HENRY V.
1413–1422.

The position of Henry V. on coming to the throne contrasts sharply with that of his predecessor. Henry IV., with disputed title, and in the midst of excited passions of faction, in which he had himself taken a prominent share, had to work out for himself the establishment of his dynasty and the restoration of political order. His son entered into the fruits of his labour. He had but to continue his father’s policy. The dynasty seemed secure, the apparatus of government was in good working order, and the new King, already practised in the work of government, brought with him that popularity which brilliant qualities, a handsome person, and the vigour of youth, are sure to secure. The painstaking prudence of the late King, overshadowed as it was by his ill-health and gloomy character, was forgotten, and the hopes of the nation were fixed upon the fortunate youth whose faults as yet had been but those which are easily pardoned as the natural wildness incident to his age.

The young King seemed to please himself with the idea that his peaceful accession was to complete the healing of faction in the country, and to begin a period of glory and happiness. He made but few changes in the ministry of his father, but both Thomas Arundel, the Archbishop, and Sir William Gascoigne were removed from their offices. It is possible that they may have been the advisers of the late King during that period when he was at enmity with his son. Already, before his coronation, of their own free will the nobles did him homage; and his Parliament granted him without difficulty the tax on wool for four years. To complete the general harmony, he published an amnesty, dismissed many political prisoners, and the greater part of his Scottish captives, and entered into negotiations for the liberty of the Scotch King. He even went so far as to reinstate both the Earl of March, the real claimant to the throne, and Henry Percy, son of Hotspur, his father’s persistent enemy, in their property and position. The body of Richard II. was removed from Langley, and honourably interred in Westminster. The past was, as it were, to be forgotten, and Henry would rule as the popular and accepted King of all parties.

In the midst of this show of security and peace there were, however, visible signs that his father’s work was not yet completed. The royal favour shown to the Church and to the orthodox party during the last reign, and the persecution which had fallen upon heresy, had not by any means destroyed the Lollards. The same policy had still to be pursued. The religious, it might be called the bigoted, tendency of the house of Lancaster was very strong in the young King. He had been one of the chief petitioners against heresy in 1406, and had shared in and superintended some of the religious executions; especially is mentioned that of John Badby, in 1410. The Prince had interrupted this man’s execution, and attempted the conversion of the half-burnt sufferer; finding him firm, however, he allowed the execution to be completed. This tendency induced him to enter into close alliance with the Church, and throughout his reign to adopt the language of religious enthusiasm, pretending to regard himself as the appointed instrument of God’s vengeance on the sins of the French. He thus became the willing agent of the clergy in completing their persecution of the sectarians, and listened readily to the exaggerated reports for which the conduct of the Lollards afforded some ground. The head of this party was now Sir John Oldcastle, who sat as a Peer in right of his wife under the title of Lord Cobham. His castle of Cowling, in Kent, afforded shelter to their persecuted teachers, while his high character and old friendship with the King made his influence important. The Archbishop determined to attack this man, at first pretending that he desired his conversion only. He placed in Henry’s hands an heretical book which had been found in an illuminator’s shop, and which belonged to Oldcastle. Henry tried first of all to argue with Oldcastle (who, however, denied having read the book), but could not convert him. The duties of friendship being now fulfilled, the Church was allowed to take the matter in hand. The heretic appeared several times before his judges, but firmly refused to depart from his points, that the Pope was Antichrist, and that in the Lord’s Supper, though the body of Christ might be present, yet the bread was bread. This firmness produced the only possible result, and he was condemned to be burnt; but in the interval allowed him before the completion of his sentence, he managed to escape.[86]

The attack upon their chief roused the Lollards, and they are said to have entered into a general conspiracy for surprising and mastering the King and his brothers at Eltham, during the festivities of Christmas. Henry had early news of a meeting which was to be held on the 7th of January 1414, in St. Giles’ Fields. It is quite unproved how far the intentions of the conspirators really reached. Henry, with the Church behind him, was ready to believe anything. He feared, perhaps, an insurrection similar to Wat Tyler’s. Causing, therefore, the gates of the city to be closed, he spread armed men round the place of meeting, and as the Lollards approached, singly or in small bodies, they were seized. The news that the King’s forces were abroad soon spread, and prevented any great number from falling into his hands. A jury was hastily summoned to declare that Oldcastle had treasonable plans, and a price was set on his head. The same jury then proceeded to try the thirty-nine prisoners, all of whom were either hanged or burnt. This event was followed by a still stricter proscription of heretical preachers and books. Chicheley, who succeeded Arundel as Archbishop this year, followed in his predecessor’s steps, and a statute was passed by which all judges and municipal authorities were bidden to apprehend and try Lollards, while conviction of heresy entailed confiscation of goods.

Henry prided himself on having won his first victory in the cause of the Church; but his naturally ambitious character led him to desire triumphs of another kind. It seems indeed as if a strange combination of motives impelled him to take the false step which gave the character to his reign, and plunged the country into a lengthy and ultimately disastrous war with France. His father is said to have urged him, with mistaken worldly wisdom, to withdraw the minds of his subjects from dangerous topics by filling them with thoughts of military glory. The Church, frightened by the suggestions of confiscation in the last reign, urged him to pursue the same course. The natural but mistaken admiration for military glory induced him to listen readily to their advice, while the wickedness and misery exhibited by the French nation at once afforded him an admirable opportunity, and may have suggested to his fanatical mind, that it was his duty to punish such vice, and to reduce such turbulence into order. Experience proved, as it often has proved, the mistake, nay, the wickedness, of averting domestic dangers by the wanton pursuit of warlike success. Meanwhile, at first, and during the whole of this King’s short life, the step seemed perfectly successful. The reign, as a period of English history, is almost devoid of interest. The attention of the nation was centred in a French war.

Since the Duke of Clarence had secured Guienne the state of France had become only more deplorable. The Treaty of Auxerre produced no real union between the factions. There was a certain show of national action under the pressure of a threatened invasion from England; the King and the Great Council of France sat in Paris; the States General were summoned, and under the influence of the University certain reforms introduced. But the death of Henry IV. prevented for the time all danger of invasion; and the cause of union being removed, the factions again separated. The Duke de Guienne, the French King’s eldest son, and representative of the crown during his father’s fits of madness, was devoted to the wildest licentiousness, and disliked his gloomy father-in-law, John of Burgundy. He began to intrigue for the restoration of the Orleanist Princes. The ruffianly populace of Paris, headed by the guild of butchers, and led by Caboche, a skinner, were devotedly attached to the Burgundians. A fierce and murderous uproar arose; but its violence was such, that the better class of citizens were aroused, expelled the Cabochiens, who fled to the Duke of Burgundy, and readmitted the Armagnacs, as the Orleanists were now called. The counter-revolution was complete, the Armagnacs got possession of the government, attacked the Burgundian Duke, and drove him before them, till they were checked at Arras. A temporary truce was then patched up; but the Duke of Guienne soon after contrived for a moment to banish both parties from the capital, and to establish a sort of national government.

It was at this time that Henry V. began to meddle in French affairs. Already, during the retreat to Arras, Burgundy had opened negotiations with him, and these, in his anger against the Duke of Guienne, he now pressed still more warmly. Meanwhile, Henry negotiated also with the central authority in Paris. By this double negotiation, which included a plan for the marriage of Henry, on the one hand, with Catherine of France, and on the other, with Catherine of Burgundy, Henry made Burgundy neutral, while he pressed claims on the unfortunate French monarch of so outrageous a description, that he must have intended by securing their rejection to give himself a plausible ground for war. His first demand was nothing less than the cession of the whole French monarchy. When this was refused, his ambassadors restricted their demand to all the countries ceded to Edward III. by the Peace of Brétigny, as well as Normandy, the coast of Picardy, Anjou, Maine and Touraine, the suzerainty of Brittany and Flanders, 1,600,000 crowns, as the residue of King John’s ransom, with the hand of the Princess Catherine, and a dowry of 2,000,000 crowns. The Duke of Berri, the King’s uncle, was at that time the chief member of the government. He naturally refused Henry’s enormous demands, but offered all the districts of Aquitaine to the south of the Charente, and 600,000 crowns as dowry for the Princess.

All this while, Henry continued his preparations, raised troops, borrowed ships from Holland and Zeeland, and summoned in April a great council of Peers.[87] He there declared his intention of seeking his rights in France, appointed his brother John, Duke of Bedford, Lieutenant of the kingdom, and fixed the conditions of the contracts which he made with nobles for supplying him with soldiers.[88] He arranged also the manner in which the spoil was to be divided, and other details for the supply of the army. The devotion of the Church was to supply him with the means of meeting these vast expenses. Archbishop Chicheley and the Churchmen, fearing, no doubt, the democratic tendencies of the Commons, were willing to make some sacrifice. They agreed that no foreigners should hold benefices, and thus allowed the King to use the incomes of all the priories of the foreign orders of the kingdom to the number of 122. The proceeds of this transaction, increased by loans from foreigners, the pawning of his jewels, and the pledging of the tax on wool, supplied him with finances. An embassy from France, with still larger offers, including Limousin, and a dowry of 800,000 crowns, produced no improvement in the relations between the two countries.

Before Charles VI. could reply to the despatch of his ambassador, announcing the rejection of these terms, on the 3rd of August, the English army, of about 6000 men-at-arms and 24,000 archers, was already embarked. On the 14th of August it landed at the mouth of the Seine, where Havre de Grace now is. No steps were taken to prevent the disembarkation. The kingdom was in a state of fearful misery and disorder. The conduct of the war was given to the Armagnacs, Charles d’Albret was appointed constable; the Duke of Burgundy therefore held aloof, and the English had, in fact, only one half of the country against them.

An event had occurred before the English embarkation which, by proving to the King that his position was not so secure as he thought, may have made him still more determined in his present course. He was engaged at Southampton preparing his expedition, when a conspiracy was discovered, in which the King’s cousin Richard, brother of the Duke of York, and lately created Earl of Cambridge, and one of his most trusted counsellors, Henry Scrope of Masham, were implicated. They were accused of an intention to take Edmund, Earl of March, with them into Wales, to crown him there, and declare him rightful King, if Richard were really dead. They had also summoned from Scotland Thomas of Trumpington, the false Richard. The Earl of Cambridge had married Ann of Mortimer, the sister of the Earl of March. We have here the beginning of that close union between the supporters of the legitimate line and the House of York, which again appears in the Wars of the Roses. Cambridge and Scrope were both executed.

The first place to be attacked was Harfleur; it was bravely defended by the garrison under the Sire d’Estouteville. The inhabitants were told by the Court to take courage and trust to the King, but no help was sent them, though 14,000 or 15,000 men were within reach. On the 22nd of September they were compelled to capitulate. The conquered town was treated as Calais had been; the wealthier inhabitants were put to ransom, the goods seized, the people given their choice of leaving the city or becoming English. But this success had been hardly earned, the losses both by sickness and in fighting had been great. A large number of invalids had to be sent back to England. With little more than half his army Henry could venture no further into France. He determined to march along the coast to Calais. The strictest discipline was maintained in the little band, and the King strove to foster in it a religious and enthusiastic spirit; pillage was punished with death; rations only were demanded from the inhabitants.

Henry had intended to cross the Somme at Blanchetaque, where Edward III. had passed it. False information was brought him that the ford was guarded. In reality, the feudal army was as yet only collecting near Abbeville, around the standard of the Constable d’Albret, a man but little fitted for his post. Had Henry passed at once he might have reached Calais without a great battle; as it was, he was compelled to follow the river upwards, and time was afforded to the French to collect their forces, and seek their own destruction in a pitched battle. Henry sought a ford across the river for a long time in vain. He passed Amiens, and had got within a league of Ham, in a very dangerous position among the strong fortresses of Ham, St. Quentin and Péronne, when at length a ford was discovered near Béthancourt. The Constable, who was at Péronne, might have destroyed him in the passage. He let him pass unmolested. Following feudal fashion, he sent to ask Henry to name a day and place for the battle; but whatever external chivalry may have been visible in Henry, his military character was that of a hard, practical, modern soldier. He answered that there was no need to name day or place, as he was always to be found in the open fields. For four days the armies followed almost parallel lines of march, the French making no use of their superiority in numbers to disturb the quiet advance of the English, although they spread nightly among the villages for shelter. At length the Constable, with singular want of prudence, took up his position a little to the north of Hesdin and Cressy, on a small confined plain, where his large army, of at least 50,000 fighting men, was jammed in between two woods. This force consisted almost entirely of nobles and their feudal followers, who in their foolish pride of class had rejected the assistance of the infantry of the towns. The ground was arable land, and the soil deep and heavy, so that the heavy armed French in their splendid harness sank deep at every step, while the English, clad mostly in leather jerkins, and many of them barefoot, moved with comparative ease. The night, we are told, was passed in riot by the French; in sober preparation or religious exercise by the English.

The French drew themselves up in three massive lines or battles; the two first dismounted and fought on foot, for which their heavy armour but little fitted them; the third line retained their horses, as did two small wings intended to crush the archers. The state of the soil obliged them to adopt a defensive method of fighting quite contrary to their habits. The English advanced upon them—the archers in front, the heavy-armed infantry behind, the mixed archers and infantry on the flanks. They are described as having a miserable, ragged appearance after their weary march, as contrasted with the splendour of the French. Henry rode among them, cheering them with the memories of bygone victories. He had previously ordered every archer to supply himself with a stake sharpened at each end, which he was to plant before him, and thus make a moveable palisade. At eleven o’clock, after a brief and useless parley between the armies, Sir Thomas Erpingham, the English Marshal of the Host, tossed up his baton with the cry “Now strike,” and the battle began. The English advanced a few steps, expecting a charge from the enemy, but the hostile ranks remained immoveable; they were, in fact, planted knee-deep in the mud, and afforded a fine aim for the English archers, who did not spare them. At length, putting their heads down to avoid as much as possible the fatal arrows, the first line came heavily on, and the mounted wings began to close round the English; but the stakes of the archers served them in good stead. Of the horses, a large proportion tripped and fell in the rough ploughed land; not one in ten of their riders, we are told, came hand to hand with the archers. Unsupported and almost immoveable, the infantry broke. The archers seeing their plight, issued from between their stakes, threw down bow and arrow, seized their axes and maces, and fell headlong upon them. “It seemed,” says the chronicler, “as though they were hammering upon anvils.” The men-at-arms fell beneath the furious charge, and were smothered by their own companions as they fell over them. The same fate awaited the second line. The English men-at-arms had come up to support the archers, and the battle was fiercer, and for a time more equal. Certain of the French knights, under the Duke of Alençon, swore to take the life of Henry, and did their best to keep their oath. One of them cleft in two the golden crown on the helmet worn by Henry, and Alençon killed his cousin, the Duke of York, at his side. It was in vain; the English steadily advanced; the defeat of the first line, the rush of the fugitives, disordered and confused the cavalry, and they turned and fled. The English were already masters of the field, when news was brought that a fresh enemy was in their rear, and flames were seen arising from the village of Maisoncelle behind them. Henry, afraid of this new attack, and of a rally of the fugitives, gave the terrible order that all the prisoners should be killed. When his troops hesitated, he told off 200 archers to do the work; and already very many had been killed in cold blood, when the discovery that the alarm was a false one induced Henry to revoke his order. Of the 10,000 Frenchmen who died 8000 were of noble blood; among them were the Dukes of Alençon, Brabant, and Bar, the Constable d’Albret, and all the chief officers of the army. The Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, the Counts of Vendôme and Richemont, and Marshal Boucicaut, with 15,000 knights, remained prisoners. Besides the Duke of York and the Earl of Oxford, the English had lost 1600 men. The King, with his triumphant army, at once proceeded to Calais, and thence to England. He attributed his wonderful success to Heaven, whose instrument he was in punishing the crimes in France. “Never,” said he to the Duke of Orleans, “was greater disorganization or licentiousness, or greater sins, or worse vices than reign in France now. It is pitiful even to hear the story of them, and a horror for the listeners. No wonder if God is enraged at it.”

The destruction of princes and feudal nobles at Agincourt seems to have annihilated the Armagnac party. The hatred of the Dauphin for the Duke of Burgundy prevented the unity which such an event might have produced. He summoned Bernard of Armagnac from the south of France, where he then was, and gave himself completely into his hands, making him Constable, Governor-General of the finances, and Captain of all the fortresses of France.

The party of the Constable, which had once been that of most of the princes of the royal blood, consisted now of adventurers, pledged to continue a civil war, to which they owed their importance. The real governors of France and Paris were the Gascon noble D’Armagnac and the Breton Tannegui Duchâtel. Their tyranny was of the bitterest description; their hired men-at-arms did all the harm an undisciplined soldiery can do; the people were taxed, in the midst of bitter famine, to the last farthing; their bloody tyranny induced them to forbid bathing in the Seine, lest the bathers should find there the corpses of their victims. The sole virtue of the party was that they continued the war with England, while Burgundy renewed his treaty with that nation. The Constable’s efforts were not successful. An attempt to regain Harfleur was defeated by the Duke of Bedford. But Henry for the present was content to stand on the defensive. The Parliament, in its enthusiasm at his great success, had granted him large subsidies, and the tax on wool for life; and he was spending his time in recruiting the strength of his army, and in giving a magnificent reception to Sigismund, King of the Romans.

That Prince had succeeded in re-establishing the obsolete supremacy of the head of the Roman Empire. This he had done by the activity and success with which he collected a general council of the Church at Constance. His object at the council was to heal the great schism, which since 1378 had divided the Church. On the death of Gregory XI., who had brought back the Papacy to Rome, after its seventy years’ servitude to the French at Avignon, a double election took place, and the world was divided between Urbanists, who owned Urban VI., the Roman Pontiff, and the Clementines, who acknowledged Clement VII. of Avignon. Each Pope had his successors, and an attempted compromise at Pisa in 1409 had produced a third Pope. The three claimants to the honour were now Gregory XII. at Rome, Benedict XIII. at Avignon, John XXIII. at Pisa. The new council declared itself superior to all Popes, and proceeded to secure the dismissal or resignation of these three prelates. It also undertook to suppress the Wicliffite heresy, which had spread to Bohemia. Its efforts in this direction led to the condemnation and burning of John Huss and Jerome of Prague. The negotiations with Pope Benedict, who was acknowledged in Spain, were intrusted to Sigismund, who thus not unreasonably thought himself the arbiter of Europe, and determined to add to his ecclesiastical successes the healing of the war between France and England. For this purpose he passed through Paris, but met with indifferent success, and then betook himself to England. With Henry, as suppresser of heresy and champion of the Church, he had much in common, and he soon laid aside his position of arbiter to become an English partisan.[89] One incident of his visit is interesting, as marking both his position and the determined independence of the English. While in Paris he was present at a trial, and one party to the dispute seemed on the point of losing his case because he was not of knightly rank. Sigismund immediately knighted him. This interference was not pleasant to the French, and gave rise to the idea that the Emperor was claiming universal supremacy. On his approach to England, therefore, one of the King’s brothers and some other lords rode out into the water by the side of the ship, and there made him solemnly assert that he came as a friend, and claimed no jurisdiction in England.

Sigismund’s efforts at procuring peace had been thwarted in Paris by the determination of D’Armagnac, whose position had become apparently more assured than ever. One after the other, Charles VI.’s two elder sons died, and his third son, Charles, who had been brought up by the Armagnac party, was now Dauphin. Besides the Constable, there was no one but his mother who had influence over him. That influence Bernard was determined to destroy. The avaricious character and licentiousness of the Queen afforded easy opportunity. He drove her into privacy at Tours, and seized her money. Henceforward she hated the Dauphin heartily, and was ready to do anything to injure him. Thus, when Burgundy approached Paris with an army, he was suddenly summoned to rescue the Queen from her captivity, and France became still more distinctly divided into the party of the Dauphin and the party of the Queen. Still further to complete the separation, and to give a shadow of legitimacy to their action, the Queen and Burgundy established a counter-Parliament at Amiens, and a rival Great Council of France. The civil war went on increasing in atrocity, and D’Armagnac was too hard pressed to interfere with Henry, who, on August 14th, landed at Honfleur for his second invasion, and proceeded to master Normandy. With Flanders, Artois and Picardy on the one hand rendered neutral by the friendship of Burgundy, and Brittany on the other under a truce with him, he could act at his ease. Caen, Bayeux, L’Aigle, were captured one after the other, and the next year, with four divisions spreading from Artois to Brittany, he pushed southward, conquering all the strong towns as he went. He was not a merciful conqueror. He exacted to the full the rights of war. Most of the towns were treated as Harfleur had been, but in nearly every case a certain number of the citizens were beheaded under the title of rebels.

It was impossible for the French parties, savage as they were, to look on calmly at the English successes; a great attempt at reconciliation was made, but again the obstinacy of the Constable brought it to nothing. The idea of the cessation of the civil war had filled the Parisians with hope. The failure of that hope was more than they could bear. The keys of the gates were secured, and L’Ile-Adam, who commanded one of the garrisons which the Burgundians had pushed close to Paris, was admitted within the walls. The people rose in thousands upon their hated tyrants. Tannegui Duchâtel succeeded in saving the young Dauphin, and retired with him to Melun. Meanwhile, the prisons were crowded with captive Armagnacs, and a few days afterwards the passions of the extreme Burgundian partisans broke loose. The Cabochiens, who had lived as exiles in Burgundy, and returned with the Duke, again made their appearance. A fearful massacre took place at all the prisons; among the number slain was the Constable himself. From this time onward, the Armagnacs were spoken of as the Dauphinois; their leading spirit was Duchâtel, who followed closely in the footsteps of the late D’Armagnac. He would hear of no peace with Burgundy.

Yet that peace was terribly wanted, for Henry had now laid siege to Rouen, the capital of Normandy. The defence was in the highest degree gallant. Promises were given by Burgundy that help should be sent, but none came. At length a part of the garrison determined to cut their way through. When a portion of them had already crossed the bridge, it broke with the remainder, and the attempt had to be given up. Men charged Guy Bouteiller, the governor, and not unreasonably, with treacherously sawing the supports. At length all hope, unless succour arrived, was gone. Every eatable thing had been devoured. Hundreds of useless mouths had been driven without the walls, and not being allowed to pass the English lines, lay starving in the ditches. The extent of charity the garrison could afford to show, was to draw the new-born babes up the walls in baskets, to have them baptized, and then return them to their mothers to starve. Driven to extremities, the garrison sent deputies demanding assistance from the King, and threatening if it did not come to become his fiercest enemies. They were bidden to wait till the fourth day after Christmas. In spite of their miserable plight, they resolved to wait the fortnight that was left. On that day there arrived, not assistance, but a message from the Duke of Burgundy to make what terms they could with the King of England. They asked what those terms would be. He bade them surrender at discretion. But they knew his character too well to trust to his mercy, and resolved to fire the town and make their way out as they could. This threat brought Henry to reason, and for a ransom of 300,000 crowns he gave them the same sort of terms as he usually did. Seven men were excepted from pardon; of these all but one were ransomed. That one, Alain Blanchart, the King, ever unable to appreciate bravery in an enemy, caused to be beheaded.

At length it seemed as though the French factions had come to an understanding; the cry of the whole nation was too strong to resist. A truce was made between the parties for three months, and the Duke of Burgundy, with the Queen and the King, who had been in their custody since the recapture of Paris, met Henry at Meulan, and attempted to come to terms. But Henry still demanded more than it was possible to grant. Burgundy therefore withdrew in anger, and at Pouilli-le-Fort held a personal meeting with the Dauphin, and apparently came to terms with him. The show of friendship was only hollow. Shortly after, at the instigation of Duchâtel, a second meeting was demanded at Montereau sur Yonne. It was nothing but an ambush. The meeting was to be held on the bridge, and barricades were to keep back all but ten partisans of either side; but no sooner was the Duke with two followers within the barrier than Tannegui Duchâtel shut the door on that side, while from the other end the Dauphinois crowded in. The Duke was there murdered, and of his following one man alone escaped.

The effect of this murder was instantaneous. The son of Jean sans peur, Philip, Count of Charolais, at once put himself at the head of his party, and forgetting everything but revenge, opened negotiations with the English. On October 17th, the plenipotentiaries met at Arras, and the preliminaries of the treaty were drawn up; by which Henry was to marry Catherine of France, and to be recognised as heir after the death of the reigning king. Meanwhile he was to have the administration of the country. All the exchange asked was, that he would make no peace with the Dauphin, and join in carrying on war with that Prince. These preliminaries were to be ratified by the King, the Queen, and States General. The King’s imbecility prevented any opposition from him, and the Queen was only too glad of an opportunity of disinheriting her son; she calculated that at least her daughter Catherine, whom she loved dearly, would enjoy the crown. An unexpected consequence followed this treaty, which was completed at Troyes. This was the resurrection of the party of the Dauphin, which henceforward became the national party. Henry was at once called upon to give vigorous assistance, and found occupation for all his army at the siege of Melun, which was defended with extreme courage. But in December he found an opportunity of making a triumphal entry into Paris, where his stern and haughty manner, and “his words which cut like razors,” won him but little favour; and thence he passed to England to meet a magnificent reception with his wife.

He there heard bad news. One of the signs of the renewed activity of his enemies had been a treaty with Castile, and the employment of the Castilian fleet. Already, in the preceding year, the Spanish fleet had defeated the English, and then proceeding to Scotland, had returned with a reinforcement of some 4000 men under the Earl of Buchan and Lord Stewart of Darnley. Strengthened with these troops, the Dauphin’s party had attacked the English in the west. Clarence, the King’s brother, who had been left in charge of the kingdom, advanced to meet them. The armies encountered at Beaugé in Anjou, and there, forgetting the national tactics, and neglecting the use of the archers, they suffered a complete defeat, in which the King’s brother was killed. It was the first reverse the English arms had met with, and Henry well understood the moral effect it might have. He hastened at once to France, and leaving alone for the present the disaffection which was showing itself in Picardy, went direct to Paris to re-establish his prestige. Thence he marched to the attack of Meaux, whence an Armagnac garrison was pillaging the country to the very gates of Paris. It was under the command of the Bastard of Vaurus, a savage soldier, who delighted to hang his prisoners by dozens on the branches of a large elm outside his town. The bravery of his defence equalled his barbarity. It was not without the greatest efforts that the town and castle, called the Marché, were reduced.

Meanwhile the war had broken out again in Burgundy, and Henry was summoned to the support of his allies at the siege of Cosne. He would not send help, he said, but would come at the head of his whole army. The boast was a vain one. His army, indeed, set out under the command of the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Warwick, but the King’s health, which had been failing for the last two years, quite broke down, and the generals were hastily recalled to be present at the deathbed of their sovereign, who died on the 31st of August 1422. Conscious of his approaching end, he had made dispositions to meet it; he had laid special stress on the continuation of the treaty with Burgundy; had begged Bedford never to make peace under less advantageous terms than the entire cession of Normandy; had intrusted the regency of France to the same brother should the Duke of Burgundy decline it; put England into the hands of Gloucester; and intrusted the education of his infant son to Warwick. He then died amid all those signs of religious enthusiasm which had marked his life, declaring that he had intended to lead a crusade to Jerusalem, and covering all remorse, which his cruel war might well have excited, by the thought that he had acted with the approbation of those most holy men the English bishops. Stern, haughty, an unpitying soldier, he had yet by his exhibition of firm justice and love of order gained the admiration and respect, if not the love, of his new subjects; and Englishmen forgot his reactionary policy, and misjudged the want of wisdom in his foreign undertakings, amid the enthusiasm his successful career excited. Very shortly after his conqueror, the old King Charles VI. also died, and his son Charles became the representative of the French monarchy. He caused himself to be at once crowned at Poitiers; but the English failed to recognise his title, and spoke of him as the Dauphin.