by David Green
The disposition of archers in general, and in particular encounters, is still unresolved, at least partly due to the questionable nature of the formation described by Froissart as a herce in which the longbowmen operated.51 It appears likely that troops’ dispositions were not standardised, but dependent on a number of contingencies. At Crécy, the archers seem to have been used on the wings in a forward flanking position. They may have begun the battle beyond the front rank of dismounted troops to allow them to gain a little extra range. Bennett has questioned Sumption’s proposition that the archers were surrounded by wagons for protection and suggests they had a more mobile role, and that after the enemy approached, they fell back to the flanks curving slightly forward to provide crossfire. In this position, they would not have provided the vanguard with much protection. Due to the numbers involved and the lie of the land, it may be that the front was almost a mile in length. This allowed only a very light defence of the prince’s division in the centre. Formations at Poitiers are less certain but, again, archers seem to have been used on the flanks (possibly at right angles). They were led by the earl of Oxford to attack the French cavalry, and were used to defend the Anglo-Gascon lines from behind earthworks.52
With considerations of strategy completed and the battle won, the prince invited all the captured nobles to dine with him:
The prince himself served the king’s table, and all the other tables as well with every mark of humility, and refused to sit at the king’s table saying he was not yet worthy of such an honour, and that it would not be fitting for him to sit at the same table as so great a prince, and one who had shown himself so valiant that day.53
Geoffrey Hamelyn, the prince’s attendant, was sent to London with Jean’s tunic and helmet as proof of his capture. The army returned to Bordeaux and negotiations began regarding a truce and the terms of the king’s ransom.
5
The Sieges of Reims and Paris (1357–61)
Triumph and the Treaties of London
The constable of Bordeaux, John Streatley, and William Lynne, dean of Chichester, were entrusted with the peace talks, alongside Gasgon advisers and members of the prince’s council including Warwick, Reginald Cobham, Nigel Loryng, Burghersh and the captal de Buch. In October 1356 they were joined by the papal legates, the cardinals of Périgord and Capocci. Early in the following year, the prince was authorised to seek a peace, and a truce was established for two years until 9 April 1359.1
The prince and his captive returned to England on 11 April 1357 and proceeded to London, where they were received at a glorious celebration. The next years were marked by a number of great tournaments and ongoing negotiations for Jean’s release. The Black Prince also rewarded many of those who fought with in France. For the ordinary soldiers this might include pardons for various crimes, gifts of wine, timber, grazing rights and so on. Land, rents and offices were also granted, and annuities were given to those of greater status. For example, William Lenche, the prince’s porter, who lost an eye in the battle, was granted the profits from Saltash ferry in Cornwall.2 The case of James Audley shows the generosity expected of a prince and also the value of ransoms. Audley was injured in the struggle and so could take few prisoners. As a consequence, he received the largest annuity of any of the prince’s army, £400.3 The Black Prince sold three prisoners to Edward III for £20,000.4
The price for the greatest prize from Poitiers, King Jean, was the subject of two treaties. Negotiations, again mediated by the papal representatives, began in June or July of 1357. The first treaty of London was signed on 8 May 1358, and involved the transfer of nearly all French lands south of the Loire and 4,000,000 gold crowns (£666,666). The French, now wracked by internal strife and dissension, were certainly unwilling and probably unable to even pay the first instalment. At this point, perhaps not even expecting a peaceful resolution, Edward III demanded an even higher price with the inclusion of Boulogne, Anjou, Maine, Touraine and Normandy, perhaps half of the kingdom of France in full sovereignty in addition to the ransom. The dauphin refused to ratify the secondtreaty and England mobilised for war once again.5
The Reims Campaign and the Treaty of Brétigny
In 1359, Edward III’s motivation was different to that which had galvanised previous campaigns. This was a direct assault, aiming for nothing less than the throne of France, and presumably influenced the change in strategy from that employed at Crécy and pursued ten years later. In all probability it was the victory at Poitiers that allowed Edward III to seriously countenance an attempt on the crown. The attempt failed. Edward hoped that he would encounter little resistance and that the gates of Reims, possibly with the aid of the archbishop, Jean de Craon, would be opened to him. If this failed, he would attempt to force the dauphin into battle, employing the tactics that had been so effective in 1346 and 1356.6 By contrast with the Crécy and Poitiers campaigns, this was not a chevauchée in the true sense; it was not to be an overly destructive expedition. Edward had no desire to further alienate and anger his future subjects and damage his potential tax revenue. The king did not seek to pillage and burn the land that he thought would soon be his own. The capture of Jean II and many of his nobles at Poitiers had given the English a huge advantage in the war, which they tried to convert into something tangible and territorial. The failure of the treaties of London (1358–9) resulted in a campaign to hammer home the victory of three years before and seize what was almost a vacant throne. It proved to be a campaign of long marches and lengthy sieges and, arguably, it came to nothing.
Preparatory strikes preceded the campaign of 1359–60. Lancaster arrived at Calais as an advance guard on or around 1 October and led a chevauchée through Artois and Picardy returning to Calais via Montreuil. Roger Mortimer followed on 22 October and raided along the coast to Étaples, which he burned before returning to Calais.7 There was no attempt to maintain any sort of secrecy about the invasion. Edward made his intention clear, to march to Reims and there be crowned king of France. Whilst this was necessary from a political and psychological point of view, it did permit the French to strengthen the defences of the coronation city and lay in supplies of victuals and weapons.
On arrival at Calais, the army divided into two columns. The king, Edmund of Langley, Warwick, Suffolk, Oxford and Salisbury with 3,000 men-at-arms and 5,000 archers commanded the main body. The Black Prince, with his brothers, Gaunt and Lionel of Antwerp, commanded the rearguard of 2,500 men-at-arms and 4,000 archers including Thomas Gray, the author of Scalacronica, the main source we have regarding the prince’s itinerary and for many of the incidents of the march.8 The duke of Lancaster, already in the field, reinforced the newly arrived troops to form a third unit.
The advance in parallel on a broad front, perhaps on a pre-planned route, was necessitated by the need to find provisions. The prince stopped at Montreuil, Hesdin, Nesle, Ham, St Quentin and Martiers, which the French burned to obstruct his crossing, although a way was forced at Chateau-Porcien. The route roughly followed the path taken in Lancaster’s preliminary raid. They were not attacked throughout the march:
the young prince [dauphin], warned by the ill-success of his father, resolved to act only on the defensive; he accordingly prepared to elude a blow it was impossible for him to resist.9
On reaching Reims, the prince made camp at Villedomange. The town defences had been undergoing steady improvements for some years, a process further galvanised by the battle of Poitiers. There had been no attempt to disguise the English target, unlike in the 1346 operation, and accordingly the French were well prepared. Artillery had been purchased from Paris, St-Quentin and Rouen and an artilleur hired from Verdun. Defences were also laid in the River Vesle. The town was effectively ‘enclosed’ in the summer of 1358, leaving a killing ground outside the perimeter.10 Much of the credit for the improvements to the defences in the months leading to the siege must be given to the captain of the town, Gaucher de Châtillon, seigneur of Ferté.
The eventual French victory in
the war depended on successful sieges in France. Equally, it was dependent on successful fortification and defences. The ability of a town to resist siege determined who controlled the territory in its hinterland.11 The English army that came before Reims did not expect to besiege it, at least not for long. However, the walls had been strengthened following an order from the king to Jean de Craon, issued on 18 March 1356, and the defeat at Poitiers further spurred building activity. On 31 December 1358, the dauphin wrote to the captain of the town, ordering its defences strengthened and work done on the fortifications throughout 1359. Edward hoped that his close relationship with the archbishop would result in the easy capture of the city. It was a thought shared by many of Reims’ population. However, when Edward and his army arrived on 4 December 1359, they found strong defences and a city well stocked with soldiers and supplies.12
As the siege began, so did raids into the surrounding country. Eustace d’Aubrechicourt was very successful in a number of attacks along the River Aisne.13 The prince’s troops operated in concert with Gaunt’s on a number of occasions. Burghersh,14 Botetourt and many others of the prince’s and the earl of Richmond’s households took Cormicy and captured the lord of Clermont after a siege lasting from 20 December to 6 January. The town was burned two days later. Lancaster, Chandos and Audley, with Gaunt and Mortimer, took and burned Cernay-en-Dormois (30 December) and later, with d’Aubrechicourt, Autry and Manre. No attempt was made to assault Reims and, at best, an ineffective blockade was achieved. It adds credence to the concept that Edward simply hoped to gain the acceptance of the resident populace as their king. Efforts were continually made to convince the city of the validity of his claim and his goodwill towards the people.15
The siege failed because of the lack of provisions, particularly fodder for the horses, and the army was forced away in search of forage. It took them to Burgundy. Near Châlons, Audley and the captal de Buch joined the prince. They reached Auxerre, staying at Égleny but suffered considerable losses at French hands:
Several of his [the prince’s] knights and esquires were killed at night in their quarters and his foraging parties taken in the fields.16
The king managed to secure the support of a section of the Burgundian nobility on the payment of 200,000 florins. They were further reinforced by members of the Free Companies, including Knolles and a number of Gascons who had ‘made their way right across France by a devious route’17 to serve under the prince. But a number of further reverses followed. Flavigny was retaken from Nicholas Dagworth (son of Thomas and another of the prince’s Norfolk military associates and captain of Flavigny in Burgundy) and on 24 February, Roger Mortimer, the earl of March, died during a raid at Rouvray.
A French naval attack on Winchelsea in March 1360 then spurred Edward to assault Paris. The rearguard marched via Pierre-Perthuis, through the Gâtinais and east to Tournelles and Moret, suffering French guerrilla attacks en route. It reached the suburbs of Paris by the end of the month and set up camp in the Corbeil-Longjumeau area. Gray recounts a number of incidents that befell the prince’s retinue, including the near-capture of Richard Baskerville and Brian Stapleton and other knights who met and defeated a French force near Janville.18 However, they failed to provoke a battle, despite burning the suburbs, and the siege lasted only until 13 April, Black Monday, when lack of food and storm conditions took their toll and a truce was called at Brétigny.
The treaty of Brétigny19 was a prize that Edward III would have grasped with open arms in 1340; whether it was a settlement so gratefully accepted in 1360 is another matter entirely. The Reims campaign was a failure. However it is painted, the expedition made no military gains and Edward had no opportunity to use the crown he had brought with him in his baggage train. It did however, acquire territory equivalent to perhaps a third of France and a very substantial ransom particularly for King Jean and also for a number of his close family and members of the high nobility. But this was not the throne, and it was not all that Edward had demanded in the treaties of London. Essentially, the question that must be asked was whether the treaty of Brétigny was enough given the crushing victory at Poitiers, the capture of King Jean and the social and political turmoil wreaked by Etienne Marcel, the Jacquerie and the machinations of Charles of Navarre. Perhaps it was not.
The role of the Black Prince and members of his household and retinue should not be underestimated in the negotiations leading to the treaty of Brétigny-Calais in 1360. Stephen Cosington was involved in diplomatic activities in Normandy and elsewhere, and Miles Stapleton and Nigel Loryng served as ambassadors to France between 13 August and 7 December 1360. The prince himself was sent to Calais ‘pro tractatu pacis ibidem habito inter reges Francie et Anglie’, for which he was paid expenses of £200 and wages of £10 a day.20
Anne Curry has characterised the Hundred Years War as a conflict of three treaties (Paris, 1259, Brétigny, 1360, Troyes, 1420), each of which contributed as much to the origin and continuance of the war as they did to ensuring differing periods of peace.21 There is little doubt that the treaty of Brétigny and the failure of both sides to implement the renunciation clauses contributed a great deal as regards later motivation to fight, and it was a prime complaint of Henry V, prior to the Agincourt campaign, that the conditions of Brétigny had not been met. Nor was it only a matter of concern for those engaged in high politics. It has been suggested that the treaty and Edward III’s war policy in the 1360s were the subject of allusions by Langland in Piers Ploughman. If correct, the treaty was not viewed favourably – the king had lessened his lordship ‘for a litel siluer’. Similarly, the Prophecy of John of Bridlington, written 1362–4 by John Erghome, urged the king not to give up his inheritance and predicted that the Black Prince would become king of France by 1405. The Anonimalle Chronicle also reported that Brétigny was ‘to the great loss and harm of the king of England and his heirs for ever’. The Scalacronica of Thomas Gray was similarly scathing although the criticism was couched in more general terms advocating that the king should not make peace.22
Chivalry, Military Society and a ‘Revolution’23
The treaty of Brétigny marked the conclusion of the first major phase of the Hundred Years War. It also brought to a conclusion English military success, apart from in the more distant theatres of Spain and Brittany. There are many reasons for this, the ability of the French to marshal defences being key. It was a major period of transition in the composition of the English aristocracy. The Reims campaign had also marked a change in the complement of English armies that altered the role and significance of the chivalric classes.
The decline of the feudal host, the development of the contract army and changing military tactics influenced both the projected image of the aristocracy and the view that they had of themselves. The traditional role of the English aristocracy was compromised in victories founded on a tactical system that did not rely on the mounted knight. The ‘Three Orders’ may have been, to some extent, an artificial construct, but it had relevance in everyday life and was an accepted and ingrained philosophy. The raison d’être of the bellatores was fractured by a tactical system founded on infantry, archery and the ‘common’ soldier. Chivalry was founded on the battlefield but skill-at-arms was now not its only criterion. The ‘courtly arts’ had become a standard of polite behaviour and were the foundation of a genteel education. However, despite the need for literacy and curtesie, the essential qualities of the milites strenui remained the qualities of the warrior – courage, loyalty and above all skill-at-arms.24 Laudable as the prince’s actions were after Poitiers, what was truly valued was prowess, a combination of training, innate skill and boldness, such as exhibited by Sir Ralph Hastings ‘who cared not two cherries for death’, and Sir William Felton ‘the valiant [who] very boldly and bravely charged the enemy like a man devoid of sense and discretion’.25
While the core of the chivalric ethic remained static, other aspects of noblesse were more fluid. The structure and complexion of aristocratic orde
r was complicated as it became more socially diverse. In 1337, the Black Prince became the first English duke and other ranks would follow at both ends of the chivalric spectrum with the establishment of the esquire and gentleman as ranks and titles in their own right. With this developed a dichotomy as ‘class’ boundaries were blurred in some cases and reinforced in others.
The distinction between nobility, knighthood and gentility was one of degree; there was little to choose between a wealthy member of the gentry and a relatively impoverished noble, especially as the opportunities for social advancement became dependent not only on military ability or a fortunate marriage. The example of the de la Pole family who rose from being East Anglian wool merchants to earls of Suffolk is a case in point. Similarly, although knighthood and chivalry were inextricably linked, they were, nonetheless, not synonymous. Chivalry was not a code only restricted to knights: the emerging gentry were both chivalrous and armigerous.
The gradations within the gentry were partially formalised in 1363, with sumptuary regulations laid down by parliament governing the dress of different social ranks, by which the lesser aristocracy were grouped according to income. Similarly, the labour legislation following the Black Death and reintroduced on a regular basis sought to restrict ‘social climbing’ as the game laws would do in the last decade of the century. In concert with such general attitudes, it was at this time that nobility became a question of legal definition and was divorced from its knightly and warrior overtones through its association with the parliamentary peerage. ‘By the late twelfth century nobles were knights and knights were the highest social class …’26 This association was to change during and partly as a result of the Hundred Years War.