jewel-casket.
Nevertheless, it must be appreciated that Poitiers was a very near thing. Victory might easily have gone to the French. Even with the masterminding by that brilliant chief-of-staff Sir John Chandos, the English defence would have been overwhelmed but for Orleans’s cowardly refusal to attack.
The unlucky King of France gave his enemy an opportunity to demonstrate his chivalry. On the evening of the battle, the Black Prince entertained John and his son to dinner, together with the leading noblemen among the prisoners, and personally served the King on his knees. (English monarchs were always served like this, down to the time of Charles I.) The food came from the French provision wagons, as the English had had none for nearly three days. The Prince told his royal captive : ‘Sir, for God’s sake make none evil nor heavy cheer,’ assuring him that King Edward would treat him with the utmost consideration. He also congratulated John on his bravery, saying that he had fought better than anyone, that even in defeat he had brought honour upon himself. This must have been small consolation to John II as he rode to Bordeaux with the English, who were ‘laded with gold, silver and prisoners’. Nor, for all his captor’s beautiful manners, did the King ever see his jewels again.
Across the Channel ‘there was great joy when they heard tidings of the battle of Poitiers, of the discomfiting of the Frenchmen and taking of the King; great solemnities were made in all churches and great fires and wakes throughout all England.’ Next spring the Black Prince brought John and his son home to London in triumph. On 24 May 1357 the captive French King rode into London on a white thoroughbred, accompanied by the Prince who tactfully rode a little black pony. John was given the palace of the Savoy for his lodging, where there ‘came to see him the King and the Queen oftentimes and made him great feast and cheer’. Edward III took a strong liking to his unfortunate cousin and brought him to Windsor where he ‘went a-hunting and a-hawking thereabout at his pleasure’. John can hardly have been cheered to meet the King of Scots, David II, who had been a prisoner for eleven years.
Meanwhile there was chaos in France, where the central government collapsed. It was all too much for the Dauphin Charles, a sickly boy of eighteen whose very real talents had not yet emerged. He was quite overwhelmed by his father’s misfortunes and by the difficulties of his position. Not only did the King of Navarre’s followers rise in Normandy, but all over France the Free Companies or routiers —bands of English and Gascon deserters and even Frenchmen—seized castles and set themselves up as robber barons, terrorizing large tracts of country and levying the pâtis.
When the Estates met at Paris only a few weeks after Poitiers they were in an angry mood. They demanded a complete reform of the administration, economies to reduce taxation and the dismissal of royal advisers, and insisted that the Dauphin must submit to the direction of a standing council of knights, clergy and bourgeois. The bourgeois had a formidable leader in Etienne Marcel, a rich cloth-dealer who was Provost of the Merchants (the nearest thing to a Lord Mayor of Paris). What made them more dangerous was that they were allied with Navarre’s followers, who wanted their unsavoury King to be Regent. Gradually the Dauphin lost control of the situation. Navarre escaped from prison at the end of 1357 and came to Paris where he forced the Dauphin to pardon him. The King of Navarre addressed an assembly on the subject of his wrongs : ‘His language was so pleasant that he was greatly praised and so little by little he entered into the favour of them of Paris, so that he was better beloved there than the Regent [i.e. the Dauphin].’ However, Navarre shrewdly refused to stay in the capital where Marcel’s party grew more obstreperous every day. In February 1358 they broke
Nevertheless, it must be appreciated that Poitiers was a very near thing. Victory might easily have gone to the French. Even with the masterminding by that brilliant chief-of-staff Sir John Chandos, the English defence would have been overwhelmed but for Orleans’s cowardly refusal to attack.
The unlucky King of France gave his enemy an opportunity to demonstrate his chivalry. On the evening of the battle, the Black Prince entertained John and his son to dinner, together with the leading noblemen among the prisoners, and personally served the King on his knees. (English monarchs were always served like this, down to the time of Charles I.) The food came from the French provision wagons, as the English had had none for nearly three days. The Prince told his royal captive : ‘Sir, for God’s sake make none evil nor heavy cheer,’ assuring him that King Edward would treat him with the utmost consideration. He also congratulated John on his bravery, saying that he had fought better than anyone, that even in defeat he had brought honour upon himself. This must have been small consolation to John II as he rode to Bordeaux with the English, who were ‘laded with gold, silver and prisoners’. Nor, for all his captor’s beautiful manners, did the King ever see his jewels again.
Across the Channel ‘there was great joy when they heard tidings of the battle of Poitiers, of the discomfiting of the Frenchmen and taking of the King; great solemnities were made in all churches and great fires and wakes throughout all England.’ Next spring the Black Prince brought John and his son home to London in triumph. On 24 May 1357 the captive French King rode into London on a white thoroughbred, accompanied by the Prince who tactfully rode a little black pony. John was given the palace of the Savoy for his lodging, where there ‘came to see him the King and the Queen oftentimes and made him great feast and cheer’. Edward III took a strong liking to his unfortunate cousin and brought him to Windsor where he ‘went a-hunting and a-hawking thereabout at his pleasure’. John can hardly have been cheered to meet the King of Scots, David II, who had been a prisoner for eleven years.
Meanwhile there was chaos in France, where the central government collapsed. It was all too much for the Dauphin Charles, a sickly boy of eighteen whose very real talents had not yet emerged. He was quite overwhelmed by his father’s misfortunes and by the difficulties of his position. Not only did the King of Navarre’s followers rise in Normandy, but all over France the Free Companies or routiers —bands of English and Gascon deserters and even Frenchmen—seized castles and set themselves up as robber barons, terrorizing large tracts of country and levying the pâtis.
When the Estates met at Paris only a few weeks after Poitiers they were in an angry mood. They demanded a complete reform of the administration, economies to reduce taxation and the dismissal of royal advisers, and insisted that the Dauphin must submit to the direction of a standing council of knights, clergy and bourgeois. The bourgeois had a formidable leader in Etienne Marcel, a rich cloth-dealer who was Provost of the Merchants (the nearest thing to a Lord Mayor of Paris). What made them more dangerous was that they were allied with Navarre’s followers, who wanted their unsavoury King to be Regent. Gradually the Dauphin lost control of the situation. Navarre escaped from prison at the end of 1357 and came to Paris where he forced the Dauphin to pardon him. The King of Navarre addressed an assembly on the subject of his wrongs : ‘His language was so pleasant that he was greatly praised and so little by little he entered into the favour of them of Paris, so that he was better beloved there than the Regent [i.e. the Dauphin].’ However, Navarre shrewdly refused to stay in the capital where Marcel’s party grew more obstreperous every day. In February 1358 they broke
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