CHAPTER XXI--ENGLAND UNDER HENRY THE FIFTH
CHAPTER XXI--ENGLAND UNDER HENRY THE FIFTH
FIRST PART
The Prince of Wales began his reign like a generous and honest man. Heset the young Earl of March free; he restored their estates and theirhonours to the Percy family, who had lost them by their rebellion againsthis father; he ordered the imbecile and unfortunate Richard to behonourably buried among the Kings of England; and he dismissed all hiswild companions, with assurances that they should not want, if they wouldresolve to be steady, faithful, and true.
It is much easier to burn men than to burn their opinions; and those ofthe Lollards were spreading every day. The Lollards were represented bythe priests--probably falsely for the most part--to entertain treasonabledesigns against the new King; and Henry, suffering himself to be workedupon by these representations, sacrificed his friend Sir John Oldcastle,the Lord Cobham, to them, after trying in vain to convert him byarguments. He was declared guilty, as the head of the sect, andsentenced to the flames; but he escaped from the Tower before the day ofexecution (postponed for fifty days by the King himself), and summonedthe Lollards to meet him near London on a certain day. So the prieststold the King, at least. I doubt whether there was any conspiracy beyondsuch as was got up by their agents. On the day appointed, instead offive-and-twenty thousand men, under the command of Sir John Oldcastle, inthe meadows of St. Giles, the King found only eighty men, and no Sir Johnat all. There was, in another place, an addle-headed brewer, who hadgold trappings to his horses, and a pair of gilt spurs in hisbreast--expecting to be made a knight next day by Sir John, and so togain the right to wear them--but there was no Sir John, nor did anybodygive information respecting him, though the King offered great rewardsfor such intelligence. Thirty of these unfortunate Lollards were hangedand drawn immediately, and were then burnt, gallows and all; and thevarious prisons in and around London were crammed full of others. Someof these unfortunate men made various confessions of treasonable designs;but, such confessions were easily got, under torture and the fear offire, and are very little to be trusted. To finish the sad story of SirJohn Oldcastle at once, I may mention that he escaped into Wales, andremained there safely, for four years. When discovered by Lord Powis, itis very doubtful if he would have been taken alive--so great was the oldsoldier's bravery--if a miserable old woman had not come behind him andbroken his legs with a stool. He was carried to London in ahorse-litter, was fastened by an iron chain to a gibbet, and so roastedto death.
To make the state of France as plain as I can in a few words, I shouldtell you that the Duke of Orleans, and the Duke of Burgundy, commonlycalled 'John without fear,' had had a grand reconciliation of theirquarrel in the last reign, and had appeared to be quite in a heavenlystate of mind. Immediately after which, on a Sunday, in the publicstreets of Paris, the Duke of Orleans was murdered by a party of twentymen, set on by the Duke of Burgundy--according to his own deliberateconfession. The widow of King Richard had been married in France to theeldest son of the Duke of Orleans. The poor mad King was quite powerlessto help her, and the Duke of Burgundy became the real master of France.Isabella dying, her husband (Duke of Orleans since the death of hisfather) married the daughter of the Count of Armagnac, who, being a muchabler man than his young son-in-law, headed his party; thence calledafter him Armagnacs. Thus, France was now in this terrible condition,that it had in it the party of the King's son, the Dauphin Louis; theparty of the Duke of Burgundy, who was the father of the Dauphin's ill-used wife; and the party of the Armagnacs; all hating each other; allfighting together; all composed of the most depraved nobles that theearth has ever known; and all tearing unhappy France to pieces.
The late King had watched these dissensions from England, sensible (likethe French people) that no enemy of France could injure her more than herown nobility. The present King now advanced a claim to the Frenchthrone. His demand being, of course, refused, he reduced his proposal toa certain large amount of French territory, and to demanding the Frenchprincess, Catherine, in marriage, with a fortune of two millions ofgolden crowns. He was offered less territory and fewer crowns, and noprincess; but he called his ambassadors home and prepared for war. Then,he proposed to take the princess with one million of crowns. The FrenchCourt replied that he should have the princess with two hundred thousandcrowns less; he said this would not do (he had never seen the princess inhis life), and assembled his army at Southampton. There was a short plotat home just at that time, for deposing him, and making the Earl of Marchking; but the conspirators were all speedily condemned and executed, andthe King embarked for France.
It is dreadful to observe how long a bad example will be followed; but,it is encouraging to know that a good example is never thrown away. TheKing's first act on disembarking at the mouth of the river Seine, threemiles from Harfleur, was to imitate his father, and to proclaim hissolemn orders that the lives and property of the peaceable inhabitantsshould be respected on pain of death. It is agreed by French writers, tohis lasting renown, that even while his soldiers were suffering thegreatest distress from want of food, these commands were rigidly obeyed.
With an army in all of thirty thousand men, he besieged the town ofHarfleur both by sea and land for five weeks; at the end of which timethe town surrendered, and the inhabitants were allowed to depart withonly fivepence each, and a part of their clothes. All the rest of theirpossessions was divided amongst the English army. But, that armysuffered so much, in spite of its successes, from disease and privation,that it was already reduced one half. Still, the King was determined notto retire until he had struck a greater blow. Therefore, against theadvice of all his counsellors, he moved on with his little force towardsCalais. When he came up to the river Somme he was unable to cross, inconsequence of the fort being fortified; and, as the English moved up theleft bank of the river looking for a crossing, the French, who had brokenall the bridges, moved up the right bank, watching them, and waiting toattack them when they should try to pass it. At last the English found acrossing and got safely over. The French held a council of war at Rouen,resolved to give the English battle, and sent heralds to King Henry toknow by which road he was going. 'By the road that will take me straightto Calais!' said the King, and sent them away with a present of a hundredcrowns.
The English moved on, until they beheld the French, and then the Kinggave orders to form in line of battle. The French not coming on, thearmy broke up after remaining in battle array till night, and got goodrest and refreshment at a neighbouring village. The French were now alllying in another village, through which they knew the English must pass.They were resolved that the English should begin the battle. The Englishhad no means of retreat, if their King had any such intention; and so thetwo armies passed the night, close together.
To understand these armies well, you must bear in mind that the immenseFrench army had, among its notable persons, almost the whole of thatwicked nobility, whose debauchery had made France a desert; and sobesotted were they by pride, and by contempt for the common people, thatthey had scarcely any bowmen (if indeed they had any at all) in theirwhole enormous number: which, compared with the English army, was atleast as six to one. For these proud fools had said that the bow was nota fit weapon for knightly hands, and that France must be defended bygentlemen only. We shall see, presently, what hand the gentlemen made ofit.
Now, on the English side, among the little force, there was a goodproportion of men who were not gentlemen by any means, but who were goodstout archers for all that. Among them, in the morning--having sleptlittle at night, while the French were carousing and making sure ofvictory--the King rode, on a grey horse; wearing on his head a helmet ofshining steel, surmounted by a crown of gold, sparkling with preciousstones; and bearing over his armour, embroidered together, the arms ofEngland and the arms of France. The archers looked at the shining helmetand the crown of gold and the sparkling jewels, and admired them all;but, what they admired most was the King's cheerful face, and his brightblue eye, as he told them that, for himself, he had made up his mind toconquer there or to die there, and that England should never have aransom to pay for _him_. There was one brave knight who chanced to saythat he wished some of the many gallant gentlemen and good soldiers, whowere then idle at home in England, were there to increase their numbers.But the King told him that, for his part, he did not wish for one moreman. 'The fewer we have,' said he, 'the greater will be the honour weshall win!' His men, being now all in good heart, were refreshed withbread and wine, and heard prayers, and waited quietly for the French. TheKing waited for the French, because they were drawn up thirty deep (thelittle English force was only three deep), on very difficult and heavyground; and he knew that when they moved, there must be confusion amongthem.
As they did not move, he sent off two parties:--one to lie concealed in awood on the left of the French: the other, to set fire to some housesbehind the French after the battle should be begun. This was scarcelydone, when three of the proud French gentlemen, who were to defend theircountry without any help from the base peasants, came riding out, callingupon the English to surrender. The King warned those gentlemen himselfto retire with all speed if they cared for their lives, and ordered theEnglish banners to advance. Upon that, Sir Thomas Erpingham, a greatEnglish general, who commanded the archers, threw his truncheon into theair, joyfully, and all the English men, kneeling down upon the ground andbiting it as if they took possession of the country, rose up with a greatshout and fell upon the French.
Every archer was furnished with a great stake tipped with iron; and hisorders were, to thrust this stake into the ground, to discharge hisarrow, and then to fall back, when the French horsemen came on. As thehaughty French gentlemen, who were to break the English archers andutterly destroy them with their knightly lances, came riding up, theywere received with such a blinding storm of arrows, that they broke andturned. Horses and men rolled over one another, and the confusion wasterrific. Those who rallied and charged the archers got among the stakeson slippery and boggy ground, and were so bewildered that the Englisharchers--who wore no armour, and even took off their leathern coats to bemore active--cut them to pieces, root and branch. Only three Frenchhorsemen got within the stakes, and those were instantly despatched. Allthis time the dense French army, being in armour, were sinking knee-deepinto the mire; while the light English archers, half-naked, were as freshand active as if they were fighting on a marble floor.
But now, the second division of the French coming to the relief of thefirst, closed up in a firm mass; the English, headed by the King,attacked them; and the deadliest part of the battle began. The King'sbrother, the Duke of Clarence, was struck down, and numbers of the Frenchsurrounded him; but, King Henry, standing over the body, fought like alion until they were beaten off.
Presently, came up a band of eighteen French knights, bearing the bannerof a certain French lord, who had sworn to kill or take the English King.One of them struck him such a blow with a battle-axe that he reeled andfell upon his knees; but, his faithful men, immediately closing roundhim, killed every one of those eighteen knights, and so that French lordnever kept his oath.
The French Duke of Alencon, seeing this, made a desperate charge, and cuthis way close up to the Royal Standard of England. He beat down the Dukeof York, who was standing near it; and, when the King came to his rescue,struck off a piece of the crown he wore. But, he never struck anotherblow in this world; for, even as he was in the act of saying who he was,and that he surrendered to the King; and even as the King stretched outhis hand to give him a safe and honourable acceptance of the offer; hefell dead, pierced by innumerable wounds.
The death of this nobleman decided the battle. The third division of theFrench army, which had never struck a blow yet, and which was, in itself,more than double the whole English power, broke and fled. At this timeof the fight, the English, who as yet had made no prisoners, began totake them in immense numbers, and were still occupied in doing so, or inkilling those who would not surrender, when a great noise arose in therear of the French--their flying banners were seen to stop--and KingHenry, supposing a great reinforcement to have arrived, gave orders thatall the prisoners should be put to death. As soon, however, as it wasfound that the noise was only occasioned by a body of plunderingpeasants, the terrible massacre was stopped.
Then King Henry called to him the French herald, and asked him to whomthe victory belonged.
The herald replied, 'To the King of England.'
'_We_ have not made this havoc and slaughter,' said the King. 'It is thewrath of Heaven on the sins of France. What is the name of that castleyonder?'
The herald answered him, 'My lord, it is the castle of Azincourt.' Saidthe King, 'From henceforth this battle shall be known to posterity, bythe name of the battle of Azincourt.'
Our English historians have made it Agincourt; but, under that name, itwill ever be famous in English annals.
The loss upon the French side was enormous. Three Dukes were killed, twomore were taken prisoners, seven Counts were killed, three more weretaken prisoners, and ten thousand knights and gentlemen were slain uponthe field. The English loss amounted to sixteen hundred men, among whomwere the Duke of York and the Earl of Suffolk.
War is a dreadful thing; and it is appalling to know how the English wereobliged, next morning, to kill those prisoners mortally wounded, who yetwrithed in agony upon the ground; how the dead upon the French side werestripped by their own countrymen and countrywomen, and afterwards buriedin great pits; how the dead upon the English side were piled up in agreat barn, and how their bodies and the barn were all burned together.It is in such things, and in many more much too horrible to relate, thatthe real desolation and wickedness of war consist. Nothing can make warotherwise than horrible. But the dark side of it was little thought ofand soon forgotten; and it cast no shade of trouble on the Englishpeople, except on those who had lost friends or relations in the fight.They welcomed their King home with shouts of rejoicing, and plunged intothe water to bear him ashore on their shoulders, and flocked out incrowds to welcome him in every town through which he passed, and hungrich carpets and tapestries out of the windows, and strewed the streetswith flowers, and made the fountains run with wine, as the great field ofAgincourt had run with blood.