a peace between you, an I may.' The Prince, who was young and lusty, said, 'Sir the honour of me and my people saved, I would gladly fall to any reasonable way.' The Cardinal now "rode again to the king, and said, 'Sir, ye need not to make any great haste to fight with your enemies, for they cannot flee from you though they would, they be in such a ground: wherefore, Sir, I require you forbear for this day, till to-morrow the sun rising.' The king was loath to agree thereto, for some of his council would not consent to it: but, finally, the Cardinal showed such reasons, that the king accorded that respite. And in the same place there was put up a pavilion of red silk, fresh and rich, and leave gave for that day every man to draw to his lodgings, except the Constable's and Marshal's battles."

All efforts at reconciliation, however, were vain, although "that Sunday, all the day, the Cardinal travelled in riding from one host to the other, gladly to agree them." Many offers were made on both sides. In the main, the French king demanded that four of the principal Englishmen should be placed at his absolute disposal, and the Prince and all others to yield themselves as prisoners. The Prince offered to render all the towns and castles he had won in the present expedition, as well as the prisoners taken, and to swear not to bear arms against the French for seven years. At last King John made his final offer, that the Prince and a hundred of his knights only should yield themselves prisoners, which was absolutely rejected; and the Cardinal in despair returned to Poitiers, in the neighbourhood of which the battle was fought.

All this while our countrymen were making admirable use of the time, strengthening the hedges, and widening and deepening the dykes. At sunrise on Monday morning the indefatigable Cardinal was once more seen passing to and fro between the hosts, thinking, says Froissart, "by his preaching to pacify the parties." Short and abrupt was the answer he received on each side. "Return whither ye will," said the Frenchman impatiently: "bring hither no more words of treaty or peace; and if ye love yourself, depart shortly." Hastening then to the Prince, he said, evidently with deep emotion, "Sir, do what you can—there is no remedy but to abide the battle, for I can find none accord in the French king." The Prince simply and cheerfully answered, "The same is our intent and all our people: God help the right! As the Cardinal disappeared, the Prince turned to his men, and thus addressed them :-" Now, Sirs, though we be but a small company, as in regard to the puissance of our enemies, let us not be abashed therefore; for the victory lieth not in the multitude of people, but whereas God will send it. If it fortune that tho journey be ours, we shall be the most honoured people of all the world; and if we die in our right quarrel, I have the king, my father, and brethren, and also ye have good friends and kinsmen; these shall revenge us. Therefore, Sirs, for God's sake, I require you do your devoirs this day; for if God be pleased, and Saint George, this day ye shall see me a good knight." And, continues Froissart, "these words and such other that the Prince spake, comforted all his people."

The battle began on all sides as the battalions of the Marshal of France approached, evidently in order to break the array of the archers. "They entered on horseback into the way where the great hedges were on both sides set full of archers. As soon as the men-of-arms entered, the archers began to shoot on both sides, and did slay and hurt horses and knights; so that the horses, when they felt the sharp arrows, they would in no wise go forward, but drew back and flung, and took on so fiercely, that many of them fell on their masters, so that for the press they could not rise again, inasmuch that the Marshal's battle could never come at the Prince. Certain knights and squires, that were well horsed, passed through the archers, and thought to approach to the Prince, but they could not * So within a short space

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the Marshal's battles were discomfited, for they fell one upon another, and could not go forth; and the Frenchmen that were behind, and could not get forward, recoiled back and came on the battle of the Duke of Normandy, the which was great and thick, and were afoot. But anon, they began to open behind; for when they knew that the Marshal's battle was discomfited, they took their horses and departed, he that might best; also they saw a rout of Englishmen coming down a little mountain a-horseback, and many archers with them, who broke in on the side of the duke's battle.

True to say, the archers did their company that day great advantage, for they shot so thick, that the Frenchmen wist not on what side to take heed; and, little and little, the Englishmen won ground on them; and when the men-of-arms of England saw that the Marshal's battle was discomfited, and the Duke's battle began to disorder and open, they leaped then on their horses, the which they had ready by them. Then they assembled together, and cried, 'St. George for Guienne!' and the Lord Chandos said to the Prince, 'Sir, take your horse and ride, for then this journey is yours. God is this day in your hands-get us to the French king's battle, for there lieth all the sore of the matter. I think verily by his valiantness he will not fly; I trust we shall have him, by the grace of God and St. George, so he be well fought withal; and, Sir, I heard you say that this day I shall see you a good knight.' The prince said, 'Let us go forth; ye shall not see me this day return back:' and said, 'Advance, banner, in the name of God and St. George!' The knight that bore it did his commandment; there was then a sore battle and perilous, and many a man overthrown, and he that was once down could not be relieved again without great succour and aid. As the prince rode and entered in among his enemies, he saw on his right hand, in a little bush, lying dead, the Lord Robert of Duras, and his banner by him. Then the prince said to two of his squires, and to three archers, 'Sirs, take the body of this knight on a targe and bear him to Poitiers, and present him from me to the Cardinal of Perigord, and say how I salute him by that token;' and this was done.'

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"The Prince was informed that the Cardinal's men were on the field against him, the which was not pertaining to the right order of arms, for men of the church, that cometh and goeth for treaty of peace, ought not by reason to bear harness, nor to fight for neither of the parties.”

His

In this battle the king of France displayed great personal courage. youngest son Philip, a boy of sixteen, fought by his side. The king would have been slain but for the exertions of a French knight, in the English service. He called to the king. 'Sir, yield you.' The king beheld the knight, and said, 'To whom shall I yield me? Where is my cousin the Prince of Wales ?-if I might see him I would speak with him.' Denis answered and said, 'Sir, he is not here; but yield you to me, and I shall bring you to him.' "Who be you? quoth the king. 'Sir, I am Denis of Morbecque, a knight of Artois; but I serve the king of England because I am banished the realm of France, and I have forfeited all I had there.' Then the king gave him his right gauntlet, saying, 'I yield me to you." The whole scene following is such an admirable piece of dramatic and picturesque composition, that we cannot venture to abridge or mutilate it. At this time "there was a great press about the king, for every man enforced him to say, 'I have taken him,' so that the king could not go forward with his young son the lord Philip with him, because of the press. The Prince of Wales, who was courageous and cruel as a lion, took that day great pleasure to fight and to chase nis enemies; the lord John Chandos, who was with him of all that day, never left nim, nor never took heed of taking any prisoner. Then, at the end of the battle, he said to the prince, 'Sir, it were good that you rested here, and set your banner

a-high in this bush, that your people may draw hither, for they be sore spread abroad, nor I can see no more banners nor pennons of the French party; wherefore, sir, rest and refresh you, for ye be sore chafed.' Then the prince's banner was set up a-high on a bush, and trumpets and clarions began to sound. Then the prince did off his bascinet, and the knights for his body and they of his chamber were ready about him, and a red pavilion pight up; and then drink was brought forth to the prince, and for such lords as were about him, the which still increased as they came from the chase. There they tarried and their prisoners with them. And when the two marshals were come to the prince, he demanded of them if they knew any tidings of the French king: they answered and said, 'Sir, we hear none of certainty, but we think verily he is either dead or taken, for he is not gone out of the battle.' Then the prince said to the earl of Warwick and Sir Reginald Cobham, 'Sirs, I require you to go forth, and see what ye can know, that at your return ye may show me the truth.' These two lords took their horses, and departed from the prince, and rode up a little hill to look about them: then they perceived a flock of men-at-arms coming together right wearily; there was the French king afoot in great peril, for Englishmen and Gascons were his masters; they had taken him from Sir Denis of Morbecque perforce, and such as were most of force said, 'I have taken him ;'—' Nay,' quoth another, 'I have taken him; so they strave which should have him. Then the French king, to eschew that peril, said, 'Sirs, strive not; lead me courteously and my son to my cousin the prince, and strive not for my taking, for I am so great a lord (as to be able) to make you all rich.' The king's words somewhat appeased them; howbeit, ever as they went they made riot, and brawled for the taking of the king. When the two aforesaid lords saw and heard that noise and strife among them, they came to them and said, 'Sirs, what is the matter that ye strive for?' 'Sirs,' said one of them, 'it is for the French king, who is here taken prisoner, and there be more than ten knights and squires that challengeth the taking of him and of his son.' Then the two lords entered into the press, and caused every man to draw back, and commanded them in the prince's name, on pain of their heads, to make no more noise, nor to approach the king no nearer, without they were commanded. Then every man gave room to the lords, and they alighted and did their reverence to the king, and so brought him and his son in peace and rest to the Prince of Wales."

The battle began in the morning and ended at noon, and in that short space of time there was slain "all the flower of France; and there was taken, with the king and the lord Philip his son, a seventeen earls, besides barons, knights, and squires." Indeed, "when every man was come from the chase, they had twice as many prisoners as they were in number in all; then it was counselled among thern because of the great charge and doubt to keep so many, that they should put many of them to ransom incontinent (immediately) in the field, and so they did; and the prisoners found the English and Gascons right courteous. There were many

that day put to ransom and let go, all only on their promise of faith and truth to return again, between that and Christmas, to Bordeaux with their ransoms. Then that night they lay in the field, beside whereas the battle had been: some unarmed them, but not all; and unarmed all their prisoners, and every man made good cheer to his prisoner; for that day whosoever took any prisoner he was clear his, and might quit or ransom him at his pleasure. All such as were there with the prince were all made rich with honours and goods, as well by ransoming of prisoners as by winning of gold, silver, plate, jewels, that was there found."

Several interesting incidents marked the battle, and these Froissart has recorded with all his usual delightful simplicity and freshness. Among the noblemen who

particularly distinguished themselves on the English side was the lord James Audley, who, "with the aid of his four squires, fought always in the chief of the battle: he was sore hurt in the body and in the visage; as long as his breath served him he fought at last, at the end of the battle, his four squires took him and brought him out of the field, and laid him under a hedge-side for to refresh him, and they unarmed him, and bound up his wounds as well as they could." Scarcely was the fight over, before the prince, remembering him of his faithful servant, sent to him, saying, "Go and know if he may be brought hither, or else I will go and see him there as he is." Feeble as he was, this message infused new strength into the brave knight's body, and he caused himself to be borne in a litter before the prince, who took him in his arms, and kissed him, and made him "great cheer." "Sir James,” said he, "I and all ours take you in this journey for the best doer in arms: and to the intent to furnish you the better to pursue the wars, I retain you for ever to be my knight, with five hundred marks of yearly revenues, the which I shall assign you on mine heritage in England." With one more little story, we conclude these episodes of the great field of Poitiers. Also it fortuned that another squire of Picardy, called John de Helenes, was fled from the battle, and met with his page, who delivered him a new fresh horse, whereon he rode away alone. The same season there was in the field the lord Berkley of England, a young lusty knight, who the same day had reared his banner, and he all alone pursued the said John of Helencs; and when he had followed the space of a league, the said John turned again and laid his sword in the rest instead of a spear, and came running toward the lord Berkley, who lifted up his sword to have stricken the squire, but when he saw the stroke come, he turned from it, so that the Englishman lost his stroke, and John struck him as he passed on the arm that the lord Berkley's sword fell into the field: when he saw his sword down, he lighted suddenly off his horse, and came to the place where his sword lay; and as he stooped down to take up his sword, the French squire did prick his sword at him, and by hap struck him through both the thighs, so that the knight fell to the earth and could not help himself: and John alighted off his horse and took the knight's sword that lay on the ground, and came to him, and demanded if he would yield him or not: the knight then demanded his name. 'Sir,' said he, 'I hight John of Helenes, but what is your name?' 'Certainly,' said the knight, 'my name is Thomas, and I am lord of Berkley, a fair castle on the river of Severn, in the marches of Wales.' 'Well, Sir,' quoth the squire, then ye shall be my prisoner, and I shall bring you in safeguard, and I shall see that you shall be healed of your hurt.' 'Well,' said the knight, I am content to be your prisoner, for ye have by law of arms won me.' There he sware to be his prisoner, rescue or no rescue. Then the squire drew forth the sword out of the knight's thighs, and the wound was open; then he wrapped and bound the wound, and set him on his horse, and so brought him fair and easily to Châtel-Herault, and there tarried more than fifteen days for his sake, and did get him remedy for his hurt; and when he was somewhat amended, then he got him a litter, and so brought him at his ease to his house in Picardy: there he was more than a year, till he was perfectly whole. And when he departed he paid for his ransom six thousand nobles, and so this squire was made a knight by reason of the profit that he had of the lord Berkley."

The supper that night on the field will, no doubt, live in the memory of most readers. Certainly never did chivalry show itself more vividly in the contrasted light which it so loved-of its terrible power and recklessness in the field, and its almost feminine grace and gentleness out of it-than at Poitiers. We have seen what the battle was: here is Froissart's notice of the supper. "The prince made the king and his son, the lord James of Bourbon, the lord John d'Artois, the earl

of Tancarville, the earl d'Estampes, the earl Dammartyn, the earl of Greville, and the lord of Pertney, to sit all at one board, and other lords, knights, and squires at other tables; and always the prince served before the king, as humbly as he could, and would not sit at the king's board, for any desire that the king could make but he said he was not sufficient to sit at the table with so great a prince as the king was: but then he said to the king, 'Sir, for God's sake make none evil nor heavy cheer, though God did not this day consent to follow your will: for, sir, surely the king my father shall bear you as much honour and amity as he may do, and shall accord with you so reasonably, that ye shall ever be friends together after: and, sir, methink you ought to rejoice, though the journey be not as you would have had it for this day ye have won the high renown of prowess, and bave past this day in valiantness all other of your party. Sir, I say not this to mock you for all that be on our party, that saw every man's deeds, are plainly accorded by true sentence to give you the prize and chaplet.'"

111.-EDWARD III. AND THE COUNTESS OF SALISBURY.

OLD PLAY.

[There is something more than pageantry and fighting in Froissart's story of Edward III. and the Countess of Salisbury, viewed in connection with the Order of the Garter. How well the old chronicler tells of the unhallowed love of the king, and the constancy of the noble lady, when she welcomed him in the castle that she had been bravely defending against her enemies! "As soon as the lady knew of the king's coming, she set open the gates, and came out so richly beseen, that every man marvelled of her beauty, and could not cease to regard her nobleness with her great beauty, and the gracious words and countenance she made. When she came to the king, she kneeled down to the earth, thanking him of his succours, and so led him into the castle. to make him cheer and honour, as she that could right do it. Every man regarded her marvellously; the king himself could not withhold his regarding of her, for he thought that he never saw before so noble nor so fair a lady: he was stricken therewith to the heart, with a sparkle of fine love that endured long after; he thought no lady in the world so worthy to be loved as she. Thus they entered into the castle hand-in-hand; the lady led him first into the hall, and after into the chamber, nobly apparelled. The king regarded so the lady, that she was abashed. At last he went to a window to rest, and so fell into a great study. The lady went about to make cheer to the lords and knights that were there, and commanded to dress the hall for dinner. When she had all devised and commanded, then she came to the king with a merry cheer, who was then in a great study, and she said, 'Dear sir, why do ye study so for? Your grace not displeased, it appertaineth not to you so to do; rather ye should make good cheer and be joyful, seeing you have chased away your enemies, who durst not abide you: let other men study for the remnant.' Then the king said, 'Ah, dear lady, know for truth that since I entered into the castle there is a study come into my mind, so that I cannot choose but to muse, nor I cannot tell what shall fall thereof: put it out of my heart I cannot.' 'Ah, sir,' quoth the lady, 'ye ought always to make good cheer to comfort therewith your people. God hath aided you so in your business, and hath given you so great graces, that ye be the most doubted (feared) and honoured prince in all Christendom; and if the King of Scots have done you any despite or damage, ye may well amend it when it shall please you, as ye have done divers times er (ere) this. Sir, leave your musing, and come into the hall, if it please you; your dinner is all ready.' 'Ah, fair lady,' quoth the king, 'other things lieth