Archaeology Is Rubbish
British archaeology is the history of our nation's waste disposal. The raw material with which archaeologists work is the waste discarded by a long line of Stone Age tool-makers, Roman housewives, Norman potters, Tudor carpenters and Victorian factory workers. But if archaeology is rubbish, why bother to dig it up?
In this entertaining book, Tony Robinson and Mick Aston, the nation's favourite archaeologists, explain how the mire of ancient rubbish strewn across Britain brings back to life the story of our ancestors far better than a thousand jewel-encrusted goblets.
The story so far ...
Following the advice in this book, you dig a trench in your back garden. You find medieval post-holes, a coin from the reign of King Offa (8th century AD), Anglo-Saxon stake-holes, Roman pottery and coins. You then dig another trench in the garden of your neighbour Mrs Gater, where you find an Anglo-Saxon skeleton ...
OK, maybe you were fantasising a bit. Maybe it's unlikely you'll ever be able to prove there was a relationship between your post-hole and Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. But is it possible to tie archaeology into the history of a period in that way? Could you ever pick up the base of a goblet with the absolute conviction that it once nestled in the podgy, bejewelled hand of Henry VIII?
Schliemann and Troy
At one time some archaeologists thought you could. Heinrich Schliemann
was a 19th- century German banker, obsessed with the myth of the Trojan
war. He was desperate to find the ancient city of Troy where, according
to the blind poet Homer, Hector, Odysseus and Achilles had been locked
in battle over 3,000 years ago. In 1869 Schliemann discovered a little
hill called Hissarlik in Turkey.
He believed that underneath it was the city he was looking for. Unfortunately, in his desperation to justify his theory, he dug through layer after layer of archaeology until he found it. The site became famous. Mrs Schliemann's photograph was published in all the world's newspapers dressed in the jewellery they thought might once have adorned the fair face of Helen of Troy rather than the austere features of a German banker's wife.
Archaeological vandalism
But in fact Schliemann hadn't found Homer's Troy at all. Within three
years of his death his theory was disproved by one of his co-workers.
The jewellery and the site were authentic, but from a completely different
period.
Vast amounts of irreplaceable archaeology had been destroyed in the pursuit of a dream, and Hissarlik now looks like a bombsite. Some archaeologists say it's the worst case of deliberate archaeological vandalism they've ever seen. Good archaeology is about observing and recording what's actually there, not searching for something and then persuading yourself that the evidence fits your theory.
Cast-iron evidence
But even when archaeologists come up with cast-iron dating evidence,
they can seldom do more than give us the general background of that period.
They can find settlements and field systems and create a picture of the
environment, but archaeology is pretty useless at locating a particular
moment of history in the ground.
Actually, that's not strictly true. Presumably the funeral of your Anglo-Saxon skeleton was a pretty big moment in the life of his or her family and it's been vividly recorded in the archaeology. But you don't know the name of the person whose skeleton you uncovered and you don't have a specific date for the burial. And in fact archaeologists seldom do.
Boudica and the Great Plague
Occasionally, of course, archaeology will coincide with a particular
datable event. We know from contemporary records that Queen Boudica
burnt down the cities of Colchester, St Albans and London in AD 60. And
there's a layer of burning in all three cities from around that time.
Likewise mass graves from the Great Plague have been discovered in London
and so can be dated to the catastrophic events of 1665.
But usually, unless an archaeologist can find an actual inscription with a person's name and date on it in the right context, it's virtually impossible to prove a historical connection.
1066 and all that
For instance, take the most famous event in English history, the one
date we all remember: the Norman Conquest of 1066. It would have been
a moment of gigantic significance for everyone involved in it, but would
an archaeologist recognise it if he dug it up?
He'd certainly see profound changes in the archaeology of the period between AD 1050 and 1150. Massive castles appear all over the landscape in the macho new motte-and- bailey style. Thousands of churches and monasteries are rebuilt and renovated with entirely new layouts, and chunky, modern 'Norman' architecture replaces the simpler style used by the Saxons. There are subtler alterations, too, in the pottery styles and settlement patterns.
But would our archaeologist be able to attribute all these changes to a seaborne invasion by a small group of heavily armed Frenchmen? And even if he could, would he be able to date these changes to the year 1066? It's pretty unlikely, isn't it?
Human activity
So your theory that your medieval post-hole was part of Eleanor of
Aquitaine's sun screen is highly unlikely ever to be proved. Never mind.
Historically, there's still a lot you can tell from your trenches.
Not surprisingly, you haven't come across any dates or named people, but you do have at least 2,000 years of human activity. You've got material from the Roman occupation (AD 43-410), and your coins and pottery should be able to give you a much more precise date within that timeframe.
The Dark Ages
You've also got evidence from the succeeding period (AD 410-1066),
when Roman government broke down and the Saxons and other European groups
invaded. This is the era we tend to call the Dark Ages because we know
so little about what was going on then. In our ignorance, we tend to assume
that life was dirty and fairly gruesome.
This impression is reinforced by the fact that there's so little archaeology from that period and what there is, can be pretty difficult to interpret. There are graves, of course, and dark soil, dark rotting wood, dark pottery, and dark refuse pits. Maybe it isn't surprising our view of Anglo-Saxon times is so dark, even though lots of people were probably living the life of Riley.
We certainly now know from the dig at Sutton Hoo in Suffolk and elsewhere that they had beautiful jewellery, magnificent helmets and incredible illuminated manuscripts. Compared with the later Normans, the Saxons were extremely sophisticated. Someone round here was certainly pretty well off. They dropped that beautiful coin of King Offa you found in your first trench.
Medieval layer
You also have a medieval layer (AD 1066 to approximately 1500). This
is a much more familiar period, populated by people we've all heard of
like William the Conqueror and Henry V. It's a time that's much easier
to imagine because there's so much evidence of it still around us in parish
churches, castles and manor houses.
You've found pottery and bone indicating plenty of human activity, and your post-hole tells you there could once have been a medieval structure here – probably nothing to do with Queen Eleanor, more likely a peasant's house.
500 years' build-up
But you also know that at some time this building was abandoned, because
there's a thick layer of soil on top of it full of post-medieval pottery.
This isn't just unimportant earth. It's the next layer of archaeology
– over 500 years of ploughing, manuring and grazing, which gradually
built up until the moment when your house was built and the garden was
laid out.
But this 2,000 years of activity isn't all you've discovered. Under the Roman layer in Mrs Gater's trench is a mysterious prehistoric layer. Not bad for a few days and two trenches.
