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Henry V’s greatest victory (and it wasn't at the battle of Agincourt)
Henry V is best known as the brilliant warrior who won the day at Agincourt. But he was also a master diplomat, says Anne Curry, and he proved as much in the city of Troyes 600 years ago, when he was declared heir to the French throne
In Troyes on 21 May 1420, Charles VI, king of France, did something truly remarkable: he recognised the English claim to his throne. Acknowledging King Henry V as his rightful heir was nothing short of a humiliation for Charles’s nation. The ‘Hundred Years’ War’ appeared to be over. The English – personified by their young, vigorous king, Henry V – stood triumphant. At least for now. To appreciate the significance of this moment, it pays to take a closer look at what happened at Troyes six centuries ago. For more than 80 years, the rulers of England had waged war with the Valois kings of France, claiming that they had a stronger right to the French crown. Over the intervening decades, both sides’ fortunes had ebbed and flowed. Now, five years after Henry had led his first English invasion of France, there appeared to be an outright winner. By sealing the Treaty of Troyes, King Charles was not only acknowledging Henry as his rightful successor but also Henry’s heirs. In other words, the two crowns were to be, for all time to come, ruled by the same king – the king of England. The treaty had swept aside the claim to the French throne of not only the Dauphin (or heir apparent) Charles, the son of Charles VI, but also of all the other male members of the Valois royal house. Worse still for the French, Henry V was to be regent while awaiting his accession to the French throne because, since 1392, Charles VI had suffered repeated mental crises. To cement this remarkable settlement Henry married Charles’s daughter, Catherine, in Troyes on 2 June. She was crowned at Westminster Abbey on 23 February 1421, and in the following banquet, table decorations proudly proclaimed: “Through this fine marriage, war will cease.” Read more: A wayward prince? King Henry V’s misspent youth So how had Henry pulled off the coup of persuading, or forcing, the French to accept the English as rightful kings of France? For William Shakespeare, there was a simple explanation: Agincourt. In his 1599 play Henry V, Shakespeare draws a direct link between Henry's most famous victory, secured in October 1415, and his diplomatic triumph at Troyes. Henry was indeed one of England’s great military leaders. But if the years between Agincourt and the Treaty of Troyes teach us anything, it is that Henry was so much more than a brilliant soldier. He was also a talented diplomat and a ruthless opportunist. In short, he was a brilliant leader in peace as well as war, and those qualities yielded extraordinary results at Troyes. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2019/02/53032-1132486-scaled.jpg" width="2246" height="2560" alt="Hands in marriage: As part of the negotiations at Troyes, Henry V secured himself a wife: Catherine, daughter of King Charles VI of France. Here a 15th-century miniature shows the couple marrying in 1420. (Photo by Bridgeman)" title="Hands in marriage: As part of the negotiations at Troyes, Henry V secured himself a wife: Catherine, daughter of King Charles VI of France. Here a 15th-century miniature shows the couple marrying in 1420. (Photo by Bridgeman)" /> It’s important to remember that Henry was also helped by fatal vendettas within France in the early years of the 15th century, which seriously compromised attempts to fight off English invasions. At the heart of French divisions lay a bloody rivalry between two factions battling for control of the mentally ill king: the Armagnacs, who initially rallied behind Charles VI’s younger brother, Louis, Duke of Orléans, and the Burgundians. Tensions had been rising for years, but they exploded in November 1407 when John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy ordered the assassination of Louis. Civil war followed and soon both sides were appealing to the English for military support. Henry V’s decision to go to war in France in 1415 was surely motivated by an ambition to exploit the chaos engulfing his opponents. A bitter siege But Shakespeare was right in emphasising the longer term effect of Agincourt. Henry’s victory in 1415 made the French reluctant to face him in battle again. As a result, there was no major check to the campaign of systematic conquest that Henry began in Normandy on 1 August 1417. By the summer of 1418, almost all of Lower Normandy was under English control. The Norman capital, Rouen, proved a more difficult nut to crack, as a bitter six-month siege reveals. But once Rouen had accepted English rule in January 1419, much of Upper Normandy surrendered to Henry without resistance. Read more: 9 medieval battles more significant than Agincourt All the while, Henry showed skill in winning the hearts and minds of his new subjects by fanning their pride in Norman identity and separatism, reviving folk memories of the old Anglo-Norman ducal past. He also ensured strong military control within his newly conquered duchy, and encouraged both his administrators and soldiers through grants of land within it – a Norman Conquest in reverse, so to speak. In the face of this determined English advance, French divisions grew wider still until in late spring 1418 they reached a new nadir with a Burgundian attack on Paris. Not only did the Burgundians seize control of the capital, they also murdered Armagnac leader Bernard d’Armagnac and forced his successor as Armagnac leader, the Dauphin Charles, into flight. As for the king, he fell under the control of the Duke of Burgundy and was moved to Troyes for his ‘safety’. Once Henry V had taken Rouen, the Duke of Burgundy was willing to negotiate with the English. Henry too was keen to come to a settlement to consolidate his success. At the subsequent meeting at Meulan in June 1419, where Henry first set eyes on Catherine, the two sides came close to agreeing terms: the restoration to Henry of lands in south-west France granted to Edward III in the Treaty of Brétigny (1360), plus Normandy, and Henry’s marriage to Catherine with a large dowry. Yet this settlement was never enacted. At the last minute, the Duke of Burgundy and the Dauphin chose to work towards a joint endeavour against Henry. The English king decided to continue his advance towards Paris. But a meeting of the duke and Dauphin on a bridge at Montereau on 10 September 1419 destroyed all hope of unity, for it was here that henchmen of the Dauphin assassinated Duke John – an act of revenge for the Burgundian assassinations of Duke Louis of Orléans and Bernard d’Armagnac. A century later, in 1521 a Carthusian monk, showing King Francis I of France the damaged skull of Duke John, exclaimed: “My lord, that is the hole through which the English entered France.” He had a point: the Anglo-Burgundian negotiations that followed the murder at Montereau led to the terms that were sealed at Troyes on 21 May 1420. A kingdom divided The French civil war was preventing any effective resistance against the English, and Henry took advantage of the situation almost immediately, encouraged by the anxieties of the pro-Burgundian council in Paris, which was fearful of pending English attack. On 27 September 1419, English envoys presented a schedule that emphasised Henry’s claim to the French crown and which included several clauses later to be embodied in the treaty, including a marriage to Catherine – this time without the need for the French to offer a dowry. The Parisian council was amazed at Henry’s demands since they were so different from those he had put forward at Meulan only a few months earlier. But the English ambassadors explained that “things were now completely different” – by which they meant the English were now in a more powerful position. Henry then issued an ultimatum, giving notice to the new Duke of Burgundy, Philip, that his terms had to be accepted or he would not be responsible for the consequences. Philip agreed in principle to Henry’s proposals, seeing them as a way of gaining revenge for his father’s death, and on Christmas Day he formally recognised Henry as heir to the French throne. One chronicler observed that Henry “was delighted to have an alliance with the duke since he knew that it was through him that he could achieve a marriage with Catherine, which was very agreeable to him”. Through a combination of Burgundian and English persuasion, King Charles and Queen Isabeau also gave their assent. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2019/02/TWN80K_bigger-07edafd-scaled.jpg" width="2560" height="2132" alt="Battle for power: A 15th-century miniature of the battle of Agincourt. Over the following four years, Henry V would exploit this victory brilliantly, boxing the French into a diplomatic corner from which they couldn't escape. (Photo by Alamy)" title="Battle for power: A 15th-century miniature of the battle of Agincourt. Over the following four years, Henry V would exploit this victory brilliantly, boxing the French into a diplomatic corner from which they couldn't escape. (Photo by Alamy)" /> In the spring of 1420, an assembly of nobles, churchmen and town representatives at Troyes was told why Henry’s terms should be accepted: “First because Henry himself was wise, and a lover of God, peace and justice; he had true concern for the division and the parlous state of the kingdom of France caused by the Dauphin and his party; furthermore, the Dauphin had broken his solemn agreement with Duke John and was no longer worthy of any dignity or obedience.” The assembly declared the proposed treaty terms to be “most convenient, most profitable, and most necessary”. By 9 April the preliminaries of the treaty were agreed. All that remained was for Henry to come to Troyes for final discussions and ratifications, and for the public sealing of the treaty. Throughout the negotiations, Henry had shown himself a master of realpolitik. The salient element of the treaty was not simply that Charles VI had recognised Henry as heir to the French crown, but that Henry was willing for Charles to retain the throne until his death. While Henry had enjoyed much military success to date, he was all too aware that he was in no position to take the throne by conquest. By gaining the French king’s recognition, Henry reasoned that he was boosting his own credibility and therefore the chances of acceptance by the French people. He agreed that there would be no English ‘takeover’ of France, and that he would rule according to French practice. The king and queen would be respected and supported, and would remain in France. Intriguingly, Henry appears to have formulated the idea of such a delayed inheritance some years earlier. After the fall of Harfleur in September 1415 Henry had summoned the then Dauphin Louis to single combat. The winner, Henry suggested, should be acknowledged as the heir to Charles VI, but Louis never responded to the offer. By the time of the sealing of the treaty of Troyes, Charles VI was not expected to live for much longer. Henry would surely be king soon. Even as regent, he knew that he could rely on the support of the Burgundians in their search for revenge. Not surprisingly, the treaty included several clauses in their favour, as well as committing Henry to the destruction of their Armagnac enemy. Even so, Henry was aware of potential resistance within France to the terms of the treaty. As a result, the wider political community, as well as the main parties to the treaty, were required to pay public oaths to uphold the treaty, and to promise to obey Henry as heir and as king. What's more, Henry deemed it wise that there should be a formal summons to the Dauphin to face justice for the murder of Duke John, following proper French practice. After making a ceremonial entry together into Paris, deliberately timed for Advent Sunday, Charles VI and Henry held a lit de justice (a specific kind of court session). Hardly surprisingly, the Dauphin did not respond to the summons and was declared an outlaw. Triumph and death There were Frenchmen and women, even beyond the Armagnac group, who did not accept the validity of the treaty. For others, it offered a real hope of peace after many years of upheaval. As regent, Henry did not disappoint, both in his wise and sensitive government and in his successful military campaigns against the Dauphin’s supporters. Ironically, though, Henry’s end came through military actions. In 1422, just two years after sealing the treaty, he contracted dysentery – supposedly while besieging Meaux – and died on 31 August at the castle of Vincennes. He would never inherit the French throne despite his triumph in the Treaty of Troyes. Charles VI would follow him to the grave just two months later. And so it was that the infant Henry VI, born to Henry and Catherine on 6 December 1421, became the first king of the double monarchy of England and France. He was even crowned king in Paris, on 16 December 1431. At first it appeared that the Treaty of Troyes might continue to thrive despite the death of its formidable creator. John Duke of Bedford, regent in France for the young Henry VI, was a well-respected warrior. Paris remained particularly loyal to the treaty: soon after the death of Henry V, the leader of its mercantile community promised his successor that in return for aid against the Dauphinists harrying Paris, “We shall abide by what is right, and be ready to obey the commands and wishes of our sovereign lord.” It helped enormously that Duke Philip of Burgundy made clear at Henry V’s death that he stood fully by the Troyes settlement: “I am ready to commit myself and do everything necessary for the good of the kingdom of France and to maintain the treaty.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2019/02/shutterstock_editorial_6051054hl-709d02d-scaled.jpg" width="2560" height="2351" alt="Game-changer: An original copy of the treaty of Troyes. Had the treaty "succeeded into the longer term," writes Anne Curry, "the history of Europe might have turned out very differently." (Photo by Shutterstock)" title="Game-changer: An original copy of the treaty of Troyes. Had the treaty "succeeded into the longer term," writes Anne Curry, "the history of Europe might have turned out very differently." (Photo by Shutterstock)" /> The Dauphin only became a formidable opponent after he had himself crowned as king of France in the traditional crowning place of Reims in July 1429. That gave him credibility beyond his own supporters and a real chance of challenging the ‘English’ king of France. His achievement was down to the intervention of Joan of Arc, a key figure in lifting the siege of Orléans in May 1429 and as iconic in French history as Henry V is within the English national story. Faced with increasing opposition and the defection of the Burgundians to Charles VII in 1435, Henry VI’s regime in France crumbled. But that should not detract from what was agreed in Troyes in May 1420. Henry V was responsible for one of the most amazing treaties in history. Had it succeeded into the longer term, with the same king ruling England and France, the history of Europe might have turned out very differently indeed. The treaty proved ineffective once the English had lost most of their French lands in the early 1450s but it was not until 1801 that kings of Great Britain stopped calling themselves kings of France. While history remembers Henry V as a warmonger, he was also a peacemaker, and a skilled one at that – aiming to resolve centuries of conflict. His vision, as expressed in the treaty terms, was that “all divisions, hatred and rancours between England and France should cease and that the two realms should enjoy in perpetuity peace, tranquillity, affection, mutual agreement and firm friendship”. Henry may be most celebrated for what he achieved on the battlefield of Agincourt. But the treaty of Troyes was surely his greatest victory. Anne Curry is emeritus professor of medieval history at the University of Southampton. Her books include Henry V (Penguin Monarchs, 2015) LISTEN AGAIN: You can hear Matthew Parris and guests discuss Henry V in an episode of BBC Radio 4’s Great Lives This article was first published in the March 2020 edition of BBC History Magazine
10 things you (probably) didn’t know about Henry V and the battle of Agincourt
Henry V ruled England from 1413 until his death in 1422 and is one of England's most popular kings. Famed for his victory over the French at the 1415 battle of Agincourt, during the Hundred Years’ War with France, the king is remembered for his military abilities. Historian Teresa Cole shares 10 facts about the king, from his childhood as a hostage of Richard II to his battles as the young Prince of Wales…
Henry V (born c1386/7) ruled England from 1413 until his death in 1422. He is one of England's most popular kings, famed for his victory over the French at the 1415 battle of Agincourt, during the Hundred Years’ War with France. Henry V is remembered for his military abilities, and is the subject of a late 16th-century play written by William Shakespeare. Yet surprisingly little is known about Henry V. Was the king a good leader? And how did Henry V die? Teresa Cole explores the life and legacy of the medieval warrior king in her book, Henry V: The Life of the Warrior King & the Battle of Agincourt 1415. Here, writing for History Extra, she reveals 10 lesser-known facts about Henry V… Nobody knows when Henry V was born Henry V was born at Monmouth castle, perched high above the River Monnow, but there is no record of his birth, and even the year is uncertain. Some say his birthday was 9 August 1387, but an alternative date is 16 September 1386. The latter comes from a horoscope drawn up for the king and apparently commissioned by him just before the Agincourt campaign. However, the French astrologer who drew the horoscope was later accused in Paris of being an English spy, and it is possible the work was just an excuse for the man to come to England and meet with Henry. The king apparently showed no interest in the horoscope afterwards. “It’s hard to square Prince Hal’s pacifism with what we know about Henry V”: a historian’s review of The King A wayward prince? King Henry V’s misspent youth He was in Ireland with Richard II when his father seized the throne When his father, Henry Bolingbroke, seized the throne, the young Henry was in the custody of King Richard II as a hostage for his father’s good behaviour. Had it been a few centuries earlier he could have expected, at the least, to be blinded if not put to death. Richard, however, was made of different stuff. He had treated the boy well, spent time with him, took him with him on the expedition to Ireland, and even knighted him on the way. Even when he heard of the attack on his crown, he made no threats against him. What really happened at Agincourt? It seems that, in return, Henry saw Richard as something of a father figure. According to one account, when his own father – now secure in the palace of Westminster – sent for him, Henry went instead to Richard in the Tower, and only at his insistence went on to his father. When Henry himself became king he had Richard’s body exhumed from its obscure grave and reburied in Westminster Abbey. Listen | Historian and author Lauren Johnson discusses the history behind Netflix film The King, considering how closely it follows Shakespeare’s plays and the real events of Henry V’s life and reign His first battle was nearly his last Henry’s first battle [before he was king] was not against the French, but the English. At Shrewsbury on 21 July 1403 the 16-year-old Henry, Prince of Wales, lined up alongside his father to face the forces of the rebel lord, Henry Percy. At Shrewsbury Henry led his forces well, and made a major contribution to the victory. In the course of the battle, however, he was shot in the face by an arrow that entered below his eye, missed both brain and spinal cord and stuck in the bone at the back of the skull. To remove the embedded arrowhead, special tongs had to be designed, made and carefully inserted nearly six inches into the wound to grip and extract the metal. It took a further three weeks to cleanse and close up the hole – and all this in the days before anaesthetics. Henry V’s greatest victory (and it wasn't at the battle of Agincourt) He learnt his military tactics in Wales The tactics used by Henry V in his French wars were first tried out in Wales. At about the same time that he became Prince of Wales (aged 13), Owain Glyndwr began a violent rebellion against the English. The king’s policy of attack and withdraw was unsuccessful, and Glyndwr rapidly spread his influence from north Wales to almost the whole country. When, however, in his late teens, Henry was given a freer hand, he changed tactics. Now he concentrated on taking strategic castles which were then garrisoned and held securely, cutting off supply routes and enabling further advances. Gradually Glyndwr was forced back to two strongholds on the west coast – Aberystwyth and Harlech. Each was besieged and battered by traditional siege weapons, and, for what is thought to have been the first time in Britain, cannon were used. 7 facts about the Hundred Years’ War Eventually Glyndwr’s supporters were starved into submission, and though Glyndwr himself was never captured, the war was ended. A few years after this, using the same tactics, Henry conquered first Normandy, and then a large part of northern France. Legend has it his claim to France resulted from a Templar’s curse In 1307, Philippe IV of France seized the property of the wealthy Order of Knights Templar, and tortured and put to death its members. The story is told that, as the last Grand Master died, he laid a curse on Philippe and his descendants, saying the king would die within a year. Eight months later Philippe died in a hunting accident. Two years after that his son, Louis X died, aged 26, after a strenuous game of tennis. His son, John I, born five months later, lived only five days, and in the next 12 years the last direct male descendants of Philippe also died. The last Welsh Prince of Wales 9 medieval battles more significant than Agincourt Those closest in line to the empty throne were Jeanne, daughter of Louis and Jeanne of Navarre, and Edward III of England, whose mother was Philippe’s daughter. Navarre and England, however, were equally unacceptable, and Philippe de Valois, a cousin of the last king [Charles IV], was crowned instead. Edward challenged this, starting the so-called Hundred Years’ War, and it was his claim that was later revived by Henry V. Dick Whittington contributed to Henry’s wars A large slice of the money needed to pay for the French campaigns was raised by loans rather than taxes. In May 1415 Henry sent letters appealing for money to individuals, and to towns. Typically a town would decide on the amount of the loan, and then every citizen would be assessed to contribute even a few pennies to the sum agreed. Royal jewels, plate and regalia were handed out as security for repayment. Not only did this raise a large amount of money, but it meant almost everyone had an interest in the outcome of the French wars. Royal palaces of the Hundred Years’ War Behaving badly: Henry V's misspent youth One individual in London who lent money to Henry was Sir Richard Whittington, a rich cloth merchant who was indeed the same Dick Whittington as in the children’s story. He was lord mayor of London three times. ‘The Dauphin’ was three different people With the French king subject to fits of madness, his son the dauphin plays a prominent role in the accounts of Henry’s campaigns. The impression is often given that ‘the dauphin’, who, if Shakespeare is to be believed, insulted Henry with a gift of tennis balls [a sign of mockery], was the same ‘dauphin’ who would later be crowned Charles VII by Joan of Arc at Rheims cathedral. In fact there were three different dauphins over this period. The first was Louis of tennis ball fame, who, though kept away from the battle of Agincourt, died soon after, possibly of dysentery or pneumonia. Louis was followed by his brother John, who was the son-in-law of the Burgundian leader, John the Fearless. This dauphin died suddenly in April 1417, some said by poison, and he was succeeded by his last remaining brother, Charles, who after the death of Henry V, and with a great deal of help from his mother-in-law, Yolande of Aragon, finally became Charles VII in 1429. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/08/GettyImages-3365448-ac9d666.jpg" width="3378" height="2508" alt="25th August 1951: Richard Burton (1925 - 1984) as Henry V wooing Princess Katherine played by Hazel Penwarden after the victory at Agincourt. A scene from Henry V playing at Stratford. Original Publication: Picture Post - 5385 - Stratford's New Henry - pub. 1951 (Photo by Maurice Ambler/Picture Post/Getty Images)" title="Royal Love" /> A French commander told Henry how to win at Agincourt The French plan at Agincourt was to use massed cavalry to charge down the English archers. Henry V learnt of this from a French prisoner some days before the battle, and immediately took steps to counter it: every archer was to drive a sharpened stake into the ground in front of him on the battlefield to stop a charging horse. The plan worked very well but was probably not Henry’s own plan. The French commander, Marshal Boucicaut, had earlier fought against the Turks at the battle of Nicopolis, and had seen a cavalry charge halted by a similar mass of sharpened stakes. He had written an account of this and it is possible that either Henry himself, or perhaps one of his commanders, Edward Duke of York, had read it and remembered the effectiveness of the tactic. A number of those who died at Agincourt were suffocated There are no reliable figures for the size of the French army at Agincourt, but they numbered many thousands, and in their eagerness to get at the English most of the leading figures were crammed into the front ranks. When the action was triggered by a flight of arrows from the English side, the French charged forward in accordance with their battle plan. Funnelled into a narrower part of the field where Henry had taken up his position, the French were crammed together, and though many did not reach the English ranks, many more did. As these were cut down, those pressing behind climbed over them, and anyone who slipped or fell in the muddy ground had little chance of getting up again. As the battle progressed the pile of bodies rose higher, and any who were wounded or simply knocked over were crushed beneath the weight of those coming behind. Very few were found alive when the heaps of bodies were at last unpicked after the battle. Agincourt: medieval England's finest hour? 10 medieval dates you need to know Henry V died of dysentery and is buried in Westminster Abbey Sieges were dangerous places for both those inside and out: insanitary conditions and a shortage of fresh water frequently led to outbreaks of dysentery among the besieged and the besiegers, and it is likely that Henry contracted his final illness at the siege of Meaux – though it took some time to weaken him and claim his life. His body was brought back to England for burial, and after considerable ceremony he was laid to rest behind the altar in Westminster Abbey, close to his hero Edward the Confessor, and within yards of the tomb of Richard II. A magnificent chapel was erected around him, and a life-sized effigy placed on the tomb with a head of solid silver. Sadly the silver was stolen in the 16th century, and the later Tudor building dwarfs his resting place. Thousands of tourists pass the spot without realising he is there, and all that can be seen of the effigy is the soles of its feet. To find out more about Teresa Cole’s Henry V: The Life of the Warrior King & the Battle of Agincourt 1415 (Amberley Publishing, 2015) click here. This article was first published by History Extra in April 2015
Lauren Johnson discusses the history behind the new Netflix film The King, considering how closely it follows the real events of Henry V’s life and reign
Historian and author Lauren Johnson discusses the history behind the new Netflix film The King, considering how closely it follows Shakespeare’s plays and the real events of Henry V’s life and reign.
A wayward prince? King Henry V's misspent youth
Henry V is widely feted as one of England's greatest medieval kings but, for much of his early life, the young prince looked more like a dithering also-ran than a statesman in the making. In this 2013 feature from BBC History Magazine, Professor Anne Curry explores the growing pains of the hero of Agincourt
On Friday 25 October 1415, in a muddy field in Picardy, the reputation of Henry V as a great warrior king was sealed. His victory over the French at Agincourt had a major effect on his position both at home and abroad. Even before he returned to England, a grateful parliament had granted him all revenue from customs duties – a sizeable income – for life. As for the French, they never again dared to face him in battle. So Henry was able to conquer the whole of Normandy and advance on Paris, exploiting the divisions in France – between the Burgundian and Armagnac factions – that the defeat at Agincourt had exacerbated. The treaty of Troyes, signed in May 1420, sealed Henry’s acceptance as regent to Charles VI (‘The Mad’) and – through marriage to Charles’s daughter Katherine – heir to the throne of France. It seemed only a matter of time before he would rule over both England and France. 10 things you (probably) didn’t know about Henry V and the battle of Agincourt “It’s hard to square Prince Hal’s pacifism with what we know about Henry V”: a historian’s review of The King Agincourt: medieval England's finest hour? At the parliament held at Westminster in December 1420, the chancellor explained why the English had “special cause to honour and thank God” for the deeds and victories of the king. He had recovered the ancient rights of the English crown in France. He had destroyed heresy in the realm – a reference to his actions against Sir John Oldcastle and the Lollards (critics of the established church) in 1414. And, in his youth, he had put down rebellion in Wales. In short, though Henry’s untimely death in 1422 curtailed the fulfilment of his plans, his career was, on the face of it, a complete success. As Thomas Walsingham, author of The St Albans Chronicle, expressed in a panegyric for the dead king: “He was a warrior, famous and blessed with good fortune who, in every war he undertook, always came away with victory.” But had Henry always been so successful? Let us reflect on Henry’s life before he became king. Henry's life before he became king There are ample reasons to believe that Henry the prince was a far cry from Henry the king. In Henry IV, Parts 1 and 2, Shakespeare portrays him as a medieval ‘hooray Henry’. In those plays, the prince chooses bad company; though wealthy, he prefers the low life and petty criminality; and it is only at his father’s deathbed and his own subsequent coronation that he reforms himself – becoming as excessively ‘correct’ as he was once so ‘incorrect’ for his social and political position. But was this fact as well as Shakespearean fiction? The first ‘published’ comments on Henry’s bad behaviour so far unearthed appear in the Latin lives written about him in the late 1430s. In the anonymous Vita et Gesta Henrici Quinti (often called the Pseudo-Elmham), Henry is described as being in his youth “an assiduous cultivator of lasciviousness…passing the bounds of modesty he was the fervent soldier of Venus as well as Mars; youthlike he was fired by her torches and in the midst of worthy works of war found leisure for excesses common to ungoverned age”. The work devotes much space to his last-minute repentance to his father for his bad behaviour. We could dismiss all of this as simply a good story – except that it was dealt with at great length, and in a work known to have drawn information from one of Henry’s courtiers: Walter, Lord Hungerford. In another work, the Vita Henrici Quinti by Tito Livio Frulovisi (now believed to have been derived from the Vita et Gesta), stories of a misspent youth and late change of heart are shorter, but remain. Given this work’s links with Henry’s last surviving brother, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and the status of both works as eulogies for Henry V, we have to assume that the accounts of his youth are basically true – as are those of the well-publicised change of character at his accession. There are many intriguing facets to Prince Henry. For one thing, he had not been born to be king. Until just after his 13th birthday, in September 1399, he was merely the eldest son of the eldest son of a collateral line of King Richard II . He stood to inherit, in time, the duchy of Lancaster created for his grandfather John of Gaunt (d1399), the third son of Edward III. He was also to be bequeathed the earldom of Derby held by his father, Henry Bolingbroke (d1413), and the titles brought to the family by his co-heiress mother, Mary (d1394), daughter of Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Northampton, Essex and Hereford (d1373). So the career that lay ahead for the “young lord Henry” or “Lord Henry, son of the Earl of Derby”, as he is described in the financial records of his father and grandfather, was that of a peer – but at the time it seemed that he might have to wait many years for his inheritance. As it was, his life was completely transformed – first, in October 1398, by the exile of his father by Richard II; and then, the following September, by Bolingbroke’s return to England and usurpation of the throne as Henry IV. On 15 October 1399, two days after his father’s coronation, Henry was created Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Chester, and was acknowledged as heir to the throne. Later in October, the title Duke of Aquitaine was added and, on 10 November, that of Duke of Lancaster. Given the fragile political position of the new dynasty, Prince Henry was a vital cog in its establishment and, as such, shared in its problems – indeed, he experienced them even before the usurpation. In May 1399 the young Henry was taken to Ireland by Richard II , seemingly in an attempt to ensure his father’s good behaviour. It failed: in the king’s absence, Bolingbroke invaded England. Agincourt: what really happened Henry V: 5 facts you might not know about the king's softer side Education in arms Henry was then 12 years old, an age at which it was customary for noble boys to begin gaining experience of military service, though they were not expected to actually participate in the fighting. So in the summer of 1400 he was assigned a company of troops within the huge army – over 13,000 strong – that his father took to Scotland. Then, as the army returned to England, the Welsh revolt began. The historian Adam Chapman has observed that it was no coincidence that Owain Glyndŵr declared himself Prince of Wales on 16 September 1400 – the 14th birthday of the formal holder of the title, Prince Henry. Only six months later, the latter found himself involved in his first siege, at Conwy. It is not surprising that the teenage prince learned under the tutelage of advisors appointed by his father. The young Henry held a number of nominal commands but was always guided by others, including Henry Hotspur, son of the Earl of Northumberland, and Hotspur’s uncle, Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester, who was appointed Prince Henry’s governor at the end of 1401. Yet these were the very men who, in 1403, rebelled against Henry IV and his son. So the battle of Shrewsbury on 21 July, when he faced his erstwhile mentors, must have been a chastening experience for the prince – not least because he was wounded by an arrow that pierced his left cheek. The surgeon John Bradmore removed the arrowhead, but the wound put the prince out of action for a year or so. Even as Henry entered his late teens, his father was reluctant to give him complete authority in the Welsh wars. The young prince was neither wholly committed nor effective, and constantly complained of being kept short of funds. Alongside praise for the prince’s good heart and courage, the speaker of the parliament of March 1406 also urged that he should maintaincontinual residence in Wales for the sake of the wars – an indication that he had not been attentive to his duties. All did not go well with the prince’s campaigns. In 1407, at the siege of Aberystwyth, Henry theatrically negotiated its peaceful surrender, withdrawing his troops; Glyndŵr, though, simply occupied the castle. Aberystwyth remained in rebel hands until September 1408 and was recovered, as was Harlech in 1409, not by the prince in person but by those to whom he delegated. Why is Henry V's portrait in profile? True-to-scale battle numbers and 15th-century life: look inside the revamped Agincourt museum Sickly and sexed up As the late Welsh historian Rees Davies observed, the prince’s personal role in Wales was limited. Chroniclers of the wars scarcely mention him at all. He seems to have preferred to stay in the relative safety of the English border towns and, increasingly, to spend his time in and around London. In 1409 he was appointed constable of Dover Castle and warden of the Cinque Ports but so far no evidence has been found to show that he went to Dover or Calais, the captaincy of which he gained in March 1410. Yet in 1412, the prince was investigated for misappropriating the garrison’s wages. The overall impression formed from the sources is that King Henry IV was slow to let his son have his head, but that, as the prince grew up, his father could not hold him back. It is notable how, once he turned 21, Prince Henry began to build up his own support. Fifty-one new grants of annuities were made in the year following Michaelmas 1407, a big increase on the average for the previous six years of less than ten. Many of Henry’s circle were nonentities, which fans the notion that he associated with unsuitable people. It also seems that he promoted favourites such as Thomas, Earl of Arundel, and Richard Courtenay, whom Henry had appointed as bishop of Norwich after his accession. Comments made by Courtenay in 1415 tell us that Henry suffered from being overweight and in bad health, and that he was of the opinion that there were no decent doctors in England. There’s more evidence for a sickly Prince Henry in his household accounts listing purchases of medicines. These records also suggest that he may have lived beyond his means, partly because of the large payments he made to retainers. Thomas Walsingham speaks of his retinue in 1412 being “larger than any seen before these days”. Intriguingly, too, in 1415 Courtenay observed that Henry had not had sexual relations with any woman since he came to the throne – the implication being that, as the Vita et Gesta suggests, he had been notably promiscuous before his accession. As prince and heir, we would expect Henry to have had a place on the royal council. This was the case from at least the end of 1406, when he was 20. As the medievalist Christopher Allmand observes, Prince Henry attended a good proportion of meetings but was increasingly advancing the interests of key friends and relations – including his father’s half-brother, Henry Beaufort – and challenging the power of the chancellor, Thomas Arundel, archbishop of Canterbury. Indeed, Henry’s growing influence may have contributed to Arundel’s decision to resign from the chancellorship in December 1409. Yet, in November 1411, it seems that the prince’s influence over the council abruptly ended. There is no doubt that Henry’s relations with his father, and with his brother, Thomas, were bad: there were major differences of opinion on foreign policy, and a study of diplomatic relations with Burgundy suggests that the prince was making offers he was simply not entitled to issue. He was also outraged not to be chosen to lead an expedition to Aquitaine in the summer of 1412. The seriousness of the situation is reflected in a letter sent by Prince Henry from Coventry on 17 June 1412, a missive that was clearly intended to reach a wide audience. It addressed rumours accusing him of plotting to rebel against his father and seize the throne. Father and son became reconciled but, according to the chronicler Thomas Walsingham, Henry IV refused to punish immediately those who had spread the rumours; instead, he ordered that sanctions should wait until the next parliament, when they could be tried by their peers. This could only mean that the prince’s detractors were noblemen. Interestingly, the Latin lives made much of Henry’s last-minute reform and confession to his father – does this suggest that, despite his protestations, he might have had a guilty conscience? Henry the prince emerges as a complex character: not always living up to expectations, making enemies and choosing unsuitable friends. He was brave but flawed, and always prioritised his own desires. Six centuries after he assumed the throne, it’s worth remembering that the road to his achievement as all-conquering hero of Agincourt was often a rocky one. Professor Anne Curry is the dean of the Faculty of Humanities at the University of Southampton This article was first published in the March 2013 issue of BBC History Magazine
Henry V: 5 facts you might not know about the king's softer side
Fretting about the dispossessed and trying to save heretics from the flames aren't acts often associated with one of England's great military heroes. But King Henry V did a lot more than put hapless Frenchmen to the sword on the battlefield. As Malcolm Vale reveals, the hero of Agincourt was also a sovereign with a softer side...
As Netflix releases The King, starring Timothée Chalamet and Robert Pattinson, find out more about the caring side of Henry V… Henry V was genuinely worried about the plight of the poor Henry V was an exceptionally hard-working king. He spent as much, if not more, of his time dealing with the burdensome affairs of church and state as he did on military matters. Henry’s direct intervention in the business of ruling, his speaking voice, and his decisive – often abrupt – manner are spelt out in the surviving documents. Some of these are endorsed with his signature, or ‘sign manual’, in the form ‘RH’ (Rex Henricus or Roy Henry). Around one in 10 of these documents survive today, and some are annotated in the king’s own hand. His extraordinary grasp of detail and his concern that a just resolution be reached, are striking. Humble men and women, not only the great and good (or not so good), sought his judgment, his pardon and his mercy. Their petitions to him are witness to that. 10 things you (probably) didn’t know about Henry V and the battle of Agincourt Agincourt: medieval England's finest hour? So, after receiving a petition from some needy supplicants, in April 1419 he ordered his officers: “To do justice unto them, and especially so that the poorer party shall suffer no wrong.” Similarly in May 1421, petitioned by a poor woman, he instructed that she should “receive justice the more favourably, considering the poverty of the said Margery”. A particularly striking case was that of Robert Gunthorpe, a London carter, who in February 1419 told the king that he had been in charge of a brewer’s dray, carrying a consignment of ale for the royal household, which had to be delivered to the Tower of London. But, as he got near to the Barbican, the cart was overturned, and the barrels of ale broken open, for the horses had “bolted, because of the great fear they had of the roaring of the king’s lions [in the Lion Tower there] and… unless he receives your merciful grace and succour… he will be forced to pay for the said ale… but as he is only a poor labourer, who has to work for his living, he requests pardon for its loss…” Henry granted his petition. Here then was a king who felt what seems a genuine concern for the welfare of his subjects. Medieval royal witches: from Elizabeth Woodville to Queen Joan of Navarre St George’s Day: 10 things you (probably) didn’t know about England's patron saint The king tried to save the lives (and souls) of heretic “It seemed to him that he was better suited to be a man of the church than a soldier, and that his eldest brother seemed to him to be more suited to being a soldier than the said king…” Remarkable as it may appear today, given the king’s reputation as one of England’s great military heroes, this contemporary description of Henry V wasn’t so far from the truth. Henry was a vigorous monastic reformer. He created two new monastic foundations during his reign – the Carthusian monastery of Sheen and the Brigittine convent of Syon, both on the Thames – and also attempted a reform of the older-established religious orders. The black monks – the Benedictines – rich and heavily endowed, should, he thought, be restored to the ascetic and austere religious life advocated by their founder, St Benedict. In May 1421, the king assembled 60 English abbots and priors, and over 300 monks of the order, at Westminster and personally addressed them on their shortcomings. If the church could, or would not set its house in order, he would do it for them. Henry was a studious, bookish prince, and he listened to the dictates of his conscience. That conscience may not have been unduly disturbed by episodes such as the notorious killing of prisoners at Agincourt, yet this was by no means unprecedented in later medieval warfare. Here was a king who at least tried to practise what he preached. He was not a bigot. He remonstrated with the dissident Sir John Oldcastle, attempting to persuade him of (what Henry regarded) as the error of his ways. In 1410, Henry, as prince, tried to save the life (and soul) of John Badby as he was being burned as a condemned heretic. And he pardoned large numbers of Sir John’s Lollard followers (religious radicals fiercely critical of the established church) convicted for their parts in the Oldcastle rising of 1414. Henry V played the harp, the flute and the recorder The hero of Agincourt has traditionally been more associated with trebuchets than treble clefs. But, in reality, Henry V loved music – and he wasn’t content with passively listening to it. Henry, like the biblical king David, had learned the harp at an early age, and continued to play into later life. We know that a new harp, with a leather case and 12 spare strings, was dispatched across the channel to him in France, while was on campaign there in September 1421. Henry also played the recorder and the flute. And he found time to compose settings of the Gloria and Sanctus from the Mass. (Musicological opinion once attributed these to Henry IV but is now confident that they were crafted by his son.) This is sophisticated choral polyphony, worthy of the best composers of church music of his time. Its authorship is identified by the words ‘Roy Henry’ in the British Library’s Old Hall manuscript of contemporary musical Mass settings. Henry’s band of secular minstrels went everywhere with him. He even remembered them as he lay dying at the Castle of Vincennes to the east of Paris, when he gave, “by word of mouth”, life annuities to 11 of them. The king spoke the people’s language “Trusty and well-beloved, we greet you well.” With these opening words of address in some of his letters, Henry V made himself part of a momentous process in the history of our language and our political culture. If we’re looking for that rare phenomenon – a permanent legacy left by a medieval ruler – the establishment of English as a language of government, administration, politics and diplomacy was, in large part, the work of Henry V. Before Henry’s reign, England’s rulers corresponded with their subjects in Latin and Norman French. Middle English had gained ground as a literary medium in the so-called ‘Age of Chaucer’ (1350–1400). But it was not until Henry V composed his first letters, instructions and memoranda in English that it began to be used in diplomatic and political circles. Henry’s subjects soon followed his example. The London Brewers’ Guild, in July 1422, resolved to keep their records no longer in French but in English. They were in turn followed by the London Goldsmiths, while other civic bodies – at Bristol (1416) and York (1419) – had already begun to do so. It’s been claimed that the ‘triumph of English’ was a form of ‘redemption’ of the language from its subservience to foreign tongues. But there may be another explanation. In May 1420, Henry V’s Treaty of Troyes with France upheld the separate existences of the two kingdoms in a future Anglo-French dual monarchy. Both countries were to keep their own laws, customs, governments and, it seems, languages. In 1417 Henry began to write from France to his English subjects in their vernacular tongue. But his Norman and other French subjects were always addressed in their own vernacular language. The creation of the Anglo-French union enhanced, rather than suppressed, the separate political and linguistic identities of the two peoples. The English language had little impact outside the British Isles for hundreds of years – it had to wait until the 18th century to be ‘discovered’ in continental Europe. But Henry V had started an unstoppable movement. To this day, Royal Letters of Assent to Acts of Parliament begin with the words ‘Trusty and well-beloved…’ Henry V gave peace a chance For 600 years, Henry V’s legacy has been dominated by his feats on the battlefield. Historian Keith Dockray captured this reputation perfectly when he wrote that Henry was “a warlord… who clearly enjoyed campaigning and felt most at ease in the company of his comrades in arms”. So it may come as a surprise to learn that Henry was a peace-maker, who actively sought to reconcile the two warring kingdoms of England and France. Towards the end of his reign, he wrote in Anglo-German diplomatic instructions: “What good and profit might arise if there were peace and rest among Christian princes.” He was, he said, “now [in December 1421] at the final point and conclusion of his labours and, through God’s grace and the help of his allies and friends, shall soon bring this war to an end”. In the event, Henry didn’t realise this ambition – his premature death in August 1422 put paid to that. But there’s evidence that, during his last two years, he was seeking a resolution of the conflict that had set England and France at odds for a century. Intermediaries, both papal and secular, were acting on his behalf to explore avenues leading towards a peace settlement. We do not know what form that might have taken, and whether a long-term partition of the kingdom between the English and French kings might have resulted from it – or whether a longer-lasting dual monarchy of England and France, as set out in Henry’s peace treaty with France at Troyes in May 1420, might have been a viable option. With hindsight, it’s easy for us to dismiss such possibilities, supporting the inevitable collapse of any Anglo-French union – but the picture was by no means so clear in 1422. At the time there were those, even in France, who saw Henry as a potential saviour, rather than destroyer, of the French kingdom. And he stood head and shoulders above contemporaries. Unlike the insane Charles VI of France, his disinherited, inexperienced and untried son the Dauphin Charles, or the bankrupt and embattled German emperor Sigismund, Henry V was a true king. Malcolm Vale is emeritus research fellow in modern history at St John’s College, Oxford. He specialises in Anglo-French history during the late Middle Ages. This article was first published in the September 2016 issue of BBC History Magazine