end to the combat; the evening sun, shining brightly after a violent summer storm, was blazing directly in the faces of the assailants.  But the French nobles demanded an immediate advance.  Confident in their numbers and prowess, they had already assured themselves of victory, and were quarrelling about the division of the captives they would make.  Philip, too sympathetic with the feudal point of view to oppose his friends, ordered the advance.

The battle began by the French sending forward a strong force of Genoese crossbowmen, to prepare the way for the cavalry charge.  But the long bows of the English outshot the obsolete and cumbrous weapons of the Genoese, whose strings had been wetted by the recent storm.  The Italians descended into the valley, but were soon demoralised by seeing their comrades fall all round them, while their own bolts failed to reach the enemy.  They were already in full retreat back up the slope, when the impatience of the French horsemen burst all bounds.  The reckless cavalry charge swept right through the disordered ranks of the crossbowmen, whose groans and cries as they were trampled underfoot by the mail-clad steeds, inspired the rear ranks of the French with the vain belief that the English were hard pressed, and made them eager to join the fray.  The charge, as disorderly and as badly directed as the fatal attack of Bannockburn, never reached the English ranks.  Shot down right and left by archers, terrified by the fearful booming of three small cannon that the English had dragged about during their wanderings, the French line soon became a confused mob of furious horsemen on panic-stricken horses.  With gallantry even more conspicuous than their want of discipline, the French made no less than fifteen attempts to penetrate the enemies’ lines.  At one point only did they get near their goal, and that was on the right battle where the Prince of Wales himself was in command.  A timely reinforcement sent by King Edward relieved the pressure, and the French were soon in full retreat, protected, as the English boasted, from further attack by the rampart of dead that they left behind them.  The darkness, which ended the struggle, forbade all pursuit.  Next day the fight was renewed by fresh French forces, but a fog hampered their movements, and they fell easy victims to the English.  Then the defeated force retreated to Abbeville.  The English loss was insignificant, but the field was covered with the bravest and noblest of the French.  Among those who perished on the side of Philip were Louis of Nevers, the chivalrous Count of Flanders, who had sacrificed everything save his honour on the altar of feudal duty, and the blind King John of Bohemia, whose end was as romantic and futile as his life.  Both these princes left as their successors sons of very different stamp in Louis de Male, and Charles of Moravia.  Charles, who had recently been set up as King of the Romans by the clerical party against Louis of Bavaria, was present at Crecy, but a prudent retreat saved him from his father’s fate.