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The Myths of Medieval
Warfare
by Sean McGlynn
from History
Today v.44 (1994)
The study of medieval
warfare has suffered from an approach that concentrates on its social,
governmental and economic factors to the detriment of military methods and
practice. The nature of feudal society has been analysed in great depth, but its
application to how wars were actually fought has largely been ignored and
frequently misinterpreted. Despite recent important work these
misinterpretations have been stubbornly persistent, perpetuating the long-held
myth that the art of warfare reached its nadir in the Middle Ages. John Keegan's
latest book, A History of Warfare (Hutchinson, 1993), reflects the view of some
leading military historians in referring to 'the long interregnum between the
disappearance of the disciplined armies of Rome and the appearance of state
forces in the sixteenth century'. In The Wars of the Roses (Cassell, 1993),
Robin Neillands regards knightly warfare as involving no great skill, being
simply a matter of bludgeoning one's opponent to the ground. Whereas these and
other historians have assimilated a number of the more correct observations on
medieval warfare, the complete picture has remained frustratingly obscure.
That this
should be so is due in the main to the success of the pioneering work of
historians in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, among whom were
Henri Delpech, Hans Delbrück and Sir Charles Oman. Oman's influence has been
particularly pervasive because of the continuing availability of a work
considered a classic, The Art of War in the Middle Ages (the first edition was
published by Blackwell in 1885, with a ninth printing by Cornell University
Press in 1990; the final revised and improved edition in two volumes was
published by Methuen in 1924, reprinted by Greenhill in 1991). Although much of
Oman's wide-ranging work was of value, his conclusions on 'feudal' warfare
remained flawed. Ironically, both he and the distinguished historian, Ferdinand
Lot, recognised the supreme importance of fortified places, but they
concentrated instead on the appeal and drama of knights and battles.
Collectively,
damaging myths of medieval warfare emerged from these historians. Battles were
all important, fought by opposing armies of knights who would inadvertently
encounter one another. The ensuing melee was a confusion of individual duels by
glory-seeking knights set on establishing a martial reputation. The knight was
ill-disciplined, too proud to fight on foot, adhered only to the most
rudimentary tactics and was poorly led. No thought was given to logistics and
ravaging was carried out for want of a coherent strategy. Infantry and archery,
if present at all, were only marginal and ineffective, insignificant until the
revolutionary tactics of the fourteenth century. The early modern period saw a
new age in warfare, marked by the greater efficiency and tactics of the standing
armies and by the prevalence of sieges.
Unfortunately, the study of medieval warfare has been dominated by general
historians (military and otherwise), soldiers and enthusiasts whose neglect or
uncritical use of the available primary sources has led to judgements formulated
through inappropriate modern and comparative interpretations. The growth in
governmental records in the later Middle Ages has provided a wealth of
quantitative information on military matters, and the period has accordingly
received more research than the eleventh to thirteenth centuries; but the
potential of chronicles from this earlier period has not been fully exploited.
Despite his
contributions to the subject, John Beeler wrote that the only literate class of
the day were the clergy and monks who understandably 'had little comprehension
of military matters, and even less interest in ... strategy and tactics' (Warfare
in Feudal Europe, Cornell University Press, 1971). This overlooks the evidence:
William of Poitiers, Villehardouin and Joinville were just a few of the
fighting men who wrote detailed accounts of war. The monks and clergy,
meanwhile, could show as keen an interest in war as their fathers, brothers and
patrons were members of the fighting class, the bellatores: Suger, Abbot of St
Denis, gives a vigorous account of King Louis VI at war in his Life of Louis the
Fat; Bishop Hugues of Auxerre would gather knights about him to discuss military
lessons from Vegetius' De Re Militari, a classical text valued as a handbook on
war by medieval commanders. Many ecclesiastics took a more active involvement:
the Bayeux Tapestry depicts Bishop Odo of Bayeux in battle at Hastings and
Archbishop Turpin is given a heroic role in The Song of Roland ('Thousands of
strokes the stout Archbishop strikes').
All writers,
whether military or clerical, came from the first ranks of the social order. It
is this social aspect that explains the relative omission of lowly foot-soldiers
and archers in the sources: they were always present in war but were afforded
little mention. This has mistakenly been taken as evidence for their very
limited value before the end of the thirteenth century.
The more
egregious errors concerning medieval warfare should have been dispelled by two
important revisionist books, R.C. Smail's Crusading Warfare 1097-1193 (Cambridge
University Press, 1956) and J.F. Verbruggen's The Art of Warfare in Western
Europe During the Middle Ages (North-Holland 1977, originally published in
Brussels in 1954). Both authors discredited the excessive focus of their
predecessors on battles, stressing that in fact medieval commanders would
normally adopt a strategy of battle avoidance rather than risk the consequences
of a pitched battle. King John II of France was taken prisoner at Poitiers
(1356) and at Bosworth (1485) the death of Richard III meant the loss of both
king and cause. Verbruggen observes that between 1071 and 1328 in Flanders,
frequently invaded, there were only eleven battles of note.
Smail's study
of crusading campaigns without battles shows that military activity on these
occasions was nonetheless intensive, with intelligence gathering, ravaging,
logistical concerns and other actions. Battles were only one of the means
available to attain the objects of war ... the true end of military activity was
the capture and defence of fortified places'. This meant that medieval warfare
confined itself to the achievement of known and limited aims, a concept
different to the twentieth century's one of engagement and destruction of the
enemy's forces and the unconditional surrender of the defeated.
Verbruggen also recognised the role of the castle but, even more than Smail, he
concentrated on armies in the field, successfully challenging the myth of the
blundering knight who had no idea of tactics. He went further than Smail in
emphasising the skill and professionalism of the milites, the heavy cavalry of
the Middle Ages. He contends that medieval warfare should not be judged
according to the capability of the foot-soldiers, as had been the case, 'but
rather according to that of cavalry'. In reality, it should be evaluated on a
number of important criteria infantry, logistics, strategy, tactics,
recruitment, and sieges for example – of which cavalry is only one, albeit
very important, element.
Verbruggen
dismisses the view of battles as involving little more than knights in a series
of individual combats. This myth has arisen from a misuse of the sources:
historians have kept the name of the prominent nobleman who fought at the head
of his unit,
but in their account of the engagement they forget the words cum suis, avec sa
gent, cum sua
acie ['with his troops'), with the result that the fighting of entire formations
is represented as a
duel fought out by two champions.
These formations were made up of small tactical units (conrois) from which the
larger batailles were formed. Knights trained for war in such units, especially
at tournaments where manoeuvres and tactics were practised over a wide area
through countryside and villages, formalised tilting at the lists coming only in
the late thirteenth century. Sources such as The History of William the Marshal
confirm the level of skills necessary for combat', as the twelfth-century
chronicler, Roger of Howden, wrote: 'without practice the art of war did not
come naturally when it was needed'.
Training instilled discipline into the knight. The image of the impulsive knight
charging headlong into the fray is largely a false one. An Arabian warrior in
the Crusades, Usamah ibn Munqidh, complained of his enemies: 'Of all men, the
Franks are the most cautious in warfare'. Discipline was vital to the success of
the cavalry The shock charge, the knight's greatest tactical weapon, depended on
the serried ranks of the cavalry maintaining tight formation during the assault
thereby creating an irresistible force that could, according to the Byzantine,
Anna. Comnena, break through the walls of Bahylon. The victory won by Simon de
Montfort's greatly out numbered French force at Muret in 1213 showed what it
could achieve the Crusaders burst through the enemy ranks to reach King Peter of
Aragon, killing him and annihilating his army. Incidentally, this battle also
offers a good example of a medieval commander directing his mounted tactical
reserve in a decisive flank attack. Verbruggen also establishes that knights
could be recalled from: charge and be reorganised for further assaults,
rebutting a long-held belie to the contrary. A variation of this was the feigned
flight, most famously employed at Hastings in 1066, a tactic devised to draw out
the defences of the enemy, thereby rendering him more vulnerable to a renewed
cavalry charge.
The knight,
then, was a disciplined and well-trained professional soldier. Was he also
chivalrous? The knight's code of honour should not be under- estimated and was
of great importance, but so was his quest for financial rewards. Capture of an
opposing knight, whether in a tournament or on the battlefield, meant lucrative
gains from ransom and booty (preda) in the form of expensive armour and
warhorses. A knight was worth more alive than dead. Orderic Vitalis, writing on
the battle of Brémule in 1119 informs us that only three knights were killed,
but 140 were taken prisoner. He attributes this to the protective efficacy of
the armour and because the knights, as 'Christian warriors, had no desire to
shed the blood of their brothers'. Indeed not; they desired instead to ransom
their brothers for large sums of money. The belief that medieval warfare centred
around knightly duels has fuelled the study of chivalry. However, in warfare,
chivalry applied only to the knight, and it ignored other vital elements.
Maurice Keen in Chivalry (Yale, 1984), the standard work on the subject,
highlights this when discussing advances in cavalry tactics, judiciously noting
that 'advances in castle building and in techniques of siege warfare were
equally or even more important'.
The various
strands of war are admirably drawn together in Philippe Contamine's classic, War
in the Middle Ages (Blackwell, 1984; translated by Michael Jones). This
authoritative overview stresses the interconnection of war with society as a
whole, rightly holding that war is 'the product of a whole cultural, technical
and economic environment’. He places war against the background of the
commercial revolution and changes in government and administration in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the outcome of which was an increasingly
monetised society.
Perhaps the
most obvious implication of a money economy for war was the emergence of the
permanent armies identified with the early modern period. In this light the
innovative indenture system of Edward I (1272-1307) is seen as instrumental in
heralding the eventual decline of the feudal summons in favour of more
professional, paid forces. This belief is countered in an important recent book
edited by Matthew Strickland, Anglo-Norman Warfare (Boydell, 1992), which makes
accessible to a wider audience a collection of eclectic academic articles by
specialists, primarily written during the last fifteen years. Where recognition
has been given to medieval warfare for proficient recruitment; the use of
effective infantry, archery and dismounted knights, competent leadership and
strategy, and the chevauchée, historians have tended to date these developments
from the later Middle Ages, and especially from the revolution in tactics and
organisation under Edward I. The contributors to Anglo-Norman Warfare trace
these developments to an earlier period, encouraging debate between early and
late medievalists. Whereas some of these issues were raised by Smail, Verbruggen
and Contamine, their conclusions were sometimes hesitant and not fully
developed; more importantly, the degree of emphasis, repeatedly accentuated in
these articles, recreates a much clearer and more authentic picture of the true
nature of warfare throughout the Middle Ages.
J.O.
Prestwich argues that feudalism has been overrated as a method of military
organisation; money always formed the sinews of war and was a more consistent
method of recruitment. As Richard FitzNeal wrote c. 1179, money was 'poured out
in fortifying castles [and] in soldiers' wages’. The Treaty of Dover in 1101
is given as an example of an early indenture system. By the terms of this
treaty, Henry I of England hired 1,000 Flemish knights from. Count Robert of
Flanders at the price of £500 per annum. Prestwich significantly remarks that
at a time when the feudal levy of England did not produce more than 5,000
knights, Henry had 'been arranging for the service of 1,000 knights from one
external source alone'. Elsewhere, he writes that the military household (familia
regis) of the Norman kings 'supplied the standing professional element, capable
of fighting independent actions and, for a major campaign, providing the
framework into which other forces could be fitted'. This permanent force was
prominent in battles and controlled an extensive network of castles; in
structure and size it was comparable to the familia regis of Edward I. This
degree of continuity in the military organisation of England in the Middle Ages
reveals the long evolution to the standing armies of the early modern period.
In articles
affirming the skill of medieval generalship as demonstrated by Richard the
Lionheart, William the Conqueror and William the Marshal, John Gillingham
addresses some of the routine activities in warfare. Ravaging (terram depopulare,
vastare) and plundering were not matters of mindless destruction or the only
means of obtaining food and supplies (the importance of logistics to military
considerations is underlined); destroying the enemy's crops and livestock
undermined his economic base and thereby deprived him of the revenues essential
for the waging of war. It was a possible means of provoking an opponent into the
field, but normally a strategy of battle avoidance prevailed. In 1054, Duke
William defended Normandy by shadowing the invading forces, preventing them from
ravaging and foraging his lands, all the while avoiding a full engagement. The
effects of ravaging could be devastating, as commanders put into operation a
cardinal lesson of Vegetius: 'the main and principal point in war is to secure
plenty of provisions for oneself and to destroy the enemy by famine. Famine is
more terrible than the sword'. In the Hundred Years' War ravaging is better
known as the chevauchée.
According to
Oman, the later Middle Ages lay claim to 'one of the first medieval generals who
shows a complete appreciation of the value of time in war', referring to Edward
IV on account of his 'accustomed celerity' in the Wars of the Roses. As
Gillingham shows, The History of William the Marshal is just one source that
makes repeated reference to rapid troop movements and the element of surprise:
at Winchester in 1141 King Stephen's swift and unexpected arrival put the
Empress Matilda to flight; and a night march by John Marshal in the same year
was used to lay an ambush.
A royal act
from France in 1188 stipulated that Tournai had to provide 300 heavy infantry (predites
bene armatos) when summoned by Philip II, a substantial number from one source,
and one of many cases to rebut the view that medieval foot-soldiers only became
a significant and effective force in the fourteenth century. Articles by Matthew
Bennet, Jim Bradhury and John Gillingham reveal the 'vitally important' role of
infantry by such telling examples as when the spears of Henry II's foot-soldiers
saw off the French cavalry at Gisors in 1188 ('not the kind of thing that is
supposed to happen in medieval warfare before the battle of Courtai in 1302')
and the series of battles in England and Normandy between 1066 and 1141 which
display the tactical combination of cavalry, dismounted knights, archers and
infantry.
Medieval
strategy cannot be understood outside the context of siege warfare and the
castle's military role, areas that have been subject to oversight. Matthew
Strickland's article on invasion and defence strategy builds on Smail's
conclusions by analysing the Anglo-Scottish campaigns of 1138 and 1173-74. He
details how some castles would be deliberately destroyed or left unprepared at
the outbreak of war, with resources and manpower concentrated on a number of key
strongholds. This was a common medieval practice, as implemented by Charles VI
of France during the Hundred Years' War following a survey of his castles by his
knights. Although this would not stop an invading army from ravaging the
surrounding territories, 'the conquest of a disputed region could only be
achieved by the occupation or the destruction of its castles'. Rather than
giving battle and risk losing garrison manpower, a defending force was often
better to remain in relative safety behind castle walls until the invading force
withdrew. This was exactly the policy of Count Baldwin of Hainault in 1184 who,
immured in his castle and watching enemies ravage his fields, remarked: 'They
can't take the land with them'. Given that the most fundamental principle of
medieval warfare was the rule of territory through occupying strongholds, much
work remains to be done on castle strategy to improve our understanding of war
in the Middle Ages. (A forthcoming companion volume to Anglo-Norman Warfare,
focusing on castles and fortifications, will make more accessible some of this
work.)
As the
ultimate objective of medieval strategy was the control of fortifications, this
meant sieges – and lots of them. As with ravaging, the chronicles are replete
with references to sieges (obsidiones). Jim Bradbury's The Medieval Siege (Boydell,
1992) is a much needed comprehensive survey of this neglected field. The
multitude of methods involved in taking a strongpoint – starving, mining,
storming, bombardment, treachery, bribery, ruse and, most usually of all,
negotiations – indicate how large a branch of conflict poliorcetics (siege
warfare) is it is also the most important part. Paradoxically, despite
recognition of this, it has received relatively little attention; but nor has it
been misrepresented. Sieges have occasionally been more closely identified with
early modern warfare, but this should no longer be so as Geoffrey Parker has
noted their key role in the Middle Ages in The Military Revolution (Cambridge
University Press, 1988).
A major
implication of sieges for armies in the field was their duration. A besieging
army settling down for a long investiture was vulnerable to disease and being
caught between the garrison and a relieving army. It is instructive that most
battles arose from sieges and many involved relief forces: Tinchebrai (1106),
Lincoln (1141), Formigny (1450). Primary strongholds generally required a
lengthy blockade: Chateau-Gaillard (1203-4) and Rouen (1418-19) each lasted
nearly six months; Calais (1346-47) took eleven months. Medieval warfare was
clearly not a seasonal occupation restricted to the summer months.
A
particularly contentious issue in medieval military debates concerns the
longbow: was it a revolutionary or an evolutionary weapon Jim Bradbury turns his
attention to this question in The Medieval Archer (Boydell, 1985), convincingly
challenging the conventional view that the longbow was a new and devastating
weapon only fully adopted by the English after the experience of Edward I's
armies against Welsh archers at the end of the thirteenth century. He notes that
the term 'longbow' was not used by contemporaries, even during the Hundred
Years' War. Of greater importance, he stresses the role of the archer throughout
the Middle Ages, and not just from the fourteenth century. Although the 1181
Assize of Arms (Henry II's famous ordinance for the arming of his English
subjects) makes no mention of the bow, the continental edict of the same time
does (arcum et sagittas). Bradbury investigates the significant part played by
archery at the battles of Hastings (1066), Bourgthéroulde (1124) and of the Standard (1138).
Together with the specific mentions in Henry III's Assize of 1252, this brings
the bow up to the eve of the Welsh Wars. The continuity is even more marked when
one considers a successful summons by King John in 1215. Roger of Wendover
reports that many men had to be dismissed from the expeditionary force; only the
most important troops were retained, and these included the archers.
The archer's
role is best recognised in the famous battles of the Hundred Years' War, most
notably Crécy (1346) and Agincourt (1415), the startling result of Edward I's
original tactics in his Scottish wars. But Bradbury clearly proves that the
tactic of deploying archers with dismounted knights was a practice used in the
twelfth century. Archers at Bourgthéroulde halted a cavalry charge before it
reached the knights on foot. At the Battle of the Standard most of the English
knights dismounted while others were kept for the cavalry reserve. Archers and
spearmen were positioned in the front rank; dismounted knights were mixed in
with the archers. In both battles archery was instrumental to the victory. Thus
'it is not easy to see anything novel in the use of dismounted men-at-arms and
archers in the Hundred Years' War'. What was new and developed in the Scottish
wars, however, was 'the sheer increase in the number of archers employed', and
it was this that created such an impact in the fourteenth century.
Every period
of history has its share of military blunders, inept leaders and poor
organisation, but it is a mistake to consider them as the norm in medieval
warfare rather than as exceptions to the rule. War in the Middle Ages was fought
as competently as in any other period and the era does not represent a hiatus in
the evolution of military history. In about 375 BC, Plato wrote in The Republic
that it is 'of the greatest importance that the business of war should be
efficiently run’. The Middle Ages channelled their best efforts to this end,
and with appreciable success.
This article was originally published in History
Today, vol. 44 no. 1 (1994). We thank History
Today and Sean McGlynn for their permission to republish this article.
An updated (2001)
historiographical surveys are to be found in Sean McGlynn's essays in Charles
Messenger (ed), Reader's Guide to Military History (Fitzroy Dearborn
2001).
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