Glanton: Cheviot Legion HQ (NU071145)

The quiet village of Glanton is blessed with many a historical curiosity. One such fact is its prominent role in the defence of the region against the threat of French invasion during the Napoleonic Wars.

From the beginning of the French Revolutionary Wars in 1792, via Napoleon Bonaparte’s rise to power in 1799 and through to the man’s final defeat in 1815, there was constant fear around and about British shores of foreign invasion. Much of Europe buckled under France’s relentless military campaigning and many thought it only a matter of time before they had a nibble at old Blighty. It never happened of course – much like the anticipated Nazi land invasion failed to transpire more than a century later – but it didn’t prevent folk worrying a lot about it, nor from making elaborate preparations for its eventuality.

Across the whole of the nation – and especially those areas near to likely coastal invasion spots – local militias were raised and put on a state of almost permanent alert for a good two decades. Complex signalling systems were set up and chains of command established, all of which was designed to bring the locals to arms should the enemy arrive at our gates. It is a state of home affairs that is now largely missing from the histories of the era, but it all loomed very large indeed in the lives of the people of the time.

The ‘Cheviot Legion’ was one such collection of volunteers. Set up 1798, they became so prominent that they were expanded and ‘upgraded’ to the Royal Cheviot Legion in 1803 – by which time it comprised four troops of cavalry and ten troops of infantry (around 800 men). A couple of the legion’s officers were based in Glanton as well as several of its troopers, and the unit’s HQ (or, more accurately, muster point) was Glanton – sitting, as it does, on the edge of the Cheviot foothills.

The (Royal) Cheviot Legion was never called to arms in anger, of course. But there was one serious false alarm on the night of 31^st January 1804, when the glow from charcoal burners’ fires to the north was mistaken for a warning beacon and the force was called out in full. Better safe than sorry, I suppose, but it did cause quite a stir: alarm drums, bugles and what must have been an almighty flurry of nocturnal activity, not to say sheer panic.

The troopers stayed on at Glanton until the following morning, though, and everyone had a big party. Silver linings and all that…

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Through the Ages: the A697

Look at your modern-day road map in the area to the east of Thrunton Woods and you will pick up the prominent red trunk road that is the A697. It curves elegantly around the contours of the moorland thereabouts, avoiding all settlements of any size for several miles north from the village of Longframlington until the traveller reaches Powburn, some 11 miles distant. This mundane stretch of road has been redirected and relain over at least three different courses during the centuries and the evidence is easy enough to make out.

First of all – or at least as far back as we are able to go – there is the Roman road, the Devil’s Causeway. Your trusty OS map will show you that this early thoroughfare danced either side of the present-day road in a characteristically straight line on its way from Tynedale in the south to Berwick in the north. For occasional stretches it actually lies under the A697 – most notably for a two-mile run north of Powburn.

In time, of course, the road faded from view and out of use for the most part. In areas where it disappeared completely, new highways and byways were cut, linking the developing towns and villages. Actually, these ‘new’ roads were more often than not ancient tracks and drove roads which were revived and developed after the Romans left. In our example, the ‘new’ route through the area took folk over the moors to skirt the eastern fringe of what is now Thrunton Woods, and onwards through Whittingham and Glanton, before dropping down onto the Roman road again near Powburn. This road still exists (for most of its route, anyway) as a minor backroad, being familiar to those of us who regularly visit Thrunton Woods for its woodland trails.

As roads became evermore important for trade and commerce, so their generally poor condition became more and more of a concern. The muddy mess that was the Whittingham-Glanton route formed part of a major link between Newcastle and Edinburgh, especially after the opening of the bridge at Coldstream in 1767. Traffic increased (including the introduction of passenger and mail stagecoaches) and the roads deteriorated rapidly. In time, Parliament stepped in to force improvement with the passing of the Turnpike Acts.

In about 1840, a decision was taken to build a new trunk road along the course with which we are familiar today. The A697, as it is now called, skirts away from Thrunton, Whittingham and Glanton, gliding unhindered through gentle moorland to the east. It then drops down through Crawley Dene to Powburn, where it meets up with its predecessors.

The A697 has been tinkered with plenty since, but mostly just a little widening and considerable resurfacing. Its ‘history’, though, is still plain for all to see on the modern-day map.

Note: this short piece was inspired by Mike Smith’s article at www.powburn.com/a-history-of-the-a697/  

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