HENRY, WITH TROOPS MUCH WEAKENED, LEAVES HARFLEUR, FULLY PURPOSED TO
MAKE FOR CALAIS, NOTWITHSTANDING THE THREATENED RESISTANCE OF THE
FRENCH. -- PASSES THE FIELD OF CRESSY. -- FRENCH RESOLVED TO ENGAGE.
-- NIGHT BEFORE THE CONFLICT. -- *FIELD* OF *AGINCOURT*. -- SLAUGHTER OF
PRISONERS. -- HENRY, HIS ENEMIES THEMSELVES BEING JUDGES, FULLY
EXCULPATED FROM EVERY SUSPICION OF CRUELTY OR UNCHIVALROUS BEARING. --
HE PROCEEDS TO CALAIS. -- THENCE TO LONDON. -- RECEPTION BY HIS
SUBJECTS. -- HIS MODEST AND PIOUS DEMEANOUR. -- SUPERSTITIOUS
PROCEEDINGS OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL AUTHORITIES. -- REFLECTIONS. --
SONGS OF AGINCOURT.
1415.
Immediately after the surrender of Harfleur, Henry held a council to
deliberate on his future measures. All agreed that, as winter was fast
approaching, the King and his army should return to England; but there
arose a difference of opinion as to the manner of their return. Henry
entertained an insuperable objection against returning by sea; and,
notwithstanding all the dangers to which he must inevitably be
exposed, he resolved to march through Normandy to his town of Calais.
He wished to see with his own eyes, he said, the territories which (p. 157)
were by right his own; adding, that he put full trust in God, in whose
name he had engaged in this, as he certainly deemed it, his righteous
cause. His army had been frightfully diminished by the dysentery; he
was compelled to leave a portion of the remainder to garrison
Harfleur; and, after the most impartial consideration, the number of
fighting men with whom he could enter upon his perilous journey cannot
be supposed to have exceeded 9000, whilst the strong probability is
that the army consisted of little more than 6000. What portion of
admiration for bravery, and what of blame for rashness, an
unprejudiced mind would mingle together, when endeavouring to assign
the just reward to Henry for his decision to make his way through the
very heart of his enemy's country, himself so weak in resources, his
enemy both so strong already, and gathering in overwhelming numbers
from every side, is a problem of no easy solution. Probably we are
very scantily provided with a knowledge of all his motives; and our
praise or our censure might now be very different from what it would
be, were we acquainted with all the circumstances of the case. How far
he expected that the dissensions among the French would prevent them
from uniting to offer him any formidable opposition, though not easy
to answer, is a question not to be neglected. Especially might he have
been influenced by the expectation that the French would not withdraw
their forces from the interior, from fear of the Duke of Burgundy, (p. 158)
who was ever on the watch to seize a favourable moment of attack. The
fact is beyond doubt, that, having garrisoned Harfleur, he quitted
that town about the 8th of October; leaving there all the heavy
articles and carriages, with whatever would be an impediment to his
progress, and conveying all the baggage of the army on horseback.
Henry issued a proclamation, forbidding his soldiers, on pain of
death, to be guilty of any kind of injustice or cruelty towards the
inhabitants as they passed along.
The King of France had collected an army from all sides: he had more
than 14,000 men-at-arms under valiant generals, with the greater part
of whom he remained at Rouen, watching the motions of the English. On
the 20th of October it was resolved in his council, by a large
majority, that the English should be resisted in a regular and pitched
battle. The King had received the celebrated standard, the Oriflamme,
with much solemnity: and war had been declared by unfurling that
consecrated ensign. There seemed at length to have spread through King
and princes, and nobles and people alike, an enthusiastic spirit,
determined to crush the invaders. The Dauphin himself could scarcely
be prevailed upon to obey his father's injunctions, and to abstain
from joining the army; his life being considered too precious to be
exposed to such danger.
Henry meanwhile, after leaving Harfleur,[124] proceeded without (p. 159)
any important interruption through Montevilliers, Fecamp, Arques, a
town about four miles inland from Dieppe; and on Saturday, October 12,
he passed about half a mile to the right of the town of Eu, where part
of the French troops were quartered. These sallied out on the English
in great numbers, and very fiercely, but were soon repulsed; and a
treaty was agreed upon between Henry and the inhabitants, who supplied
refreshments to his army. He was now informed that the French would
offer him battle in a day or two, whilst he was passing the river
Somme. Undaunted by these tidings, he resolved to advance; and to
cross that river at Blanchetache, the very spot at which Edward III.
had passed it before the battle of Cressy. The field of Cressy was
only ten English miles in advance; and it may be safely inferred that
the remembrance of the struggle and victory of that day filled both
Henry himself and his men with additional zeal and resolution. By the
false assurance of a prisoner,[125] that the passage there was
defended by many noblemen with a strong force, Henry was induced to
change his route, and to proceed up the Somme on its left bank. He
reached Abbeville on Sunday the 13th of October; but, to his sad (p. 160)
disappointment, he found all the bridges broken down, and the enemy
stationed on the opposite bank to resist his passage. At this time
Henry's situation was most perilous and dispiriting. His provisions
were nearly exhausted,--the enemy had laid waste their own country to
deprive his army of all sustenance; and no prospect was before them
but famine at once, and annihilation from the overwhelming forces of
the French. His army proceeded next day, and passed within a league of
Amiens, and were much refreshed with plenty of provisions; wine was
found in such abundance that the King was obliged to issue a
proclamation prohibiting excess. On the Thursday they reached a plain
near Corbie, from which town the French made a sally against them, but
were repulsed after a brief but spirited engagement. Here John Bromley
gallantly recovered the standard of Guienne, and for his valour was
allowed to bear its figure for his crest. Here too Henry showed that,
amidst all his perils and hardships, he was resolved to maintain the
discipline of his army by inflicting the punishment denounced by his
proclamation against violence or sacrilege. One of the soldiers was
detected with a copper-gilt pix in his sleeve,[126] which he had
stolen from a neighbouring church. Henry sentenced him forthwith to be
hung, as a warning to all others not to offend with the hope of (p. 161)
impunity.
[Footnote 124: On the 4th of October fishermen in
different parts were ordered to go with all speed,
taking their tackle with them, to Harfleur, to fish
for the support of the King and his army.]
[Footnote 125: This is a very curious fact, not
generally known. The battle of Agincourt, humanly
speaking, would not have been fought, had it not
been for the falsehood of a Frenchman.]
[Footnote 126: Shakspeare makes use of this
anecdote, and fixes the robbery on Bardolph.]
Quitting Corbie, they passed close to Nesle on the 18th October; when
Henry, on the point of laying waste that district, heard that a
passage over the Somme was at length discovered. The French,
meanwhile, had contented themselves with proceeding before him, and
guarding the passages of the river. Whether the policy of allowing the
English to exhaust their strength of body and mind be sufficient, or
not, to account for their conduct, we have not evidence enough to
pronounce decidedly; but, on many occasions, their abstinence from
striking a blow seems otherwise almost inexplicable. Henry made now
one of his most vigorous efforts to effect a passage; nothing, we are
told, could exceed his own personal exertions.[127] The French had
broken up the lanes leading to the fords, and thrown every obstacle in
the way. However, nothing seemed able to resist his resolution; and in
a few hours the whole of his army had crossed. Great was the joy of
the English on having surmounted this formidable obstacle; and they
now hoped to reach Calais without a battle. But on the following day
two heralds came to announce to Henry the resolution of the French (p. 162)
to give him battle, and to take vengeance on him for invading their
country. Henry, without any change of countenance, with much
gentleness replied, "All would be done according to the will of God."
On the heralds then asking him by what route he proposed to proceed,
"Straight to Calais" was the reply. He then advised them not to
attempt to interrupt his march, but to avoid the shedding of Christian
blood. The heralds fell down upon their knees as they first approached
him; and on dismissing them, he gave them a hundred golden crowns.
From the hour of these heralds departing, Henry and his men always
wore their warrior-dress, in readiness for battle; and he spoke to his
army with much tenderness and spirit, and evidently with a powerful
effect. To his surprise, next morning none appeared to oppose him, and
he proceeded on his journey. Many circumstances happened from day to
day, and hour to hour, calculated to dispirit the English, by exciting
an assurance that the French army was near, and waiting their own time
to seize upon their prey; delaying only in order to make their utter
demolition more certain. Henry's route probably was taken through
Peronne, Albert, Bonnieres,[128] Frevent; and he reached the river
Ternoise (called the River of Swords) without any remarkable (p. 163)
occurrence. No sooner, however, had he passed the Ternoise, and
mounted the hill not far from Maisoncelle, than a man came, breathless,
and told the Duke of York that the enemy was approaching in countless
numbers. Henry forthwith commanded the main body to halt, and setting
spurs to his horse hastened to view the enemy, who seemed to him like
an immense forest covering the whole country. Nothing dismayed, he
ordered his troops to dismount and prepare for battle; animating them
by his calm, intrepid bearing, and by his language of kindness and
encouragement. The French, who were first seen as they were emerging
from a valley a mile off in three columns, halted at the distance of
about half a mile.
[Footnote 127: Sir William Bardolf, Lieutenant of
Calais, hearing of the King's danger, sent part of
his garrison to his assistance; but that little
body, consisting of about three hundred
men-at-arms, were either destroyed or taken
prisoners by the men of Picardy.]
[Footnote 128: After quitting Bonnieres, Henry
passed unawares beyond the place intended by his
officers for his quarters; but, instead of
returning, he replied that, being in his war-coat,
he could not return without displeasing God. He
therefore ordered his advanced guard to take a more
distant position, and himself occupied the spot
which had been intended for them. This anecdote is
recorded as an instance of the care with which
Henry avoided whatever might appear of ill omen.
Probably he only followed the usual maxims of an
army in march; that maxim originating, it may be,
in superstition.]
The English felt assured that they would be immediately attacked; and,
as soon as they were drawn up in order of battle, they prepared for
death. The greatest want then felt in the camp was the lack of
priests,[129] every one being anxiously desirous of making confession
and obtaining absolution. Henry's presence of mind, and noble (p. 164)
soul, and pious trust, and intrepid spirit, showed themselves on this
occasion in words which ought never to be forgotten. Sir Walter
Hungerford having expressed his sorrow that they had not ten thousand
of those gallant archers who would be most desirous of aiding their
King in his hour of need, the King rebuked him, saying, "He spoke
idly, for, as his hope was in God, in whom he trusted for victory, he
would not, if he could, increase his forces even by a single person;
for, if it was the pleasure of the Almighty, few as were his
followers, they were sufficient to chastise the confidence of the
enemy, who relied on their numbers."
[Footnote 129: And yet there were so many priests
present (with the baggage) during the battle, that
the chaplain calls them the clerical army, whose
weapons were prayers and intercessions, "Nos qui
ascripti sumus clericali militiæ."]
About sun-set the French took up their quarters in the orchards and
villages of Agincourt and Ruissauville. Henry, anxiously seeking
lodgings for his exhausted soldiers, at length found in the village of
Maisoncelle a better supply for their wants than they had met with
since they left Harfleur; and a small hut afforded the King himself
protection from the weather.[130] Before the English quitted (p. 165)
their position to go to Maisoncelle, Henry permitted all his prisoners
to depart, upon condition that if he gained the approaching battle,
they should return and surrender themselves; but, if he were defeated,
they should be released from their engagements. This night, through
nearly the whole of which rain fell heavily, was passed by the two
hostile armies, about one mile distant from each other, very
differently, but not inconsistently with their relative circumstances.
Both suffered severely from the weather as well as from fatigue; but
whilst the French, anticipating an easy and sure victory, played at
dice for their prisoners as their stake; the English, having prepared
their weapons for the conflict, betook themselves to prayer, and the
observance of the other ordinances of their religion.
[Footnote 130: In the "History of Agincourt," the
translator of the Chaplain's Memoir (Sloane 1776)
has given a far more faint representation than the
original will warrant of the sufferings to which
the English troops were exposed through this night
of present fatigue and discomfort, and of anxious
preparation for so tremendous a struggle as awaited
them on the morrow. The ecclesiastic, who was
himself among the sufferers, and who has furnished
a very graphic description of the whole affair,
says, "The King turned aside to a small village,
where we had houses, but very few indeed, and
gardens and orchards to rest in." "Ubi habuimus
domos sed paucissimas, hortosque et pomaria pro
requiescione nostra." This the translator renders,
"Where we had houses to rest in, but very scanty
gardens and orchards." The scanty supply was not of
gardens and orchards, but of houses to rest in.
Consequently, except such as those very few houses
could accommodate, the English soldiers were all
compelled to bivouac, exposed to the drenching
rains which fell through the night. Of orchards and
gardens there was doubtless an abundant supply, but
they afforded little shelter from the weather, and
no means to the troops of taking refreshing rest.]
At day-break, on Friday, October 25, the French drew up in order of
battle, in three lines, on the plain of Agincourt, through which was
the route to Calais. Of their numbers the accounts both of (p. 166)
English and French writers vary exceedingly, and it is impossible to
fix upon any amount with confidence; probably, however, at the very
lowest calculation they were more than fifty thousand men.
Henry was up at break of day, and immediately attended mass. He then,
mounted on a small grey horse, bearing on his coat the arms of France
and England, and wearing a magnificent crown on his head, drew up his
men in order of battle in an open field. His main body, consisting of
men-at-arms, he commanded himself; the vanguard was committed, as a
right wing, to the Duke of York at his own request; and the rear-guard
was posted, as a left wing, under the command of the Lord Camois. The
archers were placed between the wings in the form of a wedge, with
their poles fixed before them as a protection against the cavalry.
Henry then rode along the lines, and addressed them in a speech full
of spirit, well fitted to inspire in his men enthusiastic ardour and
devotedness. "Sir," was the reply, "we pray God to give you a good
life, and victory over your enemies." At this juncture (we are told by
one historian[131]) an attempt was made at negociation, but it failed;
Henry, in the midst of all his present perils, insisting virtually on
the same terms which he had offered when in safety within the (p. 167)
realm of England.[132]
[Footnote 131: St. Remy.]
[Footnote 132: The statement that Henry offered to
repair all the injury he had done to France, is
deservedly considered unworthy of credit.]
The King assigned to the gallant veteran, Sir Thomas Erpingham, a
friend of Henry, no less venerable for his age than distinguished for
his bravery and military skill, the honourable duty of arraying his
host. He first calmly marshalled the troops, placing the archers
foremost and the men-at-arms behind them; and then, riding in front of
the line, exhorted his brother-warriors in the name of their prince to
fight valiantly. A third time did this aged and fearless knight ride
before the ranks which were stationed to receive the first shock of
the enemy, and if possible to turn back the apparently resistless and
overwhelming tide of battle; and then, having deliberately executed
his commission to the full, he threw up into the air the truncheon
which he held in his hand, shouting, "Now strike!" and, immediately
dismounting, joined the King and his attendants, who were all on foot.
When the soldiers saw the staff in the air, and heard the cry of the
veteran, they raised such a tremendous shout as startled the enemy,
and filled them with amazement.[133]
[Footnote 133: The present reading in Monstrelet,
who details these circumstances with much life and
clearness, reports the word used by the English
warrior to have been "Nestroque," which has been,
with much probability, considered a corruption of
"Now strike!" Whether the word is now read as the
Author wrote it, is very questionable; many French
words in Monstrelet have been mistaken and
corrupted by his copyists.]
It was now approaching mid-day; when Henry, perceiving that the (p. 168)
enemy would not commence the attack, but were waiting either for
reinforcements, or in the hope of compelling him by want of provisions
to surrender, issued the command, "Banners, advance!" His soldiers
fell down instantly upon the ground prostrate, and implored the
Almighty to succour them; each, as it is said, putting a morsel of
earth into his mouth in remembrance of their mortality. They then
rose, and advanced firmly towards the enemy, shouting, and with the
sound of trumpets. The Constable of France commanded his advanced
guard to meet them, who instantly obeyed, with the war-cry "Montjoye!"
The battle commenced by a shower of arrows from the English, which did
great execution. The French cavalry were immediately thrown into
confusion, chiefly in consequence of the horses rushing on the pointed
stakes which were fixed before the English archers, and, maddened with
pain, turning upon their own ranks. The battle was then tremendously
obstinate: at one time, the shock of the French body caused the
English to give way; but it was only to rush again upon their enemies
with a renewed and still more impetuous and desperate attack. Their
charge, like a torrent of mighty waters, was resistless; and the
archers, having exhausted their quivers, and betaking themselves (p. 169)
to their swords and bills and hatchets, the slaughter among the
ranks of the French was dreadful. The Duke of Alençon endeavoured in
vain to rally his men, now giving way, and being worsted on every
side; and, returning himself to the struggle, he fell in single combat
with King Henry himself. Whilst the conflict was raging, Anthony, Duke
of Brabant, came up with such of his forces as could keep pace with
him in his rapid haste towards the field of battle, and instantly
mingled in the thickest of the fight: he fell too; gallantly, but
unsuccessfully, striving to stem the flood. The battle seemed now to
be decided, when that event took place, which every one must lament,
and which nothing but necessity could justify,--
THE SLAUGHTER OF THE PRISONERS AT AGINCOURT.
The name of Henry of Monmouth is inseparable from the Battle of
Agincourt; and immeasurably better had it been for his fair fame had
himself and his little army been crushed in that tremendous struggle,
by the overwhelming chivalry of France, than that he should have
stained that day of conquest and glory by an act of cruelty or
vengeance. If any cause except palpable and inevitable necessity could
be proved to have suggested the dreadful mandate for his soldiers to
put their prisoners to the sword, his memory must be branded by a
stigma which no personal courage, not a whole life devoted (p. 170)
to deeds of arms, nor any unprecedented career of conquest, could
obliterate. The charge of cruelty, however, like some other accusations,
examined at length in these Memoirs, is of comparatively recent
origin; and as in those former instances, so in this, our duty is to
ascertain the facts from the best evidence, and dispassionately to
draw our inference from those facts after an upright scrutiny and
patient weighing of the whole question in all its bearings. Our
abhorrence of the crime may well make us hesitate before we pronounce
judgment against one to whose mercy and chivalrous honour his
contemporaries bore willing and abundant testimony; the enormity of so
dreadful an example compels us, in the name of humanity and of
justice, not to screen the guilty. We may be wisely jealous of the
bias and prejudice which his brilliant talents, and his life of
patriotism and glory, may unconsciously communicate to our minds; we
must be also upon our guard lest an excessive resolution to do
justice, foster imperceptibly a morbid acquiescence in the
condemnation of the accused.
The facts, then, as they are gleaned from those authors who wrote
nearest to the time (two of whom, one French, the other English, were
actually themselves present on the field of battle, and were
eye-witnesses of some portion at least of the circumstances which they
narrate,) seem to have been these, in their order and character.
At the close of one of the most desperate struggles ever recorded (p. 171)
in the annals of ancient or modern warfare, whilst the enemy were in
the act of quitting the field, but had not left it, the English were
employing what remained of their well nigh exhausted strength in
guarding their prisoners, and separating the living from the dead, who
lay upon each other, heaps upon heaps, in one confused and
indiscriminate mass. On a sudden a shout was raised, and reached
Henry, that a fresh reinforcement[134] of the enemy in overwhelming
numbers had attacked the baggage, and were advancing in battle-array
against him. He was himself just released from the furious conflict in
which, at the close of his almost unparalleled personal exertion, he
engaged with the Duke of Alençon, and slew him on the spot. Precisely,
also, at this juncture, the main body of the French who had been
engaged in the battle, and were apparently retreating, were seen to be
collecting in great numbers, and forming themselves into bodies,
throughout the plain, with the purpose, as it appeared, of returning
to the engagement.
[Footnote 134: It must be remembered that the
arrival of fresh reinforcements was by no means an
improbable occurrence. Anthony, Duke of Brabant,
had only reached the field with his men just before
the tide of battle turned finally and fatally
against the French; nor could Henry possibly know
what forces were yet hastening on to dispute with
him for the victory afresh.]
To delay might have been the total sacrifice of himself and his
gallant little band; to hesitate might have been death. Henry (p. 172)
instantly, without a moment's interval, by sound of trumpet ordered
his men to form themselves, and attack the body who were advancing
upon his rear, and to put the prisoners to death, "lest they should
rush upon his men during the fight." These mandates were obeyed.[135]
The French reinforcement, advancing from the quarter where the baggage
was stationed, no sooner felt a shower of arrows, and saw a body of
men ready to give them battle, than they turned to flight; and
instantly Henry, on seeing them run, stopped the slaughter of the
prisoners, and made it known to all that he had had recourse to the
measure only in self-defence. Henry, in order to prevent the
recurrence of such a dreadful catastrophe, sent forthwith a herald to
those companies of the enemy who were still lingering very
suspiciously through the field, and charged them either to come to
battle at once, or to withdraw from his sight; adding, that, should
they array themselves afterwards to renew the battle, he would show no
mercy, nor spare either fighting-men or prisoners.
[Footnote 135: One author alone, Jean Le Fevre,
states that some of the English, who had taken the
prisoners of greatest note and wealth, hesitated to
execute the order, from an unwillingness to lose
their ransom; and that two hundred archers were
commissioned to perform the dreadful office in
their stead.]
Of the general accuracy of this statement of the facts little doubt
can be entertained, though in the midst of the confusion of such (p. 173)
a battle-field it would not be matter of surprise were some of
the circumstances mistaken or exaggerated. In reflecting on this
course of incidents, the thought forces itself upon our mind, that the
mandate was given, not in cool blood, nor when there was time and
opportunity for deliberation and for calculating upon the means and
chances of safety, but upon the instant, on a sudden unexpected
renewal of the engagement from a quarter from which no danger was
anticipated; at a moment, too, when, just after the heat of the battle
was passing over, the routed enemy were collecting again in great
numbers in various parts of the field, with a view evidently of
returning to the charge and crushing their conquerors; at a moment,
too, when the English were scattered about, separating the living from
the dead, and all was yet confusion and uncertainty. Another fact, as
clearly and distinctly recorded as the original issuing of the
mandate, is, that no sooner was the danger of the immediate and
inevitable sacrifice of the lives of his men removed by the retreat of
the assailants, than, without waiting for the dispersion of those
menacing bodies then congregating around him, Henry instantly
countermanded the order, and saved the remainder of the prisoners. The
bare facts of the case, from first to last, admit of no other
alternative than for our judgment to pronounce it to have been
altogether an imperative inevitable act of self-preservation, without
the sacrifice of any life, or the suffering of any human being, (p. 174)
beyond the absolute and indispensable necessity of the case.
But, perhaps, the most striking and conclusive testimony in
vindication of Henry's character on that day of slaughter and victory,
is borne both by the silence and also by the expressed sentiments of
the contemporary historians. This evidence deserves to be put more
prominently forward than it has ever yet been. Indeed, as long as
there was no charge of cruelty, or unnecessary violence, brought
against his name in this particular, there was little need of alleging
any evidence in his defence. It remained for modern writers, after a
lapse of centuries, to stigmatize the command as an act of barbarity,
and to represent it as having tarnished and stained the victory of him
who gave it.[136] It is, however, a most remarkable and satisfactory
circumstance that, of the contemporary historians, and those who
followed most closely upon them, who have detailed the proceedings (p. 175)
with more or less minuteness, and with a great variety though no
inconsistency of circumstances, in whose views, moreover, all
subsequent writers, with few exceptions, have unreservedly acquiesced,
not one single individual is found to cast the slightest imputation on
Henry for injustice or cruelty; while some, in their account of the
battle, have not made the most distant allusion to the circumstance.
All the earlier writers who refer to it appear, with one consent, to
have considered the order as the result of dire and unavoidable
necessity on the part of the English King. Not only so: whilst no one
who witnessed the engagement, or lived at the time, ever threw the
shadow of reproach or of complaint on Henry or his army, various
writers, especially among the French historians, join in reprobating
the unjustifiable conduct of those among the French troops who
rendered the massacre inevitable, and cast on their own countrymen the
entire responsibility and blame for the whole melancholy affair.
Instead of any attempt to sully and tarnish the glory won by the
English on that day, by pointing to their cruel and barbarous
treatment of unarmed prisoners, they visit their own people with the
very strongest terms of malediction, as the sole culpable origin and
cause of the evil. And that these were not only the sentiments of the
writers themselves, but were participated in by their countrymen at
large, is evidenced by the record of a fact which has been generally
overlooked. Those who were deemed guilty of thus exposing their (p. 176)
countrymen to death, by unjustifiably renewing the attack when
the conflict was acknowledged to be over, and after the French
soldiery had given up the field, not only were exposed to disgrace in
their characters, but suffered punishment also for the offence in
their persons. Anticipating censure and severe handling as the
consequences of their misconduct, they made valuable presents to such
as they thought able to screen them; but so decided was the
indignation and resentment of their countrymen, that the leaders of
the offending parties were cast into prison, and suffered a long
confinement, as the punishment for their misconduct on that day.
[Footnote 136: The passage of M. Petitot, in his
History, published in the year 1825, vol. vi. p.
322, which contains this accusation, is as follows:
"The Duke of Alençon fought hand to hand with the
King of England, and fell gloriously. Towards the
end of the struggle, some hundreds of peasants of
Picardy, commanded by two gentlemen of the country,
believing that the English were vanquished, came to
plunder their camp. Henry, fancying that he was
about to be attacked by a reinforcement, whose
march had been concealed from him, ordered the
massacre of the prisoners, and only excepted the
princes and generals. This barbarous order was put
into execution, and tarnished his victory."]
The inference, then, which the facts, as they are delivered by English
and French writers, compel us to draw, coincides with the professed
sentiments of all contemporaries. Those, on the one hand, who shared
the glory and were proud of the day of Agincourt, and those, on the
other, whose national pride, and wounded honour, and participation in
the calamities poured that day upon the noblest families of France,
and in the mourning spread far and wide throughout the land, caused
them to abhor the very name of Agincourt, all sanction our adoption of
that one inference: _Henry did not stain his victory by any act of
cruelty_. His character comes out of the investigation untarnished by
a suspicion of his having wantonly shed the blood of a single
fellow-creature.
To enable the reader to judge for himself how far the view taken (p. 177)
in the text is justified by the evidence, the Author has thought it
desirable to cite from different writers, French as well as English,
the passages at length in which they describe the transaction.
The Chaplain of Henry V, an eye-witness, who was himself
stationed with the baggage, and whose account is contained in the
fasciculus known as "MS. Sloane, 1776, p. 67," thus reports the
transaction:
"When some of the enemy's foreranks were slain, those behind
pressed over the dead, and others again falling on them were
immediately put to death; and near Henry's banners so large was
the pile of corpses, and of those who were thrown upon them, that
the English stood on heaps which exceeded a man's height, and
felled their adversaries below with swords and axes. And when, at
length, for the space of two or three hours, that powerful body
of the first ranks had been broken through and crushed to pieces,
and the rest were forced to fly, our men began to move those
heaps, and to separate the living from the dead. And behold,
suddenly, with what angry dispensation of Providence it is not
known, (nescitur in quâ irâ Dei,) a shout is made that the
cavalry of the enemy in an overwhelming and fresh body were
rallying, and forming themselves to attack our men, few in
number, and worn out with fatigue. And the captives, without any
respect of persons, (except the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, and
certain other illustrious men, and a few besides,) were put the
sword, to prevent their becoming our ruin in the approaching
struggle. And, after a little while, the enemy, (by the
Almighty's will,) having tasted the sharpness of our arrows, and
seeing that our King was approaching them, left us a field of
blood, with chariots and many other carriages filled (p. 178)
with provisions and weapons, lances and bows."
Jean Le Fevre, Seigneur de St. Remy, who was also an eye-witness,
being present in the English camp, records the event, and his own
opinion of it, thus:
"Then there befel them a very great misfortune; for a large body
of the rear-guard, in which were many French, Bretons, Gascons,
and others, who had betaken themselves to flight, and had with
them a large number of standards and flags, showed signs of an
intention to fight, and were marching in order. When the English
perceived them thus congregated, orders were given by the King of
England for every one to slay his prisoners; but those who had
taken them were unwilling to put them to death, because they had
taken those only who could give a high ransom. On the King being
apprised that they would not kill their prisoners, he gave in
charge to a gentleman with two hundred archers to put them all to
death. The order of the King was obeyed by this esquire, which
was a lamentable affair; for all that body of French nobility
were _in cold blood_ cut and hewed, head and face,--a wonderful
thing to see. THAT ACCURSED BAND OF FRENCHMEN, WHO THUS CAUSED
THAT NOBLE CHIVALRY TO BE MURDERED, when they saw that the
English were ready to receive them and give them battle, betook
themselves to flight suddenly; and those who could, saved
themselves; and the greater part of those who were on horseback
saved themselves, but of them who were on foot the greater part
were put to death."
Elmham thus records the transaction:--
"The English, already wearied, and for the most part destitute of
arms fit for a charge, when the French were arraying themselves
for battle with a view to the renewal of the conflict, fearing
lest the persons they had taken should rush upon them in the
struggle, slew many of them, though noble, with the sword. (p. 179)
The King then, by a herald, commanded those French soldiers who
were still occupying the field either to come to battle at once,
or speedily to depart out of his sight; assuring them that, if
they should again array themselves for a renewed engagement, both
they and the prisoners yet remaining should perish without mercy,
with the most dire vengeance which the English could inflict."
Fabyan's account differs from that of other writers only in one
particular; he represents the retirement of the French, who had
rallied for a renewal of the conflict, to have been the result of the
message sent to them by the Duke of Orleans and his fellow-prisoners,
in their panic on hearing Henry's mandate, which seemed to put their
lives into immediate jeopardy.
"When the King, by power and grace of God more than by force of
man, had gotten this triumphant victory, and returned his people
from the chase of his enemies, tidings were brought to him that a
new host of Frenchmen were coming towards him. Wherefore he
commanded his people to be embattled; and, that done, made
proclamation through the host that every man should slay his
prisoners: by reason of which proclamation the Duke of Orleans,
and the other lords of France, were in such fear, that anon, by
the licence of the King, they sent such word unto the said host
that they withdrew."
The contemporary author whose work is translated by Laboureur, having
in impassioned language spoken of the "eternal reproach, and ever
deplorable calamity of the miserable battle of Agincourt," instead of
attempting to make the English partake in any degree of the disgrace
which on that day stained the annals of France, tells us that Henry,
believing a great body of the vanguard, who had been broken through,
were running, not in flight, but to join the rest of the army (p. 180)
and renew the attack, gave orders for all the prisoners to be put
to the sword; and the carnage lasted till it was known they were
actually running away. He then stopped it; and explained that his
orders were given in doubt of the enemy's intentions.--This writer
seems to have been mistaken in his view of the circumstances; but the
thought of Henry having acted unjustifiably does not seem to have
crossed his mind.
Monstrelet's account is somewhat different from the two last, and more
full in its details:
"During the heat of the combat the English made several
prisoners; and then came news to the King of England that the
French were attacking them from the rear, and that they had
already taken his sumpter-horses and baggage. This was true; for
Robinet de Bournonville and Rifflart de Clamasse, Ysambert
d'Azencourt, and some other men-at-arms, accompanied by six
hundred peasants, went to plunder the baggage, and carried off a
great quantity of the property of the camp, and a large number of
horses, whilst those who were their guards were engaged in the
battle. This pillage caused the King great trouble, for he saw
also at the same time in the open field those French who had
taken to flight rallying themselves in companies; and he doubted
whether their intention was not to renew the engagement. He
therefore caused a proclamation to be made by sound of trumpet,
that every Englishman should on pain of death[137] slay his
prisoners, to prevent their succouring their own people in the
time of need; and then, on the sudden, followed a very great
carnage of French prisoners. For which proceeding, Robinet de
Bournonville and Ysambart d'Azencourt were afterwards (p. 181)
punished and imprisoned a long time by order of John Duke of
Burgundy, notwithstanding they had given to Philip Earl of
Charolois, his son, an exceedingly valuable sword, studded with
precious stones and jewels, belonging to the King of England,
which they had found and taken with the other booty, that the
Earl might interest himself for them should any trouble overtake
them in consequence of this circumstance."
Des Ursins represents the catastrophe to have been occasioned by
the news spread through the field that the Duke of Brittany was
arrived with a powerful reinforcement, on which the French
rallied. He gives, however, two accounts; in one of which he
reports the prisoners taken by the English to be fourteen
thousand, a number exceeding the whole body of fighting men in
the English army.
Paradin de Cuyseault, in his Annals of Burgundy, marks very
strongly in how serious a light the offence of the French
assailants was viewed by their contemporaries:
"And this [the order for the slaughter of the prisoners] was
executed, of which the said Bournonville and Azencourt were the
cause: and they being accused of this charge before the Duke of
Burgundy, his will was that they should suffer death: but the
Earl of Charolois saved them, in return for the beautiful sword."
Pierre de Fenin, a contemporary esquire, and a clerk of the
household to Charles VI, employs expressions very pointedly
exculpatory of the English; he does not speak of Henry's mandate
at all:
"Whilst the battle between the English and French _was yet
pending and going on_, and the English had already almost gained
the mastery, Isambert d'Azencourt, and Robinet de Bournonville,
accompanied by some men-at-arms of little note, made an assault
on the baggage of the English, and caused a great [affray] (p. 182)
terror. When the English saw that it was the French who were coming
upon them to attack them, _in that necessity they felt themselves
obliged_ to put to death many whom they had already made prisoners;
for which the two persons above mentioned were afterwards made
the objects of severe execration, and were also punished for the
offence by the Duke of Burgundy."[138]
[Footnote 137: In the printed copies of Monstrelet
the reading is "de la _hart_," a mistake, it is
presumed, for _mort_. Many such errors occur in his
work.]
[Footnote 138: The Author is compelled to express
his regret that some of our own modern writers
(among others Goldsmith and Mackintosh) have been
led to take a different estimate of the character
of this transaction. Whether their judgments were
formed after a careful weighing of the several
accounts furnished by contemporary authors and
eye-witnesses of the conflict, or whether they
allowed their feelings of philanthropy, and their
abhorrence of cruelty, to dictate their sentence in
this case, the Author cannot refer to their works
without appealing from them to the facts as they
stand in those undisputed records which were
accessible alike to them and to ourselves. On this
subject Rapin, Carte, Holinshed, Nicolas, with
others, may be consulted.]
Among the many instances of heroism which occurred during the battle,
Henry's conduct was particularly distinguished. He fought on foot like
a lion, as our annalists express themselves, and was throughout the
noblest example of valour. Especially was his gallant rescue of his
brother, the Duke of Gloucester, remembered with admiration. That
prince had been wounded by a dagger, and thrown on the ground by the
Duke of Alençon and his soldiers, when Henry rushed between them, and
defended his brother till he was removed from the conflict. This noble
deed nearly cost him his life; for, stooping down to raise his brother,
the Duke of Alençon, or one of his men, struck him such a blow as (p. 183)
to break off a part of his crown.
The loss on both sides has been very variously reported. Probably of
the French not less than ten thousand fell in that field of
blood;[139] of the English perhaps less than one-tenth of that number.
But France did not on that day reckon her loss by the number of the
slain; the chief of her chivalry[140] and nobility fell there. (p. 184)
On the English side the only men of note who were slain in the battle
were the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Keghley, Thomas
Fitz-Henry, John de Peniton, and David Gamme.[141]
[Footnote 139: It is quite impossible to reconcile
the different accounts of the loss on the part of
the English. Walsingham speaks of thirty only
having fallen; De Fenin reports them to have been
four or five hundred; whilst Monstrelet raises the
number to sixteen hundred.
On the part of the French, Le Fevre says, that from
a hundred to six score princes fell, and about
seven or eight thousand of noble blood. In the
Annales Ecclesiastici of Baronius, continued by
Raynaldus, the statement of Theodoric Niemius is
quoted, who says (unquestionably without authority)
that Henry advanced from Harfleur with sixty
thousand men, besides two thousand in attendance on
the carriages. He affirms that the French had one
hundred thousand men; among whom were one thousand
Italians, commanded by Buligard, who had long
governed Genoa in favour of the French. He says,
moreover, that more than five thousand five hundred
French nobles were slain; and fifteen hundred taken
prisoners, and carried to England.]
[Footnote 140: Hume, with his usual inaccuracy,
asserts that the French army at Agincourt was
headed as well by the Dauphin, as by all the other
princes of the blood. The Dauphin wished to assist
his countrymen, when they resolved to intercept the
invaders; but, as we are expressly told by Le Fevre
(c. 59), was not suffered to join the rendezvous.
This is not the only mistake into which Hume has
fallen in his account of this battle. In one
paragraph he reports Henry to have been under the
necessity of marching by land from Harfleur to
Calais, in order to reach a place of safety from
which he might transport his soldiers back to
England; in another paragraph he represents him
(with the same temerity which had been evinced by
his predecessors before the battles of Poictiers
and of Cressy) to have ventured without any object
of moment, and merely for the _sake of plunder_, so
far into the enemy's country as to leave himself no
retreat. He tells us, moreover, that "Henry was
master of fourteen thousand prisoners," whom he
afterwards says that the King "carried with him to
Paris, thence to England." Hume took this also
without inquiry. Walsingham says, "Henry took (as
they say--ut ferunt,--as though even that estimate
required to be supported by common report,) seven
hundred prisoners;" and of his prisoners, how many
soever they were, he transported (as Des Ursins
tells us) only the most considerable to England,
dismissing the rest under promise to bring their
ransom to him in the field of Lendi, on the feast
of St. John in the summer, and, if he were not
there, they should be discharged of the debt.]
[Footnote 141: Of this gallant Welshman, the
following account is taken from the Appendix of the
"Battle of Agincourt." "Dr. Meyrick (now Sir
Samuel) says, Davydd Gam, _i.e._ Squint-eyed David,
was a native of Brecknockshire, and, holding his
land of the honour of Hereford, was a strenuous
supporter of the Lancastrian interests. He was the
son of Llewellyn, descended from Einion Sais, who
possessed a handsome property in the parishes of
Garthbrengy and Llanddeu. In consequence of an
affray in the high street of Brecknock, in which he
unfortunately killed his kinsman, he was compelled
to fly into England to avoid a threatened
prosecution, and became the implacable enemy of
Owain Glyndowr, whom he attempted to assassinate.
Gam, it may be supposed, was his nick-name, as he
called himself David Llewellyn; and there are good
grounds for supposing that Shakspeare has
caricatured him in Captain Fluellin. His
descendants, however, conceiving that his prowess
more than redeemed his natural defect, took the
name of Game. Sir Walter Raleigh has an eulogium
upon his bravery and exploits on the field of
Agincourt, in which he compares him to Hannibal. He
was knighted on the field with his two companions
in glory and death, Sir Roger Vaughan, of
Bedwardine in Herefordshire, and Sir Walter, or
rather Watkin Llwyd, of the lordship of Brecknock.
Sir Roger had married Gwladis, the daughter of Sir
David Gamme, who survived him, and became the wife
of another hero of Agincourt, Sir William Thomas of
Raglan; and Sir Watkin was by his marriage related
to Sir Roger."
The Author gives this passage as he finds it,
without having attempted to verify the statement as
to David Gamme's descent or history. Certainly the
testimony which Sir Samuel Meyrick makes Sir Walter
Raleigh bear to his "bravery and exploits on the
field of Agincourt," cannot be fairly extracted
from Sir Walter's own words: "But if Hannibal
himself had been sent forth by Mago to view the
Romans, he could not have returned with a more
gallant report in his mouth than Captain Gamme made
unto King Henry the Fifth, saying, 'That of the
Frenchmen there were enow to be killed, enow to be
taken prisoners, and enow to run away!'" We have no
doubt of Captain Gamme's gallant bearing at
Agincourt; but Raleigh refers to nothing beyond his
report of the numbers of the enemy.--Raleigh, book
v. sect. 8.]
The last-mentioned person is that David Gamme who was ransomed (p. 185)
from Owyn Glendowr, and who is reported to have replied, when
questioned as to the number of the enemy, "My liege, there are enough
to be slain, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run away!"
This gallant speech of David Gamme immediately before the battle, (p. 186)
has been delivered down from father to son among his Cambrian
compatriots with feelings of exultation and pride. A circumstance of a
very opposite character and tendency (which has never, it is believed,
hitherto appeared in our histories,) must not be suppressed here.
Among those who swelled the enormous host which on that day gave
battle to the King of England, were found natives of his own
Principality. During the dreadful devastations caused by Owyn
Glyndowr, great numbers left their mansions and estates a prey to his
fury, and saved themselves from personal violence by taking refuge in
England, or beyond the seas. Many, too, of those who had made
themselves notorious as Owyn's partisans, fled from Wales when his
cause began to falter, and avoided the penalty of perseverance in
their rebellion, or the humiliating alternative of submission to one
whom they deemed a tyrant and usurper. Quitting their native soil in
the enjoyment of health and strength, not a few of these inhabitants
of the Principality enlisted under the standard of foreign powers;
especially (as it is reasonable to conclude) of the King of France,
who had espoused the cause for which they were expatriated. How large
or how small a number of Welshmen fell in the ranks of the French on
that day, or how many escaped, we have no means of ascertaining. Our
attention is drawn to the subject by the record of a fact too (p. 187)
specific, and too well authenticated, to be doubted or evaded.[142]
William Gwyn of Llanstephan, was in the army of the enemy on the field
of Agincourt, and his corpse was found among the slain. His castle of
Llanstephan was in consequence forfeited to the crown, and was granted
to the King's brother, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester.
[Footnote 142: The fact is recorded in the Patent
Rolls, P. 2, 3 Hen. V.]
* * * * *
Being left master of the field, Henry withdrew his army a few paces,
and addressed them in a speech very characteristic of his mind. After
thanking them for their services, he bade them consider his success as
undoubted proof of the justice of his cause; and directed them not to
pride themselves on the event, but to give the glory to God. Henry
then called to him Montjoye, the principal herald of France, and
demanded of him to whom the victory belonged; who replied, that it was
to the King of England. He then asked the name of the neighbouring
castle; and, being informed that it was Agincourt, "Then," said he,
"this shall for ever be called
"THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT."[143]
[Footnote 143: The spot from which the battle of
Agincourt took its name has been confounded with a
place named Azincourt, near the town of Bouchain in
French Flanders. On the position of the real field
of battle, and its present condition, the Author
has much satisfaction in making the following
extract from a paper read before the Royal Society
of Literature, April 4, 1827, by John Gordon Smith,
M.D. who had visited and examined the spot under
circumstances of peculiar interest:
"Perhaps I may be pardoned for relating that I had
the honour to receive a Waterloo medal on the field
of Azincour, or rather, that I had the fortune to
belong to one of the British regiments that
signalized themselves in the campaign of 1815, and
which afterwards was invested with the
above-mentioned mark of their sovereign's
approbation on the very spot which, nearly four
hundred years before, was the scene of the scarcely
less glorious triumph of Harry the Fifth of
England. In 1816 a portion of the British army was
cantoned in the immediate neighbourhood of this
celebrated field, and the corps in which I then
served made use of it during several months as
their ordinary drill-ground.... We amused ourselves
with reconnoitring excursions, comparing the actual
state of the localities with authentic accounts of
the transactions of 1415. The changes that have
taken place have been singularly few, and an
attentive explorer would be able to trace with
considerable accuracy the greater part of the route
pursued by the English army in their retreat out of
Normandy towards Calais. The field of Azincour
remains sufficiently in statu quo to render every
account of the battle perfectly intelligible; nor
are those wanting near the spot, whose traditionary
information enables them to heighten the interest
with oral description, accompanied by a sort of
ocular demonstration.
"Those who travel to Paris by way of St. Omer and
Abbeville, pass over the field of the battle, which
skirts the high road to the left, about sixteen
miles beyond St. Omer; two on the Paris side of a
considerable village or bourg named Fruges; about
eight north of the fortified town of Hesdin; and
thirty from Abbeville. All accounts of the battle
mention the hamlet of Ruisseauville, through which
very place the high road to Paris now passes.
"Azincour is a commune or parish consisting of a
most uninteresting collection of farmers'
residences and cottages, once however distinguished
by a castle, of which nothing now remains but the
foundation. The scene of the contest lies between
this commune and the adjoining one of Tramecour, in
a wood belonging to which latter the King concealed
those archers whose prowess and vigour contributed
so eminently to the glorious result. Part of the
wood still remains; though, if I remember rightly,
at the time of our visit, the corner into which the
bowmen were thrown had been materially thinned, if,
indeed, the original timber had not been entirely
cut down, and its place been scantily supplied by
brush or underwood. Some of the trees, however, in
the wood of Tramecour were very old in 1816.
"The road above mentioned is the great post-road;
the old road, now degenerated into a mere
cart-track, from Abbeville to the once celebrated
city of Therouanne, passes over the scene of
action, and must have been that by which the French
army reached the ground before the English, who had
been compelled to make a great circuit."--Vol. i.
part ii. p. 57.]
Henry, naturally anxious to hasten with his troops beyond the reach of
his enemies, and to arrive at Calais before they could recover (p. 188)
from their present overwhelming distress, removed from his quarters,
passing through the field of battle early on the next day, taking his
prisoners with him. Many vague expressions occur in some writers,
which might be wrested to imply wanton cruelty in the English after
the battle; but no direct charge of the sort is brought against (p. 189)
them; and we may reasonably hope that there was no more of human
suffering than of necessity followed so tremendous a conflict: whilst
all writers agree in recording and extolling the kindness, and
compassion, and courtesy shown by Henry to his prisoners, especially
to the Duke of Orleans; endeavouring by all means in his power to
cheer and console them. Just as after the battle of Grosmont, (p. 190)
when he was only seventeen years old, so now in the prime of manhood,
on the field of Agincourt, we find in him the same kind and
warm-hearted conqueror: "In battle a lion; but, duty appeased, in
mercy a lamb!"
The army found great difficulty at Calais from the scarcity of
provisions; and the prisoners, as may be supposed, were in still
greater distress. The moment Henry, who was staying at Guisnes, heard
of it, he ordered vessels to be procured to convey both soldiers and
prisoners to England. Henry himself reached Calais[144] on the 29th of
October, and was received with every demonstration of loyalty. He was
met by the clergy singing Te Deum; whilst the inhabitants shouted,
"Welcome the King, our Sovereign Lord!" News reached London very
early, whilst the citizens were yet in bed, on Tuesday, October 29;
and on that day the victory was celebrated by religious processions,
in which we are told the Queen Dowager joined, though Arthur, (p. 191)
Count of Richmond, her own son, was among the prisoners. On Monday,
November 4, the Duke of Bedford announced the welcome news officially
to parliament. Henry embarked for England on Saturday, 16th of
November, and reached Dover late on the same day, though the wind had
been very boisterous, and one or two of his vessels were lost. So
overflowing was the joy and zeal of his subjects, that we are told
they rushed into the sea, and brought him to shore in their arms. At
Canterbury he was met by the archbishop and clergy: on Friday, 22nd of
November, he slept at Eltham. The next day he was met, about ten
o'clock, at Blackheath, by the Mayor and all the civic authorities of
London, dressed in their most splendid robes, and accompanied by not
less than twenty thousand citizens on horseback.
[Footnote 144: Before his departure from Calais, a
dispute arose between him and two noblemen, who had
been taken prisoners at Harfleur, and set at
liberty on condition of surrendering themselves at
Calais. The merits of the case cannot now be known.
The one, De Gaucourt, brought an action against the
representatives of the other, after his death, and
after the death of Henry, to recover what he paid
for that other's [D'Estouteville's] ransom. To give
a colouring to his case, he charges Henry with
refusing to confirm the stipulations made by his
representatives at Harfleur, and with other harsh
conduct. But an ex parte statement at that time,
and under those circumstances, can form no ground
of suspicion against a third party.]
In London a most magnificent pageant was ready to welcome him. Minute
descriptions of the various devices, such probably as England had
never seen before, have come down to us. But we need take no further
notice of them than to remark, that during the splendid scene, which
lasted from ten o'clock till three, (in the course of which Henry
humbly returned thanks both in St. Paul's and in Westminster Abbey,)
the King's deportment was singularly modest. His dress was simple; he
rode gravely on, attended by a small retinue; and, his thoughts
apparently wrapped up in contemplating the power and goodness of (p. 192)
the Almighty, he seemed altogether indifferent to the splendour of the
scenes and the devotedness of the crowds through which he passed. So
anxious was he to avoid exciting the applause of his people, that he
would not allow the helmet which he wore at Agincourt to be exhibited
on this occasion; the battered state of which bore evidence to the
danger he had encountered: nor would he allow the minstrels to compose
verses, or sing songs, to his praise; but persisted in attributing the
glory of his victory to God alone.
It is pleasing to trace the rewards[145] bestowed by Henry on his
companions in arms at Agincourt, and the measures which he adopted to
preserve their names from oblivion. With this view he doubtless caused
a roll to be made recording their names; though only a transcript of
one part has been yet discovered among the archives. We may hope that
not many years will elapse before numbers of those most interesting
documents which now lie buried in heaps of confusion will be brought
to light. Henry selected to fill every vacancy in the order of the
Garter, (not bestowed on sovereign princes,) the peers and
distinguished commanders who fought with him at Agincourt; and when he
restricted the use of coats of arms in a subsequent expedition to
those who could prove their right to them, he excepts those only who
bore arms with him at Agincourt. To commemorate this victory with more
especial honour, he created a King-at-arms, called "Agincourt." (p. 193)
[Footnote 145: See "Battle of Agincourt."]
Our reformed views of Christian truth must not make us undervalue the
testimony borne to Henry's gratitude towards his companions in arms,
though they were removed by death from all earthly favours and
rewards. He did for them what he could; and though we believe him to
have been performing a vain office, and profitless to those whom it
was intended to benefit, in the prevailing superstition of those days
we see traces of the kindness and grateful spirit of the hero.[146]
[Footnote 146: Various entries occur in the Pell
Rolls of money paid for masses for the souls of
those who fell in these wars. Among the rest are
specified (26th September 1418) Lord Grey of Codnor
and Sir John Blount. Two thousand masses were
ordered for the souls of Lord Talbot and another.
See extracts in English, translated lately, from
the Pell Rolls, by Mr. F. Devon. This work, whilst
it acquaints the student with the sort of
information and evidence which the Pell Rolls may
supply, will in other respects assist him in his
inquiries; for many valuable and interesting facts
are presented to him in the volume: but, to
ascertain what those documents really do contain,
it is necessary (as in all other cases) to apply at
the fountain-head.]
Many of the French princes taken at Agincourt remained prisoners in
England for many years. The Duke of Bourbon died in confinement. The
Duke of Orleans was not released for five-and-twenty years. Whilst a
captive in the Tower of London, he had recourse to the solace of
literature; and composed many pieces of poetry, still preserved in the
British Museum, which indicate genius and cultivated taste. (p. 194)
* * * * *
How highly the people of England valued this victory is seen in very
many particulars. The superstition of those times was also made to
contribute to its celebrity. The victory of Agincourt was gained on
the feast of the Translation of St. John of Beverley, and was ascribed
to his merits. His festival had before been kept on the 7th of May;
but now it was ordained to be celebrated for ever on the 25th of
October. But that was the feast of Crispin and Crispianus; and so the
authorities of the church decreed that all three saints should share
in the offices of that day.[147]
[Footnote 147: Foed. viii. 236.]
The Archbishop declares that this ecclesiastical constitution was made
in full convocation by the will, counsel, and consent of all his
brothers, and also at the special instance of their most Christian
King.
The document abounds to the overflow with the gross superstition of
the age. It is only by recalling what that degrading superstition was,
that we can estimate at their proper value the blessings of the
Reformation. Of the genuineness of this document there can be no
doubt. It was addressed by Henry Chicheley, Archbishop of Canterbury,
to the Vicar of the Bishop of London, who was then at the council of
Constance; and its preamble at least deserves a place here.
"Henry, by divine permission, Archbishop of Canterbury, (p. 195)
Primate of all England, and Legate of the Apostolic see, to our
beloved son the spiritual Vicar-general of our venerable brother
R. by the grace of God, Bishop of London, now in foreign parts.
The holy honour of the English church (whose praise and fame, in
devoted veneration of God and his saints, the whole world extols
above the churches of other regions and provinces,) requires that
the same church shall more abound with the praises of those, and
more exultingly rejoice in glad devotion to them, by whose
patronage and grace of miracles she rejoices to flourish; and by
whose pious intercession the state, not only of the church, but
of the whole realm, together with the inward sweetness of peace
and quiet, and with victory gained over foreign enemies, is
defended by just rulers.
"The grace of this help, though God to the same church, and to
the inhabitants of the realm of England, hath often decreed to
show by the merits of divers saints, (with whom she shines
gloriously on every side,) yet in these last days He has
evidently deigned more miraculously and more especially to
console the aforesaid church, together with the aforesaid nobles,
inhabitants, and all members of the kingdom, by the especial
suffrage of her (almifici) gracious confessor and bishop, the
most blessed John of Beverley, as we verily believe!
"Oh! ineffable consolation, especially in our times, in every age
pleasant, and ever to be called to mind; namely, the victory of
our most Christian Prince, King Henry V. of England, and of his
army, in the battle of Agincourt, lately fought in the parts of
Picardy; which on the Feast of the Translation of the said Saint,
to the honour of the divine name, and to the honour of the realm
of England, from the boundless mercy of God, was granted to the
English.
"On which Feast of his Translation, whilst the struggle between
our countrymen and the French was being carried on, as to the
hearing of us and our brethren in our last convocation, (p. 196)
abundantly and especially, the true report of the inhabitants of
that country brought the tidings, that from his tomb sacred oil
flowed, drops falling as of sweat, indicative of the divine mercy
towards his people, doubtless obtained by the merits of that most
holy man.
"Wishing, therefore, in our province to spread an increase of
divine worship, and especially to extol further the praise of so
great a patron, with the wills, counsel, and assent of our
brethren and the clergy in the said convocation, and no less at
the special instance of the said most Christian Prince, we have
determined that the memory of that most holy confessor everywhere
throughout our province should be exalted with feelings of
prayers and devotions [votivis et devotis affectibus]."
* * * * *
Then follows the decree above mentioned.
This mass of extravagant folly and blind superstition, this presumptuous
sharing of God's omnipotence and sovereign might with the power of such
poor erring fellow-mortals as the corrupt ministers of a corrupt church
had presumptuously ranked among the inhabitants of heaven,--thus daring
to forestal the judgment of Christ at the last day, and to pronounce on
the glory of a man whose spiritual state Omniscience alone can know,--it
is impossible to contemplate without feelings of gratitude that Heaven's
mercy has released us from such perverted use of the Gospel of the
Saviour; nor without a prayer that the Spirit of light and truth would
guide those of our fellow-creatures who are still walking in the same
land of darkness and error, into the clear light of Christian truth.
The Author, to whom the following "Song of Agincourt" has been (p. 197)
familiar from his childhood, cannot refrain from inserting it here.
This is that ancient, and, as it is believed, contemporary ballad,
which has preserved to our times that golden stanza which appears in
the title page of these volumes; and every word of which reflects the
character of Henry as a hero and a merciful man. The quotation, also,
from Burnet's History of Music, and the contemporary song to which he
refers, will, it is presumed, be generally acceptable.
SONG OF AGINCOURT.
As our King lay on his bed,
All musing at the hour of prime,[148]
He bethought him of the King of France,
And tribute due for so long a time.
He called unto him his lovely page,
His lovely page then called he;
Saying, You must go to the King in France,
To the King in France right speedily.
Tell him to send me my tribute home,
Ten ton of gold that is due to me;
Unless he send me my tribute home,
Soon in French land I will him see.
Away then goes this lovely page (p. 198)
As fast, as fast as he could hie;
And, when he came to the King in France,
He fell all down on his bended knee.
My master greets you, sir, and says,
Ten ton of gold is due to me;
Unless you send me my tribute home,
You in French land soon shall see me.
Your master is young, and of tender age,
Not fit to come into my degree;
I'll send him home some tennis-balls
That with them he may learn for to play.
Away then goes this lovely page,
As fast, as fast as he could hie;
And, when he came to our gracious King,
He fell all down on his bended knee.
What news, what news, my trusty page?
What news, what news dost thou bring to me?
I bring such news from the King of France,
That you and he can never agree.
He says you are young, and of tender age,
Not fit to come up to his degree;
He has sent you home some tennis-balls,
That with them you may learn for to play.
Oh! then bespoke our noble King,
A solemn vow then vowed he;
I'll promise him such English balls
As in French land he ne'er did see.
Go! call up Cheshire and Lancashire, (p. 199)
And Derby hills that are so free;
BUT NEITHER MARRIED MAN, NOR WIDOW'S SON,
NO WIDOW'S CURSE SHALL GO WITH ME!
They called up Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby hills that are so free;
But neither married man nor widow's son,
Yet they had a right good company.
He called unto him his merry men all,
And numbered them by three and three,
Until their number it did amount
To thirty thousand stout men and three.
Away then marched they into French land,
With drums and fifes so merrily;
Then out and spoke the King of France,
Lo! here comes proud King Henrie!
The first that fired, it was the French,
They killed our Englishmen so free;
But we killed ten thousand of the French,
And the rest of them they did run away.
Then marched they on to Paris gates,
With drums and fifes so merrily;
Oh! then bespoke the King of France,
The Lord have mercy on my men and me!
Oh! I will send him his tribute home,
Ten ton of gold that is due from me;
And the very best flower that is in all France
To the rose of England will I give free.
[Footnote 148: The second line of this song is
variously read. Probably the original words are
lost. The reading in the text is conjectural.]
"At the coronation of Henry V," observes Dr. Burney, "in 1413, (p. 200)
we hear of _no other instruments than harps_;[149] but one of that
prince's historians[150] tells us that their number in the hall was
prodigious. Henry, however, though a successful hero and a conqueror,
did not seem to take the advantage of his claim to praise; and either
was so modest or so tasteless as to discourage and even prohibit the
poets and musicians from celebrating his victories and singing his
valiant deeds. When he entered the city of London, after the battle of
Agincourt, the gates and streets were hung with tapestry, representing
the history of ancient heroes; and children were placed in temporary
turrets to sing verses. But Henry, disgusted at these vanities,
commanded, by a formal edict, that for the future no songs should be
recited by harpers, or others, in honour of the recent victory.
'_Cantus de suo triumpho fieri, seu per citharistas, vel alios
quoscunque, cantari, penitus prohibebat._'
[Footnote 149: Dr. Burney has here fallen into a
most extraordinary mistake. In the very page to
which he refers, Elmham, in his turgid manner,
assures us that at Henry's coronation the
tumultuous clang of so many trumpets made the
heavens resound with the roar of thunder. He then
describes the sweet strings of the harps soothing
the souls of the guests by their soft melody; and
the united music of other instruments also, by
their dulcet sounds, in which no discord
interrupted the harmony, inviting the royal
banqueters to full enjoyment of the festival.]
[Footnote 150: Thomas de Elmham, Vit. et Gest. Hen.
V. edit. Hearne, Oxon. 1727, cap. xii. p. 23.]
"It is somewhat extraordinary that, in spite of Henry's edicts and
prohibitions, _the only English song of so early a date, that has come
to my knowledge, of which the original music has been preserved_, is
one that was written on his victory at Agincourt in 1415. It is
preserved in the Pepysian Collection, at Magdalen College,
Cambridge."[151]
[Footnote 151: Burney's History of Music, vol. ii.
p. 382.]
After some observations upon the general ignorance of the (p. 201)
transcribers of ancient music, Dr. Burney proceeds to say, "that the
copy in the Pepysian Collection is written upon vellum in Gregorian
notes, and can be little less ancient than the event which it
recorded;" and that there is with it a paper which shows that an
attempt was made in the last century (17th) to give it a modern dress,
but that too many liberties had been taken with the melody, and the
drone bass, which had been set to it for the lute, is a mere jargon.
He then presents what he says is a faithful copy of this venerable
relic of our nation's prowess and glory.
Owre Kynge went forth to Normandy,
With grace, and myght of chyvalry;
The God for hym wrought marv'lusly,
Wherefore Englonde may calle and cry,
CHORUS.
Deo gratias, Anglia!
Redde pro Victoria!
He sette a sege, the sothe to say,
To Harflue town, with royal array;
That toune he wan, and made a fray
That Fraunce shall rywe tyl domes-day.
Deo gratias! &c.
Than, for sothe, that Knyght comely
In Agincourt feld faught manly;
Thorow grace of God, most myghty,
He hath bothe felde and victory.
Deo gratias! &c.
Then went owre Kynge, with all his oste, (p. 202)
Thorowe Fraunce, for all the Frenshe boste;
He spared[152] for drede of leste ne most,
Till he come to Agincourt coste.
Deo gratias! &c.
Ther Dukys and Earlys, Lorde and Barone,
Were take and slayne, and that wel sone;
And some were ledde into Lundone;
With joye, and merth, and grete renone,
Deo gratias! &c.
Now gracious God he save owre Kynge,
His peple, and all his well wyllinge;
Gef him gode lyfe, and gode endynge,
That we with merth may safely synge,
Deo gratias, Anglia! redde pro Victoria!
[Footnote 152: For dread neither of least nor of
greatest.]