So here we have pagan altars adapted to Christian uses, just as we have pagan festivals in the Church's calendar; and pagan marriage and funeral customs, borrowed from Rome, and used in the Christian Church even to the present day.
After sketching the smiling lady, and finding her fascination grow in the process, I continued my way up the hill, until I saw on the right a large reservoir, and on the left three private houses, known as Condercum, Condercum House, and Pendower. Here the road cuts right across the site of the Roman fort of CONDERCUM, the third on the line.
The gardener at Pendower was busy just inside the gate, so I inquired about the Roman remains, and he readily consented to show me what was to be seen. He led me past mighty rhododendrons, in full bloom, to the southern side of the garden, where what was evidently a fine piece of the southern wall of the fort was still standing, some 30 feet long. overgrown with London pride and bluebells, and shadowed by beautiful trees. Part of a lintel lay amongst the stones.
Hearing that I was "walking the Wall," the gardener recommended to me the Temperance Hotel at Matfen, kept by some friends of his, and I made a note of it for future use, and now pass on the recommendation to my readers. Accommodation along the Wall is not too easy to get. Matfen is a very pretty village, 2 miles north of the Wall, at a point 14 miles west of Newcastle.
The gardener pointed out to me, over the dividing fence, the foundations of the little temple in the grounds of Condercum House, to which I next made my way. Here another friendly gardener came to my aid, and I saw the temple at close quarters, with its stone pavement, circular apse, and solemn grouping of yew-trees round the apsidal end. These yews were evidently planted soon after the temple was excavated, some forty years ago. There was a rough stone head of the Sun-god, and there were mill-stones "for the women to grind the sacred corn during the temple-services"—so said my guide. Two altars, which stood in their places at the ends of the apse when the building was uncovered, are now in the Blackgate Museum, Newcastle.
The eastern wall of the fort runs through these grounds. I was told that some of the Roman masonry had been knocked down by soldiers who occupied the house during the recent war, and that it had been very unsatisfactorily replaced by masons.
The family was away, so the gardener let me roam about by myself; and in a sunny meadow sloping down towards the Tyne, I found distinct traces of the suburban buildings of the fort. The Vallum is here recognizable for the first time, towards the south.
And now to return to the road. Hutton says of the Wall in this part: "Its bare stones under my feet are frequently distinguishable from those used for mending the road." But the tarred surface for motor-cars has quite obliterated every sign of the old stones now.
It was getting very hot when I left Condercum, and this same tarred surface made walking rather trying, for in many places it had become soft and sticky with the heat, and not even the path on either side had been left free. At some points the very gutters ran with tar. There was no shade from trees overhead, except at long intervals; it was "the hottest day of the year," as the papers said next day, though as yet it wanted an hour or so of noon. But I trudged on, inspired by my quest, and well knowing that my first day was bound to be my worst day, compelled, as I was, to keep to the hard high road. For 19 miles out of Newcastle the road runs mainly upon the foundations of the Wall.
A steep hill, Benwell Hill, leads down from Condercum to East Denton. It was on this hill that John Wesley, with his step-daughter and grand-children, had a narrow escape from injury or death. The horses took fright, and ran away, dashing through a closed gate as if it had been a cobweb, and then across a corn-field. The little girls were terrified, but Wesley writes: "I told them, 'Nothing will hurt you; do not be afraid'; feeling no more fear or care than if I had been sitting in my study." The horses stopped suddenly, just on the brink of a precipice.