to seize the imperial crown in Britain (406-11), Marcus, Gratian,
and Constantine, and it seems that, as Constantine went off to seek a
throne on the Continent, the Britons left to themselves set up a local
autonomy for self-protection. Unfortunately, our ancient authorities are
less clear than could be wished, especially on the chronology of these
events. One thing which seems certain is that Britain did not conceive
herself as breaking loose from the Empire and that in the years to come
the Britons considered themselves “Romans.” If we may believe Gildas,
they even appealed for help to Aetius, the Roman minister, in 446.
The attacks of the “Saxons” had begun before 300 and though at first their brunt fell more heavily on the Gaulish than on the British coasts, they were felt seriously in Britain from about 350 onwards. At first, they were the attacks of mere pillagers: later, like the later attacks of the barbarians elsewhere, they became invasions of settlers. When exactly the change took place, is unknown, nor is it clear what incident gave the stimulus. It seems probable, however, that the Britons of the early fourth century, harassed by attacks of all kinds, adopted the common device—even more familiar in that age than in any other—and set a thief to catch a thief. The man who set is named in the legends Vortigern of Kent; the thieves who were set, are called Hengest and Horsa. We need not attach much weight to these names, nor can we hope to fix a precise date. But the incident is sufficiently well attested and sufficiently probable to find acceptance, and it obviously occurred early in the fifth century. It had the natural result. The English, called in to protect, remained to rule: they formed settlements on the east coast and began the English invasion. But they began it under conditions altogether different from those which attended the barbarian conquests on the Continent. The English were more savage and hostile to civilisation than most of the continental invaders; on the other hand, they were far less overwhelmingly numerous. The Romano-British culture was less strong and coherent than the civilisation of Roman Gaul, but the Britons themselves—at least those in the hills—were no less ready to fight than the bravest of the continental provincials. The sequel was naturally different in the two regions.
The course of the invasion is a matter for English historians. But part of it depends on Romano-British archaeology. This seems to contradict violently the chronology which the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle sets out in suspiciously precise detail. We know that Wroxeter was burnt and we have evidence that the burning occurred soon after (if indeed it was not before) a.d. 400. We must treat this evidence cautiously, since not a fiftieth part of the site has yet been explored. But at Silchester, which has been all uncovered, the spade has told us that the town was abandoned (not burnt), and as a limit for the date, we find no coins which need be later than about a.d. 420. The same
