The Romano-British Peasant: Towards a Study of People, Landscapes and Work during the Roman Occupation of Britain

Preface

This is a personal view of Roman Britain. It is emphatically not a history of Roman Britain and it most certainly does not seek to take the place of any of the established works. But it is an alternative point of view to these works in that it places the landscape and people of Roman Britain, the farmers, shopkeepers, labourers and others, centre-stage. After all, it was they who fed the country in large measure, it was they who turned wool into cloth, who mined the ores, quarried the stone and transported it to its ultimate destination, the walls of villas and towns. They were the people who got their hands dirty in the fields and at the potter’s wheel. These are the things that interest me, and I happen to think they matter.

Not only do they matter in themselves, but a grasp or at least an awareness of some of the issues highlighted here, should enable us to rebalance our view of Roman Britain away from elite institutions and social classes towards ‘the common man’. This is valuable because it will help shape our view of transitional phases, such as the Iron Age/Roman period or the Roman/post-Roman periods.

Archaeologists have to work with what they have got, and for Roman Britain the direct sources are pretty thin and one-sided. Far and away the majority of Romano-British sites are ‘dry’, which means that a considerable proportion of the remains have perished, thereby diminishing the database and our chances of attempting anything like a believable interpretation. On the rare occasions that we get a more three-dimensional view, as in the case of the Vindolanda archives of writing tablets, or any excavation where the organic fraction is preserved, our appreciation of the limitations of the generality of evidence is only enhanced. An eye-opener for me was the realisation in Carlisle that on some sites entire phases of activity were composed of organic materials. If such sites had been dry and well-drained, these phases would have been reduced to a lens or two of mineral residues and not only be incapable of interpretation, but our understanding of other phases would have been skewed.

Whilst the dominance of the archaeological record over other sources for Roman Britain is something we simply have to live with, that does not mean that problems afflicting Romano-British society were necessarily confined to that period. I believe that many of the practical issues of everyday life such as ploughing the fields, making a new supply of pots or getting on with the neighbours will have been instantly recognisable to people who came later. That is why I have not felt too constrained both in the use of sources from other periods, as well as speculating and flying the occasional kite.

The final point to make is that the scale of the archaeological resource for Roman Britain is now very considerable indeed. I have consulted literature of one sort or another from all over the country, and am clear that the number of investigations undertaken since the implementation of PPG16 in 1990 and the number of ‘grey literature’ reports are rapidly making the task of writing about Roman Britain à la Frere (1967) or Salway (1981) very difficult. One of the key resources is the Roman Britain section of the journal Britannia where the majority of finds and investigations with a Roman element in the UK are briefly recorded. Between the year 2000 and 2009 almost 3000 investigations and discoveries are mentioned. It is difficult to undertake an analysis of these entries because the information provided is extremely variable, but the overall figure is useful as an indicator of the growing size and complexity of the database. Some of the entries add new sites to the database, whilst others contribute detail here and there to known sites. Occasionally, investigations may turn the tide of thinking about the ‘big picture’, but a great many, perhaps a large majority, add substantially to the local picture and that, surely, is the point. The big picture is nothing if not the sum of the particular. Not only does each investigation add to our appreciation of the scale of the database, but it also identifies events, effort and, perhaps, aspirations, on the part of the Romano-British population. In a sense, effort and aspirations by a population too easily dismissed as being small, is what this book is about.

Chapter 1 sets the scene by setting out a theoretical model. This, simply stated, is one of survival. In a pre-industrial society when most people lived off the land, the peasant’s imperative was always to have sufficient resources to sustain the family, keep some back for next year, and pay the appropriate dues. The word ‘peasant’ is also discussed. It is a term defined in slightly different ways by different writers, but tends to refer to poorer farmers, some freeborn, supporting themselves, and not reliant on markets. Here I use it as a generic term for all those not belonging to the army, the governing class or the professions such as lawyers.

Chapter 2 is mainly concerned with natural forces that shaped the lives of, but very largely lay beyond the control of, human interference. These include soil fertility, the landscape, relief, rain and temperatures. The extent to which these were determinants of land use is debateable, and a moment’s reflection suggests that it is not entirely implausible given the technological know-how available at the time. Indeed, one of my former tutors, the late Professor John Evans, was an avowed environmental determinist. Nowadays, however, environmental determinism is a challengeable view not least because societies become rooted in particular kinds of landscapes, and we can recognize that people will often do almost anything to get round some of the natural constraints in the locality, whether it was by land reclamation, manuring, or adapting cropping regimes to suit changing circumstances. Chapter 2 also focuses on the ways in which scholars have dealt with the exploitation of the landscape. Understandably, some have thought about regional variations in agricultural practice because physical geography imposes limits to the kind of farming regimes possible in different parts of the country. Unfortunately, identifying subtle, or even not so subtle, changes in farming regimes in the archaeological record is virtually impossible because preservation conditions, excavation sample-sizes and dating limitations mitigate against it.

In Chapter 3 the central theme is the population of Roman Britain, partly from the point of view of overall numbers, but partly from the point of what the skeletal remains have to tell us. There is a tendency to lose sight of the fact that Roman Britain was not simply a place of forts, monuments, coins and ‘things’, but all of these and more were the product of great effort expended by people. But, where are the people, or at least their skeletal remains? Our cemetery sample sizes are usually far too small to generate believable interpretations that can be extrapolated with any confidence. It is almost otiose to say so, but nutrition is really important because without adequate sustenance people could not make the effort, let alone survive, yet as a theme it is under-researched.

Chapters 4 and 5 deal with issues related to how people earned a living using selected examples. Much took place on the land, through an involvement in one way or another in farming. Some of the issues considered will not be unfamiliar, but rather than set out accounts of field systems, crops or livestock that are over-descriptive, my concern is to highlight some of the hidden questions behind these. When we speak about iron working or building in stone, ploughing the land and harvesting the crops, what exactly are the implications of that? What exactly do we mean by that, who was involved, and what obstacles had they to overcome.

Chapter 6 concerns social issues, not all of which lie within the remit of archaeology sensu stricto. Whilst excavation can yield clues to broad social frameworks, such as the implied differences between a large winged villa and a ‘strip’ house, archaeological data on their own are rarely capable of shedding light on family size and structure, the rules of social behaviour, the customs and taboos that texts or ethnography can illuminate. Finally, comments are made about foreigners or non-locals.

Chapter 7 attempts to pull some of the arguments together, and identifies a number of major themes for future consideration. It is not a last word, it is merely a breathing space before the next generation drills down further into some of the themes raised.

CHAPTER ONE

The Frameworks

The variety of England’s scenery is a commonplace to the Englishman, yet his textbooks of economic history have not so far taken full account of the significance of this variety in ordering men’s work and shaping their societies.

(Thirsk 1967, 1)

Roman Britain is one of the most written about and appealing periods in our distant past, and this is reflected in the popular and academic literature and the media. Despite the constraints of the history curriculum for schools, references to something ‘Roman’ evokes a more positive and knowing response than many other periods in the past. Why is this? One reason, undoubtedly, is because the Romans have left some spectacular monuments – Hadrian’s Wall and villas with mosaics, for example – but another is, surely, that aspects of the Romans chime in with our own times. Coins, lots of identifiable bric-a-brac, stone houses with different rooms, central heating, glazed windows and tiled roofs resonate with aspects of daily life today. Much of this reflects the lives of elites in ancient times and therein, perhaps, lies a reason for its contemporary resonance matching the so-called ‘celebrity culture’ to which so many today appear to aspire. It is not surprising, therefore, that relatively little attention has been given to the great mass of the Romano-British population, well over 90%, who lived in rural settings, spending much of their lives on the land. How they lived, why they did what they did and what shaped their largely uneventful lives, have rarely been addressed.

Over many years the present writer has been involved with both field archaeology and the teaching of archaeology to a wide range of students. I have been reminded on many occasions of the presence of continuous threads relating to ancient societies irrespective of ‘period’ or ‘culture’ labels. What motivated people, and how did they make a living, or obtain the wherewithal to be housed, clothed and fed? What constraints operated at the level of both peasant farmer and overseer or lord? Who were they? To what extent were cultural preferences or technological capabilities able to override or ignore limitations imposed by nature? How different were late Iron Age, Roman or, for that matter, medieval farmers? We can be fairly confident that the idea of urbanisation was an import from the Roman world, but the processes by which a town emerged remain largely unexplored, at least in Roman Britain. We know that the army spent a good deal of time in Britain, but its impact on the ‘native’ population or on the natural resources in different parts of the province is not widely appreciated.

On the other hand, there have been significant breakthroughs in other areas. One of the biggest new resources, although not yet adequately exploited, lies in the ‘grey literature’ that has accumulated since the early 1990s as a result of developer-funded field investigations, as noted in the Preface. So, not only has there been a colossal increase in the size of the overall database for Roman Britain, but quantitative and analytical techniques are refocusing our questions on a range of datasets. At one level, environmental archaeology is sharpening our appreciation of exactly how archaeological deposits were formed, whilst at another the examination of biological and botanical assemblages, not available to earlier generations of scholars, is illuminating such areas as diet and nutrition. Equally important was the establishment of the Butser Ancient Farm in 1972. This was essentially, as Reynolds has said, ‘a unique open air laboratory dedicated to exploring empirically the archaeological evidence for the agricultural and domestic economy of the later 1st millennium bc’ (Reynolds 1979; 1992, 17). The result of the increase in ‘contracting archaeology’ on Roman sites, advances in environmental archaeology and the Butser experiment, is that we are now in a stronger position than ever before to question older imperialist ideas of Romanization, and examine the landscapes of subsistence and social dynamics in a new light.

Basic concepts – survival

This book makes use of some of this new material, but rather than trying to be comprehensive, I have chosen to concentrate more narrowly on themes that affected those people who could be described very broadly as the peasantry. The Roman period in Britain is certainly the main focus, but I am concerned to examine some of the ways that enabled the ordinary people of Roman Britain to survive. It is based on the premise that human life in sedentary societies is dominated by a number of interlocking, primary survival strategies – (i) earning a living, (ii) feeding, clothing and housing the family, and (iii) belief or faith. These can be considered as universal motivating strategies. However, in order to be secure these people need energy, which is provided by land and livestock which together have the potential for satisfying dietary needs.

Everybody has to cope with these survival strategies, whether they are captains of industry or office cleaners, senators or slaves. The methods by which goals and rewards are achieved may differ, but at a very basic level much of human motivation comes down to these things, as is recognised by psychologists. Underpinning this is the work of A. H. Maslow and his Theory of Human Motivation (Maslow 1943). Subsequently, many others have constructed alternative models for human behaviour, often in the context of 20th-century occupations and management needs. Notwithstanding this, there remains an absence of consensus explaining the underlying reasons why societies or individual groups are motivated.

Why is this worthy of consideration in the context of Roman Britain? What possible link might there be between psychologists studying modern businesses in America or elsewhere, and an understanding of societies in Britain 2000 years ago? Of course, much of the detail embedded in such psychological analyses is quite irrelevant to our present purpose, but when stripped down to basic concepts, some aspects of motivational theory, specifically ‘hierarchies of needs’, may help us shed some light on ancient life, if only at subsistence level. At another level the justification is simple. It is an alternative way of considering the data and that, in turn, might provide new or different insights into the way in which it is considered. The idea is not so much to expect behavioural theory to provide answers to the way in which people may or may not have lived in the first half of the 1st millennium

AD

, because for the most part answers will never be forthcoming. It is to provide questions and sharpen the focus of our thinking. Indeed, some questions only become apparent when sources from other periods and/or cultures are taken into account, as Binford and others discovered during and after the 1960s.

In this book, I will draw freely on sources from other periods precisely because I believe them to contain insights that may be helpful to scholars of Roman Britain. That is not to say that a means of cultivating the land, or dealing with disputes between neighbours in medieval or post-medieval Britain, can be applied uncritically to a Romano-British population. That would be absurd, not least because the social, economic and political milieu was quite different, but it does suggest alternative ways of viewing the data, especially when set against the work of behavioural psychologists.

Essentially Maslow constructed a 5-tiered ‘hierarchy of needs’ organised in pyramidal form. At the most basic level people need to satisfy physiological needs – hunger, thirst and sexual desire. Above that are a number of tiers, including safety, the need to belong, esteem and, at the top of the pyramid, self-actualisation. Fulfilling physiological needs, satisfying the need to be seen as a useful part of an organisation, and acquiring self-esteem provide a basis for growth and development.

Other psychologists and behavioural scientists have formed their own models. Clayton P. Alderfer, for example, identified three basic tiers of human needs, existence, relatedness and growth, also known as ERG theory (Table 1.1). Alderfer holds that ERG theory is related to the way in which an individual obtains satisfaction from his/her environment. Satisfaction is partly about their perception of ‘the way the world actually is’ (Alderfer 1974, 7). The opposite of satisfaction is frustration, and that can lead to conflict. Frustration or conflict may arise out of a need which cannot be satisfied by the reality.

TABLE 1.1. Alderfer’s theory of motivation.

Here, existence is concerned with satisfying basic material needs for survival – eating and drinking – and these, in turn, provide the body’s energy requirements, including that needed for procreation. In many societies past and present, survival or existence needs also to incorporate the means by which hunger and thirst can be satisfied through exchange systems in cash and/or kind. But existence does not stop here because, although not discussed by Alderfer, satisfying physiological needs in sedentary societies entails altering landscapes in order to the create the right environment for propagation, and this, in turn, requires considerable effort. Altering landscapes means clearing the land of obstacles and creating fields, often with boundaries. It also involves choices between a range of cultivars and domesticated animals.

Relatedness focuses on the idea that people need other people in order to maintain their place in society. These include family members who in pre-industrial societies may extend over several generations, as well as servants or slaves, lords, and fellow members of the community. Other people facilitate transactions, can obtain access to land, resources, and other communities, assist in daily routines, and provide encouragement and esteem. Relatedness or dependence has also been a theme in the work of sociologists such as Elias, and lies at the heart of works by Marx and Childe, amongst others (McCarthy 2006, 203–4).

Growth builds on the satisfaction of physiological needs and the presence of relationships that provide a sense of belonging and esteem. It represents a ‘take-off’ point where individuals or groups are able to assert themselves, and thereby attract extra relationships and perhaps surpluses. Growth extends beyond satisfaction to include desire. Death will not necessarily follow if desires remain unfulfilled, but an absence of growth may lead to an erosion of esteem placing relationships in jeopardy.

Johnson and Earle (2000), Schutkowski (2006; 2008) and others have also addressed the problem, but from an archaeo-anthropological and biological perspective. Building on basic nutritional and safety strategies, they argue that simple subsistence economies give way to growth. Population growth involves competition for resources from within, as family units increase in size, but also from neighbouring groups who are undergoing the same stresses. This leads to new land being brought into use, including less productive or even marginal tracts. In short, growth brings its own problems, and these can, and often do, flare up into hostility between competing groups (Sastre 2008). Ultimately the risks implicit in growth result in the creation of institutions and/or the emergence of entrepreneurs that can attempt to manage that risk with regard to investment, trade, and form alliances between polities and technology.

TABLE 1.2. A model for Romano-British societies (adapted from Alderfer 1974 and Johnson and Earle 2000).

Alderfer’s model can be adapted and archaeologists have created similar versions, as in the case of Johnson and Earle (Table 1.2). However, archaeologists have also been concerned to identify motivational factors in the settlement record in order to attempt reconstructions of social, economic and political systems (Trigger 1989, 247–50).

The subsistence mode of life forms the bedrock of much of what we can see in the Neolithic and Bronze Age. Here growth is evident in that many henges, timber circles, chambered cairns and earthen long barrows, and the very idea of monumentalism, required a significant degree of coordinated effort in their construction. This goes beyond simple survival and the satisfaction of physiological needs, and is a feature of an increasingly confident society. Some of Johnson and Earle’s diagnostic features of this stage, the manipulation of exotic goods such as copper, bronze and gold, can be seen, but whether they also included significant population increases is questionable.

Later, especially during the 1st millennium bc, there was a steady trend towards converting substantial tracts to a clearly organised system of land exploitation, as well as in the building of hilltop enclosures, some of which were formidable feats of engineering. As in the earlier periods, these trends are not universally identifiable across the country, and that in itself is sufficient to suggest a degree of regional diversity. By the time the Romans arrived and were making their presence felt, many polities in the midlands and the south had advanced significantly, but the archaeology as currently understood points to an outer penumbra or patchwork of groups apparently displaying different degrees of social cohesion and dynamism especially in the north which remained under military control for sometime, but also in parts of Wales and the southwest.

In these areas, development in the sense of the importation of Roman goods and ideas came later and even then remained at a low level. In the southwest few major ‘Roman’ settlements west of Exeter are known, most being at the level of ‘native’ farmsteads in the form of ‘rounds’ and ‘courtyard enclosures’ (Quinnell 1986). In Wales the only ‘town’ west of Caerwent is at Carmarthen (James 2003), there being none in mid- or north Wales west of Wroxeter and Chester, although there are vici attached to forts. In northern England there is a case for suggesting that whilst the seeds of urbanisation at Carlisle and Corbridge may have been present from the late 1st century,