lled Hrof's Chester, from an English
conqueror Hrof, and that to contradict this clear statement of an early
writer was presumptuous or absurd. Fortunately, however, we have the
clearest possible proof that Hrof never existed, and that he was a pure
creation of Baeda's own simple etymological guesswork. King Alfred
clearly knew better, for he omitted this wild derivation from his
English translation. The valuable fragment of a map of Roman Britain
preserved for us in the mediaeval transcript known as the _Peutinger
Tables_, sets down Rochester as Rotibis. Hence it is pretty certain
that it must have had two alternative names, of which the other was
Durobrivae. Rotibis would easily pass (on the regular analogies) into
Rotifi ceaster, and that again into Hrofi ceaster and Rochester; just
as Rhutupiae or Ritupae passed into Rituf burh, and so finally into
Richborough. Moreover, in a charter of King Ethelberht of Kent, older a
good deal than Baeda's time, we find the town described under the mixed
form of Hrofi-brevi. After such a certain instance of philological
blundering as this, I for one am not inclined to place great faith in
such statements as that made by the _English Chronicle_ about
Chichester, which it attributes to the mythical South Saxon king Cissa.
Whatever Cissanceaster may mean, it seems to me much more likely that
it represents another case of double naming; for though the Roman town
was commonly known as Regnum, that is clearly a mere administrative
form, derived from the tribal name of the Regni. Considering that the
same veracious _Chronicle_ derives Portsmouth, the Roman Portus, from
an imaginary Teutonic invader, Port, and commits itself to other wild
statements of the same sort, I don't think we need greatly hesitate
about rejecting its authority in these earlier and conjectural
portions.

Silchester is another much disputed name. As a rule, the site has been
identified with that of Calleva Atrebatum; but the proofs are scanty,
and the identification must be regarded as a doubtful one. I have
already ventured to suggest that the word may contain the root Silva,
as the town is situated close upon the ancient borders of Pamber
Forest. The absence of early forms, however, makes this somewhat of a
random shot. Indeed, it is difficult to arrive at any definite
conclusions in these cases, except by patiently following up the name
from first to last, through all its variations, corruptions, and
mis-spellin