A Child's History of England

by Dickens, Charles

  the Prince of Wales is said to have submitted with a good grace;

  and the King is said to have exclaimed, 'Happy is the monarch who

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  has so just a judge, and a son so willing to obey the laws.' This

  is all very doubtful, and so is another story (of which Shakespeare

  has made beautiful use), that the Prince once took the crown out of

  his father's chamber as he was sleeping, and tried it on his own

  head.

  The King's health sank more and more, and he became subject to

  violent eruptions on the face and to bad epileptic fits, and his

  spirits sank every day. At last, as he was praying before the

  shrine of St. Edward at Westminster Abbey, he was seized with a

  terrible fit, and was carried into the Abbot's chamber, where he

  presently died. It had been foretold that he would die at

  Jerusalem, which certainly is not, and never was, Westminster.

  But, as the Abbot's room had long been called the Jerusalem

  chamber, people said it was all the same thing, and were quite

  satisfied with the prediction.

  The King died on the 20th of March, 1413, in the forty-seventh year

  of his age, and the fourteenth of his reign. He was buried in

  Canterbury Cathedral. He had been twice married, and had, by his

  first wife, a family of four sons and two daughters. Considering

  his duplicity before he came to the throne, his unjust seizure of

  it, and above all, his making that monstrous law for the burning of

  what the priests called heretics, he was a reasonably good king, as

  kings went.

  CHAPTER XXI - ENGLAND UNDER HENRY THE FIFTH

  FIRST PART

  THE Prince of Wales began his reign like a generous and honest man.

  He set the young Earl of March free; he restored their estates and

  their honours to the Percy family, who had lost them by their

  rebellion against his father; he ordered the imbecile and

  unfortunate Richard to be honourably buried among the Kings of

  England; and he dismissed all his wild companions, with assurances

  that they should not want, if they would resolve to be steady,

  faithful, and true.

  It is much easier to burn men than to burn their opinions; and

  those of the Lollards were spreading every day. The Lollards were

  represented by the priests - probably falsely for the most part -

  to entertain treasonable designs against the new King; and Henry,

  suffering himself to be worked upon by these representations,

  sacrificed his friend Sir John Oldcastle, the Lord Cobham, to them,

  after trying in vain to convert him by arguments. He was declared

  guilty, as the head of the sect, and sentenced to the flames; but

  he escaped from the Tower before the day of execution (postponed

  for fifty days by the King himself), and summoned the Lollards to

  meet him near London on a certain day. So the priests told the

  King, at least. I doubt whether there was any conspiracy beyond

  such as was got up by their agents. On the day appointed, instead

  of five-and-twenty thousand men, under the command of Sir John

  Oldcastle, in the meadows of St. Giles, the King found only eighty

  men, and no Sir John at all. There was, in another place, an

  addle-headed brewer, who had gold trappings to his horses, and a

  pair of gilt spurs in his breast - expecting to be made a knight

  next day by Sir John, and so to gain the right to wear them - but

  there was no Sir John, nor did anybody give information respecting

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  him, though the King offered great rewards for such intelligence.

  Thirty of these unfortunate Lollards were hanged and drawn

  immediately, and were then burnt, gallows and all; and the various

  prisons in and around London were crammed full of others. Some of

  these unfortunate men made various confessions of treasonable

  designs; but, such confessions were easily got, under torture and

  the fear of fire, and are very little to be trusted. To finish the

  sad story of Sir John Oldcastle at once, I may mention that he

  escaped into Wales, and remained there safely, for four years.

  When discovered by Lord Powis, it is very doubtful if he would have

  been taken alive - so great was the old soldier's bravery - if a

  miserable old woman had not come behind him and broken his legs

  with a stool. He was carried to London in a horse-litter, was

  fastened by an iron chain to a gibbet, and so roasted to death.

  To make the state of France as plain as I can in a few words, I

  should tell you that the Duke of Orleans, and the Duke of Burgundy,

  commonly called 'John without fear,' had had a grand reconciliation

  of their quarrel in the last reign, and had appeared to be quite in

  a heavenly state of mind. Immediately after which, on a Sunday, in

  the public streets of Paris, the Duke of Orleans was murdered by a

  party of twenty men, set on by the Duke of Burgundy - according to

  his own deliberate confession. The widow of King Richard had been

  married in France to the eldest son of the Duke of Orleans. The

  poor mad King was quite powerless to help her, and the Duke of

  Burgundy became the real master of France. Isabella dying, her

  husband (Duke of Orleans since the death of his father) married the

  daughter of the Count of Armagnac, who, being a much abler man than

  his young son-in-law, headed his party; thence called after 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; the

  party 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; all fighting together; all composed of the most depraved

  nobles that the earth has ever known; and all tearing unhappy

  France to pieces.

  The late King had watched these dissensions from England, sensible

  (like the French people) that no enemy of France could injure her

  more than her own nobility. The present King now advanced a claim

  to the French throne. His demand being, of course, refused, he

  reduced his proposal to a certain large amount of French territory,

  and to demanding the French princess, Catherine, in marriage, with

  a fortune of two millions of golden crowns. He was offered less

  territory and fewer crowns, and no princess; but he called his

  ambassadors home and prepared for war. Then, he proposed to take

  the princess with one million of crowns. The French Court replied

  that he should have the princess with two hundred thousand crowns

  less; he said this would not do (he had never seen the princess in

  his life), and assembled his army at Southampton. There was a

  short plot at home just at that time, for deposing him, and making

  the Earl of March king; but the conspirators were all speedily

  condemned and executed, and the 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. The King's first act on disembark
ing at the mouth of the

  river Seine, three miles from Harfleur, was to imitate his father,

  and to proclaim his solemn orders that the lives and property of

  the peaceable inhabitants should be respected on pain of death. It

  is agreed by French writers, to his lasting renown, that even while

  his soldiers were suffering the greatest distress from want of

  food, these commands were rigidly obeyed.

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  With an army in all of thirty thousand men, he besieged the town of

  Harfleur both by sea and land for five weeks; at the end of which

  time the town surrendered, and the inhabitants were allowed to

  depart with only fivepence each, and a part of their clothes. All

  the rest of their possessions was divided amongst the English army.

  But, that army suffered so much, in spite of its successes, from

  disease and privation, that it was already reduced one half.

  Still, the King was determined not to retire until he had struck a

  greater blow. Therefore, against the advice of all his

  counsellors, he moved on with his little force towards Calais.

  When he came up to the river Somme he was unable to cross, in

  consequence of the fort being fortified; and, as the English moved

  up the left bank of the river looking for a crossing, the French,

  who had broken all the bridges, moved up the right bank, watching

  them, and waiting to attack them when they should try to pass it.

  At last the English found a crossing 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 to know by which road he was

  going. 'By the road that will take me straight to Calais!' said

  the King, and sent them away with a present of a hundred crowns.

  The English moved on, until they beheld the French, and then the

  King gave orders to form in line of battle. The French not coming

  on, the army broke up after remaining in battle array till night,

  and got good rest and refreshment at a neighbouring village. The

  French were now all lying in another village, through which they

  knew the English must pass. They were resolved that the English

  should begin the battle. The English had no means of retreat, if

  their King had any such intention; and so the two armies passed the

  night, close together.

  To understand these armies well, you must bear in mind that the

  immense French army had, among its notable persons, almost the

  whole of that wicked nobility, whose debauchery had made France a

  desert; and so besotted were they by pride, and by contempt for the

  common people, that they had scarcely any bowmen (if indeed they

  had any at all) in their whole enormous number: which, compared

  with the English army, was at least as six to one. For these proud

  fools had said that the bow was not a fit weapon for knightly

  hands, and that France must be defended by gentlemen only. We

  shall see, presently, what hand the gentlemen made of it.

  Now, on the English side, among the little force, there was a good

  proportion of men who were not gentlemen by any means, but who were

  good stout archers for all that. Among them, in the morning -

  having slept little at night, while the French were carousing and

  making sure of victory - the King rode, on a grey horse; wearing on

  his head a helmet of shining steel, surmounted by a crown of gold,

  sparkling with precious stones; and bearing over his armour,

  embroidered together, the arms of England and the arms of France.

  The archers looked at the shining helmet and 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 bright blue eye, as he

  told them that, for himself, he had made up his mind to conquer

  there or to die there, and that England should never have a ransom

  to pay for HIM. There was one brave knight who chanced to say that

  he wished some of the many gallant gentlemen and good soldiers, who

  were 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 more man. 'The fewer we have,' said he, 'the greater will

  be the honour we shall win!' His men, being now all in good heart,

  were refreshed with bread and wine, and heard prayers, and waited

  quietly for the French. The King waited for the French, because

  they were drawn up thirty deep (the little English force was only

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  three deep), on very difficult and heavy ground; and he knew that

  when they moved, there must be confusion among them.

  As they did not move, he sent off two parties:- one to lie

  concealed in a wood on the left of the French: the other, to set

  fire to some houses behind the French after the battle should be

  begun. This was scarcely done, when three of the proud French

  gentlemen, who were to defend their country without any help from

  the base peasants, came riding out, calling upon the English to

  surrender. The King warned those gentlemen himself to retire with

  all speed if they cared for their lives, and ordered the English

  banners to advance. Upon that, Sir Thomas Erpingham, a great

  English general, who commanded the archers, threw his truncheon

  into the air, joyfully, and all the English men, kneeling down upon

  the ground and biting it as if they took possession of the country,

  rose up with a great shout and fell upon the French.

  Every archer was furnished with a great stake tipped with iron; and

  his orders were, to thrust this stake into the ground, to discharge

  his arrow, and then to fall back, when the French horsemen came on.

  As the haughty French gentlemen, who were to break the English

  archers and utterly destroy them with their knightly lances, came

  riding up, they were received with such a blinding storm of arrows,

  that they broke and turned. Horses and men rolled over one

  another, and the confusion was terrific. Those who rallied and

  charged the archers got among the stakes on slippery and boggy

  ground, and were so bewildered that the English archers - who wore

  no armour, and even took off their leathern coats to be more active

  - cut them to pieces, root and branch. Only three French horsemen

  got within the stakes, and those were instantly despatched. All

  this time the dense French army, being in armour, were sinking

  knee-deep into the mire; while the light English archers, halfnaked,

  were as fresh and active as if they were fighting on a

  marble floor.

  But now, the second division of the French coming to the relief of

  the first, closed up in a firm mass; the English, headed by the

  King, attacked them; and the deadliest part of the battle began.

  The King's brother, the Duke of Clarence, was struck down, and

  numbers of the French surrounded him; but, King Henry, standing

  over the body, fought like a lion until they were beaten off.

  Presently, came up a band of eighteen French knights, bearing the

 
banner of 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 and fell upon his knees; but, his faithful men,

  immediately closing round him, killed every one of those eighteen

  knights, and so that French lord never kept his oath.

  The French Duke of Alen‡on, seeing this, made a desperate charge,

  and cut his way close up to the Royal Standard of England. He beat

  down the Duke of 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 another blow 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 out his hand to give him a safe and

  honourable acceptance of the offer; he fell dead, pierced by

  innumerable wounds.

  The death of this nobleman decided the battle. The third division

  of the French 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 time of the fight, the English, who as yet had made

  no prisoners, began to take them in immense numbers, and were still

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  occupied in doing so, or in killing those who would not surrender,

  when a great noise arose in the rear of the French - their flying

  banners were seen to stop - and King Henry, supposing a great

  reinforcement to have arrived, gave orders that all the prisoners

  should be put to death. As soon, however, as it was found that the

  noise was only occasioned by a body of plundering peasants, the

  terrible massacre was stopped.

  Then King Henry called to him the French herald, and asked him to

  whom the victory belonged.

  The herald replied, 'To the King of England.'

  'WE have not made this havoc and slaughter,' said the King. 'It is

  the wrath of Heaven on the sins of France. What is the name of

  that castle yonder?'

  The herald answered him, 'My lord, it is the castle of Azincourt.'

  Said the King, 'From henceforth this battle shall be known to

  posterity, by the name of the battle of Azincourt.'

  Our English historians have made it Agincourt; but, under that

  name, it will ever be famous in English annals.

  The loss upon the French side was enormous. Three Dukes were