My sire is the stooping Cheviot mist,
My mother the heath in her purple train;
And every flower on her gown I’ve kissed
Over and over and over again.
The secret ways of the hills are mine,
I know where the wandering moor-fowl nest;
And up where the wet grey glidders[[10]] shine
I know where the roving foxes rest.
I know what the wind is wailing for
As it searches hollow and hag and peak;
And, riding restless on Newton Tor,
I know what the questing shadows seek.
I know the tale that the brown bees tell,
And they tell it to me with a raider’s pride,
As, drunk with the cups of Yeavering Bell,
They stagger home from the English side.
I know the secrets of haugh and hill;
But sacred and safe they rest with me,
Till I hide them deep in the heart of Till,
To be taken to Tweed and the open sea.
—Will. H. Ogilvie.
BY PERMISSION OF MESSRS. W. AND R. CHAMBERS
[10] Glidders = Patches of loose stones on the hillside.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ROMAN WALL.
“Take these flowers, which, purple waving,
On the ruined rampart grew,
Where, the sons of Freedom braving,
Rome’s imperial standard flew.
Warriors from the breach of danger
Pluck no longer laurels there;
They but yield the passing stranger
Wild-flower wreaths for Beauty’s hair.”
—Sir Walter Scott. (Lines written for a young lady’s album.)
Of all the abundance of treasure which Northumberland possesses, from a historical point of view—of all its wealth of interesting relics of bygone days—ancient abbey, grim fortress, menhir and monolith, camp and tumulus—none grips the imagination as does the sight of that unswerving line which pursues its way over hill and hollow, from the eastern to the western shores of the north-land, visible emblem, after more than a thousand years, of the far-flung arm of Imperial Rome.
From Wallsend on the Tyne to Bowness on the Solway Firth it strode triumphantly across the land; even now in its decay it remains a splendid monument to that mighty nation’s genius for having and holding the uttermost parts of the earth that came within their ken. As was inevitable, after the lapse of nearly eighteen centuries the great work is everywhere in a ruinous condition, and in many places, especially at its eastern end, has disappeared altogether; but not only can its course be traced by various evidences, but it was actually standing within comparatively recent years. As lately as the year 1800—lately, that is, compared with the date of its building—its existence at Byker was referred to in a magazine of the period. Now nothing is to be seen of it excepting a few stones here and there, for many miles from Wallsend; but the highroad westward from Newcastle, by Westgate Road, as is well known, follows the course of the Wall for nearly twenty miles. But farther west we may walk along the uneven, broken surface of the mighty rampart, or climb down into the broad and deep fosse which lies closely against it along its northern side, without troubling ourselves with the arguments and uncertainties of antiquaries, who have by no means decided on what was the original function of the Wall, who was its real builder, why and when the earthen walls and fosse which accompany it on the south were wrought, and many other smaller controversial points, which afford endless matter for speculation and discussion.
Early references to the Wall show that our forefathers knew it as the Picts’ Wall; it is now generally referred to as the Wall of Hadrian, the general concensus of opinion yielding to that indefatigable ruler the credit of having wrought the mighty work. Whether built originally as a frontier line of defence or not, opinions are not agreed; but it is very certain that the Wall afforded the only secure foothold in the North to the Romans for well-nigh two centuries of hostility from the restless Brigantes to the southward, and the Picts and Scots to the north; and for another century or so after their southern neighbours had become friendly and peaceful, it still remained a substantial bulwark against the northern barbarians.
Throughout the whole of its length it steadily holds the line of the highest ridges in its course, climbing up slopes and dipping down into the intervening hollows with the least possible deviation from its onward course. The most interesting, because most complete, portion of the Wall, is that in the neighbourhood of the three loughs—Broomlee, Greenlee, and Crag Loughs, which, with Grindon Lough to the south of the Wall, boast the name of the Northumberland Lakes. On this portion of the wall is situated the large Roman station of Borcovicus, from which we have gained a great deal of our information as to what the life of the garrisons on this lonely outpost of Empire was like.
The station is situated on hilly ground, which slopes gently to the south, and is nearly five acres in extent. On entering the eastern gateway one cannot but experience a sudden thrill on seeing the deep grooves worn in the stone by the passing and repassing of Roman cart and chariot wheels. That mute witness of the daily traffic of the soldiery in those long-past centuries speaks with a most intimate note to us who eighteen hundred years afterwards come to look upon the place of their habitation. The station itself is of the usual shape of the Roman towns on the course of the Wall—oblong, with rounded corners. The greatest length lies east and west, in a line with the Wall; and two broad streets crossing each other at right angles lead from the north to the south, and from the east to the western gateways. Each of the four was originally a double gateway; but in every case one half of it has been closed up, no doubt when the garrison was declining in numbers, and the attacks of the enemy were increasing in severity.