Lt. Col. Alfred H. Burne served in the Royal Artillery of Great Britain from 1906 through 1945, serving active duty in France during World War I and as a training officer in Britain during World War II. In his retirement in the late 1940s and 1950s he wrote several very influential works on military history, particularly medieval military history. The Agincourt War, first published in 1956, is the second book in his history of the Hundred Years War. The first The Crecy War, covers the conflict from its origins until the 1390s, where The Agincourt War picks up and continues the war to its conclusion. It is always useful to understand the background and potential biases of any historian, but for a historian like Burne it is particularly vital because his background bleeds through into his work on almost every page. This is not to say that reading Burne’s work is without merit, nor to undersell his influence on the field of medieval military history, but more to note that tackling an author like Burne and his work is a complex matter and not one to be taken lightly.
The Agincourt War briefly covers the career of the marshal Bertrand du Guesclin in its opening in one of the least flattering portrayals this famous French commander has ever received. Burne describes his campaigns as being largely without military interest since they consist primarily of raids and sieges with no major battle. The Frenchman even has the indecency to have been captured in both of the major battles he fought in. Burne even takes a moment to comment on how ugly du Guesclin apparently was, along with a jibe about him having “common” origins. Burne is not entirely without praise for du Guesclin – he recognises that for someone of his status to be buried amidst the French monarchs must mean something, but his acknowledgements of du Guesclin’s successes are at best backhanded compliments and at worst outright insults. He even manages to work in another jibe about how ugly du Guesclin was when discussing another Breton commander, Arthur de Richemont, later in the book.
I bring this up because it really gets to the heart of what the tone of Burne’s work is as well as his major interests. Burne is primarily interested in field battles: major engagements between armies. In this way his interest in military history is very much rooted in a modern understanding of conflict. Extensive discussion is devoted to the manoeuvring of armies, army sizes, the disposition of troops before battle, and course of the battles themselves. Parallels are frequently drawn to Burne’s own experience on World War I – particularly during the Normandy campaigns as they overlap geographically with his own service – as well as World War II and, occasionally, Napoleonic warfare. Burne acknowledges in places that siege warfare was the dominant kind in the Middle Ages, and there are descriptions of famous or important sieges, but these still focus primarily upon the commanders, rather than a description of how siege warfare actually worked at the time. If you want an explanation of late medieval artillery or the process involved in undermining city walls you will not find them here. This is very much military history as grand strategy; logistics are considered only when absolutely necessary. This is why the campaigns of Bertrand du Guesclin feature little of interest to Burne, whereas the wars of Henry V are full of the grand manoeuvres, major battles, and the clash of strong personalities that interest him most.
Another feature present in Burne’s dismissal of du Guesclin is his significant pro-English bias. This history is clearly very personal to Burne and he was very invested in the successes and failures of the English. He is full of praise for Henry V and John Talbot, and more reserved but still positive toward the Duke of Bedford. On the other hand, he has scathing things to say about Charles VII and is generally unimpressed with most of the other French commanders. He frequently criticises French commanders for failing to seek battle, labelling them cowards and weaklings, even if by his own description it was probably not tactically in their best interest to fight. Only Joan of Arc, and to a lesser extent Jean Bureau, escape his disapproval. Joan being the only French commander he is full of praise for and is possibly the only figure in the book to rise to near the heights of Henry V.
Burne was also a firm believer in the possibility that the English could have succeeded – that Henry V and his descendants could have been Kings of France. He even continued to believe in the possibility of English success after the 1435 Treaty of Arras, where the Burgundians switched their alliance to France. Arras is generally considered by most historians to be the beginning of the end for English rule in France. Without Burgundian support it was untenable for the English to hold on to Normandy – and given the state of English finances and the chaos of the Henry VI administration, Gascony was unlikely to hold out for long after. Burne doesn’t see it this way, and instead in his narrative turns against English fortune almost always come out of some unexpected twist in the events of the war rather than coming from limitations in English capacity to fight the war. Joan of Arc is the pinnacle of this theory – an unexpected force arising from seemingly nowhere to revitalize French morale and force the English back. This is not to say that Burne is above putting blame on individual English commanders or to criticise what he views as their errors – but he never considers that the war was unwinnable or that England may have stretched itself too far. Where a more modern historian might argue that the Siege of Orleans was unlikely to ever succeed – the English army being too small and overstretched as is – Burne argues it was winnable right up until Joan of Arc arrived outside its walls.
It is worth considering Burne’s most famous introduction to the study of military history – his concept of “Inherent Military Probability” or IMP. This was Burne’s solution to the problem of medieval sources, or the lack thereof. When presented with a lack of information about how a conflict unfolded, Burne would use his best judgement as a military officer of substantial experience to determine what the most logical course of action would have been – and then to assume that the medieval commander did that. To be generous to this concept, Burne acknowledges something often neglected by earlier historians of medieval military history: medieval commanders were as smart as their modern equivalents. These were not superstitious rubes relying on their faith in God to bring them victory. They made intelligent tactical and strategic decisions based on their own expertise when faced with the inevitable challenges of campaigning and waging war. The inherent flaw in IMP is that Burne was an artillery officer in a modern army with experience in modern warfare – no matter how hard he might try he could not place himself in the shoes of a medieval commander and the very different form of war they waged.
This is most apparent in Burne’s mild obsession with the idea that if the English could just take the enemy capitol, they might successfully win the war – an extremely modern concept. Burne criticises the English commanders for failing to march on Baugé, where Charles VII had his headquarters, after the signing of the Treaty of Troyes in 1420 disinherited Charles and made Henry V the heir to the French throne. Burne seemingly thought that had they taken the city then the cause of the (then) Dauphin Charles would have crumbled and with it French resistance to English rule. This doesn’t really seem to follow, after all the English already held Charles’ actual capitol of Paris and there was plenty of territory in southern France for Charles to move on to. Besides, even if they took the city could the English really hold it? They would be far outside their usual territory and the army could only stay in the field for a short while. In a similar vein Burne argues that in the campaigns of the early 1440s the English should have tried to take Paris – seeming to believe that similarly this would resolve the conflict in England’s favour. This all seems too rooted in the World Wars and the idea of taking Berlin to defeat the Germans rather than reflecting actual medieval reality.
It probably sounds like I’m being a bit harsh on Alfred Burne, and I want to stress that this book is a piece of serious scholarship by a very talented scholar – it is just also a dated work whose flaws are more apparent with the advantage of hindsight. There is a lot to be impressed with when reading Burne, and I genuinely enjoyed my time with his book. For one thing, there are very few books that cover the final stages of the Hundred Years War in any detail. While books on Agincourt are plentiful, Burne’s book carries on past that famous victory through the disastrous end of the war in the late 1440s and early 1450s. Most English language histories are content to end around 1435, if they even get that far, and provide only a cursory summary of the very end. While Burne does spend more time on Agincourt and Henry V’s conquest of Normandy than he does on Charles VII’s reconquest of Normandy and Gascony he still provides more detail on those latter campaigns than many histories I have read. Only Juliet Barker’s Conquest really covers the same period in detail in English, and that still wraps up around 1450 – before the reconquest of Gascony.
The thing I love most about Burne’s book is the Appendices that he places at the end of each chapter. In these sections Burne discusses things like how he derived estimates for the sizes of armies, or his thoughts on the available evidence, but most importantly he discusses his sources in detail. He mentions what medieval chronicles and sources cover this period of the war, and where to find a published version of the text (usually an early modern or nineteenth century edition). One of the most relatable things I have read in years was a passage where Burne complained about how hard it was to get access to a certain source for a campaign because it wasn’t published in an accessible volume. Burne also provides references to what was at the time the most up to date scholarship, showing his mastery of both French and English nineteenth and early twentieth century historiography. Burne also shows impressive knowledge of the geography of the areas he discusses – he has clearly visited most if not all the major battlefields of this period and describes in detail his efforts to locate the exact sites of the battle. While we may quibble with his conclusions, his knowledge of French geography cannot be denied.
If you’re interested in a book on the Hundred Years War, A.H. Burne’s The Agincourt War would not be my first recommendation. It is a work of its time and as a study of medieval military conflict its flaws outweigh its merits. However, if you’re doing a deep dive into the Hundred Years War, or late medieval warfare more generally, at some stage you will have to reckon with Burne and his legacy in the field. For good or ill, Burne’s fascination with medieval battles lasted long past his lifetime and still hangs over the study of medieval warfare. There is still far more written about the famous battles of the Middle Ages than the sieges. If you are taking a historiographical deep dive into this subject, you owe it to yourself to experience Burne and his writing directly – don’t just take a summary of it from someone else. At the very least it makes for some interesting reading, and his ability to point you to the most relevant chronicles for any individual campaign is still valuable even 60+ years later. However, if what you want is a general history of the Hundred Years War, read David Green’s The Hundred Years War: A People’s History instead. It’s a much more up to date work and covers a much wider range of topics than Burne’s hyper focused military study.