“Enemies came to fight against them.”
“And who were those enemies?”
“The Jutes and the Angles and the Saxons,” replied Betty, who was quite good at history.
“Yes, those names are all right; but the chief thing to remember about them is that they were our forefathers, and that before long they were known as the English people. This island, once called Britain, became England, and the original inhabitants—those British among whom the Romans lived—though they were not entirely driven out of the country, were hunted as far west as they could go, and received a different name.”
“I remember!” cried Betty, nodding. “They are called the Welsh now, and they live in Wales.”
“Well, for the future, in thinking about London, let us leave them there, remembering that though nowadays we scarcely know Welsh from our own countrymen, they are not our countrymen. They are of a different race, the descendants of the British, and though nearly all of them now talk in English, their native language is quite different from ours. It is really the old British language. Now, for goodness’ sake, get that clearly into your mind, and never let me hear you muddle up the British with the English, in the annoying way of most children!” concluded Godmother in her sharpest voice.
“I won’t. I promise,” Betty said, laughing, for she was getting quite used to Godmother, and was no longer afraid of her.
“Very well, then. Now you’re ready to look at the picture. Come along.”
Betty followed her down a corridor till she stopped before one of several pictures hung in a line. It represented a group of wild-looking men standing beneath the walls of a city which Betty at once saw was meant to represent the London or Londinium of the Romans.
“You must imagine that the scene shown by this picture, is about a hundred years after the Romans had gone,” said Godmother. “Those great strong men looking up at London Wall are our forefathers, the English. Awful things have been happening for the past hundred years; terrible fighting between these invaders and the British, who by now are being everywhere defeated and driven farther and farther west. The Englishmen in the picture, have come suddenly into sight of a walled city that looks dangerous to approach. They are hesitating. One of them is blowing his horn to see whether any defenders will appear upon the battlements. No answer comes to the loud blast, and the warriors will presently rush at that gate, batter it down and enter. To their amazement they will find within, beautiful houses such as they have never seen or imagined. But all of them are empty and dropping into decay. They will see the ruined gardens and orchards of buildings the use of which they can’t even guess. For many, many years London has lain deserted, because on account of the fighting in the country all round, no food could reach it, and all its people have fled. Wondering and afraid, believing, no doubt, all these decaying remains of luxury to be some magic device of demons, those rough warriors will hurry away from the silent city, leaving it to fall into still deeper ruin.”