animate merchandise was the living spoil-the crowd of noble captives who had to be ransomed. In this very lucrative kind of booty, Bannockburn was peculiarly rich. 'The combat of men was preceded by that of the elements. A partial eclipse had dimmed the sun; flights of birds flew screaming over the two armies, precursive of a storm, and soon Among the prisoners was the thunder roared and the one whose story furnished the lightning flashed, and the rain Scots with a merry jest to grace descended in torrents. At five their triumph. He was a certain in the afternoon the sky cleared, Carmelite friar, named Baston; and the sun shone bright in the and it was said of him, whether eyes of the French. The truly or not, that he had been | Genoese then gave three shouts, taken to see the battle in order levelled their ponderous crossthat he might be the better able bows, and discharged their bolts. to perform a certain function The English archers received assigned to him, which was the the discharge in silence; then celebration of the English king drawing their long-bows from as he returned victorious,-an their cases, they showered their expectation which Bower cha- cloth-yard arrows thick as snow racterizes as proud presumption upon the Genoese, who, as they and presumptuous pride. He required time to recharge their was told that, as the price of his bows, fell into disorder. The ransom, he must celebrate the Count of Alençon, calling them triumphs of the real victors, and cowards, ordered his knights to that without ambiguity. The cut them down. This but inresult is preserved, and whatever creased the confusion; many of other merits it may have, shows the knights were unhorsed by a laboriously earnest effort to the English archers, and the accomplish his task to the satis- Welshmen ran forward and defaction of his instructors.' spatched them with knives. EDWARD III. The memorable battle Cressy Edward III.'s great victory over the French-is thus described by Mr. Thomas Keightley in his History of England: 'When clear of the Genoese, the cavalry pressed on. The Black Prince, Edward's son, and of the men-at-arms were nearly surrounded when the second line advanced; a knight was sent to Edward, who viewed the fight from the summit of a windmill, praying him to send more aid. "Is my son slain or wounded?" said he. "No," replied the envoy. "Then," said he, "tell Warwick he shall have no aid. Let the boy win his "The date of the fray was the 26th August 1346. The number of the French army is variously given at from sixty to one hundred and twenty thousand men. spurs. He and they who have him in charge shall earn the whole glory of the day." "This reply gave fresh vigour to the English; the Count of Alençon was slain, and his troops routed; the king of France then advanced to the relief, but the showers of arrows fearfully thinned his ranks; his friends in vain urged him to retire; at length, when it was growing dark, John of Hainault laid hold of his bridle, and forced him to quit the field. They fled to Amiens, but the fight was still kept up in various parts, till terminated by the increasing darkness. When the prince approached, Edward sprang to meet him. "Fair son," cried he, as he clasped him to his bosom, "continue your career. You have acted nobly, and shown yourself worthy of me and the crown." After the battle of Cressy, Edward laid siege to Calais. After many long months, famine compelled the defenders to think about treating with him. The governor from the walls proposed to Sir Walter Manny, who was at hand, to surrender, on condition of their lives and liberties being secured. The king, however, would accept of nothing short of unconditional surrender; at length he agreed to be content with the lives of six of the principal burgesses. The people met in the market to hear these terms. Who were to offer themselves as sacrifices for their fellow-citizens? There was a moment of perplexity. It was ended by Eustace de St. Pierre, one of the leading citizens, stepping forward and offering his life for his townsmen ; another and another then appeared, and the number was soon completed. When Sir Walter Manny returned to the camp of the victorious Edward, with that mirror to patriots, Eustace de St. Pierre, and his fellow-hostages, the monarch inquired, 'Are these the principal inhabitants of Calais ?' 'They are,' answered Manny, 'not only the principal men of Calais, but the principal men of France, if virtue has any share in nobility.' 'Were they delivered peaceably?' inquired Edward; was there no resistance, no commotion among the people?' 'None in the least, sire. The people would all have perished, rather than have delivered the least of these to your Majesty; but they are self-delivered, self-devoted, and come to offer their inestimable heads as an ample equivalent for the ransom of thousands.' Edward was secretly piqued at this reply of Manny; but he knew the privilege of a British subject, and suppressed his resentment. 'Experience,' said he, 'has ever shown that lenity only serves to invite people to new crimes. Severity at times is indispensably necessary to compel subjects to submission. Go,' he cried to an officer, 'lead these men to execution.' At this instant, a sound of 6 trumpets was heard throughout the camp. The queen had just arrived with a reinforcement of gallant troops from England. Sir Walter Manny flew to her Majesty, and briefly informed her of the particulars respecting the six victims. As soon as Philippa had been welcomed by Edward and his court, her Majesty desired a private audience. My lord,' said she, 'the question I am to enter upon is not touching the lives of a few mechanics; it respects the honour of the English nation; it respects the glory of my Edward, my husband, my king. You think you have sentenced six of your enemies to death. No, my lord, they have sentenced themselves. The stage on which they would suffer would be to them a stage of honour, but to Edward a stage of shame, a reproach to his conquests, an indelible stain on his name.' These words flashed conviction on the soul of Edward. 'I have done wrong, very wrong!' he exclaimed. 'Let the execution be instantly stayed, and the captives be brought before us.' St. Pierre and his friends soon made their appearance, when the queen thus addressed them: Natives of France and inhabitants of Calais, you have put us to a vast expense of blood and treasure in the recovery of our just and natural inheritance; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous judgment, and we admire and honour in you that value and virtue by which we are so long kept out of our rightful possessions. Noble burghers! excellent citizens ! though you were tenfold the enemies of our person and our throne, we can feel nothing on our part save respect and affection for you. You have been sufficiently tried. We loose your chains; we snatch you from the scaffold; and we thank you for that lesson of humiliation which you teach us, when you show us that excellence is not of blood, of title, or station; that virtue gives a dignity superior to that of kings; and that those whom the Almighty informs with sentiments like yours are justly and universally raised above all human distinctions.' 'Ah, my country!' exclaimed St. Pierre, 'it is now that I tremble for you. Edward only arms our cities; but Philippa, conquers hearts.' HENRY V. The marvellous, fierce, and cruel battle' of Agincourt, the great triumph of Henry V., abounds in striking and stirring pictures; the first onset of the English is perhaps one of the most striking of them all. It was towards the hour of noon, on the 25th of October 1415, when Henry gave the brief but cheering order-'Banners advance!' and then the venerable Sir Thomas Erpingham, the commander of the archers, a knight grown grey with age and honour, threw his truncheon into the air, exclaiming, 'Now strike!' The distance between the French and English armies was less than a quarter of a mile. The English came on in gallant array, until the foremost were within bow-shot of the French. Then the archers stuck their stakes in the ground before them, and set up a tremendous shout. Their loud huzzas were instantly echoed by the enemy, who, in the next minute, were assailed by a tremendous shower of arrows both in front and flank. The French had few bowmen or none at all, for that weapon was considered unworthy of knightly hands, and the princes had insolently rejected the service of the burghers and other plebeians, holding that France ought to be defended only by men of gentle blood. Messire Clignet of Brabant thought he could break the English archers with the lance, and charged with twelve hundred horse, crying, 'Mountjoye! St. Denis!' But the ground was soft and slippery; the flight of arrows that met them right in the face was terrific. Some were slain; some rolled, horse and horsemen, on the field; others turned their horses' heads; and of the whole twelve hundred, not above seven score followed their chiefs up to the English front, where the archers, instead of wearing steel armour, had even thrown aside their leathern jackets, that they might have a freer use of their nervous arms. But between the defence of the sharp stakes and the incessant flights of their arrows, very few of the French lances reached those open breasts. Such of the knights as stood their ground, stooped their heads as the arrows went through their vizors; confused and blinded, they scarcely knew what they were doing. They lost the command of their horses, which, wounded in many places, became mad with pain, and galloped back, joining the other fugitives, and breaking the first division of the French army. Three horses only penetrated beyond the stakes. The confusion of the French was now very great. Everywhere within reach of the arrows the French horses were capering about or rushing wildly through the line, doing mischief to their own army, and causing the wildest uproar. Columns got mixed; the words of command were disregarded; and while the timid stole to the rear, the brave all rushed forward to the van, crowding a division that was overcrowded before in the narrow space occupied by the French army. More than once they were so huddled together that they had not room to couch their lances. Meanwhile the English, removing their stakes, came on with still more tremendous movement, and then, so badly had the ground been chosen, they got into some newly ploughed corn-fields, where their horses sank almost to their saddle - girths, stuck fast, or rolled over with their riders. Seeing that the vanguard was thoroughly disordered, the English archers left their stakes, which they did not use again, and slinging their bows behind them, rushed into the thickest of the mêlée, with their billhooks and hatchets. There, they themselves being almost without clothing, and many of them both bare-footed and bareheaded, the English archers laid about them with their bare sinewy arms, and hit fearful knocks against the steel-clad knights of France. The constable and many of the most illustrious of the French knights were presently killed by these despised plebeians, who, without any assistance from the chivalry of England, dispersed the whole body. closed up, and kept its ground, though the weight of their armour made them sink kneedeep in the mire. Henry now brought up his men-at-arms, and calling in his brave English bowmen, formed them again into good order. These lightly equipped troops found little inconvenience from the nature of the soil: they had the free use of their limbs; they were as fresh as when they first came into the battle. They gave another loud huzza as the king led them on to a fresh charge. It was now that the real battle took place, and that Henry's life was repeatedly put in the greatest peril. His brother, the Duke of Clarence, was wounded and knocked down, and would have been killed or made prisoner, if Henry had not placed himself by his side and beaten off the assailants. Soon after, a band of eighteen knights, bearing the banner of the Lord of Croy, who had bound themselves with an oath to take or kill the king of England, made a furious charge upon him. One of these knights struck the king with his mace or battle-axe, and the blow was so violent, that Henry staggered and fell on his knees; but his brave men instantly closed round him, and killed every one of the eighteen knights. Then the second division opened to receive the sad remnants of the first,-a movement attended with fresh disorder. At this moment, Duke Anthony of Brabant, who had just arrived on the field, but who, in his impatient haste, had left his reinforcements behind him, headed a fresh charge of horse. He was instantly slain by the English, who kept advancing and destroying all who op- The Duke of Alençon then posed them. The second di- forced his way to the English vision of the French, however, | royal standard. With a blow |