By BRIAN TILLEY
Last updated at 10:06, Tuesday, 07 February 2012
S TRIDING from coast to coast across the neck of Britain for the best part of 2,000 years, Hadrian’s Wall is rightly regarded as one of the country’s most important ancient monuments.
Title
Author
Copyright
Description
It’s a World Heritage Site, which every year pulls in hundreds of thousands of tourists from across the globe.
Yet it is only in the last 75 years that this majestic relic of the glory that was Rome has been treated with such reverence.
How the Wall was saved, with letters to the Times from such notable personages as Rudyard Kipling and John Buchan and how its future was almost gambled away by the son of one of its saviours, is at the heart of yet another book on the Wall.
Saving the Wall – the Conservation of Hadrian’s Wall 1746-1987 may sound a trifle dull, but in fact it’s a rip-roaring soap opera involving rapacious land owners, feckless gamblers, noble campaigners and lots of things about the Wall you never knew.
Once the legions had taken their short, stabbing swords and military genius back to the Mediterranean, the Wall and its surroundings became a very handy quarry for anyone who needed an abundant supply of dressed stone.
Parts of Hexham Abbey, much of Corbridge and scores of farms are built from stones pilfered from the rugged boundary of the Roman Empire’s northern frontier.
But the biggest stone snatcher of all was Field Marshall George Wade, who was tasked with improving cross country communications in the wake of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s unimpeded march from Scotland as far south as Derby in the 1745 Jacobite rebellion.
He was the man responsible for the building of the Military Road, not the Romans.
But the road certainly owed its foundations to Rome – he ripped up large sections of the Wall to provide the foundations for his 18th century motorway for troops.
The plunder continued unabated, with a 78-year-old man from Birmingham appalled in 1801 to find a large section of the Wall being demolished at Planetrees to build a farmhouse for a Mr Henry Tulip.
Mr Tulip happily confessed that he had already demolished 95 yards of the Wall, but still needed more.
The saviour of the Wall as we know it was John Clayton, owner of Chesters Fort near Chollerford, who was becoming increasingly distressed at the sight of large portions of Wall stone being carried away by the cart load for building purposes.
Fortunately a wealthy man, he began buying up farmland in the central section of the Wall, including Housesteads in 1838, and put a stop to the plunder.
However, he could only affect the sections he owned, but the depredations continued apace elsewhere.
One of the biggest threats was quarries, with the operators anxious to get their hands on the hardwearing stone of the great whin sill.
A previously unknown turret was discovered at Walltown near Greenhead in 1883, but it was threatened from the start by operations at Walltown Quarry.
Its destruction was predicted by Wall historian John Collingwood Bruce in 1883 – and a couple of years later, he was proved right.
Ironically, one of the reasons for the demand for stone was the increasing numbers of cars on the road, demanding more roads in order to visit attractive places like the Roman Wall…
Although quarries might not directly affect the Wall, the workings often came so close to the structure that landslips were induced.
By the 1930s, there was a general feeling of unease about the destruction of the Wall and the weight of public opinion demanded that the iconic structure be preserved at all costs.
The efforts of John Clayton to preserve the Wall were placed in jeopardy in 1928 when the 20,000-acre Clayton estate – which included the glorious central section featuring Housesteads, Carrawburgh, Carvoran, Vindolanda and Chesters – was inherited by Jack Clayton.
He was an inveterate gambler and built up such debts over the gaming tables of Whites of Piccadilly that the estate was put on the market to square his creditors.
It went under the hammer in a great two-day sale in 1929 at the Assembly Rooms in Newcastle, at which a youthful Eric Birley bought Vindolanda.
The historian George Trevelyan of Wallington Hall “persuaded” the feckless Clayton to gift Housesteads to the National Trust, along with a stretch of Wall – but there were dark clouds ahead.
News broke in the Times in 1930 of proposals for extensive quarrying operations in the central section of the Wall, which would ruin the setting of the structure forever.
There was a call for the Wall to be taken into state ownership and maintained by HM Office of Works.
The threat came from land owner Sir Hugh Blackett and quarry engineer John Frederick Wake, who had an interest in the existing quarry at Cawfields.
A lease was signed giving Wake the mineral rights to the central section of the Wall, including the right to quarry within 10 feet of the Wall itself.
It later transpired that Wake had spent two years and £30,000 on planning his rape of the Wall.
There was a spontaneous outcry against the proposals, with the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-upon-Tyne calling for the central section to be made a national park and for the Rockefeller and Carnegie Trusts to be called in to save the Wall.
Questions were asked in the House of Commons and the author Rudyard Kipling – who is believed to have written his Roman story Puck of Pook’s Hill while a guest of the Straker family at Stagshaw House near Corbridge – also railed against it.
The Government’s First Commissioner of Works, future leader of the Labour Party George Lansbury, was despatched North by Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald, to see for himself.
Not everyone was opposed to quarrying; he was met at Housesteads by R.J. Taylor, chairman of Haltwhistle Labour Party, who pointed out at the time of the Great Depression, such a quarry would provide work for 500 men.
It later transpired the quarry would have yielded 200,000 tons of stone per year, but only employed 200 men.
Mr Lansbury concluded that quarrying should be allowed, but not in sensitive sites.
This provoked another flurry of letters to the Times, signed by Kipling and Buchan as well as prominent historians, including Sir Mortimer Wheeler.
Finally, the Ancient Monuments Act of 1931 was passed, giving the First Commissioner of HM Works the power to veto planning schemes and pay compensation to those affected.
However, it could not be applied retrospectively, and Wake’s leases ran to 1949 – with an option for another 20 years.
Some 300 yards of the Wall were destroyed by quarrying at Walltown and a further half mile faced imminent destruction.
It wasn’t until 1938 that a preservation scheme for the central section of the Wall was agreed and compensation of £16,000 paid to the land owners and quarry firms.
However, the hard facts of war meant that in 1943 a demand for whinstone for surfacing RAF airfields saw Walltown quarry once again advancing threateningly on the Wall.
The resulting furore led directly to the formation of Northumberland National Park.
Prior to 1931 and the introduction of the Ancient Monuments Act, the Wall was a vastly different place to what we know and love now.
The only places open to view were Clayton’s Housesteads, Peel Crags and Steel Rigg.
Familiar sections such as Birdoswald, Willford, Walltown, Cawfields, Winshields and even the iconic Sycamore Gap were buried beneath the soil, under trees and topped by drystone walls and wooden fences.
Thus it was that following the enshrining of the Wall’s protection in law, the massive task of consolidating the remains had to begin.
Much of the work was initiated by another Man from the Ministry, Charles Anderson, who spent 40 years nurturing neglected sections of the Wall.
He found Roman coins which had dropped through cracks in the floor at Corbridge, and rescued a temple at Benwell which was being used as a rubbish tip and was covered in trees.
At Heddon, the Wall was covered by a high mound of soil and rubbish and at Carrawburgh Mithraic Temple, Anderson made imitation columns of concrete which were so realistic visitors starting breaking bits off as “original” Roman souvenirs.
At Sewingshields, there was no exposed Wall to be seen at any point, while at Cawfields, the Wall was completely below ground level, with a drystone dyke on top.
Anderson also carefully demolished some sections of Wall and rebuilt them with the original stones, using lime mortar brought to the site by wheelbarrow.
Saving the Wall – the Conservation of Hadrian’s Wall 1746-1987, by Stephen Leach and Alan Whitworth, is published by Amberley Press, of Stroud, Gloucester, at £12.99, and is available from local bookshops.
First published at 09:05, Monday, 06 February 2012
Published by http://www.hexhamcourant.co.uk