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BATTLES OF ENGLISH HISTORY
[Illustration: _Map I._
_Outline Map of
England & Wales._]
BATTLES OF ENGLISH HISTORY
by
HEREFORD B. GEORGE, M.A., F.R.G.S.
Fellow of New College, Oxford
Methuen & Co.
36 Essex Street, W.C.
London
1895
Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,
London & Bungay.
PREFACE
It has been the business of my life to teach history: and the informal
division of labour which comes to pass in a University has led me
to pay special attention to the military side of it. This aspect
of history involves much comparison of statements and weighing of
evidence, and is therefore calculated to be very useful to those for
whom the study of history is, not their permanent occupation, but
the means of completing their mental training. Campaigns and battles
present in an exceptionally clear shape the stock problems of history,
what was done, why it was done, what were the results, what ought to
have been done, what would have been the consequences if this or that
important detail had been different.
It is however not easy to gain from books a clear general idea of a
campaign or a battle, harder perhaps than to obtain a similar grasp
of the work of a legislator, or of the drift of a social change. To
the ordinary historian the military side is only one aspect of his
theme, and very possibly an aspect which interests him but little. He
narrates the facts as given him by his authorities: but when these are
vague, as mediæval writers mostly are, or discrepant, as modern writers
are who mean to be precise and write from different standpoints, he
need be something of an expert to make his narrative lifelike. On the
other hand, purely military works are, very reasonably, technical:
they are written for experts, to whom the technical language is
familiar, and they often go into considerable detail. Ordinary readers
are apt, consequently, to want help in obtaining from them a clear
idea of the outline of events. Like Pindar's poetic shafts, they are
φωνᾶντα συνετοῖσιν, ἐς δὲ τοπὰν ἑρμηνέων χατίζει.
Having experienced these difficulties myself, both as student and as
teacher, I have thought that I might render some service by trying
to act as interpreter, and to describe the chief military events of
English history in a way which shall not be technical, but yet shall
bring out their meaning. I do not write for experts, though it is they
who must judge whether I have described correctly. I write for those
who do not know much about battles, and would like to understand events
which are interesting in themselves, and are great turning-points in
history: they must judge whether I have described intelligibly. If I
have met the proverbial fate of those who sit on two stools, it is not
for want of pains in trying to keep my balance.
I feel that it is _prima facie_ presumptuous for a civilian to write
what is in some sense a military book: but after all it is the customer
who feels where the shoe pinches. Moreover many of the battles of
English history occurred in past ages, in relation to which the
professional training of a modern soldier would teach him little beyond
the permanent principles of strategy, which every educated man should
understand. Given also an elementary knowledge of tactics, which has
spread pretty widely in this country since volunteering began and the
war-game became popular, a civilian ought to be able to deal adequately
with Hastings and Crecy, with Towton and Marston Moor, if not with the
campaigns of Marlborough and Wellington. If I have failed, it is not
because the subject is outside the province of a civilian, but because
the writer has been unequal to his task.
_Si vis pacem, para bellum_ is a sound maxim for statesmen: for
ordinary citizens it may be paraphrased thus—the better you understand
war, the more you will desire peace. I have found that soldiers'
love for peace, and horror of war, is usually in proportion to their
experience: they deem no sacrifice too heavy to secure the greatest of
national blessings. I think therefore that it is reasonable for one
who belongs to a profession pre-eminently peaceful, to attempt to aid
his countrymen in realising what war means. The better they understand
this, the less they will be tempted to enter on war lightly, the more
they will feel how amply worth while is every effort to put their
country beyond the risk of attack.
I wish here to acknowledge a great debt of gratitude to my friend Col.
Cooper King, formerly Professor of Tactics at Sandhurst, who has not
only taken great trouble in drawing the maps to suit my scheme, but has
also obtained for me useful information, besides helping me with some
valuable suggestions and much friendly criticism. I would not however
do him the ill service of sheltering myself behind his authority as an
expert. The faults of my work, whatever they are, are mine and not his,
though they might well have been more numerous without his assistance.
I have made no reference to the naval battles of English history,
hardly less numerous than the great land battles, and, two or three of
them at least, even more important. To deal with them adequately would
require knowledge to which I cannot pretend. Moreover they might best
be treated on a separate plan, similar perhaps to that which I have
followed, but entirely distinct from it.
_Oxford,
Jan. 1, 1895._
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. Introductory 1
II. Hastings 9
III. The Barons' War 28
IV. Falkirk and Bannockburn 40
Intermediate Note—The Long-Bow 51
V. Crecy and Poitiers 54
VI. Agincourt and Orleans 80
VII. The Wars of the Roses 101
Intermediate Note—Gunpowder 115
VIII. Flodden 118
IX. The Great Civil War 128
Intermediate Note—Standing Armies 151
X. Marlborough 153
Intermediate Note—Line _versus_ Column 175
XI. The Eighteenth Century 179
XII. The Peninsula. Part I.—Defensive 197
XIII. " Part II.—Offensive 215
XIV. Waterloo 237
XV. The Crimea 264
Intermediate Note—Inferior Races 288
XVI. India. Part I.—Conquest 295
XVII. " Part II.—Supremacy 305
Appendix: Battles Described 323
" Mentioned 324
Sieges 324
Index 325
LIST OF MAPS AND PLANS
PAGE
I. Outline Map of England _Frontispiece_
II. Hastings 18
III. Evesham 35
IV. Outline Map of North France: Crecy 58
V. Outline Map of West Central France:
Poitiers 66
VI. Agincourt 86
VII. Towton 106
VIII. Flodden 122
IX. Outline Map of Southern Scotland: Dunbar 147
X. Blenheim 160
XI. Ramillies 166
XII. Quebec 188
XIII. Outline Map of Spanish Peninsula 196
XIV. Salamanca 222
XV. Vittoria 230
XVI. Outline Map of Belgium: Waterloo 236
XVII. The Crimea 266
XVIII. Outline Map of India 294
BATTLES OF ENGLISH HISTORY
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
Battles are the most generally interesting class of events in history,
and not without reason. Until mankind have all been reduced to a single
pattern, which would put an end to history, there will be conflicting
interests, sentiments, creeds, principles, which will from time to
time lead to war. We may settle many disputes peacefully by mutual
concession, or by voluntary submission to external arbitration: but
an appeal to arms always lies behind, and is the only resource when
differences go too deep for reconciliation, or when the self-respect of
nations is too severely wounded. Even within a nation there are many
possibilities, remote perhaps yet never unimaginable, which may bring
about civil war. And though it is perfectly conceivable that a given
war may be waged to the end without a single important battle, if the
superior skill of one side enables it to gain overwhelming advantage
without fighting, yet practically this does not happen. Battles are in
fact the decisive events in the contests which are of sufficient moment
to grow into war. It is very easy to exaggerate their importance, to
fix attention on the climax only, and lose sight of the events which
led up to it, and which went very far in most cases towards determining
its result. But after all the battle is the climax, and the world in
general may be forgiven for over-estimating it.
Writers, whose humane instincts have been outraged by the way in
which other people ignore the horrors of war, and dwell only on its
glories, have sometimes argued that wars settle nothing, as they only
leave behind a legacy of hatred which tends to fresh wars. No doubt in
some cases, and in a certain sense, this is true. Napoleon trampled
Prussia under foot at Jena, and the spirit engendered in the Prussian
government and people by their ignominious defeat brought about in
course of time the war of 1870, in which France in her turn was crushed
almost as ruthlessly, to cherish ever since a hope of revenge. Still
Jena was decisive for the time, and Sedan for a still longer period;
and there is nothing to prove that France and Germany may not be the
best of friends one day. If peaceful accord at one time does not
prevent a future quarrel should circumstances alter, no more does past
hostility prevent future alliance. Austria and Prussia were permanent,
apparently natural, enemies during a century and a half, except when
the common danger from Napoleon forced them into tardy and unwilling
union; now their alliance is paraded as the permanent guarantee of the
peace of Europe. Russia contributed more than any other power, except
perhaps England, to the destruction of that fabric of universal empire
with which Napoleon dazzled the French. Forty years later, another
Napoleon joined England in making war on Russia and humbling her in the
Crimea: now France and Russia advertise their enthusiastic attachment
to each other. This is however only to say that men's interests will
often be stronger motives of action than their passions; and if the
interests of two nations conflict again in the present, as they have
done in the past, their animosity will be all the keener for the
memories of past defeats sustained at each other's hands.
Is it then undesirable that the memory of past wars should be fostered?
Does it produce nothing but a longing for revenge on the part of those
who have suffered defeat, a sentiment of vainglory on the part of the
victors? Is the roll of English victories over France to breed in
us nothing but an arrogant notion that an Englishman is worth three
Frenchmen, an inference which the mere numbers engaged at Crecy or
Agincourt, if we knew no more, might seem to justify? There is some
danger that this may be the case, if we remember only the battles, the
points of decisive collision, and take no heed to the wars as a whole,
and to the contemporary conditions generally. An isolated battle is
like a jewel out of its setting; it may look very brilliant, but no
use can be made of it. The glories of Sluys and Crecy, of Trafalgar
and Waterloo, would be a _damnosa hereditas_ indeed, if they led us to
despise our neighbours and possible enemies.
Battles however which are not isolated, but are fitted into their
places in the wars to which they belong, and sufficiently linked
together to make them illustrate the political and social changes
from age to age which are reflected in the changes of armament, may
be a subject of study both interesting and instructive. Detailed
narratives of the battles themselves appeal to the imagination in more
ways than one. There is the romantic element, not merely the "pomp
and circumstance of glorious war," and the feats of brilliant courage
which are often admired out of all proportion to their utility, but
also the occasional startling surprises. What drama ever contained
a more thrilling incident than the battle of Marengo, changed in a
moment from a more than possible French defeat into a complete victory,
through a sudden cavalry charge causing the panic rout of an Austrian
column up to that moment advancing successfully? And there is the
personal interest of noting how one man's great qualities, skill,
promptitude, forethought, fertility of resource, in all ages, bodily
powers also in the days before gunpowder, lift him above his fellows,
and enable him visibly to sway their destinies—how the rashness and
incompetence of another entail speedy and visible punishment. And
behind and above all, is the great fact which of itself suffices to
justify the universal interest, that the lives of the combatants are
at stake. "All that a man hath will he give for his life;" yet the
call of duty, or zeal for his cause, induces the soldier to expose
his life to danger, never insignificant, and often most imminent and
deadly; and discipline enables him to do this coolly, and therefore
with the best prospects, not of escaping the sacrifice, but of making
it effectual. The admiration of the soldier which is caricatured in
the nursery-maid's love for a red coat is obviously silly, but the
demagogue's denunciation of him as a bloodthirsty hireling is equally
foolish, and far more mischievous.
If detailed narratives are to be fitted into their historical place,
the first question that suggests itself is why battles were fought
where they were. The exact site is usually a matter of deliberate
choice on the part of one combatant or the other, the assailant seizing
his enemy at a disadvantage as he crosses a river, for instance, or the
defendant selecting what seems to him the best position in which to
await attack; and what position is most favourable obviously depends
on the tactics of the age. Of the latter Hastings and Waterloo furnish
conspicuous examples; of the former the clearest instance in English
history is Tewkesbury. The locality however, as distinguished from the
exact spot, is determined by a variety of considerations. Some are
geographical: the formation of the country, which includes not only
the direction and character of rivers and chains of hills, but also
the position of towns and forests and the course of roads, limits in
various ways the movements of armies. Some may be called political: the
course of events practically compels the attempting of a particular
enterprise. For instance, the battle of Bannockburn had to be fought
because Stirling Castle was to be surrendered to the Scots, if an
English army did not relieve it by a given day. The majority of the
considerations involved are however strategical; and it is worth while
to attempt to make clear what is implied by this often misapplied word.
Strategy is the art of moving an army to advantage, so that either when
it comes to fight it may do so on favourable terms, or it may gain
ground on the enemy without fighting. An invasion so directed as to
give the invader the command of the resources of a rich district, or to
deprive the enemy of access to an important harbour, is an instance of
the latter form of strategic movement. The former and commoner form,
so moving as to compel the enemy to fight at some disadvantage, may
take either of two shapes, or may involve both. There are two elements
to be considered in comparing the situation of the combatants before
a decisive battle. Which side has the best chance of winning? This
depends mainly on the relative strength that can be brought into the
field. To which side will the consequences of defeat be most serious?
This depends mainly on the position of the two armies in the theatre
of war. James IV. of Scotland, when the battle of Flodden was fought,
had allowed Surrey to get between him and Scotland: here a defeat meant
destruction. Henry V. was in a similar strait before Agincourt, but in
this case victory in the field extricated him from danger. Obviously
one of two combatants may begin with very inferior strength to his
opponent; in that case he will probably be obliged to stand on the
defensive, and his strategy must be directed to making the most of
his force, to doing the best he can with very small numbers for minor
purposes, to avoiding battle until he can equalise matters somewhat,
and bring as large a proportion as possible to bear on the decisive
point. Obviously also one side may have an advantage over the other
derived from geography; for instance, one may have, while the other
has not, a great fortress near the common frontier, which will serve
as a starting point for invasion. A general has to take the facts
as he finds them, and make the best of them. He is the most skilful
strategist who gains the most without fighting, and who succeeds in
shifting the balance most largely in his own favour before engaging in
decisive battle.
Changes in tactics again are matters of great interest from age to age,
not merely in themselves, but in connection with other developments
on which at first sight they seem to have no bearing. Primarily they
are matters of intellectual progress: the invention of gunpowder was
an event of incalculable importance in human history. Similarly the
material progress exemplified in making good roads brought with it the
possibility of supplying an army in the field, instead of its being
compelled to subsist on the country; and the possibility of doing
this presently became a virtual necessity, because the best supplied
army had a visible advantage. Thus gradually, through the progress
of civilisation, armies have become highly elaborate machines, which
require to be continuously supplied with food, ammunition, clothing,
all the material without which they cannot act effectually. Hence they
need to keep up continuous communication with their base of operations:
and the conditions of strategy have been proportionally altered and
rendered more complicated.
There are other changes in tactics, that is to say in equipment and
mode of fighting, which may be called political: and it is not always
easy to see whether they are the causes, or the effects, of social and
political changes; possibly they are both. In the early middle ages,
the feudal aristocracy was dominant politically, the mailed knights
were preponderant on the battle-field. When infantry had learned on the
continent of Europe to repel mailed cavalry with the pike, in England
to destroy them with the clothyard arrow, the political supremacy of
the feudal nobles waned along with their military superiority: their
overthrow was consummated when the development of artillery placed
feudal castles at the mercy of the crown. Inasmuch as political power
must in the last resort depend on physical force, it is plain that
the nature of the armed strength of a nation at any time will be an
important element in determining the nature of its government.
There are also lessons to be learnt from battles which may roughly
be called moral. Frederick the Great remarked cynically that, so
far as he had observed, Providence was always on the side of the
strongest battalions: and if the phrase be given sufficient width of
interpretation it is perfectly true. No man ever exhibited more clearly
than Frederick that strength has many elements. Discipline, endurance,
mobility, courage, are all important constituents of military strength,
as also is the relative excellence of armament. Soldiers who can be
trusted not to lose their heads, either from eagerness or from panic,
are worth far more in the long run than more excitable men. The
bulldog, that never relaxes his grip but in death, is a more formidable
opponent, weight for weight, than the tiger. Still more valuable is the
iron tenacity which is capable of fighting after all hope is lost: it
may apparently succumb, but such defeat is worth many a victory. The
Spartans at Thermopylae were cut to pieces, but they taught the Persian
king what Greeks could do, and prepared the way for his headlong flight
when his fleet was beaten at Salamis: and the English in the Indian
Mutiny enforced the same lesson. The individuals are lost to their
country, but their death is worth more than many lives.
English history is in many ways well suited for illustrating the
lessons that may be learnt from battles and their setting. It is
continuous beyond any other national history of even moderate length.
Englishmen of to-day have more in common with the axemen of Harold
than Frenchmen of to-day have with the horsemen of Condé. Hence it
is easier in England than elsewhere to see the significance of the
changes, social and political, which accompany the military changes.
The Norman feudal cavalry overcome the Saxon foot-soldiers, and the
long-bow presently discomfits the lance; artillery makes mediæval
walls worthless: the musket and pike supersede the bow, and the
invention of the bayonet combines pike and musket in one. Later still
have come enormous extension of the range of fire, both for infantry
and artillery, the invention of new explosives and other engines of
destruction, the effects of which are still matters of conjecture.
Happily more than a generation has passed since British troops fought
on a European battle-field: we have not yet tried long range artillery
and machine guns, and cordite and melinite, and the other deadly things
that end in -ite, except on a very small scale and against inferior
races. But all the previous stages are reflected in our history of
a thousand years, to go no further back than Alfred, and in some
instances with very special significance.
Moreover English history is on the whole a history of success. We
have suffered defeat from time to time, but the last crushing rout
of a considerable army even mainly English, which history records,
occurred nearly six centuries ago at the hands of our kindred the
Scots, who have long since become our fellow-citizens. Why this has
been the case is obvious enough; and the battle-fields point the moral
very distinctly. First of all the English obtained a coherence of
organisation and of feeling which entitled them to be called a nation,
as that word is understood now-a-days, centuries before any other
peoples of modern Europe; and the military value of that advantage is
the foremost lesson of the so-called Hundred Years' War with France.
Secondly, "the English don't know when they are beaten," as a great
enemy said, in scorn for the stupidity of men who would fight on
without perceiving that their opponents had gained tactical advantages,
which to the quicker apprehension of some troops would have meant
defeat. Such stupidity however is very difficult to distinguish from
the dogged resolution which will not give way while life remains: and
the quality, by whichever name it is called, is very apt to win. It
needs no words to show that the lessons deducible from battles are more
obvious to the victors; the losers have a great temptation to see only
what may serve to excuse or palliate their defeat.
It may be added that in English history there is a considerable
proportion of civil war, where the purely military aspect of things
is not obscured by the possible or probable results of diversity of
race. The conquest of India is also unique in history, for the mode in
which it was achieved as well as for its extent. Thus English history
gives every variety—its long continuity spreads its great battles over
eight centuries, and those battles have been fought against European
equals, in internal conflict, against the alien races of India. The
only experience which England has not had is that of one armed nation
precipitating itself on another; from this we are happily preserved by
the narrow seas.