s advanced, as
civilisation and greater inter-dependence of peoples increased,
as communication from point to point improved, rendering combined
operations possible, that systematic war began. Even then, there was
much of the personal element in the matter. The known chief planted
his standard, and round it gathered, at first, a mass of subordinate
units, led by their chosen sub-chiefs. But even this was the beginning
of greater things. Organisation, on which the real art of war depends,
had arisen. The chief now directed subordinate commanders, and command
became subdivided. He no longer led only; he directed, in addition to
infusing courage into his men by his personal bravery.

So it has been with the successive races that have fought in those
early days on British soil. The first real military system worthy of
the name was that which brought woad-clad Britons in collision with
the military might of Rome. But wonderful as the Roman organisation
was, it seems to have left but little permanent trace on the people
it had governed and civilised for four hundred years, from the time
of Cæsar’s first landing to that in which Honorius recalled the last
legion from the deserted province of Britannia to assist the main trunk
of the empire. There is little evidence that the Saxons met with any
more valuable opposition than mere courage, an attribute of little
real permanent importance against a foe that had at the least a sort
of military organisation. For that the Saxons had such is clear. They
had learned from the Romans indirectly if not directly; and there is a
distinct trace of Roman influence in the way they arranged a battle.
This applies still more to their fighting organisation after they had
conquered and subdued the effete defenders of Roman Britain, before the
Danes came. Though they, too, had succumbed to the enervating influence
of peace, they had established a genuine system which had in it the
elements of the army as it is, or at least some portion of it. For
the army of Saxon England was, in all esse