not choose to return to England after taking only one town; he determined to march through Normandy and Picardy to Calais. He had to pass the river Somme, but on the other side of this river was the great French army, which tried to hinder his crossing. At last, however, the English got over, and the two armies confronted each other. The French army was quite six times as large as the English, and it included crowds of those proud, foolish, wicked princes and nobles who made their country so miserable. The English found the country through which they marched was almost a desert, and before they met the enemy they were half starved and in a most wretched plight. 1415. Battle of Agincourt. 20. The great battle of Agincourt has been grandly described by Shakespeare. He gives us the picture of the night before the fight the French were full of boasting and vainglorious confidence; they were so sure of the victory, and of taking Henry prisoner, that they had sent to him beforehand about fixing his ransom. And the princes and lords were longing for morning, that they might fall on the poor, sick, starving English. "Alas! poor Harry of England," says one of them, "he longs not for the dawning as we do." "The poor condemned English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires The morning's danger; and their gesture sad, So many horrid ghosts." The English army had not nearly so many lords and princes as the French; but it had a great many of those stout English archers of whom we have heard so often. The French nobles despised them, and would hardly admit any of the lower ranks into their own hosts; they said France should be defended by gentlemen only. 21. The great French army was crowded up between two thick woods, and among newly-ploughed fields; it was autumn-time, and the ground was soaking and muddy. We can imagine how the heavy-armed men and heavy-armed horses would struggle and flounder about. The English archers, on their own active feet, and lightly clad, were as nimble as deer. Each of them, beside his good bow, had an axe or a mace, and, moreover, a sharp stake tipped with iron, which he was to plant in the ground before him. It was like Crecy over again. As the proud French knights who scorned the English archers came riding up, the arrows flew among them like hail; they could not get to close quarters with the archers because of the palisade of sharp stakes. The poor horses sank knee-deep in the soft ground. At last the archers, flinging aside their bows, sprang out from behind the palisade, and began to ply their battle-axes, and with such force that an old chronicler says "it seemed as though they were hammering on anvils." 22. It need hardly be said that King Henry fought like a lion. When he had ridden among his men to cheer them up before the battle he had worn above his helmet a golden crown glittering with jewels. One of the French princes with a great blow shattered the crown, but the good helmet sheltered his headthe very helmet which we may still see above his tomb in Westminster Abbey, dinted with the sword-marks of that French prince. The French nobles fought bravely too, but their bravery was of no avail; there was no discipline, no rule; they were all too proud to obey orders, and they were slain in crowds. 23. Towards the end of the fight, when the English were making a great many prisoners, a terrible mistake occurred. A loud noise was heard in the rear of the French, and those who were retreating seemed to be rallying again. Henry supposed that great reinforcements had arrived, and gave orders that all the prisoners should be put to death; "for which act," says Baker, "though done in cold blood, yet the king could not justly be taxed with cruelty, seeing the number of prisoners was more than his own soldiers, and nothing could give assurance of safety but their slaughter." It was soon found, however, that the noise was only caused by some peasants coming to plunder, and Henry at once put an end to the massacre. 24. Thus this great battle was won; it was a splendid victory, and raised the fame and spirit of the English higher than ever, though no other great result followed from it. Henry, with his grave, religious spirit, gave all the glory to God, and forbade any one of his army to boast of their brave deeds, or take that praise from God which is His only." 25. The slaughter of the French nobility and gentry in this fight was terrible. Besides many royal princes and great noblemen, nearly 8000 men of gentle blood were killed. Many others, among them the Duke of Orleans, were made prisoners. Henry was kind and courteous to the duke; he went himself to console him and bid him be of good cheer, saying, "If God has given me grace to win this victory, I acknowledge that it is through no merit of my own;" but he added, "I believe that God has willed that the French should be punished, and if what I have heard be true, no wonder at it; for they tell me that never were seen such a disorder, such a license of wickedness, such debauchery, such bad vices as now reign in France. It is pitiful and horrible to hear it all; and, certes, the wrath of the Lord must have been awakened." 26. After gaining this grand victory Henry was obliged to return to England, for he was in want both of men and money. The English people welcomed him with proud exultation; when his ship arrived at Dover they rushed into the sea to meet their hero, and carried him to the shore on their shoulders. At every town on the road they poured out in thousands to see him and do him honour. He did not pass Canterbury without visiting Becket's shrine, and making offerings there. When he arrived at Blackheath half London came forth to meet him, headed by the lords and commons, the clergy, the mayor, and the aldermen. Never was there such triumph and joy. But he still gave all the glory to God, " "Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride.' And a grand service was held in Westminster Abbey to render thanks for the victory. West minster 27. The beautiful abbey which Henry III. had begun was not finished yet. Indeed, for the last hundred years it had scarcely been touched; but Henry V. loved it, and in the midst of all his wars and campaigns he found time to care for it. He gave orders that the works should go on, and in his days the stately nave, as we now see it, was nearly finished. no other than Richard Whittington, "Lord Mayor of London town." Abbey. The architect was 1417. Conquest of Normandy. 28. Though Henry had gained the battle of Agincourt, he was still as far as ever from being king of France. It was not long before he invaded the country again, and resolutely began the conquest of Normandy. He tried to make the Normans remember how nearly he and they were related, and that he and his nobles were descended from Norman forefathers; he talked to them about the old fierce Northmen, who were the ancestors of both. But it was not of much use. The Northmen in England were Englishmen now, and the Northmen in France, Frenchmen. They were enemies, not friends. Every part of Normandy that he conquered Henry treated very well; indeed, they had not been so peaceable and so safe for a long time, but still they could not bear to be governed by a foreigner. 1418. Siege of Rouen. 29. After taking a great many places in Normandy, Henry at last besieged its capital, Rouen, a very large and beautiful city, which made a valorous defence. The French held out obstinately, till they were almost starving, and Henry would most likely never have succeeded, had it not been for the terrible dissensions and civil wars of the French nation itself. The armies that ought to have come to the relief of Rouen were employed in fighting one another, and at last Henry gained possession of the city, but not till the garrison had eaten their horses and dogs, and many thousands had died of hunger and disease. 30. When the French found that Rouen was lost, and the whole of Normandy in the power of the English, it seemed as if the quarrels and discords among themselves must cease, and they would all join heart and soul against the invaders. There was some attempt at making peace with the English, and Henry again demanded the hand of the French princess, but it came to nothing as yet. The Duke of Burgundy, who had hitherto somewhat favoured England, now appeared to forsake the English cause, and made a kind of peace with the dauphin, but it was only a hollow peace. The wicked and treacherous dauphin contrived to get the Duke of Burgundy into his power. They had agreed to meet in the middle of a bridge at Montereau, between strong barricades, and each of them attended by only ten men. The dauphin and his followers had sworn the most solemn oaths that they meant everything fair and honourable, and that no evil should befall the duke. Nevertheless, no sooner was he within the empty space, and shut off from the rest of his people, than one of the dauphin's men struck him a deadly blow with an axe; the rest then set on him and murdered him, killing some and imprisoning others of his ten men. 31. This horrible murder put an end to the hopes of France. The murdered duke's son, who succeeded to all his father's great titles, power, and possessions, cast off all thought of peace with the dauphin, took part with Henry and the English at once, and there was no one left to resist. The poor insane king, who had intervals of reason sometimes, and the queen were much under the influence of the Duke of Burgundy; besides which, the queen hated her son, the dauphin, and loved her daughter Katherine, 1420. Treaty of Troyes. the princess whom Henry wished to marry. Now, therefore, a peace was really made, which is called the Treaty of Troyes. The fair young princess was given to Henry at last, and they were married in one of the beautiful churches of that city. Henry was declared Regent of France as long as the king lived, and when he died then Henry was to be what he had claimed all along, King of France in his stead. 32. Now he once more returned to England, with the beautiful wife whom he had won by his side. Once more he was received with enthusiastic joy and triumph. The new queen was crowned in Westminster Abbey, and by and bye a son was born to him, who was to inherit all his glories. One can hardly fancy a prouder position. The splendid young warrior, so noble, so famous, beloved and honoured King of England, soon to be King of France also, and, as he hoped, to restore order, religion, and peace to that fair but unhappy country; with a wife whom he loved, and a son to bear his name. He was but thirty-three years old; and now, all unexpectedly, the end came. 1422. Death of Henry. 33. He had returned to France, where there was still fighting and resistance, for it could not be supposed that the dauphin was going to sit down quietly under the loss of his kingdom. It was a very hot summer. Henry was leading his army to support his allies in Burgundy, when he was seized with sudden illness, and knew he was to die. He died as bravely as he had lived, and as piously. He gave the best advice to his brothers and counsellors, comforted them with kind and calm words, and charged them to be faithful to his wife and child. Sobbing and weeping, they promised all he asked. Then he desired the seven penitential Psalms to be read to him. When the reader came to the words in the fifty-first Psalm, "Build thou the walls of Jerusalem," Henry stopped him and said that he had always intended to go on a Crusade and restore the Holy City, when once he had established peace and good order in France (as his father had also intended). Soon after he exclaimed, "My part is with my Lord Jesus Christ." "Into Thy hands I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed it ;" and so died. 34. After his death three great cities vied with each other for the glory of his burial-Paris, Rouen, and Westminster. But everybody knew how he had loved Westminster Abbey, and it was decided that he should be buried there. It was the grandest funeral that had ever been known, King James of Scotland, |