Chapter XX: Vindolanda, Corstopitum, Bewcastle

There are a few places not within the line of a direct walk along the Wall from sea to sea which yet form part of our subject, because they have close associations with the Wall.

The most important of these is actually one of the forts _per lineam Valli_, though it lies a mile to the south of the Wall. This is called Vindolana on the _Notitia_ list, but a recently discovered altar shows the correct spelling of the name to have been VINDOLANDA.

VINDOLANDA.

The fort of Vindolanda is at Chesterholm, about a mile south from Hotbank on the Wall. To reach it, we can take a turning on the south side of Wade's Road, near Bradley Hall, keeping to the left, or we can cut across the fields from Highshield farm-house.

The green platform of the fort stands out very conspicuously, and will be easily recognized by any one who is getting to know what to look for. It rises up immediately to the west of the little hamlet {227} of Chesterholm, half buried in its nest of trees; and the heathery hill of Barcombe shelters both from the east winds.

If we approach the fort by the road, it brings us past a Roman milestone, the only one still standing in its original position on the Stanegate, which runs east and west here. The milestone stands about 5 feet above the ground and is about 6 feet in circumference.

Vindolanda is supposed to be one of Agricola's forts on the Stanegate.

The walls, gateways and ditches can be readily made out, also the hypocaustal pillars of a large building to the west of the fort. I sat on the outer wall of the fort to make a sketch of Chesterholm in the evening light, with heathery Barcombe beyond, and the Long Stone standing up against the sky. No one knows the age of the Long Stone. I was up there one day when two tourists passed. They saw the date "1784" cut on its base by an earlier tourist. "Oh, that's the date it was set up," said they, and hurried on. The top has been broken off, and joined with iron bands cemented in; and there is a similar join at the base. It stands between two large stones which keep it in place, and these look in the distance like a pedestal for the column.

There is a British camp near the Long Stone, and also a Roman quarry, where the famous {228} "Thorngrafton Find" of Roman coins was made. There are no coins later than Hadrian's in the collection, which tends to confirm the already well-established fact that Hadrian, and no later Emperor, built the Wall.

A glorious view is to be had from Barcombe of the "mural ridge," all the way from Sewingshields to the Nine Nicks.

In the valley of Chesterholm there is a cottage built of Roman stones, where some beautiful coping-stones and other sculptured stones are preserved, built into a covered passage, approached by slippery stone steps.

THE ROMAN MILESTONE.

To the north of the milestone is a large artificial mound, possibly the burial-place of a British chief. One day, when I was painting the milestone, there were young black cattle feeding on this mound, quite a number of them. Suddenly I heard a sound of trampling hoofs above me, and down they came, the whole crowd, at full speed. I sat tight, hoping they would not upset me, for a thorn-tree hid me where I sat. However, the tide did not flow quite in my direction, and they gathered round the milestone, and did nothing worse than obstruct my view.

A boy on a bicycle came by, and stopped to look at the stone, chattering away to me while I worked:

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"What age is the old thing? About 80 A.D.? Well, he has stuck it out! Wonder how much of him there is underground. As much again, I suppose. I say, did you have difficulty in getting water-colour paper during the War? No? Well, lucky you didn't! Chaps in the Government office I worked in, they'd get out a half-crown sheet of Whatman when they wanted a table-cloth for tea! Lot of that sort of thing done. Shame, I call it. Flies are a nuisance here; don't you find them so? No? Well, I do. Good morning."

And off he went.

CORSTOPITUM.

I had heard from various sources that I must not miss seeing the Roman town of Corstopitum at Corbridge; but on my first attempt, when I motored with friends to the little town on the Cor Burn, we only succeeded in finding a field-gate with a notice up, "Excavations closed." So obediently we went away, only to be told afterwards how foolish we had been to pay any regard to the notice, for if we had inquired at the farm, we could have got the key of the little Museum-shed, and have seen everything. But how were we to know that? I was not able to go again until I most happily fell in with the Pilgrimage of the Archæological Societies, and was allowed to join it.

Corstopitum is 2½ miles south of the Roman Wall, {230} and on the line of the Stanegate, of which its chief street forms a part. Dere Street crossed the river here by a bridge of ten piers, and entered this site. It seems that the importance of Corstopitum dates from the time of Agricola, but was greatly increased after the building of the Antonine Wall, 140 A.D., and its most prosperous times were in that period. It probably depended for its protection chiefly on the Wall and the Wall forts, being itself only a great military store, covering 30 acres, of which 20 have been excavated.

When I visited the excavations they had been neglected for years owing to the war, and ragwort and thistles had done their best to blot them out again. I could not help thinking of these beautiful lines by Maude Egerton King:

"Not bands, nor wheels, nor belching towers
Can break, or yoke,
Or blind with smoke
The vital powers,
So swift to spread their cloak
Of grassy forgiveness and sweet-scented stars
Over earth's man-made scars."

But on this particular occasion one wished that nature had not been quite so busy in seeking to heal the "scars" made by the excavators!

The granaries are magnificent buildings, strongly buttressed to resist the pressure of the heavy stone roofs, with floors raised on sleeper walls, and a ventilation space below, to keep the corn both dry {231} and cool. Window-openings between the buttresses admitted air under the floors. In one window there is a stone mullion, which is probably the only Roman mullion now to be seen. The original western granary was evidently built before the eastern. There are several levels of occupation in Corstopitum, and the western granary has two floors, two walls, two sets of drainage, one above the other, whereas the eastern granary has only one of each. The heavy stone blocks of which they are built are rusticated--inner surfaces as well as outer.

Beyond the granaries are a public fountain and watering-trough. Other buildings found prove that Corstopitum was an industrial centre of some importance.

Two very valuable hoards of gold coins have been found, one in 1908 and the other in 1911. The coins of the later find were the earlier and more valuable, ranging from Nero to Antoninus Pius, Hadrian's successor. They have all been sent to the British Museum.

The famous "Corbridge Lion" was found in a tank in what was probably the garden of a house in the settlement.

Amongst the interesting inscribed stones found here is a tombstone in memory of Barathes of Palmyra (in the Arabian desert), who was a standard-bearer in the Roman army, and died at the age of {232} sixty-eight. A much finer tombstone, which he dedicated to his wife, Regina, who only lived to be thirty, is to be seen in the South Shields Museum, having been found in that neighbourhood.

The excavations at Corstopitum were carried out, under the superintendence of Mr. R. H. Forster, F.S.A., chiefly during the long vacations, when Professor Haverfield and Dr. H. H. E. Craster were able to be much on the spot, and Oxford undergraduates could get an insight into the methods of "reading the soil" employed by archæologists in Britain.

HEXHAM.

Hexham is not a Roman site, but there are many traces of the Roman occupation in the Abbey.

The Saxon crypt, almost the only remaining part of the original church built by Bishop Wilfrid in 674, is entirely constructed of Roman stones. The workmen who built it have attached no importance whatever to the beauty of the mouldings, nor to the interest of the inscriptions. They have simply used them as a "key" for the plaster with which walls and ceiling were covered.

A very beautiful olive-leaf-and-berry moulding occurs frequently; there are also a cable pattern, an elaborate fig-leaf design from a door-jamb, and a deeply fluted column, all built up into the walls of the crypt.

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Two Roman inscriptions occur: one is on a stone used as a flat roof-slab, and the other has had a semi-circle cut out of it to form the head of a door-way.

The flat roof-slab contained the names of Severus and his two sons, but the name of Geta has been erased as usual, by order of the brother who murdered him.

The most interesting Roman stone at Hexham is a tombstone with a vigorous carving of a Roman soldier on horseback, carrying the standard, and treading on his prostrate enemy.

The inscription reads:

"To the gods, the shades. Flavinus, a soldier of the cavalry regiment of Petriana, standard-bearer of the troop of Candidus, being twenty-five years of age, and having served seven years in the army, is here laid."

Then there is an altar dedicated to Apollo Maponus by Terentius Firmus, a native of Siena, and prefect of the camps of the Sixth Legion.

Dr. Bruce was of opinion that the Roman stones in the Abbey were brought from Corstopitum--more especially because, in the bed of the river near Hexham, Roman stones abandoned in transit have been found.

This view has been fully confirmed in recent years.

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FROM GILSLAND TO BEWCASTLE.

Gilsland, with its green daisy-starred mounds, its streams and glades and waterfalls, its Stepping-stones, and Popping-stone, and Kissing-bush, and generally romantic associations, is the greatest possible contrast to the wild fells which we have so lately left, but which can still be seen along the eastern horizon.

The very name of Gilsland speaks of softness, and verdure, and tinkling streams.

Here it was, so says history, that Sir Walter Scott wooed and won his life-partner, and the scenes of the different stages of his wooing are pointed out with brazen assurance.

It therefore seemed most appropriate, when first I visited Gilsland in a search for rooms, to be mistaken for a member of a wedding-party, and to be greeted with the words, "Ye're just in time to see the bride!"

Gilsland was full of "the bride." It was hopeless to try and get any attention to business until she had passed down the street on her father's arm, amid whispers of, "It's _real_ crêpe de chine,"--"Did ye see how it's cut?" etc.

When I had finished my business, "the bride" still pursued me. I picked up a halfpenny, and was looking round for some child who might have dropped it, when the butcher at his shop door called {235} out, "That's a looky ha'-penny, cast at the bride. Ye'll be the next. Ye must keep it."

There must be something in the very air of Gilsland!

I had no intention of being "the next," so I gave it to a small boy for his money-box, while the butcher looked his disapproval. It evidently was not "the thing" to have done in sentimental Gilsland.

It was from Gilsland, later, that I visited Bewcastle, and walked back along the Roman road known as the Maiden Way.

Bewcastle is 11 miles from Gilsland, right away across the Bewcastle Waste.

At first we could not get a car to take us, but finally the butcher came to the rescue, and said that if we did not mind the car in which he sent round the meat, he would have it very thoroughly cleaned. It was easily convertible into a sort of motor-waggonette, to hold six people, and was really quite comfortable. The only drawback was that we caused great disappointment to all the dogs of the villages we went through. They recognized the front of the vehicle, and the driver, and came up wagging their tails, to receive a nasty shock on finding that the contents of the rear portion were human beings and not meat.

It was a lovely run; past the ruin of Triermain Castle, then to Askerton Castle, a beautiful old Border fortification, which we stopped and viewed, {236} copying down two inscriptions, scratched, one on the lead of the roof, and the other on the staircase. The first was:

"Geo Taylr Novb 9th, 1745
the day that the rebels
Came to the Border."

The other was:

"The familie Spoeller
refuge from to War
1914."

This reminds me of a Border story, connected with Bewcastle, of a man, a "rough customer," who wanted to claim kinship with a Scotsman, declaring that he was himself a "Border Scot." "Gude faith, I dinna doubt it," said the true Scot; "the coarsest part of the cloth is aye at the border."

On we went, across the Bewcastle Waste, wild and barren, till Bewcastle itself came into view, with its church, its castle, and a few houses.

The church and castle are built on the site of a Roman fort standing above the Kirkbeck Burn.

"Bueth's Castle" is the grimmest old ruin I ever saw, with bare walls standing up in forbidding sternness.

The church is said to date back to the Conquest. There are four holes in the wall, through which the dwellers in the castle used to keep watch against their enemies. It had till lately shown the beautiful grey stone inside, but when we were there it had just been distempered buff colour all over--stone {237} walls, stone columns, font, and all! Fortunately they had omitted to distemper the curiously carved eighteenth-century tombstones in the churchyard, and the Runic Cross!

This last is a magnificent example of early Christian art amongst the Anglo-Saxons, with a runic inscription which has been translated thus:

"This slender sign of victory set up
Hwaetred, Wothgaer, Olw-wolthu,
to Alcfrith, a king and son of
Oswy. Pray for ..."

There are figures of Jesus Christ and of St. John the Baptist; and also of King Alcfrith, whom it commemorates, holding a hawk. He is said to have died of the yellow plague in 664 A.D.

There is very beautiful ornamental work on the other three sides; vines, with birds and squirrels in amongst the leaves, and elaborate interlacing fret.

Three of us walked back from Bewcastle by the Maiden Way; we kept losing the way and finding it again; but we struck all the landmarks, and it finally brought us out, "according to plan," just above Birdoswald. We passed Side Fell, the highest point hereabouts, and came to the Beacon, where the ruins of what was formerly supposed to be a Roman watch-tower are quite unmistakable. In Dr. Bruce's third edition there is a lovely picture of it, with, prominently in the foreground, "a very {238} human incident," as the newspapers love to say. A brave, top-hatted cavalier, with umbrella raised high above his head, is defending a clinging companion in crinoline skirts from three meek-looking cows, whose tails are curved like fish-hooks over their backs! What a romance lies hidden there! When I saw it, I felt how much I had failed in not peopling the solitudes of the Wall in my pictures! But then, to me, the loneliness is half the charm, and three-quarters of the character. We crossed Spadeadam Waste--such a fascinating name, which takes us back to the very gates of Eden!--and we came to Spadeadam farm-house, where an adamantine old lady in a sunbonnet refused our appeal for milk or tea. Haymaking was in full swing, and she really had more than she could do already, I am sure. Then we crossed the King Water, by stepping-stones, and over the top of the next hill Gilsland came into view.

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