Brilliant as was the victory which Henry had won at Agincourt, it had, it may be said, no immediate results. The English king was not in a position to follow it up. His loss on the field of battle had, as we have seen, been considerable—amounting to nearly a sixth of his army, if we are to accept the smaller estimate of his numbers, to a twelfth, if we take the larger. Nor is it likely that the sickness which had already so terribly diminished his force had altogether ceased. We are indeed expressly told that the soldiers were “sorely fatigued by their efforts in the battle, and greatly troubled by famine and other wants.” But, indeed, so sagacious and far-seeing a general could never have contemplated any other result. He had, in truth, got all that he could have hoped for. He had done what he had said he would do. He had marched from his town of Harfleur to his town of Calais, and all the hosts which the King of France had gathered to bar his way had been scattered before him. This chivalrous, even rash, undertaking had been accomplished, and accomplished with a success so splendid that it had seemed to be the very wisest thing that he could have done. He had not, it is true, achieved anything more towards the actual conquest of French territory than had been achieved on the day when Harfleur surrendered, but in prestige and in all that prestige can effect he had gained immensely. The glories of Crecy and Poictiers, dimmed by sixty years of feebleness and dissension, had been revived. Englishmen had again found that they could conquer even against desperate odds; and they had learnt that they had a captain at their head who was at least the equal in skill and courage of the greatest of those who had gone before him. Though the close of the day of Agincourt did not leave the conqueror in possession of one foot more of French soil than he had owned at its beginning, it brought him sensibly nearer to the end of his ambition, the crown of France. Any attempt to seize it at once would have been sheer madness. If he had ventured on a march to Paris, even the broken and dispirited remnant of the French army would have been sufficient to crush his feeble force. His policy was to wait, to gather fresh strength for a renewed effort. Meanwhile the profound discouragement that could not but be the result of a defeat so disastrous, suffered in circumstances so discreditable, would sink into the minds of his adversaries. Other causes, too, would be at work, the force of which he was shrewd enough to foresee. Dissension and jealousy were rife among the governing classes of France. Neither of the great feudatories of the French crown had been present at the battle of Agincourt. Two brothers of the Duke of Burgundy were there and fell in the conflict, but the Duke himself was absent, and absent, it would seem, of set purpose. The Duke of Britanny would have been present, says Monstrelet, if the battle had been delayed till the Saturday. But his tardy movements, in view of the ample notice which he must have received, are suspicious. As for the governed, there was a general feeling among them that they could not suffer more from the rule of the English than they were suffering already from their own princes and lords.

Henry’s course, then, after the victory was plain. Before everything acknowledgment must be made to God. Accordingly a service of solemn thanksgiving was performed by the clergy on the field. The Psalm In Exitu Israel (“When Israel came out of Egypt”) was chanted, and when the singers came to the words “Not unto us, not unto us,” every man knelt on the ground: the Te Deum followed. Then the army resumed its interrupted march to Calais, which was about forty miles distant. At Calais a council of war was held, and the resolution to return to England unanimously taken. A few days were allowed for refreshment, and about the middle of November the army embarked. The passage of the Channel was effected without loss; but though the wind was favourable, the sea was, as usual, rough, and the French prisoners, the chief of whom were carried in the King’s ship, declared that their sufferings were not less than those which they had endured on the disastrous day of Agincourt. They regarded with nothing less than astonishment the cheerful unconcern of Henry.

When the fleet reached Dover the people gave it a triumphant reception. Many of the citizens waded out to the royal ship, anxious to carry their King to shore. The streets were crowded with persons, religious as well as lay, who had gathered to do him honour. After some days spent at Dover, Henry proceeded to London. There, of course, a still more magnificent reception awaited him. The mayor and aldermen, with a vast throng of citizens, came out to meet him, and the scene in the city recalled the splendours of a Roman triumph. Banners inscribed with the achievements of the conqueror’s predecessors were displayed at the gates and in the streets, as if to show that his victories were to be ranked with theirs. The conduits ran with wine. Platforms were erected and hung with splendid draping, on which boys, habited like angels, sang the praises of the King. The people were especially anxious for a sight of the helmet still bearing the dint of that mighty stroke with which AlenÇon had almost changed the fortune of the day; but Henry’s modesty would not allow it or the rest of his armour to be exhibited. The same enthusiastic welcome was given to him in other places which he visited in the course of the next few weeks.

Among these festivities those who had fallen were not forgotten. On December 1st a solemn service, attended by a multitude of great ecclesiastics from all parts of the kingdom, was held in memory of the Duke of York and others, French as well as English, who had fallen at Agincourt. The King’s uncle, the Earl of Dorset, came over from Harfleur, of which place he had been made governor, to attend it. The news that he brought from France was so far satisfactory that he could report another victory over the French; but it was clear that, if the enemy already ventured to show himself so near to the English possessions, the work of conquest had yet to be done. For this work preparations on the largest scale had to be made. After keeping his Christmas at Lambeth, the King issued writs for a new Parliament. This met at Westminster on March 16th, and was exhorted by the Lord Chancellor (Bishop of Winchester) to assist the King in the completion of an enterprise which had been already so well begun. Accordingly the Commons voted, with the assent of the Lords and spiritual Peers, that the subsidies granted in the previous year should be collected sooner than had been before ordered, made a grant of equal amount for the year to come, and, in addition, gave the King tonnage and poundage for the safeguard of the sea, and settled on him for life the duties on wool and leather.

Henry’s attitude to his Parliaments remained, so far as we can judge, judicious and firm. It would be a mistake to suppose that the petitions which they presented to the sovereign always or even commonly represented a popular demand. They were oligarchical assemblies, and the interests which they asserted were often the interests of a class. The Crown might often be compelled to assert the right of those who were not represented by churchmen and barons on the one hand, or by knights of the shire and burgesses on the other. This was a duty which Henry seems not to have neglected. He certainly enjoyed what may fairly be called an unprecedented popularity. His Parliaments were invariably complaisant, and his people were enthusiastically attached to him. Dangers that would have seriously threatened a throne less firmly established in the affections of the natives passed by and did no harm. Neither the badness of his title to the crown, nor the anger of the Lollards, who conceived themselves betrayed by his House, nor the expenses of a costly war did anything to compromise his position. It would not be possible to find a greater contrast than was presented between France, distracted by factions struggling for the power which a lunatic king dropped from his hands, and England, harmonious and enthusiastic, welcoming back after a brilliant victory its vigorous prince, and united in giving him all the help that he demanded. If the darling scheme of the Plantagenets, the union of the two crowns, had been within the limits of possibility, Henry would certainly have effected it.

While the King was making preparations for another effort, a desultory warfare and negotiations for peace were going on simultaneously. In the May of 1416 an illustrious negotiator appeared upon the scene. Sigismund, King of the Romans, aspired to perform the functions of a moderator of European affairs—functions which he doubtless regarded as belonging to the imperial dignity. He had taken a principal share in bringing together the Council of Constance, which was to put an end to the scandalous Papal schism and to restore unity to the doctrine of Christendom. He now conceived the idea of bringing about a reconciliation between the rulers of France and England. After paying a visit to Paris he pursued his journey to England. Henry, always fond of magnificence, gave him splendid entertainment. But he was careful to let it be understood that he admitted no imperial pretensions which might interfere with his own sovereign rights. A story was brought to England of Sigismund’s behaviour in Paris from which it was gathered that such pretensions might possibly be put forward. The Emperor-elect had knighted an esquire who was a subject of the French king. Whatever he may have meant by the action, which indeed was probably suggested by personal feeling, it undoubtedly implied a very serious claim. Henry had sent to Calais a numerous fleet, which was to convey and escort his guest. When the ship that carried Sigismund approached the English coast, the Duke of Gloucester, with other nobles, rode into the water and demanded, before he was permitted to land, whether he claimed any imperial jurisdiction in England. On assurance being given that he meditated nothing of the kind, he received a royal welcome.

Another visitor who came to England on the same errand was William of Bavaria, Duke of Holland. The Duke of Burgundy also sent a representative, and ambassadors from the French court were present to discuss the conditions of peace. It is not easy, nor indeed is it important, to determine precisely what followed. The parties to the negotiations entered upon them with different objects, and are not likely to have been very frank in their dealings with each other. Henry was not willing to recede from the demands to which he had steadfastly adhered on the eve of Agincourt, when his position was apparently so desperate. He would be satisfied with nothing less than what had been conceded to his great-grandfather, Edward, by the Treaty of Bretigny. It is difficult to believe, even on the testimony of Sigismund, that the French envoys made such a concession. Its effect would have been to undo the work of years, and make the king of France what the king at Paris had been two centuries before. In September Henry accompanied his imperial guest to Calais, where they were met by the Duke of Burgundy. A treaty was drawn up by which it was stipulated that the Duke should assist the English king in his proposed conquest of France, and should have in return a share of the spoil. But it was not executed. The Duke shrank from committing himself to a course of action so unprincipled, and indeed so perilous to himself, for his best hope of independence lay in the rivalry between France and England. But though the treaty was not executed, the very fact of the meeting at which it had been discussed did much to serve Henry’s purpose. It increased the dislike and suspicion which the party that was in power in France already entertained for the Duke.

Meanwhile hostilities, which there is no need to describe in detail, had been going on. The Earl of Dorset (soon afterwards created Duke of Exeter), who was in command of the garrison at Harfleur, made a plundering expedition into the adjoining country, and found some difficulty in making his way back. In May the French made a retaliatory expedition against the southern shore of England, and ravaged the island of Portland. Later in the year Harfleur itself was besieged, and though it was twice successfully relieved, the fact made it evident that so far France remained unconquered. It is said that Henry was bent on conducting one of these relieving expeditions in person, but was dissuaded by his new friend Sigismund on the ground that the enterprise was not sufficiently important to call for his interference. Whatever the cause, he remained at home, organising his forces, collecting by whatever means were available—some of them, one cannot but think, not altogether creditable—the necessary funds, and generally preparing himself for an effort that should be final and conclusive. Early in 1417 he sent letters under the Privy Seal addressed to the nobles and gentlemen of the country, enjoining their attendance, either in person or by deputy, and making inquiry what number of men they could bring into the field. Further instructions were given a little later in the year to the effect that all persons so serving should attend at court and execute the indentures which should secure them their pay. Special attention was paid to the efficiency of the force of archers, and orders were issued to the sheriffs, enjoining the supply of a certain quantity of goose-quills for the feathering of the arrows.

Henry’s relations with the Duke of Burgundy naturally occupied much of his attention. It was the Duke’s Flemish possessions that brought him and the English king together. The trade between the Flemings and the English was a matter of great importance to both nations, and possibly of supreme importance to the former. Hence a treaty that gave it as much safety as was attainable was sure to be popular. The Duke sent ambassadors to England early in the year, when the truce concluded in 1416 was further extended. It was specially provided that no ships of war intended to act against the territories of either of the contracting parties should be fitted out in their ports, and no ships taken by pirates should be taken into such ports. The treaty was ratified in the month of August, and not till then did Henry feel himself ready to start on his second campaign, though he had named June 24th as the day of gathering at Southampton.