The Battle of Agincourt
Volume 1 | Issue 1 - Conflict
Article by Samuel Cooke. Edited by Claire Stratton. Additional Research by Robyn Hall.
‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother‘
from Henry V by William Shakespeare
No human conflict, before or since, has seen the same level of prolonged suffering and violence as was demonstrated during the Hundred Years’ War. Despite its name, this conflict was, in fact, a series of three successive wars that devastated the Kingdom of France between 1337 and 1453. And within this conflict, no battle has received as much attention as has been lavished upon the famous Battle of Agincourt during the course of its contentious historiography. The established portrayal of this confrontation has often been – like the biblical David pitched against Goliath – of the huge French aristocratic army being utterly devastated by a small, tired, and most likely diseased, company of English soldiers, and although this version has been called into question by many recent historians, this narrative still lives within interpretations of the battle.
The classic narrative runs thus: On 25th October 1415, King Henry V of England’s exhausted and disease-ridden army of approximately 6,000-9,000 men defeated a much larger (the figures commonly quoted run anywhere from 15,000 to as high as 25,000) force of well-armed French noblemen. The battle marked the conclusion of an arduous two-month campaign, during which Henry V’s force of men-at-arms and archers had captured the French port-town of Harfleur, marched over two-hundred miles and forded two major rivers, all with a large contingent of French heavy cavalry closing in behind. This is the story that commonly circulates within popular culture, such as in William Shakespeare’s historical play Henry V and bestselling modern author Bernard Cornwell’s Azincourt.
There is, of course, a great deal of evidence that recommends this interpretation of the battle to the medievalists, such as the wealth of written evidence provided by eyewitnesses, such as the French chronicler, Jean de Waurin, who places the French army at six times the size of the English army. However, certain recent historians have taken a more critical view of these eyewitness accounts. In her recent, revisionist study of the battle, Anne Curry has attempted to refine many facts and figures that had originally been taken for granted by the dominant narrative.Using sources from both the National Archives at Kew and Paris’ Bibliothèque Nationale, she has placed the size of English army at no more than 9,000, while suggesting that the French army numbered 12,000 at most.
Although her conclusions have raised criticism from many of the experts of this period of history, the debate reflects a greater conflict within the historical world: how much can we really learn from historical documents? There is, after all, no such thing as an “innocent” document – and some go as far to say that there are no “innocent” words. For instance, how do we know that Jean de Waurin was not just the medieval version of a spin-doctor?
However, despite her critical attitude to the ‘traditional narrative’, even Anne Curry’s depictions of the battle does not eliminate the awe-inspiring nature of the battle and the image of David slaying Goliath holds firm in the eyes of bothpopular culture and historians. Regardless of the details, the mystery of the battle – which still inspires historians to study and debate – will continue to live within the story of Agincourt for many years yet. After all, isn’t this what history is all about: exploring the mystery of the past, allowing it to speak to us, and enabling us to understand its intricacies?