St. Crispin’s Day, Agincourt and Henry V

Until recent decades, October 25 was the feast day of twin brothers born to a noble Roman family in the third century AD. Crispin and Crispinian, patron saints of cobblers, tanners and leather workers, are said to have preached Christianity to the Gauls during the day, and made shoes by night. While removed from the Church’s liturgical calendar, the feast day will always be remembered because of its reference in Shakespeare’s great history play, Henry V.

In that play, the King gives what must be the most rousing and inspirational speech of all time to his exhausted, sick, hungry and diminished “band of brothers,” as they prepared for battle with the French. Approximately 5000 English and Welsh archers, and 900 men-at-arms, defeated 20,000 to 30,000 French on their own ground at the Battle of Agincourt on October 25, 1415.

In my view, it is hard to imagine it ever being delivered with more skill and power than it was by Kenneth Branagh in the 1989 film for which he was nominated “Best Actor” and “Best Director.”

This speech is a reminder, in these perilous times, that the ability to speak and inspire are important qualities in a national leader.

Following are scenes of Branagh delivering the St. Crispin’s Day Speech just before the great battle, and the scene following the battle with the beautiful hymn of thanksgiving, “Non Nobis, Domine,” (Not Unto Us, O Lord, Be the Glory).

Speech by King Henry V on the Eve of the Battle of Agincourt

WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. 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 call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
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 Crispian'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 rememb'red.
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 remembered --
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 accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day.