suit Caesar's purpose. Such diplomatic advantages would be far less
impressive in the eyes of the Roman "gallery" to which he was playing
than his actual presence in Britain. So he merely told the envoys that
it would be all the better for them if he found them in so excellent
and submissive a frame of mind on his arrival at their shores, and
sent them back, along with Commius, who was to bring in his own clan,
the Atrebates, and as many more as he could influence. And the Britons
on their part, though ready to make a nominal submission to "the
mighty name of Rome," were resolved not to tolerate an actual invasion
without a fight for it. In every clan the war party came to the front,
all negotiations were abruptly broken off, Commius was thrown into
chains, and a hastily-summoned levy lined the coast about Dover, where
the enemy were expected to make their first attempt to land.

C. 7.--Dover, in fact, was the port that Caesar made for. It was, at
this date, the obvious harbour for such a fleet as his. All along
the coast of Kent the sea has, for many centuries, been constantly
retreating. Partly by the silting-up of river-mouths, partly by
the great drift of shingle from west to east which is so striking a
feature of our whole southern shore, fresh land has everywhere been
forming. Places like Rye and Winchelsea, which were well-known havens
of the Cinque Ports even to late mediaeval times, are now far inland.
And though Dover is still our great south-eastern harbour, this is
due entirely to the artificial extensions which have replaced the
naturally enclosed tidal area for which Caesar made. There is abundant
evidence that in his day the site of the present town was the bed
of an estuary winding for a mile or more inland between steep chalk
cliffs,[77] not yet denuded into slopes, whence the beach on either
side was absolutely commanded.

C. 8.--Caesar saw at a glance that a landing here was impossible to
such a force as he had with him. He had sailed from Boulogne "in the
third watch"--with the earliest dawn, that is to say--and by 10
a.m. his leading vessels, with himself on board, were close under
Shakespeare's Cliff. There he saw the British army in position
waiting for him, crowning the heights above the estuary, and ready
to overwhelm his landing-parties with a plunging fire of missiles. He
anchored for a space till the rest of his fleet came up, and meanwhile
called a council of war of his leading officers to