And I love it because of its plain straightforward purpose. No one ever doubts what it was meant to be or to do; whereas the object of the Vallum is still to some extent a matter of conjecture, over which wordy battles may be fought.
And I love the Wall because it lends itself to being painted, while the Vallum stubbornly refuses to look anything but insignificant in a picture, however imposing it may be when examined on the spot.
Lastly and chiefly, I love the Wall because of the symbol it presents of a firm stand and a patient, faithful, conscientious, tireless watch against the enemy; no risks taken, no pains spared, no loopholes left. It is to me a symbol of vigilance and endurance.
I know that I am self-condemned in the eyes of the archæologist for having such a preference, for is not the Vallum older than the Wall, and does not that in itself constitute an unimpeachable claim to superiority?
But I am not an archæologist; I am only an artist with a taste for archæology, and that is why I fall so far short of the true standard.
The Wall stretches all the way from Wallsend-on-Tyne, 4½ miles east of Newcastle, to Bowness-on-Solway, a distance of 73½ miles; and the Vallum runs alongside of it, on the south, from Newcastle to Dykesfield, in Cumberland, a distance of about 66 miles.
The original height of the Wall was at least 12 feet to the rampart walk, so that it was probably 18 to 20 feet high, including the battlements.
Bede, writing from his monastery at Jarrow, opposite Wallsend, somewhere about 700 A.D., says:
"It is eight feet in breadth, and twelve in height, in a straight line from east to west, as is still visible to beholders." He probably did not include the battlements.
Sir Christopher Ridley, Vicar of Haltwhistle, about 1572, writes: