After the Prince, however, had withdrawn from personally exerting himself in the suppression of the insurgents, Owyn Glyndowr still carried on a kind of desultory warfare, rallying from time to time his scattered and dispirited adherents, heading them in predatory incursions upon the property of his enemies, laying violent hands on the persons of those who resisted his authority, and depriving them of their liberty or their lives, as best suited his own views of policy. On the 16th of May 1409, a mandate issued by the King at Westminster, to Edward Charleton, Lord Powis, with others,[232] is couched in language which draws a frightful picture of the terror and confusion and misery caused by these reckless rebels; conveying, nevertheless, at the same time the idea of a lawless band of insurgents resisting the authority of the government to the utmost of their power, but no longer of an army headed by a sovereign and struggling for independence. The preamble of the commission runs thus: "Whereas, from the report of many, we understand that Owyn de Glyndowrdy, and John,[233] who pretends that he is Bishop of St. Asaph, and other our rebels and traitors in Wales, together with certain of our enemies of France, Scotland, and other places, have now recently congregated afresh, and gone about the lands of us, and of others our lieges, in the same parts of Wales, day and night wickedly seizing upon some of the said lands; and capturing, scourging, and imprisoning our faithful lieges; consuming,[234] carrying away, and devastating their property, and committing many other enormities against our peace: We, willing to resist the malice of the aforesaid Owyn, and the aforesaid pretended Bishop, and to provide for the peace and repose of Wales, give you this command."
Ten Welsh prisoners, under a warrant dated October 18th, were delivered, as it is supposed for execution, by the Constable of Windsor to William Lisle, Marshal of England. From this circumstance some writers have inferred that a considerable engagement took place this summer; but it may be doubted whether the measures adopted in accordance with the above commission would not sufficiently account for even a far greater number of prisoners being at the disposal of the King: for he strictly charged all those lords and sheriffs to whom his commission was directed "not to quit Wales till Owyn and the pretended Bishop should be utterly routed, but to attack them with the whole posse of the realm night and day." No doubt can be entertained that both their duty and their interest would induce these persons to put the King's mandate into execution promptly and vigorously; and probably many of Owyn's partisans fell into the hands of the government in the course of the present summer and autumn: Owyn himself, also, either sued for a truce, or acceded to the proposals made to him. The persons to whom the King delegated the duty of crushing him, either influenced by a sense of the misery caused far and wide by the depredations and havoc carried on by the Welsh rebels on every side, or growing tired of a protracted struggle which brought to them neither glory nor profit, made a truce with Owyn without any warrant from the King. So far, however, was he from sanctioning their proceeding that he annulled the truce altogether, and (November 23rd, 1409,) issued a new mandate to divers other persons to hasten with all their powers against the rebels.
A curious legal document, of a date later by five years than the circumstance to which it refers, informs us that the King, when enumerating in his commission to Lord Powis the partisans of Owyn, in addition to the auxiliaries of Scotland and France, might have mentioned the malcontents also of England. Owyn's British supporters, even at so late a period of his rebellion, were not confined to the Principality, but were found in other parts of the kingdom. In Trinity Term, 2 Henry V. (1414,) a presentation is found, recording this curious fact: "John, Lord Talbot,[235] (the Lord Furnivale,) was on his road towards Caernarvon, there to abide, and resist the malice of Owyn Glyndowr and other rebels in the parts of Wales. Accompanied by sixty men-at-arms and seven score archers, he was hastening onward with all possible speed, in need of victuals, arms, and other necessaries, intending to pass through Shrewsbury, and there to buy them. On the Monday before the Nativity of John the Baptist, (17th June,) in the tenth year of the late King, (1409,) one John Weole, constable of the town and castle, and Richard Laken of Laken, in the same county, Esquire, and others, with very many malefactors, of premeditated malice closed the gates against them, and guarded them, and would not suffer any of the King's lieges to come out and assist them. By which Lord Furnivale and his men were much impeded, and many of the King's commands remained unexecuted."[236]
Of the rebellion in Wales, however, very few circumstances are recorded after Henry of Monmouth had ceased to resist the rebels in person: the war gradually dwindled, and sunk at last into insignificance. A few embers of the conflagration still remained unquenched, and called for the watchfulness of government; but the flames had been so far subdued, that all sense of danger to the general peace of the realm had been removed from the people of England. No precise date can be assigned to the last show of resistance on the part of Owyn or his followers. It must have been, at all events, later than our historians have generally supposed. About Christmas 1411 a free pardon was granted for all treasons and crimes, with an exception from the King's grace of Owyn Glyndowr himself, and one Thomas Trumpyngton, who seems to have made himself very obnoxious to the government. In the same year payment was made of various sums to defray the expenses of the late siege of Harlech, the successful issue of which the record ascribes, to the favour of God. In 1412 the King's licence was given to John Tiptoft, seneschal, and William Boteler, receiver of Brecknock, to negociate with Owyn for the ransom of David Gamne, the gallant Welshman who afterwards fell at the battle of Agincourt. The licence was granted at the suit of Llewellin ap Howell, David Gamne's father, and authorised the parties to offer in exchange any Welshmen whom they could take prisoners. In the same year, about Midsummer, the Pell Rolls, recording a large sum paid to the Prince for the safeguard of Wales, at the same time acquaint us with the waning state of the insurrection; for the money was to enable the Prince to resist the rebels "now seldom rising in arms."[237] The same expression occurs in the following December.
Still, though their rising was even then rare, yet as late as February 19, 1414, payment is registered of a sum "to a certain Welshman coming to London, and continuing there, to give information concerning the proceedings and designs of Ewain Glendowrdy."
We gladly bring to a close these references to the last days of the dying rebellion in Wales, by recording an act of grace on the part of Henry of Monmouth.[238] It was after he had returned from his victory at Agincourt, and when, notwithstanding the immense drain of men and money in his campaign in Normandy, he could doubtless have extirpated the whole remnant of the rebels, had he delighted in vengeance rather than in mercy, that he commissioned Sir Gilbert Talbot to "communicate and treat with Meredith ap Owyn, son of Owyn de Glendowrdy; and as well the said Owyn, as other our rebels, to admit and receive into their allegiance, if they seek it." Probably the stubborn heart of Owyn scorned to sue for pardon, and to share the King's grace.
Of the last years of Owyn Glyndowr history furnishes us with very scanty information. It is certain that he never fell into the hands of his enemies: it is probable that, after having been compelled at length to withdraw from the hopeless struggle in which he had persevered with indomitable courage, he passed away in concealment his few remaining years of disappointment and sorrow. Tradition ventures to hint that friends in Herefordshire threw the shelter of their hospitality over him in his days of distress and desolation. But history returns no satisfactory answer to our inquiries whether he was blessed with the consolations of religion in his calamity; nor whether, to lighten the dreadful vicissitudes of his eventful life, he was cheered at the close of his sorrow by any whom he loved. His reverses brought with them no ordinary degree of suffering. In the very opening of the rebellion his houses were burnt, and his lands were confiscated. His brother fell in one of the earliest engagements on the borders. In the course of the struggle,[239] his wife and his children, sons and daughters, were carried away captive, and retained as prisoners. His friends were gone; many had fallen on the field of battle; many had died under the hand of the executioner; many had provided for their own safety by deserting him. Every act of grace and pardon, though it embraced almost all besides, made an exception of his name; till the above offer of mercy from Henry of Monmouth included Owyn himself. His sufferings were enough in number and intenseness to satisfy the vengeance of any one who was not athirst for blood.
In estimating the character of this extraordinary man, we must remember that almost the whole evidence which we have of him has been derived through the medium of his enemies; in the next place, we must not allow circumstances over which he had no control to darken his fame; nor must our zeal in condemning the rebel, bury in oblivion the patriot, though mistaken; or the hero, though unsuccessful.
Especially, then, must it be borne in mind, that not Henry Bolinbroke, but Richard II. was the sovereign to whom Glyndowr[240] had owed and had originally sworn allegiance; that he had been especially and confidentially employed in that unhappy monarch's immediate service; that he was one of the very few who remained faithful to him, and accompanied him through perils and trials to the last; and that he left him only when Richard's misfortunes prohibited his friends from giving him any longer assistance or comfort. We must remember also, that, even had his master Richard been deposed or dead, it was not Henry Bolinbroke, but the Earl of March, whom the laws of the country had taught him to regard as his liege lord. We cannot, indeed, in honesty assign to Glyndowr the crown of martyrdom won in his country's cause; we cannot justly ascribe his career exclusively to pure patriotism: there is too much of self[241] mingled in his character to justify us in enrolling him among the devoted friends of freedom, and the disinterested enemies of tyranny. He was driven into rebellion by the sense of individual injury and insult rather than of his country's wrongs; and he too eagerly assumed to himself the honours, authority, and power, as well as the title of sovereign of his native land. But he was not one of those heartless ringleaders of confusion,—he was not one of those desperate rebels with whom the English too harshly and too rashly have been wont to number him. He possessed many qualities of the hero, deserving a better cause and a better fate. It is impossible not to admire his unconquerable courage, his endurance of hardships, his faculty of making the very best of the means within his reach, and his unshrinking perseverance as long as there remained to him one ray of hope or one particle of strength. The guilt of violated faith, though laid to his charge, has never been established. He has been, moreover, often accused of cruelty, and of engaging in savage warfare; but even his enemies and conquerors, by their actions and by their despatches, prove, that though Owyn slew, and burnt, and laid waste far and wide, yet in all this he executed only the law of retaliation, dreadful as that law is both in its principle and in its consequences.
Owyn Glyndowr failed, and he was denounced as a rebel and a traitor. But had the issue of the "sorry fight" of Shrewsbury been otherwise than it was; had Hotspur so devised, and digested, and matured his plan of operations, as to have enabled Owyn with his forces to join heart and hand in that hard-fought field; had Bolinbroke and his son[242] fallen on that fatal day;—instead of lingering among his native mountains as a fugitive and a branded felon; bereft of his lands, his friends, his children and his wife; waiting only for the blow of death to terminate his earthly sufferings, and, when that blow fell, leaving no memorial[243] behind him to mark either the time or the place of his release,—Owyn Glyndowr might have been recognised even by England, as he actually had been by France, in the character of an independent sovereign; and his people might have celebrated his name as the avenger of his country's wrongs, the scourge of her oppressors, and the restorer of her independence. The anticipations of his own bard, Gryffydd Llydd, might have been amply realized.[244]