Battles of English History

On the English side king Henry fought like the meanest soldier, with his own hand saving the life of his young brother Humphrey. His helmet still hangs in Westminster Abbey, with more than one dent from a sword-stroke, doubtless received in the great battle. The list of English slain is preposterously small; just thirteen men-at-arms, though among them was included the duke of York, last surviving grandson of Edward III., and about a hundred others. One need realise very fully the conditions of the battle, the absurd mismanagement of the French leaders, and the helplessness of their masses, not to multiply tenfold the numbers given, which nevertheless are authentic.

An illustration of the imminence of the danger from which the English escaped, is furnished by the fact that during the action the baggage was plundered by French stragglers. As the army left Harfleur without a waggon, with nothing but what could be carried on horses or by the soldiers themselves, there cannot have been much: but the king lost some articles of plate and jewellery for his own personal use, including the seals of his chancery, which however were most of them recovered afterwards through the instrumentality of a French noble who had been taken prisoner in Harfleur. Henry's crown he wore fixed on his helmet, and a portion of it was cut away in the battle.

Henry V. was too wise to imagine that his small force, even after victory, could achieve great things. He returned in triumph to England, leaving the French factions to tear the country to pieces. In 1417 he landed again in Normandy, and set to work systematically to conquer that province, which was left to defend itself, while the princes pursued the much more interesting employment of quarrelling with each other. After capturing Rouen, and organising the government so thoroughly that Normandy remained in English hands for thirty years, Henry marched on Paris. In face of this pressing danger the French factions began to negotiate, and an interview was arranged on the bridge of Montereau: but the Armagnacs seized the opportunity treacherously to murder the duke of Burgundy in the presence of the Dauphin. Naturally his son at once went over to Henry's side. The Dauphin was entirely in the hands of the Armagnacs, who were as incapable as they were base. In Paris, which was always inclined to the Burgundian side, the feeling spread that Henry of England, especially if he married a French princess as he proposed to do, would be better than the Dauphin. In a few months the treaty of Troyes was agreed to, by which Henry was to be regent during the lifetime of Charles VI., and succeed to the throne on his death, on condition of his marrying the princess Catharine. Unfortunately Henry died two years later, just before Charles VI. The infant Henry VI. was proclaimed king of both countries, and his uncle Bedford ruled vigorously in his name. The death of Charles VI. however made the Dauphin no longer a quasi-rebel, but the legitimate king: and the national feeling of France declared for him. Roughly speaking, the English ruled all north of the Loire, thanks to the Burgundian alliance; the south more or less ruled itself, for Charles VII. was indolent and unwarlike. His cause was not without support in the north, while his Scottish allies were there, but two bloody defeats at Crevant and Verneuil inflicted enormous loss on the Scots. In the latter battle the archers played a very conspicuous part: we find some of the archers, left to guard the horses and baggage while the men-at-arms fought on foot, beating off unaided the body of French horse which had been sent round to attack the English rear. Though no more fighting on a large scale took place, it was not till 1428 that Bedford saw his way to the definite forward step of besieging Orleans.

This city is usually spoken of as being of paramount importance, the "key of the south"; it is assumed that its capture would have been equivalent to the final overthrow of Charles VII. A glance at the map will show that, although the possession of Orleans would have been an undoubted advantage to the English, it would have only been one step towards the conquest of the southern half of France. It might with more justice be asserted that until Orleans was taken, the English were far from secure in their hold on the north. However this may be, the siege of Orleans did in fact witness the first English failure. One of the most remarkable characters in history appeared quite suddenly on the scene, and turned the scale against them.

Orleans stands on the north bank of the Loire, with a long bridge connecting it with the south bank. At the time of the siege the inhabitants destroyed the suburb on the south bank, retaining only a fort commanding the bridge-head, called the Tournelles, which they covered with a boulevard.36 The English under the earl of Salisbury began the siege on October 12, 1428. Their camp was pitched on the south of the Loire, and the first operation was to construct a little fort on the ruins of the Augustin convent, whence their cannon were directed mainly at the Tournelles. A mine was run from thence under the boulevard in front of the Tournelles. For some mysterious reason the English did not wait to fire the mine, but assaulted the boulevard, and were repulsed. This waste of life might well have been spared, for the French not only abandoned the outwork, but, the Tournelles being injured by the cannonade, evacuated that also after offering almost nominal resistance to an assault. The French broke down an arch of the bridge next to the Tournelles, and proceeded to construct a new boulevard on a small islet near the south bank of the Loire, over which the bridge passed. So far the siege had progressed successfully and rapidly: but on October 27 Salisbury was mortally wounded by a cannon-shot from the city, while reconnoitring from the top of the Tournelles. The death of so experienced a soldier was a great blow to the besiegers: but his successor Suffolk carried on the work with energy. Bringing the army over to the right bank, he left Sir William Glansdale in command of the Tournelles and the other forts on the left bank. His purpose was to complete the investment by a series of small forts all round the city; but the weather delayed his operations, and it was not till the end of the year that the city was actually invested. Even then it was not impossible to run the gauntlet of the forts, or to steal into the city by the river: scarcity however began to be severely felt. In February 1429 a relieving force, attempting to destroy a convoy of provisions on its way to the English camp, was totally routed on the "Day of the Herrings," so called because a large part of the provisions consisted of salt herrings (Lent was just beginning). Sir John Fastolfe, who commanded, and who had a force partly English, partly French of the Burgundian party, had time to form his waggons in square,37 within which extemporised fort his men stood on the defensive, the English archers guarding one of the issues, the French spearmen the other. The attack was begun by a body of picked men who had come out of Orleans, and who had cannon with them. Obviously Fastolfe's defence could not long have been maintained against even the inefficient cannonading of that age: but the vanguard of the relieving army came up in time to save the day to the English. Throwing themselves from their horses, in obedience to the unreasoning superstition which had cost the French so dear on greater fields, they rushed at Fastolfe's lager. The Scots were shot down by the archers, the Gascons impaled themselves on the spears: when the rout was complete, the little English army issuing from behind their waggons slaughtered as they pleased. Such a disaster was calculated to drive the men of Orleans to despair. As a last chance they offered their city to the duke of Burgundy, who naturally would much have liked such an addition to his dominions: as naturally, the English would not listen to the proposal for a moment. One of the regent's council said in the duke's presence that the English were not made to chew morsels for the duke of Burgundy to swallow. Bedford himself put the same point with less vulgarity, but equal force, saying that he was not going to beat the bushes, for some one else to catch the birds. Burgundy had no answer to make: he was not yet prepared to break with the English, though this disappointment helped no doubt to increase the growing coolness between him and Bedford. Orleans had no prospect before it but starvation or surrender, when its doom was averted by a miracle.

The deliverer who appeared at this critical moment was Jeanne d'Arc, a peasant girl from Lorraine. Her imagination had been deeply impressed by the miseries of the war: for years she had heard voices, as she called them, telling her that she was to save France, and gradually becoming more frequent and more specific in their commands. At length her profound enthusiasm made such an impression on her neighbours that she was able to make her way to the young king, to whom she announced herself as sent by God to deliver France, and conduct him to Rheims for his coronation. Charles was naturally inclined to be incredulous, but she convinced him of her good faith, and won so great an influence over courtiers and soldiers alike, as to put down for the time the prevalent profligacy and irreligion. We are told that the roughest of the French soldiers of fortune, notorious for bad language, accustomed himself, to please the Maid, to swearing only par mon bâton.

The immediate and pressing business was to save Orleans. Clad in armour, Jeanne accompanied a force which obeyed her inspiration, though it could hardly be said to have been under her orders, to convey provisions from Tours. In her simple faith she wished to attack the besiegers in the most direct way; but the leaders, thinking it safer to set about their difficult task in the fashion most likely to succeed, brought her opposite Orleans on the south side of the Loire. She was indignant at the deception, but the incident only served to increase her influence. The intention was to send the provisions into Orleans by large boats, which were to be sent up the river to a convenient spot, and run the gauntlet of the besiegers back again, under cover of an attack from the relieving force. The wind however blew down stream, and the boats could not move against both wind and current. Jeanne however confidently declared that the wind would change, as it in fact did, and she herself entered Orleans. Nothing was so far gained but the immediate relief of urgent need: but in this case the first step was emphatically everything. The French were roused to confident enthusiasm by the belief that the Maid was their divinely-appointed deliverer, the English were correspondingly depressed. The consciousness of superiority, that mysterious but very real feeling which often plays a great part in war, changed sides. "Before the Maid arrived," said Dunois, one of the bravest of the French leaders, "200 English would put to flight, in a skirmish, 800 or 1000 of the king's army: after she came, 200 French engaged all the strength of the English, and forced them to shut themselves up in their forts." This was an exaggeration, but no more. One by one the English bastides were assailed, and fell into the hands of the French. Sometimes the defence was but feeble, sometimes it was for the time successful. The truth was that the English superiority was due to their tactics in the field, for which there was obviously no place in the attack and defence of fortifications, not to greater courage, except so far as repeated defeats had cowed the French and led them to expect failure. Jeanne d'Arc had changed all that: her own perfect courage, and calm conviction that she was under the guidance of Heaven, roused her excitable countrymen to irresistible enthusiasm. At length came the turn of the Tournelles: the relieving army, with the Maid at their head, assaulted the boulevard which protected the little fort on the south. The English defended themselves desperately, and for three hours kept the enemy at bay. Jeanne was wounded by an arrow, and this caused such general discouragement that the leaders of the French were on the point of retreating. The Maid herself however had not lost heart; "See," she cried suddenly, "my banner touches the wall, the place is yours," and returned to the assault. Roused to madness by her example, the French renewed the conflict, some of them shouting that they could see St. Michael in the air beckoning them on, others that they saw the white dove of the Holy Spirit alight on the Maid's standard. Some of the garrison of Orleans pushed planks across the broken arch of the bridge, and took the Tournelles in rear. The boulevard was carried, and as Glansdale the commander was retiring into the Tournelles, a cannon-ball broke the bridge of communication, and he was drowned in the ditch. With his death all resistance ceased: the relics of the garrison of the Tournelles were taken prisoners. The besiegers, seeing that the game was finally lost, abandoned the siege.

Apart from the personal interest awakened by the first exploits of Jeanne d'Arc, who is a character unique in history, the siege of Orleans has some military interest. In it we see the mediæval and the modern38 conditions of a siege more or less combined. Cannon are employed on both sides, and at first with some effect; the English capture of the Tournelles is due to the damage done by their fire: Salisbury could have been killed from the town by no other means. The bastides erected by the besiegers are in mediæval style, belonging to a state of things when walled towns had to be starved out: it does not seem to have been regarded as possible to batter Orleans itself. The boulevard of the Tournelles on the other hand is modern, an outwork formed expressly for the use of cannon. The hand-to-hand fighting of the assaults is of all ages, down to very recent times. Whether, in face of all the engines of destruction that can now be brought into play, a storm like that of the Tournelles, or even like that of Badajos, will ever be possible again, is another question.

The failure of the siege of Orleans marks the beginning of the decline of English power in France. Jeanne d'Arc is reasonably called a saint and a heroine: her career, brief and ultimately disastrous as it was, had a great immediate effect in stimulating French patriotism generally, and especially in rousing Charles VII. to a sense of his duty. But it is entirely a mistake to rank her first and greatest exploit as an event of supreme importance.39 One may see any day on the sea-shore the tide at its height lapping round the base of a bit of rock which it never entirely covers: but one does not therefore suppose that the rock caused the turn of the tide. The nominal submission of France to Henry V. at the treaty of Troyes had been due to France being divided against herself, to one party being so bitter against the other as to be willing to league with the foreigner. The superiority of Henry, and of his brother the regent Bedford, to any of their immediate opponents, was most marked; the excellence of the English soldiers and tactics gave them every advantage. Yet even so they could not conquer France. Such a state of things could not last; competent soldiers, rulers who were not slaves of faction, were sure to emerge sooner or later. The duke of Burgundy had only to change sides, which as a matter of fact he did out of personal grudge against Bedford, to weight the scale heavily. The ultimate failure of the English attempt to conquer France was inevitable: whether the process of expelling them should be long or short must needs depend on the amount of capacity shown on each side.

The superstitious awe inspired by Jeanne d'Arc did not last long; in that age all the world was ready to believe in her having supernatural powers, but these might as easily be diabolical as divine. Naturally the French regarded her at first as divinely inspired; and her piety, honesty, and perfect simplicity, which were conspicuous to them, might well have roused a more lasting enthusiasm. The English as naturally regarded her as a witch, and put her to a cruel death as such when she fell into their hands. The victory of Patay, won by the French during the period of her influence, was due mainly to the English commander being attacked before he had time to form his line, though to Jeanne may doubtless be ascribed the unusual promptness of the French in attacking. The Maid fulfilled her word, and had Charles VII. crowned in Rheims: but otherwise the war dragged on indecisively till the regent Bedford died, just when the duke of Burgundy had found it worth his while to go over to the French side. Thenceforward the English had no competent head in France: the government at home was weak and torn by dissensions, which led to the claims of the duke of York. Nevertheless the war lasted nearly twenty years longer, steadily tending in one direction, but marked by only one notable event. This was the battle of Formigny in 1451, which was the final blow to the English power in Normandy. Formigny was lost because the English leaders applied the tactics which had won Crecy and Agincourt under conditions to which they were not applicable. They took up a defensive position, and stood to await attack, when their business was to force their way onwards. The French had a couple of cannon, and the English broke their lines to try and seize them. They nearly succeeded, but the result was that the two armies engaged in a hand-to-hand conflict, in which the archers could not use their bows. Another French force coming up and falling on the rear of the English completed their destruction: of the 5000 men engaged, 3700 were counted dead on the field.

That England gained anything by the Hundred Years' War, except military repute, no one would dream of affirming: even that was evanescent, for gunpowder presently drove the bow out of use. France gained, at a frightful cost of suffering, her national coherence, but she gained it in the disastrous form of a monarchy virtually absolute. The war almost destroyed the feudal nobility, and left nothing strong but the crown. What might have been the history of France if she had not gone through this fiery trial, if the nobles had remained petty princes as in Germany, can hardly be conjectured; the Hundred Years' War fixed the destiny of France for her. The political lessons of the war are glaringly obvious. A nation in the modern sense is indefinitely stronger than a feudal kingdom: conquest of a people that chooses to resist persistently and with judgment is impossible. The military lessons are equally clear: discipline will counterbalance almost any odds: the chief means of tactical success lies in the skilful combination of different arms.

CHAPTER VII

THE WARS OF THE ROSES

The Wars of the Roses were in more ways than one the outcome of the great French war. Formally they were an appeal to arms to decide a disputed succession to the crown: substantially they were a revolt against a weak and discredited government, of whose incompetence the unsuccessful conduct of the war in France had been the most conspicuous evidence. Henry VI., or those who bore rule in his name, had neither the sagacity to make peace and save some portion of the French territory at the price of abandoning claim to the whole, nor the energy to carry on the conflict vigorously. The absurdly scanty numbers of the English troops in France during the last fifteen or twenty years of the war testify alike to the feebleness of the government at home, and to the respect which English military skill and prowess inspired abroad. The marriage of Henry VI. was arranged in the hope of propping up his failing cause in France. And the personality of Margaret of Anjou is on the whole the most important in the Wars of the Roses. On the one hand her energy and daring alone sustained the cause of Lancaster, which without her would have collapsed; on the other hand her extreme unpopularity helped the cause of York. The accident that she was eight years a wife before becoming a mother contributed to the same end. The duke of York had so long been in the position of next in succession to the crown,40 that when a direct heir was born to Henry VI. the disappointed partisans of York began to say that in strict hereditary right he ought to take precedence of the boy. They could not bear to see the predominance of the hated French queen assured, and her offspring barring for ever the hopes of their leader and themselves. This was perfectly natural under the circumstances, but it does not therefore follow that the claim of York was sound. Those disaffected to an actual king naturally look for a rival claimant, the support of whom may serve to disguise rebellion. There can be no doubt that, on the principles of succession now legally established, the next heir to Richard II. was the young earl of March, or that his claim passed eventually to the duke of York. On the other hand it is equally certain that in the fifteenth century there was no established law of succession, and that the substitution of Henry of Lancaster for his cousin was in accordance with the traditional rule of election. If Henry V. had lived to old age, nothing would ever have been heard of the pretensions of the house of York. Those pretensions were in accordance with the legitimist ideas which were then gaining ground elsewhere, as the natural corollary of absolutism, but which have never been really accepted in England except by Jacobite fanatics.

When the war at length broke out, ample material for the armies was supplied by the soldiers whose occupation in France was gone, by the overplus of a population not industrially prospering, and most of all by the personal following of the nobles. Though on the whole the cause of York was favoured by the towns, by the merchants, by the most prosperous and civilised elements of the nation, while the backward regions of the north and west supported Lancaster, yet the differences were not deep enough to affect the conduct of the war. Both sides were equipped and fought after the same fashion; both used cannon more or less; both knew the deadly effect of the cloth-yard arrow, and therefore sought to come to close quarters; both fought with the obstinacy of their race, and often with the special fury which civil war is apt to engender. Hence there is much similarity between the battles, and not much interest, in spite of the remarkable vicissitudes of fortune, except in the three great battles won by Edward IV. in person. To what extent Edward deserves the credit of Towton, the first and greatest of them, cannot be determined; he had the co-operation of the earl of Warwick, and he was still very young. Barnet and Tewkesbury were clearly his own.

Late in 1460, as the result of a Yorkist victory at Northampton, a compromise was arranged by which Henry VI. was to retain the crown for his life, and Richard duke of York was recognised as his successor. Queen Margaret, however, would not surrender the rights of her son without a struggle: the nobles of the north rose in arms again, and the duke of York was obliged to march against them. On December 30 he was defeated and slain at Wakefield; his second son, and his brother-in-law the earl of Salisbury, Warwick's father, perished with him. The victory cost the Lancastrians dear: the barbarity of decapitating York's dead body, and placing the head, crowned in mockery with a paper diadem, over the gate of York, strengthened the feeling of hatred and contempt for the north-countrymen, as little better than savages, already growing in the south. Moreover, York, who had displayed no particular capacity, was replaced by his son Edward, who, with all his faults, proved the best soldier of the war. Warwick also, who was an abler man than his father, and who already held the great inheritance of the Beauchamps through marriage with the heiress, succeeded to his father's wide domains, and so concentrated in his own hands by far the greatest independent power ever possessed by an English subject. Margaret advanced southwards, won a battle at St. Albans, but found London unassailable, and was obliged to return to Yorkshire, her soldiers plundering and destroying on the way in a manner ruinous to her cause. Meanwhile the young duke of York, after crushing the Lancastrians of the Welsh border at Mortimer's Cross, had reached London, and had been proclaimed king as Edward IV. Without delay he and Warwick marched northwards to bring the contest to a decisive issue, and fought on Palm Sunday 1461 the greatest battle, in respect of the numbers engaged, ever fought on English soil.41