On this date, St Crispin’s Day, in 1415 the badly outnumbered English and Welsh army, commanded by King Henry V, served up a good old-fashioned butt-kicking to Charles VI’s much larger French army at Agincourt. The French defeat was particularly notable due to the number of noblemen killed (according to Wikipedia three dukes, five counts and ninety barons).
This battle would be notable only to scholars and English school children were it not immortalized by one William Shakespeare. The following is from his play King Henry V and is, in my humble opinion, among the great examples of heroic oration. It takes place the night before the battle.
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V
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 called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
ill stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
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 Crispin'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 remember'd.
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 remember'd;
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 accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
If olde English isn’t your cup of tea, here follows my translation:
WESTMORELAND (Henry’s cousin)
If only ten thousand men in England who have the day off (because St Crispin’s day is a holiday) were here with us!
King Henry V:
Who said that? My cousin Westmoreland? I disagree.
If we are going to die, there’s enough of us to be missed.
If we’re going to live, the fewer of us there are the more honor each of us will receive.
By God! Don’t wish there were one more of us.
I don’t fight for money, and I don’t care if anyone in my army does.
I don’t care if men wear my uniform.
I don’t care about things like that.
But if it’s a sin to want honor and glory I’m the worst sinner alive.
No, my cousin, don’t wish there were one man more from England.
My God! I wouldn’t share the honor I’ll receive with one more man if it were my last hope.
Instead, tell everyone in my army that if he doesn’t have the courage to fight he can leave. We’ll give him money to use to get home. We don’t want to die in the company of a man who’s afraid to die with us.
Whoever survives today and goes home will stand tall when St Crispin’s Day is named. When he grows old he’ll have a party for his friends the day before and remind them that tomorrow is St Crispin’s day. Then he’ll roll up his sleeves and show his scars and say “I got these scars on Crispin’s Day". He’ll forget some things in his old age, but he’ll never forget what he did today. He’ll remember all our names as if it were yesterday, and he’ll drink a toast to us. Good men will teach our story to their sons and St Crispin’s day will never pass from now on without our deeds being remembered.
We are a small group of brothers, for whoever fights with me today will be a brother to me. Even if he’s low-class, he’ll be a gentleman.
And gentlemen who are in bed in England right now will think they’re cursed that they weren’t here. They’ll feel like lesser men in the presence of anyone who fought with us upon St Crispin’s Day.
