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 numbers, others constrained by famine came and yielded themselves to be slaves for ever to their foes, running the risk of being instantly slain, which truly was the greatest favour that could be offered them: others passed beyond the seas with loud lamentations.’

The Saxons brought their wives and children with them, though it is difficult to believe that they were so stupid as to kill all the Britons instead of enslaving them and marrying their wives. Yet, if they had not done this, surely there would have been some traces left of Latin or Celtic speech, law and religion. But there were practically none. When, in the eighth and ninth centuries, we begin to see a little into the darkness, we find that England has become a purely English country, with a purely English and rather absurd system of law, and a purely English language; while, as for religion, the people have to be converted all over again by a special mission from the Pope at Rome.

Probably the British made a very desperate defence, and were only slowly beaten westwards into Wales, Lancashire, Devon and Cornwall. Something like two centuries passed before the English were thorough masters of the eastern half of the island. And all that while Roman temples, churches, roads and cities were crumbling away and grass was growing over their ruins. Studying the history of those days is like looking at a battle-field in a fog. As the fog clears we get some notion of our dear barbarian forefathers.

The Saxon Englishman was a savage, with the vices and cruelties of an overgrown boy; a drunkard and a gambler, and very stupid. But he was a truth-teller, a brave, patient, and cool-headed fellow. A Roman historian describes him as ‘a free-necked man married