Chapter 23

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.