dle
ages Minster was the most important place in the whole island; and
after it ranked Monkton, St. Nicholas, and Birchington--villages, all
of them, on the flat western slope. The growth in importance of the
seaward escarpment dates only from the days when Thanet became
practically a London suburb.

With the Roman invasion Ruim saw a new epoch begin. A great
organization took hold of Britain. Roads were made and colonies
established. Verulam and Camulodun gave place in part as centres of
life and trade to York and London. Even in the native days, I believe,
the Thames must always have been a great commercial focus, and the Pool
by Tower Hill must always have been what Bede called it many centuries
later, 'a mart of many nations.' But under the Romans London grew into
a considerable city; and as the regular sea highway to the Thames lay
through the Wantsum, in the rear of Thanet, that strip of estuary
became of immense importance. In those days of coasting navigation,
indeed, the habit was to avoid headlands, and take advantage everywhere
of shallow short cuts. Ships from the continent, therefore, avoided the
North Foreland by running through the Wantsum at the back of Thanet; as
they avoided Shellness and Warden Point by running through the Swale,
at the back of Sheppey.

To protect this main navigable channel, accordingly, the Romans built
the two great guardian fortresses of the coast, Rutupiae, or
Richborough, at the southern entrance, and Regulbium, or Reculver, at
the northern exit. Under the walls of these powerful strongholds, whose
grim ruins still frown upon the dry channel at their feet, ships were
safe from piracy, while Ruim itself sheltered them from the heavy sea
that now beats with north-east winds upon the Foreland beyond. In fact,
the Wantsum was an early Spithead: it stood to Rutupiae as the Solent
stands to Portsmouth and Southampton. But Thanet Isle hardly shared at
all in this increased civilisation; on the contrary, Rutupiae (the
precursor of Sandwich Haven) seems to have diverted all its early
commerce. For Rutupiae became clearly the naval capital of our island,
the seat of that _vir spectabilis_, the Count of Saxon Shore, and the
rendezvous of the fleets of those British 'usurpers' Maximus and
Carausius. It was also the Dover of its own day, the favourite landing
place for continental travellers; while its famous oysters, the true
natives, now driven by the silting up of their ancient beds to