset of the young and 
 fiery prince bore down his antagonist, horse and man ; 
 and Robert, placing his lance to the throat of the dis- 
 mounted cavalier, would have taken his life, had he not 
 recognized by the accents in which the answer was return- 
 ed, that he was in the act of slaying his own father. 
 Shocked at this discovery, he flung himself from his 
 horse, and, assisting his father to arise, held the stirrup to 
 him till he mounted it in his stead. 
 
 But notwithstanding an incident so touchinfj at once 
 and terrible, the reconciliation between the father and son 
 was not perfected. Robert still expected that his father 
 would resign to him some part of the Norman territories, 
 in fulfilment of the proinise said to have been made pre- 
 vious to his undoi'taking the invasion of England : but he 
 continued to expect in vain. The Conqueror answered 
 ihe request in homely but intelligible phrase, that he was 
 
116 PROFLIGACY OF PHILIP I. 
 
 nol willinfr to throw offliis clothes before he went U oed 
 or part wilh his dominions before his death. An opea 
 war which ensued wilh France cost William his life. Ha 
 caught an inflammatory complaint, by directing in person 
 the conflao;ration of the town of Mantes, and tlie destruc- 
 lion of the country around. He did all in his power to 
 punish his son Robert for his undutiful conduct, by be- 
 queathing tlie crown of England to his S3cond son W-I- 
 ham, called Rufus, or the Red. But although incensed 
 against his eldest son, William the Conqueror left him 
 the duchy of Normandy, chiefly, it is supposed, because 
 lie doubted whether the inhabitants would submit to any 
 other prince than Robert, whom they loved' for his libe- 
 rality, good nature, and romantic couj-age. 
 
 While these changes took place in the family and do- 
 minions of his formidable vassal and rival, Philip 1. of 
 France was engaged in petty wars, by means of which, 
 while affecting to mediate between his dissatisfied peers, 
 he contrived to weaken both the contending parties, and 
 to strengthen the crown at their expense. The morals 
 of this prince were not much more strict than his politi- 
 cal conscience. He at length gave a shameful and pub- 
 lic instance of profligacy, by seizing upon the wife of 
 Falk, Count of Anjou, called Rechigne, or the Morose. 
 To enjoy her society, Philip parted with his own wife, 
 who died of ill treatment, and during the latter years of 
 his life, lived publicly with the beautiful Countess Ber- 
 trade, for such was her name. The court of Rome in- 
 terfered in vain, and neither the admonitions of Pope or 
 Council, though promulgated under threat of excommu- 
 nication, which was at length actually pronounced, could 
 deter th^ King of France from prosecuting this amour. 
 By such conduct, the authority of Philip became as much 
 degraded as his personal character. He was neglected 
 and despised even by his immediate vassals ; and the 
 confusion which ensued was so great as to throw all France 
 into aisorder. 
 
 At length, the king saw fit in some degree to appease 
 these disturbances, by associating, in the office ami autho* 
 
ATTEMPT TO POISON LOUJS. Ill 
 
 rity of Monarch of France, Louis, the ren/aining son 
 whom he had by his lawful queen, by whose activity and 
 judicious exertions, tranquilhty was in some measure re- 
 stored to the distracted kingdom. This active prince 
 might be said to do all that his father had neglected. He 
 kept always around him a body of determined men, with 
 whom he marched with rapidity against the vassals of the 
 crown, who were perpetually in insurrection, and thus 
 gradually acquired general respect and popularity. 
 
 Bertrade, in the meanwhile, was the only person to 
 whom the young prince's conduct was unacceptable. 
 She exerted her unbounded influence over her royal lover 
 to the prejudice of his son, on whose exeitions, rathei 
 than his own, the safe government of the kingdom de- 
 pended. When Louis, conscious of his father's preju- 
 dice against him, withdrew for a while to visit the court 
 of England, Philip was induced to write a letter to the 
 king of that country, instigating him to murder or im- 
 prison the yountr prince. The advice was rejected with 
 disdain by the King of England, who dismissed hia guest 
 vv]th safety and honour. 
 
 The dangers of Louis were increased on his return to 
 France, for poison was adminip-tered to him by his father's 
 concubine, which had so much effect on his constitution, 
 that though he recovered his health in other respects, 
 his complexion remained ever afterwards a deadly pale. 
 Louis upon receiving this new injury, was wellnigh pro- 
 voked to break entirely with bis father ; and it is proba- 
 ble that the cause of the son would have been adopted by 
 the kingdom in general, had not Philip become aware of 
 his danger. Overcome by his authority, or terrified for 
 the consequences of Louis's resi^ntraent, Berfrade made 
 the most humble subtnisslons to that Prince succeeded 
 m a reconciliation, and entertained, or affected, during her 
 future life, the utmost deference, and even affection for 
 Louis, to the extent of confiding to him the safety and 
 support of '.wo children whom she had borne to his Taiher, 
 King Philip. 
 
 The troubles of France were in some degree allayed 
 
lis ORIGIN OF THE CRUSADES. 
 
 by the agreement between the father and son ; and th€ 
 latter, after this period, took chiefly on himself the active 
 administration of the government, while the father con^ 
 tinned to indulge in the ])leasure of luxury and retirement 
 with Bertrade, on whom he doted. Latterly, indeed, he 
 seems to have reconciled the cliurch to his connexion 
 with her, since she receives, in the French annals, the 
 title of queen, and her children are, at the same time, 
 spoken of as legitimate. The acquiescence of the Pope 
 in this promotion of the divorced Countess of Anjou into 
 a legitimate Queen of France, was but imperfectly express- 
 ed ; and was purchased, moreover, by such humble sub- 
 mission to the papal see, as degraded the king in the 
 eyes of his own subjects. (A. D 1108.) Philip died 
 at the age of sixty, leavmg his son Louis, with diminished 
 resources, to struggle with all the evils which his father's 
 weak government, and the sacrifice of his royal authority 
 to his selfish love of pleasure, had brought upon his 
 country. 
 
 In this age of wonderful events, not only did such rev- 
 olutions as those produced by the success of Guiscard 
 and his brothers, as before mentioned, and the conquest 
 of England by William of Normandy, astonish the world, 
 but the attention of all men was attracted by the Cru- 
 sades, a species of war bearing, as w^as pretended, a reli- 
 gious character, and calling upon the Christian princes, 
 as by a command from Heaven, to give up all private 
 feuds and quarrels among themselves, and move in a 
 body to overwhelm the Asiatics. The origin of these 
 extraordinary w^ars arose, as great events often do, from 
 the efforts of a single individual, which happened in a 
 remarkable degree to concur with the peculip.** opinions 
 and manners of the age. 
 
 1 have told you that the devotional journeys called 
 pilgrimages, to the tombs of the religious persons men- 
 tioned in Scripture, or the places where they had wrought 
 ^heir miracles, were accounted in those times merito- 
 rious displa)S of piety, the performance of which, by 
 the tenet? of the Catholic Church, was held ihe surest 
 
PILGRIMAGES TO THE HOLY 1 A.ND. 119 
 
 ani most acceptable mode of averting the wrath of [lea- 
 ven for past transgressions, or exhibiting gratitude foi 
 mercies received. Men who were in difficulties or in 
 dangers, often made a vow that in the event of their be- 
 ing extricated, they would make a journey to some sanc- 
 tified shrine in Italy or in Palestine, and there testify their 
 sense of the protection of Heaven by alms, prayers, and 
 gifts to the church. The Holy Sepulchre itself, of which 
 the site was handed down by tradition, was naturally a 
 principaF object of these religious voyages, as best entitled 
 to the respect and adoration of mankind. While Pales- 
 tine, or the Holy Land, remained a part of the Grecian 
 empue, the approach of the European pilgrims to the 
 holy places which they desn-ed to visit, was naturally fa- 
 cilitated by every means in the power of the Christian ' 
 governors of the provinces where they- lay, and of the 
 jiriests to whose keeping the places of sanctity were com- 
 mitted. Their churches were enriched by the gifts which 
 failed not to express the devotion of the pilgrims, and the 
 vanity of the priests was flattered by the resort of so many 
 persons of consequence from the most distant parts of 
 Christendom, to worship at their peculiar shrines. 
 
 Even when, in the course of the tenth century, the 
 Holy Land fell under the power of the Saracens, that 
 people, infidels as they were, felt their own interest in 
 permitting, under payment of a certain capitation tax, 
 the concourse of European pilgrims to Jerusalem, and 
 other places which they accounted sacred. Stimulated by 
 love of wealth, the Mahometan possessors of Palestine 
 made the access tolerably easy to the devout men who 
 desired to travel thither, so long as the pilgrims were not 
 unwilling to pay the tolls with which it was guarded. In 
 tlieir intercourse with Christian princes of eminence, the 
 Califs, or successors of Mahomet, derived a certain con- 
 sequence from being masters of Jerusalem ; and Harouii 
 A.rdschid, one of the most important of those princes, 
 found no more acceptable compliment to conciliate Char» 
 lemagne, with whom he maintained a friendly intercourse, 
 ihan to send to the Frank Emperor the keys of the Holy 
 
120 PETER THE HERMIT. 
 
 Sepulchre, i^ut when the power of the Saracens was in 
 a great measure divided or destroyed, and the Turks, also 
 followers of JMahomet, but a far more rude and fanatical 
 race, became masters of Jerusalem, the treatment of tne 
 Christians, whether natives of Palestine, or pilgrims who 
 came to worship there, was in every respect different. 
 The Saracens, a civilized and refined people compared 
 with the Turks, had governed the country under fixed 
 rules of tribute, and preferred the moderate, but secure 
 profit, derived from tlie taxes imposed on the pilgrims, to 
 that which might be attained by a system of robbery, 
 plunder, and ill usage, by which the devotees were likely 
 to be at length compelled to desist from their religious 
 daties. But the Turks, a fiercer, more bigoted, and moie 
 short-sighted race, preferred the pleasure of insulting and 
 maltreating Christians whom they contemned and hated, 
 and not only harassed them by the most exorbitant ex- 
 actions, which when paid, did not secure freedom to the 
 oppressed Frank to discharge his religious duty, but often , 
 added personal ill usage to the demand of extravagant 
 tribute. In short, with or without the authority of their 
 superiors, every paltry Turkish officer robbed, imprisoned, 
 and slew the Christians at his pleasure ; and an act of 
 pilgrimage, in itself perilous and expensive, was rendered 
 frequently an introduction to martyrdom. The clergy of 
 the Christians were insulted, stript, and flung into dun- 
 geons ; nor was any circumstance omitted by the savage 
 masters of the Holy Sepulchre, which could show the 
 pilgrims at how great hazard they must in future expect 
 permission to pay their homage there. 
 
 These evils had been sufficiently f(^lt by all who had 
 visited the East, but at length they made so strong an 
 impression on the spirit of one single man, that, like fire 
 alighting among materials highly combustible, the flame 
 spread throughoat all Europe. The p^.rson who effected 
 '50 strong a sensation by so slight means, was Peter, 
 called the Hermit. He was, we are informed, of a slight 
 and indifferent figure, which sometimes exposed him to 
 Ui neglected ; but lie was a powerful orator. He had 
 
ARMY OF CRUSADERS. Ill 
 
 nirnself been a pilgrim in Palestine, and possessed the 
 nipressive requisite that he could bear testimony as an 
 eye witness to the atrocities of the Turks, and the suf- 
 ferings of the Christians. He repaired from court to 
 court, from castle to castle, from city to city, setting forth 
 at each the shame done to Christendom, in leaving the 
 holiesv places connected with her religion in possession of 
 a heathen and barbarous foe. He appealed to the relig- 
 ion of one sovereign, to the fears of another, to the spirit 
 of chivalry professed by them all. Urban n.,then Pope, 
 saw the importance of uniting the European nations, 
 soldiers by liabit and inclination, in a task so honourable to 
 religion, and so likely to give importance to the Roman 
 See. At the council of Clermont, ambassadors from the 
 Grecian emperor were introduced to the assembly, who 
 with humble deference, stated to the prelates and the lay 
 chivalry of Europe the dangers to their Christian sover- 
 eign, arising from the increasing strength of the Moslem 
 empire, by which he was surrounded, and forgetting the 
 wordy and assuming language which they were accus- 
 tomed to use, supplicated, with humiliating earnestness, 
 the advantage of some assistance from Europe. The 
 pontiff liimself set forth the advantage, or ratlier necessity 
 of laying all meaner or more worldly tasks aside, until 
 the holy sepulchre should be freed from the heathen 
 usurpers, who were its tyrants. To all, however crimi- 
 nal, who should lend aid to. this holy warfare. Urban 
 promised a full remission of their sins here, and an indu- 
 bitable portion of the joys of heaven hereafter. He 
 then appealed to the temporal princes, with the enthusi- 
 astic quotation of such texts of Scripture as were most 
 likely to inflame their natural valour. " Gird on your 
 swords," he said, " ye men of valour ; it is our part to 
 pray, it is yours to fight. It is ours, with Moses, to hold 
 up our hands unremittingly to God, it is yours to stretch 
 out the sword against the children of Amalek. — So be 
 it." The assembly answered, as to a summons blown by 
 an archangel, — " It is the will of God — it Is the will ol 
 6 VOL. I 4th Ser. 
 
12*2 DISORDERLY MARCHES OF THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 God !" Thous£.nfls devoted themselves to tlie service c( 
 God, as they imagined, and to the recovery of Palestino^ 
 with its shrines, from the hands of the Turks. Each 
 devoted himself to the prosecution of this holy under- 
 taking, by cutting the form of a cross upon the shoulder 
 of his cloak, being of a different colour from that of the 
 garment itself, which was the especial form by which 
 these soldiers of Heaven announced their being enlisted 
 m the Holy War. The undertaking was thence called a 
 crusade, and those who joined its ranks were termed 
 crusaders. The eagerness with which all men assumed 
 this holy symbol was such, that some of the princes cut 
 their robes to pieces, to furnish crosses for the multitudes 
 around. 
 
 The extraordinary proceedings at the council of Cler- 
 mont were circulated with such amazing celerity, as made 
 those be believed who affirmed that the report of this 
 general movement was heard and known among distant 
 nations even on the very evening of the day of council. 
 B t, without listening to what is incredible, it is certain 
 the news of the crusade was every where spread through 
 the Cln-istian world with unexampled speed, and every 
 where received with the utmost interest and applause. 
 The number who assumed the Cross, or, in other words, 
 pledged themselves to the Holy War, amounted probably 
 to half a million of individuals at least. A very great 
 proportion of this multitude were ignorant men, unac- 
 customed to warfare, and unacquainted wnth the slightest 
 precautions either in the field of battle, or on the far 
 more complicated subjects of marches and halts which 
 were to be agreed on, and provisions, which were to be 
 ^ot in readiness. We may form some idea of the low 
 rank fiom which these men were gathered, when we see, 
 that although the strength of every army at the time con- 
 sisted in cavalry, this miscellaneous rout, though com- 
 posed of many thousand infantry, contained only eight 
 horsemen. It is no wonder, says an historian, that a bird 
 navmg wings so short, with a train of such disproportioned 
 Innoth, should not take a distant flio^ht. The enthusiasm 
 
DISASTiCRS OF THE HERMIt's ARMY. 123 
 
 of these ignorant and rash pleblans, who formed a mob 
 rather than a regular army, and observed no rule of war- 
 fare, was so great, that they accounted the slightest pre- 
 caution not only unnecessary, but even an actual insult to 
 Heaven, as inferring a doubt that Providence would pro- 
 vide and protect the soldiers who had voluntarily enlisted 
 themselves in this holy cause. 
 
 This tumultuary rabble, accordingly, did not wait for 
 the great princes and leaders who had engaged in the 
 same expedition, but resolved to set out on the journey by 
 themselves. To ensure divine protection, they placed 
 Peter the Hermit himself at their head. But neither his 
 guidance, nor the military skill of his lieutenant, a valiant 
 but needy knight, called Walter the Pennyless, owing to 
 his ordinary state of poverty, were adequate to the man- 
 agement of a numerous and disorderly host, who rushed, 
 so wTetchedly provided, on a march of many thousand 
 miles. These leading squadrons were followed by im- 
 mense bands, composed of similar materials, as giddy in 
 their expectations, as wild in their sentiments, and as ir- 
 regular In their discipline, as the host of the Hermit. 
 Their leaders were, a barbarous and ignorant man called 
 Gotteschalk, a German monk, and Emmicho, a tyranni- 
 cal Rhine-Graf, or count, who had demesnes on the 
 Lower Rhine. Their followers were chiefly collected in 
 the same countries, which have been found in latter times 
 peculiarly accessible to enthusiasm. Some of them form- 
 ed the unhappy idea, that, in order to expect success 
 over the heathen in Palestine, it might be a good omen 
 to begin with the destruction of the descendants of the 
 .Jews, the ancient inhabitants of the Holy Land. They 
 murdered many of these unhappy peoj)le, who were the 
 merchants and factors, by whom, in these wild times, the 
 necessary commerce between distant countries was con- 
 ducted. Their wealth invited the murders and spoliation, 
 which their unbelief rendered. In the eyes of the crusa- 
 ders, rot only venial, but meritorious. 
 
 When this tumultuous army had traversed Germany, 
 divided as it were into separate billows of the same 
 
124 CRUSADE FITTED OUT BY 
 
 advancing ocean, and committing in their progress un- 
 heard-of disorders, they at length reached Hungary, then 
 inhabited by the remains of the Huns and Bulgarians. 
 These fierce people, though professing the Christian faith, 
 finding that the military pilgrims spoiled their villages, 
 and seized their provisions, took arms against them with- 
 out hesitation, and availing themselves of the swamps 
 and difficult passes of their country, destroyed so many 
 of the crusaders, that only about one-third of the original 
 host of the Hermit Peter escaped into the Greek territo- 
 ries. Here the Emperor Alexius, though somewhat sur- 
 prised, doubtless, at the miserable appearance of this 
 vanguard of his Western auxiliaries, relieved their wants, 
 and endeavoured to prevail on them to wait for reinforce- 
 ments from Europe. But wiien they had once attained 
 the eastern side of the Bosphorus, to which the policy 
 of Alexius had hastily transported them, the enthusiasm 
 of this tumultuous host again induced them to rush on 
 their own destruction. 
 
 They entered Asia IMinor, and Soliman, the sultan of 
 Antioch, decoyed these ignorant warriors into the plains 
 of Nice, where they fell beneath the arrows of the light 
 armed Turks, and by diseases of the climate. In these 
 tumultuary proceedings, three hundred thousand cham- 
 pions of the Cross lost their lives, before the kings and 
 nobles of Europe, who had taken the same vows with 
 these over-hasty devotees, had been able to accomplish 
 their preliminary preparations. 
 
 We are to suppose, naturally, that men of high rank, 
 versed at least in the art of war, and in some degree ac- 
 quainted with politics as they then existed, if foolish 
 °nough to be forced into such an undertaking, which in- 
 deed the universal enthusiasm rendered it difficult for 
 them to avoid, would not yet neglect the usual precau- 
 tions to ensure success, nor expect that provisions, the 
 means of transportation, or other absolute necessai'Ies for 
 the success of their expedition, would be furnished }}y a 
 succession of miracles. 
 
 Accordingly, when the stornr] of destruction b»d couj- 
 
THE EUROPEAN MONARCH S. l25 
 
 menced among tliose disorderly bands which ma. ched 
 under Peter the Hermit, Gotteschalk, Emmiclio, and 
 other incapable persons, there remained bjiindawell- 
 disciplined liost, selected out of the four principal nations 
 of Europe, whose leaders may be briefly mentioned. 
 
 I. Tlie French cliivalry took the Cross with all the 
 eagerness of their national character, and are supposed 
 to have sent as many adventurers as all Europe besides. 
 Philip, their king, immersed in pleasures, and unable to 
 separate himself from his favourite Bertrade, evaded 
 takintr the engagement ; but his best soldiers followed 
 the steps of Hugo, called tlje Great, brother to Pliilip, 
 and of Godfrey of Boulogne, called Duke of Brabant, 
 who for his wisdom and bravery was afterwards chosen 
 chief of the crusade. This last distinguished leader 
 was accompanied by his brothers Baldwin and Eustace. 
 Stephen, Earl of Blois, father to that Stephen who was 
 afterwards King of England, Raymond, Earl of Toulouse, 
 Robert, Earl of Flanders, Hugh, Earl of Saint Paul, and 
 Baldwin de Burgh, princes of high rank, and warriors of 
 great fame, engaged in tliis expedition with bands of fol- 
 lowers becoming their birth and reputation. 
 
 l\. Italy sent some distinguished soldiers ; among 
 others Bohemund, prince of Tarentum, with his nephew 
 Tancred, both worthy descendants of the Norman stock 
 of Guiscard, put to sea at the head of twelve thousand 
 men. The flower of the soldiers of the northern prov- 
 inces of Italy also took the Cross. 
 
 ni. England sent many barons, who arrayed them- 
 selves under Robert, called Curt-hose, or Short-hose, the 
 eldest son of William the Conqueror, whom he had suc- 
 ceeded as the Duke of Norniandy. He also led a great 
 part of the gallant Norman chivalry, to win fame, or meet 
 death, in the eastern deserts. Soldiers from Scotland, 
 Ireland, and Wales, are supposed to have joined the Eng- 
 lis'i expedition, but in small numbers. 
 
 IV. Of Germany we have already spoken, m giving 
 an account of the bands of common men whom she sen.1 
 
126 ALEXIUS COMNENUS. 
 
 to the war. Her noblemen did not take arms in the same 
 proportion, and as the crusaders marched tlu'ough that 
 country, it is said they incurred the scorn 8.nd ridicule of 
 the more solid part of the nation, who termed them fools 
 for going on so idle an expedition. We will presently 
 see that the Germans themselves afterwards caught the 
 infection. 
 
 Such was the composition of the first crusade, a for- 
 midable armament, the numbers of which are representc^d 
 as almost incalculable. Its; leaders adopted separate roads, 
 for the more easy collecting of forage and provisions, and 
 the respective divisions performed their march with differ- 
 ent degrees of security or danger, corresponding to the 
 sagacity or rashness of their generals. Hugo, brother to 
 the King of France, was defeated and made prisoner on 
 the road by the Bulgarians, and sent captive to Constan- 
 tinople. The other divisions of the crusading army ar- 
 rived safe under the walls of that city. 
 
 It was the Greek Emperor's turn to be astonished at 
 the numbers and extent of a host assembled from all na- 
 tions, and pouring with frantic eagerness towards the land 
 of Palestine ; so that, as Anna Comnena happily expresses 
 it, all Europe seemed loosened from its foundations, and 
 in the act of precipitating itself upon Asia. 
 
 Alexius, then the Emperor of Greece, and already de- 
 scribed as a sagacious prince, had expected that the aux- 
 iliary forces would extend to no more than a moderate 
 body of men-at-arms, his confidence in whose valour 
 might niake amends for the smallness of their numbers, 
 and who for the same reason could not propose to them- 
 selves the part of masters instead of allies, or dictate 
 laws to the sovereign whom they had come to assist. 
 Instead of such a moderate reinforcement, the subtle and 
 suspicious Emperor of the East now saw himself begirt 
 by armed legions from every corner of Europe, speaking 
 unknown languages, sheathed in conjpleto arniour, — iron 
 men, in short, compared to his effeminate Grecians, owning 
 no common bond or tie, save that of their insane oath^ 
 each knight amidst their numbers holding the most un- 
 
OATH EXACTED BY THE EMPEROR. IS'd 
 
 daunted confidence in his own courage, and tlie uiinost 
 contempt for all opposition which could he offered to his 
 most unreasonahle wishes. 
 
 The reflections and apprehensions of Alexius were 
 natural enou^rh ; but a u;enerous mind would have sub- 
 dued them, and ratlier trusted to the honour of the prin- 
 cipal crusaders, than have undermined their strength by 
 indirect practices, and offended their pride by showing a 
 jealousy of their good faith, and at the same time a fear 
 lor their numbers and force. He at first altogether refused 
 to let so great a body of armed men pass into his Asiatic 
 dominions, even to attack liis enemies the Turks. Nor 
 did he at length grant the crusaders a free passage over 
 the Bosphorus, which divides. Europe from Asia, until 
 they wo'jld consent to take an oath of fealty to him. 
 Godfrey of Boulogne, and the other leaders of the cru- 
 sade, consented at length to this unpleasant and jealous 
 preliminary, reconciling themselves to a species of degra- 
 dation, rather than multiply the difficulties of their situa- 
 tion, or make^an attack upon a Christian emperor the first 
 warlike action of the crusade. 
 
 It was, however, with infinite difficulty that the numerous 
 and haughty chiefs were induced to take the oath of 
 fealty. Robert of Flanders positively refused to undergo 
 the ceremonial, and could by no means be brought to 
 submit. Many of the chiefs oi the crusaders were only 
 induced to take the vow to the emperor by the large 
 gifts which he dealt among them, thus purchasing an ap 
 parent submission, to save appearances, and disguise the 
 real debility of the empire. 
 
 Nay, the manner in which the ceremonial was per- 
 formed, showed the contempt which the crusaders enter- 
 tained for the whole pageant. A French count, called 
 Robert of Paris, appeared before the ettiperor to take the 
 oath, with the others of his degree. He had no sooner 
 performed ^he ceremony than he sat down on the same 
 throne where the emperor reposed in state, exclaiming, 
 — *' What churl is this who sits, when so many noble 
 knights are standing in his presence ?" It may be be- 
 
128 CAPTURE OF NICE. 
 
 lieved ♦Jiat no officer of the emperor dared interfere, but 
 BaldHn, brother of Godfrey of Boulogne, took the count 
 by the hand, and reproaching him for his rudeness, obliged 
 him to rise from the place he had taken. The emperor, 
 j)reserving liis composure, asked the name and quality of 
 llie warrior who had taken so great a liberty. " I can 
 but tell you this," answered the Frank, " that in my 
 country there is an ancient church, to which those desirous 
 of proving their valour repair, fully armed for battle, and, 
 having gone through their devotions, remain there, to 
 abide the attack of any adventurous knight that may 
 appear to encounter them. At that church, where three 
 ways meet, have 1 myself abode for a long space. But 
 the man lives not in France who dared answer my chal- 
 lenge." The emperor confined his answer to the prudent 
 observation, that if the count desired combat, he came to 
 the place where he was sure to get enough of it, and 
 proceeded to instruct the knight, who probably cared but 
 little for his advice, in the particular warfare of the Turks. 
 This story is told by Anna Comnena, daughter of Alexius, 
 who seems to have suffered severely when she saw the 
 august imperial dignity of her father so rudely infringed 
 upon. 
 
 After much time wasted, and many promises made and 
 broken on the part of the emperor, respecting supplies 
 of provisions, wines, and other necessaries for the army, 
 the first crusade, transported by the Greek shipping to 
 the shores of Asia, began seriously to enter upon their 
 holy warfare. Nice, wliich was well garrisoned by the 
 Turks, was taken after a siege, and surrendered to the 
 emperor Alexius, to whom it was a valuable acquisition, 
 Soliman, Sultan of the Turks, more offended than dis- 
 mayed by the loss he had sustained, assembled a very 
 numerous army, amounting to from 150,000 to 200,000 
 horsemen. These huno; round the vanguard of the Chris- 
 tian host, and exhausted them by constant, but desultory 
 attacks. The scorching sun greatly annoyed the northern 
 people, whose complete coats of mail rendered the heat 
 more intolerable The unusual clang and barbarous 
 
CAPTURE OF ANTIOCH. 129 
 
 sounds of the Turkish mi sical instruments disturbed the 
 horses of the Christians; and in the "first general battle 
 between the crusaders and the infidels, the former ran a 
 great risk of defeat. The desperate exertions of the 
 leaders, at length brought the infidels from desultory- 
 skirmishes to close action, in which armour of proof, with 
 superior size and strength of body, gave advantage to the 
 Europeans. Bohemund, Count Hugo of France, and 
 Robert of Normandy, did wonderful feats with their own 
 hands. The latter slew three infidels of distinction, in 
 the face of both armies. The Sidtan Soliman fled from 
 the battle, which was fought at Dorylaeum, in Phrygia. 
 The restoration of his territory, called Roum, to the Em- 
 peror Alexius, as it formed a frontier country of import- 
 ance, was the means of preserving the Greek empire for 
 perhaps a hundred years longer than it was otherwise 
 likely to have subsisted. But Alexius did not make a 
 politic use of his advantages. Instead of assisting the 
 Christians with good faith and sincerity, he took a more 
 indirect course ; he tried to pursue his own interest by 
 holding the balance betwixt the crusaders and their ene- 
 mies the Turks, in the vain hope that he could make 
 success turn to the one scale or the other, at his pleasure 
 
 The siege of the celebrated city of Antioch, accom- 
 panied with dearth of provisions, want of water, scorch- 
 ing heat, and contagious diseases, tried the patience of 
 tlie military pdgrims, and overcame that of many. But 
 the crusaders were particularly scandalized at the defec- 
 tion of Peter the Hermit, who fied from the camp rather 
 than share the severities to v/hich he had been the means 
 of millions exposing themselves. The fugitive was 
 biought back by force, the rather that the absence of this 
 famous preacher and prophet was deemed an evil omen. 
 Antioch was at length betrayed into the hands of the 
 rrusadeis by a Christian within the city ; but, enraged 
 ut the hardships they had sustained, and thirsting fur 
 blood, the besiegers spared, in their rage, neither Chris- 
 tian nor pagan. 
 
 A very large host, chiefly of Persians, under an Emir 
 948 
 
(30 EMBJiSSY FROM THE SARACENS. 
 
 Called Kerboga, in vain advanced to re-take the plmie, 
 and avenge the slangbtered Moslemah. Their blockade, 
 indeed, reduced the late besiegers to the stale of being 
 themselves besieged. Disease followed famine, men and 
 horses died in multitudes. A well-imagined and happily- 
 timed discovery of a supposed relic of great sanctity, 
 restored the entliusiasm which bad sunk under bad for- 
 tune and sufferings. The gates of Antioch were thrown 
 open, the crusaders rushed out in full confidence of vic- 
 tory ; and, being seconded by a fancied apparition of 
 Saint George, Saint Theodore, and Saint Maurice, they 
 totally dispersed th.e army of the besieging general, which 
 is described as almost innumerable. The strong and 
 wealthy city of Antioch was assigned as the seat of a 
 principality, to be adjudged to Bohemund, for Alexius 
 declined to accept what he was conscious he had no force 
 to preserve. The route to Palestine now lay open to the 
 crusaders — that country for which they had abandoned 
 all their other prospects in life. 
 
 Besides the necessity of collecting reinforcements, and 
 the difficulty of coming to a determined conclusion, in 
 cases where so many opinions were to be consulted, the 
 city of Jerusalem, the possession of which was the prin- 
 cipal object of the crusade, had of late changed masters, 
 and returned from the possession of the Turks to that of 
 the Saracens of Egypt, who were commanded by the 
 Fatimite Califs. The Saracens, it must be remembered, 
 had always afforded protection to the western pilgrims 
 during the period when they held possession of the Holy 
 City. It was, therefore, with some reason thut they en- 
 deavoured to persuade the crusaders to put an end to the 
 war, as being now without a motive. The Egyptian 
 ambassadors stated to the assembled chiefs, that Jerusa- 
 lem which the Turks had made the scene of their op- 
 pressions, was now^ restored to its lawful possessors, the 
 Saracens, who had always given, and would engage 
 always to give, hospitable reception, and free access to 
 the objects of their devotion, to all peaceful pilgrims who 
 should desire o approach them in moderate numbers, aiul 
 
OAHlRE of JERUSALEM. 131 
 
 without arnij. Tiie calif also offered great and splendid 
 gifts to the cl.iefs of the crusade, t© induce them to make 
 peace. The European leaders returned for answer, that 
 their vows engaged them to rescue the Holy Land, and 
 its capital, the city of Jerusalem, from infidels, of what- 
 ever denomination, whom they should find in possession 
 of it ; that they were determined to recover the city ac- 
 cordingly, and would admit no treaty, whether with Turk 
 or Saracen, or other Mahometan whatsoever, which had 
 not the absolute surrender of Jerusalem for its basis. 
 
 At length the remains of this mighty crusade advanced 
 on Palestine, and besieged the holy city of Jerusalem, so 
 long the object of their hopes, vows, and wishes. The 
 place was naturally strong, and was defended by thick 
 walls and buhvarks, as well as by rocks and eminences. 
 The crusaders remaining fit for service, out of a host which 
 numbered its warriors by hundreds of thousands, did 
 not amount to forty thousand men. Aladin, lieutenant 
 of the Egyptian calif, commanded nearly an equal number 
 of defenders. The Christians had, therefore, a difficult 
 task before them, especially as they were in want of water, 
 tents, and military engines. They at first attempted to 
 take the city by main force, and make a general assault 
 on the walls within five days after they sat down before 
 them ; but being unprepared for such service, they were 
 beaten off with loss and dishonour. The siege was, how- 
 ever, pressed with vigour ; the chiefs endured their losses 
 with firmness, and their experience discovered supplies 
 for their wants. Two wooden turrets, constructed upon 
 wheels, were formed by some Genoese workmen, to be 
 advanced to the wall, for the purpose of commanding the 
 defences. The first, under command of Raymond Count 
 of Toulouse, was set on fire, and consumed by the be- 
 sieged. The second of these engines, under the imme- 
 diate superintendence of Godfrey of Boulogne, was, with 
 better fortune, rolled up to the walls, where, as it over- 
 .ooked the pavapet, the arrows from the archers within it, 
 cleared the rampart of the defenders. A drawbridge 
 then dropt between the tower and the wall — the attackinj, 
 
132 KINGDOM or JERUSALEM. 
 
 part)' poLirod over it, and the besiegers obtained possession 
 of tlje city. An indiscriminate massacre commenced, in 
 which many thousand iVJahometans were slain, although 
 resistance was entirely at an end. Wlien this pitiless 
 slaughter (which lasted three days) was over, the victors, 
 with a devotion strangely contrasted with their late cruel- 
 ty, joined in a solemn pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, 
 where loud hynms of praise, and devout tears of peni- 
 tence, were enthusiastically poured forth as an accept- 
 able offei-ing to Heaven, by the very men whose hands 
 were red with the blood spilt in an unprovoked massacre. 
 
 The country of Palestine followed the fate of Jerusalem, 
 and the Christian leaders resolved to consummate their 
 victory by erecting a Latin kingdom there, whose swords 
 should for ever defend the Holy Land, which the valour 
 of the crusaders had now gained from the infidels. The 
 crown of Palestine was refused by Robert of Normandy 
 and Robert of Flanders, who might both have made pre- 
 tensions to the sovereignty ; the more ambitious Bohemund 
 had already settled himself in Antioch, and Baldwin had, 
 in like manner, established himself at Edessa. A hero 
 who, it only the equal of these princes in valour, and their 
 inferior in power, far excelled them in moral qualifica- 
 tions, and in a true sense of religion, was next offered 
 the crown, by the unanimous consent of all who had been 
 engaged in the expedition. This was Godfrey of Bou- 
 logne, the foremost in obtaining possession of the city, 
 of which he was now declared king. He would, how- 
 ever, only accept the title of Defender and Baron of the 
 Holy Sepulchre, and, from the same spirit of devout 
 modesty, he assumed a crown of thorns, instead of gold, 
 as the appropriate symbol of his authority. 
 
 Jn about a fortnight the prince was called upon to de- 
 fend his newly conquered metropolis against the Calif of 
 Egypt, who was advancing in person to revenge its cap- 
 ture. They met in the valley of Ascalon, where the 
 Egyptians (infericr to the Turks, whom the Christians 
 had hitli erto encountered, in the knowledge and practice 
 of war) received a tota defeat. Godfrey having thus 
 
KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN. 133 
 
 established and enlarged his new kingdom, proceeded, by 
 llie general assent of the most experienced persons who 
 wore present, to adjust a system of laws, called the Assize 
 of Jerusalem, in which the constitution of the Latin king- 
 dom, as it vA/as called, was adapted to the purest feudal 
 principles. 
 
 In this manner was established, and thus was regulat- 
 ed, the kingdom of Jerusalem, which endured for about 
 a century -after its establishment in the first crusade, till 
 its destruction by Saladin in 1187. During the short 
 period of its turbulent existence, this state, composed of 
 so many proud and independent barons, who often refused 
 obedience to the king of their own choice, underwent so 
 many civil convulsions, as rendered their state peculiarly 
 unfit to defend itself against the Mahometans, who were 
 perpetually bent upon recovering a territory which they 
 considered as their own property. Various attempts 
 were, however, made to support the Christians in their 
 defence. 
 
 One was by the erection of two great societies, or com- 
 munities of knights, who took upon them a vow of celi- 
 bacy, of poverty, and of obedience to their spiritual 
 superiors, but were, in other respects, soldiers sworn to 
 defend the Temple of Jerusalem against the Pagans. 
 This order of military monks did great service in the 
 protection of the Hoh' Land. But when these Templars, 
 as they were called, became wealthy and powerful, it 
 appears their manners became corrupted, and their morals 
 dissolute ; they were also accused of meditating enter- 
 prises promising advantage to their own order, but threat- 
 ening danger to lawful Christian monarchs, and to Chris- 
 tianity in general ; so that, under allegations partly proved, 
 and partly alleged, the order, or association of Templars, 
 was suppressed, about the year 1312, two hundred years 
 after it had been erected. The other association of the 
 same kind was called the Knights Hospitallers of St. 
 John of Jerusalem, whose first vow was the providing 
 hospitality for pilgrims, though, like the Templars, they 
 
134 DEATH OF GODFREY. 
 
 chiefly devoted themselves to nilhtary exploits ae^ainst 
 the infidels. They did not rise to the eminence of the 
 Templars, nor share in the odium attached to them ; ac- 
 cordingly you will see that the Knights of St. John^ 
 under the title of the Knights of Malta, continued theii 
 sworn war against the Mahometans till a late period. 
 
 But besides the support of these two warlike fraterni- 
 ties formed for the preservation of the Holy Land, the 
 same motives which had made the powers of Europe first 
 engage in the original crusade, led to their forming simi- 
 lar expeditions from time to time, to the number of five, 
 by which great armies passed into Asia, with the purpose 
 to delay the fall of Palestine, or to recover it, when lost, 
 to Ctiristendom. These must be mentioned, more or less 
 distinctly, in the course of our story. In the meantime, 
 we may conclude our history of the First Crusade, by 
 mentioning the death of its hero, Godfrey of Boulogne, 
 whose virtues and talents had succeeded in giving a tem- 
 porary appearance of strength and consistency to the 
 dominions conquered by his valour. This event took 
 place within a year after th« capture of the city. A. D. 
 1100. 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQ,UEROR*3 SONS. 135 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Dissensions among the three sons of William the Con^ 
 querer — The Kingdom of England and Dukedom 
 of JYormandy united in the person of Henry, the 
 Youngest — War undertaken by Louis the Gross, in 
 support of the claim of William, Clito, nephew of 
 Henry, to JYormandy — Defeat of the French — For- 
 tunes of William Clito — His Death — Death of Louis 
 the Gross — Accession of Louis the Young, who un- 
 dertakes a crusade, in conjunction with Conrade, Km- 
 peror of Germany, — they are accompanied by two 
 bands of Females, the German Amazons, under a 
 leader called the Golden-Footed, and the French 
 under Q^ueen Eleanor — Disasters of the Crusade — • 
 Misconduct of Eleanor — Both Monarchs abandon thf 
 enterprise. 
 
 While the princes and barons of the first crusade 
 were establishing in Palestine the little Latin kingdom of 
 Jerusalem, various alterations took place in Europe, by 
 which the rights of the absentees were materially affected. 
 No one suffered more than Robert Duke of Normandy. 
 To furnish himself forth for the crusade, this eldest son 
 of William the Conqueror had imprudently pawned the 
 duchy of Normandy, being the only part of his father's 
 dominions which had descended to him, to his brother 
 William, called the Red, King of England, for a large 
 sum of money. But while Robert was employed in 
 cleaving Mahometan champions asunder, and exhibiting 
 feats of the most romantic valour, William was privately 
 engaged in securing and rendering permanent the tempo- 
 rary interest which the mortgage gave him in the fief of 
 the duchy, and it soon became evident, that even if Rob- 
 ert should be able and clesu'ous to redeem the territory, 
 it was not likely that his more powerful brothe: would 
 
1*16 CHARACTER OF HENRY BEAUCLERK. 
 
 renounce the right he had acquired over it. Bu^ the 
 death of AMHiam Rufus brought into play a third son of 
 the Conqueror. This was Henry, the youngest, whom 
 his brothers, both Robert and Wilham, had treated with 
 considerable severity alter their father's deathj and re- 
 fused him every appanage becoming his rank. Civil war 
 ensued among the brothers, and on one memoiable occa- 
 sion, Henry was besieged by his two brethren, in the 
 fortress of Mount Saint Michael, and reduced to the 
 greatest extremity for want of water. His distress being 
 communicated to Robert, who w^as always generous, he 
 instantly sent him a supply. William, who was of a 
 harder and more inflexible disposition, upbraided Robert 
 with his imprudent generosity. " What else could I do : ' 
 answered the generous Norman. " He is our brother. 
 Had he died for lack of water, how were we to supply 
 bis loss ?" 
 
 Upon the surrender of the fortress, however, Henry 
 was reduced to the condition of a private individual, al- 
 though his bravery was equal to that of either of his 
 brothers ; his sagacity much superior, and his learning, 
 which was uncommon in those days, so considerable, 
 that he obtained the name of Beauclerk, or Admirable 
 Scholar. 
 
 William Rufus was killed accidentally with an arrow, 
 while hunting in the New Forest, which had been so 
 unscrupulously formed, or enlarged, by his father the 
 Conqueror. Henry, being engaged in the same sport in 
 a different part of the forest, and learning this accident as 
 soon as it happened, rode in post-haste to London, and 
 availed himself of Robert's absence to procure his own 
 election 'to the crown of England, which was affirmed by 
 Parliament. Robert, whose elder right of inheritance 
 was thus a second time set aside, was at this time in Apu- 
 'ia, where his marriage with a wealthy heiress had sup- 
 plied him with the means of redeeming his Dukedom of 
 Normandy. He even preferred a title to the crown of 
 England, which was favoured by the Norman barons, the 
 companions of the Conqueror. Henry's chief supporters 
 
n^AR WITH HIS BROTHER ROBERT. 137 
 
 were the English, who had been cruelly oppresseil by the 
 first William, and with less form and reason tyrannized 
 over by William the Red. Henry, on the contrary, at- 
 tached the nation to his service and allegiance, by cor- 
 recting the abuses of his father's and of his brother's 
 administration, and by granting charters, settling the sep 
 arate interests of the vassals and superiors in the fief, and 
 thus placing both on a legal and equitable fooling. 
 
 This mitigation of feudal rights was peculiarly agreeable 
 to the English, whose sufferings had been most intolera- 
 ble, and accordingly secured to Henry the crown of that 
 kingdom. The extension of freedom was at the same 
 tiine acceptable to the Normans; and Henry began to 
 gain partisans even in his brother's dukedom. But the 
 sudden return of Robert from Apulia, recalled to their 
 allegiance the wavering faith of his vassals, and put the 
 prudence of the great Norman barons to a hard altiBrna- 
 tive ; for in the very probable event of war between the 
 brothers, as most of the followers of the Conqueror held 
 land in both England and Normandy, their English oi 
 their Norman fiefs must necessarily be exposed to confis- 
 cation, according as they should side with Robert or with 
 Henry. It was soon found, also, that Robert was rash 
 and wasteful, while his brother was the wisest prince of 
 liis time. A short peace, or truce, did not prevent the 
 brothers from engaging in a war, which was decided by 
 the battle of Tenchebraie, in Normandy, in which Duke 
 Robert was, in spite of the bravery he displayed, de- 
 feated and made prisoner. He was thrown into perpet- 
 ual imprisonment, but allowed in his captivity all the 
 pleasures of the table, as well as the amusement he could 
 receive from minstrels and jugglers He was pitied, but 
 not regretted, by the people of bis duchy, who thought 
 with the old chronicle, that " he was a prince of the most 
 undaunted courage, and had done many famous things a 
 the sieges of Antioch and Jerusalem ; but his simplicity 
 rendered him unfit for governing, and induced him to listen 
 to light and imprudent counsellors." 
 
13^ WILLIAM CLITO. 
 
 The kingdom of England and the dukedom of Nor 
 mandy being now united in the person of Henry, as the}> 
 had been formerly in that of William the Conqueror, the 
 Ibrmer prince became as great an object of jealousy to 
 the King of France, his superior, as his father had for- 
 njerly been. It was indeed contrary to the nature of 
 feudal dependence, in a correct sense, that the state of 
 vassalage should exist between two princes of equal pow- 
 er, because in sucli a case, instead of the holder of the 
 fief considering it a benefit, the possession of which form- 
 ed an indissoluble bond of gratitude between the grantoi 
 and the possessor, he was, on the contrary, apt to esteem 
 himself more degraded than enriched by the tenure, and 
 bis imagination was eternally at work how he might shake 
 off even his nominal dependence on one wbom he prob- 
 ably held his own inferior. There were, therefore, on 
 account of their mutual jealousy, constant bickerings, and 
 several actual wars between Henry of England, and Louis, 
 who, in his latter years, acquired the surname of the 
 Gross, from the largeness of his size. 
 
 The most formidable war which the latter monarch in- 
 cited against the King of England, had for its pretext the 
 interest of the youth, William Cliio. This was the only 
 son of the captive Robert Duke of Normandy, in whose 
 oehalf the King of France not only took arms himself, but 
 instigated several of the great vassals of the crowm to en- 
 gage in the same cause. A very great number of the 
 barons and knights of Normandy were privately enlisted 
 in the design of placing the ducal coronet, which had been 
 his father's, upon the head of a deserving son. Henry 
 passed over to Normandy to defend his rights in that fair 
 duchy against William Clito, his nephew, and carried 
 with him a gallant army of English, as well as Normans. 
 Louis, the French monarch, at the head of the forces of 
 ihe confederates of young William, also known by the 
 name of Longsword, from the weapon which he wielded, 
 advanced towards Rouen, and found himself unexpectedly 
 in front of the English. 
 
 V^ung Longsword, well w^orthv of his descent, and of 
 
BATTLE OF ROLEN. 139 
 
 he formidable epithet by which he was desigiiated, charg- 
 ed the van of the EngHsh army so fiercely as to throw 
 ihem into disorder. But Heiuy advanced with his own 
 household troops, and restored the engagement. In those 
 days the generals themselves alvvay? fought amongst the 
 foremost. William Crispin, a gallant knight, attacked 
 King Henry personally, dealing him two strokes with the 
 sword, which, though repelled by the temper of the royal 
 helmet, y-et beat the metal flat on his head by main force, 
 and caused the blood to gush from nose and mouih. 
 Henry either received timely succour from a gallant Nor- 
 man baron in his ranks, or else struck Crispin down with 
 his own hand. The life of the brave knight was with 
 difficulty saved. The French were completely defeated 
 in this action. As the combatants were, many of them, 
 friends and neighbours, no great loss was sustained in the 
 flight ; and even during the shock of battle, only three 
 knights were slain, though many were taken. The King 
 of France lost his horse and his standard. Henry ran- 
 somed thern from the captors, and keeping the banner as 
 an honourable trophy, returned the steed to his royal 
 owner, together with that of William Clito, which had 
 been taken by his son. These courtesies led the way to 
 a peace highly advantaojeous and honourable to the King 
 of England. (A. D. 1120) 
 
 Louis of France, at this peace, conceded a point of 
 great consequenae to the King of England. Henry had 
 refused to pay homage for Normandy, as had been the 
 custom of the successors of Rollo, and of his own father 
 and brother,WiHiam the Conqueror, and William the Red, 
 and as was, indeed, the just right of Louis to demand. 
 Such rendering of homage, said the King of England, 
 was unworthy of a royal person. Louis plainly saw 
 where this pointed, and that it was the object of Henry 
 to shake himself entirely free of his feudal obedience ; 
 and this consc'ousness had made him more anxious t? 
 support the claims of William Clito, or Longsword. But 
 now, finding the events of war turn against birr, Louis 
 reluctantly consented that William, the only son of Henry, 
 
MO DEATH OF henry's SON WILLIAM. 
 
 should be invested with the fief of Normandy, and do 
 homage foi that fief, although aware, doubtless, that by 
 this transaction Henry would retain in his own hands all 
 I he i)ower and wealth of the duchy, while he would 
 escaj)e the oaths and obligations of the vassal, by the 
 interposition of his son in this character. 
 
 But the sudden turns of fate disturb the wisest plans ol 
 human policy. The young prince William of England 
 perished at sea; with him died the project of an interme- 
 diate vassal in the fief of Normandy ; and so the plan of 
 acconnnodation fell to the ground. The King of France, 
 tempted by the desolate situation of Henry, who was now 
 without a son, renewed his intrigues with William Clito. 
 He caused this young prince to be married to a daughter 
 of the Count of Anjou, with whom he received in dowery 
 the county of Maine. Established thus in a powerful 
 seigniory near the frontiers of Normandy, to which his 
 birth gave him so strong a thle, William Clito, found it 
 easy to form once more a great confederacy against Hen- 
 ry, among the nobles of that dukedom. The King of 
 England's usual prudence, mixed with a shade of that 
 good fortune which prudence alone can render availing-, 
 gave Henry again the ascendence over his enemies. He 
 obtained a complete and easy victory over the insurgent 
 nobihty, of whom some were made captives, and treated 
 with rigour. (A. D. 1124.) Luke de Barre, a Norman 
 knight of some talent, was an instance of this severity. 
 He had been formerly made prisoner by Henry, and gen- 
 erously dismissed. Notwithstanding this lenity, he not 
 only rebelled a second time against the King of England, 
 but had composed satirical ballads in ridicule of him, and 
 recited or sung them in public. Such affronts excite 
 more bitter resentment than real injuries. The unlucky 
 poet, having fallen a second time into the hands of the 
 irritated monarch, was condemned to lose his eyes. But 
 he struggled so hard with the executioners who came to 
 r-arry the sentence into force, that he dashed out his brams 
 Bgaiust the walls of his dungeon, and thus perished Two 
 
SrORMAN INSURRECTION SUPPRESSEI 141 
 
 Other insurn:eat nobles sustained the same doom of liavms; 
 their eyes put out, and others were imprisoned. 
 
 Triumphant in Normandy, Henry now sought revenge 
 on the king of France, and used for this purpose the assist- 
 ance of Henry V., Eniperor of Germany, to whom Matil- 
 da, the monarch of England's only remaining cliildj had 
 been for soine years married. The Emperor retained re- 
 sentment against Louis, because he had permitted a bull, 
 or writing, by which tlie Pope excommunicated the Em- 
 peror, to be published in his archiepiscopal city of Rheims. 
 He assembled an army from the German states, and 
 threatened to enter France, and burn Rheims, where he 
 had sustained such an affront. But the invasion of France 
 by a German army, was not viewed with indifference 
 by the great vassals of the former country. Even the 
 barons who had private quarrels with their monarch 
 Louis, or private confederacies with Henry of England, 
 acted as obedient vassals of France upon this occasion, 
 and Louis found no difHculty in assembling during 
 this emergency an army of two hundred thousand men. 
 To give them additional ardour in this great national 
 conflict, we hear, for the first time, in this war, of the 
 Oriflamme, or Great Standard of France, being displayed 
 Tliis was a flag of crimson, attached to a gilded lance, 
 from whicli it drew its name, which implies a golden 
 flame. The Emperor Henry, unprepared to encounter 
 such an army, retired before the Oriflamme, and the im- 
 mense body of men assembled around it. Louis would 
 then willingly have employed so gallant a host in driv- 
 ing the King of England out of Normandy, and settling 
 William Clito in that province. But the great vassals of 
 France, whose retainers formed the greater part of the 
 army, refused to serve in a quarrel which they rathei 
 accounted personal to the king, than essential to the king- 
 dom ; and were alarmed, moreover, lest the weight which 
 success might give the crown in such an enterprise, might 
 cause it to become too powerful for the liberty of the 
 vassah, of which they v/ere strictly tenacious. 
 
 The Emperor Henry Y. died soon after this war, and 
 
142 ENGLISH CROWN SETTLED ON MATILDA. 
 
 Henry of England recalled to his own court the widowed 
 Eih press Matilda, his daughter, and formed the bold plau 
 of appointing her the heir of his dominions, as the sole 
 suo' essor of his blood. (A. D. 1125.) This was an 
 attempt of a novel and hardy kind, for tlie genius of tho 
 limes was averse to female succession. It was with them 
 a maxim, that, as it was only the male heir who could 
 do battle or give counsel, so it was only he who could 
 render service for the fief either in war, or in the courts of 
 the superior where the vassals assembled. This feudal rule 
 seemed to excl/ide the Empress Matilda from succeeding 
 her father in the dukedom of Normandy, and in England 
 the settlement of the crown on a woman was yet unheard 
 of. Henry, however, by the high interest which he pos- 
 sessed among the English clergy and barons, induced the 
 parliament of that country, after long deliberation to 
 ai!;ree that his daughter should succeed to the crown on 
 his death. 
 
 In Normandy, Matilda's succession to the dukedom was 
 rendered yet more precarious than in England, by tlie 
 opposing claims of William Clito, to whose father, Duke 
 Robert, the fief had lawfully belonged. Indeed, the fate 
 of this high-spirited and high-born prince was chequered 
 witii strange alternations of fortune, which seemed fre- 
 quently to promise to elevate him to the utm.ost height 
 of his wishes, but as often disappointed his expectations. 
 TIjus, at one time, Henry's influence with the Pope, pro- 
 cured from the head of the church an unexpected decree 
 of separation between William Clito and his wife Sybilla, 
 in whose right he held the earldom of Maine, and once 
 more reduced him to poverty and dependence. But on 
 tile other hand, Louis the Gross, partly with a view to 
 traverse the measures of his antagonist King Henry, partly 
 our of a generous compassion for a prince of exalted birth 
 and distinguished merit, whom fortune had defrauded of 
 his birthright, promoted this friendless youth to a marriage 
 as advantageous as that which the Pope had cancelled. 
 The second wife of William Clito was a sister of the 
 Queen of France, whose dowery was the province called 
 
E0RT13NES OF WILLIAM CLITO. 143 
 
 ihe Vexin, with three adjacent towns. Shortly afterwards 
 the young prhice succeeded to the rich and important 
 earldom of Flanders, on the murder of Ch.arles, called 
 the Good, who was killed while hearing mass, and even 
 in the act of prostration, by some of his own rebellious 
 subjects. (A. D. 1127.) The King of France hurried 
 to Bruges, where the deed had been committed, and 
 having taken the murderers after a long siege, caused them 
 to oe |)recipitated from tlie ramparts. He then conferred 
 the earldom of Flanders upon William Clito, whom he 
 had so long relieved and protected, and whom he now 
 raised to a more hopeful state, with respect to dominion 
 and revenue, than he had ever yet attained. The new 
 Earl of Flanders seems to have had a good right by blood 
 to be the head of this important province, being a great 
 grandson of Baldwin VIL 
 
 Henry, alarmed by seeing his nephew thus in possession 
 of the wealthy and powerful earldom of Flanders, began 
 to bethink himself by what means he might best strengtii- 
 en the title of his daughter to Normandy, which, in case 
 of his own decease, must needs experience risk and oppo- 
 sition from the power of William Clito. For this pur 
 pose, he resolved to accomplish a marriage betwixt 
 Matilda and Geoffrey, the heir of Fulk, Earl of Anjou 
 This house of Anjou had obtained the family title oi 
 Plantagenet, because the above-mentioned Fulk, while 
 fighting in the crusades at the head of a hundred knights 
 whom he maintained in that holy warfare, had, in sign ol 
 humility, worn in his helmet a sprig of broom, (in Latin, 
 humilis genista,) which circumstance somewhat inconsist- 
 ently gave a name to one of the haughtiest families that 
 ever wore a crown, and became the successors to that of 
 England. Fulk, the reigning Earl of Anjou, received, 
 at the time of his son's marriage with Matilda, an invita- 
 tion to succeed Baldwin II. in the precarious dignity of 
 King of Jerusalem. His sense of religion, and love of 
 fame, would not allow him to prefer the wealth and safety 
 of his coronet as Earl of Anjou, to the dangers and diffi- 
 culties of the crown of thorns. He surrendered to hi» 
 
144 DEATH OF \VILl1A3I CLITO. 
 
 son Geofffey the possession of his ample dominions of 
 Anjou, Touialne, and IMaine ; and Laving seen him unit- 
 ed with the Enipress Matilda, departed for the Holy 
 Land. 
 
 Henry I., fortified by so strong an alliance, conceived 
 himself now able to find his nephew William Clito occu- 
 pation in his new earldom, so as to prevent his resuming 
 his pretensions to Normandy. He tlierefore stirred up a 
 German prince, Theodoric. Landgrave of Alsace, to pre- 
 fer some claim to the county of Flanders, and to support 
 it with arms. William Clito defended himself with equal 
 skill and courage. A plot being formed to murder him, 
 it was betrayed by a young woman with whom he had 
 an intrigue. The girl was engaged in washing her lover's 
 head, when by sighs and tears which escaped from her 
 involuntarily, he conceived an alarm of his danger. Hav- 
 ing extorted from the young woman the cause of her 
 distress, he immediately provided for her safety by send- 
 ing her to the charge of the Duke of Aquitaine, his 
 Drother-at-arms. With the same alacrity he armed him- 
 self, without even waiting to comb his hair, and attacked 
 the conspirators so alertly as to force them to take shel- 
 ter in the castle of Alost, where he besieged them. The 
 Landgrave, his competitor, advancing to raise the siege, 
 when the garrison was reduced to extremity, engaged in 
 an action with Longs word's forces, in which he was at 
 first successful. But William Clito, in person, charged 
 at the head of a body of reserved troops, and defeated 
 his German opponent. With the same alacrity the spir- 
 ited prince returned to the gates of Alost, where a party 
 of the besieged were in the act of sallying to the assist- 
 ance of the Landgrave. They were instantly charged, 
 and driven back. But in this slight rencontre, as the gal- 
 lant young count endeavoured to parry with his hand the 
 thrnst of a pike made by a private soldier, he was 
 wounded in the fleshy part between the forefinger and 
 thumb. The appearance of the hurt was trifling, but hia 
 arm swelled, and the wound turned to a gangrene, of 
 which he died in the space of five days. He was a prince 
 
CORONATION OF LOUIS LE JELNE. 4-5 
 
 resembling his father, Robert Curt-hose, in bravery and 
 warHke fame, resembhng him also in the continued evii 
 fortune which pursued him ; but unlike his father in that 
 respect, we cannot find that his misfortunes had any source 
 m his own rashness, carelessness, or misconduct. It is 
 said, that the aged and blind Duke Robert, still a misera- 
 ble prisoner in England, started from his bed in a dream, 
 m which a soldier appeared to him, who, wounding his 
 arm with a pike, exclaimed that his son was slain. Wil- 
 liam Clito was much regretted by the King of France, 
 whose faithful adlierent he had been ever since he beo-an 
 to distinguish himself in the world ; this firm union, as 
 well as Clito's pretensions to Normandy, having afforded 
 the readiest means of embarrassing Louis's formidable 
 rival. King Henry. 
 
 Amidst ceaseless though petty wars, and constant 
 though fluctuating negotiations, Louis VL became aged, 
 and his corpulence, which constantly increased, and pro- 
 cured him the surname of the Gross, affected his alert- 
 ness both of body and mind. He endeavoured, accord- 
 ing to the custom of the house of Capet, to supply his 
 own deficiencies, by associating with him on the throne 
 his eldest son Louis, a youth of great hopes. (A. D. 
 1129.) But his father did not long enjoy his assistance 
 in the affairs of gov^ernment, grown too weighty for his 
 own management. Riding in the streets of Paris, not 
 many months afier his coronation, the strange accident 
 of a black pig running among his horse's feet, cost the 
 young king a severe fall, the consequence of which he 
 did not survive many days. (A. D. 113L) The clergy 
 pretended, as usual, to see in the singular death of this 
 prince a judgment of God upon his father for refusing 
 some requests of the prelates ; and in particular, for de- 
 clining to grant the royal pardon, and to restore the 
 effects to one of their number who had been guilty of 
 treason. 
 
 Deprived of his eldest son, the king raised to the 
 lihrone instead his second son, called Louis le Jeune^ in 
 940 
 
146 DEATH OF liOUIS THE GROSS. 
 
 order to distinguish nim from his father. This prince 
 was crowned at Rheims by Pope Innocent himself, who 
 had at that time retired into France, to seek refuo^e from 
 the resentment of the emperor, with whom he had many 
 quarrels. Afiei a short time, the old king, finding his 
 health continue to decline, surrendered his power alto- 
 gether to his son. As he delivered his signet to him for 
 this purpose, he used these just and excellent words; 
 " Take this symbol of my sovereign power ; but nevei^ 
 forget it is only a public trust, for the exercise of which 
 you will hereafter be called to the most strict account 
 before the King of kings." After this virtual resignation, 
 he never again assumed the ornaments or pomp of roy- 
 alty. Yet he lived to witness an event in his family, of 
 the deepest interest. This w^s the marriage of his son 
 Louis with Eleanor, daughter of William X. Duke of 
 Guienne and Aquitaine. This nobleman having died 
 while engaged in a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James 
 of Compostella, his daughter succeeded to his extensive 
 territories. On her marriage with Louis VIL, she was 
 crowned Queen of France. Shortly afterwards, Louis 
 the Gross died, his constitution yielding, it is said, to the 
 extreme heat of the season. (A. D. 1137.) 
 
 The reign of Louis the Young, as he was called, being 
 eighteen years old at his father's death, commenced, as 
 was generally the case in the French monarchy, with 
 violent commotions among the nobility and great vassals 
 of the crown. Having been unwillingly subjected to the 
 authority of a prince like Louis VI., who, notwithstand- 
 ing his corpulent habit of body, was perpetually in ac- 
 tion, and at the head of his troops : these dignitaries now 
 thought the minority of a young prince a convenient time 
 lo recover a part of their exorbitant power. Thibault, 
 Karl of Champagne, one of the most artful intriguers and 
 turbulent agitators of the period, engaged himself in 
 forming conspiracies among the nobility, for abridging tha 
 privileges, and diminishing the authority, of the crown 
 Enraged at the sinister intrigues of this factious nobleman 
 ivhose power was increased by his brother, Stephen oi 
 
bCVlNlNG OF THE CATHEDRAI OF VITRT. HI 
 
 Mortagne, having usurped the throne of England, from 
 Matilda, daughter of Henry 1., the king ravaged his coun 
 try of Champagne with imprudent and unrelenting sever* 
 ity. The town of Vitry was taken by assault ; and the 
 cathedral, containing thirteen hundred persons, who had 
 fled tliither as to an inviolable sanctuary, was delivered to 
 the flames, with all who were within it. 
 
 Louis was of a fiery, yet of a religious disposition. Tho 
 cruel deed was scarce done, but it was repented of; and, 
 besides the massacre and conflagration of Vitry, Louis 
 conceived that he had other sins to be penitent for. The 
 conviction that he had committed a great and most inhu- 
 man crime, was mingled with the reflection that he had 
 offended the Pope, by refusing to receive, as Archbishop 
 of Bourges, a priest called Pierre de la Chatre, chosen 
 to that office by the chapter of the see, without the royal 
 license. The consciousness of these two offences, one 
 of a deep dye, and one founded in the superstitious pre- 
 judice of the age, distracted the mind of the young prince. 
 He laid the state of his conscience before Bernard, Abbot 
 of Clalrvaux, (afterwards canonized as Saint Bernard,) a 
 divine of strict morals, venerated for his good sense, 
 learning, and probity, and incapable of substituting evil 
 counsel for good, as far as his own comprehension of 
 good and evil reached, but from the excess of his 
 zeal, and his devotion to the service of the church, suf- 
 ficiently apt to be misled by prejudices and passions. 
 This churchman, availing himself of the remorse which 
 agitated the king's heart, both on account of his cruel 
 action at Vitry, and his disobedience to the Papal See, 
 took the opportunity to press upon the afflicted mind of 
 Louis, that the best and only effectual atonement for liis 
 misdeeds, would be a crusade to the Holy Land, under- 
 taken with a force strong enough to restore the Latin 
 kingdom of Jerusalem, now pressed on every side by tho 
 numerous nations of infidels amongst whom it held its 
 precarious existence. Upon the earnest exhortationb of 
 St. Bernard, who pledged his word for the fortunate issue 
 of *he expedition, Louis le Jeune, w^as induced to assume 
 
148 I.OUIS LNDERTAKES A 
 
 Xlie Cross, and determine on aa expedition to the relief 
 of the Holy Land, with the whole strength of his king- 
 dom. At a great parliament, or assembly of the repre- 
 sentatives of the French nation, which was, on account 
 of the number who attended, held in the open air, Louis 
 took from the hands of Bernard, a cross, which had been 
 consecrated at Rome for his particular use. The Counts 
 of Toulouse, of Flanders, of Nevres, of Ponthieu, and 
 many others of the great vassals, followed the example 
 of their sovereign. The gentry and nobility took arms 
 in emulation of each other ; and those who assumed the 
 cross, sent a distaff and scissors to such as chose the wiser 
 part of remaining at home, as if to upbraid them with 
 cowardice and effeminacy. 
 
 The same spirit spread to the court of Conrade IlL, 
 Emperor of (jermany, where the martial spirit of the 
 people favouring the zeal with which the clergy preached 
 the crusade, tliat prince assembled an army of at least 
 fifty thousand men-at-arms, without taking account of 
 infantry and light cavalry. .Among these was a band of 
 women, armed like Amazons, riding in the fashion of 
 men, and armed in like manner. The female who led 
 this band acquired, from her gilded spurs and rich bus- 
 kins, the title of the golden-footed . It may be well 
 imagined, that a band so composed might show the un- 
 bounded zeal of the nations that furnished the crusaders, 
 but it could not add to the force, and still less improve 
 the discipline, of the army. It was, indeed, the curse 
 of these expeditions, though undertaken on a religious 
 principle, to comprehend among the adventurers they 
 sent forth, not only a multitude who expected by such 
 service to merit pardon for past offences, but many more 
 of debauched and infamous habits, who looked for little 
 besides the pleasure of practising, unpunished, the gross- 
 est vices, amidst the profligacy of an ill-regulated camp. 
 
 In the French host, the part of the golden-footed lady 
 was performed by no less a personage than Eleanor her- 
 self, to whom Louis le Jeune had been married a short 
 uhile before h"s father's death. She had an ample in- 
 
CRUSADE rO THE HOLY LAND. 119 
 
 lieritance in her own right, as the heiress dF her father, 
 the Duke of Aquitaine, which, adding to the arrogance 
 of a character naturally intractable, induced her to use 
 her own pleasure in taking a personal share in this ad- 
 venture, though her presence and behaviour seem to have 
 acquired little credit either to her husband or herself. 
 
 The Queen of France was attended by a large band 
 of the youth of both sexes. Some gallant damsels were 
 mounted, on horseback, in masculine fashion, like the Ger- 
 man Amazons, while a chosen band of the gayest an i 
 most noble young men of France assumed the title oc 
 Queen Eleanor's Guard. It may be easily supposed that 
 pilgrims, of such an age and such manners, were more 
 likely to promote the gaiety than the discipline of this 
 pious undertaking. The expedition, however, excited 
 the highest hopes throughout Christendom, which were 
 doomed to meet with a woful reverse. 
 
 Louis left his dominions during his absence to the care 
 of his relative and favourite, the Earl of Vermandois, 
 and that of Suger, Abbot of St. Dennis. The latter, 
 though a churchman, entertained more clear political 
 views than those of St. Bernard, of Clairvaux. Unlike 
 the practice of his order, Suger distinguished himself by 
 using every rational persuasion to deter the king from the 
 ruinous undertaking of the crusade. And although he 
 failed to divert him from his purpose, Louis remained 
 satisfied that no man could be more fit to be employed in 
 the administration of France, during the absence of the 
 sovereign, than Abbot Suger. 
 
 The crusade now began to set forward. The Ger- 
 mans were the first who advanced into Greece, and they 
 were received by the reigning emperor, Manuel Comne- 
 nus, with as much apparent good-will, and still more 
 secret and active hostility, than his predecessor Alexius 
 iiad nourished ai^^iinst the first crusade. This treacherous 
 prince assigned. the strangers false guides, by whom they 
 were induced to take up their quarters on the banks of 
 the unwholesome Melas, a river which consists only o' 
 
150 TREACHERY OF THE GREEK EMPEROR. 
 
 mud during summer, and forms a sea in the course of 
 wmter. Here the natural progress of disease, caused by 
 swamps and unheuUhy exlmlations, was augmented by 
 bad provisions, such as meal adulterated with lime, sup- 
 plied to them by their treacherous allies. False and 
 worthless coinage was also circulated amongst ihem, and 
 no secret artifice spared, by which the Ibrmidable num- 
 bers of these simple devotees might be diminished and 
 wasted. This usage of the emperor of Greece was the 
 more atrocious, that he was connected with Conrade, 
 w^hose forces he thus undermined and destroyed, in the 
 character of a relative, as well as ally, as they had mar- 
 ried two sisters. The facts are, however, proved against 
 the treacherous Grecian by the evidence of Nicetas, an 
 historian of his own language and country. The object 
 seems to have been, that, by aiding in the destruction of 
 these large armies of crusaders, the Greeks hoped and 
 expected to hold the balance betwixt them and the Sara- 
 cens, and thus attain the superiority over both the powers 
 whom they feared. It is even certain that Manuel Com- 
 nenus entertained a secret, but a close alliance with the 
 Saracens, and that he transmitted to them intelligence of 
 the motions of the enemy. 
 
 The host of France, under its young and valiant mon- 
 arch, now^ arrived m Asia, and by precaution or good 
 fortune escaped a great number of the snares and dangers 
 which had been spread for the Germans, by the treachery 
 of the Greeks. In the meantime, Conrade, who had 
 proceeded under the conduct of false or ignorant guides, 
 though he found no formal opposition, yet lost what re- 
 mained of his forces in detail, by skirmishing with the 
 light Turkish cavalry, who were perfectly acquainted 
 with the country, and accustomed to endure the heat of 
 the climate under which the Germans sank by squadron? 
 at a time. At length, with forces totally discouraged, 
 and greatly diminished, the German Eipperor took the 
 resolution of falling back on his friend and ally, the king 
 of Franco whose army, as yet, retained an appearance 
 of order. The two monarchs embraced with tears oi 
 
DISASTERS OF THE SEOND CRUSADE. 151 
 
 sorrow, and remained for some time unable to give \ei\\ 
 to their feelings. It was proposed they should proceed 
 in company towards Palestine. But the German troops 
 were so much reduced, that it no longer became the di(>:- 
 nity of the emperor to remain at their head ; and he took 
 the resolution of returning to Constantinople, where he 
 was more kindly received by Manuel, in his misfortunes, 
 than he had been when in his prosperity. 
 
 The route of the French army who proceeded in theit 
 undertaking, was now opposed by a serious obstacle. A 
 large army of Turks, on the opposite bank of the Maean- 
 der, lay determined to defend the passage of that river. 
 It was neither fordable, nor was there bridge, shipping, 
 or other mode of crossing. At the command of th'e king, 
 the vanguard of the French plunged gallantly into the 
 stream, and fortunately finding it shallower than had been 
 reported, half-swimming, half-dragging each other for- 
 ward, they attained the opposite bank, when the Turks, 
 too much astonished for resistance, sustained a decisive 
 and bloody defeat. Yet in the future progress of the 
 French, wherever the advantage of ground was on their 
 opponent's side, the light-armed archers of the Turkish 
 army wasted the Christians in many a bold skirmish ; so 
 that, notwithstanding their original numbers, the crusaders 
 suffered extremely ere they made any effectual progress 
 in Asia Minor. 
 
 Indeed, the battle on the Masander was the beginning, 
 and well-nigh the end, of the success of the Christians. 
 
 Tlie Saracens and the Turks had now become accus- 
 tomed to the warfare of the Latins in the Holy Land, 
 understood their mode of fighting better than in the days 
 of Godfrey of Boulogne, and shunned all encounters with 
 those iron warriors of the west and north, while they fa- 
 tigued their unwieldy strength by ambuscades, alarms, 
 skirmishes, and all the vexatious harassing of light-armed 
 troops. These important advantages, derived from expe- 
 rience, were entirely on the side of the IMahometans, for 
 the soldiers of the second crusade were as heavily armed 
 and as unacquainted with the Eastern mode of ekiimish- 
 
152 DISASTERS OF THE SECOND CRUSADE. 
 
 ing as their predecessors of the first. The infidels, un 
 the other hand, took advantage of every mistake, and on 
 one occasion liad nearly destroyed Louis and his whole 
 army. 
 
 Tlie French marcliing in two divisions, in order to croa? 
 a ridge of mountains near Laodicea, Louis, who con- 
 ducted the rear-guard in person, directed the officer who 
 led the van, to halt on the summit of the chain of hills, 
 and abide there till the second division came up. But 
 Geoffi^ey de Ran^on, who commanded this division of the 
 army, was tempted, by the supposed absence of the ene- 
 my, and the fertility of the plain beneath, to march down, 
 leaving the summit of the ridge undefended, and giving 
 the Turks, who were on the alert, an opportunity of oc- 
 cupying the passes in great force. 
 
 Thus Louis, when he had reached with the rear-guard 
 the summit of the mountain, where he expected to rejoin 
 the vanguard of his army, found himself involved in a 
 numerous ambuscade of the infidels, who attacked him 
 unexpectedly, with those dreadful yells with which it is 
 their custom to begin battle. The Christians, taken by 
 surprise, were thrown into disorder, especially as the 
 broken and craggy ground was totally unfit for the action 
 of heavy armed cavalry, which were the flower of their 
 army. The unfortunate Louis displayed great personal 
 courage, and rallied his forces by his own example. His 
 exertions were at first in vain ; for, though he forced his 
 way to the very summit of the hill, he was soon left 
 almost alone, surrounded by the enemy, many of his 
 bi'avest knights being slain at his feet. In this emer- 
 gency, finding himself at the foot of a rock, Louis climbed 
 up a tree, which grew slanting out of the face of the 
 precipice. Tlie Turks discharged their arrows against 
 him in vain ; his armour of proof kept him safe, while 
 he defended himself with his sword from the more close 
 attack of such as attempted to climb into his place of 
 refuge, lopping off their hands and heads with little diffi- 
 culty. Tlie night becoming darker, he was at lengtli 
 .eft Jilone. In the mornin"- he was extricated from his 
 
QUARRELS OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR. 153 
 
 periloas situation by the countermarch of a part of his van« 
 guard. But he had lost in this unfortunate encounter more 
 than twenty thousand men in slain, wounded, and prisoners. 
 
 The day following this disastrous action, Louis pro- 
 ceeded to Attalia, (the capi:al city of Pamphylia,) amidst 
 constant skirmishes and great hardships. The natives, 
 who were Christians, though tributary to the Turks, dared 
 neither oppose nor assist the invaders. In order to rid 
 themselves of the crusaders, they offered to convey them 
 to Antioch by sea. At Attalia, therefore, the king and 
 his nobles and knights went on shipboard and set sail for 
 the principality of Antioch, which Bohemund had found- 
 ed at the time of the first crusade, but which was now 
 ruled by Raymond de Poitiers, a Latin prince, who re- 
 ceived the king with demonstrations of the utmost respect 
 and kindness. Louis, however, regarded his attentions 
 and civility with distrust, conceiving it to be Raymond's 
 secret object to obtain the assistance of the French troops 
 in protecting and enlarging his own territory of Antioch, 
 and for that purpose to interrupt their journey to Palestine. 
 
 While the choicest part of the French army which 
 accompanied Louis himself had reached Antioch, those 
 who were left behind at Attalia, made repeated attempts 
 to rejoin their monarch, both by land and sea. They 
 were successful by neither mode of passage ; and so un- 
 fortunate was their last march, so humbled the pride and 
 resolution of the soldiers of the Cross, that three or four 
 thousand of their number not only surrendered to the 
 infidels, but embraced the Mahometan faith, and fought 
 acainst the cause they had left their country to defend. 
 The few renmants of this part of the army which reached 
 Antioch, came as stragglers, unfit for military service. 
 
 INleantime, besides the grief and mortification attending 
 these losses and misfortunes, the mind of Louis had sub- 
 jects of domestic anxiety, or at least he thought so. The 
 cond4.ict of his queon, who, as we have noticed, acconi 
 panied the crusade, became such as to give great dis- 
 pleasure to her husband. They had, as we have already 
 mentioned, been kindly received in the city of Antioch 
 7* 
 
f54 Q,UARRELS OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR. 
 
 of which Raymond de Poitiers was the sovereign. This 
 [irince was a near rehitive to the queen, and one of the 
 liandsomest and most accomplished persons of his time 
 He did his utmost to make himself agreeable to his royal 
 guests, and the French authors say, that with the queen 
 at least, he succeeded too well. Being her uncle, and a 
 married man, it is equally possible that the jealousy of 
 Louis le Jeune may have imagined grounds of suspicion 
 which had no real existence. Nevertheless, the king left 
 Antioch, and retreated to his own army, bearing his queen 
 along witli him, under such circumstances of haste and 
 concealment, as argued much doubt of the loyalty of his 
 host. Otlier historians say, that Louis enteftaiued well- 
 grounded jealotisies of a Turk, whom they call Saladin, 
 a mai\ of low rank, a minstrel, and a juggler. It is at 
 least certain that the king was jealous ; and that the 
 queen,-presumptuous and arrogant, was little disposed, in 
 her pride as a great heiress, to submit herself to his hu- 
 mour. Great animosity arose between them, and Eleanor 
 began to desire a separation, for which she founded a 
 plausible reason upon their relationship to each other, 
 being within the prohibited degrees, a pretext which the 
 Catholic Church on many occasions sanctioned as a 
 lawful cause for divorce, when the real cause was some- 
 thing very .different. Louis, a scrupulous and bigoted 
 prince, was in some degree moved by tlie conscientious 
 motives whlcli Eleanor seems only to have affected. 
 
 The bad effects of these dissensions were for some 
 time suspended, by the condition in which the royal pair 
 were placed. The King of France had still around him 
 tiie flower of his nobles and army, who had come with 
 him by sea from Attalia, while the wretched residue was 
 left to perish under the walls of that city, or in the ad- 
 jacent deserts. The assistance of Raymond had enabled 
 Louis to remount his chivalry, and he was desirous, even 
 at this late hour, to do something which should make 
 memorable his expedition to Palestine. 
 
 Having at length penetrated to Jerusalem, the French 
 monarch resolved, with the assistance of the Christians 
 
SIEGk 01 DAMASCUS 
 
 of Palestine, and the miliary orders of the Temj)le and 
 St. John, to besiege the city of Damascus, an object very 
 tar inferior to the grand scliemes which inspired his hopes 
 at the outset ; yet still a matter of consequence, and one 
 which, even in his reduced state, the power of Louis 
 was still adequate to achieve. But, by misconduct or 
 treason, the Christians were induced to abandon the 
 attack, which they had judiciously commenced on the 
 weaker side of the city and to remove their army to an- 
 other post, where it was opposed to walls of greater 
 strength, and where it was much more difficult to supply 
 the besiegers with provisions. In short, the strength of 
 the crusaders was wasted and misapplied ; success became 
 impossible, and the siege of Damascus was raised, with 
 no profit and little honour. 
 
 Repeated disasters and disappointments had now sub- 
 dued the hopes of the most sanguine of the crusaders ; 
 and all prepared to abandon an enterprise, to which, 
 though undertaken in the name and cause of religion! 
 Providence seemed to give no encouragement. 
 
 The Emperor Conrade and the remnant of his Ger- 
 mans first withdrew from the scene on which they were 
 the first to enter, and reached their own country without 
 farther disaster. Next, the French nobles began to re- 
 tire individually, or, as It were, steal back one by one 
 from the ill-omened enterprise. King Louis alone seem- 
 ed yet to nourish the lingering hope, that he might cover 
 his retreat with some action of credit, and it was not till 
 he was alarmed with tidings of commotions in France, 
 that he resolved to desert Palestine, where he had been 
 unable to acquire even a single hamlet or a foot of land. 
 Upon this pressing summons Louis returned to his king- 
 dom with the wretched remains of his arn)y, having his 
 domestic relations embittered by the most dishonourable 
 suspicions, both sources of distress flowing out of the 
 same frenzy which dictated his celebrated crusade. Yet, 
 such was the Infatuation with which the mind of Louis 
 clung to that extravagant undertaking, that, when passing 
 through Rome on L.s return from the Holy Land, he w^ 
 
156 RETURN FROM THE HOLY LAND. 
 
 earnest w:tli the Pope that he should authorize St. Ber- 
 nard of Clairvaux to preach a new crusade, \vl)ich he 
 offered to join in person with a large army, and thus to 
 renew the unhappy, expedition in which he had suffered 
 such loss of men and of reputation. From this proposa., 
 we are led to suppose, either that the conflagration and 
 massacre of Vitry had made an indelible impression on 
 the mind of Louis, or that he was naturally of a charac- 
 ter so perversely bigoted, as to siiut his eyes even against 
 that sort of experience which is bought by the most se- 
 vere sufferinor. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Divorce of Louis and his Q^ueen, Eleanor — Marriage 
 of Eleanor and Henry Plantagenet, by which her 
 Possessions ivere added to those of a powerful rival 
 of Louis — Intrigues of Louis to weaken the Power 
 of Henry — Accession of Henry to the English Throne 
 — Contract of Marriage between the son of Henry 
 and daughter of Louis — Rupture between these Mon- 
 archs on Henry^s asserting a Right to the Earldom of 
 Toulouse — Their Reconciliation — Schism concerning 
 the Election of the Pope, in which the Kings of France 
 and England espovsed the side of Alexander HI. — - 
 Odium, incurred by Henry on account of the Murder 
 of Thomas a Recket — League, with Louis at its head, 
 against Henry — The Confederates compelled to re- 
 treat — Peace concluded — Death of Louis. 
 
 The excellent administration of Suger, the Abbot of 
 St. Dennis, had maintained the affairs of Louis le Jeune 
 'n a reasonably good condition at home, notwithstanding 
 the absence of the king, with the great portion of his 
 •crces, which he had so imprudently led to the distant 
 wars of Palestine. But when the news arrived that the 
 ^hole, or almost tl)e whole, of that huge army had per 
 
DIVORCE OF LOUIS AND ELEANOR. 1 51 
 
 ished, witliout a single feat of any kind, which could add 
 jionour to their nation, excepting the single action of the 
 Maeander, the general voice of the nation accused the 
 king of incapacity ; and it was suggested, amid the burst 
 of universal discontent, that, like some of his predecessors, 
 the reio-nin": njonarch should be dethroned, and commit- 
 ted to a cloister. The Comte de Dreux, brother of 
 King Louis, who had returned from the Holy Land a 
 short time before him, had greatly contributed to the 
 increase of the national displeasure, by intrigues which 
 had for their object his brother's crown ; and it was the 
 rumour of such practices which recalled Louis from Syria, 
 after a protracted stay in tliat country. These dissen- 
 sions between the royal brothers were with some diffi- 
 culty composed, so soon as the return of Louis had ren- 
 dered the Comte de Dreux's plans desperate. But there 
 remained the rooted quarrel between the king and his 
 wealthy and haughty wife Queen Eleanor, which now be- 
 gan to assume the appearance of an open rupture. Without 
 supposing, with the French historians, that Louis had 
 actual grounds for his jealousy, it is certain he was an 
 object of personal dislike to his wife, who declared that 
 his rio;id morals and ascetic devotion were those of a monk, 
 not of a cavalier, and expressed for him an aversion 
 mingled with contempt, which, on his part, was calculated 
 to excite a strong suspicion that she entertained a prefer- 
 ence for another. Louis seems also to have shared in 
 the scruples, which Eleanor only affected, respecting 
 their too near relationship, and both the royal consorts 
 began to consider the dissolution of their marriage as de- 
 sirable on many accounts. 
 
 . The sagacious Abbot of St. Dennis foresaw, that in 
 gratifying his own and Eleanor's personal dislike, by con- 
 senting to a separation, Louis must inevitably subject him- 
 self to the necessity of restoring the ample dominions of 
 Aquitaine, which the princess had inherited from her fa- 
 ther ; and the far sighted minister might also reasonably 
 fear, that, once at libety, she might confer them, along 
 
158 ELEANOR REINVESTED HEIRESS 
 
 with lier hand, on some one wliose possession of so fair a 
 portion of the territory of France tnighl prove dangerouf* 
 to the sovereign, and that the king must, therefore, act 
 very imprudently in giving way to the restitution hy con- 
 senting to the divorce. For these reasons, the Ahbot 
 Suger bent the whole of his political genius to accommo- 
 date matters between Louis and the queen, and although 
 he was unable to accomplish the desired reconciliation, 
 he found means to prevail on them to live together on 
 decent terms, until death deprived Louis of his services. 
 
 Soon after this event, the royal pair openly declared 
 themselves desirous of a separation. In the motives al- 
 leged on the king's side, nothing was said of the reports 
 against Eleanor's character. But in secret Louis justified 
 his conduct to those who censured him for parting with 
 his wife, along with the unavoidable necessity of restoring 
 iho duchy of Aquitaine, by alleging the irregularity of hei 
 life, and dishonour of being connected with her. A coun- 
 cil of the French national church held at Baugence, 
 Laving taken cognisance of the scruples of conscience 
 entertained, or affected, by the royal pair, and having 
 considered their nearness of blood, declared their mar- 
 riage unlawful, though it had already subsisted more than 
 sixteen ye^ars, and although two daughters, who had been 
 the fruit of the union, were by the sentence rendered 
 illegitimate. The decree of the Council of Baugence, 
 was confirmed by the Pope ; and the marriage between 
 l(Ouis and Eleanor was accordingly formally annulled. 
 Louis had now ample time to remark, and perhaps to 
 reo;ret, the consequence of his im])rudence. 
 
 Eleanor was reinvested as heiress to her father in Gui- 
 enne, Gascony, Poitou, and other extensive territories be- 
 longing lo his dukedom of Aquitaine. Nevertheless, 
 though having once more the power of bestowing an am- 
 ple property with her hand, Louis flattered himself that 
 her behaviour had been so scandalous, that there was not 
 a gentleman in the kingdom so poor in fortune and spirn 
 as to take her to wife, though sure thereby to become 
 Duke of Aquitaine. He was much deceived ; for his late 
 
OF Aq,UITAINE. 159 
 
 consort had, even before her divorce was coruluded, se- 
 cured for herself a second match, and that with a prince 
 rich in present possessions, yet more so in future expecta- 
 tions ; and, what must have been peculiarly gratifying 
 to Eleanor's vindictive temper, to a prince, the increasing 
 whose strength was, in fact, the diminishing that of Louis, 
 to whom the object of her second choice was, by birth, a 
 natural opponent. In a word, the person on whom she 
 fixed her election was Henry Plaotagenet, eldest son of 
 Matilda, ?ole surviving child of Henry 1., King of Eng- 
 land, and heir to his mother's pretensions to his grand- 
 father's kingdom. 
 
 You cannot have forgotten that Henry had declared 
 Matilda, the widow of the Emperor Henry V. of Ger- 
 many, the heiress of his kingdom and strengthened her 
 right, by choosing for her second husband Geoffrey Plan- 
 tagenet, Count of Anjou. But the object of Henry 1. 
 was for some time thwarted by the ambition of Stephen, 
 Earl of Mortagne, who forcibly set aside the rights of 
 Matilda and her son, and intruded himself into the throne, 
 where, for a period of sixteen years, he supported him- 
 self by his own bravery, and the swords of a great body 
 of barons, to whom the confusion of a civil war was more 
 profitable than the good order and strict government of a 
 lawful monarch and a profound peace. In 1146, the 
 fortune of war had passed so much to Stephen's side, 
 that the Empress Matilda, with her son Henry, who 
 though a mere youth, began to show strong symptoms o( 
 the wisdom and courage which afterwards distinguished 
 him, were compelled to retreat to Normandy, which 
 Geoffrey, the husband of Matilda, and father of Henry, 
 then ruled as duke, in right of his wife. Upon the pro- 
 posal of the Earl of Anjou, that his wife and he should 
 cede their right in Normandy to their son, the King of 
 France was prevailed upon to admit young Henry as vas- 
 sal into the duchy of Normandy, on consideration of his 
 surrendeiing a frontier district of that province, called 
 the Vexin. which Louis considered as a cession of such 
 importance, that, by way of acknowledgment, he aided 
 
60 MARRIAGE OF ELEANOR 
 
 Henry with a body of troops for putting him into posses- 
 sion of the rest of tlie fief. (A D. 1150.) 
 
 Louis bad hardly received Henry Piantagenet as anew 
 vassal in the duchy of Normandy, when he had a quarrel 
 with Geoffrey, Earl of Anjou, that prince's father; and 
 repenting what he had done in Henry's belialf, he invited 
 to Normandy, Eustace, son of King Stephen, promising 
 to assist him in possessing himself of that same duchy, 
 although he had so lately granted the investiture to Henry. 
 The prudent advice of Suger, who then still lived, brought 
 about an accommodation of these perplexed aflairs. A 
 suspension of arms was agreed to ; young Eustace was 
 sent back to England, highly incensed at the usage he 
 received from Louis ; and Henry's right to Normandy 
 was once again fully recognised. 
 
 Presently after this accommodation, Geoffrey, Earl of 
 Anjou, died. To Henry he left his earldoms of Anjou, 
 Touraine, and Maine, under the condition, that in case 
 lie should obtain full possession of his mother's royal in- 
 heritance of England, he must become bound to cede the 
 French dominions of Anjou to his second brother, named 
 Geoffrey after his father., (A. D. 1151.) 
 
 Thus, at the period of the divorce of Louis, when 
 Eleanor cast her eyes upon Henry Piantagenet to be her 
 second husband, he was, in actual possession, Duke of 
 Normandy, Count of Anjou, Maine, and Touraine, and 
 therefore no unfit mate for the heiress of Aquitaine. But 
 the circumstances attending a diminution of rank from 
 that which she held in her first marriage, were mortifying, 
 to say the least. We cannot therefore doubt, that the 
 (jrilliant prospect of the crown of England, to which 
 Hemy had so just a claim, supported by a strong party 
 of friends in that kingdom, had no slight share in recom- 
 mending her second choice to the ambitious Eleanor. In 
 ather respects, there was some inequality. The bride- 
 groom was only twenty years of age ; the bride had 
 attained the riper period of thirty, and upwards. But, in 
 the case of so wealthy an hejress, Henry did not let his 
 taste for youth mterfere with his sense of interest. As 
 
AND HENRY PLANTAGENEl 161 
 
 to the scandals propagated concerning Eleanor at the 
 French court, Henry treated, or affected to treat, them 
 with an indifference and contempt^ which perhaps they 
 justly deserved. 
 
 By her union with Henry, Eleanor conferred on him 
 the two ducliies of Guienne and Gascony, with the earl- 
 dom of Poitou, and their extensive dependencies. (A» 
 D. 1152.) His subjects in these new dominions regard- 
 ed the choice of their duchess with applause ; for the 
 character of Henry, both for courage and prudence, stood 
 as high as that of any prince then living, while the mis- 
 fortunes of Louis in the crusade had tarnished his char- 
 acter ; and his simplicity in parting with Eleanor, and 
 thus throwing so rich a prize into the hands of an hered- 
 itary rival, was so generally felt, that it is said by some 
 historians, that the epithet of le Jeune, or the Young, was 
 coriferred on him for his w^ant of prudence on this occa- 
 sion, and not merely to distinguish him from his father. 
 
 The -scales fell from the eyes of Louis when he per- 
 ceived to what a height of power Henry Plantagenet had 
 been raised by this unexpected match. He became, of 
 new, impatient to weaken, or rather to ruin him. For 
 that purpose, the French King engaged in a league with 
 his brother the Earl of Dreux, with Eustace, son of 
 King Stephen, with the Earl of Blois, and with Geoffre}^ 
 Plantagenet, Henry's own brother, for the purpose of de- 
 spoiling the young Duke of Normandy of his dominions, 
 and dividing them among themselves. 
 
 But this iniquitous league had no better success than it 
 deserved. Henry at once protected his own country of 
 Normandy against the confederates by whom he was in- 
 vaded, and extinguished an insurrection which his brother 
 Geoffrey had excited in Anjou. The latter prince, whose 
 defection was equally unreasonable and unnatural, was 
 compelled to make the most humble submission. To the 
 admiration of all, Henry's conduct, notwithstanding his 
 youth, was equally marked with the political wisdom a'.id 
 sagacity which piepare for success, and with the firmness 
 950 
 
162 ACCESSION OF HENRY II OF ENGLAND. 
 
 and audacity, which seldom fail to command it. He en 
 deavoured, by every degree of decent respect and be- 
 coming moderation, to give Louis a fair pretence of with- 
 drawing from a war which had already disgusted him with 
 its want of success. But, ere the negotiation between 
 them was entirely concluded, a crisis arrived, which de- 
 manded the attention of the younger prince elsewhere 
 Henry received intelligence from England, that Walling- 
 ford Castle, the most important of those fortresses which 
 were yet held by his family partisans in that kingdom, 
 was now closely besieged by King Stephen, while the 
 governor, Brian Fitzcompte, sent word to Henry, de- 
 manding either relief, or permission to surrender the cas- 
 tle. Leaving the greater part of his forces to defend his 
 French dominions, in case of any renewed attempt from 
 the confederates, Henry embarked for England with tlnee 
 thousand infantry, and a hundred and fifty chosen knights. 
 His presence, though with so small a body of forces, re- 
 vived the spirits of his confederates. JVlalmesbury, War- 
 wick, and thirty castles of inferior strength, surrendered 
 to the son of Matilda, and grandson of Henry. The civi! 
 war was revived throughout England with fury, when it 
 was suddenly put a stop to by the death of Eustace, son 
 of Stephen. The death of this young man, for whose 
 interests, as his successor, his father Stephen had main- 
 tained the contest, removed a great impediment to peace, 
 which was accordingly concluded on moderate terms. 
 Stephen, now aged and childless, was allowed to retain 
 the crown during his lifetime, on condition that he adopt- 
 ed Henry for his son, heir and successor. This arrange- 
 ment having settled the succession of England in favour 
 of Henry, he returned to the continent with the same 
 speed with which he had come from thence, in order to 
 prepare against the attempts of Louis, who, always ma- 
 levolent to his divorced wife's second husband, was 
 threatening to renew the war in France to embarrass his 
 treaty with Stephen. For this purpose, too, the French 
 king excited commotions in Acjuitaine. These were 
 soon appeased by Henry, on his arrival, and he contrived 
 
PRUDENT POLICY OF HENRY 11. 163 
 
 by some acceptable services performed to the King of 
 FVance, in Ins quality of Duke of Normandy, to render 
 sven the suspicious Louis once more satisfied with his 
 conduct as a dutiful vassal. 
 
 Henry was soon after established on the English throne 
 by the sudden death which removed from that situation 
 his competitor, Steplien, whose whole reign had been a 
 continued civil war, which had its source in usurpation, 
 and was carried on with much fury and bloodshed, as 
 well as incalculable detriment to both the kingdoms 
 Thus possessed of as much real power, and of more 
 wealth than the King of France, Henry H., with a sagac- 
 ity which overcame all desire to display his superiority, 
 proposed a match betwixt his eldest son. Prince Henry, 
 and Margaret, daughter of Louis le Jeune, by his second 
 wife, Constantia, Princess of Castillo, whom he had mar- 
 ried, after the declaration of the Council of Baugence 
 had annulled his union with Eleanor of Aquitaine. 
 
 The prince and princess were mere children ; but it 
 was customary in those days to arrange contracts of 
 marriage betwixt persons of their station many years 
 before the age of the contracting parties permitted them 
 to be carried into effect. Henry, affecting to consider 
 himself as the honoured party in this union, lavished 
 valuable gifts on all about the French court, whose good 
 opinion or favourable sentiments could forward his nego- 
 tiation. His liberality extended itself even to the doc- 
 tors of the university of Paris, the students, and the 
 principal citizens. In every case of ceremony or eti- 
 quette, it was the policy of Henry to pay Louis the most 
 ceremonious attention ; and to disguise, under the obser- 
 vances of a respectful vassal, that formidable authority 
 which must otherwise have rendered him an object of 
 suspicion and jealousy to his lord paramount. He even 
 gratified Louis's passion for a holy war, engaging to assist 
 that monarch with all his forces, in a crusade to be diiect- 
 ed not against the infidels of the east, but for the pur 
 pose of driving the Moors out of Spain. Henry, how- 
 ever, who only mee^t to flatter the King of Fiance- 
 
164 HENRY LAYS CLAIM 
 
 Bxiricated bimsel{*from the execution of his engageinent^ 
 by persuading Pope Adrian, with whom he had secret 
 influence, to express disapprobation of the undertaking. 
 
 But w^hile punctihously accurate in rendering all re- 
 spectful homage to Louis as his sovereign, the English 
 monarch was cautiously enlarging his own territories, and 
 adding to his real power. He exerted authoritatively his 
 rights as lord paramount over Bretagne, which, since the 
 time of Rollo, had been a feudal dependence on Nor- 
 mandy, and he negotiated for a fresh surrender of the 
 Vexin, that district which his mother Matilda had yielded 
 up to Louis as the price of his own first investiture of the 
 dukedom. This strong frontier he stipulated should be 
 the dowery of the Princess Margaret. And in other 
 cases where actual power could be attained, or a desira- 
 ble object of ambition offered itself, Henry never allowed 
 this ceremonious deference to the will of his superior to 
 interfere for an instant with its gratification. Thus, in 
 1159, the King of England resolved to assert a pretended 
 right to the city and earldom of Toulouse, as a fief and 
 dependency of the dukedom of Aquitaine, which had 
 been pledged to the present earl by Queen Eleanor's 
 father, and which, in quality of her husband, he now set 
 up a right to redeem. This claim, weak in point of 
 justice, he resolved to make good with the arms of Nor- 
 mandy, Guienne, and England. Raymond, Count of Tou- 
 ouse, the crown vassal, thus threatened, applied to the 
 King of France, whose sister he had married; for protec- 
 tion against a prince, whose forces he was unable to 
 resist ; and Louis, on offering his interposition, was 
 startled to find that Henry, so deferential and tracta- 
 ble in matters of small importance, was pertinacious 
 in an equal degree in objects of magnitude. , Louis 
 had nearly been convinced of the real character of his 
 vassal in a manner highly un pleasing. Determined to 
 support Count Raymond against Henry, the King of 
 France threw himself into the city of Toulouse, v.'ith 
 a handful of soldiers, tiustinc^ tliat veneral.'on for his 
 
TO TOULOUSE. 165 
 
 perio 1 would withhold his vassal from any attempt on the 
 city where lie raised his own standard. Henry's forces 
 were in readiness for the siege, and most likely lie might 
 by a sudden attack, have made himself master of Toulouse^ 
 and of the person of Louis, thus imprudently hazarded 
 within it. The question was debated in Henry's council, 
 when some statesmen insisted on the sanctimonious re- 
 spect which was due to the lord paramount. They were 
 answered by the unscrupulous Becket, then chancellor, 
 and a favourite minister of Henry : " Advance banners," 
 said he, " my noble liege, the King of France laid aside 
 his title to your obedience as a vassal, the instant he lev- 
 elled a spear against you." Henry listened with a long- 
 ing disposition to follow the uncompromising advice of 
 the daring statesman. But he reflected that he was him 
 self at the head of an army assembled only by his feudal 
 power, and that it would be perilous to show in his own 
 person any contempt for that fealty to the superior, upon 
 which his own authority rested. There was also to be 
 considered the risk of offending all the crown vassals of 
 France, who were likely to witness with resentment the 
 imprisonment of their common liege lord the king, by one 
 of their own number. Upon the whole, with that exquis- 
 ite prudence which regulated Henry's conduct, he turned 
 reluctantly aside from the siege of Toulouse, alleging as 
 a motive the respect he entertained for the person of the 
 lord paramount, who was within the city. (A.D. 1159.) 
 Louis v;as flattered by his moderation, and peace was 
 shortly afterwards made, on condition of Henry retaining 
 considerable conquests, made at the expense of the Count 
 of Toulouse, to whom he granted, at the request, as he 
 carefully stated, of the King of France, a truce for the 
 short space only of one single year. 
 
 The two monarchs were so thoroughly reconciled, as 
 to admit of their acting in concert concerning a matter of 
 great importance to Christianity. You are to understand, 
 that the Emperor of Germany had down to this period 
 always claimed the right of nominating, or, at least of 
 confirming, the appointment of the Popes to the Bishop- 
 
166 DISPUTED ELECTION OF POPE. 
 
 lie of Rome. This high privilege they exercised, as it 
 descended to tliem with the empire of Charlemagne. Il 
 was often disputed by the Popes, who were extremely 
 desirous to depriv^e a laic prince of a privilege which they 
 alleged was inconsistent with the liberties of the church, 
 and contended that the election of the Pope lay in the 
 choice of the College of Cardinals. By their obstinate 
 opposition, supported by many wars, the popes had de- 
 prived the emperor of almost all vestige of this privilege. 
 But a double and disputed election having occurred in 
 1160, (A.D.,) the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa took 
 upon him so far the right of his ancestors, as to summon 
 a council of the church to determine which of the two 
 candidates, Alexander 111. or Victor IV., was lawfully 
 elected to the Holy See. Frederick declared in favour 
 of Victor, which induced the kings of France and Eng- 
 land, jealous of so high an exertion of authority on the 
 part of Germany, to espouse the cause of his opponent. 
 Their favoured candidate Alexander came in person to 
 France, where he found Henry and Louis in arms to de- 
 fend his cause, in case the emperor should attempt to 
 support Victor by force. The two kings received him 
 with the respect due to the head of the church, that is, 
 with tokens of the utmost deference. They walked in 
 person each by a stirrup of the pontiff's saddle, as he 
 rode towards a magnificent tent, in which he was accom- 
 modated. '' It was a sight," says the Catholic historian 
 Baronius, " for God, angels, and men, — a triumph such 
 as had never before been seen in this world." Alexan- 
 der afterwards held a great council of the church at the 
 city of Tours. But the emperor, and the kings of the 
 north of Europe, remained determined in their election 
 of Victor, and the schism that arose from the dispute di- 
 vided Christendom into two factions, and deluged Italy 
 with blood. Alexander was so far grateful to his adher- 
 ents, that he lent his intercession to place on a surer 
 footing than it had yet assumed, the peace between the 
 two kin.qs. 
 
THOMAS A BECKET. 167 
 
 Hitberto tliere had been little sincerity In the aj^parent 
 good undc-standing between Henry and Louis, and we 
 have mentioned many wars between them, interrupted by 
 truces, which thougli the patience and prudence of Henry 
 sometimes soothed Louis's suspicions for a time, never, 
 or seldom, failed to be succeeded by new subjects of dis- 
 agreement. In all these disputes, Henry, more prudent, 
 more wealthy, above all, more fortunate, had either by 
 war or negotiation, or both, enlarged his own territories at 
 the expense of those of Louis. But in the latter part of 
 this great king's life, the clouds of adversity seemed to 
 gather round him, and fortune, as is frequently the case, 
 turned from him when his hairs became grey. A very 
 serious part of Henry D's. misfortunes arose from his 
 disputes with his ancient minister and favourite, Thomas 
 a Becket. 
 
 This wily churchman had been able to conceal his real 
 character from Henry, by appearing in an assumed one 
 while serving as his chancellor, very nearly after the 
 manner in which the English monarch himself had occa- 
 sionally persuaded Louis that he was a faithful and de- 
 voted vassal to the French crown. At this period, as we 
 liave partly seen, the See of Rome was making the widest 
 and most fatal encroachments upon the authority of the 
 temporal princes of Europe, and Henry was naturally 
 desirous of making the best stand he yet could against 
 the extravagant claims of the Church of Rome. It was 
 of the utmost consequence in this species of contest, 
 that the see of Canterbury should be filled by a prelate 
 favourable to the monarch, and willing to countenance 
 his interests in any discussions he might have with the 
 Pope. Henry thought, therefore, that when the Arch- 
 bishopric of Canterbury became vacant by the death of 
 the incumbent Theobald, he could not secure his own in- 
 terest better, than by raising his chancellor, Becket, to 
 i;hat situation. This ninister had always seemed to pos- 
 sess the manners of a soldier, a statesman, and a poli- 
 tician, rather than of a churchman. We have already 
 seen, that he entertained no scruples in advising the king 
 
IG8 ELEVATION, AND DEATH 
 
 to bold and arbitrary measures against his lord paramount, 
 Louis; and, judging from his conduct before Toulouse, 
 Henry expected from him no opposition to his will in 
 matters where a more zealous primate might, perhaps, 
 have given him trouble, by interference in any differences 
 which might arise with the Pope. 
 
 But no sooner had the king, with considerable diffi- 
 culty, obtained the election of his favourite to tlie arch- 
 bishopric, by tlie monks of Canterbury and the suffragan 
 bishops of that see, than he was presently satisfied what 
 an unhappy choice he had made of the head of the An- 
 glican church. Becket, who had hitherto concealed 
 under a cloak of apparent loyalty and devotion to his 
 sovereign, as much ambition as ever animated the breast 
 of a proud man, now affected an extremity of zeal for 
 the riglits and privileges of the Church of Rome, as the 
 mode by which he intended to rise to the dignity, per- 
 haps, of the papal tiara itself, and distinguished himself 
 by the audacity which he displayed on all possible ques 
 lions in which he could assert the immunities of the 
 church against the prerogative of the king. The par- 
 ticulars of their various and obstinate quarrels must be 
 looked for in the history of England, where it forms an 
 interesting page, and not in that of France, which we 
 are now engaged with. Suffice it to say in this place, 
 that Tfiomas a Becket having carried to the uttermost his 
 opposition to the king's authority, Henry, whose temper 
 was impatient and hasty, was at last induced to express 
 himself thus inconsiderately : — '' Have I no faithful ser- 
 vant who will rid me of this upstart and arrogant priest?'* 
 Four knights of his royal household, men habituated to 
 blood and slaughter, caught at the hint contained, as they 
 apprehended, in these rash words. They rode to Can- 
 terbury, and after some exchange of threatening language, 
 slew the archbishop at the foot of the high altar, where 
 be was officiating 
 
 Althoucrh the kino; had no concern in this rash and 
 desperate action, excepting the blame of having spoken 
 inadvertently the rash words by which it was occasioned. 
 
OF BECKEl'. 169 
 
 te suffeied th^ whole evil consequences which could have 
 attached to the voluntary author and instigator of sucli 
 an impiety. The cruelty of the actors was compared 
 with the courage of the sufferer, who, whether sustained 
 by his personal courage, or by the sincere belief that he 
 was acting in the faithful discharge of his duty, had dis- 
 played tlie most undaunted composure throughout the 
 whole bloody transaction. Superstition added to tlie 
 terrors of the deed, and Becket was pronounced, not 
 merely an innocent churchman, slain In defence of the 
 privileges of his order, but a pious saint, who had been 
 murdered in the cause of Heaven and Christianity. The 
 credulity or the craft of the monks, his contemporaries, 
 saw in their late suffering brother a glorified martyr, at 
 whose tomb, and at the place where he was slain, the 
 sick were cured, the blind received sight, and the lame 
 walked. All these gross exaggerations were believed at 
 the time, and the king was overwhelmed by the torrent 
 of odium which he sufiered on account of Becket's death, 
 insomuch that he was fain to yield up the honourable, 
 manly, and able defence, which he bad hitherto made 
 against the papal usurpations, in order to obtain a recon- 
 ciliation with the church on the most unfavourable con- 
 ditions. 
 
 By these articles, the king was obliged to pay a large 
 sum of money, and engage in a crusade against the infi- 
 dels, either in Palestine or Spain ; above all, to permit, 
 what he had hitherto strongly resisted, an appeal to the 
 Pope in all things ecclesiastical. He became bound to 
 restore the friends of Becket to his favour, and finally, to 
 discharge a most humiliating and disgraceful penance, in 
 evidence of his sorrow for the rash words which proved 
 the cause of the murder. 
 
 Louis, King of France, was not idle during an interval 
 when his ancient enemy's usual good fortune seemed to 
 desert him, and when the boasted sagacity of Henry ap- 
 peared entangled with embarrassments, from which it 
 Eoul 1 not extricate him. The French king was neither 
 8 \oi I. 4th Ser. 
 
!7U DISSENSIONS IN HENRl's FAMILY. 
 
 slow in seeking out a just cause of quarrel, nor in tlie 
 cfioice of means by which to prosecute it. He at first 
 [pretended displeasure against Henry for having caused 
 his eldest son to be crowned in England as successor to 
 that kingdom, vvliile the wife of that young prince, Mar- 
 garet, Princess of France, was still in her native country. 
 Hut Henry deprived Louis of that pretence for a rupture, 
 by expressing his willingness to repeat the ceremony of 
 coronation. 
 
 The King of France then adopted a more subtle, but 
 certainly most unjustifiable mode of assailing an adversary 
 who had proved too powerful for him while he followed 
 the ordinary rules of open hostility. Louis requested 
 the presence of his daughter and his son-in-law, the 
 younger Hrnry, for some time at the French court. The 
 English princes of the Norman race were never remark- 
 able for domestic affection ; and, from the time of the 
 Conqueror downward, it had been no unusual thing in 
 that house to see the son in arms against the father. 
 Louis, therefore, found no great difficulty in insinuating 
 into the mind of the younger Henry, that his father kept 
 ihe throne too long, and did not indulge him, though 
 crowned, with a sufficient share of independent power. 
 When the young prince returned to England, he instilled 
 the same spirit of unnatural ambition into his brothers, 
 Richard (afterw^ards the renowned Coeur de Lion,) and 
 Geoffi-ey ; John, the fourth and youngest brother, was not 
 of age to take a share in the family quarrel. But Queen 
 Eleanor, the mother of the princes, had been for some 
 time dissatisfied with the share which the king allow-ed 
 to her in his counsels and affections ; and as we have al- 
 ready alluded to her arrogant and vindictive disposition, 
 you must not wonder if she took all the means in her 
 power to inflame the bad passions of her three elder sonSj 
 and induce them to unite in a league with the King of 
 France against their father. 
 
 The pretext used by Louis le Jeune for thus setting 
 up the title of the son against the father, was, that when 
 Henry called the young king, was crowned, Henry U, 
 
CONFEDERACY AGAINST HE^RY II. HI 
 
 was, oy the same ceremony, deprived of tne sovereign 
 power, which was thereby transferred to his son. Yet 
 Louis knew, that the coronation of a son during his fath- 
 <?r's hfetime was by no means to be understood as infer- 
 ring the vacation of the throne on the part of the latter, 
 but only an acknowledgement of the son's right in the 
 suce(?ssion to the authority which the father continued to 
 hold during his life. 
 
 The Kino of Scotland was en<ranjed in the same con- 
 
 O GO 
 
 federacy, and several of the great barons of England were 
 ripe for rebellion. This formidable league was entered 
 into at a time when Henry was on the worst terms with 
 the Pope, and odious to all the priest-ridden part of his 
 subjects, on account of the death of Becket. It was even 
 thought, so general w^as the disaffection, that Henry 11. 
 would have had difficulty in raising an army among his 
 feudatories. But he had been a prudent economist, and 
 now made the treasures he had amassed the means of 
 saving his throne at this conjuncture, without trusting to 
 those vassals who might have betrayed his cause. He 
 hired a large body of German mercenaries, men who now 
 for many years had gained a living by their swords, and 
 who were ready to embrace the cause of any prince in 
 Europe w^ho required their services, and was willing to 
 pay for them. 
 
 At the head of these forces, and seconded by his own 
 admirable rapidity of action, which was so great, that 
 his antagonist, Louis, confessed that the English prince 
 seemed rather to fly, than to sail or to march, Henry took 
 the field. He opposed himself every where to his ene- 
 mies, defeated the rebels, and, offering battle to the great 
 head of the confederacy, had the pleasure to see Louis 
 le Jeune retreat before him, with much abatement o/ 
 honour. Henry brought his mind also, in the midst of 
 these difficulties, to submit to the most degrading pari 
 of the penance inflicted on account of Becket's death , 
 not, we may well suppose, that so wise a prince could 
 really have entertained compunction for the very slight 
 share which he had in the d( ath of a rebellious and tur 
 
l72 PENANCE PERFORMED BY HENRY II 
 
 bulent priest, but because he was aware of the in.erest 
 ho would gain in the hearts of his people, by their sup- 
 posing him fully reconciled with Heaven, for what they 
 considered a great crime. 
 
 When the king came within sight of the tower of the 
 Cathedral of Canterbury, he distnounted from horseback, 
 and proceedea to the shrine of Becket, barefooted, over 
 a flinty road, which he stained with his blood. When he 
 kneeled before the tomb of his old enemy, whose life had 
 cost him so much trouble, and whose death had been vet 
 a deeper source of embarrassment, he submitted to ho 
 publicly scourged by the monks of the convent, and bv 
 other churchmen present, from each of whom he received 
 three or four stripes on his bare shoulders. In conse- 
 quence of these, and other austere penances, Henry in- 
 curred a short fit of illness. 'But he appears to have 
 conceived that he had entirely reconciled himself with 
 Thomas a Becket ; for, as that person became rather b 
 fashionable saint in foreign countries, Henry, on more 
 than one occasion, accompanied to the shrine several per- 
 sons of high rank, who came from the continent to wor- 
 ship there, acting thus as a sort of master of ceremonies 
 to his former chancellor, whom, indeed, he had the prin- 
 cipal hand in raising to his state of beatitude." Notwith- 
 standing all this apparent sid:)mission, Henry retained in 
 prixate his own opinion on Becket's conduct. A bishop 
 having rashly and hastily excommunicated one of his no- 
 bles, the king advised his prelates to avoid precipitance 
 on such occasions. " There may be more bishops killed 
 for their arrogance," said the king, significantly, " than 
 the calendar of saints can find room for." 
 
 To Louis le Jeune, who was soon tired of wars, if long 
 protracted and unsuccessful, it appeared that the good 
 fortune? of Henry was returning in its usual high tide, and 
 it was consistent with his own character, to ascribe it to 
 the reconciliation of his enemy with Thomas a Becket. 
 It is certain that, a very few days after his penance. 
 Henry received tidings of an action near Durham, in 
 wlich William, King of Scotland, became prisoner to iiis 
 
Louis's proposal of a crusade. 173 
 
 hvFfthern barons ; and, in the very same year, Louis had 
 himself a nearer instance of Henry's reviving good for- 
 tune, when the Enghsh monarch reheved Rouen, then 
 lilosely besieged, and compelled the joint armies of France 
 and Flanders to retire from before it. 
 
 This chain of events had a practical effect upon the 
 king of France. He sent ambassadors to treat for peace, 
 to which Henry, satisfied with his success, and conscious 
 at what risk he had won it, willingly assented. He set- 
 tled liberal appanages upon the tliree young princes, 
 Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey, and endeavoured to securo 
 their affections in future, by even profuse allowances ol 
 domains and revenues. 
 
 The greatest satisfaction which Louis received from a 
 peace, in which all the objects for which the war was un- 
 dertaken were relinquished, was the hope that Henry 
 might be induced to join him in a mutual crusade ; so 
 fondly was his imagination, though now that of an aged 
 man, bent upon the subject which had occupied his youth. 
 Henry, on his part, was under the necessity of apparently 
 consenting to tliis wild proposal ; for it was a part of tlie 
 penance enjoined him for the death of Becket, that he 
 should take the cross and pass to the Holy Land, when- 
 ever commanded to do so by the Pope. The Pontiff, 
 therefore, having joined the solicitation of Louis, it was 
 not in the Kin^ of Endand's choice to evade the sum- 
 mons. Regulations were accordingly adopted between 
 the two monarchs, for arranging their mutual relations, in 
 the manner most suitable to the success of their under- 
 taking. There is little doubt, however, that Henry, 
 though the authority of the Pope was at present too 
 great to be openly disputed, was secretly determined to 
 take every opportunity, or pretext, that might occur, to 
 postpone, and finally to evade, carrying into actual effect 
 this useless and perilous expedition. 
 
 The French King, on the contrary, was perfectly se- 
 fious in his idea of renewing conjoined with Henry, the 
 rash ^nd ruinous attempt o his youth, and was deter« 
 
174 CORONATION OF PHILIP, 
 
 mined to provide for the government of his kingdom in 
 his absence, by crowning his son Philip, a youth of the 
 highest expectations, as his associate and successor in tlie 
 French throne. 
 
 A singular circumstance prevented the ceremony : The 
 young prince, Philip, who was to be the principal actor 
 in it, was separated from his attendants, while on a hunt- 
 ing party, in the Forest of Compeigne, lost his way 
 among tlie wild and solitary woods, and wandered there 
 dll night. The youth was exhausted by fatigue, and se- 
 verely affected by the agony of mind which he had 
 undergone. The consequence was a dangerous illness. 
 The remedies of Louis le Jeune, for every emergency, 
 were always tinged with superstition ; and, in the hope 
 of aiding his son's recovery, he vowed a pilgrimage to 
 the popular shrine of Thomas a Becket, where he paid 
 his devotions with valuable offerings, and, among others, 
 a grant to the convent of a hundred tuns of French wine 
 annually, — an acceptable provision, no doubt, for the 
 comfort of the monks. (A. D. 1179.) He instantly 
 returned to France, and was escorted by King Henry, as 
 far as Dover. On reaching home, he found his son re- 
 covered, the renown of which greatly added to the resort 
 of pilgrims to the tomb of Thomas a Becket. 
 
 The sickness was, however, only transferred from the 
 son to the father, for Louis himself was struck with a 
 palsy. The coronation of Philip took place soon after- 
 wards, though his father could not be present, and it was 
 remarkable that Pbilip, weak from his late illness, being 
 oppressed with the weight of the crown, Henry the young- 
 er, of England, lent his assistance to support it upon the 
 young kmg's head. With what internal feelings he might 
 perform this feudal service, may be at least doubtful ; for, 
 in case of the death of this, the only son of Louis le 
 Jeune, the same Prince Henry, if his wife, Margaret, 
 should be found capable of succession, was next heir to 
 the crown he sustained, at his brother-in-law's coronation. 
 In the next year, Louis le Jeune died. (A. D. 1180.) 
 He was a prince of many excellent personal qualities 
 
AND DEATH OF LOUIS LE JEUNE. lib 
 
 Didve, well-meaning, temperate, and honest ; but he was 
 neither a general nor a politician, and his devotion was 
 of so superstitious a character, that, while his conscience 
 scrupled to transgress the most trivial forms, he could, on 
 the first important occasion, if policy seemed to rende* 
 it advantageous, break his faith without scruple, in mat* 
 lars of the most weighty moral obligation* 
 
176 CHARACTER OF PHIMF 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 ^(cession, and wise Measures of Philip — Death of 
 Henry of England, and Accession of Richard C(£ur 
 de Lion — Philip and Richard unite in a Crusade to 
 the Holy Land — State of the East at this period — 
 Siege of Acre — Dissensions among the Leaders of 
 the Crusade — Philip^s return to Europe — Splendid 
 Achievements of Richard — his Recall to Europe — 
 kis Imprisonment, and Liberation — his War with 
 Philip, and Death — Accession of John — Philip^ s 
 double Marriage — Cruelty of John in suppressing an 
 Insurrection of his jYepheiv Arthur in Guienne — the 
 aggrieved Parties complain to Philip, who takes the 
 field, and deprives John of the whole of his pos- 
 sessions in France — In consequence of this success, 
 Philip gains the title of Augustus, and resolves to 
 conquer England — Dispute between John and the 
 Pope — Philip declares himself the Champion of the 
 Pope, and assembles a large Army to invade England 
 — John^s submission to the Pope — Philip turns his 
 arms against Flanders, but is worsted — Confederacy 
 against the increasing power of France, between King 
 John, the Emperor Otho, and the Earls of Flanders, 
 Boulogne, Toulouse, and Auvergne — Defeat of the 
 Allies at Bouvines — Philip^s Treatment of his Pris- 
 oners — Truce with England — Crusades against the 
 Albigenses — Unpopularity of King John — The Bar- 
 ons of England, offer to transfer their Allegiance to 
 Louis ^ the son of Philip — Louisas Invasion of Eng- 
 land—Death of John, and Accession of Henry HI. 
 • — Defeat of Louis at Lincoln — He withdraws his 
 claim to England, and, retiring to France, engages 
 in a Crusade against the Albigenses — Death of Philip. 
 
 Philip, the son of Louis le JpAine, was a prince pos- 
 eessmg so many kingly qualities, that; in French history 
 
JESTERS EXPELLED FROM COURT. 171 
 
 ne is distinguished from other monarchs of the same 
 name, by the imperial title of Augustus ; and not unjust- 
 ly, since it was chiefly by his means that the royal house 
 of France recovered that influence in their empire which, 
 during the life of Louis, had been in a great measure 
 overshaded by the predominance of the house of Anjou, 
 whose power, carefully augmented by the wisdom of 
 Henry 11., had placed that monarch in the situation rather 
 of a rival than a vassal of the King of France. On 
 Philip's accession to the throne, he was not yet fifteen 
 years of age ; and it is probable he felt that his extreme 
 youth, joined to the feebleness of his father's character, 
 was likely to render the authority of the crown contempti- 
 ble, unless respect was to be ensured to it by the firm- 
 ness and gravity of the prince who wore it. 
 
 Accordingly, the first public measure of Philip was 
 one of a more severe character than could have been 
 expected from so young a monarch. All jesters, jugglers, 
 and buffoons, whose idle occupation it was to encourage 
 dissipation and misuse of time, were banished from the 
 court by a solemn edict, which the king caused to be 
 rigorously enforced. By this his people learned that 
 their young king proposed to assume the masculine gravity 
 of a more advanced age, and remove from about his per- 
 son all incentives to the light taste and unprofitable follies 
 of youth. 
 
 In another of his early measures, Philip consulted, In 
 an eminent degree, the advantage of his subjects and 
 realm. The constant wars of France, a country w4iich 
 seldom remained at rest for a year together, without the 
 assemoling of forces upon some pretence or other, had 
 given occasion to the association of numerous vagrant 
 bands of men^ whose profession was arms, a^d who, 
 without any regard to the cause in w^hich they served, 
 or the monarch to whom they rendered obedience, were 
 ready to engage their skill and valour in behalf of any 
 prince who was willing to employ them. They were, 
 generally, experienced and approved soldiers, and jiiqued 
 themselves on maintaining strict fidelity during the terms 
 951 
 
178 DISPERSION OF MERCENABIES. 
 
 of their engagement, and serving with loyalt} the prince 
 to whom they were hired. Such mercenaries, were, 
 therefore, a needful but perilous resource during this time 
 of constant war, and even the politic and sagacious Henry 
 II., when hard pressed by the league formed against him 
 by Louis le Jeune, found his safety in recruiting his e-s 
 hausted army with great numbers of these mercenaiy 
 bands. But although a necessary, at least a prompt and 
 useful resource to princes in time of war, nothing could 
 be more oppressive to the people in the season of peace, 
 than the existence of numerous bands of various nations 
 leading an idle and dissolute life, at the expense of the 
 oppressed peasantry, and breaking every law of regulat- 
 ed society, without a possibility of bringing them to jus- 
 tice except by a pitched battle. Where their depredations 
 were withstood, they naturally drew their bands closer 
 together, laid the country under contribution, and obliged 
 the cities, on peril of assault and pillage, to pay large 
 sums for their maintenance. These troops of lawless dep- 
 redators were distinguished by the names of Cotteraux, 
 Brabangons, Routiers, and Tavardins. Philip commanded 
 his soldiers to assist the burghers of the good towns 
 against these disorderly freebooters, and he himself en- 
 gaged and defeated them in one great action, in which 
 nine thousand were slain in the battle and flight. By 
 these exertions, this wasting plague of the country was 
 in a great measure checked and reformed, although it 
 continued to be an existing grievance until a much later 
 period of French history. 
 
 With the same attention to the public advantage, Philip 
 compelled the citizens of the large towns to pave their 
 streets, and to surround their cities with walls and forti- 
 fications, so as to ensure the power of repulsing the at- 
 tacks of these roving brigands. The burghers disliked 
 the expense of labour and treasure laid out upon this im- 
 portant object. But the king in person made a circuit 
 around the cities of his kingdom, to enforce the execution 
 of his wholesome edicts, and at the same time reduced to 
 order such of the nobility, as, availing themselves of the 
 
•)EATfl OF HENRY S ELDEST SON. V79 
 
 late king's illness, had been guilty of usurpation upon 
 each other, or encroachment on the authority of the 
 sovereign. 
 
 The measures he pursued for the public good, gave a 
 favourable character to the reign of Philip Augustus. His 
 intercourse with his contemporary princes was not so uni- 
 formly praiseworthy. 
 
 It must be supposed, that Henry of England entertained 
 no small .apprehension of the increasing influence of a 
 young prince, who, with better judgment than his father 
 Louis, entertained the same jealousy of the overgrown 
 power of his vassal of Normandy. These apprehensions 
 became yet more alarming, when the king of England 
 found that his children, Henry, Richard, and GeofFrey, to 
 whom John, the youngest of the brethren, now joined 
 himself, were engaged in intrigues with the King of 
 France, in order to obtain a portion of Henry's English 
 dominions, as a reward for lending their assistance to 
 Philip, to strip their father of the whole. Embarrassing 
 as were these unnatural cabals, the manner in which the 
 King of England was freed from them in the case of 
 Henry, his eldest son, was yet more afflicting to the father. 
 An express brought the news that his son had indeed re- 
 pented of his filial ingratitude ; but it was coupled with 
 the tidings that the youth lay on his death-bed, and im- 
 plored his father's blessing and forgiveness. So great 
 was the king's suspicion of those about the younger 
 Henry, that h^ was afraid to intrust his royal person in 
 their hands, even on this pressing occasion. Controlling, 
 therefore, his desire to fly to the sick-bed of his son, the 
 king sent him his pardon, his blessing, and a ring of gold, 
 as a well-known token to assure him of both. The dying 
 penitent, to show the sincerity of his repentance, tied a 
 halter about his neck, arrayed himself in sackcloth, and 
 commanded himself to be stretched upon a layer of 
 ashes, and in this manner expired. (A D. 1183.) 
 
 The aged king swooned away three times upon hearing 
 of the death of ms son, and broke mto the most unbounded 
 lamentations. Besides the strength of natural affection, 
 
180 CAUSES OB^ DISCONTENT BETWEEN 
 
 Henry, doubtless, considered his eldest son, whtn lie 
 should be recalled to the obedience he owed his father, 
 as the most likely to assert and maintain his high place as 
 a vassal of the French crown. He had by no means the 
 bame confidence in the talents of his other sons, and was 
 thus altogether inconsolable for the death of his eldest 
 born. 
 
 New wars and misunderstandings between France and 
 England arose on a pretence not of an upright nature, on 
 the part of H^nry. Adelaide, sister to Philip, King of 
 France, had been for some time residing at the court of 
 England, under the paction that she was to be united to 
 Richard, now the eldest surviving son of Henry II. But 
 for some reasons, not now easily ascertained, the King of 
 England repeatedly postponed the marriage, so as to bring 
 himself under the suspicion that he entertained a passion 
 for the young princess, neither agreeable to his under- 
 standing or years. King Philip now demanded at the 
 sword's point the settlement of his sister's marriage. 
 Other causes of discontent constantly arising between so 
 powerful a superior and so haughty a vassal, exasperated 
 the dispute on both sides ; nor did the talents of Henry, 
 whom age had somewhat deprived of his activity, preserve 
 the same ascendence over the youthful Philip, which they 
 had exercised over his father Louis le Jeune. The en- 
 gagement by which both monarchs were bound to embark 
 in a joint crusade, suspended the progress of their private 
 wars. But, notwithstanding, a singular incident showed 
 how inveterate was the quarrel between their subjects as 
 well as themselves. (A. D. 1188.) 
 
 The monarchs had met in a personal conference in a 
 p ain near Gisors, the frontier of their dominions, desti- 
 tute of shade, except that of a single venerable elm tree, 
 which grew on the Norman side of the boundary. The 
 sun was burning hot ; but instead of admitting his liege 
 sovereign, the King of France, to a share of the shadow 
 of the elm-tree, Henry, with less than his usual courtesy, 
 protected himself and his party from the heat under tho 
 boughs, from which they excluded Philip and his fallow- 
 
HENRY AND PHILIP. 181 
 
 eis. The French, incensed at thi? assumption of supe- 
 riority, though in a matter so trifling, and farther pro- 
 voked by the raillery of Henry's attendants, suddenly 
 charged the English sword in hand. Henry escaped with 
 difficulty to the castle of Gisors, several of his attendantfi 
 were slain in his defence, and Philip caused the elm to be 
 cut down, in token of his victory. In other actions, though 
 of slight importance, Philip also gained some superiority; 
 the rather that Richard tlie son of Henry, desirous of be- 
 ing wedded to the Princess Adelaide, took part with the 
 King of France against his father. Henry's youngest 
 soi:, John, proved also disobedient, like his other children, 
 but in a more unprovoked and unjustifiable degree. The 
 King of England's health was innovated upon by defeats 
 and disgraces, to which his earlier years had been alto- 
 o-ether strano-ers. His feelino^s were racked by the sense 
 of his children's ingratitude, and his body at the same 
 time attacked by a fever. On his death-bed, he declared 
 that Geoffrey, his natural son, whom he had created 
 chancellor, was the only one of his family who had acted 
 towards him uniformly with filial respect and obedience. 
 Jn this melanclioly state, grief and mortification aided the 
 progress of the fever which raged in his veins ; and the 
 death of this great and intelligent prince removed from 
 the growing and increasing power of Philip one of the 
 greatest obstacles to the success of his reign. 
 
 The King of France, relieved from one of his most 
 constant enemies, now formed a close alliance with Rich- 
 ard, (called, from his courage, Coeur de Lion,) who suc- 
 ceeding to King Henry's crown, and full of youthful love 
 of adventure, made himself a voluntary party to the fatal 
 expedition for the restoration of the fallen kingdom of 
 Jerusalem, which his father had engaged in so unwillingly, 
 and so frequently postponed. Philip of France read"ly 
 adopted him as brother and companion of his enterpris3. 
 The characters of these kings had a near resemblance to 
 each other. Both were brave, skilful in war, ambitious, 
 md highly desirous of honour. Both also appear to have 
 
i82 
 
 RICHARD CCEUR DE LION 
 
 Dten, upon religious principle, sincerely bent upon thei. 
 romantic expedition. But the character of Richard united 
 the most desperate courage with the extremity of rashness 
 and obstinacy, which reduced his feats of valour to the 
 extravagant and useless exploits of an actual madman ; 
 whereas Philip combined caution and policy with a high 
 pitch of valour, and was by far a more able monarch ihao 
 his rival, though displaying in a less degree the qualities 
 of a knight of romance. 
 
 The armies of the confederate princes rendezvoused at 
 Lyons, where Philip took tlie road to Italy, by crossing 
 the Alps, in order to embark at Genoa, while Richard, 
 with his host, took shipping at Marseilles. 
 
 At the time when the two most powerful nations of 
 Christendom took arms for the rescue of Palestine, a 
 country which their superstitions rendered so important 
 to them, the fragments of the kingdom of Godfrey of 
 Boulogne were fast disappearing from their sight. Sala- 
 din, King, or Sultan, of Egypt, a prince as brave and far 
 more cool-headed and sagacious than either of the Chris- 
 tian kings-errant who came to attack him, and rescue 
 Palestine from his victorious sabre, had made an eminently 
 successful war against the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem. 
 His power had been by degrees accumulating, and the 
 power of an Eastern despot must usually bear a propor- 
 tion to his military talents. Saladin's, therefore, was 
 considerable. He had made himself master of Egypt, 
 and great part of Syria, and pretexts could never be 
 wanting to assail the kingdom of Jerusalem itself, since, 
 besides the professed animosity between the followers of 
 Christianity and of Mahometanism, Saladln had to com- 
 plain of the aggressions of a freebooting Christian baron, 
 named Reginald de Chattlllon, who had seized a fortress 
 on the verge of the desert, from which he pillaged the 
 Eastern caravans, and interrupted the pious journey of 
 the Mahometan pilgrims to the tomb of their prophet at 
 jMecca. Jerusalem, torn to pieces by intestine divisionSj 
 seemed to be tottering to its fall, when Saladln entered 
 into Palestine at the head of eighty thousand men. Guy 
 
SIEGE OF ACRE. 18<S 
 
 of Lusignan, a prince of no talents, had succeeded to the 
 crown of thorns. He raised the whole force of the 
 Holy Land to repel the invasion ; but he permitted him- 
 self to be deluded by Count Raymond of Tripoli, who 
 maintained a corres})ondence witli Saladin. The renegade 
 clHef, or apostate, betrayed the Christian army into ground 
 where the mail-clad knights of Europe fainted for want 
 of water, and were overwhelmed by the arrows of the 
 li^ht-mounted infidels. Lusignan vi^as made prisoner, 
 with the loss of thirty thousand men. When, fainting 
 with thirst and agony of mind, he was brought before 
 Saladin, the Mahometan courteously presented him with 
 his own cup of sherbet, cooled with ice. But when 
 Lusignan passed the goblet in turn to Reignald de Chat- 
 tillon, who had provoked the war, Saladin instantly sev- 
 ered the freebooter's head from his body. " The king's 
 cup," he said, '^ betokens mercy. Princes do not slaugh 
 ter captive kings ; but robbers like this are punished with 
 death." Many of the military orders of Hospitallers and 
 Templars, were also put to death. Jerusalem did not 
 remain under the Christian power for a fortnight after the 
 battle of Tiberias, and Saladin became master of the Holy 
 City. (A. D. 1187.) 
 
 The expulsion of the Christians from Palestine was 
 not yet completed. The strong city of Tyre was val- 
 iantly defended by Conrade of Montferrat ; and the vic- 
 torious Saladin was obliged to retire from before it, with 
 considerable loss. 
 
 It could hardly be said whether the loss of Jerusalem, 
 or the siege of Acre, had most effect in rousing to arms 
 the warlike nations of Europe who pressed forward n 
 hosts to revenge King Guy of Lusignan, or gain glory or 
 martyrdom under Conrade of Montferrat. The multitude 
 of adventurers from Europe enabled the king of Jerusa- 
 lem, whom Saladin had not thought worth detaining in 
 captivity, to form the siege of Ptolemais, or Acre, a stroncr 
 place, possessing an excellent harbour, the occupation of 
 which might facilitate greatly the arrival of succours from 
 Europe, vyjiich were promised on all sides. The si<3ge 
 
184 SIEGE OF ACRE. 
 
 of Acre had lasted till the spring of the second year, 
 Saladin had pitched his camp, and lay with his numerous 
 followers, within a few leagues of the town, and daily 
 skirmishes took place between the contending armies. 
 In the meantime, the new crusade, under Philip and 
 Richard, began to roll towards the east. 
 
 The king of France appeared first on this eventful 
 '^cene, but proved unequal to decide the fate of Acre, 
 though he tried to do so by a fierce and general assault. 
 Richard came soon after, having lingered by the way to 
 chastise Isaac, king of Cyprus, who had offended him, 
 and wa-^i deprived of his dominions, by way of punishment. 
 On the arrival of King Richard before Acre, (if old ro- 
 mances and tradition say true,) he led his troops to the 
 assault in person, and broke down a postern door with hi? 
 strong hand and weighty battle-axe. Leopold, Duke of 
 7\ustria, also distinguished himself by his personal intre- 
 pidity, for which, as armorial bearings were then coming 
 into use, the emperor is said to have assigned him a fesse 
 argent, in a field gules, to express that his person had, in 
 the assault, been covered with blood from head to foot, 
 except the place under his sword-belt. 
 
 Saladin, who saw the fate of Acre could no longer be 
 protracted, gave the citizens permission to make the best 
 terms for themselves they could, and on his own part be- 
 came bound to set all Christian captives at liberty, and to 
 restore to the crusaders the cross on which our Saviour 
 sufiered, — at least a relic which bore that reputation, and 
 whic'i had been taken by him at the battle of Tiberias. 
 But Saladin either could not, or did not, comply with 
 tnese conditions. The impetuous Richard would hear o^ 
 no delay, and put to death at once all his Mahometan 
 prisoners, to the number of seven thousand men. On ac- 
 count of this rashness and cruelty, Richard sustained the 
 just blame of having occasioned the death of an equal 
 number of Christians, prisoners to the SultaU; whom 
 Sciiadin slaughtered by the way of reprisal. 
 
 While the furioua Richard was thus incurring public 
 censure, he had the mortification to see Philip. acquire, at 
 
JEALOUSY BETWEEN RICHARD AND PHILIP. 185 
 
 his cost, the praise of saperior wisdom and moderation ; 
 ^or, by protecting his Mahometan prisoners alive, tlie 
 French king was able to exchange them for so many cap- 
 tive Christians, and thus avoided an useless waste of life 
 upon both sides. The difference between the calm, rea- 
 sonable, and politic character of Philip, began to be re- 
 marked by the soldiers, and, though the common men 
 preferred the rude, savage, and fearless character of the 
 English monarch, the wise and experienced leaders saw 
 higher personal qualities in his companion and rival, and 
 accomplishments more beseeming in a prince who would 
 make his people happy. The consciousness that they 
 were thus compared together, estimated, and preferred, 
 according to men's judgment or their humour, had its 
 usual effect of inspiring jealousy betwixt the French and 
 English kings ; nor had the common cause in whicl) they 
 were engaged influence enough to check their animos- 
 ities. 
 
 Another cause of discontent was occasioned by Rich- 
 ard's violence of temper at this celebrated siege, of 
 which he had afterwards much personal occasion to rue 
 the consequence. When the city of Acre surrendered, 
 Leopold, Duke of Austria assuming upon the merit, in 
 virtue of which a new armorial cognizance had been as- 
 signed him, caused his own banner to be displayed from 
 the principal tower. The fierce temper of the king of 
 England caught fire at the Austrian's arrogance, and he 
 commanded the banner to be pulled down, and thrown 
 into the ditch of the place. The Duke felt the indignity 
 offered to him, but forbore to manifest any resentment till 
 time and circumstance put in his power ample means of 
 revenging the indignity, though with little credit to his 
 faith or manhood. 
 
 These various heart burnings gave rise to parties in the 
 camp and council of the crusaders, where Richard at- 
 tached himself to Guy de Lusignan, and Philip took the 
 part of the gallant Conrade de Montferrat, between whom 
 iheie occurred many feuds and quarrel^;. These divisioai 
 
\86 DISSENSIONS AMONG THE CRUSADERS 
 
 were so notorious^ that when Conrade was slain by th* 
 dafj-fjers of two of the tribe called Assassins, beinff the 
 followers ol the Scheik, or Old Man of the Mountain, i! 
 was reported that they had been suborned by Richard. — 
 Philip affected to give credit to a charge inconsistent with 
 the manly, though violent character of his rival. The 
 French monarch selected a new body-guard, armed with 
 iion maces, by whom he caused his person to be watclied 
 day and night. Neither were any strangers admitted to 
 him ; precautions which necessarily implied suspicions dis- 
 honourable to Coeur de Lion. 
 
 With whatever views Philip of France had originally 
 undertaken the crusade, he quickly found that the enter- 
 prise was of a ruinous and desperate nature, and that even 
 the barren laurels which must suffice as a reward for 
 health, riches, and armies w^asted in Palestine, would fall 
 in an undue share to his partner in the undertaking, whose 
 reckless valour and insatiable desire of military renown, 
 made Richard more fitted than his rival for the insane 
 adventure in which they were engaged, and better quali- 
 fied to meet the peculiar difficulties which they had to 
 encounter. The arrogant and capricious character of the 
 English king required also to be soothed and kept in 
 temper with more attention and deference, than a mon- 
 arch like Philip could find it agreeable to pay to a prince 
 who was in some degree his inferior, in so far that he paid 
 him honiage for a large part of his dominions. Nor did 
 it escape Philip's discernment, that if he made use at 
 home of the troops and treasure which he was likely to 
 expend in the fruitless prosecution of the purposes of 
 the crusade, he might avail himself of the opportunity to 
 annex to the crown of France the fiefs of some of those 
 o^reat vassals who were daily falling in the wars of Pales- 
 tine. He might also urge his purpose of withdrawing 
 from the Holy War, upon grounds which promised ad- 
 vantage to the prosecution of it. For as he and Richard, 
 being in one point of view of equal rank, agreed so very 
 ill, and distracted the councils of the crusading powers by 
 their rival pretensions and contradictory opinions, it seems 
 
18-j 
 
 ed that Philip, by withdrawing froro the entei prise, 
 removed a source of disagreement w4iich was a principa. 
 obstacle o their success. For these reasons, real or os- 
 tensible, the French king determined to return from 
 Palestine to his own country : and to silence the re- 
 proaches of those who upbraided him with deserting the 
 cause Df Christendom, he left in Syria a strong division 
 of ten thousand picked troops, with five hundred men-at- 
 arms, to co-operate in the task of recovering the Holy 
 Sepulchre. 
 
 It was necessary also to satisfy, at least to stop, the 
 complaints of Richard, who alleged, as a leading motive 
 of Philip's return, his purpose of making war upon the 
 English monarch in Normandy and his other French do- 
 minions. To escape this scandalous suspicion, the king 
 of France, before his departure for Europe, pledged a 
 solemn vow to King Richard, not to attack any of his 
 dominions, nor dispossess any of his vassals, while he 
 was absent in the crusade. Yet, when Philip passed 
 through Rome on his return home, he made as much 
 interest as he could with the reigning Pope, (Celestine 
 III.,) that he might be absolved from the oath which he 
 had pledged to Richard to the above effect. 
 
 Philip, whose first wife had died during his absence in 
 the Holy Land, had no sooner returned to his own king- 
 dom, than he resolved to marry for a second, Ingerberge, 
 sister of Canute, king of Denmark. With this princess, 
 it was his object to attain a transference of all the rights 
 competent to her family, (descended of the famous Ca- 
 nute, king of England,) and obtain thereby a pretext for 
 invading England, as if the throne of that kingdom had 
 been unlawfully possessed by the dynasty of Anion. 
 But the Danish monarch did not choose to transfer his 
 claims, for the purpose of affording Philip the pretext he 
 desinid for attacking his late brother and comi)anion in 
 arms, while engaged in the religious warfare to which 
 they had both been sworn. The plans of Philip were 
 disconcerted by this refusal. 
 
 The kingr of France whose conduct on this occasior 
 
188 ACHIEVEMENTS OF RICHARD 
 
 neither merits the epithet of Most Christian, bestowed on 
 die Sovereigns of his race, nor that of August, given to 
 distinguish him individually, sought a new and discredita- 
 ble channel through which to strike at his eneniiy. He 
 formed a close alliance with John, brother of Richard, 
 and youngest son of Henry II. This prince, one of the 
 worst men who afflicted these evil times, was as easily 
 induced to make efforts to usurp the territories of a gen- 
 erous brother, as he had been formerly found ready to 
 rebel against his indulgent father, and he seems readily 
 to have agreed, that Philip should be at liberty to work 
 his pleasure upon Richard's dominions in France, provid' 
 ed he was admitted to his share of the spoil. 
 
 In the meantime, while his European dominions were 
 thus exposed to an ungrateful brother and a faithless ally, 
 Richard was rivalling in the Holy Land the imaginary 
 actions of the champions of romance. He conquered 
 Cesai^ea and Jaffa ; he drove Saladin before him fot 
 eleven days of continued battle. He defied armies with 
 a handful of men, and challenged to combat, in his own 
 person, an extended line of thousands, not one of whom 
 dared quit their ranks to encounter him. He even came 
 within sight of Jerusalem, but declined to look upon the 
 sepulchre, which he found himself not strong enough to 
 gain by battle. In the midst of these wonders, Richard 
 was recalled by the news of the intrigues of John and 
 Philip. He embarked with precipitation, having patched 
 up a hasty peace with Saladin, and leaving a name in the 
 East, with which, long after, the Saracens were wont to 
 upbraid a starting horse, demanding if he thought the 
 bush was King Richard, that he sprang aside from it ! 
 
 Richard's embarkation was the beginning of a series 
 of calamities, which gave the King of France time to 
 arrange his perfidious plans. The king of England was 
 shipwrecked on the coast of Dalmatia, and was betrayed 
 mto the hands of that very Duke of Austria, whom he 
 had affronted, by displacing his standard at Acre. Leopold 
 meanly seized the opportunity of vengeance which chance 
 afforded him, and threw the unhappy prince into prison,. 
 
IMPRISONMENT OF RICHARD. 189 
 
 charging him with many crimes alleged to have been com- 
 mitted in Palestine. His place of confinement was for 
 some time kept concealed, and the story how it was dis* 
 covered, though well known, is worthy of mention. 
 
 It was no part of Richard's character to he, like his 
 rival Philip, a hater of music or minstrelsy. On the 
 contrary, he was an admirer of what was, at that tim(}. 
 called the Gay Science, and often practised the arts' of 
 song and music himself. Blondel de Nesle, a favourite 
 minstrel, who had attended his person, devoted himself 
 to discover the place of his confinement. He wandered 
 in vain, from castle to palace, till he learned that a strong 
 and almost inaccessible fortress, upon the Danube, was 
 watched with peculiar strictness, as containing some state 
 prisoner of distinction. The minstrel took his harp, and 
 approaching as near the castle as he durst, came so nigh 
 the walls as to hear the melancholy captive soothing his 
 imprisonment with music. Blondel touched his harp ; 
 the prisoner heard and was silent : upon this the minstrel 
 played the first part of a tune, or lay, known to the cap- 
 tive, who instantly played the second part; and thus the 
 faithful servant obtained the certainty that the inmate of 
 the castle was no other than his royal master. It is un- 
 certain if Blondel carried news of Richard's imprison- 
 ment to the emperor, but such news reached him. The 
 emperor compelled the Duke of Austria to surrender his 
 person, and being a rough, ungenerous man, he seems 
 only to have considered how much money he could ex- 
 tort by having in his power one of the richest, as well as 
 most Dowerful sovereigns in Christendom, the only cause 
 of whose irnprisonment was the misfortune that threw 
 him on the coast. Philip hearing of Richard's captivity 
 m Germany, offered, it is said, a sum of money, provided 
 the emperor would deliver Coeur de Lion into his hands. 
 Perhaps the emperor thought it would be too detrimental 
 to his reputation, were he to make such a transference ; 
 but although he refused so dishonourable a treaty, he 
 "ailvA not, for some time, to lend a favourable ear Ka 
 
190 LIBERATION OF RICHARD. 
 
 many specious reasons urged Philip for detaining lii& late 
 ally in close confinement. 
 
 Meantime, the selfish King of France foimed a fresh 
 contract with Prince John, by which the unnatural brother 
 was to do all in his power to assert a claim to the crown 
 of England, while Richard's French territories in Nor- 
 mandy and elsewhere, were to fall to Philip's share ; and, 
 that no formmig;htbe awanting, the French king despatch- 
 ed a hejald to denounce war against Richard, then a close 
 prisoner The forms of public faith are seldom observed 
 with such rigid technicality, as when they are used as a 
 cloak to carry into execution what is, in fact, flagrant in- 
 justice. Accordingly, Philip, after using this unnecessary 
 and absurd form of defiance against a defenceless captive, 
 assaulted upon various pretexts, the frontiers of Norman- 
 dy, and made conquests there, bestowing towns on his 
 ally, John, or retaining them to liimself, at his pleasure ; 
 and explaining to such of his chivalry or allies as enter- 
 tained, or affected, a disinclination to such unjust procedure, 
 that he did not attack Richard in breach of his oath, but 
 in consequence of old causes of quarrel about his sister's 
 portion. While Philip was preparing for his imperial title 
 of Augustus, by a system of spoliation resembling that 
 of a Roman emperor, he received sudden intelligence, 
 that the large ransom which the emperor's avarice had set 
 on the freedom of Richard, had been at length defrayed 
 by the loyalty of his subjects. He communicated the 
 alarming news to his associate, John, in the expressive 
 pln-ase, " Have a care of yourself — the devil is loose ?" 
 
 Whatever alarm these words might imply, Philip knew 
 tliat no pause in his ambitious project would secure him 
 from Ricliard's resentment, now that the captive lion had 
 obtained liis liberty. He therefore did not even attempt 
 to disguise his enmity ; he openly invaded Normandy, 
 and besieo;ed Verneuil. But the scene beo;an to chano-e, 
 on the part of his unnatural ally. 
 
 Richard's unexpected arrival in England had entirely 
 destroyed the treacherous schemes of the faithless John. 
 That wicked piince saw now no means of security, ex' 
 
DEATH OF RICHARD. 191 
 
 cept by taking some decisive step, which would demon- 
 strate that he had cast off King Phihp's favour, ano 
 thrown himself entirely upon his brother's clemency. 
 The action by which he proposed to niake these intentions 
 manifest, was atrociously characteristic. He invited to 
 the castle of Evreux, in which Philip had invested him, 
 those Norman chiefs and officers most favourable to tlie 
 schemes of the French king, and who had doubtless com- 
 municated with Jolin himself, on the plans of plundering 
 Richard, which he had nourished before his brother's re- 
 turn. Having welcomed these men hospitably, and feast- 
 ed them royally, he surprised, seized upon, and murdered 
 bis guests, when unsuspicious of danger, and incapable 
 of resistance. He cut off their heads to the number of 
 three hundred, and arranged them upon pikes around the 
 castle, in the fashion of a bloody garland. By this faith- 
 less and cruel action, John meant to break all terms with 
 Philip, his late abettor in his rebellion against his brother; 
 but that king avenged this double treachery as the action 
 deserved. He made a hasty march to Evreux, surprised 
 John's English garrison, and put them to the sword, lay- 
 ing in ashes the town itself, as the scene of such tieachery. 
 Ricliard advanced in turn, and obtained some advantages, 
 in which he tooK the whole chancery of the French king. 
 But Richard was too much weakened by the n^bellion of 
 his vassals, and the impoverishment of his realm, to fol- 
 low the war so promptly as his nature would have dictated. 
 Truces, therefore, followed each other, which were as 
 rapidly broken as they were formed, until at length both 
 princes were brought, by the legate of the Pope, to en- 
 tertain thoughts of a solid and lastirjg peace. But, ere it 
 was yet concluded, a paltry enterprise cost Richard Coeur 
 de Lion that life which he had risked in so many affairs 
 of so much greater consequence. (A. D. 1199.) One of 
 his vassals had found a treasure concealed m the earth 
 upon his fief. Richard demanded possession of it, such 
 discoveries being considered a part of the superior's in- 
 terest in the benefice. It was refused, and the kmir <lew 
 CO besiege the vassal's castle, an inconsiderable place„ He 
 
192 ACCESSION OF JOHW 
 
 soon reduced it to exlreniity ; but an archer took aim 
 from the walls with a cross-bow, and the bolt mortally 
 wounded Coeur de Lion. The castle was suirendered 
 ere the kins: had died of his wound, llichard commanded 
 the unlucky marksman to be brought before him, and de- 
 manded, why he had sought his life so earnestly ! " You 
 slew," replied the archer, whose name was Bertram de 
 Gurdun, " my father, and my brother, and yon were 
 seeking my own life ; had 1 not reason to prevent you, 
 if 1 could, by taking yours ?" The dying king acknow- 
 ledged that he had reason for his conduct, and, forgiving 
 his offence against his person, generously commanded him 
 to be dismissed unharmed. But Richard was dying while 
 he gave the command, and the injunctions of dying sove- 
 reigns are not always respected. The captain of a band 
 of Richard's mercenaries put De Gurdun to death, by 
 flaying him alive, as the most cruel mode of revenging 
 their monarch's death which the ingenuity of these rude 
 soldiers could devise. 
 
 Coeur de Lion was succeeded in his throne by the ty- 
 rant John. There are not many portraits in history which 
 display fewer redeeming qualities^ He was a bad father, 
 a bad brother, a bad monarch, and a bad man ; yet he was 
 preferred to the succession, notwithstanding the existence 
 of Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, who was son to the de- 
 ceased Geoffrey, the immediate younger brother of Rich- 
 ard, and the senior to John. Arthur's claim of inherhing 
 a succession which came by his father's elder brother, 
 would be now perfectly understood as preferable to that 
 of his uncle ; but, in the days of King John, the right of 
 a brother was often preferred to that of a nephew, the 
 son of an elder brother, from some idea then entertained, 
 that, in the former case, the brother was one step nearer 
 ir blood to the deceased person. But notwithstanding 
 John's becoming King of England, and Duke of Norman- 
 dy, great discontent prevailed in his French dominions, as 
 in Anjou, Maine, and other provinces, where the nobles 
 and knights would have greatly preferred the sway of 
 Ihe young Prince Arthur, to that of his uncle. 
 
Philip's aversion to his second wiff. 193 
 
 Philip, king of France, whose career of ambition had 
 been checked by the return, and formidable opposition, 
 of Richard Cneur de Lion, foresaw that the moment was 
 arrived when he might safely, and with the consent of the 
 vassals themselves, resume his labours to reunite, under 
 the immediate sovereignty of the crown of France, the 
 great (icfs of Normandy granted to Rollo, and the other 
 provinces of which tlie late Henry JI. of England had, by 
 his marriage with Eleanor, the repudiated wife of Louis 
 le Jeune, and other transactions, obtained possession. — 
 The character and conduct of John was so unnopul 
 
 popi 
 
 lar 
 
 that there was little doubt that the barons and vassals of 
 the English provinces lying in France, who might have 
 thought it disgraceful to desert the standard of Richard, 
 especially during his imprisonment, would now eagerly 
 transfer their allegiance to their lord paramount, Philip, 
 in preference to the volu})tuous tyrant who succeeded 
 Coeur de Lion on the throne of England. But although 
 this was a crisis so favourable and so important for ex- 
 tending the authority of FVance, Philip was, by some 
 domestic embarrassments, prevented for a time from reap- 
 ing the harvest which had ripened before him. The 
 circumstances illustrate the manners of the age, and are 
 worthy of your attention. 
 
 Philip, like many other men, otherwise of high quali- 
 ties, was greatly attached to women, and sometimes sacri- 
 ficed his policy to his pleasures. He lost his first wife in 
 child-bed, of twins, and as we have already hinted, took 
 lor his second wife, the Pi-incess Ingerberge of Denmark, 
 »vith the purpose of obtaining, as part of her fortune, the 
 cession of the pretensions of the descendants of Canute 
 io the throne of England, which might give him a pre- 
 tence to disturb the heirs of William the Conqueror, now 
 HI possession of that kingdom. His marriage took place ; 
 but, disappointed at not succeeding in this intended pur- 
 pose, or, displeased with his new bride's person, and de- 
 termined to annul the marriage, Philip sent the Danish 
 pnn3eis to a convent before she had resided two days in 
 
 952 
 
194 INTERDICT AGAINST PHlLiF. 
 
 nis palace. The king's aversion to the unfortunate In 
 gerberge was so great, that the simplicity of the times 
 supposed that a sense of dislike so sudden and itrong^ 
 could only arise from the effect of magic, — as )f any 
 magic could operate more powerfully than the caprices 
 of a self-willed despot. With the same unjust fickleness, 
 Philip employed some of the more subservient prelates 
 about his court, to discover cause for a divorce, which 
 was easily fjund in the usual })retext of too close alliance 
 in blood between the wedded parties. A pedigree was 
 drawn up to favour tiic plea, in consequence of which, a 
 complaisant council of French bishops passed a sentence 
 of divorce between Philip and Ingerberge, within three 
 years after their separation. 
 
 The king then proceeded to marry Agnes de Merania, 
 daughter of the Duke of Dalmaiia. (A. 1). 1172.) The 
 King of Denmark remonstrated at Rome, where his 
 complaints found flivourable hearing, against the injury 
 and insult offered to his unoOending daughter. The 
 legate of the Pope, having taken cognizance of this im- 
 portant case, declared formally that the marriage with 
 Ingerberge remained binding, and admonished the king 
 lo put away her rival, Agnes, as one with whom he could 
 have no legal tie. As Philip reniained obstinate and inj- 
 penitent, the Pope j)roceeded to lay his kingdom under 
 an interdict, which, while it lasted, prohibited the per- 
 formance of divine service of every kind, the administra- 
 tion of the sacraments, the reading the services for the 
 dead, or for marriage or baptism, occasioning thereby an 
 inexpressible confusion in the country wdiere these divine 
 rites were suspended, and all civil affairs, of course, inter- 
 rupted. Philip, enraged at the perseverance of the Pope, 
 revenged himself on the clergy. He seized on their 
 temporal effects, imprisoned the canons of the cathedrals, 
 and raised heavy taxes on all classes, by which he mam- 
 tained such large bodies of mercenary soldiers, as made 
 resistance impossible on the part of his vassals. Al 
 length, finding it difficult to remain m this state of vio- 
 lence, Philip made a compromise with the Pope, agree- 
 
INTERDICT WITHDRAWN. 195 
 
 mg fliat he would become amenable to the obedieiice of 
 the church, prov'ding his holiness would condescend once 
 more to examine the question of the divorce and mar- 
 riage. A council was accordingly held at Soissons, for 
 the re-examination of an affair that was extremely sim- 
 ple. Fifteen days were spent by churchmen and canon- 
 ists in these subtle questions, which rather perplex than 
 enligliten justice, when, suddenl} , a young and unknown 
 speaker took the side of the divorced queen, with such 
 persuasive force of truth, that the churchmen conceived 
 they heard themselves addressed by the voice of an 
 angel. The king himself perceived his cause was inde- 
 fensible, and resolved to take back the Danish princess, 
 as if of his own accord, ere yet he should be compelled 
 to do so by tlie order of the council. He therefore told 
 the legate abrupiiy that he would settle the affair with 
 his wives in his own v/ay. He did so accordingly, with 
 very little ceremony, instantly riding to the convent where 
 the discarded ingerberge resided, taking her up behind 
 hira on the sa[ne steed, and proceeding with her in that 
 manner to Paris, where he publicly acknowledged her 
 for his lawful wife. Ingerberge, with the same patient 
 obedience which distinguished her while in the cloister, 
 returned to th.e world, and lived and died blameless, if 
 not beloved. The fate of Agnes de Merania was mors 
 melancholv ; she died of a broken heart at feelino- her 
 self reduced from the rank of a royal matron to that of 
 a concubine. 
 
 By an arrangement so simply produced, Pliilip gained 
 the advantage of being restored from the condition of an 
 interdicted and excominunicated prince, to that of a true 
 and lawful sovereign, who might justly receive the com- 
 plaints of the church, as well as of inferior personSj 
 against his vassal John, for certain enormities which were 
 not very distant in character from those for w^hich Pliilip 
 himself had been so lately laid under an interdict. 
 
 .John, whose only use of power was to forward his own 
 pleasures, had, during a progress in Guienne, becomn 
 captivated w;\h the charms of Isabel, the beautiful Jautfh 
 
196 INSURRECTION 
 
 ter of the Eiirl of Angouleme. This }oung beauty wag 
 betrothed to Hugh le Brun, Earl de la Marche, and nad 
 been delivered up to her betrothed husband. But John, 
 who was totally unaccustomed to bridle his passions, was 
 induced to banish a wife with whom he had enjoyed ten 
 vears of undisturbed union, and, by tempting the ambi- 
 tion of Ayrnar, Count of Angouleme, easily bribed him 
 to accept a king for a son-in-law, instead of a simple 
 count. (A. D. 1200.) This rash and hasty action in- 
 curred much censure. The Earl de la Marche, thus 
 deprived of his intended and betrothed bride, and bent 
 on revenge for so gross an injury, broke out, with his 
 brother the Earl of Eu, and other confederates in Gui- 
 enne, into open rebellion. John, alarmed for the conse- 
 quences, for he was well aware of his own unpopularity 
 —summoned together his English vassais, in order to put 
 an end to the insurrection ere it spread wider. But al- 
 though the English barons had seldom hesitated to follow 
 their kings to France, as a country where they w^ere wont 
 to acquire wealth and warlike fame, it was no part of their 
 feudal obligation to serve the king beyond the limits of 
 Britain, unless with their own free consent. On this oc- 
 casion, disliking the cause or the prince, the great Eng- 
 lish barons obeyed John's summons but slowly. John 
 was attended, therefore, by too small an army to secure 
 the implicit submission of his refractory nobles ; and while 
 lie carried on a languid war against the disaffected, the 
 insurrection gained new and formidable supporters. 
 
 Arthur, son of Geoffrey, and nephew of John, began 
 now to complain, that out of his uncle Richard's suc- 
 cession, he had been only suffered to retain the dukedom 
 of Bretagne ; which, was the more unjust, as Richard, 
 when he went to the Holy Land, had designed Geoffrey 
 his father, in whose right Arthur stood, as heir of all hi? 
 French dominions. Incensed at this grievance, the young 
 duke, who was scarcely sixteen years of age, entertained 
 a secret correspondence with the discontented lords of 
 Guienne ; and the wliole conspiracy became manifest, 
 when Philip, claiming as liege lord^ the right of deciding 
 
IN GUIENNE. 191 
 
 between Jolin and liis dissatisfied vassals, u'eclared him 
 self the prorector of the insurgents of Guienne, anil the 
 assertor of the claims of Arthur. Both nations took 
 anus, and on each side an ambitious and violent-tempered 
 woman uri!;ed the quarrel to extremity. Constance, the 
 mother of Arthur, and widow of his deceased father 
 Geoffrey, incited her son to war against his uncle John 
 by every argument in her power; and, on the other hand, 
 the dowager Queen Eleanor, that celebrated heiress, who 
 transferred Aquitaine fi'om Louis le .Jeune to Henry II., 
 was still alive, and violent in behalf of King John, whom 
 slie loved better than her other sons, because he resem- 
 bled her more in disposition than any of his brothers. 
 These two haughty and high-tempered ladies had per- 
 sonal animosities against each other, and inflamed the war 
 by female taunts and female resentments. Our great 
 dramatic poet Shakspeare has made their wrangling im- 
 mortal, by intermixing it with the plot of his celebrated 
 play of King John. 
 
 In the year (A. D. 1202,) hostilities commenced. 
 Young Arthur took the field in the west of France with 
 two hundred knights, and gained some successes, but ex- 
 periciiced on the following occasion, so far as the young 
 prince was concerned, a woful and irrecoverable reverse. 
 Having, on his march through Poitou, received informa- 
 tion that the dowager Queen Eleanor, his own and his 
 mother's personal enemy, was residing in the adjacent 
 castle of Mirabel, Arthur flew to invest it, and make sure 
 of her as a prisoner. The defence was vigorous, but at 
 length the besiegers possessed themselves of the base 
 court, and were well-nigh carrying the great tower, oi 
 keep, of the castle. The arrival of King John changed 
 the scene ; he was at no great distance with an arm}? 
 more numerous than that of his nephew, consisting chiefly 
 of mercenaries. Arthur, with his little band, marched 
 to meet their unexpected foe, but was completely routed, 
 and driven back to the castle of Mirabel, where they 
 were all eitiier slain a made prisoners. Arthur himself 
 
198 CRUELTY OF JOHN. 
 
 the Comte de la Marche, and two hundred knights, were 
 arr*0'ag the latter; and if John could have used a decisive 
 victory with humanity and moderation, he might have 
 preserved his French dominions, and averted a long and 
 almost uninterrupted chain of well-deserved misfortunes. 
 But neither humanity nor moderation were a part of his 
 character ; and it may be remarked, that there is no sure: 
 road to adversity than misused prosperity. 
 
 The fate of tlie prisoners taken in this skirmish of Mi- 
 rabel, was atrociously cruel. That of Arthur was nevei 
 exactly known ; but all authors agree that he was mur- 
 dered at Rouen, by his jealous uncle John — some allege, 
 in his presence, and others affirm with his own hand. 
 Of the young prince's allies and friends, twenty-five of 
 th^ noblest and bravest were starved to death in Corfe 
 Castle. 
 
 The minds of all men revolted against the author of 
 this disgraceful abuse of victory. The barons of Bre- 
 tagne accused John at the footstool of Philip, their liege 
 lord, of the crime of murdering their duke, and his own 
 nephew, in the person of the unhappy Arthur. As the 
 King of England did not appear to answer to their charge, 
 he was pronounced guilty of felony and treason, and all 
 his dominions in Normandy were declared forfeited to his 
 liege lord the king of France. Thus was the crisis ar- 
 rived which Philip had long waited for. Over the ex- 
 tensive territories held for so many years by wise, warlike,, 
 and powerful princes, there was now placed a person, 
 who, by tyranny and inhumanity, was sure to incur a 
 just doom of forfeiture, and, by cowardice and indolence, 
 was incapable of saving himself from the consequences, 
 Dy a resolute defence. Accordingly, when Philip, at the 
 head of his army, began to enforce the doom of forfeiture, 
 or, in plain language, to conquer Normandy for his own, 
 it was astonishing how rapidly the structure of feudal 
 power, which had been raised by the sagacity of William 
 the Conqueror, and his son and great-grandson, the first 
 and second Henrys, and latterly defended by the iron 
 arm of Richard Coeur de Lion, dissolved, when under 
 
CONQ,UEST OF > ORMANI Y BY PHILIP 199 
 
 llie sway of tlie selfish, Indolent, and irresolute John 
 Joined by the numerous barons who were disaffected tr. 
 King John, Philip niarclied through Normandy, reducing 
 tlie strongholds at ]>leasi;re, and subjecting the country 
 to his allegiance. John never even auempted to meet 
 his enemies in the field, but remained in daily riot and 
 rpvclry at Rouen, struck, as it were, with a judicial in- 
 fatuation, which so much affected his courage and activity, 
 that, about the 3:id of the year, finding the storm of war 
 approach so near as to disturb his slumbers, he fairly fled 
 to England, and left the dukedom of Normandy to its 
 fate. Tliis was not long protracted ; for, without much 
 exertion, and with the good-will of the countries, whose 
 inhabitants had not forgotten that they were by nature part 
 of tfie kingdom of France, Normandy, with Anjou, Poitou, 
 and Maine, excepting a few places which remained faith- 
 ful to the English king, became again annexed to the 
 crown of France. Rouen itself, the caj)ital of Nor- 
 mandy, being abandoned to its own resources, was forced 
 to surrender, and once more became tlie property of the 
 French kings, three hundred years after it had been con- 
 quered by Rollo, the Norman. 
 
 The infatuated John threw the blame of losing so many 
 fair possessions upon the desertion of the English barons, 
 who would not follow him to France for the purpose of 
 defending his Norman dominions. He more than once 
 summoned his vassals, as if with the fixed purpose of in- 
 vading the territories he had lost ; but the expedition 
 was always deferred, under pretence that the musters were 
 not complete, until it became the conviction of ever) 
 one, that the armaments were only intended to afford a 
 pretext for levying fines on the vassals who neglected the 
 royal summons. A single feeble attempt to cross the 
 seas with an army, only served to show the imbecility of 
 the Engbsh leader ; and retiring before Philip, and avoid- 
 ing the combat which he offered, the degenerate John 
 did but prove his personal cowardice, and ignorance as a 
 commander. Thus, almost without opposition, did Philip 
 unite, under the French empire, those provinces so Ions 
 
200 Philip's designs upon England. 
 
 SGpararec] froir the kingdom to which they belonged as a 
 natural part. The event was the most useful, as well a^ 
 most brilliant, of his rei^n, and must be reckoned the 
 principal cause for bestowing upon Philip the tlattering 
 name of Augustus. 
 
 The extreme indolence and imbecility of John en- 
 couraged the King of France, who, through all his reign, 
 evinced a high cast of ambition and policy, to extend his 
 views even beyond the limits of the French dominions 
 of the English prince ; and pushing his opportunity 
 against one so inactive and impolitic, he resolved to at- 
 tempt achieving a second conquest of England, while its 
 crown was placed on so unworthy a head. The success 
 of William the Conqueror, under circumstances much 
 less favourable, was doubtless called to mind, as an en- 
 couraging example. Some apology, or show of justice, 
 was indeed wanting for such an invasion ; for England 
 was no dependency of France, like Normandy or Anjou, 
 nor had King Philip a right to declare that realm forfeited 
 as a fief of his crown, whatever may have been the de- 
 linquencies of its tyrannical sovereign. But it was John's 
 ill-luck, or misconduct, so to manage his affairs, as to 
 afford, not Philip alone, but any Christian prince in Eu- 
 rope, as full right to make war upon and dispossess him 
 of his English dominions, as the church of Rome, which 
 then claimed the right of placing and dethroning mon- 
 archs, was competent to confer. The rash monarch of 
 England laid himself open to this, by a dispute with the 
 Pope, at any time a formidable opponent, but an irre- 
 sistible one to a sovereign so universally detested as John. 
 
 This dispute, so remarkable in its consequences, arose 
 thus : 
 
 In 1-205, (A. D.) the right of electing an Archbishop 
 of Canterbury was disputed between the monks of the 
 cathedral, who made choice of their own sub-prior, 
 Reginald, and the King of England, with the prelates of 
 the province, who made choice of the Bishop of Nor- 
 wich. Both sides appealed to the Pope, who immedi- 
 ate^y began to *ake the dispute under his own manage- 
 
EXCOMMUNICATION OF JOHN. 201 
 
 ment, with the purpose of so conducting tne contest, as 
 to augment the unlimited power which he claimed to ex- 
 ercise ov^er Christendom. The Pontiff decided, in the 
 first place, that the right of electing the archbishop la^ 
 exclusively in the monks. He next declared both elec- 
 tions to be vacant, and proceeding to fill the important 
 situation with a creature of his own, commanded the 
 monks of Canterbury, who had come to Rome to solicit 
 the disputed election, to make a new choice for the office, 
 indicating Stephen Langton as the candidate whom they 
 were to prefer. The monks pleaded the irregularity of 
 such an election, and alleged vows which rendered it un- 
 lawful for them to hold such a course. The Pope an- 
 swered their objections by his plenary power. He 
 dispensed with the irregularity by his papal authority, 
 annulled the obligations of the oaths of the monks, and 
 compelled them, under penalty of the highest censure of 
 the church, to proceed as he enjoined them. John, with 
 a spirit which he only showed when resistance was re- 
 mote, remonstrated with Pope Innocent on such an irregu- 
 lar attempt to fix a primate on England. The Pope 
 replied with equal warmth, calling on the king to submit 
 to his authority, before whom every knee must bow. 
 Finally, as King John continued refractory, the Pontiff 
 proceeded to lay all his dominions under an interdict, of 
 which the nature has been already explained to you. 
 John endeavoured to avenge himself upon such of the 
 clergy as were within his reach ; but although imprisoned, 
 fined, and even personally punished, the zeal of the 
 churchmen for the cause of the Pope, made them dare 
 the fate of martyrs or of confessors. 
 
 In 1209, (A. D.) when the interdict had continued 
 two years, the Pope proceeded to pronounce sentence of 
 excommunication against John personally, by which he 
 was, so far as the curses of Rome could have effect, 
 thrown out of the pale of the Christian church, his sub- 
 jects released from their allegiance to him, and his king- 
 don, delivered up to any one who should carry the doom 
 of the Pontiff into execution. More especially, Kino 
 9* 
 
20"2 John's subxMission to the pope. 
 
 Pjiillp of France liad tlie express charge of executing 
 the sentence of deposition against his neighbour of Eng- 
 land, and in reward of his expected exertions, was de- 
 clared king of that country in his stead. 
 
 Tlius placed in the very position which he so earnestly 
 desired to assume, by taking on himself the office of the 
 Pope's champion, the politic Philip sacrificed to his am- 
 bitious views upon England the common interest of 
 princes, and assented to the dangerous doctrine, that the 
 crowns of reigning sovereigns were held at the pleasure 
 of the Roman pontiff. He assembled a large army near 
 Boulogne, where he had provided no less than seventeen 
 hundred vessels to transport them to England. But al- 
 though dislike to the tyranny of John rendered many of 
 his barons indifferent to his fate, and although the minds of 
 others were affected with superstitious dread of the Pope's 
 anathema, there were yet many Englishmen resolved to 
 withstand the French invasion. The alarm that the king- 
 dom was in danojer from foreiojners, drew together an im- 
 mense array, from which it was easy for King John to 
 select sixty thousand well-armed and well-appointed 
 troops, to oppose the French king. 
 
 Such were the preparations made to defend England 
 from invasion, when John, by a secret treaty with Pan- 
 dulph, the legate of the Pope, endeavoured to avert the 
 damier of the strui^^ojle. In this he succeeded— but it 
 was only by an act of submission, the most ignominious 
 of which the world had yet seen an example. By this 
 agreement, the Kinsj of Enj^land made the most unre- 
 served submission to the Pope concerning Stephen Lang- 
 ton's reception as Archbishop of Canterbury, which was 
 the original dispute, professed penitence for his former 
 refractory conduct, and, in evidence of his sincerity, re- 
 signed into the hands of the legate, as representing his 
 holiness, his kingdoms of England and Ireland, engaging 
 to hold them thereafter in the name of vassal to the Pope, 
 for the tribute of one thousand merks yearly. 
 
 The Pope was highly gratified with an accommoda- 
 tion v^hich had taken a turn so favourable tc he extension 
 
CONFEDERACY AGAINST PHILIP. 203 
 
 of tlie Influence, as well as tlie wealtli of the clmrcli, 
 and lie issued liis mandales in a tone o'" unconinion arro- 
 gance, cominandino; Philip to forbear any enterprise 
 against John of En<j,land, vvlio now had, though Ibrnierly 
 a refractory son of tlie church, reconciled himself with 
 the Pope, was become the vassal of the Holy See, a sub- 
 missive, amiable, and benign prince, peculiarly entitled to 
 the Pontiff's protection against all injuries. Philip re- 
 monstrated -at the attempt to render him thus the })assivo 
 tool of Rome, obHged as such to assume and lay aside 
 his arms at her bidding. He thought it best, however, 
 to comply, as he learned that his increasing power, aug- 
 mented as it was with the spoils of John's French terri- 
 tories, was on the eve of exciting a confederacy against 
 him among the crown vassals of France. For this 
 reason, he turned the army designed for the invasion of 
 England against Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, whose acces- 
 sion to such a league he had reason to apprehend. 
 
 The great army of France, with the king at its head, 
 advanced into Flanders accordingly, taking some of the 
 Earl's towns, and menacing the subjugation of his earl- 
 dom. King John, on the entreaty of Earl Ferrand, sent 
 to his assistance a great fleet, which he had got in readi- 
 ness while the alarm of the French Invasion of England 
 impended, under the command of a natural son of Rich- 
 ard Coeur de Lion, called Longsword, Earl of Salisbury. 
 The English had already acquired that superiority at sea, 
 which has been long one of their marked national char- 
 acteristics. They defeated the French navy, though 
 more numerous than their own, destroying one hundred 
 vessels, taking one hundred more, and dispersing the rest 
 of the fleet. Philip, who with his nobles had lost much 
 valuable property on this occasion, was so much discour- 
 aged by an unexpected blow from a quarter which he 
 had been little accustomed to fear, that he desisted from 
 his attempts against Ferrand, and retired into his own 
 dominions. 
 
 The alarm which was excited by King Philip's Increas- 
 ing power and extensive ambition, was far from subsiding 
 
iiO'l CONFEDERACY AGAINST PHILIP. 
 
 on bis retreat. On the contrary, the vassals of the crown 
 of France, who had been engaged with other continental 
 princes in a confederacy against the crown, were l)ent 
 upon taking advantage of the gleam of success occasioned 
 by the discomfiture, and to establish, in the moment of 
 victory, some counterbalance against the pr-edominant au- 
 thority of Phihp. The confederacy assumed a consist- 
 ent and alarming appearance, and well deserved the King 
 of Fi-ance's peculiar attention, as it was like to require 
 the whole strength of his kingdom to r^esist the combined 
 assault of so many enemies. The Emperor Otho lent 
 his active co-operation to the confederates the more 
 readily, as being the nephew, by the mother's side, of 
 King John, wdiose French dominions Philip had contis- 
 cated with so little cer^emony or scruple. The Earls of 
 Flanders, Boulogne, Toulouse, and Auver^gne, also joined 
 the enemies of Philip, and visited England in 1214, to 
 arrange the plan of the ensuing campaign. 
 
 It was agreed on this occasion, that France should be 
 invaded on two sides, so as to find full employment for 
 the for-ces and skill of lier monarch. It was farther de- 
 termined, that the main attempt should be made by the 
 Empei'or Otho and the warlike Earls of Boulogne and 
 Flander-s, aided by an auxihary body of English troops, 
 under command of the celebrated Longsvvoi"d, Earl of 
 Salisbury. They were destined to attack the eastern 
 fi-ontier's of Fr-ance, with a powerful army. John him- 
 self, according to the same plan, was to cross the sea to 
 l^ochelle, where he was sure to be joined by several 
 fr-iends of the English interest, as well as by the Ear-Is 
 of Auvergne and Toulouse. Such w^ere the prepara- 
 tions ; the object proposed was the dismemberment of 
 the French teri'itories, which W'ere to be divided among 
 the princes of this confedei'acy. The allies. In accord- 
 ance wrih the supei'stitlon of the times, consulted sooth- 
 sayer's on the issue of the war, and received for answ^er, 
 " that the King of France should be overthrown, and 
 trampled on by the hor'ses' feet, and should not receive 
 funeral rites ; ard that Count Fen-and of Flanders should 
 
ARMY OF PHILIP. 205 
 
 enter Pans in great pomp after the engagement." The 
 allies received as propitious, an oracie wiiicli afterwards 
 turned out to be of a different and ambiguous character : 
 they accordingly advanced at the head of a numerous 
 army, amounting, it is said, to one hundred and fifty 
 thousand men. They assembled at Peronne, in Flan- 
 ders, and moved south-westwards into France. 
 
 The army of Philip was not nearly so numiDrous, but 
 was composed of the flower of the French chivalry, with 
 the great princes of the blood royal, and such of the vas- 
 sals of the crown as were not in the confederacy. The 
 monarch also enjoyed the advantage of the bravery and 
 experience of a valiant knight hospitaller, called Guerin. 
 who acted as quarter-master-general. Philip, having de- 
 termined to prevent the wasting of his own country by 
 ravaging that of the enemy, directed his course towards 
 Hainault with that pvn-pose. But in the course of their 
 njarch, the French discovered the numerous squadrons 
 of the emperor, on the opposite side of the Meuse, near 
 Bou vines. The river was crossed by a wooden bridge. 
 The French noblesse on the one side, and the German 
 on the other, rushed emulously to seize the passage. But 
 it was occupied by the former • and the French infantry, 
 principally the militia of the towns, passed over under 
 the Oriflamme, or banner of St. Dennis, and formed on 
 the western side of the river. The king had stretched 
 himself to repose under an ash-tree, when he was roused 
 by the horsemen who came to apprize him that the battle 
 bad commenced. Philip arose with a cheerful counte- 
 nance, and, stepping into a church which was near, paid 
 the brief devotions of a soldier. He then advanced to 
 the front of his troops, and recollecting that there were 
 many vassals in his own army who were likely to be se- 
 cretly affected by the reports generally, and not unjustly, 
 spread abroad concerning his owr interested and ambitious 
 disposition, he caused his crown \o be placed on a port- 
 able nhar, .irranged in front of his line of battle. " I\Iy 
 ftiends," he said, " it is for the crown of Franco you 
 
206 BATTLE OF BOUVINES. 
 
 figlit, and not for him who has of late worn it. If vou 
 ran rescue it from these men, who are combined to de- 
 grade and destroy it, the soldier who sh;dl bear him best 
 in its defence, is, for my part, welcome to wear it as hi? 
 own." 
 
 Tliis well-conceived speech was answered with shouts 
 of " Long live King Philip ! the crown can befit no 
 brow so well as his own." The French army continued 
 to defile across the bridge to support their van, which 
 had already passed over. The army of the allies con- 
 tinued to manoeuvre and extend their wings, for the pur- 
 pose of surrounding Philip's inferior numbers. But by 
 tliis manoeuvre they lost the opportunity of charging the 
 French troops, when only a part of their army had passed 
 over, and in taking up their new ground, they exposed 
 their faces to the sun, — a great disadvantage, which they 
 felt severely during the whole action. 
 
 The battle began with incredible fury, and proved one 
 of the most obstinate, as it was certainly one of the most 
 important, actions of those warlike times. 
 
 The command of the right wing of the allies was in- 
 trusted to the Earl of Flanders, the left to the Count of 
 Boulogne, the Emperor having his own place in the cen- 
 tre, under a banner displayed on a species of carriage, on 
 which ensign was represented the imperial eagle holding 
 a dragon in his talons. On the side of France, the king 
 liimseif, surrounded by the princes of the blood, heading 
 the bravest of the young knights and nobles, and at- 
 tended by the most distinguished of the prelates and 
 clergy, commanded the centre. The Duke of Burgundy 
 commanded the right wing, the Comte de St. Paul the 
 left, and Guerin, the experienced knight hospitaller, ar- 
 rayed the army, being, although a bishop elect, the most 
 skilful leader in the field. The Comte de St. Paul, who 
 had been unjustly suspected of intercourse with the ene- 
 my, said to Guerin, when the battle commenced, -^ Now, 
 you shall see what manner of tiaitor 1 am !" 
 
 At the onset, the allies had some advantage ; for a 
 body of French light-horse, which commenced theatUck, 
 
BATTLE OF BOUVINES. 1207 
 
 were unaMo to withstand the weight and strength of the 
 liuge men and horses of the Flemish and German cavah-y, 
 CO whom they were opposed. One wing of the French 
 army w^as disarranged in consequence of this check, as 
 well as by the impetuosity of an attack commanded by 
 Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, who was one of the best war- 
 riors on the side of the allies. The emperor assailed, 
 with incredible fury and superior forces, the centre, in 
 which Philip and his nobles were stationed. Philip made 
 good the promise which he had given to his soldiers, and 
 fought as desperately as any man in the field. He was 
 at length borne out of his saddle, and wounded in the 
 throat. Galon de Montigni in vain waved the royal 
 banner, to intimate the disaster that had taken place, and 
 Philip's wars would have ended on the spot, but for the 
 devoted loyalty of some knights, who threw themselves 
 betwixt him and the prevailing Germans. But, almost 
 at the same moment, the Earl of Flanders, who had been 
 at first victorious, was, after great resistance, made prisoner, 
 and his Flemish forces defeated, giving an opportunity for 
 a large body of French cavalry to press closely to the 
 centre, where their assistance was so tnuch required. A 
 band of the nobles who thus came to Philip's rescue, 
 determined to attack the person of the Emperor, disre- 
 garding meaner objects. They broke through his guard, 
 overturned the chariot which bore his banner, and seized 
 It. They then rushed on Otho's person. Peter de Mau- 
 voisin seized his bridle, William des Barres grasped him 
 round the body, and strove to pull him from his horse, 
 Gerard de Trie attempted to strike him through with his 
 sword, and the good corslet protecting the Emperor from 
 the blow, the Frenchman again struck with the edge of 
 the sword, and killed Otho's horse. Yet a furious charge 
 of some German men-at-arms relieved their emperor, 
 who was remounted on a swift horse, and left the conflict 
 in despair. " Let him go," said King Philip, who wit- 
 nessed his enemy's flight, " you will see no more of h'ra 
 to-day than his back !" 
 
 While the Earl of Flanders and the Emperor werw 
 
208 BATTLE OF BOUVlNES. 
 
 thus (lofeated, the Cointe de Boulogne displc^yed the 
 greatest courage, by the mode in which he supported liia 
 division of the allies. He had established a strong reserve 
 of foot in a triangular form, behind which, as covered by 
 a fortress, he drew up his men-at-arms, and whence he 
 sallied repeatedly with inexpressible fury. At length, he 
 was pursued into this retreat by the French men-at-arms, 
 who skirmished with him for some time, unable to bea* 
 down or despatch him, as horse and man were covered 
 with impenetrable armour, like the invulnerable cham- 
 pions of romance. At last, Pierre des Tourelles, a knight 
 who chanced himself to be dismounted, raised the armour 
 which covered the Earl's horse wMth his hand, and stab- 
 bed the good charger. Tiie Earl of Boulogne thus dis- 
 mounted, was added to the captives, who amounted to 
 five Earls of the highest name and powder, twenty-five 
 seigneurs, or nobles, bearing banners, and nearly as many 
 men of inferior rank as there were soldiers in the con- 
 quering army. Philip, considering his disparity of num- 
 bers, and satisfied with so complete a victory, would not 
 permit his troops to follow the enemy far. 
 
 Such was the celebrated battle of Bouvines, on the 
 details of which the French historians dwell with national 
 pride. It lasted from noon till five in the evening. (A. 
 D. 1214.) The scruples of two ecclesiastics, which 
 prohibited them from shedding blood, were on this occa- 
 sion differently expressed, or rather evaded. Guerin the 
 hospitaller, who was also bishop elect of Senlis, lent 
 Philip the assistance of his militar}^ experience in drawl- 
 ing up his army, but w^ould not engage personally in the 
 action. Another prelate, Philip, Bishop of Beauvais, 
 thought he sufficiently eluded the canon which prohibit- 
 ed churchmen from shedding blood, by fighting like the 
 chaplain of the Cid, who used an iron mace instead of a 
 sword. With this, the scrupulous prelate had the honour 
 to strike down and make prisoner the celebrated Long- 
 sword, Earl of Salisbury, who commanded such English 
 troops as were in the battle. 
 
 After the victory, Philip caused the principal captives 
 
to be conducted through Paris in i son of triumph, and ir 
 this procession Renaud, Count of Boulogne, and Ferrand^ 
 Count of Flanders, were distinguished from the rest by 
 being loaded with irons. The former being brought be- 
 fore Philip, the king upbraided him with his excommu- 
 nication, (forgetting how lately he himself had been under 
 the censure of the church, for the affair of his divorce ) 
 He also charged him with personal ingratitude, and con- 
 cluded by sending the captive earl to the castle of Pe- 
 ronne, where he was lodged in a dungeon, and his motions 
 limited by a heavy chain, attached to a block of iron, so 
 weighty that two men could not lift it. Here the unfor- 
 tunate earl remained a close captive, until he heard that 
 his ally Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, had been restored to 
 freedom, (though under severe conditions,) at the suppli- 
 cation of his wife. On finding that similar clemency was 
 not extended to him, the Count of Boulogne became 
 desperate, and ended his miserable misfortunes by depriv- 
 ing himself of existence. 
 
 The second part of the plan of the allies, which 
 was to have depended on the exertions of King John 
 of England, proved as inefficient as all others which 
 had been calculated upon the fortune and conduct of that 
 unlucky prince. John, no doubt, carried over an Eng- 
 lish army to Rochelle, and received the homage of many 
 barons of Poitou and Normandy, who had acceded to 
 the league against Philip. He took Angers, the capital 
 of Anjou, his family fief, but, except wasting and spoil- 
 ing the country, he did nothing farther on his side which 
 could materially favour the great attempt of the confed- 
 erates. 
 
 Philip having gained the battle of Bouvines, which 
 might be said to secure the fate of the crown of France, 
 by placing in his power the heads of so formidable a con- 
 spiracy, marched instantly into Poitou against John, yet 
 showed no inclination to carry the w^ar to extremity al 
 present ; but, on receiving a present of sixty thousand 
 pounds sterling, he granted the King of Eng and a truce 
 
 953 
 
210 IRUCE GRANTED TO JOHN. 
 
 for the space of five years. For this moderation, Philip 
 has been censured by French writers, who are ol opin 
 ion he should have continued the war, until he had sub- 
 dued Rochelle and the few scattered French towns and 
 forts which still acknowledged the dominion of England. 
 
 But Philip, who was a prince of far-sighted ])olitical 
 views, was aware that, in the battle of Bouvines, he had 
 been obliged to rely too implicitly upon the assistance of 
 his feudal vassals, and might think it imprudent to make 
 ihem, at this moment, more sensible of their own impor- 
 tance, by prosecuting new wars against John, in which 
 their assistance would have been indispensable. A large 
 sum of money being immediately received, he may be 
 supposed to have calculated to have a sufficient number 
 of mercenary forces, by help of w^iich, at some conven- 
 ient period, the wreck of John's French dominions might 
 be gained, without the assistance of his feudal militia, and 
 of troops which never could be properly said to be under 
 his own personal command. 
 
 During this time, a remarkable series of transactions 
 took place in France, the review of which 1 have reserved 
 to this place, that I might not confuse them in yourmem- 
 oiy with those which I have been thus recounting. 
 
 The Popes, bent at once on increasing their finances 
 and extending their power, had found the utmost ad van 
 tage in the practice of preaching the crusade, as the in 
 dispensable duty of all Christians, while, at the same 
 time, they found it very convenient to accept of large 
 sums of money from such princes, nobles, and individuals, 
 as found it more convenient to purchase the privilege of 
 lemaining to look after their own affairs, than to assume 
 the cross for distant enterprises. These holy expeditions 
 were originally confined to the recovery of Palestine. 
 But, since their effects were found in every respect so 
 profitable to the church, it occurred to the Popes that 
 there might be great policy in extending the principles 
 of the holy crusade not cnly to the extirpation of infi- 
 delity and heathenism, in foreign parts, but to that of 
 ueiesy at home. Accordingly, as head of the Christian 
 
CRUSADE AGAINST HERETICS. 211 
 
 churclij the Pontiffs assumed the privilege of CGmmaiid- 
 ing all Christian people, under the threat of spiritual 
 censures against those that should disobey, and with a 
 corresponding remuneration to such as rendered spiritual 
 obedience, to rise up in arms, and do execution on such 
 people, or sects, as it had been the })leasure of the 
 church to lay under the ban of excommunication for 
 heretical opinions. 
 
 It was in the exercise of a privilege so frightful, by 
 which the Popes raised armies wherever they pleased, 
 and employed them as they chose, that the south-west of 
 France was subjected to a horrible war. A numerous 
 party of dissenters from the faitli of Rome, men profess- 
 ing, in most respects, those doctrines which are now 
 avowed by the Protestant churches, had gradually ex- 
 tended itself through the south of France, and were par- 
 ticularly numerous in the dominions of Raymond, Earl 
 of Toulouse. The ecclesiastical writers of the period 
 accuse these unfortunate sectaries of professing abomina- 
 ble and infamous license, which they are alleged to have 
 practised even in their public worship ; but there is little 
 reason to doubt that this was mere calumny, and that the 
 Albigeois, or Albigenses, as they were termed, were a 
 set of obscure but sensible men, whose minds could not 
 be reconciled to the extravagant tenets of the Roman 
 Church. They did not exactly agree in doctrine amongst 
 themselves, and probably numbered among them the 
 obscure descendants of the Paulicians, and other ancient 
 Gothic churches, who had never embraced the faith of 
 Rome, or yielded to its extravagant pretensions of tem- 
 poral authority. Raymond, Count of Toulouse, within 
 wliose dominions these poor dissenters found refuge, was a 
 prince of a comprehensive understanding, and, though 
 himself professing no peculiarity of faith, w^as, neverthe- 
 less, willing to grant liberty of conscience to all who lived 
 under his sway, and was well aware what temporal ad- 
 vantages might be derived from a government so profess- 
 ing complete toleration. 
 
 Against these unfortunate Albigen^Jcs, and their proleo 
 
21'2 CRUSADE AGAINST THE ALBIGENSES 
 
 tor Raymond, Pope Innocent III., at the instigation of 
 Saint Dominic, and other furioHS inquisitors of the monas- 
 tic orders, proclaimed a crusade, enjoining those persons 
 who should embrace so pious a labour, to convert by the 
 sword, those who should fail to lend an ear to the preach' 
 ing of the monks. A numerous host, great part of which 
 was levied among the military adventurers and hired mer- 
 cenaries of the age, and whose character for license and 
 cruelty was scarcely to be matched, was assembled, under 
 t!ie name of the Army of the Church. They were 
 placed under the command of Simon de Montfort, a 
 brave but cruel leader, and a bigot to the faith of Rome. 
 Under his command these crusaders indulged an in- 
 discriminate thirst for slaughter and plunder amid the 
 peaceful Albigenses, without accurately distinguishing the 
 heretic from the orthodox, under the pretext that they 
 were extirpating evil and erroneoi s opinions, and thereby 
 rendering acceptable service to God and the Christian 
 Church. 
 
 Philip of France gave way to proceedings which he 
 dared not oppose. He did not himself embrace the cru- 
 sade against the Albigenses ; but his son, Prince Louis, 
 came under the obligation, without his father's knowledge 
 and against his inclination. Count Raymond defended 
 himself till after the battle of Bouvines, by which time 
 Simon de Montfort, with his crusaders, had attained such 
 a superiority over the Albigenses, that he rather regarded 
 the enfi;agement of Louis in the crusade as matter of 
 jealousy, than as affording a prospect of support and 
 assistance. 
 
 In such circumstances, Prince Louis w^as naturally 
 calh.'d upon to rejoice, when he was summoned by his 
 father to exchange the fruitless and oppressive persecu- 
 tion against these poor sectaries, for a more honourable 
 warfare, which had for its object the conquest of Eng- 
 land, and the utter destruction of King John's power. 
 
 As King John's misconduct and losses became more 
 and more onspicuous abroad, his tyranny mcreased at 
 home ; and as his prerogative grew in fact weaker, he 
 
MAGNA CHARTA SIGNED BY JOHN. "^IS 
 
 enraged his subjects by attempting to extend Its limits in 
 the most obnoxious instances. He caused the forest laws, 
 always vexatious, to be executed with more than usual 
 severity, casting down the enclosuies of the royal forests, 
 so that the wild deer, and other animals of the chase, 
 might have uncontrolled access to the crops of the hus- 
 bandmen. The barons were equally discontented with 
 the people by his violent and oppressive exactions and 
 claims, and. took the field against him in such force, as 
 obliged King John to submit to their just demands; on 
 which occasion, he subscribed, at Runnamede, the cele- 
 brated grant of privileges, called Magna Charta, which 
 the English still account the bulwark of their liberties. 
 A.S these privileges, however just and equitable in them- 
 selves, were extorted most unwillingly from the monarch, 
 the perfidious king took the first opportunity to endeavour 
 to recall them. He ap})ealed for this purpose to the 
 Pope, whom he had created his lord paramount ; and 
 the Pontiff, who received his claim of protection most 
 fav^ourably, expressed himself as highly offended at some 
 of the articles of the Great Charter, and swore he would 
 not suffer a sovereign, who was now an obedient vassal 
 of the church, to be dictated to by his subjects in such a 
 manner. He, therefore, annulled the grant of the Great 
 Charter, as extorted by force, and not long after fulmi- 
 nated excommunications against the allied barons, and all 
 who favoured tliem. John received still more powerful 
 assistance from a large army of mercenary soldiers, whom 
 he landed at Dover, and with whom he took Rochester. 
 By this re-enforcement, the king obtained a formidable 
 advantage over the barons who could not always keep 
 their feudal followers under arms, since tliey had their 
 land to cultivate and their crops to gather in, whereas the 
 mercenaries could be kept prepared for war at all times, 
 and ready to be in tiie field at a n]Inute's warning. 
 
 The barons in this emergency adopted the desperate 
 alternative of throwing themselves Into the hands of the 
 King of France, rather than submit to the tyrant John 
 Two of their numbei were despatched to the court o^ 
 
^14 INVASION OF ENGLAND BY LOUIS. 
 
 King Philip, offering to Iransfer their own allegi?.nce, and 
 the kingdom of England, to his eldest son Louis, on con. 
 dition of his bringing an ariny to their assistance. The 
 pretence of this interference on the part of France might 
 be, that when the crown vassals were oppressed by their 
 immediate lord, their lord paramount had a right to interfere 
 for their redress. Even that excuse would not have justified 
 in feudal law the substitution of the son in the fief, wiiich, 
 if forfeited at all, was an escheat to the fiither. But the 
 case of the barons was desperate, and, conscious of John's 
 revengeful temper, they sought for aid in the only man- 
 ner in which they saw a chance of obtaining it. Accord- 
 ingly, the tempting offer of a crown prevailed on Philip 
 and his son, the former in secret, and the latter openly, to 
 accept eagerly the proposal of the barons, and to send an 
 army of seven thousand men to re-enforce the insurgent 
 parly in England, while Louis himself prepared a stronger 
 expedition. 
 
 On the 23d of May, Louis arrived before Sandwich, 
 with a gallant navy of six hundred sail, disembarked a 
 corresponding number of land forces, marched towards 
 London, and, having taken Rochester in his route, was 
 welcomed with acclamations by the citizens. (A. D. 
 1216.) Here he received the homage of the barons who 
 had invited him to their aid. 
 
 Hitherto every thing had been in favour of the young 
 Prince of France, and the affairs of John went to ruin 
 on all sides. The legate of the Pope strove in vain to 
 defend him by the fulminations of the church. These 
 were addressed both against Philip and his son Louis ; 
 but as the former monarch disavowed in public the pro- 
 ceedings of his son, the effectual excomtnunication fell 
 only upon Louis himself, who, receiving from his father 
 by underhand means the encouragement and the supplies 
 whi/^.h were openly refused to him, and being, moreover, 
 at tne head of a military force, set at defiance the conse- 
 quences of the spiritual censures. Indeed, it may be 
 nbs<?rved, that, even during this })eriod, (although that ir 
 
felEGE OF DOVER CASTLE. 213 
 
 which the Romish church had the greatest influence on 
 the world at large,) the Pope's excommunication was 
 effectual, or otherwise, according to the opinion enter- 
 tained by the nation in general, of the justice of the sen- 
 tence. Thus we have seen, that a sentence of the 
 cljurch reduced John to almost total ruin, from which he 
 only saved himself by the most absolute submission, and 
 the transference of his dominions to the Roman see. 
 On the other hand, the curse of Rome did not greatly 
 affect Prince Louis, while the barons of England contin- 
 ued to espouse his cause. And not long subsequent to 
 this time, Robert Bruce of Scotland, excommunicated as 
 he was for the murder of Comyn, found the spiritual cen- 
 sure no great simpediment to the recovery of his crown. 
 So that it was the force of public opinion, which added 
 much to the effectual weight of the anathema of the 
 church. 
 
 But the affairs of Louis were deranged by circumstan- 
 ces different from, and independent of, the Pope's sen- 
 tence of excommunication, although, as the scale turned 
 that sentence acquired weight which it had not when 
 first pronounced. In the space of the first two months 
 Louis marched successfully through England, and reduc- 
 ed the whole southern parts of tliat kingdom to his obedi- 
 ence. But he met a check before the castle of Dover, 
 which was defended with obstinacy and success by Hu- 
 bert de Burgh, and a select garrison. The most formi- 
 dable military engine of the French was in vain pointed 
 against the walls of a place strong by nature, and forti- 
 fied with all the skill of the period. Although success 
 seemed almost impossible, Louis continued the siege with 
 unavailing obstinacy, and the time which he wasted be- 
 fore Dover, gave Jolm leisure once more to collect his 
 f(jrces, and afforded opportunity for dissensions to spring 
 up among the allies of Prince Lcuis. Windsor Castle 
 ■was besieged by the Prince with the same ill success as 
 Dover. John was once more at the head of a formida- 
 ble army, and what was still more ominous to the cause 
 of Louis, the English barons began to draw off from hi^ 
 
216 RENEWAL OF THK GREAT CHARTER. 
 
 Side, on (iisceniiiig that be treated bis countrymen with 
 undue partiabtj, and afforded little countenance to tbe 
 lords of England vvbo bad joined him. A report was 
 spread, that tbe Viscount of Melun bad, on bis death- 
 bed, confessed a purpose on tbe part of Louis to put to 
 death the barons who had joined his party, as traitors to 
 their natural monarch. Whether tbe report was founded 
 in truth or not, it was certainly believed ; insomuch, tliat 
 several nobles of distinction deserted tbe cause of Louis, 
 and returned to their original allegiance. 
 
 Many or most others were only withheld from doing 
 tlie same, from a dread of the false and vindictive char- 
 acter of John, when, at this critical period, an event took 
 place which fortunately saved England from tbe dreadful 
 alternative of a foreign yoke, or a bloody civil war. King 
 John delivered the country from the extr&mity to which 
 be bad reduced it, by his sudden death, tbe only thing 
 which could have relieved it. This prince, whose ty- 
 ranny bad occasioned tbe evils of bis kingdom, and the 
 general apprehension of whose perfidy prevented tbeii 
 being removed, died at Newark-upon-Trent, at tbe yel 
 robust age of forty-nine years, on 19tb October, 12J6. 
 (A. D.) 
 
 This opportune event changed tbe scene, for tbe re- 
 volted barons, already inclined to return to their alle- 
 giance, bad now to treat with a young prince of tbe na- 
 tive family of their own kings, instead of a foreigner, 
 whose faith they had some reason to distrust, or tbe 
 tyrant John, whose treachery and cruelty were alike to 
 be dreaded. 
 
 Henry III., tbe eldest son and successor of John, was 
 only in bis tenth year, so that the assistance of a guardian, 
 or protector, was absolutely necessary. The Earl of 
 Pembroke, a wise and brave nobleman, was chosen to this 
 eminent but difficult office. Loyal to tbe young prince, 
 be was, at tbe same time, friendly to the liberties of the 
 subject, and bis first act was, as a voluntary grant on tbe 
 part of the crown, to renew tbe (ireat Charter of the 
 I 'iherties which John bad granted with so much formality 
 
LOUIS WITHDRAWS FROM ENGLaND. 211 
 
 and afterwards endeavoured to retract. This open and 
 manly measure served as an assurance that, in the new 
 reign, the regal power was to be administered with due 
 respect to tlie freedom of the subject ; and, in conse- 
 quence, the English barons, who could have no cause of 
 personal complaint against the young king, began, upon 
 this favourable prospect, to throng back to his standard, 
 and to desert that of Louis of France. 
 
 Louis, who had received considerable re-enforcements 
 from his father, and was naturally reluctant to aban- 
 don what was once so hopeful an enterprise, still im- 
 prudently persevered in his attempts on Dover Castle, 
 without being able to overcome the resistance of Hubert 
 de Burgh. Other indecisive sieges and skirmishes took 
 place, until at length, in the beginning of the summer 
 1217, (A. D.) the French army, under the Earl of 
 Perche, was totally defeated under the walls of Lincoln, 
 and in the streets of the town. This disaster closed the 
 struggle, and a treaty of peace was concluded betwixt 
 Louis and the Lord Protector, Pembroke, by which the 
 former honourably stipulated for the indemnity of such 
 English barons as adhered to his party, and for the free- 
 dom, without ransom, of the numerous French prisoners 
 taken at the battle of Lincoln. Under these conditions, 
 Louis resigned his pretensions to the crown of England, 
 and engaojed to use his intercession with his father for the 
 restoration of the fief of Normandy, and others conquered 
 froni King John by Philip; and if his intercession should 
 prove ineffectual, the prince farther bound himself to 
 restore these foreio-n dominions to EnMand, when he him- 
 self should accede to t!ie thi-one of France. Prince 
 Louis accordingly withdrew to France with all his forces, 
 leaving the young prince, Henry, peacefully seated upon 
 the throne. Thus terminated an important crisis, which 
 threatened in the commencement to make England a 
 province of France, as a fair and fertile part of France 
 had, in the time of the kings succeeding the Conquest, 
 been fiefs of England, until taken from John, who ac- 
 10 VOL. I- 4th See, 
 
218 WAR WITH THE ALBIGENSES RENEWED 
 
 quired, from Lis loss of territory, the dishonourable title 
 of Lack-Land, or landless. 
 
 Louis, the Prince of France, having left one fie»J of 
 strife In England, found In his own country another, which 
 was almost equally unsuccessful. This was the renewed 
 war against the unfortunate heretics in the south of France, 
 called the Alblgenses. These unhappy people had been 
 treated with much oppression and cruelty by Simon de 
 Montfort, who came against them at the head of the dij- 
 solute and disorderly bands who were called crusaders, 
 conquered them, and had been created their earl, or 
 count. But he continued to persecute the heretics with 
 such unrelenting severity, and so oppressed them, that, 
 being able to endure their sufferings no longer, they 
 rushed to arms, restored their old Count Raymond to the 
 government of his fief, and became again formidable. 
 Simon de Montfort hastened once more to form the siege 
 of Toulouse ; but the cause of the oppressed was victo- 
 rious, and this cruel and tyrannical leader fell before the 
 city, while his wife and family remained the prisoners of 
 the Alblgenses. 
 
 The Pope, alarmed at the success of these heretics, as 
 he termed them, became urgent witli King Philip to be 
 active against them, while an assembly of the church, 
 held at Mantes, again determined on preaching the cru- 
 sade against the Alblgenses. Philip, although he himself 
 had gone to Palestine, In his memorable crusade with 
 King Richard, was by no means a favourer of these im- 
 politic expeditions. On the other hand, he dared not re- 
 fuse the request of the Pope and clergy, and reluctantly 
 permitted his son Louis, with an army of fifteen thousand 
 men again to take the cross against the heretics in the 
 south of France. But the prince prosecuted the war 
 with so much coldness, that it was supposed Louis was 
 either indifferent In the cause himself, or had private in- 
 structions from his father not to conduct it with activity. 
 Al length he was recalled from the enterprise entirely, 
 by his father's command. The pretext was, the neces- 
 si\y of the rnnce's attendance on a grand council, to be 
 
UEATH OF PHILIP AUGUSTUS. 219 
 
 held at Mantes, for considerlnoj an offer made by Amaury 
 son of Simon de Montfort. This young man, the heir oi 
 the title which his father had acquired over Toulouse by 
 his first conquest, thought he perceived the reason why 
 France was so cold in recovering these possession^;. Ha 
 therefore proposed to cede to the crown of France hv^ 
 own right to the earldom, that Philip and his son mighi 
 have a deep personal interest in carrying on the war with 
 vigour. This would probably have given more activity 
 to the movements of Philip Augustus against the Albi- 
 genses. But he did not survive to accept of the cession 
 offered by de Montfort, as he died of a fever at Mantes, 
 in July, 1223, (A. D.) He was incomparably the great 
 est prince that had held the French throne since the days 
 of Charlemagne. At his death, he left the proper domin- 
 ions of France nearly doubled in extent, by his valour 
 and prudence, and greatly improved in wealth, strength, 
 tnd convenience, by the formation of roads, the fortifica- 
 ti*. n cf defenceless towns, the creation of public works, 
 anu other national improvements, arising from his wise 
 administration. He was in general successful in his mili- 
 tary exploits, as much owing to the sagacity with which 
 he planned, as to the bravery with which he executed 
 them. The battle of Bou vines, in particular, was one of 
 those decisive contests upon which the fate of nations 
 depends ; and had Philip been defeated, it is certain that 
 France would have been divided by Otho and the con- 
 federates, and doubtful, to say the least, whether it ccild 
 have been again united into one single kingdom cf the 
 first rank. 
 
220 ACCESSION OF LOUIS THE LiaN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Accession of Louis the Lion — War with England^" 
 Crusade against the Albigenses — Death of Louis—' 
 Regency of (^veen Blanche — Conspiracy of the Crown 
 Vassals suppressed — Louis assumes the Cross — Lands 
 at Damietta, and captures that place — Disasters of the 
 French in their march to Grand Cairo — Louis and 
 great part of his Army taken prisoners — JVegociations 
 for their ransom — Murder of the Sultan by his Body 
 Guard — Conduct of the Assassins towards the French 
 King — Confinement of the Q^ueen during her Hus- 
 band's captivity-^Louis returns to France, on the 
 Death of his Mother — his Despondency. 
 
 Philip Augustus was succeeded in his throne by his 
 eldest son, Louis VI II., whose unsuccessful wars in Eng- 
 land we have already noticed. He was called by the 
 surname of the Lion, from his personal courage, doubt- 
 less, rather than from his success in arms, of which last 
 he had not much to boast. 
 
 He had scarcely assumed the throne, when he was 
 greeted by an ambassador from Henry UL, demanding 
 the restoration of the provinces which the English mon- 
 arch's ancestors had held in France, in terms of the treaty 
 made and sworn to when he left England in 1217. Louis 
 was, however, determined on no account to comply with 
 this article, the fulfilment of which would have occasioned 
 the revival of the English power in France, which had 
 Deen so serious a subject of annoyance and apprehension 
 to his predecessors. In vindication of the breach of his 
 oath, he alleged that the English, on their part, had not 
 fulfilled the treaty of 1217, that some of the English 
 barons of his party had met with usage contrary to the 
 promise of indemnity pledged in their behalf, and thai 
 ?onie French prisoners, madi at the battle of Lincohi 
 
CRUSADE AGAINST THE ALBIOEN.'fJS. 221 
 
 instead of being set at liberty in terms of the compact 
 had been compelled to ransom themselves. 
 
 Taking upon him, therefore, tlie character of one whc 
 had sustained, and not inflicted a wrong, King Louis, in- 
 stead of restoring Normandy, proceeded, in imitation of 
 his fatlier's policy, to invade and besiege those towns 
 which the Enghsh still possessed in Poitou ; and Niort, 
 Saint Jean d'Angeli, and finally Rochelle itself, fell into 
 his hands, after a valiant defence. Bourdeaux, and the 
 country beyond the Garronne, was the only part of the 
 ample dominions within France, once acknowledging the 
 English authority, which still remained subject to that 
 power. This territory would probably have followed the 
 fate of the other forfeited or reconquered fiefs, but Henry 
 III., now a young man, sent an expedition, commanded 
 by his brother Richard, Earl of Cornwall, and consisting 
 of a considerable number of troops, to its relief. At the 
 same time he created Richard Count of Poitou. The 
 Gascons were favourable to the English, with whom they 
 maintained a profitable traffic. They vi'ere also flattered 
 by the proposal to place them immediately under the 
 command of a prince of the English blood royal, and 
 prepared to resist the invasion of Louis so obstinately, 
 that the King of France thought it judicious to consent 
 to a truce for three years. (A. D. 1224.) He had in- 
 deed still upon his hands the civil war with the Albigen- 
 ses ; and though he has been blamed for granting the 
 English a truce, it may be supposed he acted wisely in 
 undertaking only one of these formidable enterprises at a 
 time. 
 
 He was urged to renew the crusade against the south- 
 ern heretics, by the legate of the Pope, but in consenting 
 to do so, failed not to secure such personal interest in the 
 adventure, as might ensure to himself the principal ad- 
 vantage of its success. For this purpose, Louis renewed 
 \he treaty which his father had commenced with Amaury 
 de Montfort, and promising to that count the post of High 
 Constable of France, when a vacancy should occur, he 
 
22Si DEATH OF lOUlS THE LION 
 
 accepted from him the cession of all rights he iiheriteJ 
 from his father, the Count of Toulouse. 
 
 Having thus provided for his own interest in tiie under- 
 taking, the king assembled an army of fifty thousand 
 men, consisting of the best and boldest of his vassals, at 
 the head of their followers. With this large force he first 
 besietJ-ed Avif^-non, where the citizens were at first dispos- 
 ed to open their gates, but refused to receive any person 
 within them, except the king with his ordinary train. But 
 unlimited access was demanded, and the townsmen, afraid 
 100 justly of pillage and massacre, shut their gates, and 
 stood on their defence. They fought with the utmost 
 obstinacy, and the besiegers lost above two thousand men, 
 amongst whom was that celebrated Comte de Saint Paul, 
 who had acquired so much honour at the battle of Bou- 
 vines. At length the citizens of Avignon were compelled 
 to submit to a capitulation, the terms of which were un- 
 commonly severe. The establishment of the Roman 
 Catholic religion was exclusively provided for; and two 
 hundred hostages were given to that effect, sons of the 
 most wealthy inhabitants. Some of those who had 
 conducted the defence were hanged, or otherwise pun- 
 ished ; the fortifications were dismantled ; the ditches 
 filled up ; and three hundred of the best houses were 
 levelled with the ground, to complete the humihation of 
 the city. 
 
 After Avignon had surrendered, it was the object of 
 Louis to march against Toulouse, and inflict a similar 
 veni^^eance on tliat town, the metropolis of the revolted 
 province. But liis army had suffered so severely from 
 want of provisions, from the sword, and from pestilential 
 disease, that the King was compelled to grant them some 
 relaxation from military duty, which they were not at the 
 lime capable of discharging. 
 
 But Louis had himself performed before Avignon his 
 last campaign. On retiring to Monpensier, he was seized 
 with a fever, of which he died, 12th November, (A. D 
 1226,) havmg reigned only four years, and being in the 
 rery pnme of his manhood. He was succeeded by hi? 
 
REGENCY OF Q,UEEN BLANCHE. 223 
 
 only son, who bore his own name, and was Jaterwards 
 distinguished in the royal catalogue by the tit e of Saini 
 Louis. The epithet of Saint, in those superstitious times, 
 inferred at least as mucli weakness as virtue ; and we 
 shall see that Louis, while he was an honour to the char- 
 acter 'm the higher virtues, was not without the imperfec- 
 tions usually attending a reputation for sanctity, compre- 
 hending, of course, much devotion to the Pope, and great 
 liberality to the church. 
 
 The Queen Blanche, relict of the deceased monarch, 
 acted as regent for her son. She was eldest daughter 
 of Alphonso, King of Castile, by his wife Eleanor, daugh- 
 ter of that celebrated Eleanor of Aquitaine, by h&[ 
 second marriage with Henry II. of England. The char- 
 acter of Blanche, during the life of her husband, had not 
 been called forth to any remarkable display ; but Louis 
 VIII., who had great confidence in her wisdom, had 
 named her in his settlement the regent of France, until 
 his son should attain the years of majority. She had, 
 therefore, an arduous duty to discharge, especially as very 
 many of the crown vassals of the highest rank, dissatis- 
 fied with the power attained by the king during the last 
 two reigns, had formed a league together, upon the prin- 
 ciple of that which was adopted by the confederates, 
 previous to the battle of Bouvines, and the purpose of 
 which, Philip's victory in that battle had for the time 
 disconcerted. 
 
 The opportune occurrence of a minority, during which 
 the crown's authority was to be administered by a female, 
 and a foreigner, seemed, to various of the petty princes, 
 who were ambitious of rivallinoj the kins^ in all but the 
 name, a time highly fitted for recovering by force, if 
 necessary, that degree of independence of which they 
 had been deprived by the policy and success of Philip 
 [Augustus and his short-lived son, Louis the Lion. The 
 still existing insurrection of the Albigenses was a great 
 encouragement to the confederates, and Raymond of 
 Toulouse was one of the most zealous of their number, 
 He was one who could be easily justified j for, while th« 
 
224 CONSPIRACY OF THE CROWN VASSALS. 
 
 Others became rebels and conspirators, for objects of 
 personal power and ambition, to which they had a ver^ 
 doubtful claim, Raymond was a prince unjustly deprived 
 of his territories, which he was naturally desirous to re- 
 cover. 
 
 The other nobles engaged in the conspiracy against 
 the queen regent were, Philip, Count of Boulogne, the 
 brother of the late king, who claimed the regency as of 
 -ight appertaining to him by descent ; tlie powerful 
 Earls or Counts Thibault, of Champagne, Hugh de la 
 Marche, Hugh de Saint Paul, Simon de Ponthieu ; there 
 was, besides, Peter, Duke of Bretagne ; all princes of 
 the first rank for wealth and power, which it was their 
 object to hold with no greater degree of dependence on 
 the crown of France, than they might find indispensable. 
 In fact, it was their object to deprive the king of all 
 power, beyond what might become a president of the 
 cour pleniere, and general of the armies of the kingdom. 
 
 Alone, or nearly so, a stranger and a woman, opposed 
 to so many powerful nobles, Blanche conducted herself 
 with great courage and ability. Ere the confederates had 
 matured their plan of hostilities, she suddenly attacked 
 Raymond of Toulouse, reduced him to ask terms by 
 which he became bound to renounce tlie heretical opinions 
 of the Albigenses, and to give his daughter and heiress 
 m marriage to Alphonso, her own fourth son by the late 
 king, and thus secured the final reversion of these rich 
 territories to the royal family. 
 
 The next part of her undertaking was the subjugation 
 of the confederates, who laid aside the mask, and began 
 to show their real purpose ; and here her female power^ 
 extreme beauty and corresponding address, were of the 
 greatest service. Thibault, Count of Champagne, a prince 
 of great possessions, was renowned alike as a good knight, 
 and as an excellent troubadour, or poet, in which ca- 
 pacity he had, even during the life of her husband, Louis 
 VIII., selected as the theme of his praise, and the sove 
 reign mistress of his affections, no other than Blanche 
 herself. The adoration of a poet, in tho?? times, had m 
 
ADDRESS OF QUEEN BLANCHE. 22g 
 
 ii nothing that was necessarily burtlul to a lady's reputa- 
 tion, nevertheless, it was said that the queen had expresseo 
 resentment at the liberty which the Count of Champagne 
 had taken in fixing his affections so high, and in making 
 his admiration so public. It is even surmised, that the 
 severity with which the queen treated the enamoured 
 poet, was so highly resented by him, that his mortification 
 was the cause of his joining tlie confederates. But a 
 woman of address and beauty knows well how to recover 
 the affections of an offended lover ; and if her admirer 
 should be of a romantic and poetical temperament, he is 
 still more easily recalled to his allegiance. It cost the 
 queen but artfully throwing out a hint, that she would be 
 pleased to see Thibault at court ; and the faithful lover 
 was at her feet and at her command. On two important 
 occasions, the enamoured troubadour disconcerted the 
 plans of his political confederates, like a faithful knight. 
 in obedience to the commands of the lady of his affec- 
 tions. 
 
 Upon one of these occasions, Count Thibault gave 
 private intimation of a project of the malecontents to 
 seize the person of the queen, on a journey from Orleans 
 to Paris. Their purpose, being once known, was easily 
 defeated, by the queen-mother throwing herself and bet 
 son into a strong fortress, till a suitable escort was col- 
 lected to ensure their passage in safety to the capital. 
 On another occasion the king having called an assembly 
 of his nobles to oppose Peter of Bretagne, w^ho had ap- 
 peared in open arms, the conspiring nobles agreed to 
 bring each to the rendezvous a party of followers, in ap- 
 parent obedience to the royal command, which, though it 
 should seem but moderate, in regard to each indiviflual 
 prince's retinue, should, when united, form a preponde- 
 raiins force. But this stratao;em was also disconcerted 
 by the troubadour Earl of Champagne, who, to please 
 his royal mistress, brought a stronger attendance than all 
 the others put together ; so, that, as none of the other 
 great vassals dared to take the part of Peter of Bretagne, 
 he was obliged to s<ibmit to the royal authority. 
 954 
 
226 QUEEN Blanche's influence over 
 
 The Count of Champagne had hke to have decrljf 
 bought his comphance with the pleasure of his lady-love, 
 instead of pursuing the line of politics of the confede- 
 rates. He was attacked by the whole confederacy, who, 
 enraged at his tergiversation, agreed to expel him from 
 his country, and confer Champagne upon the Queen of 
 Cyprus, who had some claim to it as heiress of Thibault's 
 elder brother. Blanche was so far grateful to her de- 
 voted lover, that she caused her son to march to his 
 succour, and repel the attack on his territories. Yet she 
 sought to gain something for the crown, by this act of 
 kindness, and therefore intimated to the count, that, to 
 defray the expenses of the war, and compensate the 
 claims of his niece, it would be expedient that he should 
 sell to the young king his territories of Blois, Chartres, 
 Chateaudun, and Sansevre. The count murmured forth 
 some remonstrances, in being required to part with so 
 valuable a portion of his estates. But so soon as Blanche, 
 with a displeased look, reproached him with his disobe- 
 dience and ingratitude, he fetched a deep sigh, as he re- 
 plied, " By my faith, madam, my heart, my body, my 
 life, my land, are all at your absolute disposal !" The 
 crown of France acquired the territory accordingly. 
 
 It does not appear that the devotions of this infatuated 
 lover were offensive to Queen Blanche herself, who, as a 
 woman, might be proud of her absolute influence over a 
 man of talents, and, as a politician, miglit judge it desi- 
 rable to preserve that influence over a powerful nobleman, 
 when it was maintained at the cheap price of an obliging 
 word, or glance. But some of the French courtiers grew 
 impatient of the absurd pretensions of Thibault to the 
 queen's favour. They instigated Robert of Artois one 
 of the sons of Louis VIII., who was little beyond child- 
 hood, to put an affront upon the Count of Champagne 
 by throwing a soft cream -cheese in his face. Enthusiasm 
 of every kind is peculiarly sensible to ridicule. Thi- 
 bault became aware that he was laughed at, and as the 
 rank and youth of the culprit prevented the prince being 
 the subiect oi revenge, the Count of Champagne retired 
 
THE COUNT uf CHAJMPAGNE. 221 
 
 from the court for ever, and in his feuda dominions en- 
 deavoured 10 find consolation in the favour of the muses, 
 for the rigour, and perhaps the duplicity, of his royal 
 mistress. This troubadour monarch afterwards became 
 King of Navarre, and his extravagant devotion to beauty 
 and poetry did not prevent his being held, in those days, 
 a sagacious as well as accomplished sovereign. 
 
 Otlier mtiigues the queen mother was able to discon- 
 cert, by timely largesses bestowed upon the needy among 
 the conspirators, while some she subdued by force of 
 arms. In the latter case, she committed the conduct of 
 the ro}al forces to Ferrand, Earl of Flanders, the same 
 who was taken prisoner at the battle of Bouvines, who 
 conducted himself with all the fidelity and intelligence 
 she could have desired. And, in short, by patience, 
 courage, policy, and well used opportunity. Queen Blanche 
 not only preserved that degree of authority which was 
 attached to the throne when she was called to the ad- 
 ministration of affairs, but consolidated and augmented it 
 considerably. 
 
 It may be that the wars and intrigues of the Queen of 
 France would have ended less fortunately, if the weight 
 of England had been thrown into the opposite scale ; 
 and you may wonder that this was not the case, since no 
 time could have occurred more suitable than the minority 
 of Saint Louis, for the recovery of those French territo- 
 ries which the skill and conduct of Philip Augustus won 
 from the imbecility of his contemporary. King John. 
 Indeed, at the accession of Louis VIII., when the period 
 was less favourable, Henry III., or his counsello!s, had^ 
 as we observed, made a formal demand that Normandy, 
 and the other provinces claimed by England, should be 
 restored. But although many of the barons of the prov- 
 inces once attached to England offered their assistance 
 eagerly ; although the possession of Bourdeaux rendered 
 a descent easy ; although the Duke of Bretagne, whom 
 we have mentioned as a chief of the league ao;ainst tha 
 crown of France, endeavoured to urge tiie court of Eng- 
 land to an invasion, which he pledged himself to support 
 
228 CHAllACTER OF HENRY 111. 
 
 witli his utmost force ; yet the character of Henry III 
 of England was totally unfit for such an undertaking. 
 He had some of his father John's faults, being, though 
 less cruel than he, fully as timid in his person, and as 
 rash in his attempts. He was extravagantly expensive, 
 and notoriously faithless ; an encroacher upon the rights 
 of his subjects, and repeatedly guilty of the breach of 
 his most solemn promises and engagements to them. 
 Henry was also, like his father, an mdolent and wretched 
 conductor of an undertaking requirmg activity and reso- 
 lution. In 1229, (A. D.) Henry did indeed attempt his 
 long-threatened invasion of France ; but with so little 
 precaution, that, when his army was assembled, it was 
 found there had been no care taken to provide an ade- 
 quate number of vessels. They passed to St. Maloes, 
 however, and were joined by the Duke of Bretagne, with 
 all his forces, but instead of leading the army to action, 
 Henry spent the money which had been provided for 
 their support in mere lavish and expensive follies, and 
 returned to England after three or four months' idle and 
 useless stay in France, almost without having broken a 
 lance in the cause which had induced him to leave his 
 kingdom. On returning to England, this imprudent prince 
 became engaged in those intestine divisions with his peo- 
 ple which were called the Barons' Wars, and which left 
 liim no time, if he had had inclination, to trouble him- 
 self about the affairs of France. Meantime the Duke 
 of Bretagne, deserted by his ally, was hard pressed by 
 the royal forces, and demanded a respite only till he 
 should make application to Henry for relief. On re- 
 ceiving a refusal, the unfortunate duke saw. himself 
 obliged to present himself before his sovereign, the King 
 of France, with a halter around his neck, and solicit 
 mercy in the most humiliating terms. The disgrace of 
 this pageant lay with the English king, whose neglect to 
 «5U])port his ally had rendered this scene of abject sub- 
 nission the only road to safety which the deserted prince 
 could pursue. 
 
 England being thus occupied with her internal quar 
 
BLANCHE S ASCENDENCY OV'ER HER SON 220 
 
 rels, the Queen mother Blanche met ivith no interruption 
 from that quarter, while she extended the power of her 
 son over the discontented vassals whose object it had 
 been to restrict it. But with her grandmother Eleanor 
 of Aquitaine's masculine energies of disposition, Blanche 
 possessed no small share of her ambition. She was in no 
 hurry to surrender to her son the supreme power which 
 she had administered so well ; nor did the dutiful Louis, 
 though now approaciiing his twenty-first year, seem im- 
 patient to take upon himself the character of governor. 
 On the contrary, although he assumed the name of sov- 
 ereign, yet he continued to yield to the queen mother, at 
 least in a great measure, the actual power of administra- 
 tion. 
 
 It was said, that this deference to maternal authoritv, 
 more implicit than was becoming for him to yield, or his 
 mother to exact, arose from his having been educated 
 more like a monk, to whom strict obedience is one great 
 duty enjoined, than like a sovereign, who was not only 
 to think for himself, but to decide upon the actions ol 
 others. Signs of this monastic education were to be seen 
 in the bigoted attachment with which the future saint re- 
 garded every thing either really religious, or affecting to 
 be so ; and the narrowness of his mode of thinking in 
 this respect led to the principal misfortunes of his reign. 
 It is possible, however, that committing his educ tion 
 almost entirely to churchmen, might be a measure 
 adopted as much from the queen mother's own super- 
 stitious feelings, as from a desire to keep her r.on in the 
 background. 
 
 Blanche's jealousy of those of her own sex who ap- 
 proached her son and sought to please him, was not, per- 
 haps, an extraordinary, though an inconvenient excess of 
 maternal fondness. But she was singularly unreasonable 
 in extending her jealousy to her son's wife, a beautiful 
 woman, Margaret, one of the daughters of Raymond 
 Berenger, Count of Provence. The servants of tha 
 household had orders, when the King and Queen wore 
 
230 LOUIS ASSUMES THE CROSS, 
 
 in pn\'ate together, to whip the dogs which were abo^i' 
 the royal apartment, so that the cries of the animals 
 might give the queen mother a hint to burst in on the 
 retirement and privacy of her son and his wife. The 
 young queen reproached her mother-in-law with this jeal- 
 ous vigilance : and when Blanche caused Louis to remove 
 from the apartment in which his wife was about to be 
 confined, "You will not let me speak with my husband," 
 said Margaret, " whether living or dying." 
 
 The docility of tlie son, in a case where he had a 
 reasonable excuse for resistance, seems to have been car- 
 ried to an amiable excess. Yet, it is certain, that whether 
 her conduct in this particular arose out of policy or mis- 
 taken fondness, the love of Blanche for her son was 
 equally sincere and maternal. In the bias, however, 
 whicli his mind had taken towards a strict interpretation 
 i->f his duties in morality and religion, tinged as the latter 
 was with the superstition of his age, it was plain that the 
 first impulse which Louis might consider as a direction 
 fiom Heaven, would induce him to fall into the prevailing 
 error of the time, by assuming the cross, and departing 
 for the Holy Land. 
 
 Accordingly, a sudden illness, m which he remained 
 inspusible for the space of twenty-four hours, struck the 
 youno- kin (J- with sucli alarm, that he took the cross from 
 the Jiands of the Archbishop of Paris, and made a solemn 
 vow to march in person against the infidels with a royal 
 army. It was in vain that the w^isest of his ministers 
 pomted out to Louis the disasters which his predecessors 
 had sustained by such imprudent and ill-fated engage- 
 ments. Even his mother, though his departure must 
 restore her to full power as regent, in name as well as 
 authority, dissuaded her son from this fatal enterprise. 
 In reply, the king maintained, that as he had continued 
 to recover hourly since his vow was taken, the purport 
 of it must of course have been agreeable to the divine 
 will ; and he would only promise that he would endeavour 
 to arrange the preparations for his enterprise, at full 
 leisure, and with as much precaution as should secure its 
 
AND DEPARTS FOR THE HOLT LAND. 23 1 
 
 succes'j, and the safety of his dominions during his ab- 
 sence. He obtaired from the chorch a grant of the tenth 
 of tlieir revenues, to sustain the expense of his under- 
 taking. Gradually, too, lie prevailed upon many of tlie 
 nobility, and among these the Count of Marche and the 
 Duke of Bretagne, two of the most powerful and turbu- 
 lent of their number, to follow his example, and accom- 
 pany him to the East. 
 
 The motions of the future saint were arrested during 
 bis preparations, by the arrival at his court of Richard, 
 King of the Romans, brother of Henry HI. of England, 
 with an embassy from that power. " Sir King of 
 France," said this distinguished envoy, " you cannot un- 
 dertake to wage a holy war against the Infidels, until you 
 do justice to your brother of England, bereft as he has 
 been by your father of the provinces belonging to him In 
 France." 
 
 The King of France was so much startled at this ob- 
 jection to his purpose, that he referred the case, as a 
 scruple of conscience, to a conclave of Norman bishops; 
 and it was not till they formally gave their opinion that 
 no restitution should be made, that Louis declined the 
 request of the King of the Romans. 
 
 King Louis now prepared for his crusade, and departed, 
 carry Incr with him his vounir wife, although the instance 
 
 JO J O ' o 
 
 of Philip le Jeune was a bad example to recommend 
 such policy. Robert and Charles, his two brothers, also 
 accompanied the king In his adventurous expedition. 
 Passing down the Rhone from Lyons, he embarked from 
 the shores of the Mediterranean, and landed at Cyprus 
 on the 25th September, 1274, (A. D.) It was his pur- 
 pose to proceed from thence in the spring, In order to 
 mvade the kingdom of Egypt ; for experience had madj 
 It obvious, that, although Palestine might be conquered 
 for a season, it could never be eftectually protected oi 
 defended, as an independent Christian state, until the 
 infidels should be deprived of the populous and rich king- 
 dom of Egypt, \Aliich lay so near the Holy Land. The 
 number of his irmy amounted ^o about fifty thousand 
 
232 CAPTURE OF DAMIETTA. 
 
 men, of which it was computed there were ten thousand 
 cavahy ; and they disembarked in safety, as they had 
 proposed, before the town of Damietta. Here Louis, 
 who, with all his superstition, displayed a great fund of 
 personal worth and bravery, sprung into the sea in com- 
 plete armour, waded ashore among the foremost, with the 
 Orijiamme displayed, and made good his landing in spite 
 of twent} thousand men, by whom the shore and city of 
 Damietta were defended. The invaders seized upon, 
 and garrisoned the city, which was opulent, extensive, 
 and well foitified. Louis, with wise precaution, took into 
 his custody the magazines which they had acquired in 
 the storm which followed the capture ; but the subordi- 
 nate leaders of the crusade were dissatisfied, contending 
 that, on such occasions, the share of the commander-in- 
 chief was limited to one-third of the spoil, and that the 
 rest belonged to his associates. This introduced dissatis- 
 faction and insubordination among the feudal lords, and 
 greatly affected Louis's authority. 
 
 Want of discipline being thus introduced, it was speed- 
 ily perceived that the army of Saint Louis was not of 
 better morals than those of other crusaders, and the ut- 
 most licentiousness was practised, under the countenance 
 of some of the courtiers, within a stone's cast of the 
 king's own pavilion. In the meantime, the crusaders 
 remained in Damietta, waiting, first for the abatement of 
 the inundation of the Nile, and thereafter for the arrival 
 of Alphonso, Count of Poitiers, who had been separated 
 from his brother by stress of weather, or, as others say, 
 had been later than Louis in setting out from France. 
 This prince arrived at length ; and Louis resolved to sally 
 from the city, for the purpose of marching to Grand 
 Cairo, which the invaders termed Babylon. But the 
 river Nile, which the Christians believed to come from 
 the terrestrial Paradise, was at that time still in flood, and 
 Interrupted their march on every side. One broad canal 
 in particular, opposed their passage. As they had neither 
 Doats nor bridges, the crusaders attempted to cross the 
 canal by means of a mound — an awkward ccntrivance. 
 
GALLANTRY OF THE FRENCH. 2r33 
 
 in which t \ey totally failed. While engaged in this fruit- 
 less labour, tlie Christians were opposed at every turn by 
 the light-armed Saracens who attacked the military en- 
 gmes by which they endeavoured to cover their passage, 
 with balls of Greek fire, a species of inflammable matter 
 shot from the artillery then in use, extremely difficult to 
 quench, and which flew through the air, resembling in 
 appearance a fiery dragon. Saint Louis himself seems 
 rather to have sought refuo^e in his tears and devotions, 
 than in attempting to stop the conflagration. The cru- 
 saders were obliii"ed to renew the ensfines which had been 
 destroyed, with such part of the ships as could be dis- 
 mantled for that purpose. The Count of Artois, with 
 imprudent valour, found at length the means of passing 
 the canal at a dangerous ford ; and, instead of halting 
 till he was supported, rushed on with two thousand horse, 
 and forced his way into the village of Massoura, where 
 the Saracens gave themselves up for lost. But their 
 troops being rallied by a valiant soldier, who was after- 
 wards raised to the rank of sovereignty, the advanced 
 party of the Count of Artois were enclosed within the 
 village. The inhabitants poured on them stones, javelins, 
 arrows, scalding water, and all sorts of missiles from the 
 roofs of the houses, which were flat, and well ada))ted 
 to this species of defence. Most of the Christians were 
 slain ; and the Count of Artois, after having for some 
 time defended himself in one of the houses of the vil- 
 lage, at length fell fighting valiantly. 
 
 The king, to whom his brother's death was reported, 
 wept bitterly for the loss he had sustained ; and was 
 much grieved when he heard that the chief of the Sara- 
 cens displayed the coat-of-armour of the fallen prince, as 
 if it had been that of the king himself. Although the 
 French had the worst in this unequal and confused bat- 
 tle, their chivalry maintained the reputation which it had 
 m Eur3pe. Louis, surrounded by several Saracens, de*. 
 fended liimself against them all ; and wdien siy of the 
 pnncii a Mamelukes took shelter behind a heap of stones 
 
234 LOUTS RETREATS, AND WITH 
 
 from tlie shot of ;he French crossbows, to wbich they 
 replied with arrows and Greek fire, a stout priest called 
 John de Waysy, clad in his cuirass and head-piece, and 
 armed with his two-handed sword, rushed on them sc 
 suddenly, that, astonished at his resolution, tliey dis- 
 persed themselves and fled. But notwithstanding these, 
 and many other feats of arms highly honourable to the 
 crusaders, the losses of the Saracens were easily re- 
 placed ; whereas, every soldier that fell on the part of 
 the French, was an irreparable loss. A subsequent ac- 
 tion in which the Greek fire was showered upon the 
 Christians so that it covered even Louis's own horse> and 
 burnt whatever was opposed to it, both men and military 
 engines, completed the disasters of this unfortunate army. 
 Tlie invaders were now reduced to a defensive warfare ; 
 and this was sustained at the greatest disadvantage. A 
 dreary duty remained, after these battles were over. 
 The king, says his historian Joinville, hired a hundred 
 labourers to separate the bodies of the Christians from 
 those of the pagans ; the .former were interred ; the 
 Saracens were thrust under the bridge, and floated down 
 to the sea. 
 
 " God knows," says the gallant knight, " how noisome 
 was the smell, and how miserable it was to see the bodies 
 of such noble and worthy persons lie exposed. I wit- 
 nessed the chamberlain of the late Count of Artois seek- 
 ing the body of his master, and many more hunting after 
 those of their friends ; but none who were exposed to 
 the infectious smell, while engaged in this office, ever 
 recovered their health. Fatal diseases in consequence 
 broke out in the army ; their. limbs were dried up and 
 destroyed, and almost all were seized with a complaint in 
 the mouth, from which many never recovered." The 
 scurvy, which is intimated by this last disease, made 
 frightful ravages among the crusaders, a part of whom 
 were now cooped up in Damietta, or under its walls 
 The Saracens dragged their armed galleys across the 
 land, and launched them in the Nile, beneath the city 
 which was thus blockaded by land and water. Provisions 
 
HIS ARMY TAKEN OAPTIVE. 23^ 
 
 were extremely scarce, and the eels of the river, which 
 fed upon the numberless dead bodies became the princi 
 pal subsistence of the Frencli army, and increased the 
 pestilential disease 
 
 The condition of the Christians became now so despe- 
 rate, that Louis resolved to retreat to Damietta, and call 
 in all the outposts and vanguard of his army, which were 
 on their march to Cairo. The kino^ himself mi^ht have 
 made his retreat in safety by water ; but it was no part 
 of his plan to desert his army. He himself quitted his 
 own battalion, and, with Sir Geoffrey de Sergines, joined 
 the rear division, thus continuing his countermarch as far 
 as the town of Casel. In the latter part of his retreat, 
 the Turks came so close upon him, that Sir Geoffrey was 
 obliged to drive them off with strokes of the blade and 
 point of his sword ; at length, the unfortunate prince was 
 reduced to such a state, that he was obliged to lie down 
 with his head in the lap of a female, who had come from 
 Paris ; he expected every moment to die in that posture. 
 Walter de Chatillon, with the constancy of a gallant 
 knight, planted himself alone at the door of the house in 
 which the king lay, attacked every infidel who passed, 
 and put them repeatedly to flight. The king, who saw 
 him rush to the attack alone, brandishing his sword, and 
 rising in his stirrups, exclaimed, in his hour of distress, 
 " Ha, Chatillon ! gallant knight, where are all our good 
 companions?" The faithful knight was at length over- 
 powered by numbers, and his fate made knowm by the 
 condition of his horse, which was seen covered with blood 
 in the possession of a Saracen, who claimed the merit of 
 having slain its gallant master. 
 
 In the meantime, most of those who had fled, rather 
 than retreated, towards Damietta, had already been slaugh- 
 tered by tlie Saracens, or had delivered themselves up 
 to captivity. Scarcely even the deplorable catastrophe 
 of Louis le Jeune was more unfortunate in its conse- 
 quences, than the termination of the last crusade but one 
 prepared for with so much care, and ending with so much 
 wretchedness. The King, his remaining brother, many 
 
236 TOURAN SHAH, THE SULTAN, 
 
 princes of the blood royal and high noblesse, and. the 
 wreck of liis noble army, fell as captives into the hands 
 of the infidels, and were treated with the most atrocious 
 severity. 
 
 Upon the first surrender of the prisoners, the only 
 choice assigned them was that of embracing the Moslem 
 faith, or submitting to instant death ; and by far the great- 
 er part adopted the choice of martyrdom. When, how- 
 ever, it began to be discovered that most of the prison- 
 ers had the means of paying a high ransom, the barba- 
 rians, into whose hands they fell, became more desirous 
 of lucre than of bloodshed, and exchanged for ransom 
 most of those who were able to comply with their de- 
 mands. The Sultan of Egypt began also to reflect that 
 Damietta was still garrisoned by the Christians, and might 
 safely apprehend their retaining it till succours should 
 come from Europe. These considerations made him de- 
 sirous of an accommodation, by which he should rid 
 Egypt of its troublesome visiters. 
 
 But the nature of the government to which that coun- 
 try was now subjected, rendered the fate of the prisoners 
 extremely uncertain, and precarious ; but to enable you 
 to understand the circumstances in which they were" 
 placed, it is necessary to explain what the nature of that 
 government was. 
 
 Touran Shah, the reigning sultan of Egypt, was a 
 great-grand.' on of the brother of the famous Saladin, 
 whom we have seen the opponent of Richard Coeur de 
 Lion ; but the followers of these sultans had been ren- 
 dered efl^eminate by the pleasures of a rich country, and 
 were no lon/rer capable of engaging in battle, or attaining 
 victory over such rugged opponents, as King Louis and 
 his Franks. To supply this general deficiency of cour- 
 age and sp rit in their soldiers, the preceding sultans of 
 Egypt iiad been accustomed to levy chosen troops from 
 the numerous bands of slaves, which they bought on the 
 verge of Tartary, or in other foreign countries. These, 
 chiefly Georgians, Circassians, and the like, were select- 
 ed while children, for their form and strength, carefully 
 
a.ND HIS MERCENARIES. 231 
 
 educated in martial exercises, and taughc to understand 
 from early years that their distinction In life must depend 
 upon the undaunted use which they should learn to make 
 of their spears and scimitars. They were allowed high 
 pay and great privileges, and those who distlngulshe 1 
 themselves were raised to the rank of officers over the 
 others. From these chosen troops the sultan selected 
 his viziers, generals, lieutenants, and governors. 
 
 As has been always found the case in similar Instances, 
 this body of mercenary soldiers became dangerous even 
 to the prince in wliose service they were enrolled, and 
 frequently assumed the right of disposing of the crown, 
 wlilch they were engaged to defend, as well as the life of 
 him that wore it. It was they who, with such determined 
 valour, had Interrupted the advance, and followed up the 
 retreat, of the valiant Franks ; and, filled with a high 
 idea of their own prowess, and a contempt of the native 
 troops of the country, they thought that Touran Shah 
 was not sufficiently grateful to them for the victory which 
 he had obtained by their support, or that he manifested 
 some Intention of laying them aside for a more docile 
 fjoldlery. 
 
 Of this unfortunate sultan we know little ; but he ap- 
 pears neither to have been destitute of the bravery nor 
 the generosity which became a successor of Saladln. The 
 valiant Sieur de Joinville saw him in the front of battle, 
 taller by the shoulders than those around him, and wield- 
 ing with courage the German sword which he bore In his 
 hand. His gilded helmet was placed proudly on his 
 head; "and I never," says the historian, "saw a more 
 gallant man under arms." Nor was his conduct less 
 princely than his appearance. At first, indeed, the 
 French In their captivity were threatened with a ternfic 
 death by torture, unless they would renounce the Chris- 
 tian faith to ensure their personal safety. Such a pro- 
 posal under such tremendous threats, was made to the 
 king himself. But when Saint Louis 3howed by his 
 finiiness thai he held such menaces In scorn, the Saracen 
 pnnc? s'.'nt a message in a milder tone, demanding to 
 
238 NEGOTIATION FOR A RANSOM. 
 
 know what ransoni the captive monarch was wUliucr tn 
 pay, in additjon to the surrender of Daniietta, which was 
 stipulated as one indispensable condition of his freedom. 
 
 The King of France replied, that if a reasonable ran- 
 som was demanded, he would write to the queen, who 
 was still enclosed within the walls of Damietta, to pay it 
 for him and for his army. The Saracens, whose man- 
 ners permitted of no admission of women to their councils, 
 asked with surprise to wiiat purpose the queen should be 
 consulted in such an affair. " Have I not reason ?" an- 
 swered the simple-mannered and gallant-hearted Louis ; 
 *' is she not my wife and my companion ?" A second 
 message informed the captive monarch that his ransom 
 was fixed by the Sultan at a million of golden bezants, — 
 equal, says Joinville, to five hundred thousand livres. At 
 once, and without attempting farther to chaffer upon the 
 bargain ; ^' I will cheerfully give," said Louis, " five 
 hundred thousand livres for ransom of my army ; and for 
 my own I will surrender the town of Damietta to the 
 sultan ; for my rank is too high to be valued in money." 
 The sultan was seized with a generous emulation. " He 
 is a right generous Frank," said Touran Shah, " who 
 does not cheapen our first offer like a merchant or ped- 
 lar ; tell hin) I abate my demand in one-fifth, and that 
 four hundred thousand livres shall be a most sufficient 
 ransom." He also sent garments for the king's use, and 
 seemed disposed to part with him upon liberal terms. 
 
 But while Touran Shah was disposing of the fate of 
 another, he little knew how near he approached to his 
 own. The discontent of his body-guard of slaves, then 
 called Haleuca, and the same which are now distinguisned 
 by the well-known name of Mamelukes, had risen to the 
 highest. They broke out into insurrection, attacked the 
 unfortunate Touran Shah, set fire to his pavilion, and 
 cut that unfortunate prince to pieces. 
 
 Having committed this murder, they came before tlie 
 king and the French captives, with their bloody battle- 
 HaCS und sabres in their hands. '•' What will you give 
 me," said the foremost assassin, who was yet streaming 
 
miOPOSAL TO M^KE LOUIS StJLTAN. 239 
 
 with the blood of Touran Shah, " who have slain tha 
 enemy that sought thy life ?" To this Saint Louis 
 returned no answer. The French knights confessed 
 themselves to each other, expecting to be immediately 
 massacred. Yet in the very fluslied moment of their 
 king's murder, and while seeming still greedy of more 
 blood, the conspixators felt restraint from the dignified 
 demeanour of their disarmed prisoner. They also re 
 membered that Damietta still held a Christian garrison, 
 which might give them trouble. Under such impressions, 
 they showed indeed a disposition sufficiently mischievous, 
 yet they entered into new conditions, somewhat similar to 
 those tliat had been prescribed by the murdered Touran 
 Shah, but stipulating that the king should take an oath, 
 binding him to renounce his baptism and his faith, with 
 the inestimable privileges purchased by them, in case he 
 did not comply with all the articles of the treaty. Louis 
 constantly and magnanimously answered, " he w^ould 
 rather die a good Christian, than live by taking the im- 
 pious and sinful oath which they would force upon him.'' 
 The Patriarch of Jerusalem, who was present at the mo- 
 ment, was immediately seized by the soldiers, and tied 
 to a post, so tightly, that the blood sprung from his hands^ 
 while the old man in agony called upon the king to swear 
 boldly whatever the infidels chose, since he would take 
 the sin upon his own soul, rather than endure this horrid 
 torture. But whether the oath was taken or not, Join- 
 ville declares he cannot tell. 
 
 In the meantime the scene suddenly changed, as was 
 not unnatural among such fickle and barbarous men. A 
 mirthful sound of trumpets and kettle-drums was heard 
 before the tent, and King Louis was presented with an 
 invitation from tha chiefs of the late conspiracy, to be- 
 come theii sultan and sovereign, in room of the murdered 
 Touran Shah. That such a proposal should be started, 
 among other wiV] plans, by men in the condition of the 
 Mamelukes, slaves, strangers, and foreigners, indifferent 
 to the Mahometan religion, and impressed by the un- 
 daunted bravery of their royal captive was not perlifips 
 
240 DISTRESS OF THE Q,UEEN. 
 
 SO unnaiural as if it bad been made elsewhere or b^ 
 others. But it does not seem to have been geneially 
 embraced, or seriously insisted on. On the contrary, 
 some of the leading emirs were of opinion, that, to atone 
 for the treasonable slaughter of Touran Shah, a good 
 JMahometan, by their hands, it was their duty to put 
 to death Saint Louis and his followers, the mortal ene- 
 mies of ]Mahomet and his religion. At length, however, 
 the proposition for mercy prevailed, and a treaty for ran- 
 som was carried into execution. 
 
 While these strange negotiations, if indeed they can 
 be called such, were proceeding in this wild and mcertain 
 manner, Joinville informs us of other circumstances re- 
 specting the Queen of France, who, as I before informed 
 you, having accompanied her husband in this calamitous 
 expedition, was enclosed with the remnant of the crusa- 
 ders that held out Damietta. She was at that time with 
 child ; a circumstance adding much to the distress of her 
 situation, during her husband's captivity, aggravated by 
 the probability that she herself might fall into the hands 
 of the victorious infidels. Her period of confinement 
 was now close approaching. 
 
 " Three days before she was brought to bed," says the 
 faithful chronicler of the expedition, " she was informed 
 that the good king her husband had been made prisoner, 
 which so troubled her mind, that she seemed continually 
 to see her chamber filled with Saracens, ready to slay her ; 
 and she incessantly kept crying, ' Help, help !' when there 
 was not a soul near her. For fear the fruit of her womb 
 should perish, she made a knight watch at the foot of her 
 bed all night without sleeping. This person was very 
 old, not less than eighty years, or perhaps more ; and 
 every time she screamed, he held her hands, and said, 
 * Madam, do not be thus alarmed ; I am with you ; quit 
 these fears.' Before the good lady was brought to bed, 
 '^he ordered every person to leave her chamber, except 
 this ancient knight, when she cast herself out of bed on 
 her knees before him, and requested that he would grant 
 ner a boon. The knight with an oath, promised compli- 
 
LOUIS EMiiARKS FOR ACRE. 2\\ 
 
 ance. The queen then said, ' Sir knight, I request on 
 the oath you have sworn, that, should the Saracens storm 
 this town ind take it, you will cut off my head beibre 
 they seize my person.' Tiie knight replied, that he 
 would cheerfully do so, and that he had before thought of 
 it, in case such an event should happen. The queen was,, 
 shortly after, delivered of a son in the towm of Damietta, 
 whose name was John, and his surname Tristan, (i. e. 
 the Sad,) because he had been born in misery and pov 
 erty. The day he was born, it was told the queen that 
 the Pisans, the Geonese, and all the poorer European 
 oommonalty (sailors,) that were in the town, were about 
 ro fly with their vessels, and leave the king. The queen 
 sent for them. ' Gentlemen,' she said, ' 1 beg of you, 
 for the love of God, that you will not think of quitting 
 this town, for you well know, if you do, that my lord the 
 king and his whole army will be ruined. At least, if such 
 be your fixed determination, have pity on this wretched 
 person who now lies in pain, and wait until she be recov- 
 ered, before you put it in execution.' " 
 
 To carry her solicitations into effect, the queen was 
 obliged to purchase provisions to feed these wretched 
 mariners, who complained that they must otherwise perish 
 by hunger ; and the sum so expended amounted to two 
 hundred and sixty thousand livres, the difficulty of find- 
 ino^ which was an augmentation of her distress. 
 
 In this manner, after sufl^ering repeated hardships, 
 Louis, his queen, and his lords, were at length permit- 
 ted to embark for Acre, at the head of the remnant of 
 his army. When he had thus arrived on ground where he 
 might consider himself as perfectly free, King Louis again 
 became inspired with the rash Quixotry of persisting in 
 his crusade. The Christians, or Latins, of Syria, found 
 it their interest to foster this enthusiasm, by holding out 
 remote and fanciful prospects of his receiving assistance 
 Louis was amused with wild stories of the Sheik, or 
 Chief, of the Assassins, who was supposed peculiarly 
 friendly to the King of France, and of an imaginary prince^ 
 
 965 
 
242 DISORDERS iN FRAN JE. 
 
 a Christian by profession, and a Tartar hy birth, whom ihesG 
 limes termed Prester John, and from whose ideal assist- 
 ance Louis VAas taught to expect the means of retrieving 
 his affairs. It was still less, however, such fallacious 
 hopes of foreign and eastern assistance, than a sense of 
 mortification as a devotee, and dishonour as a true knight, 
 which rendered Louis reluctant to return to his own king- 
 dom, without having distinguished his arms in some vic- 
 tory against the Mahometans. 
 
 To pave the way for this much-desired object, Louis 
 displayed great ability and diligence in allaying quarrels 
 among the Christians in Palestine, for which he was ad- 
 mirably fitted by the native justice and benevolence of 
 his character, and also in fortifying Acre, Csesarea, Jop- 
 pa, and other places of importance, and in preparing for a 
 new war in Syria. 
 
 The immediate result of his labours was highly useful 
 to Syria, insomuch that the king obtained the honourable 
 title of Father of the Christians. But in acting towards 
 these eastern Latins with wisdom and benevolence, Louis 
 forgot that he owed a still more pressing duty to his own 
 kingdom, where general confusion prevailed. For, while 
 Louis thus pleased his fancy by providing for battles in 
 Palestine that were never to be fought, the disorders oc- 
 casioned by the news of his captivity had thrown al 
 France into dismay. His mother. Queen Blanche, who 
 acted as regent, had lost in some degree that strength 
 and alertness of mind which distinguished her during her 
 son's minority. Upon his departure from Marseilles, she 
 fainted on bidding him adieu, and could scarcely be re- 
 called to life, — showing plainly that she felt her son's ab- 
 sence more deeply than she was gratified by her own 
 elevation to authority. Finally, receiving the melancholy 
 tidings of his defeat and imprisonment, her sorrow -^eems 
 to have weakened her understanding. 
 
 She suffered a wretched monk, somewhat resembling 
 one of those bigots who led the first expedition under 
 l^eter the Hermit, to gather together a rabble of the lowest 
 vfuik, to whom he tiied to preach a new crusade, fo 'he 
 
OEATU OF Q^UEEN BLANCHE. 243 
 
 purpose of effecting the liberation of the king. The 
 disorderly vagabonds, thus assembled, who lived at first 
 upon alms, became soon guilty of plunder, and gave rise 
 to a civil war, in which they were at length defeated and 
 extirpated by the forces of the government, but not with- 
 out much loss and confusion. This intestine disorder was 
 likely to be increased by a war with England, upon the 
 expiry of the truce between these countries. 
 
 In the meantime Queen Blanche, the regent-mother, be- 
 came altogether broken-hearted on hearing of her son's 
 misfortunes, and retired into a convent, where she died 
 of melancholy. Her death was naturally a subject of 
 affliction to King Lou's *, but the young Queen Margaret, 
 considering the terms on which she stood with her moth- 
 er-in-law, could scarcely be supposed to share deeply in 
 his affliction. On receiving these tidings, Louis yielded 
 to necessity, and prepared to return to France with the 
 remains of his army. 
 
 During his voyage from Syria, the king showed many 
 marks of sorrow and dejection, the consequences no doubt 
 of the unsatisfactory issue of his crusade ; his temper also 
 became austere, and even gloomy, of which the following 
 is an instance. At one time he enquired or his brother, 
 whom he accused of having avoided his presence, although 
 they were both in the same galley. When Louis at length 
 discovered the Comte d'Anjou, in the act of playing at 
 tables with Sir Walter de Nemours, he staggered towards 
 them, though scarcely able to stand from severe illness, 
 seized tlie dice and tables which he flung into ths sea, 
 and severely rebuked his brother for engaging in this tri- 
 fling amusement, forgetful of the death of their brother, 
 the Comte d'Artois, and of the extreme danger from 
 which they had been providentially extricated. " But," 
 says De Joinville, with some naivete, " Sir Walter de 
 Nemours suffered the most, for the king flung all the 
 money that lay on the tables after them into the sea." 
 
 When Louis arrived, after a voyage often weeks, upon 
 the ccast of Provence, he was persuaded with difficulty 
 to land at Hieres, because that port was not his own 
 
244 LOUIS ARRIVES IN FRANCE. 
 
 property. He yielded, however, in consideration ol iha 
 illness of the ladies, and once more, with diminished for- 
 ces and somewhat of a tarnished reputation, resumed 
 possession of his own kingdom. His melancholy coun- 
 tenance, in which he bore the deep marks of dejection^ 
 and the plainness of his dress, in which he never assumed 
 royal splendour, implied how much he had suffered since 
 his departure, both in mind and body. 
 
 BND OF VOLUME I. 
 
TALES FROM FRENCH HISTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IVise and peaceful Reign of Saint Louis — his Expedi' 
 tion against Tunis, and Death — The Kingdom of 
 the Two Sicilies given by the Pope to Charles of An' 
 jou,brotherofSt. Louis — Arrival of Charles before 
 Tunis, ivith re-enforcements — Treaty with the Sultan 
 — the Crusade abandoned — V^igorous Administration 
 of Philip the J lardy — his Second Marriage — The 
 Queen accused by her Husband^ s Favourite of poison- 
 ing her Step-son — she is acquitted and the Favourite 
 disgraced and executed — M'^ars to decide the possession 
 of the Crown of the Two Sicilies — The Sicilian V^es- 
 pers — 'Philip^s unsuccessful attempt to take possession 
 of the Kingdom of Arragon — his Death. 
 
 King Locis, upon his return to France, manifested the 
 same prudence, wisdom, and judgment in his measures, 
 which he had shown in Syria to less effectual purpose — 
 He hastened to make peace with England, in considera- 
 tion of which he received Henry HI. at Paris with 
 sumptuous hospitality. The claims of England upon 
 Normandy were now rather antiquated. " I would wil- 
 lingly restore the province," said the King of France to 
 the English monarch, in a confidential manner, " but my 
 peers and barons will not consent to my doing so." King 
 Henry therefore exchanged his claims on Normandy, An- 
 jou, Touraine, and Poitou, for some trifling territories ad- 
 
4 E(iUlTABLE ADMINISTRATION 
 
 jacent to Gascony, the only portion of Henry II.'s Frencli 
 dominions which his grandson still retained. 
 
 Louis now reigned in peace and honour. From the 
 universal confidence reposed in his justice and equity, 
 both his own subjects and strangers w^ere frercentV ii'ne 
 custom of referring to him matters which were in aeoate 
 between them. This course was the more resorted to, as 
 the good king frequently indemnified at his own expense 
 the party against whom he gave his award. Thus, when 
 the queen's mother, the Countess of Provence, disputed 
 the right of some castles with the king's brother, the 
 Count of Anjou, Louis decreed that they should be pur- 
 chased by the latter from the Count of Provence, but at 
 the same time gave his brother money to pay the price. 
 Jn any dispute with the crown, the opposite party found 
 it most advantageous to trust to the candour of the king 
 himself, who always judged his own side of the cause 
 with the greatest severity. Thus this good king gained 
 the hearts of the insubordinate vassals who had often con- 
 spired against his predecessors. 
 
 This able prince was farther distinguished as a legis- 
 lator, in which capacity, the manners and customs of that 
 age being considered, he makes a distinguished figure in 
 French history, and may fairly be preferred to any sov- 
 ereign who at that time flourished in Europe. In partic- 
 ular, he endeavoured to maintain the tranquillity of the 
 Kingdom, by the suppression of the numerous private 
 quarrels among the great vassals of the crown, and greatly 
 curbed the right which tliey assumed of taking the field 
 like independent sovereigns, as had been formerly their 
 custom. These great lords, overawed by the reputation 
 and power of the king, were now, generally, compelled 
 to bring their contests before his tribunal, instead of de- 
 ciding them by arms. 
 
 Saint Louis also laid under restrictions the trial by sin^ 
 gle combat, at least as much as the manners of the time, 
 partial to that species of decision, would permit the alter- 
 a lion. 
 
 By these and other enaf'tments, Saint Louis studied to 
 
OF SAINT LOUIS. 
 
 make his people happy, while his own demean jur indi- 
 cated too fully that he had at his heart the rooted feeling 
 of having sustained discomfiture and disgrace in Egypt, 
 where he had most hoped to deserve success, and to 
 acquire glory. — His robes of ceremony were laid aside, 
 and he seldom shared personally in the banquets w^iich 
 he provided for his courtiers and nobles. The French 
 king was, for humility's sake, attended, even at meals, by 
 troops of beggars, to whom he distributed provisions with 
 his own royal hand. There was something of affectation 
 in this ; but the principle on which he acted seems, from 
 other circumstances, to have been sincere. 
 
 His desire for the general peace of Europe, and his 
 efforts to appease the quarrels of the great, incurred the 
 censure of some of his statesmen, who wished to persuade 
 him that he would act wnth more policy by suffering their 
 discords to augment, and even by aggravating their quar- 
 rels, than by endeavouring to end them. To such advi- 
 sers, Louis, in that case justly deserving the epithet of 
 saint, used to reply, " they counselled him ill ; for," ad- 
 ded he, " should the neighbouring princes and great bar- 
 ons perceive that I instigated wars amongst them, or at 
 least that I did not labour to restore peace, they might 
 well imao-ine that I acted thus either throuf]^h malevolence 
 or indifference, — an idea which w^ould be sure to tempt 
 them to enter into dancrerous confederacies a^jainst me : 
 besides that, in acting otherwise than I do, I should pro- 
 voke the indignation of God, who has written in his Gos- 
 pel, ' Blessed are the peace-makers, for theirs is the king- 
 dom of heaven.' " In like manner, his advisers upbraided 
 him that he neglected to take advantage of the weakness 
 of Henry HI., to wrest from the English the considerable 
 share which they still retained of the French territory in 
 Gascony. On this subject, also, he defended himself, by 
 proving that an honest and upright conduct was the best 
 policy which a king could observe ; " he was aw^are," he 
 said, '' that John of England had justly forfeited the 
 greater part of hi? dommions in France ; nor did he med- 
 11* 
 
D 1.01^3 INVESTS TUNIS. 
 
 itate the extrrivagant gonerosity of restoring them to his 
 son. On the other hand, lie felt himself obliged to abstaii" 
 from coveting that portion to which Henry retained a legal 
 right through his grandmother Eleanor. 
 
 While thus behaving with moderation and generosity to 
 his neigiibours, and even to his enemies, Louis performed 
 in his own person the duty of a judge, and was often 
 found, hke tlie kings of Judah, sitting in the gates of his 
 palace, to render justice indifferently to all those who 
 pjesented themselves to ask it of him. 
 
 By his attention to the public good, as well in making 
 laws as in enforcing them, the king became deservedly 
 beloved, and proved effectually that no subtleties of 
 worldly policy could carry an empire to such a height of 
 peace and iiappiness, as the generous and worthy conduct 
 of a prince acting upon religious and moral principles. 
 
 With all that was so excellent in the character and con- 
 duct of Saint Louis, he was subject, as we have already 
 hinted, to a strain of superstition, the great vice of the 
 age, w^hich impelled him into measures that finally brought 
 ruin upon himself, and severe losses upon the state. At 
 the bottom of his thoughts, he still retained the insane 
 hope of being more successful in a new crusade than in 
 that in which he had encountered defeat and captivity ; 
 and after sixteen years had been devoted to the improve 
 ment and good government of his own dominions, he 
 again prepared a fleet and an army to invade the territo- 
 ries of a Mahometan prince. Neither Palestine nor 
 Egypt was the object of this new attack. The city of 
 Tunis, upon the coast of Africa, was the destined object 
 of the expedition. Credulous in all concerning the holy 
 war, Louis conceived that the Mahometan king of Tunis 
 *ds willing to turn Christian, and become his ally, or vas- 
 sal ; and, by possessing a powerful influence, through the 
 occupation of this feijtile country, he hoped he sliould 
 make th*^- conversion of this prince the means of pushing 
 his conquests, and extending Christianity over Egypt and 
 Pule^tiiie also. 
 
 It was in the year 1270, (A. D.) that he gave finally 
 
DEATH OF SAINl LOUIS. 7 
 
 tins proof that his superstition was as active and as credu- 
 lous as ever. He carried with him, as before, the princes 
 of his own family, and many of his principal vassals. 
 The most remarkable of these, both by merit and rank, 
 was Edward, Prince of Wales, who seized that opportu- 
 nity to exhibit against the infidels fresh proofs of the 
 courage and military conduct wliich he had displayed in 
 in his own country during the civil conflicts called the 
 Barons' Wars. He was followed by a body of select 
 troops, and distinguished himself greatly. 
 
 This expedition, which formed the eighth, and proved 
 the last crusade, was in its outset assailed by a tempest, 
 by which the fleet, ill constructed to encounter storms, 
 sustained great loss. In three days, however, Louis as- 
 sembled the greater part of his armament before Tunis. 
 Here the infidel monarch, whom he had hoped to 
 convert to the Christian religion, instead of showing 
 the expected docilhy, received him at the head of a 
 strong army, with which he prepared to defend his city 
 against the invaders. Louis immediately landed ; and 
 the French, in their disembarkation, obtained some suc- 
 cesses. These, however, were only momentary, for the 
 crusaders had no sooner formed a close siege around the 
 town, which was too strong to be carried save by block- 
 ade, than diseases of a destructive character broke out in 
 their army. The want of water and forage increased the 
 progress of contagion ; and constant skirmishing with the 
 enemy, for which the Moors chose the most advantageous 
 positions, added the waste of the sword to that of epi- 
 demic disease. The infection approached the person and 
 family of the king ; his eldest son died of a fever ; his 
 younger son, Tristan, who received birth in Daraietta, 
 during the miseries of his father's first crusade, now 
 passed from existence amidst the ruin of his second 
 attempt. Louis himself attacked by the fever which had 
 robbed him of two sons, called to his pillow, Philip, hia 
 eldest remaining child, and exhausted what remained o/ 
 life and strength in giving him his parting instructions 
 
8 CHARLES OF ANJOU. 
 
 On the 25th of August, 1270, (A. D.) this good king 
 died, to whose reign, one only misfortune attached, 
 namely, that too little of it was spent in the bosom of his 
 own kingdom, and in attention to its interests, w^hich he 
 understood so well. But France, so populous and pow- 
 erful a nation, speedily recovered the loss incurred b}/ the 
 unfortunate crusades, while the effect of the wise laws 
 introduced by Saint Louis, continued to influence hij 
 kingdom through a long train of centuries. 
 
 Meantime, Charles, Count of Anjou, the brother of 
 Saint Louis, had obtained a crown for his own brow, 
 which he had hoped to render yet more stable, had his 
 brother succeeded in the expedition against Tunis, to whicli 
 attempt he was preparing to bring him assistance. To 
 understand this important point of History, it is neces- 
 sary to look a little back. 
 
 The Emperor Frederick IL had been heir to the pre- 
 tensions of the imperial house of Suabia to both the Sici- 
 lies ; in other words, to those territories now belonging to 
 the kingdom of Naples. But over these kingdoms the 
 Popes had always asserted a right of homage, similar to 
 that which Kin"; John surrendered to the church in Ent{- 
 land. Upon the death of Frederick, these Italian and 
 Sicilian dominions were usurped by his natural son, called 
 Manfroy, to the prejudice of the emperor's nephew and 
 lawful heir, a youth named Conradin. Manfroy exer- 
 cised with vigour the rights which he had so boldly 
 assumed. To tlie real dominions of Naples and Sicily, he 
 added a nominal claim over the kingdom of Jerusalem, 
 though long since conquered by the Saracens. In assum- 
 ing these titles, Manfroy, or Manfred, disowned all hom- 
 age to the Pope ; he even invaded the territories of the 
 Church, when the pontiff disputed his title. Pope Ur- 
 ban, who then wore the mitre, together with Clement 
 IV., his successor, who adhered to his policy, began suc- 
 cessively to use their spiritual weapons. They excom- 
 numica(3d Manfroy, and were only at a loss upon whom 
 to confer ♦he kingdoin of the Two Sicilies, of which they 
 
CHARLES OF ANJOU 9 
 
 deprived him bj the foraial sentence of the church. Ihis 
 was a difficult question ; for, though the Popes claimed 
 che privilege of conferring the right where they pleased, 
 It was necessary to choose a candidate strong enough to 
 cope with Manfroy ; and it was not easy to select such a 
 one. In this uncertainty, the sovereignty vi'^as offered 
 first to one of Saint Louis's children, but declined by the 
 good king, who could not think it consistent with morality 
 to profit by a forfeiture, which, thougli declared by the 
 voice of the Church, had not been incurred by the legal 
 heir.— Conradin's right, it was clear, could not therefore 
 be affected by Manfred, an intruder, whose deeds could 
 not prejudice the rights of his cousin. Accordingly, 
 Louis declined to avail himself of the grant of the Pope 
 in favour of any of his sons. The Pope next offered the 
 kingdoms of Sicily and Jerusalem to Edmund, son of the 
 King of England. But although this prince went so far 
 as to assume the title of king, his father, Henry IIL, wa? 
 too much embarrassed with the wars of his barons at 
 home, to admit of his son's finally accepting a donation 
 which he could not have the means of supporting. 
 
 At length the Pope resolved to name as monarch of 
 the Two Sicilies, and nominal King of Jerusalem, Charles, 
 Count of Anjou, the brother of Saint Louis, a man of a 
 bold, and even ferocious character, one who would act 
 with sufficient vigour, and without embarrassing himself 
 with any scruples, in defence of the right assigned him 
 by the Pope. Saint Louis acquiesced in the nomination 
 of his brother, though he had declined to profit by the 
 grant to his sons. And although his royal brother was 
 rather passive than active in his favour, the Count of 
 Anjou was able to assemble an army competent to the 
 enterprise. He marched into the Neapolitan territory, 
 and engaged Manfroy in a pitched battle, fought near 
 Beneventum, in which the latter lost his kingdom and 
 his fife. 
 
 A competitor for the kingdoms of the Sicilies now 
 arose to reclaim the crown usurped by Manfroy. This 
 was Cov^radin, nephew of the Emperor Frederick, and 
 
10 PEACE CONCLUDED WITH TIJE SULTAN. 
 
 whose legal right of succession had been usurped by the 
 late possessor. This young prince had little difficulty in 
 assembling a strong party, consisting of the friends of the 
 imperial faction, which in the beginning threatened to ex- 
 tinguish the rising power of Charles of Anjou. The val- 
 our, or the fortune, of the French prince was, however, 
 predominant once more. Conradin was defeated by 
 Ctiarles in a great battle, made prisoner, and, by an act 
 of great injustice and cruelty, tried, and put to death upon 
 a scaffold, for the prosecution of a claim of succession to 
 which he was alike called by justice and by nature. 
 
 (A. D. 1270.) When, therefore, the rash expedition 
 of Louis against Tunis took place, Charles, now King of 
 Sicily, was eager in encouraging his brother to a war in 
 which he thought less of the conquest of the Holy Land, 
 than of subjecting Tunis to European dependence and 
 making it an appanage of his own kingdom of the Two 
 Sicilies. 
 
 When the eighth crusade had nearly come to a melan- 
 choly termination, by the death of Louis and his two 
 sons, Charles, King of the Sicilies, appeared before 
 Tunis with a fleet loaded with provisions and re-enforce- 
 ments. As the fresh troops advanced to support the 
 siege, the Arabs checked their approach by putting in 
 motion the sands of the desert, which, driven by a vio- 
 lent wind upon the strangers, prevented their attempts to 
 march up to the attack of the place. Upon a second 
 occasion of the same kind, however, the natives were 
 le;^s successful, being drawn into an ambuscade, where 
 they suffered severely by the swords of the Europeans. 
 The sultan began now to propose terms of submission^ 
 agreeing to pay a ransom to the King of the Sicilies of 
 forty thousand crowns a-year — to defray the expense of 
 the war — to allow the preaching of Christian priests, and 
 the exercise of the Christian religion in his dominions, 
 with some other concessions, which, excepting the pay- 
 ment of the money, were rather nominal than real. Not- 
 withstanding these favourable conditions, the French and 
 Sicilian monarchs were blamed by the voice of Christen- 
 
PHILIP, THE HARDY. H 
 
 doin — Philip for impatience, and Charles for covetous - 
 ness. Of all the princes in the crusade, Edward cf 
 England alone, afterwards the First of that name, and 
 one of the most politic princes who ever lived, refused as 
 far as he was concerned, to consent to this treaty. He 
 also professed his determination to proceed to Palestine, 
 where Acre, the last of the fortresses which owned the 
 Christian authority, was on the point of surrender to the 
 infidels. " I will enter Acre," said young Edward, 
 striking his breast, " though only Fovvin, my groom, 
 should follow me !" He went forward accordingly wi^.h 
 his little band of English ; but the feats which he per- 
 formed were of small note, considering the personal qual- 
 ities of the prince, and his expedition is chiefly famed 
 for the romantic courage of his princess Eleanor, who 
 attended him. This faithful and courageous lady is said 
 to have sucked the wound which her husband received 
 from an envenomed weapon, and to have thus endangered 
 her own life to save his. After the treaty of Tunis had 
 been concluded, the kings of France and Sicily returned 
 to their dominions — Philip eager to take possession of the 
 crown which had fallen to him by inheritance, Charles 
 desirous to secure and to enjoy that which he had obtain- 
 ed by conquest. 
 
 Philip, the third of that name, called the Hardy, 
 seems to have been disposed to distinguish himself by 
 enforcing the wise laws of King Louis, his father, for 
 preventing private wars among his vassals. He had soon 
 an opportunity to show this disposition, in pacifying a 
 feud between the Count of Foix and the Lord of Cas- 
 saubon. — Tlie latter had been assauhed by the powerful 
 Count, notwithstanding he resided in the castle assigned 
 him by the sovereign for his abode, and was under his 
 express protection. The king, at the head of his royal 
 forces, besieged the castle of Foix, compelled the coun. 
 to surrender, detained him a certain time in prison, and 
 only dismissed him upon complete submission. The 
 vigour of the government upon this occasion shows the 
 permanent result of the just and firm conduct of Sainl 
 
12 DEATH OF Philip's wife, 
 
 Louis. But the king's most remarkable adientures 
 occurred in his own lamily, and were of a ver}' distressing 
 nature. 
 
 In his return through Italy, King Philip had the mis- 
 fortune to lose his beautiful wife, Isabel, who had not hes- 
 itated to follow him to the melancholy crusade in which 
 the royal family sustained so nmch loss. In the course 
 of this journey, this lady, being then near her confine- 
 nient, was thrown from her horse in crossing a river, and 
 died in consequence. Isabel, thus untimely cut off, left 
 four sons ; Louis, who died by poison ; Philip, who 
 reigned after his father ; Charles of Valois, fatlier of the 
 branch from whom sprung the French kings of that house ; 
 and Robert, who died young. 
 
 After the kintr's return to France, the council remon- 
 strated with him on the inexpediency of his remaining 
 single, and he was induced to marry, as his second wife, 
 Mary the daughter of Henry, the sixth Duke of Brabant. 
 The life of this unfortunate princess was rendered melan- 
 choly, and that of her husl3and disturbed, by a strange 
 succession of misfortunes, in consequence of the machi- 
 nations of an unworthy favourite. Mary of Brabant bore 
 a son the year after her marriage, and within six years 
 afterwards, two daughters ; a fair lineage, which naturally 
 confirmed the love which the king bore to her, as a beau- 
 tiful and affectionate woman. But jealousy and discord 
 were sown between them. The artificer of this mis- 
 chiet was Pierre de la Brosse ; he was a person of low 
 origin, and had appeared at court originally in the capac- 
 ity of a barber. By this, however, we are not to infer 
 tiie degree of ignorance or meanness which moderns 
 annex to the word. A barber in those times received a 
 medical education, and was in effect a surgeon, applying 
 his skill to the cure of wounds, as w^ell as the arrange- 
 ment of the beard and hair. Still however, it was a 
 menial office, and it was thought wonderful that such a 
 mail should rise to be a royal favourite. Upon thn 
 death of Saint Louis^ Philip advanced La Brosse, who 
 seems to have been a man of talent as well as art, tc 
 
AND HIS SECOND MARRIAGE. ^3 
 
 the rank of royal chamberlain, and employed him in the 
 administration of some important affairs. He is said, as 
 often happens with upstart favourites, to have abused the 
 king's kindness, and betrayed his trust, using his favour 
 as the means of unjust oppression. A natural dislike 
 arose between the queen, who thought her husband trusted 
 too much to this unworthy man, and the favourite, who 
 foresaw his own ruin in the predominant influence of 
 the young princess. La Brosse, having once enter- 
 tained this -jealousy of the queen, is said to have taken 
 every opportunity to prejudice Philip against her, by in- 
 timating, from time to time, that his consort was actuated 
 by the general dislike against Philip's children by the 
 former marriage, commonly imputed to stepmotliers 
 The favourite caused it to be insinuated, from various 
 quarters, into the king's private ear, that his wife often 
 complained of her misfortune in bearing children who 
 were destined to become the vassals of those of the first 
 marriage, and that she said their case was the harder, if, 
 though born when their father was upon the throne, they 
 must necessarily be postponed to the children who came 
 into the world when Philip was only a prince. 
 
 About this time, Louis, the king's eldest son by his 
 first marriage, Prince and heir of France, was seized 
 suddenly by a malignant fever, which hurried him to his 
 grave. The fatal disorder was attended with violent de- 
 rangement in his stomach, livid spots upon his person, 
 and other symptoms, which the age ascribed to poison. — • 
 On these suspicious circumstances, La Brosse, who had 
 the court filled with his relations and dependents, spread 
 rumours tending to fix the crime upon Queen Mary, 
 whom he had already loaded with calumnies to the same 
 effect. The queen, on the contrary, accused La Brosse 
 of having himself administered the poison to the young 
 prince, with the purpose of charging it against her. The 
 king, divided betwixt fondness for his wife, and habitual 
 partiality for his favourite, did not well know, betwixt 
 two averments both abhorrent to his iniagination. which 
 there was ground to believe. Perhaps, in so dark g 
 
14 EXECUTION OF LA BROSSE. 
 
 Iransactjon; we may be justified in believing that nc 
 crime at all was cnmmitted, and that what were consider- 
 ed as marks of poison, were merely symptoms of a putrid 
 fever. — Such, however, is seldom the opinion of the 
 public in any age, who are peculiarly addicted to assign 
 remarkable and nefarious causes for the death of great 
 persons. 
 
 The king, in his distress and perplexity, had recoarso 
 to a species of explanation suited only to an ignorant 
 age. — He despatched the Bishop of Bayeux, and the 
 Abbe of St. Dennis, to visit a nun, or beguine, then at 
 Nivelles, who was supposed to possess the gift of dis- 
 covering by inspiration the most concealed transactions. 
 The royal envoys were directed to consult, of course, 
 with this great authority, and to learn from her the real 
 particulars of the young prince's death. Her first con- 
 fession, taken from her by the Bishop of Bayeux alone, 
 seemed to criminate the queen. This was thought sus- 
 picious, because the Bishop was a near connexion of La 
 Brosse, and interested in deciding the dispute in his rela- 
 tion's favour. — But whatever his secret bias was, the 
 prelate refused to bring forward a charge founded on what 
 die nun had told him in confession. The prophetess 
 herself seemed equally unwilling to speak plain. To a 
 second enquiry by the Abbot of St. Dennis, after that by 
 the Bishop of Bayeux, she refused to answer ; and the 
 matter seemed to go against the queen. But in this un- 
 certainty Philip deputed the Bishop of Dol, and Arnolph 
 de Vismale, a knight Templar, who were considered as 
 impartial persons, to examine the nuti a second time. 
 To these she frankly declared, that the king ought not 
 to give any credit to such accusations as might be brought 
 against his wife, since they all arose out of calumny. 
 
 At this time, John of Brabant came to the court of 
 France, averring the innocence of his sister, Queen Mary, 
 demanding that her honour should be fully cleared, and 
 offering the combat to any who should impeach it. Thia 
 accusation hastened La Brosse's ruin, The favourite 
 was accus/^d of having corresponded with the King of 
 
AFFAIRS OF SICII Y. 16 
 
 Casiile, with whom Philip of France was then at war, 
 ?ji(I, beir:g fovnd guilty of this crime, was sent to prison 
 dirigraced, and afterwards ignominiously executed. The 
 Duke of Brabant had gained credit for the part he had 
 hitherto taken in his sister's favour ; but when the French 
 saw La Krosse executed without an open trial, and be- 
 held the Duke of Brabant, and some lords of his party, 
 attend upon tlie execution, with more personal feeling of 
 vengeance than became their rank, the tide began to turn, 
 and La Brosse was considered as having fallen a victim 
 to the queen and her faction. Mary, however, long sur- 
 vived her husband, and was treated with the greatest 
 respect by the family of his former wife, several of whom 
 slie belield successively upon the throne. 
 
 The affairs of England, and of Italy, were the next 
 objects of importance during Philip the Hardy's reign. 
 
 It was while this king filled the throne that the English 
 began again to be heard of in France, having been long 
 of little consequence there, owing to the violence of their 
 domestic feuds. Edward I. had long been busied in re- 
 ducing his subjects of England to obedience, but, having 
 perfectly succeeded, became now desirous of asserting 
 his claim to such of the English territories in France as 
 could yet be gathered out of the wreck of the forfeiture 
 declared by Philip Augustus. For this purpose Edward 
 resided three years in France, from June, 1286, to 
 August, 1289. He rendered homage to Philip the 
 Hardy, and transacted his affairs with great wisdom, hon- 
 our, and success. 
 
 The bloody wars which long deluged Europe with 
 slaughter, in order to decide the possession of Naples and 
 Sicily, continued to agitate France during this reign. It 
 is true, that Charles of Anjou, King of Sicily, exercised, 
 by commission from the Pope, the high offices of Vicar 
 of the Empire, and Senator of Rome. He was also, 
 besides being the actual reigning monarch of the Two 
 Sicilies, invested with the nominal sovereignty of the 
 kingdom of Jerusalem, upon the principle. It may be 
 supposed, that he who had obtained the substance, should 
 
16 SICILIAN VESPERS INSURRECTION 
 
 also have the nominal possession of the shadow ; for the 
 Latin kingdom of Jerusalem had ceased to exist. Not 
 withstanding these dignities, Charles of Anjoii did not, by 
 any means, sit secure on his throne. He had involved 
 himself imprudently with the Church, to which he owed 
 his kingdom originally. Pope Nicolas, who bore much 
 iT will towards Charles, deprived him of the office of 
 Vicar of the Empire, and the dignity of Roman Senator, 
 in the hope, it is supposed, of provoking him to some 
 act which might give the Holy See a pretence for de- 
 priving him of the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, which 
 she had bestowed. 
 
 The vices of that prince were yet more hurtful to him 
 than the displeasure of the Pope ; and the luxury, inso- 
 lence, and cruelty, by which his French troops provoked 
 the general resentment of the Sicilians, were still more 
 fatal to his cause. A rival soon arose when his reign 
 became unpopular. The imperialists still retained a strong 
 party among the Sicilians. Don Pedro, King of Arragon 
 — who had married the daughter of Manfroy, defeated 
 and slain by Charles of Anjou — now claimed the king- 
 dom of Sicily in tlie right of his wife, and threatened to 
 reconquer it from the French. The passions of the in- 
 habitants seconded, in an extraordinary manner, the pre- 
 tensions of Don Pedro. Incensed at the liberties which 
 the French unceremoniously took with the females of 
 their families, the Sicilians formed a scheme of insurrec- 
 tion against these petulent and insolent strangers, equally 
 remarkable for its extent, the secrecy with which it was 
 carried on, and the number of Frenchmen who perished. 
 
 This was the famous insurrection, known by the name 
 of the Sicilian Vespers. The plot bore, that, at the toll- 
 ing of the evening bell for prayers, on Easterday, A. D. 
 !282, the islanders should rush suddenly upon the French 
 strangers, and put them to death without exception. — 
 This plot was contrived with such surprising secrecy and 
 unanimity, and executed with such general fury, that in 
 less than two hours a general massacre had taken place, 
 of all the FreuLih, whatever their age, sex, or condition. 
 
AND MASSACRE. 11 
 
 Monks put to death their brethren ; priests slew each 
 other upon the very altar ; fathers killed their daughters, 
 who had been married to strangers, and every other Horror 
 took place, which could be practised by a vindictive na- 
 tion, assuming at once the trade of assassins. 
 
 This massacre, intended to be decisive of the contro- 
 versy between Anjou and Arragon, was, like many other 
 great historical crimes, disappointing in its results. The 
 kingdom of France was thrilled with horror, but at the 
 same time seized with a thirst of revenge for so general 
 and dreadful an assassination. Numbers of the best war- 
 riors in that kingdom offered their services to Charles of 
 Anjou, to avenge the death of their murdered country- 
 men. Pedro of Arrat^on, findlnoj his adherents unable 
 to cope with the high-famed French chivalry, was re- 
 duced to evade the combat, by a device, the issue of 
 which considerably hurt his reputation. In order to get 
 rid of the pressure of the French force in Sicily, and to 
 avoid the necessity of encountering the numerous and 
 excellent forces which had come to espouse the French 
 cause, Pedro despatched a challenge to Charles of Anjou, 
 defying him to meet him with a hundred knights, and 
 decide their differences by the issue of that, encounter. 
 Bourdeaux, as a neutral territory, was assigned as the 
 place of combat. Charles, who was by no means de- 
 ficient in personal courage, immediately accepted the 
 defiance, and went to the place appointed with his hun- 
 dred attendants. In this he acted imprudently, consider- 
 ing that, by prosecuting the advantages he possessed, he 
 might have made himself master of Sicily, which was 
 the object of contention ; an opportunity which was lost 
 by his departure for Bourdeaux. Neither did Pedro ever 
 rriean actually to encounter him and his knights, as his 
 challenge implied. He indeed kept his appointment; 
 but he appeared in disguise, and avoided the combat, al- 
 leging, that, as Philip, King of France, was present in 
 Bourdeaux at the time, and was lord paramount of the 
 town, it was no longer an equal place of meetmg, for a 
 
18 DEATH OF PHILIP THE HARDY. 
 
 princo vvbo came to fight with tliat king's uncle. Ac 
 wording] y, he left the place with little honour ; lor, as 
 Philip had few or no soldiers along with hiui, the senes- 
 chal of the king of England, who was actually coniinandam 
 of the place, was sufficiently strong to have afforded a 
 fair field of combat, both to French and Spaniards. 
 l?ut Pedro obtained his object, which was the opportu- 
 nity to prosecute the war in Sicily, with a better chance 
 of success than when he had Charles for an opponent. 
 
 Charles of Anjou had left in Sicily his son, a high- 
 spirited young man, called Charles the Lame, from an 
 accident which had befallen him in youth. He was 
 commissioned to command as reo;ent during his father's 
 absence. This youth, although warned by his father to 
 act upon the defensive, rashly encountered the fleet of 
 Arragon, commanded by the famous Andrew Doria, the 
 ally of Don Pedro. Charles the Lame was defeated and 
 taken by this celebrated mariner, and his father, after at 
 first seeming to support the calamity with firmness, gave 
 way to grief, and died at sixty-six years of age. 
 
 In the meantime, the King of France, to whom the 
 Pope, according to his custom of dealing kingdoms at 
 pleasure, had assigned that of Arragon, transferable to 
 any of his sons whom be should name, conveyed the 
 riglit thus vested in him to his third son, Charles of 
 Valois, and prepared, with a strong army and navy, to 
 put him in possession of his new dominions. 
 
 With this purpose, Philip the Hardy invaded Catalo- 
 nia, and besieged Gerona. Pedro of Arragon came to 
 its relief, with a small and flying army. Rollo of Nesle, 
 Constable of France, drew the Spanish prince into an 
 ambuscade, by showing only a small part of his forces. 
 In this skirmish, Pedro had his face torn by the thrust 
 of a lance, was nearly made prisoner, and obliged to cut 
 the reigns of his horse, in order to escape the grasp of a 
 French man-at-arms. He escaped from the field, but 
 died in consequence of the wound, and the fever which 
 ensued. This ■success was, however, overbalanced by an 
 advantage obtained by Doria, who was still at sea, over 
 
CIIACACTLR OB- PlIiLlP 1 WE HARDY. 19 
 
 the Fienclj fleet Many of Philip's vessels were sunk 
 and destroyed ; and as these were loaded with provisions 
 for the use of the army besieging Gerona, the sufferings 
 of the French, arising from the loss, became so extreme, 
 that it was impossible for them to remain longer before 
 the place. The siege was therefore raised, and the king, 
 whose hopes were thus disappointed, withdrew to Per- 
 pignan, where he shortly after died of chagrin for the 
 miscarriage of an undertaking which commenced so pros- 
 perously. This prince, although not a man of shining 
 talent, bears, nevertheless, a fair character in the French 
 annals, and is said to have been particularly scrupulous 
 in the mode of raising the revenue from his people, who 
 never complained of the sums exacted, as they w^ere 
 levied w^th so much fairness and attention to the conve- 
 nience of the indigent. It is impossible now to discover 
 from what circumstance Philip derived his epithet of 
 Hardy, as we are not aware of his having shown great 
 personal courage. He displayed no high or distinguished 
 qualities, a deficiency which was atoned for by his char- 
 acter being marked by none that were wicked or dan- 
 gerous. 
 
20 Ai^OESSION OF PHILIP THE FAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Accession oj Philip the Fair — Claim of England to 
 the Province of Xaintonge — War between France 
 and England — Edward I. prevented by his Scottish 
 Wars from carrying it on with vigour — Confederacy 
 of Continental Princes against Philip, instigated by 
 Edivard — Peace and mutual Alliance between France 
 and England — Philip^ s Quarrel with Pope Boniface 
 — his good, understanding with the two succeeding 
 Popes, who fix their Residence at Avignon — Contest 
 with Flanders — Dissolution of the Order of Knights 
 of the Temple — Death of Philip the Fair, and Ac- 
 cession of Louis Hutin — Execution of JWarrigny, 
 the Favourite of the deceased Monarch, for alleged 
 Embezzlement and Sorcery — Marriage and Death 
 of Louis Hutin — Accession of Philip the Long, by 
 virtue of the Salic Law, which excluded his Niece, 
 the Princess Joan, daughter of Louis Hutin— Mas- 
 sacre of Jews and Lepers, in consequence of a sus- 
 picion that they had caused an Epidemic Disease 
 throughout France, by poisoning the Wells — Death 
 of Philip, and Accession of his Brother, Charles the 
 Fair — Charles summons Edward II. to do Homage 
 for his French Possessions — Investiture granted to 
 the Prince of Wales, instead of his Father — lu' 
 trigues of Edward^s Queen, Isabel, at the French 
 Court — Death of Charles the Fair, with whom be- 
 came extinct the Descendants in the First Line of 
 Hugo Capet, 
 
 Phtlip IV., who succeeded his father, was surnamed 
 Le Bel, or the Fair, from the beauty of his countenance^ 
 and the majesty of liis person. He was married to Joan, 
 who was Queen of Navarre, as well as Countess of Cham- 
 pagne and Brie. 
 
PHILIP INVADES GASCONY. 2f 
 
 riiis prince's entrance on life took place at great dis- 
 advantage. His fatiier had left an exhausted exchequer, 
 and a ruinous and unsuccessful war undertaken with Spain, 
 to vindicate the riglits of his nephew, son of his sistei 
 Blanche, Queen of Castile, and to conquer the kingdom 
 of Arragon, for Charles of Valois. Edward I. too, was 
 now beginning to bestir himself in France, and perplexed 
 the French king by a demand of the territory of Xain- 
 tonge, a district adjacent to the English possessions in 
 Guienne. - In this important matter, Philip, after exam- 
 ining the ancient treaties between the kingdoms, saw the 
 necessity of acquiescing, and Edward became a party to 
 a negotiation by which the quarrel with Castile was in 
 some degree accommodated, and the peace of Europe in 
 a great measure restored. 
 
 But in consequence of an accidental quarrel between 
 a Norman and a Gascon sailor, which led to a battle be- 
 twixt their two vessels, that moderation which the young 
 King of France had hitherto exhibited, seemed to be ex- 
 changed for hasty resentment, and a determination tc 
 proceed to extremities. 
 
 Upon this accidental provocation, and in resentment 
 of the injury offered to his flag, the King of France issued 
 a summons, commanding Edward, as a peer of France, 
 to appear before the French parliament, under pain of 
 forfeitincr his fiefs in that kingdom. Edward, though 
 offended at such peremptory conduct, was desu'ous to 
 avoid a rupture. He offered, with exemplary temperance, 
 to yield to the French six castles which he held in Gui- 
 enne, by way of security that he would submit to make 
 ainends, should he be found ultimately in the wrong, and 
 also as pledges that he would meet with the King of 
 France, and discuss their difference in an amicable con- 
 ference. At the same time, Edward stipulated that the 
 summons, a proceeding offensive to his dignity, should be 
 withdrawn. Philip having solemnly agreed to this ar- 
 rangement, broke through it nevertheless, in a faithless 
 manner. He took possession of the six fortresses, but 
 unly made use of them to facilitate he conquest of the 
 12 4th Ser. 
 
22 EDWARD I'S. SCOTTISH WAES. 
 
 English province of Gascony, for which pirpose he 
 marched an army under the High Constable into tliat 
 territory. A French fleet and flying army was even 
 employed to attack the coasts of England, by which tover 
 was burnt and Kent invaded. 
 
 Notwithstanding these provocations, which were not to 
 pe endured by a monarch of Edward's temper, the King 
 of England was extremely unwilling to engage in a war 
 with France at this moment. He had been anxiously 
 employed during the last years of the thirteenth century, 
 in the unjust attempt to possess himself of the sovereignty 
 of Scotland ; in which he seemed often almost successful, 
 but could never become completely so. Indeed, divided 
 and dispirited as the kingdom then was, nothing was 
 more easy than to overpower the Scots in the field ; and 
 yet such was the obstinacy of tl]eir resistance, that within 
 a month or two after their subjugation appeared to be 
 complete, the natives of this pertinacious country were 
 again in arms. It would well have suited the policy of 
 Edward to have postponed all other wars, until he had 
 completed the conquest of Scotland, and for this purpose 
 he was loath to accept of the various provocations which 
 France seemed studiously to offer to hitn. Nevertheless, 
 as King of England, he could not, without dishonour, 
 submit to the affront of being summoned before the 
 French Parliament, and he was also nettled at the un- 
 worthy manner in which he had been cheated in the 
 matter of Guienne, and at the loss he had sustained in 
 that province. He therefore returned an answer of defi- 
 ance to the King of France, and he sent a small army, 
 under his brother Edmund, to protract the war in France, 
 at as little risk as might be, while he himself marched 
 into Scotland, to finish his conquest of that country. 
 
 It may be here remarked, first. That the grievances 
 which Edwaid 1. inflicted on Scotland, and by which he 
 hoped to compel the people to rebellion, so as to form 
 an excuse for confiscating and depriving of his kingdom, 
 Tohn Baliol, a monarch of his own creating, were very 
 tiosely allied to the indignities which he himself expe- 
 
SCOTTISH LEAGUE. ^3 
 
 rienced from the King of France, and tc which lie was 
 personally so sensitive. Therefore the monarch, who 
 exercised the same feudal tyranny towards others, his 
 own dependents, coidd not with justice complain of simi- 
 lar usage from his own lord paramount. 
 
 To understand this, you must remember, that, by uii- 
 fairly availing himself of the trust reposed in him by the 
 Scots, who chose him to be umpire for deciding the suc- 
 cession to their crown, Edward I. had assumed to himself, 
 on very imquitous grounds, the right and dignity of lord 
 paramount of Scotland. Invested thus, though by no 
 fair means, with the right of supremacy over that king- 
 dom, Edward's next step was to summon John Baliol, 
 the shadow whom he had set up as king, to attend and 
 answer the complaints of the most insignificant persons 
 who chose to bring an appeal from his decisions to the 
 English courts of law in Westminster. Edward's object 
 in this injurious conduct, was undoubtedly to mortify the 
 pride of the Scots and of their King, and to seek an op- 
 portunity of declaring, as he afterwards did, that the 
 kingdom of Scotland was forfeited to himself. 
 
 Now, this was exactly, though in a less flagrant degree, 
 the conduct of the king of France towards Edward him- 
 self, when he summoned him to attend before a court of 
 French peers, and give satisfaction for a brawl which had 
 taken place between a Gascon and a Norman vessel. It 
 is no wonder, therefore, that Edward rather chose to stifle 
 the debate, by the surrender of the six forts in Guienne, 
 than to fix the attention of the world upon the very dif- 
 ferent manner in which he judged of such treatment, when 
 a[^plied to himself, compared with that in winch he chose 
 to consider it, when used by him towards the King of 
 Scotland. 
 
 It is also worthy of observation, that although the Scot- 
 tish historians, in their zeal for their national antiquity, 
 have pretended that a league existed between a Scottish 
 king, v^7hom they call Achaius, and the Emperor Charle- 
 ma£^ne, as early as the year 779, and even aflirm that the 
 emperor bestowed upon the northern pri ice a tres::nfe 
 
24 CDNFEDKRACY OF CONTINENTAL 
 
 of fleurs-de-lis, as an augmentation of arms, i: is yet easy 
 to demonstrate that there were no armorial bearings till 
 many centuries after Charlemagne, and that the intimate 
 leat/^ue between France and Scotland did not exist, until 
 the circumstances of both countries recommended mu- 
 tual support and good understanding betwixt them, as a 
 niatter alike politic and necessary. We shall hereafter 
 see that tlie Scottish alliance was of considerably more 
 importance to France, than that of France was to Scot- 
 land. It was certainly renewed during the reign of Philip 
 the Fair. 
 
 To return to the general subject. Edward I. was in- 
 duced to trust to some future favourable opportunity the 
 prosecution of his revenge against France, into which he 
 did not think it politic, or find it possible, to lead a large 
 army, while embarrassed with the Scottish campaigns. 
 In tlie month of August, 1297, however,^ it seemed to 
 him that Scotland was so effectually pacified, as to per- 
 mit a great effort for the chastisement of France. For 
 this object, Edward trusted less to his own forces, though 
 he transported to Flanders a gallant army of English, 
 than to a general confederacy which he formed with sev- 
 eral princes, on the same plan with the alliance so ab- 
 ruptly dissolved by Philip Augustus at the battle of Bou- 
 vines. The allies, too, were nearly the same persons, 
 being the Emperor of Germany, the Dukes of Austria 
 and Brabant, the Earl of Flanders, and other German 
 and Flemish princes, who engaged, for considerable sums 
 of money to be paid by the King of England, to assemble 
 a combined army for the invasion of France. 
 
 Philip, who beheld himself threatened by a formidable 
 confederacy, contrived to break up the alliance by the 
 itlstribution of large sums among its members. Against 
 Guy de la Dampierre alone, the aged Earl of Flanders, 
 that king retained an embittered and vindictive spirit, and 
 when the other princes had, in a great measure, been in- 
 duced to abandon the confederacy by intrigues and gratu- 
 ities, Pliilip moved against that prince with a predominant 
 force. At the same time, he put in motion the numerous 
 
PiUNCEs' AGAINST PHILIP. 2£ 
 
 niaiecontt nts vvnom he bad found in the great towns of 
 Flanders, the inhabitants of which were extremely mu- 
 tinous, and disposed to insurrection. By the accumulated 
 weight of foreign Invasion and domestic insurrection, the 
 earl was likely to be totally ruined, had not Edward of 
 England moved to his assistance with a fleet and army, 
 and saved him from the revenge of France. 
 
 No battle of consequence, however, ensued. Edward 
 was disgusted with the great expense which he had be- 
 stowed, to no purpose, upon his German confederates ; 
 and Philip, who had encountered more difficulties than 
 he had expected in his campaign ia Flanders, was also 
 desirous of accommodation. A mutual friend to both 
 monarchs offered his services as mediator. This w^as 
 Charles, King of Sicily, called Charles the Lame. He 
 was cousin german to the King of France, being son of 
 his uncle, Charles of Anjou. To Edward he was bound 
 by an important obligation. Charles had been taken, as 
 we have said, by Andrew Doria, in a naval engagement, 
 in which the Arragon party were victorious. The victors 
 manifested a strong inclination to put the captive prince 
 to death, in their desire to revenge the execution of Con- 
 rade II. by his father. 
 
 But Edward I. who entertained a personal friendship 
 for this prince, prevailed upon his captors to ransom him, 
 and furnished the greater part of the money which was 
 demanded upon the occasion. Thus was Charles the 
 Lame well suited for a mediator between France and 
 England, in which he made considerable progress, al- 
 though the office was afterwards transferred to the reign- 
 ing Pope, whose feelings towards France were not of 
 the most amicable character. 
 
 Boniface was at this time at the head of the church, 
 and he had, some considerable time before, entered into 
 a quarrel with Philip the Fair, respecting various extrav- 
 agant claims which the Pope had preferred over the 
 French king and his territories. 
 
 The particulars of this tend between the most Chris- 
 
20 
 
 PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 
 
 tian King and the Church, is too long and too confused 
 to be entered into in this pkce ; but it terminated in an 
 nnusual manner, considering how successful the Church 
 had hitherto been in its most extravagant demands. The 
 Pope was admitted as mediator, instead of the King of 
 Sicily, and discharged his duty as umpire with considera- 
 ble fairness. Notwithstanding which, the two kings took 
 the wise resolution of settling their differences by a de- 
 finitive treaty; because, from the grasping temper of Boni- 
 face, he was the object of suspicion to them both. Mat- 
 ters were accordingly brought to a settlement. (A. D. 
 1307.) Edward made his homage for Gascony, and 
 France and England entered into a mutual alliance against 
 any one who should disturb the one king or the other in 
 their rights, franchises and freedoms, by which agreement, 
 the probability of a quarrel with their mediator the Pope 
 was intimated. 
 
 Boniface resumed his attacks against Philip. He at- 
 tempted to fix upon him a certain Bernard Laiseti, for 
 whom, without the king's consent, he had created a bish- 
 opric. He sent this man to Philip in the character of 
 a legate, who, in requital, turned him out of his domin- 
 ions. The Pope next convened a council at Rome, at 
 which several of the French clergy attended. Matters 
 were thus brought to extremity. In a word, Boniface 
 had already made public his determination to excommu- 
 nicate the King of France, and indeed the bull was ready 
 prepared for that purpose. Among other extreme meas- 
 ures to avert this sentence, Phihp sent into Italy two 
 determined agents, who, having levied a strong body of 
 partisans, seized upon the person of the Pope, then 
 residing at his native town in Tuscany^ insulted, even 
 buffeted him, and had very near slain him, had not his 
 Holiness, after two or three days' confinement, been res- 
 cued by a party of the people, and conveyed in safety to 
 Rome. 
 
 Here the disgrace which he had undergone had such 
 an effect upon his spirits, that he died furiously mad, after 
 having fa"led in extending the authority of the Church, ia 
 
POPE BONIFACE. 27 
 
 the way he meditated, and after having been obhged to 
 submit to the encroachments, as he termed them, of the 
 secular power. Thus died a Pontiff, of whom it is said, 
 that he entered the church hke a fox, ruled it like a lion, 
 and died like a dog. 
 
 King Philip the Fair, aftei having been thus freed of 
 nis hitter opponent, Pope Boniface, took especial care to 
 establish a close and powerful interest with the two suc- 
 ceeding popes, and endeavoured, indeed, by every means 
 in his power, to cultivate the favour of the papal see, 
 and even to prevail on these supreme Pontiffs to sfiift 
 theii residence from Italy to France, in which he so far 
 prevailed, as to induce them to reside at Avignon. In 
 this manner did Philip obtain absolution from the sentence 
 of excommunication pronounced by Boniface, and re- 
 establish a friendly intercourse with the head of the 
 church. 
 
 This king was also engaged in a violent contest with 
 the people of Flanders, which fief he was bent upon re- 
 uniting with the French empire. This was partly owing 
 to hislinabated hatred to his old vassal in that fief, Pierre 
 de la Dampierre, whom he pressed so hard, that the count 
 was under the necessity of submitting to his mercy. 
 
 But although the French gained great successes, and 
 obtained possession of many towns in Flanders, they did 
 not fail to drive the Flemings, as they had done the Si- 
 cilians, into rehellion against their new rulers, and great 
 part of that populous nation, although at first favourable 
 to the invaders, was soon in insurrection against them. — • 
 Three sons of Count Pierre de la Dampierre put them- 
 selves at the head of the insurgents. They fought a great 
 battle with the French, in which the Flemings were in 
 the beginning successful. King Philip escaped w^ith dif- 
 ficuUy from the fury of the first attack, in which the ene- 
 my penetrated to his tent ; but the fidelity of the French 
 cliiva ry, who rallied at the cry of the king being in dan- 
 ger, restored tl\e battle, and the Flemings were finally 
 defeated with prodigious slaughter. Notwithstanding the 
 hriliancy of this victory, Philip was only disposed to \a 
 
28 DISSOLUTION OF THE Oll^ER 
 
 gard It as a foundation for peace. The young princes ci 
 Flanders were still at the head of a numerous, though 
 undisciplined army, and it might have been hazardous to 
 drive to desperation so formidable an enemy. The eldest 
 of the sons of Count Pierre was then admitted to do 
 homage for the county of Flanders, and, on condition of 
 paying a considerable sum, established his peace with the 
 king. 
 
 In 1310, there occurred an important historical trans- 
 action, respecting which it is difficult to form a candid 
 judgment. 1 have told you that there existed two great 
 fraternities of military monks, both of which were form- 
 ed in the Holy Land. The one had for its object the 
 defence of the Temple ; the other was associated as 
 Knights Hospitallers, or Knights of St. John ; and both 
 held out as their principal object the defence of Palestine 
 ngainst the infidels. Both these communities, but in a 
 oarticular degree the Templars, fell under public obloquy, 
 on account of the immense wealth which was acquired 
 by tlie order, and the lax morals of individual members. 
 To drink like a Templar, became a common phrase ; and 
 their public licentiousness, as well as the charges imputed 
 to them of considering less the benefit of Christians in 
 general, and the defence of Palestine and of Jerusalem, 
 than the aggrandizement of their own institution, were the 
 general subjects of clamour against them. The associa- 
 tion of the Temple, however, was destined to fall under 
 darker and blacker accusations than affected the morals 
 of individual knights, or the ambition of the order in 
 general. 
 
 While these knights were the universal object of envy 
 to the nobles, on account of their wealth, and odium to 
 the poor, on account of their license, a singular incident 
 Drought their fate to a crisis. Two brethren of the order 
 of the Temple had been condemned by their Grand Mas- 
 ter, or President, to perpetual imprisonment. These 
 criminals, desperate at this rigorous sentence, intimated 
 that if released from imprisonment, they could disclose 
 to the French government circumstances concerning iheir 
 
OF KNIGHTS OF THE TEMPPE 29 
 
 order ol a mysterious and highly criminal nature. These 
 men being examined accordingly, declared, before per- 
 sons authorized to take their evidence, that the secret 
 rules of the order of the Temple were entirely contrary 
 to the Christian religion, as well as to decency and mo- 
 rality. This extraordinary accusation bore that the Tem- 
 plars commenced their initiation by the most blasphemous 
 and disgusting professions, and by ceremonies so infamous 
 in character, that human nature cannot readily allow the 
 possibility of their being adopted by an association con 
 sisting of men of rank, engaged ostensibly in a religious 
 fraternity. One hundred and forty knights were arrested 
 at once within the kingdom of France, and great part of 
 them seem to have confessed charges similar to those 
 averred by the knights who lodged the original accusa- 
 tion. To these confessions, considering when and how 
 they were obtained, we can attach little credit, as we 
 know that solitude and torture have made accused indi- 
 viduals confess (as in charges of witchcraft) things not 
 only improbable, but altogether impossible. 
 
 But besides the above consideration, a very considera- 
 ble number of those imprisoned Templars averred their 
 innocence firmly. They said, that their confessing breth- 
 ren had been seduced to their admissions by the promise 
 of life and liberty ; and they themselves denied strongly 
 whatever charges were brought against them of an atro- 
 cious character. " We are but men," they said, " and 
 have our failings as such ; but, to be guilty of the wick- 
 edness imputed to us, we must be incarnate fiends." 
 
 The Pope himself held a council on this very dubi- 
 ous afi^air, in which the dissolution of the order was finally 
 resolved upon all over Europe, although it was only in 
 France that the Templars suffered condemnation and 
 punishment. Fifty or sixty of them were put to death, 
 maintaining their innocence with their last breath, and 
 citing their persecutors to answer before God for the cru- 
 elties unjustly exercised upon them. Jaques de Molai, 
 Grand Master of the order, with two of its other principaJ 
 957 
 
30 PHILIP THE FAFR, UNPOPULAR. 
 
 ofBcers, were broMglit before the King of France ana 
 the Pope, and ex-miined on the several points of the 
 charge. At first, they aamltteii some part of the accu- 
 sation against thein, and denied others ; upon vvliich par- 
 tial confession they were condemned to be burnt to death 
 by a slow fire. When brouglit to excculionj after re- 
 tracting what they had formerly uttered, they declared, 
 like the rest who were executed, that they had individ- 
 ually committed sins incident to mortals, but that their 
 order had never been stained by any such iniquities as 
 had been alleged against them. 
 
 Indeed, when we consider the whole of this extraordi- 
 nary charge, and recollect that the Templars, as an order, 
 were extremely ricli, that they had fallen into public odi- 
 um, and had sliown themselves unequal to the defence of 
 the Temple, for which purpose they were associated, it 
 may be suspected that we see, in these circumstances 
 alone, the grand causes of their destruction, and that the 
 other gross accusations preferred against them, if not en- 
 tirely false, were at least framed upon the crimes of some 
 individuals only. 
 
 The procedure against this celebrated society, added 
 considerably to the odium with which the latter days of 
 Philip the Fair were overclouded. His Flemish wars 
 had exhausted his revenues, and vexed his people with 
 extraordinary impositions. His dissensions with Pope 
 Boniface, the violence which he authorized towards that 
 Pope, above all tlie exactions which he made upon the 
 clergy, caused him to be held in horror by all strict 
 Catholics. — The ruin of the Templars was imputed to 
 his avarice and injustice. While he was thus loaded with 
 unpopularity from different causes, a domestic affront 
 seem', to have affected him deeply. 
 
 Philip's three sons were all married to princesses of 
 suitable birth ; but the morals of the whole were so 
 doubtful, that each o\ the three princes accused his wife 
 o( adultery. Joan, wife of Philip, Count of Poitou,the 
 se.^ond of the royal brethren, was the only one of the 
 tlivee princesses acquitted of the charge. Margaret, wife 
 
DEATH OF PHILIP THE FAIR. ?^ 
 
 of Louis the eldest, and Blanche, wedded to the young- 
 est, of the sons of Phi^'p, were found guilty, and con- 
 demned to perpetual confinemen", in the fortress of Chaste] 
 Gaillard. — Two knights, the partners of their crimes, were 
 put to death with horrible tortures. 
 
 This shameful incident, and the disgrace which attend- 
 ed it, sunk deep into the heart of Philip the Fair. The 
 king, at the same time, saw that the public dissatisfaction 
 would render it difficult, or impossible, to raise funds 
 for reviving the war m Flanders, upon which he was de- 
 termined, assigning for a reason, that he had never receiv- 
 ed the money which the young count engaged to pay on 
 tfie conclusion of the former peace. The count, on the 
 contraiy, alleged he had paid the subsidies regularly to 
 the king's favourite courtier, named Enguerraud de Mar- 
 rigny. The terrors, therefore, of a war for which no 
 lunds could be provided, and which was particularly un- 
 popular in France, added to the king's embarrassment. 
 His spirit sunk beneath such a load of evils and disgrace : 
 he took to bed without any formal complaint, and died of 
 the cruel disease which carried off some of his prede- 
 cessors, viz. a deep melancholy. On his death-bed, the 
 dying monarch expressed great apprehension lest the 
 imposts which he had laid upon his people should be the 
 cause of his suffering punishment in the next world, and 
 conjured his children to diminish or discharge them — a 
 late act of penitence, to which much credit is not rashly 
 to be given. 
 
 Philip the Fair left behind three sons, Louis, Philip, 
 and Charles, each of whom mounted the throne in their 
 turn, but all died without issue. Of two daughters of the 
 same king, one died unmarried, the other, Isabel, was 
 wedded to Edward, Prince of Wales, son to Edward I., 
 who afterwards reigned as Edward IL It was upon the 
 extinction of the male Heirs of Philip the Fair, that the 
 kings of England laid claim to the inheritance of France, 
 in contradiction to the Salic law, and in right of this 
 same Isabel's succession to her father. 
 
 Louis X whom, for some uncertain reason, tie French 
 
y^ LOUIS HUx'^ 
 
 called Hutin. (or the Mutinous,) next ascended the hrone. 
 The first poiit he had to consider was the bringing to ac- 
 count the favourite of the deceased monarch, Enguerraud 
 de Marrigny, who had been the agent of Philip's exac- 
 tions, and was supposed to have peculated enormously, 
 as the money passed through his hands. Called before 
 the princes of the bloody and closely interrogated by the 
 brother of the late king, Charles, Count of Valois, in 
 particular, who, in fact, governed in the name of his 
 nephew, the accused party answered with great insolence. 
 
 " Where,' said the Count de Valois, " are the trea- 
 sures of the late king ?" 
 
 " You shall have a good account of them," answered 
 the prisoner, haughtily. 
 
 " Give it me, then, on the spot," answered the 
 prince. 
 
 *' Since you press me to speak," replied Marrigny, " I 
 have given you one half of the treasure of the late king^ 
 your brother, and with the other half, I have paid his 
 majesty's debts." 
 
 " You lie," replied the prince, in a rage. 
 
 " You lie, yourself," rephed Marrigny. 
 
 In consequence of this intemperate and insulting con- 
 duct, the fallen favourite was arrested, thrown into prison, 
 and brought to trial, when he was charged with embezzle- 
 ment of the royal revenue, and with the abuse of bis late 
 master's favour. The new king was present at this trial, 
 dnd looked on the accused with more compassion than 
 his uncle and brothers showed towards him. — As the 
 princes of the blood perceived the king's intention to 
 screen Marrigny, at least from a capital sentence, they 
 mixed up with the other crimes of which he was accus- 
 ed, a charge that his wife had trafficked with a sorceier, 
 and an old woman, deemed a witch, for the purpose of 
 making waxen images resembling the king and princes, 
 which, being dissolved at a slow fire, the strength and 
 substance of those they represented w^ere expected to de- 
 cay in proportion. The king, believing in a practice 
 which was at that time an object of general credulity, 
 
LOUIS HUTIN^S .vTARRIAGE. 33 
 
 tvas startled at the accusation, gave viq Marrigny to the 
 venireaiice of liIs uncle the Count de Valois, and tne un- 
 fortunate favourite was hanged accordingly. 
 
 The sorcerer and the witch were also put to death, and 
 the wife of IVlarrigny was conderi led to perpetual im- 
 prisonment. It was much douhted whether tha crimes 
 of IVlarrigny deserved quite so severe a fate ; and it is 
 certain that tlie aggravation which induced the kmg to 
 consent to his death, was entirely vis'onary 
 
 Charles, Count of Valois, himself repented of the 
 persevering cruelty with which he had pressed the con- 
 viction of this person ; and when he was stiiick with a fit 
 of the palsy, imputed the infliction to the vengeance ot 
 Heaven for iMarrigny's death. On his death-hed, he be- 
 queathed considerable sums to purchase the prayers of 
 tlie church for the pardon of Marrigny 's sins, as well as 
 his own. 
 
 In the meantime, Louis Hutin arranged a marriage for 
 himself with dementia, or Clemence, daughter of Charles 
 Martel, King of Hungary, whom he selected, to replace 
 the criminal and unfortunate IMargaret, imprisoned in 
 Chastel Gaillard, as we have already seen. The exist- 
 ence of this last unfortunate lady was, however, still an 
 obstacle to her husband's contracting a second union. — • 
 Louis Hutin removed it by an act of violence. The un- 
 fortunate Margaret was strangled with the sheets of her 
 bed, that her husband might be at Hberty to wed Clem- 
 ence of Hungary, a match which took place immediately 
 on her execution, or murder, (A. D. 1315.) — for so 
 a vengeance so long deferred, might be most justly 
 termed. 
 
 The king and queen were crowned at Rheims, when 
 it was with difFiculty that, by the assistance of the wealth 
 found in the cofleis of Marrigny, and confiscated to the 
 state, the necessary expenses of the coronation were 
 defrayed. 
 
 The new-married couple had not passed many months 
 together, when they were disturbed by the voice of war. 
 The same Count Robert of Flanders, who had b?en so 
 
^4 1 EATH OF LOUIS HUTIN. 
 
 troublesome to Philip the Fair, was still in insurrection, 
 and it was necessary to go to war with him, although the 
 public finances were in bad order, and totally inadequate 
 to the services of the state. The king also felt all those 
 inconveniences which crowd upon a sovereign when his 
 exchequer is exhausted When he demanded supplies, 
 his subjects took the opportunity of insisting upon tlieir 
 privileges, real and pretended. The young king was 
 much embarrassed, but he was not destined long to remain 
 so. He died in 1316, (A. D.) the year after his mar- 
 riage, and the first of his reign. The fate of the king- 
 dom remained suspended until time should show whether 
 a son or a daughter should be the produce of the confine- 
 ment of dementia, his queen, which event was expected 
 m four months after the death of Louis. 
 
 Philip of Poitou, the second brother of the deceased 
 monarch, was unquestionably entitled to be declared re- 
 gent, being, in fact, the next heir to the crown, if the 
 queen should not be delivered of a surviving son. Nev- 
 ertheless, Charles of Valois, uncle to Louis Hutin, made 
 an attempt to supersede his nephew, but the Parliament 
 adjudged the regency to Philip, who came speedily to 
 Paris, and assumed the office of guardian of the young 
 prince and regent of the kingdom, while awaiting the 
 event of the queen's confinement. 
 
 This took place November 14, 1316, (A. D.,) when 
 Clemence was delivered of a boy, who did not survive 
 above eight days, injured, as was thought, by the excess 
 of his mother's sorrow for the husband of whom she had 
 been so suddenly and prematurely deprived. 
 
 Philip, the brother of Louis Hutin, therefore, was trans- 
 formed from recrent into kin";, and was consecrated the 
 twelfth day after his nephew's death. It was not, how- 
 ever, without opposition, of which it is necessary to ex- 
 plain the cause, as it concerns a remarkable point of 
 French history. 
 
 You cannot have forgotten that the tribes, of w^iich the 
 Frank, or French nation, consisted, had their pnncipa 
 lorritories upon the Rhine and the Saale. From *he lat- 
 
THE SALIC LAW. B5 
 
 ter Iri'oe, comes the term of the Salic law, an enactment 
 current among the early tribes who dwelt on that river. — 
 However entensive in its original sense, the Salic law has 
 long denoted that rule of inheritance which excludes a 
 female, or any other person whose connexion with the 
 blood royal cannot be traced without the intervention of a 
 female link, from the possiblity of succeeding to the crown 
 of France, 'n any case. This law is understood to have 
 applied to the Merovingian and Carlovingian, and Cape- 
 tian dynasties. The dignity of king, said the French 
 jurists, with all the assumption of masculine arrogance, 
 was of too much dignity to jass either to, by, or through, 
 die distaff. The exclusion, whether reasonable or other- 
 wise, was strictly observed in the early ages of the mon- 
 irchy. 
 
 From the accession of Hugo Capet, in 987, to the death 
 of the infant and posthumous son of Louis Hutin, in 1316 
 the crown had regularly descended from father to son ; 
 thirteen generations having successively possessed it du- 
 ring the space of three hundred and twenty-nine years, 
 without a single instance of collateral succession. The 
 Salic law, therefore, had, during this long period, remain- 
 ed, as it is termed, in abeyance, there having occurred no 
 oi)portunity of putting it in force. It seems, therefore, to 
 have been partly forgotten, since the Duke of Burgundy, 
 and the Count of Valois, with a considerable party, were 
 disposed to dispute the claim which Philip V., called, 
 from his statue, the Long, made to the crown. These 
 princes contended, that, since the late king, Louis Hutin, 
 had left behind him a daughter, Joan, she must be con- 
 sidered as the heir of her short-lived brother ; an axiom 
 which, if allowed, closed the succession against Philip the 
 Long. 
 
 This important matter was referred to the States-Gen- 
 eral, whoj having niaturely considered so important a 
 question, finally decreed, that the Salic law and custom, 
 inviolably observed in the French nation, excluded fe- 
 males from the throne ; and the right of Philip was uni- 
 versally acknowledged accordingly, in preference to thai 
 
36 THE PASTOR A UX. 
 
 of the Princess Joan. The new sovereign extended hia 
 influence among the nobility, by bestowing among them, 
 in marriage, four daughters, to whom he gave consider 
 able appanages, and thereby attached them to hig 
 interest. One of the persons whose friendship he ac- 
 quired in this manner, was Louis of Flanders, whose 
 family had given so much trouble to Philip the Fair, 
 and had threatened the short reign of Louis Hutin. 
 This might be accounted a considerable stroke of state 
 policy, as the young Louis was next heir to the reign- 
 ing count, his grandfather, who was an aged man. 
 Philip the Long also renewed the league with Scotland, 
 and transacted his affairs upon equal terms with Ed- 
 ward II. of England, who was his brother-in-law. 
 
 But, though prudent and politic upon the whole, King 
 Philip the Long, in one particular, gave great dissatis- 
 faction to his people, viz., in the eagerness which he 
 showed to collect lar^je sums of revenip^, and his haste 
 to restore the obnoxious imposts which had been discon- 
 tinued by his predecessor. It must be allowed that this 
 was neither from a disposition to extravagance nor to 
 avarice, either of which it might be supposed to have 
 indicated. But, like his great ancestor. Saint Louis, 
 Philip the Long unhappily conceived himself bound to 
 undertake a crusade so soon as ever opportunity should 
 permit ; and it was with this view that he made a greai 
 collection of treasure, in the hope of removing some of 
 the obstacles which had proved so fatal to his ancestorSj 
 who meditated the same ])roject. 
 
 A wild inchnation towards these perilous expeditions 
 seemed at this time to pervade all Europe. The common 
 people of France, in particular, were stirred up by igno- 
 rant friars and enthusiasts, who pretended to have discov- 
 ered by inspiration that it was the divine will to rescue 
 Palestine from the infidels, not by means of the great and 
 powerful of the world, but by shepherds and peasants. — • 
 This doctrine beconung general, bands of the most low 
 and ignorant persons enrolled themselves under various 
 leaders, and traversed the country under the name of 
 
HAIRED TOWARDS THE JEW 3. 37 
 
 Pasloraux. They were not long thus embodied withou* 
 discovering there was business to do in behalf of Chris- 
 tianity, without going so far as tlie Holy Land. 
 
 The Jews, who had been persecuted and banished from 
 France by Philip the Fair, and restored by his successor, 
 as necessary to the existence of the state, once again be- 
 came the objects of popular hatred, not only on account 
 of their religion, and because their wealth rendered them 
 the ready objects of plunder, but also from a new accu- 
 sation, which so ignorant an age alone would have listen- 
 ed to. A pestilential or epidemu, disease was at this time 
 scourging France, where bad living and dearth of provis- 
 ions rendered such infectious disorders very fatal. To 
 account for the present pestilence, it was said that the 
 Jews had accepted a bribe from the Mahometan princes, 
 and had undertaken to poison all wells, fountains, and 
 rivers. The charge of participation in this crime was ex- 
 tended to a set of unfortunate wretches, who were rather 
 the objects of disgust than of compassion. Those afflict- 
 ed witli the leprosy, who were obliged to live in hospitals 
 apart from the rest of mankind, were stated to have join- 
 ed with the Jews in the iniquitous project of poisoning 
 the waters of the kingdom. It was an accusation easily 
 understood, and greedily swallowed, by the vulgar. The 
 populace of course, being already in arms, turned them 
 against the Jews and the lepers, considering both as a 
 species of wretched outcasts, whose sufferings ought to 
 interest no healthy Christian. 
 
 Without any formality, or trial, or otherwise, these 
 ignorant fanatics seized upon great numbers both of the 
 Jews and of the lepers, and tore them to pieces, or burnt 
 them a'ive without scruple. 
 
 The Jews, though of late years they may be consider- 
 ed as an unwarlike people, have always been remarkable 
 for the obstinacy of their temper, and for their o})posing 
 to popilar fury a power of endurance which has often 
 struck even their oppressors with horror. Five hundred 
 of the^e men, upon the present occasion, defended a cas- 
 
38 DEAIH OF PHILIP THE LONG. 
 
 tie into ^^hicll they bad thrown themselves, with stones, 
 arrows, javelins, and other missiles, till, having no otlier 
 weapons left, they launched the persons of their living 
 children from the walls on the heads of their assailants, 
 and finally put each other to the sword, rather than die 
 Dy the hands of the multitude. 
 
 At Vitri, also, fifty Jews distinguished themselves by 
 a similar act of horrible despair. They chose with com- 
 posure two of their nuniber, a young woman and an old 
 man, who received the charge to put the rest of their 
 compiany to death. Those intrusted with the execution 
 of this fearful duty, executed their instructions Without 
 dispute or resistance on the part of the sufferers. When 
 the others were all slain, the old man next received his 
 death at the hand of the female, and to close the tragedy, 
 this last either fell or threw herself from the walls of the 
 place ; but having broken her thigh bone in the fall, she 
 was plunged by the besiegers alive into the fire which 
 consumed the dead bodies. 
 
 The king himself was obliged to submit to the popular 
 prejudice. He once more banished the Jews, and by a 
 proclamation confined the lepers to their respective hos- 
 pitals, under the penalty of being burnt alive. The royal 
 troops were next emj)loyed with success in putting down 
 the Pastoraux, and other tumultuous assemblies of fanati- 
 cal banditti, and restoring the peace ol the kingdom. 
 
 Shortly after, King Philip the Long died, after a reign 
 of five years, in 1321, (A. D.) As was frequently the case 
 on the demise of great persons in that age, his death was 
 strongly suspected of being caused by poison. He was, 
 upon the whole, a well-meaning king ; and the love of 
 money which he had at first testified, was atoned for by 
 an edict, near the close of his reign, dispensing with the 
 imposts upon the people, and by a meritorious attempt to 
 reduce the coins, and the weights and measures, through- 
 out all France, to some uniform standard, a matter of 
 great impoitance to con\mercial intercourse. 
 
 Pliilij) tlie Long was succeeded by his brother, Charles 
 the Fair ; 03:21, A. D.) The Salic law having its full 
 
REIGN OF CHARLES THE FAIR. 39 
 
 f?rce in bis behalf as heir-mah, and his right being id 
 iiitisd, to the exckislon of the daughters of the deceased 
 Phlhp the Long, and, in particular, the Duchess of Bur- 
 gundy, who was the eldest of these prir.cesses. Charles 
 the Fair, being thus placed on the throne, became desir- 
 ous to get rid of his wife Blanche, who remained still a 
 prisoner, on account of her infidelity. 
 
 He did not on this occasion proceed to the extremities 
 adopted by his eldest brother, Louis Hutin, who, in sim- 
 ilar circumstances, had the frail and unfortunate Margaret 
 strangled, but contented himself with obtaining a sentence 
 of divorce from Rome, upon the old pretence that 
 Blanche and he were related within the forbidden de- 
 grees. The supposed connexion was even more flimsy 
 than usual, being only of a spiritual nature, the mother 
 of Blanche, having, it seems, been godmother to the king. 
 It was better, however, to be divorced as the daughter 
 of her husband's godmother, than to be strangled with a 
 pair of sheets. The discarded princess covered her dis- 
 grace by taking the veil in the Abbey of Maubuisson. 
 
 In room of this lady, Charles espoused Margaret, 
 daughter of Henry of Luxembourg, seventh Emperor of 
 Germany of that name. But no good fortune attended 
 the marriages of this race ; Queen Margaret was killed 
 by the overturn of her chariot, an accident which proved 
 fatal to her and to an unborn male infant. 
 
 As his third wife, Charles the Fair married with dispen- 
 sation a cousin of his own, who survived him many years, 
 but produced no fomily save daughters. 
 
 Charles the Fair began his reign by two remarkable 
 punishments. Among the other chiefs of independent 
 armed companies who were the pest of France, one 
 Jourdain de Lisle was brought to his deserved sentence, 
 and capitally executed, although a nephew of the re)o;ning 
 Pope. Besides having committed murder, and rapine of 
 every description, not even sparing the churches, he had 
 put to death a pursuivant of the king, having the royal 
 arms about his neck, which was considered as an act ot 
 hlfdi-ti^ajon. He dashed out llie brains of this man with 
 
40 AFFAIRS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 his own iiiLce, for daring to serve a royal writ upon hi "^. 
 All intercession was in vain employed for so notorious a 
 miscreant, who incurred his deserved fate upon the gib- 
 bet. The prosecution against Gerard de la Guette wa- 
 of a more ordinary character. He had been a low-born 
 oiijcer of finance, raised to the dignity of treasurer by 
 Philip the Long, and, as usual stood accused of having 
 failed to render to the new king a fair account ol the 
 sums intrusted to hiin by the old one. He was arrested, 
 but escaped the fate of Marrigny by dying in prison. 
 
 The aflaiis of England, which now became rather per- 
 plexed, next attracted Charles's anxious attention. Thers 
 had been for a long time a friendly understanding betwixt 
 the courts of England and France ; but in 1322, (A. D.) 
 some disturbances occurred in Guienne, which made 
 Charles the Fair in more peremptory terms than usual 
 demand that the King of England should appear and 
 render homage for the possessions he still occupied in 
 France. 
 
 This was an inconvenient summons to Edward IT., a 
 weak and unfortunate prince, who, having been complete- 
 ly defeated by the Scottish, had, moreover, been much 
 thwarted by the English barons, who put to death Gaves- 
 ton, his favourite, and had reduced the king himself to a 
 very low ebb. Latterly, having been successful against 
 the insurgent barons, the king had selected for his minion 
 Hugh Spencer, an ambitious and profligate young man. 
 who now ruled the .king with absolute sway. Isabella, 
 the queen of Edward l\., was, as a French princess, and 
 sister of the reigning monarch of that country, judged 
 the fittest agent to represent Edward at the court of 
 France, since her husband himself was afraid to visit that 
 kingdom, and his favourite Spencer was stjll more unwil- 
 ling that his master should take such a journey. It is 
 said, besides, that Edward, who did not love nis wife, 
 was desirous to be rid of the restraint on hi? pleasures 
 imposed by her presence in England. But he ana his 
 advisers failed to observe, that Isabella, finding herself 
 exclude-1 fiom her husband's affections, had contrictpd a 
 
DEATH OF CHARLES THE FAIR. 4' 
 
 contempt for him which amounted to hatred. There is 
 also too much reason to believe that the same exasperated 
 princess had already become attached criminally to Roger 
 Mortimer, afterwards well known as her paramour. He 
 had escaped from the Tower of London some time before ; 
 and, as he was now residing in France, it was imprudent, 
 to say the least, to send the queen, where their corres- 
 pondence might be easily renewed or continued. 
 
 Edward, however, looking no farther than his imme- 
 diate convenience, permitted, or rather enjoined, his wife 
 to go to France, to negotiate between her brother and 
 her husband. But the personal presence of Edward him- 
 self w^as still required by the King of France, as a condi- 
 tion of the restoration of Guienne. Again Isabella inter- 
 posed *her mediation, and procured the consent of the 
 French king, that if Edward, Prince of Wales, afterwards 
 Edward III., would perform the homage, investiture of 
 those territories should be granted to him, without de- 
 manding his father's personal presence. This was regu- 
 larly transacted in the course of a few days. But the 
 unfortunate Edward II. was not aware that his queen had 
 only gone abroad with the purpose of returning at the 
 head of an army, by which he was afterwards dethroned, 
 imprisoned, and murdered. 
 
 Isabella had already commenced her intrigues to that 
 effect, which did not escape the notice of the French 
 court. It does not indeed appear that Charles the Fail 
 connived at the conspiracy of his sister against her hus- 
 band, though it is alleged that she received the advice of 
 Robert of Artois, by which she left the court of Paris 
 for that of Hainault, where she arranged a marriage lor 
 ner son with Philippa, the daughter of the count, and 
 obtained the military supplies with which she afterwards 
 invaded England. 
 
 Charles the Fair was now beginning to feel the same 
 mfirn\ healtli which had carried off his brethren. He 
 finally died at Bois de Vincennes, and the descendants of 
 Huge Capet were extinct in the first line by the death of 
 
4i; ACCESSION OF PHILIP. 
 
 the last male heir of Philip the Fair. (A. D. 1327.) i\ 
 was remarked, that at the death of the last-named prince 
 there existed three sons at man's estate, so that, according 
 to all human prospects, the succession to the crown 
 seemed amply provided for ; yet it pleased God in so 
 short a space as fourteen years that they should all be 
 carried off by death, without any of them leaving male 
 issue. — The only chance of an heir-male of this branch 
 coming into existence, was, that the Queen-dowager Jo- 
 anna, third wife of Charles the Fair, might perhaps be 
 delivered of a son. Her orphan, however, proved to be 
 a daughter, which, opening the succession to Philip of 
 Valois, the next heir-male of the House of Capet, gave 
 rise to the conflicting claims of the Kings of England and 
 France, and to the dreadful war which ravaged the two 
 kingdoms, but especially tliat of France 
 
EDWARD III. OF ENGLAND.. 4H 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Homage paid hy Edward III. to Philip of Fiance in 
 the Cathedral of Amiens — Edward subdues Scotland, 
 and resolves to assert his Claim (in right of his 
 J^Iother) to the Croivn of France, to which course he 
 is incited by Robert of Jlrtois, the exiled Minister of 
 Philip — rEdward obtains the consent of his Parlia- 
 ment for an Invasion of France, and sets sail — JVavai 
 Engagement at the entrance of the Harbour of Sluyse, 
 in which the English are victorious — Siege of Saint 
 Omers — the Besiegers dispersed by a sally of the De- 
 fenders — Siege of Tournay — a Truce for one year 
 concluded, and Ediuard returns to England — Pro- 
 longation of the Truce — Dispute concerning the Suc- 
 cession to the Dukedom of Bretagne — The French 
 King espouses the part of Charles of Blois, who had 
 been dispossessed of the Duchy by John de JMontfort 
 — De Montfort taken, and imprisoned — the masculine 
 Courage of his Countess — she holds out Hennebon 
 against Charles of Blois and his French Auxiliaries 
 — English Succours, under Sir Walter Manny, thrown 
 into the Town, by whose gallantry the Siege is raised 
 — Prosecution of the War — Hennebon again be- 
 sieged, and the Siege again raised — a Truce con- 
 cluded — Reneival of the War — Edward himself takes 
 the Field, and is opposed by John, the son of Philip 
 — Truce concluded — A neiv Rupture between the 
 Kings of France and England — Campaign under 
 the Earl of Derby — Siege of Auberoche raised by the 
 gallantry of Sir Walter Manny — Military Tactics 
 at this period — Feudal Chivalry — Free Companions 
 • — English Bows and Bills — Italian Cross-bowmen — 
 French Infantry — Mercenaries. 
 
 Although the states of France bad formerly recog- 
 nised the acces?ion of King Philip, yet Edward III., the 
 
:44 EDWARD 111. OF ENGLAND. 
 
 young King of England, was far from acquiescuig in a 
 decision which had the effect of depriving liim of -e suc- 
 cession, which, in every other kingdom but France, would 
 have made him unquestioned heir to his maternal uncle, 
 Charles the Fair. 
 
 Edward was young, brave, ambitious, full of talent, 
 and at the head of a mighty nation. Yet, even in early 
 youth, he was capable of listening to prudent counsel ; 
 and, sensible that, considering the revolutions which Eng- 
 land had lately undergone, — considering his own bond- 
 age, as it migjit be termed, under the guardianship of his 
 mother and her favourite, Mortimer,— considering also, 
 the unanimity of France under the present king, this was 
 not a twiie to propose a claim so important, and which 
 must be followed by inevitable war. His decision was 
 hurried by a summons from the King of France, that he 
 should appear and do homage for the dukedom of Aqui- 
 taine, the denial of which requisition must have instantly 
 been followed by a declaration of forfeiture, which Ed- 
 ward was as yet in no condition to dispute. He therefore 
 resolved to submit to the summons for the present. But 
 to avoid the inference, that, by rendering this homage for 
 his French possessions, he acknowledged the right of 
 Philip of Valois as King of France, King Edward, in his 
 own secret council, entered a solemn protest, that such 
 homage as he should at this time pay to Philip, should 
 not prejudice his own hereditary right to the kingdom of 
 France, in virtue of his mother, Isabella. Under this 
 private protestation, Edward went to France with a noble 
 train of knights and peers, where Philip met him with 
 an attendance and retinue suited to the occasion, to re- 
 ceive the homage which the other came to pay. It may 
 be well supposed, that every ceremony applicable to the 
 rendering of such fealty, was nicely disputed between 
 such august personages. The meeting of the sovereigns 
 was in the cathedral of Amiens. The English King ap- 
 peared clad in a robe of crimson velvet, embroidered with 
 leopards of gold. He wore a royal crown on his head, 
 was girt with his sword, and had his golden spurs buckled 
 
HOMAJiE PERFORMED BY EDWARD III. 45 
 
 upon his heels. The King of France received him, 
 seated in a cliair, Lefore vvliich a cushion was laid for the 
 King of England to kneel upon. As he refused that act 
 of humiliation, the Grand Chamberlain of Fran(je insisted, 
 not only that that posture should be adopted, but lliat the 
 King of England should lay aside the regal ornaments, 
 and that the homage should be rendered by him kneel- 
 ing, bare-headed, without sword and girdle, and without 
 spurs. Edward was extremely angry at being compelled 
 to divest himself, in such an assembly, of the usual 
 marks of his rank. He was, however, obliged to do so; 
 and it is probable liis hatred to Philip of Valois was greatly 
 increased by his being subjected to this public affront. 
 
 This unpleasing ceremony being performed, and the 
 English possessions in France so far secured, Edward 
 returned to England, where he dispossessed his motlier 
 and her lover, Mortimer, of the administration, and took 
 the command of the kingdom into his own hand. 
 
 This revolution effected, the young king, perceiving 
 Scotland deprived by death of her heroic deliverer, Rob- 
 ert Bruce, and of his great captains, Randolph, Douglas, 
 and others, thought the time opportune for renewing his 
 grandfather's and father's attempts upon the liberty of 
 that nation. With this purpose, he invaded that country 
 — first, by means of the Disinherited Barons, as the Eng- 
 lish lords were called, (lords, that is, who had lost estates 
 in Scotland, granted to them by Edward I. and 11.,) and 
 afterwards by his own royal armies — and soon reduced 
 the Scottish to nearly the same state; of reluctant subjec- 
 tion which they experienced in the t»ine of his grandfather 
 Edward I. 
 
 As, however, the natives of the north continued to 
 show the same indomitable opposition to the English 
 yoke ; as the young king and queen of that nation had 
 found refuge in France, when there was no corner of 
 safety left for them in their own couniry ; as French 
 money and even French troops, were sent at dilTerent 
 times to keep up the spirit of the Scottish insurgents, 
 Edward, now, in nearly complete possession of the islani 
 958 
 
46 HIS SCOTTISH WARS. 
 
 of Britain, began to meditate the asserticjn of his jwn 
 claim of inheritance upon France, that he might so put 
 an end at once, and for ever, to the troublesome inter- 
 ference of that poweiful nation, in his Scottish wars. 
 
 To this resolution the King of England was urged by 
 the counsels of a hot-tempered and disappointed man. 
 who fled about this time from the court of France to that 
 of England. This was no other than Robert, Count of 
 Artois, a high prince of the blood, and an especial coun- 
 seller. till this period, of Philip of Valois. This noble- 
 man was grandson to a Robert Count of Artois, slain at 
 the battle of Courtray, after having had a son, named 
 Philip, who died before him. The slaughtered Count 
 left a daughter named Matilda, besides this Robert of 
 Artois, son of Philip, who was entitled, as male heir, tc 
 the succession of his grandfather. But Matilda, the 
 daughter of the elder Count Robert, being married to 
 Otho of Burgundy, and two daughters whom she had by 
 that marriage, being married to two sons of Philip the 
 Fair, that king of France adjudged the county of Artois 
 to the heir female, which v/as confirmed by a judgment 
 of Philip the Long. In this decision the Salic Law was 
 set aside, it being alleged that the pecuHar customs of 
 inheritance, observed from time immemorial in Artois, did 
 not permit its application. 
 
 By these judgments, Robert of Artois, the grandson, 
 conceived himself highly injured, and began to employ 
 his political sagacity in the way which he thought most 
 likely to favour his own interest in the county of Artois. 
 In the debate concerning the succession, upon the death 
 of Charles the Fair, Robert of Artois declared zealousl/ 
 for the party of Philip of Valois, both because Philip's 
 right, beins: that of an heir male, favoured his own claim 
 upon the county of Artois, and because he was himself 
 brother-in-law and friend of the claimant. 
 
 Philip, who was greatly indebted to this prince for 
 smoothing his access to the crown, by his important ser- 
 vices ard eloquent representations, received him into his 
 higiiest tavour, presented him with the earldom of Beau- 
 
PHILIP Ot VALOIS. 41 
 
 niont le Roger, and consulted him In almost al importaiii 
 business which he had to transact, until Robert, thus dis- 
 tinguished, began to think the period was favourable foi 
 again trying the question respecting the succession of his 
 grandfather, no longer indeed with his aunt Matilda, who 
 was dead, but with her successors. After obtaining, 
 therefore, many marks of tlie king's favour and confi- 
 dence, he was so secure of his interest, as to propose to 
 Philip of Valois, to review and alter the decisions of his 
 predecessors, Pliilip the Fair and Philip the Long, which 
 took from Robert the county of Artois. The king eluded 
 his minister's request, by replying, that he had no power 
 to disturb the decisions of his predecessors, and that Rob- 
 ert ought to remain satisfied with such possessions as he 
 had obtained from the kindness of the king. This re- 
 fusal drove D'Artois to still more unlawful expedients, 
 to obtain the end on which he had determined. He 
 forged, or caused to be forged, a testament of his grand- 
 father, settling the county of Artois in his favour, and 
 produced it to the king, as a document affording sufficient 
 room for reviewing and recalling the judgments of which 
 he complained. Philip of Valois, looking upon the deed 
 produced, of which he instantly recognised the false- 
 hood, sternly exhorted his minister to desist from a pur- 
 suit so unjust, and to beware how he prejudiced his own 
 honour, and insulted his sovereign, by claiming faith foi 
 forged deeds. Robert of Artois replied with fury, that 
 he would support the truth of the testament with his 
 lance in the lists, against whosoever impugned it. The 
 king, highly ofl^ended at a defiance in which he thought 
 his own person was included, answered sternly, " I will 
 impugn it, and will know how to punish the fabricator.'' 
 
 The king and his minister parted in great displeasure 
 on both sides, and Robert of Artois was heard to drop 
 these dangerous words : — ^' He who placed the crown upon 
 Philip's he?d, knows how to deprive him of it again." 
 
 This imprudent speech being reported to Pnilip, he 
 published a sentence against his late minister, condemn- 
 ing him for forgery ; declaring him fallen from uis hon^ 
 
48 ROBERT OF ARTOIS. 
 
 ours, banishing bim from France, and pronounc'ug his 
 property confiscated. At the same time, a female of the 
 bouse of Betune was burnt alive, as the actual forger ot 
 ihe testament in question, and as guilty also of sorcery. 
 By this usage, in vvh ch, perhaps, the king, in forgetting 
 foimer services, followed the dictates of offended dignity 
 farther than prudence would have counselled, Robert ol 
 Artois was driven to despair. Philip's displeasure even 
 extended to the exile's wife, whom he imprisoned, al- 
 though she was his own sister ; and he showed similar 
 rancour, by interfering to prevent Robert from finding 
 refuge in Brabant, where his friends were prohibited from 
 protecting him, under pain of the King of France's ven- 
 geance. This inflexible severity drove the exiled states- 
 man to seek refuge with Edward, w^ho was Philip's most 
 formidable enemy, both from situation, and recollection 
 of the scene of homage which he had been constrained 
 to perform at Amiens. 
 
 In the year 1337, (A. D.) Robert of Artois fled to 
 England in disguise, and beino; a near relation of Ed- 
 ward, received there welcome and protection ; and, from 
 his character for policy, speedily found the road to tlie 
 king's ear. He employed his influence, which soon be- 
 came great, to persuade Edward of the practicability of 
 asserting his title to the crown of France in right of his 
 mother. Edward, flattered by the prospects displayed 
 by so sagacious a counsellor, resolved upon a war with 
 France, founded on the sweeping and general assertion, 
 that he himself was the lawful heir of that kingdom, in 
 despite of the Salic law on which Philip reposed his 
 riglit. 
 
 Availing himself of the wealth which his subjects 
 readily put at their king's command, in a point where 
 their sense of national glory was so strongly interested, 
 Edward commenced, at very great expense, to form a 
 confederacy with the Emperor, Louis of Bavaria, the 
 Dukes of Brabant and Guelders, the Archbishop of Co- 
 logne, and other petty princes of the Low Country, for 
 
CONFEDERACY AGAINST PHILIP. 49 
 
 the formation of an army which should support tlie title 
 which he intended to assume as King of France. For 
 the levying and keeping on foot this army, he engaged 
 to pay large subsidies to the princes of the confederacy. 
 
 Edward 111., however, experienced what has been since 
 often felt, that it is easier for England, by her wealth, to 
 mduce continental powers to take up arms in her behalf, 
 tlian to inspire tliem with vigour and spirit in an enter- 
 prise, to which money alone had induced them to accede. 
 Philip took'the field, with an army of one hundred thou- 
 sand men, to face this gathering storm, but cautiously 
 avoided a combat, in which a defeat might have cost him 
 his throne ; and the allied princes trimmed, shuffled, pro- 
 crastinated, and delayed assembling their forces, till the 
 summer passed away without any remarkable event. In 
 the spring, 1340, (A. D.) Edward returned to hold his 
 parliament, which was called chiefly for the purpose of 
 requiring new subsidies from his subjects, having exhaust- 
 ed those formerly granted among his allies to little pur- 
 pose. His parliament were, however, complaisant j and, 
 having settled his affairs at home, the king resolved to re- 
 turn to the continent, although the French fleet, amount- 
 ing to four hundred sail, with forty thousand men on 
 board, who had been already troublesome to the English 
 coasts and commerce, was prepared, by their master's 
 order, to intercept Edward upon the sea. 
 
 These vessels were hired from the republic of Genoa, 
 and manned with mariners from that state. On 22d June. 
 1340, (A. D.) the King of England set sail with two 
 hundred and sixty vessels well manned with archers and 
 men-at-arms. Other vessels conveyed English ladies and 
 gentlewomen, who went over to pay their respects tc 
 the queen, whom Edward had left behind him in Flanders 
 as a pledge of his return. When the English approached 
 the harbour of Sluyse, which they had fixed for disem- 
 barkation, they beheld it occupied by so many vessels^ 
 that their masts and streamers seemed like a great wood. 
 The king demanded of the master of his vessel, '* what 
 he conceived this navv to be." — " They are," answere<J 
 
50 KDWAIIO'S NAVAL VICTORY. 
 
 the ni£Ster, "ships fitted out by the Frenv:;b king to 
 despoil your IVJajesty's coasts, and interrupt your com- 
 merce. They have ah-eady done you, in this way, much 
 harm ; and now, if they may, it is their object to take 
 your person." — " Ha !" said the king, " 1 have long 
 desired to meet them, and now I will make them dearly 
 abye the displeasures they have done me." Acting as 
 admiral in person, the king commanded his fleet to cabt 
 anchor for the night. 
 
 On the next morning, haviifig arranged the vessels bear- 
 ing the ladies at such a distance that they might see the 
 conflict without danger, Edward, with his ships of war, 
 held a course in moving towards the fight which was cal- 
 culated to gain the wind of the enemy, in which manoeu- 
 vre he succeeded. This conduct also seemed to the 
 French to evince timidity on the part of Edward, and 
 induced them to leave the harbour to attack the English 
 fleet, — another object which the King of England had in 
 view. The battle commenced at ten in the morning, and 
 lasted nine long hours, during which the Genoese sailors, 
 by whom the French ships were manned, plied the Eng- 
 lish with their cross-bows, to which the English replied 
 A'ith the long-bow, a much more effective weapon, and 
 which had been a favourite in England ever since the 
 Norman Conquest. When the missiles on each side were 
 expended, the ships approached close to each other, and 
 grappled or secured themselves to their opponents by 
 means of iron chains or hooks, by which the contending 
 vessels were held together. The men-at-arms on both 
 sides thus fought on the decks hand to hand, with tlieir 
 swords and axes, as if on shore. The English, animated 
 by the presence and example of Edward, obtained at 
 length, after a bloody battle, a most complete victory, the 
 first distinguished naval success of England, which has 
 since gained so many. In consequence of which, the 
 whole French navy being taken, dispersed, or destroyed, 
 King Edward achieved his landing with all glory and 
 victory ; ai:d the splendour of his conquest induced his 
 kllies to show an activity which tliey had noi yet mani- 
 
EjnVARD's CAMPAIGN IN FL NDERS. 51 
 
 fested. The king, in conjunction with them, formed the 
 siege oi Tournay, a strong town, wliich was vahantlv 
 defended by the assistance of a French garrison. 
 
 At this time the country of Flanders was divided be- 
 twixt two factions. The earl of that country adhered 
 fiithfuliy to King Philip, whose vassal he was, and was 
 followed by the nobles and gentry. But the towns of 
 Flanders were at all times inhabited by a mutinous body 
 of citizens, manufacturers, and the like, who were not 
 disposed to submit to the earl or his nobility, and were 
 often enffacred in actual rebellion against him, and in in- 
 surrection against his dependent nobles. A brewer, of 
 the name of D'Arteville, had raised himself to the rank 
 of a principal demagogue among these artisans, and, 
 holding a close intercourse with Edward III., was of 
 course hostile to the French party, which had been em- 
 braced by the earl. 
 
 An army of these Insurgent Flemings, amounting in 
 number to forty thousand men, with the auxiliary aid of 
 five thousand English archers, took the field under Robert 
 of Artois, who, acting as the commander of this second 
 and somewhat tumultuary army, laid siege to Saint 
 Omers, while the more regular part of the allied troops 
 Desieged Tournay. Saint Omers, however, was well de- 
 fended ; and in an attack upon the suburbs of the place, 
 the besieged made a strong sally upon the Flemings while 
 in disorder, slew about three or four thousand men, and 
 impressed upon the rest a panic terror, which manifested 
 itself in an extraordinary way, that very night. About 
 midnight, there fell upon the undisciplined besiegers a 
 strange consternation, and groundless fear, which impelled 
 them to cut down their tents and pavilions, and fly from 
 before the place. Their leaders in vain endeavoured tc 
 argve with them, asking, '^ Why they fled ? whom they 
 feared ?" and such like questions, to which the Flemings 
 made no answer, but dispersed themselves in confusion, 
 never again to be assembled as an army. 
 
 One part of King Edward's plan for the campaign was 
 thus tl'ustrated by a singular accident ; nor was the siege 
 
52 
 
 at Tournay more successful, though it was more regu- 
 'arly conducted, and more honourably raised, than that 
 of Saint Omers. King Edward maintained tbe siege of 
 the former place for nine weeks and upwards, still hoping 
 that he might be able to compel Philip, who lay with 
 a royal army within three or four leagues of the place, to 
 hazard a battle for its relief. 
 
 In this, however, he failed. In consequence of which 
 disappointment, and scarcely knowing in what way to 
 bring the war to a decision, Edward despatched a per- 
 sonal challenge, defying King Philip to let the controversy 
 be decided eitlier by the kings themselves in single fight, 
 or by a hundred champions on each side. Philip had too 
 much wisdom to accept of this defiance. He returned 
 for answer that a king accepted not a challenge from a 
 vassal, and upbraided Edward with being perjured after 
 the oath which he had taken when he paid him homage 
 at Amiens. 
 
 The German and Dutch confederates of England were 
 again becoming weary of the war, which was marked by 
 so little good fortune ; and, what may be considered as a 
 simultaneous occurrence, Edward's power of continuing 
 the subsidies to these venal allies was gradually dimin- 
 ishing. 
 
 When m.atters were in this critical posture before Tour- 
 nay, the Pope and his cardinals urged strongly the neces- 
 sity of peace betwixt the two Christian monarchs, the 
 most powerful in Europe, in order that they might engage 
 in a joint effort against the infidels. This gave an apology, 
 at least, to Edward's pride, for entering into terms. 
 Robert, King of Sicily, was equally anxious in the same 
 cause of mediation ; but especially the Lady Jane of 
 Valois, Countess Dowager of Hainault, mother-in-law to 
 the King of England, and sister to Philip of France, did 
 her utmost, by affectionate remonstrances and judicious 
 arguments, to prevail upon the contending monarchs to 
 negotiate f^r a truce. This was concluded in September, 
 1343, (A. D.,) to continue for one year, and affording, 
 
TRUCE BETWEEN FflANCE AND ENGLAND. 53 
 
 it was supposed, sufficient leisure for adjusting a definitive 
 peace. 
 
 Edward ret irned to England In very lad humour, de- 
 serted by his mercenary confederates, and convinced that 
 he himself was mistaken In supposing he could conquer 
 France by the aid of princes, who, one by one, (the em- 
 peror himself not excepted,) made peace with his enemy 
 when the treasures of England failed. On the other 
 hand, notwithstanding his loss In the great sea action, 
 Philip of France carried away all the advantages of the 
 campaign. He had saved Tournay from ruin, and oblig- 
 ed the King of England, who had threatened to dethrone 
 him, to retreat from his dominions, without havin'>- been 
 able to gain so much as a single village of France, and 
 was, therefore, undoubtedly In every sense, possessed of 
 the effective fruits of victory. 
 
 The truce, of course, terminated the war for the pres- 
 ent ; but still the ground of mortal quarrel remained be- 
 twixt the two countries, rankled deep in each, and af- 
 forded a ready pretence for either nation, when they 
 should again choose to take up arms. Neither could a 
 more solid peace between the crowns be now achieved, 
 although Edward required nothing more than a release 
 for the payment of homage for Gascony ; a condition 
 greatly short of his original high pretensions. The tiuce, 
 therefore, was prolonged for another year, as the only 
 way of avoiding the revival of a war which endangered 
 Christendom. Thus stood matters, when an unexpect- 
 ed event took place, which revived Edward's hopes 
 of obtaining possession of the crown of France, much 
 abated as they had been by the event of the late unsat- 
 isfactory campaigns. This was a dispute concerning the 
 succession of the Duke of Bretagne, which originated as 
 follows. 
 
 Ar.hur, the second duke, had, by his first wife, three 
 
 sons, John, Guy, and Peter ; by his second wife he left 
 
 one son, named .Tohn de Montfort, being the title of his 
 
 mother's family. At his dpath, Duke Arthur was suc- 
 
 13* 
 
Isi DISPUTE CONCERNING BRETAGNE. 
 
 coedevi by his eldest son, John 111. This prince died 
 30th April, 1341, without issue; Guy, the second son 
 of Duke Artiiur, had been dead about ten years before, 
 leaving one daughter, Jane, who, by desire of her uncle, 
 was married to Charles de Blois, nephew to the king of 
 France. During Duke Arthur's lifetinie and reign, Peter, 
 the third son of that prince, had died young and childless, 
 while the aforesaid John de JVJontfort, son of Arthur, by 
 his second wife, was still alive. Thus standing the sue- 
 cession, Duke John 111. had prevailed upon the States of 
 Bretagne to recognise the right of his niece, Jane, and her 
 husband, Charles de Blois, as his presumptive heir and 
 successor in the duchy, in preference to John de ]\k)ntfort, 
 who was unquestionably the heir-male, and had, as such, 
 a considerable party among the Bretons. This expression 
 of the duke's will met no direct opposition. But, upon 
 the death of Duke John, the Earl de Montfort determined 
 to dispute the destination in which he had hitherto acqui- 
 esced. He entered into a close correspondence with 
 Edward 111., and easily prevailed upon him to forward 
 his pretensions to the dukedom of Bretagne, agreeing, 
 at the same time, to assert those of Edward to the king- 
 dom of France. De Montfort seized on the treasure of 
 the deceased duke, gained possession of Nantes, and sev- 
 eral other towns of Bretagne, and made every effort to 
 support his claim. To draw his connexion with England 
 still closer, he visited that country, made a formal alliance 
 w^ith its sovereign, and did homage to Edward as King of 
 France, for the dukedom of Bretagne. 
 
 These proceedings gave great and natural offence to 
 the King of France, who, upon the complaint of Charles 
 of Blois, summoned De Montfort to appear before his 
 Parliament of Paris. The earl somewhat incautiously 
 obeyed the summons ; but, finding himself charged with 
 the feudal offence of having acknowledged Edward as his 
 superior, and commanded to remain in the city of Paris 
 for fifteen days, he began to be alarmed, and returned 
 privately into Bretagne, before the French king knew of 
 his departure. 
 
IMPRISONMENT OF DE MONTFORT 55 
 
 The Parliament of Paris proceeded, in the absence of 
 the Count de Montfort, to adjudge the duchy to Charles 
 of Blois and his wife, as legal heirs to the deceased duke, 
 adding, at the same time, that De Montfort, even had he 
 ever possessed an interest in the fief, had forfeited it, both 
 by doing homage to the King of England, and by breach 
 of his arrest, contrary to King Philip's orders. 
 
 The King of France, at the same time, commanded his 
 eldest son, the Duke of Normandy, to assist Charles of 
 Blois in regaining possession of those towns in Bretagne 
 which De Montfort had taken and garrisoned. A vigo- 
 rous attack jas instantly made for the recovery of Bre- 
 tagne, gUid (Jliarles de Blois, by the assistance of a French 
 army, ir) which a distinguished warrior, called Louis de 
 la Cerdc2, more commonly Louis of Spain, acting as mar- 
 shal of the4iost, had the good fortune to retake the cap- 
 ital of Nantes, in which Earl Montfort himself was made 
 prisoner. H'^e was sent to Paris, and imprisoned in the 
 Louvre, whei'^ he long remained, entirely lost to his 
 party. In most cases, therefore, the war would have 
 been at an end ere it was well begun ; and the scheme 
 of Edward to obtain access to France, by the way of 
 Bretagne, must have been totally frustrated. This was, 
 however, prevented, by the masculine courage of the 
 Countess Jane de Montfort, wife of the imprisoned earl, 
 and sister to the Earl of Flanders. 
 
 This lady, who, says Froissart, " had the courage of a 
 man and the heart of a lion," being in the city of Rennes 
 when her lord was taken, scorned to yield to the grief 
 with which that event oppressed her; but assembling her 
 friends, presented to them her young son, John, as suc- 
 cessor to his rights, who, by the grace of God, should be 
 the means of restoring his father unto his family and 
 friends. She undertook also to pay the soldiers regularly, 
 and inspired a spirit of resistance into her party which 
 might have been supposed to have been utterly extin 
 guished by her husband's misfortune. 
 
 Notwithstanding the resistance of the countess, Rennes 
 i\as yielded to Charles de Blois and there seenied little 
 
5(> SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 
 
 chance of any effectual stand being inadfe, til\ she thre*v 
 herself into Hennebon, a strong town in Bretagne, sit- 
 uated on the seashore, in which she was accompanied by 
 the flower of her partisans, and where she prepared for a 
 gallant defence. She herself wore armour, and rode 
 through the streets on a mettled charo;er, exhortincr the 
 citizens to resistance. Her women were not excepted 
 from martial labour, for she caused them to cut short their 
 gowns, that they might be more active, and carry stones 
 and other missiles to the walls to make good the defence. 
 
 The French having attempted to carry the town, by a 
 general assault upon one side, the countess made a sally 
 on the other, and set fire to the Frenchmen's camp, while 
 they were engaged in the assault ; and upon this and 
 other occasions, did great damage to the besiegers. Not- 
 withstanding this, and the valour and military skill which 
 she displayed in making good the defence, the town suf- 
 fered severely in the progress of the siege. The walls 
 were so much shattered by the engines, that the Bishop 
 of Leon, who visited the place in person, as a friend of 
 Charles of Blois, pressed the conductors of the defence 
 very much to come to terms with the besiegers. His 
 arguments, and the desperate condition of the place made 
 considerable impression upon several of its defenders. 
 The valiant countess now became alarmed for the defec- 
 tion of her followers, and piteously entreated them to 
 hold out, were it but for the space of three days only, 
 during which time she asserted she was certain that the 
 city would be relieved. Nevertheless, on the second day, 
 the Breton lords of her party again met in council with 
 the Bishop of Leon, adjusting terms for the capitula- 
 tion of Hennebon ; and Charles of Blois, who was with 
 the besiegers in person, had approached the walls with a 
 strong party, to be in readiness to take possession of the 
 place. 
 
 At this critical moment, the valiant Countess, in a state 
 well-nigh approaching to despair, cast an almost hopeless 
 glance upon the sea from a lofty window of the castle, 
 when, what was her joy to discover the horizon covered 
 
SIEGF OT HENNEBON RAISED. Di 
 
 with ilie masts of a large navy, steering towards Henne- 
 Don. She exclainied joyfully, "The Red Cross! the 
 Red Cross ! tlie succours of England are in sight !" 
 
 The Breton lords speedily changed tlieir purpose of 
 surrender and dismissed the Bishop of Leon, to whom 
 Uiey were formerly disposed to listen, while Charles of 
 Blois, incensed at his disappointment, approached to the 
 walls the greatest engine the besiegers had in their camp. 
 The English, who had been forty days delayed on the 
 sea by contrary winds, now landed at Hennebon. They 
 formed a small army, commanded by Sir Walter Manny, 
 a Flemish lord in the service of King Edward, and one of 
 the most renowned warriors of that period. The very 
 next day after his arrival, he expressed his wish to come 
 to action. " 1 have a great desire," he said, " to issue 
 from the town and to break down yonder great engine, 
 which they have brought so near us." The Breton lords 
 within the place gladly assented. They burst forth from 
 ihe gates, broke tlie engine to pieces, and pursued those 
 who guarded it to the camp of the besiegers. The host 
 of the French now began to get under arms, to protect 
 the fugitives ; and Sir Walter, seeing their main body 
 advancing, turned against them, with the chivalrous pro- 
 testation, " May 1 never be beloved of my lady, if I 
 refuse to break a lance with these pursuers !" He turned 
 accordingly, and many a knight was unhorsed, and deed 
 of arms done. With equal prudence as valour, Sir Wal- 
 ter Manny, after a gallant skirmish, drew off his forces 
 under cover of the ditches, which were lined with Eng- 
 lish archers, and returned to Hennebon, where the 
 Countess of IMontfort, as we are informed by the chroni- 
 cle, kissed him and his brave companions twice or thrice, 
 like a valiant lady. The siege of Hennebon was accord- 
 ingly raised. (A D. 1342.) 
 
 Many skirmishes were fought, in which the English 
 courage and the exce lence of their archers, gained an as- 
 cendency, which was exceedingly mortifying to Charles 
 de Blois, and to Don Louis of Spain, who acted as m-'.r. 
 slial oi his army. 
 
58 HENNEBON AGAIN BESIEGED. 
 
 The latter was a jieneral of great courage and conduct, 
 but nevertheless wah tinged with the vindictive and crueJ 
 temper which was supposed peculiar to the Spanish nation 
 Moving along the coast of Bretagne with a strong force of 
 Spaniards and Genoese, he destroyed a seaport town 
 called Guerande, where he spared neither man, woman, 
 nor child. Taking shipping at this place, Don Louis 
 reached Quimperle, another haven, where he landed, and, 
 burning, sacking, and destroying the whole surrounding 
 country, collected a great spoil. But while he was thus 
 engaged. Sir Walter Manny, who had put to sea in pur- 
 suit of him, arrived at Quimperle, with three thousand 
 English archers, and a sufficient number of men-at-arms. 
 The English instantly seized upon the French ships and 
 booty, which remained unprotected in the port of Quim- 
 perle, while Don Louis himself, with his soldiers, contin- 
 ued to ravage the neighbourhood ; and Sir Walter Manny, 
 landing with his forces, set off' in pursuit of his enemy. 
 They met, and engaged with fury. The English archers 
 displayed their usual superiority. Don - Alphonso, the 
 nephew of Don Louis, was killed on the spot ; the Ge- 
 neose and Spaniards dispersed themselves, and were de- 
 stroyed by the Bretons, as they fled in different directions. 
 Don Louis, much wounded, with great difficulty made 
 his escape in a swift-sailing skiff, which held only a few 
 of his followers. 
 
 Notwithstanding these successes on the part of the 
 Countess of Montfort and her auxiliaries, the forces of 
 Charles de Blois daily increased ; and it became obvious, 
 that although the troops of Sir Walter Manny were suf- 
 ficient to deliver the countess, and to protect her person, 
 yet more numerous and effectual succours were necessary 
 for obtaining success in her undertaking, and maintaining 
 Bretagne against the power of France. Charles of Blois 
 had succeeded in taking the important towns of Vannes 
 and Karhuis, and had resolved again to attack Hen 
 nebon, which might be considered as the principal seat 
 of the war, since the countess and her son resided there, 
 soiure in ihe strength of the place, which vas protected 
 
SIEGE OF HENNEBON. 59 
 
 oy strong trenches, to which the sea was admitted, and 
 ao less secure in the valour of Sir Walter Manny, and 
 the English auxiliary forces. 
 
 Determined, therefore, to renew the siege, Charles of 
 Blois and Don Louis of Spain reared up against Henne- 
 bon sixteen enirines of the largest size, with whicli they 
 cast great stones into the place, and ruined the walls and 
 defences. 'I'be besieged, however, strengthened their 
 defences wth a great number of woolpacks, which broke 
 the tor^e of the stones ; this encouraged tlie countess 
 and her auxiliaries so much, that they upbraided the be- 
 siegers by calling from the walls, " Why bring you not 
 up the troops whom you carried from hence to Quim- 
 perle ?" Tliis insult was particularly directed against 
 Louis of Spain, whose pride was highly offended at being 
 thus reminded of his shameful defeat, the loss of ills 
 army, his own wounds and flight, and the death of a be- 
 loved nephew. He chose a mode of revenge, w^hich 
 accorded ill with the honourable sentiments by which 
 men of his rank were then expected to guide themselves. 
 
 Passing to the tent of Charles de Blois, Louis of Spain 
 desired of him a boon, in requital of all the services 
 which he had done him ; this was readily granted. When 
 his request came to be explained, he demanded the per- 
 sons of two gallant English knights, who had been made 
 prisoners, wlien wounded, that he might do with them 
 according to his pleasure ; declaring at the same time, that, 
 in revenge of the insults of the people of Hennebon, and 
 of the defeats he had suffered from the English, it was 
 his purpose to strike off the heads of the prisoners within 
 sight of the walls. Charles of Blois, who was a cour- 
 teous and accomplished knight, answered the Spaniard 
 that his boon should be readily granted, were it not asked 
 for a purpose which would dishonour Don Louis himself, 
 and occasion the English generals to use retaliation on 
 the prisoners of their party. Don Louis to this expostu- 
 lation sullenly replied, that if Charles did not grant him 
 he boon lie required, he would on the spot renounce both 
 his cause and his company. Charles of Blois, unable 19 
 
50 CHARLES OF BLOIS AND DON LOl I S 
 
 dispense with the Spaniard's services, thought hmisell 
 obliged to deliver up the two English prisoners, who 
 were named Sir John Butler and Sir MatJiew Tre- 
 lawney, to be used as Don Louis pleased. Nor could 
 any entreaty of those around divert the Spaniard from 
 his savage and unknightly resolution of having theni 
 publicly executed shortly after dinner upon the same day. 
 
 Sir Walter Manny, being informed of the imminent 
 danger in which the two valiant knights stood, addressed 
 his followers thus : '• Great honour were it to us should 
 we be able to save the lives of yonder knights ; and even 
 the attempt, though unsuccessful, will be praised by our 
 good King Edward, and by all men of worth who shall 
 hear thereof." With this resolution, which was adopted 
 with acclamation by all w^ho heard the proposal, the 
 greater part of the garrison, being six thousand archers 
 and three hundred men-at-arms, under the command of 
 a gallant Breton knight. Sir Aymery of Clisson, sallied 
 forth suddenly, and with great vigour, against the camp 
 of the French, which they furiously assailed. The be- 
 siegers immediately took to arms, and the battle became 
 very hot. In the meantime. Sir Walter Manny, taking 
 a hundred men-at-arms and five hundred archers, whom 
 he had reserved for that purpose, and sallying from a pri- 
 vate postern, fetched a circuit, and fell upon the camp 
 of the enemy, in a quarter where he met so little oppo- 
 sition, that he penetrated to the tent where the two 
 knights were confined. Here he found them bound, and 
 prepared for instant execution. He cut their bonds, 
 mounted them on horseback, and carried them off in tri- 
 umph, thus delivering them from the destiny allotted to 
 them by Louis of Spain. 
 
 After sustaining this insult, Charles of Blois and his 
 party, finding no chance of possessing themselves of 
 Hennebon, raised the siege, and withdrew^, after having 
 established a truce with the Countess of Montfort, which 
 was to endure to the 15th of May following, when the 
 vvualher would permit the campaign to be opened anew. 
 
 H the winter season the heroic countess herself, with 
 
CDUNTESS DF MONTFORT. 
 
 61 
 
 some of her principal partisans, made a visit to Englci'idj 
 where she kept her Christmas in high state, honoured b^' 
 all, as became her courage and celebrity. 
 
 Early next year, an auxiliary army was raised in Eng- 
 land for the service of Bretagne, and Robert of Arlois, 
 already mentioned, was its destined commander. He pur 
 to sea about the middle of May, (A. D. 1343,) in which 
 inonth the truce with Charles of Blois expired. The 
 noble Countess de Montfort returned to Bretagne with 
 the same armament. Near Guernsey they fell in with 
 the fleet of France, commanded by Don Louis of Spain, 
 often already mentioned, and a brave leader as well on 
 sea as on land. Both parties encountered with mutual 
 animosity, the Countess de Montfort keeping the deck 
 of her vessel with a drawn sword in her hand, like tlie 
 knights and men-at-arms on both sides. The engage- 
 ment was very fierce, being on the one side maintained 
 by the cross-bowmen of Genoa, and on the other by the 
 English archers, both renowned for their skill in their 
 weapons ; but the fleets were parted by a storm, without 
 the battle being decided for either party. 
 
 When Robert of Artois arrived in Bretagne with his 
 forces, which were rather select than numerous, he made 
 his first attack upon the strong city of Vannes, which he 
 took by surprise. The success of the English in this 
 enterprise induced their leaders to divide their forces. 
 One party went to Hennebon, with the Countess of 
 Montfort and Sir Walter Manny, another, under the 
 Earl of Salisbury and Pembroke, laid siege to the city 
 of Rennes, and Robert of Artois was left, with very infe- 
 rior forces, in possession of Vannes, his late acquisition. 
 Here he was suddenly surrounded by twelve thousand 
 French, assembled for the purpose of overpowering him. 
 The besiegers, being at the same time afraid that they 
 might themseh^es be attacked by the English, who lay 
 before Rennes, made a sudden and desperate attack on 
 the city of Vannes, and took it by storm. Robert de 
 Ailois was much wounded, and narrowly escaped to Hen- 
 959 
 
62 EDWARD III. ARRIVES IN BRETAGNE. 
 
 nebon From thence he took shipping for England ; but 
 being detained upon the sea, his wounds rankled, and he 
 died shortly after arriving in Londoi^, Thus perished 
 that unfortunate exile, whose personal resentment and 
 vindictive counsel had been so inrimediately the occasion 
 of this bloody war. Even his death appeared to be the 
 means of exasperating it Edward III., who loved 
 Robert d'Artois, and considered him as a martyr in his 
 cause, swore he would not rest till he had revenged his 
 death, and for that purpose he would lead an army in 
 person into Bretagne. He kept his oath accordingly, 
 and arrived in that province with considerable forces 'n 
 October, 1343. 
 
 Philip of Valois now saw the necessity of making a 
 great exertion. He commissioned his son, John Duke 
 of Normandy, to levy as strong a force as possible, and 
 drive the English from Bretagne. Accordingly, this 
 young prince raised an army, amounting to more than 
 forty thousand men, greatly superior, of course, to those 
 Englishmen who had been sent thither under Robert 
 d'Artois, even wlien united with the army under Edward 
 himself. A battle might have been expected between 
 two such considerable armies ; and such a crisis seemed, 
 indeed, to be actually approaching. King Edward en- 
 camped his army, now assembled into one body, before 
 the city of Vannes, and the Duke of Normandy ap- 
 proached the same town upon the other side, with a view 
 to raise the siege ; but both armies were in a state of such 
 difficulty as prevented their acting with effect. The 
 English could not prudently make any attempt upon 
 Vannes in presence of the French host, while, on the 
 other hand, the French army, though more numerous, 
 tlared not assault the English, secured as the}' were by 
 their strong intrenchments. Thus the armies lay front- 
 mg each other, both sufficiently distressed for want of 
 provisions. Little passed but skirmishing. At length 
 ihe contending princes became inclined to listen to the 
 arguments of two cardinals, sent by the Pope to mediate 
 a pacification between France and England, if such were 
 
INVASION OF GUIENNE. 63 
 
 possible. These en^iinent cbui-cbmen laboured so efTec- 
 tually, that, in 1343, (A. D.) a truce was concluded be- 
 tween King Edward and the Duke of Normandy, in the 
 name of his father. France was therefore, for t!ie 
 present, relieved from 4ie presence of the English armies 
 and their warlike monarch ; but the quarrel was too much 
 embittered to permit of a speedy settlement. 
 
 It was not lonfr before both kings accused each other 
 of breach of the agreement, and of actions inconsistent 
 with the truce. King Philip of Valois gave particular 
 occasion to the charge, by putting to death certain Breton 
 lords who had adopted the party of De Montfort, and 
 who had fallen into his hands during the war, as well iis 
 others whom he considered as intriguing with Edward, 
 though they had hitherto preserved the external appear- 
 ance of French subjects. Among these was the Lord 
 of Clisson, a brave, powerful, and popular noble. On 
 the other hand, the French king complained that King 
 Edward kept on foot his party in Bretagne by all manner 
 of indirect intrigues. In short both monarchs expressed 
 themselves deeply offended with each other, and desirous 
 of renewing the war as soon as convenient. 
 
 The English parliament, although the French war 
 entailed on the nation a burdensome and useless expense, 
 entered nevertheless warmly into the passions of Edward, 
 advised him to prosecute the war w^ith vigour, and grant- 
 ed him large subsidies to enable him to do so. The 
 k ng, thus encouraged by his subjects, sent in 1344, (A. 
 D.,) a small army into Guienne, of great part of which 
 province it must be remembered, the English were still 
 possessed ; and also in the same year despatched rein- 
 forcements to the party of De Montfort in Bretagn^;, 
 where very many of the Bretons themselves, highly in- 
 censed against the French for the cruel execution of 
 several of their nobles, were in arms for the Countess of 
 Montfort. The English troops sent to Guienne were 
 placed under the command of the king's near kinsman, 
 Henry of Lancaster, Earl of Derby. By the gooa 
 managnment of this gallant chief, the English army took 
 
64 SIEGE OF AUBEROCHE. 
 
 various towns in the south of France, and defeated in 
 battle the French army under the Count de I'Isle, an 
 excellent general. 
 
 The circumstances of the action were something ex- 
 traordinary. A strong castle in Gascony, called Aubie- 
 roche, had been taken by the English, and three knights 
 of their party were stationed there with a garrison, for 
 the defence of the place. The Count de I'Jsle, who 
 had hitherto been outshone in activity and adventure by 
 the Earl of Derby, now thought of recovering his repu- 
 tation by regaining this place of Auberoche. He con- 
 ceived he should be able to achieve this by such a rapid 
 concentration of his forces, as he trusted might enable 
 him to carry the castle, before the Earl of Derby, who 
 was lying at Bourdeaux, could entertain any suspicion 
 of his purpose. He summoned therefore around him all 
 the vassals within reach, who owned the authority of the 
 King of France, and having thus assembled a considera- 
 ble army, suddenly laid siege to Auberoche, where the 
 small English garrison w^ere totally unprovided for defence. 
 The Frenchmen brought with them to the attack of the 
 place four very powerful engines, which they employed 
 day and night in casting such huge stones as broke down 
 the battlements, and shattered the roofs of the castle so 
 much, that the garrison were compelled to shelter them- 
 selves in the vaults and cellars. The besieged knights 
 saw no chance of escape or relief, unless they could com- 
 municate their hard case to the Earl of Derby, then 
 ying at Bourdeaux, and request him to advance to their 
 deliverance. 
 
 One of their attendants undertook this perilous task, 
 and, in the character of a Gascon peasant, attempted to 
 pass through the camp of the enemy ; he was discov- 
 ered, however, and seized. The letter of the besieged 
 knights to the Earl of Derby which the captive mes- 
 senger bore, informed the besiegers of the straits in which 
 the garrison was placed ; and, in order to make the be- 
 sieged aware that their messenger had been intercepled, 
 ^he French cruelly put the poor fellow upon one of their 
 
SIEGE OF AUBEROCHE. 65 
 
 engines, and cast him into the town, accompanied with 
 the insuhing taunt, " Ask your messenger, sirs, vvlieie he 
 found the Earl of Derby, since he went out but last night, 
 and returned again so shortly." 
 
 Frank de la Halle, a gallant German, and a faithful 
 follower of Edward 111., who was one of those within the 
 castle, answered boldly, " Sirs, though we be enclosed 
 here, we shall issue when it pleases God ; and as to the 
 Earl of Derby, if you will let us send a message to him 
 touching our condition, there is not one of you will keep 
 the field till his coming." — '• Nay," answered the be- 
 siegers, " this shall not serve your turn : it will be time 
 enough for the Earl of Derby to know of your condition 
 when the castle is rendered." — " That it shall never be '' 
 answered Frank de la Halle : " we will rather die in i 
 ruins." 
 
 All these proceedings before Auberoche were conveyed 
 to the Earl of Derby by a spy, whom that nobleman had 
 in the French camp. So soon as he received news of 
 J)e distress of the besieged, he assembled his troops, 
 ^nd sent to the Earl of Pembroke, then at Bergerac with 
 a still larger force, to join him upon his march towards 
 Auberoche. In the meantime he himself instantly set 
 forth, accompanied by the Earl of Oxford, Sir Walter 
 Manny, Lord Ferrars, Sir Richard Hastings, and other 
 good knights, though having with them few followers. 
 They tarried for some hours at a village called Lyborne, 
 to abide for the Earl of Pembroke, who did not appear. 
 On the succeeding evening they left the village, and, 
 riding all night, were within two leagues of Auberoche 
 in the dawning. - Here they lighted from their horses, 
 and made a halt till it was noon, still hoping for the Ear) 
 of Pembroke's junction. He came not, however ; and 
 the English were now obliged to consider whether they 
 should venture to prosecute their enterprise with their 
 own slender force. They were only three hundred spears, 
 and about six hundred archers, while the army of the 
 Frenih lying before Auberoche amounted to ten or twelve 
 
66 SIEGE OF AUBEROCHE. 
 
 thousanc men . The determination was not easy, for^ 
 while the gallant knights felt the shame of abandoning 
 their companions at Auberoche, it seemed rash to go on 
 at snch a disadvantage. "In the name of God," said 
 S r Walter Manny, at length, " let us direct our march 
 upon Auberoche, under cover of this wood, which we 
 may skirt without being descried, till we come upon the 
 rear of the French where we are divided from them by 
 open ground, and then take the advantage of a sudden 
 and unexpected attack." 
 
 To this the valiant knights present readily agreed, and 
 the men-at-arms continued their march towards Aube- 
 roche, till they reached a small valley, where the French- 
 men lay encamped, — none of them thinking of an enemy, 
 and most of them busied with their supper. The Eng- 
 lish men-at-arms then issued from the wood, having 
 gained the rear of the besiegers, displayed their banners 
 and pennons, dashed their spurs into their horses, and 
 rushed upon the enemy, crying their -war-shout of " A 
 Derby ! a Derby !" 
 
 Tlie sudden surprise compensated for the inferiority of 
 numbers ; and such French knights and men-at-arms as 
 could prepare for battle on the spur of the moment, found 
 themselves exposed to the shot of the English archers, 
 who were placed ready for that service. The Comte de 
 L'lsle was taken in his tent, with many others. The be- 
 sieged knights, aljo, hearing the tumult, and seeing the 
 English ensigns, instantly armed themselves, and, rush- 
 ing out, plunged into the thickest of the battle, and aug- 
 mented the confusion of the French, who sustained, 
 though by very inadequate means, a complete discomfit- 
 ure. Their general, the Comte de l'lsle, with nine earls 
 and viscounts, and almost all the lords, knights, and 
 squn-es of his army, remained captives ; and there was 
 scarce an EngMsh man-at-arms who had not two or three 
 prisoners. 
 
 On the next morning, the Earl of Pembroke appeared 
 at the head of a strong body of English, and blamed the 
 F'.arl of Derby for eu gaging the enemy without him, 
 
FEUDAL CHIVALRY. 61 
 
 Since he might be sure, that, bcuig sent for, he would 
 not fail to keep the appointment. The Earl of Derby 
 answered gently, that they had already tarried many 
 hours for their companions ; and that, had he suspendeci 
 the attack longer, they might have been discovered by 
 the enemy ; in which case, the French might have at- 
 tained the advantage which had so fortunately fallen to 
 the English. 
 
 Thus terminated the campaign under the Earl of Der- 
 by, during the year 1344. In spring 1345, (A. D.) the 
 Earl of Derby, now become Earl of Lancaster by his 
 fatlier's deatli, was reinforced from England, and resumed 
 his career of conquest in Gascony ; and, as well by 
 taking several towns, as by skirmishes in the field, gained 
 great honour for himself, and extended in that province 
 the authority of England. The Duke of Normandy, at 
 the head of the kniglits and chivalry of that duchy, con- 
 tinued the principal opponent of the English, and the was 
 was carried on with great activity on both sides. 
 
 It is impossible for us to give a minute description of 
 these events, although the gallantry with which they 
 were performed, has enabled the celebrated Froissart to 
 decorate his splendid pages with many details of roman- 
 tic chivalry. It will be more useful for you to obtain 
 some idea of the description of troops that formed the 
 armies by which these wars were carried on, and of the 
 tactics upon which they acted. 
 
 You are already aware, that the strength of the armies 
 m the fourteenth century consisted in cavalry, which was 
 levied almost entirely upon feudal principles, with the 
 exception of the mercenary troops, who must be consid 
 ered separately. 
 
 The regular feudal horsemen consisted of the knights, 
 of whom 1 have endeavoured to give you some idea, to- 
 gether with their squires, pages, and personal attendants. 
 The number of those who waited upon each knight, va- 
 ried with circumstances ; in esj-ccial cases, according to 
 the means that their master had of malitaining them, as 
 well as to his fame in arms ; but genei ^lly amounted ic 
 
tJ8 KNIGHTS ADVENTURERS. 
 
 about five men for each lance, that 3, as the retinue of 
 each knight. This chivalry was called out as vassals of 
 the crown, of whom the leaders held their lands, and 
 their service was considered as rendered in requital ot 
 their several estates ; each powerful crown vassal being 
 attended of course by his subordinate dependents, who 
 served him on the same terms as he served the crown. 
 Such was the system upon which the feudal cavalry were 
 formed. 
 
 But it must be recollected that every knight was not 
 necessarily possessed of land, which he held for military 
 service ; on the contrary, very many were elevated to 
 that dignity, who either never had any estates oi tlieir 
 own, or w^ho had spent, or otherwise lost them. This 
 must have been frequently the case, since the dignity of 
 knighthood could be conferred upon any one whom an 
 individual knight judged worthy of the honour. The 
 order could, therefore, be multiplied to an infinite number 
 without regard to any thing but the personal qualities of 
 those on whom it was conferred, and especially to theii 
 skill in arms and military exercises. The number of 
 knights, without either lands or substance, who sought 
 adventures, merely to essay their courage, and push theii 
 fortunes in life, was very great ; and these " bold bache- 
 lors," as they were called, were the flower of every feudal 
 army. They subsisted by the bounty, or largesse, as it 
 was called, of the princes whom they served, which was 
 one great source of expense to those who embarked in 
 war ; and the intrepidity with which they engaged in 
 combat was increased in proportion, in order to attract 
 tiie favour of their leader. 
 
 A successful war had also its peculiar advantages to 
 those chivalrous adventurers. The knights, or nobles 
 who were overcome in battle, and compelled to yield 
 tliemselves to the more fortun-c^fe among the victors, 
 ''rescue or no rescue," were obliged to purchase their 
 liberty at such sum as might bo agreed on. The con- 
 ditions of these bargains were well understood, and the 
 pvisoner, according to his rank and wealth, adjusted with 
 
APPOINTMENTS OF THE KNIGHTS 6 
 
 his captor the price of hiy enfranchisement. On this sub- 
 ject, so much generosity prevaih^d among the French 
 and Enghsh in particular, that the victorious party fre- 
 quently did not carry their prisoners off the field, but 
 freely dismissed them, under the sole condition, that they 
 should meet the captors afterwards, at a time and place 
 fixed, and settle the terms of their ransom. To fail hi 
 such an appointment would have been, on the part of the 
 captive knight, held most unworthy and dishonourable, 
 and he would have exposed himself to the scorn of the 
 ladies, minstrels, and heralds, to stand high in whose praise 
 was the especial object of every true son of chivalry. 
 
 Besides these casual profits, which, when the war was 
 successful, and the enemy wealthy, often rose to a great 
 sum, the knights-adventurers, in time of peace, wandered 
 from court to court, and castle to castle, exhibiting their 
 skill in tournaments, gaining the favour of the lords un- 
 der whose patronage such martial exercises were displayed, 
 and sometimes acquiring the love of heiresses, by whom 
 their fortunes were established. In the meantime, rich 
 prizes were often gained by the victors in these military 
 exhibitions ; while, at any rate, the expenses of the 
 knights who attended them, as well as of their retinue, 
 was defrayed with prodigality by the sovereign prince, 
 or high noble, at whose court the entertainment was 
 given. Thus, though without lands and revenues, hun- 
 dreds and thousands of those sons of chivalry subsisted 
 with ease and honour, during this romantic period. There 
 ^vere also numbers of knights, doubtless, who died in 
 ])overty and misery, and the end of an unsuccessful ex- 
 pedition was usually signalized by the total ruin of the 
 knights-adventurers who had been engaged in it. Such 
 were the cavalry, the very flower, of course, of the feudal 
 armies. 
 
 The appointments of these knights consisted in a suit 
 of armour, more or less perfect, which defended the whole 
 person. Sometimes it was made of mail, that is, links 
 of iron, forming a sort of network dress, which covered 
 the person, and was almost impenetrable either to sword 
 14 4th Ser. 
 
'^0 THE ENGLISH ARCHERS. 
 
 or lance. Latterly, the armour was composed ti pktea 
 of iion, which protected tlie men-at-arms from head to 
 heel. The offensive weapons of the k.iight were, a lance, 
 twelve or fifteen feet long, a heavy sword, a dagger, and 
 often a species of battle-axe, or a steel club, called a 
 mace-at-arms. The horse, like the knight, was covered , 
 either with a housing made of mail, or with armour of 
 plate. When mounted, and charging in squadron, as the 
 knight and his horse were almost invulnerable, so their 
 attack was well-nigh irresistible. Sometimes it was thought 
 necessary to employ the men-at-arms on foot, on which 
 occasion they were commanded to put off their spurs, 
 and cut their lances to the length of five or six feet, so 
 as to make the weapon less unwieldy. 
 
 The men-at-arms were sometimes liable to be sur- 
 prised. Upon a march they seldom wore the weightier 
 parts of their armour ; and their heavy war-horse was 
 rode, or led beside them by a page, while the knight 
 himself bestrode a hackney, to receive his armed horse 
 fresh for the moment of battle. A sudden attack, there- 
 fore, was apt to discompose the men-at-arms before they 
 could be fully prepared for action. If the war-horse 
 was killed in battle, the knight was, in most instances, 
 taken or slain, since he could not raise himself from the 
 ground, without assistance from the squires or pages who 
 attended for that purpose. 
 
 We are now to consider the state of their infantry, 
 which, in comparison, was of a very inferior description. 
 
 We must remark one great distinction, however, in 
 favour of the archery of England, a species of troops 
 almost unknown to any other country, and possessing 
 qualities which decided very many battles in favour of 
 their own. You can easily conceive that tlie .nfantry of 
 every nation must be divided into two kinds, calculated 
 for two distinct services, to which their weapons are 
 severally adapted ; one of these distinct species of force 
 must be armed with missiles for distant warfare, the other, 
 w'tli weapons fitted to strike or thaist in a close encouii- 
 Igf. IModern times indeed have, in a great measure, 
 
THE ENGLISH ARCHER5. 71 
 
 uniled them both, by adopting the musket and bayonet ; 
 ihe former for more distant, the latter for close combat. 
 But at the period we speak of, no weapon existed pos- 
 sessing this double advantage. Of the troops then em- 
 })loved, the bowmen of England were the most formida- 
 ble at a distance. They were selected from the yeomen 
 of the country, men to whom the use of the weapon had 
 been familiar from childhood ; for the practice of archery 
 was then encouraged by prizes and public competition, in 
 every village, in order to keep up the skill vv'hich the 
 youth had acquired, and to extend the renown of Eng- 
 land, as producing the best bowmen whom the world had 
 ever seen. 
 
 The equipment and mode of exercise of these archers 
 were calculated to maintain their superiority. Their dress 
 was light, and had few ligatuies. Instead of the nume- 
 rous strings which then attached the jacket to the hose, or 
 trousers, one stout point, as it was called, answered the 
 necessary purpose, without impeding the motions of the 
 wearer. In battle the sleeve of the right arm was left 
 open, to increase the archer's agility. Each of them car- 
 tied a bow, and twelve arrows, or, as they termed them, 
 ^' the lives of twelve Scots," at his girdle; their shafts 
 had a light forked head, and were carefully adjusted so as 
 to fly true to the aim. In using the weapon, the English 
 archers observed a practice unknown on the continent, 
 drawing the bowstring not to the breast, but to the ear, 
 which gave a far greater command of a strong bow and 
 long shaft. Their arrows were, accordingly, a cloth yard 
 in length, and their bows carried to a prodigious distance. 
 Upon the battlements of a castle, or walls of a town, the 
 arrows fell with the rapidity of hail, and such certainty of 
 aim, as scarcely permitted a defender to show himself; 
 nor were they less formidable when discharged against a 
 hostile column, whether of cavalry or infantry, and 
 whether in ^notion or stationary. The principal {.anger 
 to which the archers were exposed was that of a rapid 
 and determined charge from cavalry. To provide jn 
 sorrie degree against this each archer used to ca'ny a 
 
7'Z ENGLISH ARCHERS AND BILLMEN. 
 
 woodeLi stake shod with iron at both ends, the planting of 
 Jch before him might, in some measure, afford a covei 
 *rom horse. Tliey had also swords. The stakes, how- 
 ever, were not always in readiness, nor were they always 
 found effectual for the purpose, neither were their swords 
 an adequate protection against cavalry. At the famous 
 battle of Bannockburn, Bruce obtained that decisive vic- 
 tory chiefly by a w^ell-executed manoeuvre for cutting to 
 pieces the English archers, by a body of horse reserved 
 for that service. Two or three other cases may be 
 noticed, in which the French obtained similar advantages 
 over the archers, by providing themselves with pavisses, 
 that is, long targets, strong enough to protect them from 
 shot. But these cases are very few, in comparison to the 
 numerous instances in which the long bow proved supe- 
 rior both in France and Scotland. 
 
 The second division of the English infantry destined 
 to fight hand to hand, was armed with bills, as they were 
 called, weapons similar in shape to those knives with 
 which husbandmen dress hedges, but placed upon longer 
 handles. These two kinds of w^eapons were used by the 
 English infantry, so exclusively, that their cry to arms 
 used to be, " Bows and bills — bows and bills !" It is re- 
 markable that both the national weapons were used by 
 the contending parties in the battle of Hastings, where 
 the Normans were ar.ned with the long bow, and the Sax- 
 ons with the gisarme, or bill. The armies of the English, 
 in later days, had troops armed with both, as intended 
 not only for distant but close combat. 
 
 The bill which they used in close fight was a formida- 
 ble w^eapon, though clumsy m action, since it required to 
 be wielded with both hands, and therefore prevented 
 those who used it from forming a compact body. It was 
 certainly unequal, in a fair field, to the lances of the 
 Scottish, nor does it seem to have given to those who 
 bore it, any permanent or assured superiority over the 
 same force in the French army. 
 
 This may, however, be said with truth, that neither the 
 bowmen nor bill men of England were, generally speak- 
 
GENOESE CROSS-BOWMEN. 73 
 
 ing, exposed to the same oppression to which he pe&sante 
 o( France were suhjected, and that possessing a more 
 independent character as individuals, they were less lia- 
 ble to lose heart in danger, and more eager to sustain their 
 national reputation. Upon the whole, however, the ef- 
 forts of the infantry were so little relied upon at that 
 period, that little was trusted to them in action, except in 
 the case of the English archers. Tlie men-at-arms on 
 both sides might be considered as upon an equality ; and 
 the infantry who fought hand to hand, were so much so, 
 that, in so far as regards that class of soldiers, it was ac- 
 cidental circumstances only which could decide the event 
 of a field betwixt France and England. 
 
 To oppose the arcliery of their national antagonists, 
 the French had no better resource than hiring, from Ge- 
 noa and elsewhere, Italians and other strangers, well 
 skilled in the use of the cross-bow, a species of weapon 
 accounted so murderously fatal, that it was at one time 
 })rohibited by an edict of the Church as unchristian. Tc 
 defend a fortress, or the walls of a town, where the 
 shooter was in some degree sheltered by a parapet, the 
 cross-bow was indeed a terrible instrument, though even 
 there it was often found inferior to the English long-bow ; 
 stiil more was this the case in an open field, where an 
 English archer might shoot five, or perhaps ten arrows, 
 while the difficulty of charging these steel bows, which 
 required to be bent by the slow operation of a windlass, 
 hardly permitted the cross-bowman to send forth a single 
 bolt. Of this you will find instances in a subsequent 
 part of this volume. 
 
 The ordinary infantry of France, levied amongst the 
 lowest drudges among her peasantry, added much to the 
 numbers, but little to the military strength, and a greai 
 deal to the unwieldly confusion, of their great armies. 
 These poor men felt that they were little trusted to, and 
 cannot be supposed to have displayed much zeal in be- 
 half of masters by whom they were contemned and op- 
 pressed. They wore almost no defensive arn our, if we 
 
74 INVENTION OF gunpowdeh, 
 
 except tan :ed hides, and were irregularly armed with 
 swords^, spears, or clubs, as offensive weapons. No kind 
 of discipline was taught them, and when attacked by the 
 men-at-arms, they seem frequently to have made no 
 more effectual defence than might have been expected 
 from a flock of sheep. 
 
 1 may here mention, that gunpowder was discovered 
 about this time ; but at this, and down to a much later 
 period, it was little used or understood in war. One au- 
 thor pretends that Edward III. had field-pieces at the 
 battle of Cressy ; but, had it been so, it seems probable 
 ihat so remarkable a circumstance would have been more 
 «,enerally noticed. Such awkward and unwieldly cannon 
 as the age possessed, were chiefly used in sieges. They 
 were clumsy to transport, slow to load, and often burst 
 when discharged. So that, as already hinted, it was long 
 ere the invention began to produce that alteration in war- 
 fare, which it finally accomplished to so great an extent. 
 
 Such being the general state of the French and Eng- 
 lish armies, so far as they consisted of national troops, I 
 have now to remind you, that the armies of both were 
 often augmented by the mercenary soldiers of the period, 
 — men who had learned, among the tumults of the age, 
 the desperate trade of war, and who, without acknow- 
 ledging any nation or king of their own, were desirous to 
 afford the benefit of their discipline and experience to 
 those who were most willing to pay for their assistance. 
 These bands were composed of adventurers of different 
 nations, commanded by approved soldiers, who were 
 sometimes recommended by their birth and rank, often by 
 their superior activity and rapacity, but in all cases by 
 their valour and success. These leaders followed upon a 
 greater scale the course of individual knights, and hoped, 
 not by their own prowess alone, but by the assistance of 
 the soldiers whom they levied and commanded, to rise to 
 wealth and consequence. These bands w^ere the terror 
 and scourge of the peasantry, whom they oppressed with- 
 out m&^iy, since, when tliey were not in the actual pay 
 uf ssome prince, they subsisted themselves by force at the 
 
MERCENARIES. 
 
 expense of the natives of the country n which they re- 
 sided for the time. 
 
 The Kings of England, and especially of France, set 
 themselves at times seriously about the task of extirpatiuL 
 these debauched bands of ruffian soldiery, who, having no 
 home or country of their own, were a general plague to 
 other nations. But the purpose of extirpation was never 
 effectually followed out ; for the sovereigns were every 
 now and then taught by necessity the convenience of be- 
 ing able to collect for a certain expenditure of treasure a 
 body of experienced soldiers, as brave and better armed 
 than any whom they could levy in their own dominions, 
 and thus were freed from the necessity of depending on 
 the humour of a fickle and overgrown crown vassal, who 
 might be pleased with an opportunity of distressing and 
 contradicting his liege lord, and enabled to rely upon that 
 of a mercenary leader, whose faithful adherence might be 
 calculated upon so long as his pay was duly furnished. 
 Thus the same plague which was complained of during 
 the reigns of Stephen and John of England, and the con- 
 temporary sovereigns of France, revived in its wildest 
 extent, during the calamitous period which we are now 
 treating of. 
 
T6 EDWARD III. OF ENGLAND 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Edward III. loses several of his adherents in the huio 
 Countries, as the Brewer D^Arteville, and the Counts 
 of Hainault and Montfort — his Interest is espoused 
 by Godfrey of Harcourt, a discarded Favourite of 
 the King of France— by the advice of Harcourt, an 
 Invasion of Gascony is resolved on, and takes place 
 — Philip assembles an army at St. Dennis, and 
 marches to the defence of Rouen, which is threatened 
 by the English — Jllance.uvres of Edward, by which he 
 accomplishes a passage from the left to the right bank 
 of the Seine — after two dafs march, followed by the 
 French army, he crosses the Somme, and takes up 
 battle-ground in the Forest of Cressy — the French 
 come up — Battle of Cressy. 
 
 In the conclusion of the last chapter, we gave a brief 
 account of the manner in which troops were trained and 
 armed during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. 
 We must now return to the proper subject of this little 
 work, which is intended to convey some general idea of 
 French history, especially as it bears upon, and is con- 
 nected with, that of Britain. 
 
 I must first observe, that the plans by which Edward 
 HI. endeavoured to establish himself on the throne of 
 France, and to revenge the affront which he had received 
 from Philip of Valois, were rather more frequently 
 changed than accorded with that prince's consummate sa- 
 gacity. In 1343, (A. D.) he again returned to a project 
 in which both his grandfather and he had already failed ; 
 namely, that of attacking France upon the eastern fron- 
 tier, by means of the Brabanters, Flemings, and Germans. 
 But, on the present occasion, he did not appeal to the 
 nobles o princes of Flanders, but to the inhab'tants of 
 
77 
 
 tlie great towns, in which he followed a policy adopted 
 at one time by Philip the Fair, although his successors 
 had exchanged it for the counter -plan of supporting the 
 earls and nobles of the Low Countries agauist the insur- 
 gent citizens of the trading towns. 
 
 We have already observed, that Edward was in close 
 correspondence with Jacob d'Arteville, a brewer of 
 great wealth and importance, who appeared for a time to 
 have the command of all the common people of the great 
 t3wns of Flanders. Through means of his influence 
 with this demagogue, Edward had formed the plan of ad- 
 vancing his own son, also named Edward, afterwards the 
 celebrated Black Prince, to the dignity of Earl of Flan- 
 ders, in preference to the natural lord, Louis, who was 
 attached to the French interest. The proposal, however, 
 *vas so disgusting to the more moderate burgesses to 
 whom it was communicated, that D'Arteville, who had 
 lately reigned like a prince am^ong them, was now^ looked 
 upon with as much abhorrence as ever he had been held 
 in estimation. At length, the displeasure of the citizens 
 against him rose so high, that, as this once powerful dem- 
 agogue rode into Ghent, accompanied bv a small guard 
 of Welshmen, who had been appointed to attend him by 
 Edward IIL, he was encountered by such evil looks and 
 menaces, that he was compelled to take refuge from pop- 
 ular indignation in a house, which the Welshmen for a 
 space defended. But this place of refuge being after- 
 wards forced by the multitude, they were themselves the 
 assassins of their former favourite ; and with him perished 
 Edward's hope of establishing his son as Earl of Flan- 
 ders. 
 
 Edward sustained another loss about the same time in 
 the person of his brother-in-law, the Count of Hainault, 
 a brave young man, who was slain in an attempt to sub- 
 due the revolted natives of Friesland. Sir John of Hai- 
 nault, uncle to the slain prince, became, after his death, 
 unfriendly to Edward, to whom he had been hitherto at- 
 tached, but, as he thought, without receiving adequate 
 960 
 
78 DEATHS OF HAlN-voLT AND MONTF OUT. 
 
 requital. He therefore left the service of the English 
 king for that of Philip of France. 
 
 About the same period also, according to the opinion 
 of most historians, John de Montfort escaped from a French 
 prison, or was set at liberty by Philip, in consequence of 
 the previous truce, and once more took the field in Bre- 
 tagne, with the assistance of an English auxiliary force 
 under the Earl of Northampton. (A. D. 1345.) They 
 laid siege to Quimperle, where the Count of Montfort 
 completed his career of misfortune, by dying of a fever 
 before the town. 
 
 Upon the whole, therefore, these successive losses of 
 powerful friends diminished the various means by which 
 King Edward had hoped to make an impression upoQ 
 France, either on the eastern or western frontier. 
 
 In this same eventful year, 1345, (A. D.) however, 
 Edward III. acquired another counsellor, who fled from 
 the enemy, by whose advice he again altered, in a great 
 measure, the direction of his attacks upon France. This 
 was a powerful nobleman of Normandy, named Godfrey 
 of Harcourt, Lord of Saint Saviour Le Vicompte, and 
 brother to John, Earl of Harcourt. Sir Godfrey himself 
 had once stood as high in the favour of Philip of Valois, 
 as any nobleman of his kingdom. But upon the occa- 
 sion of a quarrel betwixt him and Sir Robert Bertram, 
 Marshal of France, the king look the part of the latter so 
 earnestly, that, could he have got Sir Godfrey into his 
 power, there is little doubt that he would have dealt with 
 him as with the Breton Lord of Clisson, whom, on small 
 suspicion, he caused to be executed for alleged adherence 
 to the English interest. Sir Godfrey of Harcourt fled in 
 good time to England, and, like Robert of Artois before 
 him, employed his address and eloquence, both which he 
 possessed in perfection, to animate the King of England 
 to make Sir Godfrey's own country of Normandy, the 
 principal scene of his attacks upon France. " It is," 
 said Godfrey of Harcourt, " one of the most plentiful 
 provinces in the kingdom ; it has not witnessed war for 
 two ages, and is occupied by great and wealthy towns 
 
EDWARD IN\^ADES FRANCE. 79 
 
 UTiprolected by any adequate fortifications. The nobility 
 of Normandy are," he continued, " now absent from the 
 country, having accompanied Pliilip's eldest son, John^ 
 who has conducted them southward to carry on the war 
 with Gascony." Tlie exile urged that Normandy was 
 an ancient inheritance of England, which they might now 
 recover with little trouble, and which, if subdued, would 
 be a conquest glorious to King Edward, particularly use- 
 ful from its vicinity to England, and an event not altogether 
 displeasing to the Normans themselves. 
 
 Encouraged by this advice, Edward III. put himself 
 at the head of a considerable army, whicii he pretended 
 was designed for prosecuting the war in Gascony. (A. D. 
 1346.) But, instead of holding this course, the king, 
 when embarked, steered straight to the coast of Normandy, 
 and landed at the town of La Hogue. Upon information 
 that this ancient enemy had accomplished his present 
 attempt at invading France in a new direction, the King 
 of France failed not to collect the whole force of his 
 kingdom, together with those of his allies, John of Lux- 
 embourg, the old King of Bohemia, with his son Charles, 
 Emperor-elect of Germany, the Duke of Lorraine, John 
 of Hainault, once the King of England's ally, Louis, Earl 
 of Flanders, and Jacques, titular King of Majorca. The 
 titles of some of these princes were more considerable 
 than their power, but still, by their assistance, and that 
 of his own liegemen and great vassals, Philip found him- 
 self at the head of a powerful and gallant army, which 
 emboldened him to swear resolutely that the king of 
 England should not return to his own country without 
 battle, in which he should be sufficiently punished for the 
 slaughter, depredation, and extreme violence, which he 
 was now exercising in the kingdom of France. The 
 greater part of Philip's army was assembled at St. Den- 
 nis, close to Paris ; but the king himself, assuming the 
 command of such forces as could be got presently in 
 readiness, moved down the Seine to defend Rouen, the 
 capital of Normandy^ v\bich was threatened by the 
 English. 
 
80 ALARM AT PARIS 
 
 In the meantime, Edward III. div^'ded his strong armj 
 iito three bodies : the first of which was commanded by 
 himself; the second by tlie Earl of Warwick ; and the 
 third by Sir Godfrey of Harcourt, whose advice the 
 king used, as principal marshal of his army during all this 
 expedition, of which indeed he had been the main author 
 and adviser. The English, as Sir Godfrey had prophe- 
 sied, found the cities of Normandy at once wealthy and 
 ill-defended, so that they made very great spoil with little 
 danger, while the loss to the unfortunate inhabitants was, 
 as usual in such cases, much greater than the riches ac- 
 quired by the invaders. The city of Caen, full of mer- 
 chandise and wealth of every kind, was carried by storm, 
 after such a resistance that Edward, in resentment of so 
 obstinate a defence, would have burnt the place to the 
 ground, had not Sir Godfrey of Harcourt's intercession 
 deterred him from this violence. 
 
 It may be mentioned, that while Normandy was sus- 
 taining this severe treatment from the land forces in the 
 interior, the English fleet was as busily employed plunder- 
 ing, destroying, and burning the seaport towns on the 
 coast, with the shipping which they contained. In this 
 manner the English monarch ascended the left bank of 
 the river Seine, with the purpose of assaulting Rouen, 
 the capital of Normandy. This, however, was prevented 
 by the march of Philip of Valois to its relief, before no- 
 ticed. The river Seine now divided the two armies ; 
 and, all the bridges being broken down, neither host durst 
 pass the river for the purpose of attacking their enemy, 
 lest in the act of doing so they should be taken at ad- 
 vantage by that which held the opposite bank. The 
 French king, in particular, was more reconciled to post- 
 pone a general battle, being conscious of possessing a 
 great superiority of numbers, from which he enteitained 
 a well-judged hope that Edward's army, prevented from 
 crossing the river, might be enclosed in the country on 
 ihe opposite side, and compelled to fight at disadvantage. 
 
 In the meantime the citizens of Paris were in the ut 
 i»iost confusion, knowing the near approach of the Eng- 
 
PASSAGE OF THE SOMME. 8i 
 
 listi army, and afraid of the terrors of military execution, 
 attendant on the march of Edward, who was by no means 
 famed for clemency. King Philip with difficulty per- 
 suaded them that the measure which he had taken, of 
 marchino^ down the ri^^ht bank of the Seine, which had 
 the appearance of leaving Paris open to the enemy, if the 
 English should ascend the opposite bank, was, in fact, 
 that which was best adapted to cover his metropolis. 
 
 It soon, however, became plain, that Edward had no 
 design against the French capital ; for that king, having 
 made a sudden movement upon Poissy, repaired the bridge 
 there, which had been but imperfectly demolished, and, 
 by an able military manoeuvre, crossed the Seine, and 
 moved eastward towards Flanders. He thus extricated 
 himself from the difficulty in which Philip conceived him 
 to be involved. 
 
 When the Enojlish monarch had attained the riffht bank 
 of the Seine, tlie fires raised by his soldiery, in their de- 
 structive progress, alarmed the capital once more ; but 
 the English, after defying the King of France to instant 
 battle, departed towards Beauvais, of which town they 
 burnt the suburbs. In this manner eluding the French 
 army, King Edward pursued his course with all diligence 
 towards Flanders, closely followed by King Phi!ip and 
 his army. 
 
 But after a day or two's march, the English king seem- 
 ed once more entangled in the toils drawn round him by 
 his enemy. The march of the English was here inter- 
 rupted by the deep river Somme, impassable at all points, 
 and on which every bridge had been destroyed. To 
 have awaited the advance of the numerous French army, 
 with an impassable river in his front, would have been a 
 perilous adventure. The King of England was therefore 
 extremely desirous to find the means of passing the deep 
 Somme, although a noble French lord, called Gondemai 
 de Fay, was upon the opposite bank, at the head of the 
 efentlemen of Artois and Picardy, with the purpose of de- 
 fenumg the passage, which must be at best a dangerous 
 one, with a sujerior army in the reai, and over a river 
 
82 DISAPPOINTMENT OF PHIL P 
 
 which was so near the sea as to be affected by the tide 
 Having made enquiry among the French prisoners con- 
 cerning the means of crossing, and offered hberty for him 
 self and thirty of his companions, to whomsoever should 
 point out a practicable ford, King Edward received from 
 one of his captives the following agreeable intelligence. 
 *' Know, sir, that during the ebb-tide, which happens 
 twice in twelve hours, the river Somme is so low that it 
 may be passed with security either by horse or foot, at a 
 ford to which I can guide you. At this place the bottom 
 is hard and firm, and being composed of chalk, and simi- 
 lar materials, it is called Blanchettaque, (that is, white 
 waier.''^) 
 
 Overjoyed at this news, Edward drew his army to the 
 ford, W'here, as the flood tide was still making, he was 
 compelled to wait for an hour or two. In the meantime, 
 Sir Gondemar de Fay, made aware of the purpose of the 
 English, drew up his men, who amounted to near twelve 
 thousand, on the opposite side of the river, resolved to 
 dispute the passage. But the moment had no sooner ar- 
 rived when the ford was practicable, than Edward, having 
 commanded his marshals to enter the river, called aloud, 
 '' Let those who love me follow me," and plunged in 
 among the foi'emost, his army following in good order. 
 Notwithstanding a valiant opposition on the part of the 
 French, who defended the opposite bank, they were com- 
 pelled to give way, after losing two thousand men-at-arms, 
 and the greater part of their infantry, who had no means 
 of escape from the English cavalry, so soon as the pas- 
 sage was completed. 
 
 This was a very delicate and important manoeuvre on 
 tiie part of the English, for the main army of Philip fol- 
 lowed so close, that part of King Edward's rear-guard 
 suffered from the van-guard of the French, before tliey 
 could cross the river. Philip himself soon afterwards 
 came up, and having been full of hope either that the 
 English would not discover the ford at Blanchettaque, oi 
 that it might be effectually defended as;ainst them by Sir 
 Ciondemar de Fay, he was proportionally vexed at find- 
 
ENGLISH FORCES. 83 
 
 ing how tne Engljsli monarch had again extricated him- 
 self fi'um the risk of being compelled to fight at disad- 
 vantage, and exclaimed, though unjustly, against Sir 
 Gondemar de Fay, as guilty of treason and disloyalty, in 
 failing to make good his post. 
 
 By the advice of his best leaders, the French king 
 agreed that he would not follow the English by the ford, 
 lest the enemy should turn back and attack him in the 
 passage ; but, drawing off his army to Abbeville, he 
 judged it better to secure the bridge over the Somme, at 
 that town, and after spending a day there to refresh his 
 troops, and give such forces as followed in his rear time 
 to come up and join him, he might then advance in quest 
 of the English. Accordingly, Philip spent the 25th of 
 August in the manner recommended. 
 
 In the meantime, King Edward, being now on the 
 ground fitted for engaging the enemy, declared his pur- 
 pose, that he would pursue his retreat no farther, but 
 fight with Philip of Valois, whatever the odds of numbers 
 might be. " This county of Ponthieu was the just 
 heritage of Queen Eleanor, my mother," said he ; " I 
 now challenge it as my own ; and may God defend the 
 right !" 
 
 The place where he made this declaration was open 
 ground, called the Forest of Cressy, a name which has 
 been made memorable by the events of the following 
 day. The army of the English was here drawn up ar- 
 ranged in three divisions, to await the advance of the 
 French. 
 
 In the first, was Edward, prince of Wales, now in hi? 
 sixteenth year, but of strength and courage far beyond 
 his age, and whose brief life has made historians observe, 
 that few characters have put more feats of heroism into 
 the compass of so few years. Many veteran warriors 
 were placed under the command of the young prince, who 
 vvas thus ranked foremost in the battle ; but Lord War- 
 wick, and Lord John Chandos, were specially intrusted 
 by his father with the task of directing and defe idinghim 
 in any difficulty. His division amounted to eight thousand 
 
84 EVE OF THE BATTLE 
 
 men-at-arms, four thousand archers, and six thousana 
 Welshmen. 
 
 The second battalion consisted of eight hundred men« 
 at-arms, two thousand four hundred archers, and four 
 thousand bllhnen. 
 
 The third, and last battalion of the English, was com 
 manded by the king in person, and consisted of seven 
 hundred men-at-arms, six thousand archers, and four 
 thousand three hundred billmen. The full amount of the 
 Eniiilish army was probably about thirty thousand men. 
 
 These three divisions were drawn up in the order 
 which they were to preserve in battle, and then appoint- 
 ed to take refreshment, and go to sleep on the grass, 
 upon their arms. The night was warm, and rendered 
 this interval of repose acceptable and refreshing to troops, 
 fatigued with long marches and spare diet. Their spirits 
 were gay and cheerful ; and though they were conscious 
 of considerable inferiority in numbers, the reflection, 
 far from inducing them to doubt of the issue of the day, 
 inclined tliem only to pay more scrupulous attention to 
 the command of their officers, by whose guidance they 
 hoped to gain it. The presence of their experienced 
 monarch, and his valiant son, filled the host with hope 
 and confidence. 
 
 Next morning was the memorable 26th of August, 
 1346. (A. D.) Early in the morning the English army 
 arose in the same order in which they had lain down to 
 rest the evening before. 
 
 The French forces were some time in coming up. 
 During this interval, to increase the enthusiasm of his 
 soldiers, Edward conferred the honour of knighthood on 
 the Prince of Wales, and a large band of noble youths, 
 companions of the heir-apparent, who were expected so 
 to behave in the conflict as to ivin their spurs ; that is, 
 to show themselves worthy of the distinction they had 
 received, by their admission into the order of chivalry, 
 of which the spurs were an emblem. 
 
 On the same morning, King Philip, mustering his army 
 at smrise, led them forth from the town of Abbeville 
 
CONFIDEiNCE OF THE FRENCH. 85 
 
 uliere they bad passed the night, and, with more haste 
 than caution, advanced towards the Enghsh, a distance 
 of butween three and four leagues. 
 
 I\Iany circuuistances contributed to increase King Phil- 
 ip's confidence, and impress upon liis army feelings which 
 amounted to presumption. They had for several weeks 
 been superior to their enemy in the field ; and, since the 
 crossing of the Seine, as well as tbe subsequent passage 
 of the Somme at Blanchettaque, it had been the object 
 of the English to avoid that engagement which was now 
 fast approaching. The French cavalry had also received 
 a gallant addition from the arrival of Amadeus, Earl of 
 Savoy, who, the v^ery day before the battle, joined Phil- 
 ip, at Abbeville, with a thousand lances, a great addition 
 to his previous superiority. These encouraging circum- 
 stances inspired into both officers and soldiers an impru- 
 dent degree of haste and precipitation, as was natural to 
 men who conceived that they were in chase of a flying 
 enemy. 
 
 The movements of this great army were therefore 
 hurried, like that of men who advanced to a pursuit 
 rather than a battle. Yet all did not partake the san- 
 guine hopes which dictated these hasty movements. The 
 advice of a veteran German warrior, sent to nsconnoitre 
 the English army, strongly recommended to King Philip 
 to halt the advance of his own forces, and put off the 
 battle till next moaning. *' The English," he said, 
 " have reposed in a position which they have duliberatel) 
 adopted, and doubtless will not shrink from, without a 
 desperate defence. Your men are tired with their long 
 morning's march from Abbeville, confused with the 
 haste of their advance, and niust meet at great disadvan- 
 tage, a well-arranged enemy, refreshed by food and 
 repose." 
 
 The King of France listened to this experienced coun- 
 sel, aid expressed his desire to follow it, by halting hiii 
 army or the day, and postponing the battle till the mor- 
 row But the evil fate of France had decreed that his 
 
3b FRENCH FOr^CES. 
 
 purpose diould not be carried into execution. The troops 
 v\ jjo fornfied the vanguard of the French host, halted in 
 Jeed at tiie word of command, but those who came be 
 hind hurried onward, with the idle bravado that " they 
 would make no stop till they were as far forward as the 
 foremost." In this way they exhausted their spirits, ex- 
 pended their strength, and confused their ranks, many 
 brandishing their swords with idle exclamations of " At- 
 tack, take, and slay !" before they were even in sight of 
 the enemy. To stop men in this state of excitation was 
 impossible. 
 
 King Philip, thus hurried forward to battle by the want 
 of discipline of his own troops, had divided his army into 
 three bodies. The first was under the command of the 
 King of Bohemia, seconded by Charles of Luxembourg, 
 his son. Emperor-elect of Germany, and of Charles, 
 Earl of Alen^jon, the brother of King Philip, a brave, 
 but fiery and rash young cavalier. The Genoese cross- 
 bowmen, fifteen thousand in number, were all placed in 
 this first division. The French accounted them a match 
 for the English archers, and trusted that their superior 
 discharge in the commencement of the action would clear 
 the field of these formidable forces. They had also 
 more than twenty-nine thousand men to support their 
 bowmen. 
 
 The second division was commanded by King Philip 
 himself, with his broad banner displayed, surrounded by 
 six thousand men-at-arms and forty thousand foot. The 
 blind old King of Bohemia was afterwards posted into 
 this second division, as well as James, the titular King of 
 JMajorca. 
 
 Lastly, the rear division of the French was led by the 
 Earl of Savoy, with five thousand lances and twenty 
 thousand foot. 
 
 These large bodies appear to have been unequally di- 
 v^ided, probably owing to the state of confusion into which 
 ihe French army was undoubtedly throw^n by their too 
 hasty advance, which rendered it difficult to transmit and 
 execute orders. 
 
BATTLE OF CRESSY. 87 
 
 On tliL' approach of the Genoese towards the English 
 position, these strangers, who ibrined the vanguard of the 
 French army, gave signs of fatigue, from marching three 
 long leagues with their weighty cross-bows. When the 
 word was given to " begin the battle, in the name of God 
 and St. Dennis," the Italians answered by remonstrances, 
 saying, they had more occasion for rest than to fight that 
 day. This moved the resentjnent of Alengon, the com- 
 njander of the division, who said with contempt, " A man 
 has much help from these fellows, who thus fail him at 
 tlie pinch !" The order for attack was therefore repeat- 
 ed, and obeyed. 
 
 Some singular appearances in the atmosphere now 
 seemed to announce the great and bloody conflict which 
 was about to take place upon the earth. A heavy thun- 
 der-cloud darkened the sun like an eclipse, and before 
 the storm burst, a vast number of crows and ravens came 
 driving before the tempest, and swept over both armies. 
 A short, but severe thunder-storm, with much huhtnim^ 
 and heavy rain, suspended for half an hour, the joining 
 of the battle, until the weather became fair, and the sun 
 began once more to shine out, darting his rays on the 
 backs of the English, and in the eyes of the French. 
 
 The Genoese, now approaching towards the Prince of 
 Wales's division, made a great leap and cry, thinking to 
 daunt the English by the symptoms of instant attack ; 
 but King Edward's archers, who were drawn up with 
 their ranks crossed after the fashion of a herse^ or harrow, 
 so that the shot of the one might support the others, 
 (like that of the combined squares of musketry in mod 
 ern warfare,) remained firm and steady. Tlie Genoese, 
 a second time advanced forward, leapt and cried without 
 making jnore impression upon the English than before; 
 a third time they advanced, shouted and leapt, and then 
 beoran to use their cross-bows. But the EnoTish, who 
 seemed only to wait for the actual commencement of hos- 
 tilities, stepped each of them one pace forward, and shot 
 their arrows so closely to^^ether, that it seemed as if u 
 snowed. The volleys of *:he Genoese bolts were re- 
 
gf^ BATTLE OF CRLSSY. 
 
 turned with this incessant storm of arrows, and with so 
 much interest, that the Italians became unable to keep 
 iheir ground. Their strings also had been welted by the 
 late storm, while those of the English had been secured 
 In cases which they carried for the purpose. Finally, 
 there were eight or ten arrows returned, for every cross- 
 bow shaft discharged. All these circumstances of advan- 
 tage rendered the Genoese unable to withstand the 
 English archers, so that that large body of Italians lost 
 heart, and, cutting their strings, or throwing away their 
 bows, (as an excuse for not continuing the conflict,) they 
 rushed back in confusion upon the rest of the vanguard, 
 and especially upon the men-at-arms, who were designed 
 to have supported them. The confusion thus occasioned 
 in the French army became inextricable, as the recoil of 
 the cross-bowmen prevented the regular advance of the 
 knights and squires, upon whom the ultimate fate of the 
 day must necessarily depend, especially after the retreat 
 of the Genoese. The King of France added to the 
 confusion, by calling on the cavalry to advance to the 
 charge, without any regard to the cross-bowmen, who, 
 now a confused multitude of fugitives, lay straight in the 
 way of their advance. " Slay me these peasants," said 
 he, '' since thus they do but trouble us ;" and the French 
 men-at-arms advanced at full gallop on the unfortunate 
 Italians, many of whom were thus trodden down and 
 slain by tlieir auxiliaries, while, at the same time, the 
 •anks of the cavalry were disordered by riding over their 
 Dvvn bowmen before they could reach the enemy. 
 
 In the meantime, the English archers kept pouring 
 their shafts, without an instant's intermission, as well upon 
 the Genoese who fled, as the French men-at-arms who 
 were endeavouring to advance, and augmented the dread- 
 ful confusion which took place. Many of the bravest 
 French knights lay stretched on the plain, who might 
 have been made captive with ease ; but King Edward 
 had strictly forbidden the taking of any prisoners during 
 the action, lest the desire of securing them should be a 
 temptation to his soldiers to quit their ranks. The grooms, 
 
BATTLE OF CRESSY. 89 
 
 therefore, and mere camp-followers of the Eiigl'sli had 
 tlie task of despatching the fallen with their knives ; ard 
 by these ignoble hands much noble and knightly blood 
 was shed. 
 
 Yet, notwithstandino^ the loss attending this horrible 
 confusion, the courage of Alen^on, and the native bravery 
 of the French cavaliers, impelled them still forward. A 
 part of them extricated themselves at length from the 
 unfortunate Genoese, and pushed on along the line of 
 English archers, by which they suffered great loss, until 
 at length they arrived on their right flank, where the 
 Prince of Wales was placed, at the head of his men-at- 
 arms. By these, the French were so roughly encoun- 
 tered, that the greater part of them were beaten down 
 and slain. But this victory was hardly won, before three 
 other squadrons of French and Germans rushed on with 
 such fury in the same direction, that they burst an opening 
 for themselves through the archers, who had but imper- 
 fect means of repelling horse, and dashed furiously up to 
 the place where the gallant prince was stationed. The 
 Earl of Warwick now became alarmed ; for he concluded 
 that the standards of the French king and his numerous 
 army were following close upon the new comers. In 
 this belief Warwick and Chandos sent to King Edward, 
 requesting succour for his valiant son, when the follow- 
 ing dialogue took place between the king and the mes- 
 sengers. 
 
 " Is my son," said Edward, " dead, wounded, or felled 
 to the ground ?" 
 
 " Not so, thank God," answered the messengers : " but 
 he needs assistance." 
 
 '' Nay, then," said King Edward, " he has no aid from 
 me ; let him bear himself like a man, and this day show 
 hiii-jself worthy of the knighthood conferred on him; in 
 this battle he must vv^in his own spurs." 
 
 In the meantime, a strong detachment of men-at-arms, 
 despatched by the Earls of Arundel and Northampton, 
 the commanders of the second division, had relieved 
 
90 BATTLE OF CRESST. 
 
 Prince Edward from his temporary embarrassment. And 
 now the English archers opening in the centre, sufTered 
 their cavalry to rush forward tiirough the interval, and 
 encountered the French men-at-arms, who were in total 
 confusion. This was augmented by the fierce attack oi 
 tiie English ; and the most experienced on the opposite 
 side began to despair of the day. The King of France 
 himself fought with the greatest valour ; was repeatedly 
 wounded and dismounted, and would have died probably 
 on the field, had not Lord John of Hainault led him off 
 by force. Not more than sixty of his gallant army re- 
 mained in attendance upon their sovereign, and with 
 these he reached, after nightfall, the castle of Broye. 
 When the warder demanded what or who he was, " I am," 
 said the king, " the fortune of France ;" — a secret re- 
 buke, perhaps, to those who termed him " the Happy," 
 an epithet not very suitable to his present condition, and 
 which his own example shows, is apt to prove inapplicable 
 if conferred before death. 
 
 The King of Majorca is generally said to have been 
 among the fallen, and the slaughter amoQg princes, counts, 
 nobles, and men of rank, was without example. But the 
 most remarkable death, among those of so many princes, 
 was that of John, King of Bohemia, a monarch almost 
 blind with age, and not very well qualified, therefore, to 
 mix personally in the fight. When all seemed lost, the 
 old man enquired after his son Charles, who was nowhere 
 visible, having, in fact, been compelled to fly from the 
 field. The father receivincr no satisfaction concerning his 
 son from the knights who attended on him, he said to 
 them, " Sirs, ye are my knights and good liegemen, will 
 ye conduct me so far forward into the battle, that I may 
 strike one good stroke with my sw^ord ?" 
 
 To satisfy this wish, which his followers looked upon 
 as the words of despair, four faithful knights agreed to 
 share their master's death, rather than leave him to perish 
 alone. The devoted attendants tied the old king's bridle 
 reins to their own, and rushed with him into ihe middle 
 of the fight, where, striking more good blovrs cban «ne^ 
 
BATTLE OF CRESSY. 91 
 
 .'hey were all slain, and found there the neKt day, as they 
 had iallen, with their horse's reins tied together. 
 
 Thus ended this celebrated battle. There lay upon 
 the field of Cressj two kings, eleven high princes, eighty 
 bannerets, one thousand two hundred knights, and more 
 than thirty thousand private soldiers. 
 
 The meeting of Edward and his son took place by 
 torchlight, after the battle was over. " Well have you won 
 your spurs !" said the brave king ; " persevere in the 
 career which you have opened, and you will become the 
 brightest honour of the noble kingdom of which you are 
 the worthy heir." 
 
 The battle of Cressy was one of the greatest victories 
 ever gained by a King of England, and Edward prepared 
 10 avail himself of it, in a manner which should produce 
 some permanent advantage. 
 
92 RESULT OF Edward's victor*. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 bldward resolves to secure a permanent footing in France^ 
 by making himself Master of Calais — Siege of Calais 
 — War in Bretagne — Siege of Roche-d^Arien — Anx- 
 iety of the two Monarchs, Edward and Philip, to 
 obtain the Alliance of the Flemings — The People of 
 Flanders favourable to Edward, and their Earl to 
 Philip — Attempt of Philip to raise the siege of Calais 
 — it fails, and the citizens are compelled to treat for a 
 Surrender — JYoble conduct of Eustace de Saint Pierre, 
 and five other Burgesses, who, in order to save their 
 Fellow Townsmen, deliver themselves up to Edward — 
 they are ordered for Execution by him, but saved hy 
 the intercession of his Queen, Philippa — Measures of 
 Edward for securing possession of Calais — Sir Em- 
 eric of Pavia, Seneschal of the Castle of Calais for 
 the English King, treats with Sir Geoffrey Charny 
 to betray the place to the French for a sum of money 
 — his Treachery discovered, whereupon he makes his 
 peace with Edward, by undertaking to betray Sir 
 Geoffrey ; and on that Knight coming to receive pos- 
 session of the Castle, Sir Emeric takes payment of 
 the money agreed upon, and delivers Sir Geoffrey to 
 an Ambuscade of the English under Sir Walter 
 Manny, by whom the French Party are defeated, and 
 their Leader, Sir Geoffrey taken Prisoner — Edward's 
 treatment of the Prisoners — Pestilence rages in France 
 and Ens:land — Submission of Godfrey of Harcourt 
 to the French King — Death of Philip. 
 
 The result which Edward promised himself from hi? 
 great victory, was, in fact, the opportunity of carrying 
 into effectual execution the plan of Godfrey of Harcourt, 
 by obtaining a firm footing in Normandy. Spoil and 
 havoc had hitherto seemed his only object ; but it was hb 
 
DEFEAT OF THE SCOTTISH KING, 93 
 
 secret plan to attain some permanent possession in ihe 
 province as near England as possible, so as to enable him 
 to attempt future conquests in France. For this purpose, 
 he resolved to avail himself of his victory, which he 
 knew must long disable Philip from taking the field, to 
 lay siege to Calais, a seaport rich and strongly fortified 
 being immediately opposite to the coast of England, from 
 vvhiclj it is scarcely fourteen miles distant. It was clear 
 that if the English should obtain possession of this place, 
 the flat and svvampy country around Calais would permit 
 them easily to fortify it ; and its vicinity to England, and 
 the superiority of her naval power, would always aiibrd 
 means of relieving it when besieged. King Edward, 
 therefore, sat down before Calais with his large army, 
 shortly after the battle of Cressy, and proceeded, by 
 every means in his power, to hasten the siege. 
 
 Philip of France, in the meantime, did all he could to 
 obtain the means of recovering from the disaster of 
 Cressy. He summoned from Gascony his son, the Duko 
 of Normandy, who was engaged there with a considerable 
 body of forces, partly in the siege of Aguillon, partly in 
 making head against the Earl of Lancaster, formerly Earl 
 of Derby, who had found him employment for two cam- 
 paigns. The retreat of the Duke of Normandy, in con- 
 formity with the orders of Philip, left the west of France 
 much at the command of this noble earl, whose soldiers 
 were so much sated with spoil, that they hardly valued 
 the richest merchandise, but were only desirous of gold, 
 silver, or such feathers as were then worn by soldiers in 
 their helmets. 
 
 While Philip, in this emergency of his bad fortune^ 
 tl)us abandoned a part of his dominions to save the rest, 
 lie endeavoured, by every argument in his power, and 
 oarticularly by advancing large sums of money, to prevail 
 upon the Scottish nation, and their king, David II., to 
 declare war against England, by which means he hoped 
 that Edward might be disturbed in his siege of Calais. 
 The Scottish king and nation did, accordingly, unfortu- 
 iiatelv take arms, and began a war which was terminated 
 961 
 
94 SIEGE OF ROCHE-d'aRIEN, 
 
 by the battle of Neville's Cross, near Durbamj in which 
 they sustained a formidable defeat, and their king, David, 
 was made prisoner. (October 17, A. D. 1346.) 
 
 The siege of Calais still continued, the French making 
 many desperate attempts to relieve it. and particularly by 
 sending in provisions by sea. The low and swampy sit- 
 uation of the grounds around the town exposed the be- 
 siegers to great loss by sickness and disease ; and the 
 garrison of Calais did not omit to make many sallies 
 which were partially successful. 
 
 Meantime, the war in Bretagne still raged, betw.xt the 
 contending parties of Blois and De Montfort. A noble 
 knight named Sir Thomas Dag worth, was created by 
 Edward general of the English auxiliary forces in that 
 province, and carried over considerable succours to the 
 valiant Countess of Montfort, who still maintained the 
 war there in the name of her son. 
 
 Sir Charles de Blois, who claimed this duchy by the 
 decision of the King of France, assembled among his 
 partisans in Bretagne a very considerable force, amounting 
 to no less than sixteen hundred men-at-arms, with a pro 
 portional number of cross-bows and infantry, and some 
 formidable military engines ; with this force he besieged 
 a fortress, called Roche-d'Arien, which had lately been 
 taken by the English. The captain of the garrison^ 
 wliose wife was at the time indisposed, was so alarmed at 
 the effect of the engines, that he offered to deliver up the 
 castle upon easy terms, which Sir Charles de Blois was 
 unfortunate enough to refuse. In the meantime. Sir 
 Thomas Dasworth formed the resolution of relievinfr the 
 garrison of Roche-d'Arien. He united his own forces 
 with those of the Countess of Montfort, who were com- 
 nmoded by a good knight, called Tanguy de Chatel. In 
 their first attempt on the French, who lay before Roche- 
 d'Arien, the Er.glish and Bretons were defeated ; bul 
 having, by the encouragement of Sir Thomas Dagworth 
 and of a Breton knight, called Gamier de Cadoudel, re- 
 solved to renew ihe enterprise, they made a second attack 
 on the ensuing evening, when the victory of the French 
 
Philip's efforts to kaise an army. 95 
 
 migiit be supposed to render them secure and unguarded. 
 In this unexpected attempt their success was complete. 
 The Freich were surprised and totally defeated, and their 
 general, Charles de Blois, became prisoner to his female 
 antagonist, Jane de i^Jontfort. 
 
 A similar heroine arose, however, in the family of 
 r.'harles de Blois. His wife, a lady of a lofty spirit, un- 
 dertook to maintain the war, which would otherwise have 
 terminated on her husband's captivity. 
 
 In the meantime, the two contending monarchs were 
 not idle. King Philip, who had already held a parlia- 
 ment, in which he prevailed upon his peers and liege 
 vassals to lend him their utmost assistance, was employed 
 in levying a strong army, with which he proposed to 
 compel Edward .to raise the siege of Calais. (A. D. 
 1347.) He used his utmost efforts to recover from an- 
 cient receivers and tax-gatherers the sums which they 
 had not accounted for. Heavy assessments were also 
 imposed as well upon the clergy as upon the laity, and 
 great rigour was manifested in the mode of recovering pay- 
 ment. Philip even demanded from the monks of St. 
 Dennis a crucifix of massive gold, being a treasure be- 
 stowed by the devotion of his predecessors. To this, 
 however, the monks replied, that " the crucifix could not 
 be taken away, or converted to a secular use, without in- 
 evitable danger to the souls of all parties concerned ;" 
 with which answer, even in the urgency of his necessity, 
 he was obliged to remain satisfied. 
 
 The friendship of the Flemings was of equal impor- 
 tance to both kings at this momentous crisis ; in which 
 country the affections of the prince and of the people 
 remained divided as before. The Iree towns and their 
 citizens were strongly inclined to England, and had set- 
 tled that their young lord should wed the daughter of 
 Edward HI., the beautiful Lady Isabel of England. But 
 the young earl himself objected to this match, and was 
 inclined to the alliance of France, the rather that his 
 father, a faitiiful confederate and vassal of Philip of Va- 
 lois, had fa.len in his quarrel at the battle of Cressy, 
 
96 SIEGE OF CALAIS. 
 
 The Hide Fleiiiings, incensed to find their prince avorse 
 to the pohcy which they recommended, laid violent hands 
 on his person, and assured him he should not obtain his 
 liberty till he consented to ally himself with England, 
 and marry the Princess Isabel. The young earl, finding 
 himself so roughly handled by his subjects, resolved to 
 dissemble his sentiments, and carried his acquiescence so 
 Jar as to go to King Edward's camp before Calais, with 
 a party of Flemish citizens, who seemed to act as his 
 tutors, and whose will he in no shape contradicted. He 
 was well received by Edward, who even condescended 
 to apologise for the death of his father, as an accident out 
 of his power to prevent. Thus the young earl found 
 himself in high favour with the English monarch, and 
 paid his addresses to the Princess Isabel, with the same 
 attention as if he had been serious in his courtship. In 
 private, however, he meditated his flight, and being in- 
 dulged with permission to follow the sport of hawking, 
 he availed himself of an opportunity, while apparently 
 engaged in it, to m.ake his escape by the speed of his 
 horse, and took refuge at the court of France, where his 
 presence was cordially welcomed by King Philip. 
 
 While these things were passing, the natives of Calais 
 were reduced to the last extremity. They despatched a 
 messenger by sea with letters to King Philip, saying, 
 that his good people of Calais, having eaten their horses, 
 dogs, and rats, had nothing left to subsist upon unless 
 they fed upon each other ; w^herefore they conjured their 
 king to succour them, otherwise the town must be cer- 
 tainly lost. The vessel bearing these letters was taken 
 by the English, and King Edward forwarded the missives 
 to the French king, after having perused their contents, 
 and superscribed them with a taunting endorsation, ask- 
 ing, " Why he came not to rescue his people of Calais, 
 that were so distressed for his sake ?" Philip needed no 
 incentive either from friend or enemy, having assembled 
 an army of a hundred thousand men, with the sole pur 
 pose of relieving Calais. 
 
 On the other hard, King Edward, considering the ex 
 
SIEGE OF CALAIS. \)1 
 
 treme Importance of the place, and the trouble, expense, 
 and loss, which It had cost him to bring It to Its present 
 reduced state, was determined that no effort of the King 
 of France should avail for its relief. For this purpose 
 ho strongly fortified the approaches to Calais on every 
 point, so as to make it Impossible for King Philip to drav^ 
 near the place, or annoy the besiegers, either by an ad 
 vance along the sea-shore or by the high-road. Thes« 
 w^ere the only two roads practicable to armed forces, as 
 all the rest of the grounds in the vicinity of Calais were 
 swampy marshics, where troops could not act. 
 
 Against the approach along the sea-shore Edward had 
 placed his ships, well suppliei with artillery, and he had 
 besides strongly fortified tho shore. Similar defences 
 were constructed on the causeway, which approached the 
 town by the bridge of Neulllet. 
 
 When the King of France, therefore, with his immense 
 host, approached the neighbourhood of Calais, he had 
 the mortification to find that he could not, witliout the 
 extremity of imprudence, attempt to enter the town either 
 by the highway or by the shore, and to pass through the 
 marshes was altogether Impossible ; after displaying there- 
 fore his great army at a place called Sangate, in sight of 
 Calais and Its besiegers, King Philip found himself en- 
 tirely cut off from entering the place, and was compelled 
 to withdraw without fighting. He endeavoured to rouse 
 the pride of Edward by a letter, defying him to leave 
 his fortifications, and fight in a fair field. Edward re- 
 plied that " he took no counsel from an adversary ; that 
 he had been before Calais for more than a year, and had 
 reduced the place to a state of extremity ; that he would 
 not quit the advantage which he had gained ; and if 
 Philip wislied a passage Into the town, he might seek it 
 as he best could, since he was to expect no assistance 
 from him." 
 
 The hopes of the people of Calais had been at first 
 strongly excited, when they beheld from their towers the 
 numf rous forces of France advancmg to their relief. 
 
98 SIEGE OF CALAIS. 
 
 The first day, therefore, they intimated their confidence 
 of assistance by decorating their walls with banners, and 
 for the same purpose lighted large bonfires, and sounded 
 all their martial instruments of music, attended with loud 
 shouts. On the second night, the bonfires were fewer, 
 and the shouts less cheerful, tlian before. On the third 
 night, the towers shewed a decaying fire — emblem of ex- 
 ))iring hope — and the acclamations of mirth and joy were 
 changed into screams and groans, which seemed designed 
 to attract pity. On the following morning, all the ban- 
 ners on the principal towers were lowered, save the ban* 
 ner of France, which still floated from its summit. 
 
 But when the inhabitants of Calais beheld at length 
 the pennons of King Philip's host retiring from their view, 
 they knew all hopes of those succours, which they had 
 waited for so anxiously and vainly, were at an end. 
 They had suffered such extremities, that human nature 
 could endure no longer ; and, to intimate that resistance 
 was at an end, they lowered the banner of France, and 
 displayed that of England in its place. But they had to 
 learn that their obstinacy had offended King Edward 
 more than either their gallantry or their reluctant sub- 
 mission could atone for. He gave them presently to 
 understand, that he would not receive their surrender, 
 unless they yielded implicitly to his mercy, without any 
 capitulation either for their lives or property. When this 
 severity was objected to even by his own commanders, 
 Edward would agree to show no farther favour than to 
 the following extent. He demanded that six of the 
 chief burgesses of the town should come before him 
 bareheaded, barefooted, and in their shirts, having halters 
 around their necks, bearing the keys of the town and 
 castle of Calais, which were to be humbly surrendered 
 to him. Th.ese six men were to submit to the king's 
 pleasure, how severe soever that might be, without 
 reservation even of life ; and in consideration of their 
 doing so, the stern conqueror reluctantly promised that 
 the rest of the citizens of Calais should have mercy , 
 
 These conditions were sent to the town, and read be- 
 
JEUSTACE DE SAINT PIERRE. 99 
 
 fore the assembled citizens. The tidings were foIIo\ved 
 by a general lamentation, which, the difficulty of finding 
 men willing to take upon themselves this strange sub- 
 mission considered, was not to be wondered at. After 
 some deliberation, a burgess, the most substantial in the 
 city, addressed the assembly. His name, Eustace de 
 Saint Pierre, ought never to be forgotten while disinter- 
 ested patriotism is held valuable among mankind. " He 
 that shall contribute to save this fair town from sack anc^ 
 spoil," said "this gallant man, " though at tlie price of his 
 own blood, shall doubtless deserve well of God and of 
 his country. I will be one who will offer my head to 
 the King of England, as a ransom for the town of Calais." 
 The greater part of the assembly were moved by this 
 speech to tears and exclamations of gratitude. Five 
 other buro^esses cau^-ht emulation from the noble devotion 
 of Eustace de Saint Pierre, and offered to partake with 
 him the honourable peril which he had incurred. They 
 quickly put themselves into the humiliating attire required 
 by Edward, but which, assumed in such a cause, was 
 more honourable than the robes of the Garter, which 
 that king had lately instituted. In their shirts, bare- 
 footed, and with the halter around their necks, they were 
 conducted before Edward, to whom they submitted 
 themselves for disposal, as the stipulated ransom for the 
 pardon of their feliovv-citizens. The king, looking on 
 them with indignation, upbraided them with the losses he 
 had sustained through their obstinacy, and commanded 
 them to be presently beheaded. Sir Walter Manny, and 
 the bravest, English nobles and warriors, interfered to pre- 
 vent the execution, and even the Prince of Wales inter- 
 ceded for their lives in vain. 
 
 The Queen Philippa was the last resource of these 
 unfoitunate men. She had recently joined her husband's 
 camp, in clrcunnstances equally flattering to Edward as a 
 monarch, and interesting to him as a husband. It was 
 during her regency in England that the great victory of 
 Neville's Cross had been obtained ; and It was under hei 
 auspices that David H. of Scotland was made prisoner. 
 
100 qUEEN PHILIPPA, 
 
 The queen was also at tliis time with child, an I thus m 
 every respect entitled to the highest regard of her roya 
 husband. When she saw that Edward would be moved 
 with no less entreaty than her own, she rose hastily from 
 her seat, and kneeled before the king, saying, willi many 
 tears. '' Ah ! my lord and husband, have I not a right ic 
 ask a boon of you, having come over the sea, through so 
 many dangers, that I might wait upon you ? therefore, 
 let n:ie now pray you, in honour of our blessed Redeemer, 
 and for love of me, that you would take pity upon these 
 six prisoners !" 
 
 Edward looked doubtfully upon the queen, and seemed 
 to hesitate for a space, but said at length, " Ah, madam, 
 I could well wish you had been elsewhere this day ; yet 
 how can 1 deny any boon which you ask of me ? Take 
 these men, and dispose of them as you will." 
 
 The gracious queen, rejoiced at having prevailed in hei 
 suit, and having changed the dishonourable attire of the 
 burgesses for new clothing, gave each of them six nobles, 
 for immediate use, and caused them to be safely con- 
 veyed through the English host, and set at liberty. 
 
 Edward 111. had no sooner obtained possession of 
 Calais, than he studied to secure it by fortifications and 
 otherwise, but particularly endeavoured, by internal chan- 
 ges among its inhabitants, to render it in future an impor- 
 tant and permanent possession of the crown of England. 
 For this purpose, he dispossessed the inhabitants of 
 Calais, (who were, indeed, much reduced in numbers,) 
 of their houses and property within the tow^n, and con- 
 ferred their possessions upon Englishmen born. The 
 new inhabitants whom he established in the town were 
 substantial citizens from London, and a great number of 
 countrymen from the neighbouring county of Kent, ir 
 whom he assigned the lands and tenements of the French. 
 Calais became from that period, until the reign of Philip 
 and Mary, in all respects a colony of England. The 
 king also fortified tlie castle and the town with additional 
 \Aorks. Lastly, bef&re he set sail to return to England, 
 Edv^ard agreed to a truce with France, wd)ich lasted fi'orn 
 
EDWARD FORTIFIES CALAIS. 101 
 
 1347. uitil the year 1355, though not without infractions 
 on both sides. 
 
 We must not here end the history of Calais, without 
 adverting to some circumstances which happened shortly 
 afier its capture, and are higlily descriptive of the man- 
 ners of the time. 
 
 In supplying the place with a new garrison, Edward 
 had not omitted to choose valiant officers, and such as he 
 thought men worthy of trust. These were the Lord 
 John Montgomery, as governor of the town, and, as 
 seneschal of the castle which commanded the place, a 
 Lombard knight, named Emeric of Pavia. This last 
 officer was a favourite of Edward, in whose court he had 
 been educated from childhood, but was infected with the 
 vice of avarice, to which his countrymen were esteetned 
 to be generally addicted. At the same time when Edward 
 left Calais under such custody, a wise and valiant French 
 lord, called Sir Geoffrey de Charny, acted as lieutenant 
 for the French king, to defend his frontiers, near Saint 
 Omers, and watch the garrison of the new English ac- 
 quisition. This officer, who was high in his master's 
 confidence, knew the falling of the Lombard governor, 
 and tempted him, by offering the sum of twenty thousand 
 gold crowns, to deliver up to him the castle of Calais. 
 To this treacherous proposition, Emeric of Pavia acced- 
 ed, and took a solemn oath to discharge faithfully his 
 part of the bargain. This negotiation reached the ears 
 of Kino- Edward, who sent for the Lombard to come to 
 see him in England, and, when Sir Emeric arrived there, 
 took a private opportunity to charge him with having sold 
 to the French the castle of Calais, the dearest thing he 
 had on earth, excepting his wife and children. Emeric 
 confessed the accusation, but returned a mercantile an- 
 swer, that his bargain with Sir Geoffrey de Charny might 
 as yet easily be broken, since he had received no part of 
 the stipulated price. Edward, wdio had sonie regard, as 
 we Lave said, for this venal knight, forgave him the trea- 
 son which he had meditated, on condition that he should 
 15=^ 
 
l(/jj SIK EMERiC OF PAVJA, 
 
 ensnare the Ijombard to go on v/iib bis bargain; and thai 
 he should inform iiira of tlie time that he and Sir Geof- 
 frey de Charny should finally fix upon for the surrender, 
 Edward also gave his avaricious favourite permission to 
 get as much money as he could from Sir Geoffrey de 
 Charny, provided he betrayed every particular of the 
 negotiation to the king himself, and kept the whole mat- 
 ter a secret irom others. 
 
 Sir Emeric, thus secured against the consequences of 
 the treason, and resolved once more to be true to his m- 
 dulgent master, returned to Calais, and, renewing his in- 
 tercourse with Sir Geoffrey de Charny, fixed on ihe last 
 night of December, 1348, as the term for executing their 
 secret treaty for the surrender of the castle. King Ed- 
 ward thus enabled to counteract the French stratagem, 
 embarked very secretly with eight hundred choice men- 
 at-arms, and a thousand archers, with whom he landed 
 privately, and introduced them into the castle of Calais. 
 He then called to him the celebrated Sir Walter Manny, 
 and said, '' Sir Knight, I mean to grace you with the 
 honour of this night's enterprise, and 1 and my son will 
 fight under your banner." 
 
 In the meantime. Sir Geoffrey of Charny, contriver of 
 this enterprise, arrived at Neuillet Bridge, on the cause- 
 way, or high road to Calais, with a part of his force, and 
 there w^aited till the rest joined him. He then commu- 
 nicated with Emene of Pa via, by messengers sent to the 
 citadel ; and, learning that the time for his admission into 
 the castle was approaching, he despatched twelve knights, 
 and a hundred men-at-arms, having with them the money 
 agreed upon, while he himself halted nigh to the nearest 
 city-gate with the rest of his company. He left also a 
 small rear-guard on the bridge at Neuillet. The captain 
 of the French advanced guard moved on towards thecas- 
 de, and met with the double traitor, Emeric, at the pos- 
 teru of the fortress, which he kept open, as if to admit 
 the French. They delivered to him the sti[)ulated sum in 
 French crowns. Sir Emeric took the money, and cast it 
 liito a chest saying, " We have other work tD do than tc 
 
IND SIR GEOFFREY OF CHARNY 103 
 
 counl money at present. You shall enter the dvXijon, 
 gentlemen, and then yon are masters of the castle." But 
 tlie French liad no sooner entered at the postern of the 
 castle, thus opened to them, than they were assailed in 
 front, flank, and rear, by the English, who lay ready for 
 tliem within the castle, and exclaimed, " Manny ! Manny ! 
 To the rescue ! What ! thought a handful of Frenchmen 
 to take tlie castle of Calais !" The French men-at-arius, 
 surprised and outnumbered, rendered themselves prison- 
 ers, and wore thrust into the donjon, not as conquerors, 
 but prisoners, while the victors prepared to sally from the 
 gates upon Sir Geoffrey de Charny and his party, the 
 rear of whom held their post at the bridge of Neuillet, 
 while the main body had advanced to the Boulogne gate 
 of the town, expecting to be speedily called to the sup- 
 port of their advanced guard, who they calculated ought 
 to be by tliis time in possession of the castle. 
 
 These were, however, at a loss to account for the delay 
 of the expected surrender, and their commander was ex- 
 claiming impatiently, " Except this Lombard admit us 
 hastily, we are like to starve here with cold." — " Oh, 
 sir," said a French knight of his company, " you must 
 remember that the Lombards are a shrewd and suspicious 
 people. I warrant me Sir Emeric of Pavia is counting 
 his crowns, and looking that they be all of just weight." 
 As Sir Geoffrey and his party spoke thus among them- 
 selves, the Boulogne gate of Calais, to which they had 
 approached, suddenly opened, and a body of men-at-arms 
 issued forth in good order ; most of them were dismount- 
 ed, and they were attended by three hundred archers. 
 The Frencl), from this apparition, and the cry of" Manny, 
 to the rescue !" inslartly knew that they were betrayed ; 
 but, as the causeway on which th sy stood was narrow, Sir 
 Geoffrey Charny exclainied aloud, " Gentlemen, if we 
 tm-n our backs, we are certainly lost ; dismount speedily, 
 and cut your spears to the length of five feet, for fightir g 
 upon foot." The English, hearing these w^ords, replied, 
 *' Well said, by Saint George ! shame on them that shall 
 6rst turn their backs !" Edward, who was himself engaged 
 
104 EDWARD ENTERTAINS HIS PRISONERS. 
 
 'n tbj skirmish, though without any marks of royal di5 
 tinctijn, despatched six banners and three hundred arch- 
 ers on horseback, who by a circuitous route, reached the 
 bridge of Neuillet, where the French had left a rear-guard, 
 as already noticed. 
 
 At this last place, the battle waxed very hot ; but the 
 Frenchmen were taken at great disadvantage, and, after 
 a stout resistance, were compelled to retreat. In the 
 njeantime a furious contest was continued upon the cause- 
 way nearer to the town, between the troops of Sir Geof- 
 frey Charny and those under Manny. King Edward was 
 distinguished amid the crowd of combatants by the ex- 
 clauiations of " Ha, Saint George ! Ha, Saint Edward !" 
 with which he accompanied every stroke of his two- 
 handed sword, seeking to match himself with the stoutest 
 antagonist whom the affray afforded. He had the luck 
 to encounter Eustace de Ribeaumont, one of the strongest 
 men. and best knights who then lived. This distinguished 
 French champion gave the English monarch so stout a 
 meeting, that he more than once nearly forced him upon 
 his knees. Nor v/as it until the increasing numbers of 
 the English, who sallied from the town to the assistance 
 of their friends, rendered longer defence on the French 
 part unavailing, that Ribeaumont resigned his weapon to 
 the antagonist whom he only knew as a brave warrior, 
 and said the fatal words, *' Sir Knight, I surrender myself 
 — rescue, or no rescue !" The French lost in this skir- 
 mish the greater part of the men whom Sir Geofirey 
 Charny had brought towards Calais, except some who 
 had not alighted from their horses, and had therefore the 
 means of escape ; the rest were either slain or made 
 prisoners. 
 
 King Edward caused his principal officers and prisoners 
 to be feasted at supper that same night, in a great hall, 
 v;here he placed himself at the head of a royal table. 
 Here the king sat alone and in state, while the Prince, his 
 son, and the peers of England, served during the first 
 course ; but after this sacrifice to ceremony, the guests 
 wexe arraniied without farther distinction at the same 
 
EDWARD ENTERTAINS HIS PRISONERS \{^& 
 
 board. Edward walked up and down, bare headed, ex- 
 cepting a circle of gold, and a chaplet of pearls of grear 
 value, around his brows, and passed in this manner round 
 the table, and conversed freely with his captives. On ap- 
 proaching Sir Geoffrey Charny, the contriver of the en- 
 terprise, he said, with some signs of displeasure, " 1 owe 
 you but little thanks, Sir Knight, who would have stolen 
 from me by night what 1 won in broad day. You are a 
 better bargain-maker than I, when you would have pur- 
 chased Calais "for twenty thousand crowns ; but, God be 
 praised, you have missed your aim." The Lord of Char- 
 ny, who was much wounded, remained silent and some- 
 what abashed, and Edward passed on to the other guests, 
 to whom he spoke with much condescension and polite- 
 ness. But it was upon Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont that 
 Edward conferred the highest praises, styling him the 
 most valiant and courageous knight in that skirmish. 
 '• Nor did I ever," said the king, *' find a man who gave 
 me so much to do, body to body, as you have done this 
 night. Wherefore, I adjudge to you this chaplet, as the 
 prize of the tournament," taking off the string of pearls 
 which he wore. " I pray you to wear it for my sake at 
 all festivals, and declare unto the ladies that it was given 
 to you by Edward of England, as a testimony of your 
 valour. I discharge you also of any ransom, and you 
 are free to depart to-morrow, if such be your pleasure." 
 
 In this strange anecdote, you may recognise some pro- 
 ceedings, which, had such taken place in our days, on 
 the part of a great general and great monarch, would 
 have necessarily been considered imprudent and incon- 
 siderate. There was no great wisdom certainly in trust- 
 ing to the double treachery of Emeric of Pavia, and 
 there was great rashness in a monarch like Edward ven- 
 turing; his person, witliout any distinction of his rank, in 
 the nocturnal confusion of so desperate a skirmish. 
 
 To encounler such dangers, ho\vever, was tiie proud- 
 est boast of chivalry ; and a monarch, however wise and 
 sagacious, was expected to court the most desperate risks 
 of war, if he expected the praise of an accomrlishea 
 
A)6 PESTILENCE RAGES. 
 
 knight, wblc'rj was then held the highest that a wan 
 could aspire to, how eminent soever his hereditary raiilc. 
 1l is not less worth your notice, how generously Edward 
 III. rewarded the French knight who had struck him 
 down in battle, although the same monarch could shortly 
 before hardly be induced to pardon the six burgesses of 
 Calais, whose sole offence was, the honourable discharge 
 of their duty to their king and country, and the defence 
 of their town. This is one instance among many, that it 
 was reckoned presumption on the part of citizens or pea- 
 sants, to meddle with martial affairs, which were accounted 
 the proper business of the nobility and gentry, and their 
 followers. 
 
 It is also remarkable, that the attempt upon Calais 
 might have been made a legitimate pretext for breaking 
 off the truce, on the part of the King of England. But 
 as Geoffrey de Charny pretended to no authority from the 
 French king, and as Philip disclaimed the attempt, Ed- 
 ward III. was well disposed to pass it over. 
 
 The evils of these continued wars, though carried on 
 with great increase to the glory of individuals, were at- 
 tended with so much misery to both kingdoms, that they 
 probably never endured a greater state of wretchedness 
 In France, a pestilential disorder of a dangerous kind 
 completed what had been commenced by want and bad 
 nourishment. The populace died in great numbers, and 
 those who remained entertained a natural horror of the 
 feudal oppressors under whom they suffered such unpitied 
 misery. This pestilence swept over not only the greater 
 part of Christendom, but Africa, and Asia itself, and 
 reached England, where it w^s equally fatal. It fell 
 most heavily on the poorer part of tlie people ; and of 
 the inferior clergy so many died, tb.at very many churches 
 were without either parson or curate to serve the cure. 
 Besides this disastrous scourfj;e, the Kino; of England, 
 altliorgh his parliament had been repeatedly libei'al in 
 voting him supplies of money, was sfHicted by the embar- 
 fassment of his financies. It was at a very extravagant cost 
 fnat he had been able to support these wars of France 
 
SIR EMEHIC OF PAVIA PT7 T TO DP'-ATH. lOl 
 
 and the subsidies granted to him by his Enghsh subjects 
 were speedily ev^hausted in the expenses wliich aUended 
 tlie prosecution of hostiHties in a foreign country, and the 
 pay of many auxiliary troops. The large spoil made by 
 tlie English soldiers, contributed, as usual, to debauch the 
 morals of the j)eople, and accustom them to extravagance 
 and unbounded expense. 
 
 Tliese national evils had- at least one good effect ; they 
 restrained the Kings of France and England from renew- 
 ing the war. The attempt, therefore, upon Calais passed 
 over without notice. 
 
 It does not appear, however, that the treacherous gov- 
 ernor, Emeric of Pavia, ever recovered the entire good 
 opinion of the king. He was deprived of the govern- 
 ment of the castle, the very day after the skirmish ; and, 
 althouiih he remained in the service of the English king, 
 he never appears to have regained his confidence. He 
 was retained in his active service, however, took posses- 
 sion, by stratagem, of the fortress of Guines, near to Ca- 
 lais, and attempted also to surprise Saint Omers. In this 
 last enterprise. Sir Emeric was defeated and made prison- 
 er by his old acquaintance, Sir Geoffrey Charny, who 
 availed himself of the opportunity to be revenged of his 
 former treachery. He caused the Lombard to be put to 
 death with all the dishonours of degradation, command- 
 ing his spurs to be hacked from his heels, as from those 
 of one unworthy of the honour of knighthood, and his 
 body to be torn to pieces by wild horses drawing in dif- 
 ferent directions ; a cruel, yet not undeserved punishment, 
 for the perfidious part he had acted at the attempt upon 
 Calais. 
 
 B'jt this last event took place after some others that 
 were of greater importance. One of these was the sub- 
 mission made by Godfrey of Harcourt, the counsellor of 
 Edward lU., to his native kinsman and king, Piiilip of 
 France. The penitent threw himself at that monarch'?, 
 feet, with a towel twisted round his neck, in the form of 
 a haltei, confessino^ the remorse which, he felt for havino 
 been a principal cause of the defeat of Cressy, and re- 
 
108 DEATH OF PHILIP THE FORTUNATE. 
 
 grelting that he should have added to the number of 
 those French princes of the blood-royal who had so 
 often contributed to the misfortunes of their native coun- 
 try. Philip, though subject to violent riiassion, was 
 placable upon submission, and forgave a pen tent against 
 whom he had several real subjects of offence. Their 
 reconciliation did not, however, last long. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, the King of France united the 
 county of Dauphiny to the crown, by marrying his 
 grandson Charles to the heiress of that province. The 
 dauphin himself retired from the world, and became a 
 monk ; and Charles, the husband of Joan, was the first 
 French prince who bore the title of dauphin, afterwards 
 selected as that of the successor to the crown of France. 
 Charles is often termed Duke of Normandy, a county 
 which his father John possessed until he acceded to tlie 
 crown. In 1349, Philip of Valois himself wedded the 
 Princess Blanche, sister of the King of Navarre ; but he 
 did not long survive this union, having died in the twenty- 
 third year of his reign, and the fifty-seventh of his age. 
 (A. D. 1350.) 
 
 Philip of Valois was hated by the nobility, on account 
 of the frequent encroachments which he made on their 
 privileges, and for the readiness with which he subjected 
 many of their number to capital punishment. He ob- 
 tained, at the commencement of his reign, the title of tlie 
 Fortunate, because, although three predecessors stood 
 between him and the throne, he had nevertheless the 
 good luck to obtain possession of it ; but, as happened lo 
 other princes, the long course of unsuccessful w^ar in 
 which he was engaged, ard the miseries undergone during 
 his reign, would better have entitled him to the surname 
 of the Unhappy. 
 
ACCESSION OF JOHN THE GOOD. 109 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 dctession of John the Good — Truce ivitl Er.gJand vlo 
 lated, tut renewed — Intrigues of Charles King oj 
 JVavarre — Charles assassinates the Constable of 
 France, and extorts his pardon from the King — Ed- 
 ward and his son, the Black Prince, invade France, 
 and ravage the Country — the Black Prince winters at 
 Bourdeaux — King John assembles a large army, 
 marches into Poitou, and comes up with the English 
 encamped at Maupertuis, withiii two leagues of 
 Poictiers — Battle of Poictiers — King John taken 
 Prisoner — His reception by the Black Prince — Re- 
 turn of the Prince, ivith his Prisoner, to England. 
 
 John, Duke of Normandy, ascended the throne on 
 the death of his father, Philip of Valois. He had at- 
 tained the mature age of fifty, had commanded armies 
 with reputation, had acquired character for both courage 
 and conduct, and was, in ev^ery respect, a more hopeful 
 prince than his predecessor. 
 
 Yet King John, of France, though distinguished by the 
 Mattering surname of the Good, early evinced a course of 
 severity, which occasioned much unpopularity. At a 
 solemn festival at Paris, immediately after his coronation^ 
 he caused to be arrested Rodolph de Brienne, Count of 
 Eu and of Guines, and Constable of France, who was 
 accused of wishing to let the English monarch have pos- 
 session of his county of Guines, adjacent to the town of 
 Calais. The unfortunate constable was arrested, and be- 
 headed , in presence of the lords of the council, after 
 three days' confinement, and without any form of trial 
 an execution which greatly awakened the fears and sus- 
 picions of the nobility, respecting the new king. 
 
 In the yeai 1349, the English commander in Bretagne, 
 962 
 
I 10 UlSTURBED TTATE OF FRANCE. 
 
 Sir Thomas Dagvvorth, fell into an ambuscade; said to 
 consist of banditti, by whom he was slain, in violation of 
 the truce. In resentment of this slaughter, Henry Plan- 
 tagenet, already celebrated under the titles of Lancaster 
 and Derby, to which that of Earl of Lincoln was now 
 added, was sent as Edward's lieutenant-general into Bre- 
 lagne, with an army which his reputation soon augmented 
 to thirty thousand men. In the meantime, in contempt 
 of the truce which still subsisted, constant skirmishes were 
 fought between the French and English, wnich hovered 
 between the character of hostile encrafrements, and of the 
 tournaments which that age considered merely as martial 
 recreations. In these stormy times, the various com- 
 manders of garrisons made war upon each other, as they 
 saw occasion or opportunity, without the king's positively 
 either authorising or resenting their quarrels ; and in this 
 manner much blood was spilt, of which neither prince 
 was willing to acknowledge the blame. The Pope, Inno- 
 cent XL, again used his intercession to prolong the truce, 
 which seemed of such uncertain character, and succeeded 
 ni his endeavours in 1353, although he was unable to 
 bring the kingdoms to such a solid peace, as his holiness 
 desired. 
 
 About this time. King John and his court were extreme- 
 ly disturbed by the intrigues occasioned by his young 
 kinsman, Charles, King of Navarre. This young prince, 
 nearly connected with the French crown, his mother 
 being a daughter of Louis X., called Hutin, possessed at 
 once the most splendid and the most diabolical attributes. 
 He was handsome, courageous, affable, liberal, and pop- 
 ular in his address, and a person of great talents and in- 
 genuity. Unfortunately, he added to these gorgeous 
 qualities a turn for intrigue and chicane, together with an 
 ambition altogether insatiable, and a disposition capable 
 of carrying through the worst actions by the worst means. 
 From this latter part of his character, he received from 
 the French the name of Charles the Bad, or Charles the 
 Wicked, which he appears abundantly to have deserved, 
 
INTRIGUES OF CHARLES OF NA/ARRE. 1j ] 
 
 since even the strong tie of his own Interest could not 
 always restrain his love of mischief. (A. D. 1351.) 
 
 On the arrival of this monarch at the court of John, he 
 set up various pretensions to favour, both with the king 
 and people of France, and rendered himself so agreeable 
 at court, that he carried his point of marrying Joan, the 
 daughter of the French monarch. He demanded certain 
 places in Normandy ; and when the king, to elude his 
 pertinacity, conferred that county upon Charles de la 
 Cerda, his constable and favourite, the King of Navarre 
 did not hesitate to assassinate that unfortunate officer, in 
 his castle called De I'Aigle, in Normandy. Having com- 
 mitted this atrocity, he afterwards boldly avowed the 
 deed; put himself at the head of troops, and affected in- 
 dependence ; treated with the English for their assistance; 
 leagued together all the fiery and disaffected spirits of 
 the court, that is to say, great part of the young nobility 
 who frequented it, in opposition to the crown ; and threat- 
 ened to create such confusion, that King John felt him- 
 self under the necessity of treating with this dangerous 
 young man, instead of bringing him to justice for his 
 crimes. Charles of Navarre, how^ever, refused to lay 
 aside his arms, or come to court, unless upon stipulation 
 for an absolute pardon for the death of the constable, 
 great cessions in land, a large payment of money, and, 
 above all, complete security that such terms should be 
 kept with him, in case King John w^ere disposed to grant 
 them. 
 
 John of France saw himself, by the necessity of his 
 affairs, obliged to subscribe to these demands, which were 
 rather dictated than preferred by his refractory vassal. He 
 was cvtiu compelled to give up his second son to Charles 
 of Navarre, as security that the promises given to that 
 turbulent prince should be faitlifully kept. After this, it 
 was in vain that John desired to conceal his weakness 
 under a pompous display, designed to show that the par- 
 don of Navarre was not granted in virtue of a previous 
 stipulation, but the result of the king's own free will. 
 
 In March, 1355, (A. D.) this high offender came to 
 
112 THE BLACK PRINCE RAVAGES FRANCE. 
 
 Paris in person, as had been previously agreed upon, and 
 appeared before parliament, where the King was seated 
 on the tribunal. Here Charles of Navarre made a formal 
 speech, acknowledging his errors, and asking forgiveness, 
 with some affectation of humility. The Duke of Bour- 
 bon, then Constable of France, placed his hands upon 
 those of the royal criminal, in symbol of arrest, and led 
 him into another apartment, as if to execution. The 
 Queens of France (of whom there were at that time three,) 
 threw themselves at the feet of the monarch, to implore 
 pardon for one so nearly connected with his family, and 
 the king appeared reluctantly to grant what he dared not 
 have refused for fear of retahation on the prince, his son. 
 it is probable that the whole ceremony had no effect, 
 except that of incensing the King of Navarre, and irritat- 
 ing his love of mischief, which he aftervv'ards repeatedly 
 displayed, to the great prejudice of the King and kingdom 
 of France. 
 
 In the meantime. King Edward, fully expecting that 
 this discord between King John and Charles of Navarre 
 would break into an open flame, made preparations to 
 take advantage of it. For this purpose, he constituted 
 the Black Prince, who obtained that celebrated name 
 from the constant colour of his armour, his lieutenant in 
 Gascony and Aquitalne, and sent him over with a consid- 
 erable army, which, by the number of troops there lev- 
 ied, was augmented to about sixty thousand men. With 
 this large force, the young Edward marched into the 
 country of Toulouse, taking several towns, which he 
 burnt, wasted and destroyed. But Charles of Navarre 
 becoming for the present reconciled with the King of 
 France, the Prince of Wales returned to Bourdeaux^ after 
 tiiese extensive ravages. 
 
 His father King Edward was, on his part, no less active 
 in the desolation of France. While the Black Prince 
 laid waste the southern provinces of that country with 
 fire and sword, the father landed at Calais, and marched 
 from ihence towards St. Omers, where King John lay at 
 the head of a considerable army. The recollections o^ 
 
 I 
 
BATTLE OF POICTIERS. 113 
 
 Cressy, peihaps, made the King of France decline an en- 
 njagement ; so that Khig Edward, unable to bring the 
 French to action, returned to his own country to advise 
 with his Parliament, and make head against the Scottish 
 nation, who, notwitlistanding all their losses, were again 
 In arms. It has been reasonably suggested, that injured 
 pride and wounded feelings, the recollections of the dis- 
 :ionour sustained at Cressy, and the hope of avenging the 
 disgrace of that day, were more powerful with John of 
 France than any reasons of sound policy, in inducing him to 
 refuse the offers preferred by Rome for establishing peace 
 between the countries. The scene of blood and devas- 
 tation which all France presented, the ravages of tht 
 pestilence, and the total silence of law and justice 
 throughout a kingdom which strangers and robbers had 
 m a maimer partitioned amongst them, made the country 
 at that time in every respect unfit to maintain a war with 
 a powerful and active enemy. It was, however, the fate 
 of King John to rush without reflection upon dangers yet 
 greater, and losses more disastrous, than those which had 
 befallen his unfortunate father. A period now approach- 
 ed much celebrated in English history. 
 
 The Prince of Wales, who had spent the winter in re- 
 cruiting his little army at Bourdeaux, resolved the next 
 year to sally forth, to lay waste the country of the ensrnv. 
 as he had done the preceding summer. King John, on 
 the other hand, having determined to intercept his perse- 
 vering enemy, assembled the whole force of his kingdom, 
 in number twenty thousand men-at-arms, headed by the 
 king himself and his four sons, and most of the princes 
 of the blood, together with the whole nobility and gentry 
 )f France, kw of whom chose to stay at home, when 
 called to attend the royal standard, under the pain of in- 
 famy. Scotland sent him an auxiliary force of two 
 thousand men-at-arms. With this overpowering army, 
 the King of France marched into Poitou, where Prince 
 Edward lay encamped at the village of Maupertuis, within 
 
114 BATTLE OF POICTIERS. 
 
 two leagues of Poictlers, and resolved lo engage Km 
 before It^ could regain Bourdeaux. 
 
 With .lumbers so unequal, the Prince of Wales dared 
 hardly attempt a retreat, in which he was likely lo be 
 destroyed by the enemy. He therefore took up a strong 
 position, where the advantage of the ground might in 
 some measure compensate for numerical inferiority. King 
 Jolin, on the other hand, had at command the choice of 
 fighting instantly, or of surrounding and blockading the 
 prmce's army as they lay. But the same spirit of offend- 
 ed pride which disposed the French king to continue 
 the war, stimulated him to rush to instant battle. On 
 the other hand. Prince Edward had fixed upon a place 
 so well suited for defence, that it presented, in a great 
 degree, the advantages of a fortress. His army scarcely 
 numbered the eighth part of that which was arrayed 
 against him ; but perhaps it was, even for that very 
 reason, more fit to occupy and defend a strong and limited 
 position. 
 
 This memorable field was a gentle declivity, covered 
 with vineyards, which could only be approached by one 
 access of no great breadth, flanked by thickets and 
 hedges. To add to the strength of the ground, the Eng- 
 lish labvjured hard at fortifying it, and disposed every 
 thing so as to cover their ranks w^ith trenches, in addition 
 to the trees, bushes, and vineyards, by which it was natu- 
 rally defended. Amidst these natural and artificial de- 
 fences, and only accessible by this narrow and difficult 
 pass, the English troops, about ten thousand men, were 
 drawn up on the side of the gentle acclivity, with the 
 good sense and judgment which, from his early days, had 
 distinguished their eminent connnander. 
 
 Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont had the honour to carry 
 to King Jolui of France an account of the English po- 
 sition, wliich he thus described : " Sir, we have seen the 
 «;neniy. By our guess, they amount to two thousand 
 njcn-at-arms, four thousand archers, and fifteen hundred 
 or two thousand other men ; which troops appear to »'l 
 to form Sut one division. They are strongly posted, 
 
CATTLE OF POICTIERS. 1 15 
 
 Wisely ordered, and their position iS vvellnigh inaccessi- 
 ble. If you would attack them, there is but one passage, 
 where four horsemen may ride abreast, which leads to 
 the centre of their line. The hedges which flank this 
 access are lined with archers, and the English main body 
 itself consists of dismounted men-at-arms, before whom 
 a large body of archers are arranged in the form of a 
 herse, or harrow. By this difficult passage alone you 
 can approach the Englisii position. Think, therefore, 
 what is to be" done." 
 
 King John resolved, that, in such difficult circumstances, 
 the attack must be made on foot. He commanded, 
 therefore, his men-at-arms to dismount, cast off their 
 spurs, and cut their spears to the length of five feet, in 
 order to do battle as infantry. Three hundred men-at- 
 arms alone were commanded to remain mounted, in order 
 that their charge might begin the combat, break the 
 archery, and make way for the columns of infantry ; 
 and in this order King John resolved to undertake the 
 attack. 
 
 The battle having been thus determined upon, a noble 
 churchman, the Cardinal of Perigord, visited both the 
 French and English armies, to incline them to peace. 
 The Prince of Wales, being so greatly outnumbered, 
 was not unwilling to listen to honourable terms ; but the 
 King of France insisted that Edward and his principal 
 lords should remain prisoners. " I will never yield me 
 prisoner," said Edward, " until I am taken sword in 
 band." 
 
 But before the battle took place, one or two circum- 
 stances happened, higlily characteristic of the spirit of 
 the times. 
 
 It chanced that the celebrated John Chandos was, on 
 the morning before the action, reconnoitring the French 
 host, while Lord Cleremont, a marshal of the French 
 army, performed the same duty on the other side 
 These tv/o Knights bore the same device, which was the 
 Virgin Mary, surrounded by sunbeams. This was in 
 those days a great offence ; and it was accordingly chaJ- 
 
116 BATTLE OF POICTIERS. 
 
 'enged by Cleremont with these words : '^ How long is 
 .t, Cliandos, since you have taken it on you to bear my 
 device ?" 
 
 " It is mine own," said Chandos : " at least it is mine 
 as well as yours." 
 
 '• 1 deny that," said Cleremont ; *' But you act after 
 the fashion of you Englishmen, who have no ingenuity 
 to devise your own appointments, but readily steal the 
 invention of others." 
 
 '' Let us prove wliich has the right in the battle to- 
 morrow," answered Chandos, " since to-day is truce, on 
 account of the cardinal's negotiation." They parted 
 thus upon terms of mutual defiance. 
 
 On the evening of that same day, the Frenchmen dis- 
 missed the Cardinal of Perigord from their host, and 
 desired him to bring them no more proposals of peace 5 
 so that the battle was now determined on by both sides. 
 The churchman himself retired from the field ; but some 
 youths of his train, inspired by the splendid preparations 
 for battle, remained and bore arms on the side of France, 
 which was much resented by the Black Prince. 
 
 Early the following morning the valiant young Prince 
 of Warles reviewed the position of his troops, and briefly 
 said to them, " Sirs, be not abashed for the number of 
 our enemies ; for victory is not in the multitude of peo- 
 ple, but w-here God pleases to grant it. If we survive 
 this day's conflict, our honour will be in proportion to the 
 odds against which we fight ; if we die this day, there 
 are men enough in England to revenge our fall." 
 
 As the prince thus addressed his people, the Lord 
 Audley came forward, and besought a boon of him. 
 " My lord," he said, " I have been the true servant of 
 your father and of your house ; and out of respect for 
 both, I have taken a vow long since, that when I should 
 be in any battle where the king your father, or any of 
 his sons, should command, I will myself begin the battle.. 
 or die upon the place. May it please you now to per- 
 mit me to pass to the vanguard^ and accomplish my 
 vow ?" 
 
BATTLE OF POICTIERS. 117 
 
 The prince willingly granted his desire, saying, " Sir 
 James, God give you grace so to bear yourself, that you 
 bhali be acknowledged the best and foremost knight of 
 all, this day !" 
 
 The prince then proceeded somewhat to change the 
 order of his army. When reconnoitred by De Ribeau- 
 morit, he had shown only one division. But when about 
 to fight, he divided his little army into three, drawn „p 
 close in the rear of each other, on the sloping and defen- 
 sible ground' we have described. He also placed, apart, 
 a body of men-at-arms, under the Captal of Buche, de- 
 signed to fetch a compass round the hill, unobserved, and 
 fall on the rear of the French when they should com- 
 mence the attack. 
 
 The French accordingly began the battle with the three 
 hundred select men-at-arms, whom they had caused to 
 remain on horseback, for the service of dispersing the 
 archers, and forcing a passage for the rest of the army. 
 These had no sooner entered between the hedges, how- 
 ever, than the archers, by whom they were lined, com- 
 menced their fatal discharge, and the horses of the men- 
 at-arms recoiled and turned restive, disordering their own 
 ranks, and rendering it impossible for their masters to 
 perform the orders given to them. Sir James Audley, 
 with four squires of undaunted valour, fought in the front 
 of the battle, and stopped not to take prisoners, but went 
 straight forward against all opposition. 
 
 Jt was in vain that a great body of dismounted men-at- 
 arms entered the fatal pass, under two of the French 
 marshals, to relieve the mounted spearmen. One of these 
 leaders was slain, the other made prisoner ; and their 
 troops, driven back, were thrown in confusion upon the 
 second line, commanded by the Dauphin. At the same 
 rime, the strong body of English men-at-arms, who had 
 been reserved for that service, v/ith a corresponding 
 number of archers, burst unexpectedly from the ambus- 
 cade, in which they had been till now concealed. This 
 was commanded, as already mentioned, by the valiant 
 Gascon knight, nailed the Captal of Buche, a faithful 
 16 4th Ser. 
 
MS KING JOHN TAKEN PRISONER, AND 
 
 vassal of England. He attacked the French column of 
 the flank and rear, and compelled it to fly. The Scot- 
 tish auxiliaries shared the fate of their allies. The vic- 
 tory being now on the side of England, the prince com- 
 manded his men-at-arms to take horse, seeing the moment 
 was come to advance. They mounted, and prepared to 
 charge accordingly, the prince himself giving the word, 
 '' Advance banners, in the name of God and Saint 
 Tjeorge !" Upon seeing the approach of this strong 
 body, those French lords who commanded the second 
 division, and had charge of the three younger princes of 
 France, retreated from the battle, in order, as they after 
 wards alleged, to place these royal persons in safety. 
 The army of the French was now in such confusion, that 
 the third division w^as exposed to the full fury of the 
 English assault, by the retreat of the second line, and 
 the person of King John, who commanded it, was placed 
 in the greatest danger ; his nobles, who fought around 
 him, were almost all slain or taken, and the victors, who 
 disputed with each other the glory and advantage of 
 taking so great a prince alive, called out, " Yield you, 
 sir, or you die !" The gallant monarch disdained the 
 safety which was to be found by complying with these 
 invitations, and continued manfully to defend himself witli 
 his battle-axe. " If," says Froissart, " the knights of 
 King John had fought as resolutely as he did himself, the 
 event of the day might have been different." 
 
 Finding himself left almost alone, and overborne by 
 numbers, the unfortunate king expressed a wish to sur- 
 render to his cousin, the Prince of Wales ; but, as this 
 was impossible, — for the prince was in a distant part of 
 the field, — King John gave his gauntlet in token of sur- 
 render to Sir Dennis JVIorbeque, a Frenchman by birth, 
 but who, exiled from France for a homicide there com- 
 mitted, was in the Black Prince's service. From this 
 gentleman King John was soon after taken forcibly by 
 several knights of England and Gascony, who disputed 
 the prize with so much violence, that the captive mon- 
 arch was only delivered from the tumult, and even the 
 
ENTERTAINED BY THE BLACK PRINCE. 119 
 
 personal danger which it involved, by the Earl of War- 
 wick and Lord Cobham, sent by the Prince of Wales to 
 save him amid the general disorder. Philip of France, 
 youngest son of King John, remained captive with his 
 father. He behaved so resolutely on that fatal day, thai 
 he was said to have then acquired the epithet of the 
 Hardy, by which he was afterwards distinguished. 
 
 The Prince of Wales, w^hose courtesy was at least 
 equal to his bravery, caused a banquet to be spread in 
 his pavilion," where he entertained the captive monarch, 
 with his great nobles, while he himself refused to sit 
 down at the table, us not worthy of so great an honour 
 as to eat with the king of France. He bid his royal 
 captive, at the same time, make no heavy cheer for his 
 misfortunes, though the fate of battle had been otherwise 
 than he would have desired. " You shall find my father," 
 said he, '' willing to display towards you all honour and 
 friendship, and you sliall, if you will, become such friends 
 together as you have never hitherto been. Consider," 
 he added, with well-meant flattery, " though you have 
 lost the Geld, you have attained the praise of being the 
 bravest knight who has this day fought upon your side." 
 The unfortunate king was much affected by the courtesy 
 of his victor, from which he experienced whatever conso- 
 lation his condition admitted of. 
 
 The Prince of Wales was not less anxious to reward 
 his friends, than by his generous conduct to soften the 
 misfortunes of his enemies. Lord Audley, who had 
 conimenced the battle of Poictiers, had continued, as 
 long as the action lasted, still pressing forward, without 
 stopping to make prisoners, until at length he was nearly 
 slain upon the spot ; and he was the first object of the 
 prince's gratitude. Upon this noble knight the prince 
 ))estowed, with his highest commendations, a noble gift 
 of five hundred merks of yearly revenue, which Sii 
 James Audl-3y received with suitable expressions of 
 gratitude. 
 
 When he returned to his own pavilion, the i.oble knight 
 sent for his brother, and some other friends and made 
 
i20 THE BLACK PRINCE. 
 
 them bear witness that he transferred to his foui fairhful 
 squires the gift which the prince had given him, since it 
 had been by their means and steady support, through the 
 whole battle, that he had been able to render the services 
 which the prince had valued so highly. 
 
 On the second day after the battle, the Black Prince 
 naiched towards Poictiers, into which a distinguished 
 French warrior, named the Lord of Roye, had thrown 
 himself, with a considerable body of men, which he was 
 leading to join the French army, but which came too late 
 for that service. Moderate, however, in his wishes to 
 improve his victory, and chiefly desirous to secure his 
 important prisoner, King John of France, the prince de- 
 clined entering into any considerable enterprise at this 
 time, and passed steadily on his retreat towards Bour- 
 deaux. His march was so slow, that he was at liberty to 
 attend to the business of his army, and the details in 
 which individuals were interested. 
 
 Among other information, the Black Prince learned 
 the generous manner in which Lord Audley had disposed, 
 among his four esquires, of the splendid gift which his 
 bounty had conferred upon him. He sent for him there- 
 fore to his presence, and requested to know wherefore he 
 had parted with the gift of his sovereign ? and whether 
 his conduct arose from the present not being acceptable 
 to him ? Sir James Audley confessed that he had pre- 
 sented to his esquires the gift which his highness's bounty 
 had conferred ; but he alleged, that the fidelity of those 
 esquires had been the means of his being able to execute 
 the vow which he had made ; and that, by their constant 
 attendance through the bloody day, they had repeatedly 
 saved his life at the imminent risk of their own. *' Where- 
 fore," said the noble lord, " it was well my part to trans- 
 fer to them that bounty which your highness designed 
 for me, especially since, renouncing in their behalf this 
 royal gift, 1 have still, God be praised ! revenues suffi- 
 cient to maintain my place in your highness's S(!rvice. 
 But if this should offend your highness, I am right willing 
 that it shall be ordered according to your pleasure " 
 
REWARDS LORD AUDLEY ISil 
 
 The Black Prince joyfully accepted an apology so 
 congenial to liis feelings. He highly approved of Lord 
 Audley's gift to his esquires, but made a point of pressing 
 upon him an additional gift of four hundred pounds year- 
 ly more, which he required him to retain for his own use 
 and behoof. 
 
 It was also, apparently, in this march tliat the Black 
 Prince decided the important question, who was to be 
 considered as the immediate captor of King John of 
 France. With the same generosity and justice which 
 always marked the conduct of this gallant prince, Edward 
 adjudged tiie glory and profit of this action to the poor 
 French exile, Sir Dennis of Morbeque, to whom King 
 John had given his gauntlet in token of surrender, rather 
 than to more powerful knights and barons, who stated 
 their claim as preferable to that of the poor banished 
 Frenchman. I hav^e already stated, elsewhere, that the 
 ransom of a captive belonged to the person by whom he 
 was taken prisoner. But the person of King John fell 
 under an exception, which adjudged, that prisoners, 
 whose ransom was rated at ten thousand crowns or up- 
 wards, should not belong to individuals, but to the gene- 
 ral of the army. The prince, therefore, finally closed 
 this affair, by secretly transferring to Dennis Morbeque 
 the sum at which King John's ransom was rated. 
 
 After spending most of the winter at Bourdeaux, the 
 Black Prince returned to England with his prisoner, and 
 made a solemn entrance into London, where the citizens 
 received him with a gorgeous display of their power and 
 wealth. In the processsion which traversed the city on 
 the occasion. King John of France appeared in royal ar- 
 ray, mounted upon a beautiful white courser, while the 
 l*nnce of Wales, avoiding the triumpliant display of a 
 victor, rode beside his captive upon a little black palfrey 
 of an ordinary appearance. In modern times, this might 
 be considered as an affectation of humility, and a more 
 pomted personal triumph, than if the prince had shown 
 less apparent deference. But we are not to judge of the 
 
122 MEETING OF THE 
 
 feelings of a rudo age from those of a civilized one In 
 Kdward's time, it was no uncommon display of the ^ic-' 
 tor to show conquered princes to the people, loaded with 
 rons, as in the triumphs of the ancient Romans ; and 
 the very opposite conduct of the conqueror of Poictiers, 
 was considered as a mark of moderation and humility on 
 the part of the conqueror, and received as such by the 
 vanquished, and all who witnessed it. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Consequences to France of the Battle of Poictiers— 
 Disputes between the Dauphin and the States-General 
 — Suppression of an Insurrection under Sir Godfrey 
 Harcourt, who had again revolted to the English — 
 Siege of Rennes — Truce concluded — Capture of the 
 Castle of EuvreuT by Sir Willia7n Granville — Es- 
 cape of Charles of J^avarre from Prison — he organ- 
 izes the Faction of the JVavarrois — Insolence of Mar- 
 cel^ Provost of Palais — Insurrection of the Peasantry, 
 called Jacquerie — Partial Success of the Regent 
 against the English — Treaty for the Ransom of King 
 John — the Estates of France refuse to sanction this 
 Treaty, and Edward again invades France — Siege 
 of Rheims — Peace of Bretigny — Death of King 
 John, and Accession of the Dauphin Charles. 
 
 The battle of Poictiers, being the disastrous conse- 
 quence of that of Cressy, had been yet more calamitous 
 than the preceding victory. (A. D. 1356.) For, as 
 the combat had been chiefly fought on foot, and almost 
 wliolly by dismounted men-at-arms, a much larger por- 
 tion of the French nobility had been slain than at Cressy 
 and the kingdom was, in a great measure, deprived of 
 those on whose ccurage the defence of the country was 
 supposed ^.hiefly to depend. The three sons of King 
 John, who w^re naturally looked to as heirs of the crown. 
 
STATES-GENERAL. 123 
 
 were too young t( be capable of retrieving so dreadful a 
 misfortune as the defeat of Poictiers. The king had left 
 no regent, or other legal representative ; a deficiency 
 which his son Charles, who bore the title of dauphin and 
 Duke of Normandy, endeavoured to supply, by summon- 
 ing a meeting of the Estates of the kingdom, naturally 
 hoping, that in a period so calamitous he should find 
 them disposed to act unanimously for obtaining the relief 
 of King Jolm, and restoring good order in the kingdom 
 of France. _ 
 
 Unhappily, however, the members of this national body 
 were strongly tempted to avail themselves of a favourable 
 opportunity for depressing the royal power, and raising 
 their own, rather than to combine in a joint effort for ex- 
 tricating the nation from its difficulties. 
 
 One principal cause of the general discontent and dis- 
 order, was the intrigues and conspiracies of the King of 
 Navarre, who at this period might be justly termed the 
 Evil Genius of France. It is here for an instant neces- 
 sary to resume his history between 1354 and the battle 
 of Poictiers. We have mentioned, that, at the former 
 period, by the solemn farce of a submission and pardon, 
 a reconciliation had been patched up betwixt him and 
 King John. Charles of Navarre felt more resentment 
 at the harsh manner of his trial, than gratitude for the 
 easy terms of his pardon. He seems also to have been 
 deeply imbued with that love of mischief for mischief's 
 sake, wliich is in some a symptom of a tendency to 
 insanity. He organized new conspiracies, into which he 
 seduced even the heir of the crown, whom he persuaded 
 that he was not sufficiently intrusted with power by his 
 father. John, however, detected the plot of this wicked 
 prince, and having a full explanation with the dauphin, 
 prevailed on him to desert the pernicious faction with 
 which he had engaged. The king, by the dauphin's 
 personal assistance, next seized upon the person of the 
 king of Navarre, and threw him into prison, where he 
 remained till after the battle of Poictiers. The Count 
 of Harcourt, brother of Sir Godfrey, was executed, among 
 
124 iNTRlCrES OF CHARLES OP NAVARRE 
 
 Other adherents of the King of Navarre, upon the appre 
 hension of their leader. 
 
 But when the field of Poictiers was lost, it was not the 
 least, amidst the various calamities of that disastrous pe- 
 riod, that the spirit of Charles of Navarre influenced the 
 deliheiations of the States-General, although his person 
 was confined in the Castle of Crevecoeur. The State«« 
 made it soon evident that they were less bent on the res- 
 toration of the king to his subjects, than upon the degra- 
 dation of the crown, and engrossing the sovereign power 
 within their own body. They divided themselves into 
 separate committees, for executing various branches of the 
 public service hitherto transacted by the king's ministers, 
 and transQjitted several lofty demands to the dauphin, 
 requiring the punishment of certain officers of state, of 
 whom they complained, a general change of the king's 
 ministry, the deliverance from prison of the King of Na- 
 varre, and the subjection of the dauphin's government to 
 the predominating influence of a committee of thirty-six 
 of tlie menibers of the States-General, in which it was 
 proposed to vest the powers of their whole body. 
 
 The dauphin Charles, embarrassed by the engrossing 
 and grasping spirit displayed by the assembly from whom 
 he had expected assistance, endeavoured to evade de- 
 mands which he could not have granted without great 
 hazard to the crown of which he was heir, and disrespect 
 towards his father, who, although a prisoner in England^ 
 was still its owner. He dissolved the States, in spite of 
 the remonstances of the citizens of Paris, who, headed 
 by Marcel, the provost of the merchants, and Ronsac, 
 the sherifl", declared violently in favour of the assembly 
 of representatives, and insisted upon their being reinstated 
 m their authority. 
 
 While these intestine divisions were proceeding with 
 violence in the metropolis, war was laying waste the more 
 distant provinces of the kingdom of France. The cele- 
 brated Duke of Lancaster was in arms in Normandy, and 
 in his company Lord Godfrey of Harcourt, whose name 
 
J5EA1H OF GODFREY OF HARCOUtvT. 125 
 
 We have frequently had occasion to allude to. He had, 
 as we have already mentioned, subn itted to King John, 
 after the battle of Cressy ; but, incensed by tlie death 
 of his brother, John, Count of Harcourt, he had again 
 revolted to the English interest, and, having joined the 
 Duke of Lancaster, was appointed his lieutenant. 
 
 One slender ray of liglit alone remained. Ere the 
 States were dissolved, tliey had granted some supplies, 
 enabling the Duke of Normandy to levy a small army to 
 suppress this internal enemy in the province where he 
 claimed an especial personal interest. By the judicious 
 use of these supplies, a valiant French knight. Sir Rob- 
 ert Clermont, with about three hundred men-at-arms, 
 and a sufficient body of infantry, marched against Sir 
 Godfrey Harcourt, whom he speedily met with. The 
 troops which that eminent malecontent commanded, were 
 chiefly revolted Frenchmen, like himself, but of no great 
 reputation in arms. Part of his troops consisted of a body 
 of archers, who operated with little effect on the French 
 men-at-arms, who covered themselves under their buck- 
 lers, and when the quivers of their enemy were expend- 
 ed, advanced to close quarters. The men of Sir God- 
 frey Harcourt then shrunk from the attack ; but theii 
 general continued fighting with courage worthy his repu- 
 tation. Seeing, however, that escape was impossible, he 
 took his resolution to die like a man. Being slightly 
 lame, he placed himself so as, by the inequality of the 
 ground, to supply in some degree the deficiency of his 
 limbs, and wielding an axe of great weight, (for he was 
 very strong in the arms,) he dealt such furious blows, 
 that for a time no-one dared approach him. At length, 
 after he had thus valiantly defended himself against all 
 who attacked him on foot, two French knights, mounting 
 their horses, charged him at the gallop, and bore him to 
 the earth with their spears, where he was slain by the 
 mfantry who crowded around him. Thus died Sir God- 
 frey de Harcourt, paying at length the penalty frequently 
 attending those who have been the means of plunging 
 
J 26 CAPTURE OF EUVREUX; 
 
 their country into the evils of civi\ war. Thi& battle was 
 fought near Coutances, about November, 1356. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, the Duke of Lancaster, in revenge 
 of the death of Sir Godfrey Harcourt, besieged Rennes 
 very closely, pressed it hard, and threatened, by the 
 taking of that city, to complete the separation of Bre- 
 ta^ne from the French kin";dom. Lord Charles of Blois, 
 who continued his efforts to possess himself of the county 
 of Bretagne, urged the dauphin strongly to assist him 
 with soldiers, but the dauphin had other work upon his 
 hands, for the dissolution of the States-General had then 
 cast every thing into disorder. 
 
 A truce was, however, made, at the earnest intercession 
 of two cardinals of the church. It afforded a moment's 
 breathing time to the unhappy kingdom of France, and 
 obliged the Duke of Lancaster to raise the siege of 
 Rennes, which was on the point of surrender. But the 
 evils of France were so great that this partial relief was 
 scarcely felt. In fact, the confusion and general discon- 
 tent in that kingdom broke out in such numerous and 
 dreadful forms, that, to understand them, it is necessary 
 to consider them separately ; and, without minutely at- 
 tending to the order in which the events happened, we 
 may observe, that they were, each and all, the portentous 
 consequences of general confusion and discord, of the 
 absence and captivity of the king, the mutiny of the 
 common people, and the disposition of all ranks to vio- 
 lence and spoil. 
 
 The first great evil was the progress of the English 
 war, which, although not violently pursued by King Ed- 
 ward, was yet followed up by his captains in Bretagne, 
 Normandy and Gascony. The tnanner in which such 
 enterprises were carried on, may be well illustrated by the 
 successful attack of William of Granville upon the strong 
 town and castle of Euvreux. This nobleman iiwelt about 
 two leagues from that town, and often visited it. He was 
 privately attached to Philip of Navarre, younger brother 
 of Charles the Bad, who served with the English hoet^ 
 commanded by the Duke of Lancaster. But the Lord 
 
Br WILLIAM OF GRANVILLE. 121 
 
 of Granville had never openly borne arms in the quar- 
 rel ; no suspicion attached to him, therefore, at Euvreux 
 and he had the means of making a strong party amonc 
 the burgesses. He came by degrees to use the open 
 ground before the castle-gate as a place for his ordinary 
 promenade ; and as the captain sometimes went abroad 
 for refreshment, and entered into conversation with him, 
 they fell into a sort of familiarity. 
 
 One day, having every thing appointed to support his 
 attempt, William of Granville began to tell an idle story 
 to the governor concerning a pretended attack upon Eng- 
 land by the joint forces of the King of Denmark and the 
 King of Ireland, who, for that purpose, had, he said, 
 taken the sea with a numerous host. When the French- 
 man demanded from whence he had this intelligence, 
 William of Granville replied, that a knight of Flanders 
 had sent the news to him, and with it a set of chessmen, 
 the most beautiful he had ever seen. This excited the 
 curiosity of the seneschal of the castle, who was a great 
 admirer of the game of chess. William of Granville, as 
 if to gratify his curiosity, sent for the chessmen, on con- 
 dition that they should play a game together. The board 
 and men were brought ; and the seneschal v/as so impru- 
 dent as to admit the knight within the entrance of the 
 fortress. He was privately armed with a shirt of mail 
 concealed under his upper clothing, and held in his hand 
 a small battle-axe, and thus, w^hile apparently intent on 
 his game, stood prepared to take advantage of such op- 
 portunity as should present itself. In the meantime, his 
 valet warned the conspirators, burgesses of the place, to 
 hold themselves in instant readiness. In the course of 
 the game, William of Granville seized an oppoitunity to 
 dash out the captain's brains with his battle-axe, and 
 windino; a bu^le horn which he carried with him for the 
 purpose, the burgesses ran to his assistance, and found 
 liim bestriding the body of the captain, and defending 
 the gate, which he had occupied, against such of the 
 garrison as hastily took the alarm. The insurgents speed- 
 Wy seconded him, and made themselves master? of Eu^- 
 
128 ESCAPE OF CHARLES OF NAVARRE. 
 
 reux, which became a head quarter of the faction of tna 
 English, or Navarrois, in Normandy. 
 
 Such was the nature of the exploits which were then 
 achieved in every corner of France, in which good faith 
 and personal fidelity seem to have been little observed 
 by either party. 
 
 It was not, however, so much the national war be- 
 tween the French and English which brought so much 
 harm upon the former nation, as the violent factions among 
 the Frenchmen themselves, which were about this time 
 considerably augmented in number, and no less so in 
 rancour. 
 
 I have told you more than once of the pecuhar and 
 dangerous character of Charles, King of Navarre. It was 
 the misfortune of France that this person, of so faithless a 
 disposition, joined to qualities so showy and so popular, 
 escaped, at this moment of the greatest confusion, from 
 the castle of Crevecoeur, in which he had been con- 
 fined by King John for his former intrigues. The lib- 
 erated prisoner was received with great joy, not only at 
 Amiens, and other cities, but in Paris itself, where Mar- 
 cel, the provost of the merchants, became his principal 
 adherent. 
 
 Being an accomplished orator, Charles of Navarre 
 harangued the Parisians in public, and^vith great effect 
 on their credulity ; he seemed to declare himself for a 
 republic, or rather an aristocracy, instead of a monarchy, 
 countenancing the claims of the States, in opposition to 
 those which were preferred for the crown on the part of 
 the dauphin and others. Those who adhered to the party 
 of Charles, or in general to that of the States, obtained 
 the name of Navarrois. Philip of Navarre, however, 
 though the brother of Charles, remained in the English 
 camp ; nor could he ever be prevailed on to declare in 
 favour of a republic, in which, he said, there could never 
 be order, honour, or stabifty, but a constant succession of 
 shame and confusion. 
 
 Meanti^ne, the dauphin was under the necessity of 
 again assembling the States-General, in order to obtain, 
 
INSURRECTION OF THE PARISIANS. 129 
 
 tlirough their means, the power of imposing taxeSj and 
 levying money for the support of the war. The provost 
 of the merchants thwarted the dauphin in all his pro- 
 jects ; for, like the King of Navarre, his patron, he per- 
 sonally hated tiie dauphin, who had been once in some 
 degree himself a Navarrois, until induced by the remon- 
 strances of his father King John to renounce these dan- 
 gerous opinions. Owing to this defection, the dauphin 
 was mortally hated by the King of Navarre and his fol- 
 lowers. Marcel the provost in particular mixed in all his 
 proceedings, and caused the people, who followed him in 
 great numbers, to assume blue hats, as a mark of their 
 adherence to his party. The slightest offence given to 
 any of these armed burgesses called the whole pa\ty 
 forth ; and it became absolutely impossible to maintain 
 good order even in the capital itself, far less to make any 
 exeiTion, by levying money or otherwise, in behalf of the 
 king, who was still a captive in England. The dauphin 
 endeavoured to temporise, and strove, by every means in 
 his power, to form a royal party in opposition to that of 
 the King of Navarre. He had in some measure sue 
 ceeded, when an accident threw all into irretrievable 
 confusion. 
 
 An ordinary citizen, named Mace, had murdered Jean 
 Baillett, the Treasurer of France, and taken refuge in a 
 neighbouring church. The dauphin sent two mareschals, 
 one of France, and one of Champagne, with orders to 
 take the criminal into custody, and lead him to instant 
 execution. The Bishop of Paris exclaimed against this 
 act of necessary justice, as a violation of the sanctuary of 
 the church, and the provost of the merchants called his 
 followers into the streets, and marched with the whole 
 mob of Paris directly to the lodgings of the dauphin, in 
 what was then called the Palace of Justice. Entering 
 furiously, and without reverence, into the presence of the 
 dauphin. Marcel seized upon the two mareschals, and put 
 them to death, so close to the prince, that he was covered 
 with their blood. " How now, sirs," said the dau| hin^ 
 apprehensive of farther violence, '' would you shed the 
 
If-JO FACTION OF THE NAVARROIS. 
 
 blood royal of France !" Marcel answered in tbe nega 
 tive ; and, to show his good intentions, he snatcheG 
 rudely from the dauphin's head the einbroiJered hat oi 
 hood which he wore, and clapped on him in its place the 
 blue hat, which was the sign of the Navarrois faction. 
 He himself, to complete his insolence, wore during the 
 rest of the day the hat of the prince, which was of a 
 witliered rose colour. The bodies of the murdered ma- 
 reschals were dragged through the streets, and the Kmg 
 of Navarre, who had avoided being present in the city 
 during the insurrection, endeavoured to take advantage 
 of thf^ incident, so as to farther his own plans, by the 
 most extravagant demands, which he founded upon it. 
 The dauphin, however, was received as regent by the 
 states, to whom the Navarrois had proposed to dethrone 
 the king, and dispossess the dauphin. Thus fortified at 
 least with nominal authority, the prince withdrew from 
 the metropolis and its turbulent citizens, to the counties 
 of Picardy and Cliampagne, where he assembled the 
 states of those provinces, and received such succours and 
 obedience as they had the means of yielding to him. 
 AH France was thus shaken to its centre with internal 
 discord, and its disasters seemed past the possibility of 
 increase, when two circumstances, both of a most alarm- 
 ing kind, carried the general misery to a height hitherto 
 unknown, and even blunted the feelings of the public to 
 the wretcliedness which they had hitherto undergone. 
 
 We have already mentioned the bands of mercenary 
 leaders, who acknowledged no officer or superior but 
 those who promised to procure them tlie greatest share 
 of plunder. Tliese troops, or at least their leaders, were 
 generally English ; and although they made no great 
 distinction of political principle, they were chiefly follow- 
 ers of the Navarre party, as that which promised them 
 t!ie widest privilege of plunder. By means o{ these 
 Companions, as they were called, Charles of Navarre 
 proposed to carry into effect his dream of a republic, or 
 rather a species of oligarchy, in which, doubtless, he pro- 
 posed that he himself should act the principal pait. For 
 
INSURRECTION OJ THE JACQ,UERIE. 131 
 
 ihis purpose, he drew to his party as many of the leaders 
 of the Companions as he possibl}- could, and prepared 
 by their means to lay waste the kingdom of France. 
 
 Neither was the daupliin backward in his attempts ta 
 reduce the kingdom to subjection ; for, as we shall pres- 
 ently see, a second great and overpowering calamity, 
 namely, the insurrection of the peasantry, was in its con- 
 sequences, the means of strengtiiening and increasing the 
 army which he assembled. This Jacquerie, or war of 
 the peasants,- so called, because the gentry gave to them 
 the contemptuous name of Jaques Bonhomme, or Good- 
 man James, was the most dreadful scourge which had yet 
 rav'aged France ; it is in)possible to conceive, and it 
 would be indecent and disgusting to attempt to describe 
 Its horrors. It arose from the series of oppression, scorn^ 
 and injury, which the peasants, or cultivators of the soilj 
 had so long sustained at the hands of the nobility and 
 gentry. These last saw in the peasantry creatures whom 
 they de-emed of an inferior species to themselves, and 
 whose property and persons they held alike at their dis- 
 posal. What little protection the common people had 
 received from the crown was now at an end, by the 
 king's captivity, and the general confusion throughout 
 the kingdom. In these sad days, each noble or knight 
 became the uncontrolled feudal tyrant of the estate which 
 belonged to him ; and most of them were induced, by 
 the intoxication attending the possession of arbitrary 
 power, to make a harsh and tyrannical use of their privi- 
 leges, each practisnig on his vassals the most unlimited 
 oppression. The effects of such absolute power termi- 
 nated in the grossest abuses, and at length drove to utter 
 despair the peasantry, who were themselves starving, 
 while, as an insult to their misery, they saw their lords 
 revelling in the excess of luxury and ill-timed extrava- 
 gance. After witnessing the evils of the country pro- 
 ceed from bad to worse, the peasantry at length became 
 desperate, and seizing such rustic arms as pitchforks, 
 soythes, clubs and reaping-hooks, they rose with fury, and 
 
i32 INSURRECTION OF THE JACQLERIE. 
 
 joined together in large bodies, resolving to destroy ali 
 the nobility and gentry in the kingdom. 
 
 This insurrection took place in several prv)vince^ , and, 
 as is usually the case in a war of such a description, where 
 an oppressed and ignorant people burst suddenly from 
 their bondage, and revel in every license which ignorance 
 and revenge can suggest to them, they burnt or pulled 
 down the houses of the nobility, stormed their castles by 
 main force, misused their wives and daughters, put them 
 to various modes of death, equally cruel and protracted, 
 and in short behaved like fierce bandogs, suddenly un- 
 loosed from their chain, and equally incapable of judg- 
 ment and of humanity. There was one instance, and 
 not a solitary one, where this furious rabble roasted a 
 noble, whose castle they had stormed, alive on a spit, 
 and compelled his w\(e and children to partake of his 
 flesh. We willingly leave these horrors in oblivion, only 
 remarking, that it is a double curse of slavery and oppres- 
 sion, that for a time it renders its victims, after they suc- 
 ceed in breaking their bonds, incapable of thinking like 
 human b/^ings. 
 
 The horrors of this servile war had this good effect, 
 that it impelled all men to join in putting a stop to so 
 aggravated an evil. The nobility, however, who made 
 the use of arms their sole profession, soon united together 
 for mutual defence, and, completely armed as they were, 
 found no difficulty in defeating the frantic peasants, though 
 with the most unequal numbers. 
 
 An instance is ojiven bv Froissart of an interestinor na- 
 ture. The Duchess of Normandy, the Duchess of Or- 
 leans, and nearly three hundred other ladies of quality, 
 young damsels, and children of the nobility, had taken 
 refuge in the town of Meaux, where they hoped to be 
 defended against the fury of the Jacquerie. Here they 
 were beset by about nine or ten thousand of the insur- 
 gents ; and it became too apparent that the rabble of the 
 town were to take part with the peasantry, and admit 
 mem into the place without opposition. The Count of 
 Polx and the Captal of Buche, chanced to pass nea» 
 
SUPPRESSION OF THE INSURRECTION. J 33 
 
 ilie town where the ladles were enclosed by sucl^ 
 numbers, and heard an account of their imminent peril, 
 and of the multitude of savage clowns by whom the}/ 
 were surrounded. The knights were of different polit- 
 ical principles. The earl was French both in birth 
 and opinions ; the Captal of Buche, so called from 
 a district in Gascony, of which he was governor, was 
 distinguished by his valour in the service of Edward 111., 
 being the same who led the successful ambuscade at the 
 battle of Poictiers. Both, without regarding their dif- 
 ference in other particulars, were alike disposed to show 
 themselves good knights, and put their persons in risk foi 
 the safety of so many noble ladies, who were destined to 
 death and infamy by a furious rabble. The armed at- 
 tendants of the knights might be sixty lances, probably 
 making, with all their retainers, about three or four hun- 
 dred men. 
 
 At the head of this very inferior force, the Count of 
 Foix, and the Captal of Buche, rode straight to Meaux, 
 where the ladies were still protected in a citadel, or forti- 
 fied quarter of the town, although the inhabitants had 
 admitted the ruffian mob into the market-place and streets 
 of the city. The two valiant knights arrived just in time 
 to prevent the females from falling into the cruel hands 
 of their outrageous enemies. They lowered their lances, 
 and rushed into the market-place, then full of the disor- 
 derly rabble, who were ill able to endure an attack so fu- 
 rious. They were borne out of the town at the spear's 
 point, broken, beaten down, and pursued for miles. His- 
 torians assure us, that seven thousand of the peasants 
 were slain, which is not impossible, considering that their 
 antagonists were so fully armed as almost to be invulne- 
 rable, while their opponents were entirely defenceless. 
 The knights returned in triumph, and burnt a part of the 
 tow^n of Meaux, to revenge themselves on the inhabitants 
 who had admitted the peasants within the walls. The 
 warriors who (though personal and national enemies) had 
 acted with so much gallantry in behalf of the distressed 
 
134 SUPPRESSION OF THE INSURRECTION 
 
 femalesj were applauded, and generally imitated. Other 
 battles, like that of Meaux, took place in France, m dif- 
 ferent places, and the Jacquerie, which had raged so hor- 
 ribly, was finally suppressed. 
 
 As I have before hinted, the horrors of this insurrection 
 of the peasantry obliged the nobles to unite themselves 
 together, and rendered them more obedient to the com- 
 mand of their natural chiefs. Their campaign, it may be 
 believed, was a bloody one, since they gave no quarter, 
 but hanged, upon the next tree, such insurgents as fell 
 into their hands. Though a sharp remedy, it proved a 
 sure one, and this rebellion was at length stifled in the 
 blood of the unfortunate peasants. Tlie regent, or the 
 dauphin, was tluis enabled to place himself at the head 
 of an army of thirty thousand men, raised for the service 
 of subjecting the Jacquerie, but at the head of which he 
 speedily took an opportunity to blockade the rebellious 
 town of Paris, of wliich he earnestly desired to render 
 himself master. He hoped for success the rather that he 
 had a party also within the town secretly attached to him, 
 though not strong enough openly to contend with the 
 faction led by the provost of the merchants. 
 
 The King of Navarre, on the other side, brought to- 
 gether a strong body of the bands of Companions of whom 
 I have before spoken, and encamped at St. Dennis, in 
 order to take such cpporlunity as might oiFer to support 
 the Provost Marcel, and the Parisians of the Navarre fac- 
 tion. The provost, in the meantime, became satisfied 
 that matters could not remain long in this uncertainty, 
 and resolved to admit the King of Navarre and his forces 
 into the city, in order to enable him to continue a resist- 
 ance to the dauphin, to which he began to feel his own 
 iifluence was not equal. He communicated, therefore, 
 to the chiefs lying at St. Dennis, the scheme he had 
 formed, and directed them to approach the gates of St. 
 Antoine and St. Honore, at twelve o'clock the ensuing 
 ni2;ht, with a choice body of forces, whom he proposed 
 l> admit into Paris. 
 
 Jt happened, however, that two citizens heads of the 
 
DAUPHIN ENTERS PARIS IN IRIUMPK. IdO 
 
 :iT»posite, or regent's party, called John and Sj^mon Mail- 
 art, having some suspicions of what was going on, appre- 
 hended the provost about midnight, at the gate of St. An- 
 loine, having the keys of the city in his hands. They in- 
 stantly charged him with treachery, and slew him upon 
 (i)e spot. Tlius died Marcel ; and his party, having been 
 detected in so disloyal an enterprise, fell into public dis- 
 credit, and w^as dispersed. The immediate effect of thess 
 events was, that the dauphin, on the one part, entered 
 Paris in triumph, and the King of Navarre, on the other, 
 declared war formally against the whole kingdom of 
 France. 
 
 This defiance he carried into execution, by means of 
 the bands of Companions who, as we have intimated, were 
 in possession of many strong places in different parti of 
 France, from whence they made unexpected sallies and 
 long marches, by whicli they took castles which were 
 thought in absolute security, and pillaged defenceless vil- 
 lages when they least thought of danger. The prisoners 
 which these adventurers made on such occasions, were 
 ransomed for large sums of money ; and those who could 
 not. or would not, pay these exactions, were put to death 
 without mercy. 
 
 Providence, however, had not entirely deserted France, 
 and even out of the extremity of disorder and confusion, 
 d'vine wisdom wrought means of recovery. It was ob- 
 served, that the English commanders began gradually to 
 lofie the superior good fortune which had attended tht^i 
 bnnners. 
 
 Sir Eustace d'Ambreticour, one of the bravest of the 
 commanders of the Companions, in the service of Eng- 
 land, held at last twelve good fortresses under his com 
 mand, in different parts of the country, and had at his 
 disposal upwards of seven hundred combatants. He was 
 nevertheless defeated and made prisoner, chiefly b)^ 
 means of another loader of a free company, like his own, 
 called Broquart of Fenestrages, who, on this occasion, 
 was engaged on the part of the French. In other places 
 
136 TREATY FOR THE RANSOM 
 
 also the dauphin had partial successes, which gradually 
 restored the spirits of the French faction. 
 
 Still they suffered severely by this mode )f warfare, as 
 appears from the expedition of another celebrated Cap- 
 lain of Companions, called Sir Robert Knolles. This 
 leader was an Englishman born, of low birth and mean 
 estimation ; but he distinguished himself by his military 
 ta^^nts as a leader of a Free Company. He passed from 
 Bretagne to the river Loire, wasting, burning, and ravag- 
 ing the country, with the avowed purpose of marching to 
 Avignon, where the Pope then resided, and forcing the 
 Holy Father and his cardinals to ransom themselves at a 
 high price. The presence of a considerable French army 
 induced him to alter this intention. He offered them bat- 
 tle, which they declined, and gave them the slip, when 
 they expected to have surrounded him. Sir Robert 
 Knolles acquired by this expedition, and other plunder- 
 ing excursions, the wealth of an earl, and many lands, 
 which he surrendered to King Edward, stipulating only 
 for his own free pardon. But we may here quit the ac- 
 count of these occurrences, with the general observation, 
 that the existence of these independent companies of ad- 
 venturers long continued one of the most rankling griev- 
 ances of the age. In the meantime, the restoration of 
 peace between the nations did not advance, although 
 France suffered so much, and England gained so little, by 
 the continuance of the war. 
 
 The unfortunate King John of France, of whom we 
 have lately had occasion to speak but little, appears, af- 
 ter his defeat and captivity at Poictiers, to have been in a 
 great measure forgotten by his subjects, although the duty 
 of vassals to pay the ransom of their lord when prisoner, 
 was one of the most sacred obligations of chivalry. Find- 
 liig himself abandoned to his own exertions, he endeav- 
 oured to accommodate his differences with Edward. By 
 an agreement entered into with this prince. King John 
 engaged to surrender Aquitaine, Gascony, Calais, and 
 other fiefs, which Edward and his successors were to hold 
 free of homage, or feudal fealty of any kind. The King 
 
OF KING JOHN OF FRANCE. 137 
 
 of France became farther bound to pay four millions of 
 gold crowns in ransom for himself aid the other prisoners 
 taken at Poictiers. King Edward, on the other ha. id, in 
 consideration of this treaty, agreed to renounce all claim 
 to the title of King of France, as well as all property in 
 Normandy, and the other provinces not expressly ceded 
 to him by the present articles. 
 
 Such were the terms on which King John would have 
 been satisfied to close the war, and to obtain his liberty. 
 King Edward gave his assent to them, as comprehending 
 all he expected to gain by the events of tlie war, for he 
 must have despaired of all hope of conquering France. 
 But the consent of the Estates-General was essential to 
 the validity of the treaty. This great body, representing 
 the French nation, positively refused to accede to terms 
 by which so great a portion of the kingdom should be 
 surrendered to the English. The consequence was, that 
 the preparations for war were resumed with great animos- 
 ity on both sides. The King of England, on his part, 
 renewed his preparations, and assembled an army of no 
 less than a hundred thousand men. A truce had been 
 made, which was prolonged till midsummer 1359, ?o that 
 it was the end of the harvest ere Edward HI., with this 
 large army, arrived at Calais. 
 
 In the meantime, the news that Edward was about to 
 renew the war with a view of absolute conquest, had no 
 small influence on the Navarrois party, and even on 
 Charles himself, who became sensible, of a sudden, that 
 any success on Edward's part would bring upon him, in 
 the person of the King of England, a competitor more 
 formidable than he had yet found in the lawful regent. 
 He, therefore, to the surprise of all men, renounced, at 
 least for a time, the factious principles whicli had hitlierto 
 guided him in his intercourse with the dauphin, and 
 made a peace with that prince upon very reasonable and 
 equitable conditions. Philip, the brother of the King of 
 Navirre, continued to act under the influence cf England, 
 and declared, that in making so ill-timed a peace, his 
 
138 SIEGE OF RHEIMS. 
 
 brother Charles must have been acting under the influ- 
 pnce of witchcraft ; indeed, the adoption of moderate of 
 pacific views was, on his part, widely out of character. 
 
 Edward 111., in the meantime, commenced his march, 
 and, traversing in great order the provinces of Artois and 
 Picardy, he laid siege to the ancient city of Rheims, and 
 it was said that he designed to have himself crowned there, 
 according to the ancient custom of the kings of France. 
 But the city was gallantly defended. The archbishop 
 encouraged the citizens to stand on their defence, and 
 many noblemen with their followers were also in the 
 place. During this siege, which lasted for three months, 
 the King of Navarre relapsed afresh into his usual per- 
 verse politics, and, on some slight pretext, again broke 
 out into war with the dauphin ; but whatever advantage 
 Edward received from the conduct of this versatile prince, 
 he lost by the rebellion of the Flemings, whom the m- 
 trigues of France again diverted to the interest of tnat 
 country. 
 
 In 1360, (A. D.) Edward found himself obliged tc 
 abandon the siege of Rheims, and drew off his army 
 towards the capital of France — a species of insult, or 
 menace repeatedly used by the English during these 
 wars, but with little real effect. The dauphin regent 
 occupied the capital at the head of a numerous army ; 
 but, as on the one hand that prince declined to put the 
 fate of the country upon the dubious issue of another 
 battle, which might in its event have resembled that of 
 Cressy or Poictiers, so, on the other hand, the King of 
 England was too prudent to attempt the assault of a large 
 city garrisoned by a numerous army. King Edward 
 theiefore thought it expedient to retreat towards Bretagne 
 to lecruit his forces, while the regent and his council, 
 deeply affected by the scene of desolation which France 
 presented on all sides, saw the necessity of submitting to 
 Rue for a peace, however disadvantageous. The king ot 
 England was still averse to relinquish his high pretensions 
 to the crown of France, and it is said that an intervening 
 ibmder-ftorm, or hurricane, which he considered as 
 
PEACE OF BRETIGNY. 139 
 
 Epecna si^n « f tlie displeasure of Heaven against those 
 piinces wlio should prolong the war, first bent his stub- 
 born spirit to accept of peace. 
 
 But in fact, the successes of Edward had been bought 
 at a price whicli even the wealth of England could not 
 pay ; and besides exhausting his finances, the events of 
 the late campaign had plainly showed hiai what he could, 
 and what he could not do. He could march through 
 France without opposition, but this was not subjecting it 
 to his sovereignty ; and a solitary city like Rheims was, 
 if determined on resistance, sufficient to arrest his pro- 
 gress. The issue of the Scottish wars may have taught 
 this great warrior the difference between overrunning a 
 country and subjugating it ; and the readiness with which 
 a poor and small nation vindicated its independence, 
 might teach him the impossibility of subduing France, 
 so much more populous and wealtliy than Scotland — if, 
 like her, she was determined to defend her liberty — and 
 that such was her resolution, the siege of Rheims made 
 manifest. The conqueror was therefore taught to prefer 
 the possession of Gascony in complete sovereignty, out 
 of which in time a permanent possession might be formed, 
 to a protracted war, in the vain hope that any subse- 
 quent victory could do more than those of Cressy or 
 Poictiers. 
 
 Edward, therefore, instead of persevering in his attempt 
 to conquer the kingdom of France, determined to remain 
 for the present satisfied with possesssi-ng Gascony, thai 
 portion of it which w^as ceded to him in full sovereignty. 
 He should thus, he hoped, secure one compact and per- 
 manent possession, while he had free access to invade 
 France by means of Calais, and was thus ready to avail 
 himself of such opportunities of farther conquest as might 
 arise. 
 
 Still farther to secure his dominions in Gascony, the 
 King of England erected them into a principality, creat- 
 ed the Black Prince his lieutenant and representative 
 there, confident that by the courage and wisdom which 
 
40 PEACE OF BRETIGNT, 
 
 his son had so often^isplayed, he could not in any way 
 provide so well for their government and safety. 
 
 The articles of peace were^ of course, favourable to 
 England, to whom the King of France relinquished, in 
 full superiority, the provinces of Gascony, with various 
 other dependencies in Aquitaine ; and in the north of 
 France, the town of Calais and earldom of Guisnes. In 
 exchange. King Edward renounced all title to the crown 
 and kingdom of France, and all claims to Normandy, 
 Touraine, Anjou, and Maine. 
 
 Upon these conditions the peace of Bretigny was 
 founded, which was most acceptable to the subjects of 
 both crowns, though not agreeable in all respects to either 
 of the king;s themselves. Difficulties arose concerning 
 the surrender of some part of the territory and castles 
 yielded to the English ; and the high-spirited noblemen 
 who there held fiefs, did not understand being transferred, 
 like a flock of sheep, from the allegiance of one sovereign 
 to another. Many Gascon knights refused to exchange 
 the sovereignty of France for that of England. France, 
 they said, might herself dispense with their faith and 
 homage, but she had no right to substitute a strange king 
 in her place. These difficulties suspended the benefits 
 expected from the peace. The Dukes of Anjou and 
 Berri, with the Dukes of Orleans and of Bourbon, still 
 remained hostages in England, for payment of the ran- 
 som stipulated for the prisoners of Poictiers. These 
 princes obtained, on their solicitation, permission to pass 
 to Calais, under pretence that they might be able to fur- 
 nish the means of concluding the disputed points of the 
 treaty. Instead of doing so, the Duke of Anjou took 
 the opportunity of abusing this indulgence, and made his 
 ejcape into France. 
 
 King John had been set at liberty when he first came 
 to an understanding with Edward, and had returned to 
 France accordingly. But ue was deeply hurt and offended 
 at what he considered thr dishonourable conduct of his 
 son, and took the generous resolution of restoring to the 
 English their ftdl security for the ransom, by surrendering 
 
DEATH OF KING JOHN 141 
 
 his own person once more into their hands. To such of 
 his counsellors us would have cautioned him against this 
 step, he firmly replied, that, " if faith and loyalty were 
 banished from the rest of the world, they ought still to 
 remain enshrined in the hearts of kings." 
 
 The generous feeling expressed in this noble sentiment, 
 seems to show that John of France deserved better for- 
 tune than that which had followed him during his whole 
 life, and now accompanied him to th-e grave. A very 
 short time after his return to England, John was seized 
 with an indisposition, of which he died in the Savoy : 
 and his son Charles, who had undergone so many diffi- 
 culties as regent, now mounted the throne in the capacity 
 af king, carrying with him to that eminence all the ex- 
 perience which many years of difficulty and misfortune 
 had enabled him to attain, and which has procured foi 
 him m French annals the well-deserved epithet of the 
 Wise. (April 8, A. D. 1364 ) 
 
 964 
 
i4''Z WAR IN NORMANDY. 
 
 CHAPTER VITI. 
 
 IVar in JVormandy — Battle of Cockerel — War in Bre 
 tag7ie, between the Adherents of De Montfort and Di 
 Blois — Battle of Aurai — Financial Difficulties oj 
 Charles of France — Sumptuary Laws — Free Com- 
 panions — Charleses Plan for removing them, from 
 France — Their Leader Du Guesclin marches upon 
 Avignon, and exacts a Fine from the Pope — he next 
 engages in a War against Don Pedro the Cruel, 
 King of Castile^ and drives him from his Kingdom — 
 Pedro solicits Assistance from the Black Prince, and 
 is by him re-instated in his Dominions — Du Gueschn- 
 having been taken Prisoner, is ransomed — Tax ujon 
 Chimneys, called Fouage, imposed in Gascony by tht 
 Black Prince, to defray the Expenses of his Castilian 
 Expedition — Unpopularity of this Tax. 
 
 Charles of France, the fifly-first monarch of that 
 kingdom, took up the affairs of liis government in an in- 
 volved and confused state. The dispute concerning Bre- 
 tagne was not yet determined, and disturbances continued 
 in Norm.andy between the Navarrois and the French par- 
 tisans, the last of which parties were headed in a great 
 measure by a valiant Breton knight, called Bertrand du 
 Guesclin, to whose courage France owed much during 
 the present reign. The Navarrois, on the other hand, 
 w^ere commanded by the Captal of Buche, already men- 
 tioned in this narative. These two heroic leaders joined 
 battle near Cocherel, in Normandy, with equal valour and 
 skill, and the action is more particularly taken notice of 
 on account of the merit of the leaders, and because for- 
 tune was on the side of the French, being the first ac- 
 tion since Cressy, in which that nation had been victori- 
 ous. The Navarrois were completely defeated, and iheir 
 stout commander, the Captal of Buche, fell into the 
 
BATTLE OF AURA . l4o 
 
 hands of the conquerors. He was received with greal 
 distinction by King Charles, who would have bestowed 
 upon him an earldom, had the Black Prince permitted 
 the Captal to accept of it. 
 
 This was a fortunate commencement of King Charles's 
 re'\m ; but it was not without its reverse in Bretao-ne. 
 King Charles of France had sent the aid of a thousand 
 lances to Sir Charles de Blois, in order to strengthen 
 his party in Bretagne, while Edward had despatched the 
 Lord Chandos with an equal number, to support the cause 
 of the Earl de Montfort, son of John de Montfort, and of 
 his heroic countess, remarkable for her defence of Hen- 
 nebon. These inveterate enemies, De Blois and Da 
 Montfort, finally encountered each other near the town 
 of x\urai. Friends on both sides endeavoured to accom- 
 modate the matter betwixt the contending nobles, but in 
 vain ; each declaring himself resolved to peril their long- 
 depending and long-disputed claims upon the event of 
 that day. They approached each other with slowness 
 and caution, calculated to give an idea of the desperate 
 resolution which each had adopted, to fight this long- 
 protracted quarrel, concerning the sovereignty of Bre- 
 tagne, for the last time, and to the last extremity. 
 
 Chandos, who had the chief command of the army of 
 the Count de Montfort, divided his forces into three bat- 
 talions, allotting to Sir Hugh Calverley, an English knight 
 of great renown, the command of the rear-guard, or 
 rather the reserve. This valiant champion, who was d 
 man of distin";uished couraoje, remonstrated ao-ainst this 
 arranf^ement. as it was his wish to fio^ht in the front of the 
 battle. The Lord Chandos explained his order of bat- 
 tle, by assuring him that either Sir Hugh Calverley musl 
 lead the reserve, or he must conduct it himself, and sub- 
 mitted to him which in that case was most proper. Sir 
 Hugh was overcome with this gentleness and deference 
 on the part of a leader so distinguished as Chandos, and 
 saying, " he was sure that Chandos would put him on no 
 task inconsistent with his honour," acquiesced in the po5;t 
 allotted to him. 
 
114 RESULTS OF THE PATTLE OF AURAl. 
 
 A little before the hour of prime, llie two armies ap. 
 proached each other. The French came on in fair array, 
 " in such close order," says Froissart, " that, had onf; 
 liirown an apple among the battalion, it must have lighted 
 upon a helmet or a head-piece." They were also cov- 
 ered with strong and large targets, to parry the shot of 
 trie English archers. Accordingly, advancing among the 
 bowmen, without having endured the usual damage from 
 their arrows, the French laid about among them, with the 
 axes whicli they had prepared for close fight. The 
 archers, on the other hand, being strong and active men, 
 threw themselves among the French, and casting dowp 
 their bows, and wrenching the axes from the hands ol 
 their enemies, made a defence with singular, though una- 
 vailing fury. The leaders on all sides fought most val- 
 iantly, and Chandos, with an axe in his hand, set an 
 example to all the field. Sir Hugh Calverley well sup- 
 ported the place intrusted to him, and by his bringing up 
 the reserve with undaunted valour, and in a moment of 
 extreme need, vindicated the prudence of Lord Chandos, 
 who assigned to him so important a command, and finally 
 decided the fate of the day. Sir Charles de Blois was 
 slain on the field, for whom his adversary, De Montfoit, 
 zhed many tears, generously lamenting the fate of a gal- 
 lant enemy. Bertrand du Guesclin also was made pris- 
 oner ; thus deprived of their principal leaders, the French 
 party were totally discomfited. 
 
 This battle ended the hostilities of Bretagne, which 
 had now lasted for so many years ; but the faction of Ed- 
 ward III., who had so long supported the war, derived 
 little advantage from its conclusion. It had been decid- 
 ed by the peace of Bretigny, that the King of England 
 should lay no claim to the superiority of Bretagne, in 
 whatever manner the dispute between De Montfort and 
 Charles de Blois might be terminated. The duchy alone 
 was adjudged, by the event of this battle of Aurai, to 
 the young Count de Montfort, who obtained, for his be- 
 haviour ir the action, the envied title of the Valiant. The 
 K'lg of France received the young victor to do homage 
 
RESUMPTION OF CROWN GIFTS. 145 
 
 as Duke of Brstagne, while he settled large and libera, 
 appointments upon the lady of the deceased Chailes De 
 Blois. 
 
 The difficulty of finding the means of beaing the 
 various expenses of the kingdom embarrassed King 
 Charles greatly, and drove him to a course of raising 
 funds, which, in the nature of things, could not be very 
 popular. This was a general resumption of those gifts 
 which the king and his predecessors had made, as well to 
 the great vassals of the crown, as to inferior subjects. 
 In the course of this delicate task, Charles, by his wise 
 dom and oratory, jnade such an impression upon his uncle, 
 Philip of Orleans, as to prevail on that high prince of the 
 blood, to resign all that he possessed by the favour of his 
 father, brothers, and nephew, saying, " that although he 
 conceived he had a le^^itimate right to the donations of 
 the crown, yet he resigned them all at the pleasure of the 
 king, his nephew, knowing that the service of the state 
 rendered them necessary to him." Moved by so eminent 
 and generous an example, others taking the same course 
 of submission, given by a prince so near the crown, ac- 
 quiesced also in the recall of such crown gifts as they 
 held, while the king partly accepted the benefits which 
 they surrendered, and partly returned them to the per- 
 sons by whom they had been abandoned to his pleasure. 
 These last were so sensible of the extremity to which the 
 crown was reduced, that perhaps a measure of state 
 necessarily obnoxious in itself, and severe upon individ- 
 uals, was never carried into execution with so little un- 
 popularity to the sovereign. 
 
 The king also made many laws against luxury in enter- 
 tainments, festivals, and apparel ; and by strictly acting 
 up to his own regulations, produced a considerable reform 
 in the expenses of the great, which were a constant source 
 of envy and odium to the poor. He was regular and 
 steady in the execution of justice, and, so far as he could, 
 active in enforcing the judgments which he pronounced , 
 but the state ot the :;ountry, overrun by baiids of soldiers 
 
146 THE GREAT COMPANIES 
 
 who acknowledged no sovereign, rendered his efforts to 
 restore order for a long time, and in ma.iy instances, 
 unavailing. 
 
 These associations of military adventurers, which, when 
 they reached to a certain extent of numbers, were called 
 the '* Great Companies," continued an abiding, and ap- 
 parently incurable, national evil. The King of France 
 found himself, from the state of his finances, totally un- 
 prepared to clear the country of these land-pirates, as 
 they miglit be properly termed, by whom it was inundat- 
 ed. In his distress, he applied to Edward III., who, by 
 an article in the treaty of Bretigny, had bound himself to 
 lend his assistance, if required, in relieving France of 
 these military locusts. Edward, thus cited to fulfil his 
 engagement, sent forth a proclamation, commanding these 
 companies to lay down their arms, and evacuate the ter- 
 ritory of France. Some few obeyed ; but the others 
 treated his proclamation with contempt, saying they held 
 no land of him, owed him no allegiance, and would not 
 disband their forces at the bidding of any king upon earth. 
 The fiery Edward resolved instantly to march against 
 them with an army ; but Charles, not desirous to afford a 
 pretext for the re-entrance of English troops into France, 
 returned for answer, that he disapproved of the mode of 
 proceeding proposed by his brother of England j and 
 meant to rid himself of the Great Companies by another 
 expedient. The King of England indignantly replied, 
 " that in that case he must trust to his own strength, for 
 he could expect no assistance from him." 
 
 King Charles, justly called the Wise, had, in fact, de- 
 vised an expedient for ridding France of the wasting 
 plague occasioned by these Companies, without the haz- 
 ardous experiment either of engaging In war with them, 
 nr of seeking relief from an army of English, commanded 
 by the Black Prince, or his father. 
 
 His purpose was to hold out to these adventurers a 
 more distant field of war, which should afford them a 
 \ rospect of the wealth which they coveted, while theii 
 ( eparture would relieve France of their burdensome 
 
THE GREAT COMPANIES. 141 
 
 presence. A large body was, accordingly; prevailed 
 upon to prosecute their trade of arms in the Itdian wars, 
 where their commander, Hawkwood, an Englishman, 
 originally of low rank, rose to wealth and eminence. 
 
 But the King of France pur-sued the same policy 
 on a larger scale. Bertrand du Guesclin, renowned 
 for his valour, and personally acquainted with the lead- 
 ing chiefs of the Companies, was instructed to deal 
 with them, for the purpose of engaging them in a dis- 
 tant expedition. He was at this time a prisoner to John 
 Chandos, having been taken, as we mentioned, at the 
 battle of Aurai. 
 
 But the King of France, the Pope, and other princes, 
 who saw the necessity of Guesclin's agency in this plan 
 mediated betwixt him and Chandos, made personal contri- 
 butions to pay the heavy ransom at which his freedom was 
 rated, and thus restored him to liberty. The influence - 
 this renowned warrior engaged thirty-five of the pnnci- 
 pal chiefs of the Companies, in what was at first repre- 
 sented to be an expedition against the Moors in Spain, and 
 in so far a species of crusade. He induced them to join 
 in such an enterprise the more readily that he himself pro- 
 posed to accompany them, and accepted the chief com- 
 mand. The king of France readily gave his consent and 
 approbation to this apparently Holy War, and presented 
 those concerned in it with two hundred thousand francs 
 to assist them in their march, caring but little, it well may 
 be supposed, whither their road might, lead them, pro- 
 vided it carried them out of the realm of France. The 
 Companies assembled according to their agreement at 
 Chalons upon the river Marne, and from thence took a 
 route towards Avignon, then the habitation of the Pope. 
 His holiness, much alarmed at the approach of an army 
 so composed, sent a cardinal to meet them, to demand 
 what troops they were, and with what purpose they came. 
 Du Guesclin answered with gravity, that they were sinful 
 men who had taken the cross against the infidels, and were 
 marching against the Moors, and that they approached the 
 footstool of the Pope to request absolution for their sins. 
 
148 DON PEDRO, KING OF CASTILE, 
 
 and a sum of two hundred thousand florins, by way of 
 alms to enable them to proceed upon their pious under- 
 taking. The absolution was promised by the cardina. 
 without any delay or scruple ; but there went more words 
 to payment of the money. The Pope would fain have 
 satisfied these sturdy beggars with one hundred thousand 
 florins, raised by a tax upon the inhabitants of Avignon ; 
 but this did not suit Du Guesclin's policy. " We came 
 not," said he, " to pillage the poor, but to receive alms 
 from the rich ; the full subsidy must be paid by the Pope 
 and his college of cardinals, who have plenty of money, 
 and the taxes must be remitted to the poor inhabitants of 
 Avignon." The Pope was under the necessity of com- 
 plying with this unceremonious request, liberally adding 
 10 the subsidy the pardon about which these robbers af- 
 fected to be solicitous. 
 
 Bertrand du Guesclin, and such captains of the Com- 
 panions as he trusted with his secret purpose, had an 
 expedition in view very different from that of an attack 
 upon the infidels. There reigned at this time in Castile, 
 one of the principal Christian kingdoms of Spain, Don 
 Pedro, called, for his inhumanity and tyranny, the Cruel. 
 He had murdered his beautiful and youthful bride, a near 
 relation of the King of France, and, besides innumerable 
 other cruelties, had threatened the life of two or three 
 brethren by the father's side, and particularly one of 
 tliem, Henry, Count of Transtamara, who stood high in 
 the esteem of the world, and was supposed to head the 
 numerous party of Castilians whom Pedro's cruelties had 
 rendered malecontent. The Castilian monarch had also 
 in several ways offended the church, whereby he had in- 
 curred a sentence of excommunication, and it appeared 
 to the Pope, it seems, highly fitting and convenient that 
 this motley army, formed out of the refuse of all nations, 
 should be the executors of his holy purpose. 
 
 Without embarrassing ourselves with the minute par- 
 ticulars of the expedition, it is sufficient to say that Ber- 
 trand du Guesclin and his army easily dispossessed Pedro 
 
DRIVEN FROM HIS DOMINIONS. 119 
 
 of (be crown which his vices had rendered very insecure, 
 and compelled him to fly to Corunna. 
 
 Reduced to this extremity, Pedro took the reso-ution 
 of going from Corunna to Gascony in person, and solicit- 
 ing as a suppliant the formidable alliance of the Black 
 Prince of Wales, whose residence was fixed at Bour- 
 deaux, from which capital he governed, as his father's 
 lieutenant, all those beautiful provinces which had been 
 ceded to England at the peace of Bretigny. 
 
 Pedro's story was that of a lawful monarch dethroned 
 and driven from his dominions by his bastard brother. 
 He therefore presented himself as an unfortunate prince, 
 entitled to the support of all those of his own rank, and 
 his desolate condition naturally moved the heart of the 
 noble Edward, who deemed it his duty as a true knight 
 to extend his powerfid protection to a distressed monarch 
 craving succour at his hands. 
 
 There was, however, to be considered the deficiency 
 of numbers, and the necessity of being at great expense, 
 if *he Black Prince should embrace the cause of the fu- 
 gitive. All this was pointed out to him by his faithful 
 counsellors, who urged him to consider the crimes of Don 
 Pedro, and also the great cliarges which must necessarily 
 be encountered, if he would needs succour him. They 
 implored the Prince of Wales that he would at least wait 
 until he saw what cost his father was willing to bestow 
 upon such an expedition ; and they failed not to show 
 him, what he afterwards felt to be true by bitter experi- 
 ence, that should he, by assisting Don Pedro, lay him- 
 self under the necessity of taxing the inhabitants of Gas- 
 cony, he must lay his account with losing their regard 
 and allegiance. These arguments weighed nothing with 
 the Black Prince, impressed as he was with the justice 
 of Don Pedro's cause, and lending an ear as he did to 
 the treacherous promises of that tyrant, who readily en- 
 gaged to find treasure, provisions, and whatever was de- 
 manded. Edward assembled, therefore, a large body of 
 feudal forces, and took the dangerous resolution of in- 
 17* 
 
150 DON PEDRO RESTORED TO 
 
 3re&sing it by bands of Companions, whom be received 
 into his army. As large pay was necessarily promised 
 tc these men, many of whom were Companies whichj 
 having aided Du Guesclin in the conquest of Castile, 
 and having assisted to dethrone King Pedro, were now 
 equally ready to become active in his restoration, they 
 were soon assembled in great numbers. Prince Edward 
 set forth with a very considerable army, with which he 
 crossed tiie Pyrenean mountains, and advanced on the 
 river Ebro, to a town called Najara, orNavarette. Here 
 Henry, chosen King of Castile, met Edward at the head 
 of an army still larger than that of the prince, consisting 
 partly of Spaniards, partly of those Free Companions 
 whom Du Guesclin had brought into Spain, and who still 
 continued under his command, to the number of four 
 thousand men-at-arms. The battle was exceedingly fu- 
 rious, and fought with great bravery on each side. But 
 the conduct and valour of the Black Prince were de- 
 cidedly conspicuous, and after a victory as complete as 
 any which he had yet won, Edward found no difficulty in 
 restoring his ally Pedro to a throne, of which his crimes 
 rendered him unworthy. It was the natural and just 
 doom of Providence, that the prince should be the first 
 sufferer by the ingratitude of the wolfish tyrant whom he 
 had assisted, without sufficient reference to the justice of 
 his cause. 
 
 The payment of necessary sums of money, the fur- 
 nishing of wholesome provisions, in sufficient quantities, 
 all which had been liberally promised before the expedi- 
 tion, were now, since the victory of Navarette, entirely 
 neglected by the ungrateful tyrant ; and the Black Prince 
 was at once disturbed by the murmurs of his unpaid sol- 
 diers, and distressed by the maladies which began o 
 cweep them off in numbers. The heat of the country, 
 to which the English constitution was not accustomed, 
 and tho use of strange and unwholesome food, not only 
 made his men sicken and die, but sow^ed the seeds of an 
 •ncu-able disease in the frame of the gallant Prince him- 
 self. He therefore returned to Bourdeaux with disap- 
 
THE THRONE OF CASTILE. 151 
 
 pointed hopes, a diminished army, an exhausted ex- 
 chequer, and a broken constitution ; and it Is observed by 
 historians, that the support of the tyrant Pedro must have 
 been unpleasijig in the sight of Providence, since it was 
 followed by so marked a change of fortune in so eminent 
 a person as that of the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Some advantages, however, Prince Edward derived 
 from the expedition across the Pyrenees, and he account- 
 ed it not tiie least of them, that he had in his possession 
 as prisoner the renowned Bertrand Du Guesclin, of whose 
 couraf^e and address it was thou'dit the Black Prince con- 
 descended to be somewhat jealous. It is certain, that the 
 presence of this renowned knight was accounted of such 
 importance, that when it was desired first to engage hini 
 in the Spanish wars, the King of France, the Pope, and 
 Henry of Transtamara, were, as we have already stated^ 
 glad to subscribe for his ransom a sum amounting to one 
 hundred thousand francs, for at such a rate was he valued. 
 On his second capture, when he had surrendered at Na- 
 varette to Sir John Chandos, the knight by whom he was 
 formerly taken, it is said the Black Prince formed a de- 
 termination that so formidable a leader should not again 
 be admitted to ransom. But the wily Frenchman at- 
 tained his purpose In the following manner : — Being in 
 presence of the prince at Bourdeaux, and answering some 
 incidental questions concerning his captivity, Du Gjesclin 
 observed, it could not be unpleasing to him, since It was 
 attended with so much glory. Edward naturally asked, 
 in what that glory consisted ? Du Guesclin replied, that 
 the world affirmed that the Black Prince was afraid lo 
 deliver him from prison, on account of his reputation and 
 chivalry ; " too honourable a circumstance," he said, " hi 
 a poor knight like myself." 
 
 The prince was naturally piqued at a speech which as- 
 cribed to him a sentiment of ignoble rivalry, and was 
 perliaps the more displeased that he was sensible of ihe 
 tri th of his remark. " It is not for fear of your chivalry, 
 sir knight, that 1 keep you captive," said he, m reply ; 
 ^an'j, to show you it is not, you shall have your hberty. 
 
152 TAX ON CHIMNEYS IN GASCONY. 
 
 if 3'ou can pay for your ransom one hundred thousand 
 francs." 
 
 " Wilhngly, my lord," replied Sir Bertrand ; " and 1 
 thank your highness for the lionour of rating me so high." 
 By recurrence to the French king, the Duke of Anjou, 
 Henry of Transtamara, and other friends, a warrior so 
 renowned as Du Guesclin speedily obtained his liberty, 
 and was again restored to the wars. 
 
 I have mentioned that the Prince of Wales had impru- 
 dently embarrassed his finances by this expensive cam- 
 paign in Spain ; and he was now equally unfortunate in 
 the mode which he chose of retrieving them. This was 
 by a tax upon chimneys, called by the French, fouage, 
 which, amounting to a franc upon each chimney, would; 
 it was supposed, in five years, discharge the prince's 
 debts, as it afforded an income of above a million of 
 francs yearly. But the tax was new to the Gascons, who 
 displayed a general disinclination to submit to the impo- 
 sition. " When we belonged to France," they said, 
 " we were never grieved with such assessments ; nor will 
 wc now submit to them. When we vowed fidelity to 
 Prince Edward, he swore on his part to protect our privi- 
 leges ; and we will not abide by our oath, unless he 
 keeps what he has sworn to us." The greatest of the 
 Gascon barons, who had been previously engaged against 
 their will in tlie expedition to Castile, caught eagerly at 
 this new subject of offence, and combined, so soon as the 
 opportunity should be fitting, to free themselves from the 
 dominion of England. 
 
 The mere pressure of an unpopular tax, though that 
 upon the chimneys seems to have been felt as a severe 
 grievance, will hardly of itself account for a defection 
 which proved so general. But the lieutenancy of the 
 Biack Prince had been showy and extravagant ; a fault 
 which seldom fails to provoke, on the part of the public, 
 dissatisfaction and displeasure. Besides, amid the high 
 qualities which few princes could boast in more perfec- 
 tion, the Black Prince showed flashes of his father's 
 haughty and severe temper, which were at times unplea- 
 
DISCONTENT OF THE GASCONS. 153 
 
 sunt to the proud barons of Gascony. although they were 
 obliged to endure them at the moment. They were 
 galled especially by the bitter reflection that they were 
 governed in some measure by the right of conquest, and 
 that, though Frenchmen by birth, and principal contribu- 
 tors to the very victory of Poictiers, wliich sealed the 
 fate of their country, they were still a part of the great 
 French nation, while subjected to an Englisli governor, 
 who was undoubtedly somewhat partial to his country- 
 men. The" influence of patriotism was felt more and 
 more in Gascony as new grievances arose, and many pre- 
 texts for discontent were found which would never have 
 suggested themselves, had it not been for the influence of 
 national feehng and national rivalry. A crisis therefore 
 approached which threatened the dominion of England 
 in France, and seemed likely to destroy all the influence 
 wliich Edward III. and his son had acquired in the latter 
 eountry by such an expenditure of blood and treasure. 
 
154 BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Don Pedro of Castile taken prisoner, and assassinated 
 by his brother Henry — Charles of France fosters the 
 disaffections in Gascony, and, at last, claiming the 
 rights of Lord Paramount, summons the Black Prince^ 
 to Paris, to answer the Complaints of certain discon- 
 tented Gascons — Mutual Preparations for War — The 
 Ea?^l of Pembroke wastes Poitou- — he is enclosed by 
 the French in the village of Puyrenon, and rescued 
 by John of Chandos — Ineffectual Attempt of Chandos 
 to recover Saint Salvin, which had been betrayed by a 
 Monk to the French — Skirmish at the Bridge of Lus- 
 aac, in which Chandos is slain — Edward III. sends 
 an .^rmy under his Son, John of Gaunt, to Calais — 
 The Duke of Burgundy, son of the King of France, 
 inarches to oppose him with a much larger force, but, 
 not being able to draw the English from a strong 
 position, returns to Paris — Predatory Expedition of 
 Sir Robert Knolles — Adventures of a Knight in 
 Knolles^s army, who, in performance of a Vow, strikes 
 his spear against the Gate oj Paris, but, in his retui-n 
 through the Suburbs, is killed by a Butcher. 
 
 Two persons of great power and importance watched 
 with anxiety the progress of discontent in Gascony, and 
 the various embarrassments, which, like clouds arising 
 upon the disk of a setting sun, overshadowed the latter 
 days of the Black Prince. 
 
 One of these, though himself no sovereign prince, 
 possessed in the time in which he lived, enough of war- 
 like fame and personal importance to place him upon a 
 'evel with great potentates. This was Bertrand du Gues- 
 "Jin, so often before mentioned, who, having been a knight 
 of no gieat power in Gascony, had raised himself by his 
 military fame to the rank of a great general, the ally o( 
 
MURDER OF DON PEDRO. 155 
 
 kings, and disposer of crowns. This warrior, having 
 seen ihe change of government which he accomplished 
 in Castile, altogether reversed by the victory at Navarette, 
 had. after obtaining his freedom, renewed his intercourse 
 with Henry of Transtamara, and combined measures to 
 seize the first opportunity of accomplishing a countei 
 revolution. The war between the two brothers, Pedro 
 and Henry, for the crown of Castile, was again renewed^ 
 so soon as the decayed state of Edward's health, and the 
 embarrassment of his finances became public, and was 
 speedily brought to a decision by the advice and assist- 
 ance of Du Guesclin. 
 
 Henry took arms with a very considerable force, and 
 joining battle with Don Pedro, who defended him3elf 
 with the most des})erate valour, defeated that tyrant, and 
 compelled him to fly into the castle of Montiel, where he 
 was instantly blockaded. The castle, though strong, was 
 not victualled for defence ; so that Don Pedro and his 
 company, which did not exceed twelve men, were com- 
 pelled to attempt a passage, by night, through the army 
 of the besiegers. They were unsuccessful, and were made 
 prisoners ; and so bitter was the hatred between the 
 brethren, that Henry of Transtamara hastened in person 
 to the lodging of the French knight who had taken Pedro 
 prisoner, and as he entered, called out furiously, " Wheie 
 is that Jewish bastard, who dares call himself King of 
 Castile ?" — " Here I am," answered Pedro, who had no 
 sense of fear, any more than humanity. " 'Tift thou thy- 
 self art a bastard, and I the lawful son of Don Alphonso.'^ 
 The two brothers then engaged in mortal struggle ; and 
 Pedro, having forced Henry backwara over a bench, un- 
 sheathed his poniard, and would have slain him on the 
 si)ot, had not one of Henry's squires seized Pedro by the 
 letf, and turned him undermost, givino; him the disadvan- 
 tage in the struggle. Henry then availed himself of the 
 opportunity, and despatched Pedro with his dagger; a 
 vvoful instance how ambition and rivalry can subdue the 
 wannest feelings of kindred and relationship. Thus was 
 one great work of the Prince of Wales totally reversed 
 
156 CHARLES SUMMONS THE BLACK PRINCE. 
 
 and undone ; and, unhappily for him, the dethronement 
 and death of Don Pedro by no means freed him from the 
 evils which he had brought upon himself, by espousing the 
 cause of that tyrant. 
 
 We have said that another person besides Bertrand du 
 Guesclin watched the progress of the discontents which 
 agitated the English provinces in France, with the pur- 
 pose of profiting by them as opportunity should present 
 itself. This was Charles VI. of France, called the Wise, 
 and whose wisdom turned itself so much to the accumu- 
 lation of riches, that he was also entitled the Wealthy. 
 He had nursed his revenue, and exerted his wisdom with 
 the lawful and meritorious purpose of rendering himself 
 fit to oppose the English power in France under which 
 his predecessors and himself had suffered so severely. 
 The mode, however, in which he finally found it advisa- 
 ble to avow this intention, was a singular contradiction of 
 his father's noble maxim, that if good faith were banished 
 from the earth, it should at least be found in the breast of 
 kings. If it was possible for a prince to be bound down 
 by the direct words ')f a treaty, King Charles was obliged 
 by that of Bretigny to abstain from disputing the unlim- 
 ited title of England to the province of Gascony, without 
 any badge of feudal dependence. Yet, though bound so 
 strictly by this treaty, the King of France determined to 
 encourage the discontented Gascon lords by assuming 
 once more the title of Lord Paramount of that country, 
 and by receiving an appeal to his parliament of Paris 
 from those who claimed justice at his hands against the 
 proceedings of the Black Prince. In vindication of his 
 assuming a power disowned by the peace of Bretigny, 
 the French pretended that Edward had not so absolutely 
 renounced the title of King of France, as he was bound 
 by the same treaty to do. The fact, however was, that 
 the opportunity was tempting, and Charles made use 
 nf it. 
 
 When the French king saw the moment favourable for 
 declaring himself, he sent a clerk and a knight, both men 
 \)i grav'ty and eminence, to intimate to the Prince o^ 
 
ANSWER OF THE BLACK PRINCE. J 57 
 
 Wales the course which he Intended to pursue. These 
 messengers found the prince at his court in Bourdeaux, 
 and, kneeling before him, craved permission to deliver 
 their message in presence of his council. '^' Speak on, 
 sirs," said the prince, little suspecting the nature of their 
 message. The clerk then read a summons in the name 
 of Charles, and directed to his nephew the Prince of 
 Wales, setting forth, that various prelates, barons, knights^ 
 he. of Gascony, had complained to the King of France 
 of grievances sustained at the hands of the said Prince 
 of Wales, through evil counsel, and therefore command- 
 ing him to appear in person in the city of Paris, and 
 present himself before the King of France and his peers, 
 to make answer to the petitions which complained of in- 
 jury at his hands. 
 
 The Prince of Wales heard with no little astonishment 
 a summons founded on the right of homage, which was 
 expressly renounced by France at the treaty of Bretigny. 
 His eyes sparkled with Indignation, as, looking fiercely 
 upon the French messengers, he t«hus replied, " Is it 
 even so ? Does our fair uncle desire to see us at Paris ? 
 Gladly will we go thither ; but I assure you, sir's, It shall 
 be with basnet on our head, and sixty thousand men in 
 our conipany." Perceiving his resentment, the mes- 
 sengers dropt on their knees, and reminded him, that for 
 their part, they only did the message of him who sent 
 them. The prince, however, left them In indignation ; 
 and they were counselled by the English lords then 
 present to depart as fast as they could, lest their safety 
 should be endangered. In fact, when the news of the 
 departure of the envoys reached tlie prince, he sent after 
 and arrested them, as being, he said, the messengers of 
 liis own discontented subjects of Gascony, rather than of 
 ihe King of France. They suffered, however, nothmg 
 eventually ; but the prince retained his purpose of mak- 
 ing instant war against France ; while the French King, on 
 the other hand, strengthened himself, as was usual at thai 
 period, by hiring a certain number of the Free Com- 
 965 
 
I5\3 CHARLES AND THE BLACK PRINCE 
 
 panions, and, secure of the assistance of the niinierous 
 malecontents in tlie Gascon provinces, laia aside ail 
 thoughts of peace, and prepared for a war against Eng- 
 land, under auspices more fortunate than tliose under 
 which France had lately fought. 
 
 Charles in this approacliing contest had the infin te 
 advantage of the general assent of his people, who, fired 
 with the reviving hope of national glory and independ- 
 ence, pledged themselves to support, with their lives 
 and fortunes, the quarrel with England, in which he was 
 now about to engage. The peace, which had now lasted 
 a considerable time, had also greatly diminished the forces 
 at the command of Edward III. and his son the Black 
 Prince. The Free Companies, which might be consid- 
 ered as something corresponding to a standing army of 
 the period, had been, owing to the want of money, dis- 
 missed from the pay of England, and in a great measure 
 disbanded, or sent to find employment elsewhere. The 
 feudal troops and archery of England herself, whom it 
 would have been difficult or impossible to detain in Gas- 
 2ony or France for any length of time, after the war w^as 
 at an end, had returned to their native country, and it 
 would require new efforts and new expenditure of treasure 
 to recall them to the field when their services were m.ost 
 necessary. 
 
 On the other hand, the whole kingdom of France was 
 replenished with a rising generation, who had neither 
 experienced the terrors of the former English victories, 
 nor felt any thing save the desire to be avenged of their 
 invaders. Charles himself might. Indeed, rememiber the 
 disasters of Cressy and Polctlers ; but he had at the same 
 time the satisfaction to know that Edward III. was now 
 in an advanced old age, embarrassed, too, by the discon- 
 tent of his subjects, who were unwilling to submit to 
 farther assessments for the support of foreign war, and 
 by the increasing indisposition of the Black Prince, whose 
 body could no longer execute the dictates of his daunt- 
 less mind, and who had, moreover, to lament the loss of 
 50 many brave men, cut off in Spain;, less by war than 
 
FREPARE FOR WAR. 159 
 
 by wasting disease. On the w^iole, therefore, the King 
 of France was prepared, with good hopes, once more to 
 revive tiie bloody war which had so long wasted his king- 
 dom. Nor did the commencement of the struggle deceive 
 his expectations. 
 
 Yet the spirit of Prince Edward flinched not under 
 the infirmity of his body. He purposed, as we have al- 
 ready hinted, to take the field in person, and advance to 
 I*aris, at the head of a numerous army. His father had 
 again influence enough with his parliament, to obtain 
 large subsidies, and levy a considerable army, which he 
 despatched to the assistance of the Prince of Wales, 
 under the command of the Earl of Cambridge, his 
 brother, and the gallant John Hastings, Earl of Pem- 
 broke, his bi"other-in-lavv. The Black Prince received 
 also a powerful reinforcement from the Grand Compa- 
 nies, who, as their trade was war, were naturally deter- 
 mined in their choice of a side, by their reliance on the 
 military qualities of tlie commander-in-chief, for skill, 
 valour, generosity and success, and certainly there was no 
 man alive who could in these respects be termed the equal 
 of the Prince of Wales. Sir Hugh Calverley, whose 
 deeds at the battle of Aurai have been already noticed, 
 was devotedly attached to his native prince ; and, by his 
 interest among the Free Companions, he collected in 
 Spain and elsewhere, six thousand lances of this descrip- 
 tion, whom the prince, perhaps hastily, sent instantly 
 forward, to make war on tlie territories of such of the 
 great Gascon barons as had set an example in revolting 
 against ihe fouage, or tax upon chimneys, and, as Prince 
 Edward supposed, had busied themselves in exciting 
 King Charles to summon him before the parliament of 
 Paris. 
 
 But altliough the prince was thus far armed against 
 the impending evil, the schemes of Charles, for under- 
 mining the English power in France, were so skilfully 
 laid, that they took effect with considerable success. The 
 province of Ponthieu was seized upon without much op- 
 posUion, an acquisition rendered easy by the intrigues 
 
IGO THE WAR COMMENCED. 
 
 Carrie i on by ihe friends of France in that district. The 
 Dukes of Anjou and Berri, brothers of the king, each at 
 the head of a considerable army, the one levied in Au- 
 vergne, the other in Toulouse, were ready to invade the 
 provinces of Gascony and Poitou ; and for some time it 
 was difficult to say which party obtained the ascendency, 
 so many were the feats of valour, skirmishes, and cap- 
 tures of castles, and so various was the success attending 
 each of them. 
 
 In another species of warfare the King of France had 
 perhaps a more decided advantage. This was in the 
 original character of the dispute, the justice of which was 
 warmly debated by the gownsmen and churchmen on 
 both sides. In this King Edward revived his old claim 
 to the kingdom of France, founded upon his denying the 
 efficacy of the Salic law ; an antiquated plea, renounced 
 by himself at the peace of Bretigny, and which he would 
 certainly have done better to have abandoned for ever, 
 and limited his claim to the rights of sovereignty in Poi- 
 tou and Guienne, which had been acknowledged in all 
 formality by the King of France himself, and by the es- 
 tates of that kingdom. In the former case, Edward III. 
 claimed the succession in right of his mother, which had 
 never been acknowledged by the law of France. On 
 the contrary, in preferring a claim of sovereignty to Gas- 
 cony, and its dependencies only. King Edv^'ard would 
 only have founded upon the terms of an existing treaty, 
 solicited by Charles himself, while regent, and by the 
 estates of his kingdom. Edward III., however, chose 
 ro enlarge, as much as possible, the title on which he 
 founded, being conscious that men would regard it less 
 with reference to its justice and validity, than to their 
 own passions and partialities. Be that as it may, the 
 clergy of France were generally decidedly favourable tc 
 the cause of their native sovereign ; and there can be no 
 doubt that ibe manner in which they recommended and 
 enforced upon the public the right of Charles, in the 
 different provinces possessed by the English, had a great 
 effect in producing tlae general disposition to revolt from 
 
DEATH OF LORD JAMES AUDLET. 161 
 
 the Ei^lish to the French monarch, which was every- 
 where manifested. It was with sharper weapons, how- 
 ever, than words, that the cause of either king wa? to be 
 finally determined, and accordingly, blood flowed freely 
 on both sides, in every county of France where the 
 English had any footing. 
 
 What appeared in particular to intimate the doom of 
 Heaven against the cause of England, was the death of 
 some of those remarkable persons by whose assistance 
 the Black Prince liad often gained his victories, but who 
 now were, by various, and some of them insignificant ac- 
 tions, compared to the reputations of those to whom they 
 happened, altogether removed from the scene, when their 
 services would have been most advantageous to their 
 great commander. 
 
 One of the most remarkable persons, and equally dis- 
 tinguished by valour and talents, was Lord James Aud- 
 ley. Seneschal of Poitou, who fell sick and died, while 
 the war was at the hottest. This was the son of that 
 Loid James Audley, whose conduct at the battle of Poic- 
 tiers was so remarkable. His father was now too old for 
 the wars, and had retired into England, where he died in 
 1386. The death of Lord James Audley, the younger, 
 greatly grieved the Prince of Wales, who replaced him, 
 as Seneschal in Poitou, by the celebrated John Chandos, 
 
 As this brave leader was an active partisan in that kind 
 of warfare which distinguished the period, he proposed 
 to the young Earl of Pembroke to join with him in an 
 expedition, at the head of a very considerable force, 
 against Louis of Sancerre. Mareschal of France. But 
 the Earl of Pembroke declined to join Chandos in the 
 enterprise proposed to him, listening to the paltry insinu- 
 ations of some flatterers, who persuaded him he would 
 have little share of personal glory if he went out under 
 ihe command of Chandos, who would engross the whole 
 renown of any joint expedition in which they might be 
 engaged. Sir John Chandos, piqued at Pembroke's re- 
 
IG2 Pembroke's jeaioitsy of chandos. 
 
 fusal to join him, dismissed great part of his troops, anc 
 retired with the rest to the city of Poictiers. 
 
 No sooner had Chandos thus retired into quarters, than 
 the Earl of Pembroke, with a force of at least two hun- 
 dred spears, took the field, with the purpose of winning 
 glory upon his own account, and wasting the lands of 
 those nobles who were hostile to England. As soon as 
 the French lords who held these garrisons, heard thai 
 this nobleman had declined the company of Lord Chan- 
 dos, and was come abroad on his own adventure, they 
 resolved to gather their forces, and attack him suddenly, 
 as a young man whose imprudence had already shown 
 him liable to be surprised in such expeditions. They 
 combined, therefore, an overpowering force, and attacked 
 the Earl of Pembroke and his men at unawares, near a 
 village called Puyrenon, slaying a number of men-at- 
 arms, and forcing the rest to take refuge in a churchyard, 
 which surrounded a building formerly belonging to the 
 Knights Templars. The French knights, commanded 
 by the jMareschal de Sancerre, said among themselves, 
 jestingly, " They have got into a churchyard, it is but 
 fair to give them time to choose out and dig their graves ; 
 and after we have taken dinner, we will visit them, and 
 see how they suit them." But the Mareschal de San- 
 cerre commanded an instant attack. The assault was 
 made, but with little success on the part of the French, 
 who were repulsed by the English earl and his party. 
 Still, as the French drew off, they promised themselves 
 better fortune the next day, for the walls of the Temple- 
 house were but thin, and might be easily broken through ; 
 and, at all events, the party within were ill appointed 
 both in food and ammunition. 
 
 The Earl of Pembroke, who had now reason bitterly 
 to lament his foolish 'ealousy of Lord Chandos, despatch- 
 ed an esquire, with orders to issue by a postern-gate, and 
 tell the Seneschal of Poitou the danger in which he was 
 placed, adding, that he might yet rec&ive succour from 
 him ii le m.arched speedily, since he hoped to defend 
 
JEOPARDY OF PEMBROKE. ]6ti 
 
 nis post until noon next day. The esquire went on his 
 errand accordingly. 
 
 Early next morning the French attacked the EnoUsh 
 position anew, and persevered from dawn till nine before 
 noon, when the assailants began to collect among the 
 neighbouring peasants pickaxes and mattocks for the pur- 
 pose of undermining the walls. This mode of attack 
 beinoj that which the English inost dreaded, the Earl of 
 Pembroke called a second esquire, desiring him to take 
 the earl's best horse, and convey to his good friend, Lord 
 Chandos, tlie news of the jeopardy in which they stood, 
 conjuring him by a token to come to his deliverance. 
 Tlie token was a valuable ring, which Chandos had for- 
 merly given to the young earl. The messenger escaped 
 by a postern, and went off at full gallop. It chanced that 
 the esquire first despatched had missed his way, so that 
 he did not reach Poictiers till nine o'clock. When he did 
 arrive, he delivered the Earl of Pembroke's message tc 
 Chandos, requiring his assistance. The good knight re- 
 ceived it but coldly, as he still resented the young earl's 
 having declined to join him, though repeatedly invited. 
 He answ^ered indifferently, " there was but little time to 
 hear mass ;" a religious ceremony which Catholics then 
 laid much stress upon. When the mass was over, dinner 
 was announced as ready, and the first course was hardly 
 served, when the second esquire arrived, and delivered 
 the Earl of Pembroke's later and more pressing message, 
 requesting assistance. Lord Chandos was still sullen ; 
 " to deliver him is impossible," he said, " if he is in such 
 a strait as you speak of. Let us sit down to dinner — 
 the meat will be cold else." 
 
 But tliis dogged and ungracious humour was not natu- 
 ral to the noble Cliundos. The first thought of his mind 
 having been given to resentment, the next turned upon 
 more exalted sentiments. As the second course was 
 served, he raised his head, which he had held depressed 
 upon his bosom, and said to the knights and squires 
 around him, " Hear me, sirs ; the Earl of Pembroke is 
 a noble person, and of high lineage, son-in-law to oui 
 
164 PEMBROKE IS RESCUED BY CHA^DOS 
 
 natural lord, the King of England Foul shame were it 
 to see him lost, if I may help it ; wherefore 1 wi'J go tc 
 iiis assistance, with the grace of God. Make re'^dy^ sirs, 
 for Puyrenon !" All rushed to arms ; and Lord Chan- 
 dos, at the head of two hundred spears, made towards 
 the village with such despatch, that they had good hope 
 of surprising the French who besieged it. But the 
 Mareschal of Sancerre heard of the approach of Chandos, 
 by spies, and took the resohition of drawing off his troops, 
 and securing such prisoners and booty as they had made 
 at the first onset, which last comprehended all the treas- 
 ures and bao-aacre of the Earl of Pembroke. The earl 
 and h s knights, on their part, also retired from the 
 Templvi-house with such horses as they had left, some 
 mounted two on one horse, and others walking on foot. 
 When they met with John of Chandos, the earl and he 
 embraced, with tears ; and Chandos greatly reflected 
 upon himself that he had not moved on the first sum- 
 mons, when he might have reached Puyrenon time enoftgh 
 to surprise Sancerre and his forces, who had now retired 
 to a place of safety. 
 
 The circumstance, besides illustrating the manners of 
 the times, shows also the sort of disputes and rivalry 
 which began to take place between the younger English 
 nobility and those who stood high among the more an- 
 cient chivalry, and which doubtless existed on many 
 other, although less memorable occasions than the affair 
 of Puyrenon, where such considerable injury was sus- 
 tained, by the rashness and presumption of Pembroke, 
 while the opportunity of retaliation was lost, through the 
 Lullen resentment of Chandos. 
 
 But England was not only to view the services of this 
 distinguished warrior interrupted and traversed, but also 
 to see them for ever ended, and that in a trivial en 
 counter. 
 
 The assault upon the Earl of Pembroke in Puyrenon, 
 took place in 1370, (A. D. ;) and about the end of that 
 year, a certain monk, belonging to a convent in Saint 
 Salvin, a town in Poitou, contrived, out of spite to his 
 
SAINT SALVIN. 165 
 
 superior the abbot, to betray him and the convent, as well 
 as the town itself, into tlie hands of Sir Louis Saint Ju- 
 lien, and an adventurer, called Carlonet the Breton, 
 leaders of the French party, who garrisoned it for that 
 crown. The Lord John Chandos made several attempts 
 to recover this place ; for, altliough of no great conse- 
 quence, he accounted it a diminution of his reputation to 
 have it lost in that manner. But the vigilance of Sir 
 Louis of Saint Julien frustrated all his attempts. 
 
 Persevering in his purpose, Sir John, in his character 
 of Seneschal of Poitou, sent to several knights of that 
 country to meet him in the city of Poictiers, on the even- 
 ing of the 31st of December, with the purpose of sur- 
 prising Saint Salvin. The Poitevin knights, who loved 
 and respected Chandos, obeyed his summons, met him 
 accordingly, and their united numbers made up three 
 hundred spears. With this retinue, he marched to the 
 little town of Saint Salvin and descended mto the fosse, 
 which he prepared to pass upon the ice, as the frost was 
 then severe. The ward r of the castle at this moment 
 blew his horn ; and the sound, so unusual at this late 
 moment, made the English knights conclude that they 
 were discovered. They drew back, therefore, out of the 
 moat in which they lay in ambush, without persisting in 
 an attempt, which, if discovered, as they supposed, must 
 of course have been rendered impracticable. The watch 
 horn, how^ever, had no reference to the attack on Saint 
 Salvin, but was designed by the person who blew it to 
 intimate to the fortress the arrival of Carlonet the Breton 
 at the opposite gate, who came to require Sir Louis of 
 Saint Julien to go abroad with him that night, in search 
 of adventures, as was the practice of the time. If, there- 
 fore, Chandos could have concealed himself for any time, 
 however short, these two knights must have sallied from 
 Saint Salvin, which, in their absence, would have been 
 an easy prey. But the evil fate of this renowned war- 
 rior w^as too strong for his better genius. He retreated 
 to a village about three leagues from Saint Salvin, where 
 the Poitevin lords, understanding the service of the time 
 18 4th Ser. 
 
.66 SKIRMISfJ AT THE 
 
 to be ended, were dismissed to their homes. "Meantime, 
 Sir John Chundos declared his intenlion to stay, during 
 the next day, being 31st December, in tlie town where 
 he now was. Sir Thomas Percy, who was in his conv 
 pany, then asked his permission, since he did not stir 
 abroad himself, to go forth to meet adventures on his 
 own account. Chandos granted his request, and was 
 thus left with a retinue amountiug only to forty or fifty 
 spears. 
 
 Historians notice, with singular minuteness, the various 
 steps by which this great warrior approached the fatal 
 close of his life. 
 
 Sir Thomas Percy had not long left the town when 
 intelligence reached Chandos that Sir Louis and Carlonet 
 were certainly abroad in the country. Now, although 
 they were almost the personal enemies of Chandos, yet 
 at first he intimated no desire to go in quest of them. 
 He remained for some time in the village, talking with his 
 men, wfjile they warmed themselves at the fire, until, as 
 if upon a sudden i-efiection, he changed his purpose, and 
 declared his intention to ride abroad, in order to return 
 to Poictiers. He had not advanced far along the side 
 of the river when he heard the neighing of horses ; tliese 
 were the steeds of the French squadron, whose situation, 
 had it been understood by the opposite party, was, in 
 fact, a very dangerous one. Sir Louis Saint Julien, and 
 Carlonet, had, by mere accident, fallen into the rear of 
 Sir Thomas Percy's party, and they were themselves 
 followed, though without knowing it, by that of Lord 
 John Chandos. In this awkward situation, with one ene- 
 my in front, and another in the rear, the French knights 
 took the resolution to possess themselves of the Bridge 
 of Lussac, where they dismounted, gave their horses to 
 their pages, and stood to their defence, afraid that they 
 might be attacked in front and rear at once. But they 
 were thus far fortunate that Sir Thomas Percy was not 
 aware of the presence of the party of Chandos, and did 
 not, therefore, know the difficulty in which the French 
 were plarpd. 
 
BRIDGE OF LUSSAC. 16* 
 
 ("handos, who was the first of the English that ar 
 rived, sahited 'his enemies in this> manner : — -" Ha ! Sir 
 Louis Saint Julien, and Carlonet, you make nc fair war 
 riding about by night, and taking towns and captives. 3 
 have long desired to see you. J am John Chandos — look 
 upon me well ; we shall presently see whether you or i 
 are the best men '" As he spoke these words, he openeti 
 the vizor of his helmet, which lie forgot again to close^ 
 and, throw^ing himself from horseback, advanced, with 
 his axe in his hand, to charge the Frenchmen, who we.ve 
 also dismounted. But in the very act of joining with liis 
 enemy, Chandos slipped his foot, and fell down upon the 
 bridge, which was steep in its ascent, and covered with 
 hoar frost. A French esquire took the advantage, as lie 
 was rising, and thrust a rapier through his eye into his 
 forehead. This was the more easy, because Chandos, 
 who was blind of an eye on that side, could not see the 
 thrust in time to pariy it, and also because his vizor was 
 open. The blow penetrated to the brain, and the valiant 
 leader never spoke another word. The fight continued 
 fierce around his body ; for the French were determined 
 to avail themselves of their superiority of numbers, and 
 of the great advantage they had obtained, while the 
 English were desirous to revenge the death of Chandos. 
 The squire who had dealt the fatal thrust was mortally 
 wounded in his turn ; but, nevertheless, the numbers of 
 the French must have gained the victory, had it not been 
 that their pages and squires, terrified at seeing the ban- 
 ner, and beholding the advance of the formidable Chan- 
 dos, had fled from their masters at the very first onset, 
 carrying the horses off with them. Sir Thomas Percv 
 could without difiiculty have turned the scale, had he not 
 passed too far forward to be recalled by the noise of the 
 conflict with Chandos. But to com[)lete the mistakes 
 and changeful accidents of this extraordinary night, an- 
 other large body of the English party appeared j advancing 
 at a round trot, with lances displayed and streamers 
 waving in the wind. The Frenchmen, alarmed at this 
 unexpected apparition, and unable to escape for want of 
 
168 liEAIH OF LORD CHANDOS 
 
 horses, thought it better to surrender themse ves prisoners 
 to the companions of Chandos, whom they had well-nigh 
 discomfited, than to abide the mercy of these new comers. 
 They surrendered, accordingly ; and thus the skirmisli 
 which, from beginning to end, seemed a blind work of 
 fortune, terminated in a manner totally unlike its com 
 mencement. 
 
 The death of Lord Chandos was deeply regretted, 
 not only by the English and Gascons, but by the French 
 themselves, who respected him as the person most likely 
 to have brought about a good understanding between the 
 Kings of France and England, and a steady peace be- 
 tween the kingdoms. After his death, a considerable 
 decay of wisdom, spirit, and conduct, might be observed 
 on the side of the English, and the removal of so great 
 a general from the field of battle could in no respect be 
 made up or compensated. 
 
 It is true, that, before the event which we have nar- 
 rated here, in order to conclude the subject of Lord 
 Chandos, Edward IlL had endeavoured to strengthen 
 himself in France, by despatching to Calais, his son 
 commonly called John of Gaunt, with five hundrea 
 men-at-arms, and a gallant force of archers, with whom 
 the Count of Namur united him.self as an auxiliary of 
 England. 
 
 The King of France, on the other hand, hearing that 
 an army, commanded by a son of England, had entered 
 Calais, and made frequent incursions into the country 
 around, despatched, to oppose him, the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, who was the ablest of his brothers, with a force, 
 which, compared with that of the invaders, was more 
 than seven to one. He imposed, however, upon this 
 prince, strict commands, that he should on no account 
 venture upon an engagement, for the recollections of 
 former battles lost in spite of the greatest inequality of 
 numbers, rendered such a risk extremely unadvisable. 
 7'hus restrained by the royal command, the Duke of 
 Burgundy took post in the vicinity of Calais, between 
 Saint Omers and Tournehan, while the Duke of I<.an- 
 
AMBUSCADE NEAR ABBEVILLE. 169 
 
 caster, on the opposite side, occupied a very strong po- 
 sition, fortified with hedges, ditches, and enclosures, which 
 rendered those wlio lay there unassailable ; so that the 
 armies faced each other, while little passed that was re- 
 markable, except a few skirmishes. 
 
 In the estimation of those times, the character of the 
 Duke of Burgundy suffered considerably in the eyes of 
 the public, by shunning an encounter with an inferior 
 army ; yet it was precisely by the French attacking an 
 inferior number of English, in a post of extraordinary 
 strength, that Edward III. and the Black Prince had 
 gained their immortal trophies. The Duke of Burgundy 
 was, notwithstanding, so much hurt by his situation, that 
 he applied to the king, his brother, requesting permission, 
 either to give battle to the Enghsh, or to depart from a 
 position in which his reputation suffered. 
 
 Charles preferred that alternative which should put the 
 country in the least peril. He therefore commanded the 
 Duke of Burgundy to raise his camp, and come to him 
 at Paris. The French prince effected this manoeuvre so 
 cautiously, that the first intimation which the English had 
 of their enemy's retreat, was the fii-es which consumed 
 the tents and huts which they had lately occupied. (A. 
 D. 1369.) The Duke of Lancaster, on the retreat of 
 the great French army, determined to march into France, 
 and advancing from Calais to the eastward, left severe 
 marks of his displeasure upon the villages and cultivated 
 country, subjecting to especial rigour those who had 
 shown themselves unfriendly to England. 
 
 As the Duke returned to Calais, after a wasteful tour, 
 little that was interesting took place, although the follow- 
 ing turn of fortune may be worth mentioning : — Hugh de 
 Chastillon, who was master of the cross-bows of France, 
 commanded the French garrison of Abbeville. This 
 gentleman took horse, with ten or twelve attendants, re- 
 solved, seeing the Duke of Lancaster was tending that 
 way, to view with his own eyes, the preparations made 
 to receive him. Now, while he was on this sei'vice Sir 
 
170 SIR NICHOLAS LOUVAINE. 
 
 Nicolas Lou value, an Encflishraan, was reconnoitrino; in 
 tbe same direction. He had been a seneschal of the 
 King of England in that country, was well acquainted 
 with all its fastnesses and bypaths, and had ins.nuated 
 hifnself into a ruinous village hard by the gates of Abbe- 
 ville, where no ambuscade could be suspected. This 
 Sir Nicolas had been made prisoner the year before by 
 the same Chastillon, and he felt as an injury the high 
 sum of ten thousand crowns, which he had been obliged 
 to pay as his ransom. It Vv'as to his infinite joy, there- 
 fore, that he saw, in the person of a cavalier who ad- 
 vanced carelessly, and ill prepared for battle, (for his page 
 was riding his war-horse, and carrying his helmet,) his 
 late captor, Sir Hugh of Chastillon. " Come on," said 
 Louvaine to his party, being twenty men-at-arms, "yon- 
 der is our prey, whom 1 would rather possess, than all 
 the world beside !" He rushed then suddenly on Chas- 
 tillon, with his lance in rest, calling aloud, "Yield ye, or 
 die I" — " To whom must I yield ?" said the captain of 
 the cross-bows, astonished to find himself overpowered, 
 when he supposed himself most in security. — " To your 
 old acquaintance Louvaine, who requires from you the 
 ten thousand crowns which you exacted as his ransom." 
 Accordingly, it became Chastillon's turn to rescue him- 
 self upon the terms which Louvaine prescribed. 
 
 Such accidents as these might impoverish or enrich 
 the military men to whom they happened, but the gene- 
 ral effect of the war on both countries was that of ex- 
 hausting them both of men and money. Still the Frenchy 
 confiding in the wisdom and patriotism of Charles, sub- 
 mitted cheerfully to very heavy taxes, confident that they 
 would be employed in defending the independence of the 
 country. The assembly of estates patiently acquiesced 
 m the imposition of the same taxes, which the nation had 
 paid for the ransom of King John ; and also in a tax of 
 hearth-money. In effect nearly the same with the fouage, 
 vvliich, when imposed in Gascony, cost the Black Prince 
 so much of his popularity ; — so different is the good-will 
 of the people in the payment of taxes, which thej con 
 
SIR ROBERT KNOLLES. 171 
 
 ceive necessiry for their defence, compared to that with 
 which they regard impositions which are bestowed upon 
 objects, either altogether idle and unnecessary, or directed 
 to unpopular and unnational purposes. 
 
 A marauding party, far less numerous than that under 
 the Duke of Lancaster, was commanded by Sir Robert 
 Knolles, that distinguished officer, who, from a mean ori- 
 gin, had raised himself to great distinction by his interest 
 among the Grand Companies. He was now commission- 
 ed with an army of thirty thousand men to lay waste the 
 kingdom of France on behalf of Edward 111. — a waste- 
 ful mode of warfare, inconsistent with the idea held out 
 of permanent conquest. 
 
 Knolles took his departure from Calais at the head of 
 his troops in the end of July, and moved forward by Te- 
 rouenne and Artois, making easy marches, halting regu- 
 larly every night, and burning and ravaging the country. 
 (A. D. 1370.) OccasionaUy Sir Robert Knolles, who 
 appears to have retained some old remnants of the ad- 
 venturer, used to accept of sums of money, in considera- 
 tion of which he spared particular districts, and forbore 
 those violences in which he was accustomed to indulge. 
 This was a course of conduct so misrepresented to Edward 
 III. that in the end it had like to have cost Sir Robert 
 dear. In the meantime, this predatory general's march 
 was directed upon the city of Paris ; not that he could 
 hope to gain possession of it, but from the desire to spread 
 contusion and terror in the neighbourhood, and perhaps 
 to provoke a part of the inhabitants to issue oat and take 
 the chance of battle. He approached the city so near, 
 that the fires which he raised in the neishbourinff vil- 
 lages were plainly seen from the walls of Paris ; and a 
 knight of the English army had an opportunity, and, as 
 It proved, a fatal one, of accomplishing one of those vows 
 of chivalry which were fashionable at the period ; of 
 which the more desperate and extraordinary, always added 
 the more to the renown of those by whom they were 
 achieved. This adventurer had, it seems, made a vow 
 that he would strike his spear upon the gate of Fans 
 
72 ASPECT OF FRENCH AFFATRS. 
 
 For this purpose, he rushed forth from the ranks, and, 
 followed by his squire, whom he soon outstript, rode up 
 to the gate, where he found the barriers open. There 
 were several French knights standing by the barrier, wht 
 marvelled what this single man was about to attempt ; 
 but when they saw him satisfied with striking his lance 
 upon the gate, and reining round his courser to return, 
 they laughed, and said, " Go thy way for a brave knight, 
 that hast well accomplished thy vow !" The citizens of 
 Paris and the suburbs had not the same sympathy with 
 the adventurous knight as was entertained by those who 
 were his brothers in chivalry. He learned the difference 
 of these feelings upon his return ; for a butcher, who had 
 seen him pass through the suburb, waylaid him in his 
 return, and, coming behind him with a cleaver, struck 
 him from his horse. The squire, alarmed for his ma'\er's 
 fate on seeing his horse return without a rider, advanced 
 into the suburb far enough to behold the knight prostrate 
 on the ground, and four or five strong mechanics beating 
 upon him at once, like smiths upon a stithy. He (led, 
 therefore, to carry to Knolles's camp the account of the 
 knight's misadventure. 
 
 Sir Robert Knolles encamped that night within sight 
 of Paris ; and we shall presently give an account of the 
 termination of his adventurous expedition, which was 
 concluded by an engagement betwixt him and the cele- 
 brated Bertrand du Guesclin. 
 
 In the meantime, the events of the war continued un- 
 favourable to England. An astrologer of that time might 
 have said, that as a star auspicious to England had set in 
 the horizon, so another had arisen friendly to France, and 
 in the highest degree hostile to her enemy. Something 
 of the kind actually happened in the terrestrial world ; 
 or in this year the gallant Black Prince was lost to his 
 trade of arms, and the formidable Bertrand du Guesclin 
 resumed that command in the service of Charles, which 
 occasioned his being surnamed the Restorer of the French 
 Monarchy. 
 
REVOLT OF LIMOGES. 173 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Revolt of Limoges to the French — the Black Prince 
 besieges and recaptures it — Death of the Black Prince 
 — Bertrand du Guesclin made Constable of France 
 — the Constable defeats the English at Pont Volant — 
 Marriage of the Duke of Lancaster to a daughter of 
 Don Pedro the Cruel, by which alliance Henry, the 
 Reigning Prince of Castile, is rendered an enemy to 
 England — Defeat of the English Fleet by the Spanish, 
 off Rochelle — Rochelle delivered by the Mayor to the 
 French — The Constable captures Poictiers — Thouars 
 besieged, and surrenders to the French — Chai'les of 
 France drives the Count de Montfort from Bretagne, 
 and declares that Duchy forfeited to the French Croivn 
 — the Breton Lords rise in insurrection, and drive 
 the French from their country — Death of the Consta- 
 ble du Guesclin, while besieging Chateau neuf du 
 Randun — Charles of JVavarre deprived of the Do- 
 minions he held in France — Horrible Death of Charles 
 of JVavarre — Death of Charles V., sur named the 
 Wise. 
 
 You have been already informed that Edward, the re- 
 nowned Black Prince, had never enjoyed his usual health 
 since the expedition into Spain. It was in vain that as 
 difficulties multiplied around him, his high spirit struggled 
 against the decay of strength and the increase of the de- 
 bilitating disorder, which appears to have been dropsical. 
 Yet it was not the will of fate that this celebrated cham- 
 pion should depart from the scene without one final ray 
 of victory shining upon his banner. This parting favour 
 was granted in a case in which his haughty spirit was 
 deeply interested. 
 
 Amoug other advantages gained by the French in con 
 
 966 
 
174 SIEGE OF LIMOGES. 
 
 sequence of the general dissatisfaction of tlie Gascons 
 against the EngHsh, the revolt of the strong city of Limo- 
 ges was one of the most distinguished. This city had 
 yielded itself up by the instigation of its bishop, whose 
 recommendations induced the inhabitants to revolt, and 
 admit a French garrison ; the surrender was made to the 
 Duke of Anjou, and Bertrand du Guesclin remained in 
 the province of the Limosin, to protect this important 
 acquisition by his presence. 
 
 The Prince of Wales, on the other hand, was dread- 
 fully offended, not only with the bishop, who had formerly 
 been his personal friend, but with the citizens of Limoges, 
 who had so lightly changed their party. He could not 
 now mount a horse ; but, hastily assembling an army of 
 about twelve hundred lances, and two thousand archers, 
 he caused th^m to move forward upon Limoges, he him- 
 self being borne in an open litter at the head of his 
 troops. The garrison treated with scorn his summons to 
 surrender, for they confided in tlie strength of their forti- 
 fications, which had indeed been constructed by the prince 
 himself. Immediately upon receiving a scornful refusal to 
 give up the place, the Prince of Wales laid close siege to 
 the town, which he pressed on by means of mines driven 
 under the walls, for which service he was provided with 
 the best artisans of the period. Bertrand du Guesclin 
 kept the field, in the meantime, with two hundred spears, 
 with which he made incursions on the territory which was 
 yet English, and endeavoured by various means to divert 
 the attention of the Prince of Wales from the siege of 
 Limoges. It was not, however, in the power of Du 
 Guesclin to baffle the last and almost dying efforts of 
 this celebrated hero, who remained totally regardless of 
 the diversions with which Du Guesclin endeavoured to 
 amuse him. The prince pressed on the siege with una- 
 bated vigour attending entirely to the conduct of the 
 mines, until tne engineers had informed him that they 
 were prepared to throw down a part o^the wall sufficient 
 to admit his entering in battalion. Accordingly, the use 
 of gunpowder in such mines being as yet unknown, the 
 
SIEGE OF LIMOGES. 175 
 
 miners had orders to set fire vo the props by which they 
 supported the wall, during the time they had carried on 
 their operations. Of course, a portion of the wall, about 
 thirty feet in extent, fell into the ditch and filled it up, 
 while the English division appointed for the storm rushed 
 over the ruins. The gates, at the same time, were secured 
 by another part of the English army. All escape was 
 impossible, and the unfortunate inhabitants had it only in 
 their power to prostrate themselves in the streets, and 
 implore with piteous cries the compassion of the prince, 
 who was determined to grant none. The slaughter was 
 indiscriminate, and while the prince himself was borne 
 into the town upon his litter, the guards who attended him 
 slew men, women, and children, with their pole-axes and 
 swords. Four thousand persons were put to the sword, 
 without distinguishing the unarmed from the armed, men 
 from women, or children from adults. The sight of four 
 gallant Frenchmen defending themselves with much 
 bravery, first waked Edward's sympathy. Each was 
 matched with a noble and almost royal antagonist ; for 
 the four men-at-arms were engaged hand to hand with the 
 Duke of Lancaster, and Earl of Cambridge, brothers to 
 the Prince of Wales, with the Earl of Pembroke, his 
 brother-in-law, and with another distinguished English 
 warrior. The Black Prince stopped his litter to behold 
 this sharp conflict, calculated to awaken his sense of gen- 
 erosity, which remained lively, though his humanity was 
 extinguished. While the prince's litter stood still, that 
 he might behold the pleasing spectacle of a desperate 
 combat, the French knights took the opportunity to sur- 
 render and yield up their swords to him. They were 
 dismissed with praises, and the heart of the conqueror 
 was somewhat appeased towards the vanquished by the 
 chivalry w^hich these combatants had displayed. But the 
 victor's anger revived when the Bishop of Limoges, first 
 author of the revolt of the city, was brought before him. 
 In the first heat of his wrath, he commanded him to be 
 beheaded ; and it was with difficulty that he was finally 
 induced to spare his life. 
 
176 DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 
 
 The retaking of Limoges was the last mihtary feat (A 
 this renowned warrior ; and we regret to trace in it so 
 much of the cruelly of the period, and so little of its 
 generosity. We have only farther to mention, that it\ 
 the beginning of the next year, the Black Prince had the 
 great misfortune of losing his eldest son, and, his own 
 illness increasing, he was determined to try what his native 
 air might avail for his recovery. He substituted his 
 brotbiCr, the Duke of Lancaster, to be his representative 
 in the principality of Aquitaine ; and he left for ever the 
 country in which he himself had gained so much glory, 
 and upon which he had inflicted such extensive calami- 
 ties. This great prince died at Westminster, on the 8th 
 day of June, 1376 ; and his father, exhausted by age, 
 and various causes of mortification which overclouded his 
 last years, did not long survive him. Edward 111. died 
 on the 21st of June, 1377, in the sixty-fifth year of his 
 age. In resuming our story, we shall have to mention 
 circumstances which happened before the date of his 
 death. 
 
 While fate was thus removing the two greatest enemies 
 of France, the king of that country was exerting himself, 
 by the best means, the promotion, namely, of merit and 
 worth, to provide for the protection of his realm. An 
 office, always most important, but at this time particularly 
 so, had become vacant in 1370 ; this was the situation of 
 Constable of France, the highest military dignity in that 
 kingdom, of the most important consequence, from the 
 power which it conferred, and especially when the king, 
 which might be said of Charles V., was not warlike in 
 his person, or in the habit of heading his armies. The 
 vacancy was occas'oned by the resignation of a good 
 knight, named Moreau de Fionness, who was become, by 
 age and infirmities, unfit to discharge the duties of the 
 office, which he therefore resigned intc the king's hands 
 it had been the custom to bestow this high office on per 
 sons of the most eminent rank ; but, by the universa, 
 suffi'ages of his kingdom, Charles now resolved to confei 
 so important a charge, with reference less to ths dignit) 
 
OFFICE OF CONSTABLE OF FRANCE. 171 
 
 than the worth of the person to be employed. On this 
 footkig, all eyes were turned to Bertrand du Guescli.i, as 
 the most valiant knight, the most expert leader, the most 
 fortunate and successful warrior, who fought under the 
 banners of France. Nay, since the Black Prince was 
 nnaole to bear armour, he was universally considered as 
 tne best o;eneral iivinij^. 
 
 I)u Guesclin, summoned to the king's presence, rode 
 from the district of the Limosin to Paris accordingly ; but 
 when he heard that the king, with full assent of all his 
 nobles and peers, had pitched upon him to be Constable 
 of France, he modestly stated his incapacity for such an 
 important office, and the difficulty which he, a poor 
 knight, must expect in making himself obeyed by the 
 great and powerful princes of France. • The king's reso- 
 lution was taken upon too good grounds to be evaded by 
 this modest plea ; he insisted upon the charge being ac- 
 cepted by the warrior who had shown himself most capa- 
 ble of bearing it. Du Guesclin then asked to limit his 
 acceptance with a condition, that in case complaints 
 should be brouo-ht ao-ainst him, the kino- should dei'm to 
 refuse credence to any which the informer was not ready 
 to vouch in presence of the accused ; a reasonable 
 request, which was readily granted. 
 
 But although a distinguished warrior was thus invested 
 with full military command in France, there were still 
 circumstances affecting in a great degree the welfare of 
 the kingdom, the consideration and decision of which the 
 king reserved for himself. Greatly as that wise prince 
 esteemed Du Guesclin, he saw danger in the Constable's 
 suffering his high ideas of chivalry to lead him into the 
 error of precipitating a general engagement, by which 
 France had so often suffered, and which was at all times 
 too deep a stake to be hastily adventured. He there- 
 fore resijlved, while he resigned to the Constable the 
 unlimited direction of the French army,' that he would 
 suffer him at no time to possess a force so strong as might 
 encourage him to venture a battle on a large scale, trust- 
 ing that when he fought upon a small one, his knowledge 
 
178 DU GaESCI.IN fONSTABLE OF FRANCE. 
 
 of war could not be excelled^ if, indeed, it was equalled, 
 by that of any of the English leaders. This restriction 
 the king reserved within his own breast. To have ex- 
 pressed it, might have implied distrust of his general, 
 and still more of his soldiers. He therefore readily ac- 
 ceded to the new constable's proposal, to ride after Sir 
 Robert Knolles ; yet it is said, furnished liijn with no 
 more men than should enable him to watch the enemy, 
 hut not to bring him to acl:on. But the faithful Du 
 Guesclin augmented his forces, by treasure of his own, 
 and for that purpose sold a number of rich jew^els and 
 other articles of value. 
 
 The time, indeed, was very favourable for an attack 
 upon the army of Knolles. This commander, as you have 
 been already informed, had marched to the gates of Paris, 
 without being able to strike a considerable blow, so that 
 many of the men of rank who served with him, were dis- 
 posed to be discontented with their commander's author- 
 ity. It had been his purpose to lead his army into the 
 duchy of Bretagne, as the safest place for winter quar- 
 ters, considering that there would be then a necessity for 
 dividing themselves into separate bodies, when an active 
 enemy like Du Guesclin might, in the opinion of the 
 experienced general, attack them with advantage. Lord 
 Grandison, Lord Fitzwalter, and other English nobles, 
 refused to retire into Bretagne, in obedience to Sir Rob- 
 ert Kriolies. He was of too mean rank, they said, to 
 command noblemen like themselves ; they therefore drew 
 oft" from his army, which was thus much weakened, and 
 quartered themselves in the marches of Anjou and Tou- 
 raine, not holding such communication as martial duties 
 required, but straggling separate, each leader according to 
 bis own pleasure. 
 
 While disunion was thus gaining ground among the Eng- 
 lish, and want of discipline arising in proportion, Ber- 
 tiand du Guesclin obtained news of all tlieir proceedings 
 froD] a traitorous knight, called Sir John Menstreworth, 
 who privately corresponded with the French, and found 
 an opportunit) of discovering to them a very important 
 
TREACHERY OF xMENSTREWOR TH. 179 
 
 secret The new constable, with his forces, had already 
 advanced on an enterprise against Sir Robert Knolles, 
 then in quarters in Bretagne. The artful Knolles was re- 
 joiced to hear of his approach, resolving within himself 
 that he would assemble secretly and suddenly the troops 
 who had lately left his standard, and thus collect a body 
 of forces with which he could not doubt that he would be 
 able to overpower Du Guesclin, and his party. Lord 
 Grandison, Lord Fitzwalter, and the other discontented 
 nobles, received therefore private instructions to repair to 
 the camp of Sir Robert Knolles, for the accomplishment 
 of this purpose ; and as the orders intimated the approach 
 of battle, none of them hesitated to obey the summons. 
 On the other side, Sir Robert called to his assistance Sir 
 Hugh Calverley, and other captains of the Companions 
 All this plan, and these summonses, were known to the 
 treacherous Sir John Menstreworth, and by him commu- 
 nicated to the Constable of France, who resolved, by his 
 active movements, to prevent the plan of the English 
 general, and strike a blow at the forces out of which 
 Knolles proposed to form his army, while they were yet 
 separated from the main body. For this purpose, aware 
 of the march of Grandison, Fitzwalter, and their party, 
 the constable contrived to meet them at a place called 
 Pont Volant, half way before they could join w'itn 
 Knolles, and attacking them with nearly double their 
 numbers, reduced them soon to extremity. The English, 
 however, alighting from horseback, defended themselves 
 for sotne time manfully on foot, with swords, spears, and 
 battle-axes. They could not, however, long endure so 
 unequal a combat ; and as their pages, who held their 
 horses, fled with them so soon as the day was lost, the 
 principal part of the nobles engaged remained on tlie 
 spot, either slain or prisoners. This blow, which gave 
 the greatest spirit to the French, seemed proportionally 
 discouraging to the English ; and, as it happened so re- 
 cently after Du Guesclin had become constable, it gained 
 him honour in the eyes of the king, and of the nation, as 
 affording an earnest of his important services. The im- 
 
so EXECUTION OF MENSTREWORTH. 
 
 ■ncdiate consequence of the defeat of the English at 
 Pont Volant was, that Sir Robert Knolles, ah'eady pre- 
 judiced in King Edward's opinion for having taken 
 rewards for sparirii; the country of France, fell into such 
 suspicion, that he hesitated for some time to trust himself 
 witliin the bounds of Britain. But the treason of Sir 
 John Menstrew^orth becoming public, the explanations ol 
 the veteran Knolles were favourably received ; and as 
 the real traitor fell into the hands of the British, and was 
 f^ixecuted for his perfidy, Knolles became entirely re- 
 stored to King Edward's lavour. 
 
 The Constable of France did not long slumber after 
 his success at Pont Volant, but taking the field again at 
 Candlemas, seized many fortresses, and with prevailing, 
 though by rro means uniform good fortune, carried on the 
 war in Guienne and the neighbouring counties. 
 
 The Duke of Lancaster now supported at Bourdeaux 
 a princely state, not inferior to that of the Black Prince 
 himself, whom he resembled in courage and pride, tliough 
 he was unequal to him in good fortune, or rather in that 
 military science, by which good fortune is in a great mea- 
 sure secured or improved. An alliance of his also, though 
 the duke was naturally led into it by what seemed the 
 voice of prudence, and was certainly that of ambition, 
 contributed to force hitn into the false line of policy adopt- 
 ed by the Black Prince himself. Don Pedro the Cruel, 
 who died by the hand of his brother King Henry, before 
 the Castle of Montiel, as we have already stated, left be- 
 hind him two daughters, the eldest of wdiom was undoubt- 
 edly heir to his kingdom of Castile. These orphan prin- 
 cesses were now residing in Gascony, pledges for a sum 
 of money which had been borrowed by their father. 
 John of Gaunt was now in the flower of his age, a wid- 
 ower, by the death of his wife the late Lady Blanche ; 
 and, flattered by the splendid title of King of Castile, to 
 which he aspired, he gave his hand to the eldest of these 
 unfortunate princesses, while the second was wedded at 
 the same time to his brother the Duke of Cambridge. 
 R) this unhappy step, the Duke of Lancaster added to 
 
dkfi:at of the English fleet 181 
 
 tiio difticultles arising from the French war, so many and 
 ^o numerous in themselves, the gloomy prospect of a 
 quarrel with Henry the King of Castile, who became in 
 consequence a very violent and dangerous enemy to 
 England, which was not lung in experiencing the effects 
 of his enmity. 
 
 In 137 i 5 the Duke of Lancaster, having returned to 
 England with his royal bride, the Earl of Penibroke was 
 appointed to sail as commander-in-chief of tlie English 
 forces to tie principality of Aquitaine. He had a fleet 
 of forty ships, having on board a considerable body of 
 troops, with supplies of money and ammunition essen- 
 tially requisite to tlie support of the sinking cause of 
 England in the south of France. Tims provided, he 
 sailed for Rochelle ; but as he approached that place, he 
 w^as encountered by a powerful fleet belonging to Henry 
 of Transtamara, the actual King of Castile, who was 
 called upon imperiously to espouse the cause of the 
 French, the Duke of Lancaster having in right of his 
 wife the princess Constance, laid claim to his kingdom. 
 (A. D. 1372, June 23.) The two navies of England 
 and Spain encountered fiercely with each other, and the 
 combat endured until the evening of the second day, 
 when the Spaniards obtained a complete victory. It is 
 said this superiority was owing not only to the size of the 
 Spanish vessels, which wei'e larger than those of the 
 English, but to the use of cannon on the part of the for 
 mer — a weapon for the first time made use of in naval 
 war. The greatest part of the English fleet was burnt, 
 taken, or sunk ; and the Earl of Pembroke, often alrea- 
 dy mentioned, son-in-law to Edward III., remained, with 
 many other knights of quality, prisoners of war to the 
 Spaniards. Such were the first evil fruits flowing from 
 the marriage of John of Gaunt with the daughter of Don 
 Pedro the Cruel. The failure of this attempt to send 
 supplies to Guienne, left that province, with all parts oi 
 the principality of Aquitaine, welbigh at the absolute 
 pleasure of the Constable du Guesclin, who alternately 
 
I8r7 SURRENDER OF ROCHELLE, 
 
 by address and by arms, took and garrisoned many places 
 of strength, some with very little resistance, others with 
 none at all. 
 
 The case of Rochelle may be mentioned as an instance 
 how much the feelings of the Gascon people were now 
 turned against tlieir late masters the English. Shortly 
 after the naval battle which we have already mentioned, 
 and which was fought off this harbour, the mayor of Ro- 
 chelle, one John Chaudron, moved no doubt, by the issue 
 of the battle and defeat of the English, contrived a mode 
 of surrendering that important seaport to the King of 
 France. The English, however, had still a garrison in 
 the castle, of which Philip Mansel, an uneducated man 
 of no peculiar sagacity, was the temporary governor. 
 The mayor having secured a party of burgesses in his 
 plot, undertook to circumvent the thick-headed com- 
 mander of the citadel. He invited Mansel to a civic 
 feast, where he exhibited a letter und^r the broad seal of 
 England, (one of an old date,) shrewdly suspecting that 
 the governor could not read a word of it. " You per- 
 ceive from this letter," said the mayor, boldly exhibiting 
 it to the ignorant governor, " that the king has command- 
 ed the garrison of the castle and that of the city, to be 
 alternately reviewed by the commanders of each ; where- 
 fore 1 will make my musters to-morrow, if it pleases you 
 to review them ; and you, if it please you, shall bring 
 your force out of the castle, that I may inspect them in 
 my turn in the manner here appointed." 
 
 The incautious Mansel, uftecting to believe and under- 
 stand words which had no existence in the letter, was in- 
 duced to bring his men out of the castle towards the field 
 where the rendezvous w^as to be held. The mayor, see- 
 ing the stratagem so far successful, interposed a strong 
 body of armed citizens between the garrison and the 
 castle-gate, and compelled them to lay down their arms. 
 It was probably by the patriotism of this mayor of Ro- 
 chelle, that the city thus won from the English by the 
 courage or ingenuit} of the citizens, was not surrendered 
 
SIEGE OF THOUARS 183 
 
 ro the French ciown absolutelyj but (iily unde slipula^ 
 lion that the citizens of Rocheile should have leave to 
 demohsh the castle, and be secured against the erection 
 of another ; also, that they should never be separated or 
 alienated from the kingdom of France ; and thirdly, that 
 they should be allowed to coin money upon the same 
 conditions on which the privilege was enjoyed by the 
 city of Paris. 
 
 The strong town of Poicliers also augmented the tri- 
 umphs of tlie gallant constable. A skirmish shortly after 
 took place of little importance in itself, but of considera- 
 ble weight from its consequences. The Lord de Greilly, 
 renowned in our former history by name of the Captal d<j 
 louche, and often mentioned on account of his gallantry, 
 was made prisoner, and, as a captive of great consequence, 
 v^as speedily despatched to Paris. His worth and char- 
 acter in war were not better known, than the constant 
 fidelity with which he had served the cause of the Eng- 
 lish. The King of France, therefore, followed the pol- 
 icy which the Prince of Wales was thought to have 
 adopted respecting Bertrand Du Guesclin, when the lat- 
 ter was made prisoner at the battle of Navarette, that is_. 
 he would not fix any ransom upon the unfortunate war- 
 rior, who died in the course of five years an unredeemed 
 captive. Authors have said that the Captal, as a firm 
 adherent of Edward and of the Black Prince, lost his 
 health and spirits upon their decease, and pined to death 
 of melancholy in his confinement. 
 
 In the meantime, the last post possessed by the English 
 in Gascony was the town of Thouars, then a place of con- 
 siderable strength. The constable speedily formed the 
 siege of the place, and pressed it on with such vigour, that 
 the English lords who were enclosed in it, consisting of 
 the noblest and best of those partisans whom the nume- 
 rous skirmishes and sieges had left, were contented to 
 come to a species of terms not unusual at that time. They 
 engaged to surrender against next Michaelmas, provided 
 that the FCing of England, oi one of his sons, should net 
 before that time bring them succour in person. 
 
184 SURRENDER OF THOUARS 
 
 Edward, to wboni this agreement was connmunicated_ 
 expressed liiinself highly incensed, tha-t a prince so un- 
 warhke as Charles of France, who was seldom seen with 
 arn:iour on his back, or a lance in his hand, should give 
 him so mucli more trouble than all his martial predeces- 
 sors, and once more swore to take the field in ])erson, 
 with' the purpose, not only of relieving Thouars, but of 
 invading, and finally conquering France. The king put 
 to sea accordingly, with a considerable army, his destina- 
 tion being the seaport of Rochelle ; but the winds and 
 waves were obstinately adverse to the course he pro- 
 posed ; and, after a desperate struggle, King Edward, to 
 whom fortune had been so long favourable by land and 
 sea, saw himself absolutely obliged to return to England, 
 without relieving the fortress. 
 
 Thouars was therefore left to its fate. The barons of 
 Guienne, who remained faithful to England, offered in- 
 deed, at the very last, to advance with twelve hundred 
 spears to the relief of this important place, provided the 
 besieged would accept of their assistance. But the 
 knights enclosed within the town had plighted their faith 
 to surrender to the constable, unless Edward, or one of 
 his sons, came in person to their relief. Thouars, there- 
 fore, was given up to the French, on the terms of the 
 treaty. 
 
 The cause of England in France being at this low ebbj 
 the King of France thought he might very safely take 
 the opportunity to avenge himself upon the Count de 
 'Montfort, Duke of Bretagne, whose father had been one 
 of the principal instigators in fostering the original war 
 between England and France. The prince at whom 
 he aimed this blow was, indeed, already wellnigh forced 
 from his dominions by two of his own subjects, the Con^ 
 stable du Guesclin, and Oliver de Clisson, both steady 
 adherents of the French, and equally inimical to the 
 English. Having gained this great advantage over John 
 de Montfort, Charles resolved to pay no attention to the 
 neutrality secured to him by a special article of the treaty 
 ')f Bretigny. But, disregarding this engagement, he de- 
 
THE ENGLISH INVADE BRETAGNE 185 
 
 termined .aot to permit a person so hostile to him to reign 
 as a petty sovereign in Bretagne, and accordingly drove 
 him out of liis own country, and obliged him to take 
 refuge in England. Edward, hovvever, on the arrival ot 
 his ally and relative, in this expatriated condition, was 
 not wanting in such exertions as might have a chance of 
 lepairing the sinking affairs of the Duke of Bretagne. 
 
 He raised an army of fifty thousand men, which, under 
 the command of the Dr.ke of Lancaster, landed at Ca- 
 lais, in sumujer, 1372, with the purpose, on the duke's 
 part, of emulating his father's deeds, restoring the English 
 affairs, and replacing tlie Duke of Bretagne in his govern- 
 ment. But, as was the fate of all Edward Ill's, latter expe- 
 ditions, no result followed worthy of such great preparations. 
 
 The Duke of Lancaster sallied from Calais, at the 
 head of his army. He had with hltn tlie Earls of War- 
 wick, Stafford, Suffolk, with Lord Edward Spencer. 
 They marched with precaution, being closely watched bj 
 three armies of the French, one commanded by the Duke 
 of Burgundy, one by the Duke of Bourbon, a third, con- 
 sisting chiefly of cavalry, headed by the indefatigable Du 
 Guesclln, which followed in the rear of the English, cut- 
 ting off all who strayed from their standard ; and, tluis 
 enclosed and observed, the English could make little 
 spoil upon the country, without exposing themselves to 
 nistant retaliation. 
 
 Their generals, too, differed in opinion. John de 
 Montfort pressed the Duke of Lancaster to lead his troops 
 into Bretagne, insisting that the reconquest of his duchy 
 was the chief object of the war. The Duke of Lancas- 
 ter, on the other hand, was determined to march to Bour- 
 deaux, to establish the English power in Gascony. He 
 accordingly precipitated his course to Bourdeaux, and at 
 length reached that city, but not without losing four-fifths 
 of lijs army in a hurried and disastrous march thither. 
 Nor were the Duke of Bretagne and the Duke of Lan- 
 caster ever aftei wards on the same footino of ":ood un- 
 derstanding which once subsisted between them 
 
166 DEATH OF DU GUESCLIN. 
 
 King Charles, perceiving the dissension oetween the 
 Duke of Bretagne and his powerful ally, thought the 
 time was favourable to his great object of uniting to the 
 crown the duchy of Bretagne, whose sea coasts, and the 
 friendship of its sovereigns, had so often afforded facility 
 to invasions from England. He accordingly proposed 
 the forfeiture of this powerful vassal to the Estates of 
 France, and obtained tlieir sentence to that effect. But 
 the Breton lords, although unfriendly to the Duke's Eng- 
 lish alliance, were attached to their independence, and to 
 the De Montfort family. Instead of confirming them in 
 their love for France, by uniting them with the empire, 
 Charles provoked their resentment by this attempt at 
 confiscation. The nobles of Bretagne returned to the 
 allegiance of their duke, and readily assembling in arms, 
 drove the French out of the bounds of the dukedom, 
 nnd invited home John de Montfort from bis exile in 
 England. The issue of these events belongs to the next 
 reign. A truce had concluded the bloodshed of this war 
 for a period of one year. King Charles himself was 
 taken ill, with little hope of recovery. 
 
 An incident occurred which tended to sadden, in no 
 small degree, the thoughts of his dying bed. This was 
 the death of the valiant Du Guesclin, who held, by the 
 king's personal choice, with so much advantage to the 
 country, and glory to himself, the baton of High Con- 
 Rtable of France. He had been employed in the war in 
 Bretagne, and still more recently in that of Guienne , 
 and had in both conducted himself with the same gal- 
 lantry and success which he had all along exhibited. 
 I'he last act of his life was laying siege to the Chateau 
 Neuf du Randun. He had summoned the fortress, in 
 terms which were boldly but respectfully answered by 
 the commandant. On his refusal to surrender, Du Gues- 
 clin pitched his tent before the place, and pressed it by 
 a close siege. Tt is said, with little probability, that the 
 melancholy inspired by the obstinacy of the resistance, 
 first brought on disease in this great captain. Bertrand 
 Du Guesclin must, however, have been too well acquaint* 
 
CHARACTER OF DU GUESCLIV. 1 SI 
 
 ed with ihe cliances of war, to feel, as a great misfoitune, 
 the prolonged opposition of a per^y fortress. He fell ill, 
 however, from whatever cause, and became speedily 
 conscious that he was u])on his death-bed. Willing to 
 expend his last spark of life in tlie service of the country 
 to which it had been dedicated, Du Guesclin sent ihe 
 commandant of Chateau Neuf du Randun, a positiv^e 
 summons to surrender the place instantly, if he desired 
 to profit by his intercessions with the King of France in 
 his favour. .The commandant, moved by the resolute 
 and severe tone in which this message was delivered, de- 
 clared he would deliver the keys of his fortress to the 
 Constable of France, but to no leader of inferior degree. 
 He was con(hicted, therefore, to the tent of Du Gues- 
 clin ; but he was no longer alive ; and the commandant 
 was compelled to lay the emblems of submission at the 
 feet of a lifeless corpse. 
 
 Thus died, in \ho very act of reconquering the dis- 
 membered provinces of his country, a champion than 
 whom the rolls of history contain few braver or more 
 successful. Du Guesclin was not exempted from the evil 
 qualities of the time, for his valour was occasionally sul- 
 lied by cruelty ; but his rise from ordinary rank to great- 
 ne.ss, was the effort of his own high talents, and, employed 
 as they were in the service of his country, those talents 
 could not be too mucli admired or praised. It was not 
 his least merit that all the liberal donations of land and 
 treasure conferred on him by the king were uniformly 
 applied by him to the public service ; so that Charles, 
 though conscious what he owed to this great and success- 
 ful general, could hardly devise the means of affording 
 him a recompense for his services. To fill up the vacancy 
 occasioned by his death, King Charles recommended to 
 his council, that Oliver de Clisson, Guesclin's friend and 
 companion in arms, a Breton, too, like himself, should 
 be appointed to succeed him. Meantime, though now 
 ^iTected by disease, certainly incurable, whatever was its 
 origin, Charles V. still studied the great purpose of his am- 
 bition, which was the re-union of France into one kingdom. 
 
IS8 DEATH OF CHARLES OF NAVARRE. 
 
 This desirable object had met with a great obsiacle in 
 the King of Navarre, Charles the Bad. Tliis prince had 
 claims, as he pretended, upon the crown of Fraiice it 
 self; and, besides, he was entitled to various possessions 
 in several parts of that kingdom, but especially in Nor- 
 mandy. To dispossess him of these was the object of 
 King C'harles Vs. dying policy ; he revived, therefore, 
 against the King of Navarre an accusation of high trea- 
 son, as having administered poison to the royal person of 
 his liege lord. This, as a high feudal delinquency, 
 necessarily inferring the forfeiture of the fief, had been 
 reserved as a charge against Navarre, when the tim^ of 
 making such an accusation with eiiect should at length 
 arrive. The noxious draught was said to have been so 
 potent, that Charles V. lost his hair and his nails, anc re- 
 tained to the end of his life the marks of having uMen 
 poison. Yet though various other points of discussion 
 had arisen between the princes, and more than one truce 
 had been entered into, the aflair was never judicially 
 brought forward, until the expulsion of the English from 
 so many places of importance in France had rendered 
 any rebellion of Charles of Navarre of less consequence. 
 The wicked prince was deprived, by a sentence of the 
 Estates, of sucii dominions as he still held in France. 
 His being condemned in this celebrated process, renders 
 it seldom necessary to mention him hereafter ; wherefore, 
 we anticipate the course of time, to narrate, in this place, 
 the horrible death by which he closed an existence, which 
 was but a tissue of crimes. 
 
 Continuing his course of vicious habits as a man, and 
 political intrigues as a prince, till he was full sixty years 
 old, the diflicuhies which Cliarles the Bad had incurred 
 in the v/ars between Sf)ain, England and France, obliged 
 this prince to demand a heavy capitation tax from his 
 subjects of Navarre. He proposed that the wealthy in- 
 habitants should pay ten francs, inferior persons five, and 
 the rest of his subjects one franc each. The deputies 
 representing the dillcrent bodies and towns of the king- 
 dom of Navarre assured him, that as they were not yet 
 
DEATH OF CHARLES THE WISE. 189 
 
 acijuittod of a tax formerly laid upon them, tbey were 
 not able to endure this new imposition, and therefore 
 conjured him to have mercy on his subjects. By way 
 of answer to these remonstrances, Charles caused the 
 deputies to be enclosed in a stron_;^-w^alled garden, where 
 he had conferred with them. They were thus strictly 
 confined, and sparingly supplied with meat and drink, while 
 Charles caused the heads of three of their number to be 
 struck off, in order to intimidate the others. How this 
 tragedy would otherwise have ended, is uncertain ; for 
 Heaven, in its own time, and by extraordinary means, 
 put an end to this wicked prince's tyranny. 
 
 The King of Navarre's habits of profligacy had so far 
 reduced his constitution, that he was ordered by the phy- 
 sicians to swathe himself in a vestment steeped in spirit 
 of wine. By the same advice, his bed was warmed with 
 a chaufFoir of hot coals ; and he had used these means 
 of recovering natural heat repeatedly without accident. 
 But while he was agitating these cruel resolutions against 
 the deputies of his subjects, and using this course of 
 bringing himself to warmth, " by the pleasure of God," 
 says Froissart, " or of the devil, the fire caught to his 
 sheets, and from that to his person, swathed as it was in 
 matter highly inflammable." Before he could be res- 
 cued, he was burnt to the bowels, yet survived fifteen 
 days, in indescribable wretchedness. Such was the hor- 
 rible end of the wicked King of Navarre. 
 
 We return to the purposes of King Charles of France 
 upon his d(iath-bed. While he meditated and endeav- 
 oured to execute the changes already noticed, his own 
 life was drawing near to a close. He died a victim, it is 
 said, not very probably, to the poison so long before ad- 
 ministered by the King of Navarre ; and his death was 
 felt by the country with deeper regret than that of a 
 sovereign is often regarded. Quiet, sedate, temperate in 
 his passions, viewing clearly, weighing deliberately, and 
 wisely selecting the objects of his policy, Charles never 
 rashly changed, and rarely ultimately abandoned them. 
 Though born in warlike times, he was himself no warrior; 
 907 
 
190 ACCESSION OF CHARLES VI. 
 
 and this was a fortunate circumstance, since he was never 
 hable to be driven forward by the vehement desire of 
 personal distinction, or the sense of personal shame, which 
 hurried his predecessors, Philip of Valois and John, into 
 the fata! fields of Cressy and Poictiers. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Accession of Charles J^I., when only twelve years of 
 age — Regency of the Duke of Anjou, who seizes the 
 Treasures of Charles V., which he afterwards em- 
 ployed in advancing his own claim to the Crown of 
 Sicily and JVaples — An English army under the Duke 
 of Buckingham sent to the assistance of Count de 
 Montfort, ivho promises to support them, but makes a 
 Peace with France, and compels his English Allies to 
 evacuate Bretagne — Disorders in Flanders — Insur- 
 rection of the Ghentois, under D^Arteville — The 
 French espouse the part of the Earl of Flanders, and 
 the English that of the Insurgents — Defeat of the 
 Insurgents at Rosebecque — Marriage of Charles FI. 
 — Expedition of the Bishop of JVorwich — the Bishop 
 worsted, and compelled to retreat to Calais — Expe- 
 dition of the Duke of Anjou, to establish his claim.? 
 to the Throne of JVaples — his Failure, and Death — 
 Adventures of two Captains of Free Companions, 
 Geoffrey Tete-noir and Amergot Marcell — Unsuccess- 
 ful Attempt of the Duke of Lancaster to conqnef 
 Castile, the crown of which he claimed in right of his 
 Wife, the daughter of Don Pedro the Cruel — Wreck 
 fa French Fleet assembled in the Harbour of Sluyse 
 for the Invasion of England — Arrest of Oliver de 
 Clisson, Constable of France, by the Duke of Bre- 
 tagne — his Imprisonment, and Ransom. 
 
 Unfortunately for the kingdom of France, the sue* 
 cesser of Charles the Wise, who was also named Charles 
 
ANJOU APPOINTED REGENT 191 
 
 oeing the sixth king so called, was at this time only 
 twelve years old ; and there was a necessity for appoint- 
 ing a regent. Tlie Duke of Anjou. the eldest brother 
 of the deceased monarch, had been one of the most ac- 
 tive leaders during his life, and was supposed to be pos- 
 sessed of considerable talent ; he was a mortal enemy to 
 the English, and a principal actor during the late reign 
 in making war upon them in the south of France. They 
 accused him also of treacliery in breaking his word of 
 parole ; and -his character in general did not stand very 
 high for truth and sincerity. 
 
 This prince obtained, however, the regency by ap- 
 pointment of the Estates, but the education and personal 
 care of the king was not trusted to the Duke of Anjou ; 
 the Duke of Burgundy, the king's uncle by the father's 
 side, and the Duke of Bourbon, who bore him the same 
 relation by the mother's, being appointed his immediate 
 personal guardians. 
 
 Unhappily for France, the regent Duke of Anjou had 
 a private interest of his own entirely different from thdt 
 of the kingdom at large. The last Queen of Sicily and 
 Naples was the celebrated Joan, who possessed these 
 fair provinces in her own right. She was a profligate 
 and infamous person, who, besides leading a vicious course 
 of life, had rid herself of her husband, Andrew, by as- 
 sassination. It is said, that one day this unfortunate 
 prince found her weaving a cord made of silk and gold 
 so remarkable in appearance, that he was induced to ask 
 what purpose she designed to apply it to. Joan truly 
 answered, " it was designed to hang her husband with ;" 
 and shortly after caused this cruel assassination to be per- 
 formed by the very cord in question. At the period of 
 her death, this unhappy queen, by the counsel and ad- 
 vice of tlie Pope, bequeathed her crown and dotninions 
 to the Duke of Anjou, who, with the flattering prospect 
 before him, of a kingdom which was to be his own, was 
 little disposed to pay due attention to the interests of that 
 country of which he wa§ regent for his nephew. One 
 of his first resolutions, (and certainly one which could 
 
192 ANJOIJ'S CLAIM TO SICILY AND NAPLES. 
 
 not be vindicated on any principle of morality,) was to 
 seize upon the treasures of the late King Charles, his 
 brother, who, by his policy and economy, had amassed 
 large sums of gold and silver, which he kept concealed 
 in the castle of Melun. The sum amounted, it is said, 
 to seventeen millions of francs. Violence, and even 
 threats of death, were unscrupulously employed, to make 
 the old officers of Charles communicate the knowledge 
 of his treasure. They were at length obliged to produce 
 it ; and the Duke of Anjou took possession of this mass 
 of wealth. 
 
 The first effort of the new government, divided as they 
 w^ere by the various claims of the princes of the blood, 
 was exerted to procure a settlement amongst them ; and 
 for some time at least, their desire of a relaxation of taxes 
 seemed to intimate a sincere wish to alleviate the heavy 
 burdens of the people. This flattering prospect disap- 
 peared under the disunion of the princes of the ^lood 
 royal. We have already said that the Regent Duke of 
 Anjou seized upon the treasures of his brother Charles 
 V,, without having any personal title to do so ; he em- 
 ployed them, as 1 will hereafter show you, in an attempt 
 on Naples and Sicily^ — a purpose which proved totally 
 jseless to himself, and dangerous to France, on which it 
 entailed a long course of disasters. 
 
 There was at this time a schism in the Roman Catho- 
 lic Church ; that is, two Popes had been chosen, who 
 were acknowledged in opposition to each other by differ- 
 ent kingdoms of the Christian world, and both of whom 
 aspired to wield the sw^ord and the keys of Saint Peter. 
 The one, who assumed the name of Urban, resided at 
 Rome , the other, under the title of Pope Clement, held 
 bis seat of church government at Avignon, in the south 
 of France. Each fiad his separate college of cardinals, 
 and each affected the power and authority of the full 
 papal sway. 
 
 The Duke of Anjou had no great difficulty in prevail- 
 ing upon the anti-pope, Clement, to declare in favour of 
 his title to the crown of Naples and Sicily, under the 
 
EXPEDITION TO BRETAG^E. 19JJ 
 
 bequest of Queen Joan. He did so with the greater 
 ighow of authority, as he alleged that tlie deceased Joan 
 had put all her dominions and seigniories at the disposal 
 of the Church, and that, therefore, the Pope had the 
 strongest reason for supporting and defending her subse- 
 quent bequest to the Duke of Anjou, which was made 
 by his consent. 
 
 While, therefore, Anjou was pursuing his own ends, 
 the English might have made considerable, and perhaps 
 successful efforts, for the recovery of the dominions which 
 they had lost in France. Of these dominions, Calais, 
 Bourdeaux, and Bayonne, places which had to be gar- 
 risoned at a great expense, were the chief remains of 
 Edward Ill's, conquests which his successor retained. 
 They were impoitant towns, and required large garrisons. 
 Cherbourg and Brest were also at this time in the hands 
 of the English. (A. D. 1378.) That nation had been 
 admitted into thie former town by the King of Navarre 
 when he lost his other dominions in Normandy ; and the 
 Duke of Bretagne had given up Brest to them in the 
 like manner, when he found that the French kino- vvas 
 likely to expel him from his duchy. 
 
 It was after much entreaty that the English Parhament 
 consented to the continuance of the heavy taxes neces- 
 sary to the defence of these possessions, and for the 
 maintenance of a lingc^ring warfare, which had not been 
 of late years gilded over either by national glory or suc- 
 cess. They did consent, however, and their doing so 
 was absolutely necessary to maintain the war in Bretagne ; 
 for, although the duke had returned to that country, in 
 consequence of the invitation of his subjects, who were 
 determined to resist their subjection to the crown of 
 France, still it was impossible that he could be successful 
 in maintaining the independence of Bretagne or his own, 
 without assistance from England. 
 
 A large army was therefore sent into France, by the 
 way of Calais, under the command of the Earl of Buck- 
 ingham, afterwards known as the good Duke Humphrey 
 
194 STATE OF FRANCE AND ENGLAND. 
 
 of Gloucester, uncle to King Richard II. This ^orce 
 did little more than waste the neighbourhood aftei the 
 fashion of the later English invaders ; and when they 
 ad\anced towards Bretagne, in which province tliey were 
 destined to serve, the death of Charles V. had inspired 
 their ally, John de jVJontfort, with the hopes of making 
 a separate peace with France, without embarrassing him- 
 self with the claims of his allies of England. The 
 reason of this dereliction was, that he found his subjects, 
 although attached to his person, and determined against 
 subjection to France, yet equally offended with his strict 
 alliance with England, and indisposed to admit these con- 
 federates into their strong places and castles. The duke 
 w^as therefore induced to try whether he could be ad- 
 mitted to peace with the French government of the day 
 by a separate treaty, now that the death of the king, who 
 hated him personally, had removed every obstacle to his 
 becoming connected with France as a vassal. With this 
 view, following a policy which was that of a perfidious 
 age, De Montfort, on the one hand, invited the English 
 to lay siege to Nantz, the capital town of Bretagne, as- 
 suring them that he would support them with a sufficient 
 army ; while, on the other, he negotiated for a separate 
 peace with the authorities who had succeeded to the 
 government of France. He found little difficulty in the 
 execution of his purpose ; and, being received by the 
 French into their alliance, he dictated to his late allies 
 the English, as a measure of necessity, the evacuation 
 of the territories of Bretagne, which they had entered 
 at his request. It is remarkable, that notwithstanding 
 this striking instance of perfidy, the Duke of Bretagne 
 retained so raucli influence with the French and English 
 as to be able again to impose himself upon both in the 
 character of a mediator. 
 
 Both these kingdoms, indeed, were at this time in a 
 situation unfavourable alike to foreign and domestic pol- 
 icy, and which obliged them to submit rather to the course 
 nf events, than attempt to direct them. Charles VI. of 
 France, and Richard II. of England, were both minora. 
 
DISORDERS IN FLANDERS. 195 
 
 Neither was of distinguished capacity, though both o( 
 good dispositions. Each was held in the management 
 of uncles or near relations, who quarrelled among them- 
 selves, pursued their own interests, with little regard to 
 those of their sovereign, and entirely neglected those du- 
 ties which they were solemnly bound to discharge. 
 
 The condition of the two kingdoms resenibled each 
 other, like that of the sovereigns. The people, in either 
 country, exhausted with taxation, and with all the evils 
 of a burdensome w^ar, had shown themselves mutinous 
 and insubordinate ; and the great insurrection of Wat 
 Tyler and the commons of England rivalled in its hor- 
 rors the Jacquerie of France, and the still-contmued mu- 
 tinies of Paris. In a word, the state of the two king- 
 doms resembled that which is told of the hound and the 
 deer, who exhausted themselves in a long course, until 
 the stag became unable for a last effort at escape, while 
 the dog was equally incapable of a final attempt to se- 
 cure his prey. 
 
 Abroad, both kingdoms were embarrassed with factious 
 neighbours, — the Flemings, for example, whose nume- 
 rous and constant intestine divisions formed a tempta- 
 tion to the French and English to take a part in their 
 dissensions. 
 
 Before giving an account, therefore, of the intestine 
 discords of the princes of the blood at court, the rash 
 expedition of the Duke of Anjou to Naples, and other 
 matters concerning France alone, we will say something 
 of the disorders of Flanders, in which France and Eng- 
 land were as usual interested. 
 
 You remember the fate of Jacob d' Arteville the brew- 
 er, at one time the uncontrolled demagogue among the 
 citizens of the great towns in Flanders, and at length 
 slain in a tumult by the inhabitants of Ghent. This 
 persoi had a son named Philip, who, undeterred by his 
 father's fate, and possessed of his father's popular talents, 
 contrived to raise himself to as much authority among 
 his fellow-citizens as ever was possessed by his father, 
 though the ally of Edward III. This was no sudden 
 
i9G INSURRECTION OF THE GHENTOIS 
 
 achievement. Philip d'Arteville, appalled perhaps bj 
 his father's fate, remained during early life estranged 
 from all the objects of popular ambition, and living much 
 as a private citizen. But a set of events were on the 
 eve of taking place, w^iich tended in their consequences 
 to call him into public view and action. 
 
 The people of Bruges, with the consent of the Earl 
 of Flanders, had meditated certain improvements on the 
 channel of the river Lys. This gave great umbrage tc 
 the citizens of Ghent, lest the course of the river should 
 be interrupted ; and a faction was formed in tliat city, 
 distini'^uished bv wearino- white hats, at the head of which 
 was placed John Lyon, a burgess, who had once been in 
 great estimation with the Earl of Flanders, but now 
 adopted the popular side, and became that prince's bitter 
 enemy. 
 
 The w^earers of the white hats rose in mutiny, de- 
 feated and killed the baillie of Ghent, who attempted tc 
 subdue them in the name of the earl, and made sallies 
 from the town, burning the earl's castle of Andreghen. 
 Several places in Flanders made conmion cause with 
 Ghent ; while the earl threatened the city with severe 
 punishment for the loss and insults to which be had been 
 subjected ; and witn that purpose he besieged, or rather 
 blockaded, the town with little effect. The great popu- 
 lation of the Ghentois enabled them to keep the field, 
 notwithstanding the displeasure of the earl ; and although 
 many citizens disapproved internally of the violence of 
 the white hats, no burgher dared publicly dissent from 
 their proceedings. Tlie insurgents obtained Feveral ad- 
 vantages over the earl, and even compelled him to raise 
 the siege of the place. Still it was apparent to wise men^ 
 that the white hats were falling in reputation ; and their 
 leader Jonn Lyon having died under suspicion of poison, 
 It was thought impossible to find any man of sufficient 
 courage or influence to supply his place ; and thus a se- 
 vere attack from the opposite party w^as likely to over- 
 throw the insurgent faction. At this crisis Philip d'Arte- 
 ville euierged from obscurity, and rose to the head and 
 
INaURRECTICN OF THE GHENTOIS. 197 
 
 nanagemeat of the insurgents of Ghent, securing his 
 authority by many acts of arbitrary power. D'Arteville 
 was specially encouraged to the part he acted by the 
 instigation of a subtle citizen called Peter Dubois, who, 
 before promising him his interest in the city, thus ques- 
 tioned him, whether he possessed the qualities necessary 
 f)r a demagogue. '' Can ye bear yourself high," said he, 
 " and be cruel among the commons, and especially in 
 such things as we shall have to do ? A man is nothing 
 worth, unless he be feared and dreaded, and at the same 
 time renowned for cruelty. Thus must the Flemings be 
 governed ; and you must have no more regard for the 
 life of man, or pity for their sufferings, than of the life 
 of the brutes which we kill for food." Philip d'Arte- 
 ville assented to this lesson ; and by the recommendation 
 of Dubois, and the recollection of his father's original 
 popularity, he was chosen governor of Ghent, and leader 
 of the insurgents in Flanders. 
 
 Thus were the Earl of Flanders, and the citizens of 
 his towns, once more in open arms against each other. 
 The French, espousing, as formerly, the cause of the 
 Earl of Flanders, despatched forces to his assistance ; 
 and the English government, though distracted by domes- 
 tic confusion, failed not, as usual, to send to Calais an 
 army to assist D'Arteville and the insurgent citizens. 
 
 The French Prince, who had the greatest personal in 
 terest in this revolt of Flanders, was Philip, Duke of 
 Burgundy, son-in-law and heir to the earl of that country. 
 To him, therefore, the Earl of Flanders naturally carried 
 his complaint, stating, that these traitors, the insurgents of 
 Ghent, his own native liegemen, had destroyed the house 
 in wdiich he was born, broken to pieces the font in which 
 he was cbristened, done him every manner of despite, 
 and were now likely to ruin his remaining heritage. In 
 all this the Duke of Burgundy saw the necessary desola- 
 tion of a heritage that should one day be his own, and 
 therefore, having much influence in the administration of 
 France, he lesolved that the king his nephew, and all his 
 17^ 
 
195 BATTLE OF ROSEBECQUE. 
 
 peers, sliould march into Flanders, and fight against ihosfc 
 insurgent burgesses, who were hkely to lay that fine 
 country entirely waste, or declare it independent of its 
 earl and his nobility. Accordingly, the King of France, 
 under the guidance of his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy, 
 niarched into Flanders at the head of eighty thousand 
 men. 
 
 The war was conducted with great vigour on the part 
 of the French. Yet Philip d'Arteville, on this trying oc- 
 casion, showed both dexterity and courage. From Ghent 
 and the confederate towns he collected a numerous army. 
 Those who fought under him were arrayed in cassocks of 
 different colours, to mark the various towns they belonged 
 lo ; they were armed chiefly with pikes, and fought en- 
 tirely on foot, forming one main battalion or division 
 I'heir captain, D'Arteville, alone kept a good horse be- 
 side him, not for the purpose of flight, but for that of fol- 
 lowing the French in the chase, which, he doubted not, 
 would be the consequence of the battle. The country, 
 divided by rivers and canals, was favourable to the Flem- 
 ings. 
 
 After some lesser skirmishes, the two armies encounter- 
 ed each other in a pitcljcd battle near the town of Rose- 
 becque. The Flemings, for a time, made a most despe- 
 rate and gallant defence ; but as they were attacked by 
 the flower of the French chivalry, headed by the princes 
 of the blood, and by the king in person, the insurgents 
 were at length broken by the charge of the horses and 
 lances. (A. D. 1381, Nov. 27.) As the knights and 
 men-at-arms gave no quarter to an enemy, whom they 
 reckoned so inferior to themselves, twenty-five thousana 
 men were left slain upon the field. Philip d'Arteville 
 fell bravely fighting ; and the victory was so well im- 
 proved, that most of the towns which had been in insur- 
 rection, submitted peaceably to the dominion of France, 
 tliough Ghent still held out. 
 
 Shortly after he had been thus replaced in his domin- 
 ipns, Louis, Count of Flanders, died, and the Duke of 
 Burgundy became established as a very great prince, en 
 
MARRIAGE OF CHARLES VI. 199 
 
 joying not only his deceased father-in-law's seign orieS; 
 ivhicb comprehended the wliole country of Flanders, but 
 his own dominions of Burgundy and Artois, — forming to- 
 getl)era strong, compact, and powerful principality, which, 
 though now its lord was so nearly connected with the 
 crown of France as to be its principal regent, became in 
 after times a dreaded enemy of that power. 
 
 About this time, tlie King of France, by the advice of 
 the Duke of Burgundy, was wedded to a beautiful Ger- 
 man princess, Isabella, daughter of the Duke of Bavaria. 
 It was remarkable that the young prince declined acced- 
 ing to tlie match, until, contrary to the usage of princes, 
 he was permitted to see the princess to whom he was to 
 be betrotiied. He was delighted with her external beauty, 
 but had no means of perceiving the bad qualities of the 
 mind which were lodged in so beautiful a form. Mean- 
 while the duke took the opportunity of the king's German 
 match, to make an advantageous bargain for his own son, 
 with the daughter and heiress of Albert, Count of Zea- 
 land, Hainault, and Holland, affording the prospect of a 
 succession which miglit make a formidable addition to the 
 dominions of Burgundy and Flanders. 
 
 From the bloody field of Rosebecque, in which the power 
 of the insurgent Flemings had been broken, the young 
 King of France hurried back to his own capital of Paris, 
 wd)ich had been for a considerable time more or less in 
 mutiny against him, as formerly against his father Charles 
 V. The Parisians had rendered their city in some degree 
 tenable by building walls, digging trenches, drawing bar- 
 ricades across the street, and thus impeding the entrance 
 of the military ; and they themselves had assumed the 
 title of maillotins, or malleters, from the mallets with 
 which they were generally armed. In order to overawe 
 the young king, they displayed before him this force, 
 amounting to thirty thousand men ; but, instead of being 
 Jaunted, Charles was provoked by their assuming an ap- 
 pearance of nienace, and, despising their numbers, entered 
 his capital as if by force of arms, and seized, without 
 scruple;, upon two or three hundred leaders of the mal- 
 
200 EXPEDIT ON OF THE 
 
 letteis several of whom were put to death for soine suc- 
 cessixe days, in requital of former acts of insubordination. 
 The gates of the city were also pulled down, the citizens 
 disarmed, and the insurrection for the time was effectually 
 subdued. 
 
 England, weakened as it was by external losses and 
 internal mutiny, was still too powerful not to be appealed 
 to during these times of confusion. When the Flemings 
 were in insurrection, the English, though they ridiculed 
 the idea of giving them pecuniary assistance, which 
 D'Arieville required, were yet disposed to send troops to 
 the continent, to avail themselves of the general confusion. 
 
 With this view, two propositions were made to the 
 British Parliament. By the one, John of Gaunt, on re- 
 ceiving an allowance of forty thousand pounds, or there- 
 abouts, declared himself willing to undertake an expedi- 
 tion into Castile ; but as the purpose of this must have 
 been a conquest for his own benefit, without any corres- 
 ponding national advantage, the Parliament declined en- 
 tering upon this proposal, which was afterwards, however, 
 unfortunately resumed. 
 
 They were more willing to listen to a proposal made 
 by the Bishop of Norwich, for the support of the Flem- 
 ings. This military prelate had already distinguished 
 himself by quelling some insurrections in his own bishop- 
 ric. He now offered his services, upon certain terms, of 
 money to be paid, to raise three thousand men-at-arms 
 and three thousand archers, which he proposed to trans- 
 port to Calais, and there act in behalf of the Flemings. 
 This was also in some measure a religious undertaking ; 
 for tlie warlike bishop, who declared stoutly for the rights 
 of Pope Urban in the schism of the church, made it a 
 principal object of his expedition, to remove his compet- 
 ito» Clement, whom he held to be an antipope, from the 
 "ity of Avignon. The nobles of England thought well 
 of this enterprise of the bishop ; but while they were 
 in deliberation upon the subject, the battle of Rosebecque 
 w as fought, in which D'Arteville was killed, and his army 
 of insurgents otally defeated, whereby the whole country 
 
BISHOP OF NORWICH 201 
 
 jf f 'landers fell to the French interest, which was natu- 
 rally embraced by the Duke of Burgundy, son-in-law 
 and successor of the last earl, Louis of Flanders. Then, 
 indeed, the English government blamed their own inde- 
 cision, and began to censure each other, for not having 
 sent timely succours to D'Arteville. " Had these poor 
 Flemings," they said, " who fought so well in their own 
 rude manner, been joined by but two thousand English 
 spears and six thousand archers, not a Frenchman would 
 have escaped death or captivity. But there is a good 
 time to come. The French king has conquered Flan- 
 ders ; we will conquer it again for Richard of England."" 
 This species of reaso-ning induced many distinguished 
 men, as Sir Hugh Calverley and others, to join the expe- 
 dition under the Bishop of Norwich, although its chance 
 of success was greatly diminished by the defeat of 
 Rosebecque. 
 
 The martial prelate took the sea accordingly, and land- 
 ed at Calais the 23d day of April, 1383. When the 
 English arrived at this place, the Bishop of Norwich was 
 in great haste to move against the Earl of Flanders ; 
 although, strictly speaking, his commission limited him to 
 attack and destroy those only who owned Clement as the 
 Pope. Some disputes there were upon this subject ; but 
 the fiery prelate was not to be restrained by remonstran- 
 ces, nor disposed to limit his commission to the letter. He 
 defeated an army of thirty thousand French and Flem- 
 in^i-s, in the French interest, and made himself master of 
 Gravelines and Dunkirk, Burburgh, and several other 
 towns ; and besieged Ypres, which was valiantly defended. 
 The besiegers sent to the people of Ghent, who had still, 
 notwithstanding the defeat at Rosebecque, remained in 
 insurrection against the Earl of Flanders ; and as they 
 joyfully obeyed the summons, and came in large numbers, 
 with great hope of success, the siege was closely pressed. 
 The King of r*'ance, therefore, instigated by the Duke 
 of Burgundy, his uncle, assembled an army of twent}' 
 tliousand men-at-arms, and more than threescore thousand 
 of other tro-^ps, for the purpose of relieving Ypres. 
 
202 RETREAT OF THE ENGLISH 
 
 This news alarrned the bisiiop, whose force Wds too 
 weak to ab\de the arrival of such an army. The siege 
 was raised in such haste and disorder, that the besiegers 
 took different routes to secure themselves ; some march- 
 mg towards Burburgh, under Sir Hugh Calverley and 
 Sir Thomas Tiivet ; and the rest of the army, under the 
 personal command of the bishop, retreating towards 
 Gravelines. The party under Calverley halted for some 
 time at the town of Bergues. The French host ap- 
 proached them just after they had occupied the place. 
 " It was beautiful," says Froissart, "to behold this royal 
 armament, their banners and pennons flying, their spears 
 and helmets glistening against the sun, their number so 
 great that it could not be ascertained, and their spears 
 appearing like a thick wood !" Sir Hugh Calverley was 
 at first inclined to have fought the French at Bergues, 
 disdaining all difference of numbers ; but on better re- 
 flections, withdrew to the town of Burburgh, which was 
 stronger, though unfortunately the houses were most of 
 them thatched, and thus liable to be set on fire. 
 
 Here the party of English defended themselves val- 
 iantly for some time, until the King of France ordered a 
 great number of fagots for filling the ditches of the place, 
 as one determined to carry it by storm. A small piece 
 of silver, called a blank, was paid to each peasant who 
 should brino; a fao^ot, and on these terms the ditches were 
 soon filled. In this extremity, the English leaders were 
 glad to compound for permission £0 evacuate the place 
 safely, and return to Calais. Gravelines, whither the 
 greater part of the English had retired, and where the 
 bishop commanded in person, was surrendered in like 
 manner, and on the same conditions as Burburgh. 
 
 This expedition of the Bishop of Norwich gave little 
 jatisfaction to the English ; and though it certainly was 
 not more useless than most of those which had lately 
 been undertaken in France, the bishop underwent both 
 censure and fine for its bad success. John of Gaunt, the 
 Duke of Lancaster, was rather pleased than otherwise 
 s\'ith the unfortunate issue of the Bishop (jf Norv^icli's 
 
203 
 
 attempt ; yet he might have learned, from tho fate oi tne 
 Duke of Anjou, whose situation in the court of France 
 nearly resembled his own in that of England, tliat he 
 might be a loser, rather than a gainer, by the enterprise 
 which he himself meditated, even if lie had succeeded 
 in the commencement. The following is a brief account 
 of the Neapolitan expedition, which we have ])ostponed 
 till now, though it actually took place so early as 1382 : 
 — The Duke of Anjou, 1 have told you, had made free 
 with the treasures of his brother Charles V., in order to 
 support the claim of succession, which the Pope and the 
 Queen Joan had given him in Sicily and Naples. Daz- 
 zled with the prospect of a kingdom, he unwarily sacri- 
 ficed the real power which he possessed as Regent of 
 France, for tlie romantic project of making himself a king 
 in Italy. His brother, the Duke of Burgundy, who ex- 
 pected to succeed him as Regent, encouraged him in his 
 desperate enterprise. 
 
 The Duke of Anjou employed the wealth which he had 
 acquired, in levying an army, which, in the days when the 
 Free Companies were every wliere to be found, was, while 
 there were funds to pay them, a matter of much ease. 
 He acquired the aid of the Earl of Savoy, who joined 
 Anjou with a considerable body of his followers. In his 
 progress through Sicily, the French prince coined money, 
 and assumed the titles of King of Naples, of Sicily, and 
 Jerusalem, Duke of Apulia, and of Caiabria. On the 
 other hand, his competitor, Charles de Durazzo, as near- 
 est heir of Queen Joan, claimed her kingdom as his in- 
 heritance, and his title was affirmed by Pope Urban on 
 similar grounds to those which moved his rival Clement 
 to prefer that of the Duke of Anjou. 
 
 This prince had no means of withstanding such an 
 army as that led by the Duke of Anjou. Upon his first 
 arrival, therefore, in full strength, he resolved to avoid 
 fighting, and watch the course of events. He saw with 
 considerable equanimity his country laid waste, and the 
 city of Naples possessed by his rival. Charles of Du- 
 razzo, howeve'j being satisfied in his 3wn mind that the 
 
204 NEGOTIATION FOR A PEACE. 
 
 wealth of the Duke of Anjou must, in a short time, bi^ 
 i3xhaustecl, and his army disbanded for want of supplies, 
 continued to protract the struggle. 
 
 Accordingly, the necessity of paying and supporting an 
 army, which consisted of fifty thousand men at least, soon 
 exhausted all the treasures which the Duke of i\njouhad 
 been able to collect. His rival exercised effectually the 
 arts of Italian policy, and, by prolix negotiation, amused 
 the Frenchujan with personal challenges which he never 
 designed to fulfil ; so that, at length, his army being al- 
 most totally dissolved, and his treasures entirely exhaust- 
 ed, Louis of Anjou died of depressed spirits and disap- 
 pointed hopes, at the village of Bari, the 10th of October, 
 1383. Charles of Durazzo, that he might seem to carry 
 on his dissimulation even after the death of his rival, wore 
 mourning for thirty days for the death of his competitor 
 and mortal enemy — after which he took possession of his 
 crown. 
 
 It is said, that the ultimate cause of Anjou's ruin was a 
 faithless follower, entitled Peter Craon, a Breton noble, 
 afterwards frequently, but unhappily, distinguished in 
 French history. He was a man of talent and social hab- 
 its, for which he was highly valued at the profligate court 
 of France. This Craon had followed the Duke of An- 
 jou to Italy, and in his necessities, that prince sent him to 
 bring some supplies of money, which he had left in France 
 under the charge of his princess. The false emissary 
 obtained the money ; but, instead of bringing it back, as 
 the count had enjoined him, he spent it at Venice in 
 profligate, riotous, and expensive pleasures. Having, 
 notwithstanding, ventured back to Paris after the Duke of 
 Anjou's decease, Craon fell at first under the displeasure 
 of the king, and was severely fined for breach of trust ; 
 but afterwards, by the arts proper to such parasites, he 
 recovered the favour of the court, and again had confi- 
 dence reposed in him, which put in his power once more 
 the means of abusing and betraying it. 
 
 About this time, the Duke of Bretagne, who had borne 
 avins in the camp of the King of France during the ex- 
 
FREE COMPANIES 205 
 
 pedltion of tho Bishop of Norwich, ventu;ed :o m.ike liis 
 appearance in Ine character of negotiator of a peace be- 
 tween France and Enu;land — a character somewhat singu 
 lady assumed by one who, like John de Mon^fort, had 
 oeen unfaithful to both kingdoms. Neither, however, 
 were prepared, by the course of events, to submit to 
 moderate terms ; and while the Englisli refused to liold 
 in vassalage of France the few places which they still 
 retained in tliat kingdom, the French were equally un- 
 willing that a foreign nation should enjoy even the slightest 
 independent possession on their soil. No solid terms of 
 peace, therefore, could be adjusted between the contend- 
 ing powers. 
 
 In the meantime, France, more especially its south- 
 western provinces, continued to suffer from the Free 
 Companies, or bands of armed men, of whom I have offen 
 told you before ; they owned no king or country, but as- 
 sembled in towns and castles, where they made their living 
 by force, and at the expense of the neighbourhood. 
 Many of them, we have seen, rose from being captains of 
 such robbers — for such was their true description — into 
 knights and generals of great consequence. 1 think, how- 
 ever, you will better understand the character of this sort 
 of persons, and conceive the scourge they must have 
 been to a peaceful country, by a short account of the his- 
 tory and death of two of their number. 
 
 The province of Auvergne was particularly haunted by 
 this banditti, because it abounds with passes, rocks, hills 
 and strongholds, of which the Free Companions knew 
 adrnirably how to take advantage in war. Several of the 
 most renowned leaders had settled themselves there^ for 
 the same reason that a mountainous region is peopled by 
 eagles, hawks, and other birds of prey, to whom it affords 
 opportunities of rapine, and means of concealment. Two 
 of these freebooters were distinguished above the others 
 by their courage, intelligence, and activity ; iheir names, 
 ^at least the epithets by which they were distinguished in 
 the wars,) w^re Amergot Marcell, and Geoffrey Tete -noii; 
 
206 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 that is, Black-head. They both professed to espouse the 
 English cause ; but it may be supposed that they only 
 chose it because it afforded the most unlimited privilege 
 of plunder. Froissart's account of the death of tliese two 
 celebrated Conipanions is one of the most picturesque 
 passages of his lively work, and will make you better ac- 
 quainted with the lawless men who existed in that dis- 
 tracted time, than a long dissertation of mine. 
 
 Geoffl^ey Tete-noir obtained, by bribing a domestic, the 
 means of obtaining possession, for himself and company, 
 of the strong castle of Ventadour, belonging to an aged 
 earl of that name, a quiet, peaceful man, whom the rob- 
 bers dismissed without injury : such, indeed, had been the 
 bargain of his treacherous squire, who surrendered the 
 place. Geoffiey Tete-noir here prosecuted his profession 
 with great success. " He was a hardy man," says the 
 historian, " who knew neither fear nor pity, and would 
 put to death a knight or squire as soon as a peasant, for 
 Ije cared for no one ; and he was so much dreaded by 
 his men, that none dared displease him." This chieftain 
 assembled a band of four hundred men, to whom he paid 
 high wages monthly, with the utmost regularity. He 
 protected the country around Ventadour, so that no one 
 dared make incursions upon the territory. In his castle 
 he held a kind of open market, where goods and furniture, 
 clotli of Brussels, peltry and nriercery, with iron and steel 
 ware, leather, and other commodities, were to be found as 
 plentiful as in the city of Paris. The castle was fully 
 victualled for a siege, had it been to last seven years. 
 Nay, occasionally, to show his independence, Tete-no r 
 chose to make war on the English as well as the French ; 
 and this jovial course of life he led for many years, more 
 dreaded than any lawful authority in the country where 
 he lived. 
 
 But when the French interest began to recover itself in 
 these districts, the nobles and knights united themselves 
 together for the purpose of besieging the forts and castles 
 of which these robbers had possession, and delivering the 
 
GEOFFKEY TETE-NOIR. 20T 
 
 country, by fair means or by force, from these lawless 
 companions. 
 
 Accordingly, Sir William LigLdc, Sir John Bon-lance, 
 and many others, knights of Auvergne and of the district 
 of the Limosin, formed the siege of Ventadour, for the 
 safety of which Tete-noir was no way distressed, having 
 plenty of ammunition and provisions. But one day, as 
 he was heading his men in a sally, he received a crossbow 
 shot \n the face. The medical persons thought that the 
 wound was unattended with danger, had the patient ob- 
 served the regimen prescribed ; but he was a free-living 
 person, unwont to self-denial of any kind. The conse- 
 quence of his careless course was, that the wound proved 
 mortal. When Geoffrey Tete-noir felt himself very ill, 
 he summoned the principal officers of his Free Company 
 to his dying bed. He reminded them that he had long 
 been their true captain, and, being now about to die, was 
 desirous to see them unite to choose a chieftain in his 
 stead, who might be able to defend this strono^ and well- 
 furnished castle, until the French should raise the siege. 
 " I have served," he added, " chiefly under the shadow 
 of the King of England, holding the service to be one in 
 which there is much to be got, and you will do well to 
 choose one who shall follow the same policy." The 
 Companions heard their commander's words in silence, 
 and when they answ^ered, it was to offer to Tete-noir the 
 choice of his successor. Having named a kinsman of his 
 own to this office, the patient proceeded to make his will ; 
 and it was one which, while it shows the wealth acquired 
 by such people, is a curious evidence of their superstition, 
 and their wild and irregular ideas of property, even when 
 it was their own. " In yonder chest," said the dying 
 brigand, " are thirty thousand marks. I will give them 
 according to my conscience. Firstj to the chapel of Saint 
 George, in thio castle, fifteen hundred marks, to be spent 
 in repairing the same ; next, to my mistress, w4io has 
 truly and faithfully attended me, two thousand five hun- 
 dred francs ; to Allan Roux, whom I have named your 
 captain, Cour thousand francs ; five hundred to the varlets 
 
i08 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of my chamber ; fifteen hundred to the officers of tv.y 
 household ; the rest 1 give and bequeath thus : — Ye be 
 about thirty Companions, all of one band ; ye ought 1 j be 
 brethren, without debate, anger, or strife among you. 
 Having paid these legacies, I will that you divide the 
 residue of the money which you shall find in yonder 
 chest, truly and equally among you thirty. But if you 
 be not content with my bequest, and that the devil do set 
 debate amongst you, there stands a stout axe, break up 
 the coffer, scramble for the money, and get it who can !" 
 The residuary legatees replied, that as they had always re- 
 garded their captain, while living, with love and awe, so 
 they would follow his behests when dead. 
 
 They continued to respect Geoffrey's testament after 
 his death. But his successor Allan Roux, being surprised 
 in a piece of intended treachery, was put to the sword, 
 and the castle of Ventadour taken. 
 
 The history of Amergot Marcell, whom we have men- 
 tioned as a brother in the trade of war, and an occasional 
 partner of Tete-noir, gives us a similar picture of their 
 life. This worthy had, in like manner, acquired the strong 
 castle of Aloys, in Auvergne ; from it he made many suc- 
 cessful inroads upon the country, which produced him a 
 revenue of twenty thousand florins. But about the time 
 of Tete-noir's death, the Earl of Armagnac, and several 
 French lords, Vv^ere commissioned to get these robbers out 
 of the country by bribery, if that should be necessary, 
 since force was a doubtful and dangerous remedy. Mar- 
 cell was after a time persuaded that he had better accept 
 the offer made him, renounce his unlawful and violent 
 proceedings, and, by means of the treasure he had ac- 
 quired, live in future a peaceful life. In these sentiments, 
 he delivered up to tlie Earl of Armagnac the castle oi 
 Aloys, situated in the very heart of Auvergne. 
 
 But when he had resigned this stronghold, ho began 
 lo repent of having done so, and of having adopted re- 
 formed courses. He felt that there was a diminution of 
 the respect and awe which he formerly inspired whenever 
 ois name was pronounced. The brigand Is said to have 
 
AMERGOT MARCELL. 209 
 
 lamented his change of cond\tion to ihe old companions 
 nf his rapine ; and his recollections, as delivered by the 
 historian, give a lively picture of his successful robberies. 
 
 " To pillage and rob," he said, " all things considered, 
 was a good life ;" and so he repented him of his good 
 resolutions, and thus addressed his old companions : — 
 *' Sirs, there is no sport or glory in this world among men 
 of war, but to use such life as we have done in time past. 
 What a joy vA-as it to us when we rode forth at adventure, 
 and sometimes found by the way a rich prior or merchant, 
 or a route of mules of JVIontpelier, of Narbonne, of Tou- 
 louse, or of Carcassonne, laden with Brussels cloth, or 
 with furs coming from the fairs, or of spicery ware from 
 Bruges, from Damascus, from Alexandria ! Whatever we 
 met, all was ours, or else ransomed at our pleasure. Then, 
 for our living, tlie peasants of Limosin daily brought to 
 our castle, wheat-flour, ready-baked bread, forage for our 
 horses, good wines, beeves and fat sheep, pullets and wild 
 fowl. We were furnished as though we had been kings ; 
 when we rode forth, the whole country trembled for fear ; 
 all was ours, going and coming. How we took Carlushe, 
 and James the Bourge of Compeigne ; and how I and 
 Perot of Bernoys took Chalucet ! How did we scale with 
 little aid the strong castle of Marquel, and how I received 
 in ransom thereof five thousand francs, told down on a fair 
 table, and showed my gentleness by forgiving another 
 thousand, for respect to the dauphin's children ! By my 
 faith, this was a fair and a good life ! and I repute myself 
 sore deceived when I rendered up the fortress of Aloys-; 
 since, well victualled as it was 1 could have kept it against 
 all the world." 
 
 Marcell's regret for the license of his early life natu- 
 rally led to his resuming his former profession. It would 
 be useless to trace his further exploits, though they are 
 singular enough. His mode of life was rendered more 
 difficult by the close alhance of the French km^hts, 
 which, as we have already noticed, had for its ob'ect the 
 suppression of the Companies. Nor did the English af- 
 
210 Lancaster's invasion of castile. 
 
 ford him any effectual support, there being a truce be- 
 tween the kincrdoms at the time. At len^rth lie intrusted 
 himself to tlie confidence of one of his kinstnen called 
 Turnemine, who delivered him up to the French. When 
 he was brought to Paris, Marcell offered threescore thou- 
 sand francs for his ransom. The cold reply was, that the 
 king was rich enough. The brigand was dragged on a cart 
 to the Halles, and, being first exposed on the pillory, was 
 afterwards hanged and quartered, his quarters being placed 
 over the gates of the city. These two leaders of banditti, 
 their sentiments, and their fate, may serve to give you 
 some idea of the life they led, and the manner in which 
 France was finally relieved of them. 
 
 To return to our history. The Duke of Lancaster, n 
 the meantime, had, by his extensive influence, obtained 
 at length the great but ill-placed object of his ambition, 
 and had sailed with twenty thousand English troops, to 
 make good his claim to the kingdom of Castile, lately pos- 
 sessed by his father-in-law, Pedro the Cruel. It may be 
 enough to say of his adventures in Spain and Portugal, 
 that his troops maintained the character of the English 
 for bravery ; and acquired, as has been their usual fate, 
 little or no advantage to their country from their brilliant 
 exploits. The unhealthy climate, and intemperate use 
 of the wines and fruits of the country, spread contagious 
 diseases among them. But when we remember that port 
 wine is now a general, and supposed a healthy beverage, 
 for Englishmen of the higher and middling ranks, we can- 
 not suppress a smile when we read Froissart's assurances, 
 that the hot and fiery wines of Oporto were fatally nox- 
 ious to the English of his day, who were accustomed only 
 to drink the light and generous wines of Gascony, or the 
 mild ale of their own country. 
 
 It occurred to the French king and his courtiers, that 
 when the realm of England might be supposed exliausted 
 by the mutinies of the peasants, and the two expeditions 
 under the Bishop of Norwich and John of Gaunt, the 
 propel season had arrived for transferring the war into the 
 
PUKE OF BRETAGNE 211 
 
 territory of England. On this, as on later occasions, tlifl 
 preparations for invasion were made to a cumbrous, rathei 
 than useful extent, and with great and unnecessary splen- 
 dour. Upwards of seven hundred ships were prepared 
 to transport the large army which was collected for this 
 enterprise ; the frame of a wooden town was put on board, 
 which was designed to be taken to pieces, and carried 
 from place to place for the king's lodging, should he at- 
 tend the expedition. The severe equinoctial storms of 
 1386 destroyed this great fleet of transports, which had 
 rendezvoused in the harbour of Sluyse. The klwr show- 
 ed his favour to his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy, by be- 
 stowing upon him the harbour of Sluyse itself, and the 
 various wrecks with which the tempest had filled ii in- 
 cluding the fragments of the great wooden town already 
 mentioned. 
 
 About the same period, the affairs of Bretagne began 
 again to assume peculiar interest. John de Montfort, 
 Duke of Bretagne, whom we have so often mentioned, as 
 a man of bravery and talent, had a difficult part to play 
 between France and England, and might, therefore, have 
 been taught prudence by his situation. Yet, on the pres- 
 ent occasion, he ventured upon a line of conduct which 
 would have been destructive to him, had circumstances 
 permitted the French king to have driven the matter to 
 extremity. 
 
 You cannot have forgotten the long wars betwixt John 
 de IMontfort and his parents, on the one side, and Charles 
 de Blois, on the other. Among the greatest opponents 
 of De Montfort, in his claim on the dukedom of Bretagne, 
 was Oliver de Clisson, a Breton lord, now Constable of 
 France. The constable's zeal was the more provoking, 
 that in the beginning of these disorders, he had been a 
 partisan of the house of De Montfort ; but long since that 
 time he had espoused the cause of Charles de Blois, arid 
 fought for him in the battle of Aurai, in which Charles 
 was slain. Oliver de Clisson, after that battle, had ran- 
 somed, at his own cost, two sons of Charles de Blois, the 
 eldest of whoni had married Clisson's daughter. Thid 
 
212 THE DUKE OF BRETAGNE ARRESTS 
 
 young lord, with consent, as might be supposed, of bis 
 iather-in-law, still continued to display the arms of Bre- 
 tagne on his banners and in his scutclieon, and in so far^ 
 at least, to assert his claim to the duchy, in maintaining 
 which his father was slain at Aurai. The duke was so 
 displeased with this implied chahenge of his right, that he 
 resolved to be avenged in any manner, however discredit- 
 able to himself, which might place the constable in his 
 power. For this purpose, he issued an invitation to all 
 the nobility and lords of Bretagne, and especially to the 
 Constable of France, Oliver de Clisson, to meet him at a 
 solemn entertainment, with which he proposed to regale 
 them. Having feasted them for some time, the Duke, 
 as if to procure their opinion of the structure, carried 
 them to see a castle by the sea-shore, which he was just 
 building, and which he called the castle of Ermyne. 
 The constable, entering the tower at the duke's request, 
 was instantly laid hold of, secured, and loaded with irons. 
 His brother-in-law, the Lord Delaval, who saw the gate 
 of the lower shut suddenly, and observed by the duke's 
 change of complexion, that something remarkable had 
 happened, threw himself upon his knees, and demanded 
 mercy for the gentle constable. " Are you willing to 
 share his fate ?" answered the duke, obviously in a high 
 passion. " 1 am," answered Lord Delaval, in more anx- 
 iety for his friend, than apprehension for himself " Then," 
 said the duke, drawing his dagger, " you must be content 
 to lose one of your eyes, for Clisson has but one." (He 
 lost the other, it must be observed, at the battle of Aurai,) 
 After a moment, however, the duke abstained from the 
 violence which he threatened, and caused Delaval to be 
 apprehended, saying, that he should have neither worse 
 nor better treatment than his friend. He was led, ac- 
 cordingly, into a prison-chamber, and loaded, as was the 
 constable himself, with three pairs of irons. The Lord 
 Delaval continued to make intercession for the constable ; 
 and though the duke repeatedly threatened to put both 
 his prisoners to death, he had the good fortune to divert 
 him from his purposy. Finally, the duke accepted of a 
 
THE CONSTABLE OF FRANCE. 213 
 
 ransom, amounting to the large sum of one hundred 
 thousand francs, besides three castles, and the town o^ 
 Guy on. 
 
 It was the opinion of tlie Bretons in general, that the 
 true purpose of this violence on the duke's part, was to 
 reconcile himself with the English, whom he had lately 
 displeased by his desertion of the Duke of Buckingham^ 
 yet without whose support he must have felt it difficult 
 to maintain the character of independence which he af- 
 fected as Duke of Bretagne. 
 
 The consequence of the constable's arrest in Bretagne, 
 depriving the king of France of that great officer, upon 
 whose wisdom he chiefly rested for the successful execu- 
 tion of his project against England, must necessarily have 
 interrupted the progress of the invasion ; but, as you have 
 already heard, the tempestuous weather put an end to 
 that expedition, by destroying the transports. The duke, 
 however, contrived to reconcile himself with the king 
 of France, at the expense of returning the sum he had 
 extorted as the ransom for Clisson, and giving up the 
 castles which he had received from him. 
 20 4th See. 
 
1814 CHARLES VI. ASSUMES THE GOVERNMENT. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Charles VI. assumes the Government into his ovmhandi 
 — his choice of Counsellors — Jltternpt of Peter de 
 Craon to assassinate Oliver de Clisson, Constable of 
 France — the assassin takes refuge in Brctagne, whose 
 Duke, De JMontfort, had been privy to his design 
 —King Charles J in inarching towards Bretagne, to 
 avenge himself upon the intended Murderer, is struck 
 with Insanity, whereupon the Expedition is abandoned 
 — Accident at a Masque, in which the King, during 
 one of his Lucid Intervals, performed a part — The 
 Duke of Burgundy appointed Regent, in opposition 
 to the claims of the Duke of Orleans — Burgundy 
 drives Oliver de Clisson from Court, ivho retires to 
 Bretagne, and engages in a war with De Montfort 
 — Peace concluded between them — De Montfort's 
 Death, leaving Clisson Guardian of his Children — 
 Clisson^s honourable conduct in that capacity — His 
 Death — Administration of the Duke of Burgundy — 
 Assistance afforded by France to- the Scots — Expedi' 
 iion to protect Hungary from the Turks — -the French 
 and Hungarians defeated by the Sultan Bajazet near 
 JS'icopolis — Massacre of the Prisoners — State of 
 France at the Close of the Fourteenth Century. 
 
 The next year was well advanced, when the French 
 king, Charles VI., took upon himself the government of 
 his kingdom. He assembled, for this purpose, a council 
 at Rheims, whither he called his uncles, the Dukes of 
 Berri, Burgundy, and Bourbon, and expressing his grateful 
 thanks for the services they had rendered him, declared 
 himself ir future determined to govern his kingdom by 
 the assistance of a council of state, the members of which 
 were to be selected by himself. 
 
 The nation were not sorry to see that none of the young 
 
GOVERNMENT OF CHARLES VI. "^15 
 
 king's uncles, except the Duke of Bourbon, were includ- 
 ed in the list of privy counsellors. The Dukes of J^erri 
 and Burgundy, however, both of whom were ambitious 
 men, though Burgundy alone was an able one, were 
 highly offended at being thus excluded from power. 1'iie 
 king himself, as far as the character of so young a :nai} 
 could be guessed at, possessed the most promising dis[)o- 
 sitions. His education however, had been neglected ; 
 and, as was probably the policy of his uncle, who wished 
 to keep hint detached from business, he had contracted an 
 extravagant passion for hunting and other youthful exer- 
 cises, together with a love of public show and festivities, 
 inconsistent with the economy which the state of the na- 
 tion highly demanded. These failings, added to untoward 
 circumstances, and to a melancholy alteration in the state 
 of his health, rendered Charles VI. one of the most un- 
 fortunate princes that ever sat upon the throne of France, 
 even though he bad been preceded by the vanquished 
 Philip and the captive John. In the coamiencement of 
 his reign, however, these defects were far from being visi- 
 ble. He was attentive to business, careful to render 
 justice to those who presented petitions to him, liberal in 
 the remission of taxes, active in his administration, and 
 so amiable in his general deportment, as to acquire tho 
 surname of Charles the Well-beloved. 
 
 In this the happiest period of his reign, the death of 
 the Duchess of Orleans enabled him to bestow the title, 
 and the province itself, upon his only brother, whom be 
 had determined to raise to a rank befitting the love which 
 he bore to him. 
 
 The principal officer whom Charles VI. employed, and 
 whom he valued as much for his civil as for his warlike 
 qualities, was the. Breton lord, Oliver de Clisson, often 
 mentioned as Constable of France, and whom, perhaps, 
 the king valued the more, from being conscious that his 
 greatness and wealth arose entirely from distinguished 
 merit, without being the result of high birth. For the 
 same reason, the king's uncles, seeing a person whom 
 the^ regarded as an upstart, rise into confidence with 
 
SI 6 ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE 
 
 their roj^al nephew, from which they were excludetl, 
 entertained a deep hatred for Clisson, which displayed 
 itself on several occasions ; and these princes are, there- 
 fore, supposed to have aided the Duke of Bretagne in 
 escaping, so easily as he did, from the consequences of 
 his treacherous attack upon the constahle's person, at the 
 castle of Ermyne, and to have been at the bottom of a 
 foul attempt to assassinate him, which took place shortly 
 afterwards. 
 
 The agent in this vile deed, which was the too frequent 
 vice of that barbarous age, was the same Peter Craon, 
 formerly remarkable as having been the confidant of Louis 
 of Anjou, to whom he proved faithless, and incurred a 
 fine and censure, notwithstanding which, he had contrived 
 to enter once more into some credit at the court of France. 
 Craon, a bold, meddling, and intriguing person, had ac- 
 quired so much intimacy with the Duke of Touraine, 
 afterwards Orleans, the king's brother, that he had an 
 opportunity of abusing it, which it was not in his nature 
 to omit. The king, who understood tliat Craon had been 
 disturbing the peace of his court, by fetching and carry- 
 ing tales betwixt the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, inti- 
 mated his displeasure by a sentence of banishment from 
 court. Craon retired into Bretagne, of which duchy he 
 v^as a native, and where he had property, full of indigna- 
 tion against the constable ; and reckoning with security 
 that he would have the countenance of the Duke of Bre- 
 tagne, in any enterprise which he might form against that 
 officer. It was not without the knowledge of this prince, 
 that Peter Craon made a desperate attempt to assassinate 
 the constable ; and we must lament the inconsistency oi 
 mankind, when we find that John de Montfort, who had 
 acquired the title of the Valiant, and who, in the field of 
 Aurai, wept in the moment of victory over the hereditary 
 foe by whose death he became Duke of Bretagne, couldj 
 notwithstanding, become accessary to so base and cow- 
 ardly a conspiracy. 
 
 Though banished from Paris, Peter Craon had still 
 iike o*.her persons attendant on the court, a house of his 
 
THE CONSTABLE OF FRivNCE. 217 
 
 own. which he caused to be privately supplied with armour 
 for forty men. In the meantime he introduced into the 
 house, at different times, a like number of persons, the 
 most desperate ruffians whom he could find in a country 
 where long war had made such characters too abundant. 
 At last he joined them suddenly himself, and commanilea 
 Iho porter to let no person either in or out till his pleasure 
 w?.s known. On the same evening there was a great en- 
 tertainment at court, upon which Craon kept a close 
 wat h, in order to be apprized of the motions of his vic- 
 tim. I'he knights jousted in presence of the king and 
 queen ; supper was served ; dancing ensued ; at length 
 all departed to their lodgings. As Constable of France, 
 Clisson departed last of all. He asked if he should at- 
 tend upon the Duke of Orleans longer, and was dismissed 
 by that prince, who had no farther occasion for his ser- 
 vice. The constable was then joined by his retinue, with 
 his horses ; and, with eight persons and two torches, pur- 
 sued his way through what was then called the street of 
 Saint Catherine's. Here Craon waited with his band of 
 assassins, to execute his purpose. They attacked the 
 unsuspicious passenger, and struck out the torches. The 
 constable naturally took this sudden assault to be a youth- 
 ful frolic on the part of the Duke of Orleans, from whom 
 he had just parted, and said, " Ah ! sir, this is a bad 
 jest ; but 1 pardon your youth and love of frolic." At this 
 Peter Craon drew his sword, and cried, " Down with the 
 constable ! I am Peter of Craon, whom thou hast often 
 injured ; I will now have amends !" Excited by their 
 master's cries, Peter Craon's men struck at the constable 
 and his party, yet it was but faintly; ^' for," says the 
 chronicler, " what is done by treason is seldom done har- 
 dily." The good knight whose life was the object of this 
 treachery defended himself maafully with a sword scarce 
 two feet in length, the only weapon which he had, and 
 warded off many blows ; at length he was beat down by 
 a severe stroke on the head, and fell against a baker'^ 
 door, which was forced open by his weight, and the baker, 
 
218 CRAON S RECEPTION IN BRETAGNE. 
 
 who was up early to attend to his oven, a.ew the wounded 
 man within his house, so tiiat the ruffians could not have 
 finished their work without alighting, which they had not 
 time lo do. The assailants were the readier to make 
 their escape, that they conceived, from the constahle's 
 fall, that their enterprise was fully executed. The city 
 was speedily roused ; and the king himself hastened to 
 the spot, with a cloak around him, and slippers on his 
 feet. He instantly ordered a hot pursuit after the assas- 
 sins, which was undertaken by the provost of Paris. 
 Notwithstanding this, Peter of Craon escaped by the gate 
 of the city which had been dismantled by Oliver Clisson 
 himself, when the king, returning from the campaign of 
 Rosebecque, punished the city of Paris. The assassin 
 afterwards retired into Bretagne ; and the king prepared, 
 to march into that country, as well to revenge himself of 
 Peter Craon, who had been guilty of such an outrage, as 
 to chastise the Duke of Bretagne, his protector. 
 
 Clisson, though much hurt, recovered from his wounds, 
 although he thought his end so near, as to make his tes- 
 tament. This was esteemed an extremely impolitic step, 
 as he thereby confirmed reports which were current re- 
 specting the immense wealth which he had amassed, and 
 greatly increased the odium in which he was held on that 
 account. His property was said to amount to seventeen 
 millions of francs, without putting any value on his lands 
 and lordships, forming a strong contrast to the honest 
 poverty of Bertrand du Guesclin, Clisson's predecessor in 
 his high office. 
 
 In the meantime the intended murderer met with but a 
 sorry reception from John de Montfort ; not because he 
 had attempted the deed, but because it was not fully ex- 
 ecuted. " x\h ! Sir Peter of Craon," said the duke, 
 *• you are unhappy, that you could not slay your enemy 
 when he lay under your sword !" — " Sir," answered 
 Craon, '' I think all the devils had conjured him out of 
 my hands ! I am sure more than sixty blows were struck 
 at him with swords and javelins ; he was felled from his 
 liorse ; and had he not tumbled in at a half-open door, he 
 
EXPEDITION AGAINST BKETAGNE. 2J9 
 
 had been but a deaa man." The Duke of Bretagne 'an- 
 swered, " that as it was so, he would conceal Sir Peler 
 of Craon, since so far he had promised to aid him." 
 
 It was highly natural tliat the king should endeavour to 
 avenge so gross and cruel an outrage ; but the offenders 
 had friends about the king's family and person. Accord- 
 ingly, though on one hand Charles urged, as an article of 
 treason on the part of the Duke of Bretagne, that he had 
 sheltered an assassin under the circumstances of Peler de 
 Craon, and persisted in his purpose of bringing both tlie 
 murderer and his abettors to condign punishment ; on the 
 other, tlie Dukes of Berri and Burgundy would have had 
 the matter considered as a mere brawl between two Bre- 
 ton lords, with which the King of France might dispense 
 with intermeddling. The king, notwithstanding this op- 
 position, vowed to be revenged for the foul injury which 
 he had sustained in the person of his constable. 
 
 Tl]e king accordingly marched to the city of jVIans. 
 with the intention of entering Bretagne, having with him 
 his uncles of Berri and Burgundy, and his brother of 
 Orleans, at the head of a gallant army, with which he 
 resolved to penetrate into Bretagne, and obtain full compen- 
 sation for tlie crime meditated and im})erfectly committed, 
 by Peter of Craon. 
 
 The march of the king was interrupted by a very sin- 
 gular circumstance, at which we must be contented tc 
 wonder, without pretending to account for it. For some 
 days ere Charles set out from Mans on this expedition, he 
 had betrayed evident Symplons of occasional derange- 
 ment, — the apparent effects of a slow fever, excited by 
 vexation at the attempt upon Clisson, and the extreme 
 heat of tlie weather. No persuasion, however, could 
 induce him to relin(|uish the expedition against Bretagne, 
 and he set off with his army ii the manner already men- 
 tioned. Charles himself roue like a man-at-arms of the 
 day, fully sheathed in mail, except his head, and having 
 two pages bearing before him his helmet and his lance. 
 The armour, being covered with black velvet, chafed and 
 heated him ex ^essively His brother, his uncles, and one 
 
220 APPARITION IN THE FOREST OF MANS. 
 
 or two principal persons of the army, attended immeJi 
 ately on his person. As he thus rode forward under £ 
 burning sun, he himself being in a moody fit, a tall figure 
 dressed in rags, and hideous in appearance, rushed out of 
 a thicket, and, seizing the king's bridle, exclaimed, in a 
 singular tone of voice, '' King, \vhither goest thou ? Thou 
 art betrayed !" What this man was, or to what purpose 
 his wild w^arning was given, it is difficult to conjecture. 
 The king's servants, who paid no attention to his words, 
 suffered him to escape into the thicket, after having 
 dealt several blows at him. He was nowhere afterwards 
 seen, which induced the superstitious to believe him a 
 supernatural ap])arition. In the meantime, the army 
 emerged from the forest, and entered a broad plain, where 
 the sun, at the height of noon, was still more oppressive 
 than before. Here the pages with the spear and helmet 
 rode close behind the king, and his uncles, the Dukes of 
 Berri and Burgundy, with other high nobles, kept at a 
 little distance, to be free of the columns of dust which 
 arose from the tramp of so many horses. In these cir- 
 cumstances, the page that bore the spear falling asleep, 
 or through negligence, allowing the lance to drop upon 
 the casque of him who bore the king's helmet, that slight 
 accident was enough to produce a great catastrophe. The 
 king was weakened in mind by his fever, exhausted by 
 the heat of the sun, and by the weight of his armour, 
 which was a habiliment most unfit for the season. Above 
 all, the a})pearance and words of what seemed to be a 
 phantom, had sunk deeper into his imagination than those 
 around him were aware. It was but lately since he had 
 been called up from his bed, alarmed by a conflict at the 
 gates of his palace, in which liis highest military officer 
 narrowly escaped with life ; and in times when such things 
 currently happened, slighter warnings than that of the 
 unknown stranger might have alarmed nerves less shat- 
 tered than those gf Charles VT. 
 
 In this situation, the clash of the spear, and the glitter- 
 ing of the armour around, were sufficient to awaken him 
 out of his dreaming melancholy into a fit of raving mad- 
 
CHARLES VI. STRUCK WITH INSANITY. 221 
 
 ncss. He drew his sword, and, rushing hke a madman 
 on the page, who had caused the noise, struck him a mor- 
 lal blow, and continued hewing at all around him with so 
 little distinction, that it became obvious he was whoily 
 deranged. There was no other remedy but to seize upon 
 him by main force, disarm and bind him, and in this un- 
 happy condition to convey him back to iVlans, bound with 
 ropes, and transported in a cart, exhausted with his fran- 
 tic effort, speechless, motionless, and almost lifeless. 
 
 This was a melancholy conclusion of the expedition to 
 Bretagne, all thoughts of prosecuting which were aban- 
 doned. The king's fury, as already noticed, gave way to 
 a fit of the most powerless dejection ; he neither moved, 
 looked, nor spoke ; and a low pulse, and a faint degree of 
 warmth, alone indicated the remains of life. He recov- 
 ered, indeed, after some weeks' illness ; but both mind 
 and body had received such a shock, as was never after- 
 wards repaired. 
 
 It appears doubtful what we are to think of the tale of 
 the forest of Mans. The scene of the apparition was acted 
 near to a lazaretto for the abode of persons afflicted with 
 leprosy ; and the phantom may perhaps, therefore, have 
 been some crazy patient of that melancholy asylum, it 
 has, however, been supposed that the whole was a device 
 of the Duke of Burgundy, who, in the event of the king's 
 incapacity, was most likely to succeed to the administra- 
 tion of the kingdom, having formerly exercised it. It is 
 thus far certain, that Burgundy was greatly dissatisfied 
 with the object of the king's journey; for he hated Clis- 
 son, and considered him as the person by whose advice, 
 he himself, and his brother the Duke of Berri, had been 
 excluded from influence ever since Charles personally 
 assumed the management of public affairs. The same 
 Duke of Burgundy, at a period somewhat later, accused 
 the king's sister-in-law, the Duchess of Orleans, of being, 
 by enchantment, the authoress of the king's malady. She 
 was an Italian, daughter of Galeazzo, Duke of Milan, 
 beaitiful, accomplished, and possessed of high talent; 
 969 
 
^22 EXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT. 
 
 and it would have been indeed ungrateful in her to have 
 been guilty of any harm to the king, who showed her, 
 in his greatest fits of insanity, a particular degree of re- 
 gard, s})oke to her with tenderness, by the name of my 
 " fair sister," and always knew her, though he could dis- 
 lin^iiish no one else. But a^ the House of Orleans did 
 nnt succeed to any considerable share of power by the 
 king's malady, at least in tiie first instance, it could hardly 
 be supposed to have been guilty of practising upon 
 Charles's health. 
 
 At first it seemed as if the king was not unlikely to re- 
 cover permanently from his malady, when his fits of in- 
 sanity were again brought on, after a temporary convales- 
 cence, by an accident as extraordinary as that by which 
 his disease had originally been manifested. 
 
 Charles was so far recovered as to take an interest in 
 the festivities of his court, though not in the affairs of 
 state. There was, one night, displayed at court a masque 
 of particular splendour, in which the king himself acted 
 a part. Six personages of the highest rank, the king 
 nimself being one of them, appeared, for the amusement 
 of the party, disguised in the character of Silvans or Sat- 
 yrs. Their dress consisted of canvass coats, pitched over, 
 to W'hich wool or flax was attached in loose flakes, to 
 represent the character which they had assumed. They 
 were linked together with chains, and formed a pageant 
 which excited general curiosity. The Duke of Orleans 
 used the privilege of his rank, to approach the Silvans 
 with a torch, in order to discover who the masquers were. 
 Unhappily, their dress being highly inflammable, the 
 wMiole group was on fire in an instant. Linked together, 
 in the manner described, there was little chance of escape ; 
 yet the general cry of the perishing group was to save 
 the king, even while they themselves were in the agonies 
 of a death so painful. The Duchess of Berri, who was 
 speaking with the king at the moment when the accidem. 
 took place, had the presence of mind and resoJution, to 
 wrap tbat unhappy monarch in her mantle, and save him 
 from a death, which, in his condition, however painful 
 
DISPUTES CONCERNING A REGENT. 2'23 
 
 and horrible, might have been a merciful dispensauon. 
 Another of the unhappy masquers })lunged himself into 
 a cistern of water, which chanced to be near. The re- 
 maining four were so dreadfully burnt, that they all died 
 in great agony. 
 
 The natural consequence of so horrible an accident 
 was the return of tlie king's malady in its fullest extent ; 
 md, as he never afterwards recovered the perfec-.t use of 
 his reason, he must be considered as a lunatic for life, whose 
 insanity was checjuered with a few intervals of reason. 
 In consequence of this lamentable condition of the mon- 
 arch, the k'mir and kin^^dom were alike overwhelmed with 
 a tide of calamities. 
 
 It became absolutely necessary to provide a regent tc 
 carry on the business of the state ; and a quarrel arose iii 
 the royal family who should be preferred to that import- 
 ant office. The Duke of Orleans and the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy both preferred claims to this eminent trust. The 
 Duke of Orleans, the king's brother and heir, was legally 
 entitled to hold this office ; the king, during his rare 
 intervals of reason, gave his opinion to this effect ; nor 
 was this prince unfitted for the situation by personal 
 qualifications. He was a handsome man, and possessed 
 all those exterior accomplishments which gain the ad- 
 miration of tlie inferior orders. But the Duke of Or- 
 leans was a licentious voluptuary, preferring pleasure to 
 principle, and not extremely select in choosing the road 
 by which he sought the former. He was also only twenty 
 years old at the time when the king's incapacity was first 
 admitted, and was not, therefore, considered as sufficiently 
 ripe in years to take upon him the high responsibility of 
 the regency. 
 
 The Dukes of Berri and Burgundy, uncles of the king, 
 might entertain the next pretensions to this high office. 
 Of these, the Duke of Berri was oldest ; and in so fai 
 preferable ; but he was a man of weak parts, and dis- 
 posed by habit, to defer to the talents of his brother, the 
 Duke of Burgundy, whom he did not affect to rival. 
 He was also unpopular from his mal- administration, jpois 
 
224 DUKE OF BURGUNDY CHOSEN RE(5ENT 
 
 a foimer occasion, of the county of Languedoc, which 
 nad given just cause for great clamour against him. This 
 unambitious prince, therefore, was contented to look for 
 such subordinate power as he might obtain by means of 
 nis younger brother's preferment, and added his interest 
 to that of Burgundy to have the latter raised to the re« 
 gency, ol which he had for some time exercised the 
 duties, during tlie king's minority, though without attract- 
 mg much popular ap])lause. 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy was, therefore, raised to the 
 regency ; but not without a struggle between him and his 
 nephew, Orleans, in the course of which the fatal quarrel 
 took its rise between the rival branches of Orleans and 
 Burgundy, which so long distracted the kingdom of 
 France with civil violence, and occasioned the commis- 
 sion of so many crimes, and the spilling of so much 
 blcod. 
 
 It was the first step of this regent, when possessed of 
 the administration of France, to visit u])on the constable, 
 Oliver de Cllsson, the resentment which he had long 
 nourished against him. When the constable appeared in 
 his presence to give an account of his office, the Regent 
 Burgundy took the opportunity to insult him, upbraid- 
 ing him with having too long, and too busily, interfered 
 with the ailaij'S of the kingdom, also taunting him with 
 his havini^ amassed much wealth, and concluding- bv 
 desirin«^ him to i:et him "one, as he valued the sif^ht of 
 his remaining eye. Ciisson, apprehending worse treat- 
 ment, from so brutal a reception, retired from the city 
 of I-*aris, and took refuge upon his own territories in 
 Brefagne. 
 
 Clisson's old enemy, the Duke of Bretagne, was not 
 disposed to allow the constable a quiet refuge in his 
 dominions, while, in the meantime, the regent was de- 
 termined to exclude him from France. It was with this 
 view that the Duke of Burgundy caused Ciisson to be 
 summoned before the Parliam.ent of Paris, where the 
 principal part of the charge against him seems to have 
 neon, that he possessed too much wealth to have been 
 
fSENEROSTTY OF CLISSON. 225 
 
 honestly acquired. As the constable did not appear be- 
 fore an assembly in which his enemies were predominant, 
 he was, in all form, exiled from the realm of France, 
 and condemned to pay a fine of one hundred thousand 
 marks of silver ; at the same time, he was adjudged to 
 be dispossessed of his office of constable, although he 
 still retained the official baton, which was the symbol of 
 the authority. In the meantime, the office of constable 
 VV3S conferred upon Sir Philip of Artois, Count d'Eu, 
 ihe Duke of Burgundy finding it difficult to get any ono 
 who would venture to accept it in the room of Clisson, 
 who, after the death of Bertrand du Guesclin, had been 
 generally esteemed the only man in France capable of 
 exercising the office. 
 
 Meantime, Clisson made a strong party in his native 
 t'ountry of Bretagne, where he had great power amongst 
 ihe defeated party of Charles de Blois ; the rather that 
 he had a daughter married to the Count de Pent hie vre, 
 eldest son of Sir Charles, and heir of his claims upon the 
 dukedom. Thus Clisson was odious to the reigning Duke 
 of Bretagne, not only as his personal enemy, but as likely 
 to revive, and establish in the person of his own son-in- 
 law, the rival claims of Sir Charles de Blois. 
 
 A cruel war was entered into by Clisson and the duke, 
 which was carried on, as usual, by skirmishes, taking of 
 castles and making of prisoners. The Duke of Bretagne, 
 notwithstanding his being sovereign of the country, found 
 few disposed to take his part in this matter; so that 
 Clisson twice plundered him of all his plate ; and, in fine, 
 notwithstanding his enmity to Sir Oliver, the Duke was 
 fain to make peace with him as an equals and upon terms 
 which Clisson considered as advantageous. An act of 
 generous confidence on the part o^ Clisson closed the 
 feud, and serves to show us, that although that wild age 
 was incapable of being regularly bound by the terms of 
 equity and good faith, they yet were fully sensible of the 
 rbligation arising; from noble actions and frank reliance, 
 'I'he Duke of Bretagne, having desired an mterview wit'> 
 'Jli:;Son^ and knowing well that since the treacheroii? v 
 
226 DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ERETAGNE. 
 
 rest at Ermjne Castle, his Invitation was not likely tj 
 be trusted without a pledge, sent one of his sons to be 
 letained as a security that good faith should be observed 
 towards Clisson during the meeting. That same nighty 
 however, Clisson, who seems to have been aware that 
 the duke, with violent passions, united much irregular 
 but generous feeling, sent back the hostage, and in the 
 fullest confidence of the duke's honour, kept the rendez- 
 vous without any security. John de Montfort, though 
 he might be tempted to injustice, was highly sensible 
 of confidence, and the more so, as he mjght be conscious 
 it was undeserved. He admitted Clisson, not to a cold 
 truce, but to a warm friendship, from which neither of 
 them afterwards swerved. 
 
 The death of the Duke of Bretagne, not long after 
 wards, gave him an opportunity to show in turn his con- 
 fidence in Clisson, whom he appointed as tutor to his 
 orphan children, notwithstanding that the duty of such 
 a guardian was inconsistent with the interest of the co-n- 
 stable's grandchildren of the Penthievre family. 
 
 Notwithstanding the jarring interests between the 
 family of the deceased prince and of his own daughter, 
 Clisson undertook the charge with all the zeal which the 
 duke had reckoned upon. Neither was he without 
 temptations to betray his trust. He w^as reclining upon 
 his bed, on one occasion, w^hen his daughter, the Counte&s 
 de Penthievre, entered the apartment, and intimated to 
 her father, with little circumlocution, a plan of putting 
 to death the young De Montforts intrusted to his charge, 
 and placing his grandchildren in the right to the duchy. 
 For all other answer to her proposal, the old knight 
 raised himself in his bed, and launched at her head the 
 iruncheon which he held in his hand. Flying from a 
 repetition of this well-merited, though somewhat severe 
 paternal admonition, the countess fell down stairs and 
 dislocated her leg, by which accident, a lameness for 
 iife became the reward of her ill-timed and ill-chosen 
 idvice to her father, 
 
 1 may also mention in this place the fate of Peter 
 
DEATH GF SIR OLIVER DE CLISSON. 227 
 
 Craon, tbe deviser and perpetrator of so many crimes 
 He remained an exile, sentence having been pronounced 
 against him in absence, on account of the assault u})on 
 Oliver de Clisson. (A. D. 1396.) Durijg the treaty 
 of marriage betwixt France and England, Richard 11. 
 besought pardon for this man, which was accordingly 
 granted. In appearance, at least, Craon testified a be- 
 coming penitence for the faults of a licentious youth, as 
 well as a cruel and blood-thirsty manhood, and died, it is 
 said, repentant of his crimes. 
 
 Clisson shortly after died in peace, honoured, beloved, 
 and lamented, after having gone through so many dan- 
 gers in the public service, and so many from private envy 
 and Imtred. It was rare that such a deadly feud as 
 existed between the Duke of Bretagne, Clisson, and 
 Peter Craon, came to be finally terminated by peace and 
 reconciliation. 
 
 In one respect the government of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy was a wise, for it was a frugal one. In his lucid 
 intervals the king was entertained with hunting-matches 
 and other pastimes, by which, perhaps, the duke hoped 
 to divert his thoughts from the government of his king- 
 dom. Sports and entertainments which the king could 
 enjoy were carefully provided for him ; and it is said, 
 that playing-cards were invented for his amusement. 
 But while in his fits of lunacy, the expenses of the un- 
 happy monarch were reduced to the least possible com- 
 pass, which decency would admit, and often restricted 
 within it. 
 
 These instances of economy, and others doubtless of 
 a more praiseworthy character, enabled the Duke of 
 Burgundy to pacify the complaints of the common peo- 
 ple, by reducing the public taxes ; nor was he altogether 
 negligent of the alTairs of tlie kingdom. He was regu- 
 larly guided by the advice of parliament, who wore 
 convened every \ear ; and, using the counsel of his 
 brother, the Duke of Berri, as a species of colleague, 
 the laws which they adopted, with the consent of iha? 
 
223 fri:nch expedition sent to the 
 
 nody, were so prudent and wholesome, that thev were 
 retained for many centuries. 
 
 During the Duke of" Burgundy's administration, also, 
 of which much that is evil may he said, the public peace 
 was not disturbed by the destructive war with Englandj 
 oy which France had been so long ravaged. This was, 
 indeed owing rather to the weakness of Enghmd, than 
 to the prudence of the French rege..t. The reign of 
 Ricljard II. of England had been marked by public dis- 
 cord, popular tumult, and almost every event which can 
 render a country incapable of foreign war ; and during 
 this general confusion, the quarrel with France, If not 
 made up, was luhed to sleep from time to time by con- 
 tinued truces, until the year 1395, when Richard, then a 
 widow^er, sent an embassy to demand in marriage the 
 princess Isabel, eldest daug^iiter of the reigning monarch 
 Charles, but a girl of only six or seven years old. The 
 French administration agreed to the match .^ but though 
 the princess went to reside in England, the marriage was 
 broken off by Richard's dethronenient and death. The 
 most Huportant consequences of the treaty of marriage, 
 otherwise so 111 assorted, was the accommodation of all 
 disputes between France and England, and, amongst 
 other articles, the restoration of Brest to the dukedom of 
 Bretagne. Tlie internal transactions of France, during 
 this distracted reign, were merely convulsions, occasioned 
 by the license of the soldiers, and at times the reviving 
 disputes between the French and English vassals. But 
 there existed, besides, connexions with foreign powers, 
 of which It is necessary to say something. 
 
 The unfortunate fate of the Duke of Anjou's expedi- 
 tion against Sicily and Naples has been already suffi- 
 ciently dwelt upon ; but the intercourse of the French 
 with the Scottish nation is worthy of some notice. We 
 have already observed that love to the French, hatred to 
 (he English, and the distribution of considerable sums jf 
 money, had induced a nation, generally reckoned both 
 oor and warlike, to atteinpt an invasion of P^.ngland, in 
 rdei to create a diveislon In favour cf Calais, which 
 
ASSISTANCE OF THE SCOTS. 229 
 
 Edward HI. was llien besieging. In this enterprise the 
 Scots had the misfortune to lose a fine army, and leave 
 their king, David 11., prisoner in England. In the battle 
 of Poictiers, a body of Scottish gentry, the flower of 
 their kingdom, commanded by the celebrated Earl 
 Douglas, shared the disasters of that bloody day. Tiie 
 French had always ex^jressed themselves grateful for the 
 assistance which the Scots had meant to give them, sorry 
 for the loss which their allies had sustained, and willing to 
 return the obligation when circumstances should put it in 
 their power. 
 
 A period occurred in 1385, (A. D.,) when such an 
 opportunity of assisting the Scots, and carrying war 
 into the northern limits of England, appeared favourable. 
 The spearmen of Scotland formed a body of infantry 
 whose impenetrable phalanx defied even the shock of the 
 men-at-arms. Their irregular cavalry were unequalled 
 for the width to which they could spread devastation. 
 But their archers, whom they drew from the Highlands, 
 were far inferior to those of the English ; and the gene- 
 ral poverty of the country rendered their regular cavalry 
 comparatively k\v and ill-appointed. 
 
 The French council conceived, that by assisting the 
 Scots with forces of the latter description, they might 
 place their allies upon a footing with the English. A 
 thousand men-at-arms were sent to Scotland under the 
 Admiral of France, John de Vienne, a veteran of ap- 
 proved talents. He was also furnished with a large sum 
 of money to distribute amongst their Scottish friends. 
 At first, allies who came so well provided were received 
 with general gratulation. But the strangers speedily 
 found that they had come to a wild and savage country, 
 destitute of the useful arts, and dependent upon Flanders 
 even for horse-shoes and the most ordinary harness. 
 On the other hand, the Scots were disgusted and dis- 
 pleased with the natural petulance of these military 
 strangers, who interfered in their families with an alert 
 gallantry, which the Fxcncli conceived to be a mark only 
 
230 THE FRENCH LEAVE SCOTLAND. 
 
 of hreeilingj and a privilege of their rank. Tne IVencb* 
 men were yet more disappointed upon finding the cau- 
 (iouo niannei- in which tlie Scots proposed to conduct 
 the war, which though admirably calculated to distress 
 the English, afforded little prospect either of gain or 
 glory to adventurers like theuiselves. Instead of rushing 
 on with precipitate rashness to a general action, as the 
 French wished and desired, the Scottish warriors, taught 
 by experience, suffered tiie English army to enter their 
 eastern h'ontier, and to do such damage as they could, 
 wliich was very little, where flocks, herds, and cattle, 
 forage, and all that could support an army, had been 
 })reviously driven away, or destroyed. In the mean- 
 lime, when the English were engaged in traversing what 
 may be called a howling desert, the Scots, who even ex- 
 celled their neighbours in tlie arts of devastation, poured 
 a desultory but numerous army upon the western frontier 
 of England, laying all waste, and doing more mischief 
 than their own eastern provinces could have received 
 fiom the southern foe, had they been plundered from sea 
 to sea. 
 
 In this species of war the French men-at-arms could 
 acquire neither fame nor profit ; they lost their horses, 
 lost their armour, and at length lost their patience, exe- 
 crating the {)oor, rude, and pitiful country of Scotland, 
 on account of which they had suffered so much trouble. 
 What was worse, they found great trouble in obtaining 
 permission to return to France. Wine they had little ; 
 their bread was of barley, or of oats ; their horses were 
 dead from hunger, or foundered with poor living ; and 
 v/hen they would have brought them to sale, to relieve 
 their pressing occasions for money, there were no pur- 
 chasers in Scotland disposed to enter upon such a bargain. 
 The Scots also insisted on a large sum, due, they said, 
 for the expense of their allies' maintenance, and for the 
 rlamages which they had in different ways done to Scot- 
 land. De Vierne himself was obliged to remain a 
 Ijostage in Edinburgh, until these sums were paid by the 
 government of F ranee to the Scottish ^''actors at Bruges 
 
irXPEDITION AGAINST THE TURKS 231 
 
 Thus the Scots took farewell of their allies with execra- 
 tions upon their affected delicacy and epicurism, theii 
 self-importance and insolence, while the Frencii inveighed 
 with no less justice against the barbarity of the Scots, 
 and the miserable poverty of their country. 
 
 France, however, was in this reign to send forth an 
 expedition still more important, and doomed to terminate 
 in a far more disastrous manner, than that to Scotland. 
 Crusades had long ceased to be the fashionable employ- 
 ment of Christian monarchs ; but it was not possible that 
 ihey could see with indilTerence the progress which the 
 victorious Turks were daily making, both in the Grecian 
 empire, and in the kingdom of Hungary. Sigismund 
 \vas so apprehensive of tlie danger incurred from these 
 infidels, under the command of the celebrated Bajazet, 
 who had already for eight years besieged Constantinople, 
 and was now threatening the frontiers of Hungary, tlial 
 he endeavoured, by the most humble applications at the 
 court of France, to obtain the assistance of a body of 
 volunteers, who would merit Paradise, by combating 
 against the infidels, " making use," says the chronicle, 
 " of many words of great love, such as kings and such 
 persons write to each other in circumstances of neces- 
 sity." Similar letters were written by Sigismund to 
 other Christian European courts. 
 
 John Earl of Nevers, son of the Duke of Burgundy, 
 and regent of France, although not yet a knight, was 
 desirous to go on this expedition, and Lord Guy of 
 Tremonille expressed a desire to accompany him. The 
 regent yielded a reluctant consent. The news being 
 generally spread that tiie young Earl of Nevers intended 
 to put himself at the head of a volunteer force, to assist 
 in repelling Bajazet from the kingdom of Hungary, a 
 treneral impression was made upon all the true sons of 
 chivalry, who flattered themselves with the hope of ob- 
 taining such a complete victory as would enable them to 
 conquer Turkey, recovei Syria, and all the Holy Land, 
 and outdo whatever had been attempted by the greal 
 princes in t\ieir crusades. 
 
232 BATTLE OF NICOPOLIS. 
 
 The army of what mlMit be called crusaders, which 
 assembled on this occasion, amounted to more than one 
 hundred thousand men, and made such a splendid show 
 when they reached Hungary, that Sigismund proudly 
 exclaimed — " Why should we fear the Turks ? If the 
 heavens themselves should fall, we are numerous enough 
 to uphold them with our lances." (A. D. 1395.) 
 
 The impatience of his auxiliaries to advance, induced 
 the King of Hungary to levy what forces he could, and 
 move forward with his allies, so that they might the 
 sooner come to deeds of arms. They crossed the Dan- 
 ube, and formed the siege of a town called Nicopolis, 
 which was garrisoned by the Turks. Bajazet, in the 
 meantime, had raised a very large army, with wbich he 
 approached the camp of the besiegers, showing only a 
 small part of his force in the centre, and concealing a 
 very large force upon each wing. A party reconnoitring 
 brought news to the Christian camp that the Turks were 
 advancing, but no exact account of their numbers or 
 disposition. The Christians instantly took arms, but 
 were considerably heated with the wine they had been 
 drinkmg. The French claimed the honour of making 
 the onset ; and they were drawn up in front of the centre 
 of that part of Bajazet's force which was open and un- 
 covered. 
 
 The King of Hungary's mareschal then advised ihe 
 strangers to halt, and keep their ground without advanc- 
 ing, until a reconnoitring party, which Sigismund had 
 sent out, should bring more exact intelligence than they 
 had yet received concerning the enemy's force. The 
 Hungarian had scarcely turned his horse, ere Philip of 
 Artois, Constable of France, out of pure despite and in- 
 solence, commanded his banner to advance, in defiance 
 of the orders, or rather advice, received. The Lord of 
 Coucy, a knight of great fame, considered this a pre- 
 sumptuous proceeding ; and, looking to the Admiral of 
 France, John de Vienne, the same who commanded the 
 French auxiliaries in Scotland, demanded what was to be 
 done. "Sir" answered the veteran, "where reason 
 
BATTLE OF NICOPOLIS. 233 
 
 cannot be heard, pride must reign ; since the consta- 
 ble will needs advance, we must follow him, and sup- 
 port him." Tliey rushed forward, therefore, on what 
 appeared to be the main body of the Turkish army, 
 which retired before them, according to their sultan's pre- 
 vious commands. In the meantime, as the French ad- 
 vanced upon the centre, two strong wings on either flsnk 
 of the Turkish army, which had been hitherto concealed, 
 threw themselves in the rear of the men-at-arms, and cut 
 the Frencn chivalry off from the main body of the Hun- 
 garians. This maufpuvre was executed with the char- 
 acteristic rapidity which procured for Bajazet the epithet 
 of Ilderim, or Liglitning The army of Sigismund, being 
 fifty or sixty thousand men, might still, by a desperate 
 charge, have rescued their allies, and perhaps gained the 
 battle. But the Huno^arians, losino^ couraoje on seeinor 
 many of the French horses running back without riders, 
 concluded that their vanguard was defeated, and fell, 
 from the very apprehension, into great disorder, and re- 
 tired, or rather fled, in confusion. The Turks, whose 
 armies consisted chiefly of cavalry, made great havoc in 
 the pursuit. The King of Hungary himself, with the 
 Grand Master of the Hospitallers, escaped with difficulty ; 
 and the slaufditer and carnaoje, both among the Hungari- 
 ans and their auxiliaries, was very great ; while most of 
 the French knights who escaped death on the field of 
 battle, had the sad alternative of becoming captive to the 
 infidels. 
 
 Bajazet, greatly elated by his victory, took possession 
 of the King of Hungary's tent, and, with the usual ca- 
 price of a barbarian, evinced at first a desire to be civil 
 to, and familiar with, such nobles as were brought prison- 
 srs to his presence. He took credit to himself naturally 
 for the great victory he had won, and boasted, it is said, 
 a pretended descent from Alexander of JVIacedon, in whose 
 steps he affected to tread. But when the sultan had re- 
 freshed himself, and came to view the field of battle, the 
 bs3 of his best and bravest Turks w^as so much greater 
 
234 MASSACRE OF PRISONERS. 
 
 than be had conceived, that his tiger propensities began 
 to sJjow themselves. He caused to be pointed out to him 
 some few of the knights who were of the highest rank, 
 and bkely to pay the best ransom. These being set 
 apart, with a view of preserving tlieir lives, the rest, stript 
 to their shirts, were brouglit before him, previous to being 
 put to the sword. 
 
 Tliere were present a great number of captives, of the 
 highest blood and character in France, and other states 
 of Eiu'ope ; in all, more than three hundred gentlemen. 
 The Turks stood around them with their drawn scimitars. 
 Bajazet appeared, and received the supplication of all, 
 for all were at his mercy. He looked upon his prisoners 
 for a few moments, as a wild beast beholds his prey wiien 
 he has made sure of it ; and then turning away, made a 
 sign to his soldiers, in obedience to which the unarmed 
 prisoners were hewn to pieces without compunction. 
 
 The sultan, however, was not wanting in a sjiecies of 
 clumsy courtesy which intermingled stiangely with his 
 cruelty. He caused to be brought before him the Earl 
 of Nevers,' to whou], on account of his high rank, he 
 showed some deference, and asked him, which of three 
 knights he would wish to despatch to Paris with the in- 
 formation of his captivity. The earl fixed his choice 
 upon one whom Froissart calls Jacques of Helley, who 
 had been formerly prisoner with the Saracens, and whose 
 knowledge of their language and manners had been of 
 great service to his countrymen. The other two knights 
 were presently put to death ; and Sir Jacques of Helley 
 was dismissed under the faithful promise that he should 
 again return to the Court of Bajazet when he had dis- 
 charged his embassy. 
 
 The arrival of this messenger at Paris, w^ith tidings so 
 dismal, threw almost the wliole kingdom into mourning ; 
 and.it was the general report that France had sustained 
 no defeat so disastrous since the labulous combat of Ron- 
 cesvalles, in which battle, romance stated tlie twelve peers 
 of Charlemagne to have fallen. Amid the nfimber of 
 lears which were shed, and the grief which was displayed 
 
CLOSE OF THE FOURTEENTH u ENTURT. 235 
 
 on every side, the regent Duke of Burgundy was the 
 on]y person who experienced some comfort in the general 
 distress. It is said, he contrived to extort frotn the 
 French people, for the ransom of his son, the Earl of 
 Nevers, a mucfi larger sum tlian was necessary for the 
 purpose, or than was actually paid to Bajazet. 
 
 Thus closed the fourteenth century upon the kingdom 
 of France, neither leaving it healed of its disorders, nor 
 in a way to be speedily cured of them ; fortunate, how- 
 ever, in this, that the dissensions betwixt York and Lan- 
 caster, now commenced by the rebellion of Bolingbroke, 
 was likely so far to occupy the attention of the English 
 nation, as must necessarily prevent the recommencement 
 of a war which had been long the scourge of both nations 
 
236 STATE OF FRANCE, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 fraction of Oder is and Burgundy — Threatemd Rup- 
 ture with England — The Duke of Orleans appointed 
 Regent^ and again deprived of that office — Death of 
 Philip of Burgundy — John the Fearless succeeds him, 
 and the Dissensions with Orleans continue — Recon- 
 ciliation of the two Dukes — their hatred again bursts 
 out — Murder of Orleans — Burgundy, who instigated 
 this crime, obtains a full pardon, but, having gone to 
 quell an Insurrection at Liege, the Doom of Treason 
 is pronounced against him- — Burgundy advances upon 
 Paris — the Adherents of Burgundy termed Cabo- 
 chins, those of Orleans, Armagnacs — the Armagnacs 
 obtain assistance from England — King Charles, dur- 
 ing an Interval of his Malady, manifests the utmost 
 indignation at this League with England, and marches 
 in person against the Armagnacs — the French JVobles 
 assemble in Paris, and compel the Armagnacs and 
 Cabochins to be reconciled to each other — On an In- 
 surrection of the Parisians, the Dauphin calls to his 
 assistance, and re-organizes, the Orleans Party- 
 Burgundy retires from Paris, but is recalled by the 
 Dauphin, on some disagreement between him and his 
 mother, (^ueen Isabella — On the approach of Bur- 
 gundy, the Dauphin again invites the Armagnacs to 
 join him — Charles him,self, partially recovered, marches 
 as^ainst Burgundy, and compels him to sign a Pacifi- 
 txition — Slate of England — Conclusion. 
 
 Ol:r last chapter left France in a situation equally ex- 
 traordinary and disastrous. The unfortunate monarch 
 Charles VI. was so incurably affected with his disorder, 
 that a light like that of a sunbeam in a tempest seemed 
 only from time to time to gleam on his deranged imagi- 
 nation, and enabled him to express occasionally some 
 
EMPIRICS ATTKMPT THE KING's CURE. 237 
 
 opinion on politics, which those of his relatives who had 
 for the time the nearest access to his person, never failed 
 to mould so as to serve their own purposes. Thus, with- 
 out having, properly speaking, any will or inclination of 
 his own, the unfortunate prince could assume the appear- 
 ance of expressing one, and w^as sometimes brought forth 
 to do so even in public, which, as his deficiencies were 
 we.l known, could only have had the effect of degrading 
 his government. 
 
 At otlier times, the person of '^harles was strictly se- 
 rluded. His tent and his banner were displayed in 
 marches and sieges ; but the curtains of the pavilion were 
 never raised, nor was the person of the sad inhabitant, 
 ever visible to his soldiers. 
 
 During the king's incapacity, the two lactions of Or- 
 leans and Burgundy, although their representatives were 
 connected in the near relation of uncle and nephew, con- 
 tended with the most bitter strife for the power of ad- 
 ministering the government. The Queen Isabella, wife 
 of Charles VI., an ambitious and violent woman, was 
 supposed to have espoused the interest of the Orleans 
 party, with a warmth which, as the duke was a libertine 
 young man, was prejudicial to her reputation. The Duke 
 of Orleans, therefore, and his wife Valentina, who pos- 
 sessed a strong personal interest with the king, weie for 
 the present leagued with Queen Isabella for the purpose 
 of depriving the regent, Duke of Burgundy, of t[iat 
 power w^hlch he held in the administration. We shall 
 afterwards see this intrigue assume a different form. 
 
 Each of these factions took the most violent and un- 
 scrupulous mode of doing whatever might injure llieir 
 livals in the public opinion. Both of them called in the 
 aid of physicians, in the hope of devising son/e cure or 
 alleviation of the king's malady ; and as the empirics who 
 were permitted, if not encouraged, to make new experi- 
 ments upon the royal patient, usually left Charles worse 
 than they foimd him, their want of success was always 
 laid to the charge of the party w^hich had consulted 
 the^i. The Duke of Orleans condemned to the flames 
 970 
 
'23? THREATENED RUPTURE WITH ENGLAND. 
 
 as a magician, a learned man, named Jean de Bar, wlio 
 Lad been employed by the Duke of Burgundy to effect 
 the king's cure. The regent, in retaliation, commanded 
 the prosecution of two Cordeher cliurchmen, who had 
 been brought by the Orleans faction to attend the king as 
 })hysicians, and whose experiments had consisted in deep 
 and dangerous incisions made on the head of their royal 
 patient. The Duke of Burgundy caused them both to 
 be hanged. 
 
 In the meantime, the external peace of the kingdom 
 of France was threatened, while the government of the 
 country was a prey to discordant factions. The contract 
 of marriage between Richard IL and tlie young princess 
 of FVance, Isabella, though absurdly ill-suited as regard- 
 ed the age of the parties, had yet the great advantage of 
 procuring a prolonged and solid peace betwixt two na- 
 tions, whose chief miseries for two centuries had been 
 occasioned by Inveterate and senseless hostilities, from 
 which neither had gained advantage, while both had suf- 
 fered immense loss in blood and treasure. But the 
 dethronement and death of Richard II. was an unex- 
 pected stroke, which dissipated all these happy pros- 
 pects ; and the unfortunate Charles, who happened to be 
 in one of his lucid intervals at the time, was so much 
 affected hv the melancholy tidings, that he relapsed 
 into one of his most outrageous fits of Insanity. (A. D. 
 ];399.) 
 
 The French princess, the intended wife of Richard, so 
 soon as she should have arrived at a proper age, was still 
 residing at the court of England ; and although her pro- 
 posed husband was dethroned, and it Is believed mur- 
 dered, Henry IV. would fain have retained her there as 
 a future bride for his son, afterwards Henry V. This 
 match, wliich would in all probability have secured a 
 stable peace between the countries, must have been 
 highly to the advantage of botl). But the French nation 
 were incensed at the death of Richard, whom they look- 
 ed upon as their ally ; and the lords of Gascony w}io 
 had hitherto followed the English interests, regarded the 
 
UNPOPULARITY OF THE DU&E OF ORLEANS 239 
 
 i^aine unfortunate monarch as the son of their great prince 
 Edward, and their countryman, Richard having been 
 born at Bourdeaux. The French, aware of this feehng, 
 were universally disposed for war for the recovery of 
 Bourdeaux and the other English possessions in France, 
 in preference to a peaceful alliance with that power under 
 its new dynasty. But the malady of their king, and thel 
 contests between the factions of Orleans and Burgundy, 
 rendered the French as unfit for prosecuting the war, 
 as they were averse to continuing at peace ; and thus a 
 re-enforcement from England, under command of the 
 Earl of Worcester, easily secured Bourdeaux to the Eng- 
 lish crown. 
 
 In the year 1400, during a casual absence of the Duke 
 of Burgundy from court, the opposite party had the art 
 to extract from the king, then in one of his twilight in- 
 tervals, a commission appointing his brother, the Duke 
 of Orleans, his lieutenant and regent of the kingdom, at 
 such periods when he himself should, by the visitation of 
 God, be prevented from administering the government. 
 (A. D. 1400.) This commission was partly obtained by 
 the influence of the queen, who at this time hated the 
 Duke, or rather the Duchess of Burgundy ; and it was 
 received the more willingly by the people, as by the law 
 of France, the Duke of Orleans was the rightful claimant 
 of the regency, and his youth could not now, as formerly, 
 be objected to. 
 
 But the new regent used his power very unskilfully 
 In the quarrel between the two Popes, which still sub- 
 sisted, tho Duke of Orleans espoused the cause of Bene- 
 dict, which was the most unpopular in France ; he like- 
 wise imposed taxes both on ecclesiastics and on the laity, 
 which, joined to a casual scarcity of provisions, rendered 
 his government intolerably oppressive. A crisis speedily 
 followed, in which the Duke of Orleans was deprived of 
 the regency by an assembly of the great men of the 
 kingdom. Both dukes then took arms, and a civil war 
 seemed inevitable, w^hen, by the interference of the 
 Dukes of Berri, Bourbon, and other princes of the blood 
 
PAO 1>1STLKBANCE OF ORLEANS AND BURGUNDY, 
 
 it was declared that, to end the family dissensions, both 
 Oileans and Burgundy should be excluded from the 
 government of the kingdom, which was vested in the 
 council of state, over which the queen was appointed to 
 preside. This suspended, in appearance, the quarrel 
 between the rival princes, and, for a time, neither attempt, 
 ed to assume the regency in person, though both exer- 
 cised an indirect influence upon the different members of 
 the council. 
 
 Philip, Duke of Burgundy, was afterwards again 
 raised by his nephew the king, to a more active share in 
 the government, when he suddenly died upon a journey, 
 so very much embarrassed by debts, that his duchess 
 renounced any share in his movable succession ; and, 
 in testimony of her doing so, laid in the coffin of the 
 deceased prince the keys of his household, and the girdle 
 at which she wore them — a strange ceremony to take 
 place at the funeral of a prince, who had at his command 
 all the revenues of France, and was not supposed over 
 scrupulous in employing them to his own purposes. 
 
 John, Duke of Burgundy, who succeeded Philip, was 
 called the Fearless. He possessed his father's power, 
 although he had two brothers, each of whom inherited 
 considerable territories, being Anthony, Duke of Brabant, 
 and Philip, Count of Nevers, which last we saw unhap- 
 pily distinguished at the battle of Nicopolis. But, above 
 all, John, the eldest brother, had his father's ambition, 
 and took up the family quarrel with the house of Orleans 
 exactly where Duke Philip had left it. 
 
 The discord between the uncle and nephew came thus 
 to subsist in full force between the two cousins. They 
 disturbed the whole kingdom by their intrigues ; and the 
 Duke of Burgundy had, like his father, the address to 
 secure a very strong party in the city of Paris, to which 
 his house ^nd faction had represented themselves as the 
 preservers of the privileges of the city and university, and 
 enemies to the imposition of excessive taxes. In the 
 dissensions which followed, the dauphin, a young man of 
 tleeble talents and no fixed principles, would have fled 
 
ASSASSINATION OF ORLEANS 241 
 
 With his motlier lo the town of Melun, but was pursLjed bj 
 the BurgLindlan party, and brought back by force. Blood 
 shed seemed so near, that each prince chose his device 
 Orleans, to indicate his possessing the right of regencyj 
 displayed a hand grasping a club full of knots, with the 
 motto — / envy it — alluding to the feeling which he at- 
 tributed to the opposite house. Burgundy, on the other 
 hand, gave a carpenter's plane, with a Flemish motto — 
 Je houd — that is, I hold — the means of smoothing the 
 knotted club. (1405.) 
 
 Mutual friends and relations, chiefly of the blood royal, 
 once more interfered, and brouf^ht the two contending 
 princes to a solemn agreement. They dismissed their 
 troops on each side, met together in the hotel of the 
 Count de Saint Paul, embraced each other, and took the 
 sacrament at the same time. They were now employed 
 for a short time in the public cause, the one against the 
 English in Guienne, the other against Calais ; but the 
 campaign proved short and inefficient, and was closed by 
 a truce of one year's duration. 
 
 It w^ould appear that the hatred of the two dukes be- 
 came the more bitter, that the late reconciliation obliged 
 them to observe certain forms of dissimulation, since in 
 private the Duke of Burgundy, at least, meditated ending 
 the feud by putting his rival to death. 
 
 It was on the 23d of November that the Duke of Or- 
 leans, being at the queen's apartments, where he usually 
 spent the evening, was summoned to wait on the king im- 
 mediately. While he obeyed this command, and traversed 
 the streets mounted on a mule, accompanied only by two 
 gentlemen and a few valets on foot, he suddenly fell into 
 an ambush posted for the purpose. The leader of these 
 ruffians was one D'Hacquetonville, personally injured, as 
 he conceived, by the Duke of Orleans. This man struck 
 at the Duke with his battle-axe, and, missing his head, 
 the blow fell on his right hand, which it struck off. " I 
 am the Duke of Orleans," cried the party assailed. *' It 
 is he whom we seek," answered his assassins with wild 
 
242 PROCEEDINGS OF BURGUNDY. 
 
 exultation, and, striking the prince from his saddle, the} 
 cut him limb from limb by their furious and united as- 
 sault. They had taken every precaution to ensure the 
 perpetration of the murder and their own subsequent es- 
 cape. The streets were strewed with caltrops, for laming 
 the horses of such as should attempt a pursuit ; a house 
 was set fire to by the assassins, who cried " Fire, fire !" 
 to distract the attention of the people, while the Duke of 
 )rleans's retinue were crying "Murder !" 
 
 In the morning, the duke's body was discovered, so 
 much hacked and dismembered, that the streets w^ere 
 sprinkled with his blood and brains, while some of the 
 limbs could scarcely be found by his weeping attendants. 
 Such, indeed, was the inveteracy of the factions, that the 
 Burgundians only said to each other, with a sneer, " See, 
 if the knotty mace has not been well smoothed by the 
 plane!" 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy at first affected innocence and 
 surprise. On a threat, however, to arrest some of his 
 followers, he showed such signs of guilt, that the princes 
 of the blood advised his retiring from Paris to his own 
 dominions, which he did with much precipitation. But 
 when in a place of safety, he recovered his spirits ; and. 
 finding that his party were willing to support him, without 
 much regard to his innocence or guilt, he assembled an 
 army of his own subjects of Burgundy and Flanders, 
 and advanced upon Paris, having with him, as an apolo- 
 gist, or rather vindicator, a doctor in theology, named 
 John Petit, who, in the face of the dauphin and princes 
 of the blood, arraigned the late Duke of Orleans as a 
 traitor, and shar/ielessly justified the Duke of Burgundy 
 for the vile murder accomplished on the body of his neai 
 relation. The Duke of Burgundy, assured of his supe- 
 riority, demanded and obtained from the dauphin, who 
 began now to assume a lead in public affairs, a.s full a 
 nardon for the death of the unfortunate Orleans as could 
 be put into words. He caused the Admiral of France to 
 be removed from office, his chief fault being that he had 
 
INSURRECTION IN FLANDERS. "243 
 
 offered with two hundred knights to pursue the nurdererr 
 of Orleans. 
 
 Nor would his demands have stopped there, had he not 
 suddenly learned that the people of Liege were in arms 
 against his father-in law, their archbishop ; and no sooner 
 had Burgundy left Paris with his forces to quell this in- 
 surrection in Flanders, than the Orleans faction appeared 
 m arms, in the capital, determined to take merited ven- 
 geance for the foul murder. 
 
 The number of the Duke of Burgundy's enemies was 
 augmented by the appearance of Valentina, the widowed 
 spouse of the deceased, in the deepest mourning, followed 
 by all her household in the same attire of woe, seeming 
 to invoke upon the murderer the vengeance demanded by 
 the widow and the orphan. And although the Duchess 
 of Orleans was prevented by fate from prosecuting her 
 purpose, yet her death, which followed soon after that of 
 ber husband, was ascribed to the consequences of his as- 
 sassination, and occasioned additional execrations on the 
 perpetrators of the deed. 
 
 Owing to the sudden predominance of his enemies, ju- 
 dicial proceedings against the Duke of Burgundy were 
 briskly undertaken before the parliament of Paris, and 
 pushed on to extremity. The pardon he had obtained 
 from the dauphin was declared void, and the doom of 
 treason denounced against him. 
 
 Hardly had men sufficiently wondered at this change 
 of fortune, when news arrived, that the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, having quelled the insurrection of the citizens 
 of Liege after much slaughter, was now approaching 
 Paris at the head of his army, breathing defiance agamst 
 all his enemies — a threat the more formidable, as the 
 greater part of the populace at Paris were known to be 
 influenced by him ; so much so, that even his vile crime 
 had made no impression in his disfavour on the violent- 
 tempered citizens, who were little accustomed to regard 
 the life or death of an individual, even although a prince 
 of the blood, or to consider in what manner hs came 
 
244 THE CABOCHINS AND ARMAGNACS. 
 
 to h*is grave, provided he fell in the prosecution of a deutn 
 feud. 
 
 The city of Paris, and country of France, were now 
 split into two violent factions, who distinguished them- 
 selves by badges, and by the designations of their parties. 
 This was the only circumstance which evinced decency 
 and a sense of shame— that they did not distinguish them- 
 selves as Burgundians or Orleanists. The former party 
 wore red sashes, with the cross of Saint Andrew, and 
 were called Cabochins, from Caboche, a butcher, a dis- 
 tinguished partisan of the party of Burgundy. The fol- 
 lowers of Orleans, on the other hand, wore white sashes, 
 with Saint George's cross, and termed themselves Ar- 
 magnacs, from the earl of that name, the father-in-law of 
 the Duke of Orleans, accounted, from his spirit and ac- 
 tivity, the buckler of his cause. He was made Constable 
 of France by his son-in-law^'s interest, and was looked 
 upon as his principal partisan. The Parisians took up 
 arms as Cabochins ; and a body of actual butchers were 
 the most active in the cause of Burgundy. 
 
 The Orleans party moved upon the capital, and threat- 
 ened Paris with a siege. But the Duke of Burgundy 
 threw himself into the city with a body of select troops, 
 part of whom were English, with which nation, in the 
 desperation of his hatred to the faction of Armagnac, the 
 duke had made a league. These English auxiliaries were 
 commanded by the Earl of Arundel, and conducted them- 
 selves with such good discipline, that they were of great 
 service to the cause of Burgundy. 
 
 The Orleans faction, who remarked this advantage of 
 the opposite party, and suffered by it, felt little difficulty 
 in entering into similar transactions on their own part, and 
 opened a treaty with Henry IV. of England. The offers 
 of the Armagnacs were too high to be neglected by Henry 
 IV., who was just obtaining a breathing time from the 
 troubles and insurrections with which his reign had been 
 successively disturbed — by the Welsh, the Percys, and 
 others, who were dissatisfied with his title or his govern- 
 ment. At this period of quiet, it was natural he should 
 
PASSIVE BEHAVIOUR OF CHARLES. 245 
 
 look abroad to France, now engaged in a bloody and re- 
 morseless civil war, and engage to support the party that 
 should grant him the best terms. Or perhaps, in his 
 heart, the English king desired, by assisting the one 
 French party after the other, to prevent the civil war 
 from drawing to a conclusion, which afforded England a 
 prospect of recovering her French dominions. 
 
 It is certain, that, with whatever intention, Henry TV. 
 listened favoura^bly to the proposal of the Orleans or Ar- 
 magnac faction, who offered to surrender all the prov- 
 inces of Gascony to the English, with other advantages. 
 Tempted by these offers, he engaged, 18th of May, 1412. 
 to send to the assistance of the Armagnacs, a thousand 
 men-at-arms, and three thousand archers. To show him- 
 self more serious in their support, the King of England's 
 younger son, Thomas of Clarence, was to be appointed 
 general of the auxiliary army. 
 
 Amid these preparations, in which the horrors of for- 
 eign invas-ion were added to those of civil war, Charles 
 YL awakened from a long fit of stupor, and became sen- 
 sible, as he sometimes was for intervals, to the distresses 
 'jf the country of which he wore the nominal crown. 
 
 Isabella of Bavaria, the wife of the unfortunate king, 
 had contrived to take a great share in the government in 
 the names of her lunatic husband and her youthful son, 
 whose station of next heir to the crown would have given 
 him great authority, had he known how to use it. It was 
 much to the credit of the French, that their loyalty to 
 the king remained unshaken even when in such deplora- 
 ble circumstances. His mandates, when his mind waa 
 strong enough to express them, were listened to with re- 
 spect by the chiefs of both parties ; and, as the caprice 
 of the queen threw her into the one or the other side of 
 the contending factions, he was heard to denounce ven- 
 geance for the death of Orleans, his only brother, and on 
 the other hand, undertake the defence of the Duke of 
 Burgundy, his murderer. 
 
 Thus passively did the poor king follo\v the views of 
 2X* 
 
246 CHAELES'S LUCID IXTERYAIS. 
 
 the faction under whose charge he chanced to be place-d 
 for the time, without expressing disgust at his own treat- 
 ment, although we have one anecdote at least tending 
 to show that even his means of living and support were 
 strangely neglected by those who had his person under 
 their control, even though these were at the time his wife 
 and eldest son. 
 
 So ill, we are assured, v/as the royal family provided 
 for, that the governess of the royal household once com- 
 plained to the unfortunate king that she had neither 
 money nor means of procuring either provisions or other 
 necessaries for the service of the royal children. " Alas !" 
 said the king, " how can I help you, who am myself re- 
 duced to the same straits ! " He gave her the golden cup 
 out of which he had recently drank, as the means of 
 meeting the immediate necessity. 
 
 It appears that this unhappy prince, during the rare 
 intervals of his melancholy disease, had the power of 
 seeing, with some degree of precision, the condition in 
 which the country stood at one given moment, and could 
 then form a rational opinion, though he was totally inca- 
 pable of deducing any arguments founded on what had 
 happened before the present moment. His mind was 
 like a mirror, which reflects with accuracy the objects 
 presented to it for the time, though it retains no impres- 
 sion of such as formerly passed before it. His judgment, 
 therefore, incapable of judging of affairs with a compre- 
 hensive reference to past events, or those who have been 
 actors in them, was entirely decided by the light in which 
 the present circumstances were represented by those in^ 
 terested in deceiving him. 
 
 Charles was therefore not a little indignant, on awaking 
 from his illness in 1412, at finding the Ai-magnac party 
 far advanced in a treaty, the principal article of which 
 was the introduction cf an English army into France ; 
 and while he felt natural resentment at a proceeding so 
 unpatriotic, and so full of danger to his kingdom, he was 
 ^ot aware of the fact, or could not draw the conclusion, 
 that the Duke of Burgundy and his party had been guiltj 
 
THE FACTIOXS RECONCILED. 247 
 
 af exactly the same error when they accepted the assist- 
 ance, under the Earl of Arundel, which had formed the 
 most effective part of their garrison for the defence of 
 I'aris. 
 
 Greatly displeased, therefore, with the Dukes of Berri 
 and Bourbon, with others included in the Armngnac party, 
 Charles marched in person n gainst them, and besieged 
 the city of Bourges, which was one of their strongholds. 
 They expressed the utmost deference for the king's per- 
 son, but alleged that he had not undertaken the expedition 
 of his own free will, protesting at the same time that, 
 excepting that Charles came, or rather was brought, in 
 company of that licensed murderer, John Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, the gates of Bourges should fly open at the 
 slightest summons in the king^s name. 
 
 \\- iiile making these fair pretences, the besieged organ- 
 ized a desperate sally, with the view of making prisoners 
 of King Charles and his eldest son Louis. In this they 
 were disappointed, and found themselves so hard pressed 
 in their turn, that they were obliged to submit to condi- 
 tions dictated by the king, in which both the parties of 
 Armagnacs and Cabochins weie obliged to renounce all 
 their leao-ues with the Eno-lish. 
 
 The English, in the mea^ntime, under the Duke of 
 Clarence, arrived, as appointed by the Armagnacs; and, 
 as demonologists pretend of evil spirits, were much more 
 easily brought into France than dismissed from thence. 
 The Orleans party, by a large sum of ready money, and 
 a much larger in promise, for which hostages were 
 granted, persuaded the English prince to withdraw, but 
 not without doing much damage to the country. 
 
 The French nobles then assembled together in Paris, 
 without distinction of parties, the very names of the 
 factions being declared unlawful ; so anxious did the 
 leaders appear to be to bury the very memory of their 
 dissensions, while secretly they were labouring to rouse 
 and increase them. 
 
 Peace being thus concluded betwixt the factions, there 
 seemed to be some chance of stopping the bleeding 
 
248 BURGUNDY GAINS THE ASCENDENCY. 
 
 wounds of the distracted country; but the utter d sre« 
 gard to the ordinary bonds of faith between man and 
 man, threw all loose within a short time. 
 
 A war with England began now to appear a likely 
 event, and a meeting of the States-General was convoked, 
 to find the means of meeting the emergencies of the 
 country ; but they were dissolved without having pro- 
 posed any radical cure for the distresses and dangers 
 under which the kingdom laboured. 
 
 Louis, dauphin, and heir of the crown, was now be- 
 ginning to take a decided part, independent of his mother 
 the queen, and he naturally cast his eye on the Duke of 
 Burgundy, as the party by whom so incurable a wound 
 had been dealt to the domestic peace of France. In his 
 secret inquiries into this prince's conduct, he learned, or 
 perhaps pretended to learn, that the duke had laid a plan 
 for destroying the remaining branches of the house of 
 Oi^eans. The informer was a certain Pierre des Essards, 
 a creature of the Duke of Burgundy, whom he had raised 
 to the dignified and w'ealthy situation of minister of the 
 finances, and who now, being threatened by the dauphin 
 with an examination of his accounts, changed sides, in the 
 hope of eluding inquiries which he dared not meet. He 
 received orders from the dauphin to secure the Bastile, 
 then in some degree considered as the citadel of Paris. 
 
 Bugundy, better accustomed to the management of 
 plots than his young kinsman, counteracted so effectually 
 the scheme of the dauphin, that Des Essards no sooner 
 had possessed himself of the Bastile, than all Paris was in 
 uproar. The mob, commanded by Caboche, the butcher, 
 took up arms. Des Essards, obliged to surrender the 
 Bastile, was seized upon, and put to death. Caboche and 
 his followers also killed some persons in high office about 
 the dauphin's person, and compelled the king himself, 
 with the Dukes of Berri and Bourbon, to go to the par- 
 liament, wearing white hoods, the emblem of the party 
 of Burgundy, — at least of the Parisian mutineers, — and 
 there register such edicts as the multitude were pleased 
 to demand. The same rioters burst into the dQuphin's 
 
CHARLES AGAIN RECOVERS. 249 
 
 private apartments, having heard the sound of violins 
 there, and behaved with the utmost insolence, putting 
 those who were present in immediate danger of their 
 lives. 
 
 Impatient of mob-tyranny, which is of all others the 
 most difficult to endure, the dauphin once more took 
 measures for recalling and arranging the broken and dis- 
 persed party of the Duke of Orleans. At the call of tho 
 heir-apparent, in which he used the name of his father, 
 the Orleans party entered Paris, while, by one of the 
 changes common at the time, the Duke of Burgundy 
 found he could not make his party good in the city, and 
 retired, as was his wont, to his own territories of Flanders. 
 The queen, the dauphin, and the other lords, who had 
 thus obtained power, notwithstanding their mutual inter- 
 est, could not agree, how much soever it was their inter- 
 est to do so. Isabella of Bavaria had the art to induce 
 most of them to join against the authority assumed by her 
 son, as too absolute and peremptory to be engrossed by 
 one whom she described as a giddy youth, liable to be 
 seduced by evil counsel. The qu^^n even proceeded so 
 far as to break into the dauphin's apartments, and seize 
 upon four attendants of his person, whom she described 
 as agents of the Duke of Burgundy. The young prince 
 was°so highly offended at this personal insult, that he 
 wrote to the Duke of Burgundy that he was prisoner in 
 his own capital, and invited him to come with his forces 
 to his deliverance. 
 
 A slighter invitation would have brought the duke to 
 Paris. He instantly advanced, at the head of a large 
 force of his own vassals. 
 
 Charles, however, had in the meantime a transitory in- 
 terval of recovery, and assumed for a short time the reins 
 of government. He sent forth an edict, reproaching the 
 duke with the murder of the Duke of Orleans, and pub- 
 lished the confutation of Doctor John Petit s abominable 
 apology for that vile assassination. 
 
 The dauphin Louis, also, whose temper seems to have 
 been fickle and uncertain, again changed his partj, and 
 
*i60 BURGUNDY SUES FOR PEACE. 
 
 •nvited the princes of the Orleans faction into the cit;y 
 with so strong a body of horse, (amounting, it is said, 
 to eight thousand men,) that they were able to disarm 
 the whole citizens, save those of the better classes. He 
 took also away from the Parisians the chains and barri- 
 cades with which they were accustomed to block up 
 their streets, and once more put it out of their power to 
 disturb the public tranquillity. The Duke of Bu]-gundy 
 in the meantime advanced towards the walls of the city ; 
 but dismayed at once by the royal edicts launched 
 against him, by the dauphin deserting his cause, and 
 by the reduced state of the Parisians, who used to be 
 his best friends, he retreated as formerly, after a vain 
 attempt on the capital. 
 
 But the king, surrounded with all the princes of the 
 blood-royal, except the lineage of Burgundy, marched 
 into x\rtois, the territories of the duke, with the purpose 
 of completely subduing his territories. Charles demand- 
 ed of the towns of Flinders, whether they meant to stand 
 by the duke against their liege lord ? and received the 
 satisfactory answer, that the duke was indeed their imme- 
 diate prince, but that it w^as not their purpose to assist him 
 against the king, their lord paramount, or to shut their 
 gates against their sovereign. The Duke of Burgundy, 
 alarmed at finding himself deserted by his own immediate 
 subjects of Burgundy and Flanders, began to negotiate 
 for a peace with more sincerity than hitherto. It was 
 concluded accordingly ; but tiie Orleans party refused to 
 sign it. Charles and his son insisted on the signature. 
 " If you would have the peace lasting." said the dau- 
 phin, '\you must sign it ; " which was done accordingly. 
 This pacification, being preceded by the humiliation of the 
 Duke of Burgundy, might be accounted the most steady 
 which had yet been attempted between the Armagnac« 
 and Cabochins, and appeared to possess a fair charu'^ of 
 being permanent. 
 
 But it was not the pleasure of Heaven to prolong the 
 state of foreign peace, or truce at least, which France 
 had enjoyed durmg her domestic divisions, and which 
 
CONCLUSION. 251 
 
 prevented England from taking advantage of them. 
 During some years Henry IV. of England had reigned, 
 an unpopular king, with an uncertain title, and could 
 not, owing to disturbances at home, profit by the dis- 
 union of the French. But at the time of this pacifica- 
 tion between Charles and his subjects, the English kin^ 
 had just died, and was succeeded by his son, the cele- 
 brated Henry V., a young hero, beloved by the nation, 
 and who breathed nothing save invasion and conquest 
 against his neighbours, the scars of whose disunion 
 were still rankling, though apparently closed. 
 
 And, as the issue of the strife which ensued was re- 
 markable, I shall here close my Tales for the present, 
 not unwilling to continue them, if they shall be thought 
 as useful as those from the History of Scotland. 
 
 fMi: 5NI>. 
 
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SEP 21 19W