the bridges on the Loire broken down, he was obliged to think of making his retreat into Guienne. He found this resolution the more necessary from the intelligence he received of the movements of the French king.

That monarch, provoked by the insult offered him by this incursion, and gathering hopes of success from the young prince's imprudence, collected a great army of above 60,000 men, and advanced by hasty marches to intercept his enemy. The two armies came in sight near Poictiers, and Edward, sensible that his retreat was now impossible, prepared for battle with all the courage of a young hero, and with all the prudence of the oldest and most experienced commander.

But the utmost prudence and courage would have proved insufficient to save him had the King of France known how to make use of his present advantage. His large numbers would have enabled him to surround the enemy, and, by cutting off all provisions, which were already become scarce in the English camp, to make this small army compelled to surrender to him. But such was the impatient ardour of the French nobility, and so much had their thoughts been bent on overtaking the English as their sole object, that this idea never struck any of the commanders, and they at once took measures for the assault, as for a certain victory.

While the French army was drawn up in order of battle, they were stopped by the appearance of the Cardinal of Perigord, who, having learned the approach of the two armies to each other, had hastened, by interposing his good offices, to prevent any further shedding of human blood. By the permission of John, King of France, he carried proposals to the Prince of

Wales, and found him so sensible of the bad posture of his affairs that an agreement seemed possible. King John required that Edward should surrender himself prisoner, with a hundred of his attendants, and offered on these terms a safe retreat to the English army. The prince rejected the offer with disdain, and declared that whatever fortune might attend him, England should never be obliged to pay the price of his ransom. This resolute answer cut off all hope of agreement; but as the day was already spent, the battle was delayed till the next morning.

The Cardinal of Perigord, as did all the prelates of the Court of Rome, bore a great attachment to the French interest; but the most determined enemy could not have done a greater prejudice to John's affairs than he did them by this delay. The Prince of Wales had leisure during the night to strengthen, by new intrenchments, the post which he had before so prudently chosen, and he laid an ambush of 300 men-at-arms and 300 archers, that they might fall on the rear or back of the French army during the engagement.

There was no reaching the English army but through a narrow lane covered on each side by hedges, and, in order to open this passage, a portion of the French army were ordered to advance. While they marched along the lane, a body of English archers, who lined the hedges, poured on them from each side a shower of arrows, and, being very near them, yet placed in perfect safety, they coolly took their aim against the enemy and slaughtered them with impunity. The French division, much discouraged at the unequal combat, and diminished in their number, arrived at the end of the lane, where they met in the open ground

the Prince of Wales himself, at the head of a chosen body, ready for their reception.

They were defeated and overthrown; one of the leaders was slain, the other taken prisoner; and the remainder of the division, who were still in the lane exposed to the shot of the enemy without being able to make resistance, recoiled back upon their own army and put everything into disorder. In that critical moment, the 600 soldiers who lay in ambush attacked the French army from behind, and the generals, anxious for the safety of the dauphin (the eldest son of the French king), who was with them, set the example of flight, which was followed by the whole of that part of the army. Another French general, seized with a like panic, and thinking that all was lost, carried off his division by a retreat which soon turned into a flight.

Lord Chandos called out to the prince that the day was won, and encouraged him to attack the division under King John, which, though more numerous than the whole English army, were somewhat dismayed with the flight of their companions. John here made the utmost efforts to regain by his valour what his imprudence had lost, and the only resistance made that day was by that part of the French army commanded by him. The English were encouraged by the near prospect of so great a victory, the French were stimulated by the shame of quitting the field to an enemy so much inferior. His principal generals being slain, the French king was, however, exposed to the whole fury of the enemy.

The ranks were every moment thinned around him ; the nobles fell by his side one after another; his son, scarce fourteen years of age, received a wound while

fighting bravely in defence of his father; the king himself, spent with fatigue, and surrounded by numbers, might easily have been slain; but every English gentleman, ambitious of taking alive the royal prisoner, spared him in the action, exhorted him to surrender, and offered him quarter. Several who attempted to seize him, suffered for their daring. He still cried out,

"Where is my cousin, the Prince of Wales?" and seemed unwilling to become prisoner to any person of inferior rank. But being told that the prince was at a distance from the field, he threw down his gauntlet, and yielded himself to a knight, by whom he was brought to Edward.

Here commences the real and truly admirable heroism of Edward; for victories are vulgar things in comparison with that moderation and humanity displayed by a young prince of twenty-seven years of age, not yet cooled from the fury of battle, and elated by as great a success as had ever crowned the arms of any commander. He came forth to meet the captive king with all the marks of regard and sympathy; adminis tered comfort to him amidst his misfortunes; paid him the tribute of praise due to his valour; and ascribed. his own victory merely to the blind chances of war, or to a superior Providence, which controls all the efforts of human force and prudence.

Edward ordered a repast to be prepared in his tent for the prisoner; and he himself served at the royal captive's table, as if he had been one of his retinue. He stood at the king's back during the meal; constantly refused to take a place at table; and declared that, being a subject, he was too well acquainted with the distance between his own rank and that of royal majesty to assume such freedom.

All his father's pretensions to the crown of France were now buried in oblivion; John, in captivity, received the honours of a king, which were refused him when seated on the throne. His misfortunes, not his title, were respected; and the French prisoners, conquered by this elevation of mind more than by their late defeat, burst into tears of admiration.

The Prince of Wales conducted his prisoner to Bordeaux; and not being provided with forces sufficient to push his advantages, concluded a two years' truce with France, which was also become requisite that he might conduct the captive king with safety to England. He landed at Southwark, and was met by a great concourse of people of all ranks and stations. The prisoner was clad in royal apparel, and mounted on a white steed, remarkable for its size and beauty, and by the richness of its harness. The conqueror rode by his side in meaner attire, and carried by a black palfrey. In this situation, more glorious than all the parade of a Roman triumph, he passed through the streets of London, and presented the French king to his father, Edward III., who advanced to meet him, and received him with the same courtesy as if he had been a neighbouring monarch, who had come to pay him a friendly visit. It is impossible, on reflecting on this noble conduct, not to perceive the advantages which resulted from the otherwise whimsical principles of chivalry, and which gave men in those rude times some superiority even over people of a more cultivated age and nation.

Alexander Menzikoff, who rose to the highest offices of state in Russia during the reign of Peter the Great,