Northumberland Yesterday And To Day by Jean F. Terry (read aloud books .txt) 📖

Took Place One Of The Great Conflicts In

Which King Arthur

 

 

  "Fought, And In Twelve Great Battles Overcame

  The Heathen Hordes, And Made A Realm, And Reigned"

 

 

And, As We Gazed, The Level Spaces Seemed Peopled Once More With

Charging Knights, Flashing Sword And Swinging Battle-Axe, And The

Intervening Centuries Dropped Away, And Arthur's Call To Battle For "Our

Fair Father Christ," Seemed Curiously Befitting That Romantic Scene.

But, As The Shadows Lengthened, And The Streams Took On A Golden Glow In

The Rays Of The September Sun, Then Slowly Setting, "The Tumult And The

Shouting Of The Captains" Died Away, And The Figure Of An Earnest Monk

Seemed To Stand By The Riverside, With Prince And Serf, Peasant And

Warrior For His Audience, And The Cold Bright Waters Of The Glen

Dripping From His Hand, As He Enrolled One After Another Into The Ranks

Of An Army Mightier Than The Hosts Of Arthur Or Edwin.

 

Milfield Again Emerges Into Notice Out Of The Obscurity Of Those Dark

Ages, In The Days Of The Bernician Kings Who Succeeded Edwin; For Bede

Tells Us That "This Town (Ad-Gefrin) Under The Following Kings, Was

Abandoned, And Another Was Built Instead Of It At A Place Called

Melmin," Now Milfield. Nothing, However, Remains Here Of The Buildings

Which Once Sheltered The Royal Saxons And Their Court. In Later Days,

Milfield Has A Melancholy Interest Attaching To It From Its Connection

With The Battle Of Flodden; For, On The Heights Above, King James Fixed

His Camp, In The Hope That Surrey Would Lead His Troops Across The Plain

Below. Of The Other Considerable Heights Of The Cheviot Range, Carter

Fell And Peel Fell Are The Best Known; They Both Lie Right On The Border

Line Of England And Scotland, Between The North Tyne And The Rede Water.

As We Have Already Seen, The Men Of Tynedale And Redesdale Bore A

Reputation For Lawlessness In The Time Of The Border "Moss-Trooping"

Days, And Until Nearly The End Of The Eighteenth Century The Tradesmen

And Guilds Of Newcastle Would Take No Apprentice Who Hailed From Either

Of These Dales. The Tracks And Passes Between The Hills, Once Alive With

Frequent Foray And Wild Pursuit, Are Now Silent And Solitary But For The

Occasional Passing Of A Shepherd Or Farmer, And The Flocks Of Sheep

Grazing As They Move Slowly Up The Hillsides. A Quaint Survival Of The

Remembrances Of Those Days Was Unexpectedly Brought Before Me One Day. A

Child Presented Me With A Bunch Of Cotton-Grass, Gathered On The Moors

Not Far From The Roman-Wall. I Asked If She Knew What They Were That She

Had Brought. "Moss-Troopers," She Replied.

 

Many Of The Cheviot Heights Bear Most Suggestive And Interesting Names,

Such As Cushat [7] Law, Kelpie [8] Strand, Earl's Seat, Stot [9] Crags,

Deer Play, Wether Lair, Bloodybushedge, Monkside, Etc., Etc.

 

[Footnote 7: Cushat = A Wood-Pigeon.]

[Footnote 8: Kelpie = A Water-Witch.]

[Footnote 9: Stot = A Bullock.]

 

In These Lonely Wilds, Which Occupy All The Northwest Of The County, One

May Travel All Day And Meet With No Living Thing Save The Birds Of The

Air, And A Few Shy, Wild Creatures Of The Moorlands; Curve After Curve,

The Rounded Hills Stretch Away Into The Distance, Grass-Grown Or

Heatherclad, With Occasional Peat-Mosses; Above Is The "Grey Gleaming

Sky," And, All Around, A Stillness As Of Vast Untrodden Wastes, And A

Sense Of Solitude Out Of All Proportion To The Actual Extent Of This

Lonely Region. The Fascination Of It, However, Admits Of No Denial, Even

On The Part Of Those Newly Making Its Acquaintance; While Those Who In

Childhood Or Youth Roam Over Its Wild Fells, And Feel The Spell Of Its

Brooding Mystery, Retain In Their Hearts For All Time An Unfading

Remembrance Of Its Magic Charm.

 

  Colledge Water.

 

 

  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.

  [Footnote 10: Glidders = Patches Of Loose Stones On The Hillside.]

 

  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

 

Chapter 7 (The Roman Wall)

 

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.

 

Considerable Portions Of The Guard-Chambers, One At Each Side Of Each

Gateway, Still Remain; And Near One Of Them Was Found A Huge Stone

Trough, Its Edges Deeply Worn By, Apparently, The Frequent

Sharpening Of Knives Upon It. Its Use Has Not Been Determined; Dr. Bruce

Tells Us That One Of The Men Engaged In The Work Of Excavation Gave It

As His Firm Opinion That The Romans Used It To Wash Their Scotch

Prisoners In! The Buildings Of The Little Town--A Row Of Houses Against

The Western Wall, Two Large Buildings Near The Centre Of The Camp, With

Smaller Chambers To The East Of Them--In Which The Garrison Lived,

Worked, And Stored Their Supplies, Are Still Quite Plainly To Be Traced,

Although The Walls Are Only Three Or Four Courses High In Most Places,

And Of The Pillars The Broken Bases Are Almost All That Remain.

 

A Considerable Number Of People Dwelt Outside The Walls Of This, As Of

All The Stations, Sheltering Under Its Walls, And Relying On The

Protection Of Its Garrison; The Slope To The Southward Of Borcovicus

Shows Many Traces Of Buildings Scattered All Over It. On The Northern

Side, The Steep Hill, Massive Masonry, And Deep Fosse Would Seem To Have

Offered Well-Nigh Insuperable Difficulties To An Attacking Force Such As

Then Could Be Brought Against The Camp; Yet Not Only Here, But In All

The Stations Whose Remains Yet Survive, There Is Unmistakable Evidence

That More Than Once Has The Garrison Been Driven Out By A Victorious

Foe, To Re-Enter And Occupy It Again At A Later Period. And When We

Consider That The Wall And Its Forts Were Garrisoned By The Romans For A

Period Extending Over Nearly Three Centuries, A Period Corresponding To

The Time From The Reign Of James I. To The Present Day, It Becomes A

Matter Of Wonder, Not That Such Was The Case, But That Such Occurrences

Were Not More Frequent Than The Evidences Seem To Declare.

 

In Spite Of All The Hard Fighting, However, The Recreations Of Lighter

Hours Would Seem Not To Have Been Forgotten; On The North Of The Wall Is

A Circular Hollow In The Ground, Evidently A Little Amphitheatre, In

Which Doubtless Many A Captive Briton And Pict Played His Part. On A

Little Rise To The Southward, Called Chapel Hill, Stood The Temple Where

The Garrison Paid Its Vows To The Various Deities Of Its Worship. Many

Remarkably Fine Altars Found On This And Other Sites Have Been

Preserved, Either At The Fine Museum At The Chesters, Or At The Black

Gate In Newcastle. One Of The Most Striking Is The Altar To