Between our eastward and our westward sea
The narrowing strand
Clasps close the noblest shore fame holds in fee
Even here where English birth seals all men free-
Northumberland….
They warred, they sang, they triumphed, and they passed,
And left us glad
Here to be born, their sons, whose hearts hold fast
The proud old love no change can overcast,
No chance leave sad.
None save our northmen ever, none but we,
Met, pledged, or fought
Such foes and friends as Scotland and the sea
With heart so high and equal, strong in glee
And stern in thought….
From ‘Northumberland’ by Algernon Charles Swinburne
I've shared before that whenever I need a 'country break' from strolling Newcastle’s streets flâneur-like, a short train journey westwards from my home takes me into the beautiful countryside of Northumberland. Robson Green's recent BBC TV series brought out well the natural beauty of the county with its rolling hills, lush forests, rugged coastline, and picturesque towns and villages. One of the most striking features of the landscape is its openness, which offers stunning views in every direction, with nothing but fields, farms, and forests stretching out for miles around you. That sense of space and freedom is one of the things that makes the region so relaxing.
Of course, being the urbanite I am, I still end up exploring those picturesque towns and villages rather than striding out Wainwright-like over those stunning rolling hills (and yes, I know he was of the northwest of England, not the northeast, but you get my drift). In my defence, dodgy knees and uneven surfaces do not make for a happy pairing. Then again, the variable state of some of the town and city streets I walk along these days can offer the same challenge!
One of my recent journeys west saw me in the charming town of Hexham. Voted a couple of years ago as the 'Happiest town in the Northeast in which to live', it sits just on the south side of the River Tyne within the tranquil Tyne Valley. Yet that tranquillity belies a history of turmoil and invasion.
Hexham is near Corbridge, which lies just north of the River Tyne, is close to Hadrian's Wall, and is known to have been a substantial Roman military supply base. Some think that Hexham, too, might have been a Roman settlement. However, there is no archaeological evidence to substantiate this. Therefore, it is more likely that Hexham is a later Angle settlement. Northumbria was a huge Angle Kingdom, the biggest in Anglo-Saxon Britain. At its height, Northumbria had a southern border stretching from the River Humber across the Peak District and to the River Mersey and a northern boundary of the Firth of Forth.
In 674, Queen Etheldreda of Northumbria granted Bishop Wilfrid land to build a new Benedictine monastery in what is now Hexham, showing the town was of undoubted strategic importance around that time. Etheldreda did much to support the spread of Christianity in Anglo-Saxon Britain. Ely Cathedral now stands on land once occupied by the monastery Etheldreda founded there. Despite marrying twice, she became a significant Anglo-Saxon saint venerated for her virginity. Her good friend Wilfred testified in her favour that despite those marriages, she stayed a virgin. I don't know how he might know for sure. Still, being a saintly man (and indeed, he did go on to become a Saint in his own right), I assume he trusted Etheldreda in whatever she told him.
Of course, the Angles would not have called the town Hexham. The settlement's name in the Old English of Wilfred's time was 'Hagustaldes ea' and later 'Hagustaldes Ham'. The 'translation' of that to modern English means a 'younger son who takes land outside a settlement'. That may show that early Hexham was an outer settlement of Corbridge.
Wilfrid wanted the monastery built of stone, but the local artisans needed to gain skill in working such material. And recycling is nothing new. The remains of a major Roman fort and town were nearby at Corbridge, so the artisans took the stone from there. The crypt of the now Abbey (more on that later) is all that remains of the original 7th Century monastery. My photograph is of a wall in that crypt.
In Wilfrid’s time, the plastered walls of the crypt would have been covered with paintings of Saints and Bible scenes. Those are long gone, and now we can see the well-defined Roman frieze patterns in some areas of the crypt's wall. An attractive leaf and berry design on some stones shows they were originally from a large Roman house. There are also two inscribed stones in the roof of the crypt. Because of its inscription, one can be dated to around 208, when Roman Emperor Septimius Severus and his two sons dedicated a granary at what is now Corbridge before setting out on their Scottish campaign. The other stone is a fragment of an altar to Maponus Apollo. Maponus was the Celtic God of Youth to whom the Romans, always masters of assimilation, equated Apollo.
Septimius Severus did much to refurbish the wall built by Hadrian some one hundred years before and came to Britain with a considerable army intent on subduing those who lived north of that wall. Septimius Severus made York the centre of the Roman Empire, and while he stayed in Britain for three years, he failed to subjugate the Scottish tribes. He died in York in 211; not long after that, his elder son, nicknamed Caracalla, murdered his brother Geta and had his name chiselled out from all such inscriptions as seen in the Hexham Abbey Crypt.
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle also records murder. This time in 788 of Ælfwald, King of Northumbria, by a certain Sicga, a Northumbrian Ealdorman. Ælfwald, then buried in the church of Hexham. History does not record what punishment, if any, befell Sicga for the crime. Still, Ealdormen of the time were of high status and did not depend upon patronage from their King. Five years after the murder, the record shows Sicga's death by suicide.
And with the eighth century came the Vikings to Britain. However, initially, they did little to ravage the country as far inland as Hexham. For a century after their first raids, they focused on conquering the land primarily south of the River Tees. However, eventually, the Vikings turned their eyes northward and ultimately descended on Hexham, destroying much of Wilfrid's monastery. What we see above ground today is the glorious Norman Abbey, built over the crypt, on the site of that monastery some two hundred years after the Vikings' plundering visit. And it's by this point that records show the town's name as Hextildesham. Hextilda, who may have been of Scottish royal blood, was the benefactor of the Priory. Her father was Uchtred (sometimes spelt Uhtred, but no, not Uhtred, son of Uhtred, made famous by Bernard Cornwell). This Uchtred was Lord of Tynedale and married Bethoc ingen Domnaill Bain, supposed daughter of King Donald III of Scotland. Hextilda's husband was Malcolm Earl of Athol.
Now 'Braveheart' William Wallace may be some romantic figure in the eyes of certain Hollywood film stars but not for the people of Northumbria in the late 13th century. It was then that Scottish raiders first attacked Hexham and, much like their Viking predecessors, pillaged the place destroying holy shrines and relics. For good measure, Wallace made a return visit a year after the first raid, as I guess he felt that the job was only half-finished. At least when Robert Bruce rocked up a few years after Wallace, he stopped short of slaughtering priests. The Scottish attacks were to continue through to the mid-14th century.
After that, things calmed until the English Civil War began. The Scots decided to throw their lot in with the Parliamentarians. And, as the north of England was generally Royalist, the Scots came back over the border. Control of Hexham changed hands, and after a siege, even Newcastle fell to the Scots, who hung around for the next three years. At least Hexham changed hands less often than elsewhere. For instance, Chippenham, the town in Wiltshire where I lived before returning north, changed hands between the Royalists and Parliamentarians ten times in less than ten years.
Yet, despite all this Scottish intrusion, Hexham, unlike much of the Northeast of England, did err on the side of the Jacobite cause in the early 1700s. However, reports are that Hexham's Jacobite sympathisers tended to fight amongst themselves rather than battle Hanoverian loyalists. Especially when the Jacobite's political discussion became overheated after an ale or two (plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose).
When I look out over the rolling hills of Northumberland, listen to the gentle rippling of the River Tyne or stroll around the quiet, winding, cobbled streets of now genteel Hexham, I find it hard to believe that the place once saw marauding bands of Picts, Vikings, Scots, Roundheads, Cavaliers, Jacobites and Hanoverians. Instead, Hexham appears a perfect representation of a quintessential picture-postcard small English town, set in stunning countryside, with its tearooms and quaint shops selling handmade jewellery, shoes, violins etc. And, of course, there are the cosy inns and pubs. I wonder within which one of those did the Jacobites of Hexham have their internal rebellion.
What a fascinating - bloodthirsty - sweep of history. Nicely written, Harry, thank you
That wall is surely as Roman as Caesar Augustus. With all due respect to Norse & Germanic / Teutonic, the Roman style of decoration is well - nigh unmistakable.