Joan of Arc’s story is one of the most remarkable, and sad, of all connected with military history. That she was a fine, inspiring leader is beyond doubt, and that she accomplished unusual, even great, things cannot be argued. Most observers comment that she was ill-served by her monarch, who, very likely, could have done much more to save her after she fell into the hands of the English. Charles VII continued on his slow way, negotiating here, fighting there, and by the beginning of the year 1453, he and his Frenchmen were on the verge of expelling the English from their soil. The final battle was at Castillon on July 17, 1453.
Who won the final battle of the Hundred Years’War after more than a century of war?
The English performed quite well at the battle’s beginning, and there were moments when it seemed that this might turn into another Agincourt or Crecy. The French had nearly 300 pieces of artillery, however, and they used these to turn the tide. By late afternoon, the English were routed, and France had the final victory it needed to claim that the province of Gascony was free of the English. Just a few months later, the war finally ended, with the English holding the city of Calais on the French side of the Channel, but nothing else.
How large was the Byzantine Empire in the fifteenth century?
One can almost ask how small it had become. The empire had once encompassed all of Turkey and much of the Balkans, as well as sections of the African coast. In 1453, it was reduced to a tiny strip of land—perhaps 200 square miles—centered around the city of Constantinople.
One century earlier—almost to the month—the Ottoman Turks had crossed the Dardanelles to establish a presence in mainland Europe; since then, they had slowly strangled what remained of the Byzantine Empire. No scorn was shown, however, because the Ottoman Turks, most of whom had never been within the walls of Constantinople, revered the city nearly as much as their opponents. The Turks referred to the center of downtown Constantinople as the “big red apple.”
How many times had Constantinople been besieged?
Perhaps twenty-two times in all, and on only one occasion had the city fallen. That was in 1204, when it succumbed to the Fourth Crusade. For perhaps fifty years thereafter, Constantinople had been under Venetian rule, but the Byzantines had ejected the Venetians by 1260. Now, in 1453, Constantinople faced its final test.
In April 1453, as the Turks approached, a feeling of fate and doom fell over the Byzantine capital. Constantinople had once housed 750,000 inhabitants; the number was now around 100,000, and of these only 7,000 had agreed to defend the walls. The Turks, by contrast, had well over 100,000 men, and their horses and oxen were dragging dozens of immensely heavy cannon. The largest artillery piece cast a bullet that weighed 750 pounds, and the gun itself required over 50 oxen to move.
When did the siege commence?
In mid-April, the sultan Mehmet—known as “The Conqueror”—invaded Constantinople. Many, if not most, of his predecessors had broken their forces helplessly against the walls of this city, but Mehmet had already determined that cannon and ships would do most of the work. Within days, his enormous siege guns were bringing down sections of the walls—some of which were over 1,000 years old—and his fleet had broken the iron chain that had, for centuries, defied each set of ships entrance to the Golden Horn.
The walls of Constantinople were no match for Mehmet the Conqueror’s siege guns. He took the city for the Turks in 1453. (L’Entrée du sultan Mehmet II à Constantinople le vingt-neuf mai 1453 by Jean-Joseph Benjamin-Constant, 1876)
The scene was something out of a movie, in that there were no trees or physical obstacles: one could see the entire panorama. Centuries of tradition endured within the walls, while centuries of aggression were arrayed against them. And on May 28, 1453, the Turks succeeded not only in breaching the walls but pouring into the city.
What happened to the emperor?
Constantine XI (ruled 1449–1453), the last Byzantine emperor, died that day, but whether he was killed on the steps of the great cathedral or in front of one of the broken set of walls is unknown. Thousands of civilians were killed as the Turks came into the city. The ceremony of victory, however, was reserved for the following day.
On May 29, 1453, Sultan Mehmet the Conqueror rode slowly through the ruined walls, passed through dozens of streets, and arrived at the building the Byzantines called Hagia Sophia, meaning church of divine wisdom. It had been built during the reign of the Emperor Justinian, roughly 920 years earlier. The sultan rode his horse up the steps and into the cathedral. Seeing beautiful Christian paintings on its inner walls, he decreed that these be covered over. He then declared that the building was now a mosque and that its name was Aiya Sophia, meaning “pride of the sultans.”
What was so important about the year 1453?
It is easier to reverse the question, to ask what was not important about that year. France finally expelled England from Gascony, ending the Hundred Years’ War. The Ottoman Turks finally captured Constantinople—“the big red apple”—which had been their goal for centuries. And, in a medium-sized German city, Johannes Gutenberg put the finishing touches on what would soon be known as the printing press, a technology that would change the lives of millions of people.
When did the Renaissance begin?
No one can put a true date for the precise beginning because the Renaissance was a social and artistic movement, rather than a primarily political one. If one poses this question to a group of scholars, however, chances are good that a majority would nod at the year 1453. In that calendar year, the Hundred Years’ War ended and Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Turks. Then, too, Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press began running off some of its first bibles around that time.
Is there any way to know, and to say, that one has passed the medieval type of warfare and entered the Renaissance?
Many of the weapons were quite similar. The crossbow, longbow, and lance were all still in use, but the early cannon and early muskets—known as harqubeses—had appeared. Also, when examining paintings of Renaissance warfare, one is struck by the greater amount of color. Italian artists, especially, put many shades of red and blue into their paintings, and the deep grimness—and perhaps griminess—of the Hundred Years’ War seems to dissipate.
To be sure, this does not mean that Renaissance warfare was less deadly; rather, it implies that the men involved had more of a sense of humor—and indeed of color—in their lives. The Italian mercenary bands, and the Swiss mercenary soldiers, especially, seem to have taken their warfare very seriously and their humor very lightly.
Which nation was furthest along the road to creating a modern-style army?
Spain had come the farthest distance in pursuit of that goal. The kingdoms of Aragon and Castile were united in the persons of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in 1469. Spain, too, had been at war with the Muslim population in its southern half for centuries, leading to the creation of a warrior culture. By 1485, only one Muslim enclave survived, the tiny Kingdom of Granada. Ferdinand and Isabella set their sights on Granada, knowing that a victory in Spain would do much to lift the spirits of men and women throughout Christendom.
Their Majesties attacked Granada in 1489 and following a three-year siege, the city capitulated. The siege went on so long that the Spanish forces built what amounted to another city—of the same size—in which they housed their troops and maintained their stores. To Ferdinand and Isabella the fall of Granada was the culmination of centuries of Christian Spain fighting against the Muslims, but to an Italian adventurer—from Genoa—it also represented a great opportunity. He was Christopher Columbus, and he staked nearly everything on persuading the Spanish king and queen to back his venture.
Which nation was furthest along the in the creation of a modern-style navy?
England.