The town was undoubtedly defended by a wall and ditch, the boundaries of which are still to be traced throughout a circumference of three miles.
According to the best writers, we find that the Romans entirely quitted Britain about the middle of the fifth century, on which the Britons continued to occupy this place (deserted by their former masters) until they were ejected from it by the superior force of the Saxons sometime in the following century, and obliged to find a retreat among “the alders and willows which hid the foot and the thickets which crowned the summit of the peninsular knoll, now covered by the capital of Shropshire.”
How long the fugitives remained at Caer Pengwern unmolested it is now in vain to enquire, but this appears certain, that they were soon followed thither by the unsparing Saxons, and compelled to seek another refuge in the mountain fastnesses of Wales.
There can be no doubt but the fall of Wroxeter was, as Leland asserts, “the cause of the erection of Shrewsbury;” and from the blackness of the soil in some parts its destruction seems to have been by fire; many of the coins also, and other remains discovered here, exhibit marks of their having been subjected to that element: in fact, the savage ferocity of the Saxon conquerors in their warfare, together with their ascendancy over the Britons, was so determinate and effectual in the demolition of those stations which they held, that little surprise need be excited so few vestiges remain of the Roman provinces in this kingdom, or of the many works of art which that nation doubtless left on their departure.
The Saxons on their invasion wielded fire and sword unsparingly. It was their practice, on gaining possession of a town or city, immediately to level it with the ground; and it is recorded, that one of these triumphant barbarians boasted that in three days after he has galloped his horse without stumbling over the spot on which the captured station stood.
Wroxeter will be regarded by the antiquary with curious attention, as affording matter of much investigation: indeed it is impossible, even in imagination, to look upon its fruitful fields, teeming in the rich luxuriance of culture,—once covered with a flourishing Roman town,—now presenting only the ruined remnant of a wall, without sensibly feeling the instability of human greatness, and exclaiming with Cowper—
We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works
Die too. The deep foundations that we lay,
Time ploughs them up, and not a trace remains.
We build with what we call eternal rock:—
A distant age asks where the fabric stood;
And in the dust, sifted and search’d in vain,
The undiscoverable secret sleeps.
The ruined wall still remaining is about 70 feet long and 28 feet high, and is composed of layers of rough stones and large flat tiles at alternate distances. It is arched, and the interior thickness is formed with rubble and small pebbles thrown in with the cement or mortar, which is become harder than stone. This venerable relic is thought to have been a portion of the fortification of the town. Other conjectures are, that it might have been connected with the Prætorium, or have been part of a bath, which was discovered at no great distance from it; but after a lapse probably of more than 1600 years, and where evidence is wanting to guide us, its original purpose must remain in uncertainty.
Tesselated pavements, sepulchral stones with inscriptions, urns, skeletons in deep graves and encased in red clay, several moulds for coining money, seals of different kinds, an Apollo (four inches in length) elegantly cast in lead, with other figures, and many curious and interesting remains of Roman manufacture, have been discovered whilst excavating on this site. A stone altar, found near the vicarage in 1824, is thus inscribed—
BONO REI
PVBLICAE
NATVS.