The
ever-memorable battle of Cressy was fought on the 26th of August, 1346.
Both the French and English armies having been greatly fatigued and harassed by forced marchings, it was three o’clock in
the afternoon before the conflict com- menced, the greater portion of the day having been spent in preparation.
The opposing forces were very dispropor- tioned, the French being four times stronger than the English: indeed, some
chroniclers go so far as to assert that there were six Frenchmen to each Englishman. But it must also be stated that the
English were fresher and in much better condition for the encounter than their opponents. Just as the battle commenced
there was a heavy fall of rain, which so relaxed the bowstrings of the French and Genoese archers, that they were rendered
almost useless for a time; whereas the English bowmen were supplied with cases for their crossbows; and when the shower
had passed over, they were favoured with a gleam of sunshine which served to dazzle the enemy, and for a short time great
confusion prevailed in the French ranks. Observing this, the Prince of Wales led his men to the charge; when the French
cavalry, commanded by the Count D’Alengon, suddenly wheeled, and began to hem them in. At this juncture, as the Prince
appeared to be in imminent peril, a messenger was despatched for as- sistance to the King, who, with a strong reserve
force, was watching the conflict
from the brow of an adjacent hill. On seeing the officer approach, Edward asked him if his son was killed.
“No, my Liege,” was the reply.
“Then why have you come to me?”
“Because, Sire, the Prince is likely to be overcome in this fight, and he is greatly in need of help.”
“Then return at once to those who sent you, and say that my son must look for no assistance from me to-day. Tell them,
too, it is my wish that the boy should win his spurs; and if he is victorious, let it be en- tirely due to his own
merit.”
This reply being reported to the Prince, it inspired him and his soldiers with fresh ardour; and they fought so fiercely and
vigorously, that before sunset the French army was totally routed, and in full flight. The loss sustained by the French
was very severe, more than 30,000 of their men-at- arms being left dead upon the field, together with eleven princes, and
upwards of a thou- sand noblemen and knights. That of the English was comparatively trifling.
The following is supposed to be a de- scription by an eye-witness of the en- counter:—
On Cressy’s fair and verdant plain two hostile armies stand;1
For France and England meet to-day upon the Frenchman’s land.2
On either side the combatants are marshall’d in array,3
And wait their leaders’ orders to commence the deadly fray.4
*****
“Charge, archers, charge!” the French King cries; charge on these English now—5
We’ll show their haughty chivalry that we can fight, we trow.”6
“Sire, let the bowmen rest awhile,” the Genoese captains say;7
“They’re sore fatigued, for they have marched full many a league to-day.”8
“How!” quoth the Count D’Alengon, “do they refuse to fight?9
Charge!— for the day is waning fast, full soon it will be night.10
Cowards! to stand irresolute!— your King’s com- mand obey;11
Forward! and chase these English curs off yonder field. Away!”12
Unwillingly to battle the Genoese archers go—13
For forced and hasty marchings have worn their courage low;14
And more their ardour still to quench, the rain- clouds ’gin to flow,15
As though the heavens conspired with men to work their overthrow.16
For every English man-at-arms the French have four to-day;17
But every English soldier there is burning for the fray.18
Full well on many a distant field they’ve won their spurs before;19
And brave young Edward leads the host, the Prince whom they adore.20
Far to the west, beneath the trees that fringe the green hillside,21
With England’s nobles gathered round, England’s loved King doth ride;22
And there he keeps a chosen force of archers in reserve.23
His eyes are bent upon the host, and not one man will swerve.24
And now the signal trumpet’s heard. The conflict rages round;25
Right valiantly the foemen fight upon the rain- drench’d ground;26
And loud the English battle-cry across the field doth ring,27
The cry that oft has rung before— “For England and the King!”28
At length the dark clouds disappear; the sun is breaking through,29
Full in the Frenchmen’s eyesight, and hindering their view.30
“See—they are in confusion! Forward! Our foe- men reel!”31
The Black Prince cries, “The vict’ry’s ours!” But Alençon’s horsemen wheel—32
Wheel and surround the English. But succour is at hand—33
The Lord Arundel hastens up with all his gallant band.34
The Prince is fighting val’rously: though but a boy in years,35
A man in strength and prowess—a man, without man’s fears.36
The Frenchmen press him closely now But he deals right and left37
The blows from his two-edgéd sword; and see! he just has cleft:38
Yon stalwart horseman to the earth, through shield, and helm, and brain,39
And never more that fiery steed shall bear his weight again,40
The danger still increases. “God! I would this fight were done,41
For much I fear me for the fate of good King Ed- ward’s son;42
Ho! captain! Mount your charger fleet, and hasten to the King!”43
Outspake the Earl of Arundel, “And quick! assist- ance bring.”44
Away at once the horseman spurs. He nears the hillside, where45
King Edward and his archers wait. “What are the news ye bear?46
Is my son dead?” the monarch asks. “Or is he vanquished?” “Nay!47
For I left him even now, Sire, in the thickest of the fray.”48
“Then wherefore ridé ye in such haste?” Liege, I come for aid,49
For peril doth beset the Prince,” the Lord Arundel said.50
“Then back to those who sent thee, and let this your answer be:51
To-day the Prince must not expect to receive help from me.52
“The honour of this battle shall be reaped by him alone;53
That I’d not share it with him, Arundel might have known.54
The vict’ry shall be all my son’s—I leave this field to him.”55
“But, Sire!—” “No answer! Hie thee hence! I tell thee, ’tis my whim.”56
The captain slowly turns away, and tears steal down his cheeks57
As he remounts his charger, and again the battle seeks.58
Once more he is beside the Prince; he tells the monarch’s tale.59
Then hasten back, and say to him, his Edward will not fail.”60
“Soldiers! Upon the enemy make we a fresh attack.61
Down like a flood upon their ranks, and force these Frenchmen back!62
The sun is sinking rapidly behind yon gray old towers,63
But ere it disappears this eve, the battle shall be ours.”64
The brave young Prince is answered by a deaf’ning English cheer;65
And hearts beat high, and bright eyes flash, those stirring words to hear.66
The tumult for a time is stayed. Meanwhile the ranks re-form,67
And silently the armies wait—a calm before a storm.68
Again the signal trumpet sounds; again the armies close.69
The English, like a surging sea, charge on their wondering foes;70
Who, with a nameless panic seized, in swift confu- sion fly,71
Like withered leaves before the wind, ’neath an au- tumnal sky.72
The conquerors in fierce pursuit the flying French- men track;73
But night’s dull shades are gathering, and the trum- pet calls them back.74
And hark! like thunder through the air the shouts of vict’ry ring,75
And on the evening breezes they are wafted to the King.76
*****
Full brightly shine the stars to-night, and yon pale moon o’erhead,77
Looks calmly down upon the plain, strewn thickly with the dead.78
And thus by Edward the Black Prince, our third King Edward’s son,79
In the golden August twilight, is the field of Cressy won.80
