It is impossible for us to revert with never so cursory a glance to the departure of Henry of Monmouth from his native shores at the head of an armament intended to recover his alleged rights in France, without finding various questions suggesting themselves, both on the mode adopted for raising and embodying the men, and for transporting the troops and military stores, and all the accompaniments of an invading army. The Kings of England had then no standing army, nor any permanent royal fleet.
In the present volume we have often seen that on an emergence, such as an irruption of the Scots, or the necessity of resisting the Welsh more effectually, the sheriffs of different counties were commanded to array the able-bodied men within their jurisdiction, and join the royal standard by an appointed day; and, no doubt, many a motley, and ill-favoured, and ill-appointed company were seen in the sheriff's train. We have also been reminded with how great difficulty even these musters could be collected, and kept together, and marched to the place of rendezvous; and how seldom could they be brought in time to join in the engagement for which they were destined. We have repeatedly also learned that the nobles who would recommend themselves to the royal favour, or espoused heartily the cause in which they were engaged, headed their own retainers to the field, and made themselves responsible for their maintenance and pay. In the present case we have reason to believe that the army consisted mainly of volunteers; at least, that the principal persons in rank and fortune joined the King's standard without compulsion. A very lively and enthusiastic interest in the success of his expedition prevailed through the whole country; and the nobles redeemed their pledge, without grudging, that they would aid him in their persons. The pay of the army was settled beforehand, at a fixed rate, from a duke downwards.[93]
Whether there is any foundation at all in fact for the tradition of Henry's resolution to take with him no married man or widow's son, the tradition itself bears such strong testimony to the general estimate of Henry's character for bravery at once and kindness of heart, that it would be unpardonable to omit every reference to it altogether. The song of Agincourt, in which it occurs, is unquestionably of ancient origin; probably written and sung within a very few years of the expedition.[94] Internal evidence would induce us to infer that it was composed before Henry's death, and just after his marriage with Katharine:
"The fairest flower in all France,
To the rose of England I give free."
The ballad, at all events, is among the earliest of our English songs, and was delivered down from father to son in the most distant parts of the kingdom, when very few of those who preserved the national poetry from oblivion could read. This circumstance easily accounts for the many various readings which are found in different copies now, whilst these in their turn tend to establish the antiquity of the song. The admirable simplicity and true natural beauty of the verse will justify its repetition here, though it has already appeared in our title-page, when it ascribes to Henry the combination of valour and high resolve, with merciful considerateness and tender feeling for others. Be the authority for this reported restriction, imposed by Henry on those who were commissioned to recruit soldiers for his expedition, what it may, (let it be founded in fact, or in the imagination of the writer,) it bears that testimony to Henry's character,[95] which the whole current of authentic documents tends fully to establish. He was brave, and he was merciful.
"Go!
call up Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby hills,[96]
which are so free;
But neither married man, nor widow's son,—
No widow's curse shall go with me."
Of the numbers who went with Henry to France various accounts are delivered down, and different calculations have been made. The song of Agincourt raises the sum of the "right good company" to "thirty thousand stout men and three:" and probably this total, embracing servants and attendants of every kind, is not at all an exaggeration of the number actually transported from England to Normandy; though, if by "stout men" we are to understand warriors able to handle the spear, the bow, the sword, and the battleaxe, we must not reckon them at more than one-third of that number.
The expedients which Henry found it necessary to adopt for the safe transportation of this armament, compel us to review, however briefly, the state and circumstances of English navigation at the period. The Author has already hazarded the opinion in his Preface, that Henry of Monmouth may with justice be regarded as the founder of the British navy; and he feels himself called upon to refer to some facts by which such a representation might seem to be countenanced. He gladly acknowledges that the idea was first suggested to him by the publication of Sir Henry Ellis; whilst every subsequent research, and every additional fact, have tended to confirm and illustrate the same view.[97]
Though few subjects are more interesting, or more deserve the attention of our fellow-countrymen, yet it is confessedly beyond the province of these Memoirs to enter at any length upon a dissertation on the naval affairs of Great Britain. Since, however, if satisfactorily established, the fact will recommend the hero of Agincourt to the grateful remembrance of his father-land in a department of national strength and glory in which few of us have probably hitherto felt indebted to him, it is hoped that these brief remarks may not be deemed out of place.
Unquestionably, many previous sovereigns of England had directed much of their thoughts to the maritime power of the country. From the time of Alfred himself, downwards, we may trace, at various intervals, evident marks of the measures adopted by our Kings and the legislature, and also by powerful individuals and merchant companies, to keep up a succession of sea-worthy vessels, and mariners to man them. Two hundred years before the date of Henry's expedition, as early as the year 1212, King John seems to have established a sort of dry covered dock at Portsmouth for the preservation of ships and their rigging during the winter. But the very instances to which appeals have been made by various writers, to prove the antiquity of the naval force of South Britain, tend by their testimony to confirm the opinions we are here disposed to adopt. In every successive reign, the annals of which supply any information on the subject, the evidence is clear that the rulers of England did not contemplate the establishment of a fleet belonging to the nation as its own property. The tenures, moreover, by which many maritime towns held their charters, whilst they evince the importance attached to this department of an island's political power, coincide altogether with the view we are taking. The obligation, for example, under which the Cinque Ports lay of furnishing, whenever required, fifty ships, manned each with twenty-four mariners, for fifteen days, enabled the monarch indeed to calculate, from the fulfilment of such stipulated engagements, on a certain supply, adequate, it may be, to meet the usual demand; but at the same time it implied that he had no fleet of his own on which he could rely. Whilst the limited extent to which ships could be supplied by the most rigid exaction of the terms of those tenures compelled the state, on any occasion when extraordinary efforts were requisite, to depend upon the varying and precarious supply produced by the system of impressment.[98]
When Henry ascended the throne, he found still in full operation this old system of our maritime proceedings. Whenever, as we have seen, an occasion required the transport of a considerable body of men from our havens, or forces to be embarked for the protection of our shores and of our merchants, in addition to the contingent, which could be exacted from various chartered towns, the King's government was obliged either to hire ships from foreign countries, or to lay forcible hands by way of impressment on the vessels of his own subjects. A few instances, more or less closely connected with the immediate subject of our present inquiry, will serve to illustrate that point.
When, for example, Henry's great grandfather Edward III. was preparing for the expedition, which he headed in person, intended to relieve Rochelle, his grandfather John of Gaunt, February 10, 1372, as we find by the records of the Duchy of Lancaster, commanded all his stewards in Wales to assist Walter de Wodeburgh, serjeant-at-arms, appointed by the King to arrest all ships of twenty tons' burden [and upwards?] for the passage of the King and his army to France, and to take sufficient security that they be all ready by the 1st of May either at Southampton, Portsmouth, Hamel in the Rys, or Hamel Stoke.
The records of the Privy Council (11 December, probably 1405,) supply us with an instance (one out of many) which shows, at the same time, the great injury which the public service sustained by this system, and the ruinous consequences which it was calculated to entail on the merchants and the owners of ships. Henry IV. had intended to proceed in person to Guienne; and for that purpose, with the advice of his council, had impressed all the ships westward. His voyage was deferred; but the ships were still, as they had been for a long time, under arrest. The masters had sent a deputation to him to implore some compensation for their great expenses,[99] and some means of support. Henry then wrote to the council, praying them [vous prions] to provide some help for these poor men; and to assure them that no long time would elapse before their services would be called for, since either himself or his representative would undertake the voyage. In the same letter he prayed the council also to write under his privy seal to the King of Portugal, to beg of him a supply of galleys, sufficient to enable him to resist the malice of his enemies the French, and to protect his land and his realm.
We must not suppose that the French monarch found himself under more favourable circumstances when he would prepare for any important affair on the sea. The same system of impressment and hiring was necessarily adopted in France. Thus we find, in 1417, when the French government resolved to make a powerful effort to crush the navy of England, the ships were first to be "hired, at a great sum of gold, from the state of Genoa." These mercenary vessels formed the fleet over which the Earl of Huntingdon gained a decided victory immediately before Henry's second expedition to France.
Thus, too, (not to cite any more examples,) no sooner had Henry determined to assert his rights on the Continent, and to enforce them by the sword, than he despatched ambassadors to Zealand and Holland to negociate with the Duke of Holland for a supply of ships; doubtless assured that all which he could impress or hire in all his ports would not be sufficient for the safe transport of his troops, and "their furniture of war." But Henry's ardent and commanding mind soon saw how powerful an engine, both of defence and of conquest, would be found in a permanent royal navy, and how indispensable such an establishment was to any insular sovereign who desired to provide for his country the means of offering a bold front against aggression, protecting herself from insult, maintaining her rights, and taking a lead among the surrounding powers. He resolved, therefore, not to depend upon the precarious and unsatisfactory expedients either of hiring vessels, which would never be his own, (in a market, too, where his enemy might forestal him, and where his necessities would enhance the price,) or of compelling his merchants to leave their trading, and minister to the emergence of the state, at their own inevitable loss, and not improbable ruin. His immediate determination was to spare neither labour nor expense in providing a navy of his own, such as would be ever ready at the sovereign's command to protect the coast, to sweep the seas of those hordes of pirates which then infested them, and to bear his forces with safety and credit to any distant shores. He thus thought he should best secure his own ports and provinces from foreign invasion; afford a safeguard to his own merchants, and to those traders who would traffic with his people; and generally make England a more formidable antagonist and a more respected neighbour.
This new line of policy he adopted very early in his reign. Whilst he was at Southampton, (at the date of this digression, on his first expedition to Normandy,) we find him superintending the building of various large ships: and, two years afterwards, when news reached him of the victory gained by his brother the Duke of Bedford over the French fleet off Harfleur, the tidings found him making the most effectual means for securing future victories; he was at Smalhithe in Kent, personally superintending the building of some ships to add to his own royal navy, then only in its infancy.[100]
Nor did he confine his labours in this great work to England; he employed also his Continental resources in forwarding the same object. A letter from one John Alcestre, from Bayonne,[101] informs us of a ship of very considerable dimensions then on the stocks at that port, for the building of which the mayor and "his consorts" had contracted with Henry. The vessel was one hundred and eighty-six feet in length from "the onmost end of the stem onto the post behind." "The stem" was in height ninety-six feet, and the keel was in length one hundred and twelve feet.
Henry appears also to have acquired the reputation in foreign countries of having a desire to possess large vessels of his own. An agent in Spain, for example, after informing one of the King's officers in England of his unsuccessful endeavour to cause to be seized for the King's use four armed galleys of Provence, expected to enter the port of Valencia, and which the King of Arragon's government had consented to arrest for Henry, but which disappointed them by not coming to land, mentions that two new carraks (a species of large transport vessel) were in building "at Bartholem," which the King might have if he pleased.
The high importance which Henry attached to these rising bulwarks of his country shows itself in various ways; in none more curious and striking than (a fact, it is presumed, new to history,) in the solemn religious ceremony with which they were consecrated before he committed them to the mighty waters. One of the highest order of the Christian ministry was employed, and similar devotions were performed at the dedication of one of the royal "great ships," as we should find in the consecration of a cathedral. They were called also by some of the holiest of all names ever uttered by Christians.[102] Thus, on the completion of the good ship the Grace-Dieu at Southampton, the "venerable father in Christ, the Bishop of Bangor,"[103] was commissioned by the King's council to proceed from London at the public expense to consecrate it.
When Henry of Monmouth died, the navy of England was doubtless yet in its infancy;[104] but it owed its existence as a permanent royal establishment to him. We cannot look back on that "day of small things" without feelings of admiration and gratitude; nor now that we seem, for a time at least, free from the danger of foreign invasion, must we forget that, in the late tremendous struggle which swept away the monarchies and the liberties of Europe in one resistless flood, to our navy, which had grown with the growth of our country, and strengthened with her strength, our native land may, under the blessing of Heaven, have been indebted for its continuance in freedom and independence. Of those wooden walls of Old England, as a royal establishment based on systematic principles, Henry of Monmouth was undoubtedly the founder.
Whilst Henry was engaged at Southampton in personally superintending the preparations for invading France, an event occurred well fitted to fill him equally with surprise, and indignation, and sorrow. A conspiracy against his crown and his life was brought to light, which had been formed by three in his company against whom he could have entertained no suspicions: Richard of York, whom he had created Earl of Cambridge; Henry Lord Scrope, the treasurer; and Sir Thomas Grey of Heton. The Rolls of Parliament, containing the authentic record of the proceedings consequent upon the discovery, and the original letters of the Earl of Cambridge, leave no question as to the designs of the conspirators. Some doubts may exist as to their motives: whether they were influenced singly by a generous resolution to restore the crown to its alleged rightful heir,[105] or by some less honourable and more selfish feeling;[106] whether by any offence taken against Henry, or, as it is alleged, by the vast bribe offered to them by the crown of France; or whether by more than one of these motives combined, must remain a matter of conjecture. We cannot, perhaps, be certified of the means by which Henry became acquainted with the plot, nor if, as we are told, he was informed of it by the Earl of March himself, can we ascertain beyond doubt how large or how small a share that nobleman had in the previous deliberations and resolutions of the conspirators. Whether he first consented to their design of setting him up as king, and then repented of so ungrateful an act towards one who had behaved to him with so much kindness and confidence, or whether he instantly took the resolve to nip this treason in the bud, no documents enable us to decide. If the Earl of Cambridge's confession be the truth, the Earl of March at one time was himself consenting to the plot.
On the 21st of July a commission was appointed, consisting of the Earl Marshal, two of the judges,[107] six lords, and Sir Thomas Erpingham, to try the conspirators: and the sheriff of the county was ordered to summon a jury, who assembled at Southampton on the 2nd of August, and found as their verdict, that, on the 20th of July, the Earl of Cambridge and Sir Thomas Grey had traitorously conspired to collect a body of armed men, to conduct Edmund Earl of March to the frontiers of Wales, and to proclaim him the rightful heir to the crown, in case Richard II. were actually dead, against the pretensions of the King, whom they intended to style "the Usurper of England;" that they purposed to destroy the King and his brothers, with other nobles of the land; and that Lord Scrope consented to the said treasonable designs, and concealed them from the King.
Lord Scrope denied having consented to the death of the King, or having had any communication with the other conspirators on that point; and he declared that he had communicated with them on the other points solely to possess himself of a knowledge of their designs in order to frustrate them. He then pleaded his peerage, and his right to be tried by his peers.
Sentence of death in the usual manner was passed upon Grey; but the King having, by a most rare instance of mercy in those days, remitted that part of the sentence which directed him to be drawn on a hurdle and hung, he was allowed to walk through the town to the Northgate, and was there immediately beheaded. On Monday, August 5, the Duke of Clarence presided in a court of the peers, who, having satisfied themselves by carefully examining the record of the conviction of the prisoners, Scrope and Cambridge, adjudged them to death. They were both executed within a few hours of this judgment. The head of Scrope was ordered to be affixed on one of the gates of York and the head of Grey to be stuck up at Newcastle upon Tyne, to mark the baseness of their ingratitude, who had enjoyed so closely the confidence and friendship of Henry.[108]
Nothing is recorded officially of any bribe from France, but the fact of "one million of gold" having been promised as the wages of their treason is asserted by historians. "These lords, for lucre of money," (to use the words of a manuscript[109] apparently contemporary with the event,) "had made promise to the Frenchmen to have slayne King Henry and all his worthy brethren by a false trayne [treason?] suddenly or they had beware. But Almighty God, of his great grace, held his holy hand over them, and saved them from this perilous meyne [band]. And for to have done this they received of the Frenchmen a million of gold, and that was there proved openly."
As to the guilt or innocence of the Earl of March himself, no proof can be drawn from the fact of his having obtained a full and free pardon[110] a few days after the event. "Such pardons" (as Dr. Lingard rightly observes) "were frequently solicited by the innocent as a measure of precaution to defeat the malice and prevent the accusations of their enemies." Sir Harris Nicolas indeed suggests, "that it would be difficult to show an instance in which they were granted in favour of a person who was not strongly suspected, or who had not purchased them at the expense of his accomplices." But it requires little more than a cursory glance at our authentic records to be assured that Dr. Lingard's view is the more correct. Take, for example, the pardon granted in 1412 to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and couched in almost the same words. There is indeed in this pardon a clause very different from the pardon of the Earl of March; but it is a difference which only tends to establish this point, that the pardons in many cases were formal, and altogether independent of the guilt or innocence of the party. The Archbishop (Arundel) is pardoned for all treasons, felonies, and so forth, excepting some outrageous crimes of which he was never suspected; and also provided he was not then lying in prison as a felon convict, or as an adherent to Owyn Glyndowr. Many such instances occur.[111]
On this sad subject two original letters are preserved, addressed to Henry by the Earl of Cambridge; they are found among the "Original Letters" published by Sir Henry Ellis, accompanied, as is usual[112] in his valuable collection, by a succinct and clear statement of such facts as may be necessary for their elucidation. The first contains the Earl's confession; whether written before or after his trial, is not evident. The second sues for mercy, probably after the jury had returned their verdict; it may be even after the sentence was passed by the peers, though a very short portion of a day elapsed between that sentence and his execution.
It is curious to learn, from the first of these letters, that even down to the year of Henry's first expedition to France, the people were from time to time deluded by rumours that Richard II. was still alive. The Earl of Cambridge acknowledged that the conspirators intended to set up the Earl of March, "taking upon him the sovereignty of this land, if yonder man's person, which they call King Richard, had not been alive, as I wot well that he is not alive." He confessed, also, a guilty knowledge of a conspiracy to "bring in that person which they named King Richard, and Harry Percy out of Scotland, with a power of Scots."
Another very curious fact is alleged in this document, interesting in more points than one. It shows what a powerful engine in those days was the Confessional; and it proves also that, though Henry has been called the King of Priests, there were some of the sacred order in high station who were bent on his overthrow. Cambridge declares that both the Earl of March and his man Lusy had assured him that the Earl "was not shriven of a great while [had not attended the priests for the purposes of confession] without his confessors, on every occasion, putting him in penance to claim what they called his right." His confessors would not absolve him without imposing upon him, by way of penance, this condition, that he should claim his right to the crown.
LETTER OF CONFESSION FROM THE EARL OF CAMBRIDGE.
My most dreadful and sovereign liege Lord, like to your Highness to wit [please your Highness to know] touching the purpose cast against your high estate. Having the Earl of March, by his own assent, and by the assent of myself, whereof I most me repent of all worldly things; and by the accord of Lord Scrope and Sir Thomas Grey, to have had the aforesaid Earl in the land of Wales without your licence, taking upon him the sovereignty of this land, if yonder man's person, which they call King Richard, had not been alive, as I wot well that he is not alive;[113] for which point I put me wholly in your grace. And as for the form of a proclamation which should have been cried in the Earl's name as the heir to the crown of England against you, my liege Lord, called by untrue name Harry of Lancaster, usurper of England, to the intent to have made the more people to have drawn to him and from you; of the which cry Scrope knew not of as from me, but Grey did; having with the Earl a banner of the arms of England, having also the crown of Spain on a pallet, which, my liege Lord, is one of your weddys, for the which offence I put me wholly in your grace. And as for the purpose taken by Umfrevyle and Wederyngtoun for the bringing in of that person which they named King Richard, and Herry Percy, out of Scotland, with a power of Scots, and their power together seeming to them able to give you a battle, of the which intent Sir Thomas Grey wist of, but not Scrope as by me; of the which knowing I submit me wholly into your grace. And as for the taking of your castles in Wales, Davy Howell made me be host, so there were a stirring in the North; of the which point I put me wholly in your grace. And as touching the Earl of March and Lusy his man, they said me both, that the Earl was not shriven of a great while, but at all his confessors put him in penance to claim that they called his right, that would be that time that every iknew anything that ever to him longed.... [The MS. is here imperfect.] Of the which points and articles here before written, and of all other which now are not in my mind, but truly as often as any to my mind fallen I shall duly and truly certify you thereof; beseeching to you, my liege Lord, for His love that suffered passion on the Good Friday, so have ye compassion on me, your liege man; and if any of these persons, whose names are contained in this bill, holden contrary the substance of that I have written at this time, I shall be ready with the might of God to make it good, as ye, my liege Lord, will award me.
LETTER OF THE EARL OF CAMBRIDGE, SUING FOR MERCY.
My most dreadful and sovereign liege Lord, I, Richard York, your humble subject and very liege man, beseech you of grace of all manner offenses which I have done or assented to in any kind, by stirring of other folk egging me thereto, wherein I wot well I han ill offended to your Highness; beseeching you at the reverence of God, that you like to take me into the hands of your merciful and piteous grace, thinking ye well of your great goodness. My liege Lord, my full trust is that ye will have consideration, though that my person be of no value, your high goodness, where God hath set you in so high estate to every liege man that to you longeth plenteously to give grace, that you like to accept this mine simple request for the love of Our Lady and the blissful Holy Ghost, to whom I pray that they might your heart induce to all pity and grace for their high goodness.
Henry having taken every precaution for the preservation of his people at home, as well against foreign designs as against disturbers of the peace within the realm, left Porchester Castle on the 7th of August, with the intention of superintending in person the embarkation of his troops. This seems to have occupied him to the 10th, when he went on board the "Royal Trinity," and immediately gave signal for the ships to join him from the different stations in which they were awaiting his command. The fleet consisted of about thirteen hundred vessels of very different sizes, varying from twenty to three hundred tons' burden. Probably, reckoning servants, attendants of every kind, as well as fighting men, this fleet transported to the shores of France not less than thirty thousand persons. Of these there were only about two thousand five hundred men-at-arms, four thousand horse-archers, four thousand foot-archers, and one thousand gunners, miners, masons, smiths, with others. The whole amount of fighting men, according to this calculation, does not exceed eleven thousand five hundred. The expedition sailed with a favourable wind on Sunday, August 11, 1415.[114]
Every document, probably, now known relative to this expedition, has been examined by Sir Harris Nicolas; and to his able digest of the facts relating to this part of Henry's proceedings the reader is referred for the more minute details.
From this time Henry's is the life rather of a general than of a King. His successive battles, and sieges, and victories throw but occasionally more or new light on his character; and it is not within the limits of these Memoirs to describe his military achievements, or to enter upon a detailed examination of his campaigns, except so far only as the events elucidate his character, or as a knowledge of them may be necessary for a fuller acquaintance with his life. Many circumstances of this kind occur between the day when he quitted his port of Southampton, and the hour which terminated his brief but eventful career on earth. The enemies of his fair fame cite some one or other of those transactions to prove him a mass of ambition, superstition, and cruelty. It will be the reader's part to decide for himself whether the facts in evidence bear out those charges, or whether a more equitable judgment would not rather pronounce him to be a man who, in the midst of a most exciting and distracting career, never forgot the principles of piety, justice, and mercy. To attest his valour we need summon no evidence; though even in that point, which the universal voice of Europe had pronounced to be unassailable, his challenge to the Dauphin has been cited by one author as an act that must tarnish his character. The justness of the reflection we shall weigh hereafter. Of licentiousness after his accession to the throne his enemies themselves have never ventured to whisper a suspicion.
As Henry's fleet was leaving his native shores, two incidents are said to have occurred of opposite omen, such as in those days of superstition were wont to exercise powerful influence over the minds of men far removed from the lowest ranks of the people. Swans were seen swimming gaily and fearlessly around the ships, as if hailing them on their own watery element; and their appearance was noted as a happy and encouraging auspice. On the other hand, a fire broke out in one of the large ships before Henry sailed, which did considerable damage among the vessels, not without loss of many lives; and this was deemed an omen of such dire portent, that many of the King's followers would have dissuaded him from persevering in his expedition.
Henry's was a pious, but not a religiously timid or superstitious mind; and, unaffected by this incident, or the entreaties of his friends, he proceeded on his voyage forthwith, and on Friday, August 13, at five o'clock in the afternoon, he entered the mouth of the Seine, and anchored at a place called Clef de Caus,[115] between Honfleur and Harfleur, three miles from the latter town. He landed his forces without opposition; and, on coming on shore himself, he knelt down, and prayed to Almighty God to prosper his just cause.[116]
Henry resolved on laying siege to Harfleur, the inhabitants of which seemed equally determined to resist him. The siege of Harfleur, which commenced on Sunday, August 18, is described with great minuteness by several writers. His brother, the Duke of Clarence, appears to have held the most prominent place among Henry's officers; and much praise is ascribed to him for his prowess and military talent. Every mode of attack and defence then reckoned among martial tactics was carried out on both sides.
In addition, however, to the wonted privations and hardships of a protracted siege, the English host was visited by a violent disease, which spread rapidly through every grade of the army, unsparingly thinning its ranks and carrying off its officers, and threatening annihilation to the whole body. Whilst this calamity was raging at its height, and making dreadful havoc among the soldiery, an incident is recorded to have taken place, to which the mind gladly turns from the din and turmoil of the siege, and the devastations of that fatal scourge; and though the scene is itself the chamber of death, we cannot but feel a melancholy satisfaction in contemplating it for a while. An ecclesiastic, who was present in the camp, and in attendance on his royal master, records the anecdote in the most casual manner,[117] without a word of admiration or remark to call our attention to it, as though he were relating a circumstance of no unusual occurrence, and such merely as those who knew his master might hear of without surprise; whilst few pages of history bear to any monarch more beautiful and affecting evidence of habitual kindness of heart, pure sympathy with a suffering fellow-creature, and devoted fulfilment of the dearest offices of friendship. Whilst Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Norwich, one of the victims of the dysentery, was lingering in the agonies of death, we find Henry in the midst of his besieging army, at the height of a very severe struggle, war and disease raging on every side,—not in a council of his officers, planning the operations of to-morrow,—nor on his couch, giving his body and mind repose from the fatigues and excitement of his opening campaign,—but we see him on his knees at the death-bed of a dying minister of religion, joining in the offices of the church so long as the waning spirit could partake of its consolations; and then not commissioning others, however faithful representatives they might have been, to act in his stead, but by his own hands soothing the sufferings of the dying prelate, and striving to make the struggle of his latter moments less bitter. Had Henry visited the tent of the good Bishop when he first knew of his malady, and charged any of his numerous retinue to pay especial attention to his wants and comforts, it would have been regarded, at such an hour of pressing emergence, as an act worthy of a Christian King. But Henry, who in no department of his public duties ever willingly deputed to others what he could personally attend to himself, carried the same principle into the exercise of the charities of private life; and has here left a pattern of Christian sympathy and lowliness of mind, of genuine philanthropy, and the sincere affection of true friendship, worthy of prince and peasant alike to imitate. Bishop Courtenay is said to have been among Henry's chosen friends, recommended to him by the singular qualities of his head and his heart. He was a person (we are told) endowed with intellectual and moral excellences of a very high character; and Henry knew how to appreciate the value, and cultivate the friendship, of such a man. Having enjoyed the satisfaction and benefit of his society in life, now, when he was on the point of quitting this world for ever, Henry never withdrew from his bed; but, watching him with tender anxiety till the ministers of religion had solemnized the last rite according to the prevailing practice of the church in those days, even then, "in his own person," he continued to supply the wants of sinking mortality, "with his own hands[118] wiping the chilled feet" of his dying friend. The manuscript proceeds to say, that, when life was extinct, with pious regard for his memory, Henry caused his body to be conveyed to England, and to be honourably buried among the royal corpses in Westminster.
Three days after this prelate's death, on Wednesday, September 18th, an agreement to surrender on the following Sunday was entered into; the inhabitants of the town pledging themselves by a most solemn oath to abide by the terms of the agreement. The ceremony on this occasion must have had a very imposing effect. The King's chaplain, Benedict Bishop of Bangor, in his pontifical dress, carried the consecrated Host to the walls of the town, preceded by thirty-two chaplains, each in full canonicals, and attended by as many esquires, one of whom bore a lighted taper before each priest. As soon as the parties were sworn on the elements, the townsmen were assured that they need fear no acts of wrong or violence, for the King wished rather to preserve than to destroy his own territory.
On Sunday, September 22, the town was surrendered with much solemn state into Henry's hands. At the appointed hour, Henry, being dressed in the robes of royalty, ascended a throne erected under a silk pavilion on the top of the hill opposite to the town. All his peers and great men were assembled around him. "Our King"[119] (says a writer who was probably an eye-witness) "sat in his estate as royal as did ever any King; and, as it is said, there never was a Christian King so royal, neither so lordly, sat in his seat as did he." From this seat to the town a passage was formed by the English soldiers, through which the late governor, Sir Lionel Braquemont, the Lord de Gaucourt, and others, with the Host borne before them, attended by those who had sworn to observe the treaty, and by thirty-four of the chief inhabitants, passed to Henry's presence, "who forgave them their injustice in keeping his own town from him; and, having hospitably entertained them, dismissed them courteously." Thus fell into Henry's hand one of the most important towns of Normandy, after a siege of about thirty-six days, during which the zeal and valour of the assailants and the besieged were equally displayed.[120]
On the following day Henry entered the town, dismounting at the gate, and walking barefoot to St. Martin's church, in which he gave solemn thanks to God for his success. He then commanded all the women and children, and the disabled, to be separated from those who had sworn allegiance to him, as well as from those who, having refused that oath, were regarded as prisoners. The persons thus separated were next day sent out of the town, to the number of nearly two thousand, loudly lamenting their fate. They were escorted by the English; and all persons belonging to the church, and the women and children, had a present of five sous for their journey, and were permitted to dress themselves in their best apparel, and carry each a moderate bundle with them. It was forbidden to search the priests, and also the heads or the bosoms of the women. At St. Aubon, about four miles from Harfleur, they were entreated to refresh themselves with bread and cheese and wine; at Lislebone the Marshal Boucicault received them, and they were forwarded by water to Rouen. At Henry's invitation, many tradesmen and others came over from England, and became inhabitants of Harfleur; the King, with the desire of strengthening the place, having guaranteed, by a proclamation through England, a house of inheritance to all who would settle there.
About this time Henry sent a message to the Dauphin, challenging him to single combat, and so to decide the dreadful struggle in which the two kingdoms were engaged, without the further effusion of blood. Occasion has been taken to reflect on this act of Henry's, as a stain both on his personal valour and on his principles of justice: the first, because he was twenty-seven years old, and the Dauphin not twenty; the latter, because it were unjust "to expect that so important a stake should be hazarded on the result of such a meeting." To enhance Henry's guilt of cowardice, we are told that he challenged "a mere youth, of whose prowess or bodily strength there is not the slightest evidence, and who died in the December following." This is not the first time we have had occasion to remark on this same writer's injustice towards Henry's memory. Why mention the Dauphin's death in the following December, except to insinuate that Henry knew he was then in a weak state of bodily health? Of this, however, there is not the shadow of reason for suspecting Henry. On the contrary, the evidence tends to the directly opposite conclusion. The Dauphin died on the 25th December following; but so sudden was his decease, that a suspicion was excited of his having been poisoned. He had for a long time been actively engaged in heading one of the contending parties in France, and he is reported to have been a bold and presumptuous prince.[121] And, even a month after the battle of Agincourt, we find him, apparently in full strength both of body and mind, exercising the authority of the King, his father, in Paris; vigorously and effectually resisting the entrance of the Duke of Burgundy, who marched with his army direct to the gates of that city, determined to force for himself an entrance into it. And, on his father's relapsing into his malady, he vigorously seized the government, setting the Duke of Orleans at defiance, and carrying off the King, his father, ill as he was, to the siege of Arras.[122] Whether the difference of age between these two young warriors is so great as to justify such strong reflections on Henry's courage, must be left to the judgment of impartial minds. But, when the Dauphin is called a mere youth, it must be borne in mind that he was considerably older than Henry was when he headed his father's troops in Wales, or fought so gallantly in the field of Shrewsbury.
But we must not let this charge, affecting Henry's valour and justice, be dismissed without observing that not only did Henry believe, but it was the universal belief of the age, that "trial by battle" was a proper way of ending a dispute, and one acceptable to God: one in which the justice of the quarrel decided, more than the strength or skill of the combatants. We have proved that there could have been no grounds for Henry's supposing that he was sending a challenge to a youth enervated by sickness; and the difference of age alleged now, at length, in disparagement of Henry's valour, would have been scouted by all the good knights of Christendom, had it been pleaded as an apology for the Dauphin declining the challenge. Surely it indicates a conviction that the points in which the character of a man, famed for bravery and justice, is assailable, are few and unimportant, when such frivolous attacks as this are made on his fair fame.