#historian: george makepeace towle

[une-sanz-pluis]

I was curious about a footnote in James Hamilton Wylie's The Reign of Henry V, Volume II (1415-1416), where he corrects the tendency of 19th century writers to mistranslate Gesta Henrici Quinti's account of Richard Courtenay's death or present Henry V as performing or helping the clergy perform extreme unction. So I decided to look up the full versions of the accounts.

The thing that struck me is just how... well, tender, these accounts of Courtenay's death are, as well as the whole "he was acting the role of the churchman" thing.

First, we have Harris Nicholas' The History of the Battle of Agincourt (1833) which is, in part, a translation of the Gesta Henrici Vita. I've already posted the more modern translation of the passage, but these are the notable sections:

"Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Norwich, who died on the 15th September … having received from Henry's own hands the last offices of religion and friendship"

"the King, who covered his feet with extreme unction..."

James Endell Tyler, Henry of Monmouth (1838):

Whilst Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Norwich, one of the victims of the dysentery, was lingering in the agonies of death, we find Henry in the midst of his besieging army, at the height of a very severe struggle, war and disease raging on every side, not in a council of his officers, planning the operations of tomorrow, nor on his couch, giving his body and mind repose from the fatigues and excitement of his opening campaign, but we see him on his knees at the deathbed of a dying minister of religion, joining in the offices of the church so long as the waning spirit could partake of its consolations ; and then not commissioning others, however faithful representatives they might have been, to act in his stead, but by his own hands soothing the sufferings of the dying prelate, and striving to make the struggle of his latter moments less bitter. Had Henry visited the tent of the good Bishop when he first knew of his malady, and charged any of his numerous retinue to pay especial attention to his wants and comforts, it would have been regarded, at such an hour of pressing emergence, as an act worthy of a Christian King. But Henry, who in no department of his public duties ever willingly deputed to others what he could personally attend to himself, carried the same principle into the exercise of the charities of private life ; and has here left a pattern of Christian sympathy and lowliness of mind, of genuine philanthropy, and the sincere affection of true friendship, worthy of prince and peasant alike to imitate. Bishop Courtenay is said to have been among Henry's chosen friends, recommended to him by the singular qualities of his head and his heart. He was a person (we are told) endowed with intellectual and moral excellences of a very high character ; and Henry knew how to appreciate the value, and cultivate the friendship, of such a man. Having enjoyed the satisfaction and benefit of his society in life, now, when he was on the point of quitting this world for ever, Henry never withdrew from his bed ; but, watching him with tender anxiety till the ministers of religion had solemnized the last rite according to the prevailing practice of the church in those days, even then, " in his own person," he continued to supply the wants of sinking mortality, "with his own hands wiping the chilled feet" of his dying friend. The manuscript proceeds to say, that, when life was extinct, with pious regard for his memory, Henry caused his body to be conveyed to England, and to be honourably buried among the royal corpses in Westminster.

George Makepeace Towle, The History of Henry the Fifth (1866):

Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Norwich, one of the King's best beloved friends, became a victim of the pestilence. As he lay suffering in his tent, his loving pupil and sovereign came alone to him, and, kneeling by his couch, prayed with him and comforted him. In the presence of death Henry bore himself meekly and with humble heart. He received with tender anxiety the dying words of the venerable prelate, and, with tears of proud hope, pictured to the departing soul the glories which were in store for it. As the end approached, Henry supplied the bishop's wants with affectionate care, and "with his own hands wiped the chilled feet of the dying man." Thus Henry could find time, amid all the anxieties of an active siege, to devote himself to the solemn and tender task of soothing the last hours of a faithful friend.