Henry the Fifth

by Alfred John Church

Rouen soon began to feel the pressure of famine. Its governor made an attempt to relieve it by expelling from the town twelve thousand non-combatants. Henry refused to let these miserable creatures pass through his lines, and they perished by degrees under the walls. The story of their fate is pitiable in the extreme. Some of them lingered on till the very end of the siege. Many of the soldiers on either side had hearts more tender, or perhaps it should be said intelligences less alive to the necessities of the military situation, than the generals who directed the attack and the defence of Rouen. These secretly supplied the outcasts with such provisions as they could spare. Henry himself departed from the severity of his policy by furnishing the few who were left alive on Christmas Day with a meal. But neither the Governor nor the King relented. It may be mentioned as an incident eminently characteristic of the time, that new-born children were raised in baskets to the top of the walls, duly baptized, and then let down again to perish of hunger.

Henry has been severely blamed for the inhumanity that he is said to have displayed on this occasion. It may be allowed that there have been great soldiers who would sooner have relinquished a military advantage than allow such misery to exist under their eyes, but Henry was not of this type. He was a soldier first; and to his conception of a soldier’s duty, which was to use every military advantage that fell in his way, he subordinated everything. For wanton cruelty he had no taste: it did not come within the scope of his business; but from cruelty that was not wanton—that is, was dictated by some consideration of necessity or expediency—he never shrank. There is something, it must be allowed, that is repulsive about this, and it is made more repulsive by the contrast which it makes with Henry’s almost ostentatious piety. This is a contrast, however, which is apparent rather than real. Henry’s belief that the French crown belonged to him of right was, incredible as it may seem, a genuine conviction, even, it may be said, a religious conviction. This feeling, it may well be believed, still further fortified his heart against any thought of concession to mere human weakness. As far as regards his military pitilessness he strongly resembles Cæsar and Napoleon.

A messenger from the besieged succeeded in making his way through the English lines and in reaching Paris. He saw the Duke of Burgundy, and delivered in emphatic terms the message of the citizens of Rouen: “If by your negligence we are conquered by the King of England, we shall become the worst and bitterest enemies you have.” The Duke promised help, a promise which greatly encouraged the town to persevere in its defence. The oriflamme, the sacred banner of France, was indeed taken from the Abbey of St. Denis later in the year, and an army nominally at least intended to relieve Rouen followed it; but it never approached the town. There was indeed no one to act for France.

This appeal, as has been said, was made to the Duke of Burgundy. The Dauphin meanwhile had opened negotiations for peace with the English king.

A formal peace Henry would not make. To do so would, he conceived, be a renunciation of his claims to the French crown. Indeed he carefully avoided conceding directly to the Dauphin the title of Regent of France: in the commissions which were issued to the English ambassadors he is the “Regent so-called.” A truce was proposed, which was preliminary to a treaty. The English demands included all the territories mentioned in the great Peace of Bretigny, and Guienne as well. A stipulation was added that if the Duke should refuse to come into this treaty the king of England should march with as many troops as might be necessary to Paris, and deliver that city with the royal family into the hands of the Dauphin. In return for this service he was to have Flanders, a possession of the Dukes of Burgundy.

In an interesting document Henry sets forth for the consideration of his ambassadors various difficulties which were involved in these proposals. Could he, without prejudice to his right to the crown of France, join arms with the Dauphin? Could he still receive the Duke of Burgundy, should the Duke submit to him? Could he justly invade Flanders while the truce was unexpired? A number of military problems were also suggested. Finally it was asked whether the Dauphin was qualified to conclude a valid truce.

A supplementary commission authorised the ambassadors to treat for the hand of the Princess Katherine; and elaborate instructions were given to them as to their action in case of a partial concession of their demands.

The negotiations went on for a time, if not with success, at least without coming to a manifest end. On one point the Dauphin returned an emphatic answer. He would not join with the English king in acting against the Duke of Burgundy. “I will never make peace,” he said, “with the ancient enemy of my country in order to destroy a vassal.”

On November 17th the French commissioners, accompanied by the Cardinal d’Ursins, who was to act as mediator, came to Pont de l’Arche, and there met the English ambassadors. After a preliminary difficulty about the language in which the proceedings of the conference should be carried on had been disposed of, the conditions were discussed. The French envoys presented the King with a picture of the Princess Katherine, a present which he is said to have received with the greatest satisfaction. But he did not abate one jot from his demands, which indeed it is not too much to say he had made of set purpose impossible. He claimed the hand of the Princess Katherine, the duchies of Normandy and Acquitaine, and other principalities, all of them to be held in his own right and without any dependence on the king of France. The French commissioners at once rejected these terms as impossible, and the English retorted by questioning their authority to treat. In the end nothing was done.

Rouen was now left to its fate, and that fate was evidently close at hand. Early in December a sally was planned, it being arranged that two thousand men were to issue simultaneously from each of the gates. The plan was only partially carried out, and though some loss was suffered by the English, nothing of real importance was effected. About the middle of the month a definite intimation was given to the inhabitants of Rouen that they must no longer expect relief. The distress in the town had by that time reached the point of agony. The richest among the citizens were reduced to eating horse-flesh; the poorer were glad to devour dogs and cats, rats and mice. Terrible stories were told that some had eaten human flesh. According to one chronicler, not less than fifty thousand died of starvation during the six months of the siege. The number is incredible, but it is certain that the famine reached an intensity that has seldom been equalled. When the last hope of relief was gone, it became absolutely intolerable. The inhabitants rose in revolt against the magistrates, demanding that negotiations should be immediately opened with the besiegers. There was indeed no reason why this should not be done, and on January 2nd the envoys of the town were admitted to Henry’s presence. At first he refused to grant any terms: Rouen must open its gates and admit its conqueror. A truce indeed for eight days was allowed; but the days passed without any result being attained. All that the English King would say was that the inhabitants of Rouen must submit themselves absolutely to his mercy. The people then formed a desperate resolution. They would fire their town in several places; a great length of the wall was to be undermined and supported temporarily with props; these were to be suddenly removed, and the whole population was simultaneously to sally forth. All who could bear arms were to fight their way out, while the women and children were to endeavour to make their escape.