I.—Celtic London
When we see the words "Celtic London" at the head of a chapter we naturally feel inclined to ask, "Was there such a place? Was there any Celtic London?" Although it is almost impossible to answer such a question by either "yes" or "no," it may be worth while to examine it briefly before passing on to the domains of authentic history.
In the first place, there must have been some gathering of huts or houses, some aggregation of residences, to which a name could be applied, and it must have been important enough to retain its name after the Romans came—nay, to retain it even in spite of an attempt on their part to change it.
But though we must accept the existence of a London in the old obscure period when something very like modern Welsh was the language of the south-eastern part of Britain, and though we know that London was situated on a river which also had a Welsh name, we do not know directly on which side of that river it stood, and have nothing for it but to apply to the problem what a great authority has described as an historical imagination, and try if we can find a sufficient number of geographical or topographical facts to reduce the problematic side of the questions involved; and so to leave certain points, certain pedestals, so to speak, of firm ground on which we may place the foundations of the greatest city the world has seen.
Our first facts are meagre enough. We have three words; no more. They are Lon, don, and Thames. We are like the Oriental lady in the legend of St. Thomas of Canterbury. She knew but two words of English—Gilbert and London. We know three words, and, keeping them in our minds, wander down the Thames till we find the place to which we can fit the other two words. But, first, we must make an attempt to translate them into modern English. The Welsh Lynn is pronounced lunn. Dun, or down, has passed into English. Thame, or thames, occurs in many parts of England, everywhere denoting the same thing, and, according to most authorities, being practically the same as the English word tame. The name of the Tamar will occur to the mind as well as Thame. In the case of the Thames, the name may very well have come over from the Continent with the early traders—the Angles, for instance, or the Danes—and have thus passed into British use. A great authority, Mr. Bradley, is said to have mentioned that Lynn in London may be a personal name. The ordinary interpretation is so simple that it seems hardly worth while—unphilosophical, in fact—to search for another. Lynn, pronounced Lunn, is a lake. Dun is a down or hill. London, as the first syllable may be taken adjectively, will mean the Lake Hill. Where, then, is the hill which stands by a lake?
If we consult a map which includes the lower Thames, and has the levels clearly marked or contoured, and follow the coast line from, say, Kew Bridge, we come to no higher ground for more than six miles, the surface varying from one foot above the ordnance datum of high water to seven. Hills are visible in the background, but none at the water's edge, until we reach that on which St. Paul's stands. Mylne gives it as forty-five feet high, and that on which, close by, the Royal Exchange stands he marks as forty-eight. If we could denude this region of its myriad houses, we should see a plain extending back to the higher ground from the site of the Temple Gardens—that is, to Clerkenwell. Ludgate, rising nearly fifty feet in a steep slope from the river's edge, would appear something great in such a landscape, backed, as it would have been, to the eastward by a still higher down, with the narrow stream of Walbrook rushing to the Thames, between them. No other height would stand so near the water's edge, or would be visible within a couple of miles, on this left bank of the river. So much for our "down." But where is our "lynn"?
Roof Tile (Roman).
If we could see Southwark and the region immediately to the south of it similarly denuded, we should find that, across the Thames from the double down, an archipelago of islets extends from what is now Bermondsey westward to Lambeth. The dry ground would be seen dotted here and there, while every tide, every flood, every increase of water from the upper Thames, would make the whole region into a morass. The main stream of the great river, coming eastward round a bend from Westminster, would deepen its channel under the down, leaving the opposite islets in shallow water, and spreading, according to the first author by whom the place is mentioned, "at every tide would form a lake."
Here, then, Dion Cassius, writing in the second century, describes for us the site of Southwark. He furnishes us with what we want—the "lynn" for our "down," the Lon for the Don. We do not know for certain whether this Celtic London was on the double hill or among the islets opposite—whether, that is, the town was on the lynn or on the dun. There is, however, a certain amount of evidence that it was on the lynn. A British road seems to have been already in existence—the road which led from Dover toward Chester. Where did it cross the Thames? If we could make sure of the answer, our three facts would become four. There was no bridge in this Celtic period to carry the road across the Thames. At the same time, we know that a crossing was made; and, if we judge by the course and direction of the road, it must have been at or very near what is now called Westminster. Here the shoal-water, as sailors say, was on both sides of the river. The islets, many of them covered at every high tide, existed where a landing was called by later settlers the Lambhithe. Other landing-places are denoted by such names as Stanegate, Toothill, Merefleet, Pollen Stock, Thorney, Jakeslea and others, all Saxon, which tell us of the condition of both banks of the Thames at a very remote period. From this we may safely argue—first, that the amount of water coming down being approximately the same, it had a much wider district to cover; and, secondly, that it was much more shallow. These names also show that, in crossing, the road from Dover had in Saxon times certain landmarks to follow, while the use of the word Toot, our word "tout," shows that guides existed, who could be called upon to help travellers across. All these items are more or less obscurely mentioned by Dion Cassius, and show that wheresoever Celtic London stood, whether on the left or the right bank, Aulus Plautius chose the easternmost of the double hills for his bridge head; and when the wall was built, a couple of centuries later, it took in the western hill as well, while the bridge rendered the ford at Westminster useless, and the Watling Street was diverted at the Marble Arch along Oxford Street, instead of running straight down Park Lane to the ford at Westminster.
As for facts in the history of Celtic London, we have none. The late General Pitt Rivers recorded the discovery of piles, of origin possibly before the Roman period, in the street called London Wall, and also in Southwark, some nine feet below the present surface. A few articles of Roman make were found mixed with a few bone implements of a ruder type. This, the only authentic discovery of the kind, does not prove more than that some of the Britons lived among the Romans, and the date is quite uncertain. As to their dwellings before the Romans came, we have remains in various places from which we can but gather that, though some ancient race in these islands built up such rude but vast temples as Stonehenge, the dwellings of the people who lived by the Walbrook, or in Southwark, were mere wigwams. A hollow was dug in the ground, and where stones were plentiful, which cannot have been the case on the site of Lynn Dun, a few were used in the flooring. Over the hollow the house was raised—a bank of earth, perhaps roofed with boughs and trunks, and with some means of making a wood fire. Rings of brass and scraps of pottery are often found in the hollows, but of such discoveries in London the records are silent.
Red-glazed Pottery (Roman).