Ian Mortimer is the author of several biographies, of his namesake Roger Mortimer (The Greatest Traitor), of Edward III, and Henry IV. Rejecting the advice of an older school of historians, in particular K.B. McFarlane, that all attempts at medieval biography were essentially fraudulent, he has put his profound knowledge of the primary and printed sources to good use. He is a fine historian and a master of the sources. His dedication to the wild idea that Edward II did not die in 1327, either by means of a red-hot poker or otherwise, should be regarded as an aberration.
At the heart of `1415' is a skilful and dramatic reconstruction of the Battle of Agincourt. Mortimer accepts Anne Curry's revised estimates of the numbers present, but makes the point that the English were still outnumbered, whatever figures one takes (and gives a convincing explanation as to why the chroniclers grossly overestimated the size of the French army). His narrative is as exciting as Juliet Barker's, though there is no `Fellas, let's go!' - Henry's supposed battle-cry. In its place, we have Sir Thomas Erpingham's `Now strike!' Mortimer also provides us with a convincing explanation for the devastating character of the English victory: the archers were able to pour down fire on their opponents at the rate of 1,000 arrows a second. It must have been somewhat like the Somme 500 years later, with the French taking the place of the British, though Henry had already crossed the Somme before arriving at Agincourt.
I liked the copious citation from original documents and there are many gripping passages: the Council of Constance and the condemnation of Jan Hus, the Southampton plot and the siege of Harfleur - as well as the battle - are vividly described. The author paints a convincing picture of the way in which religion was woven into the fabric of everyday life in the fifteenth century; but I found the portrayal of Henry himself (clearly stated in the Conclusion and in two articles in History Today and BBC History for October 2009) less satisfactory, though this is at the heart of the book.
Was Henry particularly cruel and callous, as Mortimer argues? By modern standards, undoubtedly. Many historians, and even sausage manufacturers, have noted the King's remark that `war without fire is like sausages (andouilles) without mustard.' The paradigm case cited in 1415 is the deliberate killing of the French prisoners at Agincourt, though Mortimer gives a convincing account of what actually happened. What was done was certainly inhumane, and a breach of the laws of war; but one could point to many examples, from other years in Henry's reign, of his rigid adherence to the law as then understood (including `the law of Deuteronomy') and of his attempts to protect the French population (provided that it was loyal to him). One is entitled to ask whether Henry's behaviour was not typical of the attitude of the soldier engaged in mortal combat, rather than illustrative of a trait of character. Oliver Cromwell, who also took Christianity very seriously, appears to have relished the way in which God had made his enemies `as stubble' to his sword.
Of course, it is right to be wary of Shakespeare's Henry V; but it would be surprising if the men who followed the real Henry had not taken pride in his victory. Perhaps Shakespeare was right in some respects, after all.
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages
What feats he did that day.
Stephen Cooper