I realise that the regular reader
of this blog is not used to large swathes of wargaming happening. There is a
reason for this, in that a major project has been completed and so I have a bit
of time on my hands. This, incidentally, is the explanation for the posting
hiatus earlier in the year. Sometime I might get around the explaining what was
going on, but be it has now sort of finished.
Anyway, the blog is more famous
for not having pictures of beautifully painted soldiers (it still does not, of
course) or lengthy accounts of battles. I did bung up the occasional account,
but that was more, and still is, to keep track of the various narrative
campaign games that I have started, rather than to edify or entertain humanity,
or even the wargaming, blog following, parts thereof.
The blog, if it is known at all,
is better known for being a record of what I have been reading, particularly in
terms of postmodern, postcolonial historiography and, occasionally, attempting
to relate that to wargaming. Whether this is successful I am not sure. In my
thousand words or so limit of the posts, there is only so much you can say about
complex issues. But that has never stopped me before, so I suppose it never
will.
Anyway, the title event of this
post is something usually relegated to the footnotes of history texts, the loss
of Calais by the English in 1558. Calais was, of course, the last outpost of
the land in France captured during the Hundred Years War and had been a significant
trading post and entry point into Europe for English merchants and armies for a
long time. The garrison, as one of the few permanent military features of the
English government, had a disproportionate effect on some events in the Wars of
the Roses. Further, Henry VIII had used it as a launch point for his campaigns
in France.
The French decided to have a go
at Calais in the winter of 1557, to avenge their defeat by the Anglo-Spanish
army at St Quentin. The English knew of the offensive by 22nd December
but the government took no decisive action in reinforcing or resupplying the
port. The place surrendered on 7th January, followed by Guines on 20th,
the latter having put up a more stalwart defence than the town itself.
There was, in fact, much enthusiasm
in England for the relief of Calais, and the defence of Guines suggests that a
reinforced garrison might have put up more of a fight. But English inactivity
and bad weather in the Channel prevented any action and the Duke of Guise
commanded the French with brilliance and determination, as well as being in a
hurry (it was, after all, winter).
History treats the fall of Calais
as a bit of a footnote, as I mentioned. It is overshadowed by events in
England, France and the Low Countries. In England, Mary Tudor’s death led to
the removal of the Spanish alliance, and her half-sister Elizabeth ascending
the throne, with the consequent unsettling of the nation and need not to engage
in wars overseas. The death of Henry II of France led to a fair bit of chaos in
that country, while the Low Countries were affected by a wave of Protestant
preaching, iconoclasm, repression and rebellion.
I have been reading an essay
about reactions to the fall of Calais:
Grummitt, D., 'Three Narratives
of the Fall of Calais in 1558: Explaining Defeat in Tudor England', in Bellis,
J. and Slater, L. (eds.), Representing War and Violence 1250 - 1600
(Woodbridge: Boydell, 2016), 178-190.
This is, of course, the same book
which I referred to a few posts ago, and this essay is one of the reasons for
reading it, of course.
English writers had a range of
responses to the fall of Calais. The early ones suggested treason. The
commander of Calais, Lord Wentworth was tried for treason, among other crimes
and acquitted in 1559. Popular views suggested that the real reason for the
fall of Calais was the government – that of Mary Tudor. Of course, this was
tied up with the religious question in England. The Marian regime was Catholic
and therefore suspect to many, including incoming officials and those keen to
curry favour with it. The neglect of Calais became an analogy for the rule of
Mary, to the latter’s disadvantage.
Once the dust had, as it were,
settled, other views came to the fore. In, perhaps, a typically English manner,
the courage of the defeated was celebrated. Initial apathy to recapturing the
town was replaced by celebration of the prowess of the defenders. Elizabethan
narratives celebrated the prowess of English arms. Lord Grey, defender of
Guines, was given command of the expedition into Scotland which resulted in the
fiasco at Leith. A defence of his military prowess at Calais, therefore, was
fitting in the 1560s.
Finally, in the later Elizabethan
period, rational explanation of the events came to the fore. This was the era
of the ‘military revolution’. Guise was cast as the exemplar renaissance
general. The actions of besieged and besiegers were analysed according to the best
military advice available.
The ways the campaign and defeat
were written about give us varying views and the differences between them
yield aspects of the culture in which they were written. The explanations of
defeat vary. The fall of Calais, Grummitt argues, should not be dismissed
lightly, and the resulting texts are not simply anti-Marian diatribes. Religion,
cowardice and neglect coexist in the accounts.
As wargamers, of course, we can
take the accounts and turn them into games. But which parts of the accounts do
we take? What aspects are wargame-able? Do we focus on the military neglect of
Calais, the bravery of the defenders or the brilliance of the French command?
With varying accounts of the process of the fall of Calais, how can we possibly
construct something that is in any was ‘historical’?
And now, of course, I have just
shored up the blog’s reputation as a forum for postmodern wargaming.
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