Azincourt

Azincourt (Agincourt in the US) by Bernard Cornwell is an account of the battle, fought on St. Crispin's Day in 1415, which has become one of the most famous in European history. The names of so many fields of battle have been lost, the combatants and their causes swallowed up in the amnesia of time. But Agincourt (as the English mis-spelt the name of the near-by hamlet) has become a romantic touchstone. Why?

Of course, Shakespeare helped. The famous speech, placed in the mouth of Henry V, has stirred the patriotism and the emotion of generations. I remember hearing that the captain of the England Rugby team, Will Carling, used it to energize and encourage his team-mates in their pursuit of glory (naturally, against the French). And the phrase, 'band of brothers' has gained a popularity of its own among those who probably have no idea that it comes from the Bard, or that it refers to conflict on the fields of Picardy. Even the notorious English two-fingered salute (not for polite company) is traced back, in legend at least, to the battle cry of the archers which claimed that, with just two strong fingers they would send their adversaries to the grave.

Azincourt is told through the lens of a common archer, Nick Hook. Cornwell took the name from contemporary records. An archer by that name did, indeed, fight for Harry, St. George, and England, (but that he endured a blood feud with a local family, or enjoyed a relationship with a beautiful French nun who would become his wife, is to be doubted). Nevertheless, Cornwell's skills enable him to weave a story that is at once both believable and bloody. Life was cheap in those far-off days. Members of the aristocracy could be ransomed, if captured, but commoners were expendable. Archers, in particular, were hated by the French. Ordinarily, archers had no training in formal warfare beyond their ability, ten years or more in the making, to bend a fine yew bow and to fire a bodkin-tipped arrow 250 yards. To do so, an archer had to be able to pull back about 120 pounds, and aim without being able to see down the length of the arrow. A bodkin (the word means 'needle') could pierce any but the finest armor. At Agincourt, 5,000 English archers could shoot 75,000 per minute. No wonder the French suffered such an ignominious defeat. A combination of atrocious weather and English archers led to the decimation of their forces. Though outnumbering their opponents by at least 5 to 1, the French suffered a reversal that sent shock-waves around Europe. For many years thereafter the French called 25 October la malheureuse journee - the unfortunate day.

Why does Agincourt hold such a special place in the folk history of the English nation? There had been victories before (Crecy, Poitiers); there would be victories in later years (Trafalgar, Waterloo), but none would be against such overwhelming odds. Perhaps therein lies the clue. Agincort was an exceptional victory in two respects. First, about 6,000 weary English, Welsh, and Gascon soldiers, of whom only about 1,000 were men-at-arms, overcame at least 30,000 of the finest warriors of France. That in itself is good reason to remember, but there is another. Second, the three French armies at Agincourt were defeated by a king who led the field himself, and an army of ordinary men. Does this make it the English Yorktown? For maybe the first time the professionals, in all their pomp and splendor, were brought down by the farm-workers and country-bumpkins of the English shires. The soldiers of Harry's army were underdogs in more senses than one. Shakespeare, cleverly, caught this theme:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today 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 while any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

William Shakespeare, 1599