Enclosing the Past: inside and outside in prehistory
Edited by
Anthony Harding, Susanne Sievers and Natalie Venclová
Sheffield Archaeological Monographs 15
J.R. Collis Publications Sheffield 2006
© Individual Authors and Editors 2006
Publisher: J.R. Collis Editors: A. Harding, S. Sievers and N. Venclová
Cover design: Mark Lee Cover illustration: Modern enclosure on the Arran Islands, Ireland. Photograph: Natalie Venclová
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 978-0-906090-53-4
Copies of this volume and a catalogue of other publications by J.R. Collis Publications can be obtained from Equinox Publishing at the following address: Turpin Distribution Services, Stratton Business Park, Biggleswade, Bedfordshire SG18 8QB Tel: +44 (0)1767 604951 / Fax +44 (0)1767 601640 e-mail:
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LIST OF CONTENTS Introduction
ix
Anthony Harding, Susanne Sievers and Natalie Venclová 1.
Enclosures and fortifications in Central Europe
1
Evžen Neustupný 2.
Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia: the evidence from the air
5
Martin Gojda 3.
Does enclosure make a difference? A view from the Balkans
20
John Chapman and Bisserka Gaydarska, with Karen Hardy 4.
Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia in their central European context
44
Vladimír Podborský and Jaromír Kovárník 5.
The first known enclosures in southern Britain: their nature, function and role, in space and time
69
Roger J. Mercer 6.
Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula
76
Michael Kunst 7.
Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
97
Anthony Harding 8.
Defining community: iron, boundaries and transformation in later prehistoric Britain
116
Richard Hingley 9.
Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen
126
Susanne Sievers 10.
Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland: Umfriedung – Abgrenzung – Umwehrung
135
Günther Wieland 11.
Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
140
Natalie Venclová 12.
Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila
155
John Collis Index
163
AUTHORS’ ADDRESSES John Chapman John Collis Bisserka Gaydarska Martin Gojda
Anthony Harding Karen Hardy Richard Hingley Jaromír Kovárník Michael Kunst Roger Mercer Evžen Neustupný Vladimír Podborský Susanne Sievers Natalie Venclová Günther Wieland
Department of Archaeology, University of Durham, South Road, Durham, DH1 3LE, UK. e-mail:
[email protected] 9 Clifford Road, Sheffield S11 9AQ, UK. e-mail: j.r.collis@sheffield.ac.uk Department of Archaeology, University of Durham, South Road, Durham, DH1 3LE, UK. e-mail:
[email protected] Institute of Archaeology of the Czech Academy of Sciences, Letenská 4, 118 01 Prague, and Department of Archaeology, University of West Bohemia, Sedláčkova 31, 306 14 Plzeň, Czech Republic. e-mail:
[email protected] Department of Archaeology, Laver Building, University of Exeter, North Park Road, Exeter EX4 4QE, UK. e-mail:
[email protected] Department of Archaeology, The King’s Manor, York YO1 7EP, UK. e-mail:
[email protected] Department of Archaeology, University of Durham, South Road, Durham, DH1 3LE, UK. e-mail:
[email protected] South-Moravian Museum in Znojmo, Přemyslovců 6, CZ-669 45 Znojmo, Czech Republic. e-mail:
[email protected]. Instituto Arqueológico Alemán, C/ Serrano, 159, 28002 Madrid, Spain. e-mail:
[email protected]. 4 Old Church Lane, Duddingston, Edinburgh, EH15 3PX, UK. e-mail:
[email protected] Department of Archaeology, University of West Bohemia, Sedláčkova 31, 306 14 Plzeň, Czech Republic. e-mail:
[email protected] Institute of Archaeology and Museology, Masaryk University, Faculty of Arts, Arne Nováka 1, CZ-602 00 Brno, Czech Republic. e-mail:
[email protected]. Römisch-Germanische Kommission, Palmengartenstrasse 10-12, D-60325 Frankfurt/Main, Germany. e-mail:
[email protected] Institute of Archaeology of the Czech Academy of Sciences, Letenská 4, CZ-118 01 Prague, Czech Republic. e-mail:
[email protected] Regierungspräsidium Karlsruhe, Referat 25 Denkmalpflege, Moltkestr. 74, D-76133 Karlsruhe, Germany. e-mail:
[email protected]
iv
LIST OF FIGURES 2.1
The course of the large, Late Eneolithic enclosure at Kly (district Mělník).
6
2.2
Selected enclosures (Erdwerke) of the Michelsberg Culture.
7
2.3
8
2.4
Urmitz (Rheinland/Pfalz, Germany): plan of the largest known Neolithic earthwork in Europe. Chleby, distr. Nymburk.
10
2.5
Trpoměchy, distr. Kladno.
11
2.6
Almost vertical aerial photograph of the Kly enclosure (June 1997).
13
2.7
14
2.9
Schematic depiction of the areas in which magnetometer surveys were carried out in the Kly cadastre, 1997–2000. Kly: combined results of aerial prospection and the areas of positive magnetometric surveys of the large enclosure. Kly, district Mělník: Surface artefact collection 2000.
2.10
Kly, district Mělník: trench 1/99 – general plan.
17
2.11
Kly, district Mělník: Inner ditch, northern section.
18
3.1
Location map of sites discussed in chapter 3.
22
3.2
General plan of Gradac-Zlokućane.
24
3.3
Plan of the Durankulak complex.
28
3.4
Contour map of the Csőszhalom tell.
30
3.5
Magnetic map of the Csőszhalom tell.
31
3.6
Plan of Iskritsa I pit site.
33
3.7
Plan of Tell Merdzumekja, Karanovo VI level.
36
4.1
Vedrovice, southern Moravia.
45
4.2
Enclosures of the Early Neolithic LBK.
46
4.3
Enclosures of the Middle and Late Neolithic.
49
4.4
‘Rondels’ of west-central Europe.
51
4.5
Eneolithic enclosures.
52
4.6
‘Rondels’ of the Middle Danube.
54
4.7
Distribution of ‘rondels’ in Moravia.
56
4.8
58
4.9
Distribution of ‘rondels’ in the loess zone between the course of the rivers Tisza and Rhine. Multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement: Inden, West Germany.
4.10
Multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement of the Lengyel culture: Žlkovce, Slovakia.
61
6.1
Zambujal. Area VX during the excavation of 1972.
77
6.2
Model of the horizontal and vertical stratigraphies of the walls of Zambujal.
78
6.3
The five phases of Zambujal according to the excavations of Sangmeister and Schubart.
79
6.4
Zambujal. The ‘outer courtyard’ with its loopholes after the restoration in 1970.
80
6.5
Zambujal. Plan of the ‘outer courtyard’ and the second fortification line.
81
6.6
Zambujal. Calibration 12 radiocarbon dates from charcoal samples from phases 1c to 4d.
86
6.7
Zambujal. Calibration of 8 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before 1a to 2c and phase 5.
86
2.8
v
15 16
60
6.8
87
6.11
Zambujal. Calibration of 7 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before 1a, 1a, 1c, 3c and 5. Zambujal. Air photograph from southwest to northeast with the excavation of the 4th fortification line. Zambujal, October 1994. Air photograph from north to south of the end of the promontory. Zambujal. Air photograph of the 1st and 2nd fortification lines.
6.12
Zambujal. Air photograph of the 4 fortification line.
91
6.13
Zambujal. Schematic plan of phase 2 with indication of later constructions at the 4th line.
92
6.14
La Revilla del Campo, Ambrona (Miño de Medinaceli, Soria, Spain).
93
7.1
Plan of Gardom’s Edge.
98
7.2
Plan of Blackshouse Burn.
99
7.3
Plan of the henge monument at Balfarg, Fife.
100
7.4
Ring cairn on Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire.
101
7.5
Plan of the Druids’ Circle at Penmaenmawr, North Wales.
102
7.6
Plan of Loft’s Farm, Essex.
103
7.7
Plan of Mucking South Ring, Essex.
104
7.8
Plan of Rider’s Rings, Dartmoor, Devon.
104
7.9
Plan of the crannóg of Clonfinlough.
105
7.10
Plan of the crannóg of Knocknalappa.
106
7.11
Probability distributions of the radiocarbon dates from Svodín.
107
7.12
Plan of Nitriansky Hrádok.
108
7.13
Published plan of Spišský Štvrtok.
109
7.14
Plan of the Forschner site, Baden-Württemberg.
110
7.15
Plan of the fort at Monkodonja.
111
7.16
Plan of the central area at Velim, Czech Republic.
112
8.1
Hillforts in southern Britain and the adjacent Continent.
117
8.2
Enclosed Iron Age settlements.
118
8.3
A currency bar from Park Farm, Warwickshire.
119
8.4
Currency bars at eight hillforts in southern Britain.
120
9.1
Das Oppidum von Villeneuve-St-Germain und sein Kanalsystem.
127
9.2
Manching. Von einer porticus umgebenes Gehöft der Südumgehung.
128
9.3
Manching. Dreiphasiger Tempel aus Schnitt 20.
129
9.4
Plätze und Straßen des Oppidums Variscourt/Condé-sur-Suippe.
130
9.5
Manching. Das Osttor in seiner zweiten Bauphase mit Annäherungshindernis.
131
9.6
Die Befestigungslinien des Oppidums auf dem Závist während LT C2 und LT D2.
131
9.7
Das Oppidum auf dem Donnersberg und seine Befestigungslinien.
132
9.8
Das Oppidum Stradonice und seine Befestigungslinien.
133
10.1
Rekonstruktion einer Viereckschanze als Kultanlage mit weitgehend unbebautem Innenraum. Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten.
136
6.9 6.10
10.2
th
vi
88 89 90
137
10.3
Rekonstruktionsversuch der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten.
138
10.4
Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Oberesslingen mit nach innen gesetztem Torbau.
139
11.1
Local enclosures: examples from the oppida in Bohemia.
141
11.2
142
11.5
Community enclosure: reconstruction of the Late Hallstatt to Early La Tène enclosure of Němětice, Bohemia. Community enclosure: the Viereckschanze-type enclosure of Mšecké Žehrovice in Bohemia. Community enclosures: farms - fermes - Einzelhöfe and Viereckschanze-type enclosures in the Iron Age Europe. Wooden buildings from different contexts in the La Tène of Central and Western Europe.
11.6
Dolní Břežany, Bohemia: reconstruction of an Early La Tène two-storied house.
149
11.7
Types of boundaries of the Iron Age community enclosures (Viereckschanzen and fermes).
150
11.8
Stone heads from community enclosures (fermes) in Brittany: Paule and Yvignac.
151
12.1
Owslebury, Hants.
156
12.2
Gussage All Saints, Dorset.
157
12.3
Old Down Farm, Andover, Hants.
158
11.3 11.4
COLOUR PLATES 1
Gojda: Hrušovany nad Jevišovkou, distr. Znojmo.
2
Gojda: Chleby, distr. Nymburk.
3
Gojda: Dolní Beřkovice, distr. Mělník.
4
Gojda: Kly, district Mělník: a tulip-shaped beaker.
5
Harding: The outer ditch at Velim.
6
Harding: Ditch deposits at Velim showing the extensive deposition of human bone.
7 8
Wieland: Rekonstruktion einer Viereckschanze als zentrale Einheit einer ländlichen Siedlung. Collis: Traditional house at Solosancho, Ávila.
9
Collis: Field enclosure near the village of Sanchorreja, Ávila.
10
Collis: Terraced fields near Sanchorreja, Ávila.
11
Collis: Ditched trackway and open fields at Salobralejo, Ávila.
12
Collis: Heaps of harvested grain at the village of Salobralejo, Ávila.
13
Collis: Elaborate entrance to a farm at La Colilla, Ávila.
14
Collis: Construction of a gateway and façade, Salobralejo, Ávila.
15
Collis: Simple entrance to the dehesa of El Cid at Sanchorreja, Ávila.
vii
143 144 147
LIST OF TABLES 3.1.
Comparison of finds from different excavation sectors at Gradac-Zlokućane.
23
3.2.
Social practices on the tell and the horizontal settlement at Polgár-Csöszhalom.
32
3.3.
Pit stratigraphy and finds at Iskritsa I.
34
5.1.
Density per m2 excavated of the occurrence of worked flint and flint implements at a selection of Neolithic enclosures in southern England.
74
6.1
Zambujal. The calibration results of 12 radiocarbon dates from phases 1c to 4c.
82
6.2
Zambujal. The calibration results of radiocarbon dates from animal bone samples.
84
6.3
Zambujal. Comparison of the dates for the complex Z-1499.
85
6.4
The areas of Portuguese fortifications based on published plans.
90
8.1.
Currency bars from various contexts.
120
8.2
The contexts of currency bars from settlements.
121
viii
Introduction Anthony Harding, Susanne Sievers and Natalie Venclová The practice of creating an enclosure was a phenomenon that occurred at many times and in many places of the prehistoric past. This volume sets out to explore the variability of enclosures, using a variety of approaches, and aims to explore possible reasons for enclosing rather than technical aspects of creating enclosures. It proceeds from the belief that insights into past acts of enclosure might be gained from the study of the reasons for enclosing (or not enclosing) in various present-day territories. When one speaks of enclosures in the prehistoric past, one is usually referring to a space, a piece of ground, surrounded by some feature that forms a barrier to movement. Typically this would be a ditch, or a bank, or both, though a hedge or a line of trees might serve just as well. For it is not just a question of creating an impenetrable barrier which physically prevents movement; it is at least as much a question of defining and delimiting an area which is to be regarded as in some manner separate or different, of creating an “inside” and an “outside”. So even a modest physical barrier can represent a major change in attitude and function, and convention (social, religious) can suffice to prevent movement across it. Seen in this light, enclosures can take on many forms, and it is by no means merely largescale earthworks or walls that come into consideration. We should remember too that the delimiting of space could also have been represented by archaeologically invisible elements, e.g. by an empty area, by surface structures, by natural features, or even by separate, discontinuous elements. Searching for such “invisible delimiting” could be a theme on its own, perhaps philosophical or sociological rather than purely archaeological. Typically archaeologists have assumed that enclosures were built for defensive purposes, that is, to keep people or wild animals out, and/or to protect what was inside from aggressive action (people, animals, food and other resources, valuables). This was no doubt one important function that was served, but there is plenty of evidence to show that there were a number of other functions. Think of henge monuments, for instance. The surrounding earthworks can be substantial, even massive; the interior is clearly defined and quite separate from the exterior; yet a defensive purpose seems unthinkable, mainly because a ditch lies inside the surrounding bank. A true defensive establishment would place the ditch outside the bank, in order to serve as an impediment to attackers. Furthermore, the internal features of henge monuments (rings of pits, posts or occasionally stones, sometimes graves) strongly suggest a non-domestic function for the sites. They were in all probability part of a wider tradition that included other types of circular or near-circular sites, such as stone rings, or rings of posts found under Bronze Age burial mounds, in which what was important was the concept of enclosed circular space, and what happened inside was connected with the symbolic or psychological sphere (“ritual”). Defence and protection can only have been a function insofar as there were mental barriers preventing unauthorised persons from entering the interior and participating in the habitual activities carried
out there, or coming into contact with whatever was kept there. Although researchers may tend to prefer “practical” explanations for enclosed areas, the symbolical significance of boundaries might actually have been dominant in the minds of those who created them. Even in the case of large-scale earthworks of the Iron Age (“hillforts”), it is by no means always obvious that the siting and form of the “defences” were best placed to serve a purpose in preventing hostile persons or groups from entering. Although controversial, the concept of the “required barrier” (Bowden & McOmish in Scottish Archaeological Review 4, 1987, 76-84), that is, the construction of barriers as a matter of habitus rather than for specifically defensive purposes, has found favour in the thinking of many archaeologists, however counter-intuitive it might seem. Hillforts are a special form of enclosure and they must be interpreted using a variety of approaches. What is important here is to specify the context of construction of enclosures. Causation is a difficult area in prehistory; the understanding of agency in the creation of the ancient past has rightly become an important preoccupation of many scholars, and it is in this field that future thinking is likely to be concentrated. Seen in this light, “explanations” such as defence must be treated with caution. Only after the specification of the context of construction can such a function be regarded as likely. The authors of articles in this volume have, as is natural, different approaches to this question. Some deal primarily with conceptual issues, stressing the symbolical aspects of enclosing; some concentrate on problems of the archaeological identification of enclosures, demonstrating that a large number of bounded features may escape recording altogether. This is confirmed by detailed investigations showing more complex linear structures within some settlement sites than previously presumed. Other authors are mainly concerned to chart the rise and fall of enclosure in particular periods or to display the history of individual sites, enclosure types or regions. Attempts to view enclosure as part of a wider field of study, in which deposition practices and other “incidental” effects can be argued to be related to site form and type – for instance, whether they were enclosed or unenclosed – form another approach. All authors agree that enclosure was a major phenomenon in later European prehistory from the point of view of landscape use or social complexity. Most imagine that just as societies became larger and more complex during the course of prehistory, so enclosures became more variable over time. Some go further, and believe that the functions of enclosures changed too, even within a single period. It would be quite wrong, however, to suppose that they developed in a straight line from simple to complex; in fact the exact opposite might be true. Thus the functions of Neolithic enclosures were far from simple or straightforward, while those of the Iron Age may arguably have been connected with purposes that to our modern eyes seem far more obvious. Specifying how enclosure relates to society, or at least to social practice, is a recurring theme. One can argue, of ix
course, that enclosure was a social practice, that it had more to do with habitual action, the creation of what was expected, than with any particular function such as defence. Whether this enables one to detect correlations between the form of enclosure and the form of society is, however, doubtful. On the other hand, some authors have found it useful to contrast practices in enclosure (or non-enclosure) with practices in other aspects of life and death. People in Neolithic Europe were active enclosers, sometimes (arguably) for defensive reasons, sometimes for symbolic or ritual reasons; the act of separation, of inside from outside, of us from them, of the initiated from the uninitiated, could be seen as a metaphor for the fragmented, small-scale society that one imagines existed at that time; while the large-scale boundaries of the Iron Age could be thought to reflect the scale of Iron Age society. That this is a false comparison can be seen from our knowledge of the scale on which Neolithic and Eneolithic people built monuments. The construction of an Avebury or a Stonehenge, the erection of the Carnac alignments or Le Grand Menhir Brisé, were colossal undertakings, and though the societies were small the modes of organisation were complex. “In the beginning”, as the Bible says, the world was undivided and unenclosed. It was humankind that began the process of division of the world into separate spaces. To continue the biblical analogy: Paradise is a separate space, different from the rest of the world and no doubt marked by transition points. Heaven has Gates through which one must pass. These are mental forms of division and enclosure, but they indicate something of the imagery that human beings utilise in their everyday thinking. In practice, we are confined to the real world around us, and the real traces of ancient activity that constitute the archaeological record. And so we must begin at the beginning. As far as we are aware, there are no enclosures in the Palaeolithic anywhere in the world. Even in the Mesolithic, there is little or no sign that people constructed enclosures of any but the simplest kind to surround their dwellings or activity areas. It is in the Neolithic and Eneolithic that we first see major enclosures developing, in the form of defensive (?) sites such as some LBK settlements in central Europe, or Hambledon Hill in England, and with massive earthworks like the rondels of central Europe and the henges of the west. Some of these themes were continued in the Bronze Age, though in general the landscape of that period is less marked by the imposition of earthworks on the land than the preceding period; increasingly through the period there are enclosed settlements and the beginnings of regularised fort building. In the Iron Age an increasing division of land
is evident, not only in the form of complex arrangements inside settlements, forts and oppida, but through large land divisions that connect with major enclosed sites or hillforts (and stockades on lower ground). This thumbnail sketch merely sets out the markers for what follows in this volume. Clearly there is no shortage of material to study; what has to be done is to work out how best to undertake the study. Most of the contributions in the volume are based on papers read in the session “Enclosing the past: inside and outside in prehistory” organised by the present editors at the 7th Annual Meeting of the European Association of Archaeologists at Esslingen (Germany) in September 2001, but some additional papers have been included, where they present fresh data, ideas and approaches to the subject. The papers in question are those by Chapman (and colleagues), Kunst, and Podborský and Kovárník. The world of enclosure that this volume studies and attempts to interpret was a very different one to the one we inhabit today. It is essential, therefore, that we do not impose our modern ideas on this long-vanished world of the past. Notions of defence in dealing with enclosure die hard; we are perhaps too used to the idea of massive fortifications built in order to exclude an enemy to remember that other purposes are also served by enclosures. Our study of ancient enclosure must therefore take place within a broad context and using a range of methods. It is not only the outward form of earthworks or ditches found by aerial survey that we should study, important though these undoubtedly are. It is also the nature of artefact creation, use and deposition, the form of buildings, the use of space, and the nature of technology that all bear on the way society ordered and reproduced itself. Without an attempt to contextualise by making use of these and other factors, without getting away from a one-dimensional view of the past that looks at the sites themselves and ignores the world around, any interpretation of enclosure in a given period will merely be a modernistic imposition on the ancient data. The creation of enclosures was a complex phenomenon related both to the nature of societies, to the status and prestige of communities and individual members of them, as well as to economic and ritual factors. We believe it is unlikely that any one function, e.g. defence, was the only one at a given site or in a given period, or that any one explanation can adequately account for the phenomenon of enclosing. The authors of these articles have attempted to explore the complexity of enclosure in the ancient past, and to indicate some possible ways in which its interpretation can advance.
x
1: Enclosures and fortifications in Central Europe Evžen Neustupný Abstract: Like any human artefacts, enclosures and fortifications necessarily serve some purpose: practical function, social meaning and/or symbolic significance. Traditional archaeology of the historising type often assumed enclosures to be artefacts endowed with a practical function (fences, kraals, etc.), while fortifications were believed to have a predominantly social meaning, i.e. they were considered to be defences against a human enemy. These kinds of interpretation still survive, although more recently enclosures have been supposed to have a symbolic significance. It will be argued that irrespective of the fact that enclosures and fortifications could have had a practical function and/or social significance on occasions, their main purpose in prehistoric Europe (and possibly in later periods as well) was their symbolic significance connected with movement in the vertical dimension.
since 1986 (Neustupný 1986, 1993, 1995, etc.). I assume that purpose represents the foundation of the structure of artefacts. The category of purpose as applied to artefacts has three aspects: practical function; social meaning; and symbolic significance. • The practical function of artefacts relates to their suitability to affect and/or change objects or conditions of the external world. People purposefully apply artefacts to achieve their practical goals. The practical function is obvious with tools such as an axe; the function of a house is to provide shelter against bad weather, etc. The practical function of a circular enclosure may be to keep domestic animals in one place and prevent them from moving about in the landscape. • Another kind of purpose of artefacts is their social meaning, or their capability to support social relations among people, essentially in the process of specialisation. People sometimes apply artefacts purposefully to maintain social relations. However, while practical function and symbolic significance are fully perceived by those who exploit them, at least some social relations are realised outside individual awareness. Being things, artefacts do not create social relations by themselves but, at the same time, social relations cannot develop without artefacts. The meaning of a house is to maintain or to strengthen family relations; combat weapons (even those made of soft materials) mean ritual warfare; and the commonly assumed social meaning of a fortification is to defend a group against the attack of another group of population. • The third aspect of purpose is the symbolic significance of artefacts, or their competence to communicate ideas. People purposefully apply artefacts to communicate either with other people or with non-human beings (dead ancestors, spirits, gods, etc., whom they consider to be comparable to humans, and therefore subject to communication). Messaging by means of symbolic artefacts is one of the most important types of communication. A Neolithic house may possess symbolic significance if it communicates an idea to other people, foreign or domestic. For example, the house may communicate the idea of wealth, that of a complete family, etc. An enclosure may communicate that its place is sacred and/or protected against bad spirits. It may tell the spirits that they must not enter. Religious ceremonies in general assist human communication with supernatural beings and, therefore, objects serving religious cults are always artefacts endowed with some sort of symbolic significance. I would like to draw attention to the fact that social meaning and symbolic significance are two different aspects of purpose. Social relations are authentic, factual (artefactual) ties within a society, created by specialisation in the process of the creation and the use of artefacts, irrespective of whether these ties are communicated to anybody (i.e. expressed in a symbolic system) or not. For example, the relationship between men and women,
Keywords: Enclosure, fortification, social meaning, symbolic significance, warfare Like any human products, both enclosures and fortifications, which represent basically the same artefacts, necessarily serve some purpose: practical function, social meaning and/or symbolic significance. Modern people, going on a ‘commonsense’ approach, mostly believe that enclosures and fortifications are constructed to prevent bad people from entering an area to carry out theft, robbery or violence against other people and/or their property. Another frequently cited reason for enclosing an area is to prevent domestic animals from moving outside and wild animals from moving inside. These and similar assumptions about the purpose of enclosures and fortifications have been derived from the observation of similar constructions of the last few centuries, and have been supported by the written record pertaining mainly to European environments. While considering these simple commonsense explanations, it is fair to admit that many prehistoric enclosures in Europe have been explained in recent years by a number of authors in a different way. For example, the ‘rondels’ of the Lengyel culture have been recognised as cult (or social and cult) features (Podborský 1988; 1999; this volume), having nothing to do with defence against a human enemy. In contrast to enclosures, however, the case of prehistoric ‘fortifications’ is more complicated; the assumption of their function as a means of defence against a human enemy has been common right up to the present day (Vencl 1997). As far as I know, their primary and/or exclusive purpose as installations for prehistoric warfare was only questioned in the middle 1990s (Neustupný 1995).
1: The analysis of purpose The views that I am going to develop in this paper are based on my typology of purpose published a number of times 1
Enclosing the Past and between heads of families and commoners, is symbolised by graves with interred pairs of cows or oxen in the Middle Eneolithic period (some men owned the cattle while others did not). In the preceding and the following periods there were no such symbols (graves of draught animals), but it is obvious that the social relations they symbolised were still present. The appearance of permanent fields, draught cattle, and a wooden ard (plough) sufficed to support certain social relations by means of their social meaning, while their symbolic expression was not considered to be indispensable in all periods and sub-periods of prehistory. Another important feature of purpose is the fact that its individual aspects mostly combine: artefacts have practical function, social meaning and symbolic significance at the same time. For example, an enclosure may simultaneously serve: • a practical purpose or function (e.g. not letting animals in or out); • a social purpose or meaning (e.g. making access more difficult for human enemies); and • a symbolic purpose or significance (e.g. encircling a sacred area). This is why some authors make practical function almost an absolute (which is easy, as some practical function is nearly always present with artefacts) while others assume that artefacts had no function other than their symbolic meaning (since any artefact can be used for some kind of communication). I am going to argue that all such views are one-sided. As the three aspects always come together in the real life of prehistoric communities, it is very likely that prehistoric people themselves were often unable to separate them. Archaeologists who do not differentiate between the three aspects of purpose actually remain at the level of such prehistoric people. However, if archaeologists are interested in how the purpose of artefacts is structured, they have to analyse it into its logical constituents.
as the primary and decisive (determining) purpose, in spite of this being repeatedly suggested by some archaeologists.
The social meaning of enclosures and fortifications In the following paragraphs I am going to discuss two kinds of social meaning of prehistoric enclosures and fortifications often suggested as possible explanations of such artefacts: their defensive military role; and their role in prehistoric commerce.
Defensive military installations In general, war and violence represent a typical social relation. Therefore, artefacts that assist the conduct of war and/or defence have social meaning. This has often been the sole explanation for prehistoric fortifications and for many enclosures (e.g. Vencl 1983, 1984, 1997, etc.). Seven years ago I questioned this explanation of fortifications for a number of reasons (Neustupný 1995). My argument can be summarised as follows: • Any fortification can serve its defensive purpose only if it is defended. But many prehistoric fortifications are so huge that the small prehistoric communities of Central Europe, consisting of several families, could not guard and protect them. • In many instances prehistoric fortifications are situated far from the densely inhabited areas, frequently in places where there is sparse or no contemporaneous settlement around. This is typical for the case of La Tène period but common in many other instances. • In some locations ‘fortifications’ are built on high mountains difficult of access. The effort necessary to reach them contrasts with the practical aspects of human life. • There are many instances of so-called incomplete fortifications that leave considerable parts of the defence line unprotected. • In some cases so-called fortifications are rather problematic because their defences are either too shallow (in the case of ditches) or too low (in the case of ramparts). • The ditches, especially those of Neolithic and Eneolithic age, have an unnecessary number of entrances (socalled causewayed camps) that weaken their defensive function. • If there was any military tactic in prehistoric times, in addition to ritual warfare, it was an unexpected attack on villages (Shnirelman 1994). Large fortifications, which could not be defended by small prehistoric communities, provided dubious protection against such attacks.
2: The purpose of enclosures and fortifications The practical function of enclosures and fortifications Once people use an enclosure, they cannot help giving it a practical function. Any kind of physical barrier has many practical advantages, as well as many disadvantages. In the case of enclosures and fortifications whose interior was inhabited in prehistoric times, a number of practical functions can be assumed. Although it is frequently difficult to demonstrate that the settlement of the interior is contemporaneous with the enclosure, this is still very likely in at least some instances. Living in an enclosed area brings the advantage of a restricted space. For example, babies and children cannot walk out to get lost in the forest, wild animals cannot easily get inside, and domestic animals cannot move freely across the physical barrier. The concentration of people and their artefacts within an enclosure also has disadvantages, for example, in the case of fire, in causing local erosion, etc. All this represents the side-effects of enclosed space. I question whether there is any well-documented prehistoric fortification for which the practical function can be assumed
While it cannot be excluded that so-called fortifications were used to defend people against human enemies from time to time, the arguments to the contrary clearly demonstrate that defence against a human enemy could not be their prime purpose. At this point I have to refrain from explaining the theory of ritual or symbolic warfare (Neustupný 1998) that in my view is able to explain the phenomenon of fortification. Ritual warfare, however, is a sort of communication and, therefore, does not enter into the concept of social significance. 2
Neustupný: Enclosures and fortifications in Central Europe
Trading stations (markets)
other people. Even tools and other artefacts believed, by definition, to be very practical (such as spear-throwers, axes or houses) demonstrably had properties that clearly served communication, i.e. they had symbolic significance. Nearly all human creations in prehistory possessed some kind of symbolic decoration, and could have been used for contact with supernatural powers. In this sense, people enjoyed more freedom in prehistoric times than in later periods of history, when artefacts such as pottery (but also many tools, for example) were produced according to the strict requirements of economy. Symbols and signs, which also include natural language, form the basis for human communication. Signs are arbitrary and symbols either arbitrary or semi-arbitrary. This means that they do not represent, as a rule, anything similar to their material form; they signify something else. This is important to realise, as simple forms of semantic analysis cannot reliably enable us to understand the significance of symbols. The arbitrary relationship between a symbol and its form is the main obstacle that archaeologists encounter in their effort to decipher ancient symbols. There are two principal problems to be solved while approaching the symbolic significance of ancient artefacts: • The realisation that an artefact was used as a symbol for communication. This is the easier task of the two, especially if it is possible to argue that certain properties of the artefacts cannot be explained (or fully explained) by their practical function and/or social meaning. • The determination of the contents of the communicated message. To uncover this message is one of the most difficult missions of archaeology, so difficult that many archaeologists tried to overcome the problem by depending on completely subjective assumptions, mainly using the method of empathy or ethnological parallels. The difficulties are basically caused by the arbitrary character of the signs and symbols of which the communication consists. The way out of these difficulties may rest in the so-called limitation of arbitrariness and the reconstruction of the possible topics of communication (past concepts). I shall now explain this methodology as applied to enclosures and fortifications. The first problem is: is there any reason to believe that enclosures and fortifications served as symbols used for communication? This is equivalent to asking whether enclosures and fortifications can be fully explained by their practical function and/or social meaning, a question that I have already discussed. I concluded that these types of immovable artefacts did not have any important practical function or social meaning in the sphere of defence against human enemies that could fully account for them. At the same time, it seemed likely that they could have had a meaning as market places. However, this kind of purpose does not create a sufficient basis to explain the erection of such time-consuming constructions as many enclosures and fortifications represent. Markets could easily operate without any enclosure, and could have been surrounded by a light fence if any demarcation was needed. However, there is rich evidence that prehistoric enclosures and fortifications were used in religious ceremonies (e.g. Bertemes 1991); I have already suggested that they represented communication with supernatural forces. Therefore, there is no doubt that prehistoric enclosures and fortifications had large-scale symbolic significance.
Another explanation of fortifications and/or enclosures is trade. Trade is a social relation supported by artefacts and ecofacts. In contrast to defence, trading is not a traditional, modernising explanation. Prehistoric trading has so far been considered mainly from the point of view of the items exchanged and their movement over space, while studies pertaining to the process of exchange and to the areas where this process took place are unusual. The model assumed for prehistoric trading was frequently either itinerant merchants who went from one village to another (or from one fortification to another), or stepby-step trade between neighbouring communities. The idea that there could have been markets, special locations destined for trade where people possibly from distant places came from time to time, has not often been investigated in greater detail. However, prehistoric ‘forts’ were frequently considered to be places where commercial activities also took place; in this case trade was mostly explained as a secondary function of fortifications. Yet, if prehistoric fortifications are viewed as areas of trading, this explains a lot. Some points listed against the defensive theory still apply, but on the whole we get a much less vulnerable explanation. Even the position of some of the ‘fortifications’ outside densely settled areas can be explained, as the idea of transferring the trading location to a distant and therefore neutral place does not lack logic. Clearly, the explanation of fortifications as market locations deserves more attention from archaeologists.
The symbolic significance of enclosures and fortifications To explain enclosures and fortifications exclusively or predominantly by means of practical function and/or social meaning (the military hypothesis) seemed to be a reasonable assumption as long as it was believed that prehistoric societies had been ruled by principles of rationality, something that modern people assume in their own case (while the reality is often different). Such explanations were usually connected with theories according to which prehistoric communities consisted of savages fighting for their lives with both nature and other savages. Contemporary archaeology and anthropology (e.g. Sahlins 1974; Boserup 1965), however, provide evidence that: 1. life was easy in prehistoric times (although not entirely safe), as both hunting and simple agriculture supplied enough food and, therefore, left plenty of leisure time to virtually everybody; and 2. ritual warfare, practised in many periods of prehistory, was not a matter of mass slaughter, as fighting mostly took place between individuals and/or small groups of people (Shnirelman 1994). In a world that ran in accordance with such principles, there was no regular dying of hunger, no need for much fighting for survival, and no need for the economy to be concentrated on the bare necessities of life. For these very reasons, many artefacts could have been created just for the purpose of communicating with 3
Enclosing the Past The second problem, that of reconstructing past messages, consists of the search for their particular content, i.e. what they signify. It necessarily begins with the quest for conceptual categories (including their linguistic meaning as expressed in a natural language) that could produce enclosures and fortifications. Was there any important concept in prehistoric life that required communication, and that can be related in some way to artefacts such as enclosures and fortifications? Clearly, to derive such conceptual categories we have to use a theoretical model of the appropriate part of the past. I argued previously that one of the important concepts of the past was movement in the vertical dimension (Neustupný 1995). This was mainly so because prehistoric people lived more or less in two dimensions (on a plane), which made movement in the third direction something rare, extraordinary and, therefore, a candidate for symbolic significance. This is a contrast to our modern life where moving up and down is a matter of course that does not elicit any feeling of strangeness. Prehistoric people may not have realised movement in the vertical dimension in an abstract form, but rather in a number of particular acts accomplished while creating immovable artefacts. Theoretically, some communities may not have felt this movement as anything that needed to be designated by means of a symbol, but many have done so using the pertinent symbols for communication. At the same time, any continuous line delineated by an enclosure (even if interrupted) is something that does not appear in nature; it is an element that creates order, a structure in the human world. Therefore, continuous lines breaking the horizontal plane and delimiting enclosures must have had a connotation of order (possibly sacred). I have selected just these two concepts – moving in the vertical direction and creating a continuous line – because the building of enclosures and/or fortifications produced artefacts that reached into the vertical dimension and, at the same time, created spatially delimited closed areas. In deriving conceptual categories, we have to take into consideration the fact of oppositions, which are always present in any symbolic system. The major opposition to the digging of ditches and construction of ramparts is represented by everyday life in two dimensions. Ditches and ramparts opposed other symbols connected with the life and death of people in other sectors of the social world. Symbols and signs, however, are not absolutely arbitrary. One way that the arbitrariness of symbols is limited is their nesting; this means that (formally) similar symbols and signs tend to relate to similar concepts. Nesting of signs and symbols is one of the forms of limiting arbitrariness. Without going into details I would like to recall that the horizontal plane is also broken if a grave is dug and a barrow heaped over the grave. In addition to these obvious parallels to enclosures and fortifications, prehistoric people frequently conceived of the building of family houses in conformity with this logic. In other words, graves, barrows, ramparts, ditches, and sometimes houses constitute a nest of symbols. Some culture groups were so fundamentalist that they preferred to stay without any digging under the surface except for the digging of graves. This was, for example, the case of the Corded Ware Culture in most regions of Central Europe (Neustupný 1997). Similarly, the enclosed area belongs to the same nest as the wheel and the symbol of the sun. Belonging to a nest of
symbols does not mean identity of their symbolic messages, but it certainly limits the arbitrariness of individual symbols contained in the nest. Starting with the rather general definition of sacredness that ensues from the preceding paragraphs, one can build further concepts and look for their symbols. As we move up this avenue of our understanding of ancient symbols, we have to be careful not to go too far. In my view, the significance of prehistoric symbols and signs cannot be reconstructed otherwise than in more or less general outline. Also, what belongs formally to one nest of symbols may not belong to the same nest from the point of view of its significance. Many archaeologists, while trying to determine the significance of prehistoric symbols, have recourse to ethnohistoric parallels that usually supply particular and highly animate solutions for the problem. I am rather sceptical in relation to this methodology, as such parallels depend on too many historical circumstances that are difficult to separate from each other. Therefore, the method of ethnohistoric parallels provides us with a variety of explanations from which it is impossible (and unjustifiable) to select one or more than one; this causes the method to fail in most instances. If parallels are looked for systematically, one can usually find a parallel for any solution that one cares to imagine.
Bibliography Bertemes, F. 1991. Untersuchungen zur Funktion der Erdwerke der Michelsberger Kultur im Rahmen der Kupferzeitlichen Zivilisation. In J. Lichardus (ed.) Die Kupferzeit als historische Epoche. Symposium Saarbrücken und Otzenhausen 6–13.11.1988. Teil 1, pp. 441–464. Bonn: R. Habelt. Boserup, E. 1965. The Conditions of Agricultural Growth. Chicago: Aldine. Neustupný, E. 1986. Nástin archeologické metody – An outline of the archaeological method. Archeologické rozhledy 38:525– 549. Neustupný, E. 1993. Archaeological Method. Cambridge: University Press. Neustupný, E. 1995. The significance of facts. Journal of European Archaeology 3,1:189–212. Neustupný, E. 1997. Šňůrová sídliště, kulturní normy a symboly – Settlement sites of the Corded Ware groups, cultural norms and symbols. Archeologické rozhledy 49:304–322. Neustupný, E. 1998. Structures and events: the theoretical basis of spatial archaeology. In E. Neustupný (ed.) Space in prehistoric Bohemia, pp. 9–44. Prague: Archeologický ústav. Podborský, V. 1988. Těšetice-Kyjovice 4: Rondel osady lidu s moravskou malovanou keramikou. Brno. Podborský, V. (ed.) 1999. Pravěká sociokultovní architektura na Moravě. Brno: Ústav archeologie a muzeologie MU. Sahlins, M. 1974. Stone Age Economics. London: Tavistock. Shnirelman, V. 1994. Voyna i mir v ranney istorii chelovechestva. Moscow: Institut etnologii i antropologii. Vencl, S. 1983. K problematice fortifikací v archeologii – Fortifications and their problems in archaeology. Archeologické rozhledy 35:284–315. Vencl, S. 1984. Otázky poznání vojenství v archeologii – Problems relating to the knowledge of warfare in archaeology. Archeologické studijní materiály 14. Prague: AÚ ČSAV. Vencl, S. 1997. K problému počátků pravěkých fortifikací. Sborník Prací Filosofické Fakulty Brnĕnské University M2.
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2: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia: the evidence from the air Martin Gojda Abstract: This paper presents a survey of the current state of knowledge of large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia (Czech Republic), a type of feature whose number has increased dramatically recently with the introduction 15 years ago of aerial reconnaissance to the prospection methods of Bohemian archaeology. A size-based classification of enclosures in Bohemia, their relationship to the central European context of large Eneolithic ditch/palisade enclosures, and a summary of results achieved during a six-year project of the Institute of Archaeology (Prague) entitled “Settlement Patterns in Prehistoric Bohemia – The Potential of Non-Destructive Archaeology” are the main themes of the paper. Special attention is paid to a complex survey of a large prehistoric enclosure at Kly. The intention is to show what possibilities there are for achieving an understanding of the size, age and function of an extensive prehistoric enclosed area using a combination of landscape archaeological survey methods. The paper also shows that even in a region which, in terms of archaeological activities is among the best researched parts of the so-called ‘old settled land’ (the area at the confluence of the Elbe and Vltava, a large number of prehistoric and early medieval settlements survive, about whose existence nothing was known until recently because of an absence of suitable methods.
results achieved during a six-year project of the Institute of Archaeology (Prague) entitled Settlement Patterns in Prehistoric Bohemia. The Potential of Non-Destructive Archaeology (hereafter SPPB), aimed at the application of non-invasive methods combined with small-scale excavations on sites detected from the air. Special attention is paid to the complex survey of a large enclosure at Kly, distr. Mělník (Fig.2.1). I intend to show, in one specific site type, what possibilities there are for obtaining an understanding of the size, age and function of an extensive site using a combination of landscape archaeological survey methods. At the same time, I want to show that even in an area which belongs to the best researched regions of the so-called ‘old settled land‘ (the area at the confluence of the Elbe and Vltava rivers), there are many indications of prehistoric and Early Medieval settlement, the existence of which was previously unknown because of an absence of suitable instrumentation. This is more than just a conspicuous growth in the number of archaeological contexts (sites). No less important has been the fundamental shift in our cognition away from the perspective of a qualitative structure of settlement phenomena (diversity in the composition of types of buried monuments). The western and southern parts of the Mělník district in particular are, from the point of view of Quaternary geology, a classic example of terrain predestined for the prospection of buried archaeological features with the help of aerial survey. The long-term, systematic application of this method in the area has borne fruit in the discovery of dozens of linear features of different types and sizes.
Keywords: aerial reconnaissance, enclosure, landscape, non-destructive archaeology, prehistoric settlement, Eneolithic
Introduction
Large prehistoric enclosures in Central Europe
The study of the structure and dynamics of prehistoric settlement is a process which integrates sources of heterogeneous character in the course of discovery. Their quantity and quality is dependent on several factors, such as the long-term presence of archaeologists in a particular region (or conversely the long-term absence of any archaeological activity), the degree to which earlier source material has been processed, the precision of recording, and so on. At the same time an understanding of past settlement behaviour, over space that is significantly larger than points or ‘sites’, requires the application of special research methods to draw together and process the source material. One of the methods which can fundamentally affect our understanding of settlement structures, in particular their quality and density, and the topography of settlement, is aerial archaeological prospection. The aim of the first part of the paper is to present a survey of large prehistoric enclosures, a type of feature which came to light as recently as ten years ago when aerial reconnaissance was introduced to the prospection methods of Bohemian archaeology. The enclosures are then placed within a broader European context of large Eneolithic ditched/palisaded enclosures. The second part of the paper provides a summary of
In Central Europe the appearance of large ditch/palisade enclosures is associated with the arrival of Eneolithic cultures, and in particular with the TRB (Funnel Beaker) Culture (Baalberg, Salzmünde and Bernburg/Walternienburg phases) and with the Michelsberg Culture. As with Neolithic ‘rondels’, this group of ditched enclosures has greatly increased in number in recent years (see e.g. Braasch 1996; Christlein and Braasch 1982; Planck et al. 1994; Becker (ed.) 1996). A characteristic feature of this type of Neolithic/Eneolithic enclosure or earthwork (Erdwerk in German terminology) is its size; the majority can be classed as large enclosures (see below for classification, Fig.2.2). Most of them are known from Germany (Boelicke 1976), where their appearance has most commonly been associated with the bearers of the Michelsberg Culture. This culture is widespread in southwest Germany (Baden-Württemberg), Alsace, Lorraine, Lower Hesse, and Switzerland, and in the west it encroaches on the Paris Basin. The eastern half of its distribution occupies Central Germany, Bohemia and Silesia. Both those settlements that are situated in elevated positions, but also those in lowland 5
Enclosing the Past
Figure 2.1. The course of the large, Late Eneolithic enclosure at Kly (district Mělník), reconstructed on the basis of the results of non-destructive surveys conducted between 1997 and 2000 (aerial prospection, geophysical survey, GPS). S = trench 1/99. A digitised extract of an SMO 1:5000 scale map was used as a base, along with rectified aerial photographs. settlement area of the Michelsberg Culture (Fig.2.3). The dimensions of this large site are imposing. It consisted of a system of two parallel ditches, completed by a palisade trench situated behind them (as seen from the outside). We have here the relatively common case of a ditched enclosure, the circumference of which straightens in places in order to fit in with natural breaks in terrain. The enclosure in Urmitz has an irregular oval shape over the whole length of the preserved outer ditch circumference of around 2.5km. It
areas surrounded by a system of multiple (often interrupted) ditches and palisades, are characteristic for this culture. Human skeletons are quite often found in the interior, as well as in settlement pits. Substantial quantities of pottery are found in the fills of features, particularly the typical tulipshaped beakers and cups. The site type was discovered and investigated as long ago as the 1890s. The biggest European prehistoric ditched enclosure of all – Urmitz near Koblenz in Rheinland-Pfalz – lies right in the 6
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
Figure 2.2. Selected enclosures (Erdwerke) of the Michelsberg Culture (after various authors): 1. Miel; 2. Mayen; 3. Boitsfort; 4. Wiesbaden-Schierstein; 5. Heilbronn-Hetzenberg; 6. Michelsberg/Untergrombach; 7. Heilbronn-Ilsfeld; 8. Munzingen.
7
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Figure 2.3. Urmitz (Rheinland/Pfalz, Germany): plan of the largest known Neolithic earthwork in Europe (after Boelicke 1976). Scandinavian contemporary interpretations of Neolithic/ Eneolithic enclosures (cf. Zápotocký 2000:243). Finally, I must mention the discovery of large enclosures of prehistoric origin recently made during aerial survey in Moravia. Practically none of them has been precisely dated (the age of the feature in Měnín, district Brno-venkov, which has been partially excavated and dated to the Early Bronze Age, is not unambiguous), but their character, particularly their shape and size, indicates that at least two of these enclosures have a strong probability of falling in the earlier Eneolithic. Firstly, there is a large double enclosure with an oval plan at Blučina, district Brno-venkov (Bálek 1999), which displays similarities to the Kly feature in several respects (morphology, size, system of interrupted entrances, evidence of settlement on the site already in the Neolithic). Secondly, a triple ditch forms a semicircular plan near to the break in slope above the water course at Hrušovany nad Jevišovkou, district Znojmo (Colour Plate 1; Bálek 2000).
reaches a maximum diameter of 840m and covers an area of c. 100 hectares. On the northern side the feature is delimited by the edge of the terraces above the river Rhine. The outer and inner ditch, and the inner ditch and palisade trench, are 9m apart from each other. The inner ditch is interrupted in 34 places, the outer in 25, but these data are incomplete because approximately a third of the course of the ditched enclosure has not been preserved. The same applies to the trench, which was found to be interrupted in five places; a so-called bastion or, in some cases a cluster of round pits, was always a component of these entrances. These clusters have, however, also been identified in other places along the circumference of the palisade (twelve in total), outside the interruptions (Boelicke 1976). The Urmitz site displays some noteworthy similarities with the enclosure at Kly, and considerably advances our knowledge about the spread and reception of ideas over a wide area of Central Europe, one expression of which was the building of enclosures at the beginning of the Neolithic. One must add that further large curvilinear enclosures – for example in Sachsen-Anhalt – are associated with TRB or with Bernburg/Walternienburg cultures (e.g. Derenburg, Freckleben, Gollma, Krisigk; cf. Fröhlich 1997), and within the framework of Central Europe it is not possible to identify these features solely with the Michelsberg Culture. Recently Erdwerke have been interpreted rather as symbolic enclosures (the manifestation of a slightly developed hierarchical society), having a function other than defensive or economic, and this agrees with both British and
Aerial archaeological survey and prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia In this study I shall examine one of these site types, to whose discovery and identification in Bohemia and Moravia (just as in some other European countries) aerial archaeology has contributed in decisive fashion. Larger linear (ditched) enclosures are a significant phenomenon in prehistoric landscapes from the Neolithic to the Iron Age 8
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia and widespread phenomenon of prehistoric enclosure (as is increasingly evident from ongoing research since 1945) is based on the database obtained by aerial survey by the Institute of Archaeology, Czech Academy of Sciences, Prague. I shall discuss the following enclosure groups (for more details see Gojda ed. 2004): Small enclosures with a diameter of around 5–25/30 metres (round/oval features) or of the length of one side of c. 5–15/20 metres (rectangular features). In brief, their characteristic features are that the internal area is either empty or contains a centrally placed spot feature (macula), and the ditches are either uninterrupted around the whole circumference or are interrupted by an entrance in one or more places. We mostly interpret these features as tumulus burial sites or as surface graves symbolically enclosed by a ditch, but we can only be certain where a point feature (macula) or a grave pit or chamber occurs in the centre of the enclosure. If this component is missing, it can be presumed that the burial was either placed on the surface of the ground or in the covering tumulus, but it cannot be ruled out that the feature originally fulfilled a completely different function. The interpretation of circles with several entrances, which are placed uniformly around their circumference, is problematic. Rectangular features also occur either with or without an entrance (a larger number of interrupted entrances has not as yet been ascertained). Some of them have straight corners, others rounded. The basic shapes are square, oblong and trapezoid. These characteristics expand to include rectangular enclosures of a further two size groups. In the case of both round and rectangular features, only exceptionally are multiple concentric ditches encountered. In passing we may mention Flanders as an example of an area in which hundreds (more than 650) of previously unknown ring ditches have been discovered through aerial survey over a relatively short time (15 years); previously only 25 of these features were known (Ampe et al. 1996:62). Medium sized enclosures of diameter of around 30– 100/150 metres (round/oval sites; rectangular structures, the length of the sides in the order of tens of metres). This category mainly consists of the so-called ‘rondels’, that is features of the Later Neolithic (in Bohemia the LBK). Their most important characteristics are a regular circular shape formed of 1–3 ditches (Colour Plate 3), often supplemented with palisade trenches and further entrances (the majority placed at regular distances), and a similar size range (for the classification of ‘rondels’ see Rulf 1995). According to Rulf (1992:8), their diameter is in the range of 35–146 metres, while the median of the outer diameter of all known ‘rondels’ is 76 metres. However, according to other authorities, ‘rondels’ reach an average of up to 300m in diameter (Podborský 1988:246; Kuzma 1997:20). These measurements do not apply to the ‘rondels’ themselves, but to the ditches which sometimes occur enclosing the area around the ‘rondel’, which is located approximately in their centre. For example at the Těšetice ‘rondel’, the outer enclosure has a diameter of around 195×160m and in the case of the Bylany ‘rondel’ 250m. The majority of other outer ditched enclosures were uncovered by aerial photography and have not been investigated to date (Rulf 1995:90). Apart from the well-known ‘rondel’ in Lochenice, which was investigated in 1981–3 and picked up by aerial photography from soil marks from 1995 onwards, we have been able to identify features of this type through aerial survey near
(e.g. Podborský 1999). It is not difficult to demonstrate that their occurrence in the Bohemian landscape before the inception of aerial archaeological projects at the beginning of the 90s was limited to isolated cases of rectangular features and so-called Neolithic ‘rondels’. This state of affairs was a reflection of the possibilities of traditional archaeological survey over the previous century (traces of the first ‘rondel’ to be discovered in Bohemia in the parish of Krpy in the Mladá Boleslav region, were described in 1886 – cf. Rulf 1992:7; Pavlů 1982:176). Not until after new methods for discovery in landscape archaeology started to be practiced in Czech archaeology in parallel with traditional methods of field excavation, and when at least some of our specialist public started to take an intensive interest in the study of the social dimension of the cultural landscape in prehistory, was it possible to expect a fundamental shift in our understanding of settlement structure as regards its intensity, quality, density, continuity and diversity in relation to field morphology. A not insignificant aspect of the research methods of landscape archaeology is their non-destructive (in some cases slightly destructive) character. This aspect is also one of the main reasons why the landscape approach in contemporary archaeology is growing in popularity so markedly. Since the beginning of the systematic pursuit of aerial survey in Bohemia in the 1990s, two basic categories of features have been identified. Approximately 75% of the total number is represented by spot features, so-called maculae (sunken dwellings, pits, graves, etc.), and the remainder are linear features (ditches, enclosures). Their morphological range was summarised after the first five years of the survey (Gojda 1997). Just one group of linear features will be dealt with here, designated linear closed formations or enclosures. We are dealing with those sites which occupy a larger or smaller area (from tens of square metres to several hectares) and which are totally or partially enclosed by a ditch and in some cases by a system of ditches and palisade trenches. In the light of the ever-increasing number of ditched enclosures and the escalating range of morphologies and sizes of these features, it is more and more difficult to understand this phenomenon as the reflection of a unified idea. The great majority of these features remain uninvestigated; where excavation has taken place, only enclosures of the small enclosure group have been examined completely (see below). Medium sized and large enclosures on the other hand, have with some exceptions (e.g. the ‘rondel’ in Těšetice-Kyjovice; see Podborský and Kovárník, this volume) only been investigated by means of one or more cross-sections, covering a small part of the total area. The primary question is to decide which criteria to choose for the classification of enclosures: is the shape of these features important (regular/irregular, curvilinear/ rectilinear); the existence of interrupted entrances (and their number and symmetry in their location); the number of ditches and their profiles; or their size? Are attempts to group together and find some hidden unifying principles or archetypes for their interpretation at all justifiable in the case of these linear closed formations which are so diverse in scale, which were built over several millennia, and about whose function and purpose we know so little, with the exception of small enclosures which tend to be part of sites that can be unambiguously labelled burials (on this matter see e.g. Podborský 1999; Kovárník 1997)? The following basic division by size of the characteristic 9
Enclosing the Past
Figure 2.4. Chleby, distr. Nymburk. Large enclosure, one of those which have been tested by limited excavations. The ditch complemented by a palisade dates to the early phase of the Eneolithic (perhaps the Funnel Beaker culture), although the site was re-occupied during the Hallstatt period as it has been demonstrated by the excavation of a sunken house. On this image resulting from geophysical survey a lot of pits and sunken-featured buildings are discernible as dispersed dots. Benátky nad Jizerou (district Mladá Boleslav), in Skupice (district Louny), Straškov (district Litoměřice) and Želízy (district Mělník; this feature, whose inclusion amongst the ‘classic rondels’ is still uncertain, is the first case of a round enclosure situated in an elevated position). Further sites are questionable. As concerns rectangular enclosures, Hallstatt period farmsteads, for example, fall into this size group (e.g. the double/quadruple ditched enclosures which occur relatively frequently in Bavaria, e.g. Becker 1996; Leidorf 1996), the so-called Viereckschanzen of the Iron Age (e.g. Irlinger 1996) and fortified features of the modern period (the majority polygonal: redoubts and similar forts). Large enclosures with a diameter (or length of side) of several hundred metres. Whereas rectangular features of this size are exclusively formed by a single ditch (in isolated cases completed by a trench on the inner side), round enclosures display greater variability. Apart from single ditches, double (concentric) ditches also occur. Both variants could also have palisade trenches on the inner side. A further characteristic feature of this class of rectangular enclosures is that the ditches tend to have causewayed entrances in
several places. This applies both to multiple enclosures; in central Bohemia, apart from Kly, cases were recorded from the air at Vrbně, district Mělník, and at Chleby, district Nymburk (Fig. 2.4, Colour Plate 2), in northwest Bohemia in Radíčeves, district Louny (pers. comm. Z. Smrž); and to single enclosures (Opolany, district Nymburk; Trpoměchy, district Kladno; Hrdly, district Litoměřice; Fig. 2.5). The existence of these features, whose characteristics are most reminiscent of the earliest enclosures of the British Neolithic (the so-called causewayed enclosures) and of other large enclosures (for example, in western France, Germany and Denmark, from the 4th–3rd millennium BC), had not been recorded in Bohemia before the application of aerial survey. These large enclosures usually occur in lower lying situations, but quite often they modify the alignment of part of their circumference to fit in with the slope of the local terrain where the natural elevation was sufficient defence and there was no need for an artificial ditch. Some of this group of sites were probably not enclosures in the true sense of the word (the line of the ditch(es) was not closed either because it remained unfinished, or because it was completed 10
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
Figure 2.5. Trpoměchy, distr. Kladno. An interrupted ditch surrounding a local solitary hill. The size of the enclosed area is clearly visible on the image resulting from geophysical survey on the site. Two small-scale excavations suggest the ditch most likely dates to the Hallstatt period. by a naturally formed break in terrain). The rectangular sites that are classed in this group consist primarily of military facilities of both Roman period (Roman field/marching camps, not yet recorded in Bohemia) and of medieval/ modern origin. The discoveries of enclosed linear sites have great significance for understanding the cultural landscape of prehistoric Bohemia. Aerial survey has shown that the phenomenon of enclosure was much more widespread here than was ever supposed before such survey began. So far, approximately one hundred locations where enclosures occur have been recorded in the aerial photograph database of the Institute of Archaeology in Prague. It is necessary to add a further c. 70 sites from the database of the Institute of Archaeological Monument Protection in Most (Z. Smrž, pers. comm.), so the total is around 170. On many of the sites a varied number of both rectangular and circular features were discovered, often of different size categories and in some cases combined with more or less extensive accumulations of maculae of settlement type. Almost all the linear closed formations found come from a small region (compared with the country as a whole) consisting of parts
of central and northwest Bohemia (districts Prague-East, Mělník, Kolín, Nymburk, Kladno, Litoměřice, Louny). Among the best-known circular enclosures, which were discovered (and archeologically investigated) by the end of the 1980s (i.e. before the initiation of aerial prospection), we can mention the classic ‘rondels’ (notably Krpy, Vochov, Holohlavy, Lochenice, Bylany; summary in Rulf 1992, 1995). A small circular feature (diameter of 17m) can also be added which was discovered on the edge of the Knovíz Culture settlement in Čakovice (Soudský 1966), and two medium-large rings (diameter of c.100m) near Horní Metelsko in West Bohemia which have been interpreted as features of henge type (Čujanová-Jílková 1975; this interpretation was also supported by Podborský 1999b:10). It follows from this brief comparison that photographs of landscapes taken in the course of the 1990s from the air have contributed decisively to the discovery of a little known (or rather poorly documented) yet very important settlement category. The ensuing excavation of these enclosures cannot but contribute to the identification of their character, age and function.
11
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The large enclosure at Kly, district Mělník (central Bohemia) as a site of special interest: a case study
it was shown in practice just how useful non-destructive archaeological survey methods can be, especially when combined with limited, targeted excavation. In this chain of discovery methods, first place is occupied by aerial archaeology. The advantageous conjunction of conditions leading to objective evaluation (soil/bedrock, climate, vegetation characteristics, light) and the elimination of unfavourable subjective influences (relatively little experience in aerial survey), led to discovery – the identification of cropmarks indicating the existence of buried archaeological features. Through discovery we gain new understanding, encompassing information such as: • at a specific site part a prehistoric settlement area is found; • this feature has either a linear or a non-linear character (enclosure or macula respectively); • its plan is identifiable either in whole or in part; • the morphology (where the feature is enclosed) of the feature allows / does not allow at least an approximate dating, or in some cases allows its function (funerary, residential, production, etc.) to be defined. It can be seen that previously unknown archaeological features identified by aerial prospection and documented photographically yield information not only about the existence of hitherto unknown settlement spots, but also about the quality of the features discovered (their types, sizes, plans, sometimes their functions). The Kly site and other large prehistoric enclosures are examples of archaeological features that without the application of aerial survey would be virtually invisible. From this it follows that the role of non-destructive prospection methods for the understanding of prehistoric settlement structures in the socalled ‘old settled land‘ is in practice irreplaceable. Another link in the chain of survey activities is geophysical prospection (Křivánek 2000). The fundamental importance of geophysics stems from its ability to fill out information regarding ground plans, e.g. the courses of enclosures, which have been discovered from the air, in those areas where the character of the land use (in the main uncultivated grasscovered areas or land covered in undergrowth, small garden plots, etc.) prevents subsurface archaeological features from being visible. In the case of Kly (Fig. 2.7), geophysical survey contributed primarily to two essential findings: 1: the enclosure extends both northwards, where it terminates at a break of terrain running along the 160m contour, and westwards, where it terminates some 50m further than appeared on the air photos; 2: no further continuations were identified at any place where geophysical prospection took place. In this way, one of the main problems relating to the reconstruction of the overall ground plan was resolved (Fig. 2.8). The analysis of aerial photographs was unable to resolve the question of whether the double ditch with palisade only partitioned off the tongue-like extension of the terrace level on the eastern side, or whether it formed a closed feature (a circle/oval with a diameter of some 600m, which does not cross the edge of the terrace towards the floodplain). It might have been interpreted in this fashion if one had worked from aerial photographs alone. The results of the geophysical survey, however, unambiguously ruled out this possibility, for two reasons: 1: the values recorded in the areas where on the air photographs the course of the enclosure terminated, showed that its continuations at the western and northern
The large curvilinear enclosure in the cadastre of Kly (Mělník district) lies in a field east of the built-up part of the village, in an area north of the local road that links the village to the main Prague-Mělník road (Fig.2.1). The enclosure is situated on a rise formed of Pleistocene windblown sands, the western projection of which extends onto the Elbe floodplain, into the area of the active river. The site lies on the Mělnik plateau of the Bohemian Cretaceous tableland, which spreads from Lysá nad Labem to the Říp tableland, has a flat surface and is at present characterised by the broad alluvial floodplain of the Elbe with numerous oxbows (former meanders) and sandy drifts (Hromádka 1968:458). It is an area with a complex geomorphological development, the understanding and reconstruction of which are key to interpreting the function of the enclosure. The greater part of the Elbe valley formed during the Holocene, which has resulted in the fact that the area around what is now Kly does not reflect, in either appearance or character, the landscape of the time when the fortification was constructed. The large linear formation discovered in the cadastre of Kly village was selected by the author as an example typical of its kind. Setting aside the fact that due to a combination of circumstances this feature is the first large (prehistoric) enclosure to be discovered in Bohemia by means of aerial archaeology, the main reasons for this selection are: 1: the feature is located in one of the most densely settled areas of Bohemia, which had in recent years been intensively investigated archaeologically (throughout the PSPB project, including both rescue and pre-emptive work); 2: its area, dimensions and morphology are close to those of sites known from the neighbourhood of the Bohemian Basin; 3: it contains all the characteristic elements which in such large enclosures are normally represented only selectively (multiple ditches, palisade trench, interrupted by entrances). For these (and several other, less important) reasons, it was decided to classify this feature as belonging to the group of linear structures to which increased attention has been paid within the framework of the PSPB project. The aim was to extract the maximum amount of information that would enable the dating and interpretation of this large enclosure, through predominantly non-destructive methods (aerial archaeological prospection, surface survey, geophysical surveying) complemented by limited excavation (a section across the ditch and trench system). The large linear feature at Kly was discovered on 15 June 1997, in the course of the 64th survey flight undertaken by the present author in the framework of the aerial archaeological prospection programme that has been part of the programme of the Institute of Archaeology of the Czech Academy of Sciences since the beginning of the 1990s. A total of three concentric lines (two thick and one thin), forming an incomplete quarter segment of a circle or oval, were visible as a darker shade on the surface of a field sown with winter barley (Fig.2.6). Taking the large prehistoric enclosure at Kly as an example, 12
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
Fig.2.6. Almost vertical photograph of the Kly enclosure (June 1997). ends did not follow a round plan, but a straight line heading towards the terrace edge; 2: systematic survey of the areas where the hypothetical perimeter of the enclosure must have passed failed to reveal even the slightest indication of the existence of a buried ditch system. The results obtained by surface survey (carried out by M. Kuna) gave some idea of a trend in the prehistoric settlement usage of the study area (Fig. 2.9). It indicated that throughout prehistory settlement at this location was concentrated in the area within the enclosure (i.e. both in the period before its creation and after it ceased to function). The focus of settlement activity gradually moved from the northern and central parts of the area – where it concentrated in the earlier period (the Neolithic) – to the western promontory (Bronze Age – Roman Period). According to the results of surface collection, confirmed also by trenching, the area was most intensively settled in the earlier Neolithic, specifically during the Stichbandkeramik period. The function of this earliest settlement manifestation, however, cannot be ascertained. The situation in the Eneolithic – close to the period during whose early phases the area was surrounded by two ditches and a palisade – is even worse. During the survey only two sherds were found, and it is virtually impossible to interpret the function of the enclosure on the basis of such limited information. The movement of settlement activity within the area – away from the enclosure – implies that no later than the beginning of the Bronze Age the ditches no longer fulfilled their function, and were probably filled in. Finally, the efficacy of archaeological sondage can be
assessed. A trench (25×2.6m) was excavated by P. Foster, running at right-angles to the line of the two parallel ditches and palisade (Figs. 2.10, 2.11). The results confirmed that in the case of large prehistoric enclosures (where, given their scale, a narrow trench is a relatively minor intervention into an undisturbed monument), excavation – conducted with clearly defined goals and on a limited basis – can make an essential contribution to the dating of the site, or to an assessment of its age and the sequence of processes played out both during its lifetime and afterwards, when its function had been lost. Although it is known that several types of large enclosure contain virtually no datable material (e.g. Roman marching camps), the situation is better for prehistoric enclosures. At Kly, a vessel was found in situ on the bottom of the inner ditch in a position which indicated that it had been deliberately placed there with its base uppermost. This vessel, a tulip-shaped beaker of the early phase of the Michelsberg Culture (Colour Plate 4), dates the inner ditch – and probably the whole system – relatively precisely. It can be argued that the Kly feature represents a prototype of a large curvilinear site, consisting of multiple parallel ditches/trenches interrupted by entrances, the existence of which has been demonstrated over west, northwest and central Europe from the end of the 5th millennium BC. Typologically it falls into that group of ditched enclosures encompassing areas of the order of some dozens of hectares, certain parts of their perimeters lying on terrain breaks (the majority, terraces above watercourses), which were used as natural defensive elements. The Kly enclosure comprises a 13
Enclosing the Past
Figure 2.7. Schematic depiction of the areas in which magnetometer surveys were carried out in the Kly cadastre, conducted (and repeated) 1997–2000. The areas of geophysical survey (numbered 1–6) were selected in relation to the discernible course of the atypical linear feature apparent on earlier aerial photographs. Based on State 1:5000 maps, Mělník 3–9. literature by the German term Erdwerke. Unlike upland settlements in strategic locations (most often on spurs), this group of ‘raised settlements of the second class’ (Zápotocký 2000:258) occur in lowland areas, predominantly on river terraces. Their siting on terrain breaks is characteristic, these forming naturally defensible areas along with artificial enclosure created by the ditch or ditches (or palisade). The Kly system of two ditches and a palisade is known, for example, from Heilbronn-Klingenberg (BadenWürttemberg; Planck et al. 1994:110) and from Urmitz (Rhineland-Palatinate; Boelicke 1976). The latter feature
system of two parallel ditches and a single palisade trench, which intersect in an arc the tongue-like protrusion of a Pleistocene terrace some 500m long. From the point of view of landscape topography, the Kly enclosure can be numbered among those enclosures situated in flat lowland areas, in the broad valleys of the middle and lower courses of rivers, on fluvial sandy terraces and local deposits of wind-blown sands, beyond the reach of periodic floods. From the central European perspective, the Kly enclosure is classifiable among features appearing at the beginning of the Eneolithic, and generally described in the professional 14
Figure 2.8. Combined results of aerial prospection and the areas of positive magnetometric surveys of the large enclosure. The double ditch-and-palisade system has the form of a triple arc enclosure with multiple entrances, delimiting a spur of raised ground some 23ha in area between defunct meanders (on the floodplain) of the Elbe. Based on State 1:5000 maps, Mělník 3–9.
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
15
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Figure 2.9. Kly, district Mělník: Surface artefact collection 2000. Neolithic and unspecified prehistoric sherds. Grey squares: prehistoric (sizes divided into the categories 1–5, 6–15, 16–50 and >50 fragments); black circles: Neolithic (categories of 1, 2–3 and >3 fragments). in particular (the largest of its kind in Europe) is – as noted in Part 2 – similar in many ways to that of Kly: the inner and outer ditch are pierced by entrances at irregular intervals, and at both sites the inner ditch has fewer entrances than the outer; and the palisade trench has even fewer entrances. The so-called ‘bastions’ – complementary structures in the centres of the twelve entrance areas of the inner ditch at Urmitz – were perhaps not missing from entrances to the Kly feature, as indicated by the existence of a square feature centrally located in front of one of the northern interruptions of the outer ditch (the latter indicated by aerial photography but not by geophysics). There is also a certain similarity between the transverse ditch K3 and the situation at the northern end of the Urmitz enclosure, where the outer ditch turns at right angles and runs into the inner. The existence of gates – i.e. entrances into the enclosure with structural elements hindering entry into the interior – is demonstrated at Kly not only by the square structure mentioned above but also on the northern side some 70m from the end of the ditch system. This discovery is also significant in that it is evidence of the contemporaneity of the ditches, as the gate is respected by both ditches (a broken line of ditch towards the outside at an angle of about 30˚). Unlike the Kly ditches with their V-shaped section (Spitzgraben), the ditches of both German examples have flat bases (Sohlgraben). Thus far, only in one case in Bohemia have traces of an enclosure been found in a similar location, datable to the late Eneolithic (Jenštejn, Prague-East district; Zápotocký and Dreslerová 1996). Whether the Kly enclosure is interpreted with an emphasis on its practical (e.g. defensive, ritual, ceremonial, production) or symbolic function (e.g. as an important communication node in the cultural landscape, a regional/tribal centre), it
must be realised that the clearly demonstrated existence in Bohemia of a large prehistoric enclosure in a lowland (non-strategic) setting is of undeniable importance for our understanding of later prehistory in the area. The following points attempt to summarise this: 1: Thanks to the use of aerial archaeological prospection for the recognition of the prehistoric landscape, Bohemia has become another European region where it has been possible to demonstrate the enclosure of large areas by ditches and palisades. Until recently, reliance on traditional methods meant that it was not possible to show that (Neolithic) ‘rondels’ and hillforts were not the only types of enclosure in the post-Mesolithic landscape of the Bohemian Basin in prehistory. Evidence was almost entirely absent for the enclosure of large areas in the lowland areas of the ‘old settled land’. What is meant here are areas larger in scale than the ‘rondels’ (the only exception being the great outer ditch of the Bylany ‘rondel’, 250m in diameter). Newly identified features are either surrounded entirely by ditches (the majority interrupted by entrances) or have natural terrace breaks along their perimeters. 2: The building of such large enclosures is an expression of a certain level of organisation within society at the beginning of the Eneolithic, as their construction required a considerable workforce to be used efficiently. 3: It is likely that this enclosure was an important component in its contemporary landscape, primarily due to its monumental scale. As is indicated by the recent discovery of another large enclosure of the same type as Kly some three kilometres away on the opposite bank of the Elbe at Vrbno, Mělník district (a system of three concentric interrupted lines of ditches/trenches), such 16
Figure 2.10. Kly, district Mělník: trench 1/99 – general plan. Thin stippling: area of spoil/ramparts (?); dense stippling: unexcavated area.
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
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Figure 2.11. Kly, district Mělník: Inner ditch (feat. K5), northern section (15).
features may have existed in the landscape in far greater numbers than one might have thought until recently. 4: The construction of this ditch/palisade system meant an intervention in the contemporary landscape of the associated settlement area. The data obtained from the investigations at Kly lead us to the conclusion that the palisade trench contained posts some 0.2m in diameter, and given that the overall length of the enclosure is some 500m this implies the use of some 2,500 trees. If, in future, enclosures of the same age as those at Kly and Vrbno (from whose environs Late Eneolithic sherds were recovered) are discovered, i.e. if it is found that these large enclosures were not isolated and that within the landscape of the beginning of the Eneolithic they occured in larger numbers, then this will be an important argument in favour of the opinion that intensive deforestation took place in the settlement landscape between the earlier and later Neolithic, as the building of these enclosures would necessarily have assisted in such a process.
Acknowledgements All of the work associated with research into the Kly enclosure and its publication was conducted in the framework of the grant-assisted project “Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in Bohemia” (PSPB, Gojda 2000, see also http://www.arup. cas.cz/sppc), which was supported financially by the Grants Agency of the Czech Republic. A team of specialists took part in the field campaigns and in the data processing stage of the Kly project. These are (alphabetically): D. Dreslerová (environmental data), P. Foster (excavation campaigns), R. Křivánek (geophysical survey), M. Kuna (fieldwalking and part of post-excavation data processing), S. Vencl (lithics analysis), M. Zápotocký (pottery analysis).
Bibliography Ampe, C. et al. 1996. The circular view: aerial photography and the discovery of Bronze Age funerary monuments in East- and West-Flanders (Belgium). Germania 74:45–94. Bálek, M. 1999. Nová opevněná sídliště na jižní Moravě. Pravěk NŘ 9:431–441. Bálek, M. 2000. Letecká archeologie. In M. Čižmář, K. Geislerová and J. Unger (eds.) Výzkumy – Ausgrabungen 1993–1998, pp. 81–87. Brno: Ústav archeologické památkové péče. Becker, H. 1996. Komplexe Grabenwerke der Hallstattzeit. In Becker 1996:159–164. Becker, H. (ed.) 1996. Archäologische Prospektion. LuftbildArchäologie und Geophysik. Arbeitshefte des Bayerischen Landesamtes für Denkmalpflege 59. Munich. Boelicke, U. 1976. Das neolithische Erdwerk Urmitz. Acta Praehistorica et Archaeologica 7/8:73–121. Braasch, O. 1996. Zur Archäologischen Flugprospektion…. Archäologisches Nachrichtenblatt 1,1:16–24. Christlein, R. and Braasch, O. 1982. Das unterirdische Bayern. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Čujanová-Jílková, E. 1975. Prvé objekty typu ‘henge’ v západních Čechách. Archeologické rozhledy 27:481–487. Fröhlich, S. (ed.) 1997. Luftbildarchäologie in Sachsen-Anhalt. Halle (Saale). Gojda, M. 1997. Letecká archeologie v Čechách – Aerial Archaeology in Bohemia. Prague: Institute of Archaeology. Hromádka, J. 1968. Horopis. In: Československá vlastivěda I – Příroda, sv. 1:435–481. Prague: Orbis.
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Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia Podborský, V. 1999a. Shrnutí problematiky – Summary of the problematic. In Pravěká sociokultovní architektura na Moravě, ed. V. Podborský, pp.7–21. Brno: Ústav archeologie a muzeologie FFMU. Podborský, V. 1999b. Těšetice Kyjovice, okr. Znojmo. In V. Podborský (ed.) Pravěká sociokultovní architektura na Moravě, pp. 115–137. Brno: Ústav archeologie a muzeologie FFMU. Rulf, J. 1992. Středoevropské neolitické rondely. Dějiny a současnost 14/6:7–11. Rulf, J. 1995. The typological classification of the rondel at Bylany 4. In I. Pavlů, J. Rulf and M. Zápotocká (eds.) Bylany Rondel: model of the Neolithic site. Praehistorica Archaeologica Bohemica 1995, Památky archeologické, Supplementum 3, pp. 89–90 Soudský, B. 1966. Habitat de la civilisation de Knovíz á Čakovice prés de Prague (Bohème). In Investigations archéologiques en Tchécoslovaquie, p.159. Zápotocký, M. 2000. Cimburk und die Höhensiedlungen des frühen und älteren Äneolithikums in Bõhmen. Památky archeologické, Supplementum 12. Zápotocký, M. and Dreslerová, D. 1996. Jenštejn: eine neuentdeckte frühäneolithische Gruppe in Mittelböhmen – Jenštejn: Nová raně eneolitická skupina ve středních Čechách. Památky archeologické 87:5–58.
Irlinger, W. 1996. Die keltischen Viereckschanzen. Erkennungsmöglichkeiten verebneter Anlagen im Luftbild. In H. Becker 1996:183–90. Kovárník, J. 1997. K významu pravěkých kruhových příkopů. Moravskoslezský archeologický klub. Brno. Křivánek, R. 2000. Magnetometric prospection of new identified atypicaly fortified prehistoric archaeological sites in Central Bohemia. In 32nd International Symposium on Archaeometry, May 15–19, 2000, p. 157. Mexico City: Mexico – Abstract book. Kuna, M. 1994. Archeologický výzkum povrchovými sběry. Zprávy ČAS: Supplément 23. Prague. Kuzma, I. 1997. Die grossen Kreise der ersten Bauern: Bilder der Jungsteinzeit in Zentraleuropa. In J. Oexle (ed.) Aus der Luft – Bilder unserer Geschichte. Luftbildarchäologie in Zentraleuropa, pp. 47–57. Dresden. Leidorf, K. 1996. Herrenhöfe, Bauernhöfe und Tempelbezirke der frühen Eisenzeit. In H. Becker 1996:143–54. Pavlů, I. 1982. Die neolithischen Kreisgrabenanlagen in Böhmen. Archeologické rozhledy 34:176–189. Planck, D., Braasch, O., Oexle, J. and Schichtherle, H. 1994. Unterirdisches Baden-Württemberg. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Podborský, V. 1988. Těšetice-Kyjovice 4. Rondel osady lidu s moravskou malovanou keramikou. Brno.
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3: Does enclosure make a difference? A View from the Balkans John Chapman and Bisserka Gaydarska, with Karen Hardy Abstract: In Northwest Europe, fieldwork and aerial photography has yielded a rich harvest of enclosed sites. Most of the enclosures dated to the Neolithic were constructed in a landscape largely devoid of settled village communities and therefore formed the most impressive monuments in those landscapes. By contrast, in Southeast and Central Europe, where aerial photography is still in its infancy, enclosed sites are a relatively new phenomenon and they tend to appear in more settled landscapes, with villages or hamlets, some of which are dominated by monumental tells. The expectation would be that the enclosures in Southeast and Central Europe would relate in a different way to the more prominent settlements from the relations found between enclosures and shorter-term settlements in Northwest Europe. This expectation is investigated through the comparison of pairs of Neolithic / Chalcolithic sites – enclosed and non-enclosed – in Serbia, Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria. The comparative approach is capable of yielding new insights into prehistoric social practices on seemingly well-known sites.
the settlements than enclosures developed in more stable landscapes of permanent, nucleated villages. This article seeks to explore this issue with respect to enclosures in Central and Eastern Europe in the Neolithic and Chalcolithic. This main issue can be tackled through three subsidiary questions: to what extent are enclosed site types different from other adjoining unenclosed sites; what is the extent of different social practices performed in or between enclosed and unenclosed parts of the same complex; and what does such site differentiation mean in a broader social sense of divergent social practices? In this chapter, we shall seek to answer these three questions through a structured comparison of enclosed and unenclosed sites within several geographically limited areas. The strategy of paired comparisons used in this chapter creates somewhat artificial conditions, in which it may be felt that the sites are abstracted from their local settlement and social context. An attempt has been made to remedy this potential defect. However, the advantage of this approach is that more or less direct comparisons can be made, even if the two sites are ultimately explicable only on their own terms. The comparison of two segments of the same complex, especially if excavated by the same team, diminishes these disadvantages.
Keywords: tells, islands, hilltop sites, open sites, liminality, visuality
Introduction
The social significance of enclosures
Otto Braasch (1995) once famously remarked that “Europe is half-blind”, implying that the lack of aerial photography over much of Central and Eastern Europe meant a serious bias in settlement patterns in those parts, in comparison with the rich and varied suite of enclosed and defended sites in Western and Northern Europe. Recent advances in aerial archaeology have, however, begun to document the missing site types, while geophysical survey has started to provide more detail, especially for tell settlements. While the number of enclosed and defended sites in Romania and Bulgaria is still relatively small, new motorway rescue projects in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary have led to a rapid increase in the identification of these site types. Thus, although the bias in settlement patterns still exists, the situation continues to improve (Gojda 1997). The major difference in dwelling practices between Central and Eastern Europe and areas of Northwestern Europe in which enclosure was practised was the extent of nucleated and permanent settlement. Although there is still evidence for permanent settlement and agricultural features in the Neolithic and later landscapes of Northwest Europe (the Ceíde and other Irish field systems, the Balbridie longhouse in Scotland, the large number of (largely unpublished) houses in the Scandinavian Neolithic (pers. comm., P. Rowley-Conwy), etc.), much of the dwelling practices in these regions would appear to be small in scale, of the level of dispersed homesteads, of short duration, perhaps one family generation, and practising limited artefact discard. It may be expected that enclosures created in such a social landscape would have very different relations to
As authors of many previous studies and other chapters in this volume have observed, the main point about enclosures is that, whatever their form, they define an inside, an outside and a liminal area. These divisions are derived from the classic definition of a rite of passage by van Gennep (1960), which was followed and expanded on by Turner (1967). However, Bourdieu (1991:117ff.) has pointed out that, by stressing the transition between the three ritual states and the way the individual moves across those transitions in ritual practice, van Gennep and Turner ignored the social function of ritual and the separation of those who are on one side of the transition and those who are on the other. For Bourdieu, the important thing is not so much the ritual transitions as the line itself: the line defines the ‘before’ and ‘after’, thus assigning social properties which make them seem natural. The rites draw attention to the passage over the line, without diminishing the importance of the line. Thus, Bourdieu prefers the term ‘rites of institution’ to ‘rites of passage’, because rites of institution integrate specifically social oppositions into cosmological oppositions. For Bourdieu, to institute is to sanction and sanctify an established order. Rites of institution act on reality by acting on its representation, enabling those crossing the line to “become what they are” (1991:122). Bourdieu’s perspective on acts of institution makes much sense when thinking through the importance of enclosure. Five points arising from his discussion are worth emphasis. First, the importance of the line is physically defined by the manifestation of the enclosure, whether bank, ditch, 20
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? palisade, hill slope or shoreline. Crossing the line can involve moving across water by boat (e.g. the islet sites), a steep climb from a river terrace to a high plateau or a high terrace (e.g. Cucuteni sites, Gradac), or moving in and between ditches and palisades in an often complicated ‘inner route’ (e.g. Ovcharovo, Poljanitsa). Secondly, the extent to which people inside and outside the line are separated is often emphasised by the design of an enclosed space. John Barrett has remarked on the visual importance not only of the view for someone standing on the top of a high monument such as Silbury Hill but also of that person being seen at the top of such a hill (Barrett 1994). In other cases, the topography or the enclosure design makes it difficult or impossible for a person on the interior to be seen from the exterior, while retaining a good view of the surrounding landscape for someone on the interior (e.g. Gradac, Poljanitsa). By contrast, anyone standing within the C-shaped enclosure at Zadubravlje could see others in (be seen by others from) the rest of the site. The extent of exclusion was carefully controlled as a vital aspect of enclosure design. Thirdly, while Bourdieu thought of the chronological sense in which the line defines the before and after, enclosures define the line in both a chronological and a spatial sense, giving a more complex context to the rite of institution. The act of crossing the ‘line’ comprises the requisite physical effort as much as the social time taken for the rite. The expectation is that the more time and effort needed to cross the line, the more distinctive the social practices taking place within the enclosed space. But, as we shall see, this is a matter for empirical investigation. Fourthly, the cosmological oppositions formed out of the social oppositions can be given spatial form in enclosure design, linking this order to the landscape and/or to the cardinal points which form part of the community’s established order. A good example of this is Colin Richards’ demonstration of the way in which Orcadian henges mimic the sea/land-scape (Richards 1996). Fifthly, the representation of reality – the enclosure itself – is, in itself, a manifestation of communal labour and social organisation, enabling the corporate group to “become what they are” in the very act of construction. It is the corporate commitment to the enclosure that gives the rite of crossing the line added significance, making the act of an individual inseparable from the antecedent acts of the community. In the following pages, these insights will be explored in the context of the contrasts between unenclosed and enclosed sites or parts of sites. In this way, we shall comment on the differences which enclosure made in the later prehistory of Central and Eastern Europe. But first, we set the scene with a summary of the time/space distribution of enclosures.
2: the islet site – a small island in a lake, inlet or main river stream, on which settlement or other remains have been deposited but which is not artificially enclosed: Durankulak and Căscioarele; 3: the tell settlement whose off-tell area is encircled by one or more banks / ditches / palisades: Csőszhalom, Poljanitsa and Ovcharovo; 4: the hill-fort or promontory settlement with one or more ditches / banks / palisades cutting off the neck of the promontory: Truşeşti and Valač; 5: the enclosed horizontal site, with definable limits to some, if not all, of the deposited remains but not falling into any of the other five classes: Iclod, Ovcharitsa II and Obrovci. An important difference between these site classes concerns the presence or absence of artificially enclosing structures (dry-stone walls, earthen banks, palisades, or ditches). It is suggested here that sites whose natural forms define a self-enclosing space should not be excluded from the term ‘enclosed sites’ just because there are no artificially enclosing features. Here, the critical issue is one of size: hills such as the Zlokućane hill near the village of Gradac, or the island upon which the site of Căscioarele was created, are small enough to be differentiated from adjacent terrain. Nor is it proposed to include caves and rock-shelters within this definition, although there is an element of natural enclosure in these site types as well. The distribution of these site classes in time and place is liable to revision even before the publication of this volume (Fig. 3.1). For example, a further five Lengyel ‘rondels’ (a Central European term for an enclosed ritual site) were discovered in the winter 2003/4 aerial photographic season on the line of the M-7 motorway from Budapest to Lake Balaton, Western Hungary (pers. comm., P. Raczky). This fulfils Otto Braasch’s prediction that, as soon as aerial photography became part of the Central and Eastern European tradition of doing archaeological research, then such site types were certain to be discovered. To our knowledge, there are precious few enclosing structures dating unambiguously to the 6th millennium Cal BC in Central and Eastern Europe. The earliest intra-mural enclosure is currently known from Zadubravlje-Dužine, an Early Starčevo settlement in Croatia. A low, C-shaped palisade 12m in diameter defines what is described as a ritual area for the community (Minichreiter 1992:34–35, figs. 12 and 18). The opening of the enclosure is partly filled with a line of three post-holes. Inside the enclosure are further post-holes, a long narrow pit 3m in depth, and isolated stake-holes. Since there are no 14C dates from Zadubravlje, the palisade can be dated within only rather broad limits to the middle of the 6th millennium Cal BC (cf. Whittle et al. 2002). However, it is improbable that this example is the only one in the Early Neolithic of the Balkans, not least because of the lack of geophysical prospection on such sites or the focus inrare examples on the search for burnt house remains in the settlement core, e.g. Divostin (Mužijević and Ralph 1988). Enclosing structures become much more common in the 5th millennium Cal BC, when they are found all over the Balkans and the Middle Danube Basin. There is a great variety of ways of enclosing tells, whether in Northeast Bulgaria (Ovcharovo, Polyanitsa, Goljamo Delchevo, etc.), in Eastern Hungary (Gorzsa, Polgár-Czőszhalom, etc.), and in Western Romania (the recent excavations at Uivar: Schier,
Forms of enclosure There would appear to be at least five forms of enclosed and defended site known in the Neolithic and Chalcolithic of Central and Eastern Europe (viz., the territories of modern Hungary, Slovenia, Bosnia and Hercegovina, Croatia, Serbia and Montenegro, FYROM, Bulgaria, Romania, Moldova, Trans-Dniestr and Ukraine): 1: the unenclosed hilltop site, whose form delimits the occupation space but which is not artificially enclosed: Gradac-Zlokućane; 21
Enclosing the Past
Figure 3.1. Location map of sites discussed in the text. 1. Csőszhalom; 2. Gradac-Zlokućane; 3. Valač-Krš 4. Căscioarele; 5. Gumelniţa; 6. Durankulak; 7. Vinitsa; 8. Iskritsa; 9. Merdzumekja. in press). There is a high density of non-tell enclosures in the Czech Republic, Austria, Slovakia and Western Hungary, where the Lengyel dating is well-documented (Trnka 1991; Němejcová-Pavúková 1995). There is also a dense cluster of promontory enclosures in Cucuteni sites in Moldavia (Monah and Cucos 1985). With the major exception of the Cucuteni-Tripolye group, enclosures would appear to be less common in the 4th millennium Cal BC. The Tripolye group comprises a huge range of site sizes, from 1ha to over 600ha – the so-called mega-sites (Kruts 1989, 1990; Videjko 1995). The size range is matched by the diversity of spatial layouts (pers. comm., M. Videjko). While amongst the earliest settlements (Early Tripolye/Pre-Cucuteni) only two have artificial ditches, the following Middle Tripolye/Cucuteni A period suggests some development of the concept of enclosed space since the number and the size of single ditches have increased. The largest sites remain unenclosed, as do the sites in the area of the Southern Bug and the Upper Dniestr. The Late Tripolye/Cucuteni B is marked by significant diversification of settlement types and the emergence/formation of regional patterns. In three areas, the Pontic Steppe, the Middle and Upper Dniestr and the Prut valley in Volhynia, a major constituent of the complex settlement arrangement is a single, double or even triple set of banks and ditches or the integration of natural and artificial features that combines the enclosed space with promontories or other readily defensive landscape features (see Chapman 1999, Table 15). Further
west, in periods when tell-dwelling was rare in Eastern Hungary, such as the Middle Copper Age, small circular enclosures have been found at sites such as Szarvas 112. Here, the inside of the enclosed space is empty of artefacts, which are deposited in the form of sherds outside the ditch. The only feature inside the enclosure is a pit with alternating levels of yellow loess and dark organic-rich sediment – perhaps human or animal blood (Makkay 1982)? Thus, the negative bias of lack of aerial reconnaissance makes it hard to suggest any regions in Central and Eastern Europe where we can be certain of the absence of enclosures. This is a classic case of a research topic in statu nascendi – and presumably it will continue to grow in line with the expansion of aerial photography in these parts of Europe. It is now time to turn to a more detailed comparison of pairs of sites or contrasting sectors within one site – one enclosed and one unenclosed.
Visually distinctive hilltop sites Prominent hilltops fulfil the main criteria for liminal locations as re-defined by Bourdieu. The effort required to climb a steep hill slope and reach the summit is not only related to the defensive capabilities of the site but also concerns how people cross Bourdieu’s line. It is this effort rather than the communal effort to construct the ‘line’ that can be used to integrate individual labour with collective 22
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? strategies. There may well be power-related limits on those persons who can be seen on the hill summit, or who live there and can access the views over the landscape. Two examples of sites on prominent hilltops are known from the Late Vinča period in Southern Serbia: Valač in Kosovo; and Gradac-Zlokućane in the Leskovac Basin. The first – Valač – is artificially enclosed with a palisade and dry-stone wall; the second settlement – Gradac – lies on top of, and at the foot of, a prominent natural hill. Valač is located in hill-country in eastern Kosovo. The present environment is heavily forested with some upland pastures in cleared areas. The site consists of a series of house-floors and daub-lined pits terraced into the steep slope of Valač-Krš. The structures are surrounded on three sides by steep rocks; on the south side, there is a palisade and a drystone wall blocking off the only access (Tasić 1957, 1959–60). The only prehistoric material on the site is dated to the Late Vinča phase (Vinča-D). Although there are no plans or sections indicating a Late Vinča date for the drystone wall or palisade, it is hard to date these features to a later prehistoric or historic period in the absence of any later datable pottery. At least five house floors are mentioned, as well as three pits. The site stratigraphy is divided into three levels: a basal level with pits cut into the natural; a level with house floors; and the deposits overlying the house floors. It is possible that all of these features belong to a single Late Vinča level (Tasić 1957:34). There are two unusual aspects of the Valač material culture assemblage: the figurines; and the exotic artefacts. A large number of figurines has been deposited at Valač, more than on many Vinča settlements (Chapman 1981). A type specific to Kosovo and, in particular to Valač, is the so-called ‘centaur’ – a human-headed quadruped (Tasić 1957). While most of the figurines were found in the cultural level, each house has at least one centaur fragment and generally other figurine fragments as well, mostly bearing red-crusted paint. The house in Sonda P-3 was particularly rich in figurine fragments – fragments of at least four throned figurines, three centaur torsos and two fragmentary heads, and one set of legs – a total of 11 fragments. Under the house, two more centaurs were placed, perhaps as a foundation deposit (Tasić 1959-60:74). Outside the houses, both centaurs, throned and standing figurine fragments were found. It is most unusual to find such a high ratio of throned : standing figurines (10:8) on a Vinča site. There are specific parallels Finds Miniature pottery Fired clay spoon Incised sign on pot Colander Pottery lid Prosopomorphic lid Cult vessel Special lamp/altar Stool Lamp/altar Figurines Perforated amulet Marble bowl fragment Graphite-painted sherd
between the Valač pottery and exotic assemblages from the Morava valley, central Bulgaria, FYROM and possibly even northern Greece. Thus, Valač stands out from all other Kosovo Vinča sites in terms of its rocky landscape setting, its palisade and drystone-walled enclosing structure and the deposition of a large number of centaur figurines and other types under and in the houses. The site of Gradac-Zlokućane (Fig. 3.2) occupies a more dramatic and dominant hilltop site than that of Valač, in the valley of the South Morava (Stalio 1972, T. XXV/1). The site was discovered and excavated by Miloje M. Vasić in 1907 (Vasić 1911). Further smaller-scale excavations were directed by Stalio in the 1950s (Stalio 1972). The stratigraphy at this site is complicated by pit-digging and ceramic discard in the Late Iron Age and by Vasić’ inability to distinguish Iron Age and Vinča fine wares (Vasić 1911). Nonetheless, the special finds are unmistakably Vinča in origin. Yet one further important chronological issue remains. In his excavation report, Vasić (1911) claimed that Gradac was a “fortress protected by a ditch and a dry masonry wall”. However, no plans and sections demonstrate the relationship of these features to the Vinča period. Moreover, the only section of drystone walling that Stalio excavated – in Sonda II – lay stratigraphically higher than a black soil with traces of burning associated with Iron Age pottery (1972:66)! Because of the steep southeast slope, it is probable that most of the finds from Sonda II are in a secondary position. Without further evidence, it may be suggested that, as at Vinča-Belo Brdo, a dominant hill that attracted Vinča settlers was fortified in the Iron Age. The internal chronology at Gradac is also problematic, because Stalio’s (1972:98f.) phasing criteria are weak (Phase I – dwelling pits rather than above-ground houses; Phase II – fertility figurines; Phase III – stylised figurines). It is hard to distinguish many differences in the pottery from any of these deposits. This leaves three zones where Vinča occupation is attested at Gradac: the Large Plateau, where Vasić excavated 900m² and Stalio 74m²; the Small Plateau, where Stalio excavated 49m²; and the lower slopes of the hill, where Stalio excavated 46m² (Stalio 1972, plan opposite T. XXXVI). This gives us the opportunity to compare the structures and finds from on the naturally enclosed hill and from a dwelling area at the foot of the plateau (Table 3.1).
Large Plateau 1909 1950s many 4 – – – 1 – 1 ? 3 frags 1 – – – 1 – – – many 9 frags 210 13 frags 1 – 1 – – –
Small Plateau
Lower SW slopes
11 1 – – – – 2 frags – – 2 frags 2 frags – – 1
9 – – – 1 frag – – 1 frag 1 frag 5 frags 22 frags 3 – –
Table 3.1. Comparison of finds from different excavation sectors at Gradac-Zlokućane. Sources: Vasić 1911; Stalio 1972. 23
Figure 3.2. General plan of Gradac-Zlokućane (source: Stalio 1972).
Enclosing the Past
24
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? There have been no reported above-ground houses on the Large Plateau; instead, a series of pits of differing sizes cut from a thin occupation layer (Vasić 1911:98; Stalio 1972:63f.). This suggests the site type known as the ‘pitfield’, a site characterised by often repeated finds deposition in pits but no dwellings. On the Small Plateau, four phases of occupation have been noted: pits cut into the sterile subsoil; an occupation layer below the house remains; a layer of burnt house remains; and the occupation layer above the house floors (Stalio 1972:66ff.). At the foot of the southwest slope of the plateau, the excavated area included a burnt layer with a house floor, covered by a later occupation layer. The main difficulty with comparison of the finds is the discrepant size of excavations; Vasić’ 900m² is hard to compare with Stalio’s much smaller trenches. Nonetheless, some patterns emerge to differentiate the areas. A small but distinctive group of objects was deposited on the Small Plateau, with very few figurines but two cult vessels, a graphite painted sherd (possibly an import from the Karanovo VI group), and a fragmentary metal pin; none of these artefact types were deposited elsewhere. Impressionistic comments on the (unquantified!) animal bones suggest a higher proportion of wild to domestic animals in this area (Stalio 1972:97f.), though size-related recovery bias cannot be excluded. The southwest zone house contained far more figurines, miniature vessels and lamp/altars than any other single house or pit, as well as amorphous copper fragments. A greater diversity of material culture was deposited in the pits of the Large Plateau, including the sole examples of a prosopomorphic lid, a sherd with incised signs, and a fragmentary marble bowl. Later commentators have agreed with Vasić’ initial conclusion (1911:99) that the Large Plateau figurines were indeed extremely varied in style (Höckmann 1968:73). However, the overall variability in this part of Gradac seems to reflect, for the most part, size of excavation rather than differential depositional practices. There is no evidence for any particular concentration of objects in any single pit on the Large Plateau. What Gradac shows us is the diversity of deposition in different parts of the complex but at a comparable scale of finds discard. It appears that the symbolic and visual significance of occupation on the top of the Gradac hill was emphasised by differential material culture deposition of special objects on the two Plateaux and with a concentration of figurine deposition at the foot of the hill. A similar scale of deposition of distinctive ritual finds, though, again, of a different character from those at Gradac, is found at Valač. It is hard to argue that either natural or artificial enclosures made a major difference to social practices on these Late Vinča sites.
islet is also a metaphorical statement, involving both human labour and space/time separation. In all of these ways, islets provide an analogy to artificial enclosures, although they constitute a distinctive form of natural bounded space. In this chapter, two comparisons between islet sites and ‘mainland’ sites will be considered: Căscioarele and Gumelniţa, in the lower Danube valley, Romania; and Goljemiya Ostrov (i.e. the Big Island) at Durankulak, in comparison with the Vinitsa tell. There is a wide variety of islands in the lower Danube valley, below the Iron Gates gorge, ranging from Ostrovul Corbului, covering an area of 20km², to islets such as Ostrovel, near the modern village of Căscioarele, which is 80m in diameter and whose lower flanks are seasonally flooded. Before occupation in the Later Neolithic (Boian) period, the islet formed a low, rather rocky hill in the middle of the Cătălui inlet, set back from the main course of the Danube, and overlooked on three sides by high terraces. What kind of social practices characterised Căscioarele and in what sense could it be considered a special site? In addition, to what extent was ritual life conducted on a domestic, household, basis or on the community level, in the public domain? The islet was used over a period of perhaps 500 years in the Late Boian and Gumelniţa periods (4600–4100 Cal BC), resulting in a vertical build-up of over 3.6m of deposits. Much of this consisted of the destruction deposits of the final burnt occupation, in which all of the material inside the structures was re-fired and the shapes of many vessels distorted in the intense heat. Although no section through the site’s deposits has been published, the bulk of the deposits derived from structural remains (pers. comm., S. MarinescuBîlcu). There can thus be no doubt that the site was at least partly used as a dwelling place for a succession of small communities, each of which extended the place-biography of earlier occupations to create an accumulated placevalue for the islet. Despite the excavator V. Dumitrescu’s (1965:40) claim for “an easy quiet life … because of … the defensive position on the islet”, the site could have easily been attacked from the shore, which lies only 120m away. The narrow, shallow ditch and low bank around the later (Gumelniţa) occupation was hardly an insuperable obstacle to a co-ordinated attack – so a defensive function for the site is inherently improbable. The bank and ditch emphasised the separation of the islet from the ‘mainland’, rather than its defensive nature. Although the excavators and other commentators have emphasised the latter rather than the former, there is abundant evidence for both everyday dwelling activities and special depositional practices at Căscioarele (H. Dumitrescu 1968; V. Dumitrescu 1965a; Dumitrescu and Bănăţeanu 1965). Most of the structures in both phases have one or more hearths, a pottery assemblage consistent with domestic use, querns for the grinding of grain, many fired clay loomweights and everyday lithic and bone discard. There are many antler harpoons in the later phase, consistent with the vertebrae of large and small Danube fish found in pits. The main function of House 2 of the Gumelniţa phase was a flint workshop, with 60 lumps of unused flint, 13 cores, four hammerstones and 14 flint axes (V. Dumitrescu 1965b). The unusual deposits consisted of special finds, a burial deposit and a unique structure. The unique structure is the only special structure so far published relating to the Late Boian phase (H. Dumitrescu 1968) and consists of a
Islet sites Islets are a distinctive form of place, whose small size means that many, if not most, of the social practices of the community using the islet cannot be carried out on the islet itself. The ‘line’ to which Bourdieu referred is an extended space; crossing the line involves a distinct kind of movement – a departure from the shore, a boat trip and an arrival on the islet. The shoreline provides an ideal vantage point for all three stages of the voyage, especially the arrival on the distant islet. Weather conditions and the time of day could all be used to invoke mystery and suspense in such a voyage (cf. Erdogu 2003). Rowing the boat from the shore to the 25
Enclosing the Past 16m×10m, two-roomed building with cream on red painted decoration on the walls, on two 2m-high pillars and on a 0.4m-high bench. Near one of the pillars was a crouched inhumation; the finds included a life-size bucranium, an altar screen, large askoi, storage jars with excised decoration and other painted pottery. The building was the largest of all the Boian structures and was located in the middle of the Boian site. While the crouched burial was probably associated with the abandonment of the building, the pillars are a wellknown feature of Balkan Neolithic and Copper Age ritual structures (cf. Beograd-Banjica, Jakovo-Kormadin and Parţa: Todorović and Cermanović 1961; Jovanović and Glišić 1960; Lazarovici et al. 2001). Although no such ‘ritual structures’ were found in the Gumelniţa occupation, there were many other distinctive features that suggest special depositional practices continued in this phase. At a general level, the overwhelming dietary preference for venison – over 60% of the bone numbers derived from red deer (Bolomey 1965) – is most unusual for Gumelniţa sites and suggests special feasting practices. The deposition of an antler ard-point in House 8 suggests more than the possession of a farmer used for tilling the soils on the ‘mainland’ terraces, since no other ard-point has ever been found in a Gumelniţa house, indeed in any Gumelniţa context (Dumitrescu and Bănăţeanu 1965). The large quantity and diversity of figurines makes the site distinctive, as does the high percentage deposited in houses (Andreescu 2002:98). Unusual characteristics include a large number of pot-lids with anthropomorphic handles – taken as a sign of domestic ritual – and figurines with special incised-circle decoration on the legs – perhaps made by a single person (Andreescu 2002:105f.). The discovery of a fired clay figurine pair, a male and a female, unique in the Gumelniţa repertoire also indicates special rituals. But this is underlined by the most spectacular find, a shrine model measuring 1.5m in length and 0.8m in height, deposited outside a large Gumelniţa house. Another find class that is most unusual in domestic settings is the group of fired clay copies of Spondylus and gold pendants found in Gumelniţa houses. The burial of two human skulls under the clay floor of another Gumelniţa house, directly above the place where the oven was constructed, is a further indication of special depositional practices. Finally, the burning of all of the houses in the last Gumelniţa occupation, together with a suite of very large ceramic assemblages, suggests the final ritual destruction of the site rather than an armed attack (cf. Stevanović 1997; Chapman 1999a). If any of these Gumelniţa finds occurred singly on a tell site, the interpretation of a domestic ritual would probably be favoured. But such a concentration of special or, indeed, unique, finds suggests that Căscioarele was more than just a settlement site in the Gumelniţa phase, as indeed it seems to have been with its Late Boian ‘pillar shrine’. Two complementary ritual aspects may be emphasised: the strong association between the Căscioarele houses and mortuary ritual, whether through the direct invocation of the ancestors (the skull burials), the presencing of exotic cemetery rituals (the pendant copies) or the final ‘death’ of the settlement; and the significance of ceremonies for the living, whether characterised by feasting, outdoor rites using the shrine model and special figurines or even ritual ploughing with the ard-point. However, we cannot ignore the everyday finds that make Căscioarele similar to many other Gumelniţa settlements. To what extent are there
similarities between the ritual finds deposited on this islet site and ritual practices on a major neighbouring tell-site? The best published comparandum for Ostrovel is the tell of Gumelniţa, located on dry land and, as far as can be said from the extensive excavations, an unenclosed tell (V. Dumitrescu 1925, 1964, 1966). Even here, it must be admitted that the publications do not provide the degree of detail required to interpret different social practices; nonetheless, the Gumelniţa tell is the best example within 30km of Căscioarele. The Gumelniţa tell was discovered in 1923 and excavated in a series of campaigns from 1924 onwards (V. Dumitrescu 1925, 1964, 1966). The exploratory excavations of 1924 established the basic division of the Gumelniţa period into two phases – A and B (V. Dumitrescu 1925:39). Burnt house remains were discovered in both levels, with a standard range of ‘domestic’ finds in each of these structures. Even though the excavation techniques in this early campaign were rudimentary, with a standard thickness of 40–50cm of earth removed in the same ‘level’, the excavator discovered some important features suggesting structured deposition. First, there were large piles of animal bones, shells, ash and charcoal near houses – interpreted as food debris but, with reference to the controlled excavations at Borduşani in the 1990s (Marinescu-Bîlcu et al. 1998), more likely the remains of feasting outside of a house before its deliberate destruction by fire. Secondly, the existence of several deep but narrow ‘shafts’ suggest a practice involving exchange with the ancestral occupations of the tell (cf. Chapman 2000). In Trench X, at a depth of 220–270cm (!), there was a vertical shaft 0.25m in diameter and with a depth of 1.5m (V. Dumitrescu 1925:32). Similarly, in Trench I, at a depth of 255–295cm, a shaft was found with a diameter 0.20–0.30m and a depth of over 0.5m (1925:35). Finally, in Trench II, at a depth of 180–275cm, some ‘post-holes’ were thought to be too large even for major structural posts supporting a heavy roof and were considered to be ‘special’ in some way (1925:36). A third find consisted of a complete inhumation lying on the ground surface between two burnt houses, said to have been killed during a house fire but with no burnt bones more probably an inhumation at the same time as the deliberate firing of the houses. The only pertinent comment on the Gumelniţa finds was the high density of figurines, said to have almost equalled the number found at the 1924 excavations at Căscioarele (1925:80). In the more careful excavations of the 1960s, V. Dumitrescu located several spectacular imports at the tell. A hoard of bowls was found in a burnt house in the latest level, consisting of 21 or 23 graphite-painted small bowls placed in a large imported Cucuteni A3 polychrome painted amphora (V. Dumitrescu 1964, 1966). Other finds from the same burnt house include a ‘Janus’ figurine holding a vase on the head, pottery with crusted painted decoration, dark burnished wares decorated with channelling, vessels with incised decoration, further Cucuteni A imports, a fragment of a marble bowl, a fragmentary antler tool (perhaps a hoe), 18 loom-weights, Bulgarian flint blades and scrapers and a fragment of a male figurine (V. Dumitrescu 1966). A second example of exotic imports concerns the huge block of mined flint from northeast Bulgaria on display in Olteniţa Museum. The block measures 0.8m by 0.4m by 0.3m and probably weighs over 1 ton. It must have been mined in northeast Bulgaria – perhaps in the Razgrad area, transported to the Danube for up to 50 km, carried across the 26
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? river by boat and then brought a further 30km to the tell. It was obviously such a prized possession that the flint block was not used for tool production but remained on the tell, rather like a prehistoric ‘Stone of Scone’ (Aitchison 2000) – associated with powerful individuals. Lastly, a number of gold pendants, perhaps as many as five, have been ‘discovered’ at the Gumelniţa tell by looters (pers. comm., Dr. B. Ionescu); the form of these pendants is identical to those at Căscioarele, suggesting close relations between the elites of these two communities. Although there is a big disparity in the proportion of the excavated areas of these two tells (100% at Căscioarele; 2% at Gumelniţa: Andreescu 2002), we can identify some of the major similarities and differences between the two sites. The practice of deliberate burning of houses, often after deposition within of spectacular ritual finds, is clearly common to each site, as is the association of feasting and inhumations with such house-burning, the high deposition rate for figurines, the unusual combination of vasefigurines and the rare discovery of gold tabbed pendants in settlements. However, the limited investigations at Gumelniţa have not yet turned up any structures in any way related to the Căscioarele shrines, with their painted wall plaster, two-storey construction and pillar altars. By contrast, the exotic imports typical of Gumelniţa have not been so common in the much more intensive investigations at Căscioarele. Thus, both communities can be seen to have drawn upon an identical material heritage – after all, the sites are only 30 km apart – and, perhaps for that reason, there are really more similarities than differences between the unenclosed and the enclosed tells. Here is a case where, perhaps unexpectedly, the islet site may not have been so distinctive as was previously thought.
shore and started to bury their dead in somewhat different ways from those of the Neolithic cemetery on the lagoon shore. The new patterns in the latter included a wider range of grave goods, an increase in the quantity of ceramics and lithics and a decline in the deposition of steppe ass (Equus asinus hydruntinus) skulls as hunting trophies (Spassov and Iliev 2002). The change in dwelling practices were on a different scale altogether. The Hamangia I–II– early III settlement on the shore consisted of large-scale deposits of pottery, broken figurines, tools and animal bones in pits and on the surface between the pits (Todorova and Dimov 1989). The presence of hearths, fired clay ‘platforms’ and remains of roof constructions in some of the larger pits (up to 14.5×7.6m in size) has led the excavators to an interpretation of these features as ‘pit-houses’. However, serious objections have been raised to the interpretation of ‘pit-dwellings’ in Balkan prehistory, on both experimental and functional grounds (for summary, see Chapman 2000). The alternative is that the people lived in above-ground structures whose traces have not survived subsequent frequent ploughing of the chernozoem. Although only one small sonda has been excavated to the bottom of the cultural levels on the Big Island, Todorova discovered that stone architecture was already present from the very first occupation of the island (Level VIII, Todorova 2002c). This consisted of walls of drystone cobbles derived from the rocks of the island, which can be preserved to a height of 0.5m and which formed the base for wattle-anddaub superstructural walls (Todorova 2002c:12). In the second level (Level VII), dated by Hamangia IV pottery, Structure 5 has been interpreted as a two-storied ‘palace’ by dint of its size, while Structure 8 has been dubbed a ‘shrine’ because of the contents of this two-storied building (Todorova 2002c: 12). Little information has so far been published about the Varna I–II phase levels (Levels VI–IVa), except that there is a metallurgical workshop in Level VI. In addition, during the excavation of Structure 5 in Level VII, Todorova (1997:83) found a fragment of a life-size fired clay figure in a stone structure. In the totally excavated Late Copper Age Level IVb, a total of 15 buildings has been excavated. Structure 9 is interpreted as a ‘palace’ and Structures 12 and 13 as shrines, while the other large trapezoidal or rectangular houses are termed ‘megara’ (for details: Todorova and Dimov 1989; for plan, see Todorova 2002c, Abb. 8b; for structures, see 2000c, Abb. 5a, 5b and 8a). The structures are generally two-roomed, with two hearths in the outer room, whose floor was covered in a sherd-rich ash layer. In the inner rooms, a rectangular oven was built on a stone platform by the east wall, while storage vessels and other pottery stood on a platform near the north wall and grindstones were found on a stone surface between the oven and the platform. The buildings of the final Late Copper Age level (Level III) were all burnt and subsequently badly damaged by the building activities of the Early Medieval settlement. Of the special buildings signalled by the excavator, the Late Copper Age Structure 9 (Level IVb) is the most spectacular, with a trapezoidal shape, of megaron type with two rooms, and covering an area of 166 m². With its 0.5–6m-thick lower stone walls, it was once the most monumental building so far excavated on the Balkan Peninsula. Unfortunately, few details of this structure have yet been published. This is not the case, however, for the earlier Structure 5 in Late
An islet on the Black Sea coast? A rather different situation pertains on the Black Sea coastal lagoon of Durankulak, where a complex developed, consisting of a Neolithic (Hamangia group) settlement near the Durankulak lagoon, associated with the Neolithic part of the cemetery, and a Chalcolithic tell on the Big Island (Goljemi Ostrov) in the lagoon, associated with the Chalcolithic part of the cemetery (Fig. 3.3). While the Neolithic (Hamangia I–II) and earliest Copper Age (Hamangia early III) settlement on the shore has been totally excavated, the Copper Age (Hamangia late III–IV and Varna I–III) settlement on the Big Island has been only partially excavated; the tell has a series of rectangular houses with drystone-wall foundations which are so far unique in Balkan prehistory (Todorova 1989, 2002a). The Big Island – so termed to distinguish it from a smaller island in the lagoon – was a distinctive landscape feature, measuring 200 by 120m. At the start of the Hamangia I–II occupation, the Big Island was probably a peninsula, connected to the lagoon shore by a narrow causeway. With rising sea-level (according to Fairbridge’s sea-level chart cited in Todorova 2002b:20 and Abb. 9), the causeway would have been flooded, creating an island. This may have created the conditions for a physically and conceptually distinct space early in the Copper Age. In any event, one of the major changes at Durankulak occurred soon after the start of the Copper Age, when the community shifted their settlement to the Big Island some 120m from the lagoon 27
Enclosing the Past
Figure 3.3. Plan of the Durankulak complex (source: Todorova 2002a). Hamangia Level VII (Todorova 1997 and Abb. 9). This twostoried structure covers a total of 330m², with an inner space of 152m² – thus becoming the most monumental structure in Balkan prehistory. It is defined by a double stone wall, each up to 0.85m wide and separated by 0.3–0.8m. The inner wall of this structure was covered by a decorated plaster surface, with white, red, pink or yellow motifs. In the middle of this structure were two large fired clay pillar altars. In the eastern part of the structure, a rectangular altar was found near a red-painted wall; a red and white painted area of the south wall was also found near a clay platform for four rectangular clay bins full of cleaned cereal grains. In the southern part of the room, the remains of 36 vessels were found, including storage jars and the finest decorated wares. The specialised use of space is also found in the western rooms: a flint-knapping area in the northern part and a food-storage area in the southern part. The Durankulak structures combine both the everyday and the extraordinary, with a suite of stone houses with traces of everyday dwelling practices, such as flint-knapping, grinding, food preparation and storage. The ritual elements – the life-size clay figures, pillar altars and painted wallplaster – appear to be concentrated in certain structures, in particular in the largest of the stone structures, Structure
5 in Level VII, and Structure 9 in Level IVb. The place of metallurgy in this basic sacred / profane duality is not easy to establish (see below). What makes the Durankulak settlement on the Big Island so striking is the size (both vertical – two-storied – and horizontal) and complexity of the stone architecture, which is hitherto unparalleled in the Balkan Eneolithic. Nonetheless, it must not be forgotten that the same stone architecture used to create the extraordinary buildings is also used for the construction of the smaller dwellings, a cross-referencing that is also connected to the stone slabs which are used in many of the Middle and Late Copper Age graves on the lagoon shore. The settlement on the Big Island at Durankulak cannot easily be compared to coeval settlements in the Bulgarian Dobrudzha, since very few are known and even fewer have been systematically excavated. The best comparandum is therefore one of the tells which, although some 100km from Durankulak, is at least completely excavated. This is the tell of Vinitsa (Raduntcheva 1975), a small mound measuring 55×45m, located on a broad river terrace of the river Kamchiya. Some 50m southeast of the tell was a small coeval cemetery containing over 50 graves. Five Copper Age building horizons were identified; however, medieval building activities have destroyed half of the third horizon 28
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? Raczky et al. 2002:837) has termed a synthesis of Central European and Balkan settlement forms. While several tells have such enclosing features, e.g. Gorzsa (Horvath 1987), Polgar-Bosnyak domb; cf. Uivar in the Romanian Banat (Schier, in press), the most impressive site of this type so far excavated is undoubtedly Csőszhalom, near Polgár, in northeast Hungary. Here, a large horizontal settlement covering 28ha includes a tell in the western part (Raczky et al. 2002, Fig. 2) (Fig. 3.4). A magnetometer survey (Fig. 3.5) of the tell indicates that up to 13–16 (now estimated at 21) burnt houses were located in the uppermost layer of the tell, which was itself surrounded by five concentric ditches (2002:834 and fig. 2). Four hectares of the horizontal settlement were excavated (or 15% of the total); 62 timberframed houses, 64 other structures, 238 pits and 68 wells have been uncovered, together with 116 burials (2002:840). The household clusters of house, pits and burials formed larger groupings of several houses round each well. These large-scale investigations offer the possibility of direct comparison between the depositional practices on the enclosed part of the site (the tell) and the unenclosed part (the horizontal settlement). According to the 14C chronology, the two parts of the site were more or less coeval: tell, 4820– 4530 Cal BC; horizontal settlement, 4830–4600 Cal BC (2002, fig. 10). Like many nearby Middle Neolithic sites, the horizontal settlement stands on a Pleistocene terrace 1m above the adjoining palaeo-channel (2002, fig. 2). However, because of post-Neolithic aggradation, the level of the tell-to-be lay 1.5m and perhaps as much as 2m below the level of the present ground surface (UTP field observations, 1991). At the base of the tell, a series of Middle Neolithic pits and ditches attest to the first occupation of the area later to become a tell (Raczky et al. 2002:837). This Middle Neolithic occupation is but one of many such sites in the Polgár area, indeed, it is evident that the Csőszhalom tell was founded in the centre of the greatest concentration of Middle Neolithic sites in the Upper Tisza Project’s Block 1 survey area (for details, see Upper Tisza Project E-Book 1: http:// ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/projArch/uppertisza_ba_2003/ index.cfm). The concentration of antecedent settlements is one of the relatively few distinguishing marks in a generally flat landscape. It would be only after two or more centuries of deposition and accumulation that the tell began to take on a mound-like character which differentiated it vertically from the remainder of the horizontal settlement. The excavator’s phasing of the contexts found on the tell and the two excavated inner concentric ditches indicates that the two ditches were dug in the final phase (Phase 1) of the tell’s life history. This would appear to mean that the first three phases of the tell were not enclosed by any concentric ditches but that, rather, the ditches were a final statement about enclosure of a long-existing tell. Indeed, it could be maintained that the external ditches (Phase 1) were never coeval with the concentric palisades on the tell itself (Phases 4 and 2). This reading of Professor Raczky’s site phasing makes the Csőszhalom complex much more interestingly dynamic than has been previously imagined. In the first Late Neolithic phase of ‘tell’ occupation (Phase 4), the internal space is structured by a series of three concentric palisades, each with four entrances aligned along the cardinal points of the Csőszhalom world. The cardinal points were broadly NNE–ESE–SSW and WNW (Raczky et al. 2002, fig. 2). The ESE–WNW alignment is similar
and most of the fourth and fifth horizons. The following commentary therefore relates to only the earliest two phases of occupation. This analysis was possible only because A. Raduntcheva published the finds by house inventory, one of the earliest examples of this mode of publication in Bulgarian prehistory. The earliest settlement on the area which later grew into a tell was enclosed by a double palisade filled by packed clay (Raduntcheva 1975:7 and Obr. 1). The settlement consisted of ten buildings which had all the features of houses, with hearths and ovens and small storage-pits in most structures. It is interesting that the excavator emphasised that there were neither central buildings nor shrines in this level (1975:30– 31); moreover, there were no recorded examples of painted wall-plaster or two-storey buildings. The remains found in the houses were in no way different from the models found in House 2 (1975, Obr. 7/7 and 9) and the concentrations of fired clay material culture of everyday dwelling. The only exceptions could be the two fired clay house weights (? for looms) in Houses 7 (1975:15), 8 (1975, Obr. 16) and 9 (1975, Obr. 18). In Phase II, there is no sign of a palisade surrounding the ten houses but signs of minor internal differentiation are apparent. The three houses built on the highest part of the low mound, Houses 12, 14 and 15, are connected by entrances through their common walls, and the excavator claims that these three houses contain the largest and most diverse house assemblages (1975:47). Moreover, the only example of a likely outside altar is found just outside House 15. Some of the houses have wall plaster fragments with signs of up to 13 re-plasterings. Some fragments are sometimes covered in a thick layer of red ochre. The distinguishing features of Houses 12, 14 and 15 include a larger number of vessels, several fired clay anthropomorphic and zoomorphic figurines and an anthropomorphic vessel, as well as fragmentary Spondylus bracelets. However, fired clay figurines do occur in other smaller houses, such as House 18 (1975, Obr. 36/6–7), House 19 (1975, Obr. 38/5) and House 20 (1975, Obr. 39/2-3) and one of the largest ceramic assemblages in the tell comes from House 16 (1975, Obr. 32–33). The general picture from the first and second occupations on the Vinitsa tell is one of a slow differentiation in social practices, with deposition at the end of the life of a house more significant in Phase II than in Phase I. But there is a genuine absence of the kind of social and architectural differentiation documented at Durankulak. At Vinitsa, the growing place-value of an emergent tell does not compare with the social complexity found on the Big Island at Durankulak. In the case of northeast Bulgaria, therefore, it is possible to support the claim that (aquatic) enclosure makes a difference to the everyday and ritual practices of coastal and inland communities. The vast difference in size, complexity and range of grave goods between the Durankulak and Vinitsa cemeteries is eloquent testimony to the nature of material culture consumed at each site.
Enclosed tells in Hungary (with K. Hardy) One of the most striking developments in recent eastern Hungarian prehistory is the discovery of encircling banks, ditches or palisades around tells, what Raczky (1998; 29
Figure 3.4. Contour map of the Csőszhalom tell (source: Raczky et al. 2002).
Enclosing the Past
30
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
Figure 3.5. Magnetic map of Csőszhalom. (source: Raczky et al. 2002). to the axis of the paths between the lines of houses, as well as the long axis of the majority of rectangular houses in the horizontal settlement. This similarity emphasises how everyday life on the horizontal settlement at Csőszhalom was embedded in the cosmological principles defined more emphatically at the tell. The excavator has claimed that, at some time in Phase 4, the gaps between the palisades were sealed off with clay, forming stretches of clay walls 2m in height (Raczky et al. 1996:17). This closure is a dramatic statement about access into, and out of, the inner sanctum. The apparent complete absence of outer features dramatically increased the visual impact of the inner triple palisades, even without any extra vertical height on what was still a flat area. Because of the height of the palisades, however, it would seem unlikely that anyone standing within the innermost space could be seen by anyone outside, and conversely. The sealing of the four passages through the palisades may have been the final act of closure of the enclosed space, perhaps at the end of Phase 4. It was only later, perhaps by the end of Phase 3, that visibility between inside and outside was possible. While a complex enclosed space was being created at one end of the site, the community was already constructing a living area in other parts of the horizontal settlement (2002, figs. 2 and 10; Raczky 1998). There is a strong contrast between the principle of rectangularity on which the houses in the horizontal settlement are based – a principle of Middle Neolithic ancestry (e.g. Gubakút: Domboroczky 2003) – and the concentric circular principle of the tell’s palisades. However, both tell and settlement drew upon the same techniques of the erection of multiple timber posts for constructing palisades and building rectangular houses; the
main structural features were timber posts of like diameter and probably height. As we shall see later, the tell and the settlement also drew on the same range of material culture, although with different emphases. However, Phase 3 at the tell-to-be is characterised solely by rectangular structures within the tell (Raczky et al. 2002, fig. 2), made possible only through a rupture with the tell’s past. The construction of the structures involved the dismantling of the triple palisades and the infilling of the palisade trenches, a dramatic event which challenged the concentric principle of the inner palisades and completely altered the visual form of the tell. In Phase 3, there was no visual block to seeing the former ‘inner sanctum’, rather open visual access to the structures inside an unenclosed space. The dismantling of the palisades was apparently not achieved by burning but rather by the removal of the timber posts. Although this cannot easily be proven, it is possible that the posts would have been used for the construction of the houses in the horizontal settlement, as well as for use in building the structures on the tell. The contexts found in Phase 3 on the tell-to-be consisted more of pits and fill contexts than of house and hearth contexts. The in-wash of clay from the walls of the structures and from other practices helped to contribute to the increased depth of cultural deposit on the slowly forming mound. At a certain moment in the tell’s life, the structures were burnt down, presumably deliberately, together with their contents. The mass of burnt daub was deposited mostly on the surface of the tell-to-be, increasing the depth of the deposit and helping to create the effect of a rather higher mound than before. In Phase 2, there was a reversion to the triple palisade on 31
Enclosing the Past what was now a distinctive mound, the only one of its kind on the bank of the Kengyel palaeo-channel. This second timber construction also included a concentric arrangement of pits, in which by far the largest quantity of lithics in that phase were discarded. The pits and palisade trenches and post-holes must have cut through the remains of the Phase 3 structures, causing a further rupture in the historical sequence, despite the reversion to an earlier design. The extra vertical height of the mound created a greater visual impact for the palisades than in Phase 4. As with Phase 4, the end of Phase 2 was marked by the dismantling of the palisades and the re-use of the timber, presumably in the construction of the Phase 1 structures on the tell, as well as perhaps house construction in the settlement. In the final phase of the tell’s life history (Phase 1), the tell was radically separated from the settlement by the digging of five concentric ditches outside the tell (2002, fig. 2). In Bourdieu’s terms, an accumulation of five ditches would have represented a massive commitment to the definition of a ‘line’, a classic example of prehistoric overkill, the repetition of a demarcation strategy far beyond the original requirements of separating enclosed from unenclosed space. A work study of the ditches indicates the removal of 30,000 ml of earth, involving a large work force – more than those living on the tell (2002:834) but not, of course, necessarily more than those living in the horizontal settlement. As far as we are aware, this emphasis on centrality was unprecedented in the prehistory of the Alföld Plain. Each ditch may well have been constructed by different corporate groups to define their respective places in the regional or local social structure, as given material form by the Csőszhalom complex. Some of these corporate groups may have enjoyed close social ties with groups to the north and west, given the nature of the Phase I pottery and the plan of the concentric ditches. The question of the destination
of the excavated earth has not been discussed, though one possible destination would have been the wattle-and-daub walls for the houses in the settlement. However, while the three Phase 2 palisades on the tell were certainly built at the same time, it is by no means certain that all of the five concentric ditches were dug at the same time, as part of a grand final design to reinforce the separation of settlement from tell. This is a conclusion based upon the assumption that the final plan of a site is implicit in the plan of its earliest phases. Barrett (1994) has criticised this assumption for Stonehenge, noting that none of the earlier phases necessarily pre-determined the form of the subsequent phases. Since no excavation has yet been made of the four outermost concentric ditches at Csőszhalom, we cannot be sure of the chronological relationship of any of these features to the sequence of events on the Phase 1 tell. It is, therefore, conceivable that each ditch was added after an interval of 10–20 years, as a horizontal reinforcement of the vertical expansion of the tell. It is to be hoped that smallscale excavations can be made in the future to determine the precise sequence of constructional events. This may mean that the labour required for the digging of the ditches was spread over many decades rather than focussed in one single massive construction event. Whatever the sequence and timing of the concentric design, moving from the outside to the inside of the enclosure was structured by the series of four entrances aligned with each concentric ditch, following the cardinal points established for the palisades in Phase 4. Although the distance from the outermost ditch to the inner enclosure is less than 100m, the number of entrances which had to be navigated gives a strong sense of procession: the goal of the voyage, the ‘inner sanctum’, is reached only after passing through many stages of a well-composed route. By now, the absence of palisades on the tell, combined with the 2–2.5m height of
Social practice Burial
Tell Mostly adult male and children.
Flat settlement Mostly adults; very few children. Rectangular houses rarely burnt down; 1-storey structures. Local type. Both pits and wells common. Moderate frequencies. Tisza; Samborzec-Opatów; Herpály; Vinča; SBK; Iclod. Anthropomorphic and zoomorphic. Domestic > wild (more domestic cattle, equal number of red deer and boar).
Houses
Rectangular houses generally burnt down; rare 2-storey houses +incised/painted walls.
Ovens Pits and wells Prestige wares Imported sherds
Special Herpály type. Pits common; no wells. High frequency. Tisza incised wares.
Figurines
Figurine scene.
Animal bones
Wild > domestic (more domestic pig, more roe deer and aurochs); more wild animal bones on tell than in ditches; more ‘meat bones’ on tell than in ditches.
Lithics General comment on both tell and settlement)
Dominance of limnoquartzites + little obsidian (more Slovakian) Household production + no increasing intensification of production; more Kraków and Dniestr imports on tell than on flat site; end-scrapers locally made and deposited in tell ditches.
Table 3.2. Social practices on the tell and the horizontal settlement at Polgár-Csőszhalom. Sources: Hardy and Chapman n.d.; Raczky et al. 2002; Schwartz 1998. 32
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
Figure 3.6. Plan of Iskritsa I pit site (source: Leshtakov et al. 2001). the mound, presents a clear view from outside the tell of the social and visual focus of ritual life in Phase 1 – the top of the mound, with its special structure and unusual contents. While few of the house assemblages have yet been published, Raczky has presented two finds from House 9, dating to Phase 1: a cult assemblage of fired clay discs, a figurine and nine bowls, found on the floor of the house; and, in an ash-filled pit cut from the floor, a necklace of 148 copper beads, a fragment of copper wire, four tiny copper flakes and a set of 20 bone tubes. Together with the Spondylus jewellery, bitumen for pottery decoration and extra-regional lithics, this ornament hoard reinforces the pattern of prestige exotic deposition on the tell (Raczky et al. 1996). The structures on the tell ended their lives with a dramatic fire, and the re-distribution of the accumulated burnt daub in various contexts, including the upper fill of the outer ditches. This indicates that the ditches were still in use at the time of the fire. Again, the visual impact of a complete conflagration of the top of a tell must have extended over kilometers and made this timemark (Chapman 1997) something spectacular, witnessed by many members of the surrounding communities. The 14C dates indicate that, by the time of this fire, the main settlement had also been abandoned. One possibility, therefore, is that the burning of the tell structures symbolised the closure of the entire settlement at Csőszhalom. Now that the basic sequence of practices has been reconstructed for the tell and the settlement, it is worth attempting a comparison of the social practices defining dwelling in the enclosed and the unenclosed parts of the settlement. It should be noted that many practices are shared
between the two parts of the site, although there is clearly a greater emphasis on special finds on the tell (Table 3.2). In summary, there is a tendency for a stronger emphasis on structured deposition on the tell, which involves five elements: deliberate burning of houses; higher frequencies of prestige painted wares; feasting based more on wild than on domestic animals; deposition in ditches of locally made tools from exotic imported raw materials; deposition of exotic ornaments and ritual sets in the houses. These social practices probably varied with time through the long and complex sequence of events at Csőszhalom, as in the preferential deposition of end-scrapers made of Dniestr and Kraków flint in only the Phase I ditches. The nature of deposition on the tell also changed cyclically with the sequence of alternating houses and palisades. However, it should not be thought that the horizontal settlement stood in strong contrast to the tell in terms of social practices. It was in the settlement that a total of 68 complete vessels was deposited in the upper fill of the ritual shaft Context 272 (Raczky et al. 1997:42, figs. 27–28; cf. Chapman 2000), while the range of the imported pottery published so far (Raczky et al. 2002, figs. 5–6) is far wider on the flat settlement than on the tell. We agree with the excavator (1998:482) that the tell was the focus of special social and ritual practices, but many extraordinary deposits were also found in the flat settlement. The alignments of the palisades and the entrances of the concentric ditches makes visible the strong inter-relations between the enclosed and unenclosed parts of the site, inter-relations which were in constant tension through the opposition of two of the most basic geometric principles of spatial organisation, the circle and the rectangle. 33
Enclosing the Past
Eneolithic enclosures in southeast Bulgaria
and, all around it, there were traces of long-lasting surface exposure. Some of the house rubble in the fault was not fully fired. Two almost simultaneous activities were given as an explanation for this unusual stratigraphy. Together with, or soon after, the burning of the house, the mud-volcano erupted and opened a fault into which the east side of the dwelling had sunk, while the west part was left on the surface and subsequently folded. The clay and gravel from the eruption sealed the floors and the plaster in the fault, thus preventing them from complete combustion. The finds from the cultural layer of Iskritsa II comprise two fragments of cult vessels, 14 flint tools, a small adze, a fragment of a bone needle, a complete small dish, sherds and a bovine skull, together with fragmentary and complete animal bones. The first pit contained two bovine skulls, one on the bottom, and the other 10cm from the top of the pit. The lower jaw was missing from the latter, which had a large piece of charcoal placed on the forehead. The pit was filled with crumbly black soil, mixed with sherds and a few animal bones. The second pit was filled with reddish sand and gravel, without any finds. Close inspection of a quarter of the pottery from the burnt house showed the presence of more Late Chalcolithic than Early Chalcolithic sherds, of both fine and coarse ware. There were two vessels that had more than 20 fragments of their rim and body, but were still not complete. The Early Chalcolithic ‘Iskritsa I’ site was located 200m to the west, on the westernmost hill. Among the mediaeval graves, there were up to 10 pits with prehistoric material, mainly concentrated in the north part of the hill (Fig. 3.6). The stratigraphy and finds can be summarised as on Table 3.3. Summarising the above evidence, it is likely that the breaking and deposition of pottery and structured deposition in pits was a common social practice at Iskritsa. Pit deposition most probably started during the Early Copper
Our final comparison takes us to southeast Bulgaria, where Gaydarska’s (2004) study of the long-term settlement and landscape history of three micro-regions has produced strong patterns of change and development in the use of enclosed and unenclosed space. The limits of space preclude a more comprehensive treatment of the full range of settlements; in this chapter, we shall consider one pair of sites: the unenclosed Iskritsa site (in itself a complex of two separate Chalcolithic components); and the tell of Merdzumekja, which becomes enclosed in a late phase of its development. The Iskritsa flat site is located in the opencast mining area of Maritsa Iztok in southeast Bulgaria. It was found in 1988 during a field survey of the Maritsa-Iztok Expedition, when scattered prehistoric pottery was found over an area of 0.15ha. The site is located on the left bank of the river Sokolitsa. The current interpretation of the prehistoric site near Iskritsa is that it consists of two sites on each of two of three neighbouring low hills – an Early Chalcolithic pit site (Iskritsa I) and a Late Chalcolithic settlement site (Iskritsa II) (Leshtakov et al. 2001). The end of the settlement was connected to the eruption of a mud volcano. At the so-called Iskritsa II site, two pits and a burnt house were excavated. The surrounding general cultural layer consisted of sand, gravel, clay, burnt house rubble, charcoal and pieces of daub. The dwelling contained two occupational levels, each marked by beaten clay floors. Three postholes were also found. Burnt house rubble was spread all over the area of the sondages. The stratigraphy of the burnt feature was not coherent. In the eastern part of the structure, the two floors and the rubble were relatively intact, having ‘sunk’ into a fault and were covered by clay and gravel. The west side of the feature was severely folded Pit no. N4 N10
Stratigraphy Very worn Upper black crumbly soil + charcoal and decayed sherds/daub; basal clay with dense charcoal and few sherds. Black-grey crumbly layer; basal clay (? plastered surface). Uniform black-grey fill + small pebbles, daub, sherds and bones. Grey-white fill with daub; layer of broken vessels on 1mm-thick ash/charcoal layer; main fill = brown-yellow sand; layer of broken vessels; basal strip of ash/charcoal; base and sides plastered with clay.
Finds Fine wares + 3 fillers (mica / organic / grog).
N18
Grey-white layer + charcoal/sherds; sandy soil; basal yellow clay + dense charcoal; base and sides plastered with clay.
2 flint tools and 2 fragments; restorable vessel profiles; very worn sherds.
N20
Uniform red-brown fill + occasional boulders.
N21
Uniform red-brown fill + occasional boulders and pebbles.
Grindstone fragments, few animal bones and sherds. Very worn sherds.
N11 N12 N15
Table 3.3. Pit stratigraphy and finds at Iskritsa I. 34
1 PS adze, 1 flint and 3 fragments; restorable vessel profiles.
Very worn sherds.
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? Age and the consumption and/or deposition of ‘ritual’ food may have accompanied the event. The same activity continued during the following centuries. There are conspicuously few figurine fragments at Iskritsa, perhaps only two anthropomorphic vase sherds. The widespread distribution of sherds worn heavily on both their outer and inner sides, as well as on the cross-section, suggests that the prehistoric sherds were exposed to the open air for a long time and then deliberately re-used as a component of the pit fill. In addition, the surface deposition of pottery fragments was practised and a building was constructed specially for deposition. One possible reason for the emergence of the building may be the deliberate monumentalisation of the place, in which its cultural inscription on to the landscape is accomplished through the erection of a positive feature in contrast to the negative features distributed on the site (the pits). Thus a specific entity is created in which the ancestors (the pits), the present occupants (the surface deposition) and the descendants (the building remains survive even the death of its builders) are harmonised in the eternal landscape. The place on which the building was constructed was specially chosen to be visible only for people in the close vicinity of the site. While the use-life of the building can be dated to the Late Chalcolithic, the presence of Early Copper Age pottery in the burnt rubble suggests a long-lasting ancestor cult, in which personal, household or communal enchainment with the previous inhabitants of the landscape was crucial for successful social reproduction. It is likely that Early Copper Age sherds were deposited on the surface and/or in pits below or under the place where the building was erected, which later were deposited in the ready building. But it is also possible that the Early Chalcolithic sherds were kept at settlement sites and deliberately brought and deposited at Iskritsa during the Late Copper Age. In both cases the link with the ancestors appears to be an important issue during the Late Chalcolithic. The end of the building was not a result of devastating natural process but rather an intentional and managed burning of the feature. The presence of unburnt together with burnt rubble in one and the same in situ context is strong evidence for managed fire. It may also be suggested that the house was deliberately burnt as part of a rite of passage, in which ‘killing’ (burning the old house) is followed by re-birth (the construction of a new house). Indirect evidence for such a cycle is the renovation of the floors of the burnt feature. Given the present state of the data, it is not possible to explore the character of this internal transition of the building. After the managed fire event, the building was not re-built because of the eruption of the mud volcano. The latter was not necessarily a rapid and devastating process (Gaydarska 2004) and therefore probably did not cause the house destruction. What it prevented, however, was the subsequent occupation of the site. The next traces of human activity are from the end of the Bronze Age onwards. During all the investigation seasons (1988–1994), a total of almost 8ha was excavated. The field data suggest that the prehistoric site at Iskritsa I consisted of one building and several pits. Such a combination of features is not considered to be typical for Bulgarian prehistoric sites and I would suggest that Iskritsa was a place with special meaning, for the enactment of significant social practices. Both Iskritsa sites contain evidence for such practices, which are usually named as non-utilitarian or sacred. According to their understanding in current studies (Brück 2000; Brück
and Goodman 1999), these are elements of contemporary habitus in which the very act of fragment deposition, pit digging or house burning emphasises some current social issue(s) but at the same time is indivisible from the longterm attitude of reverence for their place and their ancestors. Return journeys to the place where once the ancestors have started the practice of surface and pit deposition add value to the place. In turn, the place constitutes additional specific meanings for any activity held on it, thus providing an area for (re-)negotiation of social issues, for pilgrimage, worship and devotion. The reason for the initial choice of this particular place is difficult to reconstruct. However, an assumption for the possible attraction of the place could be made on the basis of past and present environmental phenomena in Maritsa Iztok. The river Sokolitsa is well known for the coal seams in the profile of its banks. Some of them were still visible around Iskritsa even a few years ago. A characteristic feature of the coal in Maritsa Iztok is its spontaneous bursting into flame at the very moment of the first surface exposure when it comes into contact with oxygen. This is not a devastating process, rather usually producing slow-burning embers and smoke (pers. comm. P. Karacholov). So it is likely such spontaneous mini-eruptions took place near Iskritsa when communities have already inhabited the landscape along the Sokolitsa valley. Indeed, the toponym ‘Iskritsa’ is a diminutive form of ‘Iskra’, which means ‘sparkle’. The illumination effects and the smoke may have attracted people’s attention and, after the active process has stopped, the place where the natural phenomenon had happened became a sacred place. The visual properties that attracted people to this place were transformed into a cultural statement, which gradually developed as a site for pit-deposition of sherds both ancient and modern.
The site – Drama – a tell-in-process-ofbecoming Tell Merdzumekja is located c. 36km east of Iskritsa. The site was the main focus of investigation during the longlasting German micro-regional research project called ‘Drama’ after the name of the adjacent village. The site was almost totally excavated, with documentation provided of occupations from the Neolithic up to the Early Iron Age (Fig. 3.7). Several publications present some of the evidence and materials found on the tell but a detailed monograph on each of the occupational levels is still in preparation (Lichardus et al. 2001). The site is located on low hill in the flood plain of Kalnitsa river at 119m asl. It is in a flat area with a southwest aspect. The visibility from the tell is good over the flood plain 2.4km to the northwest, over the first terraces and the highest areas of the steep hill to the southwest, as well as over the low hills 1.3 km to the northeast of the site. The panorama to the southeast is limited by a small hill up to 182m high. The earliest occupation of the site is dated to the Karanovo IV period. Two facts point to the at least partial enclosure of the first settlement in the northwest part of the low natural mound, by a double palisade: (a) the discovery of Karanovo IV sherds in the base of the palisade trench; and (b) the stratigraphic superposition of Karanovo V houses over part of the palisade (Lichardus et al. 2001). The palisade at the northwest end of the tell consisted of a double row 35
Enclosing the Past
Figure 3.7. Plan of Tell Merdzumekja, Karanovo VI level (source: Lichardus et al. 2001). of postholes. The distance between the rows varies from 1.60m to 1.80m. Few details have been published about the Karanovo IV occupation. The construction of an at least partial palisade in the Karanovo IV phase would have blocked visibility into and out of the low hill and channelled movement. The Karanovo V settlement was also probably enclosed but, by then, the double palisade had been replaced by a Cshaped ditch comprising one large (60% of the circumference) and one small (10% of the circumference) segment, with one large and one small gap (Fig. 3.7; Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 31). Small quantities of Karanovo V pottery were found at the bottom of the ditch. The excavators did not state whether or not the bank inside the ditch was also dated to this phase. The ditch was re-cut six times; the chronology of the six re-cut phases was not yet clear at the time of the publication and a preliminary suggestion was made that it is not impossible for the first three phases to have been
filled with material from the Karanovo V settlement. Part of a second palisade system was found in the northeast part of the site; the discovery of segments of a palisade trench found “in many sections” (2001:87) suggests some kind of interrupted palisade system perhaps akin to British ‘interrupted ditch enclosures’. The replacement of the palisade in the Karanovo V phase by a low bank and ditch with entrances in the same places increased two-way visibility while creating similar access pathways to and from the site. At least 61 houses were found on the tell, all located within the area bounded by the ditch (N360), as were the numerous pits and some shallow holes (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 31). On the basis of the overlapping of houses, several building phases were claimed for the Karanovo V period. The one-room houses covered between 27 m² and 94m². Their inventory consisted of ovens, grinding stones (usually located close to the ovens), platforms, shallow 36
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? holes and ash-pits. Details of pit deposition were given for only two pits (Nos. 67 and 26/33), both of which were interpreted as sacrificial pits. The first one contained two shepherd’s crooks made from antler. The second one had a compact pottery scatter, over which numerous deliberately fragmented tortoise shells were found. House finds included fragments of pithoi, cooking vessels, table vessels, spoons, miniature vessels, vessel ‘imitations’, pendants, beads, Spondylus bracelets, buttons and bone applications (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 36 and table 28). Also found on the tell are figurines, clay plaques, altars and other ritual objects (Lichardus et al. 2001, tables.19–22). The figurines were divided into two types. The first type was specially made to facilitate deliberate fragmentation. In contrast, the second type was produced in a way, which prevents fairly easy fragmentation (Lichardus et al. 2001, figs. 37, 38). Both figurine types were found fragmented, which made the investigators conclude that this was some common act of ritual breakage (Lichardus et al. 2001:94). Only one case of a foundation deposit was reported from the Karanovo V settlement; under the floor of house 900, in pit N966 there were two dishes with freshwater shells in each of them (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 35). Two further occupations are dated to the Late Copper Age (Karanovo VI). These settlements were totally excavated over an area of more than 10,000m². The settlement continued to be enclosed by a later phase of the same C-shaped 2segment ditch, by now up to 8m in width (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 23). At the smaller gap between the ditches, a complex of several pits and palisades was excavated, which however, did not receive any interpretation. Excavation of the 25m-wide zone between the ditch and the settlement area revealed the presence of a bank whose base was fortified with stones. The pottery in the upper ditch fill was mainly from the Karanovo VI period. The presence of almost whole Karanovo VI vessels and some exotic flint blades from northeast Bulgaria, together with burnt house rubble, was interpreted as an indication of deliberate ritual back-filling of the ditch, after the transformation of the initial function of the ditch. Active use of the ditch reinforced the traditional spatial patterns of access and impediment to movement to and from the tell, while reducing obstacles to visibility. As the tell grew to a height of 3m, it slowly became a major cultural monument in the gently sloping basin landscape. At least 25 houses, shallow holes, storage pits and pits with other functions were found within the bank and ditch. Only two excavated features were found outside the area bounded by the ditch: two pits (Nos. 830, 825), interpreted as clay-pits. They were filled with ‘settlement rubbish’ (Lichardus et al. 2001:65), viz. sherds, charcoal, bones and daub, deposited soon after the final use of the other pits. Traces of house reconstruction (e.g. N224), some overlapping features and dwellings, whose plans were not possible to reconstruct, made investigators infer more than one occupational phase. It was not specified, however, which set of features belonged to which phase. The 25 houses from the Karanovo VI period were suggested to have been distributed between several clusters, each consisting of six to eight dwellings. The construction of the houses was similar to the construction of the Early Copper Age houses; several had interior wall decoration of red spirals painted on white plaster (2001:54). Most of the houses had a northwest / southeast orientation, rectangular shape and their area varied between 20.5–104m². Some of
the bigger houses had a shed attached to one of the short walls. All but one (N244) were one-storied houses, with an entrance on the one of the short walls. In most of the dwellings, there were domed ovens and related clay shelves for storage of pottery. Also close to the ovens, there were usually big pithoi, strainers, ladles, grinding stones, scrapers and pestles. All of the houses were burned at the end of their lives. The last settlement was abandoned after the houses were deliberately levelled. The well-preserved pottery in the houses made the investigators infer that the deposition of the vessels and the successive destruction of the houses was a deliberate act. Two main types of pit were recognized in the Karanovo VI period. The first type comprises shallow pits of irregular shape, located very close to the houses. The second type includes small, circular to oval pits with different depths, located at some distance from the houses, which were mainly used for storage. Traces of a ‘street’ were also found, which took the form of a strip covered by small stones and sherds. Those features identified as distinctive of the later Karanovo VI occupational phase included a ritual platform and a series of structured deposition places covered by stones and a rectangular building (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig.16). The ritual feature (N37) is reconstructed by the excavators as a rectangular platform 3.4×4m in size, made from sand, clay and chaff, whose surface was several centimetres above the ground. On the right and left side of the platform, there were two shallow rectangular pits. Along the north side, a 2m-high wall was built. A raised path 2.2.m long and 0.75m wide was attached to the platform (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig.17). The feature had traces of a massive fire but excavators had difficulties in deciding whether these were a result of fire during the building of the feature, during its existence, or after its active use. It contained sherds, a spoon, a vessel with a round base, two miniature vessels, two clay wheel models, two fragments of clay plaques and a fragment of a zoomorphic figurine. The paucity of clear dwelling traces led to the conclusion that feature 37 should be related to ritual activity. Building N206 from the later horizon had two rooms with traces of a massive fire. Close to the building, there were two places for structured deposition, each covered by stones, plus one more at some distance; all in all, there was a total of three large (Nos. 371, 241 and 253) and 23 small stone scatters. Generally, they follow a similar pattern of deposition – tools, ritual objects, bones and sherds, overlain by a stone scatter. In some cases, the bones were in anatomical order. The deposition of figurines, fragments of altars, etc., in between the bones led the investigators to conclude that this resulted from deliberate rather than accidental deposition. Most of the scatters were dug into the earlier Late Copper Age (Karanovo VI) layer (houses 244 and 380 in particular). Not surprisingly, finds from a completely excavated Copper Age occupation were extremely numerous. The main source for house contents is House 244, which, together with the above described features, contained over 200 vessels (Lichardus et al. 2001, table 4). Some of the vessels were whole and contained other vessels (Lichardus et al. 2001). During a visit to a National Museum of History exhibition about Drama (July 2002), we had the opportunity to see the pottery from house 244. It consisted of mainly whole, well-burnished, fine vessels of different shapes and sizes. According to the excavators, this house was the 37
Enclosing the Past only one with two storeys; on the second floor, the fine, decorated pottery was kept, while, on the first floor, there were the cooking and storage vessels. There were ovens on both floors, and different types of stone tools were found mainly on the first floor. House N206 had a hearth, three whole vessels, 130 sherds that belonged to restorable but still not whole vessels, a figurine, a stylised zoomorphic figurine, a wheel model and two rectangular vessels (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig.18). Bone tools, polished stone tools, grinding stones and many animal bones were also found in the building. Each house produced an average of 15,000 sherds, from which up to 200 vessels were restored (Lichardus et al. 2001 figs. 24–25). Apart from the vessels and the sets of vessels, there were also lids, ladles, spoons, funnels and strainers. The presence of earlier sherds in a later context received the unlikely interpretation of the storage of building material. Sherds and animal bones were found in the construction of the ovens, floors and walls and it was concluded that these were kept in the houses for future construction work. An alternative explanation concerns the inclusion of older, ancestral material in the materials used for building of new structures, to presence the ancestors (for an example from the Bronze Age of Mataci, in Dalmatia, see Chapman et al. 1996). Very few metal objects were found (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 26), which contrasts strongly with the numerous finds of slag, globules of metal, a tuyère and smelting pots. These remains of metal production are potentially very significant, since there are few, if any, examples of on-tell evidence for copper smelting (Raduntcheva 2003:57). Bone and clay figurines, anthropomorphic vessels, zoomorphic figurines, clay models of wheels and boats, clay horns, stylised zoomorphic figurines, altars, clay plaques, models of ovens and cult buildings complete the variety of finds at the Karanovo VI settlement (Lichardus et al. 2001, figs. 27– 30, tables 8–16). It was underlined that, despite a careful search, the missing parts of the figurines were not found. On a completely excavated site, this indicates transport of parts of figurines off site (for the southern Bulgarian tell of Dolnoslav, see Chapman and Gaydarska 2006). The post-Karanovo-VI history of the site can briefly be summarised. The last (sixth) phase of ditch fill of N360 was accepted as belonging to a period post-dating the Karanovo VI occupation of the site. There was no evidence of houses co-eval with this final ditch re-cut within the enclosed space. The only Early Bronze Age occupation on the tell comprises the digging of two pits and the deposition of sherds; two almost whole vessels were found in pit 75 (Lichardus et al. 2001:41 and fig.13). More secure Early Bronze Age evidence derives from an area immediately southeast of the tell. A settlement from the Cernavoda III period was excavated over an area of 300m². The cultural layer consisted of a scatter of wall rubble, sherds and numerous pits (Lichardus et al. 2001, figs.14, 15). A burnt house of wattle and daub construction and a clay-coated wooden floor was found. Ten meters from the building, a pit with pottery, stones, melting pots, fragments of tuyère and metal globules was excavated. This evidence was interpreted as an indication of on-site metallurgy. A comparison of the two sites, Iskritsa and Merdzumekja, suggests a range of similar social practices which have, however, been concentrated if not extended at the enclosed site. At both sites, there are:
1: houses or structures built of (Merdzumekja) or on (Iskritsa) thick clay platforms especially constructed for deposition of special finds; 2: ancestral sherds deposited in houses constructed in later periods (at Merdzumekja, these are also built into the ovens and walls and floors of houses); 3: deliberate burning of houses at the end of their lives. However, at Merdzumekja, these practices of structured deposition have been extended in several ways, including the amassing of huge quantities of vessels into a household ‘death assemblage’ (e.g., the 2-storey House 244), the frequent episodes of structured deposition from the earliest phase of occupation (sherds placed in the post-holes of the Karanovo IV palisade) up to the latest Copper Age dwelling (complete vessels, exotic flints and burnt house daub placed in the ditch), as well as the creation of a new type of context for deposition of everyday finds in special ways (the stone scatters of the late Karanovo VI occupation). All of these practices indicate a strong ritual focus on deposition at Merdzumekja, which is not paralleled at Iskritsa. Another difference between the sites is the apparent absence of structured deposition in pits at Merdzumekja, in contrast to Iskritsa, where there are several pits with unusual finds (whole vessels, animal skulls) and evidence of burning. This difference may well be real, since the German excavators have recognised structured deposition in other contexts. A third difference concerns the construction of a single two-storey house (N244) at Merdzumekja, in contrast to the Iskritsa buildings. There are also several houses with red painted plaster on the tell. Finally, there is the presence (unusual for Balkan tells) of on-site evidence of metallurgical production at Merdzumekja, for which there is no trace of evidence at Iskritsa. The latter, however, has its own pyrotechnics which are clearly absent from the enclosed tell, the spontaneous combustion of coal leading to the minor eruption of a mud-volcano. This remarkable manifestation of local geology clearly turned Iskritsa into a special place where the chthonic realms touched the surface life of the surrounding communities. On the tell, in contrast, a slowly diversifying place-biography, enhanced by very different forms of enclosure, led to the emergence of a central place whose distinctive features were strongly predicated upon structured deposition of a variety of forms. It would seem that the enclosure of the tell was part of the earliest (Karanovo IV) occupation and remained so until after the final house-burning phase in late Karanovo VI. This made a difference from other sites, both in Drama and in Maritsa Iztok. Here, at least, we can identify a case where early enclosure not only maintained, but made a significant difference to, the character and symbolic significance of a settlement.
General discussion The recurrent theme in studying enclosed sites and whatever is deposited within them is of great variability. Perhaps not surprisingly, this is also the case with Neolithic and Copper Age enclosures in Central and Eastern Europe, where local communities are drawing upon a wide range of often shared (or at the very least overlapping) suites of practices and material culture in rather specific ways to negotiate their individual paths through the complex social world of settled life. 38
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? There is a consistent settlement background to the emergence of the practice of enclosure. Enclosures emerged from within a pattern of established, settled communities, more often than not at village scale. This is the case with the settled Vinča villages of southern Serbia, e.g. Pločnik, just west of the Leskovac Basin (Grbić 1929), and cf. Divostin, further north in Šumadija (McPherron and Srejović 1988). While there may be no examples of 50-hectare sites in the southern part of the Vinča distribution (cf. Chapman 1990, fig. 2.19), the sites comprise dense artefact deposit amidst house remains covering 2–10ha. Similarly, in Wallachia, tell-living emerges in the Late Boian period, coeval with the earliest known enclosed sites. In southeast Bulgaria, too, Neolithic tells such as Gudjova mogila were established in the Maritsa Iztok area well before the occupations at Iskritsa (Gaydarska 2004), while only flat sites representing homesteads are known before the first dwelling on Merdzumekja, in the Drama valley (Lichardus et al. 2001). In Hungary, the discovery of a large (40ha) flat Middle Neolithic site at Polgár-46, some 5km southwest of Csőszhalom, indicates significant settlement agglomeration in northeast Hungary prior to the emergence of tell enclosure (Chapman et al. 1997; UTP). It is only on the Black Sea littoral that there is hitherto no evidence for communities larger than homesteads prior to the settlement on the Big Island (Dimov 1992). Here, the major landscape foci were large cemeteries, such as Hamangia and Ceamurlia de Jos (Berciu 1966), with the largest known located at Durankulak. It is therefore perhaps no coincidence that enclosure post-dates, as well as overlapping in time with, the strongest mortuary nucleation on the Black Sea coast. It can, therefore, be argued that, far from representing an initial concentration of social practices, the earliest enclosures were at least in part a response to intra- and inter-community tensions found in already existing nucleated sites. In other words, we are dealing with a classic case of an emergent arena of social power, in which there is the potential for distinctive social action not hitherto possible on settlement sites (cf. Chalcolithic cemeteries, see Chapman 1991). To what extent was this potential realised? We seek to answer this question with a consideration of form, content and place-biography. To begin with the two intra-site comparisons, the three sectors at Late Vinča Gradac reveal systematic differences in the content of depositional practices (especially figurines and metallurgy) but not in their overall form. Deposition in pits on the Big Plateau is not necessarily more intensive than in the other two sectors but it is more widespread, because the Plateau is larger than the occupation site on the Southwest Slope and because the hilltop deposition went on over more than decades. This would suggest that another significant difference between hilltop and other locales concerns their place-biographies: the Big Plateau accumulating a longer and more diverse narrative, in turn leading to continued deposition. The role of place-biography is also important at Csőszhalom, where the tell-to-be was established in the middle of the largest cluster of former Middle Neolithic homesteads in the Polgár Block. While the radiocarbon dates confirm occupation of several hundred years on both the tell and the horizontal settlement, there is a sense in which social practices are much more concentrated on the tell than in the settlement. If Raczky is correct that the horizontal settlement was not occupied throughout at the same time, the mobility of the house groupings would be a
contrast to the timeless solidity – in its own place – of the place that grew into a tell. This tell solidity is, of course, a fiction, as shown by the alternations of structures and palisades, unenclosed and ditch-enclosed space. But it was a convenient fiction, supporting the local elites in their maintenance and expansion of social power – those ritual leaders who were the only persons able to perform vital ceremonies on behalf of the community on the enclosed space. What Csőszhalom also shows us is the interdigitation of social practices between settlement and tell, whether in construction of buildings, burials, prestige pottery or exotic lithics. The differences between animal bone deposition on the tell and the settlement, for instance, are hardly greater than between the inner tell and its surrounding ditches. But what may appear to be relatively minor differences in the content of deposition may have taken on much more significance by dint of the context and form of their final deposition. There is thus an inevitable recursiveness in the interpretation of paired comparisons. Turning to inter-site comparisons, the area where the least differences are apparent is southern Serbia, where the scale and form of deposition at Valač is broadly similar to that in any of the three Gradac sectors. The centaur figurine is given great prominence at Valač, perhaps more so than with any comparable figurine type at Gradac, but this is the only focus of special deposition. It is the noteworthy combination of centaur discard within a palisaded space and inside a drystone wall in a rocky place which makes Valač so different from almost every other Vinča site. The two cases of settlement on an islet which formed its own natural enclosure produced very different types of contrasts. The strongest contrast between the two sites lies in their locations in their landscapes. The massive tell of Gumelniţa is a dominant presence in the landscape, rising high above the first terrace on which it stands. The islet of Căscioarele is sometimes hardly visible against the higher terraces surrounding the lake, suggesting a liminal place separated from everyday life. These contrasts in emotional content as much as in topography were built on and exploited in the settlement of each place. Social practices at Căscioarele included deposition of some extraordinary ritual finds, many within the two-storey buildings with painted walls and pillar altars which are not replicated at Gumelniţa. Betokening extensive exchange networks and power relations, the latter’s exotic imports are not paralleled at Căscioarele, even though many material forms are common to each site. In the closing stages of their occupation, both Durankulak and Vinitsa dominated their landscapes as high and significant monuments. However, settlement on the ‘Big Island’ was a deliberate choice of a rocky islet naturally dominating the Durankulak liman and towering over the shoreline which was first settled in the Early Hamangia period and whose adjoining terrain was transformed into one of the largest mortuary spaces in the Balkans. Since the islets of Căscioarele and Durankulak are of fundamentally different character, it may not be surprising to find elite residences and elite control of ritual places on Durankulak Island, with any notion of liminality subsumed under more generic power relations. The stone architecture, two-storey structures and life-size figurines remains share one common emphasis, on prestige generated through size. By contrast, the space settled at Vinitsa was initially not a mound but a palisaded settlement with a secluded interior, which lost its 39
Enclosing the Past palisade in Phase II. Thereafter, it was only with the passage of social time that the mound emerged and the site began to assume visual prominence in the surrounding landscape. Low-level social and material differentiation may have marked out some of the houses but there were no signs of major distinctions. In this case, the selection of a dominant islet made a major difference to the long-term biography of one of the key sites in European prehistory. The landscape context of the final pair of sites is rather similar: sites in the lower part of their respective valley, each with good visibility in most directions. As the Merdzumekja occupation grew into a tell, the visibility for the occupants changed little but the tell itself became more prominent in the Drama basin. Neither of these sites gives the impression of the landscape dominance expressed at Durankulak, Gumelniţa or Valač. The main difference in the development of these sites is the way in which the Iskritsa hill remained the same size, at least until the end of the occupation, co-eval with the minor eruption of the mud volcano, while Merdzumekja was transformed into a tell. While Iskritsa and Merdzumekja shared several similar social practices, the focus of the latter on household and other accumulation and deposition, as well as on the significance of fragmentary figurines, built upon the more extensive place-biography of the tell to ground the deposits in a more complex and recursive site history. It can thus be claimed that the landscape specificities of each site are closely related to the form of deposition, if not the exact content. The extreme cases here comprise the small rocky hilltop site of Valač and the extensive flat-topped Big Island at Durankulak. To what extent do communities in these sites – each pair remote from every other pair – draw upon a common stock of symbolic resources to enrich the bricolage of their material practices? Before a discussion of such shared practices, it should be noted that structured deposition is as much a feature of unenclosed as of enclosed sites in Central and Eastern Europe (Chapman 2000a), indeed it forms the habitus for such shared practices. This point was reinforced in one of the author’s study of settlements in southeast Bulgaria, where, although hardly recognised by the excavators, structured deposition was present at almost all of the sites (Gaydarska 2004). A cluster of practices is sufficiently recurrent between our sample of sites to merit further discussion. Three relate to the context of deposition, four to its content. Special deposition in pits is documented at all of the sites except Căscioarele and Gumelniţa, though deep shafts cutting through ancestral tell layers are known at the latter. There are several sites which consist wholly or largely of pits, the so-called ‘pit-fields’ of the Big Plateau at Gradac, the Hamangia settlement at Durankulak and Chalcolithic Iskritsa. These sites indicate medium- or long-term commitment to place through the primary mechanism of deposition of a range of things in pits; the start and finish of each occupation of such sites was probably sanctified through deposition in pits (Chapman 2000). Pit deposition is thus a characteristic of unenclosed and enclosed sites, while pit-fields typify a smaller number of both site classes. A second frequent context of deposition (in some cases the term should be accumulation) concerns houses deliberately burnt at the end of their use lives. Burnt houses are known at the majority of these sites but there are also significant absences: Valač (cf. presence at Gradac/ Southwest Slope), Vinitsa (cf. presence of much burnt
daub on site at Durankulak: 1996 visit) and Csőszhalom flat site (cf. overwhelming presence on the tell). It should also be noted that burnt house daub was taken from dead houses and incorporated into ditch fill at Csőszhalom and Merdzumekja, as an enchained accumulation of meaningladen ancestral material. Again, it is difficult to differentiate unenclosed from enclosed sites on this criterion, though the re-deposition of burnt daub in ditches is a feature of only enclosed sites. The third context of deposition is the mortuary context, which is rarely associated with special structures at sites such as Căscioarele, Gumelniţa, the tell at Csőszhalom, but apparently neither the south Serbian nor the southeast Bulgarian sites. It is only at Durankulak and Vinitsa that separate cemeteries provided an alternative arena of social power for local elites. The relationship of mortuary practices to enclosure appears distant, with regional burial traditions the stronger influence on mortuary practices. An exception to this principle is found at Csőszhalom, where children are commonly buried on the tell, yet hardly at all on the flat site. In general, then, the contexts of deposition are not restricted to enclosed sites but form a wider network of practices throughout the whole range of sites. Turning now to the content of deposition, in many ways the feature of Balkan Neolithic societies most different from those of the Northwest European Neolithic is the profusion of figurines. It is thus not surprising that concentrations of (generally fragmentary) figurines occur at most of these sites, though, again, there are significant absences: two sectors at Gradac (both Plateaux; cf. presence on the Southwest Slope house and at Valač); Vinitsa (cf. presence at Durankulak tell); both sectors of Csőszhalom and Iskritsa (cf. presence at Merdzumekja). The frequency, size and form of deposited figurines would appear to be good criteria for distinguishing unenclosed from enclosed sites. Many of the figurines, especially at Valač, are crusted with red pigment. Indeed, the prominence of the colour red in several media provides a symbolic referent for all of the enclosed sites but for only Vinitsa of the unenclosed (red ochre powdered on to house daub). By contrast, it is the yellow/black contrast which is so impressively figured in the well deposit at the horizontal settlement at Csőszhalom and at other Hungarian Neolithic sites (for the symbolism of red at Lepenski Vir, see Borić 2002; for Varna and Durankulak colours, see Chapman 2002). The incidence of feasting has increased in line with ever finer archaeozoological criteria (e.g. Russell 1994). The piles of food remains from the 1925 excavations at Gumelniţa remain possible evidence for feasting, although the emphasis on primary meat bones from especially red deer at Căscioarele and on red deer and other wild animals at Csőszhalom suggest venison and boar steaks as the most sought-after dishes. Although there is uneven archaeozoological investigation of unenclosed sites, it would appear that feasting remained the province of those with access to enclosures. Finally, in this early stage of copper metallurgy, the processes may well have required what Childe (1950) called ‘magico-religious practices’ for efficient birthing of copper objects. Three out of the four sites where traces of copper have been found are enclosed sites: the copper workshop at Durankulak is matched by traces of on-tell copper smelting at Merdzumekja, while an ornament hoard of copper beads was deposited at the Csőszhalom tell. The only exception is the Southwest Slope house at Gradac, with its fragments of copper. The special intensity of ritual practices on enclosed sites may 40
Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference? well have been an important factor in successful copper production. Thus, the general rule is that it is the content of special practices rather than their spatial context, which distinguishes enclosed from unenclosed sites.
would like to thank Pál Raczky also for inviting her to study the Csőszhalom lithics and Katalin Bíro for discussions of lithic raw material sources. All of us thank the editors for their kind invitation to contribute a chapter to the book.
Concluding remarks
Bibliography
Four main points emerge from this comparative survey of unenclosed and enclosed sites in Neolithic and Copper Age Central and Eastern Europe. First, we have identified a range of social practices in five regions in this study area in which the context of deposition is widely shared within both unenclosed and enclosed sites and the content of deposition is widely shared within only enclosed sites. Other chapters in this book indicate that the spatial context of such deposition is even more widely distributed in other parts of Europe, while the content of deposition, especially for figurines, is more specific to this study area. This means a network of concepts and practices that has developed across many Neolithic and Copper Age communities in the Balkans and beyond, as part of the habitus for many related, and unrelated, people. Secondly, because every site is, at some level, unique and redolent with its own landscape features and specific depositional characteristics, we find a strong sense of community identity, of difference from all others, especially neighbouring sites or sectors. This indicates a high level of community selectivity of those aspects of the shared habitus which is available to most, if not all, of these settlements. Explanations of the elements selected at any particular place will require understanding at the local level, involving such concepts as place- and objectbiographies, cultural memory and the rupture of traditions. Thirdly, while (because?) the number of known enclosed sites in this area is still low in comparison to unenclosed sites, the enclosed sites have created a difference. This difference may have been stronger in some areas (the Black Sea coastal zone), weaker in others (southern Serbia) but it can be identified. By dint of the recursive relationship between places and objects, even if two identical redcrusted figurines are deposited respectively at an enclosure and at a nearby unenclosed settlement, that figurine takes on the metaphorical attributes and place-values associated with the enclosed site, adding to the place-value of the enclosure. To paraphrase the famous Cretan Heraklitus: “ You cannot cross the same palisaded enclosure twice …”. The study of enclosure in this part of Europe is still in its early stages; like a rebellious teenager in a strict household, the data do not readily fit into a single interpretative scheme, but are always making vocal protests at the poor fit with our expectations. The rapidity with which the conclusions reached in this chapter become outdated will surely be the criterion for the pace of change and development of this research topic in the next decade.
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Neolithic. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Schwartz, C. 1998. Eastern Hungary: animal bones from Polgár-Csőszhalom. In P. Anreiter et al. (eds.) Man and the Animal World. Bökönyi-Festschrift, pp. 511–514. Budapest: Archaeolingua. Spassov, N. and Iliev, I. 2002. The animal bones from the prehistoric necropolis near Durankulak (NE Bulgaria) and the latest record of Equus hydruntinus Regalia. In H. Todorova (ed.) Durankulak Band II. Die prähistorischen Gräberfeld von Durankulak, pp. 313–325. Berlin: DAI. Stalio, B. 1972. Gradac. Praistorijsko naselje. Beograd: Narodni Muzej. Stevanović, M. 1997. The age of clay: the social dynamics of house construction. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 16:334–395. Tasić, N. 1957. Praistorijsko naselje kod Valača. Glasnik Muzeja Kosove i Metohije 2:3–63. Tasić, N. 1959-60. Završna istraživanja na praistorijskom naselju kod Valača. Glasnik Muzeja Kosove i Metohije 4–5:11–82. Todorova, H. (ed.) 1989. Durankulak Tom I. Sofia: BAN. Todorova, H. 1997. Durankulak. Fritz Thyssen Stiftung Jahresbericht 1995–96:81–84. Todorova, H. 2002a. Durankulak Band II. Die prähistorischen Gräberfeld von Durankulak. Berlin: DAI. Todorova, H. 2002b. Die geographische Lage der Gräberfelder: Paläoklima, Strandverschiebungen und Umwelt der Dobrudscha im 6.–4. Jahrtausend v. Chr. In H. Todorova (ed.) Durankulak Band II. Die prähistorischen Gräberfeld von Durankulak, pp. 17–25. Berlin: DAI.
Web-reference http://ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/projArch/uppertisza_ba_ 2003/index.cfm
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4: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia in their central European context Vladimír Podborský and Jaromír Kovárník Abstract: From the very beginning of the Neolithic, there occur in Europe examples of the enclosure of certain noteworthy settlements by means of a ditch, wooden palisade, and sometimes by an earthen bank. Such settlements became known to archaeologists from the 20s and 30s of the last century. Their interpretation has fluctuated from economic explanations (kraals or winter quarters for cattle, market-places, food storage), through defensive and ritual concepts, to the idea of seignorial seats or aggrandising ‘central’ sites. A corresponding terminology was devised for each individual interpretation. Both Neolithic and postNeolithic enclosures, however, have to be understood in a differentiated way; one must distinguish the encircling enclosure of sites from the enclosure of circular or square areas inside or on the edge of sites, to which a socio-cultic function is today unambiguously assigned. Apart from this, the question of enclosing is connected with the building of the earliest hilltop fortified sites – hillforts – and the existence of the newly discovered linear ditches and pit rows (pit alignments). All these forms of Neolithic enclosure or fortification are considered in this article on the basis of the situation in Moravia, where between 1968 and 1978 a Neolithic circular ditched area, or ‘rondel’, belonging to the Lengyel culture (with so-called Moravian Painted Pottery), was discovered, excavated and interpreted for the first time in central Europe. In the article, consideration is given to Neolithic ‘rondels’ from a pan-European standpoint.
opened. It thus came about that a single interpretational criterion was applied to enclosures of very different kinds, so that a proper conception of the function of individual types of enclosure was difficult. In the literature a range of suggestions for interpreting Neolithic enclosures was made over the course of time. The survey of possible functional interpretations of undifferentiated Neolithic earthworks which Petrasch offered (1990a:369, 371; cf Kaufmann 1997:46) may serve as an example. According to him, we could be dealing with the following: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
Fortified places (defensive formations); Refuges (‘Fluchtburgen’); Cattle enclosures (‘kraals’); Fortified kraals; Winter quarters or markets for cattle; Fortified market-places; Neolithic ‘seignorial residences’; Places for cult ceremonies; Places connected with burial activities; Central meeting-places with economic, social and cult functions; 11. Supra-regional meeting-places, in which communal feasts took place.
From the standpoint of terminology a considerable degree of arbitrariness also ruled; authors generally either wrote of ‘fortified areas’ or ‘ditched areas’, or, influenced by the presumed function of such features, of ‘cult places’, ‘markets’, ‘cattle enclosures’ (cattle kraals), ‘seignorial residences’, ‘citadels’, ‘village churches’ and so forth. Only gradually did people come to differentiate the two basic types of enclosure/fortification: surrounding and internal. In what follows we will strictly observe this basic distinction.
Keywords: Neolithic, enclosure, ‘rondel’, hilltop settlement, linear ditches, pit alignments. Moravia, historically a constituent part of the Czech Republic, falls within the cultural sphere of the middle Danube with its component territories – southwest Slovakia, western Hungary (Pannonia), and Lower Austria – and shared the same fate as them in prehistory. In 1967 a Late Neolithic enclosed circular area or ‘rondel’ was discovered at the locality ‘Sutny’ near Těšetice-Kyjovice in southern Moravia, and between 1968 and 1978 this was investigated in detail; it was the first discovery of its kind in central Europe. With it the era of the so-called ‘rondel archaeology’ was inaugurated, which in the ensuing decades has seen the appearance of several dozen similar sites in Europe from Hungary to western Germany. In Moravia the tradition of investigating Neolithic enclosures, and more recently postNeolithic as well, has continued since that time (Podborský (ed.) 1999, 2001). In the course of discovering and evaluating new fortification elements on settlements, no distinction was usually made between enclosures surrounding the whole site and enclosures surrounding only a larger or smaller circular area within the site. The enclosure elements – ditch, palisade, sometimes an earth rampart – were of course the same in both cases, and at the start little attention was paid to the plans of the enclosed areas; in any case they were frequently unclear, given the small extent of the trenches
Surrounding enclosures The earliest true evidence of settlement enclosure on a central European scale comes from the Early Neolithic, from the LBK milieu, and already from its early phase; in all, in the wider central European area, six enclosures of this earliest horizon have been discovered. Eilsleben (early phase), Eitzum and Brno-Nový Lískovec are the most important. The greatest incidence of settlement enclosures, however, falls at the close of this culture, when their number increases especially on the borders of LBK distribution on the Lower Rhine (Darion, Erkelenz-Kückhoven, KölnLindenthal, Langweiler 3, 8, 9, etc), and in the other settled areas. From Moravia six localities in all are so far proven, with an enclosure ditch either excavated to some extent (Brno-Nový Lískovec, Uničov, Vedrovice) or at least recorded (Bořitov, Černá Hora, Rájec-Jestřebí) (Berkovec and Čižmář 2001). From neighbouring Lower Austria, 44
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia apart from the most significant earthwork at Asparn-Schletz (Windl 1996, 1999), there are also the sites of Pulkau and Weinsteig-Großrußbach (Lenneis et al. 1995:32), and from Pannonia above all Becsehely (Kalicz 1983–84:287, plate 2). In the majority of cases the basic element of the enclosure is a ditch of moderate depth, trough-shaped profile, and flat bottom (‘Sohlgraben’), but pointed ditches (‘Spitzgraben’) also appear, especially on later sites. The course of the ditch is very often followed by an internal palisade (or palisades) and a presumed earth rampart; the question of the erection and placement of an earth rampart (outside or inside the ditch) is currently hard to resolve; each specific situation must be looked at individually. Of the Moravian sites, Vedrovice must be mentioned, where three Neolithic ditch lines were found superposed on one another (Fig. 4.1): I: a ‘Sohlgraben’ enclosing a settlement of middle LBK date (c. 5400–5200 BC); II: the ‘Spitzgraben’ of a small ‘rondel’ of the Lengyel culture with so-called Moravian Painted Pottery (MPP) of the early developed phase (c. 4600–4500 BC); and III: the slight ‘Spitzgraben’ of a trapezoidal rondeloid of the MPP early phase (c. 4800–4700 BC) (Humpolová and Ondruš in Podborský (ed.) 1999, fig. 2,3; Humpolová 2001). The Vedrovice settlement thus belongs to those sites with continuous enclosure ditches, for which one imagines some sort of ‘genius loci’, or which were marked out as ‘loci consecrati’.
The thorough excavation of Asparn-Schletz in Lower Austria produced very important results, especially for interpreting the meaning of Early Neolithic enclosures (Windl 1996, 1999). A ditch with flat bottom (‘Sohlgraben’) was identified there, in the earliest settlement phase, enclosing a trapezoidal area with sides up to 400m long; this early formation was overlain in the southwest part by massive oval ditched fortifications about 7ha in extent, in places renewed up to three times, dating to the late LBK and the Želiezovce period. The ditch of this late earthwork was broken in at least five places by earthen ‘bridges’ or causeways (entrances); the two main ones, connecting east to west, are still respected at the present day (!) by the communication routeway called (significantly) the ‘Totenweg’ (Fig. 4.2, 8). In the fortified area the characteristic groundplans of Early Neolithic long houses, clay ovens and depressions were found. Excavation of the fill of the latest ditch produced a surprise, consisting (in the part so far excavated) of around one hundred skeletons of murdered people. They lay in groups, on top of one another, or individually, just as the victorious attackers had thrown them into the ditch. They had numerous fatal wounds on their skulls and bones, caused by blows with blunt instruments and arrowheads. Traces of gnawing by dog teeth showed that the dead were left for some time to their fate. Anthropological analyses have shown that they were part of the normal settled population. The complete absence of weapons with these skeletons is plain evidence of the fact that the inhabitants were not prepared for this attack; they were taken by surprise.
Figure 4.1. Vedrovice, southern Moravia. A: plan of the ensemble of Neolithic settlement structures; I: enclosure of the LBK culture, II: ‘rondel’ of the Lengyel (MPP) culture, III: rondeloid of the early Lengyel (MPP) culture. B: profiles of the ditches, 1: structures in enclosure I; 2: structures in enclosure II, 3–5: structures in enclosure III. A after Podborský; B after Humpolová. 45
Enclosing the Past
46
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia The situation at Asparn-Schletz, according to the excavator, indicates a long-standing hostile confrontation with some local settlement unit or units. Most likely the site had ambitions to become the central settlement of the region; the result of this was a marked concentration of inhabitants, perhaps several hundred people, clearly possessing significant material means; this may have been one of the motives for the attack on the settlement (Windl 1999:54). In our consideration of the usual ideas about the significance of Moravian and Middle Danubian Early Neolithic enclosures, we may begin with the study by Kaufmann (1997), who set out the most up-to-date list of sites on a European scale, with descriptions, dividing them into three types (Langweiler, Köln-Lindenthal, Darion), and provided some thoughts about the causes for their rise, development and function. Naturally we must also take into account Kaufmann’s earlier work, as well as the studies of other scholars, namely Höckmann (1975, 1990), Lüning (1988), Petrasch (1990), Bogucki (2001), etc. From the point of view of site purpose, a consideration of enclosures of Köln-Lindenthal type is perhaps especially justified; these sites are distributed along the Lower Rhine (Fig. 4.2, 7, B–D). The relatively extensive areas enclosed in this type (3–4 ha) have an oval to rectangular outline; they are as a rule defended by ditches with flat or pointed bottoms, banks and palisades. The interior space was occupied, and the water source (spring or well) was also included in some instances. Evidence of violent attacks and battles, in some cases human bone remains with traces of violence, has been found by archaeological excavation on sites of this type (Eilsleben, later enclosure; ErkelenzKückhoven; Köln-Lindenthal, later ditch B and C; AsparnSchletz, later earthwork). Enclosures of Langweiler type normally have an oval or irregularly oval to trapezoidal plan, fortified by one or more ditches, normally with pointed base, and without internal palisade (Fig. 4.2, 1, 3). The area enclosed is slight (less than 1ha) and not subdivided; evidently there was no permanent occupation on them, as no house plans are attested (Kaufmann 1997:67). Perhaps they are more like cult places to which the inhabitants of the surrounding settlements came to perform ceremonies in honour of the vegetative forces of nature, that is to ensure crop growth and fertility; finds of ovens, carbonised grain, stone grinders and so on attest to that. In this connection one should not ignore the suggestion of Petrasch (1990:489, 492) that it is these enclosures that represent a developmental stage on the road to the rise of Middle and Late Neolithic circular sites, that is, the ‘rondels’. This idea becomes much more likely if a relatively late date can be demonstrated for enclosures of Langweiler type within the framework of the Early Neolithic, as well at least a formal similarity with early Lengyel sites of the Middle Danube (Frauenhofen, Vedrovice III, Sé) and perhaps also with contemporary sites of the Upper Danube (Straubing-Lenchenhaid; cf Hašek and Kovárník 1996). Single-phase enclosures of Darion type, whose number is so far limited, are the most difficult to classify (Fig. 4.2, 4). These are sites somewhat smaller than was the case with the preceding class, in most cases having a roughly regular oval outline, again surrounded by ditch, palisade and bank.
They can be subdivided into residential (usually southern) and economic (usually northern) parts. On the eponymous site four house plans were recovered in the southern half of the enclosure; the northern part was used for grazing and as a place for various industrial activities (stone-working, crop silos, grain-grinding, fodder storage, etc). According to Kaufmann (1997:58, 66, 71) these are sites designed for agricultural and industrial activity and distributed above all in western Europe. Although the outline of a typological division of Early Neolithic enclosures is useful, one cannot regard it as absolute, either chronologically or geographically. The numbers of Early Neolithic defended sites are not so large that their typology could be confirmed statistically. The explanation of the function of Early Neolithic enclosures therefore proceeds across all three basic types of earthwork considered above. In essence, there are three principal reasons for enclosing: ‘magical’, economic, and defensive, the last two closely connected with each other. The spontaneous wish to protect oneself against the dangers of the surrounding world, whether real or imagined, is a general feature of the human psyche. The enclosure or fortification of human settlements is “an inherent phenomenon of Early Neolithic cultures” (Höckmann 1990:81; cf Makkay 1990), the stimulus for which came from Anatolia and the Balkans to the interior of Europe, according to these authors. If, however, the tendency to protect settlements is a universal human phenomenon, then perhaps it is not necessary to rely on external influences to explain it; a ‘polycentric’ origin for Neolithic enclosures is quite conceivable. The constructional elements of enclosure or fortification (ditch, palisade, sometimes earthen rampart) are in practical terms the same, and in many cases it is hard to distinguish one from the other. Vencl (1997:36) summarised opinions about the mythological or magical meaning of prehistoric fortifications, which apparently separate a “clean and sacred space inside from an unclean and demonic outside”, while cautioning against an underestimation of their military, defensive function. If genuine fortifications had a symbolic rather than a practical meaning (Neustupný 1995:199), this would apply even more to the simple enclosures. The greater number of entrances into the earthworks would in such a case not be a detrimental factor. It would then be comprehensible if cult activities took place on some types of enclosed site, as has been suggested for sites of Langweiler type. However, we cannot be sure about a purely magical explanation for enclosure. It seems that here as in other aspects the sacred or mythological viewpoint is overemphasised to the detriment of genuine day-to-day needs. Thus we come to the economic explanation of the causes of enclosure. Each community protected its possessions (herds of cattle, stored food and fodder, raw materials) and its natural resources (wells, cisterns, springs) behind ditches and palisades; it is not necessary to ascribe this purpose just to enclosures of Köln-Lindenthal type, although it is there that this seems especially well-founded. The larger and richer an enclosed settlement unit, the greater the significance it acquired, in that it could aspire to an administrative or leading function,
Figure 4.2 (opposite). Enclosures of the Early Neolithic LBK. 1. Langweiler 8; 2. Uničov; 3. Langweiler 9; 4. Darion; 5. Brno-Nový Lískovec; 6. Erkelenz-Kückhoven (W = water source); 7. Köln-Lindenthal; 8. Asparn-Schletz. 1, 3, 6, 7 after Kaufmann, 2, 5 after Čižmář, 4 after Keeley & Cahen, 8 after Windl. 47
Enclosing the Past or even to become the cult centre of a district. Exchange contacts could also be realised there. A natural, perhaps a confrontational, wariness of other similarly ambitious units would then arise. Of course the construction of larger enclosed or fortified settlements could not take place without good organisation. The digging out of the ditch at Asparn-Schletz will have created a good thousand large truckfuls of earth; a simple farming population with no internal structure could not have managed such a task, according to Windl. One imagines that society was internally differentiated in social terms, at least in this late phase of the Early Neolithic; Windl (1999:54) even suggests the existence of some kind of ‘feudal structure’, the rise of which would obviously have been hastened by military danger. Ideas about the Neolithic egalitarian ancestral society, the “golden age of humanity” of the period (Brentjes 1973), or about the “amiable government of tender woman’s hand” and suchlike, were long ago discredited. Social stratification is also markedly evident in contemporary cemeteries. Early Neolithic enclosures were perhaps not built primarily for defensive reasons; they arose instinctively in the course of development, in connection with population growth, and clearly peaked at the close of the Early Neolithic, when the LBK population suffered an obvious crisis.1 At that point – at a time of genuine danger of military attacks – some original enclosures were perhaps remodelled for defensive purposes, and other new, intentionally defensive, constructions were built. At the end of the LBK, the number of enclosed or fortified settlements increased markedly. These were a genuine defence against attack, and furthermore acted as a demonstration of force and strength. However, defence motives may have existed on the peripheries of the farming oikumene in Europe already from earliest times; this perhaps was a question of defence against indigenous Mesolithic peoples. Of present-day specialists, it is especially Windl who prefers the defensive, fortress interpretation of earthworks (1999:54ff.). He leans towards the notion that enclosed or fortified settlements of Schletz type were genuine closed forts, to some extent independent and relatively densely inhabited. If, for example, the settlement at Asparn-Schletz had about 300 inhabitants, it could have contributed eighty fighting men to its defence; too small a number according to Windl, given the length of the fortification (around 800m) and the existence of at least five entrances. Because of the insufficient number of fighting men, women probably also had to take part in the defence of the site. The larger number of entrances into the interior, which originally made life easier (simpler access to the settlement from all points of the compass), now revealed itself as a great weakness; it was exactly here that an aggressor could more easily attack, and it was the entrances that one would have to defend especially well. At Asparn-Schletz the devastating battle took place exactly around these entrances.
Human skeletons with traces of fatal blows, on the other hand, do not have to be indications of a genuinely defensive function for enclosures. As Kaufmann (1997:68) shows, the find of a tightly crouched skeleton of a 17–19 year old woman together with a cow’s skull, having a blow to the forehead and placed under a layer of nine spreads of stone, deposited in the half-filled ditch of the latest fortification at Eilsleben, is evidence of sacrifice rather than aggressive attack. Certainly more evidence for human sacrifice, placed in abandoned ditches for religious reasons, could be quoted. Nonetheless, human skeletons in a range of earthworks of Köln-Lindenthal type (though not only these) are proof of real massacres in war. The contexts of deposition and the numbers of buried skeletons with signs of fatal wounds caused by stone axes, shoe-last adzes and flint arrowheads attest to this: at Thalheim 34 individuals (16 children and adolescents, 18 adults consisting of nine males, seven females and two of uncertain sex); at Vaihingen 55 skeletons in the ditch and 29 others in a pit not far from the ditch, etc; these numbers are of course far from final, since no site has been completely excavated. Finally, a very important reason for the construction of enclosures is the need to secure water supplies. Both late and final phases of the LBK belong to the dry oscillation of the Atlantic period, when ensuring the survival of wells or natural water sources was important. To summarise: Early Neolithic enclosures appear from the very beginning of the LBK in central Europe; their number gradually increases and peaks in the late and final phases of LBK development. Among the reasons for their rise are above all the defence of material assets (including raw materials and water sources) from neighbouring competing agricultural groups, in some cases also more distant groups of surviving Mesolithic plunderers; the defensive motivation for the rise of earthworks increased in significance towards the end of the the LBK period, when its bearers entered a period of serious internal social crisis and external threat. I do not think magico-mythological reasons for the rise of fortifications were primary. On the contrary, a special significance can be assigned to the rise of smaller unoccupied sites of Langweiler–Frauenhofen–Vedrovice III type, which are a sign of the diversification of enclosures and a key idea for the ensuing socio-cultic architectures. The enclosure of settlements naturally did not end with the decline of the Early Neolithic LBK civilisation. In the east-central part of Europe, the Middle Neolithic starts at the beginning of the fifth millennium BC; new southeastern currents begin to assert themselves, leading to the rise of the Painted Pottery Culture – the Lengyel Culture and its local groups. In the west-central part of the continent the development leads to the rise of the poorer cultures with stroke-ornamented pottery (Stichbandkeramik, SBK). On the Middle Danube at this time the separation of the two worlds mentioned above continued; the eastern part
1 The decline of Early Neolithic LBK civilisation is connected by some scholars with a pan-European crisis, provoked by a population explosion and insufficient food resources on the one hand, and by the pressure of a new, progressive, Late Neolithic population with Painted Pottery from the southeast on the other. This crisis led to a range of mutual aggressive conflicts, the destruction especially of the large central settlements and the slaughter or sacrifice of their inhabitants (Windl 1994, 1999). This is possibly a somewhat catastrophic vision of the end of a single Neolithic era, from which one should perhaps not generalise. For a buffer area between the two, newly forming post-LBK worlds (the pre- and proto-
Lengyel world to the east and the Šárka-Oberlauterbach to the west), it does perhaps apply. And it was Lower Austria and southern Moravia that formed this buffer area! It was exactly here that one can discern both the traces of the decline of the late LBK population, and the evidence of the macabre end of one of the regional centres – the settlement at AsparnSchletz. One can understand the probable withdrawal of part of the late LBK population from this dangerous zone as either a cause or a result of the pressure of new cultural elements from both sides. The penetration of Želiezovce and Šárka elements into the Moravian-Lower Austrian zone is archaeologically attested.
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Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
Figure 4.3. Enclosures of the Middle (1–3, 7) and Late Neolithic. 1. Pavlov, southern Moravia; 2. Plotiště nad Labem, eastern Bohemia; 3. Frauenhofen, Lower Austria; 4. Wetzleinsdorf, Lower Austria (4a: plan of a house ‘of Lengyel type’ with ‘courtyard’); 5. Hluboké Mašůvky, southern Moravia (5a and b: plan and reconstruction of the gate in entrance no. IV); 6. Falkenstein-‘Schanzboden’, Lower Austria; 7. Jülich-Welldorf, western Germany. 1 after Kazdová, 2 after Vokolek & Zápotocká, 3 after Lenneis, 4, 6 after Lenneis et al., 5 after Podborský, 7 after Lüning. 49
Enclosing the Past (Pannonia, western Slovakia) leans towards the emerging Late Neolithic civilisations with Painted Pottery, the western part (Lower Austria, Moravia) becomes a part of the retarded civilisation with stroke-ornamented pottery. In the contact zone between the two parts, on the other hand, penetrations occurred in each direction. In the western part of the Middle Danube, one can now observe a clear population decline. The SBK-people link up with their predecessors, but remain isolated from progressive influences from the southeast, and their material and spiritual culture declines. So far we know relatively little about their settlements, but in recent years enclosed sites of the SBK have been successfully located (Fig. 4.3, 1–2): Pavlov in southern Moravia (Kazdová 2000, fig. 1); and Plotištĕ nad Labem in eastern Bohemia (Vokolek and Zápotocká 1997:6, fig. 3). In both cases we have an enclosure surrounding a relatively large irregular oval area with internal buildings. The smaller broadly oval enclosure at Frauenhofen near Horn in Lower Austria (Fig. 4.3, 3) is distinct from them; one must understand it as a prototype for the somewhat later Late Neolithic ‘rondels’. Further earthworks of the early Grossgartach culture in central Germany correspond chronologically to the latter, for instance Jülich-Welldorf (Fig. 4.3, 7) or Langweiler 12 (Lüning 1983–84:16, Pl. 2), while the larger oval enclosures of the Rössen culture, for example Inden I (Fig. 4.9; Lüning 1983–84:17, Pl. 6; Preuss, (ed.) 1988:188 Beilage 6, Map 11:9), are somewhat later. Here in western Europe, diversification of enclosures also occurred; from the oikumene of the Rössen culture we already know of both a classic circular ‘rondel’ (Bochum-Harpen) and the traces of a quadrangular enclosure (Bochum-Laer) (Lüning 1983–84, fig. 4, 5). The period of the later Neolithic2 and Eneolithic (in the middle and southeast European terminology) saw further differentiation of enclosed and fortified settlements. Sites with surrounding enclosures continue, differentiated both morphologically and functionally; already from the early phase of the Lengyel culture the fortified hill-top settlement type (hillfort) appears. However the internal enclosure became the dominant phenomenon especially of the succeeding Late Neolithic (Lengyel culture), predominantly of circular form (‘rondels’), but in individual instances also quadrangular enclosures. The best-known Late Neolithic surrounding enclosure in Moravia is the earthwork of the MPP culture3 at Hluboké Mašůvky (Fig. 4.3, 5); the site is famous for the find of the well-known female figurine, the ‘Hluboké Mašůvky Venus’, and for the reconstruction of one of its entrances as a fortress gate (Fig. 4.3, 5a,b) (J. Neustupný 1948–50). Further evidence for surrounding enclosure apparently comes from the uncovered part of the pointed-base Late or epi-Lengyel multi-phase ditch at Seloutky in central Moravia (Čižmář 2001, spec. 247). In both cases the site apparently had a surrounding enclosure and a ‘rondel’ inside. The best example of a Late Neolithic Painted Pottery Culture complex enclosure in Lower Austria comes from
Wetzleinsdorf (Fig. 4.3, 4); its importance is increased by the finding of a spacious house of ‘Lengyel type’ with adjacent courtyard (Fig. 4.3, 4a), placed inside the enclosed space (Urban 1983–84; Lenneis et al. 1995:89–90, figs. 41, 42). Traces of further enclosed sites of the MPP culture have been recovered from Stillfried-Ziegelei and StillfriedAuhagen, Pottenbrunn (Lenneis et al. 1995:90). Finally, from the end of the Neolithic to the Early Eneolithic comes part of a ditched and palisaded enclosure of later Lengyel date (Brodzany-Nitra and Ludanice) from Branč; unfortunately it was not possible to recover the plan of this enclosure (Vladár and Lichardus 1968:328, 330 fig. 6). Exceptionally good evidence for the enclosure of Late Neolithic settlement sites, with ‘rondel’ or ‘rondels’ placed within the internal structures, comes above all from the Upper Danube. The irregular double-ellipse enclosure from Schmiedorf (Fig. 4.6, 11) is the best example of this (Trnka 1991:276, fig. 109); in its interior is a triple-ditched and a single-ditched ‘rondel’. The situation is similar at KünzingUnternberg (Fig. 4.6, 10), where a dominant ‘rondel’ of Lochenice-Unternberg type occupies a significant part of the enclosed area, the extent of which, however, was hard to estimate (Trnka 1991:270ff., fig. 107). Otherwise, the very first excavated ‘rondel’ of all, at Kothingeichendorf in Bavaria (Fig. 4.6, 7), was placed inside a complex outer settlement enclosure (Petrasch 1990, fig. 21; Trnka 1991:269ff., fig. 106). Traces of surrounding enclosures also come from Meisternthal (Trnka 1991:273ff., fig. 127), and possibly from other places. Enclosed settlements are known too from various areas of Eneolithic east-central, central and west-central Europe. A typical example of such an enclosure of the ‘Copper Age’, with an elaborate internal construction, is TiszalúcSarkad in the Tisza valley in Hungary (Fig. 4.4, 7), which Patay (1990) attributed to the Hunyadihalom group of the Bodrogkeresztúr culture. Varied large enclosures appear widely distributed in the south German Michelsberg culture. Besides extensive enclosed areas, usually of oval or angular shape (BonnVenusberg, Mayen, Miel, Urmitz, Lich-Steinstrass; Fig. 4.4, 5, 9), ‘rondeloid’ forms can also appear though they are not typical for this culture. The purpose of large enclosures is a matter of debate, in which profane or economic considerations predominate, not ritual ones (Eckert 1990). The situation is similar too in the TRB area and ensuing Eneolithic cultures in northern Europe. One may predict the discovery of enclosed settlement sites in the Altheim and Cham cultures (cf Fig. 4.4, 11, 12) of the south German ‘Late Neolithic’.
2 The terms ‘Middle’ and ‘Late’ Neolithic are understood differently in different areas. In the German literature the concept ‘Late Neolithic’ is restricted to the period roughly 3500–1900 BC, that is to the time otherwise known as Eneolithic or Chalcolithic, and the period c. 4500–3500 BC is designated ‘Middle Neolithic’. In the central and southeast European terminology, after the Early Neolithic (LBK, 5600–4900 BC) comes the Middle Neolithic with Stroke Ornamented Pottery (Stichbandkeramik, SBK) and the proto-Lengyel horizon (4900–4600 BC), and finally the Late
Neolithic with the Lengyel culture and its constituent groups, for instance the Moravian Painted Pottery or MPP (4700–3700 BC).
Hill-top settlements The positioning of a site on elevated terrain, defended partly by natural means, and sometimes suitably situated from the strategic point of view, should not surprise us. The
3
In Austria the Late Neolithic Painted Pottery culture is gathered under the term ‘Mährisch-Österreichische Gruppe’ (MOG – lit. ‘Moravian/Austrian Group’). Because this is an essentially identical cultural phenomenon to the Moravian Painted Pottery culture (MPP), both complexes are referred to jointly as the MPP/MOG.
50
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
Figure 4.4. Eneolithic enclosures. 1. Bajč-Vlkanovo, Slovakia; 2. Chleby, Bohemia; 3. Hienheim, Bavaria; 4. Iclod, Romania; 5. Urmitz, western Germany; 6. Ledce, Moravia; 7. Tizsaluc-Sarkad, northeast Hungary; 8. Makotřasy, Bohemia; 9. Mayen, western Germany; 10. Linzing-Osterhofen, western Germany; 11. Altheim, western Germany; 12. Galgenberg, Bavaria. 1 after Točík, 2 after Křivánek, 3 after Modderman, 4 after Lazarovici, 5, 9 after Eckert, 6 after Kovárník, 7 after Patay, 8 after Pleslová-Štíková, 10–12 after Becker. 51
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Figure 4.5. ‘Rondels’ of the Middle Danube. 1. Němčičky, Moravia; 2. Vedrovice II, Moravia; 3. Nitrianský Hrádok, Slovakia; 4. Rašovice, Moravia; 5. Klačany, Slovakia; 6. Strögen, Lower Austria; 7. Běhařovice, Moravia; 8. Hornsburg 3, Lower Austria; 9. Těšetice-Kyjovice, Moravia; 10. Rosenburg, Lower Austria; 11. Bučany, Slovakia; 12. Cífer, Slovakia; 13. Golianovo, Slovakia; 14. Svodín 2, Slovakia. 1, 4, 7 after Kovárník, 2 after Humpolová & Ondruš, 3 after Točík, 5, 12, 13 after Neugebauer, 8, 10 after Trnka, 9 after Podborský, 11 after Bujna & Romsauer, 14 after Němejcová-Pavúková. 52
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia earliest farmers of central Europe, however, did not seek out such spots; they did not suit their ‘extensive’ agricultural way of life. The desire to defend oneself on an elevated spot evidently connects with growing danger from enemy attacks, motivated by the possibility of acquiring wealth flowing from growing production, or from increasing craft specialisation. The earliest evidence for a hilltop settlement, in fact a settlement with multiple fortifications (i.e. a true hillfort in the proper sense of the word) is Falkenstein-‘Schanzboden’, lying on a 420m high peak (‘Heidberg’) in Lower Austria, not far from the southern Moravian border (Fig. 4.3, 6). The ditches and earth ramparts are still partly visible on the site. Excavation has revealed an extensive ditched and banked fortification in the shape of a rounded polygon with an area of 12ha, with an uncertain number of entrances (Neugebauer and Neugebauer-Maresch 1978, 1981); the entire earthwork was built by the MPP people around the junction of phases Ia and Ib. Even though the ditches were cleaned out, this early fortification did not last long. Some time in the course of phase Ib of the MPP, the early fortifications were levelled and in their eastern sector a smaller enclosure, oval in shape, was erected. The interior of this later hillfort was not occupied; according to the excavators, in this case the site served as a refuge (‘Fluchtburg’). So far the fort at Falkenstein has no analogies. The MPP people only began to build hilltop settlements in the late phase of the culture, as late as phase IIb, that is, already in the Eneolithic. Twenty-three of them in total have been listed in Moravia (Koštuřík 1983–84). Not all of them, however, were fortified straightaway. So far, there is no positive proof that these hilltop settlements were fortified; the sites were for the most part still occupied even later in the course of the Eneolithic when traces of the original defences may have been destroyed. In Moravia there are in all 59 hilltop settlements, in some cases fortified, and dating to various phases of the Eneolithic, including the late phase of the MPP (Rakovský 1990). Hilltop settlements of this late or epi-Lengyel period have also been found in Slovakia, Austria, Bohemia, and close to Moravia in its northern neighbourhood. We are thus dealing with a civilisation phenomenon that is connected with the developmental process indicated at the start of this section. Koštuřík declined to seek the reason for the creation of Eneolithic hilltop settlements in outside influences coming to the oikumene of the MPP people; he was perhaps correct in seeing the cause of their construction in internal social relations. His reasoning was that fortified settlements served as supporting points needed for the prospection for raw materials (suitable sorts of stone, graphite, etc.), exchange transactions, the hunting of wild animals, and so on; the reasons for their rise are then, according to him, predominantly economic, brought about by the population increase of the late Lengyel period (Koštuřík 1983– 84:101).
outline of a double circular ditch with an external diameter of around 70m, with two internal palisades and broken at the main compass points by simple entrances (Fig. 4.6, 7, 7a). In this way the very first of a long series of features was discovered, for which the term ‘rondel’ was coined much later. The discovery at Kothingeichendorf was later forgotten about. Only with the excavation of the MPP settlement at Těšetice-Kyjovice in southern Moravia was a new era of ‘rondel’ archaeology’ initiated in Europe. In the course of excavation between 1968 and 1978 a smaller simple ‘rondel’ with exterior palisaded enclosure (Fig. 4.5, 9) was uncovered, investigated and evaluated in detail (Podborský 1988). Soon new discoveries of circular ditches were made along the middle and upper Danube, in Bohemia and in central and western Germany. A combination of aerial and geophysical prospection meant that new circular sites began to appear continually, their number currently standing at some 115 (plus or minus). As well as simple sites with a single ditch, ‘rondels’ with two, three, four, possibly even five (Polgár-Csőszhalom) and most recently (and questionably) six ditches (Žitavce) have appeared. As far as size is concerned, one can distinguish ‘small’ sites (c. 40–70m diameter), ‘medium-sized’ (c. 80–120m), ‘large’ (c. 140–250m) and ‘giant’ sites (over 250m); they can also be differentiated in terms of construction method into several types. The ‘rondel’ at Těšetice-Kyjovice was situated just below a slight hill, to the southeast, and on a slope above the Těšetička stream, in close contact with its mother site that extended to the east. It was formed by a roughly circular massive ditch (external diameter 63.7×58.6m), on the south side its course somewhat flattened, and pointed in profile; and by two internal palisades and an external palisaded fence which closed off a slightly irregular oval area measuring 109 by c. 128m. Four entrances led into the interior, created simply by interrupting the ditch and internal palisades, while the exterior palisade had entrances provided by short internal corridors (Fig. 4.5, 9); the entrances faced approximately towards the main points of the compass. In the interior there were no substantial architectural elements; only ten cultural pits were found (three of them possibly to be labelled features of ritual character), three destroyed clay ovens and several post-holes apparently placed at random. On the northwest outer side, seven capacious grain storage pits lay close up against the ditch; in one of them the skeleton of a child with severed head lay on the bottom. The space between the ditch and the outer palisade bore traces of the existence of further constructions which could be considered the dwellings of the ‘guardian’ (or ‘guardians’) of the whole site. The settlement horizon of the ‘rondel’ site at TěšeticeKyjovice dates to the late part (4600–4500 BC) of the earliest phase (Ia) of the MPP (4700–4500 BC). This is the time of the ‘great explosion’ of Neolithic ‘rondels’ along the middle Danube. Other, analogous, sites gradually came to light in Moravia after this – both single and double-ditched ‘rondels’ – Němčičky, Vedrovice, Rašovice, Běhařovice (Fig. 4.5, 1, 2, 4, 7), Bulhary and Křepice. Further sites were identified by aerial prospection (Bálek 1985; Kovárník 1985, 1996, 1999), so that at present there are almost twenty Neolithic ‘rondels’ known in Moravia (Fig. 4.7); it has been proved that ‘rondel’ architecture outlasted the time of the ‘great
Internal circular enclosures – ‘rondels’ Between 1919 and 1924, the German archaeologist J. Maurer discovered and partially excavated the complex fortification system of the prehistoric settlement at Kothingeichendorf on the river Isar in Bavaria; in the northwestern part of the enclosed space he uncovered the 53
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54
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia explosion’ in Moravia, and appears in the course of subsequent development of the MPP (Bulhary) and at its close (Dolní Němčí, Seloutky, Uherský Brod, Vlčnov) (Podborský (ed.) 1999; Kovárník 1997, 2002a). A far wider assortment of ‘rondels’ has been discovered in Slovakia; in all, perhaps 26 circles have been identified, of which thirteen are single (the best-known being Nitrianský Hrádok (Fig. 4.5, 3), Ružindol-Borová 2, Svodín 1, etc), and eleven are double, e.g. Bučany (Fig. 4.5, 11), Cífer 1 and 2 (Fig. 4.5, 12–13); the questionable six-ditched ‘rondel’ at Žitavce is obviously only the result of an optical illusion, the combination of an earlier smaller enclosure, probably quadruple, and a larger later double enclosure. Systematic fieldwork has only taken place at Bučany (Bujna and Romsauer 1997) and Svodín (Němejcová-Pavúková 1995); the majority of the remaining ‘rondels’ were discovered by aerial photography (Kuzma 1997; Kuzma and Tirpák 2001a, 2001b, 2001c, 2003), confirmed by geophysics, and at most trial-trenched. Thanks to systematic aerial prospection, the largest concentration of Neolithic ‘rondels’ so far is attested in Lower Austria; around forty circular sites are known there today, of which eleven are single-ditched. e.g. Rosenburg (Fig. 4.5, 10), 21 double, e.g. Friebritz, Kamegg, Puch, Strögen (Fig. 4.5, 6), and seven triple, e.g. Hornsburg (Fig. 4.5, 10), Immendorf, Wetzdorf, etc. Great care has been devoted to the investigation of ‘rondels’ in Austria, both on the excavation side (Frauenhofen, Friebritz, Kamegg, etc) and in terms of evaluation (Trnka 1991). The situation in the Carpathian Basin is completely specific to it. Two ‘rondels’ come from western Hungary (Pannonia), from the early part of the Lengyel or the proto-Lengyel phase: a single-ditched site at Becsehely (Kalicz 1983–84:273, pl. 1.2, 2.1, 4), and a double at Sé (Károlyi 1983–84). N. Kalicz presumes the existence of a ‘rondel’ on the well-known Lengyel settlement at Aszòd (1985:97). Further circles (Jánoshida-Portelek, the Mecsek hills, Vokány) have been discovered by aerial photography (Bewley, Braasch and Palmer 1996; Kovárník 2002a) but their detailed measurements have so far not been published. From the Tisza valley comes a single or double circle from Apony, though it is not known whether it really is a ‘rondel’ or a Tiszapolgár culture mound (Raczky 1995). The alleged five-ditched ‘rondel’ from Polgár-Csőszhalom, so far only published in summary form (Raczky et al. 2002), presents problems. The existence of Neolithic circular enclosures in the northern part of the Balkans, perhaps in less classic form, is very probable; this is confirmed by the discovery of a single-ditched ‘rondel’ with two internal and one external palisade at Iclod in Romania (Fig. 4.4, 4) (Lazarovici 1991). In connection with the early Lengyel circles at Becsehely and Sé we touch on the problem of the place and time of origin of circular enclosures. Given the appearance of an enclosed site of the late LBK with a ditch of broad pointed shape at Becsehely in Pannonia, the broad oval enclosed site of the SBK at Frauenhofen in Lower Austria (Lenneis 1977), and the rondeloid sites of the early phase of Lengyel
at Becsehely, Sé, Vedrovice III, and other early sites (Svodín I, Friebritz, etc), a range of authors are persuaded of an origin for ‘rondels’ on the middle Danube (survey in Kovárník 1997:9ff, 2002a). A multi-centre origin is however not excluded, especially as far as late enclosures of the LBK Langweiler type is concerned (Petrasch 1990:419ff.). One can seek forerunners for classic circular ditched ‘rondels’ already at the end of the Early and in the Middle Neolithic, above all on the middle Danube, that is on the territory of present-day southern Slovakia, across Pannonia and Lower Austria (north of the Danube) into southern Moravia. The main period of appearance of genuine ‘rondels’ falls in this area into the earliest phase of the Lengyel culture (Lengyel I – MPP Ia), as already shown above in the case of the Těšetice-Kyjovice site, that is the period between 4700 and 4500 BC. We intentionally designate this chunk of time the period of the ‘great explosion’ of classic Neolithic ‘rondels’ with pointed-base ditches. From the middle Danube the construction of ‘rondels’ expanded on the one hand westwards to the Upper Danube and on to southern and southwestern Germany, on the other northwestwards to Bohemia and central Germany; both streams could have met on the Rhine. The single-ditched site at Ölkam and the double ‘rondel’ at Gemering near Linz in Upper Austria illustrate the direction of spread to the west (Trnka 1991; Neubauer, Melichar and Eder-Hinterleitner 1996). From Lower Bavaria nine ‘rondels’ are so far known: two single, five double and three triple (Fig. 4.6, 1, 7, 10, 11); their concentration south of the Danube, in the loess zone between the lower course of the rivers Inn and Isar (Fig. 4.8) is the result of intensive occupation by people of the Oberlauterbach culture, and the heightened interest in the problem (Christlein and Braasch 1982; Petrasch 1990; Becker 1990, 1996a; Trnka 1991). A speciality of the Lower Bavarian sites is the integration of ‘rondels’, sometimes too of square structures, into the overall enclosed area (Kothingeichendorf, KünzingUnternberg, Schmiedorf). From Bavaria ‘rondels’ got to Franconia (Ippesheim, Hopferstad-Ochsenfurt) and on to the north to North Rhine-Westphalia, where a single circle with at least eight interruptions to the surrounding ditch and traces of two posts inside has long been known at Bochum-Harpen, the site hidden by a settlement of the early phase (PlanigFriedberg) of the Rössen culture (Lüning 1983–84:17, Pl. 4). On the middle and lower Rhine this western stream of ‘rondel’ ideology’ evidently met with that arriving here from central Germany; together they then proceeded to present-day Belgium and Holland (the traditionally rich settlement of Limburg and Flanders), where in recent years a “large number of circles” has been discovered through aerial prospection, their purpose and age, however, not yet determined. The idea of constructing circular sacred architectures could theoretically have expanded further to France and the British Isles; there, of course, it could likewise have penetrated along Atlantic shores from an imaginary centre of megalithic monuments in the Mediterranean. The expansion of ‘rondels’ to the northwest can be seen
Figure 4.6 (opposite). ‘Rondels’ of west-central Europe. 1. Vieht, Bavaria; 2. Lochenice, Bohemia; 3. Eythra, central Germany; 4. Vochov, Bohemia; 5. Quenstedt, central Germany; 6. Bylany, Bohemia; 7. Kothingeichendorf, Bavaria; 8. Goseck, central Germany; 9. Kyhna, central Germany; 10. Künzing-Unternberg, Bavaria; 11. Schmiedorf, Bavaria. 1, 10, 11 after Trnka, 2 after Buchvaldek, 3 after Stäuble, 4 after Pavlů, 5 after Schröter, 6 after Pavlů et al., 7 after Petrasch, 8 after Fröhlich, 9 after Braasch. 55
Figure 4.7. Distribution of ‘rondels’ in Moravia.
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Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia first in east Bohemia (Holohlavy I and II, Lochenice), central Bohemia (Bylany, Krpy, Prague-Vinoř, Tuchoraz) and most recently in north Bohemia (Benátky nad Jizerou, Velíš, Vitiněves, etc.), in the area of the SBK late phase (IVa) (Pavlů 1982, 1983–84, 1986; Gojda 2000; Křivánek 2001:123; Ulrychová 2001). The site at Vochov in western Bohemia (Fig. 6.4, 4) should be connected rather with the wave coming to the west from the Danube area. Altogether, thirteen to fourteen ‘rondels’ of the period of the ‘great explosion’ are documented on the territory of presentday Bohemia, among them one triple (Bylany 4/2), seven or eight double (Bylany 4/1, Dolní Beřkovice, Holohlavy I, Lochenice, Prague-Vinoř, Vochov), and five single (Holohlavy II, Straškov, Velíš, etc.). The stream of rondel-building swept across Bohemia and on to the territory of the Stichbandkeramik in Saxony, Saxony-Anhalt and to some extent in Brandenburg (Oderbruch). In this connection we may note that ‘rondel’ architecture has not so far been securely identified in the territory between the Oder and the Vistula. The roughly circular enclosure or fortification of the Neolithic LubelskoWolynia culture settlement at Bronocice (Kruk-Milisauskas 1985), usually seen as connected with Neolithic ‘rondels’ (Kruk-Milisauskas 1999:72–77), actually belongs within the category of perimeter enclosures. In Saxony, a simple ‘rondel’ with two identified entrances with wing-like corridors at Dresden-Nickern 1 (Kurz 1994, fig. 20) is worthy of mention; in Saxony-Anhalt, the quadruple circular feature (Fig. 4.6, 9) photographed from the air at Kyhna (Mikschofsky 1999) is also remarkable, as are the well-documented triple ‘rondel’ from EythraZwenkau (Fig. 4.6, 3) (Stäuble 1999:161–162, 179, fig. 12), and the simple ‘rondel’ with two internal palisades and three entrances with external winged corridors at Goseck (Fig. 4.6, 8) (Braasch 1993:35; Fröhlich, (ed.) 1997:29, fig. 17). The ‘emporial’, quintuple palisade ‘rondel’ with three entrances (Fig. 4.6, 5a, 5b) at Quenstedt (Behrens 1981) is unique. From the Oderbruch region two not particularly well dated circular sites are known (Quappendorf and Platkow: Braasch 1995:121, fig. 13). In all, at least ten localities with ‘rondels’ are known from central Germany, but their number is growing rapidly as aerial prospection becomes more widespread. Ideas about the origin of ‘rondel’ architecture on the middle Danube and its spread in both basic directions further west is also supported, albeit in preliminary form, by the chronological evidence. The period of the ‘great explosion’ of ‘rondels’ seems not to have extended beyond the first developmental phase of the Lengyel culture (MPP/MOG Ia), which roughly matches phase IV of the Stichbandkeramik in Bohemia and central Germany, and the early phase of the Oberlauterbach culture along the upper Danube, but there are indications of a certain temporal shift in the dating of ‘rondels’ to the west and northwest of their cradle area. These are imports of MPP/MOG phase Ib (!) vessels, found in the Stichbandkeramik area (Kazdová 2001:47); in this case, the discovery of such pottery in close proximity to the ‘rondel’ at Künzing-Unternberg (Petrasch 1990:427, 1994:214) is of particular significance, while the Lengyel vessel in the ‘rondel’ at Dresden-Nickern 1 (Kurz 1994, fig. 20) is evidence of only loose contacts between the two cultures. The direction of expansion of the ‘rondel’ ideology is also illustrated by the importation of Oberlauterbach culture pottery in the ‘rondel’ at Ippesheim
in Middle Franconia, Germany (Schier 1999:20, fig. 9). The problem of the longevity of the true function of ‘rondels’ is also linked to the period in which they arose. Leaving aside ditches cut into rock (Běhařovice, Křepice, Gaudendorf), the wood and earth sites (‘woodhenges’) could not long resist natural forces (rain, snow, ditch erosion); the ditches quickly filled up, and had to be regularly cleaned or renewed. The re-utilisation of ditches, i.e. digging new ditches or remodelling old ones, has been documented at a long list of sites, including Vedrovice II (Fig. 4.1, B:2) and III, Mašovice, Seloutky, Svodín, Mühlbach am Mannhartsberg, Künzing-Unternberg,etc. Neugebauer(1986a:191,1986b:78) found in the case of the great ‘rondel’ at Friebritz up to six renewals of the inner ditch, from which he judged that the site had been in use for a considerable length of time – from 3–7 generations. By contrast, Podborský (1988:250) has suggested the shorter-term use of ‘rondels’ over periods of 1 or at most 2 generations, i.e. 25–30 years. The existence of functioning ‘rondels’ was also bound up with the specific site histories, i.e. the longevity of the parent settlements. A short period of use is also suggested by the relatively frequent building (Vedrovice III and II) or rebuilding (Svodín 1 and 2, Cífer, Žitavce) of ‘rondels’ on the same place; specific variants of ‘rondel’ rebuilding have been documented at Žlkovce (see Fig. 4.10) with seven rebuilds of a palisade rondeloid (Pavúk 1990, 1991:350), and at Künzing-Unternberg, where, after the disappearance of the classic ‘rondel’, a palisade enclosure was established (Petrasch 1990:376). The dynamic rhythm of life in the period of the ‘great explosion’ of ‘rondels’ is attested by the fact that a series of ‘rondels’ remained unfinished. This was pointed out by Trnka (1997) in the cases of several features in Lower Austria (at Puch-Kleedorf, Rosenburg, Kamegg and elsewhere). In Moravia there is an unfinished site at Běhařovice (Fig. 4.5, 7) that was designed to be double, but where the greater part of the outer ditch was left incomplete, while other clear examples are to be found in the circle at Rašovice and the newly-identified feature at Velatice (Kovárník 2000). Evidence for unfinished ‘rondel’ construction in Slovakia comes from Ružindol-Borová (Němejcová-Pavúková 1997), and in Bohemia from Bylany 4 (Pavlů, Rulf and Zápotocká 1995), etc. Against the background of a now quite large number of Neolithic ‘rondels’, it is possible to define a field of ‘rondel’ archaeology’, which also takes into account the historical significance of these sites. First of all, their relationship to contemporary settlements will be considered. In Europe, ‘rondels’ may appear as part of the perimeter enclosure of a related settlement, but far more commonly ‘rondels’ are located within settlements, or in the vicinity of unenclosed settlements; the existence of solitary ‘woodhenges’ is problematic. Originally it appeared that the centre of enclosed settlements with incorporated ‘rondels’ was Bavaria (Fig. 4.6, 7, 10, 11), but examples are now known from Slovakia (Vel’ký Cetín), Moravia (Hluboké Mašůvky, Seloutky) and Bohemia (Slavhostice), and evidently from central Germany as well. The perimeter enclosure of settlements was evidently not a matter of regional preference, but the effect of large-scale archaeological excavation. Thus far cases in which the actual ditched ‘rondel’ is surrounded by a circular outer enclosure (palisade or ditch) – increasing its area and at the same time separating it from the parent settlement – are rare. There are records of two such instances of ‘doubled’ ‘rondel’ area: Těšetice57
Figure 4.8 Distribution of ‘rondels’ in the loess zone between the lower course of the rivers Tisza and Rhine. 1: classical ditch-rondels; 2: palisaded rondels (Quenstedt, Central Germany; Zlkovce, Slovakia; Inden, Bavaria); rondeloid structures from the border regions of Central Europe.
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58
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia Kyjovice in South Moravia (Fig. 4.5, 9) and Bylany 4/1 in Central Bohemia (Fig. 4.6, 6). The features identified between the ditch and outer palisade at Těšetice-Kyjovice (cf. above) reflect in various ways the special significance of this intermediate space. In general terms, one may pose the question of the formal typology of ‘rondels’. Classification by shape and construction is more significant than that by size or number of ditches (cf. above). As in the case of the Early Neolithic enclosures, however, there are no absolutes in the typology of the Later Neolithic ‘rondels’. Podborský has proposed that ‘rondels’ should be classified into three types: Kothingeichendorf-Těšetice (sites with four simple entrances – Fig. 4.5, 1–6, 9, 10, Fig.4.6, 7); Bučany-Svodín (more imposing sites with wing-like corridor entrances – Fig. 4.5, 11, 14; Fig. 4.6, 6,8) and Lochenice-Unternberg (two ditches which always conjoin at the entrance to the site – Fig.4.6, 2, 10) (Podborský 1988:243ff; Podborský (ed.), 1999:264, fig. 4). This classification has provoked a discussion in which both assenting and dissenting voices are to be heard. The basic ‘rondel’ forms described are self-evident, but new discoveries have shown numerous instances of the combination of different structural elements of the first two ‘rondel’ types in particular (Fig.4.5, 5, 8, 12; Fig. 4.6, 11); moreover it has been possible to designate an early variant – the Langweiler-Vedrovice III type rondeloid (Fig. 4.1, A:III) – and a new hybrid, the Golianovo type (Fig. 4.6, 13), has appeared, while one should also take palisaded sites into consideration. The proposed classification is geographically significant, but certainly not to be regarded as absolute. The simple Kothingeichendorf-Těšetice type is distributed in large numbers along the middle Danube (which accords with assumptions about its antiquity), but further than this, it occurs across the whole of ‘rondel’ Europe’. The imposing sites with wing-like corridor entrances are conspicuous in the central-eastern part of Europe, while by contrast doubleditched sites with linked ditches are to be found in its centralwestern part. Individual entrance corridors of the BučanySvodín type, whether interior or exterior, appear in various combinations across the whole of the ‘rondel’ world. Even in the South Moravian/Lower Austrian interface zone, there was space for the common occurrence of ‘rondels’ of all three basic types. Local inventions on the part of designers and builders also manifested themselves in the realisation of specific ‘rondel’ constructions. At the same time, the chronological significance of this classification cannot be completely demonstrated. There is a somewhat hypothetical assumption of a development from small, simple ‘rondels’ to large central sites like those at Svodín 2, Friebritz 2 etc., and from these to the later palisaded ‘rondels’, but so far there is no direct confirmation of this assumption. Development from small simple circles to large imposing ones is attested by, for example, the rebuilding at Svodín (Němejcová-Pavúková 1995), or by the time gap between pairs of opposing ‘rondels’ at, for example, Friebritz 1 & 2 or Glaubendorf 1 & 2 (Trnka 1991:17ff and 47ff), but a simple ‘rondel’ cannot automatically be assumed to have been older than its opposing twin or triplet: the reciprocal ‘binary opposites’ may express a relationship other than chronological. On the other hand, an unmistakable temporal succession is expressed by the building of the palisade ‘henge’ after the disappearance of the classic ‘rondel’ at Künzing-Unternberg (Petrasch 1990:376, 382ff). The later
date of palisaded ‘rondels’ is also confirmed by the many times remodelled site at Žlkovce in Slovakia (Fig. 4.10), unambiguously dated to phase II of the Lengyel culture, i.e. to the MPP/MOG Ib) (Pavúk 1992). The typological classification of ‘rondels’ stems from their main structural elements. These are again ditches, palisades, sometimes banks or earthworks, and entrances, sometimes with gates. The ditches of Late Neolithic ‘rondels’ generally show a regular, funnel-like profile with pointed base (Spitzgraben). At the surface they attain widths of 6–8 m and depths of up to 5m, although there are of course less massive ditches as well. In the great majority of cases these could not have been water-filled moats, and their significance may thus best be expressed as delimiting, symbolical, or magical. The number of surrounding ditches is important not only from the point of view of classification, but it is also an expression of the monumentality of the rondel. ‘rondel’ monumentality then relates directly to the importance of the settlement with which it is connected. The impressive triple-ditched sites known from Lower Austria, Bavaria, Bohemia and central Germany have a new parallel in the huge feature from Golianovo in Slovakia (Fig. 4.5:13), the monumentality of which cannot be doubted. The only known quadruple ‘rondel’ known to date (Kyhna I) still requires archaeological verification, as – like a similar feature at Cífer in Slovakia – it may be a combination of two, progressively built components, e.g. two double circles. Likewise, a site potentially with six ditches at Žitavce in Slovakia (Kuzma & Tirpák 2003:36–37, fig. 10:1–3) was apparently built in multiple construction phases. Leaving aside a quintuple palisaded site from Quenstedt in central Germany, no similar ditched ‘rondel’ is yet known; the supposedly quintuple ring at Polgár-Csőszhalom in the Hungarian Tisza valley (Raczky et al. 2002) is not yet securely classifiable. The purpose of the inner palisade fences is still a subject of debate. Pairs of inner palisades appear regularly, but larger numbers are not unusual. Palisades might have functioned as the revetment for earth ramparts (Němejcová-Pavúková 1986:180), but a number of field observations speak against this interpretation, in particular the interruption of palisade foundation slots even outside the entrances to ‘rondels’, or the existence of features between the two palisades. The significance of the posts placed at intervals in the palisade foundation slots, as some kind of element in a calendar in material form (analogous to the stones of the English megalithic henges or the Transylvanian ‘Dacian calendars’), remains speculative. Many opinions have already been published on the existence or non-existence of earthen banks of ‘rondels’. The masses of earth obtained by digging the large pointedbase ditches must have been used somehow. The simplest supposition – that a rampart was raised on the inner or outer side of the ditch – is generally unsupported by evidence from archaeologically investigated contexts. At TěšeticeKyjovice, for example, there could not have been a bank on either the inner or the outer side of the ditch (Podborský 1988:254ff). In such situations the use of the earth to create ‘ramparts’ between inner palisades seems a rational solution, but cannot be applied generally. The use of high-quality loess for building or production purposes, and the scattering of unwanted earth around about, also suggest themselves, among other explanations. 59
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Figure 4.9. Example of multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement: Inden 1, western Germany, of the Rössen culture, after Lüning. The classic Neolithic ‘rondels’ are usually characterised as having had four entrances. As a rule the various entrances to ‘rondel’ interiors faced – with certain variations – to the major compass points (Podborský 1988:268ff). This fact has been of interest to a number of palaeoastronomers (Horský 1986; Ministr in Podborský (ed.) 1999; Rajchl in Podborský (ed.) 1999; Karlovský & Pavúk 2002). There were also, however, sites with only two (Alekšince, Dolné Trhovište, Ružindol 2-Borová; Hornsburg, Puch, Rosenburg, Schletz, Gneiding-Oberpöring, Meisternthal-Landau, Strögen; Schmiedorf-Osterhofen 2; Holohlavy) or three (Vel’ký Cetín, Friebritz (?), Steinabrunn, Ramsdorf-Wallerfing, Goseck, Quenstedt) entrances, and, by contrast, circles with more than four. These anomalies may be explicable either from the purely technical point of view (the structures are unfinished), or as a result of the intention of the builders. The relatively frequent east-west orientation has been explained by reference to the rising and the setting of the sun, and thus as a reflection of the moving of the solar disc in the heavens (Kovárník 2002a); the northeastern orientations of several paired entrances (e.g. Ružindol 2-Borová) must therefore be the exceptions that prove the rule. It is to ‘rondel’ entrances, too, that the problem of the appearance of gates relates. In the majority of cases entrance passages were simple and freely traversed, even where there were wing-like corridors. Indicators of more complex structures, however, also appear, e.g. at the perimeter enclosure of the settlement at Wetzleinsdorf
(Fig. 4.3:4), or in the southern and western entrances to the ‘rondel’ at Těšetice-Kyjovice (Fig. 4.5, 9), where simple wooden gates may be presumed. Fortified entrances were assumed in the case of the settlement at Hluboké Mašůvky (Fig. 4.3, 5a, 5b); an analogy to this more complex entrance arrangement may be found in the construction of the gates of earthworks of the Michelsberg culture at Urmitz or Miel (Eckert 1990:402–403). Entrance orientation leads to a consideration of the relationship of ‘rondels’ to observations of heavenly bodies, i.e. to palaeoastronomy. This area has been received the most attention in the Czech Republic from Z. Ministr (Podborský (ed.) 1999:240–241); he asserts that the ‘rondel’ builders recognised a ‘Neolithic equinox’ that was only slightly different from the astronomical equinox, and that this knowledge was used in daily practice. According to Ministr, the feature at Těšetice-Kyjovice was deliberately situated in the landscape on a slope with a broad view over (or ‘window’ onto) the Dyje/Svratka valley, with its dominant landmark, the Pavlov hills. The sun rose at a declination of 3° 18´ at a latitude of 48.9° in the spring and autumn above the peak of Děvín (550m a.s.l.) in the Pavlov hills, which could be observed from the rondel. In the half-year cycle the spring equinox would thus have been on March 12th, and therefore potentially the beginning of spring agricultural labour. The importance of this date in the life of ancient farmers can be observed across a broad territory from the Persian 60
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
.
Figure 4.10. Multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement of the Lengyel culture: Žlkovce, Slovakia, after Pavúk.
61
Enclosing the Past Gulf to west-central Europe, and continues into the modern period. From the spring equinox (March 21st) to the winter solstice (December 21st) was an interval of 9 months, the period necessary for human gestation. This fact finds its expression even in the Bible (the conception of Christ in the period around the spring equinox – the Christian Easter – and his birth around the winter solstice – the Christian Christmas). For Neolithic farmers these dates were of decisive importance: the winter solstice was the harbinger of spring and the end of winter hardship, while the spring equinox meant a time to plough and sow new crops. The summer solstice, like the autumn equinox, was of lesser importance. For a functional interpretation of ‘rondels’ a knowledge of their internal structures in particular is extremely important. In this respect, research is still in its infancy. In only a few cases has open-area excavation shown that the interiors of ‘rondels’ contained no significant structures (cf. above, the situation at Těšetice-Kyjovice). There is, however, also evidence for the existence of standing post-built structures within ‘rondels’ at Bučany, Nitrianský Hrádok and Bulhary; one to two houses apparently stood within the triple ‘rondel’ of the Stichbandkeramik people at Eythra-Zwenkau. The case of the repeated building within the periodically renewed palisade rondeloid of Lengyel Phase II at Žlkovce (Fig. 4.10) is unique, with a long house being restored in each building phase, perhaps the seat of a leading figure in the settlement, or a socio-cultic feature (Pavúk 1990, 1992:3–9). Entirely in the realms of theory, it is possible to presume that ‘communal houses’ of similar kind were gradually ‘institutionalised’ into sanctuaries, and ultimately into true temples or palaces. Other traces of inner structures within ‘rondels’ are of little explanatory value, with the exception of a few cultural pits, some of which may be regarded as ‘sacrificial’ or more generally as cultic. The absence of larger structural features within ‘rondels’ would have permitted the use of the space for gatherings of the local population on the occasion of cyclical ritual ceremonies and social events. This brings us to the last and most weighty problem of ‘rondel’ archaeology: the interpretation of the meaning and function of ‘rondels’. With increasing knowledge the initially sceptical stance (Trnka 1991:318) has been overcome. It can clearly be shown that these unique structures, complex in terms of design and construction, play an important role in the spiritual life of early Europeans. Field information relating to ‘rondels’ is still insufficient because of its fragmentary nature. The documentation of aerial and magnetometric surveys, despite its significant informative potential, simply cannot replace the results of large-scale excavations at ‘rondel’ sites, of which there have as yet been very few. In the circumstances, all that can be done is to form basic models of possible interpretations. A series of authors, including P. J. R. Modderman (1983– 1984), J. Makkay (1986), V. Podborský (1988) and others, formulated the main areas that ‘rondel’ excavation should address as early as quarter of a century ago. These should include: 1. ascertaining the relationship of the ‘rondel’ to its parent settlement 2. ascertaining the character of structures within the rondel 3. a precise classification of the character of the enclosure/ fortification of the ‘rondel’ (size and shape of ditch,
character of palisades, existence of earthworks/ramparts if any and their siting inside or outside the ditch etc.) 4. recovering evidence of special activities, e.g. sacral, social or astronomical, within the rondel 5. establishing the geographical and astronomical orientation of the rondel. It has been possible to follow up or satisfy many of these requirements, at least in part. A theoretical model of a Neolithic settlement area has been formulated, comprising settlement, ‘rondel’ and cemetery (Pavlů, Rulf & Zápotocká 1995), and unmissable indications of the military or defensive significance of ‘rondels’ have also been discovered (Němejcová-Pavúková 1986; 1995; 1997). Every possible analogy has been considered, from the classic British henge monuments (Podborský 1988:224ff.; 1991), to the so-called ‘Dacian calendars’ (Podborský 1991; 2001; Bouzek 2001). J. Kovárník (1997; 2002a) has attempted to interpret the importance of ‘rondels’ in the broadest historical context. Since ‘rondel’ archaeology has come into being, the significance of circular ditches has in one way or another, speculatively or with factual arguments, been considered by a range of scholars. It is not necessary to recapitulate all of these opinions in detail here; there have been ideas of fortresses, places of assembly, sacral precincts, sanctuaries, seignorial residences, central places and so on. These are reflected in the terminology, too: circular structures are described as ‘round sanctuaries’, ‘sacred circles’, ‘solar temples’, ‘sociocultic areas’, ‘wood and earth rotundas’ and so on; in the German literature the general term Kreisgrabenanlagen is used, but the very specific Dorfkirche is also used. All of these opinions may be classified and summarised as being reflections of several basic interpretational models. 1. The economic model is founded in particular on the presence of grain silos at several ‘rondels’ (TěšeticeKyjovice, Troskotovice, Künzing-Unternberg), and for example the notable discovery that at the site of the future Late Neolithic ‘rondel’ at Bylany – as if to mark out a site with a special function – there was already a concentration of grain storage pits in the Early Neolithic (Rulf 1992:11). This shows that the concentration and use of grain storage occurred within the context of the community. The large numbers of stone querns commonly found in the vicinity of ‘rondels’ or in the fills of their ditches (in Moravia e.g. at Těšetice-Kyjovice, Vedrovice, Troskotovice, Rašovice), while not an unambiguous indication of the sacral grinding of grain (Makkay 1978), must reflect something exceptional. The most recent information shows several ‘rondels’ (e.g. Svodín, Künzing-Unternberg) to have been sites of possible exchange or perhaps the distribution of stone raw materials or silicites (Kazcanowska 1985), or even the supporting nodes of supra-regional trade as a whole. The suggestion that ‘rondels’ might have been some kind of kraal – enclosures for cattle, analogous to the ‘Erdwerke’ of the southern and western German Eneolithic – was disposed of relatively quickly; this was a view which formed in a period when the difference between enclosed settlements and true ‘rondels’ had yet to be clarified. 2. The social model stems from the presumption that settlements with ‘rondels’ acquired the character of ‘central places’ and gained importance as higher, administrative/ organisational units. The grouping of surrounding (‘daughter’?) units into a unified administrative and cultic 62
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia framework laid the foundations for future supra-familial organisational structures (Podborský 1976:139ff). For this reason they became places of assembly with debating and control functions, as well as territorial/administrative functions and territorial delimitation functions (Petrasch 1990:380). According to J. Pavúk (1990:140), the ‘rondels’ of large settlements fulfilled all the criteria of the true acropoleis of Antiquity. Being imposing, ‘rondels’ were also demonstrations of the strength and power of their creators (Kazdová and Weber 1990:163, 167), which may have played a significant role in the spread of the Late Neolithic innovations, or specifically the Lengyel culture with painted pottery.
by a range of field evidence including the presence of ritual pits within (Těšetice-Kyjovice, Füzesabony) or in the immediate vicinity of the rondel, the existence of incomplete or damaged human skeletons (sacrifices?), buildings with animal sacrifices, large numbers of human and animal (perhaps also deliberately broken or ‘sacrificed’) figurines and other cult items, particularly fine (painted) pottery, indications of the ritual grinding of flour, and so on. Taken as a whole, the presumed sacral function of ‘rondels’ is difficult to dispose of completely. Human religious activity need not leave archaeological evidence of all its acts, and the diversity of ritual ceremonies that were perhaps played out in these structures must therefore remain a subject for a combination of intuition and ingenuity.
3. The military (defensive) model was created immediately after the discovery of the first central European circles. This model was made more enticing by the concept of the modern military strategy of ‘circular defence’. It was soon abandoned under the influence of counter-arguments (the relatively small internal space of the ‘rondels’, the many entrances, the easily fired wooden structures), and because of the quickly adopted cultic interpretation of ‘rondels’. A contribution to its abandonment was also made by the still surviving view of the Neolithic as a conflict-free ‘Golden Age’ of humanity (Brentjes 1973), in which military clashes did not occur at all. Later field excavations, however, soon provided evidence of military attacks – just as with Early Neolithic enclosures (Ružindol I-Borová: NěmejcováPavúková 1997). It may be presumed that in times of danger, the area defined by a massive ditch – whether or not originally constructed for a different purpose – may, or must, have taken on the role of refuge.
A comprehensive consideration of life in prehistory, however, leads one to rule out all of the proposed models when taken in isolation. It is almost certain that these separate functions merged, interacted and coalesced in these ‘woodhenges’, while in cases of acute need (e.g. in the face of attack by an enemy) they might for a while have been dominated by just a single function (defence). The socio-cultic function of ‘rondels’ may be regarded as the standard. They fulfilled a combined social (assembly, management, administration, distribution), sacral (fertility, regeneration, prayer and other ritual) and apparently also calendrical (informative) role (Podborský 197:137ff; 1988:275ff; 1999:274ff; Kovárník 1997; 2002a). J. Makkay (1986, 1990, 2001) expressed the same idea, regarding them as social centres and the venue for social activities: assemblies and courts, cult ceremonies linked to sacrifice, dance, religious song, and perhaps even sporting contests. Human and animal remains might in his view be linked to building sacrifices made during the construction of these ‘sanctuaries’. It is clear that any activities linked to the ‘operation’ of ‘rondels’ were ‘shielded’ under the cloak of religion. After the initial boom in ‘rondel’ building at the beginning of the central European Late Neolithic, in the Lengyel I– MPP/MOG Ia phase, i.e. around 4700–4500 BC, there was a transitional retreat in ‘rondel’ ideology. Evidence for or traces of ‘circles’ from later in the Late and Final Neolithic (in Moravia at Bulhary, Brno-Líšeň and Seloutky, in Slovakia at Žlkovce) justify the presumption of continuity in the appearance of such ‘woodhenges’ into the Eneolithic and later times. The technical parameters of postNeolithic ‘rondels’ naturally vary: their basic fortification elements consist of either shallow ditches with flat bases (Trockgraben), or – sometimes – somewhat symbolic ditches (Muldengraben), or mere palisades. In any event, the progress of development can be traced in the ‘lightening’ of the originally massive ditches, and a trend towards the mere symbolisation of the shrinking enclosed areas. In central Europe the Eneolithic ‘rondel’ has been documented in a settlement of the Boleráz phase of the Baden culture at Bajč-Vlkanovo in Slovakia (Fig. 4.4:1; Točík 1987). Unique evidence of a double ring with a central sacrificial pit has come from Füzesabony in northern Hungary, probably dating to the epi-Lengyel Ludanice group rather than to the classic Bodrogkeresztúr culture (Kállay 1990, fig. 2). The dating of a double ‘rondel’ at Grossburgstall in Lower Austria to the Late Eneolithic Mödling-Zöbing-Jevišovice culture (Maurer 1982:89) remains hypothetical. A larger, roughly circular area with
4. The astronomical model was brought into consideration very quickly, undoubtedly under the influence of interpretations of western European cromlechs, and in particular of Stonehenge. The explanation of this and other megalithic monuments as ‘sun temples’, ‘prehistoric astronomical observatories’ etc. offered the straightforward and at first sight quite convincing opportunity for analogous interpretation of the Continental ‘woodhenges’. The huge feature at Avebury contributed in this regard, as perhaps did other four-entrance monuments such as Mount Pleasant or Marden (Wainwright 1989), where the cruciform entrance pattern is identical to the concept behind the Central European ‘rondels’. The original, simple view, that the entrances to ‘rondels’ were constructed in such a way that at key dates during the year (equinoxes or solstices) they were lit by the sun’s rays, was gradually replaced by more complex considerations, taking into account not only the structural elements of the ‘rondels’ (e.g. the distances between the inner palisades or clusters of post-holes in the interior), but also particularly conspicuous landmarks in the vicinity of the ‘rondels’ that might have served as natural markers for determining the seasons (Ministr, in Podborský (ed.) 1999). Thus far one can only speculate about a direct calendrical function for ‘rondels’, with palisade posts as calendar elements of a sort, but the situation of the Early Bronze Age site at Troskotovice in South Moravia (Kovárník, in Podborský (ed) 1999:140ff., fig. 3) provides a realistic foundation for such speculation. 5. The sacral model has gradually attracted the greatest number of proponents – and rightly so, since it is supported 63
Enclosing the Past numerous narrow entrances (Fig. 4.4:2) has recently been identified at the Eneolithic settlement of Chleby in Bohemia (Křivánek 2001:123, fig. 7). In central Europe indications of the existence of a rather minimalised ‘rondel’ architecture also appear in the Final Eneolithic. Aerial photography by J. Kovárník (1997:17, fig.16) has located a small, ditched ‘rondel’ (diameter c. 19m) at a Bell Beaker cemetery at Ledce in Moravia; this discovery is reminiscent of the earlier find of a shallow ring ditch (diameter c.12m), with traces of two posts inside, at the edge of a cemetery of the same culture at Lhánice in Moravia (Hájek 1951:29), which was classified many years ago as a ‘cult site linked to funeral rites’ (J. Neustupný et al. 1960:171). Despite the heterogeneous origin of the Bell Beaker people in central Europe, a direct connection may be assumed between these sites and the original, local ‘rondel’ architecture. Moreover, their existence at cemeteries supports the idea of a non-profane meaning for them. The idea of the Neolithic ‘sacred circle’, however, found a continuation in particular along the upper Danube and in western Germany. The enclosures of the Altheim and Cham cultures (Fig. 4.4, 3, 11, 12) are loosely related to round structures. Nor can a link to several of the partial enclosures of the people of the Michelsberg culture and related TRB complex be ruled out. In Moravia, it has been possible to provide the very first secure proof of the existence of ‘rondels’ or rondeloids in the Bronze Age (Troskotovice, Šumice etc). The idea of circular cult areas did not die out even in the Hallstatt period, but in the La Tène period it was pushed into the background by rectangular forms (the ‘Viereckschanzen’); in the peripheral regions of the continent it was revitalised in the first centuries AD: in the Balkans in the form of round sanctuaries (Sarmizegethusa Regia and other similar ‘Dacian calendars’ in the mountains of Transylvania), and to the northwest in the form of the stone circles (kręgi, Steinkreise, and Domarringar; Podborský 1991:123–134).
Linzing-Osterhofen in western Germany (Fig. 4.4:10); its dating is, however, contentious. Traces of a rectangular ditch have been found, though, during the aerial prospection of a Late Moravian Painted Pottery settlement at Jevišovice in southwest Moravia by J. Kovárník (1986:152), which increases the likelihood of Neolithic rectangular enclosures having existed in central Europe. Rectangular enclosures appear more often in the Eneolithic. The most typical example in central Europe is the slightly trapezoidal area at Makotřasy in Bohemia, (Fig. 4.4:8); E. Pleslová-Štiková (1990) has suggested that it was advantageously chosen for idealised (ritual?) criss-cross ploughing, and that it was deliberately oriented astronomically, thus fulfilling a primarily cultic function including the ritual smelting of copper etc. Aerial survey has also identified fragments of two quadrangular enclosures at Božice in South Moravia (Kovárník 1997:23, fig. 18; 2002b, fig. 1). It was later possible to demonstrate that in 1935 a well-known hoard of pottery, dating to the early TRB, was found roughly in the centre of the smaller quadrangular structure at Božice (Zápotocký 1957:218ff, figs. 103–105; Lichardus 1976; Kovárník 2002b, fig. 2). Both of the enclosures are therefore likely to date to this period.
Linear ditches (Langgräben) and pit alignments (Grubenreihen) The last phenomena somewhat loosely linked to prehistoric enclosures, discovered in recent years by aerial survey, are those of linear ditches and pit alignments. This ‘monumental linear architecture’ is another expression of the cultural unity of prehistoric Europe (Kovárník 2001a,b). It occurs in the Carpathian Basin, in Moravia, probably too in Bohemia, along the middle Elbe and middle Saale, and westwards as far as the British Isles. In South Moravia it has been possible to identify linear ditches through aerial prospection at Oleksovice, Kostice, Pasohlávky and Přítluky (Kovárník 1997a:315 & 318, fig. 1:3,11; 1997b:332 & 334, fig. 3 etc.; 2001b), in southern Slovakia at Komjatice (Kuzma 1997:129, fig. SK 15), and in the Tisza valley at Jánoshida-Portelek (Bewley, Braasch & Palmer 1996:750, fig. 6). The discovery of an extensive ditch and palisade enclosure around Řípec hill near Trpoměchy in Bohemia (Gojda 2000; Křivánek 2001:124–125, fig. 8) is also important; this was clearly an attempt to separate the whole hill (perhaps a ‘sacred mound’?) from the densely settled landscape around. In Germany, linear ditches appear in particular in Saxony-Anhalt (Altranstädt, Kitzen, NeutzLettewitz), Thuringia, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and Saxony (Braasch 1993:33; 1995:121, fig. 19–20). These ditches crossed the prehistoric cultural landscape over a length of several hundred metres or even several kilometres. One cannot rule out the possibility that these constructions bounded areas that were used as prehistoric common land, or were held under an early form of common ownership (cf. Braasch 1993:33). To interpret the significance of these earthen monuments is even more complex than is the case for circular ditches – ‘rondels’. C. Waddington has described linear ditches and pit alignments in Great Britain, where the different methods of construction led him to the general conclusion that the ditches were dug at various periods, by various means and
Rectangular enclosures Besides the predominant circular enclosures, rectangular enclosures – usually square (with sides of c. 60m) – also appear in the Later Neolithic. There are very rare instances such as, for example, Eching-Vieht (Petrasch 1990, fig. 20; Trnka 1991:277, fig. 129) and perhaps Schmiedorf or Bochum-Laer (Lüning 1983–1984:13, Fig. 4.6). A smaller (c. 18×18m) square area surrounded by a Sohlgrabentype ditch has been identified at the Münchshöfen culture settlement of the epi-Lengyel horizon at Murr near Munich; whole vessels were found within it, leading to consideration of a cultic function for it (Neumair 2000:101–105, figs. 3, 4). At the same time, the well-known Bavarian site at Galgenberg has yielded an Eneolithic rondeloid of the Cham culture overlain by a ditched double-square enclosure (Fig. 4.4:12) that might be Neolithic – as might another square ground-plan built into what was evidently the perimeter enclosure of the same settlement (Becker 1996b:74–75, fig. 1a,b). Thus far, rectangular enclosures are little known, remain virtually unresearched, and are therefore not convincingly dated; they tend to be assigned to the Hallstatt period. In this connection mention is sometimes made of a system of several, gradually built or renovated square enclosures at 64
Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia for various purposes, the main concept however having been the territorial division of large prehistoric settlement units by a physical border (Waddington 1997). Linear ditches are understood similarly by Stäuble, who holds that in the northwestern Elbe Basin – where there are no visible landscape elements such as hills or bodies of water – these elements formed territorial boundaries; he compares such boundaries to, for example, the fences between modern farmsteads which are in spite of, or perhaps because of this, the place where neighbourly relations occur. The difference between pit alignments and linear ditches perhaps lies in the fact that alignments indicate a greater degree of contact between neighbouring groups (Stäuble 1999:176–177), while the less often interrupted ditches express a more conscious relationship of the individual communities to the territories concerned (Kovárník 2001b:103–105). It was in such territories that the actual settlements, fields and pastures, forests, watercourses, springs and not least the sacred sites (including the burial sites of the ancestors), were most likely located. Such territories must have been virtually unreachable for members of other communities. This may have represented a sort of initial prehistoric division of the land. The linear ditches, and perhaps the pit alignments too, are again an indication of the high degree of organisation of the collectives, just as the large monuments of ‘rondel’ and rondeloid type are. Given that these are only the initial findings, there is insufficient evidence to explain the functions of linear ditches and pit alignments. Their territorial distribution attests – as in the case of ‘rondels’ – to a roughly equal socio-economic population level across a broad swathe of central Europe, from the Great Hungarian plain, across Moravia and Bohemia to the middle Elbe and Saale basins, and perhaps as far as the British Isles.
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5: The first known enclosures in southern Britain: their nature, function and role, in space and time Roger J. Mercer Abstract: Excavations conducted at Hambledon Hill, Dorset, England, have revealed a site that was built over a period of some 400 years between 3600 and 3200 cal BC. During that time, the development of the site suggests a shift of ‘power-focus’ from east to west in a sector that, on a number of grounds, appears to have been a cultural and economic borderland between territory to the southwest and that to the north and east. One of the most prominent features that characterises this division is the design, function and ‘career’ of the Neolithic enclosures that occur on both sides of the divide. To the southwest, enclosures have complex sequences that often involve settlement and sometimes ‘defence’ – a complex concept – and evidence of attack. To the northeast, the ‘careers’ of enclosures through their period of use become less apparently variable and as we move progressively eastward apparently less intensive with fewer long-range contacts. Enclosures in both zones appear to occupy marginal locations to the societies that built and used them, although in the southwestern zone defence and ‘pre-eminence’ would also appear to play a siting role.
to demonstrate with certainty any unity of execution of the project. Indeed the waywardness of the alignment of the segments of causewayed ditch, whether in Denmark, Britain or Central Europe, and the quite individual filling patterns of contiguous segments that is frequently in evidence, might support the notion of individual events in a long, but by no means continuous, process. Yet there are arguments that do indicate that at least some of these causewayed enclosures were unitary conceptions. Sadly their very antiquity has eroded in almost all instances the principal evidence for this – for the evidence lies largely in the superstructure, the bank/rampart/wall, the obstacle, that was set, almost always, on the inner side of the ditch and which now, again almost always, has been removed by anthropogenic or natural forces. Often only ground-fast supports or adjuncts to this barrier survive archaeologically and their association with the ‘ditches’ is as uncertain as the archaeological association between the segments of ditch themselves. Yet these banks have in a number of instances (Hambledon Hill, Dorset; Crickley Hill, Gloucestershire; Carn Brea, Cornwall; Orsett, Essex) an internal logic which suggests that, whether on the grounds of the inter-relationship of timber ground-fast supports, or on the basis of the existence of evanescent or relict traces of the substance of a bank, that these obstacles were continuous and do not reflect directly the discontinuous appearance of the ditch segments. Yet how certain can we be of the unity of a linear earthwork without total excavation over a substantial distance – an investigation that has seldom taken place? Furthermore the nature of these inner linear barriers appears, where it is susceptible to interpretation, to be extremely variable. It needs to be understood that relatively few excavations have taken place in Britain, or indeed Europe, that allow any complete understanding of the nature of the barrier that exists behind the ditch. Indeed the more such excavations that take place the greater the degree of variety that appears to be witnessed.
Keywords: Southern Britain, Neolithic, enclosure, defence, territoriality
The act of enclosure Enclosures in all their variety, over 6000 years of European prehistory, offer an unfading attraction to the archaeologist. By their very nature they exhibit an ‘internal’ and ‘external’ logic in their seeming synchronic unity, or diachronic complexity, that encourages, indeed demands, a degree of classification and order that is, apparently, denied to less obviously ‘organised’ structures. Such classification and ordering may, however, offer only illusory security to the scholar who may be led quite unconsciously, or at least semi-consciously, into functionalist and cultural assumptions, often ethnocentric, and usually unjustified. One of the most common of such assumptions relates to ‘defence’ and what constitutes defensive and non-defensive enclosure, a discussion more often than not conducted in accord with notions associated with artillery warfare and relatively modern ideas of military discipline and conduct. Such classifications are indeed imperilled if it is postulated that the nature of the enclosure may not be ‘enclosive’ as ‘an event’, but a cumulative statement over a period of many months or seasons, monumental in its ultimate outcome and perhaps intention, and, perhaps, ‘enclosive’ as only an ultimate stage of its development, where the accomplishment of the outcome is more important than the outcome itself. Such cumulicity may well be deniable either on the basis of ‘Occam’s Razor’, or on the basis of ‘unity of conception’ in later enclosures, but for those of the early farming period with their distinctive ‘causewayed’ or ‘interrupted ditch’ construction it is usually, if not always, impossible
The nature of enclosure In Britain, at the seminal site of Windmill Hill, the inner barrier has been argued on the basis of both relict traces and of the filling of the ditches by both Smith (1965) and Whittle (1999) to have been, in the case of all three circuits of ditch, continuous ‘dump-style’ banks of piled white chalk with the site itself carefully offset on the low summit of the hill to promote intervisibility with lower areas set to the north and northwest – an intervisibility only realisable in circumstances of relatively sparse vegetation; a situation strangely at variance with the palaeo-environmental evidence secured from local contemporary contexts. A similar situation is postulated on the basis of the extensive excavations at Briar Hill, Northamptonshire (Bamford 1985) where, on the basis of the asymmetry of the ditch filling, once again 69
Enclosing the Past the excavator reconstructed a simple dump-style bank – but in this instance of rust-red Northamptonshire ironstone and gravel, and where the issues associated with the intervisibility of the nature of enclosure with its hinterland have been briefly explored by Oswald, Dyer and Barber (2001) who classify this enclosure along with a series of others in having a valley-side and therefore ‘tilted’ location which offered prospects to and from the valley hinterland. The nature of the gravel ditch-fillings at Briar Hill also made abundantly clear – something that had been suspected on the less archaeologically transparent blocky fillings of the chalk-based sites – that multiple and complex phases of deliberate re-cutting of the ditch fills had taken place with the selective placement of debris within the declivities so created. To this widespread (although not universal) feature of early enclosure use we shall return. At Hambledon Hill, Dorset (Mercer 1980, 1988; Mercer & Healy forthcoming) the evidence is more difficult to interpret due to the relatively steep slopes upon which the enclosures are built. A detailed programme of radiocarbon dating has shown that the main hilltop enclosure, with its immediately cognate cross-ditches and the long barrow set immediately to the south of the enclosure are broadly of the earliest phase of enclosing activity on the site – followed (within a century) by the construction of the enclosure on the southeast spur of the hill known as the Stepleton enclosure. Bearing in mind the relative steepness of slope, and the distortive effect that this is likely to have had upon infilling processes, it would appear likely that the evidence of the ditch fills, and other relict evidence, could support a conclusion that the inner barrier at both of these early enclosures was a continuous bank that may have been timber reinforced (certainly evidence exists elsewhere on the site for timber-reinforced vertically-faced walls and ramparts). Certainly, just as at Windmill Hill, the two enclosures were quite clearly ‘offset’ from their summit and spur-head positions, apparently in order to promote the intervisibility of the white chalk bank/ditch pattern of the enclosures with the immediately contiguous upland area of Cranborne Chase set 1km to the east beyond the river Iwerne valley, reflecting a similar concern seen at Windmill Hill and to be suggested at other less completely excavated chalk-based sites (Whitesheet Hill, Wiltshire; Maiden Castle, Dorset). At Hambledon, if this early phase of enclosure (3800–3600 cal. BC) is accepted as displaying timber framed ‘walls’, the next principal stage (3600–3400 cal. BC) certainly did adhere to this model. This later stage also sees a functional and indeed orientational re-focusing of the site. The two earlier enclosures are quite carefully enclosed within a new ‘outwork’ system (although the Stepleton site is partly slighted), along with the rest of the summit of the three spurs (southeast, east and north) of the hill, within a system of linear earthworks enclosing 60 hectares and comprising some 5000 linear metres of ditch and barrier but now displaying its strength, although not its format, in a sky-line position, not, as formerly, displaying itself to the east, but dominating the basin of the Vale of Blackmore to the west and northwest. Where these outworks are sited on the steep slopes, they have been heavily eroded at and beneath their base and where lateral erosion has thus been accelerated, evidence for structure can be difficult to interpret. Where, however, the gradient is not so critical and bank bases have survived massive erosion (which has demonstrably ripped away up to 0.5m from the subsoil surface on the
site) it is clear that there remain traces, patchy but quite unmistakable, of a vertical post organisation that is difficult to explain in terms other than the creation of a vertically faced box-framed rampart, its outer front revetted by panels of timber framed wattling, a burnt segment of which was located in a primary context in the rampart’s cognate ditch. At Hambledon over a period of a couple of hundred years requirements had clearly changed ‘politically’. Formerly the need had been for a ‘statement’ of physical presence (a statement constantly renewed by ditch recutting-episodes ‘celebrated’ by the deposit of feasting debris) and a statement of the extent of the enclosed area, designed to be inclusive in a geo-political relationship focused towards the east and Cranborne Chase. Latterly the desire seems to be to impress and exclude with these intentions focused towards the west and the Vale of Blackmore. Such inclusive/celebrative versus exclusive/impressive roles are witnessed elsewhere in Britain and Northwest Europe at this time but not, demonstrably, in the chronological functional succession seen at Hambledon nor, in chronological terms, with sufficient sensitivity to allow meaningful comparison with the Hambledon time-frame.
The focus to the west A good example of this concerns two sites about equidistant from Hambledon in the southern English context. Hembury, Devon, is one of the earliest causewayed enclosure sites to be investigated (Liddell 1930, 1931, 1932, 1935), and excavated extremely well by the standards of the time, by Dorothy Liddell, sister-in-law of Alexander Keiller, the prime force behind the excavations at Windmill Hill. Hembury is a promontory site set on a Greensand geological base overlooking the lowlands of South Devon in very much a similar circumstance to that of Hambledon Hill dominating the flat-lands of Blackmore. Recognised archaeologically by virtue of the late first millennium ramparts prominent upon the site, only Liddell’s excavations revealed the relatively minimal Neolithic earthworks lying beneath. Our understanding of this earthwork is limited, as a result of the severely limited excavation possible within Liddell’s resources, but it is probably a single causewayed ditch with, set on its inner edge, a continuous rampart which appears to have been vertically faced and revetted with timber. This obstacle appears to have been subjected to firing in an episode which led to burning timbers collapsing into the ditch where their remains were located in direct association with a large number (c. 80) of leaf-shaped arrowheads, many of which exhibited traces of calcining through heat. Such was the heat generated by the burning timber that the greensand rock was widely oxidised to a deep red wine colour. At Hembury this 1ha promontory enclosure appears to have enclosed, again on the evidence of very limited excavation, an area subject to intensive structural and pit-digging activity producing very large quantities of cultural debris – and subject also, apparently, to extensive burning. The 1ha enclosure at Hembury is at the focus of an altogether larger enclosure system, one element of which was located by Liddell and which may indicate an enclosure of as much as 3ha in extent. This outer earthwork comprising a 2m deep flat-bottomed ditch also betrayed traces of burning and the apparent disruption of the bank-obstacle built on its 70
Mercer: The first known enclosures in southern Britain where no cultivation has taken place) that is subject to what appears to be the first full scale targeting by archers on the site, after which the two ditches appear to have been deliberately infilled with burning brushwood thrown into the ditch and promptly buried with heat of sufficient intensity generated to slake the surrounding limestone. Into this backfilling, over a considerable period, five phases (Dixon’s lci -v) of recutting, associated with deliberate deposits of animal bone and pottery, were made. After this interval, currently of unknown length, the promontory is once again isolated by a single ‘uninterrupted’ continuous ditch with two causeways marking well-defined gateways in the internal obstacle (Dixon, phase ld). The ditch is, relatively speaking, massive, well over 2m in depth, and curiously, where, in the process of its digging, breakthroughs have been made into the earlier lbii ditch, careful and illogical processes of blocking were undertaken which, far from taking advantage of the apparently accidentally discovered ‘vein’ of easy digging, chose to shut it off and to continue to dig native bed-rock instead. This act of ‘memorialisation’ is paralleled by the fact that with this new barrier the two new causeways still focus on the earlier disposition of two causeways on the site – that would appear to represent a cultural continuum. The internal obstacle constructed from the product of this ditch digging was also, apparently, closely related to earlier concepts on the site in producing a broad, low bank 0.5m in height by some 10m in breath with a palisade on its innermost edge. The gateways of the obstacle lie flanked by the inner and outer ‘barbicans’ of timber-lined roadways that lead into the interior where aligned house-type rectilinear structures, ranging from 2×5m to 10×5m in size, are aligned upon them. Apparently a settlement, other issues supervene, however, as the occupation component is more or less confined to the eastern sector of the enclosure (nearest the ditches) while the western component seems to have been reserved to a most complex series of ceremonial activities associated with a range of platform-type structures where the immensely careful excavational approaches of Dr Dixon have informed an extraordinarily detailed account of Neolithic conduct on and around them. Once again phase ld appears to have been brought to a violent end by a third attack of focused and intensive archery, that, rather like Hembury, appears to be directed closely upon the entrances and where the palisade at the inner face of the ‘bank’ appears to have stopped many missiles (Dixon 1988). After this, apparently ultimate, phase of destruction the site of Crickley Hill was deserted for many centuries. Evidence of intensive burning was also recovered by Sharples (1991:51) at Maiden Castle, Dorset. When Wheeler (1943) excavated this site in the mid-1930s he was astonished to locate, completely sealed beneath later prehistoric earthworks (as at Crickley and Hembury above), the intact and completely filled causewayed ditches of a double Neolithic enclosure set at the eastern end of the hill. Wheeler, anxious to prioritise his excavations, proceeded to explore the Iron Age aspects of the site and did not accord the filling of these ditches the degree of recording and comment that he committed elsewhere, but he did record an entrance through the causewayed ditches some 6m wide with the ditches surviving to 1.5m in depth and enclosing an area of about 4 hectares. Of the two ditches Wheeler cleared about 70m aggregate length and the inner of them was by far the richer in terms of the deposition of cultural
interior side, with additional traces of a possible timber-built counterscarp feature as well. Hembury bears ready comparison with a further group of Neolithic enclosures to the southwest in Devon and particularly Cornwall (Mercer 2003). The direct comparisons are facilitated by a common suite of raw materials and fixedorigin artefacts passing along exchange-lines that clearly link the sites, and by common factors involving large outer enclosures and the presence of evident archery-accompanied attacks (Mercer 2003). For the purposes of this essay, however, the second enclosure complex to mention is set on the very edge of the Cotswold scarp near Cheltenham, Gloucestershire. Like Hembury the site was excavated (by Dr Philip Dixon, University of Nottingham) because of the visible traces of an early first millennium fortification, the remains of which were apparent from surface examination. It was only after several seasons of work on the site that the existence of an earlier, Neolithic, causewayed enclosure was ascertained (there are a number of examples of this sequence of events – Wheeler’s excavations at Maiden Castle, Dorset being another). The sequence of events at Crickley Hill is, however, of particular interest in the context of Hambledon Hill as, unlike the absent ‘sequence’ at Hembury, largely a product of limited excavation one suspects, at Crickley Hill the excavation was on a very large scale and sequence is an issue that has been well addressed. At Crickley Hill (Dixon 1988 and pers. comm.) the sequence is not yet tied to the outcome of any available radiocarbon dating programme but at its earliest stratigraphic point the only apparent structure on this promontory site (once again with a massive vista over the flat-land of the Severn flood plain) was a small, insignificant almost, oval barrow with no archaeological trace of any burial. This site was levelled (and the barrow’s flanking ditches infilled) in order to allow the first phase of ‘enclosure’ construction to begin. This phase (Dixon’s lbi (1988)) was an initial circuit (?) of causewayed ditch enclosing about 1ha (which was to become the inner ditch as the nature of the site developed). The ditch was broad, shallow and flat-bottomed with at least three, possibly five, entrances aligned so as to focus on the centre of the enclosed element of the promontory. The obstacle/bank of the enclosure set on the interior side of the ditch was interpreted as broad and low at the inner side of which, further from the bank, were the post-sockets of a palisade that, to judge by the depth of the sockets, was of no great height. It would seem at least possible that this first stage of enclosure was subject to attack (or at least targeting) by archers. The second enclosure stage at Crickley Hill (Dixon’s lbii) took the form of the digging, some 22 metres within the lbi ditch, of a parallel set of pits which were somewhat deeper and separated by a larger number of ‘causeways’, many of them too small to be considered as access points. Three, and probably four, causeways were, however, matched by gate furniture, all of it aligned on the gates previously established within the lbi circuit. The inner obstacle/bank that lay within this circuit would appear, also, to have been similar in design to Phase lbi. The emphatic change with this second enclosure phase resides in the fact that at this time the interior of the double enclosure appears to have been furnished with a large number of integral post-supported rectangular structures interpreted as houses. It is this double obstacle (lbii) enclosure with ‘houses’ set in the interior (houses, the post-hole patterns of which survived due to the unique circumstances at Crickley Hill 71
Enclosing the Past debris. He found at least ten leaf arrowheads in the ditch, mostly in the immediate locality of the eastern entrance. A further five were located in the make up of the long mound – presumably incorporated from the immediate locale during the construction of this monument after the Neolithic enclosure had gone out of use. Sharples records (1991:51) that, in his trench, he located ‘midden’ debris (1991:253) the deposits beneath which are, however, described as follows: “At the base of the ditch were the chalk silts….. These were probably deposited by rainwater almost immediately after the ditch had been created. On top of these silts, and intermingled with silt layers were the much thicker and relatively unconsolidated layers of chalk rubble… The rubble contained considerable quantities of charcoal, largely mature oak, which was at least partially created by a fire which had scorched many of the chalk blocks”. This sounds (and looks in the published figures) very like the evidence retrieved from Hambledon Hill which, there, is interpreted as massive bank collapse induced by the burning of a timber casing. Further to the southwest the characteristic format of causewayed ditch enclosed sites continues to its known extent with the site at Raddon Hill, Devon (Oswald, Dyer and Barber 2001:81, 150) set once again in the tilted off-summit manner with which we are familiar. Here, however, like Hambledon and Hembury (and possibly at Maiden Castle, still to be recognised beneath later Iron Age complexity?) and indeed at Crickley where the small enclosure at Birdlip Camp may suggest an altogether more complex site, like Hambledon, still to be discovered, this appears, possibly, to be a mini-version of this layout. Here the 2ha main enclosure sited squarely on the hill summit is accompanied by a further apparently causewayed component (of as yet unproven Neolithic date) which is tilted and offers enclosed space outside the main enclosure – as at Hambledon and Hembury, although on a lesser scale (Oswald Dyer and Barber 2001:81). This pattern is continued into the furthest part of the Cornish peninsula. However in this, generally hard-rock region, the constructional format of the enclosures changes, with boulder walls creating inner enclosures of roughly 1ha extent, and then in two known instances (Carn Brea: Mercer 1981; and Helman Tor: Mercer 1997, both in Cornwall), there are known to be outer enclosures, boulder built. In the case of Carn Brea, clearly defensive and built, it would seem, at least partly upon an internal ‘stonebox’ system, this offered enclosed space outside the inner enclosure. Certainly the site at Carn Brea exhibits extensive burning and has produced vast numbers (over 800) of leaf arrowheads which both in terms of their condition and circumstances would appear to represent a site subject to massive archery attack. The sites at Carn Brea, Helman Tor, Hembury, Maiden Castle and Hambledon (as well as other less major interspersed sites not mentioned in this text, but see Mercer 2003) are linked by a common distributional pattern of artefacts and raw materials apparently being circulated by whatever mechanism over very considerable distances. Materials are moving both eastward and westward – pottery, flint, other quarried stone – and while these materials do pass beyond Hambledon further into Wessex, those of westerly origin begin to fall off sharply in frequency of retrieved deposition. Thus in the Southwest of England we appear to have
a series of enclosures linked by common, although not universally common, links of situation, design, multiple function, disposition to disturbance by violence and common exchange patterns. This commonality of links, seems, currently, to gradually break down beyond the ‘boundary zone’ of the chalk massif of central Wessex. Does this pattern reinforce the ‘frontier’ position of Hambledon Hill itself? Does the ‘reversal’ of role and focus of Hambledon from eastward to westward and from display/ceremonial in focus to defensive/dominant focus through the middle centuries of the fourth millennium BC reflect that ‘frontier’ position and its possible reversal by communities that we know are in an energetic state of development on Cranborne Chase (Barrett, Bradley and Green 1991), and further to the northeast by the mid and later fourth millennium BC? The forthcoming publication (Rawlins et al.) of a re-examination of the site at Whitesheet Hill, Wilts, set 21km to the north of Hambledon, again on the very junction of the Wessex chalk and the Somerset lowlands, may serve to amplify this account.
The focus to the east Certainly, further to the east, causewayed enclosures exhibit broadly similar overall enclosive design but perhaps rather different layout, little evidence of violence, less apparent functional variety, and different exchange linkages. Let us examine these briefly. It was Palmer (1976) who first suggested the division of causewayed enclosures into four regional groups centred on Sussex, the Thames valley, the East Midlands and the Southwest of England which he recognised upon the grounds of morphological analysis in which he saw, broadly, greater complexity of layout in the Midlands and Thames than further to the south and west. It is interesting to compare this analysis with another, based upon an approach by Colin Renfrew (1973) founded upon a purely spatial-proximity analysis using the Thiessen polygon method that sought to develop an understanding of “territories as revealed by the location of causewayed enclosures in Wessex” (an area that by and large has not seen a massive increase in their numbers) as compared with the cluster of long-barrows that surround them (or appear to), a linkage that has been lent added intimacy as a result of the work at Hambledon Hill itself. This study sees a complex of territories which are, however, all shut off by polygons isolating the Southwest, from Poole Harbour to the Cotswolds, from the rest of southern England – the very hinterland over-viewed and bounded by Hambledon Hill. All of this is purely retrospective construct. Let us review briefly what happens to the east of that quite ‘imaginary line’. To this point we have seen an aspect of early Neolithic enclosure function in Britain which, whether at Crickley Hill, Hambledon Hill, Hembury or enclosures of a rather different character further to the southwest has an apparent unity of conception, interlinkage and developing functionality that is quite impressive. When we turn eastwards from Hambledon Hill the degree of unity seems to change quite sharply. The foundation of causewayed enclosure studies is the work conducted by Alexander Keiller at Windmill Hill, Wiltshire (Smith 1965). This site (Oswald et al. 2001) seems to be sited in a manner well familiar at all upland 72
Mercer: The first known enclosures in southern Britain sites across southern Britain (including Hambledon, Maiden Castle, Whitesheet, Crickley Hill and most of the Sussex upland enclosures). The favoured location is a spur or ridge with extensive views in one principal direction. In most instances (although not at Hambledon Main Enclosure) the enclosure is positioned in slightly ‘off-set’ tilted posture so that it lies slightly off-summit in the direction on the view commanded – thus presumably promoting the intervisibility from each to the other. At Hambledon the main enclosure does, just, reach on to the view-commanding slope but its whole attention seems to be focused to the east whence it is best, although incompletely, viewed from the opposing high ground of Cranborne Chase – a feature observed at other sites in Sussex and Wiltshire (Oswald et al. 2001:100). At Windmill Hill this focus is to the north and all three, inner, middle and site circuits are tilted in this way. But at Windmill Hill, unlike any enclosure to the west, the enclosure ditches are not ‘grouped’ in order to be mutually reinforcing, whether psychologically or physically, nor are they ‘focused’ at particular approaches to the eminence upon which they are placed (as at Whitesheet, Hambledon, Hembury and Maiden Castle). At Windmill a more or less ‘neutral’, ‘concentric’ pattern is adopted with, however, the earthworks increasing in stature towards the outermost. Once we come to examine the archaeology of the use of the Windmill Hill enclosure, however, we observe a close accord with aspects of activity, although not the dis-continuity, seen in the Southwest. Smith’s (1965) account of the excavation by Keiller, as well as Whittle’s smaller scale investigations (Whittle et al.1999), indicates that feasting activity and activity associated with the disposal of that feasting debris, as well as the disposal of human remains, was a consistent process mediated archaeologically by the repeated recutting of ditch deposits and the placement of components of this debris within those recuts. Under archaeological examination these deposits may seem rich but when taken in the context of the likely chronological longevity of the site they may reflect only a very few episodes of celebration every few years. At Hambledon Hill, for example, the likely span of activity on the site as determined by precision dating of all known components of the sequence is above 400 years. Whatever aspect of the material culture that one chooses to examine over the whole complex at Hambledon (lithics, pottery, bone) the outcome, having grossed up the excavated sample to reflect the whole (known) extent of the site, is tiny for any given notional ‘year’ of the complex’s life: a few hundreds of struck flakes; or a kilogram or so of sherds; maybe one of two animals. Such a crude approach to figures (bearing in mind the pit-falls of taphonomy, unknown site complexity, chronological uncertainty) would be unforgivable were it not for the relatively large samples, both spatial and chronological, examined at Hambledon. The abiding impression is of a site little used, and when used, it is for occupation for short periods, at specific seasons, for short term ad hoc activities involving feasting and deposition. By far the largest scale activity that we can observe to have taken place at Hambledon is the successive phases of rebuilding that it is difficult to conceive could have taken less than a month or two at a time, and involved less than ‘hundreds’ of people. Reverting to the opening comments of this paper, enclosure creation appears to be an end quite as important as use. It is probably dangerous to embark further on this course of enquiry with sites less adequately sampled, dated or
documented, but impressionistically we can observe that such very exiguous assemblages, per chronological range, apply widely elsewhere with an emphasis that increases as one moves further to the east (see below). Another issue that relates to change as we move not only from west to east, but from chalk upland enclosures to the less elevated enclosures of eastern river valley is their relationship with the contemporary landscape. Usually on the basis of molluscan evidence, the upland enclosures at Offham, Sussex (Drewett 1977), Windmill Hill, Hambledon Hill, Maiden Castle are understood to have existed in landscapes that fostered the prevalent presence of shadeloving species. It would appear that these enclosures were set in marginal woodland of greater or lesser density, certainly not an environment created by the ruminant animals that form the principal traces of meat consumption on these sites. Again the impression gained from the whole ambit of the evidence would suggest periodic visiting by small groups to sites of prestigious status set in marginal, indeed perhaps territorially peripheral, contexts – visits during which food and objects brought from a distance were consumed and/or deposited. The circumstances of the excavation at Hambledon Hill both in terms of its scale, and in terms of the potential for the survival of bone on the site, have suggested a very strong link between these periodic (perhaps in this instance seasonal) visits and the delivery to the site (and perhaps the removal from it) of human cadaveric and skeletal remains. The site at Etton, Cambridgeshire is held by its excavator (Pryor 1998) to parallel closely the activities reflected at Hambledon, characterised by periodic visits with special deposition episodes. Yet as we move into the valleys at eastern England we encounter five sites apparently far less dramatically sited, yet still in the case of Etton, at Staines, Surrey (Robertson-Mackay 1987), possibly Orsett, Essex (Hedges and Buckley 1978), and Haddenham, Cambridgeshire (Evans and Hodder forthcoming and pers. comm.) in ‘locally’ marginal locations. Yet these sites are still the focus of some long-distance contact (in terms of much worked down Group VI and VII axe fragments from Etton), although there is relatively little evidence of the widespread ceramic contacts witnessed at Hambledon and Windmill Hill. Etton, on the basis of its radiocarbon programme (Pryor 1998:349) which would indicate it to be contemporary with the foundation phases at Hambledon, would appear to be set at the margin of a landscape already substantially cleared of trees. If the eastern river valley enclosures are more locally focused, commanding recognition among smaller, less distantly derived, communities, then there is also evidence that activity in their immediate vicinity was less intensive. To examine this issue I have examined the worked flint and flint implements upon those sites where the sample was felt, upon inspection, to be soundly enough recovered and recorded, and large enough to be indicative. The same exercise could be undertaken with other materials but only flint, it was felt, had the taphonomic resilience to allow comparison between widely varying sites. The question remains, of course, of the local availability of flint which is difficult to assess, but in no instance is any of the sites at considerably more than one day’s walk from a good flint source – except, of course, those in Cornwall which, in themselves, furnish an interesting object lesson in this regard. 73
Enclosing the Past There is no doubt that, often measuring excavated areas on plan and counting finds lists may lead to error and I have no doubt that error may have occurred here, but not such error as could seriously impact upon the order of magnitude of differences encountered. It can be suggested that rather than calculating ‘area excavated’, one ought perhaps to Site Staines, Surrey Abingdon, Oxfordshire Orsett, Essex Briar Hill, Northamptonshire Etton, Cambridgeshire Haddenham, Cambridgeshire Offham, Sussex Windmill Hill, Wiltshire Hambledon Hill, Dorset (Main Enclosure) Hambledon Hill, Dorset (Stepleton Enclosure) Hembury, Devon Helman Tor, Cornwall Carn Brea, Cornwall Hurst Fen, Suffolk
calculate ‘volume of archaeological deposit excavated’ (i.e. take into account the depth and length of archaeological features – ditches and pits – uncovered), but this exercise only builds in its own biases and uncertainty. The result is as set out below.
Area Excavated m2 (approx) 6,675 1,280 1,725 14,196
Total worked flint (as published.) 23,355 5,137 1,637 2,815
14,000 8,878
7,152 2,245
4,780 3,233 10,000
Total implements (as published.) 1,344 842 64 868
Implements per m2
Worked flint per m2
0.2 0.6 0.03 0.06
3.5 4.0 0.9 0.2
746 c. 220
0.05 c. 0.025
0.5 0.25
6,830 98,273 36,146
23 4,078 1,227
0.005 1.26 0.13
1.42 30.4 3.6
16,000
36,094
828
0.05
2.25
2,295 72 1,631 1,858
32,000 1,371 26,382 14,500
1,171 233 3,611 1,298
0.51 3.24 2.20 0.7
13.9 19.0 16.2 7.8
Table 5.1. Density per m2 excavated of the occurrence of worked flint and flint implements at a selection of Neolithic enclosures in southern England. For site references see text, except Abingdon (Leeds 1927, 1928; Avery 1982). enclosures, by virtue of which the vast majority have been discovered, that four morphological and territorial groups exist. That grouping has been supported in a more recent review of the evidence (Oswald et al. 2001). From my point of view, as the excavator of Hambledon Hill, that four-fold division is indeed powerful and suggests that Hambledon itself was very much on a frontier – a frontier that continued in time, although quite differently marked by the complex of earthworks centring upon the Dorset Cursus on Cranborne Chase – a frontier to be recognisable into the Iron Age. West of that frontier complex events led to quasi-political unity over long distances and equally quasi-political prominence for some sites as ‘symbolic’ of the social solidarity that they had come to represent. A recognisable approximation to what we, today, call defence arose from this. These influences created a complexity of sequence for sites in this western area (including Crickley Hill, Hambledon, Maiden Castle, Hembury and sites further west) that is reflected in the variability of their archaeological expression. Across the boundary to the east this complexity seems never to have materialised during the earlier Neolithic. In Wessex and Sussex similar isolated sites never took on the ‘career’ of western sites. Further to the east such central places were also created but more locally focused, still marginally located within their local communities but still the centre of only occasional attention. Currently there is no reliable evidence for chronological priority one way or the other. Nor is there
The outcome of this exercise shows very clear distinctions between the lithic assemblages and their intensity on the examined sites. Those sites in the far Southwest of England that I interpret as settlement sites, enclosed and lived in for extended periods, despite their situation far from bedrock deposits of flint, produce between 16–20 fragments of worked flint per m2. This order of magnitude begins to parallel that of European Neolithic settlement sites and indeed those recognised elsewhere in Britain. Hembury, Devon, is clearly closely related. Hambledon Hill, well within the flint-rich zone stands at 2.0–6.6 items per m2. Then we are faced with the completely exceptional nature of the Windmill Hill assemblage related, presumably, to the massive flint working activity that has been known since the 1920s on the southern slope of the hill. Staines and Abingdon in the upper Thames valley compare closely to Hambledon, whereas Offham, Sussex, at 1.4 items per m2, lies at approximately half the Hambledon rate (yet, surely, in an area of equivalent flint availability). When we reach the east of England we find, by comparison tiny amounts of flint – a third to a tenth that of Hambledon.
Conclusion Rog Palmer (1976) indicates, on the basis of the evidence of the aerial photographic recording of causewayed 74
Mercer: The first known enclosures in southern Britain very much evidence as to what context these, clearly locally focused, sites related. Our appreciation of their role now relies upon further exploration of the hinterland of which they were clearly only a part and the process of inter-and intra-site chronological refinement only now becoming a feasible prospect.
Exploration Society 1:162–190. Liddell, D. 1935. Report on the excavations at Hembury Fort: 4th and 5th seasons, 1934 and 1935. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological Exploration Society 2:135–175. Mercer, R.J. 1980. Hambledon Hill: a Neolithic landscape. Edinburgh. Mercer, R.J. 1981. Excavations at Carn Brea, Illogan, Cornwall 1970–73: a Neolithic fortified complex of the third millennium bc. Cornish Archaeology 20:1–204. Mercer, R.J. 1988. Hambledon Hill, Dorset, England. In C. Burgess, P. Topping, C. Mordant and M. Maddison (eds.) Enclosures and Defences in the Neolithic of Western Europe. British Archaeological Reports, International Series 403:80– 106. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Mercer, R.J. 1997. The excavation of a Neolithic enclosure complex at Helman Tor, Lostwithiel, Cornwall. Cornish Archaeology 36:5–63. Mercer, R.J. 2003. The early farming settlement of southwestern England in the Neolithic. In I. Armit, E. Murphy, E. Nelis and D. Simpson (eds.) Neolithic Settlement in Ireland and Western Britain, pp. 56–70. Oxford. Mercer, R.J and Healy, F. forthcoming. Excavation and Field Survey on Hambledon Hill. English Heritage. Oswald, A., Dyer, D. and Barber, M. 2001. The Creation of Monuments: Neolithic causewayed enclosures in the British Isles. Swindon: English Heritage. Palmer, R. 1976. Interrupted ditch enclosures in Britain: the use of aerial photography for comparative studies. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 42:161–186. Pryor, F.M.M. 1998. Etton: excavations at a Neolithic causewayed enclosure near Maxey, Cambridgeshire, 1982–87. Archaeological Report English Heritage 18. London: English Heritage. Rawlins, M.N et al. forthcoming. Excavations and survey at Whitesheet Hill, Wiltshire, 1989–90. The Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine. Renfrew, C. 1973. Monuments, mobilisation and social organisation in Neolithic Wessex. In C. Renfrew (ed.) The Explanation of Culture Change: models in prehistory, pp. 539–558. London. Robertson-Mackay, R. 1987. The Neolithic causewayed enclosure at Staines, Surrey: excavations 1961–63. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 53:23–128. Sharples, N.M. et al. 1991. Maiden Castle. Excavations and Field Survey 1985–86. Archaeological Report Historic Buildings and Monuments Commission for England 19. London: Historic Buildings and Monuments Commission for England. Smith, I.F. 1965. Windmill Hill and Avebury: excavations by Alexander Keiller 1925–1939. Oxford. Wheeler, R.E.M. 1943. Maiden Castle, Dorset. Research Committee of the Society of Antiquaries of London Report 12. Oxford. Whittle, A.W.R., Pollard, J. and Grigson, C. 1999. The Harmony of Symbols: the Windmill Hill causewayed enclosure, Wiltshire. Oxford: Cardiff Studies in Archaeology.
Acknowledgements I would like to thank Christopher Evans and Ian Hodder for a preview of an early draft of the Haddenham report and Frances Healy for comment on this paper and her dedication to the Hambledon project. The many faults remain my own.
Bibliography Avery, M. 1982. The Neolithic causewayed enclosure, Abingdon. In H.J. Case and A.W. Whittle (eds.) Settlement Patterns in the Oxford region: excavations at the Abingdon causewayed enclosure and other sites, pp. 10–50. CBA Research Reports 44. London. Bamford, H.N. 1985. Briar Hill. Northampton Development Corporation Archaeological Monograph 3. Northampton. Barrett, J., Bradley R. and Green M. 1991. Landscape, Monuments and Society; the prehistory of Cranborne Chase. Cambridge: University Press. Dixon, P. 1988. The Neolithic settlements on Crickley Hill. In C. Burgess, P. Topping, C. Mordant and M. Maddison (eds.) Enclosures and Defences in the Neolithic of Western Europe, pp.75–87. British Archaeological Reports, International Series 403. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Drewett, P. 1997. The excavation of a Neolithic causewayed enclosure on Offham Hill, East Sussex, 1976. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 43:201–241. Evans, C. and Hodder, I. forthcoming. The Haddenham Project Vol. 1. Hedges, J. and Buckley, D.G. 1978. Excavations at a Neolithic Causewayed Enclosure, Orsett, Essex, 1975. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 44:219–308. Leeds, E.T. 1927. A Neolithic site at Abingdon, Berks. The Antiquaries Journal 7:438–464. Leeds, E.T. 1928. Neolithic site at Abingdon, Berks: second report. The Antiquaries Journal 8:461–477. Liddell. D. 1930. Report on the excavations of Hembury Fort, Devon, 1930. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological Exploration Society 1:39–63. Liddell, D. 1931. Report of the excavations at Hembury Fort, Devon: second season 1931. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological Exploration Society 1:90–120. Liddell, D. 1932. Report on the Excavations at Hembury Fort: third season, 1932. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological
75
6: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula Michael Kunst Abstract: Zambujal is a Copper Age fortified settlement dated to the 3rd and 2nd millennia BC. Its fortifications show a long history of repairs and modifications, but its basic plan is that of an elliptical citadel situated on the western slope of a hill close to the end of a small rocky promontory which dominates the small valley of the brook ‘Ribeira de Pedrulhos’. Up the hill there are several fortification lines; to date, three are known. However, it is still unknown whether these fortification lines were built in the form of rings surrounding the citadel or if the lines only fortified parts of the citadel, since the promontory offers natural defence. The modifications of the fortification lines imply strategic plans and a society made up of commanders and commanded people. This is also reflected by the distribution of the material culture at the site as well as by grave architecture and grave goods in other regions, which show a social differentiation between elites and non-elites. Copper Age fortifications are known in the southern half of the Iberian Peninsula, from northern Portugal to the region of Alicante. In some of these areas, regional studies show that larger fortified sites together with smaller such sites seem to form territories where the larger fortifications can be considered as central places. At this same time, in the centre and south of the Iberian Peninsula, there are known to be several enclosures constructed by systems of ditches, and there are also some places which show a combination of ditches and walls. Until now there has been a lack of studies of Neolithic settlements, although the excavations at Ambrona indicate that some enclosure systems might have existed from the Early Neolithic onward.
The geo-archaeological investigations of 1986 indicate that the Sizandro valley up to the mouth of the Ribeira de Pedrulhos was an old sea-bay (Hoffmann 1990). In the hinterland of Zambujal, nearly every 1.5km and along the edge of the Sizandro valley, there are situated smaller Copper Age settlements (Kunst and Trindade 1990:71). The only one studied by modern excavations, Castro da Fórnea, also shows some fortification structures (J.L. Gonçalves 1995:125–128). Zambujal is the largest of them all. It is also situated closest to the sea and perhaps had direct access to the sea via an old bay, which has totally disappeared through sedimentation during the last 4000 years (Hoffmann 1990; Kunst 1990:120–121).
1.2. Excavations up to 1973 After a first trial excavation in 1944, of a very small trench made by L. Trindade (Jalhay 1947), Zambujal was declared a ‘National Monument’ by the decree 35.817 of the 20th August 1946 (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:4). The first large-scale excavations took place in 1959 and 1960 under the direction of L. Trindade and Aurélio Ricardo Belo, the latter of whom was then responsible for the Torres Vedras public library and the archaeological collection. With of the death of A.R. Belo in 1961, the excavations were halted. In 1963, L. Trindade invited Hermanfrid Schubart from the German Archaeological Institute to continue with the excavations at the site. Then, from 1964 to 1973, in collaboration with the Institute of Prehistory of the University of Freiburg (Germany), H. Schubart and E. Sangmeister, the latter of whom was then director of the Freiburg Institute and a specialist of the Copper Age of Southwest Europe, carried out six excavation campaigns at Zambujal (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:5–7). To date five monographs of the results of these excavations have been published in the series Madrider Beiträge, volume 5 (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981; Kunst 1987; Sangmeister and Jiménez Gómez 1995; Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003). The most relevant publication to the question of enclosures is the monograph on the architecture, stratigraphy and chronology of Zambujal (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981). E. Sangmeister and H. Schubart were able to identify 13 phases of construction, which could be grouped into five main phases, or ‘conceptions of construction’. Their arguments are based on stratigraphic observations, vertical and horizontal, and on strategic considerations. The best evidence for vertical stratigraphy was found around the best preserved part of the citadel or the first line of fortification, where walls were found preserved to a height of up to 4 meters. Between these walls and the second line of fortification, the stratigraphy from the surface to the underground rock had a potential of up to 3 meters. One of the best areas was the profile between Tower B and the second fortification line, where a stratigraphic sequence formed by several constructions is visible: at the bottom is round house X; above that is round house V; and above the latter, Tower B (Fig. 6.1). But there were also found
Key words: Zambujal, Portugal, 3rd millennium BC, Copper Age, central place, fortification, radiocarbon dates.
1. Zambujal 1.1. Situation of the site The fortified site of Zambujal was discovered in 1932 by Leonel Trindade from Torres Vedras (Kunst 1993). The name Zambujal derives from the Portuguese word ‘azambuja’ meaning a wild olive tree; ‘zambujal’ means an assemblage of such trees. Today there are only some of these trees left at the bottom of the rocky outcrop on which the fortification is situated, which is nearly 14km from the Atlantic Ocean. The rocky outcrop is the end of a small promontory of hills west of Torres Vedras, which dominate not only the small valley of the brook Ribeira de Pedrulhos but also its mouth into the river Sizandro, more or less 1km to the northwest, and a part of the Sizandro river valley running into the sea. The elevation of the end of the promontory over the valley is about 70m. The coordinates of the site are: 39° 4’ 28’’ latitude north and 9° 17’ longitude west of Greenwich (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:1–4). 76
Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula
Figure 6.1. Area VX during the excavation of 1972: Tower B (on the right) on top of the wall of house V, and this on top of house X, in the middle of the picture (D-DAI-MAD-R-69-72-01, photograph: P. Witte). several other layers (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:50– 72). On the other hand, the walls were constructed in a technique by which an outer and an inner face of the wall were built by well-placed stones, normally slabs with a well-faced outer edge. The space between these two layers was filled by smaller, irregular stones. Instead of mortar a yellowish clay was used as ‘cement’, as at Vila Nova de S. Pedro and Los Millares. This clay is more compact between the stones of the outer and inner faces of the walls than in the filling; therefore, the clay of the filling has a different colour than the clay between the stones of the outer and inner faces (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:9). The advantage of quicklime was obviously not known, because there are no remains of it found either at Zambujal or at any other Copper Age fortification in the Iberian Peninsula. One consequence of the construction technique of the walls was a certain instability. Several times an outer or an inner face of the wall had been damaged and was repaired by putting a new face in front of it as a kind of reinforcement. Thus the walls not only grew over time (we can observe a horizontal stratigraphy in the sequence of these faces), but
each new face is based on a layer which touches the next older face of the wall (Fig. 6.2). In profiles and plans, the three components, the well-positioned outer and inner faces and the fill of the walls, as well as the layers of collapsed wall, can easily be distinguished, as can other stratigraphic layers and the inside and outside of architectural structures, such as houses, towers, and doorways.
1.3. Relative chronology: phases of construction As a result of identifying these ‘stratigraphic’ features (in a broad sense), Sangmeister and Schubart were able to reconstruct five phases, each of which represents a different defence system. In the first phase, the walls of Zambujal represent a kind of labyrinth, where people had to pass through several small courtyards, built by radial walls between the different lines of fortification, before they could enter the fortification core. This system is of the ‘labyrinth’ type (Fig. 6.3 A). 77
Enclosing the Past
Figure 6.2. Model of the horizontal and vertical stratigraphies of the walls of Zambujal. Each new face of a wall is based on a new layer. carried out by students of M. Korfmann in Tübingen In a second phase, the radial walls were destroyed. “A large (Cordes, Gut and Schuhmacher 1990). This system can be enclosure was built to the east of the central area of the main considered to belong to the ‘causewayed camp’ type (Fig. fortification. It consisted of a wall, only 1m thick, extending 6.3 B). We may note too the observation of Hans-Peter and eastwards and resting against the old, massive tower in the Margarethe Uerpmann that there was an accumulation of south and the reinforcement of the semi-circular tower in the stone arrowheads in this ‘outer courtyard’, which supports north” (Sangmeister and Schubart 1972:194). This system their idea that the walls of Zambujal were true fortification has been called an ‘outer courtyard’ (German Zwinger). In this period the second line of fortification gained its walls and that they had sometimes served in a theatre of war (Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003:100–102). characteristic shape of a second circle around the inner core. It appears that the sophisticated defence system with ‘outer Near its main entrance, several small doorways were broken courtyards’ containing embrasures and corresponding small through the walls. In addition, the ‘outer courtyard’ shows small openings or ‘windows’ (Fig. 6.4). As these windows doorways in the outer fortification lines did not produce the correspond, more or less, with the small doorways of the desired result. Perhaps that was the reason why a new defence second line (Fig. 6.5), they were considered ‘loopholes’ strategy was developed. The beginning of the third phase (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:32–36), a hypothesis of Zambujal is defined by the construction of a new face which was later tested and verified by an experiment outside the wall of the ‘outer courtyard’, with the resulting 78
Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula
Figure 6.3. The five phases of Zambujal according to the excavations of Sangmeister and Schubart (1964–1973) showing different defence systems: A) phase 1 – labyrinth type; B) phase 2 – causewayed camp type; C) phase 3 – high platforms type; D) phase 4 – round towers type; E) phase 5 – gigantic walls type. disappearance of the loopholes. In addition, the small entrances were closed in the second line of fortification, and the doorways, the ‘outer courtyard’ and other open spaces were filled by stones and earth. The results of these changes were high platforms where the defenders of the fortification could move and shoot enemies from above; we call this system the ‘high platform’ type (Fig. 6.3 C). The fourth phase is defined by the construction of round towers on the edge of the platforms, so that they could be laterally defended. This system we call the ‘round tower’ type (Fig. 6.3 D). The towers of this phase are hollow, as their walls shows an inner and outer face and are unlike the towers of the first phase, which are massive and solid.
The fifth phase belongs to the developed Bronze Age. After a great destruction of the fortifications at the end of phase 4, which resulted in a series of thick dark layers, a new fortification was built on top of these layers with a very thick wall. Some remains of narrow passages on top of the wall of phase 4 are interpreted as the entrances through this thick wall (Fig. 6.3 E).
1.4 Absolute chronology In this article all radiocarbon dates are calibrated by the radiocarbon calibration programme CALIB rev. 4.3 79
Enclosing the Past
Figure 6.4. Zambujal. The ‘outer courtyard’ with its loopholes after the restoration in 1970 (D-DAI-MAD-R-220-70-09, photograph: P. Witte). and 6.7), for example, the charcoal date and that for bone from the complex Z-1499 (Table 6.3). This effect is well-known as the ‘old-wood effect’ (Waterbolk 1971:21–22; Breunig 1987:28; Warner 1990; Stäuble 1995). Normally we do not know from which part of a tree the charcoal pieces derive; therefore, they may date some hundred years older than short-lived organic material like animal bones or grains. However, the radiocarbon dates from the charcoal samples (Fig. 6.6) are more coherent than the radiocarbon dates of the bone samples (Fig. 6.8). The diagram of Fig. 6.7 includes all the dates of which the complex numbers are marked in bold-face in the list above (Z-1180, Z-829, Z-1660, Z-705, Z-1499, Z-672, Z598 and Z-898). The others (Z-1562, Z-68204, Z-840, Z-
(copyright 2000 M. Stuiver and P. J. Reimer, to be used in conjunction with Stuiver and Reimer 1993). The first series of 16 radiocarbon dates published by Sangmeister and Schubart (1981:263–275) date the phases 1c to 4c (Table 6.1). As these dates do not include either the first phases nor phase 5, I looked for animal bone samples and sent them to the laboratories at Cologne and Kiel (I am very grateful to B. Weninger and P. Grootes who were responsible for the new series). The Kiel dates – with their laboratory numbers beginning with KIA – were done by AMS. The series includes one date of a bone sample of the older series – GrN-7008 (Table 6.2). One result from these new dates is that the radiocarbon dates of the charcoal samples are a little bit older than the bone dates (Figs. 6.6 80
Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula
Figure 6.5. Zambujal. Plan of the ‘outer courtyard’ and the second fortification line with indication of the areas visible through each loophole (after Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:34, Abb. 9). 1501 and Z-1169) are represented in Fig. 6.8. This Figure repeats the dates of Z-1180 and Z-898 to maintain the same time scale as in Fig. 6.7. What we see is a big disturbance in the sequence of the dates. In comparison with the dates of phase 2 (Fig. 6.7) the dates of phase 1a and 1c of Fig. 6.8 are too young. On the other hand the dates of phase 3c (Z-1501) and phase 5 (Z-1169) are too old. Therefore, we must look for reasons for these errors. I think that the main reason might be the treatment of the finds after the excavation. The charcoal samples were registered during the excavation, packed in small packages and sent to the
laboratory. The bones were washed and classified and then packed in big wooden boxes in the museum, ordered according to their biological classification. Perhaps some bones were incorrectly numbered? As there are thousands of bones, this error cannot be excluded. Another possibility is the activity of dogs. They like to play with bones, and in a settlement like Zambujal they ‘excavate’ and bury bones. This could have also happened during the Copper Age occupation of the site. Because of these problems we decided to excavate a new stratigraphic section where our trenches articulated with the 81
Enclosing the Past Lab.-No.
Date BP
KN-J-115
3530±65
GrN-6668
3625±65
GrN-7007 C
3950±65
GrN-6669
4025±95
GrN-7006
4090±40
GrN-6670
4150±105
GrN-7005
4055±40
GrN-7004
3995±35
cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) 1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed 2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed (1 σ) 1938 – 1928 1924 – 1767 1759 – 1752 (2 σ) 2029 – 1989 1983 – 1727 1723 – 1689 (1 σ) 2122 – 2097 2040 – 1885 (2 σ) 2196 – 2169 2144 – 1865 1843 – 1809 1801 – 1775 (1 σ) 2566 – 2520 2498 – 2397 2384 – 2344 (2 σ) 2620 – 2609 2599 – 2586 2585 – 2276 2253 – 2229 2221 – 2206 (1 σ) 2857 – 2813 2735 – 2731 2697 – 2456 2419 – 2406 (2 σ) 2875 – 2797 2789 – 2301 (1 σ) 2855 – 2846 2845 – 2815 2676 – 2573 2512 – 2502 (2 σ) 2864 – 2807 2778 – 2771 2760 – 2718 2706 – 2555 2538 – 2493 (1 σ) 2877 – 2655 2655 – 2621 2608 – 2601 (2 σ) 3009 – 2985 2924 – 2460 (1 σ) 2827 – 2824 2658 – 2652 2622 – 2606 2604 – 2554 2539 – 2493 (2 σ) 2856 – 2814 2696 – 2689 2682 – 2470 (1 σ) 2564 – 2522 2497 – 2470 (2 σ) 2619 – 2610 2597 – 2592 2583 – 2456 2417 – 2409
82
Probability distribution
Complex
Phase
0.043 0.919 0.038 0.055 0.900 0.044 0.114 0.886 0.022 0.910 0.041 0.027 0.222 0.577 0.200 0.011 0.009 0.949 0.021 0.011 0.110 0.010 0.852 0.027 0.112 0.888 0.040 0.193 0.715 0.052 0.201 0.008 0.084 0.614 0.093 0.847 0.128 0.025 0.008 0.992 0.022 0.030 0.144 0.417 0.386 0.086 0.007 0.907 0.594 0.406 0.013 0.004 0.977 0.006
Z-79
3/4
Z-622
4c/d
Z-1509
4b
Z-633
4b
Z-1459
4a–c
Z-638
3c/4a
Z-1466
3c
Z-1470
3b
Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula Lab.-No.
Date BP
GrN-7003
4055±40
GrN-7002
4050±40
GrN-6671
4170±55
GrN-7009
4200±40
cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) 1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed 2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed (1 σ) 2827 – 2824 2658 – 2652 2622 – 2606 2604 – 2554 2539 – 2493 (2 σ) 2856 – 2814 2696 – 2689 2682 – 2470 (1 σ) 2656 – 2654 2622 – 2607 2602 – 2551 2541 – 2491 (2 σ) 2855 – 2814 2695 – 2695 2677 – 2468 (1 σ) 2877 – 2843 2815 – 2672 (2 σ) 2884 – 2619 2610 – 2597 2591 – 2583 (1 σ) 2883 – 2858 2812 – 2746 2723 – 2699 (2 σ) 2893 – 2835 2819 – 2663 2648 – 2629
Probability distribution
Complex
Phase
0.022 0.030 0.144 0.417 0.386 0.086 0.007 0.907 0.012 0.127 0.428 0.434 0.071 0.001 0.928 0.187 0.813 0.963 0.025 0.012 0.216 0.579 0.205 0.230 0.741 0.030
Z-1540
3b
Z-1499
2
Z-700
2
Z-971
1c
Table 6.1. Zambujal. The calibration results of 12 radiocarbon dates from the first published series of charcoal samples from phases 1c to 4c (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:263–275). Figures in bold indicate the most probable date range according to the probability distribution.
83
Enclosing the Past Lab.-No.
Date BP
KN-4507
3466±53
KN-4506
3847±34
GrN-7008
3980±35
KIA-7261
3842±37
KN-4989
3917±50
KN-4990
3934±51
KN-4988
3980±40
KIA-7257
3836±39
cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) 1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed 2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed (1 σ) 1878 – 1840 1827 – 1793 1782 – 1737 1711 – 1693 (2 σ) 1919 – 1680 1670 – 1658 1651 – 1637 (1 σ) 2399 – 2380 2348 – 2276 2253 – 2229 2221 – 2205 (2 σ) 2457 – 2418 2407 – 2201 (1 σ) 2562 – 2523 2496 – 2465 (2 σ) 2616 – 2614 2578 – 2431 2423 – 2403 2375 – 2375 2368 – 2366 2365 – 2352 (1 σ) 2398 – 2382 2346 – 2273 2255 – 2227 2223 – 2204 (2 σ) 2458 – 2416 2412 – 2199 2156 – 2154 (1 σ) 2469 – 2395 2394 – 2336 2319 – 2312 (2 σ) 2563 – 2523 2497 – 2279 2251 – 2231 2219 – 2209 (1 σ) 2549 – 2543 2490 – 2476 2475 – 2396 2388 – 2339 2317 – 2313 (2 σ) 2572 – 2514 2502 – 2286 2247 – 2235 2215 – 2215 (1 σ) 2567 – 2519 2499 – 2462 (2 σ) 2617 – 2613 2580 – 2401 2378 – 2350 (1 σ) 2396 – 2385 2342 – 2269 2260 – 2203 (2 σ) 2457 – 2417 2409 – 2197 2163 – 2146
84
Probability distribution
Complex
Phase
0.289 0.233 0.359 0.119 0.970 0.015 0.016 0.133 0.570 0.189 0.108 0.085 0.915 0.514 0.486 0.001 0.943 0.035 0.001 0.003 0.016 0.109 0.544 0.214 0.134 0.082 0.914 0.004 0.567 0.394 0.039 0.052 0.911 0.025 0.011 0.028 0.065 0.584 0.309 0.014 0.122 0.866 0.012 0.001 0.545 0.455 0.006 0.949 0.045 0.072 0.506 0.422 0.069 0.900 0.030
Z-898
5
Z-1169
5
Z-1501
3c
Z-598
2b/c
Z-672
2
Z-1499
2
Z-705
2
Z-840
1c
Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula Lab.-No.
Date BP
KIA-7256
3951±55
KIA-7259
3801±43
KIA-7258
3891±43
KN-4509
3960±44
KIA-.7260
4134±43
cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) 1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed 2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed (1 σ) 2560 – 2535 2534 – 2524 2496 – 2400 2379 – 2349 (2 σ) 2617 – 2612 2580 – 2287 2246 – 2240 (1 σ) 2295 – 2194 2174 – 2143 (2 σ) 2455 – 2452 2426 – 2424 2403 – 2365 2353 – 2131 2081 – 2044 (1 σ) 2458 – 2395 2395 – 2334 2320 – 2311 (2 σ) 2471 – 2274 2254 – 2228 2222 – 2205 (1 σ) 2564 – 2522 2497 – 2455 2453 – 2432 2422 – 2404 2362 – 2353 (2 σ) 2576 – 2506 2505 – 2334 2321 – 2309 (1 σ) 2862 –2826 2824 – 2808 2775 – 2775 2757 – 2720 2703 – 2657 2653 – 2622 2606 – 2603 (2 σ) 2875 – 2796 2791 – 2617 2612 – 2581
Probability distribution
Complex
Phase
0.147 0.049 0.626 0.178 0.004 0.992 0.004 0.796 0.204 0.002 0.001 0.047 0.916 0.034 0.479 0.457 0.064 0.929 0.046 0.025 0.305 0.410 0.111 0.122 0.052 0.285 0.700 0.015 0.212 0.091 0.005 0.217 0.274 0.186 0.015 0.282 0.635 0.083
Z-1660
1b
Z-68204
1a
Z-1562
1a
Z-829
1a
Z-1180
before 1a/1a
Table 6.2. Zambujal. The calibration results of radiocarbon dates from animal bone samples from the laboratories at Cologne and Kiel. The Kiel dates – with their laboratory numbers beginning with KIA – were done by AMS. The series includes one date of a bone sample of the older series (GrN-7008). Lab.-No.
Date BP
GrN-7002
4050±40
KN-4990
3934±51
cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) 2860 − 2810 2680 − 2460 2580 − 2280 2250 − 2230
Probability
Complex
Phase
7.3% 88.1% 94.2% 1.2%
Z-1499
2
Z-1499
2
Table 6.3. Zambujal. Comparison of the dates for the complex Z-1499 from a sample of charcoal (GrN-7002) with one of bone from the complex (KN-4990).
85
Enclosing the Past
Figure 6.6. Zambujal. Calibration using the program CALIB of 12 radiocarbon dates from charcoal samples from phases 1c to 4d.
Figure 6.7. Zambujal. Calibration using the program CALIB of 8 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before 1a, 1b, 2 and 5. 86
Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian peninsula
Figure 6.8. Zambujal. Calibration using the program CALIB of 7 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before 1a, 1a, 1c, 3c and 5. area excavated by Sangmeister and Schubart, and were thus able to find the same layers classified by them. During the last excavation campaign in 2002 we therefore started to re-excavate the stratigraphy of the profile A 1 (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:74 and Taf. 102). In this area Schubart and Sangmeister left an unexcavated area for the future. Following their example, we also do not want to remove it completely, so we will be excavating one meter behind the published stratigraphy. All the earth will be flotated to recover preserved organic matter. All sample locations for radiocarbon dating will be coordinated in three dimensions; soil and lithic samples will be geochemically analysed, and some will be analysed by thin sections. We plan to collect about five organic samples per layer for radiocarbon dating. At the moment, our interdisciplinary team is working on these analyses, and we hope to get the results within the next two years. We have reached some interesting conclusions based on the radiocarbon dates published in this article. It appears that the Copper Age settlement at Zambujal did not start earlier than 2700 cal BC. There are only very few layers left from a settlement phase before the building of the first fortification walls. The only bone sample dated is Z-1180 (KIA-7260). All bone samples from phase 1 and 2 date to between about 2500 and 2100 cal BC. Therefore, we have to consider the likelihood that the beginning of the settlement is not much earlier than 2500 cal BC. On the other hand, the charcoal dates are a little bit older, although the date for phase 1 is not much older than 2850 cal BC. Another observation is that phases 1 to 3 are close in date, while phase 4 lasts much longer, until 2000 cal BC, and possibly until 1700 or 1600 cal BC. This would be consistent with some finds of Bell Beaker pottery with incised decoration, especially of the Montes Claros type (Kunst 1987, Taf. 5 and 24; Bubner 1981) or the Palmela complex (Harrison 1977:27–29). Phase 5 is the most recent phase (Fig. 6.7), as also indicated by some pottery finds from the surface, resembling pottery of Alpiarça dated to the latest Bronze Age or Early Iron Age (Kunst 1995, 24 and 28, Fig. 6). The
find of a fibula without a spring in a new excavation area below the rock-shelter (Kunst and Uerpmann 1996:32–35) also point to an Early Iron Age date. (After finishing the manuscript of this article in April 2004 and until now, a new series of 11 samples from the fourth fortification line at Zambujal was dated by AMS. These dates range from more or less 3100 to 1700 CalBC).
2. Excavations in 1994 and 1995 The most interesting result of the excavations carried out in October 1994 and September 1995 (Kunst and Uerpmann 1996; Kunst and Uerpmann 2002) by the author together with H.-P. Uerpmann from Tübingen, was the observation that the settled area of Zambujal during the Copper Age was much larger than previously thought. Surveys carried out between 1982 and 1987 by the author with L.J.F. Trindade as well as finds produced by the peasants working around Zambujal had shown that there were Copper Age sherds and stone implements scattered in the fields surrounding the site. H.-P. and M. Uerpmann also recovered many sherds in the area below the rock at the end of the small promontory. These discoveries force us to ask the question: were these stray finds artefacts that had fallen down from the fortification above, or was there perhaps an unfortified settlement around the fortification? On the other hand, the plan of the fortification excavated by Sangmeister and Schubart showed that the walls continued into the southern valley (Fig. 6.3, B and C; Fig. 6.9), which meant that the fortification might have also continued through the valley. In this southern valley, but approximately 100m to the east, a lot of Copper Age pottery was found by peasants establishing a new vineyard. These finds could not be explained as finds fallen down from the then-known fortifications. New surveys in 1994 also detected many Copper Age sherds in an area more or less 40 to 60 meters uphill east of the third line of fortification. In 1995, after we had cleared that area of its undergrowth, we found a smooth 87
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Figure 6.9. Zambujal. Air photograph from southwest to northeast with the excavation of the 4th fortification line at the end of July 2002 (D-DAI-MAD-KB-29-02-08, photograph: author). elevation, where we located an excavation trench. Under the surface a wall with several faces appeared, constructed in the same manner as the walls excavated by Sangmeister and Schubart. H.-P. Uerpmann located, in 6 small trenches in the area below the rocky end of the promontory, signs of settlement in that area (Fig. 6.10). In trench C, in particular, he found large fragments of bowls with thick inverted rims, typical of the Portuguese Copper Age (Kunst and Uerpmann 2002:109), and many of the sherds found in that area have well-preserved surfaces, which means that they cannot be considered as eroded from the settlement above the promontory. Unfortunately, the owner of the land refuses at present to allow further excavation in that area. In 1994 and 1995, excavations were also carried out in the area of the still partly inhabited farm-house, as the town of Torres Vedras and the IPPAR (Instituto Português do Património Arquitectónico e Arqueológico) plan to build an archaeological park at Zambujal and to convert the farmhouse into a small museum. It is therefore necessary to excavate in the area of the farm-house. The northern part of this so-called ‘casal’ has been abandoned for about 30 years and is now partly ruined. Unexpectedly, the excavations uncovered several remains of fortification walls as well as walls from round houses. To connect the archaeological remains from the ‘casal’ area with the chronology of the first and second line of fortification it was necessary to excavate in the area between the ‘casal’ and the big block of the first fortification line, with the so called ‘outer courtyard’. It was really a stroke of unexpected good luck that remains of the
walls we were looking for survived. In the aerial photograph the continuation of the fortification walls of the core area is easy to see. They lead directly into the northernmost part of the farm-house where they turn a corner, and then continue to the southwest, where they cross again below the walls of the ‘casal’ (Fig. 6.11).
3. Excavations in 2001 and 2002 In July 2001 and from May to July 2002, excavations were concentrated in the area approximately 60 meters to the east of the third fortification line. There we found another area of fortification, which we called the fourth line (Fig. 6.12). It consists of a first hollow wall of a thickness (from its outer to inner face) of about 1 meter. It shows two small entrances, which were later closed and turned into hollow towers. Over time the walls grew, and several new faces were created at their outer and inner sides. In the aerial photograph of this fourth line, at the lower edge of the photo, two trenches without any architectural structures can also been seen. They were dug at two localities where a geomagnetic survey had detected magnetic anomalies, but the anomalies had nothing to do with the Copper Age site. It is interesting, however, to see that there were also open places, without buildings, inside the fortification. These new results have modified the plans of Zambujal from Sangmeister and Schubart (Fig. 6.3). Now the core area is more or less elliptical or ‘egg-shaped’, and there exists a fourth line of fortification (Fig. 6.13). Fig. 6.13 is 88
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Figure 6.10. Zambujal, October 1994. Air photograph from north to south of the end of the promontory on top of which the Copper Age fortification is situated (in the top left corner of the picture). In the middle of the right part of the picture there is a small hut, which was built for the excavation of H.-P. Uerpmann around the vineyard surrounded by a white ribbon (photograph: author). based on the reconstruction of phase 2c (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:238). As the fourth fortification line also shows small entrances in its oldest core, and inside this wall was also found a large fragment of a cylindrical vessel, or ‘copo’, typical of the early Copper Age of Portugal (Soares and Tavares da Silva 1975:119 and 151), I propose to date it to phase 2, although this is still hypothetical. The younger phases of the fourth line are marked in grey, whereas they are not marked in the rest of the fortification, to make it easier to understand the plan. With this fourth fortification line we might estimate the fortified area of Zambujal to be much larger than earlier thought, perhaps something like 7 or 8 acres. However, about 30 meters uphill to the east, near the right border of the photo of Fig. 6.9, there is another concentration of stones in the field and another flat-topped rise, so perhaps these constitute yet another fortification line.
(with the exception of Alcalar, whose measurements were given by E. Morán), with the sites ordered from smallest to largest. An exception is Alcalar, with the largest Copper Age cemetery in Portugal (megalithic and corbelled tombs), known since the 19th century (Veiga 1886, 1889). Plans of the site were published in the late 1970s (Silva and Soares 1977; Arnaud and Gamito 1978). A new project at Alcalar, under the direction of R. Parreira (Parreira and Serpa 1995) and, more recently, with E. Morán, estimate an area of more or less 50 acres for the fortified settlement and its system of huge ditches (Morán and Parreira 2003). Based on the new excavations at Zambujal we must estimate a larger area, with the fourth line of fortification and possibly even a fifth one, as well as the settled area below the promontory. The area within the fourth line could be double the area estimated to date, that is approximately 6.6 acres. With a fifth line this grows to 12 acres, with the area below the rock making it even larger. All these estimations are, however, very hypothetical until excavations have determined the true extent of Zambujal. In the case of Leceia, the possibility of a fourth fortification line cannot be excluded, as a building has been published (structure FM), dated to the Bell Beaker period, outside the third fortification line of that site (Cardoso 1997:28–30; Cardoso 2001:141–147). This is similar to the case of hut 10 (cabana 10) at Santa Justa (Gonçalves, V. 1991:190– 191). Another example is Vila Nova de S. Pedro, where most excavations had been concentrated in the core area
4. Copper Age fortifications in the Iberian Peninsula Copper Age fortifications, such as Zambujal, are known from the south of the Iberian Peninsula, more or less between northern Portugal and Alicante (Spain) (Arteaga 2001:183, Abb. 2; Jorge, S. 1994:463, fig. 1; Kunst 2001:68, Karte 9). Up until now, the Portuguese fortifications have been considered to be relatively small in area. On Table 6.4 are listed some measurements based on published plans 89
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Figure 6.11. Zambujal. Air photograph of the 1st and 2nd fortification lines at the end of the excavation in the beginning of October 1995. The 1st fortification line continues through the northern part of the farmhouse (D-DAI-MAD-KB-29-95-20A; photograph: author).
Site name Santa Justa (Alcoutim) Monta da Tumba (Torrão) Castelo Velho de Freixo de Numão (Vila Nova de Foz Côa) Columbeira (Bombarral) São Brás (Serpa) Leceia (Oeiras) Vila Nova de S. Pedro (Azambuja) Zambujal (Torres Vedras) (without the 4th fortification line) Monte da Ponte (Évora) Alcalar (Portimão)
Approximate area in acres 0.2 0.2 0.6 0.7 1.0 2.5 3.3
Bibliography Gonçalves, V. 1991:177–330 da Silva & Soares 1985; da Silva & Soares 1987 Jorge, S. 1993; Jorge, S. 1999 Schubart 1970; Gonçalves, J.L. 1994 Parreira 1983 Cardoso 1994; Cardoso 1997 do Paço & Sangmeister 1956; Savory 1972; Arnaud & Gonçalves, J.L. 1990 Sangmeister & Schubart 1981
3.3 8.0 50.0
Kalb & Höck 1997:14–17; Becker 1997:29–34 Parreira & Serpa 1995; Morán & Parreira 2003
Table 6.4. The areas of Portuguese fortifications based on published plans (with the exception of Alcalar), ordered from smallest to largest.
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Figure 6.12. Zambujal. Air photograph of the 4th fortification line at the end of the excavation at the end of July 2002 (DDAI-MAD-KB-29-02-20, photograph: author). with the outer fortification lines never published and only Alcores (Arteaga et al. 1986; Arteaga et al. 1991:298–299). indicated by superficial observations (Savory 1972:24–25). To date, the best studied Copper Age site with the largest V. Gonçalves conducted excavations in 1985 and 1986 at cemetery of corbelled graves is Los Millares (Santa Fé de the 2nd and 3rd lines of fortification (Gonçalves V. 1994:49), Mondujar, Almería) (Almagro and Arribas 1963; Arribas but they remain unpublished. These observations suggest et al. 1985; Molina 1989). The fortified area is not much that future investigations might locate even larger fortified larger than Zambujal with its fourth fortification line, and Copper Age settlements in Portugal than previously is estimated to be 5 acres, although the necropolis occupies estimated. another 30 acres (Arribas et al. 1979:61), and the entire Located in the south of Spain, in Andalucía, are the largest area is surrounded by 11 small citadels, called ‘fortines’, in Copper Age settlements known to date, such as Marroquíes Spanish (Arribas et al. 1985; Molina 1989). Bajos, Jaén (Zafra, Hornos and Castro 1999) with an area of These large fortifications were considered to be central about 87 acres. O. Arteaga indicates that there are very large places (Parreira 1990:34; Parreira and Serpa 1995; Copper Age settlements with fortifications near Porcuna Uerpmann 1995; Kunst 1995b; Morán and Parreira (Jaén) at the Cerro de El Albalate and the Cerro de los 2003:313), particularly as in some regions a system of 91
Figure 6.13. Zambujal. Schematic plan of phase 2 (black) with indication of later constructions at the 4th line (grey) (drawing by G. Casella).
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Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula hierarchically organised, dependent settlements has been indicated, such as Zambujal with its ‘hinterland’ (Kunst 1990; Kunst and Trindade 1990). Some have argued that these settlement systems represent early states (Nocete 1994; Arteaga 2001; Morán and Parreira 2003:323–324). One of the big uncertainties of this model is that we do not have any written sources from this period in the Iberian Peninsula, and there are no recording systems known, as in the Neolithic of the Near East (Schmandt-Besserat 1979). An exception might be the decorated schist plaques found in many megalithic tombs (Leisner and Leisner 1951) as well as in some Copper Age fortifications like Zambujal (Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003, Tafel 32, T 253 and 1377). Katina Lillios has pointed out that the decoration of these plaques could be a recording system, perhaps of genealogies of the dead (Lillios 2002). On the other hand, we could conclude that the Copper Age of the Iberian Peninsula was a time of conflict. Perhaps after the first agricultural communities during the Neolithic, in the 6th millennium BC., there was an increase in population which peaked in the 4th and 3rd millennia B.C. There are many signs of violence in this period, especially in northern Spain, and the increase in stone fortifications during the 3rd millennium B.C. may be evidence of war (Armendáriz, M. Irigaray and S. Irigaray 1995; Vegas 1999; Kunst 2000). In section 1.3 of this article I mentioned the fact that there is an increase in flint arrowheads in the ‘outer courtyard’ of Zambujal and in the area between first and second line of fortification, which might have been the result of warfare (Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003:100–102). The fact that possibly more valuable items were found in the core areas of these sites may be interpreted as social differentiation inside such fortifications. For example, in the case of Zambujal, Bell Beaker pottery accumulates in the core area, especially in houses involved in copper production, and metal finds are also more frequent in that area (Kunst 1998). In general, it is obvious that there are differences in grave goods and especially in the grave architecture. At Valencina de la Concepción, for example, the huge tombs have long corridors and small chambers, perhaps constructed for only a small group of very rich people. The same is also observed in monument 7 at Alcalar (Parreira and Serpa 1995:240–241). Smaller tombs may contain the remains of many individuals (Arteaga and Cruz-Auñón 1999a; Arteaga and Cruz-Auñón 2001). We may conclude that significant differentiation of elites and other social groups existed in the Iberian Copper Age, and metal goods was only one class of objects, among others, by which these elites distinguished themselves. I do not want to go into more detail on this subject, as the question of elites could be the subject of its own article. There is a great deal of literature on this subject (e.g. Gilman and Thornes 1985:183–189; Gilman 1987; Chapman 1990:174; Parreira 1990; Gilman 1991; Nocete 1994; Arteaga 2001:177–185). On the other hand, these stone fortifications are not the only type of enclosures in the Iberian Peninsula. There are also many ditched enclosures such as Perdigões, in the Portuguese Alentejo (Lago et al. 1998), or the still unpublished site of Santa Vitória at Campo Maior, District of Portalegre (Ana Mousa Carvalho Dias, pers. com.); sometimes they are of considerable size. Very interesting work on these enclosures has recently been published (Díasde-Río 2003). In Andalucía, in particular, there are some very large enclosures of this type (Márquez Romero 2003),
Figure 6.14. La Revilla del Campo, Ambrona (Miño de Medinaceli, Soria, Spain). Excavated part of an enclosure of the 6th millennium BC (after Kunst and Rojo in Madrider Mitteilungen 46, drawing by L. de Frutos).
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Acknowledgements
such as Papa Uvas (Huelva) (Martín de la Cruz 1985) and La Pijotilla (Hurtado 1997), in the Spanish Extremadura. Perhaps the most important site is Valencina de la Concepción, although at this site it is unclear whether there had been a stone fortification or not, because the centre of the Copper Age settlement is situated beneath the modern town. O. Arteaga argues in this special case that it was a central place with a concentration of political power. Outside a very large ditch, hundreds of storage pits were excavated (Arteaga and Cruz-Auñón 1999b; Cruz-Auñón and Arteaga 1999), and outside that area was a cemetery area with very large burial mounds (Arteaga and Cruz-Auñón 2001). J.E. Márquez Romero argues that these ditched enclosures might not have been settlements, and particularly not fortifications, but ritual places or places of other types of communication (Márquez Romero 2003). There are archaeologists who even interpret those enclosures with stone architecture as ritual sites, and who suggest that the function of their stone architecture serves only to monumentalise the place (S. Jorge 1999). On the other hand, in the centre of the Iberian Peninsula there are also some enclosures with ditches and without stone walls that have been recently excavated in the region of Madrid: Gózquez de Arriba (San Martín de la Vega); Las Matillas (Alcalá de Henares); and Fuente de la Mora (Leganés). Radiocarbon dates show that they are from the first half of the 3rd millennium cal BC (Díaz-del-Río 2003, 71–74). P. Díaz-del-Río pointed out that in Gózquez de Arriba and also Fuente de la Mora there existed a permanent settlement inside the enclosures (Díazdel-Río 2003:74). Perhaps there was a long tradition in constructing enclosures in the Iberian Peninsula. In our excavations at the site La Revilla del Campo, an Early Neolithic settlement of the 6th millennium BC we found remains of an enclosure made by two small parallel ditches (Fig. 6.14), perhaps the remains of a palisade (Kunst and Rojo in press).
I would like to thank Katina Lillios for her correction of the English text.
Bibliography Almagro, M. and Arribas, A. 1963. El poblado y la Necrópolis megalíticos de Los Millares (Santa Fe de Mondújar, Almería). Bibliotheca Praehistorica Hispana III. Madrid. Armendáriz, J., Irigaray, M. and Irigaray, S. 1995. Violencia y muerte en la prehistoria: el Hipogeo de Longar. Revista de Arqueología 168:16–29. Arnaud, J. Morais and Gamito, T. Júdice 1978. Povoado Calcolítico de Alcalar: notícia da sua identificação. Anais do Municipio de Faro 8:275–288. Arnaud, J. Morais and Gonçalves, J. L. Marques 1990. A fortificação pré-histórica de Vila Nova de S. Pedro (Azambuja): balanço de meio século de investigações. 1ª Parte. Revista de Arqueologia da Assembleia Distrital de Lisboa, Serviço de Cultura 1:25–48. Arribas, A., Molina, F., Sáez, L., Torre, F. de la, Aguayo, P. and Nájera, T. 1979. Excavaciones en Los Millares (Santa Fe, Almería): campañas de 1978 y 1979. Cuadernos de Prehistoria de la Universidad de Granada 4:61–110. Arribas, A., Molina, F., Carrión, F., Contreras, F., Martínez, G., Ramos, A., Sáez, L., Torre, F. de la, Blanco, I. and Martínez, J. 1985. Informe preliminar de los resultados obtenidos durante la VI campaña de excavaciones en el poblado de Los Millares (Santa Fe de Mondújar, Almería). Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1985 2:245–262. Arteaga, O. 2001. Fuente Álamo im Territorium von El Argar: eine Auseinandersetzung mit dem ‘Paradigma des Südostens’ aus der Perspektive des atlantisch–mediterranen Südwestens der Iberischen Halbinsel. In H. Schubart, V. Pingel and O. Arteaga Fuente Álamo. Teil I: Die Grabungen von 1977 bis 1991 in einer bronzezeitlichen Höhensiedlung Andalusiens, pp. 161–203. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Arteaga, O. and Cruz-Auñión, R. 1999a. El Sector Funerario de ‘Los Cabezuelos’ (Valencina de la Concepción, Sevilla): resultados preliminares de una excavación de urgencia. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1995 3:589–599. Arteaga, O. and Cruz-Auñón, R. 1999b. Una valoración del ‘Patrimonio Histórico’ en el ‘Campo de Silos’ de la finca ‘El Cuervo-RTVA’ (Valencina de la Concepción, Sevilla): excavación de urgencia de 1995. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1995 3:608–616. Arteaga, O. and Cruz-Auñón, R. 2001. Las nuevas sepulturas prehistóricas (tholoi) y los enterramientos bajo túmulos (tartesios) de Castilleja de Guzmán (Sevilla): excavación de urgencia de 1996. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1996:701–710. Arteaga, O., Nocete, F., Ramos, J., Recuerda, A. and Roos, A.M. 1986. Excavaciones sistemáticas en el Cerro de El Albalate (Porcuna, Jaén). Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1986 2:395–400. Arteaga, O., Ramos Muñoz, J., Roos, A.M. and Nocete Calvo, F., 1991. Balance a medio playo del “Prozecto Porcuna”: Campaña de 1991. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1991 2: 295–301. Becker, H. 1997. Geophysikalische Prospektion in Vale de Rodrigo, Concelho Évora, Portugal. Madrider Mitteilungen 38:21–35. Breunig, P. 1987. 14C-Chronologie des vorderasiatischen, südostund mitteleuropäischen Neolithikums. Fundamenta Reihe A, Band 13. Köln, Wien. Bubner, T. 1981. Zur Entstehung und Ausbreitung der Glockenbecherkultur. Acta Praehistorica et Archaeologica 11/12:43–53.
Conclusions There is still not much known about Neolithic settlements in the Iberian Peninsula. The reason is, in my opinion, a methodological one. To date not many extensive excavations have been carried out. Only now, with an increase of modern construction, such as highways and new urbanisation, and the preservation of historic buildings and monuments and especially archaeological monuments, extensive excavations are becoming more common. And these, like the cases of Gózquez de Arriba, Fuente de la Mora and Las Matillas, greatly increase our knowledge of large open air sites. In Andalucía, excavations of larger areas must be carried out at enclosure sites like, for example, Papa Uvas mentioned above (Martín de la Cruz 1985). We can see that the last word has not been said on the Copper Age enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula. However, the example of Zambujal clearly shows that the function of the walls must be reckoned to be for defence, particularly during a period in which such constructions increase in the southern part of the Iberian Peninsula. On the other hand, it may be that not all enclosures were built for the same purpose (Márquez Romero 2003), as the Iberian Copper Age is a complex and highly regionalised society with certain characteristics of early states (Arteaga 2001; Chapman 1990; Gilman and Thornes 1985; Gilman 1991; Nocete 1994; Parreira 1990). 94
Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula Cardoso, J.L. 1994. Leceia 1983–1993. Escavações do povoado fortificado pré-histórico. Estudos Arqueológicos de Oeiras número especial. Oeiras. Cardoso, J.L. 1997. O povoado de Leceia (Oeiras), sentinela do Tejo no terceiro milénio a.C. Lisboa, Oeiras. Cardoso, J.L. 2001. Le phénomène campaniforme dans les basses vallées du Tage et du Sado (Portugal). In F. Nicolis (ed.) Bell Beakers today: pottery, people, culture, symbols in prehistoric Europe. Proceedings of the International Colloquium, Riva del Garda (Trento, Italy) 11–16 May 1998, pp. 139–154. Trento. Chapman, R.W. 1990. Emerging complexity: the later prehistory of south-east Spain, Iberia and the west Mediterranean. New Studies in Archaeology. Cambridge, New York, Port Chester, Melbourne, Sydney. Cruz-Auñón, R. and Arteaga, O. 1999. Acerca de un campo de silos y un foso de cierre prehistóricos ubicados en ‘La Esacada Larga’ (Valencina de la Concepción, Sevilla). Excavación de urgencia de 1995. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1995 3:600–607. Cordes, K., Gut, A. and Schuhmacher, T. 1990. Zur Frage der ‘Schieß-Scharten’ in Zambujal. Madrider Mitteilungen 31:83–108. Díaz-del-Río, P. 2003. Recintos de fosos del III milenio AC en la Meseta Peninsular. Third millennium BC ditched enclosures in Central Iberia. Trabajos de Prehistoria 60/2:61–78. Gilman, A. 1987. Unequal development in Copper Age Iberia. In E.M. Brumfiel, and T.K. Earle, (eds.) Specialization, Exchange, and Complex Societies, pp. 22–29. Cambridge. Gilman, A. 1991. Trajectories towards social complexity in the later prehistory of the Mediterranean. In T. Earle (ed.) Chiefdoms: power, economy, and ideology. A School of American Research book, pp.146–168. Cambridge. Gilman, A. and Thornes, J.B. 1985. Land-use and Prehistory in south-east Spain. The London Research Series in Geography. London. Gonçalves, J.L. Marques 1994. Castro da Columbeira: uma primeira fase do Calcolítico médio estremenho? Al-Madan série 3:5–7. Gonçalves, J.L. Marques 1995. O povoado fortificado da Fórnea (Matacães – Torres Vedras). In M. Kunst (ed.) Origens, Estruturas e Relações das Culturas Calcolíticas da Península Ibérica. Actas das I Jornadas Arqueológicas de Torres Vedras, 3 a 5 de Abril de 1987. Trabalhos de Arqueologia 7:123–140. Lisboa. Gonçalves, V. dos Santos 1991. Megalitismo e metalurgia no Alto Algarve oriental: uma aproximação integrada 1. Uniarch estudos e memórias 2. Lisboa. Gonçalves, V. dos Santos 1994. O Castelo de Vila Nova de S. Pedro: um típico povoado calcolítico fortificado do 3.º milénio. In Lisboa Subterrânea, 26 de Fevereiro a 31 de Dezembro 1994, pp. 49–51. Lisboa. Harrison, R.J. 1977. The Bell Beaker Cultures of Spain and Portugal. American School of Prehistoric Research, Peabody Museum, Harvard University, Bulletin. Cambridge (Massachusetts). Hoffmann, G. 1990. Zur holozänen Landschaftsentwicklung im Tal des Rio Sizandro (Portugal). Madrider Mitteilungen 31:21–33. Hurtado, V. 1997. The Dynamics of the occupation of the middle basin of the river Guadiana between the fourth and second millennia BC. In M. Díaz-Andreu and S. Keay (eds.) The Archaeology of Iberia: the dynamics of change, pp. 98–127. London - New York. Jalhay, E. 1947. O monumento pré-histórico do Casal do Zambujal (Tôrres Vedras): contribuição para o estudo da Idade do Bronze. In Homenaje a Julio Martínez Santa-Olalla II. Actas y Memorias de la Sociedad Española de Antropología, Etnografía y Prehistoria 22:78–85. Madrid. Jorge, S. Oliveira 1993. O povoado de Castelo Velho (Freixo de Numão, Vila Nova de Foz Côa) no contexto da pré-história
recente do Norte de Portugal. In 1º Congresso de Arqueologia Peninsular (Porto, 12–18 de Outubro de 1993). Actas II = Trabalhos de Anthropologia e Etnologia 33/3–4:179–216. Jorge, S. Oliveira 1994. Colónias, fortificações, lugares monumentalizados. Trajectória das consepções sobre um tema do calcolítico peninsular. Revista da Faculdade de Letras (II Série) Porto 11:447–546. Jorge, S. Oliveira 1999. Castelo Velho de Freixo de Numão (Vila Nova de Foz Côa, Portugal). Geschichte der Interpretationsversuche. Madrider Mitteilungen 40:80–96. Kalb, P. and Höck, M. 1997. Untersuchungen im Megalithgebiet von Vale de Rodrigo, Concelho Évora, Portugal. Madrider Mitteilungen 38:1–20. Kunst, M. 1987. Zambujal: Glockenbecher und kerbblattverzierte Keramik aus den Grabungen 1964 bis 1973. Madrider Beiträge 5, Zambujal Teil 2. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Kunst, M. 1990. Sizandro and Guadiana rivers: a comparison as example of the interdependence between the development of settlement and the natural environment. In Arqueologia Hoje 1, Etno-Arqueologia, pp. 118–131. Faro. Kunst, M. 1993. Mauern und Türme der Kupferzeit. In H. Schubart, A. Arbeiter and S. Noack-Haley (eds.) Sternstunden der Archäologie: Funde in Portugal, pp. 47–67. Göttingen. Kunst, M. 1995a. Cerâmica do Zambujal: novos resultados para a cronologia da cerâmica calcolítica. In M. Kunst (ed.) Origens, Estruturas e Relações das Culturas Calcolíticas da Península Ibérica. Actas das I Jornadas Arqueológicas de Torres Vedras, 3 a 5 de Abril de 1987. Trabalhos de Arqueologia 7:21–29. Lisboa. Kunst, M. 1995b. Central places and social complexity in the Iberian Copper Age. In K.T. Lillios (ed.) The Origins of Complex Societies in Late Prehistoric Iberia. International Monographs in Prehistory. Archaeological Series, pp. 32–43. Ann Arbor, Michigan. Kunst, M. 1998. Waren die ‘Schmiede’ in der portugiesischen Kupferzeit gleichzeitig auch die Elite? In B. Fritsch, M. Maute, I. Matuschik, J. Müller and C. Wolf (eds.) Tradition und Innovation: prähistorische Archäologie als historische Wissenschaft. Festschrift für Christian Strahm. Internationale Archäologie, Studia honoraria 3:541–551. Rahden/Westf. Kunst, M. 2000. A Guerra no Calcolítico na Península Ibérica. Era Arqeuologia 2:128–142. Kunst, M. 2001. Die Kupferzeit der Iberischen Halbinsel. In M. Blech, M. Koch and M. Kunst (eds.) Denkmäler der Frühzeit. Hispania Antiqua, pp. 67–99, 481–486, 528–545. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Kunst, M. and Rojo Guerra, M. in press. La Lámpara und La Revilla del Campo: zwei Siedlungen des frühesten Neolithikums der Iberischen Halbinsel bei Ambrona (Soria, Spanien) und ihre absolute Chronologie, Teil 1: La Lámpara. Madrider Mitteilungen 48. Kunst, M. and Trindade, L.J. 1990. Zur Besiedlungsgeschichte des Sizandrotals: Ergebnisse aus der Küstenforschung. Madrider Mitteilungen 31:34–82. Kunst, M. and Uerpmann, H.-P. 1996. Zambujal (Portugal): Vorbericht über die Grabungen 1994. Madrider Mitteilungen 37:10–36. Kunst, M. and Uerpmann, H.-P. 2002. Zambujal (Torres Vedras, Lisboa): relatório das escavações de 1994 e 1995. Revista Portuguesa de Arqueologia 5/1:67–120. Kunst, M. and Rojo Guerra, M. in press. La Revilla del Campo und La Lámpara: zwei Siedlungen des frühesten Neolithikums der Iberischen Halbinsel bei Ambrona (Soria). Madrider Mitteilungen 46. Lago, M., Duarte, C., Valera, A., Albergaria, J., Almeida, F. and Faustino Carvalho, A. 1998. Povoado dos Perdigões (Reguengos de Monsaraz): dados preliminares dos trabalhos arqueológicos realizados em 1997. Revista Portuguesa de Arqueologia 1/1:45–74. Leisner, G. and Leisner, V. 1951. Antas do Concelho de Reguengos
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Enclosing the Past de Monsaraz: materiais para o estudo da cultura megalítica em Portugal. Lisboa. Lillios, K. 2002. Some new views of the engraved slate plaques of southwest Iberia. Revista Portuguesa de Arqueologia 5/2:135–151. Márquez Romero, J.E. 2003 Recintos prehistóricos atrincherados (RPA) en Andalucía (España): una propuesta interpretativa. In S. Oliveira Jorge (ed.) Recintos Murados da Pré-história Recente, pp. 269–284. Porto. Martín de la Cruz, J.C. 1985. Papa Uvas I, Aljaraque, Huleva: campañas de 1976 a 1979. Excavaciones Arquelógicas en España 136. Madrid. Molina González, F. 1989. Proyecto Millares: los inicios de la metalurgia y el desarrollo de las comunidades del Sudeste de la Península Ibérica durante la Edad del Cobre. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 2:211–213. Morán, E. and Parreira, R. 2003. O Povoado Calcolítico de Alcalar (Portimão) na Paisagem Cultural do Alvor no III Milénio Antes da Nossa Era. In S. Oliveira Jorge (ed.) Recintos Murados da Pré-história Recente, pp. 307–327. Porto. Nocete Calvo, F. 1994. La formación del Estado en las Campiñas del Alto Guadalquivir (3000–1500 a.n.e.). Monográfica Arte y Arqueología. Granada. Paço, A. do and Sangmeister, E. 1956. Vila Nova de S. Pedro: eine befestigte Siedlung der Kupferzeit in Portugal. Germania 34:211–230. Parreira, R. 1983. O Cerro dos Castelos de São Brás (Serpa): relatório preliminar dos trabalhos arqueológicos de 1979 e 1980. O Arqueólogo Português, série 4/1:149–168. Parreira, R. 1990. Considerações sobre os milénios IV e III a. C. no centro e Sul de Portugal: presenças orientalizantes em Portugal da Pré-História ao Período Romano. Estudos Orientais 1:27–43. Parreira, R. and Serpa, F. 1995. Novos dados sobre o povoamento da região de Alcalar (Portimão) no IV e III milénios a.C. In 1º Congresso de Arqueologia Peninsular, Porto, Faculdade de Letras, 12–18 Outubro 1993, Actas 7. Trabalhos de Anthropologia e Etnologia 35/3:233–247. Sangmeister, E. and Jiménez Gómez, M.C. 1995. Zambujal: Kupferfunde aus den Grabungen 1964 bis 1973; Los Amuletos de las Campañas 1964 hasta 1973. Madrider Beiträge 5, Zambujal Teil 3. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Sangmeister, E. and Schubart, H. 1972. Zambujal. Antiquity 46:191–197. Sangmeister, E. and Schubart, H. 1981. Zambujal: die Grabungen 1964 bis 1973. Madrider Beiträge 5, Zambujal Teil 1. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Savory, H.N. 1972. The cultural sequence at Vila Nova de S. Pedro: a study of the section cut through the innermost rampart of the Chalcolithic castro in 1959. Madrider Mitteilungen 13:23–37.
Schmandt-Besserat, D. 1979. Reckoning before writing. Archaeology (New York) 32:23–31. Schubart, H. 1970. Die kupferzeitliche Befestigung von Columbeira/Portugal. Madrider Mitteilungen 11:59–73. Silva, C. Tavares da and Soares, J. 1977. Contribuição para o conhecimento dos povoados calcolíticos do Baixo Alentejo e Algarve. Setúbal Arqueológica 2–3:179–272. Silva, C. Tavares da and Soares, J. 1985. Monte da Tumba (Torrão): eine befestigte Siedlung der Kupferzeit im Baixo Alentejo (Portugal). Madrider Mitteilungen 26:1–21. Silva, C. Tavares da and Soares, J. 1987. O povoado fortificado calcolítico do Monte da Tumba: I. Escavações arqueológicas de 1982–86 (resultados preliminares). Setúbal Arqueológica 8:29–79. Soares, J., Silva, C. Tavares da 1975. A ocupação pré-histórica do Pedrão e o Calcolítico da região de Setúbal. Setúbal Arqueológica 1:53–153. Stäuble, H. 1995. Radiocarbon dates of the earliest Neolithic in central Europe. In T.G. Cook, D.D. Harkness, B.F. Miller and E.M. Scott (eds.) Proceedings of the 15th International 14C Conference. Radiocarbon 37/2:227–237. Stuiver, M., and Reimer, P.J. 1993. Extended 14C data base and revised CALIB 3.0 14C age calibration program. Radiocarbon 35,1:215–230. Uerpmann, H.-P. 1995. Observações sobre a ecologia e economia do Castro do Zambujal. In M. Kunst, (ed.) Origens, Estruturas e Relações das Culturas Calcolíticas da Península Ibérica. Actas das I Jornadas Arqueológicas de Torres Vedras, 3 a 5 de Abril de 1987. Trabalhos de Arqueologia 7:47–53. Lisboa. Uerpmann, H.-P. and Uerpmann, M. 2003. Zambujal: die Steinund Beinartefakte aus den Grabungen 1964 bis 1973. Madrider Beiträge 5, Zambujal Teil 4. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Vegas Aramburu, J.I. 1999. El Enterramiento Neolítico de San Juan ante Portam Latinam (Laguardia, Álava). Museo de Arqueología de Álava. Vitória-Gasteiz. Veiga, S. Philippes Martins Estácio da 1886. Antiguidades Monumentaes do Algarve: Volume I. Tempos Prehistoricos. Lisboa. Veiga, S. Philippes Martins Estácio da 1889. Antiguidades Monumentaes do Algarve, Volume III: tempos prehistoricos. Lisboa. Warner, R.B. 1990. A proposed adjustment for the ‘Old-Wood Effect’. In W.G. Mook and H.T. Waterbolk (eds.) 14C and Archaeology. Proceedings of the Second International Symposium, Groningen 1987, PACT 29:159–172. Rixensart. Waterbolk, H.T. 1971. Working with radiocarbon dates. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 37/2:15–33. Zafra de la Torre, N., Hornos Mata, F. and Castro López, M. 1999. Una macro-aldea en el origen del modo de vida campesino. Marroquíes Bajos (Jaén) c. 2500–2000 cal. ANE. Trabajos de Prehistoria 56:77–102.
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7: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe Anthony Harding Abstract: This paper seeks to shed light on the processes at work during the Bronze Age, when the practice of enclosing became widespread. The creation of enclosures can be considered part of the modification of the landscape, as well as a way of defining space. Enclosure in the Bronze Age had a long ancestry in the Neolithic, though there the practice appears to be of a different order. Increasingly through the period settlements came to be isolated or enclosed, ultimately in the form of hillforts. A special case of Bronze Age enclosure is seen at the Bohemian site of Velim, where surrounding ditches and pits are filled with large quantities of human and animal bone. A model for the development of enclosure in the Bronze Age is put forward in which special practices, including the digging of ditches and ramparts and the deposition of bone, were a way of reinforcing social distinctions in a society where prestige weaponry and conflict based on raiding were dominant.
enclosures. Particular technical tricks might be employed in the latter in order to thwart an enemy, whereas a firm barrier alone might serve to keep wild animals out and domestic ones in (the ‘kraal’ at Biskupin site 2a has been thought to be an example of this; see below). Whatever the initial impulse for erecting a barrier, it is usually been thought that the motivation for enclosing space was initially practical, in the manner described. The idea that this might have led subsequently to enclosure for purely symbolic reasons stems from situations where logic would appear to dictate a form or placement of barriers in a different, ‘more practical’ manner. We shall see instances of this below. In fact it would be hard to separate the practical from the symbolic as far as archaeological evidence is concerned, since it is highly unlikely that characteristics irrefutably diagnostic of either usage will be present.
Enclosure and landscape
Keywords: Enclosure, Bronze Age, Britain, Central Europe, Velim, warfare
Creating enclosures, i.e. enclosing or creating barriers, is essentially a ‘landscape-based’ activity though its causes are social, political and economic. The Berlin Wall, ostensibly built for the ‘security’ of the inhabitants of East Berlin but actually designed to incarcerate them, was notable not just for its role in oppressing those who lived to the east of it but also for its extraordinary visual effect on the urban landscape of Berlin. A prehistoric earthwork enclosure is perhaps most remarkable to us today because of its visual effect, especially where Iron Age hillforts are concerned. That effect will have been all the greater in antiquity, both because the work will have been somewhat greater in extent (ditches deeper, ramparts higher than today) and because our own eyes can easily underestimate the scale of work involved in pre-industrial societies. Not all such barriers are on a massive scale, but all will have an effect on the landscape. The act of enclosing cannot then be divorced from the more general question of the creation of landscape. In recent years many studies of ‘landscape’ in an archaeological context have appeared (e.g. Bender 1992, 1993; Tilley 1994; Darvill 1997; Chapman 1997; Neustupný 1998; Johnston 1998; Ashmore and Knapp 1999; etc). Some of these studies are concerned with the transition from ‘space’ to ‘place’, that is, the assigning of specific meaning to particular locales, the differentiation of space in terms of human action and interaction. While in origin this may have developed from natural features such as springs or hilltops, or from ‘semi-natural’ features such as particular trees or groves (actually artefacts: Crumley 1999), by the time people came to modify the ground to the extent of digging ditches or erecting palisades the original significance of those features may have been submerged. Enclosing was a special way of defining space and differs from other ways of carrying out that procedure. The building of a house involved an imposition on the environment but perhaps a rather fluid imposition in that movement remained
Why enclose? To this seemingly simple question there are a number of answers, some simple, some complex. What becomes immediately apparent to even the casual observer of the later prehistoric scene in Europe is that enclosures were not all the same and cannot all have served the same purpose. Since the practice of enclosing became widespread during the Bronze Age one is justified in asking what processes were at work. This paper seeks to shed light on at least some of them. The act of enclosure, as several contributors to this volume emphasise, is a way of defining space, and the space thus defined is not merely geographical space, it is also social space, in that those inside the enclosure are separated from those outside, so that their identities – their histories, their social relations, their means of social reproduction – are also separated. So it is not necessarily appropriate to think about enclosures, whether simple ditched or palisaded enclosures or massive forts, merely in terms of defence. The notion of defence immediately brings with it implications of attack, that is to say inter-group conflict, and this raises questions about the nature, size and role of the social groups involved, the way in which conflicts might arise and be resolved, and the technicalities of conducting offensive operations designed to cause damage to opponents. A variant on the theme of defence is that enclosing installations were erected for the purpose of warding off wild animal predators, in other words for protecting domestic animals, and simultaneously for preventing stock from wandering freely when untended by a herdsman, that is, keeping animals under close control. This explanation is often advanced even in the absence of any specific evidence that animals were in fact kept inside the enclosure. Nevertheless, one can hardly doubt that animal enclosures did exist in prehistory, and it may be only changes of emphasis that separate them formally from defensive 97
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Figure 7.1. Plan of Gardom’s Edge (after Barnatt et al. 2001). possible, indeed desirable, around the house and between one house and another. A burial mound, such as is commonly found in Bronze Age western Europe, certainly imprinted a mark on the land, and the mound was frequently preceded by the marking out of ritual space through rings of posts or fences; but while the area of burial became inaccessible, movement around and between barrows remained physically
possible. But to create an encircling ditch, rampart or palisade was to impose a physical barrier to movement and the action was, I would suggest, conceptually different in landscape terms. The creation of landscape through modification of natural features, or through the imposition of structures and monuments, was part of a repeated set of actions (habitus 98
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Figure 7.2. Plan of Blackshouse Burn (after Lelong and Pollard 1998). towards the society that permitted the barrier to exist – was a part of daily existence. Rules surround social institutions; barriers were social institutions. Societies that erected them required particular modes of action from their members who lived with them. This was as true in prehistory as it was in Communist Berlin.
if one wants to call it that) that enabled social life to be maintained and reproduced. In this respect enclosing (the creation of surrounding barriers) is similar to any other activity that formed part of this set of actions, however special its effect was. In almost every other respect, however, it was different. Instead of an action which said, “Here I am, look at me and marvel at me”, an enclosure said “Here I am, keep away from me, approach me only if you are one of us”. This is to say nothing of the time and labour involved, which was considerable.1 Enclosing involves a number of steps: the decision (social, political) to erect barriers; the actual creation of the ditch, rampart, fence or palisade with consequent requirements for craft skill and manpower; and the subsequent use of the barriers, in other words the process of living with them – inside or outside. While all are parts of the repeated actions mentioned above, it was above all the last – the living with the barriers – that encapsulated the ‘habitual’ process. After all, the creation process might have been very fast, a matter of days or even hours; but the consequences lived on. Knowing how to behave towards a barrier – or rather
Enclosures in the Bronze Age Fifty years ago, later prehistoric forts in many parts of Europe were thought to belong to the Iron Age. This is especially true of Britain and France, but applied also to parts of central Europe. By contrast, we now know that in many, perhaps most, parts of Europe forts – and specifically hillforts – began life in the Bronze Age. Intriguingly, this development was not synchronous in different parts of Europe. What is more, possible ancestries in the Neolithic and Eneolithic vary greatly. In what follows I shall refer to ‘defences’ as a catch-all term to indicate the means of enclosing by ditch, rampart, palisade or any combination of these, without implying that the purpose was necessarily connected with defence in a context of war.
Just as the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961 involved a considerable use of resources. 1
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Figure 7.3. Plan of the henge monument at Balfarg, Fife (Mercer et al. 1988). 7.1) Ainsworth and Barnatt 1998; Oswald et al. 2001; 86 ff., fig. 5.11; Barnatt et al. 2001), Hasting Hill in Tyne & Wear (Newman 1976) or Blackshouse Burn in Lanarkshire (Lelong and Pollard 1998) (Fig. 7.2). If causewayed enclosures belong to the Early and Middle Neolithic, henge monuments mostly belong to the Late Neolithic and Beaker period. Here too, there is no uniformity in morphology, accompanying features or external relationships, though certain regularities have been detected, depending on which sites one includes within the category. What is important in an understanding of Early Bronze Age enclosure is the fact that particular locales were being identified and space turned into place by means of enclosing features. While the physical scale of the barriers thus created have been exaggerated in the past (not least by this author: Harding with Lee 1987:35–6, fig. 26 2), the mental or psychological barrier should not be underestimated. Ditch and bank formed a divide which, one may assume, was simply not to be crossed except under particular circumstances by particular people (Fig. 7.3). Enclosure went from what was (arguably) defensive to what was (arguably) purely spatial in the course of a few hundred
In Britain, we can point to an extensive background to Bronze Age enclosure in the Neolithic. Although causewayed enclosures seem not to have been consistent in their use of defences, there are beyond question a number that made extensive use of them: Hambledon Hill (Mercer 1980, 1999) and Crickley Hill (Dixon 1988) are the most fully excavated examples, with remarkable evidence for elaborately constructed defensive lines. Mercer has extended the argument to other sites that used defences in the southern English Neolithic, for instance Carn Brea and Helman Tor (Mercer 1981; 1997). Debate continues about the nature and function of ‘causewayed enclosures’, both within Britain and in continental Europe (Oswald et al. 2001; Darvill and Thomas 2001; Varndell and Topping 2002). While all are enclosures, in the sense that they define space which was separated from the outer world, not all necessarily served as defensive sites that saw aggressive action (as Crickley apparently did, to judge from the evidence of arrowheads on the site). Many have speculated on a possible connection with the later henge monuments, though in fact there are significant differences between the two classes of site and it would be hard to maintain that henges were defensive in character. There are also a number of enclosures, shown or thought to be of Neolithic date, that fall into neither category: sites such as Gardom’s Edge in Derbyshire (Fig.
2 The reconstruction of the Milfield North henge by Clive Waddington in 2001 showed clearly that I overestimated the scale of the barrier that the upcast from the henge ditch would have formed.
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Figure 7.4. Ring cairn on Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire (after Harding 1994). years – or, of course, it may have maintained two distinct characters simultaneously. What happened next is curious and intriguing. While henge monuments did not generally continue to be created beyond the Beaker period, the phenomenon of the circular enclosed space that represents a variant on the henge theme was a well-known part of Bronze Age life (and death). We see it in the stone circle, the enclosures of timber that preceded the erection of many barrows, in the upland monuments known as ring cairns (Fig. 7.4), and probably in many undated ring ditch sites that have been identified by air photography and could belong to a number of different periods. In many ways these sites represent a continuation of the henge monument. Some henges continued to be used as burial places; at North Mains, Strathallan, Perthshire, for instance, there are a number of burials with Bronze Age urn pottery (Barclay 1983), though the site must have been created in the Late Neolithic. Likewise, some stone circles saw the deposition of inurned burials of Early Bronze Age date, for instance the Druids’ Circle at Penmaenmawr (Griffiths 1960) (Fig. 7.5). To the extent that one can argue for a continuation of the tradition of separating space to serve a special purpose, this Bronze Age use of henges and stone circles represents something apparently similar to that in the Late Neolithic. On the other hand, there are good reasons for believing that the Beaker period represents some kind of break with preceding practice. The events at Stonehenge, where the
Phase III constructions in stone are the visible embodiment of this break, epitomise this situation (Cleal et al. 1995), though the stones are still placed within the circular ditched enclosure and at least some of them were placed in a ring. Enclosed space used for the burial of cremation urns provide a further variant on the theme. Sites such as Loanhead of Daviot in northeast Scotland (KilbrideJones 1935–6) or Blackheath, Todmorden, West Yorkshire (Bu’Lock 1961) illustrate the point (Burgess 1980:313 ff.). In many of these cases there seems to be a continuum of form between the barrow, the ring-ditch, and the hengiform enclosure, so much so that some of the sites have even been called ‘henges’ (e.g. Loanhead of Daviot: Burgess 1974:179). Nomenclature is unimportant in this context; what matters is what was being done with space, and how that space might have been perceived by those using the monuments. Thus far, however, all the sites under consideration may be considered something other than settlements (though causewayed enclosures are a partial exception to this). With the Middle Bronze Age we move into a different arena. A series of enclosures in southern England are unequivocally associated with settlement, in that many (perhaps all) of them contain one or more houses. This tradition may be seen most clearly in the Wessex area, and specifically on Cranborne Chase (Barrett, Bradley and Green 1991:144 ff.), though examples are present outside that area. In cases 101
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Figure 7.5. Plan of the Druids’ Circle at Penmaenmawr, North Wales (after Griffiths 1960). such as these, the domestic association is beyond dispute, however closely associated with nearby burial monuments the enclosures may be. For the first time we are seeing a house or houses, surrounded by a ditch and bank, usually with a single entrance (or in the case of Down Farm only half a ditch circuit, the gap presumably being filled with fences or thorn hedges), and usually rectangular or subrectangular (more rarely circular). This practice can be seen too in later parts of the Bronze Age. At Lofts Farm, Essex (Fig. 7.6), a single roundish house 11×10m across lay in the middle of a roughly square enclosure (Brown 1988), while at the North Rings, Mucking, Essex, three circular post-built houses 5–5.5m in diameter lay in the western half of a large round ditched enclosure (Bond 1988) (Fig. 7.7). A number of other such sites are known though few are published (e.g. Springfield Lyons: Buckley and Hedges 1987). The defences are substantial, especially when one considers that in several instances only a single house or farmstead was enclosed by them. In some areas a curious dichotomy exists between enclosed and unenclosed sites. On Dartmoor, southwest England, this has sometimes been seen as the difference between ‘arable’ and ‘pastoral’ settlements, the arable sites being those where hut circles are simply incorporated within field systems, whereas others lie within enclosing walls that form paddocks for animal enclosure. A well-known example of
the latter is the site at Shaugh Moor (Wainwright and Smith 1980). The ‘arable’ sites compare closely with what is found on the downland of Wessex or Sussex, as known from sites such as Black Patch (Drewett 1984), lying in the middle of a field system. Needs, or at any rate perceived needs, were different here, and it may be that there was a functional difference in the way that particular farmers operated in their landscapes. Yet this is also a time when a more marked move into enclosed or protected sites took place. In contrast to the open huts and paddocks of Dartmoor arable settlements, or even paddocks of Shaugh Moor type, sites such as Rider’s Rings or Grimspound show an altogether more ambitious approach to the question of enclosure (Burgess 1980:209 ff.) (Fig. 7.8). A sizeable area is there surrounded by a substantial wall, with dozens of huts in the interior. Both these sites are very difficult to date, but they are believed to belong to later stages of the Bronze Age, if not (in part) to the Iron Age. At this point we enter a new phase of the development of the enclosure. These Dartmoor sites are mirrored in developments elsewhere in different media. The creation of the lake-side or island sites known as crannógs starts in the later stages of the Bronze Age; while one might not describe these as ‘fortified’ in the strict sense, their position in isolated spots that are hard of access cannot be accidental. Sites in Ireland, notably 102
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Figure 7.6. Plan of Loft’s Farm, Essex ( after Brown 1988). Knocknalappa (Co. Clare) (Fig. 7.9), Ballinderry 2, and most recently Clonfinlough (both Co. Offaly) (Fig. 7.10) illustrate how platforms were created on damp ground, with a surrounding palisade (Raftery 1942; Hencken 1942; Moloney 1993); whether or not they lay actually in water is a matter of debate since much depends on knowledge of water levels at the period. The move to settlement in wet places (which is indisputable) in the Late Bronze Age certainly seems symptomatic of a desire to place dwellings in relatively inaccessible spots. They are best seen as one element in the move towards separation of settlement sites from simple agrarian villages that characterises the later stages of the Bronze Age as well as much of the Iron Age. ‘Separation’ is admittedly not the same as ‘enclosure’ but it is arguable that the practical effect was very similar, and it would be unhelpful to try to understand the process of hillfort creation without simultaneously considering the
phenomenon of wetland settlement. For it is in this period too that hillforts properly so called begin to appear. Of course not all sites were forts. Margarita Primas (2002) has described this process as ‘taking the high ground’, and in a site such as Mam Tor, Derbyshire, the earliest phases, dating to the early Late Bronze Age, were not surrounded by ramparts (Coombs 1976). The phenomenon of enclosure in the Middle and Late Bronze Age has been considered recently by Needham and Ambers (1994), in the context of a reassessment of the date of the defences of Rams Hill, Berkshire. The conclusion of the work on Rams Hill itself was that buildings attributable to the Taunton metalwork phase preceded the erection of ramparts at the site, which began only in the Penard phase and were subsequently modified several times. Needham was sceptical about most other ‘early’ enclosure installations, though the quality of the evidence on excavated sites does 103
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Figure 7.7. Plan of Mucking South Ring (after Bond 1988).
Figure 7.8. Plan of Rider’s Rings, Dartmoor, Devon (after Worth 1953).
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Figure 7.9. Plan of the crannóg of Clonfinlough (after Moloney 1993). not permit firm conclusions. What is certain is that from the Penard phase onwards, and particularly in the Wilburton and Ewart Park phases of the Late Bronze Age, fortification became more and more common, as can be seen from the Breiddin in the Welsh Marches (Musson 1991), or a number of other sites.
whereas dates for henge monuments fall largely in the third millennium Cal BC. Commentators on their function (e.g. Podborský 1988:258 ff.; Petrasch 1990:494–516) have also assumed that they were similar to henges in that the space enclosed was ritual and not defended. But what happens after that marks a distinct change in the sequence. From the Eneolithic on, and particularly in the Early Bronze Age, one sees the beginning of enclosed sites, often on hills, for which the term ‘hillfort’ may not be inappropriate. While sites of the Řivnač culture such as Homolka near Slaný (Ehrich and Pleslová-Štíková 1968) are arguably no more than domestic sites on modest hills, admittedly with surrounding palisades, sites such as Spišský Štvrtok (Vladár 1973) in northern Slovakia are a different matter since they are surrounded by a stone-built wall, even though the hilltop in question is far from inaccessible. Other Slovak Early Bronze Age sites were apparently provided with ‘fortifications’, such as Nitrianský Hrádok (Točík 1981; Fig. 7.12) or Barca (Kabát 1955; Točík 1994). The precise nature of the latter is problematical since the site archive was lost before any definitive publication was produced, but the single available plan shows rows of houses surrounded by a ditch and woodframed rampart. At Spišský Štvrtok too the situation is less clear than one would like, though it is certainly true that a series of walls encircle the central part of the site, which lies
Central Europe It is tempting to see the situation in central Europe as analogous to that in Britain, though there are significant differences in dating. For some years the site type known as the ‘Rondel’ has been known to be a widespread Middle to Late Neolithic phenomenon (Petrasch 1990; Podborský and Kovárník, this volume). Among the many examples that have come to prominence the sites of Těšetice-Kyjovice (Podborský 1988) and Svodín (Němejcová-Pavúková 1995) are notable, the former because of its close similarity in form to British henge monuments. Really the only major difference is that the ‘Rondels’ are much earlier – four closely clustered radiocarbon dates from Svodín, for instance, span a calibrated range of 4810–4670 BC at 91.5% probability (calibration according to OxCal v. 3.5; Fig. 7.11), 105
Figure 7.10. Plan of the crannóg of Knocknalappa (after Raftery 1942).
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Figure 7.11. Probability distributions of the radiocarbon dates from Svodin (calibrated using OxCal v.3.5). on a gently sloping hill. Unfortunately, the published plans are largely hypothetical reconstructions and the situation on the ground was less than completely clear (Fig. 7.13). Of great interest is the fact that at both these sites, hoards of gold objects were found (as too at Velim, below), which raises other questions about the nature of enclosure and fortification in these Early Bronze Age contexts. From an early phase of the Bronze Age in central Europe there are examples of enclosures. An elongated oval site at Biskupin in central Poland (site 2a), containing pottery of the Iwno culture, has often been cited as an example of a cattle kraal (Gardawski et al. 1957; Grossmann 1995). The absence of structures on the site, with hearths only occurring in the ditch fills, along with the bone evidence (Krysiak 1957) which shows that a normal range of animals, including fish, was exploited, suggested that the site was not a habitation. More recently it has been suggested that its dominant position on a ridge and its extensive ditches implied a special function within the Early Bronze Age communities of the area, including possible archaeoastronomical purposes (Grossmann 1995 with references). Early Bronze Age settlement on tells in the Hungarian Plain seems quite frequently to have been accompanied by surrounding ditches. The case of Nitrianský Hrádok has been mentioned above; a large ditch was certainly present at Jászdózsa-Kápolnahalom (Stanczik 1982) and at Aszòd (Tárnoki 1988), though it was absent at others. These ditches vary in dimensions, and while it may be plausible to see them as a defensive element of the early stages of tell settlement when habitation lay much closer to the natural ground level, by the time the settlement layers were several metres high after centuries of occupation they may have lost their original function. This does, however, suggest to us that the enclosures changed their meaning over time. What started as a functional element that served to exclude became over time the ‘required barrier’ (to quote from Iron Age scholars Bowden and McOmish 1987) which was more symbolic than anything else. As with the British Isles, we can point to wetland sites where houses were enclosed within palisades or larger constructions, especially in the sub-Alpine region. The Forschner site on the Federsee in Baden-Württemberg is a good example (Torke 1990) (Fig. 7.14). Single-cell
buildings clustered in the southwest part of the site in its first phase (dated by dendrochronology to the eighteenth century BC), with surrounding rampart and palisade, and a later phase of occupation followed in the years following 1508 BC. As with the Irish crannógs (above), this site and others like it appear to represent a specific intention of siting the settlement in a relatively inaccessible location (in wetland) and surrounding it with enclosing features that would have made both egress and ingress rather difficult. A defensive function is a distinct possibility, but the general situation suggests that this cannot represent the whole truth. Increasing numbers of sites, often though not always on hills, are being shown to have an Early Bronze Age start date, as a recent article by Margarita Primas (2002) demonstrates. A number of hill sites in southern Germany and the Alpine area can now be shown to have been occupied in the Early Bronze Age, including the site excavated by Primas herself with her collaborators (the Ochsenberg at Wartau, canton St. Gallen). Likewise the site of Sotciastel on a rocky spur in the Italian Alps has occupation of the Early Bronze Age and a wall cutting off the most accessible slope (Tecchiati 1998). On the other hand, Primas point outs (2002:44) that west of Austria dated Early Bronze Age forts are rare, even if some settlements were situated on higher ground. In the Middle Bronze Age the situation in central Europe was not very different; a site such as the Bogenberg near Straubing was occupied from this period. To this time must belong the extraordinary site of Monkodonja in Istria, with its well-preserved walls enclosing a major settlement (Teržan et al. 1998; Fig. 7.15). Since only preliminary reports on this site have appeared so far it would be premature to jump to conclusions about its function, but all indications so far are that the houses inside the massive enclosure had a domestic function and that the site was literally a hillfort. Other forts in the same area might well turn out to have a similar history; some of the castellieri of the northern Adriatic go back similarly far (Harding 2000:300 with references). By the Late Bronze Age, forts (especially hillforts) were common throughout central Europe. This rise has been studied by many authors (e.g. Herrmann 1969; Burgenbau 1982), and I have written more extensively elsewhere on the topic (Harding and Ostoja-Zagórski 1993; Harding 2000:296ff.). I believe that these early hillforts are 107
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Figure 7.12. Plan of Nitriansky Hrádok (after Točík 1981). of Velim, central Bohemia, belongs (Hrala et al. 2000) (Fig. 7.16). The site lies on a low hill overlooking the Elbe lowlands, and consists of a series of ditches and pits, the whole surrounded by a massive double ditch, recovered initially in excavation but then traced by air photography and geophysical survey running far beyond the site core (Colour Plate 5). Originally this was thought to be merely a feature of the immediate site, but it is now known to extend over at least 1km east–west and more than 0.5km north– south. Whether one calls this an ‘enclosure’ is a matter of definition. The relationship of these ditches to the rest of the
intimately connected with two processes: the formalisation of Bronze Age warfare, centring on raiding by groups of men numbering in the scores or low hundreds; and the creation of formalised territorial units of a quasi-political nature. But in all this, the contribution of Early and Middle Bronze Age processes was a crucial forerunner.
Velim It is to this period that the curious and well-known site 108
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Figure 7.13. Published plan of Spišský Štvrtok (after Vladár 1973). features on the site remains unclear. Within the site proper, it is far from clear what lies ‘inside’ and what ‘outside’ the main features. Unfortunately, most of the central area on the hilltop is destroyed, and the small area that has been excavated produced nothing indicating function. There are settlement traces (post-built structures) just inside the ditch circuits, but only on a small scale. Most of the important finds occur either in the ditches themselves, or just outside them. Many of the ditches excavated (admittedly only a rather small sample) had seen violent activity, with much bone deposited in the lower levels. It is, however, what lies in these enclosing ditches and pit circuits that is most extraordinary: there were large
quantities of human and animal bone, in some cases whole bodies carefully deposited, in others haphazardly thrown in, and in yet others parts of bodies or individual bones, for instance skulls, deposited in many of the features excavated (Colour Plate 6).3 Ongoing work by Marta Dočkalová (Ústav Anthropos, Brno), and a more recent project by Christopher Knüsel (Bradford University) and Alan Outram (Exeter University) have shown that some of the bones exhibit cut marks or blows, indicating peri-mortem violence. Interestingly, however, the treatment of human 3 Although large parts of the site are destroyed or otherwise unavailable for excavation, so that the total investigated is only a small part of the whole, a large proportion of the excavated pits and ditches contained bone.
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Figure 7.14. Plan of the Forschner site, Baden-Württemberg (after Torke 1990). Feature 154: Hrala et al. 2000:38–9, fig. III.27). They are not the haphazard placements that one might expect if they resulted from the careless tipping of corpses into open graves following military action. The pits and ditches were intentionally dug, and the bodies intentionally placed there, even though in the vast majority of cases they were not laid out as ‘burials’. In support of the ritual interpretation the deposition of gold hoards, the human remains, and the strange ‘fortifications’ are commonly cited, and indeed all these things suggest strongly that Velim was no ordinary enclosure, and certainly no ordinary fort. Another interesting feature is the fact that old photographs show that the site prior to quarrying was marked by a prominent rock outcrop, which must have been a notable landmark, its crags pointing upwards like fingers. One is reminded here of other parts of central Europe where similar outcrops occur, perhaps most famously in the ‘Bohemian Paradise’ (Český raj) some 60km north of the Velim area. These too point like fingers towards the sky, and include many fissures and cracks, which, as we know well from Bohemia, Bavaria, Thuringia and elsewhere, were frequently used in prehistory for the insertion of human bones and/or body parts (Harding 2000:318 ff. with refs). This in turn reminds us that holes in the ground, whether humanly made as with the pits at Velim, or natural as with
and animal bones was quite different, since the latter were regularly smashed and broken during butchery and marrow extraction, while this did not occur with the human element. In other words, cannibalism appears to be excluded (this is the subject of the Bradford–Exeter project and will be discussed at length elsewhere). We are dealing then with violence against the person, happening in conjunction with the digging of ditches and pits, accompanied by palisades, and in a late phase, the construction of what appears to have been an enormous ditch and stone-faced rampart. This violence was largescale and possibly systematic. The question arises, was the creation of enclosed space linked to the manipulation of human bodies and the deposition of human and animal bone? How did the ‘enclosures’ at Velim operate? At least two possible scenarios have been suggested. One involves what is essentially a defensive function for the site, with the bodies representing the remains of defeated defenders; the other a ritual one with funerary connotations. Against the former one may point to the very large number of isolated pits that are full of bone which cannot be the slaughtered inhabitants of the site defeated in battle and thrown into the open ditches of their defences – the majority of these depositions appear to have been intentional and placed, notably the collections of skulls (for instance in 110
Figure 7.15. Plan of the fort at Monkodonja, Istria (after Teržan et al. 1998).
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Figure 7.16. Plan of the central area at Velim, Czech Republic, showing excavation areas (provisional version). rock clefts, fissures, or caves, were often thought of in mythology as entrances to the underworld, or the homes of spirits or divine creatures. Velim represents the most remarkable of all cases of special treatment on Bronze Age sites surrounded by enclosing ditch and rampart. How can its extraordinary features be incorporated into our understanding of the development of Bronze Age enclosure?
Not only did enclosure represent the conscious act of stamping human meaning on undifferentiated space, it also divided those parts of the land for which special treatment was intended from those parts that were in a broad sense unmodified (only unmodified in a broad sense, of course, because any land which was habitually travelled over, grazed, or settled was inevitably and irreversibly modified; while we do not know how much intact post-Glacial forest might have survived the millennia down to the Bronze Age, clearance episodes shown in pollen diagrams indicate that it cannot have been very much.) The unmodified land, where there is no direct evidence for prehistoric activity, represents not so much the wild, or untamed (or agrios in the Hodder (1990) formulation), as the neutral, the land which was merely there, which people saw, moved in, and exploited, without it being assigned a particular meaning. How may we correlate these moves towards the assignation of special meaning to particular spaces with other developments occurring during the period? Over the last 40 years it has been usual to view the Bronze Age as a period during which societies changed markedly, from what some saw as egalitarian in the Neolithic to ranked or stratified in the Bronze Age. In this, the role of metal and other special materials (amber, faience, glass, semi-precious stones, shells) were important since they introduced new values into the system of creating and owning. Also crucial is the move towards larger settlement units, as is evident
A model for the development of enclosure in Bronze Age Europe The foregoing discussion makes clear that the process of enclosing was deeply rooted in many parts of Bronze Age Europe. On the other hand, it did not take the same course everywhere, nor was its function identical in all places at all times. Three main functional associations are evident: funerary; domestic; and defensive (in the true sense). All made use of enclosing devices, and frequently it is impossible to tell the sites apart from their external appearance. One thing, however, unites all of them: the intention of excluding or including (= enclosing). The barriers that form the enclosure serve to demarcate space, to separate the outside from the inside, external space from internal space, and thus to assign special meaning to the space enclosed. Enclosed space was different from unenclosed space. 112
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe from the abundance and size of both settlements and cemeteries in many areas. This has sometimes been seen as the creation of quasi-political groupings, with a territorial patterning centred on major sites that were surrounded by subsidiary hamlets and farmsteads. It is within such a context that the creation of genuine forts may be viewed, in a time where small-scale raiding, sometimes on horseback, was on the increase. Warfare in the Late Bronze Age, that is violence between persons and communities, seems to have consisted above all in this type of activity, which included also combat between individuals equipped with highprestige, flashy armour. Hill-top fortifications, or at least some of them, and low-lying stockades of Biskupin type, plausibly represent a response to raiding of this nature, and (at late Lausitz stockades in northern Europe such as forts of Biskupin type: Państwowe Muzeum 1991) potentially to more serious kinds of internecine strife. This, however, does not explain earlier forms of enclosure, such as the Early Bronze Age hilltop sites. Here a different model is appropriate. In this connection two factors are significant. First, the Early Bronze Age has usually been seen as a society in which warrior prestige first came to the fore, as represented by dagger burials. Second, it was during the Early Bronze Age that the practice of hoarding became widespread in Europe. Dagger burials have commonly been thought to represent the graves of elite individuals who wielded the weapons in the hunt or in personal combat; in other words, prestigeoriented warrior-huntsmen. The rise of such individuals is especially marked in central and western Europe, and is associated above all with the early use of tin-bronze, though somewhat earlier copper examples occur as well. Daggerbearing warriors could be seen in one sense as indicative of warfare, but much more plausible is the association with developing social complexity. If these individuals were specially marked in death, as (we presume) in life, then they were marked by their fellows and the distinctions had to be reinforced. Not only elite residence would be a consequence, but practices that ensured social divisions were produced and reproduced. In an early warrior society, the maintenance of preeminent status for those selected to be warriors will have been an ongoing and major concern. That status may have been acquired by feats involving wise counsel, force of arms, or personal strength (i.e. achieved status), or it may have been acquired by virtue of birth or other contingent quality (assigned status). Whichever it was, until such ranking was embedded in society to the extent that it was not questioned, mechanisms were necessary to ensure that it was maintained. Brute force may have been one of these, but as many a dictator has found out to his cost, brute force is unreliable. Much more persuasive would be the use of belief systems that encouraged the view that the social order was ordained to be such, through special practices involving particular kinds of ‘non-utilitarian’ behaviour. We might call such practices rites or cults, and see them as part of ritual or religion. Archaeologically, these practices might appear as apparently baffling acts, typically depositions that have little or nothing to do with domestic life or death, but stand out for their apparent aimlessness in the context of economic and social necessity. In such a scenario, early warrior societies would then use special practices as a reinforcing mechanism for the preservation of the status quo. The creation of special
places through enclosure might be a particularly striking means of doing this, as would be the accompanying deposition of special materials. If those materials were either valuable (gold, bronze) or connected with personal violence and sacrifice (butchered human bodies or animals) the significance of the acts would have been all the greater. It is into such a context that deposits such as those at Spišský Štvrtok, Barca or Velim should fall. Though the two are quite different in detail, both involve practices that are hard to explain in purely utilitarian terms, and in neither case is there any evidence of strategic thinking in terms of defence. The creation of these enclosures, accompanied by the deposition of metal goods or bone groups, was one part of a complex mechanism for reinforcing basic social distinctions in the Early and Middle Bronze Age, in which the rise of the warrior was prime. The amassing of metal goods by individuals or groups was arguably one such practice. At a time when metal was still relatively restricted in distribution, the ability to collect together a variety of objects, whether mint or used, was unusual, and needed to be made manifest to society at large. Parading it on special occasions might have been one way of doing this; using it as part of a process of giving special meaning to an elite residence was another. But on the other hand this is merely an aspect of interpersonal violence, as opposed to defence. No one looking at the extraordinary pictures of bone groups at Velim can be in any doubt that this inter-personal violence was a major feature of Middle–Late Bronze Age life. While we cannot be sure if the central area of Velim was occupied by domestic settlement or not, it may have been, in which case the massive pits were the means of access to the earth, and contained bone as an imposition of human presence, perhaps ancestral presence as in the case of the rich woman buried deep in Pit 27, on a notable landscape feature. The accompanying massive defensive installations, evidence of a huge constructional effort, acted as counterpart to the huge pit-digging effort in the interior. Seen in this light, ditch-digging and body deposition at Velim was part of an elaborate mechanism for including as much as excluding. Certainly the massive outer ditches formed an enclosure, but given its scale it can only have been of limited practical use for excluding those determined to enter it. Instead, the enclosure thus defined marked the limits of ‘exterior’ behaviour and the start of ‘interior’ behaviour. That behaviour itself was remarkable. In some respects the results can only be regarded as pathetic, as the crushed and twisted bodies of infants and children make clear. In others the results are ghoulish, with half bodies, bodies without certain limbs, detached skulls, and other curiosities attest. Of course for these people life was unnecessarily short; but in the greater order of things, i.e. the maintenance of the social order, they were probably regarded as inevitable, a consequence of being a Bronze Age person in that place and time.
Conclusion Excluding and including in the Bronze Age was a fact of life, one which was learned early and stayed with one throughout life. At different places at different times there were various ways of treating enclosure; not all enclosures served the same utilitarian purpose. But as a mode of action, 113
Enclosing the Past a way of behaving, creating barriers was one of the things that one did. I have suggested that this set of processes is intimately bound up with at least two other sets of behaviour that come to prominence in the Bronze Age: the rise of warrior burial; and the practice of depositing valuable metal in the ground. This in turn must be seen in relation to a Neolithic background where enclosure was less common but more ‘monumental’. In all cases, however, the intention to exclude and include was paramount. It is in the creation and maintenance of such mechanisms that Bronze Age people created some of their most enduring, and least intelligible, monuments.
Crumley, C.L. 1999. Sacred landscapes: constructed and conceptualized. In W. Ashmore and A.B. Knapp (eds.) Archaeologies of landscape: contemporary perspectives, pp. 269–76. Malden, Mass.: Blackwell. Darvill, T. 1997. Neolithic landscapes: identity and definition. In P. Topping (ed.) Neolithic Landscapes, pp. 1–13. Oxbow Monograph 86. Oxford. Darvill, T. and Thomas, J. (eds.) 2001. Neolithic Enclosures in Atlantic Northwest Europe. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Dixon, P.W. 1988. The Neolithic settlements on Crickley Hill. In C. Burgess, P. Topping, C. Mordant and M. Maddison (eds.) Enclosures and Defences in the Neolithic of Western Europe, pp. 75–87. British Archaeological Reports, Internat. Ser. 403. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Drewett, P. 1982. Later Bronze Age downland economy and excavations at Black Patch, East Sussex. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 48:321–400. Ehrich, R.W. and Pleslová-Štíková, E. 1968. Homolka: an Eneolithic site in Bohemia. Monumenta Archaeologica 16. Prague: Institute of Archaeology. Gardawski, A., Dąbrowski, J., Miklaszewska, R. and Miśkiewicz, J. 1957. Kraal z wczesnej epoki brązu w Biskupinie pow. Żnin. Wiadomości Archeologiczne 24 (3):189–208. Griffiths, W.E. 1960. The excavation of stone circles near Penmaenmawr, North Wales. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 26:303–339. Grossmann, A. 1995. Biskupiński mikroregion osadniczy we wczesnych okresach epoki brązu (I, II oraz II/III okresy epoki brązu). In W. Niewiarowski (ed.) Zarys zmian środowiska geograficznego okolic Biskupina pod wpływem czynników naturalnych i antropogenicznych w późnym glacjale i holocenie, pp. 65–76. Toruń: Turpress. Harding A.F. 1994. Prehistoric and Early Medieval activity on Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire. Archaeological Journal 151:16–97. Harding, A.F. 2000. European Societies in the Bronze Age. Cambridge: University Press. Harding, A.F. and Lee, G.E. 1987. Henge Monuments and Related Sites of Great Britain: air photographic evidence and catalogue. British Archaeological Reports, British Ser. 175. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Harding, A.F. and Ostoja-Zagórski, J. 1993. The Lausitz culture and the beginning and end of Bronze Age fortifications. In J. Chapman and P. Dolukhanov (eds.) Cultural Transformations and Interactions in Eastern Europe, pp. 163–77. Worldwide Archaeology Series, 6. Aldershot etc: Avebury. Hencken, H. 1942. Ballinderry crannog no. 2. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 47C:1–77. Herrmann, J. 1969. Burgen und befestigte Siedlungen der jüngeren Bronze- und frühen Eisenzeit in Mitteleuropa. In K.-H. Otto and J. Herrmann (eds.) Siedlung, Burg und Stadt: Studien zu ihren Anfängen, pp. 56–94. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag. Hodder, I. 1990. The Domestication of Europe. Oxford: Blackwell. Hrala, J., Šumberová, R. and Vávra, M. 2000. Velim: a Bronze Age fortified site in Bohemia. Prague: Institute of Archaeology. Johnston, R. 1998. Approaches to the perception of landscape. Archaeological Dialogues 5 (1):54–68. Kabát, J. 1955. Otomanská osada v Barci u Košic. Archeologické rozhledy 7:594–600, 611–613; cf. 742–746. Kilbride-Jones, H.E. 1935–6. Late Bronze Age cemetery: being an account of the excavations of 1935 at Loanhead of Daviot, Aberdeenshire…. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries Scotland 70:278–310. Krysiak, J. 1957. Analiza szczątków kostnych ze stanowiska 2a w Biskupinie. Wiadomości Archeologiczne 24 (3):209–15. Lelong, O. and Pollard, T. 1998. The excavation and survey of prehistoric enclosures at Blackshouse Burn, Lanarkshire. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 128:13– 54.
Bibliography Ainsworth, S. and Barnatt, J. 1998. A scarp-edge enclosure at Gardom’s Edge, Baslow, Derbyshire. Derbyshire Archaeological Journal 118:5–23. Ashmore, W. and Knapp, A.B. (eds.) 1999. Archaeologies of Landscape: contemporary perspectives. Malden, Mass.: Blackwell. Barclay, G.J. 1983. Sites of the third millennium bc to the first millennium ad at North Mains, Strathallan, Perthshire. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 113:122– 281. Barnatt, J., Bevan, B. and Edmonds, M. 2001. A time and place for enclosure: Gardom’s Edge, Derbyshire. In T. Darvill and J. Thomas (eds.) Neolithic Enclosures in Atlantic Northwest Europe, pp. 111–131. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Barrett, J.C., Bradley, R. and Green, M. 1991. Landscape, Monuments and Society: the prehistory of Cranborne Chase. Cambridge: University Press. Bender, B. 1992. Theorizing landscapes, and the prehistoric landscape of Stonehenge. Man n.s. 27:735–755. Bender, B. (ed.) 1993. Landscape: Politics and Perspectives. Oxford: Berg. Bond, D. 1988. Excavation at the North Ring, Mucking, Essex: a Late Bronze Age enclosure. East Anglian Archaeology 43. Bowden, M. and McOmish, D. 1987. The required barrier. Scottish Archaeological Review 4:76–84. Brown, N. 1988. A Late Bronze Age enclosure at Lofts Farm, Essex. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 54:249–302. Bu’Lock, J.D. 1961. The Bronze Age in the North West. Transactions of the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society 71:1–42. Buckley, D.G. and Hedges, J.D. 1987. The Bronze Age and Saxon settlements at Springfield Lyons: an interim report. Essex County Council Occasional Paper 5. Burgenbau 1982. Beiträge zum bronzezeitlichen Burgenbau in Mitteleuropa. Berlin: Zentralinstitut für Alte Geschichte und Archäologie; Nitra: Archeologický Ústav Slovenskej Akadémie Vied. Burgess, C. 1974. The Bronze Age. In C. Renfrew (ed.) British Prehistory: a new outline, pp. 165–232. London: Duckworth. Burgess, C. 1980. The Age of Stonehenge. London: Dent. Chapman, J. 1997. Places as timemarks – the social construction of prehistoric landscapes in eastern Hungary. In J. Chapman and P. Dolukhanov (eds.) Landscapes in Flux: central and eastern Europe in Antiquity, pp. 137–161. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Cleal, R. et al. 1995. Stonehenge in its Landscape: twentieth century excavations. English Heritage Archaeological Report 10. London: English Heritage. Coombs, D.G. 1976. Excavations at Mam Tor, Derbyshire 1965– 1969. In D.W. Harding (ed.) Hillforts: later prehistoric earthworks in Britain and Ireland, pp. 147–52. London: Academic Press.
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Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe Mercer, R.J. 1980. Hambledon Hill, a Neolithic Landscape. Edinburgh: University Press. Mercer, R.J. 1981. Excavations at Carn Brea, Illogan, Cornwall, 1970–73: a Neolithic fortified complex of the third millennium bc. Cornish Archaeology 20:1–204. Mercer, R.J. 1997. The excavation of a Neolithic enclosure complex at Helman Tor, Lostwithiel, Cornwall. Cornish Archaeology 36:5–63. Mercer, R.J. 1999. The origins of warfare in the British Isles. In J. Carman and A. Harding (eds.) Ancient Warfare: Archaeological Perspectives, pp. 143–156. Stroud: Sutton Publishing. Mercer, R.J., Barclay, G.J., Jordan, D. and Russell-White, C.J. 1988. The Neolithic henge-type enclosure at Balfarg – a reassessment of the evidence for an incomplete ditch circuit. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 118:61– 67. Moloney, A. 1993. Excavations at Clonfinlough, Co. Offaly. Irish Archaeological Wetland Unit, Transactions, 2. Dublin: Office of Public Works / University College. Musson C.R., Britnell, W.J. and Smith, A.G. 1991. The Breiddin Hillfort: a later prehistoric settlement in the Welsh Marches. CBA Research Report 76. London. Needham, S.P. and Ambers, J. 1994. Redating Rams Hill and reconsidering Bronze Age enclosure. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 60:225–244. Němejcová-Pavúková, V. 1995. Svodín I: zwei Kreisgrabenanlagen der Lengyel-Kultur. Studia Archaeologica et Mediaevalia, II. Bratislava: Comenius University, Philosophical Faculty. Neustupný, E. 1998. The search for events and structures in prehistoric landscapes. In E. Neustupný (ed.) Space in Prehistoric Bohemia, pp. 62–76. Prague: Institute of Archaeology. Newman, T.G. 1976. A crop-mark site at Hasting Hill, Tyne and Wear, NZ 355 541. Archaeologia Aeliana 5th series 4:183– 184. Oswald, A., Dyer, C. and Barber, M. 2001. The Creation of Monuments: Neolithic causewayed enclosures in the British Isles. Swindon: English Heritage. Państwowe Muzeum [Archeologiczne w Warszawie], 1991. Prahistoryczny gród w Biskupinie. Problematyka osiedli obronnych na początku epoki żelaza. Warsaw: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN. Petrasch, J. 1990. Mittelneolithische Kreisgrabenanlage in Mitteleuropa. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission 71:407–564. Podborský, V. 1988. Těšetice-Kyjovice 4: rondel osady lidu s moravskou malovanou keramikou. Brno: Universita J.E. Purkyně.
Primas, M. 2002. Taking the high ground: continental hill-forts in Bronze Age contexts. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 68:41–59. Raftery, J. 1942. Knocknalappa crannóg, Co. Clare. North Munster Antiquaries Journal 3:53–72. Stanczik, I. 1982. Befestigungs- und Siedlungssystem von Jászdózsa-Kápolnahalom in der Periode der Hatvan-Kultur. In Beiträge zum bronzezeitlichen Burgenbau in Mitteleuropa, pp. 377–88. Berlin: Zentralinstitut für Alte Geschichte und Archäologie; Nitra: Archeologický Ústav Slovenskej Akadémie Vied. Tárnoki, J. 1988. The settlement and cemetery of the Hatvan culture at Aszód. In Bronze Age Tell Settlements of the Great Hungarian Plain I, pp.137–69. Inventaria Praehistorica Hungariae 1. Budapest: Hungarian National Museum. Tecchiati, U. 1998. Sotciastel: un abitato fortificato dell’età del bronzo in Val Badia. Bolzano: Soprintendenza Provinciale ai Beni Culturali. Teržan, B., Mihovilić, K. and Hänsel, B. 1998. Eine älterbronzezeitliche befestigte Siedlung von Monkodonja bei Rovinj in Istrien. In H. Küster, A. Lang and P. Schauer (eds.) Archäologische Forschungen in urgeschichtlichen Siedlungslandschaften, Festschrift für Georg Kossack zum 75. Geburtstag, pp. 155–84. Regensburg: Universitätsverlag / Bonn: R. Habelt. Tilley, C. 1994. A Phenomenology of Landscape: places, paths and monuments. Oxford: Berg. Točík, A. 1981. Nitrianský Hrádok – Zámeček, bronzezeitliche befestigte Ansiedlung der Mad’arovce-Kultur. Materialia Archaeologica Slovaca, 3. Nitra: Archeologický Ústav Slovenskej Akadémie Vied. Točík, A. 1994. Poznámky k problematike opevneného sídliska otomanskej kultúry v Barci pri Košiciach. Študijné Zvesti 30:59–65. Torke, W. 1990. Abschlußbericht zu den Ausgrabungen in der ‘Siedlung Forschner’ und Ergebnisse der Bauholzuntersuchungen. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission 71:52–57. Varndell, G. and Topping, P. (eds.) 2002. Enclosures in Neolithic Europe. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Vladár, J. 1973. Osteuropäische und mediterrane Einflüsse im Gebiet der Slowakei während der Bronzezeit. Slovenská Archeológia 21:253–357. Wainwright, G.J. and Smith, K. 1980. The Shaugh Moor project: second report – the enclosure. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 46:65–122. Worth, R.H. 1953. In G.M. Spooner and F.S. Russel (eds.) Dartmoor. Plymouth: privately published.
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8: Defining community: iron, boundaries and transformation in later prehistoric Britain Richard Hingley Abstract: Enclosed settlements were very common during the later prehistoric period in Britain. This paper explores the enclosure of such ‘settlements’ within southern Britain, with a particular emphasis upon the Middle Iron Age (c. 300–50 BC). In particular, it addresses the nature of the acts through which ironwork hoards were incorporated within boundary earthworks on a number of hillforts and enclosed settlements. The reasons why people deposited ironwork hoards in the boundaries of settlements are discussed and it is argued that these acts may have been related to the definition (or re-definition) of a physical boundary, a barrier that was imbued with a sense of history or a time depth. By constructing physical boundaries people were seeking to define the character of their communities.
archaeologists term ‘settlements’. This draws a contrast with the period of the earlier Bronze Age, in which communities in the British Isles do not usually appear to have lived within easily identifiable settlement sites (Brück 1999; Brück and Goodman 1999). The construction of boundaries around settlements from the Middle Bronze Age onward is one element in this development of particular sites as the focus for domestic life. In general on certain sites houses became more substantial and permanent, while elsewhere boundary works of a variety of types came to be defined. Some of these Later Bronze Age settlements were formed of clusters of roundhouses set within relatively insubstantial fenced and ditched compounds (Bewley 1994:77–9), while others developed rather more substantial boundaries defined by ditches and earth banks (see, for instance, Barrett et al. 1991:225 and fig. 5.42). During the Late Bronze Age enclosed settlements proliferate. Early hillforts of a variety of types occur widely across Britain (Bewley 1994:81–3; Cunliffe 1995:29–31) and many other enclosed settlements are known. During the Iron Age the settlement types become even more variable (Collis, this volume) and areas of Britain are typified by settlements of different forms (Bewley 1994:91–131; Davies and Williamson (eds.) 1999; Cunliffe 1995; Hingley 2004; Miles 1997). These settlements range from the relatively heavily defended ‘hillfort’ sites that are often taken to typify the Iron Age (Cunliffe 1995), to a variety of other enclosed settlements of smaller dimensions and open, or unenclosed, sites. The main period for the building of hillforts occurred during the sixth and fifth centuries BC and these were distributed across much, although not the whole, of Britain (Fig. 8.1). A wide range of differing sites are represented and, although most hillforts were located on hill tops, this is a very varied class of sites. Around 350 to 300 BC many hillforts were abandoned but a few ‘developed’ hillforts, such as Danebury and Maiden Castle, came to prominence in Wessex (Cunliffe 1995) and, perhaps, elsewhere. These may have effectively acted as regional centres (Haselgrove 1999:121). They often have fairly elaborate boundaries comprising multiple circuits of banks and ditches, with complex entrance defences. The smaller enclosed settlements are equally variable (Haselgrove 1999:117), in terms of their shapes and also the area enclosed, as a number of examples from across Britain demonstrates (Fig. 8.2). Many of these settlements, in contrast to the hillforts, were probably the homes of relatively small-scale family groups (Haselgrove 1999). This evidence gives the impression that society in Britain became increasingly ‘boundary obsessed’ from the Middle Bronze Age onward. In a discussion of Wessex, Hill (1995b:104) has suggested that the Iron Age was dominated by an increasing fixation for the construction of boundaries. As hillforts and enclosed settlements occur in many parts of Britain, perhaps Iron Age society across southern Britain in general was obsessed by the idea of the boundary. We
Keywords: ironwork, currency bars, hillforts, boundaries, hoards
Constructing ‘settlement’ in later prehistoric Britain One feature of later prehistory in Britain appears to be the increasingly intensive focus of domestic occupation within the southern British landscape. From around 1600 to 1000 BC (during the Middle to Later Bronze Age) certain areas and locations appear to have come to be defined more clearly in ways that are visible to archaeologists. In certain areas, for instance Bodmin Moor (Cornwall) and Dartmoor (Devon), people started to divide up the landscape with linear earthworks from around 1700 BC (Bewley 1994:69– 71). In other areas, for instance parts of Wessex, broadly comparable landscapes appear to date to a slightly later date (Cunliffe 1995:27). It is likely that at this time over these areas of southern Britain people were developing a new attitude to land, as settlement and land-use became more fixed (Cunliffe 1995:27). Growing evidence also occurs for ‘settlement’ sites from around the mid second millennium BC onward (Bewley 1994; Cunliffe 1995; Haselgrove 1999:118–20). Roundhouses of a variety of types constitute the dominant house type across Britain from around this time until the end of the Iron Age and beyond (Parker Pearson 1993:103; Hingley 1989:31), although other house types are also known on some sites (Haselgrove 1999:117). Excavations of these houses and the ‘settlements’ of which they formed a part often produce evidence for domestic occupation, information about the everyday life of the inhabitants – textile production, food preparation and cooking (Parker Pearson 1993:104). As a result it is assumed that the individual ‘settlement’ was the focus of day-to-day life during later prehistory. The evidence for the increasing monumentalization of houses and settlements in general suggests that, from around 1100 BC, domestic activity became increasingly focused upon particular locations in the landscape which 116
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Figure 8.1. Hillforts in southern Britain and the adjacent Continent (after Cunliffe 1995, fig. 35). shall see later in this paper that this view is actually rather over simplistic. For extensive periods of later prehistory and across much of Britain unenclosed or ‘open’ settlements appear to have predominated and it would certainly be inaccurate to interpret the whole of the Iron Age of southern Britain as boundary obsessed. It is equally true, however, that the enclosed settlement forms a major feature of the Iron Age settlement record across substantial parts of Britain. Perhaps enclosed settlements are more easily located by archaeologists because the people who constructed the boundaries of the more dramatic of these sites were aiming to create a monumental statement in physical form. The very same physical statement has then drawn the attention of archaeologists to the abandoned settlements. Over the past 20 years a number of Iron Age specialists have turned their attention to the significance of these enclosure boundaries (Bowden and McOmish 1987; Collis 1996, this volume; Hill 1995a; Hingley 1984, 1990b). These authors have attempted to examine the significance of the boundary – the physical bank and ditch, wall or palisade – that surrounded the settlement. Some have also studied boundaries as a context for the deposition of artefacts. Settlement boundaries formed the division between the area of domestic life (incorporating activities such as sleeping and eating), and the fields and other resource areas of the settlement. Of perhaps even greater importance in some cases, the settlement boundary formed the division between the domestic area of one social group and the less easily defensible land that bordered on the territories of other social groups (e.g. Cohen 1985). The boundary represented the physical isolation of the individual family group from
others within a broader community (Hingley 1984, 1990b; Bowden and McOmish 1987). In the case of hillforts the symbolic and ritual significance of the boundary is likely to have been extended on occasions to include the need to defend the resident community and its stored resources from possible attack by outsiders (Avery 1986; Sharples 1991). I shall explore the nature of some of the Middle Iron Age enclosed sites further through a study of some significant ironwork hoards deposited within them.
Ironwork hoarding and liminality A tradition of ironwork hoarding developed in southern Britain from perhaps around 300 BC to around 50 BC (Manning 1972; Hingley 1997), during the period known as the ‘Middle Iron Age’. My reason for exploring ironwork hoarding in the context of this volume is due to the fact that this phenomenon had a particular association with the boundaries of hillforts and enclosed settlements (Hingley 1990a, 2005). These hoards contain a variety of iron items, sometimes associated with organic objects. One common occurrence in these hoards is the so-called ‘currency bar’ (Fig. 8.3). Recent work has defined ‘currency bars’ as one of the forms of ‘trade iron’ that occurred in later prehistoric southern Britain and certain areas of continental Europe (Crew 1994, 1995). It is likely, although not certain, that currency bars were in use during the period from about the third/second century BC to around the end of the first century BC (Hingley 2005). Four main kinds of currency bar have been distinguished in past accounts (Allen 1967; Hingley 117
Enclosing the Past
Figure 8.2. Enclosed Iron Age settlements (after Haselgrove 1999, fig. 7.3). 1990a): sword-shaped, spit-shaped, plough-share and leafshaped bars. Recent work, however, suggests that this rigid classification no longer appears to be useful. Crew has cast doubt upon the fourfold classification by demonstrating that at least 20 distinct types of currency bars can now been distinguished, including three or perhaps four distinct types from the extensively excavated hillfort of Danebury alone (1994:346; 1995:278). He has suggested that these types probably represented the products of different regional workshops and some have distinct regional distributions (1995:277). Trade iron appears to have been one form in which processed raw iron was distributed across certain areas of Britain and the Continent at this time. It has been argued, however, that the hoards in which these objects occur often appear not to have had a utilitarian function in
the production of iron objects (Hingley 1990a; Martin and Ruffat 1998). These currency bars occur in hoards of between one to 393 bars in 69 distinct hoards within Britain (Hingley 2005). The common utilitarian or functional explanation for the deposition of currency bars that exists in many past accounts needs to be amended to allow greater emphasis on the social context of the acts of production, circulation and deposition (Hingley 1990a, 1997, 2005). Currency bars presumably only survive in the archaeological record because they formed ‘hoards’ and were actually votive – a donation, or obligation, to the gods (Manning 1972; Fitzpatrick 1984; Brunaux 1988). This argument does not require that the items in the hoards need to have been produced primarily for deposition as votive objects. On the contrary, the objects 118
Hingley: Defining community This core area includes the densest concentrations of finds and also some of the largest hoards. Just over 50% of all the hoards in which currency bars occur (38 out of 69) come from definite settlement contexts (Hingley 2005), while the others come from a range of ‘natural’ contexts (rivers, caves and bogs), from burials and temple sites. All but one of the settlement finds are from hillforts and enclosed settlements (this forms 97% of the total number of bars from settlement contexts). The occurrence of currency bars on enclosed sites appears to be highly significant. Although a high proportion of Middle Iron Age settlements were enclosed, other sites of this period are known to have been unenclosed and some regions appear to have had entirely open patterns of settlement. There has been an emphasis in the past upon the excavation of enclosed Iron Age settlements, but this cannot fully explain the pattern. Across much of the east of England enclosed settlements generally appear to be rare, yet two examples that have been excavated in recent years, Stanway (Essex) and Hinchingbrooke Park Road (Cambridgeshire) have produced currency bar hoards from their enclosure boundaries (Hingley 2005). Many open settlements have been excavated but very few currency bar hoards have been found at such sites. The only hoard from an open settlement was found within the settlement area at Worthy Down (Hampshire), where it was placed in a pit apparently on the periphery of the site (Hingley 1990a). In addition, the vast majority of currency bars from hillforts and enclosed settlements with detailed recorded information on their archaeological context occur close to or in the boundary earthwork, either within the ditch, in a pit in the bank or within close proximity of the boundary (Table 8.2), although on six occasions they occurred in pits or other features within the interior of the enclosure. The details of these discoveries and the material associated with them have already been published (Hingley 1990a:98; in press) and I will not consider the information in any detail in this paper. To explain this pattern it could be argued that currency bar hoards were placed in large features such as ditches rather then smaller contexts such as pits. The hoard from the pit at Worthy Down and the fact that a number of the hoards from hillforts come from pits dug into the back of the ramparts (Hingley 1990a, table 2), however, indicate that pit burial of currency bars appears not to have been prohibited. Many of the pits that occur on Middle Iron Age sites in the south were certainly large enough to receive a currency bar hoard and special deposits are common in pits (Hill 1995b). Yet when currency bars were buried in a pit this feature was usually dug either into, or very close to, a physically-defined boundary (Hingley 2005). Currency bars occur within the boundary earthworks of both hillforts and enclosed settlements. The common occurrence of hoards on hillfort sites appears to be significant, as enclosed settlements were certainly far more common than were the more heavily fortified sites and have also been excavated in greater numbers. 27 hoards come from hillforts as against 10 from enclosed settlements and some of the largest hoards have come from hillforts (Hingley 2005). In fact 95% of the bars from settlement sites are derived from hillfort contexts. Hoards from enclosed settlements usually comprise comparatively small numbers of bars and none constitute more than 10 bars, while some of the hoards from hillforts contain a larger number.
Figure 8.3. A currency bar from Park Farm, Warwickshire (after Cracknell and Hingley 1994). were presumably functional items of trade iron whose deposition also had a symbolic significance. They were deposited as acts of ritual that drew upon this practical and symbolic significance without any intention of retrieval; this explains why they have survived in archaeological contexts (Hingley 1990a). The standardization emphasised by the form of the currency bar is reflected in a relatively standard set of contexts in which these objects came to be deposited (Hingley 1990a and in press), including settlements, temples, burials, a pit alignment and other broadly ‘natural’ contexts (Table 8.1). In particular, many hoards were buried in association with settlement boundaries (Fig. 8.4). These define a core area in the general distribution of currency bar hoards, with a couple of outlying examples elsewhere in eastern England. 119
Enclosing the Past Context
Number of hoards
(% of total)
Number of bars
(% of total)
settlements hillfort enclosed settlements open settlements
27 10 1
(39%) (14%) (1%)
712 32 13
(46%) (2%) (1%)
‘ritual’ temple barrow/burial pit alignment
1 2 1
(1%) (3%) (1%)
2 4 48
(–) (–) (3%)
‘natural’ rivers bog/lake cave rock
7 3 3 4
(10%) (4%) (4%) (6%)
29 7 5 314
(2%) (1%) (–) (20%)
10 _____ 69
(14%)
410 _____ 1576
(26%)
uncertain/other total
Table 8.1. Currency bars from various contexts (after Hingley 2005).
Figure 8.4. Currency bars at eight hillforts in southern Britain (after Hingley 1990a). 120
Hingley: Defining community Site Bearwood (Dorset) Beckford (Hereford and Worcester) Blewburton (Oxfordshire) Bredon Hill (Hereford and Worcester) Cadbury Castle 1 (Somerset) Cadbury Castle 1 (Somerset) Danebury 1 (Hampshire) Danebury 2 (Hampshire) Danebury 3 (Hampshire) Danebury 4 (Hampshire) Danebury 5 (Hampshire) Ditches (Gloucestershire) Glastonbury 1 (Somerset) Glastonbury 2 (Somerset) Hinchingbrooke Park Road (Cambridgeshire) Ham Hill (Somerset) Hod Hill 1(Dorset) Hod Hill 2 (Dorset) Hod Hill 3 (Dorset) Hod Hill 4 (Dorset) Hunsbury (Northants) Kingsdown (Somerset) Madmarston (Oxfordshire) Maiden Castle (Dorset) Midsummer Hill (Hereford & Worcester) Meon Hill (Warwickshire) Nadbury (Warwickshire) Old Down Farm 1 (Hampshire) Old Down Farm 2 (Hampshire) Park Farm (Warwickshire) Salmonsbury 1 (Gloucestershire) Salmonsbury 2 (Gloucestershire) Salmonsbury 3(Gloucestershire) Spettisbury (Dorset) Stanway (Essex) Uleybury (Gloucestershire) Winklebury (Hampshire) Worthy Down (Hampshire)
context enclosure enclosure hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort enclosure enclosure enclosure
No. of bars 4 10 1 2 1 1 21 1 1 1 1 10 1 1 2
Context base fill of enclosure ditch loose association with rampart rear of rampart between ramparts pit close to back of rampart pit in back of rampart loose association with rampart loose association with rampart loose association with rampart pit in interior of enclosure pit in interior of enclosure base fill of enclosure ditch just outside palisade/revetment just outside palisade/revetment fill of enclosure ditch
hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort enclosure hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort enclosure enclosure enclosure hillfort hillfort hillfort hillfort enclosure hillfort hillfort open settlement
c.70 17 10 4 4 c.8 2 12 1 1 393 1 2 1 1 147 2 1 5 2 2 1 13
uncertain loose association with rampart uncertain loose association with rampart uncertain uncertain base fill of enclosure ditch pit in back of rampart uncertain uncertain rear of rampart pit in back of rampart pit in interior of enclosure pit in interior of enclosure top fill of enclosure ditch pit in back of rampart loose association with rampart ditch in interior of enclosure fill of enclosure ditch bottom fill of enclosure ditch fill of enclosure ditch pit in interior of enclosure pit on edge of open settlement
Table 8.2. The contexts of currency bars from settlements (updated from Hingley 1990a, table 2 and 3).
Liminality and iron
to smelt Iron Age tools may actually have been available over much of southern Britain on the land cultivated by farmers (1989; Hingley 1997). In other words, individual communities in some areas may have been collecting the iron ore necessary to create their iron objects from their own fields in the territory surrounding the settlement. It would then be smelted and worked – perhaps on the boundary of the settlement (Hingley 1997) – before being brought into the settlement itself for use as tools and weapons. Two of the models for Iron Age currency bars are the sword and the plough-share (ibid.). Although the detailed typological scheme for four types of bar has been undermined by recent work, it remains true that the sword and the plough remained the model for many of these distinct regionally-defined bar types (Hingley 2005). The burial of items that draw symbolically upon the idea of the weapon or the plough may therefore have significance in marking out a liminal stage in transformation of raw material into a cultural weapon or tool. The currency bar effectively fixed this liminality
Ethnographically the process of iron smelting is often highly ritualized (e.g. Gillies 1981; Fitzpatrick 1984:184; Budd and Taylor 1995; Hingley 1997), the smith being regarded as a specialist who was on the margin of society. It is possible that the reason for this lies partly in the process of iron production – the transformation of raw iron ore into finished tools and weapons, objects of power (Hingley 1997). From this perspective the currency bar may be seen as a stage in the transformation of the raw material from which it is made to the finished object – the sword, the plough or other object. Thus the currency bar itself fixes an artefact part of the way in a process of transformation, between the materials collected (raw materials derived from the landscape) and the objects produced (culture). Iron in the Iron Age was obtained from outside the domestic domain. Musty has suggested that the iron used 121
Enclosing the Past at one point in time. It was, in turn, often used to help to reinforce physical boundaries through the significant acts of deposition in which it was hoarded. The ritual of currency bar deposition may have formed a metaphor for the agricultural cycle and for relations of power in central and western Britain during the Iron Age (Hingley 1997). Iron was harvested from the ground as a raw material and transformed into tools/weapons representing culture. At an intermediate stage is the currency bar, an iron ingot imbued with symbolism. At the same time the symbols inherent in the currency bar reflect agricultural fertility through the plough and military power through the sword. Military might was necessary to provide the context within which excess agricultural and industrial goods could be produced and stored. The burial of currency bars in significant contexts may, therefore, embody the structure of agricultural production and also relations of power within Iron Age societies (ibid.). The sword was a symbol of military power and consequential political status. The deposition of a symbolic sword may have represented a votive act related to the defence of a community. If this was so, it is of little surprise that currency bars that draw upon the symbolism of the sword occur in the context of settlement boundaries, rivers and other ‘natural’ contexts (Hingley 1990a). It is not surprising to find ritual behaviour associated with boundaries of such significance. In addition to currency bars, other deposits of potential significance also occur in the ditches and ramparts of Iron Age hillforts and enclosed settlements (see Bowden and McOmish 1987; Hingley 1990b; Hill 1995b). The boundary forms the physical defence for the community and the symbol of the currency bars that are based upon the form of the sword metaphorically reinforced this physical barrier. This may be the case even when, as in the case of some enclosed settlements, the barrier was not physically strong and acted to keep out wild animals and to define the domestic sphere from the fields of the community; even in this context the definition and perpetuation of the domestic group was of vital importance (Hingley 1984). The relevance of the votive plough-share is less certain (Brunaux 1988:94–5). The plough should have represented a symbol of agricultural production and possibly of the fertility of the land. As a symbol its deposition may be connected with the continued agricultural cycle and the fertility of the soil. A complementary idea is that ploughs may have been intended to commemorate a sacred ploughing and that they possibly even acted to define the extent of property (Brunaux 1988:94; Rykwert 1995 discusses the symbolic use of the plough to define the lines of the boundaries of towns in the classical world). If this was the case, the burial of a symbolic plough-share in a boundary context may have had ritual significance in terms of the definition of the settlement enclosure, sacred enclosure, territorial or even tribal boundary. This is especially true since some of these plough-share bars are so long as to appear almost impractical (see Hingley 1990a). Other plough-shares occur in significant archaeological contexts on Iron Age sites throughout Britain and may also have been deposited as ritual acts (for instance, Hingley 1992). Outside the core area of the distribution of currency bars, other types of depositional practices predominate, but these may also relate to liminality in various ways. Currency bar hoards also occur in what I have titled ‘natural’ contexts, from rivers, bogs/lakes, rocky outcrops and caves (Hingley
1990a). Prolific evidence exists for the deposition of metalwork and other items in rivers, bogs, and also from significant dry-land contexts throughout later prehistory in the British Isles (Fox 1946; Manning 1972; Fitzpatrick 1984; Waite 1985; Bradley 1990; Hill 1995b). It is probable that the location of currency bars from all these types of settlement and ‘natural’ contexts indicates ritual deposition. Regarding the finds from ‘natural’ contexts and the temple find from Hayling Island (Hampshire), Bradley has suggested that Iron Age ritual deposition was tightly regulated and that major political territories were marked out by the deposition of ritual goods (1987:360). At Hayling Island many of the iron objects came from close to the outer boundary of the temple, mimicking the context of the deposition of hoards within settlements in the core area. River and temple deposits are other types of context that defined these tribal boundaries, according to Bradley (1987). Currency bar hoards have also been found in Anglesey and at the southern tip of the Isle of Wight. In these cases the hoards possibly marked out a larger-scale boundary than that of the tribe – the boundary of the islands that lie off the coast of Britain (Hingley 1990a:108).
Marking out time Some currency bars hoards have other significant associations. For example, at Hayling Island temple site the bars were found associated with Iron Age weapons, limited quantities of human bone, animal bone, and other Iron Age finds (King and Soffe 1998), while at Winster (Derbyshire) one bar was buried with a crouched inhumation (Beswick and Wright 1991). This bar was placed at the back of the skeleton, pointing toward the feet. Although it was described by the original excavator as a spearhead it was subsequently been identified as currency bar (Beswick and Wright 1991:45). Spears and swords were buried with some inhumations during the Iron Age, while plough-shares have not been found in burial contexts. This may suggest that the Winster currency bar was used in this burial context to symbolize a spear or sword. Indeed, it may provide another metaphorical association between the transformatory process of iron-working, fertility (the plough-share) and death (the dead person and the sword/spear). The metaphor of the life cycle may once again serve to define the contexts in which these hoards occur as liminal, and the evidence for the context of the burial of currency bars in settlement boundaries may support the idea that they acted as temporal signifiers (Hingley, in press). This evidence may indicate that the placement of the objects was of significance in the definition of the history of the community that occupied the site (see Gosden and Lock 1998 for the concept of prehistoric histories). At Kingsdown (Somerset) and the Ditches (Gloucestershire) the hoards appear to have been placed at or close to the base of the ditch, while at Stanway (Essex) they were on the side of the ditch but in an early phase of the fill (Philip Crummy, pers. comm.). Deposits placed in an early context within the ditches of enclosed sites and hillforts might have related to the construction, or reconstruction, of an enclosure. At Hinchinbroke Park Farm (Cambridgeshire) the bars were again placed soon after the cutting of the ditch but at this site the ditch replaced two earlier phases of boundary (Mark Hinman, pers. comm.). By contrast to these sites, at 122
Hingley: Defining community Madmarston (Oxfordshire) and at Nadbury (Warwickshire) the placement of the currency bars in pits cut into the rear of the rampart was very much a secondary activity. That this occurred some time after the construction of the rampart indicates that the settlement boundary retained significant associations after its construction and during its period of use (Hingley 1990a). The deposition of the hoard into a silted-up pit that formed part of the pit alignment at Gretton (Northamptonshire) was also secondary (ibid.). Perhaps hoards may sometimes have formed part of termination deposits. The idea that currency bars may have been placed in termination, or rededication, deposits requires to be studied further and ironwork hoards might benefit from a similar approach. It appears significant that an iron ‘blacksmith’s poker’ from Billingborough (Lincolnshire) was placed during the Iron Age into a shallow recut or pit in the top of a Bronze Age ditch on the edge a settlement (Chowne et al. 2001:94). At Madmarston, Nadbury, Gretton and Billingborough iron objects of varying types could have related to termination rituals when a settlement or feature was going out of use, or being put out of use. These hoards may therefore have related to boundaries in time – the creation, redefinition or the abandonment of a physical barrier by a community. Accurate recording of additional excavated examples should allow this suggestion to be considered in greater detail.
or less urgent rituals or as being the offerings of smaller or less powerful communities or households. In any case, the large hoards may indicate where powerful groups were sacrificing substantial quantities of valuable material in an act that emphasised the physical boundary and the stability of the group in time (Sharples 1991). For those hoards that were inserted into settlement boundary contexts there is an apparent association with the whole of the boundary, rather than with one particular element within it. Thus currency bars are found just outside the boundary of the settlement, in the ditch, in pits dug into the back of ramparts, and in loose associations close to ramparts (Table 8.2). The nature of the context is likely to be significant. The positioning of some hoards in pits in the rear of hillfort ramparts may have formed part of a highly visible rite that was witnessed by a larger community within the enclosed area. The deposition of hoards in rivers and bogs might have formed an equally conspicuous symbolic act at other locations in the landscape. That some hoards of currency bars were tied together in a group (Hingley 2005) may indicate that the objects were required to be placed into a context by a group of people. The selection of this group will have been part of the ritual act. The social context of ironwork hoarding, and its relationship to the Iron Age landscape and to constructed space, would benefit from additional study of the physical character of the contexts in which the acts of iron hoarding occurred on sites.
Creating community
Unbounded settlement
Barrett has suggested that political authority in the Iron Age may have drawn on the metaphor of the agricultural cycle – ‘the cycle of life / death, the ability to both kill and bestow fertility’ (Barrett 1989:3; see also Hingley 1997). Hoards of currency bars are quite often found associated with other finds, including other metal objects and bone (Hingley 1990a), although they also appear to occur unaccompanied. The contextual information may suggest that large hoards, small hoards, and single bars represent part of a common set of rituals. Large numbers of bars probably indicate the payment of sizeable quantities of valuable metal as a gift to the gods (e.g. Bradley 1984, 1990; Fitzpatrick 1984). As these offerings were evidently not intended for retrieval, the act of deposition would put quantities of valuable metal out of commission. The burial of metalwork indicated the conspicuous consumption of surplus wealth. It is possible that at the same time it related to the control of the distribution of iron and the working of iron into weapons and tools. The standardization evident in the form and weight of currency bars from single workshops (Crew 1995) may indicate local control over production and circulation. In fact the idea that currency bars form trade iron may itself suggest a degree of control over iron production. Such a form of centralized control could also help to explain the strong patterning evident in the deposition of currency bars. Analysis of the number of currency bars per hoard demonstrates that hoards of more than ten bars are unknown from enclosed settlements, while several large hoards are known from hillforts and ‘natural’ contexts (Table 8.2). Large and small hoards may indicate the same ritual practice, but perhaps the larger hoards were associated with more ‘powerful’ ritual, practised by a larger and more powerful community (Hingley 1990a). Small hoards can then be defined as constituting less important
The idea that Iron Age society across the whole of southern Britain was boundary obsessed is an oversimplification; this is indicated by at least two observations. Firstly, certain areas of southern Britain do not produce very much evidence for the enclosure of settlement. Across the east of Britain most of the settlements of Iron Age date that have been located appear to have been open (Davies and Williamson (eds.) 1999). The same is true for the area of Scotland to the north of the Forth (Hingley 1992) and certain well known areas of the Midlands, for instance, the Upper Thames Valley (Miles 1997). In the Upper Thames Valley, from the Middle Iron Age onward, it was the individual roundhouses that were enclosed and not the settlement into which they clustered. Settlement sites in some parts of Britain are very hard to locate indeed, for instance in Lancashire (Haselgrove 1996), and these may also have been open in character. In fact for much of Britain in the Iron Age settlements have proved very difficult to locate (see the ‘black holes’ listed in Haselgrove et al. 2001, table 3). Occasional sites occur but we have really very little idea of the nature of the settlement pattern. Perhaps the relative absence of evidence for Iron Age settlement across the east and the northwest of England may have something to do with the existence of a radically different way of life in various areas of Britain during later prehistory. People in these areas may have lived in a more flexible manner that did not lead to the creation of welldefined settlement sites at focal points in the landscape. Alternatively, perhaps they were simply less obsessed by the boundaries of the household/settlement than the occupants of Wessex and other areas. Secondly, where excavation has focused upon enclosed settlements, it has often been shown that the enclosed phase was merely a short period in the duration of a longer-lived 123
Enclosing the Past settlement. These enclosures have often been located as a result of aerial photography and subsequent excavation has proved the situation to be rather more complex. Many settlements passed through both open and enclosed phases, for instance, Winnal Down/Easton Lane (Hampshire; Fasham et al. 1989) and Fisher Road, Port Seaton (East Lothian; Haselgrove and McCullagh 2000). In fact, even in areas in which enclosed settlements do appear to predominate, open settlements may originally have been far more common than enclosed examples (Haselgrove 1999:117). The general absence of currency bar hoards from open settlements (above) could be explained if it is supposed that people on these sites were generally less concerned with rituals that related to the definition of the boundary of the social groups living within the individual settlement (Hingley 1984). This would help to explain both the absence of physical boundaries around the settlement and the scarcity of currency bar hoards at these sites. Caution is therefore required in reading too much into the evidence of the distribution of hoards. The scarcity of currency bar hoards from open settlements may merely reflect a differing tradition of ritual practice with less of a focus upon the physical bounding of the social group that lived at the individual settlement. Perhaps in some of the areas without a strong tradition of the enclosure of settlements the currency bars were disposed of in ‘natural’ contexts such as caves and rivers or in a way that has not resulted in clear archaeological traces.
settlement boundaries and with burials. These traditions of deposition in this peripheral area may relate to the definition of boundaries between peoples, while traditions over the whole area in which the bars occur may also have related to the boundaries between life and death.
Acknowledgements My thanks to Richard Bradley, Andrew Fitzpatrick, Chris Gosden, Colin Haselgrove, Niall Sharples and Christina Unwin for discussions of various ideas that are developed in this paper and to the editors of this book for their invitation to contribute to the volume.
Bibliography Allen, D. 1967. Iron Currency Bars in Britain. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 33:307–335. Avery, M. 1986. ‘Stoning and Fire’ at hill-fort entrances in southern Britain. World Archaeology 18:216–230. Barrett, J. 1989. Food, gender and metal: questions of social reproduction. In M.L.S. Sørenson and R. Thomas (eds.) The Bronze Age – Iron Age Transition in Europe 1–2: aspects of continuity and societies c. 1200 to 500 BC, pp. 304–320. British Archaeological Reports, Internat. Ser. 483. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Barrett, J.C., Bradley, R. and Green, M. 1991. Landscape, Monuments and Society: the prehistory of Cranborne Chase. Cambridge: University Press. Beswick, P. and Wright, M.E. 1991. Iron Age burials from Winster. In R. Hodges and K. Smith (eds.) Recent developments in the Archaeology of the Peak District, pp. 45–56. Sheffield Archaeological Monographs No. 2. Sheffield. Bewley, R. 1994. Book of Prehistoric Settlements. London, Batsford. Bowden, M. and McOmish, D. 1987. The required barrier. Scottish Archaeological Review 4:76–84 Bradley, R. 1984. The Social Foundations of Prehistoric Britain. London: Harlow. Bradley, R. 1987. Stages in the chronological development of hoards and votive deposits. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 53:351–62. Bradley, R. 1990. The Passage of Arms: an archaeological analysis of prehistoric hoards and votive deposits. Cambridge: University Press. Brück, J. 1999. What’s in a settlement? Domestic practices and residential mobility in Early Bronze Age southern England. In J. Brück and M. Goodman (eds.) Making Places in the Prehistoric World: themes in settlement archaeology, pp. 52– 75. London: UCL Press. Brück, J. and Goodman, M. 1999. Introduction: themes for a critical archaeology of prehistoric settlement. In J. Brück and M. Goodman (eds.), Making Places in the Prehistoric World: themes in settlement archaeology, pp. 1–19. London: UCL Press. Brunaux, J. 1988. The Celtic Gauls: Gods, Rites and Sanctuaries. London, Seaby. Budd, P. and Taylor. T. 1995. The faerie smith meets the bronze industry: magic verses science in the interpretation of prehistoric metalworking. World Archaeology 27:133–43. Chowne, P., Cleal, R., Fitzpatrick, A. and Andrews, P. 2001. Excavations at Billingborough, Lincolnshire, 1975–8: a Bronze Age-Iron Age settlement and salt-working site. East Anglian Archaeology Report No. 94. Salisbury. Cohen, A. 1985. The Symbolic Construction of Community. London. Collis, J.R. 1996. Hill-forts, enclosures and boundaries. In
Summary I have studied the development of the concept of the settlement enclosure within southern Britain from the Later Bronze Age onward. I have focused my attention of one particular body of evidence that may help us to comprehend the significance of some of the boundaries that were built around enclosed settlement and hillforts from around 300 BC until the end of the first millennium BC. Generally comparable forms of settlement exist also for the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age, but the significance of the boundaries on these sites may differ from the Middle Iron Age contexts examined in some detail in this paper. It is only during the Middle Iron Age that iron became common in southern Britain and it appears that at this time it took on a distinct association with physical and topographical boundaries. It is possible that ironwork hoards, particularly those that contain currency bars, were deposited as part of a ritual of power related to the control of production (agricultural and industrial), distribution and warfare, while at the same time representing a metaphor of power relations symbolized in the productive cycle. A number of distinct contexts of burial define two regions with related types of ritual. In the core region currency bar hoards occur in the context of settlement boundaries with a few examples of a similar practice occurring outside this area; while beyond currency bar hoards occur in natural contexts, on temple sites and in other significant contexts. In the core area these acts may have related both to the creation and the maintenance of the settlement boundary and the community that used the hillforts and enclosed settlements. Outside this area currency bars were often deposited in rivers, lakes/bogs, among rocks, at temples, in 124
Hingley: Defining community T.C. Champion and J. Collis (eds.) The Iron Age in Britain and Ireland: recent trends, pp. 87–94. Sheffield: J.R. Collis Publications. Cracknell, S. and Hingley, R. 1994. Park Farm, Barford: excavation of a prehistoric settlement site, 1988. Transactions of the Birmingham and Warwickshire Archaeological Society 100:1–24. Crew, P. 1994. Currency bars in Great Britain. In M. Mangin (ed.) La Sidérurgie ancienne de l’Est de la France dans son contexte européen: archéologie et archéométrie. Actes du Colloque de Besançon, 10–13 novembre 1993. Paris: Annales littéraires de l’Université de Besançon 536:345–350. Crew, P. 1995. Aspects of the iron supply. In B. W. Cunliffe (ed.) Danebury, an Iron Age hillfort in Hampshire: volume 6, a hillfort community in perspective. CBA Research Report 102. London. Cunliffe, B. 1978. Iron Ages Communities in Britain. London, Routledge. Cunliffe, B. 1984. Danebury: an Iron Age Hill-Fort in Hampshire, Volumes I and 2. London: Council for British Archaeology. Cunliffe, B. 1995. Iron Age Britain. London, Batsford / English Heritage. Davies, J. and Williamson, T. (eds.)1999. Land of the Iceni: Iron Age in northern East Anglia. Studies in East Anglia History 4. Norwich: University of East Anglia. Fasham, P., Farwell, D. and Whinney, R. 1989. The Archaeological Site at Easton Lane, Winchester. Gloucester, Hampshire Field Club Monograph 6. Fitzpatrick, A. 1984. The Deposition of La Tène Iron Age metalwork in watery contexts in southern England. In B. Cunliffe and D. Miles (eds.) Aspects of the Iron Age in Central Southern Britain, pp.178–190. Oxford: University of Oxford Committee for Archaeology. Fox, C. 1946. A Find of the Early Iron Age from Llyn Cerrig Bach, Anglesey. Cardiff: National Museum of Wales. Gillies, W. 1981. The Craftsman in Early Celtic Literature. Scottish Archaeological Forum 2:70–85. Gosden C. and Lock, G. 1998. Prehistoric histories. World Archaeology 30:2–12. Haselgrove, C. 1996. The Iron Age. In R. Newman (ed.) The Archaeology of Lancashire: present state and future priorities, pp. 61–73. Lancaster: Lancaster University Archaeological Unit. Haselgrove, C. 1999. The Iron Age. In J. Hunter and I. Ralston (eds.) The Archaeology of Britain: an introduction from the Upper Palaeolithic to the industrial revolution, pp. 113–134. London / New York, Routledge. Haselgrove, C., Armit, I. et al. 2001. Understanding the British Iron Age: an agenda for action. Salisbury. Haselgrove, C. and McCullagh, R. 2000. An Iron Age Coastal Community in East Lothian: the excavation of two later prehistoric enclosure complexes at Fisher Road, Port Seaton, 1994–5. Edinburgh. Hill, J.D. 1995a. How should we understand Iron Ages Societies and hillforts? In J.D. Hill and C. Cumberpatch (eds.) Different
Iron Ages: studies on the Iron Age in temperate Europe, pp. 45–66 . Oxford. Hill, J.D. 1995b. Rituals and Rubbish in the Iron Age of Wessex. British Archaeological Reports British Series 242. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Hingley, R. 1984. Towards social analysis in archaeology: Celtic society in the Iron Age of the Upper Thames Valley. In B. Cunliffe and D. Miles (eds.) Aspects of the Iron Age in Central Southern Britain, pp. 72–88. Oxford: University of Oxford Committee for Archaeology. Hingley, R. 1989. Rural Settlement in Roman Britain. London: Seaby. Hingley, R. 1990a. Iron Age ‘Currency Bars’: the archaeological and social context. Archaeological Journal 147:91–117. Hingley, R. 1990b. Boundaries surrounding Iron Age and Romano-British Settlements. Scottish Archaeological Review 7:96–103. Hingley, R. 1992. Society in Scotland from 700 BC to AD 200. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 122:7– 54. Hingley, R. 1997. Iron, ironworking and regeneration: a study of the symbolic meaning of metalworking in Iron Age Britain. In A. Gwilt and C. Haselgrove (eds.) Reconstructing Iron Age Societies: new approaches to the British Iron Age. Oxbow Monograph 71, pp. 9–18. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Hingley, R. 2004. Rural settlement in northern Britain during the Roman Period. In M. Todd (ed.) Blackwell‘s History of Roman Britain, 327–48. Oxford, Blackwell. Hingley, R. 2005. Iron Age ‘Currency Bars’ in Britain: items of exchange in liminal contexts? In C. Haselgrove and D. WiggWolf (eds.) Iron Age Coinages and Ritual Practices. Studien zu Fundmünzen der Antike, pp.183–206. Mainz. King, A. and Soffe, G. 1998. Internal organisation and deposition at the Iron Age temple on Hayling Island. Hampshire Studies 53:35–47. Manning, W. 1972. Ironwork hoards in Iron Age and Roman Britain. Britannia 3:224–50. Martin, Th. and Ruffat, H. 1998. Un dépôt de lingots de fer du début de La Tène III à Montans (Tarn). In M. Feugère and V. Serneels (eds.) Recherches sur l’économie du fer en Méditerranée nord-occidentale, pp.110–115. Montagnac: éditions Monique Mergoil. Miles, D. 1997. Conflict and complexity: The later prehistory of the Oxford region. Oxoniensia 112:1–19. Musty, J. 1989. Science Diary. Current Archaeology 10:314. Parker Pearson, M. 1993. Bronze Age Britain. London, Batsford / English Heritage. Rykwert, J. 1995. The Idea of a Town: the anthropology of urban form in Rome, Italy and the ancient world. London. Sharples, N. 1991. Warfare and the Iron Age of Wessex. Scottish Archaeological Review 8:79–89. Wait, G.A. 1985. Ritual and Religion in Iron Age Britain. British Archaeological Reports, British Series 149. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.
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9: Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen Susanne Sievers Summary: Celtic oppida in Central Europe (defended sites of the 2nd and 1st century BC) show more or less the same development as undefended (open) sites. The only difference between them is the fortification. Apart from this both types of settlements display the same linear elements (connectionlines, closed and open units), which could be of social, ritual or other common functional nature. The various combinations of these elements are typical for different settlement patterns, being dependant on geographical, political or economic factors. The fortifications of the oppida are considered not only as signs for the display of power but also as symbols of the complex network of Celtic life and the danger menacing late Celtic society.
Grundsätzlich ist in den Oppida mit einer großen Vielfalt an linearen Elementen zu rechnen, die z.T. der Gliederung des weiträumigen Siedlungsraumes dienten. Nur wenige hiervon sind allerdings auf befestigte Siedlungen beschränkt. Es ist dabei zu bedenken, dass einige Oppida aus offenen Siedlungen hervorgegangen sind, wenn auch die Entstehungsgeschichte meist nicht im Detail nachzuvollziehen ist. Als typisches Beispiel für die Entwicklung eines Oppidums aus einer offenen Siedlung kann hier Manching angeführt werden (Sievers 1999). Vor allem bei den auf Höhen angelegten Oppida wird davon ausgegangen, dass es sich bei ihnen um geplante Siedlungsgründungen handelt. Der im AisneTal festgestellte Siedlungswechsel von einer offenen Siedlung in ein Oppidum und umgekehrt (Brun, Chartier u. Pion 2000) illustriert die Schwierigkeiten einer klaren Definition bestens. In dieser Situation liegt es nahe, nach den Funktionen der einzelnen linearen Elemente zu fragen, die hier zunächst nach Typen getrennt vorgestellt werden.
Keywords: Central Europe, Middle and Late La Tène, oppidum, fortification, development of towns, systems of communication Unter den umfriedeten Plätzen haben die keltischen Oppida lange Zeit in ganz besonderer Weise die Diskussion um die Funktion prähistorischer Befestigungen beherrscht. Wurde anfangs vor allem vor dem Hintergrund Caesars Schilderungen der Eroberung Galliens der fortifikatorische Aspekt hervorgehoben (Werner 1939:381f.), betonte man in den letzten Jahren zunehmend den Symbolgehalt der Anlagen (Repräsentation, Machtdarstellung), was so weit ging, dass man die Verteidigungsfunktion gänzlich in Abrede stellte (Fichtl 2000:71). Da der Innenraum – besonders bei den auf eher unzugänglichen Höhen gelegenen Oppida – nur selten großflächig erforscht werden konnte, begnügte man sich hier oft mit wenigen Schnitten, die in der Regel allein den Wall betrafen. So entstand in erster Linie eine Typologie der Befestigungsweisen. Ziel dieses Beitrages soll es deshalb vor allem sein, die Oppida als Ganzes – nicht nur unter dem Aspekt der Befestigung, sondern auch der linearen Binnenstrukturen – zu hinterfragen. Das Thema verlangt, um Missverständnissen vorzubeugen, nach einer Definition des Begriffs “Oppidum”. Ohne in eine Grundsatzdebatte eintreten zu wollen oder eine allgemeingültige Definition anzustreben, werden in dem hier interessierenden Zusammenhang unter Oppida befestigte Großsiedlungen des 2. und 1. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. verstanden. Dabei ist auf eine abweichende Verwendung des Begriffes in Teilen Frankreichs hinzuweisen, wo auch jede noch so kleine Befestigung als Oppidum bezeichnet wird. Im Zentrum dieses Beitrages werden jedoch die großen Oppida Mitteleuropas stehen, die gewöhnlich deutlich mehr als 30ha umfassen (Collis 1984:1–8; Fichtl 2000:9–19). Von besonderem Interesse sind diejenigen, die großflächig gegraben sind. Zu nennen sind hier beispielhaft Bibracte, Hrazany, Manching, Martberg, Staré Hradisko, Titelberg, Variscourt / Condé-sur-Suippe, Villeneuve-St-Germain und Závist. Von den meisten übrigen Anlagen liegen leider nur Wallschnitte und Torgrabungen vor; größere Aufdeckungen im Inneren sind relativ selten1.
1. Verbindungslinien. Hierzu gehören Wege und Straßen, die gepflastert (Meduna 1970, Beilage 5) oder von Gräben (Sievers 2000, Beilage 1 Mitte) flankiert sein konnten. Oft zeichnen sie sich jedoch nur als befundfreie Streifen ab. Sie waren gewöhnlich an natürlichen Gegebenheiten wie Wasserläufen oder Höhenlinien orientiert; ihre Anlage kann aber auch planmäßigem Handeln entsprungen sein, was in der Regel an einem rechtwinkligen Gefüge zu erkennen ist. Letzteres gilt auch für größere Drainage- und Kanalsysteme, wie wir sie von Manching (Sievers 1998, Beilage 6) und Villeneuve-St-Germain (Debord u.a. 1988; Peyre 2000) (Abb. 9.1) kennen. Sie dienten der Kommunikation und repräsentierten als Teil der Infrastruktur die öffentliche Ordnung. 2. Geschlossene Einheiten von rechteckigem oder ovalem Grundriss. Entsprechend der Topographie einzelner Oppida zeichnet sich eine Parzellierung ab, die mehr oder weniger die natürlichen Gegebenheiten widerspiegelt. Typisch ist eine meist gehöftartige Bebauung, die einheimischer eisenzeitlicher Tradition entspricht. Es ist hierbei an die hallstattzeitlichen Herrenhöfe Mitteleuropas zu erinnern, aber auch an die Bebauung der sog. Fürstensitze wie z.B. der Heuneburg (Gersbach 1996 Beilagen 1–18). Im Gegensatz zu den Verbindungslinien haben wir es hier mit Linien zu tun, die einen geschlossenen inneren Bereich von einem äußeren trennen. Die sich so abzeichnende Kennzeichnung und Sicherung des eigenen Besitzes dürfte auch mit Rechtsansprüchen einher gegangen sein. a) Zäune, Palisaden (Gräben) und Laubengänge (Portiken) um Gehöfte (Abb. 9.2) markieren die realen Besitzgrenzen, symbolisieren aber auch die Grenzen von unmittelbarem Einfluss und Macht. Die ursprüngliche Funktion, der Schutz (auch der eigenen Haustiere) vor wilden Tieren, tritt hier ganz in den Hintergrund. Einige Gehöfte werden als einfache Bauernhöfe, andere als Sitz der Nobilität mit ihrer Klientel interpretiert (Schubert 1994:186–192; Köhler 1992:56–64; Sievers 1992:326–
1
Vgl. die Pläne bei Collis (1984) und Fichtl (2000), aus denen aber leider nicht die gegrabenen Flächen hervorgehen.
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Abbildung 9.1. Das Oppidum von Villeneuve-St-Germain und sein Kanalsystem (nach Fichtl 2000:78). 3. Offene lineare Strukturen. Hierunter sind Plätze zu verstehen, die durchaus nach außen hin begrenzt sein konnten. Wir kennen sie u.a. von Manching (Sievers 1991), vom Martberg (Thoma 2000), Bibracte (Gruel 1998:31), Variscourt / Condé-sur-Suippe (Fichtl 2000:76–78) (Abb. 9.4) sowie von Acy-Romance (Lambot u. Méniel 2000: 20–29). Sie konnten als Marktplatz bzw. für politisch oder religiös motivierte Versammlungen, etwa öffentliche Wahlen, genutzt werden. In jedem Fall setzen sie die Anwesenheit vieler Menschen voraus. Insofern dienten auch sie der Kommunikation.
335; Meduna 1970:39–50; Jansová 1965; Pion 1994). Gewöhnlich verfügten sie neben reinen Wohnbauten über landwirtschaftliche und handwerkliche Einrichtungen, womöglich sogar über eigene Heiligtümer. Insofern ähneln die größeren Einheiten den allerdings massiver befestigten Viereckschanzen (Wieland 1999; vgl. auch Beitrag Wieland in diesem Band S. 135ff.). b) Von vergleichbarem Umriss sind Felder, die von Gräben umgeben sind (Küster 1992:451–455 Beilage 7; 20), die sicher auch der Drainage dienten. Ob die Felder zusätzlich von flachen Wällen umgrenzt waren, die u.a. den Wind abhielten, ist in der Regel nicht mehr zu rekonstruieren. Offen ist auch die Frage, ob sie sich in öffentlichem oder privatem Besitz befanden. Mit der Ausdehnung einer Siedlung dürfte manches ursprünglich landwirtschaftlich genutzte Stück Land in Bauland, in unserem Falle in ein Gehöft, umgewandelt worden sein. c) Kleine rechteckige Grabengevierte mit runden oder viereckigen Zentralbauten werden gewöhnlich als Bestandteile von Heiligtümern oder Speichern gedeutet. Wo wir nur zwei oder drei solcher Befunde innerhalb eines Oppidums kennen, wie in Manching (Abb. 9.3), scheint die Wahrscheinlichkeit groß, dass die Gräbchen Heiligtümer bzw. Sonderbauten umgaben. Meist weisen die Eingänge nach Osten oder Süden (Schubert 1995; Thoma 2000:473 f. Abb. 2). Insgesamt ist hier eine Ähnlichkeit mit den keltischen Grabgärten nicht zu übersehen. Im Prinzip wurde ein numinoser Ort (fanum) von seiner Umgebung (profanum) abgegrenzt (Buchsenschutz 2000:7–11, fig. 9.1). Grundsätzlich ist bei der Interpretation dieser Befunde allerdings Zurückhaltung geboten, sofern nicht eindeutig interpretierbare Funde vorhanden sind.
4. Befestigungen. Hierzu zählen die Stadtmauern mit ihren Toren, aber auch Verteidigungslinien innerhalb der Siedlung. Ihre öffentliche, eine Einheit umschließende und zugleich trennende Funktion ist evident. Lineare Elemente in den Oppida besaßen demnach privaten, öffentlichen oder religiösen Charakter; sie dienten der Abgrenzung oder der Kommunikation und regelten so auf jeden Fall das Zusammenleben einer größeren Menschenmenge. Ausgehend von Beobachtungen am ursprünglich unbefestigten Manching (Sievers 1999) und an Acy-Romance (Lambot u. Méniel 2000) ist festzustellen, dass sämtliche bislang aufgeführten linearen Elemente auch aus offenen Siedlungen bekannt sind. Dies bedeutet, dass die Stadtmauer mit ihren Toren die einzige lineare Struktur darstellt, die ausschließlich für das Oppidum typisch ist. Die Monumentalität der spätkeltischen Stadttore, die alle älteren Konstruktionen in den Schatten stellt, ist in direkter Abhängigkeit vom gewaltigen Ausmaß der spätkeltischen Befestigungen zu sehen, die durch Türme verstärkt worden sein konnten. In diesem Sinne gehören auch die mächtigen Zangentore und deren oft mehrfach gesichertes Vorfeld zu 127
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Abbildung 9.2. Manching. Von einer porticus umgebenes Gehöft der Südumgehung (nach Fichtl 2000:84). den linearen Umfassungsstrukturen. Der Raum vor dem Tor konnte durch Pfosten, Pfeiler oder Annäherungshindernisse untergliedert sein, wie dies etwa für Manching belegt ist (Abb. 9.5) (van Endert 1987:3–33, Beilage 14). Wenngleich die Tore als wichtigste Zeugnisse keltischer Architektur auch als Prestige-Symbole gelten können, stellten sie dennoch die neuralgischen Punkte des Verteidigungssystems dar und erforderten einen besonders wirkungsvollen Schutz einschließlich unheilabwehrender Maßnahmen. In Manching sind Opferschächte und an Pfählen oder dem Tor befestigte menschliche Schädel belegt (van Endert 1987, 28–31). Das Passieren der durchgehend bewachten Tore unterlag mit Sicherheit einem strikten Reglement. Unbeantwortet muss die Frage bleiben, ob die Bewohner des Oppidums über spezielle Rechte verfügt haben und in welchem Verhältnis diese zum keltischen Gefolgschaftswesen gestanden hätten, wobei nicht klar ist, ob die Angaben Caesars für Gallien hierzu überhaupt für den gesamten keltischen Raum zu verallgemeinern sind. Innerhalb der Stadtmauer wurden manchmal weitere Verteidigungs- oder Grenzlinien angelegt. 4–5 m breite und 2m tiefe Gräben im Oppidum von Manching sind wohl nicht als übliche Begrenzungen von Privatbesitz aufzufassen2. Aber die Situation des im Donautal gelegenen
Oppidums von Manching, das nur über einen einzigen Mauerring verfügte, sollte nicht verallgemeinert werden. Auf dem Titelberg trennte ein vergleichbarer Graben ein Heiligtum ab (Metzler u.a. 2000:431–436). Viele der auf Höhenrücken oder Plateaus errichteten Oppida besaßen ein gestaffeltes Verteidigungssystem. Einige Mauern bestanden gleichzeitig, andere folgten aufeinander (Drda 1994, Fig. 3) oder wurden speziell zum Schutz von Quellen angelegt, z. B. am Dünsberg (Reh 2001). Was aber geschah mit den ursprünglichen Verteidigungslinien, nachdem neue errichtet worden sind? Wurden die Mauern eingeebnet, die Gräben aufgefüllt oder versah man die zur Trennlinie gewordenen Mauern mit neuen Durchgängen? Wurden Oppida immer nur erweitert oder hat man hier und da auch versucht, den zu verteidigenden Raum zu verkleinern? Es ist nicht einfach, diese Fragen in Kürze zu beantworten. Wirft man einen Blick auf Befestigungen Griechenlands oder auf früheisenzeitliche Anlagen wie die Heuneburg, so ist festzustellen, dass normalerweise zuerst nur die Akropolis massiv befestigt war. Die Unterstadt mit ihren Handwerkervierteln folgte, wenn überhaupt, erst später (Reim 2001/02). In Zeiten der Bedrohung wurde manchmal 2
z.B. der große Ost-West-Graben in Manching-Altenfeld: Sievers 1998: Beilage 6 Schnitte 1402–1407.
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Abbildung 9.3. Manching. Dreiphasiger Tempel aus Schnitt 20, jeweils von einem Grabengeviert umschlossen (nach Gerdsen 1982:561, Abb.9). nach einem Zentrum auf. So fällt es auf, dass mehrfach der am höchsten gelegene Teil einer Siedlung von dem tiefer gelegenen separiert wurde (Abb. 9.8). Plätze, Heiligtümer oder andere öffentliche Gebäude, manchmal in Kombination miteinander, wurden in den meisten Fällen an einem zentralen oder hervorgehobenen Ort errichtet, z. B. an der Kreuzung zweier Hauptstraßen3. Diese Beobachtung trifft nicht nur auf die Oppida zu. Man kann dies auch als Zeichen einer gezielten Stadtplanung deuten, wie sie sich in Manching an der Umleitung zweier Bachläufe, die man in das Befestigungssystem mit einbezogen hat, äußert (Peters u. Sievers 2001). Ausgehend vom Oppidum von Manching, das sich aus einer offenen Siedlung entwickelt hat, erhebt sich die generelle Frage nach den Prinzipien der keltischen Siedlungsgründung. Nehmen wir etruskische Riten als Muster (Kolb 1984:150–
eine innere Mauer zum Schutz des Siedlungszentrums errichtet. In solchen Fällen bot dann der äußere Mauerring eine zusätzliche Verstärkung. Die Ergebnisse detaillierter Untersuchungen liegen in Mitteleuropa von Závist (Drda u. Rybová 1997:74, Abb. 7; 115), Kelheim (Leicht 2000:109–128) und Stradonice (Rybová u. Drda 1994:132, Fig. 5) sowie Bibracte (Gruel u. Vitali 1998:18–22) vor. Nicht jedes Oppidum wurde sukzessive vergrößert wie Závist (Abb. 9.6). Als weitere Beispiele sind das Heidetränk-Oppidum (Maier 1985, Abb. 27) und der Donnersberg (Bernhard 2001) (Abb. 9.7) zu nennen, dessen befestigtes Siedlungsgebiet z. B. reduziert wurde, was auch für Bibracte zutrifft. Gewöhnlich hat man bei einer Erweiterung des Terrains alte Mauer- oder Wallteile im Inneren einer Siedlung nicht entfernt, sondern zur Binnengliederung genutzt. Diese Unterteilung konnte sozialer, ritueller oder funktionaler Natur sein. In jedem Fall erfüllte sie einen bestimmten Zweck. Die gezielte Gliederung der Siedlung wirft die Frage
Erhöht gelegenes „Zentrum“: Gesichert für Závist, Martberg, Titelberg, Bibracte; vermutet für Kelheim, Staré Hradisko, Heidetränk-Oppidum. „Zentrum“ an Wegekreuzung: Manching, Villeneuve-St-Germain. 3
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Abbildung 9.4. Plätze und Straßen des Oppidums Variscourt/Condé-sur-Suippe (nach Fichtl 2000:77 oben).
Abbildung 9.5. Manching. Das Osttor in seiner zweiten Bauphase mit Annäherungshindernis (nach Fichtl 2000:57 rechts).
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Abbildung 9.6. Die Befestigungslinien des Oppidums auf dem Závist; a) während LT C2; b) während LT D2 (nach Drda 1994:142). Hauptfunktionen spätkeltischer Befestigungen: Sie besitzen Prestige-Charakter und demonstrieren Macht gegenüber jedermann, der sich diesen Bauwerken von außen nähert. Dies ist natürlich nicht neu. Die Lehmziegelmauer der Heuneburg mit ihren Türmen (Gersbach 1995) erfüllte diesen Zweck ebenso wie bronzezeitliche oder frühlatènezeitliche Befestigungen. Und dennoch gibt es einen wichtigen Unterschied. Der zum Bau und zur Verteidigung einer mehrere Kilometer langen Stadtmauer, die eine Fläche von bis zu 1000 ha umschließen konnte, notwendige Aufwand an Menschen, Zeit und Material setzte eine hohe Bevölkerungsdichte im Umfeld der Siedlung voraus, eine starke Gemeinschaft und eine strikte Planung. In diesem Sinne sind die Oppida und ihre Vorläufer die ersten urbanen Siedlungen in der europäischen Geschichte, bezieht man sich auf eine Definition des Stadtbegriffs von F. Kolb, der als Voraussetzung u.a. eine Bevölkerungszahl von mehreren tausend Einwohnern nennt und den Grenzwert bei 1000 setzt (Kolb 1984:15). Die Verwendung des häufig benutzten Begriffs „Zentralort“ fordert dazu auf, nach dem zugehörigen Territorium zu fragen (Christaller 1933; Denecke 1973; Grant 1986). Aus dem Bedarf an Getreide, Holz, Eisen und Steinen in Kombination mit der Lage der jeweiligen Rohstoffquellen und den topographischen Gegebenheiten kann theoretisch der Radius des von einem Oppidum beherrschten Gebietes erschlossen werden. Einfache Bauernhöfe könnten Viereckschanzen oder offenen Siedlungen zugeordnet gewesen sein oder Industriesiedlungen wie Bad Nauheim mit seinen Salzquellen beliefert haben5. Hier wird besonders deutlich, dass wir von einer Arbeitsteilung auszugehen haben. All diese Plätze waren wiederum mit einem Oppidum verbunden. Das Oppidum war der geeignete Ort, um die Vorräte der Gemeinschaft zu sichern, wofür zahlreiche Speicherbauten, auch größerer Dimension, ein Beleg sind. Innerhalb der Stadtmauern der großflächigen Oppida Süddeutschlands sind zudem Felder für eine Grundversorgung und unbewirtschaftete Flächen zu beobachten, die als eine Art Refugium genutzt werden konnten. Es gibt daneben Hinweise auf den Abbau diverser Metalle etwa in Bibracte, Kelheim und Manching (Knopf, Leicht u. Sievers 2000)6. Dies bedeutet, dass die Stadtmauer nicht ausschließlich als
153), wäre die Festlegung eines Zentrums zu erwarten (mundus) und die Einfriedung der Siedlungseinheit. Dies könnte auf eine mehr symbolische Art durch Pflügen geschehen sein oder durch die Anlage eines Zaunes oder Grabens. Auch die Errichtung der Stadtmauern und Tore folgten heiligen Vorschriften. Es gibt keine schriftlichen Nachrichten bzw. präzise Beschreibungen vergleichbaren keltischen Brauchtums4; immerhin hielten sich zahlreiche Kelten aber lange Zeit im Mittelmeerraum auf, wo derartiges Geschehen üblich war. Auch wäre es verwunderlich, wenn solches Brauchtum ausschließlich auf den mediterranen Raum beschränkt gewesen wäre. So wird das unter einer der beiden Fahrbahnen des Osttores gefundene Kinderskelett als Bauopfer gedeutet. Offensichtlich waren menschliche Schädel im Vorraum des Tores an einem Pfahl befestigt (Hahn 1987:111–114). Ein weiteres Beispiel aus Manching ist hier anzufügen. Im Südteil des Oppidums wird der Wall auf seiner Innenseite in etwas unregelmäßigem Abstand von einem annähernd parallel verlaufenen Grabensystem begleitet (v. Schnurbein u. Sievers 2000:310 f. Abb. 2). Es ist nicht auszuschließen, dass einige dieser Gräben älter sind als die Stadtmauer und dass die sog. offene Siedlung in Wirklichkeit schon frühzeitig nach außen hin abgegrenzt war. Der Zwischenraum zwischen Grabensystem und Wall erscheint weitgehend unbebaut. Folgen wir antiken Traditionen, dann könnte man diesen Zwischenraum als pomerium bezeichnen, das als eine Art magische Grenze gedient hat. Der runde Umriss des Oppidums von Manching schließlich kann ebenso als kosmisches Symbol verstanden worden sein wie seine beiden Rundtempel, von denen einer – der älteste – durch seine zentrale Lage auffällt (Parker Pearson 1999). Die Befestigungen der Oppida unterscheiden sich vor allem durch ihre komplexe Bauweise von umwehrten Gehöften und den sog. Viereckschanzen. Aus Frankreich kennen wir auf der anderen Seite mindestens zwei Beispiele (Meunet-Planches und Luant [Buchsenschutz 2002:267– 269), bei denen sehr kleine Einheiten von nur 1 oder 2 ha Grundfläche von einer massiven Stadtmauer nach dem Baumuster des murus Gallicus inklusive der typischen Nägel umgeben wurden. Diese Beispiele verweisen auf eine der 4 Tarpin 2000:29. Hier ist von einer mythischen Siedlungsgründung der Kelten in der Gallia cisalpina die Rede, auf die sich Titus Livius 39, 22 und 45 bezieht.
5
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Zuletzt im Überblick: Saile 2000:169 f.
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Abbildung 9.7. Das Oppidum auf dem Donnersberg und seine Befestigungslinien (nach Fichtl 2000:127). Prestige-Objekt gedacht war, sondern auch als Symbol für Sicherheit, militärische Macht und den Schutz der gesamten politischen, ökonomischen und religiösen Einheit aufgefasst werden kann. Insofern ist das Oppidum ein Spiegel des Territoriums, das es beherrscht. Dies bedeutet auf der anderen Seite, dass wir mit regionalen Besonderheiten rechnen müssen7. Was war der Anlass für das Befestigen eines bereits existierenden Zentralortes bzw. für die Gründung eines Oppidums? Es ist wohl kaum ein Zufall, dass Zentralorte urbanen Charakters erst seit dem Ende der keltischen Expansion entstanden sind. Mit Sicherheit kannten die Kelten, die als Söldner weithin gefragt waren, die Verteidigungssysteme mediterraner Städte. Nach Mitteleuropa zurückgekehrt, verarbeiteten sie manche Anregung, ohne jedoch ins bloße Kopieren zu verfallen. Das geläufigste Beispiel hierfür ist die Münzprägung. Warum sollte nicht auch die Idee der Stadt als Konzentration von Menschen und Möglichkeiten dazu gezählt werden, allerdings unter der Wahrung traditioneller Elemente. Dass die Kelten Erfahrungen aus ihrer Söldnerzeit umsetzten, belegen z.B. die massiven Erdhinterschüttungen der Steinmauern, die deren Einreißen oder das Schlagen einer Bresche fast unmöglich machten. Gegenüber den ältereisenzeitlichen Mauern ist dies eine Neuerung, die auf ein Mitwirkung keltischer Söldner an zahlreichen Belagerungen von reinen Steinmauern zurückgehen könnte. Dass die riesigen keltischen Oppida nur unter größtem Aufwand und Einsatz
von Menschen zu belagern waren, zeigt die Kriegsführung Caesars in Gallien. Der Bedarf nach einem einheimischen oder fremden Verteidigungssystem aus rein symbolischen oder Prestigegründen stand dabei offensichtlich nicht an erster Stelle. Man begann mit der Errichtung von Oppida und der Befestigung von Siedlungen erst während einer über Schriftquellen belegten Krisenzeit im 2. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Kimbern und Teutonen, später Germanen unter Ariovost). Insofern ist der Bau einer Stadtmauer nicht zwingend mit dem Entstehen einer stärkeren Zentralisierung gleichzusetzen. Aber die Stadtmauern schützten das neue System in einer sehr effektiven und demonstrativen Art und Weise. Einen gewaltigen Einschnitt in die bestehende Ordnung muss es bedeutet haben, wenn eine derart massive Umfriedung, wie sie die Stadtmauer eines Oppidums darstellt, freiwillig oder unfreiwillig aufgelassen wurde. Immerhin zeigen einige der gegrabenen Tore Spuren von Feuer. Bedeutete dies das Ende der politischen, religiösen und wirtschaftlichen Einheit? Oder ist dies lediglich als Krise zu verstehen? Diesen Eindruck erwecken einige Beispiele in Gallien, wo man befestigte Orte nach kurzer Zeit wieder verließ und eine neue Siedlung errichtete9. Auch hier müssen wir mit ganz unterschiedlichen Reaktionen auf z. T. politische Ereignisse und wirtschaftliche Gegebenheiten rechnen. Offensichtlich war die keltische Mobilität nicht nur auf die Zeit der großen „Wanderungen“ beschränkt. Die das Oppidum charakterisierenden großen geschlossenen (linearen) Einheiten, die wir gewöhnlich als Gehöfte
6 Forschungen J.-P. Guillaumets am Mont Beuvray ergaben erste Hinweise auf den Abbau von Gold innerhalb des Oppidums (interne Berichterstattung). 7 Hierzu aus dem Blickwinkel der Britischen Inseln: Collis 1993:231–237.
9
Levroux: Ortswechsel nicht als Krise im negativen Sinn, sondern als wirtschaftlich-politische Notwendigkeit gedeutet durch Buchsenschutz u. Krausz 2001:292–298. – Aisnetal: Brun, Chartier u. Pion 2000:85–88.
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Abbildung 9.8. Das Oppidum Stradonice und seine Befestigungslinien (nach Fichtl 2000:100 unten). ansprechen, waren im Grunde leicht aufzulösen und außerhalb der befestigten Siedlung wieder zu errichten, wo sie für uns allerdings nicht ohne weiteres fassbar sind. Die Zeit der Oppida markiert das Ende einer komplexen Entwicklung, die alle möglichen Siedlungsmuster in sich vereinigte und miteinander kombinierte. Im MittelmeerRaum folgten entweder zentralistische oder demokratische Strukturen auf die Stadtstaaten. Der unter politischen und ökonomischen Druck (Römer, Germanen) geratenen keltischen Führungsriege war es offensichtlich nicht möglich, einen dieser Wege zu gehen. Das Ende der Oppida könnte genau diesen Umstand reflektieren. Insofern geben uns die Oppida mit ihrer Vielfalt linearer Strukturen eine Vorstellung von der Entwicklung, den Eigenheiten und dem Verfall der spätkeltischen Gesellschaft. Sie spiegeln den gesamten Kosmos und das komplexe Netzwerk keltischen Lebens; ihre Befestigungen, die die Siedlungen als geschlossene Einheiten definieren, symbolisieren die Stärke, aber auch die Gefährdung dieses Systems.
Bituriges. In Garcia u. Verdin 2002:261–270. Christaller, W. 1933. Die zentralen Orte in Süddeutschland. Eine ökonomisch-geographische Untersuchung über die Gesetzmäßigkeit der Verbreitung und Entwicklung der Siedlungen mit städtischen Funktionen. Jena. Collis, J. 1984. Oppida. Earliest Towns North of the Alps. Sheffield. Collis, J. 1993. Structures d’habitat et enceintes de l’âge du Fer. In: A. Daubigny (Hrsg.), Fonctionnement social de l’âge du Fer opérateurs et hypothèses pour la France. Table ronde internationale de Lons-le-Saunier (Jura) 24–26 octobre 1990, S. 231–237. Lons-le-Saunier. Collis, J. (Hrsg.) 2001. Society and settlement in Iron Age Europe. L’Habitat et l’Occupation du Sol en Europe. Actes du XVIIIe Colloque de l’A.F.E.A.F. Winchester – April 1994. Sheffield : J.R. Collis publications. Debord, J., Lambot, B. u. Buchsenschutz, O. 1988. Les fossés couverts du site gaulois tardif de Villeneuve-St-Germain (Aisne). Architectures des Âges des metaux : fouilles recentes. Paris. Denecke, D. 1973. Der geographische Stadtbegriff und die räumlich-funktionale Betrachtungsweise bei Siedlungstypen mit zentraler Bedeutung in Anwendung auf historische Siedlungsepochen. In Jankuhn, Schlesinger u. Steuer 1973: 33–55. Drda, P. u. Rybová, A. 1997. Die keltischen oppida im Zentrum Boiohaemums. Památky archaeologické 88: 74–115. Drda, P. 1994. Le site de Závist et le développement du réseau des oppida en Bohême. Etudes Celtiques 30:137–147. Fichtl, St. 2000. La ville celtique. Les oppida de 150 av. J.-C. à 15 ap. J.-C. Paris: Errance. Garcia, D. u. Verdin, F. 2002. Territoires celtiques. Espaces ethniques et territoires des agglomérations protohistoriques d’Europe occidentale. Actes du XXIVe colloque international de l’A.F.E.A.F. Martigues,1–4 juin 2000. Paris. Gerdsen, H. 1982. Das Fragment eines eisernen Hallstattschwertes aus dem Oppidum von Manching. Germania 60:560–564. Gersbach, E. 1995. Baubefunde der Perioden IVc–IVa der Heuneburg. Heuneburgstudien IX = Römisch-Germanische Forschungen 53. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Gersbach, E. 1996. Baubefunde der Perioden IIIb–Ia der Heuneburg. Heuneburgstudien X = Römisch-Germanische
Bibliographie Bernhard, H. 2001. Dannenfels, KIB (RP). In J. Biel u. S. Rieckhoff (Hrsg.) Die Kelten in Deutschland, S. 320–323. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Braemer, F., Cleuziou, S. u. Coudart, A. 1999. Habitat et société. Actes des rencontres 22–23–24 octobre 1998. Antibes. Brun, P., Chartier, M. u. Pion, P. 2000. Le processus d’urbanisation dans la vallée de l’Aisne. In Guichard, Sievers u. Urban 2000: 85–88. Brunaux, J.-L. (Hrsg.) 1991. Les sanctuaires celtiques et le monde méditerranéen. Actes de colloque de St-Riquier 8 au 11 novembre 1990. Dossiers de Protohistoire 3. Paris: Errance. Buchsenschutz, O. u. Krausz, S. 2001. Levroux et le modèle de la genèse des oppida. In Collis 2001:292–298. Buchsenschutz, O. 2000. Traces, typologie et interprétation des enclos de l’âge du Fer. Revue Archéologique de Picardie 2000,1/2: 7–11. Buchsenschutz, O. 2002. Vers une analyse spatiale de la cité des
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Enclosing the Past Forschungen 56. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Grant, E. (Hrsg.) 1986. Central Places, Archaeology and History. Sheffield. Gruel, K. u. Vitali, D. 1998. L’oppidum de Bibracte. Un bilan de onze années de recherches (1984–1995). Gallia 55:1–140. Gruel, K. 1998. Lieux publics, lieux cultuels. In Gruel u. Vitali 1998:31–34. Guichard, V., Sievers, S. u. Urban, O. (Hrsg.) 2000. Eisenzeitliche Urbanisationsprozesse. Colloque des 8–11 juin 1998 Gluxen-Glenne. Collection Bibracte 4. Glux-en-Glenne : Centre Archéologique du Mont Beuvray. Haffner, A. u. v. Schnurbein, S. (Hrsg.) 2000. Kelten, Germanen, Römer im Mittelgebirgsraum zwischen Luxemburg und Thüringen. Kolloquien zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 5. Bonn: R. Habelt. Hahn, E. 1987. Anthropologische Untersuchung des Kinderskeletts. In van Endert 1987:111–114. Haselgrove, C. 2001. Iron Age Britain and its European setting. In Collis 2001:37–72 . Jankuhn, H., Schlesinger, W. u. Steuer, H. (Hrsg.) 1973. Vorund Frühformen der europäischen Stadt im Mittelalter. Abhandlungen der Akadademie der Wissenschaften Göttingen philosophisch-historische Klasse 83. Göttingen. Jansová, L. 1965. Hrazany, keltské oppidum na Sedlčansku – Hrazany, ein keltisches Oppidum an der Moldau nördlich von Sedlčany. Praha. Knopf, Th., Leicht, M. u. Sievers, S. 2000. Die großen süddeutschen Oppida Heidengraben, Manching und Kelheim. In Guichard, Sievers u. Urban 2000:141–147. Köhler, H.-J. 1992. Siedlungsbefunde und Bebauungsrekonstruktion. In Maier u.a. 1992:5–64. Kolb, F. 1984. Die Stadt im Altertum. München: C.H. Beck. Küster, H. 1992. Vegetationsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen. In Maier u.a. 1992:433–476. Lambot, B. u. Méniel, P. Le village d’Acy-Romance dans son contexte régional. In Verger 2000:7–139. Leicht, M. 2000. Die Wallanlagen des Oppidums Alkimoennis/ Kelheim – Zur Baugeschichte und Typisierung spätkeltischer Befestigungen. Archäologie am Main-Donau-Kanal 14. Rahden/Westf. Maier, F. 1985. Das Heidetränk-Oppidum. Führer zur hessischen Vor- und Frühgeschichte 4. Stuttgart. Maier, F. u.a. 1992. Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen 1984–1987 in Manching. Die Ausgrabungen in Manching 15. Stuttgart: Steiner. Meduna, J. 1970. Das keltische Oppidum Staré Hradisko in Mähren. Germania 48:34–59. Metzler, J. u.a. 2000. Vorbericht zu den Ausgrabungen im keltischrömischen Heiligtum auf dem Titelberg. In Haffner u. v. Schnurbein 2000:431–436. Parker Pearson, M. 1999. Cosmology and architecture in Iron Age Britain. In Braemer, Cleuziou u. Coudart 1999:53–66. Peters, M. u. Sievers, S. 2001. Neue Befunde zur Entwicklung der Kulturlandschaft im Raum Ingolstadt-Manching während der Bronze- und Eisenzeit. Das Archäologische Jahr in Bayern 2001:68–71. Peyre, Ch. 2000. Documents sur l’organisation publique de l’espace dans la cité Gauloise. Villeneuve-St-Germain et la bilingue de
Verceil. In Verger 2000:155–206. Pion, P. u.a. 1997. L’oppidum de Condé-sur-Suippe / Variscourt (Aisne) (fin IIe-début Ier s. av. J.-C.): approche préliminaire de l’organisation fonctionelle d’un quartier artisanal. In Espaces physiques, espaces sociaux dans l’analyse interne des sites du Neolithique à l’Âge du Fer. Colloque du CTHS d’Amiens, oct. 1994:275–309. Amiens. Reh, K. 2001. Der Dünsberg und seine Umgebung. Eine Bestandsaufnahme der Geländedenkmäler. Forsch. Dünsberg 1. Montagnac: éditions Monique Mergoil.. Reim, H. 2001/02. Siedlungsarchäologische Forschungen im Umland der frühkeltischen Heuneburg bei Hundersingen, Gemeinde Herbertingen, Kreis Sigmaringen. Jahrbuch des Heimat- und Altertumsvereins Heidenheim a. d. Brenz S. 12–33. Rieder, K. H. u. Tillmann, A. 1995. Archäologie um Ingolstadt. Kipfenberg. Rybová, A. u. Drda, P. 1994. Hradište by Stradonice. Rebirth of a celtic oppidum. Praha: Institute of Archaeology. Saile, Th. 2000. Salz im ur- und frühgeschichtlichen Mitteleuropa – Eine Bestandsaufnahme. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission 81:129–234. Schubert, F. 1994. Maß- und Entwurfslehre keltischer Holzbauten im Oppidum von Manching. Germania 72:133–192. Schubert, F. 1995. Keltische Umgangstempel von IngolstadtZuchering. In Rieder u. Tillmann 1995:127–185. Sievers, S. 1991. Armes et sanctuaires à Manching. In Brunaux 1991:146–155. Sievers, S. 1992. Die Siedlungsstruktur unter chronologischen und funktionalen Aspekten. In Maier u.a. 1992:326–335. Sievers, S. 1998. Vorbericht über die Ausgrabungen 1996–1997 im Oppidum von Manching. Germania 76:619–672. Sievers, S. 1999. Manching – Aufstieg und Niedergang einer Keltenstadt. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission 80:5–24. Sievers, S. 2000. Vorbericht über die Ausgrabungen 1998–1999 im Oppidum von Manching. Germania 87:355–394. Tarpin, M. 2000. Urbs et oppidum: Le concept urbain dans l’antiquité romaine. In Guichard, Sievers u. Urban 2000:27– 30. Thoma, M. 2000. Der gallo-römische Kultbezirk auf dem Martberg bei Pommern an der Mosel, Kr. Cochem-Zell. In Haffner u. v. Schnurbein 2000:447–477. van Endert, D. 1987. Das Osttor von Manching. Die Ausgrabungen in Manching 10. Stuttgart; Steiner. Verger, St. (Hrsg.) 2000. Rites et espaces en pays celte et méditerranéen. Étude comparée à partir du sanctuaire d’AcyRomance (Ardennes, France). Collect. École Française de Rome 276. Rome. von Schnurbein, S. u. Sievers, S. 2000. Bericht über die Tätigkeit der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission in der Zeit vom 1. Januar bis 31. Dezember 2000. Bericht der RömischGermanischen Kommission 81:303–332. Werner, J. 1939. Die Bedeutung des Städtewesens für die Kulturentwicklung des frühen Keltentums. Die Welt als Geschichte 5:380–390. Wieland, G. (Hrsg.) 1999. Keltische Viereckschanzen. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
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Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland: Umfriedung–Abgrenzung–Umwehrung Günther Wieland Abstract: During the last fifteen years, the discussion about the function of Late La Tène Viereckschanzen in Southern Germany (Baden-Württemberg, Bavaria) and Bohemia has been revived. Since the excavations of Klaus Schwarz in Holzhausen (1957–62) the most common opinion about these enclosures was the interpretation as sanctuaries. Excavations in recent years especially in the interior show us many different functional aspects - sacred and profane. Therefore the most appropriate definition of the Viereckschanzen is as a kind of multifunctional rural settlement. It is explicitly a phenomenon of rural settlement; there are no exact equivalents in the proto-urban settlements, the oppida. The function of the Viereckschanzen is only one of the aspects to be considered. There are examples which show a development from wooden enclosures (fences) to ramparts and ditches, sometimes with traces of palisades. There are also examples of gateways which show traces of unusually solid, tower-like buildings, which could be considered as a kind of fortification. Probably one of the functional aspects of the Viereckschanzen was the fortification of enclosed settlement – a reaction to the unsafe times at the end of the 2nd century BC.
ganze Reihe von Viereckschanzen neu untersucht – und vor allem: großflächig untersucht. Ich nenne hier exemplarisch die Untersuchungen in Riedlingen, Bopfingen, Nordheim, Mengen-Ennetach, Blaufelden, Plattling-Pankofen und Passau-Hartkirchen (Wieland 1999b:122ff.: Katalogteil Nr. 7, 10, 11, 12, 15, 18, 19). Als Ergebnis dieser Untersuchungen hat sich unsere Vorstellung von den spätkeltischen Viereckschanzen erheblich gewandelt: von der gängigen Vorstellung der 1970er und 1980er Jahre, basierend auf den Grabungen von K. Schwarz in Holzhausen und H. Zürn in Tomerdingen (Schwarz 1975; Zürn u. Fischer 1991), welche die Viereckschanze als Kultanlage mit weitgehend unbebautem Innenraum sahen (Abb. 10.1), sind wir völlig abgekommen. Die Baulichkeiten der Anlagen, ihre Grundkonzeption und auch das Fundspektrum der Viereckschanzen zeigen deutliche Unterschiede zu Rechteckheiligtümern im gallischen Bereich (Brunaux 1996), mit denen man die Viereckschanzen nicht gleichsetzen darf. Stattdessen können wir heute die Viereckschanzen in einen lockeren ländlichen Siedelverband integriert sehen und zwar als zentrales und beherrschendes Element (Colour plate 7). Beim derzeitigen Kenntnisstand scheint es mir am wahrscheinlichsten, dass wir in diesen Anlagen tatsächlich die Zentralbaulichkeiten ländlicher Siedelgemeinschaften vor uns haben, in denen verschiedene Funktionen vereint waren: Sie können als Kult- und Versammlungsplatz sowie als Speicher- oder Stapelplatz für wichtige Güter (z.B. Saatgetreide) gedient haben, in ihnen lag der Brunnen für die Wasserversorgung und möglicherweise auch der Wohnplatz des „Dorfherren“. Mit dieser Definition sind wir sehr nahe an dem, was man als Herrenhof oder Gutshof ansprechen kann, wobei sicherlich noch ein Umland mit weiteren Kleinsiedeleinheiten dazugehört hat (Krause u. Wieland 1993:59ff.; Irlinger 1994:285ff.). Ein Charakteristikum der Viereckschanzen möchte ich an dieser Stelle etwas näher diskutieren – ganz im Sinne des Themas „inside and outside in prehistory“ – nämlich die Frage der Umfriedung, Abgrenzung – oder sogar Umwehrung dieser Anlagen – auch hier gibt es durchaus verschiedene Aspekte die man kontrovers diskutieren kann. Als charakteristische Form der Umfassung gilt bei den Viereckschanzen der aufgeschüttete Erdwall mit vorgelagertem Graben. Die Gräben sind in der Regel als Spitzgräben angelegt, d.h. im Profil V-förmig eingetieft (Bittel, Schiek u. Müller 1990:32ff.). Gelegentlich scheint es jetzt doch Abweichungen von diesem Prinzip zu geben, so war etwa der Graben der Viereckschanze von Mengen-Ennetach als flacher, breiter Sohlgraben angelegt – wohl einfach deswegen, weil man beim Abtiefen in 1,5 m Tiefe auf den hohen Grundwasserspiegel des Donautals stieß und die angestrebte Spitzgrabenform nicht weiter verwirklichen konnte (Wieland 1999b:174ff .). Die Tiefe der Gräben dürfte bei etwa 4–6 m oberer Breite
Keywords: Viereckschanzen, La Tène, rural settlement, enclosures, fortification, multifunctional Die Erforschung der spätkeltischen Viereckschanzen des 2. und 1. Jhs. v.Chr. hat in den letzten 15 Jahren einen vehementen Aufschwung genommen (Krause u. Wieland 1993:59 ff.; Venclová et al. 1998:211 ff.; Wieland 1999b:11 ff.). Nachdem die kultische Deutung als Heiligtümer der Spätlatènezeit seit den Grabungen von Klaus Schwarz in der Viereckschanze von Holzhausen Anfang der 1960er Jahre pauschal auf alle Viereckschanzen übertragen wurde (Drexel 1931; Schwarz 1975; Bittel 1978; Reichenberger 1995:353ff.), störte 20 Jahre später der Befund von Fellbach-Schmiden dieses einheitlich scheinende Bild: Der Nachweis, dass der vermeintliche Opferschacht in Wahrheit ein Brunnen ist, war zwar noch kein offener Widerspruch gegen die Deutung der Viereckschanzen als Heiligtümer, gab aber doch zu denken, was die pauschale Ansprache der Schächte als Opferschächte für chthonische Gottheiten angeht. Gleichzeitig mahnt der Fund der mittlerweile berühmten hölzernen Figuren in diesem Brunnen vor einer allzu einseitigen funktionalen Deutung – man wird sie in einen wie auch immer gearteten kultischen Kontext stellen müssen, ein solcher hat also irgendwie zu dieser Viereckschanze gehört. Mit diesem Befund von Fellbach-Schmiden war ein erneuter Anstoß gegeben, die Frage nach der Funktion (oder besser: dem Funktionsspektrum) dieser Schanzen neu aufzurollen (Wieland 1995:85ff.; Wieland 1996:46ff.; Wieland 1999a). Seit dem Ende der 1980er Jahre und in den 1990er Jahren wurden dann in Baden-Württemberg und Bayern eine 135
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Abbildung 10.1. Rekonstruktion einer Viereckschanze als Kultanlage mit weitgehend unbebautem Innenraum. Sie basiert auf dem Forschungsstand der 1960er Jahre, als noch keine dieser Schanzen vollständig archäologisch untersucht war. ursprünglich um die 2–3m betragen haben, wobei selten einmal archäologisch näher untersucht werden. auch größere Dimensionen erreicht werden. Rechnet man Wurden Wälle und Gräben der Viereckschanzen lange mit einer ursprünglichen Wallhöhe von 2–3m bei etwa als kultisch motivierte Umhegung gesehen, wofür man 6–7m Wallbreite (am Fuß), ergeben sich sehr respektable auch Nachrichten aus der antiken Literatur heranzog (Pauli Ausmaße. Eine oft deutlich erkennbare Überhöhung der 1991:124 ff.), scheint die Frage doch berechtigt, ob nicht Wallecken war wohl nicht beabsichtigt, sondern hat sich vielleicht auch eine regelrechte Befestigung beabsichtigt war, zwangsläufig ergeben, weil hier der Aushub von zwei zumal bei den manchmal nachgewiesenen Vorgängeranlagen Grabenzügen zusammenkam. als Umgrenzung anscheinend ein Holzzaun ausreichend Die überwiegende Meinung geht dahin, dass diese Wälle war. Ein Zaun hat neben so pragmatischen Funktionen reine Erdaufschüttungen ohne irgendwelche Einbauten wie Ein- oder Aussperren von Tieren natürlich eine waren. Nicht sehr zahlreich, aber doch existent sind rechtssymbolische Funktion, etwa im Sinne der Abgrenzung Hinweise auf Palisaden oder Zäune auf der Wallkrone, etwa von Eigentumsverhältnissen, ebenso ist die Einfriedung aus Holzhausen oder Altheim-Heiligkreuztal (Paret u. Bersu und Abgrenzung von Heiligtümern vorauszusetzen, gerade 1922:64ff.; Wieland 1999b:125, 197f.). Jüngst wurden jetzt dies wurde bei den Viereckschanzen ja jahrzehntelang als festgeschriebene Erklärung vorausgesetzt. in Nordheim die verbrannten Reste einer Palisade oder Solche Zaunumfriedungen als Vorgänger sind mehrfach Bretterwand nachgewiesen, die vom Wall in den Graben gestürzt war (Neth 1999). nachgewiesen, etwa in Holzhausen und Blaufelden (Schwarz Natürlich muss hier die Einschränkung gelten, dass 1975:324ff.). Palisaden auf dem Wall auch aus nachkeltischer Zeit Hinweise darauf liegen auch aus Pfaffenhofen-Beuren, stammen können und eine Sekundärnutzung anzeigen. Riedlingen und Ehningen vor. In Bopfingen ging mit dem Vielleicht waren die Erdwälle auch mit Heckenbewuchs Übergang von der Zaunumfriedung zur Wall–Graben– Umwehrung auch eine Vergrößerung und eine räumliche oder ähnlichem gesichert, was einerseits das Überklettern Verlagerung einher (Krause u. Wieland 1993:59ff.). Die erschwert hätte und außerdem auch die Erosion der folgenden Fragen liegen in diesem Zusammenhang nahe: Aufschüttung durch Witterungseinflüsse wesentlich vermindert hätte. 1. gab es bereits Bezugspunkte bei der Anlage der ersten Auch aus der Fundverteilung im Graben ergeben sich Umfriedungen (Zäune), bzw. – was war erst da? Die Umzäunung oder die Gebäude? Die randliche Hinweise, dass der Wall irgendeinen Bewuchs getragen Lage mancher Schächte und Gebäude könnte so haben könnte: auffällig sind nämlich mengenmäßige Fundzu interpretieren sein, dass ein bereits bestehendes konzentration im Bereich des Tores und an den Ecken, was Ensemble eingezäunt wurde. vielleicht darauf schließen läßt, dass an den Ecken Aufgänge Wir können z.B. in Bopfingen die kontinuierliche auf den Wall vorhanden waren und von dort Tierknochen, Entwicklung einer ländlichen Siedeleinheit von Abfälle und Keramikscherben in den Graben geworfen einer frühlatènezeitlichen Gebäudegruppe mit runder wurden (Wieland 1999a:256ff .). Sicher beantworten läßt sich die Frage nach der genaueren Ausgestaltung der Umfassung Palisadeneinfriedung über einen wohl mittellatènezeitlichen erst, wenn – so wie bislang eigentlich nur in Holzhausen Rechteckhof bis hin zu einer spätlatènezeitlichen geschehen – mehrere gut erhaltene Viereckschanzenwälle Viereckschanze verfolgen, dabei kam es zu geringfügigen 136
Wieland: Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland räumlichen Verlagerungen. 2. Die Anlage von Wall und Graben scheint bei vielen Viereckschanzen eine Ausbaustufe darzustellen. Meines Erachtens stehen hier zwei Motivationen im Vordergrund: Die Repräsentation – mit Wall und Graben sowie einem mächtigen Torbau ist eine solche Anlage natürlich ungleich eindrucksvoller, als mit einem Flechtwerkzaun. Die Fortifikation - so gesehen wäre die Anlage von Wall und Graben als Reaktion auf veränderte äußere Einflüsse zu sehen, oder konkret: die Zeiten waren unsicherer geworden und man hatte ein verstärktes Schutzbedürfnis. So äußert sich ein an sich gut bekanntes Phänomen: Siedelformen sind Anpassungsmuster des Menschen an seine Umgebung. Überlegungen zum Arbeitsaufwand, den die Anlage einer solchen Wall–Graben–Anlage bedeutet, müssen immer weitgehend spekulativ bleiben, da wir zu viele Faktoren, die hier eine Rolle spielen zu wenig oder überhaupt nicht kennen: Arbeitsorganisation (z.B. Schichtarbeit), Verfügbarkeit und Anzahl der beteiligten Personen, zeitliche Vorgaben, etc. Aber auch die Faktoren, die wir kennen, können variieren, etwa Bodenbeschaffenheit, Untergrund, Lage im Gelände, etc. – man musste sich zwangsläufig auf diese von der Natur vorgegebenen Dinge einstellen und somit kann für ähnlich dimensionierte Anlagen durchaus ein unterschiedlicher Arbeitsaufwand erforderlich gewesen sein. Wesentlicher scheint mir aber Folgendes: • dass zwar eine zentrale Organisation und Planung erforderlich ist, sicherlich aber nicht der technische Aufwand und die Arbeitsleistung, die man bei Konstruktion und Ausführung eines murus gallicus oder einer Pfostenschlitzmauer an einem Oppidum voraussetzen muss. • dass der Aufwand zwar relativ gering ist und meist überschätzt wird, man sich aber doch fragen muss, ob die begrenzten Wohnmöglichkeiten (wenig Gebäude!) im Innenraum einer Viereckschanze ausreichten, um so viele Menschen dauerhaft hier wohnen zu lassen. Vielleicht dürfen wir doch annehmen, dass in der Schanze bestenfalls der „Organisator“ gewohnt hat – wenn überhaupt –, d.h. die Wall–Graben–Anlage wurde von einer Bevölkerung errichtet, die normalerweise in der näheren Umgebung der Schanze wohnte und sich nur in Zeiten
drohender Gefahr in die Umwallung flüchten konnte. Wir kennen Vergleichbares ja zu Genüge aus dem Mittelalter. Wenn ich von unruhigen Zeiten und drohender Gefahr spreche, denkt man natürlich sofort an die historisch überlieferten Ereignisse am Ende des 2 Jhs. v.Chr. – mit den Zügen der Kimbern und Teutonen wird uns aber sicher nur schlaglichtartig ein Fragment der Gesamtsituation historisch erhellt – in der Tat würde der archäologische Befund gut dazu passen. Der Gedanke ist nicht neu, er wurde zu Beginn des 20. Jhs. bereits mit eben diesem Hintergrund in Erwägung gezogen (Bersu 1926; Wieland 1996:37ff.). Noch weitgehend rätselhaft ist das Phänomen der „Mehrfachschanzen“ bzw. der Schanzen mit Erweiterungen und Anbauten in Form sogenannter Annexe (Wieland 1996:26 ff.). Verschiedene Grabungen haben Hinweise auf eine zeitliche Abfolge der einzelnen Teile ergeben, d.h. die Viereckschanzen wurden teilweise umgestaltet, verkleinert oder vergrößert. Bei so großen Annexwerken wie in Mengen-Ennetach, Königheim-Brehmen oder Deisenhofen stellt sich die Frage, ob hier nicht angrenzende Siedelareale nachträglich in die Umwallung einbezogen wurden, oder ob sogar Wirtschaftsareale umwallt wurden (Viehweiden, Ackerflächen, etc). Dort wo die Annexe teilweise untersucht sind fällt auf, dass sie eine deutlich spärlichere Bebauung als die Hauptschanze aufweisen (Wieland 1999b:187ff. mit weiterer Literatur ). Richten wir den Blick noch auf die ehemaligen Zugänge, die Tore. Sie sind bei den obertägig erhaltenen Schanzen durch breite Wallücken erkennbar. Wurden entsprechende Grabungen durchgeführt, konnten in den Wallücken die Reste von teilweise eindrucksvollen Toranlagen freigelegt werden (Bittel, Schiek u. Müller 1990:34 ff.). Eine charakteristische Grundrißform, die mehrfach belegt ist, besteht aus je zwei parallelen Reihen von Pfostengruben beiderseits des Durchgangs. Die Pfostengruben weisen z.T. mächtige Ausmaße auf (z.B. Pliezhausen-Rübgarten), was auf entsprechende Dimensionen des Torgebäudes hinweisen dürfte. Vielleicht muss man sich sogar turmartige Gebäude vorstellen? In Verbindung mit dem angeschütteten Wall, welcher vielleicht noch eine Bekrönung aus einer Palisade oder lediglich einer Hecke besaß (Abb. 10.2, 3), hätten solche Tore gleichermaßen wehrhaft wie repräsentativ
Abbildung 10.2. Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten. 137
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Abbildung 10.3. Rekonstruktionsversuch der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten. gewirkt (Wieland 1999b:39:ff.). Bibliographie Es gibt einige Befunde (z.B. Riedlingen), die darauf hinweisen, dass die Wälle seitlich direkt an den Torbau Bersu, G. 1926. Die Viereckschanze bei Oberesslingen. Fundangeschüttet waren – dies hatte man bislang eher abgelehnt berichte Schwaben N.F. 3:61–70. (Klein 1996). Bittel, K. 1978. Viereckschanzen und Grabhügel. Zeitschrift für Bei manchen Toranlagen (Schanze von Oberesslingen) Schweizerische Archäologie und Kunstgeschichte 35:1–16. scheint der Durchgang etwas in den Innenraum hineinversetzt Bittel, K., Schiek, S. u. Müller, D. 1990. Die keltischen Viereck(Abb. 10.4), man denkt bei diesem Phänomen fast schon schanzen. Atlas archäologischer Geländedenkmäler in Badenan eine zeitgleiche Form der Fortifikation, die man in Württemberg 1. Stuttgart : Konrad Theiss. entsprechend größeren Dimensionen kennt, nämlich die Brunaux, J.-L. 1996. Les religions gauloises. Paris : Errance. Drexel, F. 1931. Templum. Germania 15:1–6. Zangentore der keltischen Oppida. Irlinger, W. 1994. Viereckschanze und Siedlung – Überlegungen Der Graben zieht vor den Viereckschanzentoren zu einem forschungsgeschichtlichen Problem anhand stets durch – dies ist z.B. ein wesentlicher Unterschied ausgewählter südbayerischer Fundorte. In C. Dobiat (Hrsg.) gegenüber römischen Kastellen, wo vor dem Tor eine Festschrift für Otto-Herman Frey zum 65. Geburtstag. Erdbrücke ausgespart ist. Als Überbrückung des Grabens Marburger Studien zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 16:285–304. diente eine Holzbrücke, deren Stützen im archäologischen Marburg: Hitzeroth. Befund mehrfach nachgewiesen sind, vielleicht wurden Klein, F. 1996. Zur Viereckschanze „Klinge“ bei Riedlingen, Kr. diese Brücken bei drohender Gefahr einfach abgebaut – ein Biberach, Baden-Württemberg. In K. Schmotz (Hrsg.)Vorträge weiterer Aspekt, den man im Sinne einer fortifikatorischen des 14. Niederbayerischen Archäologentages, S. 155–172. Intention erklären könnte. Deggendorf. Es scheint jedenfalls angebracht, die Schutzfunktion von Krause, R. u. Wieland, G. 1993. Eine keltische Viereckschanze bei Bopfingen am Westrand des Rieses. Ein Vorbericht zu den Wall und Graben mit den mächtigen Torbauten als Teilaspekt Ausgrabungen und zur Interpretation der Anlage. Germania des „multifunktionalen Spektrums“ der Viereckschanzen 71:59–112. deutlich hervorzuheben. Damit sind die Viereckschanzen Neth, A. 1999. Zum Fortgang der Ausgrabungen in der zumindest im Erscheinungsbild befestigten Rechteckhöfen zweiten Viereckschanze bei Nordheim, Kreis Heilbronn. sehr ähnlich, einer Siedelform, die wir sowohl aus älteren Archäologische Ausgrabungen in Baden-Württemberg S. 75– als auch jüngeren Epochen als der Spätlatènezeit kennen. 79. Wesentlich scheint mir auch, dass diese Schutzfunktion Paret, O. u. Bersu, G. 1922. Heiligkreuztal. Keltische Vierecknicht nur im Zusammenhang mit dem Gebäudeensemble schanzen im Oberamt Riedlingen. Fundberichte aus Schwaben im Innenraum zu sehen ist, sondern – denken wir an die N.F. 1:64–74. Annexwerke – auch ein Umfeld berücksichtigt, dass wir Pauli, L. 1991. Heilige Plätze und Opferbräuche bei den Helvetiern und ihren Nachbarn. Archäologie der Schweiz 14:124–135. bislang aber nur ansatzweise archäologisch fassen können. 138
Wieland: Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland
Abbildung 10.4. Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Oberesslingen mit nach innen gesetztem Torbau. Wieland, G. 1996. Die Spätlatènezeit in Württemberg. Forschungen zur jüngeren Latènekultur zwischen Schwarzwald und Nördlinger Ries. Forschungen und Berichte zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte in Baden-Württemberg 63. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Wieland, G. 1999a . Die keltischen Viereckschanzen von FellbachSchmiden (Rems-Murr-Kreis) und Ehningen (Kr. Böblingen). Forschungen und Berichte zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte in Baden-Württemberg 80. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Wieland, G. (Hrsg.) 1999b. Keltische Viereckschanzen – Einem Rätsel auf der Spur Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Zürn, H. u. Fischer, F. 1991. Die Viereckschanze von Tomerdingen. Materialhefte zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte in BadenWürttemberg 14. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
Reichenberger, A. 1995. Zur Interpretation der spätlatènezeitlichen Viereckschanzen. Jahrbuch RGZM 40:353–396. Schumacher, K. 1899. Gallische Schanze bei Gerichtstetten (Amt Buchen). Veröffentlichungen der Großherzoglich Badischen Sammlungen für Altertums- und Völkerkunde in Karlsruhe 2: 76–84. Schwarz, K. 1975. Die Geschichte eines keltischen Temenos im nördlichen Alpenvorland. In Ausgrabungen in Deutschland 1:324–358. Mainz: RGZM. Venclová, N. et al. 1998. Mšecké Zehrovice in Bohemia. Archaeological background to a Celtic hero. Sceaux: Kronos. Wieland, G. 1995. Die spätkeltischen Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland – Kultanlagen oder Rechteckhöfe? In A. Haffner (Hrsg.) Heiligtümer und Opferkulte der Kelten. Archäologie in Deutschland, Sonderheft, S. 85–99. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
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11: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age Natalie Venclová Abstract: Enclosing is a specific type of defining a space. Iron Age enclosed areas offer a number of data contributing to the recognition (or at least, indication) of the function and significance of individual enclosures, and of the phenomenon of enclosing in general. The present paper pays attention mainly to local enclosures (serving individuals, family groups or other small groups of people, and located within settlements) and community enclosures (serving whole communities and delimiting whole residential areas, ritual areas etc.), although regional and supra-regional enclosures also existed. It is argued that some of the first, but mainly the second type of enclosures reflect types of behaviour characteristic of elites. This is mainly true of the single enclosures of the later part of the La Tène period, which fill the gap in Central Europe in the settlement structure between the oppida and emporia on the one hand, and rural settlements on the other.
space / interpersonal boundaries; social (membership of a group) boundaries; and socio-physical boundaries. According to R.J. Lawrence (1990:77), boundaries may serve one or more of the following purposes: 1. physical (visual) barriers; 2. symbolic markers; 3. judicial borders (limits of legal possession); 4. administrative limits (for the management and control of domains). Boundaries of all types form their own transition spaces. Enclosure creates the categories of “inside” and “outside”; if the enclosure is one of visible form, then this is the architectural creation of space (Taylor 1997:194). Invisible enclosures may be represented by an empty space functioning as a border zone, a transition, a “no man’s land” or a contact (interactivity) zone; while such space may be lacking physical content, it may also be full of mental content (Andersson and Hållans 1997:600–602). In principle, enclosures contain or exclude something (cf Collis 1996): for example, they may protect, control or enclose groups of people, cattle, goods, or production, trading or ritual activities etc. within, or keep enemies, animals or unclean forces outside. Boundaries may also mutually divide individual spaces and activities. The basic division of enclosures by function is usually understood to be into defensive and non-defensive, or military and non-military, although in both cases enclosures clearly had not only a practical function but also a symbolic significance. It has even been suggested that some enclosures have an exclusively symbolic function (Neustupný 1995). The term “fortification”, generally understood to mean a defensive military structure, is usually used for stronger boundaries, although, as Vencl (1984:105–107, 116–117) has noted, the majority of these “defensive” elements could also have served non-military, profane or ritual uses; their archaeological similarity may hide functional differentiation. Military and non-military use may also have alternated. At a social level, enclosures may mean a certain exclusivity of a select part of the population, i.e. the division of one group of people from others, and might also express the social status and prestige of such groups in whole or in part (Hingley 1990; Collis 1996:90). Enclosures may also be areas of particular activities – residential spaces, fields, pastures, ritual (including burial) areas. Archaeological finds demonstrate a whole range of the most diverse boundary types. These may be classified by their construction techniques from light wooden fences to earthworks to stone ramparts with wooden elements and earth fills, accompanied by ditches of various sizes; very light barriers may of course escape archaeological detection entirely. The type, technique and size of an enclosure clearly related to the function of the whole enclosed space. The form, character and use of enclosures (or more tersely, the what, how, and why of enclosure) undoubtedly related to the given social system, and evolved along with it.. J. Collis (1996; this volume) classifies enclosures according to the size of the enclosed area as regional, territorial, general land use and specific land use, and according to function as activity areas, community areas, display and
Keywords: enclosures, elites, space, settlement, Iron Age
Introduction Enclosures, their appearance, function and significance form a broad theme that accompanies the whole of prehistory and history. They reflect phenomena of both short and long duration in the most diverse areas of human endeavour. While archaeologists continually meet traces of enclosure, they often study them only at particular functional levels or in specific contexts (e.g. fortification in warfare – albeit with a far wider than merely military significance: Vencl 1984 with bibliography). There was a round-table dedicated to the purpose of “Celtic” enclosures in France.1 There is, however, an increasing number of scholars who are treating the phenomenon of spatial enclosure as a subject in its own right, and who approach it from many different angles (e.g. Hingley 1990; Langouët and Daire 1990; Collis 1996; Andersson and Hållans 1997; Buchsenschutz 2000). This paper considers those aspects of enclosing that possibly have some relationship to elites and their residences; it is based primarily on data from Iron Age enclosures in Central, and to some extent also in Western, Europe.
Enclosing as a phenomenon Enclosure represents a particular kind of delimitation, or the definition of a particular space; the term “delimiting” is wider, as a space may be delimited by means other than physical enclosure, that is, symbolically. Because humans are a territorial species, they necessarily define and mark out their territory in some way; it is delimited by enclosure or by zones of interaction (Sanders 1990:49–51 with refs). Sanders (1990:51) cites Lavin, who defined four types of boundaries: psychological boundaries; personal Les enclos celtiques: pour quoi faire? In Revue archéologique de Picardie nos. 1–2, 2000. 1
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Figure 11.1. Local enclosures: examples from the oppida in Bohemia. After Drda & Rybová 1997, fig. 18, 19.
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Figure 11.2. Community enclosure: reconstruction of the Late Hallstatt to Early La Tène enclosure of Němětice in Bohemia. After Michálek & Lutovský 2000, fig. 7, 31.
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Figure 11.3. Community enclosure: the Viereckschanze-type enclosure of Mšecké Žehrovice in Bohemia and the stone head found in its vicinity. status areas, and areas for symbolic acts. A somewhat different point of view is offered by the categorisation of enclosures according to who, or rather which group of people, they served. While such classification is difficult and necessarily complicated to observe archaeologically, an attempt at it, and the application of the results obtained, might help to build a model of the social structure of society in a given period. Because, as noted several times above, some enclosures, or rather the phenomenon of enclosing in itself, is considered to be an expression of status, prestige and a display of power and strength, a recognition of their users might contribute to the identification of the elites in individual societies. With the aid of the archaeological data available for Iron Age Central Europe, which forms the study area of this paper, enclosures may be divided as follows: • Local (or individual) enclosures: predominantly serving individuals or small groups, i.e. in most cases only a part of a larger community. They are found within, or are part of, areas for residence, production, ritual etc. Archaeologically they may be manifested by wooden fences around houses (Fig. 11.1), workshops or individual homesteads within a residential area (settlement), or by light enclosures around graves or groups of graves within a burial area (cemetery), or by the boundaries of ritual areas built within residential or burial areas. • Community enclosures: serving the whole community or several communities. They delimit entire areas for residence, production, ritual, etc., within a community area (cf the theory of settlement/community areas as perceived by E. Neustupný, 1993 with refs., according to which a community area is a space used and exploited by one community and divided into areas for residence, storage, refuse, food production, burial etc., which thus constitute sub-areas of the settlement area as a whole). Areas of particular activities, or sub-areas as parts of a community area, often overlap or were not strictly divided, let alone enclosed; in other cases, however, the division and enclosure of activity areas occurs. This category includes, for example, single enclosed settlement units (Fig. 11.2, 3, 4), hill-forts or single enclosed sanctuaries.
•
Regional (territorial) enclosures: serving or comprising several communities, perhaps even a large number of communities. These might be, for example, delimitations of tribal territories, as, for example, some of the dykes known from the British Isles appear to have been. • Supra-regional enclosures: defining a territory with a very large population, e.g. the frontier (limes) of the Roman Empire. For the purposes of studying elites, the first two categories of enclosures are the most suitable, offering relatively large quantities of data, and they will be considered below. First, however, it is necessary to consider the frequently discussed, but not really solved, problem of recognising elites in archaeological material in general, and in the Iron Age in particular.
Elites and archaeology Social inequality may be expressed through material and immaterial correlates. The visibility of this inequality, and thus also of the elite, is naturally problematic in archaeology. Status differentiation is reflected materially by a pattern of unequal distribution in valuable goods or commodities; it must, however, be borne in mind that objects considered to have prestige value need not have had a potential usefulness, including a use value, labour value or exchange value according to Renfrew (1986). Exceptional material riches and the ownership of prestige artefacts related to the status, prestige and power of the elite, and were among the expressions of its behaviour. This behaviour may include: conspicuous consumption through banqueting and feasting, but also the ostentatious display of prestige artefacts; residential differentiation including the creation of prestigious architecture; spatial differentiation, separation or advantageous location – residential or ritual (which may include the enclosing of space); central storage and redistribution of important products (for internal and external consumption and exchange); as well as: 143
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Figure 11.4. Community enclosures: farms - fermes - Einzelhöfe and Viereckschanze-type enclosures in the Iron Age Europe. After Venclová 2000. Manifestations of ideology in general, perceptible in the profane area (where martiality, for example, formed part of it) and in the ritual area, however intertwined these two areas may be (manifested by druidism, sanctuaries, and art). In the archaeology of Iron Age Europe this behaviour may be reflected, to different degrees, by the evidence or indications set out below. Conspicuous consumption has been identified, amongst other things, through the existence of drinking feasts. These must have been organised by a person or group of persons who had the means to obtain or produce alcoholic drinks, and the prestige necessary to call people together. The feast was itself a gift, for which the host might receive reciprocal services (cf Vencl 1994). It is with banqueting that finds
of drinking sets of vessels and other accessories (wine or beer services), often imported from southern Europe, are associated, as are finds of spits and fire-dogs. Other rewards for service and attributes of status included prestige objects of diverse kinds, although the identification of these in the archaeological record may be disputed. The European Iron Age provides a range of evidence for residential differentiation. Periods with greater or lesser differentiation of settlement units alternate: while, for example, no hill-forts are known in Central Europe from the LT B–C1 period, they were built during both Ha D–LT A and in LT C2–D. Apart from open settlements or hamlets, enclosures also appear in Ha C–LT A and in LT (B)C–D. Not only did the erecting of boundaries require a 144
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age considerable labour investment both during building and for maintenance, they were also accompanied by other traits that might be linked to elites, i.e. ostentatious architecture, even if in the form of conspicuous fortification with emphasised or complex entrances (Collis 1996:90–91). Andersson and Hållans (1997:588) see a stouter fence as an indication of social stratification. Naturally, enclosures also ensured the spatial separation from the outside. The built areas within enclosed as well as unenclosed settlements were often highlighted by a varying number of structures that were more impressive. Creighton (2000:197–199) holds that changes in the ground-plan of some houses from round to rectangular in Britain during the first century BC reflect changes in the behaviour of elites as a result of direct contact between the local elites and those of the Roman Principate. Architectural differentiation is held to be part of the evidence for social stratification (Creighton 2000:17). One may recall that, according to medieval sources for example, even granaries could be prestige structures, demonstrating the wealth of their owners in the stored product (Schmaedecke 2002:138–139). It would not, of course, be correct to infer that the non-existence of residential differentiation means the non-existence of an elite: an example from high medieval Ireland shows that an unwillingness to invest in high-quality accommodation occurs, for example, in periods when it is necessary to change place of residence quickly, or where there is periodic land distribution, land is not inherited and therefore the building of large, impressive houses is without value (O’Conor 2002:208). At cemeteries, chamber graves beneath large barrows may be regarded as prestige structures. The (thus far limited) indications of centralised storage would imply some form of control of grain (or other product) storage by the elite, created against cases of crop failure or war (Roymans 1996:49). Some enclosures, such as the French fermes isolées or the Central European rectangular enclosures of the La Tène period, provided standing buildings of considerable size, the construction of which is similar to that of structures generally identified as granaries (Malrain, Méniel and Talon 1994), and sometimes these may even be the only structures present; there is some discussion as to whether these are houses or granaries, and as to whether such enclosures can be interpreted as central storage sites. In the latter case they would reflect the redistribution of products, controlled by the local elite. A marked aspect of the ideology of the Iron Age is represented by martiality as an expression of warrior-elites; it is largely reflected by classical written evidence, as well as by the medieval epics. N. Roymans explains martiality as an elite code of behaviour, although it may also have been supported by lower social groups, as demonstrated by the large number of graves containing weapons. Warfare was a means of obtaining booty, prisoners and prestige, and was therefore essential for the reproduction of the economic and social power of elite groups (Roymans 1996:13–16). Martiality is directly linked to horse riding and chariot use, as well as to cattle raiding; the horse and cattle evidently represented important exchange items in the prestige sphere of the economy (Roymans 1996:45–46). J. Creighton (2000:15–18, 22) sees the horse imagery on coins as a connection between horses and the elite, and as a symbol of power. A chariot, weaponry, horse trappings and spurs, together with a torc, were among the material expressions of status.
Ritual and its ideology was in the hands of the non-profane elites. From the written sources we know that this elite was represented in the La Tène period by the druids. Their presence and activity is clearly reflected in the existence of ritual areas and votive deposits, but also in the symbolic sphere as a whole, permeating not just the ritual but also the profane world. The building of cult places (those which existed in a stable form, such as sanctuary enclosures of the Gournay type in northern France for example) required work by many members of the community, or of several communities under the direction of a spiritual or secular elite. Art represented one of the few material manifestations of ideology. It passed on messages by means of symbols comprehensible to those who belonged within the given cultural and religious sphere. The question remains as to where the craftsmen, or rather artists, worked to produce the richly decorated objects and evocative sculptures; it seems likely that their work was undertaken under the control of members of the elite, and that they were thus attached craftsmen. The imagery on coins was also part of the symbolic entity: the first (gold) coins minted in the La Tène world are regarded as having been symbolic items which only later gained true trading value as means of payment.
Elites and enclosures In considering the expressions of the behaviour of elites in the Iron Age we have already touched several times on the phenomenon of enclosure. The purpose of this section is to assess to what extent this phenomenon may be related to elites. Its starting point will be local and community enclosures in Iron Age Central or Western Europe, and examples will be drawn predominantly from the Hallstatt and La Tène periods. The field of study is distinguished by numerous enclosed areas – hill-forts, enclosed settlements and smaller single enclosed sites (usually called farmstead or single farm in Britain, ferme isolée or ferme indigène in France and Einzelhof or Rechteckhof in Germany). Both residential and polyfunctional areas – linking residential, production and sometimes also ritual activities – could have been enclosed; not only were a number of hill-forts obviously polyfunctional, but so were the farms already mentioned. Exclusively ritual enclosed areas, or sanctuaries, are also known, represented by the formally variable sacred precincts of Britain and the strongly standardised square sanctuaries of northern France (the “Gallo-Belgic group”). Previously, the Central European rectangular areas of Viereckschanze type were also regarded as ritual areas. Enclosures also appear in funerary contexts at this time. The subject matter of the analysis presented below comprises enclosed spaces with particular formal characteristics: they may be defined as non-defensive and non-funerary, generally quadrangular features, enclosed by a palisade or wooden fence, or by bank and ditch. In size they often measure around 1ha, but may be larger or considerably smaller. These types of enclosed, rectangular area appear both as parts of residential areas (settlements) or as independent, isolated units, and in the classification system described above must therefore belong to local or community enclosures. 1. Local enclosures. The enclosed unit as part of a larger 145
Enclosing the Past residential area – be it a village or hill-fort – falls within the category of local enclosure. Such a unit is referred to in archaeology as a homestead or Hofanlage, and the data obtained thus far bear witness to residential, agricultural and sometimes other production functions. The owners of some of these enclosures are sometimes regarded as having been persons of higher status, as such enclosures contain, amongst other things, specialised workshops and are situated at more advantageous or dominant locations – within oppida, for example, on the ‘acropolis’ or on major lines of communication, but also in the ‘bailey’ (examples from the oppidum of Závist in Central Bohemia: Drda and Rybová 1995b:610; 1997:81–92; 2001). The question remains as to whether Caesar may have used the term aedificium, where exceptionally it refers to a structure within a village (de bello Gallico III: 6), to refer not to a house, as is sometimes assumed, but to a bounded unit of the category of local enclosures (cf Buchsenschutz and Ralston 1986; Ralston 1992:142). 2. Community enclosures. Single enclosed units fall within the category of community enclosures. They probably had multiple functions, primarily residential and agricultural, possibly linked to production activities, but an important social role is also presumed. In Western Europe such units are regarded as the most common type of settlement since the Bronze Age (Buchsenschutz 1994:19–22). It is to single enclosures that Caesar’s term aedificium, in the sense of a lone, isolated farmstead or settlement unit other than a village (e.g. de bello Gallico I:5, II:7, IV:4, VII:14, etc.) most likely refers, even if the explanation of this term as an isolated house outside a village has also been proposed (cf the overview in Buchsenschutz and Ralston 1986:385–386). Caesar’s reference to the presence of Ambiorix in an isolated enclosure (de bello Gallico VI:30) is sometimes taken as showing that the place was the seat of an important person, although other explanations also exist; the differing status of single enclosures is something that is assumed, however (Ralston 1992:142, 153). Single enclosures are a very common find in the Ha C to LT A period (amongst other things thanks to aerial archaeology) in southern Germany (e.g. Becker 1992; Reichenberger 1994, etc.), and recent discoveries show that their frequency is also increasing in Bohemia (Michálek and Lutovský 2000; Chytráček 1994; Smrž 1996). Single farms from the later La Tène period were, however, thought to be almost absent in Central Europe, providing a marked contrast to the settlement pattern in Western Europe. The missing element appears, however, if the Central European enclosures known as Viereckschanze are considered (Fig. 11.4). Well-documented territories such as Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg show that large numbers of such enclosures existed (cf Bittel, Schiek and Müller 1990, Abb. 9), and they also appear in Bohemia and Moravia (cf Venclová 1998, fig. 115) in numbers that have recently increased thanks to the use of aerial survey (cf Foster, Venclová and Křivánek 2004). There was until recently some difficulty in the understanding of the significance and function of these areas, resulting in a long-held belief in an exclusively cultic interpretation. Central European La Tène quadrangular enclosed areas (hereafter referred to by the working term “quadrangular enclosures”) were until recently regarded as the counterparts of the British La Tène sanctuaries or of sacred precincts of the so-called “Gallo-Belgic” type in France (on their
characteristics cf Wait 1985; Brunaux 1996; Roymans 1990:62–84 with refs.; Venclová 1998:209–210), which in a strictly formal sense they do indeed resemble: they are found in non-strategic locations, are enclosed by a bank and ditch and contain buildings with unusual plans. The enclosure at Holzhausen in Bavaria was regarded as typical, the interpretation of which as an imitation of a temenos, a Greek sacred precinct, and the structure within as a derivative of the Classical temple, became a model (Schwarz 1975; for an evaluation of the excavations at Holzhausen cf Wieland 1996:42). Only recently have excavations in Germany and Bohemia, as well as changing theoretical approaches in the 1990s in particular, brought major changes in the understanding of the function of these features which are now seen as settlement units, comprising, among their multiple functions, also the ritual and ceremonial elements (Venclová 1993; 1998; 2000; Wieland 1996:52 and this volume; Buchsenschutz 2000:10–11; most recently Rieckhoff 2002:364–367, 371). In those quadrangular enclosures of Viereckschanze type excavated more extensively, evidence has been found of settlement activities. Well-known examples include the enclosures at Ehningen, Fellbach-Schmiden and Bopfingen in Baden-Württemberg, as well as many others (Bittel, Schiek and Müller 1990 with refs.; Wieland 1996 with refs.; 1999). Of the Bohemian sites, the quadrangular enclosure at Mšecké Žehrovice, well-known for the stone head found in its immediate vicinity, has been investigated. It contained not only an unusual wooden structure but also sunken huts, storage pits, and a large quantity of pottery and other objects attesting common domestic activities (Venclová 1998). These finds demonstrate that Central European quadrangular enclosures served for settlement; this does not, of course, rule out the possibility that at the same time other activities might also have taken place within them. The farm or farmstead in the sense of an independent settlement unit fills the thus far unexplained gap in Central Europe between the oppida and the emporia (large settlement agglomerations with production and trading functions, called “vici” by Rieckhoff, 2002) on the one hand, and the common rural settlements on the other. The settlement hierarchy in this part of La Tène Central Europe thus approaches that known from the same period in Western Europe. Why were these areas enclosed, if they had no military significance? Was their enclosure an expression of prestige and status? It is necessary to examine whether the relevant finds accord with the presumed material manifestations of the behaviour of elites, as described above.
Conspicuous consumption Given Poseidonius’ reference to the Celts building enclosed areas for the purpose of banqueting (Poseidonius, Historiae), the sites of such drinking feasts have sometimes been sought in some enclosures, e.g. the Viereckschanzen. While there have indeed been efforts to demonstrate feasting at Viereckschanze-type enclosures through archaeological finds such as bowls or drinking vessels (Murray 1995), credible evidence supporting this hypothesis is not available (Venclová 1997). According to the new analysis of the passage in Poseidonius, it has been assumed by J.-L. Brunaux (2000:272–274) that the text deals with light wooden fenced temporary areas built just for one-off feasts, and not farmsteads. Although occasional feasting or “parties” 146
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Figure 11.5. Wooden buildings from different contexts in the La Tène Central and Western Europe. After Venclová 2002b. accompanied by the consumption of alcoholic drinks could also have taken place within farmsteads, this was not their only purpose. It would be most desirable to investigate, e.g. the distribution and use of the large “storage” vessels, which might have served not only for the keeping of various products but also in the preparation and consumption of beer as a drink suitable for banqueting (Vencl 1994:306– 310). The presence of an above-average inventory, which might be the material correlate of status and prestige, has been identified at a series of La Tène enclosures (Rieckhoff 2002:364 with refs.). A large quantity of imported wine amphorae at Paule, Brittany, could have served for either feasting or simple wine consumption: Ménez and Arramond 1997:147–148). Another clearly above-average artefact occurring in both of the enclosures named as well
as elsewhere is the anthropomorphic stone sculpture, which is considered below in the sections on the symbolic sphere and the non-profane elite.
Residential differentiation The typologically highly diverse wooden post-built buildings found in Viereckschanze-type enclosures were originally classified as exceptional, differing from houses in common settlements. This view is no longer accepted. Parallels for all four structural categories can be found in enclosures elsewhere in Europe, both at oppida and in the open settlements; numerous examples are also known from the French fermes, for example. In the crudest classification the variability in the plans of these wooden houses contains 147
Enclosing the Past four basic types (Fig. 11.5; Venclová 2000; Venclová 2002b:26–28): 1. single-aisled, undivided structures with no internal construction (Mšecké Žehrovice II, Bopfingen C); 2. single-aisled structures with a double row of posts around the perimeter, or with a perimeter gully (Mšecké Žehrovice I, feat. 0/87, Holzhausen, Arnstorf); 3. two-aisled house with three rows of posts (Esslingen-Oberesslingen); 4. structures on a square plan with four posts, sometimes surrounded by a gully (Ehningen A-E, Bopfingen B) – Refs: Schwarz 1975; Bittel, Schiek and Müller 1990; Krause and Wieland 1993; Venclová 1998, fig. 116, Tab. 30. Type 1 appears continuously (e.g. at Manching: Köhler 1992, Abb. 16, 17, 18; Berry-au-Bac: Haselgrove 1990, fig. 6A), while some structures of this type (e.g. with six posts) have also been interpreted as granaries. Type 3 belongs to a type common and long-lasting across much of Europe (Audouze and Buchsenschutz 1992:57–59, fig. 30b:15–20 with refs.). Type 4 is of plan similar to those that are usually interpreted as granaries; such structures, with four or sometimes six or more posts, are common at oppida (e.g. Manching: Köhler 1992; Závist: Drda and Rybová 1997, fig. 29), but also appear in open settlements. They may reach considerable size, comparable to the structures in the quadrangular enclosures at Ehningen and Bopfingen (Audouze and Buchsenschutz 1992:127–128, fig. 30a). Returning to type 2, this relatively complex plan, whereby inner posts are surrounded by vertical elements or gullies, was interpreted at Holzhausen by Schwarz as a temple with an ambulatory (Umgangstempel). The presumed “ambulatories” of the structures known from La Tène quadrangular enclosures are however small in width, varying even within a single plan, and would have been unsuitable for this purpose. Furthermore, the outer line of the plan can be interpreted with a far greater degree of likelihood to have been a structural element forming the outer wall of the house, as shown by Drda in his well-argued reconstruction of the building at Mšecké Žehrovice I (feature 0/87: Drda 1998). Essentially the same layout and size appears in the “large houses” of the Bohemian La Tène settlements (see Venclová 2002b, fig. 2 with refs.). Size of house may, but need not, reflect the higher status of its users, with scholars often preferring this interpretation (cf the enclosure at Montmartin/Oise: Brunaux and Méniel 1997). Thus far we do not know what status was attached to the houses (again of large size) with cellars: this type of wooden house with a semi-sunken section as part of the plan has been identified only recently in the Bohemian La Tène (Vokolek, pers. comm.). The above-average significance of a house may also be indicated by the existence of upper floors for instance at Dolní Břežany (Fig.11.6; Drda and Rybová 1995a:68-70), or by the rebuilding of the house (known from Viereckschanze-type enclosures). The coincidence of larger and more complex structures mostly with enclosed areas of various types (isolated enclosures, enclosed units within settlements or oppida) suggests an interpretation in the sense of the relationship of these structures (and the relevant enclosures?) to elites. S. Rieckhoff (2002:364) speaks even of “town-like” impression of the architecture of the quadrangular enclosures.
boundaries indicates differentiation within this phenomenon. It is an attribute of some enclosures; for example, enclosing by bank and ditch is common at Viereckschanzen, unlike the simple wooden fence of other enclosures. The earthen banks of some enclosures were further improved (Fig. 11.7), as with the stone and wattle structure on the top of the bank at Mšecké Žehrovice (Venclová 1998:42, 76, 201, figs. 24A, 26), or with a palisade on top of the bank (perhaps at Holzhausen and Altheim-Heiligkreuztal in southern Germany: Wieland 1999:42, 125, 197–198 with refs). Another conspicuous adjustment was the stone facing of the outer side of the bank identified at Paule in Brittany in the building phase dated to the 5th–4th century BC; postholes belonging to a structure on the bank were documented at the same site in the building phase dated to the 2nd century BC (Ménez and Arramond 1997:121, 136, figs. 5, 25). A possibly La Tène stone facing is also presumed at the newly discovered quadrangular enclosure at Rakovice in South Bohemia (Foster, Venclová and Křivánek 2004). The use of the murus gallicus as a technique applied to small enclosures, identified surprisingly in two cases – at Meunet-Planches and Luant, both in Indre dép., France – was of course even more ostentatious; apparently it was not limited to the oppida alone, as previously assumed. It is regarded as the architectural manifestation of prestige of the nobility (Buchsenschutz 2000:9–10; 2002:267–269). It is the conspicuous boundary, i.e. even just a bank and ditch as opposed to a mere wooden fence that may indicate the “elite” status of the enclosed areas concerned.
Centralised storage Some enclosed units have been considered to be community or supra-community storage places, given the finds of structures similar in plan to normal granaries, i.e. with four to six posts, but of large size (Bopfingen in Germany: Krause and Wieland 1993; Wieland 1996:52). The notion of a storage area matches the finds from some French fermes, where the only identifiable structures are large granaries (e.g. Serris-Les Rouelles: Bonin, Buchez and Marion 1994:77, fig. 2; Fresnes-sur-Marne: Marion 1994, 101, fig. 5), or where granaries are particularly numerous (Quimper-LeBraden: LeBihan et al. 1990:110, fig. 2; Jaux: Malrain, Meniel and Talon 1994). Arguments have indeed been made in favour of the greater capacity of storage facilities (silos and granaries) in the fermes of the Late La Tène period (Gransar 1996:99–100); it is however necessary to note that the interpretation of the structures commonly described as “granaries” is not straightforward, and some may perhaps have been built to serve other purposes.
Martiality The manifestations of warrior elites, known in particular from the burial sphere (graves with weapons), are generally difficult to trace in the settlement sphere. Finds of weapons from oppida and other settlements are often regarded as evidence of ritual activity, while they may merely be the remains of the presence of a warrior elite. In enclosed settlement units such remains are rare. Chariots and warfare generally required horsepower. There is considerable evidence for the breeding of horses, but rather less on the differences in the numbers or sizes of horses reared at different types of settlement, enclosed or
Spatial separation While every enclosure is an expression of spatial separation, whatever its purpose, the emphasising or “strengthening” of 148
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
Figure 11.6. Dolní Břežany, Bohemia: reconstruction of an Early La Tène two-storied house. After Drda & Rybová 1998, fig. on p. 74. phenomenon. In Western Europe they may be identified by specific votive deposits and from other standardised formal indicators, a conspicuous example being the sanctuaries of the Gallo-Belgic type in northern France (Brunaux 1996). Other ritual areas need not have been sanctuaries, but perhaps judicial/court precincts (Brunaux 2000:274). The question of the identification of sanctuaries (exclusively ritual spaces serving for communication with the gods) in Central Europe represents a separate theme; limited space precludes its detailed consideration in this paper. The problem probably lies in that these sanctuaries clearly did not resemble the formalised sacred spaces of Classical Europe, the derivatives of which have been sought without success by generations of archaeologists. The influence of the Classical world in the last centuries BC apparently was not, in this part of “barbarian” Europe, so direct that it would influence the local organisation of ritual space. The Viereckschanzen of Central Europe were clearly multifunctional, being also ascribed some ritual, ceremonial or gathering functions (Wieland 1999; Venclová 1998:221). Druids as part of elite may have had their seat or been active in some of these enclosures, but the expression of their activities in the archaeological record will be recognisable only with difficulty. They certainly influenced the symbolic
unenclosed. In some enclosures the horse is represented in above-average quantities among the bones (12% at Bussyle-Long: Auxiette 1996:101–103 in Pion; 22% at PlattlingPankofen: Doll 1999:65–66). Attention should be paid to the size variability of horses in the La Tène period. Large horses, less frequent than the dominant small horses, have been recorded in the later part of the period in the West (Buchsenschutz 2002:66) as well as at the oppida of Central Europe (Peške 1993:216–217), and also in the quadrangular enclosure at Mšecké Žehrovice (Beech 1998:234). Absence of horse in some bone assemblages could, though, be explained by the prohibition of their consumption (Méniel 1996:114–115). Further research is needed to support the idea that large horses were preferred by the elite. Little is also known as regards the stabling of horses and the storage of fodder for them; it is possible that some of the “large houses” were in fact stables, and that some of the “granaries” served as barns.
Symbolic sphere The ideological system of the La Tène Iron Age is expressed in both ritual and profane contexts. Ritual precincts (sanctuaries), where enclosed, are a specific instance of the 149
Enclosing the Past
Figure 11.7. Types of boundaries of the Iron Age community enclosures (Viereckschanzen and fermes).
150
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age sphere, as one of the manifestations of ideology. Art may be considered a tool for the presentation of the symbolic sphere. Sculptures, particularly anthropomorphic ones, form a conspicuous part of it (Fig. 11.3, 8). Archaeologically surviving (i.e. predominantly stone) examples are so rare that their presence has been held to be one of the criteria of sanctuaries, perhaps under the influence of such Celtic/Ligurian sanctuaries as Roquepertuse or Entremont, with their numerous sculptures, some of them anthropomorphic. Today, however, the dominant view is that these sculptures may be explained as heroes, sited in spaces serving collective uses, and not as images of deities within a sanctuary (Arcelin, Dedet and Schwaller 1992). Stone sculptures also, albeit to a limited extent, form part of inventories from La Tène enclosures with settlement functions (Paule: Ménez and Arramond 1997; Yvignac: Daire and Langouët 1992) and even settlements (Levroux: Krausz, Soyer and Buchsenschutz 1989). It is within this context that it is appropriate to mention the well-known stone head from Mšecké Žehrovice in Bohemia, found in a pit in close proximity to the enclosure (Venclová 1998; Megaw and Megaw 1998 with refs.). If this sculpture depicted a god, then it would strongly indicate the existence of a sanctuary at the site – as was originally assumed. If, however, it represented a particular individual, as may have been the case (Megaw and Megaw 1998:292, but doubted in the context of pages 284 and 286; Drda and Rybová 1995a:119), then it would indicate the adoration of a locally important individual or ancestor cult, this, however,
is not typical of sanctuaries, as will be seen below. The head from Mšecké Žehrovice has one significant feature that shows that the aim of its creator was to depict a human being who could even be classified socially, according to its hairstyle. This comprises a narrow band of hair across the crown of the head from ear to ear, with the whole of the back of the head hairless, probably shaven. The high, shaved head with a band of hair left above the forehead has been identified by the present author (cf Venclová 2002a) with a particular type of tonsure, i.e. the “Celtic” tonsure of the monks of the early Christian church, documented in the 5th century AD and assumed to have been derived from the druids. According to a Latin source – the manuscript of the Venerable Bede – this tonsure was marked by the front hair forming a “crown” (wreath of hair), while this crown did not continue further back (Colgrave and Mynors eds. 1969:549, note 4). According to other sources the druids apparently shaved their heads to leave a band from one ear to the other, earning them the nickname “baldies”, mael in Irish (Birkhan 1997:925–926, note 4, with refs.). An excellent counterpart to the Mšecké Žehrovice head is the sculpture from the ferme at Yvignac in Brittany, marked by a variety of the same hairstyle and interpreted as depicting a revered ancestor (Daire and Langouët 1992). This same function is ascribed to the four sculptures from another ferme at Paule (Ménez et al. 1999). There are a few further analogies from elsewhere in Western Europe (Venclová 2002a with refs.). It is known that the Celts did not depict deities in a realistic
1
2
Figure 11.8. Stone heads from community enclosures (fermes) in Brittany: 1. Paule; 2. Yvignac. After Daire and Langouët 1992; Ménez et al. 1999. 151
Enclosing the Past human form – this is apparent from Diodorus’ description of the reaction of the Celtic war leader Brennus to the statues of the gods at Delphi (cf Kruta 1992:821), and from the absence of sculptures of the gods in the documented La Tène sanctuaries of northern France and Britain. Above all, however, it is demonstrated by La Tène art in general, which may be characterised as aniconic: the face or mask is always hidden, and ambiguous. If these cases are indeed depictions of gods, then they (or rather, their parts and individual elements) are enciphered in complex images (Kruta 1992). Who, then, do the rare realistic sculptures of human heads or figures represent? If the gods are ruled out, only concrete humans remain – probably significant or famous forebears, or, more generally, heroes. The objects of heroisation among the Celts were (e.g. according to the Irish myths) members of elites, often warriors, but also learned men and healers (Arcelin, Dedet and Schwaller 1992:202). Druids fit particularly well into this category, being characterised in written reports (e.g. de bello Gallico VI:13) as seers, teachers, judges, counsellors, poets etc. One of the four anthropomorphic sculptures found in the ferme at Paule in Brittany had a lyre, and was most likely a bard. Bards, along with druids, belonged to a class or group or people held in particular reverence, and were thus potentially heroes. Heroes were often venerated at a local or regional level. The adoration of heroes was separate from the cult of the deities, and need not have taken place in sanctuaries; rather, it may be assumed to have been directly linked to community life and to have taken place on important routes, border locations or settlements with above-average (e.g. production, trade etc.) functions. The sculptures described match the notion of the local heroisation of a one-time important member of a non-military elite in the space of an above-average enclosed settlement unit.
number of cases preceded the former and are even termed “proto-villas” (Frey 2000) or “separate elite dwellings” (Haselgrove 2000:105), are being linked with appearance of classes of landowners and entrepreneurs (Haselgrove 1996:177–178), so that some fermes may be associated with the appearance of a more hierarchical social structure in the later La Tène (Roymans 1996:55–58). This is not to say, of course, that all of these enclosures must have been of equally high status. The presumption of polyfunctionality of the Central European quadrangular enclosures in no way contradicts their present interpretation as the seats of a rural elite; S. Rieckhoff regards this as a given fact supported by luxury items and architecture (Rieckhoff 2000:361–371). The idea expressed already by K. Schumacher (see Wieland 1996:37–45 for an overview of opinions as to the function of these areas) has thus returned, supported by new archaeological finds. On the basis of the excavations of the enclosure at Mšecké Žehrovice, which identified both an “exceptional” post-built structure and semi-sunken features with above-average settlement finds, the hypothesis was proposed that the quadrangular enclosures of the Central European La Tène, situated outside settlements and oppida, served as seats of the elite (Venclová 1998:221). The term elite is here understood to include individuals of druidic status. Certain ceremonial activities and gatherings, as well perhaps as some central activities, possibly connected to the adoration of an illustrious forebear/hero or under the auspices of same, might well also have found a place within a seat of an elite group. The enclosure of such loci by banks (sometimes even with stone facings) can clearly be explained by the higher status of the community at the site with its diverse and evidently above-average functions. As has been demonstrated, the behaviour which typically implies an elite is reflected in the material culture of such enclosures. This is not to say that the elite was not also seated elsewhere, for instance in other type of enclosed settlement sites such as oppida, or perhaps also in part in small “local” enclosures within open settlements. The variability of the presumed seats of “high society” confirms that it was stratified. Enclosing, if it employs elements more complex than a simple wooden fence, may be one of the indicators of the elite use of space.
Conclusion Iron Age single enclosures had multiple functions. After a long period when they were exclusively identified with sanctuaries, this can also be said of the Central European Viereckschanze-type enclosures (Pauli 1991:129; Ralston 1992:116; Müller 1993:180; Venclová 1993; Krause and Wieland 1993; Wieland 1996:52). In Britain, small enclosures of the Iron Age have been interpreted as defined locales for meeting, communication, exchange and communal rituals, or as key places sited at points of tenurial or social transition (Taylor 1997:202). The French fermes are in general seen rather as agricultural settlement units in which cattle-breeding was important, but are also associated with the overproduction of foodstuffs, as manifested in their considerable storage capacity (Pion 1996:89; Gransar 1996:99–100), and are linked with the holding of land or with a rural elite which during the La Tène period was not based only in the oppida (Buchsenschutz 1996:9–12; Brunaux 2000:175–276). As we have seen, neither the storage or ritual activities are absent there. A notable fact is the continual development, perhaps from as early as the LT C, of fermes and enclosures, leading, in those parts of Europe which became part of the Roman Empire, into Roman villas (Langouët and Daire 1990:110–111; Roymans 1996, 55– 58; Bayard and Collart eds. 1996; Derks 1998:58–59). These villas, as well as La Tène enclosures – which in a
Acknowledgements This research was conducted within a project supported by the Grant Agency of the Czech Republic, reg. no. 404/97/ K024. The figures have been adjusted and digitised by M. Mazancová.
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12: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila John Collis Summary: The article contrasts two areas, one in southern England which has been progressively enclosed since the Bronze Age, the other in central Spain which has largely remained unenclosed, indeed, is still undergoing the process. The nature and circumstances of enclosure are contrasted, and, on the evidence of how the Spanish landscape is utilised, some traditional interpretations are queried of how the prehistoric and Roman landscape of Wessex functioned.
and woodlands occupied by herds of livestock under the control of cowherds, shepherds and swineherds. Otherwise enclosure was sporadic – woodland enclosures, and deer parks where the elite could hunt the highly protected deer. This medieval system started to come to an end in the 14th century with Acts of Parliament to allow rich landowners to enclose and appropriate the best agricultural land and the meadows for pasture, while their sheep flocks roamed the downlands, producing the all-important and lucrative wool. As agricultural production intensified, more land was enclosed, a process which continued up to the 20th century. The late prehistoric and Roman periods were more ambiguous. Alongside the Iron Age hill-forts, the Roman towns and some Roman villas, the settlement system was dominated by small enclosed settlements mainly known from aerial photographs, but some still surviving as earthworks even now on areas of uncultivated or lightly cultivated downland. In addition, usually surviving around them, were areas of small enclosed fields, the so-called ‘Celtic’ fields, though such fields also can occur as large systematically laid out blocks (‘co-axial’ field systems), which start appearing in the Middle to Late Bronze Age (Cunliffe 2000). Some of these are cut by linear boundaries enclosing large blocks of land, the so-called ‘ranch boundaries’ of Late Bronze Age date. I have discussed elsewhere various aspects of enclosure in Wessex and in the Iron Age of Britain in general (Collis 1993, 1996), so here I shall only discuss them briefly. Firstly we can talk of the scale of enclosure; I do not use the word ‘hierarchy’ as different types of enclosure occur at different times and in different places; never do they all occur together, indeed some of them may be mutually exclusive: 1: Regional: linear boundaries, perhaps defining or defending tribal territories. 2: Territorial: subdivisions of territory controlled by smaller units within some larger political or tribal entity, for instance the dyke systems of the Yorkshire Wolds (Dent 1983). 3: General Land Use Divisions: zones allocated for fields systems, areas of lowland pasture, and areas of apparently communal high-ground summer pasture. 4: Specific Land Use Divisions: areas of fields and of pasture, divisions between houses or groups of houses, but we can also consider the external and internal walls of the buildings themselves, and individual rooms. 5: Containers: furniture, even drawers and boxes, storage jars, silos and granaries. Equally we can talk of a range of functions, though boundaries can have multiple functions. We should beware of simplistic interpretations based on surviving dimensions. The defensive ditches of the forts used by Caesar at Alesia and Gergovia are rarely more than a metre or two deep, and in the case of the large camp at Gergovia they may only survive to a depth of a few centimetres (Deberge and Guichard 2000). Functions I have defined are: 1: Defensive. 2: Delimiting activity areas.
Keywords: Wessex, Ávila, Iron Age, Roman, modern, enclosure
Introduction: Wessex I come from Winchester, the capital of the ancient Saxon kingdom of Wessex in southern England. My childhood was spent in the suburbs of the city in an area of mainly middleclass houses, though with some ‘prefabs’ – temporary wartime housing for more working-class families. But all of us had our gardens, for flowers, lawns, vegetables and, in the case of my own family, an orchard and areas for nut bushes and soft fruits. Every garden was surrounded by a hedge, or, for more recent boundaries, fences of strands of wire stretched between concrete posts. In the city itself almost everyone had a garden, at the back of the house an area for vegetables and lawns, divided from one another by walls of flint and brick, and at the front a small area for flowers, enclosed by low brick walls, often with the sawn off stumps of metal railings – the railings themselves had been removed and melted down as part of the ‘war-effort’ in the 1940s. The countryside around consisted of fields enclosed by hedges usually some 2m high, of hawthorn, layered and trimmed. Only in a few higher areas was there still open ‘downland’, areas of traditional pasture used mainly by flocks of sheep (though those were becoming rare). But in the years of land hunger during and after the war, up to the 1960s and even later, these areas too were being enclosed and ploughed, often for the first time in 2000 years. I was brought up to assume that enclosure was the norm, to show ownership, to give privacy, to confine livestock, and to protect crops and garden produce. Yet, even at school we were taught that it had not always been thus. In the towns perhaps; Winchester was first enclosed in the early Roman period with a bank and ditch, and to this in the late Roman period was added a stone wall which was regularly repaired up to the 18th century when it became redundant and was largely demolished. The rectilinear street layout we now know was laid out in the Late Saxon period, in the early 10th century, along with many of the burgage plots which are still recognisable on the city plan a thousand years later (Biddle 1973). In the countryside too the medieval villages had consisted of ‘crofts and tofts’, cottages with their enclosed gardens (Aston and Lewis 1994). But the landscape around was open, areas of cultivated fields shared in common, and outfield ploughed more rarely, and beyond, the pastures 155
Enclosing the Past 3: Boundaries between communities. 4: Display and ostentation. 5: Defining the status of the inhabitants. 6: Symbolic. The hill-forts are the most dominant feature of the Iron Age landscape. Though there can be little doubt of their defensive nature – sling-stones are commonly found at the entrances and Maiden Castle at least was attacked and burned down by the Roman army (Wheeler 1943) – nonetheless there are also ideological aspects to them, and this may have been more important than defence in some cases. Hill (1993) has demonstrated that entrances open predominantly to the east or the west. Most archaeologists agree that they are generally a statement of power and prestige. For Cunliffe (1983) it is a resident ‘king’ or ‘chief’; for Sharples (1991) and myself it is the whole community as there is little evidence for high-
status individuals in the Early and Middle Iron Age when the hill-forts were at their zenith. The density of the structures within varies very considerably, from almost nothing to the dense concentrations of houses, storage pits and four- and six-post structures. Size too varies, and we all agree there is no simple explanation which encompasses them all. I have looked at a hierarchy of sites in terms of size, and noted that the size and scale of the ramparts varies with the area enclosed – big hill-forts have big ramparts and little hillforts have little ramparts – not what one would expect if the ramparts were merely for defence (Collis 1977a). Cunliffe has suggested a ‘rise to dominance’ model in which hillforts succeed while their neighbours fail and are deserted (Cunliffe 1991); his ‘developed’ hill-forts becoming some sort of ‘central place’. I have suggested an alternative model, the ‘crisis model’ which has multiple trajectories and
Figure 12.1. Owslebury, Hants, showing four phases of enclosure, starting with a banjo enclosure (source: author). 156
Collis: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila
Figure 12.2. Gussage All Saints, Dorset; showing the earlier single enclosure, followed by fragmentation in the 1st century BC (after Wainwright 1979).
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Figure 12.3. Old Down Farm, Andover, Hants, showing the Early Iron Age enclosure and the fragmentation of the Late Iron Age and Early Roman periods (after Davies 1981).
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Collis: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila demands a more careful analysis of the data (Collis 1981). On the whole, my model fits the data better, but it is far from explaining everything (Collis 2002). In contrast, the smaller Iron Age enclosures are nondefensive. Firstly, the ditches are of smaller dimensions – up to a maximum of 2–3m deep – and in some cases the bank seems to be external if not almost non-existent: Cunliffe (2000) has suggested that the chalk may have been removed for marling, house building, etc. Thirdly, the dimensions of the ditch can be variable, often being larger around the entrance (in the case of Gussage All Saints the ditch defining the entrance is 2.20m deep and the enclosure ditch 1.30m deep near the entrance, while at the back of the enclosure the ditch is only 0.5m or less deep and was perhaps also discontinuous in some phases (Wainwright 1979). This was not true at Owslebury; the entrance ditches are 1m deep at most, the enclosure ditch at the entrance 1.20m deep, and at the back of the enclosure 1.70m deep. Another peculiarity of Owslebury was that the ditch was backfilled not long after digging, and the fill included some fairly complete pots and many burnt flints; McOmish (2001:75) has noted this is not uncommon, suggesting that some enclosures may have only been for some short-lived purpose. The enclosures also vary in size from 0.5 ha to about 2 ha, and most contain storage pits, quarries, four-post structures and, if they survive, traces of round houses. Though one or two lack such structures, and so may be for livestock, the majority are single farms or small hamlets of 3–4 houses. The shape of the enclosures also varies considerably: banjo-enclosures such as Owslebury (Fig. 12.1) and Bramdean (Perry 1982); beetle-shaped like Little Woodbury (Bersu 1940) or Gussage All Saints (Fig. 12.2); or round or oval with a simple gap without the entrance ditches, like Old Down Farm, Andover (Fig. 12.3, Davies 1981). The reasons for these differences are unknown. The entrance ditches in the first two groups are interpreted as a means of channelling livestock towards the entrance. At the end of the Middle Iron Age (around 100 BC) these single enclosures are fragmented into several enclosures of varying size and depth of ditch. In the case of Owslebury several ditched trackways lead into the settlement instead of the one which existed previously, and there is no trace of monumentality at the entrance (Collis 1977b, 1996). There are several possible interpretations: • An increase in population, necessitating more enclosures; • A change in the activities of the internal organisation of the farmyard; • A change in the social structure from one which is more community based (i.e. the ditch encloses the whole community) to one in which there is social differentiation within the settlements. The Late Iron Age is certainly associated with increasing evidence of social differentiation, in the burial rite, in the deposition of gold objects (especially coins and torcs – one hoard has been found within a few kilometres of the Owslebury site), and the appearance of imported Mediterranean goods (amphorae and metal vessels), and there may also be a shift from intensive to extensive cereal production. Enclosure continues until the end of the Roman period, but its importance varies from site to site; some sites have single enclosures, others continue with multiple enclosures. The sites are universally abandoned by the late 4th or 5th centuries AD.
The ditched trackways linked the settlements with areas of open pasture, and generally seem to have run between enclosed ‘Celtic’ fields. These were the areas cultivated for cereal production, and some have produced evidence for plough marks. It is assumed that they were enclosed by hurdles, or even hedges, but on the chalklands there is no indisputable evidence for this, indeed, studies of snails at Owslebury suggest there were no hedges. There are no obvious areas for orchards or gardens, though the fill in one of the Late Roman enclosures at Owslebury was noted for its black organic-rich soil, and had contemporary cess-pits within it which could have been used to collect dung for intensive horticultural use. This then is the traditional interpretation of the Wessex landscape in the Iron Age, something comparable with that of the medieval period: small farms and hamlets with enclosure for livestock and habitation surrounded by arable fields, lying in an open landscape of pasture for the livestock. I will now consider Ávila before returning to query some of these assumptions.
Ávila and the Ambles valley The Ambles valley lies to the west of the city of Ávila in central Spain, 100 km west of Madrid. To the south and north it is bounded by ranges of granite hills. It is a highland area; the valley itself lies at 1100m above sea level, and is characterised by hot dry summers and cold snowy winters. Nowadays the area is best known for its animal products (sheep, cattle and especially pig), though the plain itself is largely agricultural, especially producing wheat, but now irrigation is allowing crops such as strawberries. However, even in the valley there are drier hills which are only suitable for pasture, often with a scatter of oak trees, though some areas in the granite hills have extensive areas of terraced fields and evidence up to fairly recently of ploughing showing that agriculture was not confined to the valley. The area is crossed by the Cañada Soriana Occidental, one of the official droveways set up by the mesta, the organisation of wealthy landowners which supervised the transhumance between northern and southern Spain; the one that crosses the Ambles Valley ran for over 700 km between Adehuela de Catalañazor near Soria in the north, and Olivenza near Badajoz in the south. At the beginning of the 20th century the majority of the land was in the hands of a small number of landowners. Compared with many other areas of Europe, the peasant farmers were quite poor, with the population nucleated in small villages of one-storey houses with limited architectural pretensions (Colour plate 8). The villages generally lie around natural water sources, mainly springs, as even the main river, the Adaja, which flows west-east through the valley often has little or no water in it during the summer months. Under the ‘traditional’ system, enclosure of land was minimal, with at most boundaries marked by standing stones, occasionally inscribed, but, especially in the highland areas, usually a rough-hewn pillar. Otherwise enclosure was mainly of two kinds: 1. For the intensive cultivation of gardens for vegetables (beans, potatoes, onions, etc), or for fruit trees (apples, pears, peaches, etc.). As these relied on the availability of water, they were often concentrated around the village itself (Colour plate 9), but some of these enclosed gardens 159
Enclosing the Past can be 3–4 km or more from the village if the right conditions exist. Such plots are usually highly visible in the landscape as they also include mature trees (especially poplars) to increase shade and protection. Some gardens relied on water from small irrigation channels directed to them. Many are still in use, especially for vegetables, though fruit growing is in decline, and many of the trees are dead or dying. 2. Rather larger enclosures sometimes, but not always, with a water supply. These too are often close to the village, but may be on isolated hill-sides. They may be rectangular or oval, and surrounded by a relatively substantial stone wall; most are now in a poor state of repair. They seem to have been for penning livestock, especially overnight. Otherwise enclosure was minimal, and for special functions (cemeteries outside villages are invariably walled). A small number of the wealthier landowners wall their properties, but much of this seems fairly recent. In the hilly areas fields are usually marked by terraces, sometimes quite substantial, up to 2–3m on steep hill-slopes (Colour plate 10), but some fields are enclosed by walls of low boulders which would certainly not have been an effective barrier for livestock. In the valley some fields are ditched (Colour plate 11), especially where they adjoin tracks, and seem mainly to be for drainage (though in some cases this hardly seems necessary, especially in the summer months); in most cases they can easily be crossed by livestock. Wild animals are relatively rare; we have seen the occasional wild boar, but even rabbits are not very common, perhaps because of the intensive hunting. Under such an open-landscape regime, the livestock has to be carefully herded, and each village has its complement of shepherds and cowherds who take the animals out each morning. After the crops have been harvested, they are given the free-run of the fields, which obviously helps with the manuring. A possibly recent feature are transportable metal fences for enclosing the sheep at night, and these are moved every few days, partly to give fresh food (though there is little) but especially to spread the effects of intensive manuring. Most farms, especially in the highlands, have barns for overwintering the animals, and for the cattle overnight as well. Presumably the same was true for the pigs, but these are now intensively reared in barns, and are never seen except on their way to the abattoir. However, for someone such as myself raised in an enclosed landscape, it is surprising sometimes to see vegetable gardens which are completely unenclosed, with no apparent protection from wild animals (though the walls around the enclosed ones would certainly not keep deer out). Also, just after harvest, some of the threshed grain is just heaped outside the villages with no attempt to keep birds away (Colour plate 12). In the 1970s there was a major shift in the system of land tenure. This did not affect the larger blocks of pasture, the estates and ranches (fincas and dehesas), but mainly the agricultural land and some of the areas of public grazing especially in the valley were divided up and handed out to individual farmers. The boundaries of each field are often merely marked by stone heaps or small stele, more often with small concrete posts. In the last forty years individual owners have started to enclose their land, not only the major landowners, but also many of the traditional peasant farmers. The favourite method for the larger areas is with metal, wooden or stone posts with barbed wire strung
between them, but for some of the smaller areas chain-link fences, or even walls built of breezeblocks. The reasons for enclosure are varied, but generally not associated with agriculture; even the strawberry fields are not enclosed. Some fields are being fenced for permanent pasturing of cattle or horses, with a piped water supply, but this is still the exception. There are also enclosures for industrial and sports activities, but the majority are for private gardens, often with a small building used during the day for domestic activities. On an increasing scale, more permanent houses are being built, some even with swimming pools. There is thus the beginning of a dispersal from the nucleated settlement pattern, though the majority prefer to build their new houses either in the village, or on its fringe where it is possible to have a garden. The traditional houses are gradually falling into disuse and being demolished. Houses now tend to be of two or three storeys, with balconies where one can sit in the summer evenings. Obviously the increasing affluence is one major factor, but technologically, perhaps the availability of piped water, is the decisive factor. The whole development is very piecemeal, with the new enclosures usually isolated from one another. An interesting phenomenon, found in other areas of Spain, is the ostentatious nature of the façades and gateways (Colour plates 13, 14). This is not part of the local tradition, at least in the countryside, and the one-storey traditional house has no elements of external display, except in some cases the chimney which may have decoration on its plaster, accompanied by the date of construction. The façade is often the first element to be built, with a wall of stone or brick, perhaps surmounted by an elaborate iron fence, and fine ironwork gates. This is not a tradition taken over from the wealthier landowners (Colour plate 15); though the richer estates may have fancy gateways, they themselves are also a recent development, and are usually less elaborate and more functional than those on the smaller properties. Though locally the nouveaux riches participate in the more universal western European status symbol of the four-byfour parked in front of the house, these elaborate façades seem to be a special Spanish phenomenon, indeed, perhaps even Castilian, as it is not so obvious, for instance, in the Catalan areas. What I have labelled here the ‘traditional’ system presumably has its origins in the medieval period, after the territory was taken back from the Moors (Barrios García 2000). For earlier periods there seems to be little tradition for enclosure, as there are no field systems or settlement enclosures for the Iron Age and Roman periods, except perhaps for some villas. In these periods enclosure is confined to the major settlements, the Roman town of Obila, and the Iron Age oppida and hill-forts of Ulaca, Las Cogotas, La Mesa de Miranda and Sanchorreja (Álvarez Sanchís 1999; Mariné 1995; Sánchez Moreno 2000). Though elements of these sites are clearly defensive (elaborate towers, chevaux de frise), this is not the only factor. This is most clear at Ulaca, where the official panels on the site explain the small scale of the stone wall on the side facing away from the valley as being unfinished when the inhabitants were forced to leave by the Romans (in places it is only one or two courses high). However, this does not fit the evidence, as the ‘unfinished’ sections belong to the first period of the site, and a second enclosure was added later to the east (not recognised in most of the published plans). This suggests 160
Collis: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila that the enclosure here (though protected by steep slopes) was more symbolic than functional.
more effective barriers to livestock, though he presents no evidence for this (Cunliffe and Poole 2000:91). Certainly at Owslebury the studies of the snail faunas in some of the linear ditches (especially ditches flanking trackways) showed slightly damp environments such as one might expect in a ditch, but otherwise an open landscape with little hint of the sorts of species one would associate with a hedge. This implies that, though the ditches might be used to guide the livestock (and humans) along the track, they were not intended to provide a physical constraint, indeed when the crops had been harvested, stock-proof boundaries would have been a positive hindrance to the free movement of flocks of sheep or herds of cows across the landscape. Control would have been maintained, as in the case of Ávila, by shepherds and cowherds accompanied by their dogs. This then raises questions about the actual function of ‘Celtic fields’. We usually assume that these defined the areas of arable, and if there are no visible fields, then we are dealing with areas of pasture. However, at some sites like Owslebury there are no obvious Celtic fields surviving even though some of the settlement enclosures survived as earthworks up to quite recently, yet we have grain storage pits on the settlement. The assumption is that either banjo enclosures such as Owslebury were primarily used for livestock, or the fields have been destroyed by later agricultural activity (unlikely in the case of Owslebury). So, could it be that the main agricultural activity, the more extensive ploughed fields, have left little archaeological trace, and that, at least in the Iron Age, the Celtic fields were places where some more specialised and intensive cultivation was going on? We need to look a little more closely at the environment of some of our settlements, and also experiment more with the quantification of our data (e.g. if storage pits are primarily for seed grain, this gives us some hint on the minimum area under cultivation). We also need to compare regions. In central Hampshire, for instance, Celtic field systems and linear boundaries seem relatively rare in comparison to, say, northern Hampshire and Wiltshire, due generally, it is assumed, to the later history of land use in the medieval and post-medieval periods, but perhaps we simply have different systems of land use in different areas of Wessex in the Bronze and Iron Ages. Finally we have the question of the function of the clusters of enclosures that form the nucleus of many Late Iron Age and Roman farming settlements in parts of Wessex. Some are certainly to define areas of domestic activity (houses, barns, granaries, etc.) but the case of Ávila warns us that some activities we have always assumed took place here, such as threshing and winnowing of cereals, could easily have taken place outside the settlements. We have also, the case of Owslebury, the Late Roman enclosure with evidence of ‘black earth’ in the ditch fillings. The same enclosure contains three cess pits, two quite substantial, which are a complete anomaly in a rural context; cess pits are associated with dense occupation, especially urban contexts, for reasons of health, and such apparent concerns with hygiene is totally unexpected on a rural settlement which, by late Roman times, was a low status site with none of the luxuries associated with contemporary villa sites, such as stone buildings, baths, mosaic pavements, etc. Either part of the population was not free to roam (e.g. slaves) and the burial evidence does hint at a very divided social set-up with cremation burials with pots even as late as the 4th century AD, contrasting with inhumations with no grave goods, often buried in ditches
Reflections It is interesting to note that, in the two very different cases we have looked at, there are certain similarities and peculiarities like the piecemeal process by which enclosure expands across the landscape, and especially the very prominent role which is given to display in the façades and entranceways to the settlements. But in the case of Middle Iron Age Hampshire it seems to be the whole community which parades its status, whereas in Spain it is the individual, and then not someone of high social or economic status. Indeed, one of the major points I wish to make in this paper is that we can encounter superficially similar phenomena which may have very different ‘meanings’ and occur in very different sorts of society. Thus, to repeat a point made earlier, in late medieval and post-medieval Britain enclosure is apparently associated with the appropriation of formerly communally held land by rich individuals. In Ávila, in contrast, it is associated with a democratisation of private ownership by relatively poor individuals, and that initiated by a fascist right-wing government. Another example of parallel change under differing social, economic and political conditions has been the process of increasing field sizes by the amalgamation of field plots, in Britain, at least, including the removal of often ancient hedgerows. In part this is due to technological change, with the increasing shift from the 1930s onwards from animal powered traction (horses and oxen) over to larger mechanised equipment such as combine harvesters. In Britain the farms were generally sufficiently large and the farmers sufficiently prosperous for this to happen early (in the 1930s), within the context of a competitive marketing system. Inheritance laws (generally inheritance through male primogeniture) enabled large farms to remain intact. In contrast, in much of France the peasant regime had remained largely intact, but with increasing fragmentation of ownership, as under Napoleonic laws land had to be shared between the descendants, so field plots were becoming increasingly smaller and less and less viable, preventing the physical use of large mechanised equipment even if the increasingly impoverished peasants could afford to invest in it. The only solution was for state intervention to redistribute land by agreement among the owners and the farmers, to allow consolidated fields to be formed and exploited by an individual farmer using modern techniques: the remembrement which was carried out in the 1950s and 1960s, like Britain, in an increasingly competitive market economy, but with much greater centralised state involvement. Central and eastern Europe represents a third case where, under the post-war communist regimes, collectivisation of farms was enforced, again allowing the shift to industrialised farming and mechanisation. Can we, as archaeologists, differentiate between these three very different scenarios, or does their impact on the landscape and environment look identical? Returning to the Wessex landscape, it is clear that our ‘enclosed’ mentalities may be leading us to misinterpret the late Prehistoric and Roman landscapes. Cunliffe, for instance, has postulated that the linear ditches around Danebury must have supported hedgerows to turn them into 161
Enclosing the Past and, at most, with a wooden coffin (Collis 1977b); or the human organic waste was being collected for intensive manuring. Some of these enclosures could, therefore, be comparable with the intensively cultivated plots we find in and around the Ambles valley in Spain. Iron Age and Roman Wessex is one of the most intensively investigated areas in Europe, yet because of our preconceptions, perhaps our interpretations are fundamentally flawed, and we need to have a major re-think. Equally, there seems to be enormous potential in study the present changes around Ávila in terms of the impact on the landscape, rather than simply collecting old agricultural implements such as the trillos.
Ireland, pp 87-94. Sheffield: J.R. Collis Publications. Collis, J.R. 2001. Society and Settlement in Iron Age Europe; L’Habitat et l’Occupation du Sol en Europe. Actes du XVIIIe Colloque de l’AFEAF, Winchester - Avril 1994. Sheffield: J.R. Collis Publications. Collis, J.R. 2002. Danebury, its environs and the Iron Age in Hampshire. Landscape Archaeology 2002:91–94. Cunliffe, B.W. 1983. Danebury: anatomy of a hillfort. London: Batsford. Cunliffe, B.W. 1991. Iron Age Communities in Britain. An account of England, Scotland and Wales from the 7th century BC until the Roman conquest. Third edition. London, New York, Routledge and Kegan Paul. Cunliffe, B. 2000. The Danebury Environs Programme: the Prehistory of a Wessex landscape. Volume 1: Introduction. English Heritage and Oxford University Committee for Archaeology, Monograph 48. Oxford: Institute of Archaeology. Cunliffe, B.W. and Poole, C. 2000. The Danebury Environs Programme: the Prehistory of a Wessex landscape. Volume 2-4: New Buildings, Longstock, Hants 1992 and Fiveways Longstock, Hants, 1996. English Heritage and Oxford University Committee for Archaeology, Monograph 49. Oxford: Institute of Archaeology. Davies, S.M. 1981. Excavations at Old Down Farm, Andover. Part II: Prehistoric and Roman. Proceedings of the Hampshire Field Club 37:81–164. Deberge, Y. and Guichard, V. 2000. Nouvelles recherches sur les travaux césariens devant Gergovie (1995–1999). Revue Archéologique du Centre de la France 39:83–111. Dent, J.M. 1982. Cemeteries and settlement patterns of the Iron Age on the Yorkshire Wolds. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 48:437–458. Hill, J.D. 1993. Danebury and the hillforts of Iron Age Wessex. In Champion and Collis 1993:95-116. McOmish, D. 2001. Aspects of prehistoric settlement in western Wessex. In Collis 2001:73–81. Mariné, M. 1995. Historia de Ávila I. Prehistoria e historia antigua. Ávila: Institución ‘Gran Duque de Alba’ de la Exma. Diputación de Ávila. Perry, B.T. 1982. Excavations at Bramdean, Hampshire, 1973 to 1977. Proceedings of the Hampshire Field Club 38:57–74. Sánchez Moreno, E. 2000. Vetones: historia y arqueología de un pueblo prerromano. Collección de Estudios 64. Madrid: Ediciones de la Universidad Autónoma. Sharples, N. 1991. Maiden Castle. London: English Heritage/ Batsford. Wainwright, G.J. 1979. Gussage All Saints: an Iron Age settlement in Dorset. Department of the Environment Archaeological Reports No. 10. London. Wheeler, R.E.M. 1943. Maiden Castle, Dorset. Reports of the Research Committee of the Society of Antiquaries of London, no. 12. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Bibliography Álvarez Sanchís, J.R. 1999. Los Vettones. Biblioteca Archaeologica Hispana 1. Madrid. Aston, M. and Lewis, C. (eds.) 1994. The Medieval Landscape of Wessex. Oxbow Monograph 46. Oxford: Oxbow. Barrios García, Á. 2000. Historia de Ávila II. Edad Media (siglos VIII–XIII). Ávila: Institución ‘Gran Duque de Alba’ de la Exma. Diputación de Ávila. Bersu, G. 1940. Excavations at Little Woodbury, Wiltshire. Part I: the settlement revealed by excavation. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 29:206–213. Biddle, M. 1973. Winchester: the development of an early capital. In H. Jankuhn, W. Schlesinger and H. Steuer (eds.) Vor- und Frühformen der europäischen Stadt im Mittelalter. Symposium Reinhausen 18.-24. April 1972. Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3. Folge, Nr. 83, pp. 229-261. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Champion, T.C. and Collis, J.R. (eds.) 1993. The Iron Age in Britain and Ireland: recent trends. Sheffield: J.R. Collis Publications. Collis, J.R. 1977a. An approach to the Iron Age. In J.R. Collis (ed.) The Iron Age in Britain: a review, pp. 1-7. Sheffield: Dept of Prehistory and Archaeology. Collis, J.R. 1977b. Owslebury, Hants, and the problem of burials on rural settlements. In R. Reece, Burial in the Roman World, pp.26-34. CBA Research Report 22. London. Collis, J.R. 1981. A theoretical study of hill-forts. In G. Guilbert (ed.) Hill-fort Studies: papers presented to A. H. A. Hogg, pp. 66-76. Leicester: University Press. Collis, J.R. 1993. Structures d’habitat et enceintes de l’Age du Fer. In A. Daubigney (ed.) Fonctionnement Social de l’Age du Fer. Opérateurs et hypothèses pour la France. Table Ronde Internationale de Lons-le-Saunier (Jura) 24-26 octobre 1990, pp. 231-238. Lons-Le-Saunier. Collis, J.R.1996. Hill-forts, enclosures and boundaries. In T.C. Champion and J.R. Collis (ed.) The Iron Age in Britain and
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Index Abingdon, Oxfordshire 74 Acy-Romance 127 Aiterhofen 144 Alcalar 89−90, 93 Aldwincle 118 Alekšince 60 Alesia 155 Alpiarça 87 Altheim 51 Altheim-Heiligkreuztal 136, 148 Altheim culture 50, 64 Altranstädt 64 amber 112 Ambrona, Miño de Medinaceli 76, 93 Apony 55 Arnstorf 148 Asparn-Schletz 45, 47−8 Aszòd 55, 107 aurochs 32 Ávila 155, 159, 161−2
Brennus 152 Briar Hill, Northamptonshire 69, 70, 74 Brno-Líšeň 63 Brno-Nový Lískovec 44, 47 Brodzany-Nitra 50 Bronocice 57 Bučany, Slovakia 52, 55, 59, 62 bucranium 26 Bulhary 53, 55, 62−3 Bussy-le-Long 149 Bylany, Bohemia 11, 16, 57, 59, 62 Cadbury Castle, Somerset 121 Čakovice 11 Cañada Soriana Occidental 159 Carn Brea, Cornwall 69, 72, 74, 100 Căscioarele 21, 22, 25−7, 41 castellieri 107 Castelo Velho de Freixo de Numão 90 causewayed camp 2, 10, 69− 71, 78−9, 100 Ceíde 20 Celtic fields 155, 159, 161 centaur 23 Cernavoda 38 Černá Hora 44 Cerro de El Albalate 91 Cerro de los Alcores 91 Český raj 110 Cham Culture 50, 64 Chleby, Nymburk 10, 51, 64 Cífer 52, 55, 57, 59 Cimbri, see Kimbern Clonfinlough 103, 105 co-axial’ field systems 155 Collfryn 118 Columbeira, Bombarral 90 Conchil-le-Temple 114 Corded Ware Culture 4 Cranborne Chase 70, 72−4, 101 crannóg 102, 106−7 Crickley Hill, Gloucestershire 69, 71–4, 100 Csőszhalom 21, 22, 29−33, 41 Cucuteni 21–2, 26 currency bars 119–120, 122–3
Baden culture 63 Bajč-Vlkanovo, Slovakia 63, 51 Balbridie 20 Balfarg, Fife 100 Ballinderry, Co. Offaly) 103 banjo-enclosures 159 Barca 105, 113 Beaker period 101 Bearwood, Dorset) 121 Beaurieux-Les Grèves 147 Beckford, Hereford and Worcester 121 Becsehely 45, 55 Běhařovice, Moravia 52−3, 57 Bell Beaker 64, 87, 89, 93, 100, 101 Benátky nad Jizerou 10, 57 Berching-Pollanten 147 Berlin Wall 97 Bernburg/Walternienburg culture 8 Berry-au-Bac 147–8 Bibracte 126−7, 129, 131 Billingborough, Lincolnshire 123 Birdlip Camp 72 Biskupin 97, 107, 113 Blackheath, Todmorden, West Yorkshire 101 Blackshouse Burn, Lanarkshire 99−100 Black Patch 102 Blaufelden 135, 136 Blewburton (Oxfordshire) 121 Blučina, district Brno-venkov 8 Bochum-Harpen 50, 55 Bochum-Laer 50, 64 Bodmin Moor, Cornwall 116 Bodrogkeresztúr Culture 50, 63 Bogenberg, Straubing 107 Bohemian Paradise 110 Boian Culture 25 Boitsfort 7 Bonn-Venusberg 50 Bopfingen 135−6, 147–8 Borduşani 26 Bořitov 44 Božice, Moravia 64 Bramdean 159 Branč 50 Bredon Hill, Hereford and Worcester 121 Breiddin 105
Dacian calendar 59, 62, 64 Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire 101 Dan y Coed 118 Danebury 116, 118, 121, 161 Darion 44, 47 Dartmoor 102, 104, 116 dehesa 160 Delphi 152 Derenburg 8 Děvín 60 Ditches, Gloucestershire 121, 122 Divostin 21 Dniestr flint 33 Dolné Trhovište 60 Dolní Beřkovice 57 Dolní Břežany 149 Dolní Němčí 55 Dolnoslav 38 Donnersberg 129, 132 Dorset Cursus 74 Down Farm, Cranborne Chase 102 Dresden-Nickern 57
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Droužkovice 144 Druids 149 Druids’ Circle, Penmaenmawr 101, 102 Dünsberg 128 Durankulak 21–2, 25, 27–9, 41
Hayling Island, Hampshire 122 Heidetränk 129 Heilbronn-Hetzenberg 7 Heilbronn-Ilsfeld 7 Heilbronn-Klingenberg 14 Helman Tor, Cornwall 72, 74, 100 Hembury, Devon 70–1, 74 henge 11, 21, 57, 59, 62–3, 100–1, 105 Herpály 32 Heuneburg 126, 131 Hienheim, Bavaria 51 Hinchinbroke Park Farm, Cambridgeshire 119, 121–2 Hluboké Mašůvky 49, 50, 57, 60 Hod Hill, Dorset 121 Holohlavy 11, 57, 60 Holzhausen 135–6, 146–8 Homolka near Slaný 105 Hopferstad-Ochsenfurt 55 Horní Metelsko in West Bohemia 11 Hornsburg 52, 55, 60 Hrazany 126, 141 Hrdly, district Litoměřice 10 Hrušovany nad Jevišovkou 8 Hunsbury, Northants 121 Hurst Fen, Suffolk 74
Eching-Vieht 64 Ehningen 136, 144, 147–8 Eilsleben 44, 48 Einsiedel-Rübgarten 137–8 Eitzum 44 Erkelenz-Kückhoven 44, 47 Esslingen-Oberesslingen 147–8 Etton, Cambridgeshire 73–4 Ewart Park 105 Eythra 55 Eythra-Zwenkau 55, 57, 62 faience 112 Falkenstein-‘Schanzboden’ 49, 53 Federsee 107 Fellbach-Schmiden 135 figurine 23, 25, 50 fincas 160 Fisher Road, Port Seaton, East Lothian 124 Forschner, Federsee 107, 110 Frauenhofen, Horn 47–50, 55 Freckleben 8 Fresnes-sur-Marne 148 Friebritz 55, 57, 59, 60 Fuente de la Mora, Leganés 94 Funnel Beaker Culture (see also TRB) 5, 10 Füzesabony 63
Iclod 21, 32, 51, 55 Immendorf 55 Inden 50, 58, 60 Iskritsa 22, 33–5, 38 Iwno Culture 107 Jánoshida-Portelek 55, 64 Jászdózsa-Kápolnahalom 107 Jaux 147–8 Jenštejn, Prague-East 16 Jevišovice 64 Jülich-Welldorf 49, 50
Galgenberg 51, 64 Gardom’s Edge, Derbyshire 98, 100 Gaudendorf 57 Gemering 55 Gergovia 155 glass 112 Glastonbury Somerset 121 Glaubendorf 59 Gneiding-Oberpöring 60 Golianovo 52, 59 Goljamo Delchevo 21 Goljemiya Ostrov 25, 27 Gollma 8 Gorzsa 21, 29 Goseck 55, 57, 60 Gournay 145 Gózquez de Arriba, San Martín de la Vega 94 Gradac 21, 25 Gradac-Zlokućane 22, 24 Gradac-Zlokućani 21–5, Gretton, Northamptonshire 123 Grimspound, Dartmoor 102 Grossburgstall 63 Grossgartach Culture 50 Gubakút 31 Gumelniţa 22, 26, 27, 41 Gussage All Saints 159
Kamegg 55, 57 Karanovo IV 35–6 Karanovo V 35–7 Karanovo VI 25, 36–8 Kelheim 129, 131 Kimbern 132, 137 Kingsdown, Somerset 121–2 Kitzen 64 Klačany 52 Kly, Mělník 5–6, 12–4, 16–8 Knocknalappa 103, 106 Knovíz Culture 11 Köln-Lindenthal 47 Komjatice 64 Kostice 64 Kothingeichendorf 50, 53, 55, 59 Kraków flint 33 Krašovice 147 kręgi 64 Křepice 53, 57 Krisigk 8 Krpy 9, 11, 57 Künzing-Unternberg 50, 55, 57, 59, 62 Kyhna 55, 57
Haddenham, Cambridgeshire 73–5, 74 Hallstatt period 10, 64 Hamangia 27 Hambledon Hill, Dorset, England 69–75, 100 Ham Hill, Somerset 121 Hardwick 118 Hasting Hill, Tyne & Wear 100 Hayhope Knowe 118
Langweiler 44, 47, 48, 50, 59 Las Cogotas 160 Las Matillas, Alcalá de Henares 94 Lausitz Culture 113 La Mesa de Miranda 160 La Pijotilla 94
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La Revilla del Campo, Ambrona 93 La Tène period 140 LBK 9, 44, 45, 47, 48, 55 Leceia (Oeiras) 90 Ledce, Moravia 51, 64 Lengyel Culture 1, 21, 45, 48–50, 59, 61–64 Levroux 151 Lhánice 64 Lich-Steinstrass 50 Linear ditches 64, 65, 161 Linzing-Osterhofen 51, 64 Little Woodbury 159 Loanhead of Daviot 101 Lochenice 9, 11, 55, 57, 59 Lochenice-Unternberg 50 Lofts Farm, Essex 102–3 Los Millares 77, 91 Luant 131, 148 Lubelsko-Wolynia Culture 57 Ludanice 50
Neutz-Lettewitz 64 Nitrianský Hrádok 52, 55, 62, 105, 107–8 Nordheim 135 North Mains, Strathallan, Perthshire 101 Oberesslingen 138, 139 Oberlauterbach Culture 55, 57 Obrovci 21 Ochsenberg at Wartau, canton St. Gallen 107 Oderbruch 57 Offham, Sussex 73–4 Old Down Farm, Andover 121, 158–9 Oleksovice 64 Ölkam 55 Opolany, district Nymburk 10 oppidum 2, 126, 128–9, 131–3, 138, 141, 148, 152 Orsett, Essex 69, 73, 74 Ostrovul Corbului 25 Ovcharitsa 21 Ovcharovo 21 Owslebury, Hampshire 159, 161
Madmarston, Oxfordshire 121, 123 Maiden Castle, Dorset 70, 71–4, 121, 116, 156 Makotřasy 51, 64 Mam Tor, Derbyshire 103 Manching 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 147–8 Marden 63 Maritsa Iztok 35, 38 Marroquíes Bajos, Jaén 91 Martberg 126, 127 Mašovice 57 Mataci, in Dalmatia 38 Mayen 7, 50–1 Mecsek 55 Meisternthal 50 Meisternthal-Landau 60 Mengen-Ennetach 135 Měnín, district Brno-venkov 8 Meon Hill, Warwickshire 121 Merdzumekja 22, 35, 38 mesta 159 Meunet-Planches 131, 148 Michelsberg/Untergrombach 7 Michelsberg Culture 5, 6, 8, 13, 50, 60, 64 Midsummer Hill, Hereford & Worcester 121 Miel 7, 50, 60 Mödling-Zöbing-Jevišovice Culture 63 MOG see Moravian/Austrian Group Monkodonja, Istria 107, 111 Monta da Tumba, Torrão 90 Montes Claros 87 Monte da Ponte, Évora 90 Montmartin/Oise 148 Mont Beuvray 132 Moravian/Austrian Group (MOG) 50, 57, 59, 63 Moravian Painted Pottery (MPP) 48, 50, 53, 55, 57, 59, 63–4 Most 11 Mount Pleasant 63 MPP, see Moravian Painted Pottery Mšecké Žehrovice 143–4, 146–9, 152 Mucking, Essex 102, 104 Mühlbach am Mannhartsberg 57 Münchshöfen Culture 64 Munzingen 7 Murr, Munich 64 murus gallicus 131, 148
Painted Pottery Culture, see Moravian Painted Pottery Palmela 87 Papa Uvas 94 Park Farm, Warwickshire 119, 121 Pasohlávky 64 Passau-Hartkirchen 135 Paule 144, 147, 151 Pavlov 49, 50 Penard phase 103, 105 Perdigões, in the Portuguese Alentejo 93 Pfaffenhofen-Beuren 136 pillar shrine 26 pit alignment 64, 120 Planig-Friedberg 55 Platkow 57 Plattling-Pankofen 135, 149 Plotištĕ nad Labem 49, 50 plough-share 122 Polgar-Bosnyak domb 29 Polgár-Csőszhalom 21, 32, 53, 55, 59 Poljanitsa 21 Pottenbrunn 50 Prague-Vinoř 57 Přítluky 64 Puch 55, 60 Puch-Kleedorf 57 Pulkau 45 Quappendorf 57 Quenstedt 55, 57–60 Quimper-LeBraden 148 Raddon Hill, Devon 72 Radíčeves, Louny 10 Rájec-Jestřebí 44 Rakovice 148 Ramsdorf-Wallerfing 60 Rams Hill, Berkshire 103 Rašovice 52–3, 57, 62 remembrement 161 Rider’s Rings, Dartmoor 102, 104 Riedlingen 135, 136 Řípec, Trpoměchy 64 Řivnač Culture 105 rondel 5, 9, 16, 21, 44–5, 50, 52, 55–64, 105 Roquepertuse 151 Rosenburg 52, 55, 57, 60 Rössen Culture 50, 55, 60
Nadbury, Warwickshire 121, 123 Němčičky 52–3 Němětice 142
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Ružindol-Borová 55, 57, 60, 63
Uherský Brod 55 Uivar 21, 29 Ulaca 160 Uleybury, Gloucestershire 121 Uničov 44, 47 Unternberg 59 Urmitz 6, 8, 14, 50–1, 60
Salmonsbury, Gloucestershire 121 Samborzec-Opatów 32 Sanchorreja 160 Santa Justa 89, 90 Santa Vitória at Campo Maior 93 São Brás, Serpa 90 Šárka 48 Sarmizegethusa Regia 64 SBK, see Stichbandkeramik Schletz 60 Schmiedorf 50, 55, 64 Schmiedorf-Osterhofen 60 Sé 47, 55 Seloutky 50, 55, 57, 63 Serris-Les Rouelles 148 Shaugh Moor, Dartmoor 102 Silbury Hill 21 Skupice, Louny 10 Slavhostice 57 Spettisbury, Dorset 121 Spišský Štvrtok 105, 109, 113 Springfield Lyons 102 Staines, Surrey 73–4 Stansted 118 Stanway, Essex 119, 121–2 Staré Hradisko 126, 129 Steinabrunn 60 Stichbandkeramik 32, 48, 50, 57, 62 Stillfried-Auhagen 50 Stillfried-Ziegelei 50 Štítary-Hostětice 144 Stonehenge 32, 63, 101 Stone of Scone 27 Stradonice 129, 133 Straškov 10, 57 Straubing-Lenchenhaid 47 Strögen 52, 55, 60 Strögen, Lower Austria 52 stroke-ornamented pottery, see Stichbandkeramik Šumice 64 Svodín 52, 55, 57, 59, 62, 105, 107 Szarvas 22
Vaihingen 48 Valač 21, 23, 25 Valač-Krš 22 Valencina de la Concepción 93, 94 Variscourt / Condé-sur-Suippe 12–7, 130 Varna 27 Vedrovice 44–5, 47–8, 52–3, 55, 57, 59, 62 Vel’ký Cetín 57, 60 Velatice 57 Velim 97, 107–8, 110, 112–3 Velíš 57 Vieht 55 Viereckschanze 10, 64, 127, 131, 135–6, 138, 144–150 Vila Nova de S. Pedro 77, 89, 90 villas 152 Villeneuve-St-Germain 126, 127, 129 Vinča 23, 25, 32 Vinča-Belo Brdo 23 Vinitsa 22, 25, 29 Vitiněves 57 Vlčnov 55 Vochov 11, 55, 57 Vokány 55 Vrbně, Mělník 10 Vrbno, Mělník 16, 18 Wakerley 118 Walesland Rath 118 Weinsteig-Großrußbach 45 West Brandon 118 Wetzdorf 55 Wetzleinsdorf 49, 50, 60 Whitesheet Hill, Wiltshire 70, 72–3 Wiesbaden-Schierstein 7 Wilburton 105 Winchester 155 Windmill Hill, Wiltshire 69–70, 72–4 Winklebury, Hampshire 121 Winnal Down, Hampshire 124, 144 Winster, Derbyshire 122 Worthy Down, Hampshire 119, 121
Taunton metalwork 103 Tell Merdzumekja 35, 36 Těšetice-Kyjovice 9, 52–3, 55, 57, 59, 60, 62–3, 105 Teutonen 132, 137 Thalheim 48 throned figurines 23 Tiszalúc-Sarkad 50 Tiszapolgár Culture 55 Tisza incised ware 32 Titelberg 126 Tizsaluc-Sarkad 51 Tomerdingen 135 tortoise shells 37 TRB (Trichterbecherkultur) 5, 50, 64 trillos 162 Tripolye 22 Troskotovice 62–4 Trpoměchy, distr. Kladno 10–11 Truşeşti 21 Tuchlovice 147 Tuchoraz 57
Yvignac 151 Zadubravlje 21 Zadubravlje-Dužine 21 Zambujal 76–94 Zangentor 127 Závist 126, 129, 131, 141, 146–7 Želiezovce 45, 48 Želízy, Mělník 10 Žitavce 53, 55, 57, 59 Žlkovce 57–9, 61–3 Zlokućane 21 Zuchering 147
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