ALLARME To England, foreshewing what perilles are procured, where the people liue without regarde of Martiall lawe.
With a short discourse conteyning the decay of warlike discipline, conuenient to be perused by Gentlemen, such as are desirous by seruice, to seeke their owne deserued prayse, and the preseruation of their countrey. Newly deuised and written by Barnabe Riche Gentleman.
Malui me diuitem esse quam vocari.
Perused and allowed.
1578.
(snip)
...There is yet an other sorte, that because they thinke it a shame to reade ouer any thing, & not to be able to minister some correction, because they wil not be thought to be so dul witted, wil finde some fault, if it be but with the Orthographie, and wil say, It was pitie this man would take in hande to write before he could spell.
To these I answer, As great folly might be ascribed to those that were their bringers vp, that would learne them to goe, before they had taught them to speake well.
But such is the delicacie of our readers at this time, that there are none may be alowed of to write, but such as haue bene trained at schoole with Pallas, or at the lest haue bene fostered vp with the Muses, and for my parte (without vaunt be it spoken) I haue bene a trauayler, I haue sayled in Grauesende Barge as farre as Billings gate, I haue trauayled from Buckelers bery to Basingstocke, I haue gone from S. Pankeridge church to Kentish towne by lande, where I was combred with many hedges, ditches, and other slippery bankes, but yet I could neuer come to those learned bankes of Helicon, neither was I euer able to scale Parnassus hyl, although I haue trauailed ouer Gaddes hyll in Kente, and that sundrie tymes and often.
No marueill then good reader, although I want such sugered sape, wherwith to sauce my sense, whereby it might seeme delightfull vnto thee: such curious Coxcombes therefore, which can not daunce but after Apollos pype, I wish them to cease any further to reade what I haue written: but thou which canst endure to reade in homely style of matters, more behooueful and necessarie, then eyther curiouse or fyled, goe thou forward on Gods name, and I doubt not, but by that time thou hast perused to the end, thou shalt find some thing to satisfie thy desire, whereby thou wilt confesse that al thy labour hath not bene bestowed in vayne. And thus I bid thee hartily Farewell.
(snip)
S. Stronge, in the behalf of the Authour.
IF painfull pilgryme for his toyle, deserues a guerdon due
In seeking of the sacred sorte, which vertue doth pursue:
Or if the wakeful watche in warre, do merit like reward,
Or cunning pylot that with skill, doth take his due regard,
To cut in twayne the billowes huge, that swell in Occean sea,
And keepes the keele aright his course, tyll wished port he wray:
Then (Ritche) that rings this larum bell, to warne his countreyes thrall,
And sortes (much like the busie bee) the hunny from the gall,
Deserues no lesse, in lieu thereof: such fruite I reape thereby,
As for my parte, a double prayse, I may him not deny.
The toyle to him no profit yeelds, he bites on bitter paine:
He hales home haruest for the chaffe, the reader reapes the graine.
He giues the sworde and shield in hande, to shroud thee from annoy,
He wisely warnes thee of the worse, lest foes might thee destroy:
He treades thee out a perfect path, oh England loude I crye,
Refuse therefore thy follies past, he sees thee goe awrye:
And leaue of al thy lustfull lyfe, and eke thy great excesse,
Thy dainty fare, thy fine array, and eke thy WANTONESSE.
Leaue of likewise thy vsance great, and leaue thy lawing vaine,
Lest for the present guyle thereof, there happe some future paine.
Yet God forbid but iustice should in eche thing beare the sway,
And lawe is good where lawe is vsde, I cannot this denay.
But so your Common lawes are courst, at will of euery pelth,
That common is the woe (God knowes) but priuate is the wealth.
*Do sorte thy selfe from Comedies, and foolish playes of loue,
Lest tragicall and worse perhaps in fine thee chaunce to proue*.
Take sword in hand, and leaue of ease, for nowe the tyme is comme,
The bell is rong, the trumpettes sound, all arme doth strike the dromme.
And thanke good (Ritch) that rings the same, to wake thee out of sleepe,
That thou thy selfe, that liuest at peace, in safetie still mightst keepe.
A iewel ritche and gemme of price, the same no doubt doth seeme,
A ritcher gifte for thy behoofe, he could not geue, I deeme.
****************************
"Cicero describes the wonder grand style provokes (Orator, 28), which apparently leads Quintilian to refer to the grand style as the "admirabile dicendi genus" (Institutio, I.I.92). Contrariwise, Greek rhetoricians grant that there is a kind of BLOODLESS wonder in POLISHED style, but separate the aesthetic effect of display oratory from the emotional effect of political oratory. This qualified praise often takes the form of saying *a speaker is no Demosthenes*". See Dionysius of Halicarnassus, "Isocrates,"3, and "Longinus," On the Sublime, 8.3) (Footnote, p.42, Biester)
***************************
Gabriel Harvey, Latin Address Gratulationes Valdinenses (to Edward de Vere), 1578
This is my welcome; this is how I have decided to bid All Hail!
to thee and to the other Nobles.
Thy splendid fame, great Earl, demands even more than in the case of
others
the services of a poet possessing lofty eloquence.
Thy merit doth not creep along the ground,
nor can it be confined within the limits of a song.
It is a wonder which reaches as far as the heavenly orbs.
O great-hearted one, strong in thy mind and thy fiery will,
thou wilt conquer thyself, thou wilt conquer others;
thy glory will spread out in all directions beyond the Arctic Ocean;
and England will put thee to the test and prove thee to be native-born
Achilles.
Do thou but go forward boldly and without hesitation.
Mars will obey thee, Hermes will be thy messenger,
Pallas striking her shield with her spear shaft will attend thee,
thine own breast and courageous heart will instruct thee.
For long time past Phoebus Apollo has cultivated thy mind in the
arts.
English poetical measures have been sung by thee long enough.
Let that Courtly Epistle -
more POLISHED even than the writings of Castiglione himself -
witness how greatly thou dost excel in letters.
I have seen many Latin verses of thine, yea,
even more English verses are extant;
thou hast drunk deep draughts not only of the Muses of France and
Italy,
but hast learned the manners of many men, and the arts of foreign
countries.
It was not for nothing that Sturmius ,<2> himself was visited by
thee;
neither in France, Italy, nor Germany are any such cultivated and
polished men.
O thou hero worthy of renown, throw away the insignificant pen, throw
away BLOODLESS books,
and writings that serve no useful purpose; now must the sword be
brought into play,
now is the time for thee to sharpen the spear and to handle great
engines of war.
On all sides men are talking of camps and of deadly weapons; war and
the Furies are everywhere,
and Bellona reigns supreme.
Now may all martial influences support thy eager mind, driving out the
cares of Peace.
Pull Hannibal up short at the gates of Britain. Defended though he be
by a mighty host,
let Don John of Austria come on only to be driven home again. Fate is
unknown to man,
nor are the counsels of the Thunderer fully determined.
And what if suddenly a most powerful enemy should invade our borders?
If the Turk should be arming his savage hosts against us?
What though the terrible war trumpet is even now sounding its blast?
Thou wilt see it all; even at this very moment thou art fiercely
longing for the fray.
I feel it. Our whole country knows it.
In thy breast is noble blood, Courage animates thy brow, Mars lives in
thy tongue,
Minerva strengthen thy right hand, Bellona reigns in thy body, within
thee burns the fire of Mars.
Thine eyes flash fire, thy countenance shakes a spear;
who would not swear that Achilles had come to life again?
*************************************
Henry V, Shakespeare
ACT I
PROLOGUE
Enter Chorus
Chorus
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide on man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
*****************************
ALLARME To England, foreshewing what perilles are procured, where the people liue without regarde of Martiall lawe.
1578
To my very louing friend Captaine Barnabe Ryche.
(snip)
...But our countrey hath alwayes had that faute (and I am afrayde will neuer be without it) of being vnnaturall and vnthankfull to such as with their great hazard, paynes and charges haue sought to attayne to the knowledge of armes, by which shee is chiefly mainteyned, succoured and defended. To bring one example amongst thousands· What a number was there of noble Gentlemen, and worthy souldiours, that in the dayes of that victorious prince King Henry the fifth (after the honourable behauing of them selues, as well at Agincort, as other places, to the discomfiture and vtter ouerthrowe of the whole Chiualry of Fraunce) returning to their countrey, were pitifully constrained (& which was in deede most miserable) in their olde and honourable age for very want and necessitie to begge, *whyle a great number of vnworthie wretches that lyued at home, enioyed all kindes of felicities*. That Noble Gentleman Syr William Drurie a Paragon of armes at this day, was wont (I remember) to say, that the souldiers of England had alwaies one of these three endes to looke for: To be slayne, To begge, or To be ha~ged. No doubt a gentle recompence for such a merit.
(snip)
Your assured friende, Barnabe Googe.
(snip)
Lodowick Flood in the behalfe of the Authour.
MArch forth with Mars, clap costlets on, ring larum loud apace,
strike on the drum, sound out the trumpe, defie your foes in face.
Shake Morpheus of, set Vatia by, flee Bacchus bankets fro,
shunne Ceres seat, let Venus be, to Mars your seruice shewe.
In India loiterers were looked to, in Egypt youth were taught,
and in Lacena idle men, as men suspect were caught.
With sword & shield, in warlike w[...]eds the Romains Mars obeyed,
eche Martial feate the Grekes to Mars, in mou~t Olympus plaied.
Had Pyrrhus prayse bin pend in bookes, had Alexander fame,
had Phrygia fieldes such fame by blood, had Mars not spred the same?
Scipio got by Hannibal prayse, by Pompey Cesar fame:
by Hector stout, Achilles strong, dyd win his noble name.
What worthie Cyrus gaynd by warres, what noble Ninus wanne,
that Sardanapalus lost by sloth, euen from thassyrians than.
What noble courage doth attempt, what haughtie heartes do winne,
that sluggish mindes do lose againe, as had no conquest binne.
A cowarde vile, a dastard he, that dares not marche in fielde,
whom dread of greesly gu~ne may daunt, to leaue both speare & shield
What greater glory can be got, what greater prayse be wonne,
then Curtius feates or Decius deedes, to do as they haue done?
*Darius wisht Zopyrus like, to haue but twentie men,
and Agamemnon wisht againe, to haue but Nestors tenne*,
Whereby that Troy and Ilion proud, by Nestors wisdome wonne,
and by Zopyrus brought to ground, the pryde of Persia done.
One subtle Sinon with some sleight, like Lasthenes one to be
is better then a thousand such, that bragges and bost and flee.
Then pace this path the tracte is playne, that Riche hath troden out,
and leades thee lightly to the place, where honour should be sought.
Sith Riche of right dyd runne this race, and painted forth with pen,
his trauaill tryed commend you must to Mars and to his men:
And geue of right to Riche his prayse, that rings the larum bell,
enroll his name, record his fame, and say to Riche far well.
*****************************
Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
*The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more*.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
****************************
S. Strong to Barnabe Rich - 1578
He (Rich) giues the sworde and shield in hande, to shroud thee from annoy,
He wisely warnes thee of the worse, lest foes might thee destroy:
He treades thee out a perfect path, oh England loude I crye,
Refuse therefore thy follies past, he sees thee goe awrye:
And leaue of al thy lustfull lyfe, and eke thy great excesse,
Thy dainty fare, thy fine array, and eke thy wantonnesse.
Leaue of likewise thy vsance great, and leaue thy lawing vaine,
Lest for the present guyle thereof, there happe some future paine.
Yet God forbid but iustice should in eche thing beare the sway,
And lawe is good where lawe is vsde, I cannot this denay.
But so your Common lawes are courst, at will of euery pelth,
That common is the woe (God knowes) but priuate is the wealth.
*Do sorte thy selfe from Comedies, and foolish playes of loue,
Lest tragicall and worse perhaps in fine thee chaunce to proue*.
Take sword in hand, and leaue of ease, for nowe the tyme is comme,
The bell is rong, the trumpettes sound, all arme doth strike the dromme.
****************************
Speculum Tuscanismi - 1580 (Wanton Wyll)
Since Galatea came in, and Tuscanism gan usurp,
Vanity above all: villainy next her, stateliness Empress
No man but minion, stout, lout, plain, swain, quoth a Lording:
No words but valorous, no works but WOMANISH only.
For life Magnificoes, not a beck but glorious in show,
In deed most frivolous, not a look but Tuscanish always.
His cringing side neck, eyes glancing, fisnamy smirking,
With forefinger kiss, and brave embrace to the footward.
Large bellied Cod-pieced doublet, uncod-pieced half hose,
Straight to the dock like a shirt, and close to the britch like a diveling.
A little Apish flat couched fast to the pate like an oyster,
French camarick ruffs, deep with a whiteness starched to the purpose.
Every one A per se A, his terms and braveries in print,
Delicate in speech, quaint in array: conceited in all points,
In Courtly guiles a passing singular odd man,
For Gallants a brave Mirror, a Primrose of Honour,
A Diamond for nonce, a fellow peerless in England.
Not the like discourser for Tongue, and head to be found out,
Not the like resolute man for great and serious affairs,
Not the like Lynx to spy out secrets and privities of States,
Eyed like to Argus, eared like to Midas, nos'd like to Naso,
Wing'd like to Mercury, fittst of a thousand for to be employ'd,
This, nay more than this, doth practice of Italy in one year.
None do I name, but some do I know, that a piece of a twelve month
Hath so perfited outly and inly both body, both soul,
That none for sense and senses half matchable with them.
A vulture's smelling, Ape's tasting, sight of an eagle,
A spider's touching, Hart's hearing, might of a Lion.
Compounds of wisdom, wit, prowess, bounty, behavior,
All gallant virtues, all qualities of body and soul.
O thrice ten hundred thousand times blessed and happy,
Blessed and happy travail, Travailer most blessed and happy.
"Tell me in good sooth, doth it not too evidently appear
that this English poet wanted but a good pattern before his eyes,
as it might be some delicate and choice elegant Poesy
of good Master Sidney's or Master Dyer's
(our very Castor and Pollux for such and many greater matters)
when this trim gear was in the matching?"
***************************
ALLARME To England, foreshewing what perilles are procured, where the people liue without regarde of Martiall lawe. -- B. Rich, 1578
Thomas Churchyard Gentleman, in commendation of this worke.
(snip)
...A man who long gyvs aem, may shoett hym selff att leynth
A heddy hors must corbbed be, by connyng or by streynth
A wyelly wykked world, byds wantton heds bewaer
Whatt needs moer words when peace is craktt, for lufty warrs prepaer
loes not your old renown, O baebs off bryttayn bloed
Dance afftter drom, lett tabber goe, the musyck is nott good
that maeks men loek lyek gyrlls, and mynce on carpaytts gaye
as thoghe mayd marry on mentt to martch, and Iuen shuld bryng in May
*The sownd off trompett suer, wyll change your MAYDENS FACE
to loek lyek men or LYON'S WHELPPS, or TYGERS in the chace
A gallantt stoering HORS(E), thatt maeks a manneg ryghtt
wear fytter than a lady fyen, for myghtty marssys Knightt*
The warrs for marshall mynds, and peace for Venus men
The sword and soldior best agrees, the lawyer for the pen
The warrs calls corraeg vpp, and peace breeds cowards styll
*maeks peple prowd, dystroyes greatt hartts, and pampers WANTTON WYLL*
peace prowlls a bowtt for pence, and warrs the mock wyll spend
that gredy gayn hords vp in hoells, god knoes to lyttell end
the wealth that peace doth bring, maeks many a myscheeff ryeff
and peace rons hedlong in to vyce, and warrs refforms leawd lyeff
for fear off sword or sho[...]t, mans mynd loeks throwe the starrs
the hartt fawlls flatt beffoer hys face, that maeks boeth peace and warrs
the noghtty natuerd wyghtt, by warrs is broghtt in fraem
the baddest putts on better mynd, the wyeldest waxeth taem
peace fills the land wyth pomp, thatt gyvs a pryuey wownd
feeds folly fatt, maeks vertue lean, and floeds off vyce a bownd,
Daem lust her pleasuer taeks, in peace and banketts sweett
and warrs doth quenche owr hott desyers, and dawntts the dallyng spreete
in warrs we honor wyn, on peace reproetch doth groe
and warrs contentts owr noblest frynds, and peace doth pleas owr foe
peace putts vp sondry wrongs, and warrs doth ryght mentayn
and suer a battayll is well lost, thatt doth a kyngdom gayn
To feyght in forrayn soyll, apawlls the enmyes pryed
and better fare abroed to martch, than heer the brontt to byed
nott many hold with peace, thoghe warrs is cald a shreawe
nor many aer by peace maed rytch, for wealth butt fawlls to feawe
(snip)
Thoghe stowttnes striue youe se, the quarrell is the staetts
thatt steps in to thoes bloddy broylls, by feyghtt to end debaetts
admitt thatt myllions dye, and perishe on the playn
in pryncys cawse and conttreys ryghtt, thear must be thowsandes slayn
To hold the enmyes short, and maek our manhoed known
whoes value in our elders dayes, a boutt the world was blowen.
and we wear vyctors cald, and feard of forrayn foe
whear now transformd to wemens wylls, liek carpett knightes we goe
O Eangland loek thoue back, whatt noble elders did
shall strangers braggs & boests gyue fear, to boldnes god forbyd
Thyen honour so wear staynd. Than pluck vpp corraeg nowe
*and waesh away thatt spyetffull spott, that blotts thy noble browe*
To gyue thy soldyors lyeff, this boek is nuely maed
by oen who c[...]n for conttreys cause, wel vse boeth pen and blaed
Accept hys wylling work, gyue other corraeg to
(by fauryng thatt is worthy prayes) the lyek off this to doe
Thys setts forth many greeffs, and sercheth sondry soers
not fraemd [...]o fawn and flatter world, a soldyor that a boers
Loek for the lyek in haest, from me yf layser wyll
and thatt youe pleas to taek in worth, the payns of barrayn quyll.
****************************
*The sownd off trompett suer, wyll change your maydens face
to loek lyek men or lyons whelpps, or tygers in the chace
A gallantt stoering hors, thatt maeks a manneg ryghtt
wear fytter than a lady fyen, for myghtty marssys Knightt*
The warrs for marshall mynds, and peace for Venus men
The sword and soldior best agrees, the lawyer for the pen
The warrs calls corraeg vpp, and peace breeds cowards styll
maeks peple prowd, dystroyes greatt hartts, and pampers WANTTON WILL (Churchyard)
****************************
Henry V
Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare:
but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the
roaring of a lion's whelp.
*****************************
Henry V
The sin upon my head, dread sovereign!
For in the book of Numbers is it writ,
When the man dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord,
Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;
Look back into your mighty ancestors:
Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb,
From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit,
And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince,
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
Making defeat on the full power of France,
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill
Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp
Forage in blood of French nobility.
O noble English. that could entertain
With half their forces the full Pride of France
And let another half stand laughing by,
All out of work and cold for action!
***************************
Henry V
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
****************************
From The Times
October 14, 2009
The English and French will never agree about Agincourt
Ben Macintyre
"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.” Well, not quite as few as Shakespeare claimed; and not that happy either; and, when it came to the treatment of French prisoners, distinctly unbrotherly.
The forthcoming film Agincourt is the latest addition to a long tradition of myth-making, reinvention and historical controversy that has been going on for six centuries.
From our side of the Channel, Agincourt is seen as an heroic battle won against all the odds; from the French side, the epic encounter tends to be either ignored or regarded as a typical act of British brutality. The British see Agincourt as a victory for the longbow; the French tend to blame the weather.
In the traditional British version, Henry V’s army of 6,000 men, despite a crippling forced march, defeated a heavily armed French army six or seven times its size. In 2005, however, Professor Anne Curry argued that, based on administrative records, the odds were probably rather less heroic: it was only perhaps 9,000 English against 12,000 French. Those figures have, inevitably, been challenged.
Last year, Christophe Gilliot, director of the museum at Azincourt (as the French insist on spelling the place), pointed out claimed that the English had slaughtered large numbers of unarmed prisoners. The French historian was quoted as comparing the English with war criminals.
Mr Gilliot later denied saying any such thing, but his protestations were drowned out by the chorus of outrage from British historians. Henry certainly did order the execution of prisoners, but such behaviour was par for the course in the horror of medieval warfare: neither English nor French contemporary sources criticised Henry for ordering the executions.
Both sides have always seen the battle through the distorting lens of patriotism. Laurence Olivier’s portrayal of Henry V in 1944 boosted to wartime morale. The French version of Wikipedia, however, portrays the defeat as a victory in disguise ... “a major cause of the rise of Joan of Arc and the investment in artillery that became a French speciality”
But of all the arguments adhering to the battle, none is more hotly denied, or more passionately believed than the notion that the V-sign was invented at Agincourt. It is said that because the French customarily chopped the index and middle fingers off captured archers, to prevent them from drawing their bows again, the English bowmen at Agincourt defiantly raised two fingers at the approaching French cavalry — a gesture maintained at some Anglo-French sporting fixtures ever since.
There is no evidence that the French cut off archers’ fingers, in this way, and the offensive sign gesture probably predates Agincourt by at least a century. But like all great myths, this one is impregnable.
The precise shape of the new film is unknown, but this much is certain: the English will win, bloodily; the French will lose, plaintively; and the great battle over what happened at the Battle of Agincourt will continue, gloriously.
Once more unto the breach . . .
