The stately Westminster and St. Paul's did not look down upon this
heroic daughter of Britain. London at that time was a collection of
miserable huts and entrenched cattle-pens, which were in Keltic speech
called the "Fort-on-the-Lake"--or "Llyndin," an uncouth name in Latin
ears, which gave little promise of the future London, the Romans
helping it to its final form by calling it Londinium.

But the octopus had firmly closed about its victim, whose struggles,
before the year 100 A.D., had practically ceased. A civilization which
made no effort to civilize was forcibly planted upon the island. Where
had been the humble village, protected by a ditch and felled trees,
there arose the walled city, with temples and baths and forum, and
stately villas with frescoed walls and tessellated floors, and hot-air
currents converting winter into summer.

So Chester, Colchester, Lincoln, York, London, and a score of other
cities were set like jewels in a surface of rough clay, the Britons
filling in the intervening spaces with their own rude customs, habits,
and manners. Dwelling in wretched cabins thatched with straw and
chinked with mud, they still stubbornly maintained their own uncouth
speech and nationality, while they helplessly saw all they could earn
swallowed up in taxes and tributes by their insatiate conquerors. The
Keltic-Gauls might, if they would, assimilate this Roman civilization,
but not so the Keltic-Britons.

The two races dwelt side by side, but separate (except to some extent
in the cities), or, if possible, the vanquished retreated before the
vanquisher into Wales and Cornwall; and there to-day are found the only
remains of the aboriginal Briton race in England.