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Mile Castle at Cawfield Crags.
twilight deepened into the shadows of night, and we hastened our steps to the next, Caw Gap, whence we turned towards the descent of the steep road that conducted us back to Haltwhistle.
While descending to Haltwhistle, W recited a passage from Procopius, a somewhat obscure author who is believed to have written in the fifth century, setting forth the notions entertained in his day regarding the outlying ground to the northward of the Wall. “Moreover, in this Isle of Britain,” he says, “men of ancient time built a long wall, cutting off a great portion of it, for the soil, and the men, and all other things, are not alike on both sides; for on the eastern (southern) side of the wall there is a wholesomeness of air in conformity with the seasons—moderately warm in summer and cool in winter. Many men inhabit here, living much as other men. The trees, with their appropriate fruits, flourish in season, and their corn lands are as productive as others, and the district appears sufficiently fertilised by streams. But on the western (northern) side all is different, insomuch, indeed, that it would be impossible for a man to live there, even half an hour. Vipers and serpents innumerable, with all other kinds of wild beasts, infest that place; and, what is most strange, the natives affirm, that if any one passed the wall he would die immediately, unable to endure the unwholesomeness of the atmosphere. Death also attacking such beasts as go thither, forthwith destroys them. . . . . They say that the souls of men departed are always conducted to this place, but in what manner I will explain immediately, having frequently heard it from men of that region, relating it most seriously, although I would rather ascribe their asseverations to a certain dreamy faculty which possesses them.” The people of the district still have their stories of “bogles and lang nebit things fra’ the neist warld” of flying men and of dogs in full pursuit, being scared back by some strange metamorphosis of the quarry.
Next morning we sallied forth, W undertaking to accompany us part of the way, and took up the line of our march at Caw Gap, where we quitted it on the preceding evening. A road, which soon dwindles to a mere track, runs hence to the north. It passes a lone, uninhabited house, reputed to be haunted by the unquiet spirits of Nell Nichol and her two wicked daughters, who, in their lifetime, were the plague of the neighbourhood. The house was a notorious resort of smugglers and sheep-stealers. Passing another gap, called Thorny Doors, we reached a stage of the Wall, the base of which having been cleared, appears in all its original sharpness, the tooling of the stones looking as if fresh from the Roman hammer. The mile castle called the Cawfields Castle, which we presently reached, is the most perfect structure of that description remaining. The gap which it defended is denominated the Pilgrim’s Gap, having been so named by Dr. Bruce’s party, who walked along the line of the wall in 1849. The castle is a parallelogram, the corners at the southern side being slightly rounded off. Its inside measurement is sixty-three feet from east to west, and forty-nine from north to south. The south gateway is composed of massive slabs of rustic masonry, and a corresponding gateway appears, walled up, on the northern side, through the wall on which the castle abuts, and opens directly on the face of the crag. These gates have been closed by double folding doorways. The pivot holes are worn by the action of the bolt, which has tinged them with oxide of iron. The opening at each gateway measures ten feet. The width of the wall at the southern gateway is nine feet three inches; at the northern it is ten feet six inches. The castle stands on a slope of about one foot in five, and toward the lower side a level has been obtained by means of “made earth.” In clearing out the area, some tiles of grey slate, pierced for roofing, were found, these, it is to be presumed, had been used for the side coverings, the central part of the building being open. In one place the Wall is calcined by fire, where, it is likely, the hearth was placed. Here, sheltered from the wintry blast, crouching over the embers, some old legionary grumbler might have appropriately repeated the lines of the poet Florus:
Cæsar himself I would not be,
Were the choice e’er imposed on me,
To march on foot through British foes,
And bear their Scythian frosts and snows.
And, near at hand, fragments of coarse earthenware and millstones formed of lava, with a sprinkling of oyster shells, betokened the important business of cookery and the consumption of those
The CaledoniaWonderful oysters which
The Caledonian tide sometimes throws up,
celebrated by the poet Ausonius.
