hich was, in itself,
more than double the whole English power, broke and fled. At this time
of the fight, the English, who as yet had made no prisoners, began to
take them in immense numbers, and were still occupied in doing so, or in
killing those who would not surrender, when a great noise arose in the
rear of the French--their flying banners were seen to stop--and King
Henry, supposing a great reinforcement to have arrived, gave orders that
all the prisoners should be put to death. As soon, however, as it was
found that the noise was only occasioned by a body of plundering
peasants, the terrible massacre was stopped.

Then King Henry called to him the French herald, and asked him to whom
the victory belonged.

The herald replied, 'To the King of England.'

'_We_ have not made this havoc and slaughter,' said the King. 'It is the
wrath of Heaven on the sins of France. What is the name of that castle
yonder?'

The herald answered him, 'My lord, it is the castle of Azincourt.' Said
the King, 'From henceforth this battle shall be known to posterity, by
the name of the battle of Azincourt.'

Our English historians have made it Agincourt; but, under that name, it
will ever be famous in English annals.

The loss upon the French side was enormous. Three Dukes were killed, two
more were taken prisoners, seven Counts were killed, three more were
taken prisoners, and ten thousand knights and gentlemen were slain upon
the field. The English loss amounted to sixteen hundred men, among whom
were the Duke of York and the Earl of Suffolk.

War is a dreadful thing; and it is appalling to know how the English were
obliged, next morning, to kill those prisoners mortally wounded, who yet
writhed in agony upon the ground; how the dead upon the French side were
stripped by their own countrymen and countrywomen, and afterwards buried
in great pits; how the dead upon the English side were piled up in a
great barn, and how their bodies and the barn were all burned together.
It is in such things, and in many more much too horrible to relate, that
the real desolation and wickedness of war consist. Nothing can make war
otherwise than horrible. But the dark side of it was little thought of
and soon forgotten; and it cast no shade of trouble on the English
people, except on those who had lost friends or relations in the fight.
They welcomed their King home with shouts of rejoicing, and plunged into
the water to bear him ashore on