That Llewellyn owed homage to Edward as his superior lord—just as Edward, for his French possessions, owed homage to the king of France—has never been questioned. Llewellyn himself never denied the obligation. Yet, at Edward’s coronation, while the king of Scotland was present and paid his homage, there was no attendance, either personally or by deputy, of the prince of Snowdon.
The Welsh prince pleaded, in excuse, that there was so much enmity between him and some of the lords of the Marches, that he could not safely visit London. Edward met these excuses with forbearance, and even offered to take a journey to Shrewsbury to receive the homage there. But Llewellyn still raised new difficulties. Had Edward been the ambitious and designing man that he is often represented, he might now, without further parley, have peremptorily summoned Llewellyn, and on his non‐appearance, might have declared him contumacious, and his fief a forfeiture. Such had been the course taken by Philip of France, when in 1202 he summoned John, pronounced him contumacious, and at once took possession of Normandy.
Edward’s course was equally clear. There was nothing to prevent the immediate annexation of Wales, except the single let or hindrance of the English king’s conscientiousness. But Edward would take no hasty or violent step. He reserved the question for his parliament, and at one of the sessions of 1275 it was decided that the Welsh prince should be summoned a third time, and that now the king should even go to Chester to meet him; that being the nearest point to Llewellyn’s home.
“Slow to all manner of strife” was written on all these proceedings. Edward knew well that there were precedents in abundance which would have justified him in declaring the Welsh prince a rebel, and in entering into possession of his fief. He was also, we cannot doubt, fully alive to the great advantage which would result from the union of the two countries.
He earnestly desired to terminate the wretched border‐warfare which had so long continued. But a leading principle of his whole life was, a constant respect for the rights of others. Again and again shall we meet with this rule of conduct in his after‐life. In the present case he remitted to Llewellyn not only the summons to appear at Chester, which the parliament had directed to be sent, but also a safe‐conduct for his coming, abiding, and return—a guarantee which the Welshman might know would be strictly fulfilled. But Llewellyn now raised his demands. He would give no attendance until the king should send to him, as hostages, his own son, the chancellor of England, and the earl of Gloucester!—a demand which the old chronicler justly terms “an insolent one,” and which must have been intended to terminate the negociation.
About this time Eleanor de Montfort, Llewellyn’s intended bride, was met with at sea, and brought into Bristol by an English vessel. As the prince was in contumacy, Edward ordered that the young Eleanor should be conveyed to Windsor, there to remain in the queen’s charge until the dispute between England and Wales had been terminated. But the year 1276 had now opened, and parliaments were held, in the course of that year, at Westminster and at Winchester. A fifth and a sixth summons had been remitted to the prince of Snowdon. Some of the bishops now offered to mediate, and they were allowed to send the archdeacon of Canterbury into Wales, personally to confer with Llewellyn. But the Welsh prince merely advanced new claims; requiring now guarantees from two prelates, and from four of the greatest earls in the realm.
The English parliament finally, on the 12th of November, 1276, declared Llewellyn contumacious, and recommended that the military tenants of the crown should be summoned in the spring for the invasion of Wales. Meanwhile the archbishop made one more attempt at mediation, writing to the Welsh prince an earnest but fruitless letter. Another parliament was held, in which “a twelfth” was granted to the king for the expenses of the war. In the spring the royal forces began to assemble, and Roger Mortimer was appointed to the command. The chief men of South Wales sent in their submission, and were “received to the king’s grace.” David and Roderick, brothers to Llewellyn, joined the king, and were honourably received by him. Meanwhile, Llewellyn believed that his mountain‐heights were inaccessible, and that he could never be brought to submission. Edward, however, was a different sort of leader from his father, who in 1257 had led an expedition into Wales, and had miserably failed. With the skill and foresight of a general, Edward had prepared a naval force, which sailed from the Cinque Ports, made a descent upon Anglesea, and took possession of that island. Llewellyn was now enclosed, and it was easy to prevent all supplies from reaching him. He remained obstinate for several weeks; but as the winter drew on he saw the probability of ultimate starvation, and asked for terms of surrender.
Again we see that Edward was not that ruthless and ambitious man which he is often represented. The Welsh prince had been formally declared contumacious, and the forfeiture of his fief was the ordinary penalty. There was no way of escape for him; Edward had only to maintain his blockade, and the surrender and banishment of the Welsh prince, and the entire conquest of the principality, were inevitable and close at hand.
But Edward’s guiding principle in all such cases was that which we have already cited from his own lips, “May show mercy!—why, I will do that for a dog, if he seeks my grace!” Llewellyn had no sooner asked for mercy than it was granted to him. His offence had been great; to make war upon a superior lord was treason; and the king showed his sense of the offence by imposing hard conditions of peace.
Llewellyn must pay a fine of 50,000 marks for the heavy expenses he had caused the king; must cede to England the four “cantreds” lying between Chester and the Conway; must hold Anglesea of the king at an annual rent of 2000 marks; must do homage to the king, and deliver ten hostages for his fidelity. This was a just sentence, and Edward merely vindicated the majesty of the law by pronouncing it; but the natural generosity of his mind very quickly cancelled the hardest of the conditions. The very next day the fine was remitted. Soon after the rent to be paid for Anglesea was cancelled, and the ten hostages returned. And now that the Welsh prince had submitted, all was grace and favour on Edward’s part. The young Eleanor de Montfort, who had been detained in the queen’s household, was sent for, and in Worcester Cathedral, in the presence of the king and queen, Llewellyn received his bride. In another respect, the king conferred on the Welsh prince a very substantial benefit. David, Llewellyn’s brother, had often been at variance with him. On one occasion the two brothers met on the battle‐field, and David was taken prisoner. To remove David from Wales was to confer on Llewellyn a favour of a very important kind. The king took this hostile brother with him to England, gave him £1000 a year in land (equal to £15,000 a year at the present time), and married him to an earl’s daughter. “Thus,” says Lingard, “Edward flattered himself that what he had begun by force he had completed by kindness. To Llewellyn he had behaved rather with the affection of a friend than the severity of an enemy, and his letters to that prince breathe a spirit of moderation which does honour to his heart. To David he had been a bounteous protector. He had granted him the honour of knighthood, extensive estates in both countries, and the hand of the daughter of the earl of Derby.”