English country towns differ completely from continental ones chiefly for this reason. On the Continent, towns were nearly always fortified and surrounded by walls, though often their population was that of a mere village. These little fortified places are in Germany called "dwarf cities," to distinguish them from the "dorf," or "village." In England, however, small towns were rarely fortified or walled, except when they were situated upon the sea-coast, where they had to be ready to resist the landing of some foreign enemy. Lyme-Regis, Dorsetshire, is an example of a small English fortified town, and it is quite strange how much the place (of course we refer to the old portions of it) impresses one with its continental aspect, because directly a town is "circumvallated," every building within it has to be erected upon a contracted space, and the houses are consequently developed in height, so that they in no way differ from those of a city; in fact, the small town might, architecturally, be a piece of some large city.
Such English towns as Amersham, Lavenham, Clare, Wheathamstead, etc., are, architecturally, large villages, and probably originated in the same manner--_i.e._, they were dependencies upon some lordship or monastery.
The English word "village" is derived from the Roman word "villa." The villa was the castle or manorial house of the proprietor of the land surrounded by a series of humble structures inhabited by his labourers and "serfs." This was the "village" or dependency of the villa, and hence its inhabitants were called "villains" (villani). Now we are aware that some modern writers attempt to derive these words from the German "wealh" (a welchman), yet the old and usually received idea seems so obvious that we accept it.
How the meaning of the words "villa" and "villain" have been changed, and yet how singularly the old word "village" has retained its meaning!
The modern stucco, semi-detached "desirable residence," with its four or six rooms, with its "rustic porch" and gritty front garden, is a strange parody upon the stately villa of old, and the good, honest villager is neither a "villain" nor "a Welshman." He may sometimes be the latter, and justly proud of his origin, but, in any case, he is very unlike our conception of a villain. If recent newspaper reports can be trusted, that character is rather personified by the London "loafer" and his most modern representative "the Hooligan."