A Short History of Wales [15]
to fight each other--were not willing to lose their fish harvest in order to fight so far away.
In 1282, Edward's great army closed round Snowdon. The chiefs still faithful to Llywelyn had to yield or flee. But winter was coming on, and could Edward keep his army in the field? An attempt had been made to enter Snowdon from Anglesey, but the English force was destroyed at Moel y Don. It looked as if Edward would have to retire. Llywelyn left Snowdon, and went to Ceredigion and the Vale of Towy to put new heart in his allies, and from there he passed on to the valley of the Wye. He meant, without a doubt, to get the barons of the border, Welsh and English, to unite against Edward. But in some chance skirmish a soldier slew him, not knowing who he was. When they heard that their Prince was fallen, his men in Snowdon entirely lost heart. They had no faith in David, and in a few months the whole of Wales was at Edward's feet.
CHAPTER XII--CONQUERED WALES
The war between Edward and Llywelyn was not a war between England and Wales, as we think of these countries now. Some of the best soldiers under Edward were Welsh, especially the bowmen who followed the Earl of Gloucester and Roger Mortimer from the Wye and Severn valleys.
It is not right that we Welshmen should feel bitter against England, because, in this last war, Edward won and Llywelyn fell. It is easy to say that Edward was cruel and faithless, and it is easy to say that Llywelyn was shifty and obstinate; but it is quite clear that each of them thought that he was right. Edward thought that Britain ought to be united: Llywelyn thought Wales ought to be free. Now, happily, we have the union and the freedom.
On the other hand, I should not like you to think that Wales was more barbarous than England, or Llywelyn less civilised than Edward I. Giraldus Cambrensis saw a prince going barefoot, and the fussy little Archbishop Peckham saw that Welsh marriage customs were not what he liked; and many historians, who have never read a line of Welsh poetry, take for granted that the conquest of Wales was a new victory for civilisation.
In many ways Wales was more civilised than England at that time. Its law was more simple and less developed, it is true; but it was more just in many cases, and certainly more humane. Was it not better that the land should belong to the people, and that the youngest son should have the same chance as the eldest? And, in crime, was it not better that if no opportunity for atonement was given, the death of the criminal was to be a merciful one? In the reign of John, a Welsh hostage, a little boy of seven, was hanged at Shrewsbury, because his father, a South Wales chief, had rebelled. In the reign of Edward I., the miserable David was dragged at the tails of horses through the streets of the same town, and the tortures inflicted on the dying man were too horrible to describe to modern ears. And what the Norman baron did, his Welsh tenant learnt to do. In Wales you get fierce frays and frequent shedding of blood; on the borders you get callous cruelty to a prisoner, or the disfiguring of dead bodies-- even that of Simon de Montfort, the greatest statesman of the Middle Ages in England--on the battlefield when all passion was spent.
Take the rulers of Wales again. Griffith ap Conan and Llywelyn the Great had the energy and the foresight, though their sphere was so much smaller, of Henry II. And what English king, except Alfred, attracts one on account of lovableness of character as Owen Gwynedd and Owen Cyveiliog and the Lord Rees do?
When Edward entered into Snowdon, Welsh was spoken to the Dee and the Severn, and far beyond. There were many dialects, as there are still, though any two Welshmen could understand each other wherever they came from, with a little patience, as they can still. But there was also a literary language, and this was understood, if not spoken, by the chiefs all through the country. It was more like the Welsh spoken in mid-Wales--especially in the valley of the Dovey--than any
In 1282, Edward's great army closed round Snowdon. The chiefs still faithful to Llywelyn had to yield or flee. But winter was coming on, and could Edward keep his army in the field? An attempt had been made to enter Snowdon from Anglesey, but the English force was destroyed at Moel y Don. It looked as if Edward would have to retire. Llywelyn left Snowdon, and went to Ceredigion and the Vale of Towy to put new heart in his allies, and from there he passed on to the valley of the Wye. He meant, without a doubt, to get the barons of the border, Welsh and English, to unite against Edward. But in some chance skirmish a soldier slew him, not knowing who he was. When they heard that their Prince was fallen, his men in Snowdon entirely lost heart. They had no faith in David, and in a few months the whole of Wales was at Edward's feet.
CHAPTER XII--CONQUERED WALES
The war between Edward and Llywelyn was not a war between England and Wales, as we think of these countries now. Some of the best soldiers under Edward were Welsh, especially the bowmen who followed the Earl of Gloucester and Roger Mortimer from the Wye and Severn valleys.
It is not right that we Welshmen should feel bitter against England, because, in this last war, Edward won and Llywelyn fell. It is easy to say that Edward was cruel and faithless, and it is easy to say that Llywelyn was shifty and obstinate; but it is quite clear that each of them thought that he was right. Edward thought that Britain ought to be united: Llywelyn thought Wales ought to be free. Now, happily, we have the union and the freedom.
On the other hand, I should not like you to think that Wales was more barbarous than England, or Llywelyn less civilised than Edward I. Giraldus Cambrensis saw a prince going barefoot, and the fussy little Archbishop Peckham saw that Welsh marriage customs were not what he liked; and many historians, who have never read a line of Welsh poetry, take for granted that the conquest of Wales was a new victory for civilisation.
In many ways Wales was more civilised than England at that time. Its law was more simple and less developed, it is true; but it was more just in many cases, and certainly more humane. Was it not better that the land should belong to the people, and that the youngest son should have the same chance as the eldest? And, in crime, was it not better that if no opportunity for atonement was given, the death of the criminal was to be a merciful one? In the reign of John, a Welsh hostage, a little boy of seven, was hanged at Shrewsbury, because his father, a South Wales chief, had rebelled. In the reign of Edward I., the miserable David was dragged at the tails of horses through the streets of the same town, and the tortures inflicted on the dying man were too horrible to describe to modern ears. And what the Norman baron did, his Welsh tenant learnt to do. In Wales you get fierce frays and frequent shedding of blood; on the borders you get callous cruelty to a prisoner, or the disfiguring of dead bodies-- even that of Simon de Montfort, the greatest statesman of the Middle Ages in England--on the battlefield when all passion was spent.
Take the rulers of Wales again. Griffith ap Conan and Llywelyn the Great had the energy and the foresight, though their sphere was so much smaller, of Henry II. And what English king, except Alfred, attracts one on account of lovableness of character as Owen Gwynedd and Owen Cyveiliog and the Lord Rees do?
When Edward entered into Snowdon, Welsh was spoken to the Dee and the Severn, and far beyond. There were many dialects, as there are still, though any two Welshmen could understand each other wherever they came from, with a little patience, as they can still. But there was also a literary language, and this was understood, if not spoken, by the chiefs all through the country. It was more like the Welsh spoken in mid-Wales--especially in the valley of the Dovey--than any