Dorestad in an international Framework: New Research on Centres of Trade and Coinage in Carolingian Times 9782503534015, 2503534015

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Dorestad in an International Framework

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Dorestad in an International Framework New Research  on Centres of Trade and Coinage in Carolingian Times Proceedings of the First ‘Dorestad Congress’ held at the National Museum of Antiquities Leiden, The netherlands June 24-27, 2009 Edited by Annemarieke Willemsen & Hanneke Kik

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© 2010 Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. Isbn: 978-2-503-53401-5 Depot nummer: D/2010/0095/130 Printed in the E.U. on acid-free paper Design: Chiel Veffer Vormgeving, Amsterdam

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Contents Annemarieke Willemsen Welcome to Dorestad A History of Searching and Finding ‘the Dutch Troy’

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Dorestad revisited Jan van Doesburg Villa non modica? Some Thoughts on the Interpretation of a large Early Medieval Earthwork near Dorestad

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Juke Dijkstra & Gavin Williams New research in Dorestad Preliminary Results of the Excavation at the former Fruit Auction Hall (‘Veilingterrein’) at Wijk bij Duurstede Raphaël Panhuysen Intermezzo: In Search of the People of Dorestad

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Sven Kalmring Dorestad Hoogstraat from a Hedeby/Schleswig point of view Chrystel Brandenburgh Textile production and trade in Dorestad

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Dorestad coined Arent Pol Madelinus and the Disappearing of Gold

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Simon Coupland Boom and Bust at 9th-century Dorestad

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Gareth Williams The Influence of Dorestad Coinage on Coin Design in England and Scandinavia

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Dorestad fired Clasina Isings Some glass finds from Dorestad A Survey Luc Megens Chemical Characterisation of Glass and Inlays from Dorestad Preliminary Results of Non-destructive X-Ray Fluorescence Analyses Florian Preiß Tesserae and Glass Drops Indications for Glass Working in Early Medieval Dorestad

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Dorestad centred Dagfinn Skre From Dorestad to Kaupang Frankish Traders and Settlers in a 9th-century Scandinavian town

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Claus Feveile Ribe Emporium and Town in the 8th-9th Century

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Sauro Gelichi Venice, Comacchio and the Adriatic Emporia between the Lombard and Carolingian Age

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Pieterjan Deckers An illusory emporium? Small Trading Places around the southern North Sea Dries Tys The Scheldt Estuary as a Framework for Early Medieval Settlement Development Annemarieke Willemsen Dorestad discussed Connections and Conclusions Bibliography About the authors Name index

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Welcome to Dorestad A History of Searching and Finding , the Dutch Troy ,

In a recent book on the history of the Netherlands, Dorestad has been named ‘the Dutch Troy’ (Mak et al. 2008:631). This phrase was chosen because of the intriguing disappearance of a once famous and prosperous town, and the legends formed in the centuries after about its location. The reputations of both towns can also be compared: Dorestad is inarguably one of the greatest places the Netherlands ever lost and its story, like that of Troy, has been – and should be – told over and over again. This article aims to give a historiographic overview of the archaeological activity at Wijk bij Duurstede, the site of Dorestad, in the course of the past one and a half centuries, with emphasis on the first work done there in the early 19th century and on the way the results were made public. As we will see, what happened at Dorestad over the centuries reflects changing views and valuation of the Middle Ages and of the past in general. D o r e s ta d, a m e d i e va l m e t r o p o l i s

Fig. 1

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Dorestad (Fig. 1) was the Carolingian vicus nominatissimus in the Rhine Delta. As the northernmost river-based trade centre, it functioned for over a century, from mid-8th till mid-9th century, as a junction between the Carolingian Empire and the Viking world, stapling and transiting trade goods. It was wealthy, as its find assemblages show, but a centre of consumption rather than of production. It was Christian, as its many graves indicate, but a centre of conversion rather than of commemoration. The town was protected and favoured by all Carolingian emperors, from Pippin, who won it over the Frisians in 695, to Lothar I, who saw it being set on fire by the 1 Despite this term, Dorestad is described in this book as having ‘the atmosphere of a busy fishing village, without too much urban allure’, with a ‘naive’ and ‘innocent rural appearance’ (Mak et al. 2008:68); the description makes one wonder why the Vikings would even bother. 2 'Dorestad, Medieval Metropolis’ was the title of the first large exhibition on this early medieval town, presented at the National Museum of Antiquities 17 April-1 November 2009, that was the occasion for the congress of which these proceedings are the result. The first section of this article is based on the accompanying book in Dutch (Willemsen 2009).

Vikings in 846. All emperors had silver denarii minted here, on which the town is characterized by a classical-style building, a cross or a ship: these coins spread the fame of Dorestad as a Carolingian, Christian trade port all over the world. Like most other vici, the outstretched harbour town of Dorestad disappeared in the second half of the 9th century. Shortly after, another type of town, more centralized and defendable – often based on a ring fortress datable to the last quarter of the 9th century – emerged at the riversides. The later, circular town type was at the base of most later medieval and modern cities in the Netherlands. In Wijk bij Duurstede too, the latemedieval centre with church and castle covers only a small tip of the early medieval town, and this dislocation contributed to both the preservation and the destruction of the remains of Dorestad. After the well-known, exceptionally harsh Viking attacks of 863, Dorestad largely disappeared from the written sources. When in 948, almost a century later, the site is mentioned in a charter of Otto I, it is referred to as ‘a large farmstead, where once was Dorestad but it is now called Wijk’ (Lebecq 1983:416); this source shows that the name of the old town was then attached to the new name of the place. Although heavily over-debated, it seems most likely that the present-day name ‘Wijk’ stems from ‘vicus’ (as elsewhere) and that ‘Duurstede’, the name of the later castle, still somehow echoes the word ‘Dorestad’. T h e f i r s t e xc avat i o n s

The early medieval Dorestad was only rediscovered around 1840 and then by accident. In these years, poor people started digging up massive amounts of animal bones in the surroundings of Wijk bij Duurstede. These were harsh winters with not much work on the land, and the earnings made by selling bones to the fertilizer industry was much welcomed. Normally, bones from the slaughter-houses were used, but a cattle-plague led King William III in 1839 to outlaw the use of fresh bones. The layers of bones already uncovered in Wijk bij Duurstede then came in handy, because everybody knew that they were ‘over a thousand years old’. As eye witnesses w e l c o m e t o d o r e s ta d

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Annemarieke Willemsen

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Fig. 2

pag. 19

Fig. 3

pag. 20

Fig. 4

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say, ‘soon the whole needy population of the town was underground’ (Van der Veur 1843:44). From the records we know that at least 500,000 kilograms of bones were dug up in three months alone, between the end of November 1841 and the end of February 1842. In this winter, the whole area on both sides of the Hoogstraat with a length of one kilometer and a width of over one hundred metres was emptied. This means, in retrospect, that an essential area of the Carolingian town was lost. From these bone pits, jewellery, coins and other antiquities were retrieved, that found their way into collections. Some valuable finds were sold to the (now National) Museum of Antiquities, founded in 1818 in Leiden. Other finds were given or sold to important people, mostly aristocrats – especially Baron van Ittersum – in the Utrecht area; many of these objects ended up in the collection of the Provinciaal Utrechts Genootschap (Provincial Utrecht Society), now part of the municipal archaeological service of the City of Utrecht, that cares for these 19th-century finds and all the boxes and labels that came with them. Already in the first year of these bone diggings, the destruction of what was clearly an ancient site was questioned. Some letters were written, but the local government replied that ‘just one ring or bracelet’ had been found and ‘almost no coins’ (Van Es & Verwers 1973:‘Bijlage’). This is an understatement; there was considerably more than that found, but it seems they had to let economic interests prevail. There were too many in need to afford the luxury of historical care. The eye-witness report published by J.C. van der Veur in the Utrechtsche Volks-Almanak of 1843 sketches how things were found – and lost. He himself collected over 600 objects from between the bones and put considerable effort into persuading most diggers to preserve the things they found, contrary to ‘their custom of carefully crushing and scattering the objects that they did not know or that in their opinion did not have a certain monetary value’ (Van der Veur 1843:49). Challenged by a competition, held by the Utrechts Genoot­schap voor Kunsten & Wetenschappen (Society for Arts & Sciences of the Province of Utrecht), curator-director L.J.F. Janssen of the Museum of Antiquities wrote down his observations and opinions of the diggings at Wijk. He provided a list of the most important finds that had reached the Leiden museum or the private collections known to him, especially the objects collected by Van der Veur (a vicar of Zoelmond) that had ended up in the home of Mr. P.A. Brugmans of Amsterdam (Janssen 1842). The extensive report published by Janssen in 1842 on the bone diggings and the objects found prompted the Dutch ministry to fund ‘regular excavations’ at the site, supervised by Janssen. Considering the era he worked in, he conducted and documented his work in an almost exemplary way. Subsequently, he published illustrated reports (Fig. 2-4) in which he presented a good overview of the early medieval town that he, and most of the locals, recognized as the ‘famous old Dorestad’. As the lion’s share of animal bones and interesting objects had been found near a street – then and still

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– called the Hoogstraat (‘High Street’), Janssen first wished to construct a trench running east-west all through the fields on both sides of the Hoogstraat, revealing the street itself as well. It had to be ‘2 ellen breed’ (c.140 cm wide) and deep enough to reach either virgin soil or the ground water level. Unfortunately, he could not find one piece of the field untouched enough, as the diggers had been moving from one pit to another like moles, leaving the area turned inside out. Therefore he had to find single plots and try to ‘join them up in the mind’. He acquired permission of those who owned the plots selected and of the mayor, J.H. van Mariënhoff, as the Hoogstraat itself was municipal property. Because Janssen had no idea how deep they would have to dig, he first planned a straight line of pits of c.140 x 140 cm, 280 cm apart; in this way they could be connected later to form a trench. These first real excavations at Wijk bij Duurstede started on 19 November 1842. ‘With a small number of workmen, that however quickly grew to thirty, the excavations were started on the 19th of November. They lasted until the 14th of December next, almost uninterrupted, from 8 or 9 in the morning, until we were prevented by the evening darkness from distinguishing the objects clearly. They were not disturbed by frost too strong, and just once by rainfall too heavy; a small disturbance that so far into the season may be called a privilege’ (Janssen 1843:77). These weather conditions meant the bone diggings continued with great intensity as well, but the diggers stayed clear from the Hoogstraat and the plots marked off for Janssen’s trenches. In his report, he describes the activity of these weeks as ‘quite a spectacle contrasting the silent quietness of winter’: sometimes there were over sixty bone diggers working next to his own workmen. Janssen managed to look into many of the bone pits for comparison and to acquire some of the finds, but he explains that he was very busy with his own excavations, and that therefore most objects found in between the bones went to the Utrechts Genootschap voor Kunsten & Wetenschappen. Janssen was able to reconstruct the bone fields as an outstretched area, with the highest density of bones and finds close to the Hoogstraat. He distinguished an inner area of 39.5 hectares in which most bones and objects had been found, to which he adds the 16 hectares occupied by the town, as finds had been done there regularly. A wider area around this, outside of which almost no bones or objects had been found, comprises 246 hectares. The eastern border of this activity area was formed by the low-laying old riverbed of the Rhine, close to the Hoogstraat, which ran alongside the gardens of a Mr. De Bruin, where much excavations had been done. The western border seemed to be marked by the ‘Cothense zandweg’, an old road also lying low. Janssen notes that close to both the southern and the northern border of his ‘outer area’ there were fields both called ‘kapel’ (chapel) where human bones had been found, but animal bones were lacking; he suspected these to have been cemeteries on the boundaries of the area. Janssen’s detailed excavation reports clearly reveal that he was well aware of specialist know-how: he was quick to

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The first profile

Fig. 5

page 22

In 1843, Janssen had three cross-sections dug of the Hoog­­ straat. The first (later called ‘middle’) one, near the Donkersteeg, was dug at the highest point of the site, close to which a mass of bones had been found. This section was excavated on the 25th of November 1843 and the days following, when from the trench of over 8 m wide 12.6 m3 [40 cubic el] of soil was extracted, with over 10 kilograms of bones in it. Janssen meticulously noted down the depth of each layer of soil and every find from that layer – but when someone else took over the supervision, the depths on which each object was found are missing from the reports. After clearing out the trench, he created a profile: ‘After the ditch had been searched everywhere, I had the soil thrown out until the water level, and when the sides of the ditch had been cut away perpendicularly, we were able to record and depict with great accurateness the various layers of soil, as they showed themselves multicoloured in the section’ (Janssen 1843:100). Subsequently, he meticulously describes the colour, character and relative height of the 27 layers and mentions a depiction made at his directions by G.J. Janssen, a supervisor at Rijkswaterstaat (the department of Waterways and Public Works) in Arnhem. As coins of Louis the Pious were found in the layers, Janssen is able to date the Hoogstraat profile to the Carolingian Age. The coloured profile drawing – one of the first in Dutch archaeology to my knowledge – was not published, but is still in the archives (Fig. 5). He may well have intended to publish it: in all his printed reports, he expresses disappointment that he can include only a few colour plates, and promises the publication of more depictions of finds later, as well as a full plan of the excavations (Janssen 1843:74). T h e f i r s t F r a n k i s h c e m e t e r y

In the winter of 1844, during new bone diggings, a large cemetery was discovered at the site called De Heul (‘The hill’). Although the bones found here were recognized as human, they were known to be a thousand years old like the animal bones and therefore the human nature of the material does not seem to have been seen as a problem. Another

20,000 to 40,000 kilograms were removed here. This means that hundreds of early-medieval graves were lost. Also the limestone sarcophagi, both intact ones and fragments, found during these digs, have not been preserved. When asked by Janssen, the diggers said that the human bones that they sold had not been burnt ones and had not been intermingled with animal bones. But as they had been digging ‘with the same turbulence’ – as Janssen describes – they did not know if they had found complete skeletons or how these had been positioned, only that ‘in some places the bones had been piled up three to four palms thick’. There were pieces of skulls and chunks of limestone on the fields, and he found out that three sarcophagi were still in the homes of the finders. When excavating at the end of 1843, Janssen had already been told that some time earlier ‘headstones’ had been found to the east of the Hoogstraat, which could not be retraced; these were probably, as Janssen says, the stone coffins that were found back in 1844 at the property of a Mr. Heymans. After having documented the sarcophagi, each with a body in it, Janssen asked for permission to conduct an excavation on the highest part of their land, where the coffins had been found. Although the land had been grubbed heavily, he had a south-north trench dug out through the sand that surrounded the coffins’ find spot. At the same depth the sarcophagi had been found, they found half of a human skeleton, the head in the east, which seemed to the finders of the coffins to have been right under one of the coffins. Below this skeleton, Janssen found some charcoal and some Carolingian sherds. They found three further skeletons. One was facing east with near the lower left arm an iron knife, of a type Janssen also found in a stone floor at a Hoogstraat trench together with Carolingian coins. There was also a green glass fragment here, his description of which is illustrative for the detail in which he describes his finds: ‘the bottom part of a green glass cup in the shape of our beer glasses, but oval-circularly tapering off at the bottom; it was ribbed on the outside, and decorated with the Carolingian cross in relief against the bottom (on the outside); because of this, it could not stand up; the cross was 2.4 cm long and wide’ (Janssen 1859:36). The third was facing west, with the skull detached and at a lower level; at the lower left arm, that had been bent inwards, there was a pair of tweezers. The last skeleton was facing east. Under the head was a piece of red brickstone, under the middle a piece of tufa, and somewhat lower a piece of chalk: ‘Possibly, these three fragments of stone were meant to indicate, at the funeral, the spot and direction of the deposition of the body’. At a depth of c.95 cms, he has to stop digging because the water starts bubbling up. From the middle of his trench he has another one dug, in a westerly direction, in which pieces of worked limestone were found, with remains of a skeleton in between; the pieces once made up a coffin and this grave, like some of the others, was probably desecrated. Janssen concludes that De Heul was an extensive cemetery in Frankish times. Because some of the skeletons are female and there was no evidence of weaponry, he argues that these w e l c o m e t o d o r e s ta d

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bring in experts to the site whenever he found things that needed specialist attention, or took categories of objects to other museums for expert examination. He took ‘anatomist Dr. Lapidoth’ with him when he went to examine skeletons at the finders’ houses and brought excavated tree roots – as it appeared, from beech trees – to the ‘Ph.nat.D and tree nurse J. Wttewaall’. When in his trench, he had to dig through a thick layer of animal bones, he ordered layers of ‘one palm thick’ to be carefully removed and packed separately, to enable an expert from the Museum of Natural History (also in Leiden) to examine them later in their original order. But he himself could already conclude that there were bones of all kinds of animals, mostly cut off and that there were household objects in between and coins of Louis the Pious, which gave a date to the layer.

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Fig. 6

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are not the victims of a battle. As around the cemetery there were many animal bones and the objects normally found between them, the cemetery itself must have been in use in Carolingian times, and to his opinion also somewhat earlier, in Merovingian times. In 1844 when De Heul was found, no other Frankish cemetery had been found in the Netherlands, and none was known to Janssen from abroad. The Janssen archive

It took fifteen years to get the cemetery published (Fig.  6). For his 1859 report ‘Frankish cemetery; bodies, tools, decorations, excavated near Wijk bij Duurstede (Dorestat)’ Janssen used piles of notes that he took in 1844, that are still preserved in his archives in the Leiden University Library.3 The archive contains for instance a handwritten report of the three stone sarcophagi found on ‘De Heul’, at a depth of c.35 cm, each with a skeleton but without a lid, the head in the west, the feet in the east, in a row from south to north, next to each other but at varying distances: the southernmost c.15 cm from the middle one, the northernmost c.30 cm from the middle one. He noted that they were made of limestone and roughly cut, the head was wider than the foot and the coffins were originally c.15 cms high, but now heavily damaged. The sarcophagi were still in the possession of the finders (called Jakobs, Van Dieten and Vermeulen) then, and Janssen made descriptions of the sarcophagi and the skeletons, noting that in the surroundings of the coffin a piece of an iron sword had been found and a green glass goblet. In the margin is a later note saying that he identified the latter in 1848 in the PUG-collection in Utrecht.4 Most, but not all of this (not the names of the finders, for instance) ended up in the printed report (Janssen 1859:31-3). Janssen’s notes also contain a few finds not mentioned in his reports, like a coin hoard that he saw, found at the beginning of 1846: ‘a clod of silver coins, locked inside a long copper tube [...], the coins stuck to each other and seemingly all the same’. The archives also give some insight into how Janssen proceeded to acquire the first part of the Dorestad collection in the Leiden Museum. There is for instance a printed page about the bone diggings at ‘De Heul’, where gold coins are mentioned and ‘two coffins of hard stone’, of which the intact one was found by Gerardus Jacobs, and as 60 guilders had been offered for it by a private individual, it is feared that it will be ‘lost to the Utrecht museum’. Furthermore, there are drawings and a print in wax of a gold ring decorated with triangles found in 1846, then in a private collection in Utrecht. These depictions make it easy to identify the ring in the collections of the National Museum of Antiquities at Leiden. As it was inscribed into the museum inventory as part of several hundreds of finds from Wijk bij Duurstede, given continuous WD-numbers by Janssen, in 1868, it is unclear 3 Signature B.P.L. 944 III, folder 297-315 ('Wijk'). 4 The goblet is still in the PUG-collection, inv.no. 6867. 5 Then owned by N. Balfoort, the ring was acquired for the National Museum and inscribed in 1868: inv.no. WD 674, see Willemsen 2009, ill. 185.

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when he managed to extract this ring from the former owner.5 However, from the combination of his published reports, the inventory books and his preserved notes, it is clear how he went about acquiring the most important finds for the Leiden Museum. Basically he did this by intensive ‘networking’. Some of the finds were eventually presented to him after he went to see the owners and expressed his enthusiasm, some came through subtle pressure over many years by intermediaries, and his notes also attest to his specific collecting of early medieval objects by exchanging late medieval coins found in the excavations for them. The first object from Dorestad came into the Leiden collections in April 1842 – the first year of Janssen’s excavations and involvement – when a silver bracelet ‘with serpent’s snouts’ (now inv.no. WD 680, see Fig. 3 top left) from the bone digs was given by baron F.H.C. van Heeckeren van Brandsenburg; it was the more important because it had been found with a human skeleton and an iron spur (Janssen 1842:60). After this, objects from Janssen’s excavations and those collected by him up to 1845 were inscribed in September 1846, completed in August 1848 by some finds he managed to collect afterwards, mainly mosaic stones and beads. In November 1848, a group of Dorestad objects was given to the museum by P.A. Brugmans. In November 1855 some Roman finds were donated to Janssen by J.P. Six, followed in November 1858 by a collection of Frankish finds excavated in 1844, donated by Six as well, who bought them from A. de Keth in The Hague. In April 1863 the museum bought some Dorestad finds at the auction of the Nijhoff collection. The largest group came into the collections in December 1867, when all the Wijk bij Duurstede objects (from digs since 1848) that had already been entrusted to the museum by Counseller of State P.A. Brugmans, after his death were officially donated to the museum by the Brugmans heirs. Following this, in 1868 a new inventory was drawn up of all the finds from Wijk bij Duurstede that had been inscribed in the inventory books since 1842; they were combined into a new list and numbered WD (Wijk bij Duurstede) 1 to 1053. The museum’s annual report over 1868 mentions that this inventory consists of 71 objects made of stone, 214 ceramics, 36 glass, 329 bone, 3 gold, 9 silver, 95 bronze, 12 lead and 262 iron. This totals 1031; the difference of 22 likely accounts for the coins from Wijk bij Duurstede, that were ‘all transfered to the Royal Coin Cabinet in The Hague’.6 This was certainly not all there was. True to the spirit of the times and following the wishes expressed by the Brugmans heirs that the remaining objects would be spread over the scientific world, at the end of 1868 large amounts of the ‘superfluent’ or ‘double’ early medieval finds from Dorestad were sent as presents to at least four other collections.7 The 6 Annual report National Museum of Antiquities 1868:9; letter to the Coin Cabinet of December 1868: depot ARA (National Archives), inv.no. 26, 17.1.1/24, ‘verzonden brieven’ (letters sent) 1867/68, letter no. 178. 7 Annual report National Museum of Antiquities 1867:8; 1868:9; all the letters sent have been preserved with their detailed lists of objects put at the museums’ disposal: depot ARA (National Archives), inv.no. 26, 17.1.1/24, ‘verzonden brieven’ (letters sent) 1867/68, letter nos. 106 (Utrecht), 107 (Groningen), 108 (Copenhagen), 180 (London); later letters mention the actual shipment of the boxes.

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F o r e i g n i n d i g n at i o n

In 1879/1880, there was again large-scale bone digging in Wijk bij Duurstede, in which another area was turned over. Of these digs, we know even less than of those in the 1840s. It has been said that there was some intervention by members of the Genootschap Flehite (Flehite Society) that then existed in Amersfoort, but their archive, nowadays in the Regional Archives of Eemland in Amersfoort, mention no involvement at Wijk bij Duurstede. They do however mention ‘some Frankish antiquities, found near Wijk bij Duurstede’ that were given by F. Croockewit to the ‘Commission for the Collection of Antiquities in Amersfoort and its surroundings’ in 1880.9 This small group of objects, likely originating from 8 The on-line collection database of the BM comprises over 115 items from Dorestad, see www.britishmuseum.org/research/search_the_collection_ database. I am indebted to RMO-registrar Heikki Pauts for putting me on track of these ‘de-collections’ in 1868. There are rumours that objects from Dorestad went to the Schleswig Museum as well, but this has not been traced in the museum archives.

Fig. 7a+b.

Scandinavian style strap end, from the 1879/1880 digs at Wijk bij

Duurstede. Amersfoort, Museum Flehite, inv.no. D-17.

the bone digs of 1879/80 and including a Scandinavian strap end (Fig. 7), an enamelled cruciform brooch and a gold Madelinus/Dorestat coin, is still kept in the care of the Flehite Museum in Amersfoort. Regional donations like this also show that by now it was quite well-known that what surfaced in Wijk bij Duurstede had some importance. But whatever was rescued by individuals like Croockewit is overshadowed by what was lost. A Swedish archaeologist, Hjalmar Stolpe, who had been excavating in Birka, visited the digs at Wijk bij Duurstede in 1880. He also went to see the museum of the Flehite Society at Amersfoort, that opened on November 1, 1880 and had a section on ‘Antiquities of Wijk bij Duurstede’. He was the first to sign their visitor’s book (Elias 2005:78) and ‘judged many objects remarkable enough to make drawings of them’.10 Stolpe was shocked by what he called ‘the scandalous destruction of remains that are important to the cultural history of the Netherlands’. In a letter to his director H. Hildebrand at the National Museum of Sweden in Stockholm, he wrote that although the antiquities were simply scattered, he had been able to see enough of them to conclude that they corresponded exactly to the objects he had found in the settlement of Birka. He recognized Dorestad to be the place of origin of all his ‘finer wares’ and of the ‘rectangular enamelled brooches’ (Van Es 1978a:198). The latter remark is most interesting, as these typically Carolingian cushion brooches are in a 19th-century depiction of finds from Dorestad too (Fig. 8), but as far as I know they have not been preserved. Through official correspondence of the Swedish museum director, Stolpe’s indignation was relayed to the Dutch authorities, but unfortunately no action was taken. In short, in the 19th century, Dorestad had been found, but much of it had been lost at the same time.11 9 Eemland Archives, Amersfoort, BNR 129, inv.no. 24 (minutes of the Flehite Society); inv.no. 48 (correspondence of the Flehite Society); Elias 2005. 10 Eemland Archives, Amersfoort, BNR 129, inv.no. 24 (minutes of the Flehite Society) 32. 11 The National Museum is planning a reprint of all 19th-century publications on Dorestad, including eye-witness reports and archival documents like these letters.

w e l c o m e t o d o r e s ta d

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Fig. 8

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largest group, containing 467 objects plus a large collection of Roman and Frankish ceramics, pieces of stone, ‘many comb fragments, many sawn off antlers, various swine tusks and cockfeet, and various unidentified objects’ were presented to the Provinciaal Utrechts Genootschap on June 26, 1868, ‘in the interest of the Society’. The ‘Hoogeschool Groningen’ (now the University) received 145 objects plus a collection of sherds and one of sawn off antlers, tusks and legs, and the National Danish Museum in Copenhagen 90 objects plus a representative collection of sherds, both offered on June 27, 1868. Finally, a letter was written by director Leemans to the British Museum, asking the London colleagues if they were interested in a small selection of antiquities from Wijk bij Duurstede, mostly from the Carolingian and Merovigian era, that might be of interest because they could be compared with things found in the United Kingdom. This offer was gratefully accepted and on December 28, 1868, a box of Dorestad objects was sent to the British Museum in London, together with a box containing 298 PhD-thesises of Leiden University. The Dorestad box – to give an idea of what was given away – contained 5 grindstones, 12 great disks (probably weights), 12 small disks, 5 slingstones, samples of earthenware, 4 fragments of skates, 12 disks with holes (probably buttons), 4 disks without holes, 5 bordkins, 3 needles, 3 handles, a disk, and axe, 3 broken spurs, 6 keys, 6 small knives, 6 hair needles and bodkins, 1 drill and 3 nails. 8 In 1911, five last (Roman) objects were removed from the inventory list of 1868, as they were exchanged by A.E.J. Holwerda with C. Peabody in Cambridge, Mass.; they likely ended up in the Peabody Museum there. The numbers of finds spread over the world like this, with for instance 6 keys in every shipment, demonstrates the enormous amounts of material dug up at Wijk bij Duurstede. At the very same moment, after having completed this crucial step in the preservation and making public of the Dorestad finds, Janssen officially left the Leiden Museum, by December 31, 1868.

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Fig. 9.

Excavations by

J.H. Holwerda in Wijk bij Duurstede in the 1920s: a trench passing a wall and villagers looking on. Photo: Leiden, Photo-archives National Museum of Antiquities.

H o lw e r d a at D o r e s ta d

Real interest in Dorestad appeared again only in the 1920s. From 1919 until 1928, Jan Hendrik Holwerda, then director of the National Museum, carried out ‘surgical excavations’ in Wijk bij Duurstede, each summer for a few weeks (Holwerda 1930:32). He was one of the first to document photographically what he excavated. As can be seen on these photographs, he had long trenches (2 m wide) cut through agricultural areas, sometimes running parallel, but without branches. Moreover, he kept digging in a straight line – for hundreds of meters – and did not even stop at a wall, to the amazement of the people of Wijk (Fig. 9). He documented what came up in his trench, but does not seem to have followed the traces. He did not attempt to map any of the areas more in general, as he was more interested in the boundaries of the site than in its features. As a consequence, his finds – although published extensively (Holwerda 1930:69-93) – are treated as side-effects, as when he stumbled upon a sarcophagus with a skeleton that just happened to be in his trench (Holwerda 1930:53-4). For the remarkable concentration of hard-fired ceramics we now call ‘Badorf’, ‘Reliefband’ and ‘Tating’, all little known then, he found parallels in Germany and Birka, and together with the small amounts of Roman and the absence of Merovingian ceramics this dates the beginning of the settlement to the mid-8th century, while the near absence of Pingsdorf ware points to it ending before the 10th century (Holwerda n.d.:66). In a preliminary article published in 1925, he mentions the remarkable black colour of the soil on both sides of the Hoogstraat, different from the brown lands all around, a deep black that could only have been caused ‘by intense occupation and especially a repeated destruction by fire’. Already in the first year, he found a ‘phenomenon’ that would guide them

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through ‘that labyrinth of fields, plots, gardens and orchards’, namely a large wall, made from wood, wattle and earth, reconstructed from its ‘pallissade ditch’ some 80 m east of the Hoogstraat and running parallel with it for over 175 m, ‘that certainly had been the border of the settlement’ (Holwerda 1925:3). He also found this wall around Dorestad on the western side, where he followed it for over 650 m. By looking for similar traces, he found a southern and northern border for the settlement, and a 14 m-wide canal connecting it to the river. He also identified traces of an ancient gateway. Inside the wall, everywhere they looked they found pole holes from rather small square houses built of wood and loam (Holwerda n.d.:31). These were on the western side of the Hoogstraat, as they found only an open space on its eastern side. Even though he admits that his excavations are incomplete and predicts that they will stay that way because of the condition of the terrain, Holwerda states that they nevertheless ‘have brought before our eyes a rather clear image of the once mighty trading place, that ‘famous vicus’ of Dorestad (Holwerda s.d.:33). Before he started, Holwerda already had a fixed idea about what the early medieval town should look like, and looking back it is easily detected that he expected it to ‘foreshadow’ a later medieval town type, with walls and gates. His trenches and coupes and especially his following the discovered ‘wall’ did not change that. Even before he finished excavating, he published his views widely, for instance in a book on Dorestad and the earliest Middle Ages of the Netherlands (Holwerda s.d. [1929]). His publications (see Fig. 14) depict a small elon­ gated town on both sides of the Hoogstraat, with a walled fortress to the west on De Heul he identifies as a curtis placed on top of the Roman castellum, and a monumental gate on the eastern side looking out to the river. This idea remained authoritative for decades.

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Fig. 10.

Excavations by the

National Archaeological Service in the harbour area in the 1970s. Photo: Amersfoort, National

A German intermission

Likely stirred by one of Holwerda’s publications, the German SS-officer Herbert Jankuhn planned to excavate Dorestad in the Summer of 1940 (Eickhoff 2007:353). Jankuhn was a well-known German archaeologist, who directed the excavations at Haithabu before the Second World War. He became a prominent member of the Nazi government, which entrusted him with museums and excavations in the occupied territories, often under the direct supervision of Heinrich Himmler. After imprisonment, he went back to excavating Haithabu in 1949 (Eickhoff & Halle 2007:137). Jankuhn’s plans for the full excavation of Dorestad were stopped only by a new law, prepared in 1939 but ratified on May 24, 1940, two weeks after the German invasion in Holland. This law ruled that only scholars that had been approved of by the Dutch authorities could conduct archaeological research in the Netherlands. This law was primarily aimed at preventing foreigners from bringing workmen into the Netherlands, while so many Dutchmen were unemployed. In this case, economic considerations prevented Dorestad from being revealed in troubled times.12 T h e RO B at D o r e s ta d

Shortly after the war, in 1947, the Dutch government installed a national service for archaeological research, the Rijksdienst voor het Oudheidkundig Bodemonderzoek (ROB). It often planned small excavations following observations by their correspondents throughout the country. In that way, a small 12 I want to thank Dr. Martijn Eickhoff of the Radboud University Nijmegen and the National Institute for War Documentation (NIOD) Amsterdam for this information and for valuable discussions on the subject.

cemetery of Dorestad was investigated by Herre Halbertsma at the northern tip of the vicus in 1953 (Halbertsma 2000:122).13 Based on grave goods like beads and an iron knife, he dated the graves to the 7th century. The deceased had been placed in an east-west formation, with the heads in the west. This cemetery was built over in the course of the 8th century. Popular publications sometimes refer to ‘jetties’ (NRC 2/10/1968) or ‘Viking remains’ (Nieuw Utrechts Nieuwsblad 25/09/1968) found in this campaign, but those cannot be traced. In the 1960s, large-scale building activities were started on the outskirts of Wijk bij Duurstede, which was destined to grow to ten times its size in a decade. For the first time the fields and orchards surrounding the late medieval walled town were cleared and built on. As Holwerda’s were still the leading views, there were no traces of Dorestad to be expected in these areas. In reality, the newly built family houses had begun to destroy all that was still left of Dorestad. Quickly, researchers became aware that Holwerda’s ideas about the shape and size of the town had been mainly wrong and a considerable area was still in the ground. The National Service sounded the alarm and an impressive campaign was started to rescue Dorestad. On June 8, 1967, the ROB under the direction of Prof.dr. Wim van Es started what would turn out to be the largest rescue excavations ever conducted in the Netherlands (Fig. 10). It covered the northern part of the settlement, both the housing area and the riverbed itself, where an extensive set 13 The documentation and book of finds of this campaign are in the Dorestad archive at the RMO, box 11, folder no. 1992-903. Halbertsma was also in charge of the excavation in the Nederlands-Hervormde Kerk at Wijk bij Duurstede in 1971, see Dorestad-archive, box 1, folder nos. 1992-126/127 and 1992-904 (book of finds).

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Service for Cultural Heritage.

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of harbour works was found, the construction – in phases – of which was dated by 14C and dendrochronological research to the Carolingian period. The areas excavated in the first years, called De Heul, Frankenhof and De Engk, together form the major part of the settlement area with house plans and cemeteries; these are basically located to the west of the present-day Hoogstraat. From 1971 onwards, to the east of the Hoogstraat the areas now called Hoogstraat 0 and I to IV were excavated; this is the riverside near the harbour. The excavations went on for ten years, in which an amazing total of 35 hectares of Dorestad was investigated, in large pits of 20 x 40 m, the width determined by the width of the excavator machine. The plains were levelled by the machine, after which the traces were drawn and photographed and the finds collected. Three levels on average were realized in each pit. Apart from a winter pause, the digging continued the whole year, and the Dorestad dig included the season of 1974 that was almost swept away by rainfall, and the hot and dry summers of 1969, 1975 and 1976, when they had to wet the plains just to see the traces. From 1977 until 1986, the site called De Horden, which had long seemed unthreatened, was investigated, and from 1989 the area called De Geer. In the 1990s and the beginning of the 21st century, small pieces of the early medieval town could be investigated now and then in Wijk bij Duurstede. All in all, to date an estimated 55 hectares of Wijk have been investigated, more than in any other Dutch town. In addition to an impressive amount of Carolingian traces, there were remains from the Iron Age, Roman and Merovingian times in the area as well as small scale occupation from the 10th century onwards. This under­ lined that the rise and fall of Dorestad was – of course – much more complex then the written sources indicated. New largescale excavation methods were developed in the process of working quickly in very wet areas with ‘draglines breathing down your neck’, because the ROB had to keep up with the construction work. Nevertheless, the archaeologists never expected, when they came to have a look in 1967, to become a permanent factor in Wijk bij Duurstede. B at t l e b e t w e e n pa s t a n d f u t u r e

The archaeologists were not very welcome either, it seems. A folder full of newspaper cuttings in the Dorestad archive14 attests to – like in the 1840s – a harsh meeting of historic and economic interests. Already in the summer of 1967, the site proved much more interesting than was thought. While the National Service moved quickly to assign many of the fallow grounds to a provisional list of monument sites, in town the opposition to the archaeologists rose just as quickly. The town of Wijk bij Duurstede, called ‘sleepy’ or ‘old and dilapidated’ in the newspapers, had just been named an ‘overflow location’ for the city of Utrecht, destined to grow from 3500 to at least 25,000 inhabitants within a decade. The local authority had borrowed money, bought plots of land and started building houses. With the development, the 14 Leiden, RMO, Dorestad-archive, box 18, folder no. 1994-253.

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hopes of the local tradesmen for a much bigger clientele rose. But then the excavations proved important and it became clear that they were going to take more time (eight-ten years) and – even worse – more space, as more and more terrains become protected. In the fall of 1968, matters came to a head, which was all over the national press. On one side was the head of the excavations, Prof.dr. W.A. van Es, director of the National Archaeological Service and characterized by the papers – especially the local ones – as a scientist talking from an ‘ivory tower’. On the opposite side was the relatively new mayor of Wijk, W.A.M. Peters, who is described as having a ‘practical nature’ and who is backed by the municipal and provincial councils. The articles dwell on the contrasts between the mud boots in the excavation shed and the file cabinets in the town hall and the archaeologists are constantly compared to the Vikings that raided Dorestad, only the devastation to the people is now much worse. But first and foremost the newspapers feed on every pun thinkable about the ‘Fierce battle between past and future’, between ‘the town that wants to go forward and the archaeologists who want to go backwards’. In September 1968, a committee of ‘five angry entrepreneurs’ from Wijk bij Duurstede – the local wholesalers in fuels, textiles, iron, cigars and the local broker – appeals to the minister, Marga Klompé, for removal of all monument claims on terrains in Wijk, so the building of houses could proceed freely. They have calculated the direct damage done by the excavations to ƒ 23,000, partly because of 5,000 additional soil transports ‘as the archaeologists are not cleaning away the sand’ and the total damage to the state when the building cannot proceed to ƒ 5 million. Through the papers, they warn the local population that the rent of the new houses will go up by ƒ 550 ‘because the contractor will recover the costs from the tenants’. Mayor Peters pressures the ROB to work much more quickly, which is called a ‘wild suggestion’ by Van Es, and keeps asking why they did not start excavating years before, if they knew something so important was in the ground; he even throws the lack of activity in the 19th century in his face, and the fact that Holwerda ‘only showed up’ at Wijk forty years after a Swedish archaeologist had complained about the loss of Dorestad. The mayor also accuses Prof. Van Es of arrogant conduct when he suggests building the new town 5  kms further away and keeping Frankenhof and De Heul as a study area for future archaeologists. In the end, the ROB has to accept a compromise, which means speeding up the work: with twice as many workmen, who work as long as there is light and also on Saturdays. In this way, the average area excavated per year was more than doubled, from 2.5 ha to 6 ha, ‘at the expense of the details’. In the Fall of 1973, the municipality of Wijk bij Duurstede presented a claim of almost ƒ 45,000 to the ROB because, when digging at the Verlengde Nieuweweg, they dug deeper than had been agreed beforehand and without notice, to a depth of 2 m instead of 80 cms; again the costs relate to extra ground work and sand transports. It takes until May 1975,

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A f u t u r e f o r D o r e s ta d

These excavations revealed more than all previous ones. As I stated before (Willemsen 2009:18), they were not only the largest but maybe also the most frustrating excavations ever conducted in the Netherlands. The sheer Babylonic numbers of traces and finds dwarfed everyone’s abilities and now, over thirty years later, an awful lot still remains to be analyzed. Maybe the best news for Dorestad in ages is that, due to the awarding of a large amount of funding within the backlog programme Odyssee of the Dutch Ministry of Culture, a motley group of researchers including a number of young specialists, can devote another four years to working out the results of these rescue excavations (see p.xxx).15 Of course, there have been excavations, both large and small, after the big project led by Van Es. Results from those excavations can be found in the contributions to this volume by, for instance, Jan van Doesburg, who was involved in most projects in Wijk bij Duurstede between 1980 and 2000, and Juke Dijkstra, who has been in charge of the most recent work in Wijk in 2008 and 2009. These results are now being processed and it is still too early to write their history. On Friday July 18, 1969 – a typical Friday afternoon find – the large ‘Dorestad brooch’ was found, arguably the most important object from the site, by a member of the Dutch archaeological youth club, the Nederlandse Jeugdbond ter Bestudering van de Geschiedenis (NJBG) attending a summer camp at Dorestad. After 40 years, we traced him – Hans van Sluis – to be interviewed for the exhibition catalogue (Willemsen 2009:85) and his boys’ book story of a sixteen year old finding gold became a popular favourite, indicating that it was not too early to write the history of those excavations. The Dorestad brooch was and is of international importance and therefore the National Museum requested 15 Project ‘Dorestad – vicus famosus’, see www.vicusfamosus.eu.

that the Minister of Culture appoint it owner of the brooch. Asked for his opinion, Van Es argued that the brooch should remain within its assembly and context. This resulted in the full assembly of finds from ten years of almost non-stop excavating in Wijk bij Duurstede being allocated to the Leiden museum in 1978. There all finds from the 19th- and 20th-century excavations and all documentation are now combined into a national ‘Dorestad Collection’.16 New finds or documents can be added to it as well. In this way, we can make and keep accessible all that was yielded by the soil of Wijk bij Duurstede in almost 170 years to both researchers and the general public. Epilogue: the changing image of a Carolingian town

In the 19th century, only two decades after the excavations and publications of Janssen, a Dutch history book was illustrated in 1860 with what seems to be the first impression of Dorestad, entitled ‘A town in the 9th century’, accompanying a chapter of early medieval Dorestad (Hofdijk 1860:44-7). We see fantasy-houses on both sides of the river, a bridge, shipyards, a church with five towers, and a robust castle in the background (Fig. 11). The castle is meant to represent the Roman castellum, but it has the look of a large late medieval castle here. The shape and lay-out of the town are clearly based on written sources, and have no relation to what Janssen and the bone-diggers had shown to be there. Consequently, it mostly illustrates how 19th-century historians thought a town of a thousand years earlier should look. In Holwerda’s years, the best-known artist’s impression of Dorestad was made: J.H. Isings’ 1927 depiction of ‘The Vikings at Dorestad’ (see Fig. 21). It was produced for educational purposes, as one of a series of large plates on Dutch history, meant to be unrolled in classrooms during history lessons, and a whole generation of Dutchmen has grown up with this detailed image of Dorestad burning down. In the foreground is a tough Viking with a fantasy-helmet, standing on the gangplank of a Viking ship – covering half of the image space – in which looted objects are ‘displayed’. In the background more Viking ships can be seen and to the right a Viking army marches past a burning town, while a Viking wearing a horned helmet enthusiastically comes running towards us with more church treasure. It is well-known that much is incorrect in this plate, on various levels: Vikings wore no horns on their helmets, Dorestad was most likely never burnt down as a whole, and the prow of the ship is in reality a decorative post of a sledge from the Oseberg ship burial, less than 15 cm high. Moreover, the overall ‘heroic’ and violent atmosphere feels very wrong to our present-day standards, which mainly says something about those standards. These inaccuracies should not obscure the fact that Isings had done his research. Of course, he based his drawing on the findings of Holwerda, which were authoritative in his days. His choice to depict the town on fire fits contemporary ideas, but is clever as well: this w e l c o m e t o d o r e s ta d

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Fig. 11

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when a new museum is opened at Wijk bij Duurstede where the story of Dorestad and the excavations is told, to find positive articles in the newspapers about the local history. The articles always refer back to the troubles between the archaeologists and the local government in the beginning and always stress that those have now long been settled. In one of the interviews in 1975 (Trouw 21/5/1975), Van Es mentions that they have ‘so much ceramic pots, especially Cologne ones from the 8th century, that it makes us sick [...] We have hundreds of those pots. They will all be restored and then they will go to museums that are interested in them. In practice this means that most will end up in museum storerooms.’ This had a long tail – pots from Dorestad were generously sent to all kinds of museums, usually without keeping lists, and were still turning up in storerooms all over the Netherlands in 2009. Other statements were prophetic as well: the ROB director stating that his service, due to the pace, is being buried under data about Dorestad (Amersfoortse Courant 12/10/1968) and the repeated remarks of Van Es that it might take years before all data will have been analysed.

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way, not much can be seen of the houses of Dorestad, the topparts of which we do not know in detail. The messy quays with wooden poles, the shallow water in the foreground, and the ship sticking out of the water between two spits of land match Holwerda’s image of the harbour: the wide protruding platforms had not been found in their time. And Isings’ details are well-informed. The swords bearing the smith’s name ‘Ulfberth’, pictured clearly in the front of the ship, are likely based on the finds he knew from Haithabu, and he may even have copied objects like the jug between the barrels and the ‘Badorf’ pot with a row of notches from Holwerda’s finds. Ironically, the elements in this image we now reject are at the same time the reason that this image became so popular, much more popular than later views that show Dorestad without the violence. The reasons that Holwerda’s ideas and Isings’ image both remained accepted for so long is likely that most people of the 20th century simply stuck to the onedimensional image of an early medieval town with walls and gates like a modern town, which was completely destroyed by violent barbarians from abroad. The nuances in this picture are interesting only for scientists. The images of Dorestad that were produced in the decades after Isings’ have all been influenced by his plate, and most of them were assigned for children’s and school books (Willemsen 2009:173-5). It was only after the large excavations of the 1960s and 1970s that new reconstructions were initiated by the archaeological world, usually as illustrations for publications or exhibitions. The first set of impressions, both views of the settlement and details of daily life, were

made by Pat Andrea for a large article in the Nieuwe Revu of 5 April 1974. These benefited from the advice of Van Es, and the features of the settlement as he excavated it, with the rows of houses with outer posts on their individual plots and the platforms that expand within the house plot boundaries, can be recognized. There are no buildings on the jetties, keeping with his thoughts on the harbour then. On some details, Van Es cannot have had much influence, as either the houses are much too big or the jetties and ships way too short, and at least one Viking with a huge horned helmet managed his way into the magazine. The most frequently reprinted illustration is the drawing made by Bob Brobbel (see Fig. 42) for a 1980s mass market book on the archaeology of the Netherlands, Verleden Land (Bloemers et al. 1981). It is a bird’s eye view of Dorestad showing the harbour, with the characteristic ‘parquet floor’ of platforms in the front and small groups of ‘town houses’ in the back, giving a village feel to Dorestad. Since then, more images have appeared, including the two new ‘school plates’ created by Wim Euverman (see Fig. 1) and Paul Becx (Fig. 12) for the 2009 exhibition. They usually show the harbour with platforms, ships and just a touch of houses. The whole history of visualizing Dorestad shows that excavations may spur reconstruction drawings (or models, or re-building), and every age demands its own image of the early-medieval harbour town. The images thus not only portray the Dorestad known in various periods, but even more the Dorestad that was envisioned. Each era creates its own Dorestad.

Fig. 12

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16 The whole collection is planned to be digitally accessible by 2013, but thousands of objects can already be found on www.rmo.nl/collectie/zoeken and/or www.geheugenvannederland.nl, using the search words ‘Dorestad’ and ‘Wijk bij Duurstede’.

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colour plates

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welcome to dorestad

Fig. 1.

Bird’s-eye view of Dorestad in

833 AD. Drawing by Wim Euverman for the Dorestad exhibition, 2009.

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Fig. 2.

Litho with Dorestad finds, from Janssen 1842: Plate I.

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c o l o u r p l at e s

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Fig. 3.

Litho with Dorestad finds, from Janssen 1842: Plate II.

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Fig. 4.

Litho with Dorestad finds, from Janssen 1843: Plate III. c o l o u r p l at e s

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Fig. 5.

Profile drawing of a section through the

Hoogstraat at the Donkersteeg, Janssen 1842. Leiden, University Library, B.P.L. 944 III, folder 300.

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Fig. 6.

Litho with cemetery

finds, from Janssen 1859:

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Plate II.

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Fig. 8.

‘Finds from ancient

Dorestad’, from De Roever & Dozy 1890:after 294. Image thanks to M. Eickhoff.

opposite page Fig. 11.

‘A town in the

9th century’, from Hofdijk 1860: before page 45.

opposite page Fig. 12.

‘Vikings in Dorestad’.

Drawing by Paul Becx for the Dorestad exhibition, 2009.

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Villa non modica? Fig. 19.

Fragment, inlaid with enamel, of a gold brooch (below) found on De

Geer. The complete brooch probably resembled the one found in the Dorestad excavations (left). After Willemsen 2009:18 and 82.

Fig. 21.

‘The Normans at Dorestad’, school plate by J.H. Isings, 1927. Photo:

Rotterdam, National Museum of Education.

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Fig. 24.

Mass grave found at Wijk bij Duurstede-Singel in 2000.

New research in Dorestad Fig. 25.

Overview

and location of the ‘Veilingterrein’ at Wijk bij

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Duurstede.

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Fig. 27.

Preliminary interpretation of the identified features at the ‘Veilingterrein’.

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Raw material probably used for bead making.

Fig. 40.

Two types of crucibles.

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Fig. 37.

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Fig. 38.

Features with slag.

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Fig. 39.

Features with loomweights.

c o l o u r p l at e s

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 31

31

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

32

c o l o u r p l at e s

Dorestad Hoogstraat from a Hedeby/Schleswig point of view

Fig. 42.

Dorestad, Hoogstraat. Reconstruction by Bob Brobbel,

1981, based on the interpretations of 1980.

Fig. 46.

Wijk bij Duurstede. Excavated areas in the vicinity

of the modern town (Van Es & Verwers 2009:Fig. 2) projected on a pedological map with soil classifications (Bodemkaart van Nederland, Sheet 39=West Rhenen). Excavated areas: A: De Heul; B: Hoogstraat; C: Frankenhof; D: De Geer; E: De Engk; F: De Horden.

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 32

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Textile production and trade in Dorestad Fig. 61b.

Early medieval hat excavated at

Leens. Collection: Leiden, National Museum of Antiquities.

Madelinus and the Disappearing of Gold Fig. 68.

Escharen hoard, buried c. 600

(with replica of the original pot). Utrecht, Geldmuseum. Photo: RMO/Peter Jan

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Bomhof.

c o l o u r p l at e s

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 33

33

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

34

c o l o u r p l at e s

The Influence of Dorestad Coinage on Coin Design in England and Scandinavia

Fig. 86.

Gold mancus of Coenwulf of Mercia. © Trustees of the British Museum.

Fig. 87.

Silver penny of Coenwulf of Mercia, moneyer Oba of Canterbury. © Trustees of the British Museum.

Fig. 88.

Gold solidus of Charlemagne, minted in Dorestad. © Trustees of the British Museum.

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 34

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Some Glass Finds from Dorestad Fig. 95.

Fragment of a bicoloured bowl, WD72 374.2.7. Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

Fig. 97.

Fragment of a squat jar, WD 449.2.19. Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

Fig. 100.

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Chemical Characterisation of Glass and Inlays from Dorestad

The Dorestad brooch being analysed by XRF in 2008. Photo: Annemarieke Willemsen.

c o l o u r p l at e s

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 35

35

09-07-10 16:17

c o l o u r p l at e s

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

36

Fig. 101.

The inlay works from Dorestad, including cloisonné cells inset with glass.

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 36

09-07-10 16:17

8

0,4 blue tesserae green tesserae

0,3

6

0,25

5

0,2

4

0,15

2

0,05

1 0

0,5

1

1,5

2

2,5

green tesserae other tesserae blue rims

3

0,1

0

blue tesserae

7

Sn+Sb

%SnO3

0,35

0

3

0

5

10

15

20

% Sb2O5 Fig. 102a.

25

30

35

40

Ph

Tin and antimony concentrations in blue and green tesserae from

Fig. 102b.

Dorestad.

Relation between lead and tin and antimony in the blue and green

tesserae. The line indicates the expected relation if lead antimonate and lead stannate were the only sources of these elements in the glass.

0,9 0,8

0,8

green tesserae other tesserae

0,7

0,7

blue rims

0,6

0,6

0,5

0,5 Fe

Cu

0,9

blue tesserae

0,4

0,4 blue tesserae

0,3

0,3

0,2

0,2

other tesserae

0,1

0,1

blue rims

0 0,1

0,2

Fig. 103a.

03

0,4

0,5

0,6

0,7

0,8

Fe Iron, manganese and copper (counts of the individual elements

relative to the total counts of these three elements) in the tesserae from Dorestad.

0

green tesserae

0,00

0,05

0,10

0,15

Fig. 103b.

Mn XRF spectra of the five analysed smoothers. One of them is made

0,20

0,25

0,30

of potassium glass, the others of lead glass.

Fig. 104.

XRF spectra of the five analysed

smootheners. One of them is made of potassium D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

glass, the others of lead glass.

c o l o u r p l at e s

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37

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

38

c o l o u r p l at e s

Tesserae and Glass Drops

Fig. 108:

Catalogue images.

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Fig. 109:

Catalogue images. c o l o u r p l at e s

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 39

39

09-07-10 16:17

c o l o u r p l at e s

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

40

Fig. 110:

Catalogue images.

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From Dorestad to Kaupang

Fig. 111.

An artist’s view of Kaupang c. 850

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

AD. Illustration by Flemming Bau.

c o l o u r p l at e s

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41

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

42

c o l o u r p l at e s

Ribe

Fig. 117.

The market place in Ribe, c. 725.

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Fig. 119.

Tesserae in all

colors, probably manufactured in northern Italy in the 8th

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

century.

c o l o u r p l at e s

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43

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

44

c o l o u r p l at e s

Venice, Comacchio and the Adriatic Emporia between the lombard and carolingian age

Fig. 129.

Comacchio, excavations near the Cathedral, glass factory from the 7th-8th century AD. Illustration: Venice, Medieval Archaeology Laboratory.

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Fig. 130.

Comacchio, excavations near the Cathedral. Mould for cameos.

Illustration: Venice, Medieval Archaeology Laboratory.

Fig. 131a-b.

Comacchio during the Early Middle Ages, reconstruction drawing by R. Merlo.

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Fig. 132.

Cividale del Friuli. Capsella with glass cameos. Photos courtesy Gagelli.

c o l o u r p l at e s

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45

09-07-10 16:17

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

46

c o l o u r p l at e s

Fig. 133.

Comacchio during the Early Middle Ages: reconstructed plan. Illustration:

Fig. 134.

Venice, Medieval Archaeology Laboratory.

Cittanova

(Venice) during the Early Middle Ages: reconstructed plan, from Calaon 2006b.

Fig. 135.

Torcello (Venice): the

early medieval settlement, hypothetical reconstruction. Illustration: Venice, Medieval Archaeology Laboratory.

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The scheldt estuary as a framework for early-medieval settlement Development Fig. 147.

Section of the

10th-century earthen wall, discovered c.1870 at the quay side of Antwerp. Photo: Town of Antwerp.

Fig. 148.

Stratigraphy of 2008 excavations.

Photo: D. Tys.

Fig. 149.

Wooden structures excavations in 2008. D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Photo: D. Tys.

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47

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c o l o u r p l at e s

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

48

Fig. 153.

Glass with gold foil, restored by

Renske Dooijes (RMO), WD 811.4.53. Photo: RMO/ Peter Jan Bomhof.

Fig. 156.

Sherd of blue glass bowl with red/white reticella decoration, WD91

808.0.0. Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 48

Fig. 163.

The ‘famous’ Dorestad brooch pizza, created by Willemsen & Preiß

in 2009. Photo: Florian Preiß.

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

dorestad revisited

d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

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Villa non modica? Some thoughts on the interpretation of a large early medieval earthwork near Dorestad Jan van Doesburg

Introduction

Dorestad has long intrigued historians and archaeologists interested in the early medieval history of Western Europe. The site was discovered in the 1840s when inhabitants of nearby Wijk bij Duurstede dug up large numbers of early medieval objects whilst searching for animal bones near the town. Since then, several generations of archaeologists have carried out excavations around Wijk bij Duurstede (see among others: Janssen 1842; Holwerda 1929; Van Es 1978a; Van Dockum 1994; Van Es, Van Doesburg & Van Koningsbruggen 1998; Willemsen 2009; Willemsen, this volume). Particularly the large-scale excavations directed by the former Rijksdienst voor het Oudheidkundig Bodemonder­ zoek (ROB, since 2009 Rijksdienst voor het Cultureel Erf­ goed) during the 1960s and 1970s yielded a vast amount of infor­mation on the lay-out and occupation history of the site,

especially in the area north of the present town centre, the so-called ‘northern quarter’. The painstaking work carried out, and indeed still being carried out, by archaeologists W.A. van Es and W.J.H. Verwers to publish the results of these extensive excavations cannot be praised too highly. Beside a number of summary papers (e.g. Van Es & Verwers 1978; Van Es 1990; Van Es & Verwers 2002) two monographs on the excavations in the harbour area have already been published (Van Es & Verwers 1980; Van Es & Verwers 2009). The third volume, which deals with the excavated part of the early medieval settlement, is scheduled to appear in 2010-2011. In the decades after these large-scale excavations, further substantial archaeological investigations were carried out on the sites De Horden to the west and De Geer to the north-west of Wijk bij Duurstede (Fig. 13). Both sites yielded settlement traces from the Bronze and Iron Ages and the Roman period Fig. 13.

Location of the main excavations carried

out in Wijk bij Duurstede during the last four decades (black contours). Grey: areas with early medieval settlement traces. Black square: probable

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

location of the Roman fortress.

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52

Fig. 14.

Plan of Dorestad according

to J.H. Holwerda, with the vicus on both sides of de Hoogstraat and on De Heul a large rectangular fortification with gate, from Holwerda 1929:Fig. I.

as well as graves from the Iron Age and the Roman period. Furthermore, early medieval settlement traces and graves were found on De Geer, as well as the remains of a moated site from the late medieval period. The results from De Horden and De Geer show the area of Wijk bij Duurstede to have been densely populated already in the late prehistory. The excavations at De Horden have been partially published (Hessing & Hoogland 1989; Hessing & Steenbeek 1990; Hessing 1991; Vos 1994; Arnoldussen 2008; Vos 2009). The situation with regard to De Geer is different. All that has been published so far are a few publications on specific periods or features (Van Es 1994; Van Doesburg 1994; Arnoldussen 2008; Vos 2009), some site reports (Jaarverslag ROB 1989; 1990; 1991; 1992; 1993; 1994; 1995/96) and a number of papers on specific finds or find categories (Botman 1994; Linnemeijer 1995; Vreenegoor 1994; De Vries 1994; Bakker 1997). This situation will change in the near future, since funds have been made available through the so-called Odyssee-project for the publication of the main results of the excavations on De Geer, especially those relevant to the late Roman and early medieval periods (project Dorestad – vicus famosus). The present paper will focus on an early medieval earthwork on the site De Geer. The results presented here will be preliminary, as the data are still being processed. Nevertheless it is possible to make some general remarks on the lay-out and the possible function of this structure. D o r e s ta d : a ‘ t o w n ’ w i t h o u t d e f e n c e s ?

One of the most remarkable observations about the lay-out of Dorestad is the apparent absence of any indications for fortifications or other defensive structures. Recent trial excavations at the northern edge of Dorestad have produced no indications for the presence of defensive elements there. The site seems rather to simply fade out in that direction. There are, however, indications for the presence of a cemetery a little to the north of the northernmost Carolingian buildings. The

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 52

cemetery’s date is uncertain. A C14-sample taken from one of the human bones suggested a late medieval date (personal comment J. Dijkstra, ADC Archeoprojects, Amersfoort). No evidence has been found yet for the existence of the walls and gates Holwerda drew in his 1920s reconstruction of the plan of Dorestad (Fig. 14) (Holwerda 1925; Holwerda 1929). This lack of defensive elements is surprising, since Dorestad was repeatedly the main object of Viking raids around the middle of the 9th century. The site was easily accessible by water, and many luxury goods and other valuable commodities could be found there. The areas around Dorestad, such as the Betuwe, were also frequently attacked. After the first Viking attacks, measures were introduced by the emperor Louis the Pious for the defence of the coastal regions and the hinterland. He had seditiones or military bases installed on several locations. The troops stationed in these seditiones were commanded by imperial counts. After the death of Louis the Pious the military situation changed radically. Louis’ successor as ruler over this region, Lothar, seems not to have undertaken any military action; at least the written sources do not mention any. During the attacks of 845 the Vikings seem to have been defeated once by Frisians, and in 847 they fought in the river area with the counts Sigirus and Liutharius. During a Viking attack in 846 the emperor Lothar, who resided in Nijmegen at the time, was unable to prevent the Vikings from ransacking Dorestad and two other settlements. These reports suggest that there was some resistance against the Vikings but not in any well-organised way. In response to the Viking attacks circular fortifications were constructed in several areas, for example along the North Sea coast (see among others Van Werveke 1965; Van Heeringen et al. 1995; Woltering 2002; Van Doesburg & Schut 2004). Other defensive structures were built around trading sites and administrative centres. In the Netherlands, remains of such early medieval earthworks have been excavated at Deventer (Bartels 2006) and Zutphen (Fermin & Groothedde

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Tr e

1

kw eg 2

Romeinenb

0

Fig. 15.

aan

100m

Simplified plan of the Carolingian earthworks on De Geer and related

features (in grey); ditches are indicated by lines, and wells by dots. 1. One-aisled building 2. Three-aisled boat-shaped building.

2006; 2008; Groothedde 2009). There are some indications that early medieval Nijmegen (Janssen 1996), Tiel (Sarfatij 1999; Schurmans 2009) and Utrecht (Rijntjes 1994) were also (partly) fortified. Theuws (2005) suggests that Maastricht was at this time surrounded by a bank and ditch, but this is less convincing. Nothing comparable seems have existed in Dorestad, although we can only be certain of that for the northern part of the site. Possibly the ruins of the former Roman fortress played some role in the defence of the southern part of the

trading site. Perhaps repairs were carried out on the outer walls of the castellum, or a new fortification was build on or near that location. The fact that the location of a battle in 695 between Frankish and Frisian troops is called castrum Dorestat is interesting in this respect. In early medieval written sources the term castrum was used for former Roman fortresses in the Dutch river area such as Utrecht, Vechten and Dorestad, sometimes in combination with the term villa. One example is a document from AD 723 concerning donations to the church of Utrecht of lands that include et similiter villam vel castrum nuncupante Rethna, which refers to Vechten, south of Utrecht (see in Dekker 1983:31). A seditio may have been stationed at this castrum Dorestat. There seem to have been no defensive structures elsewhere in Dorestad, or, if there were any, they left no traces in the soil. This does not apply to the site of De Geer, c. 50 m west of the northern part of Dorestad. On De Geer remains were found of an impressive ditch system orientated north-west/ south-east. Its total length is c. 480 m and its maximum width c. 160 m. The ditches surround two rectangular areas, an eastern one that is 90 m wide and a western one of 70 m (Fig. 15). The ditches are 1.5 to 2 m wide and have an average depth of 1.5 m. The construction of the ditches was carried out in several phases. The southern part of the system consists of several short, interconnected or (partially) intersecting ditch segments. At least three main phases could be distinguished. The northern part of the system seems to have been constructed in one phase. Outside the short south-western side, L- and U-shaped ditch segments mark an entrance (Fig. 16). Rows of small postholes indicate a road leading to the site from the area south-east of De Geer. On the corner of the long south-western side, again outside the main ditch system, similar ditch segments are present. A third entrance was found in the northern short side, but this had no short Fig. 16.

Detail of the southern

part of the Carolingian ditch system, with fortified entrances at the south-west corner and the south-western side. The dots represent pits; dots with black D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

circles, wells.

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54

Fig. 17.

Transverse section of one of the wells found at De Geer, with a wooden

barrel used as lining. Three of the four complete Carolingian ceramic vessels are visible at the bottom and drawn on the right (1-4).

ditch segments on the outside. Instead, several postholes were found on the inside of the main ditch, which suggests that there may have been some gate construction. Finds from the ditch infill, in combination with stratigraphical information, indicate that the oldest part of the ditch system was probably constructed in the late Merovingian period. The main phases, when the system reached its maximum size, date from the Carolingian period. On several places Carolingian shards were found in the ditch infill. Within the two enclosed areas settlement traces were found. In the centre of the eastern area the remains of a large rectangular one-aisled building measuring c. 10 by 22 m were uncovered. This is in several ways a remarkable building, and no parallels for this building have been discovered yet outside Dorestad. In construction and size it differs from all other early medieval buildings known from Wijk bij Duurstede and the rest of the Dutch river area (see Van Es & Verwers 1978:233; Van Es 1990:157-8, fig. 4-5; Van Es & Verwers 2000:36, fig. 11; Van Es & Verwers 2005:176-9). To the west of this building and within the boundaries of the western area, the remains of a boat-shaped, three-aisled building were unearthed. This type of building was found in the west of the northern section of Dorestad, where it is interpreted as a farm building (Van Es 1990). Close to the oneaisled building were several wells, and more wells and several refuse pits were found to the south of this building. Wood samples from some of the wells produced tree-ring dates ranging from the early 8th to the middle of the 9th century (Fig. 17) (Verwers & Botman 1999). These dates indicated that the wells and the ditch system were simultaneously in use. Indications for the presence for other wooden buildings are scarce in this area; this may partly be explained as the result of post-depositional processes, such as intensive ploughing. However, it is not clear why this would only affect the traces of buildings in the lower areas, and not those on higher ground, where the one-aisled building is situated. Perhaps the buildings in the areas lower areas had shallower foundations,

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 54



1

Fig. 18.

2

3

4

5

Gold finds associated with disturbed early medieval graves on De

Geer. 1-2. Round pendants with filigree decoration; 3. Square pendant with stamped in decoration; 4. Richly decorated pearl; 5. Precious stone in gold setting. After Willemsen 2009:18.

of a type that was more vulnerable to later agrarian land use and so disappeared without trace. An alternative explanation is that there were no buildings within this part of the ditch system, at least no permanent ones. However, the presence of the wells and refuse pits does suggest the presence of human settlement nearby. So far no parallels for this ditch system are known from the Netherlands, and these unique features in combination with the settlement traces raise the question what the function of the site at De Geer-site may have been. W.A van Es has suggested that the site was a type of agrarian domain or curtis owned by members of a local elite (Van Es 1994:102-4). In his opinion the ditch system not only acted as a boundary marker but could also enclose a refuge for the inhabitants of the northern section of Dorestad. The theory that members of a local elite group – Van Es calls them ‘lords of De Geer’ – occupied the site is largely based on the early medieval finds. Among those collected from the topsoil are several objects of gold and silver such as pendants, pearls and brooches – possibly originally coming from 6th- to 7th-century graves (Fig. 18) – and a small, early 6th-century gold hoard consisting of coins of the Byzantine emperor Justinianus and hacked pieces of a gold bar. These objects of precious-metal suggest the presence of an elite group on the site during the Merovingian period.

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Fig. 20.

Well with timber-frame

lining found immediately south of

Fig. 19

page 26

The presence of elite groups on De Geer may even go back to the late Roman period. The site has yielded several bronze fittings of late Roman military belts and of types of fibulae often associated with the military (Nicolay 2005). Shards of late 4th-century terra sigillata bowls decorated with Christian symbols from Gaul, two late Roman coin weights from the eastern part of the Empire, as well as imported ceramics from the Eiffel area and 5th-century glass ware from the German Rhineland, all reflect trade relations with different parts of Western Europe. The presence of an elite group is also demonstrated by the finds from the Carolingian period. These include a piece of gold inlaid with enamel, probably a fragment of a brooch similar to the one found in 1969 during the Dorestad excavations (Fig. 19). The significance of this early 9th-century brooch and the social status of its owner are discussed in several publications (see for instance Van Es 1978b; Bastinck 2003; Van Es 2003:94; Willemsen 2009:81-102). All scholars agree that the brooch was owned by a member of the (supra-) regional elite. The possible presence of other gold brooches in the area places the discussion on elite groups in and around Dorestad in a new perspective. Possible functions of the e arthworks

The hypothetical function of the earthworks on De Geer as proposed by Van Es is interesting and deserves attention, but much is still uncertain, including the exact appearance of the complex. It is not clear, for instance, if the ditches in the southern part of the site represent a chronological sequence or if they were in use simultaneously. If the latter were the case, then the earthwork would have comprised three more or less parallel ditches. There are no traces of a rampart, but it is likely that one or more existed, since soil dug out of the ditches could easily be used to construct them. A wooden palisade may have been erected on top of

the rampart. Palisades, banks and ditches would have made it difficult to enter the enclosed areas, while at the same time guiding visitors towards the fortified entries. That the earthwork fulfilled some defensive function is evident. More difficult to settle is the question whether it was exclusively constructed for this purpose or if it instead combined several functions. The observation that at least the southern part of the system was constructed in several phases makes this last option more plausible. The present author agrees with the interpretation of the site as an agrarian domain or curtis. The wooden building within the eastern enclosure may have been used as the residence of the owner and his family. Its size and construction resemble those of a hall. Immediately south of this building was a well with a timber frame, the only one of this type found on the site (Fig. 20). It succeeded two earlier wells on almost the same spot. The infill of the well yielded a complete wooden bucket. The boat-shaped building in the western enclosure can be interpreted as a farm building. In any case the earthwork at De Geer was no ordinary domain, and no comparable sites are known. Perhaps its location in the immediate vicinity of Dorestad contributed to the unusual lay-out of the complex. A passage in the Capitulare de Villis, which dates from the age of Charlemagne, may shed some light on the situation. The text states the defensive measures that owners of curtes were allowed to take on their properties. They were permitted to surround their properties with ditches, which should not be wider or deeper than a man could dig without specialized tools. The soil from the ditches could be used to throw up a rampart, and a wooden palisade could be placed on it, but its height should not exceed the shoulder of man on horseback. Although the main function of the complex at De Geer was probably not defensive, its banks and ditches allowed it to be used as a refuge. There are indications that the complex indeed functioned as such, as will be discussed below. d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 55

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

the one-aisled building on De Geer.

55

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56

d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

Vill a non modica

As was stated earlier, Dorestad was one of the main objects of the Viking attacks around the middle of the 9th century in the Low Countries (see among others Hendrikx 1995; Halbertsma 2000). The oldest recorded attack on the trading place dates from the year 834. Between 834 and 837 Dorestad was annually attacked and ransacked. The chronicles mention the payment of tribute, the capture of part of the local population and the destruction of parts of the settlement. In 839 the situation changed. Louis the Pious granted the fief of the vicus Dorestad to the Danish princes Rorik and Harald. Lothar continued this arrangement after his father’s death. In 842 Rorik and Harald were forced to give up their fief when Louis the German and Charles the Bald invaded Lothar’s territory and forced him to flee. In 846 Dorestad was again plundered, and the next year a group of Danes occupied Dorestad and the Betuwe. After almost a decade in exile, Rorik was reinvested with his fief of Dorestad by emperor Lothar in 850. One of the conditions for his reinvestment was that Rorik was to defend his fief against attacks of Danish pirates. But Rorik had higher ambitions than the protection of Dorestad. In 855 he and his cousin Godfrid spent some time in Denmark, asserting their claim to the Danish throne, but their attempt was unsuccessful and they returned to Dorestad. Two years later Rorik returned to Denmark to take possession of the part of the Danish kingdom that was assigned to him, and it is possible that he stayed there for several years. In his absence Vikings attacks were recorded in 857 and 859. In 857 Danish pirates overpowered Dorestad and plundered the Betuwe, which was again ransacked in 859. In 862 Rorik was back in the river area but his presence could not prevent yet another attack on Dorestad a year later, by Vikings on their way to Cologne. Rorik’s role during this raid is dubious, to say the least, as the chronicles state that he advised the raiders to return the same way as they came, which implies that he gave them free passage through his territory. Some of the raiders may well have been his relatives or friends, and this may perhaps explain his behaviour. The attack of 863 is interesting for several reasons. First, it is the last recorded attack on Dorestad. Although Viking raids on the Dutch shores continued until the early 11th century, Dorestad is never mentioned as a target again. Secondly, the description of the 863 raid is more detailed than that of the earlier ones. Archbishop Hincmar of Reims, author of the relevant part of the Annales Bertaniani, stated that Frisian traders, seeing the raiders approach, fled from the emporium Dorestad to the villa non modica. Many of the Frisian traders lost their lives there and a part of the population was taken captive. The fact that the Frisian traders fled to the villa non modica indicates that they expected or hoped to find some protection there against their attackers. The second part of the text implies that their hopes were in vain. In the past it has been suggested that this villa may have been the trading place Tiel (see Halbertsma 2000:98). This is not very plausible since the distance between Dorestad

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 56

and Tiel by boat was about 15 km; at this time the stream Zoel connected the rivers Rhine and Waal with each other (Berendsen & Stouthamer 2001). Furthermore, there are strong indications that activities at the trade centre Tiel began at the end of the 9 th century, at least two or three decades after the attack of 863 on Dorestad (Oudhof et al. 1995; Bartels, Oudhof & Dijkstra 1997; Dijkstra 1998; Sarfatij 1999:273). Finally, it is not very likely that the term villa would be applied to the trade centre Tiel. In written sources this term is almost exclusively used to indicate an agrarian settlement with its fields and pastures. In the Carolingian period the term was specifically used in the Dutch river area for agrarian domains or curtes (see Dekker 1983:36-7). The term villa non modica can therefore be translated as ‘a not unimportant agrarian domain’. The question is whether the site of De Geer could be the domain mentioned in the Annales Bertaniani. We believe it to be quite possible, for there is much that speaks for it. First, the site is ideally situated relative to the northern part of Dorestad where some of the Frisian traders were probably active. The distance between the northern harbour area and De Geer was less that 500 m, and the site was easily accessible. A road led directly from the western part of this part of the harbour to the ditch system. Secondly, the earthwork offered some protection against an attack. The fortified entrances, ditches and ramparts, possibly in combination with a palisade, would have made it difficult for attackers to enter the site. Furthermore, the enclosed area was large enough to harbour large groups of refugees. Some of them may have brought their most precious possessions along, such as merchandise, kitchen ware or live stock, while others may have arrived without any belongings. If the earthworks on De Geer indeed served as a refuge and sheltered a large group of escapees from Dorestad for a certain period of time, this would explain the presence of far more wells than there are buildings. The refugees probably installed themselves in temporary shelters within the enclosures and dug the wells and rubbish pits; these shelters would have left no visible traces in the archaeological record. We do not know exactly how the Viking raids on Dorestad were carried out or how long each raid lasted. They usually seem to have relied on the element of surprise, and it is generally assumed that the Vikings acted very quickly: they landed with their ships, plundered and burned part of the settlement and left with their loot (Fig. 21). This scenario may be too simple and limited, as the written sources report several raids that proceeded in a more complicated way; an example is the description by Alpertus of Metz of the Viking attacks on Tiel in 1006 and 1007, among others (Van Rij 1980). Occasionally the Vikings stayed longer ashore and didn't leave until tribute had been paid. This seems to have been the case during the attack on Dorestad in 837. In the period between 847 and 857 Dorestad was captured several timed by groups of Danes. What these captures exactly involved and whether they were accompanied by substantial destruction of (parts of) the

Fig. 21

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Fig. 22.

A group of men armed with

shield, spear, bow and arrow, axe, and sword, from the Utrecht Psalter, c. 820835. Photo: Utrecht, University Library,

settlement is not clear. The capture of Dorestad by Rorik in 850 led to his reinstatement as vassal of emperor Lothar, which strongly suggests that Dorestad was used as collateral. During the raids between 847 and 857 the raiders probably stayed in Dorestad for a longer period. Their lengthy stay may have been caused by the opposition they met – whether by regular troops or groups of armed inhabitants – which may have been strong enough to prevent the Vikings from plundering at will, but not so strong that it drove them away (Fig. 22). When enemies were

more or less equal in strength it was customary to negotiate a truce. In such cases the Vikings usually demanded a tribute in exchange for aborting their plans to ransack the settlement, or at least to be allowed to retreat unmolested. If there was no defending army, or if the local population was too scared to defend itself, the Vikings were able to plunder at will. This also occurred several times at Dorestad. We do not know if the earthwork on De Geer was besieged and seized during one of the Viking attacks. There are no finds that may be connected directly to fighting and pillaging. The only possible exception is the presence of several wells containing complete vessels, the most striking example producing no less than four complete pots. This is the more significant since none of the hundreds of other wells excavated in Dorestad has yielded a single complete vessel. The phenomenon may reflect a dramatic event such as a Viking raid. d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 57

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

ms. 32, f 72v (detail).

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Fig. 24

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Fig. 23.

Location of two mass graves along de

Steenstraat (black dots).

The absence on De Geer of archaeological finds that unambiguously point to a Viking attack is not unique. As yet no hard evidence for Viking attacks has been found during any of the successive Dorestad excavations. The absence of destruction layers may be explained in part by the disappearance of early medieval surfaces in the course of later agricultural use. Perhaps two mass graves in the vicinity of the present Steenstraat, one of thirteen and the other of at least three individuals, may be interpreted as the result of Viking attacks on Dorestad (Fig. 23 & 24), but the exact date of these graves has not yet been established (Jaarverslag ROB 1976; Van Doesburg 2002). Shards collected from the infill of one of the graves, as well as the local stratigraphy suggest a (late) Carolingian or high medieval date. The cause of death of the individuals has not yet been studied either; the skeletal remains will be examined in the course of the sub-project Dorestad, the human factor: burial evidence AD 250-1000 as part of the project Dorestad vicus famosus. Comparable finds are known from Duisburg, Zutphen and York (Krause 1992; Fermin & Groothedde 2006; Richards 1991). There is, however, an alternative explanation for the lack of unequivocal evidence for the raids: the devastations may simply not have occurred on the scale suggested by the written sources. The Dorestad finds contrast sharply with those from Deventer and Zutphen. During Viking attacks on Deventer in the 880s several houses were destroyed, and in Zutphen the ravages of the same attacks appear to have been accompanied by a massacre of the inhabitants and a colossal slaughter of cattle (Bartels 2006; Fermin & Groothedde 2006; 2008). If such large-scale devastations had occurred in Dorestad one

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 58

would expect more finds similar to those in Deventer and Zutphen. Perhaps Dorestad was spared because the Vikings intended to return there every now and again. Why slaughter the goose with the golden eggs? There are more indications for the presence of Scandina­ vians in Dorestad than there are for Viking attacks, but not many. They include jewellery and dress accessories, soapstone objects, whetstones and parts of a clinker-built ship (see Van Es & Verwers 1980, Kars 1984:161-8; Besteman 1999; Van Es & Verwers 2009:214 and 242-56; Willemsen 2009:159-9). A few objects of possible Scandinavian origin were also found at De Geer; these included a highly decorated, bronze turtle-brooch (see Willemsen 2009:166, fig. 192-3). These objects are likely to have arrived in Dorestad through trade or (temporary) settlement of Scandinavians, rather than that as a result of Viking attacks. The Viking attacks on Dorestad contributed to, or at least further hastened, its downfall. By the end of the 9th century Dorestad seems to have lost its prominent position as a trading place. It was succeeded by Tiel and Deventer. Perhaps not surprisingly, the settlement on De Geer also ceased to exist around this time. Through time, the fate of this site seems to have become entwined with that of Dorestad, to the extent that it could not survive without it. De Geer was abandoned and the villa non modica disappeared. About 250 years later the south-western part of De Geer was occupied again when a moated brick tower was erected there, one of many such towers built in the 13th century in the Kromme Rijn area. This structure existed for c. 150 years, after which the site was turned into arable land.

09-07-10 16:17

New research in Dorestad preliminary results of the excavation at the former fruit auction hall ('Veilingterrein') at Wijk bij Duurstede Juke Dijkstra & Gavin Williams

Fig. 25

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In 2007 and 2008 ADC ArcheoProjecten carried out excavations in the centre of the northern part of Dorestad, at the site of the former fruit auction hall, the so-called Veilingterrein. The excavations were necessary due to redevelopment for housing and were financed by the construction company Bouwfonds and the Dutch government. Although the evaluation report as a final stage of the fieldwork is finished, the post-excavation work remains to be done; therefore only the preliminary results of the excavation will be presented in this paper. Before the excavation began, the question was asked why it was even necessary to investigate this area, given that around 55 hectares of Wijk bij Duurstede have already been excavated. The Veilingterrein was seen as the largest area within Dorestad which had not been excavated, situated between the harbour and the area which is considered to be the agrarian part of the settlement (Fig. 26). Very little was known about this area before the excavation took place, and although the trial excavations showed that disturbances due to the former fruit auction buildings were present, a large number of features were still well-preserved. Research on the Veilingterrein should produce answers to a number of unsolved questions. In the past, research was mainly focused on large-scale excavations aimed to increase our understanding of the layout of the northern part of Dorestad, carried out due to the fast development of Wijk bij Duurstede in the 1960s-1980s (Van Es 1990; Van Es 1994; Verwers 1994; Van Es, Van Doesburg & Van Koningsbruggen 1998; Van Es & Verwers 2000). The present research should hopefully provide more detailed and in-depth information about Dorestad. In the brief produced for the excavation the following research questions were defined: • How did the so-called black layer develop? Can we compare this layer to the black earth of for instance Birka and Kaupang?

• As an inhumation grave was found during the trial excavation, are we dealing with a single grave or part of a cemetery? • What part of Dorestad are we dealing with at the Veilingterrein: the agrarian part of the settlement, the craftsmen’s quarter or perhaps a mixture of both? What types of craft are we dealing with? • How were coins used in the Early Medieval economy? • What was the use of the Veilingterrein from the late 9th century onwards, with the focus on the period late 9th-13th century? To get more detailed information to answer these questions, we used methods that until now had not often been used on excavations within Dorestad including the wet sieving of part of the fill of the features and intensive use of the metal detector. Below we will first give a short outline of the development of Dorestad. This will be followed by an overview of the preliminary results. D o r e s ta d

Not much is known about the origins of Dorestad. ‘Dorestat’ was first mentioned on golden coins, trientes, struck by mint master Madelinus. The oldest coins date from around 630 AD. The existence of a mint stresses the importance of Dorestad at that time (Van Es 1994:90-91). Dorestad was situated at the border between the Frisian area and the Frankish empire, located where the rivers Rhine and Lek meet. During the 7th century the Frisians and the Franks were both trying to establish their rule in the Lower Rhine estuary. The Frankish king Dagobert had a church built in the former Roman Castellum Traiectum (Utrecht), west of Wijk bij Duurstede, around 630 AD. At this time a mint was active in Dorestad, implying that the Franks ruled the area at this time. Around the middle of the 7th century the area is thought to have been under Frisian rule. At the end of the 7th century, in 695, the Frankish ruler Pippin II defeated the Frisian king Radbod near Dorestad. However, it was only after Radbod’s death in 719 AD that Dorestad finally became a Frankish town (Van Es 1990:154-62; Van Es, Van Doesburg & Van Koningsbruggen 1998:15-17). d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Introduction

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Fig. 26.

The excavated area of the

‘Veilingterrein’.

Dorestad probably consisted of three elements: the southern part is thought to have developed from the Roman castellum Levefanum which was situated east of the present town centre of Wijk bij Duurstede. The location of this castellum was only discovered during dredging; beside Roman finds there are also a number of finds dating to the Merovingian and Carolingian periods. The church referred to in historical sources, was probably situated within the castellum as well as the mint; there may well have also been a central zone with a cemetery at the Engk. The third area is the northern zone complete with its own church and cemetery. Finds from the harbour area show that this northern part existed from the middle of the 7th century and it may well have had a relationship with the elite settlement located at De Geer, just north-west of the northern part of the settlement (Van Es 1990:154-62; Van Es 1994:102; Van Es, Van Doesburg & Van Koningsbruggen 1998:25-26; Van Doesburg, this volume). Dorestad developed into the most important trading centre within the Frankish empire with its period of prosperity in the second half of the 8th century and the first half of the 9th

century. It not only had a mint and several churches but also a tax collecting function (through means of a toll) and it is also thought to have been an administrative centre. Dorestad functioned as the main distribution centre in north-west Europe for wares from the Rhineland and the Eifel in Germany. From here goods have been exported to England and Scandinavia and would also have been sold on the regional market. It is not always easy to identify through archaeological means what these commodities might have been. We can read about fur, textiles, pigments, hunting dogs, slaves, salt and honey in the written sources. Yet those goods would have left little or no evidence in the archaeological record. We do however find wooden barrels in which wine was transported, often reused to line wells, lava-millstones from the Eifel, wheel-thrown pottery and glass vessels from the Rhineland, and amber from the Baltic (Van Es, Van Doesburg & Van Koningsbruggen 1998:18). Dorestad seems to have been not only a distribution centre but also a production centre. In the past evidence has been found for metal working, shipbuilding, amber, metal and bone working, and it seems that textiles were also produced.

T h e r e s e a r c h at t h e ‘ V e i l i n g t e r r e i n '

Fig. 27

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The area which was excavated in 2007 and 2008 is shown in figure 26. Depending on the number of features identified within the excavation trenches, one to four levels per pit were excavated, which means just over 39,000 square meters in total. On top of this nearly 198,000 finds were recovered. Figure 27 shows a preliminary interpretation of the identified features. The number of ditches is striking. The ditches have yet to be dated, but during the fieldwork it was clear that the wider ditches like the one in the north were 17th/18th-century boundary ditches and that for example the curved ditch in the west of the site was filled in in the 12th or 13th century. Most of the narrower ditches, which are north-south oriented as well as east-west, date to the Late Merovingian and Carolingian periods and seem to have been used to set

House plan dated to the 7th century AD.

Fig. 29.

House plan dated to the 7th century AD.

out plots or field systems. In general one can conclude that elongated plots were oriented at right angles to the river and that these plots were subdivided into smaller ones. Furthermore two concentrations of human burials were identified, one in the north-west corner and one in the east. During the fieldwork three individual structures were identified. The wells are highlighted in blue. We would now like to discuss a number of the features in more detail. Three house plans

In the western part of the excavation a structure was identified measuring about 35 by 5.5 meters (Fig. 28). The complete construction of the building still has to be studied in detail, but it seems that we are dealing with a structure with threeaisled and two-aisled elements. The smaller postholes which are placed closely together probably mark the location of the wall and together with the poles that were placed just outside the wall must have formed the construction to support the roof. At the location of the two clear postholes in the eastern part of the building there must have been a doorway and division within the building. The western, three-aisled part of the building might have been the stable, the living quarters were probably situated in the eastern part. In some of the postholes wood is well-preserved and hopefully this wood can be used for dating the building more precisely. In the southeast corner of the research area another structure was excavated, this time a single aisled building measuring at least 12.5 by 5.5 meters (Fig. 29). Generally speaking this building shares a number of elements with d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

However, the levels of production as well as the intended market for these goods are still unclear (Van Es, Van Doesburg & Van Koningsbruggen 1998:18). Our understanding of the layout of Dorestad is mainly based on the results of excavations in the northern part of the town, where most excavations took place. The present theory is that there is a functional division within the northern part, existing of the harbour area along the Rhine in the east, a central zone probably with artisanal production, and an agrarian area in the west. The present research area ‘Veilingterrein’ is more or less located in the central zone of which we still have little understanding (Fig. 25).

Fig. 28.

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62

Fig. 30.

House plan dated to the

11th/12th century AD.

the first structure; however the extra postholes just outside the wall are missing. This means that the wall must have supported the roof only. The ditch in the middle of the structure is not associated with this structure and is dated to a later period of occupation. Both houses can be interpreted as longhouses, with stable and living quarters under one roof. We can compare the type of building with longhouses found not only in the province of Drenthe but also in the coastal area of the provinces of South and North Holland. Similar house plans that can be dated to the 7th century AD have been excavated in Katwijk,

Rijnsburg, Uitgeest and on the island of Texel, an area that belonged to the Frisian kingdom at that time (Van der Velde 2008 for Katwijk; Sarfatij 1977 for Rijnsburg; Dijkstra 1992 and Bazelmans et al. 2004:21 for Uitgeest; Woltering 1975). Provisionally the two structures found in Dorestad have also been dated to the 7th century AD. This is the first time that this type of house plan has been identified in Dorestad. The third identified structure was found in the southern part of the excavation, measuring at least 23 by nearly 5 meters (Fig. 30). We are probably dealing with a two-aisled building. This structure can be interpreted as either a longhouse or Fig. 31.

Inhumation grave, probably from Carolingian times.

Fig. 32.

Inhumation grave from the Merovingian period.

Small cemetery in the eastern part of the site.

stable, when we compare it with structures that have been excavated elsewhere. In one of the postholes we found a piece of Paffrath pottery, which leads us to date this structure to between the 10th and 12th century AD. Inhumation graves and a small cemetery

In the north-west side of the excavation, two inhumation graves were found at more or less the same spot, but in different layers. The more recent one was east-west oriented and buried in a ditch somewhere between 770 and 970 AD, according to the C14-dating. It is striking that both hands and feet are missing (Fig. 31). The one underneath was lying on one side and crouched, dating to between 680 and 750 AD (Fig. 32). In the eastern part of the excavation a small cemetery was discovered (Fig. 33). Here, seven skeletons were found,

including a child approximately a year and a half old, probably buried next to its mother. Nearly all the skeletons have been dated to around the middle or the second half of the 7th century, maybe continuing into the early 8th century. All the inhumations are north-south oriented, but lying in different positions, sometimes on their back with bent legs and sometimes on the front (Fig. 34). No grave goods were found associated with the burials. This cemetery may well have been in use by one family, possibly by the people who were living in the longhouses to the west and south of this cemetery. A cemetery with comparable burial rituals is found in the northern coastal area of the Netherlands, in Oosterbeintum, Frisia. This cemetery, containing not only inhumations, but also cremations, can be dated to the 5th to early 8th century (Knol 1995; Knol 1996). Similar cemeteries are found in the western coastal area in e.g. Katwijk and Rijnsburg (Bazelmans et al 2004:23-26). d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Fig. 33.

63

d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

I n t e r m e z zo In Search of the People of Dorestad

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

64

Raphaël Panhuysen

The graves excavated at the Veilingterrein

dieval emporia have focused on political,

tus the human remains will be investigated

(Figs. 31-34) provide a glimpse of Dorestad,

economical and anthropological aspects

with modern osteoarchaeological methods

when it was on the threshold to become the

of these sites. The information concern-

and techniques. This investigation will pro-

large early medieval emporium for which

ing the people living in Dorestad, like the

vide a more detailed picture of the nature

the site is known. These graves contained

demographical composition and the health

of the population and its living conditions.

the human remains of nine individuals that

status of the population, has received little

Studying the diachronic changes in the

inform us about the composition of the

attention in the debate on the emporia.

demography of Dorestad may shed light

population. Among these human remains

Until now the few available demo-

on the way the emporium was populated

we find women and children. This suggests

graphic data for Dorestad are from a study

and how the population decreased in the

that the late Merovingian settlement housed

of the dentition of ninety individuals from

9th century. The research will be carried out

a normal population of children and adults

the cemetery of ‘De Heul’ by Perizonius

at the Amsterdam Archaeological Centre

alike. A comparatively short stature and

and Pot (Perizonius and Pot 1981). Only

of the University of Amsterdam within the

signs in the skeleton that are associated

three children were included in the sample

framework of a larger research project,

with poor health during growth indicate that

they studied. It is unclear whether this small

the ‘Dorestad – vicus famosus’ project

living conditions were less than in contem-

proportion in the sample can be interpreted

funded by the Netherlands Organisation

porary Maastricht (Panhuysen 2005).

as evidence for an underrepresentation of

for Scientific Research (NWO). This project

That the Veilingterrein has brought

children in the living population. No infor-

aims at the study of the landscape and

to light graves amidst traces of habita-

mation regarding the sex of these individu-

development of Dorestad from the Late

tion does not come as a surprise. Already

als was published. Age at death was esti-

Roman period to the end of the Early

during the first excavations in Wijk bij

mated on the basis of dental attrition and

Middle Ages.

Duurstede graves were found and the large

this indicated that mortality peaked around

scale excavations carried out since 1967

the 30 to 40 years age interval. Interestingly

have yielded considerable numbers of

the prevalence of caries was circa 5% of the

graves. Since then more than 2000 graves

inspected dental elements, a percentage

have been documented in excavations. 

well below the values found for contempo-

These graves and the human remains they

rary populations in Maastricht. In fact the

contain provide the opportunity to learn

prevalence of caries is more in accordance

more about the nature of the population of

with finds for Scandinavian populations.

Dorestad and their living conditions. In the

In Wijk bij Duurstede many more human

past decades archaeological excavations

remains have been collected from graves

and synthesizing studies of the early me-

dating between the Bronze Age and the Late Middle Ages. The majority of burials (circa 1000-1200 individuals) date from the heydays of the emporium Dorestad. In order to learn more about the demography of the population of Dorestad and the health sta-

Inhumation grave from the Merovingian period.

Wells

The large number of wells (159) identified during the excavation is also noteworthy (see Fig. 27). A large number of these wells date to the period of Dorestad, according to the finds that have been seen during the fieldwork, although it was obvious that at least some of the wells date to the 12th/13th century. Wood was still present in 47 of the wells, the majority of which were made from reused wine barrels with only two made from a hollowed-out tree trunk (Fig. 35). Although the large number of wells is striking, at this moment we don't know yet how many were in use at the same time. As can be seen, the wells are not spread evenly over the excavated area. Rows of wells may well mark the border of individual plots and it is interesting that few wells were found in the southern part of the site. Cr af t production?

One of the most important research questions was whether craft production took place in this part of Dorestad and, if so, on what scale. As we have learned from excavations at comparable sites, one of the most useful methods to help us find evidence of craft production and to understand the levels at which this occurred is through the wet sieving of at least a substantial part of the fill of features. Unfortunately it was simply impossible to wet sieve the fill of every feature, but within the available budget it was possible to wet sieve the fill of 123 features such as pits, wells and ditches, as well as a sample of the topsoil (sometimes called the black layer).

Fig. 35.

Well made from a reused wine barrel.

Figure 37 shows the features in which amber, beads and tesserae are found. When we compare these find spots with the features of which the fills have been wet sieved, it becomes clear that a high percentage of these finds have been found on the sieve. 50% of the amber finds, 65% of the beads and 76% of the tesserae were found on the sieve. Of course this is nothing new and again this overview tells us probably more about the methods used than about the activities that took place in different areas. However, we can conclude that there seems to be a number of identifiable clusters of finds which suggest activities took place at these locations. There are different clusters of small pieces of amber, which suggest that for example amber beads were produced. Interestingly we only found amber debris, rather than the finished articles which were produced. In the northern area a concentration of tesserae and pieces of melted glass as well as collected Roman glass has been identified (Fig. 36). Some of the beads may have been imported to be recycled or might even have been an example for copying. One of the beads in this cluster is unusual and was identified as probably originating from the eastern Mediterranean and dating to the 4th-3th century BC.1 Although the amount of glass recovered is not on its own remarkable, this material is often associated with bead making, a fact which makes the relatively modest amount of glass recovered during the excavation noteworthy. 1 Julian Henderson (University of Nottingham), personal communication.

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Fig. 36

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Fig. 34.

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Fig. 37.

Features

with amber, beads and/or tesserae.

p

Although tesserae have been found on other sites in Dorestad in the past, this material has not been published and therefore we don't know yet the location or contexts of these finds (Preiß, this volume). When one compares the amount of tesserae found in Dorestad with the enormous amount of tesserae that has come to light in Ribe at the post office

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excavation, one can question the scale of bead production in Dorestad. However, one must realise that all the layers of the Ribe excavation were wet sieved and that the original surfaces were well preserved (Feveile 2006b; Feveile, this volume). Then again, what does the amount of debris say about the levels of production?

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Fig. 39

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Fig. 40

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Preliminary conclusions

Not all the above-mentioned questions can be answered yet, but we already can conclude that a significant result of the excavations at the Veilingterrein location is that it has given us, for the first time, an insight into the early phase of

Dorestad. Two longhouses and a small cemetery have been excavated. When we compare the longhouses with the ones that have been found in the coastal area of the Netherlands, we can date the buildings to the 7th century AD. Nearly all the inhumations seem to date to the second half of the 7th century or early 8th century. The building traditions as well as the burial ritual point to a strong cultural tie with the people from the coastal area. We might even call them ‘Frisians’. In this early period this part of Dorestad still had an agrarian function. At the same time, around the middle of the 7th century, the first activities took place in the harbour area of the northern part of Dorestad as Van Es and Verwers have demonstrated. However, in the 7th century and probably early 8th century the centre of Dorestad must have been further south, probably near the Roman castellum. From the early 8th century onwards Dorestad was booming. We see the results of the growing trading centre on the Veilingterrein: new plots were made by digging ditches at right angles to the river which was further to the east. The elongated plots were subdivided into smaller ones. One would expect to find house plans on at least a few of the plots, but until now no Carolingian house plans have been identified. The question is whether it is difficult to recognize them due to the enormous number of features and the disturbances in later periods or whether there were permanent houses actually present in this area. Of course it is possible that we just found specific activity areas. On the other hand, it is also possible that a different building tradition was used, one which leaves no traces in the ground. It is clear that craftsmen were active in this part of Dorestad: beads and amber artefacts were produced, woollen fabrics were woven and a bronze worker may well have had his workshop here. The scale on which this production took place is still unclear. Again, when we compare the amount of tesserae and beads that were found for instance in Ribe to those recovered in Dorestad, the finds from Dorestad are modest to say the least. The post-excavation work still has to start, but will reveal more of the activities that took place at the Veilingterrein location. �

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Fig. 38

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Although evidence of bronze working was found during the excavation, this was of a limited nature. During the fieldwork at least two different types of crucibles were found (Fig. 40). The one on the left might be Merovingian or Carolingian and was found in the topsoil. Of the type to the right, large numbers of fragments were recovered within a 25-squaremeter zone in the southwest of the site. We believe that a bronze worker had his workshop in this area. We were looking for early medieval workshops; however, this one belongs stratigraphically to the 11th/12th century AD! About 38,000 pieces of burnt clay were found, among them pieces of furnaces and daub used to cover the walls of houses. This finds group still has to be scanned to try and identify fragments of moulds used for example for the casting of bronze objects. In total we recovered over 9000 pieces of slag weighing nearly 286 kilos. After one month of fieldwork a quick scan of the slag was carried out.2 The conclusion was that almost all of the slag is characteristic of smithing, suggesting that smelting took place elsewhere. Figure 38 shows clear concentrations of smithing activities. During the post excavation work we will try to find out whether it is possible to associate the concentrations with the individual plots. It is obvious that woollen fabrics were woven, with at least 298 pieces of loomweight for the upright loom being recovered during the excavation. Interestingly this is in marked contrast with the number of spindleworls that were found, just six in total. Two clusters of loom weights have been identified, one in the north and one in the south-east, and these have been interpreted as indicating specific activity areas (Fig. 39). Again, hopefully it will be possible to associate these clusters with individual plots.

2 The research was carried out by P. de Rijk, working for the University of Nottingham at that time.

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Fig. 41.

Dorestad,

Hoogstraat I. a) Archaeological features as excavated in 1972; b) Adjusted illustration with interpretation as causeways; c) Adjusted illustration with successive compartments and ground plans of buil­ dings, after Van Es & Verwers 1980:Fig. 15a-b; Van Es & Verwers 2009:Fig. 276.

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Dorestad Hoogstraat from a Hedeby/Schleswig point of view Sven Kalmring

We would like to begin with the correction of an older opinion that we ourselves have offered in our publications until now… In our published report from 1980 on the excavation Hoogstraat I – one of the five trenches east of the Hoogstraat – we called the meander ground [of the Kromme Rijn] the harbour area. The possibility of housing construction was considered, but rejected. We interpreted the numerous rows of posts as remains of a large complex of wood-and-earth constructions, some kind of dams that all in all formed an open space on whose end ships could be placed onto the beach. An older model that shows the complex at the end of its development offered a somewhat monotonous view that should have warned us at the time. (Fig. 42; Van Es & Verwers 2002:281-2; translation: author). Fig. 42

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Most recently the second, and for the present final, part of the reports on the Hoogstraat excavations has been published (Van Es & Verwers 2009). The therein underlined shift in interpretation is immediately apparent from the reduction of it title from ‘Excavations at Dorestad 1. The Harbour: Hoogstraat I’ (Van Es & Verwers 1980) to ‘Excavations at Dorestad 3. Hoogstraat 0, II-IV’ (Van Es & Verwers 2009). What led to that dramatic change and the disappearance of a whole harbour of that emporium that once formed one of the most important hubs of Frankish long-distance trade? Based on the background of

archaeological evidence from Hedeby and Schleswig this paper aims to review the interpretations of the Hoogstraat features using the example of the Hoogstraat I trench. C au s e w ay s o r l a n d i m p r o v e m e n t ?

In connexion with the large-scale rescue excavations between 1967 and 1977 that at first concentrated on the settlement area and corresponding burial ground of De Heul (Van Es 1969; cf. Janssen 1859; Holwerda 1930:31-3; Van Es 1978) from 1972 on, the former left bank of the Kromme Rijn got examined (Van Es 1973:206-8). Here, immediately west of an old track on the embankment of the Rhine called Hoogstraat numerous rows of posts and postghosts1 were discovered in the riverbed running from west to east (Fig. 41a). Some rows of posts were accompanied by a narrow strip of blackish earth. At right angles to the longitudinal direction of the rows and at a distance of not more than two meters coupled posts were driven into the ground (Van Es & Verwers 1980:22-3). Apart from the posts running in a longitudinal direction there was a large number of short, roughly north-south-oriented rows of posts (Van Es & Verwers 2009:51). Another feature observed in the riverbed was polluted dark soil with settlement refuse occurring in large rectangular ditches or pits in the riverbed (Van Es & Verwers 1980:24 fig. 7*; 2009:97 fig. 72*-7*). In 1980 the features from Hoogstraat I were interpreted as roads or causeways running into the river-bed. The narrow trenches of black earth were identified as remains of wooden revetments made of planks or possibly balks. Revetments made of wickerwork were considered to be rarer. At one time a pair of longitudinal revetments had been linked up by short transverse sections into strips of land between 6 and 8 m width. As by these transverse sections each strip of land was subdivided into a number of compartments of varying length, this was regarded as evidence of several successive phases 1 Unlike postholes, they have not been dug in but driven into the riverbed (Van Es & Verwers 2009:50; see also Kalmring 2010:194 note 84).

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At the international conference ‘Haithabu und die frühe Stadtentwicklung im nördlichen Europa’ of the German Research Foundation (DFG) and the Archaeological State Museum Schleswig in September 1998, W. Van Es and W.J.H. Verwers presented a paper on ‘Aufstieg, Blüte und Niedergang der frühmittelalterlichen Handelsmetropole Dorestad’. In this paper the site’s excavators expressed for the first time doubts about the prevailing interpretation of the features of the Dorestad Hoogstraat. In the publication of the proceedings of the conference they state:

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and individual periods of construction. These narrow strips were identified as causeways made of earth and wood, which were strengthened on their edges by the wooden revetments. Rows of posts in the inner space of the compartments were considered to be�foundations of wooden pavements or streets. These roads did not seem to have covered the causeway in its entire breadth, but only at a width of 2-3 m. In between certain causeways-blocks longitudinal gaps were observed (Van Es & Verwers 1980:23-40). The causeways were interpreted as harbour constructions that created ‘the possibility of a reliable communication between the settlement and the landing-places for merchant ships’ (Van Es & Verwers 1980:37). The gradual advance of the causeways from east to west by successively attaching individual sections was traced back to the evolution of the river bed: in its earliest phase of occupation the Hoogstraat area lay in a favourable position at the inner river bend of the Kromme Rijn, well-protected against erosion. It was assumed that initially the steep river bank was used in the state it was found and needed no harbour constructions. But being situated at the so-called meander belt of the Rhine, the river soon started constantly changing its course leaving a flattened damp virgin soil west of it. As a result the inhabitants of Dorestad had to build causeways with pavements in order to be able to utilise the harbour further on and to keep pace with the shifting river (Fig. 41b; Van Es & Verwers 1980:41-53). The large rectangular ditches in between some causeways-blocks were considered to point to different operators of the facilities while double or multiple causeways pointed to the same owner or group of owners (Van Es & Verwers 1980:35; 40). The occupation of the Hoogstraat I area was dated around 675 AD by the earliest pottery types found there (Van Es & Verwers 1980:fig. 80) which fits well with dendrochronological datings from De Heul (Eckstein & Van Es 1972:fig. 4; Eckstein, Van Es & Hollstein 1975:173; Eckstein 1978:312). Even though the settlement area behind the harbour remained in use until around 875, the complex of harbour constructions at Hoogstraat I probably reached its final limits as early as about 825 or shortly after, judging from concordant numismatic and C14-evidence (Van Gelder 1978; 1980; Mook 1978; Mook & Casparie 1980; Van Es & Verwers 1980: 294-9). At the end of the gradual process of construction the causeways reached a total length up to about 200 m. The interpretation of the features from Hoogstraat I as Dorestad’s harbour was presented in a paper at a conference on waterfront archaeology in London (Van Es & Verwers 1981) and later repeated in several other articles (cf. Van Es & Verwers 1987; Van Es 1989). The excavators argue that, because of the gradual shift of the Rhine, the inhabitants of Dorestad had to react by constructing an extensive system of causeways made of earth and wood in order to preserve the accessibility of their roadsted or landing site at the riverbank. The assumption that the strips of causeways were covered by a platform or wooden road is repeatedly expressed, ‘which may have been laid on joists or hurdlework attached to the vertical piles or carried above the ground as a jetty’ (Van Es & Verwers 1981:76).

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In the publication of the Hoogstraat 0, II-IV trenches Van Es and Verwers point out that in the description of Hoogstraat I they had placed too much emphasis on the long sides of the earthen dams with their long rows of posts running from west to east. However, there are an overwhelming number of short, roughly north-south-oriented rows of posts, too. These transverse rows either have to be interpreted as end-revetments subdividing the dams into mostly short compartments – and for this reason as markers of a building phase – or as supports for a platform on top of the dams (Van Es & Verwers 2009:51). But far more important than this new observation is the question raised in this volume: If the structures in the riverbed area were exclusively intended for the purpose of crossing dry-shod from the bank to the river beach – where the ships landed – would such an enormous amount of wood and labour have been spent on them? Far simpler solutions would have sufficed, such as jetties and narrower dams’ (Van Es & Verwers 2009:341). Therewith the excavators subscribe to a view already expressed by G. Milne in 1985 in his unpublished thesis on medieval waterfront developments in northern Europe (cf. Van Es & Verwers 2009:343). Reviewing the artefacts from the Hoogstraat excavations they come to the conclusion that they do not fundamentally differ from the settlement west of Hoogstraat and therefore have to result from local activities, too. Therefore they assume that the raised dams as well must have been used for settlement occupation. Based on this fact it seems reasonable to assume buildings on the dams or ‘raised parts of the parcels’ in the riverbed area. The rows of posts in the inner space of the dams which were earlier thought to have carried a wooden pavement or street are now considered to be substructures of houses built on damp ground (Fig. 41c; Van Es & Verwers 2009:340-3). Even though in Dorestad these buildings most probably were not used exclusively as storehouses, Van Es and Verwers (2009:343-52) refer to a clear similarity of the substructures to ground plans of granaries from the Central Netherlands and German North Sea coast. The houses with pile-foundations on the dams are imagined to be a shorter version of the houses from the foremost zone of the settlement of the riverbank (cf. Van Es & Verwers 2002:289; fig. 9-10). As reflected by the artefacts indicating habitation, craft and commercial activities these buildings also must have been used as regular dwellings and workshops. Against this background it is assumed that the dams were probably intended rather as a means of raising a low and soggy area than jetties projecting into open water (Van Es & Verwers 2009:58) and hence rather have to be described as a system of land improvement for settlement occupation (Van Es & Verwers 2009:320). H a r b o u r fa c i l i t i e s o r n o t ?

The whole harbour dilemma in Dorestad is summarised best by the excavators themselves:

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In light of this can the dams from Hoogstraat be still regarded as harbour facilities? Harbours are counted among facilities for inactive shipping traffic. The term ‘port’ by definition denotes only the expanse of water as well as land areas within a delimited vicinity with facilities for mooring ships in addition to installations for loading and unloading cargo. A ‘harbour’ as a generic term refers to hithes, moorages or anchorages and does not only comprise harbours with artificially erected facilities but also natural harbours. Among other things harbours can be differentiated by their harbour facilities evident in archaeological features. The decisive point for their appraisal is not the particular constructional solution that was chosen for the installation of a harbour, but rather the possibility of mooring it offered to the vessels entering the port. Due to different mooring techniques of ships – which are reflected in the harbour facilities themselves – one can identify two different types of harbours in early and high medieval central and northern Europe: landing sites and wharf-constructions (Ellmers 1984:123; Kalmring 2007:183-5; 2010:23-6 fig. 3). L anding sites

A landing site denotes simple landing places at natural harbours without artificially erected constructions. The characteristic of prime importance is that vessels did not moor afloat, but by simply running aground onto the shore. From prehisto-

ry to early medieval times landing sites were the typical manifestations of harbours on the North Sea and the Baltic. For this method of landing the only criteria required of a natural landscape were soft bank slopes that offered a somewhat solid ground without any bigger stones. Landing sites are not situated directly on the open sea, but developed at well-protected locations such as bays or river mouths. Sites at river mouths of small tributaries emptying into larger waters were favoured in particular: here the cone of debris from rinsed sediment offered ideal conditions for a soft running aground (cf. Schnall 1989:1825; Ellmers 1999:314). Depending on whether the vessels landed on the beach or in tidal areas by simply falling dry, landing sites can be ranked as simple landing sites or landing sites with solid access: tidal harbours or tidal harbours with solid access respectively. The only precondition for the usage of a landing site was a moderate displacement and an accordingly little draught of the vessels. Wharf-constructions

Wharf-construction harbours are marked by artificially erected constructions. They constitute a developed form of harbour facilities and can include jetties, piers, wharfs and hybrid forms. The most important characteristic of wharfconstructions is that they offered an afloat berth. By means of constructions made of timber and/or stones they formed an upright wall in such a depth of water that vessels with the biggest draughts at that time could call at. This became necessary because the cargo capacity of some vessels – which had remained relatively constant for centuries – suddenly increased in the course of the Viking age (CrumlinPedersen 1999; 2002). This development emerges against the background of the process of transition to proto-towns, a growing number of inhabitants and an increasing trade volume which demands an increase in ship sizes (Kalmring 2007). Because of a raised displacement and thus an increased draught, specialised cargo carriers could no longer use landing sites, as their bows would simply have got stuck in the bank slopes. Thus the development of specialised cargo carriers made the construction of wharf-constructions necessary in order to guarantee mooring at the trading place. For the large emporia it consequently was a vital undertaking to erect wharf-constructions to ensure the continued existence of the settlement as a maritime trading place. Apart from the reinterpretation of the rows of posts in the inner space of the dams at Hoogstraat as substructures of houses built on damp ground instead as foundations of wooden pavements or streets, one of the main reasons against the interpretation of the dams as harbour facilities seems to be their particular method of construction. The discussion of dam segment HS-II 5 as one single possible example of a jetty among the Hoogstraat features makes this evident. Van Es and Verwers (2009:60-1) write: ‘It is not a frame, but a platform supported by posts above the surface of the water: in other words a jetty’ and further on: ‘[…] the structures in the riverbed are generally the remains of dams made of wood and earth, and not jetties in the form of freestanding d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

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In the book Hoogstraat-I excavation (…) we assumed that the structures in the riverbed were mainly, if not exclusively, to be explained by Dorestad’s function as a harbour. We regarded them as dams made of earth and wood, not as jetties in the true sense of the word. According to this view, they were rather roads which had been raised due to the damp subsoil in the riverbed, and which – possibly paved with wood – served to ensure a good connexion between the settlement on the left bank of the Rhine and the river beach on which the ships landed, and which was constantly shifting further away. It was assumed that one or two of these dams belonged to each house situated directly on the riverside of the settlement, becoming as it were a kind of private property: a platform between house and harbour which could be used to reach the moored ships to load and unload them. The question whether the ships could only moor at the heads of the dams or also alongside them could not be clearly answered. Goods could be temporarily stored on the platforms, possibly in sheds where passing merchants could perhaps also lodge for a while. We did not consider it likely that accommodation would have been available for longer periods – let alone permanently occupied houses – since we assumed that the relatively low-lying point bar area regularly has to struggle with flooding or floating ice. Succinctly formulated, in earlier publications we regarded the section of the point bar area along Hoogstraat which was exploited by the inhabitants of Dorestad as a traffic area and not as a settlement area (Van Es & Verwers 2009:319-20).

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Fig. 43.

Dorestad, Hoogstraat I. Assortment of

punting pole fittings, from Van Es & Verwers 1980:Fig. 134.

platforms […]’. But as mentioned above, it is not the constructional solution that was chosen for the installation of a harbour, but rather the possibility of mooring it offered vessels entering port. Jetties belong to the group of artificially erected wharf-constructions that were built as either timber constructions or as banked up dams. From a shallow shore they led at right angles into deeper water and were only built in such depths of the water that a single cargo carrier of the largest ships expected could moor afloat at the bridge head (Ellmers 1984:152). Thus for the appraisal of the structures at Hoogstraat as possible jetties it is important to revise the relationship between the dams and the Kromme Rijn. The course of the Kromme Rijn

In the latest Dorestad volume the changes of the course of the Kromme Rijn based on the vertical west-east sections have been described very thoroughly (Van Es & Verwers 2009:1449): Based on the Hoogstraat sections at present it is not possible to reconstruct the bank line for the Roman Period. At the beginning of the occupation in the late Merovingian Period the left bank of the Rhine lay directly east of Hoogstraat (zone 1). The riverbank originally had a steep profile and a fairly straight course. Bank revetments made of wickerwork from Hoogstraat II are the oldest features in the bank area revealed by the excavations. Constructed not long after the middle of the 7th century they pre-date the beginning of the building of the first dams in the last quarter of that century (Van Es & Verwers 2009:84-5; 290). This feature can be compared to the observation from Hedeby harbour where shoreline stabilisation in context with the raising of the ground level at the waterside plots was taking place long before the construction of the first harbour facilities themselves (Kalmring 2010:267-70; 287-9). But soon at Dorestad the Kromme Rijn began to slit up. It shifted from the original bank

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zone and started to make a convex bend. Between the high bank and the riverbed an increasing beach-like transitional area developed that widened in a number of phases which unfortunately cannot be precisely distinguished. In any case the bottom layers of the shoal in front of the bank (zone 2) were more or less horizontal and still seem to be a result of deposits in a shallow part of the riverbed from that period. In the deeper part of the Carolingian riverbed (zone 3) however, the layers dipped sharply and succeeded themselves at short distances. Both in zone 2 and in zone 3 broader sections of the shoal increasingly clearly stood out of the water. At the end of zone 3 the riverbed of the Rhine in the Hoogstraat area formed a very clear curve of which the inner side was exploited by the people of Dorestad. The first dams on the newly gained but damp virgin soil area appeared when the silting had reached a level of c. 4 m NAP (Dutch water level). They presumably were raised to a height of at least 0.5 m and were separated from the navigable riverbed by the beach-like transitional zone. At that time the water level of the Kromme Rijn was no more than c. 3 m NAP (Van Es & Verwers 2009:48; 98). As the dams with a height of c. 4.5 m NAP at the top edge and therewith c. 1.5 m above mean water level did not allow a swimming berth to any vessel at their bridge heads a classification as jetties indeed has to be excluded. Quite the contrary the silted up part of the landward shoal grew steadily during the Dorestad period while the transitional zone at the same time shifted further and further eastward and seems to have kept more or less the same breadth. Usage of the ri v er be ach

Due to the recognition that the dams were gradually extended in short compartments by the erection of numerous endrevetments, this development from east to west must have been almost a continuous one. At the same time the meander

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fittings is much more frequent as they often got stuck in the bottom of the river. An agglomeration of punting pole fittings at a regional area along the shore of a navigable waterway thus can point to the presence of a former landing site. Even in light of the new perception, the beach evidently still functioned as a landing site for vessels calling at the emporium of Dorestad and the dams seem to follow the shifting of the river. Hence there is no reason to cast doubts on the former interpretation of Hoogstraat having served as the harbour of Dorestad (cf. Van Es & Verwers 1980). The ships calling at Dorestad obviously ran aground on the beach and were not able to moor in front of some artificially erected harbour facilities that offered a floating berth. Therefore we are not looking at a wharf-construction, but a landing site at a bend of the Kromme Rijn. The dams developing towards the withdrawing river consequently still must be regarded as causeways that facilitated access across the damp virgin soil to the vessels at the landing site. For this reason the harbour belongs to the sub-group of landing sites with solid access. This sub-group generally appears at places where the preconditions for a simple landing site were less favourable – e.g. because the ground was too soft – and had to be improved by well-directed building activities. Another reason for the appearance of landings sites with solid access are the emergence of bigger trading volumes at places where the stock was exchanged between ship and shore. They occur not only as plain embankments made of stones or gravel, wickerwork mats or pile-foundation grills but also in form of wood-lagged accumulations, landing stage-like platforms or – as in Dorestad – humble earthen dams (Ellmers 1984:140-2; Kalmring 2010:25)�.2 After having suggested that the Hoogstraat dams were used as harbour facilities, we now must investigate whether their prime purpose really was the facilitation of the access to vessels at the landing site or whether this was rather a side effect of a system of land improvement for settlement occupation. The Schlesw ig Case

Concerning the interpretation of the rows of posts in the inner space of the dams from Hoogstraat as foundations of wooden pavements or streets (Van Es & Verwers 1980:25) or even remains of joists or hurdlework attached to vertical piles (Van Es & Verwers 1981:76) the reference to wooden streets as a common phenomenon in early medieval settlements in general and to the roads from Hedeby in particular (Van Es & Verwers 1980:25) was problematic. In Hedeby simple roads made from wickerwork mats or log causeways as bodies for a bank-like fill of light sand as well as more elaborate constructions as corduroy roads on two parallel joists or plank roads on beddings are known (Jankuhn 1943:38-42; Schietzel 1969:19-21 fig. 6; 15; 1981:35-7 fig. 13c; 14; Schultze 2008:392-409). The beddings of the last named were fixed in the ground via narrow tenons driven through mortises, but none of these constructions had any distinct pilefoundation grills. Even in the moist part of the harbour in front of the beach wall the roads were constructed only as d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

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of the Kromme Rijn at Hoogstraat was gradually withdrawing from the original bank zone further and further eastward. It is important to note that the coherence between the lengthening of the dams and the receding of the river never was questioned by the excavators (Van Es & Verwers 2009:30-1). In connection with the interspaces of about 4 m breadth observed between the dams dividing the riverbed into several parcels, their function had been discussed (Van Es & Verwers 2009:97-8). These elongated hollows running parallel to the dams in the form of long trenches or ditches were interpreted to have primarily served for soil extraction in order to fill the wooden frames of the dams. Smaller pits for material withdrawal likewise are known from Hedeby harbour, where the bankside floodplains were artificially raised – apart from dung and fine turf – by sand taken from the offshore lakeside (Kalmring 2010:289 fig. M1-2). In Dorestad however the elongated hollows between the dams have been considered as having served as drainage and canals for smaller vessels as a side effect (Van Es & Verwers 2009:99-100). With the proviso that there was sufficient water – an assumption that is surprising in light of the facts emphasised above – it is believed that smaller vessels of 2-3 m breadth amidships might have been able to come alongside the dams with its whole length between them, while a ship of 3-4 m in width would have stuck quickly. But even when the navigational function of the interspaces were regarded as limited, the assumption that the sides of the dams could be used as mooring places to a certain degree was accepted by the authors. In one place there is evidence that the soft ground surface of the beach zone was reinforced with brushwood found in a slight natural depression over a distance of c. 20 m in Hoogstraat II (Van Es & Verwers 2009:38). Based on that feature it is assumed that fascines or wickerwork mats were used elsewhere along the riverbed area, too. The observed fragments of a clinker-built hull of a wrecked ship found in Hoogstraat II (Van Es & Verwers 2009:fig. 207; cf. Willemsen 2009:fig. 125) confirm the idea of the beach being used as landing site. It is assumed that the ship was originally lying sea-damaged on the beach in front of the dams. Due to erosion a slight depression formed underneath the vessel in which the ship soon began to sink. But as its sinking halted at right angles to the dams and blocked the access to dam Hoogstraat II 4 and II 5, it became wrecked (Van Es & Verwers 2009:36-8). If anything, the exceptionally large number of 48 boathooks from the Hoogstraat excavations – in fact apparently mainly punting pole fittings – (Fig. 43; cf. Van Es & Verwers 2009:336 tab. 44) leave no doubt about the utilisation of the riverbed of the Kromme Rijn. Punting poles were normally employed in river shipping. The long poles were pushed against the bottom of the river to punt the vessels upstream. However the Bayeux tapestry shows that punting poles also found utilisation in sea shipping (Ellmers 1984:83-7 fig. 98). They were used to push vessels on the beach of a landing site back into the river. Whereas the archaeological evidence of the wooden poles themselves is rare, the evidence of their metal

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Fig. 44.

Dorestad, Hoogstraat I.

Dam segment HS I 5 with posthole pattern (1), schematic front view (2) and side view (3) of reconstructed building, from Van Es & Verwers 2009:Fig. 269.

simple roads made from wickerwork mats or log causeways (Kalmring 2010:268; 276-7 fig. N12-1; S6.1-1; S6.2-1). Hence the reinterpretation of the oak wood inner posts (Casparie & Swarts 1981:276; 1980:271; Van Es & Verwers 2009:656) within the dams from Hoogstraat as substructures of houses and as shorter versions of the ones from the foremost settlement zone (Fig. 44; Van Es & Verwers 2009:352) seems to be much more likely. Due to the design of the harbour facilities in Hedeby the presence of granary-like buildings on the wharf-construc­ tions as proposed by K. Schietzel (1981:note 21; 1984:191) is difficult to imagine. With the exception of two small logbuildings all known houses have been built with post technique (Schultze 2008:134-140). Thus the only constructional solution for the erection of buildings with dug-in posts on top of the open pileworks would have been to ram the roofbearing supporting posts through the pavement of the harbour facilities down into the peat clay of the Haddebyer Noor. On the basis of the substructures of the wharf-constructions alone, which were already four to six meters in length, this would have required extremely long posts. Moreover the supporting posts of the buildings would have been affected by the effects of ice drift just like the piles of the harbour facilities themselves: in winter the latter got enclosed by ice and in connection with high-waters they periodically were lifted out of the ground. Thus even without any granary-like buildings considerable maintenance to the substructures of the wharf-constructions was necessary every spring (Kalmring 2010:307-10; 328-9). In Schleswig – the high medieval successor of Hedeby on the northern bank of the Schlei fjord – the different design of the harbour facilities, however, allowed the erection of buildings. In Schleswig the high and late medieval harbour facilities were able to be examined during the excavations in 1973/74 2 As the landing stage-like platforms often are mistaken for wharf-constructions (jetties) a thorough review of the water-level and the stratigraphy – as by simple means tried above – is necessary in order to be able to tell whether contemporary ships indeed could moor afloat at these facilities.

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and between 1975-1977 in an area of c. 3800 m 2 (Vogel 1977; 1983:23-5; 1997; 1999). Nine wharf-constructions were revealed within a distance of c. 150 m along the former shore line. Additionally in 2007 another part of the harbour got examined within the scope of a rescue excavation (Von Carnap-Bornheim & Lüth 2008). The first traces of occupation on the slope of the original shore date around 1070 AD. As in Dorestad initially the development was protected by fascines placed parallel to the shore against high waters. With their periodical rebounding they indicate an early organisation of the shore in form of plots. From 1081 on, the fascines were replaced by a continuous revetment made from oak planks. In an initial phase of construction in 1087 the first harbour facilities emerged, advancing from the shoreline into the water of the Schlei fjord. These structures were not built as open pileworks as in Hedeby, but constructed as solid earthen dams raised on a layer of brushwood and framed by a wooden bulkhead. As the first structure (Anlage 1) was running parallel to the original shore for a distance of 10 m the facility was identified as a wharf by the excavator (Fig. 45; Vogel 1977:23; 1997:96; 1999:190). The structure east of it (Anlage 2) however was not aligned parallel to the shore, but – at a breadth of 9 m – rather projecting 13 m deep into the Schlei. Therefore it was denoted as a jetty. A little further to the east in 1092 another jetty (Anlage 3) was raised. Even if no detailed studies have been undertaken yet in regard to the depth of water reached at the bridgeheads their denotation as jetties seems to be confident. However, whether we really are dealing with wharfs aligned parallel to the shore adjoining deep water like a continuous wall where several vessels were able to moor afloat one after another has to be reassessed elsewhere. These early constructions possessed bulkheads of upright standing planks that had been split from large tree trunks. In the course of a large extension of the harbour in the years 1094/95 the occupied shoreline got expanded to the east and there more jetties developed (Anlagen 7-9). Contemporaneously the jetty from 1087 (Anlage 2) was

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Fig. 45.

Schleswig. High medieval

shoreline and harbour facilities. Light grey frame: excavation Plessenstrasse 83/3,

extended into deeper water (Anlage 4). The so-called wharf was replaced by a jetty placed in front of it (Anlage 5) and a new wharf (Anlage 6) was built some meters further east. In this second phase of extension the frames of the facilities did not consist of split planks anymore, but of hatcheted planks, which could be produced from narrower tree trunks. In two cases even a third phase of extension from the early 12th century was documented, in which two not exactly specified jetties that had been raised in 1095 were extended into deeper water. Their wooden bulkheads were composed of horizontally laid out planks, which were held in position by posts battered into the bed of the Schlei. As the results of the harbour excavations at Plessenstrasse 83/3 and at Hafenstrasse 13 have been published only as preliminary reports until now the discovered features can only be grasped in very general terms. Buildings on top of the

earthen dams of the harbour facilities could become verified in Schleswig. Against the background of the buildings revealed by the excavation in Schleswig Schild (Vogel 1992) it is likely that the houses in the harbour were built with post-and-beam technique (Pfosten-Schwellriegel-Bau) too. These constructions are already known from earlier settlement phases of Hedeby (Rudolph 1936:148-9; Schietzel 1981:37; Jankuhn 1986:96; Kalmring 2010:262-3; 285-6 fig. N18-1; S11-1), but not before the rise of high medieval Schleswig does this become the classic type of house. In Schleswig Plessenstrasse not least thanks to dendrochronology the chronological relationship of the house plans themselves and the dams as their place of location could been clarified (Fig. 46; Eckstein 1981). Apparently there was a scattered building development on top of the harbour facilities, but not until the particular dams were lengthened by another extension. d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

after Vogel 1999:Fig. 2.

Fig. 46

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Therefore at Plessenstrasse it can be asserted that the rear part of the dam had given up in its prime function as a jetty first and afterwards got included into the regular settlement area. Whether in Schleswig in general there had been any buildings contemporary to the harbour facilities in use and whether they stood in some functional connection – e.g. as storehouses or granaries – remains uncertain (Vogel 1999:194). But elsewhere the excavator V. Vogel (1977:26) notes: The excavations have shown that to the degree in which the harbour facilities advanced southwards into the open water the adjacent settlement likewise grew in a southerly direction. The occupied area laced with dwellings firstly crossed the old shore line […] that meanwhile had disappeared under the banking of wharfs and jetties in order to occupy the abandoned facilities piece by piece with every phase of harbour extension (translation: author). The example of Schleswig clearly shows that the harbour facilities were not occupied only by store houses, and that the house plans can be attributed to a regular succeeding settlement development. In regard to Dorestad and the possibility of the elongated hollows between the dams having served as lowerlying traffic routes (Van Es & Verwers 2009:99) it seems of importance that in Schleswig in between the abandoned parts of the jetties plank roads were installed which made the new settlement area accessible (Fig. 47; cf. also Fig. 46). Fig. 47.

Schleswig, Plessenstrasse 83/3. Revetments and harbour facilities,

succeeding streets and buildings with dendrochronological dates, from Vogel 1977:Fig. 2-3; Eckstein 1981:Fig. 98.

D o r e s ta d H o o g s t r a at

The lack of accessible dendrochronological evidence makes difficult a determination of the chronological succession of harbour facilities and building constructions for Dorestad Hoogstraat. Van Es and Verwers (2009:320-1) argue that the terrain in the riverbed was separated from the house plots on the bank by a parcel boundary and hence the occupied area in the riverbed would have to be regarded as separate units within the settlement which did not necessarily belong to the house sites at the front of the bank. They compare the approach of banking up dams to Roman methods of artificial land raising or soil improvement from the castellum complex of Valkenburg-De Woerd (Sarfatij 1977:161), the frontier fort of Zwammerdam (Haalebos 1977) and the Limes fort of Vechten (Van Tent 1973). Notably in the quoted publications the first two examples had been interpreted as creations of quays at the riverbeds of the Oude Rijn and only for the last was a certain ‘land hunger’ in the civilian settlement near the castellum taken into account (van Tent 1973:129). In order to approach the question whether the prime purpose of the dams in Dorestad was an intended land improvement for settlement occupation one has to envision the topographical situation of the emporium. The pedological map of the area at Wijk bij Duurstede clearly shows that the occupied areas of the emporium were basically restricted on Polder vague-soils except for the area of heavy clay left open (Fig. 48). The periphery of the vicus, the adjacent agrarian zone and the cemetery De Heul (Van Es & Verwers 1994; 1995; Perizonius 1978; Perizonius & Pot 1981) and the early medieval fortified farmstead De Geer (van Doesburg 1994; Van Es 1994) are located on limeless Polder vague-soils with gravel sand and light clay. The unpublished cemeteries at De Engk and of post-Dorestad Frankenhof as well as the Early Iron Age settlement and urnfield of De Horden (Hessing 1989; 1994; Hessing & Steenbeek 1990) are situated on limy Polder vague-soils with heavy gravel sand and light clay. Hence given the current state of research it appears that there no attempts were made to occupy the Ooi vague-soils to the north and south with the exception of Hoogstraat itself. It may be questioned whether the settlement pressure on the Dorestad people really had been so massive that the development of the former riverbed constituted the only possibility to expand the settlement. There are several other examples of prospering proto-towns showing that less intensely used areas in the immediate vicinity of the settlement – e.g. farmsteads or cemeteries – were turned into new dwelling zones. Within the semicircular rampart of Hedeby for instance plough marks at the bottom of the settlement layers were detected that provide evidence that at least some fields firstly existed shoulder to shoulder with developed plots (Schietzel 1969:51 fig. 39). In the course of the settlement development these fields had to give way to 3 I would like to thank Th. van der Heijden from the Soil Centre at Alterra at Wageningen University and Research Centre who placed this data at my disposal.

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housing construction. Another example is the so-called Flachgräberfeld of Hedeby in the south-western part of the enclosed emporium with the oldest burials dating to the middle of the 9th century. Since the 10th century it had to yield to housing and production activities (Hilberg 2009:90). Wells

Fig. 48.

Schleswig, Hafenstrasse 13. Low-lying road between two abandoned

rear parts of jetties providing access to newly gained dwelling area, from Vogel 1989:Fig. 23.

Fig. 49.

Dorestad, Hoogstraat I. Dams with end-revetments, confident (1) and

presumed (2) ground plans of buildings in addition to wells (3) at the rear part of

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

the trench, from Van Es & Verwers 2009:Fig. 264.

Even though at Dorestad the excavators offer a comparison to granaries with regard to the newly identified ground plans on top of the earthen dams, they suggest that these buildings may also include regular dwellings and workshops (Van Es & Verwers 2009:345-52). This assumption seems to be confirmed by the presence of wells for drinking and processing water in the Hoogstraat area. Three assured (well 1-3) and three possible wells (well 4-6) have been observed in Hoogstraat I (Fig. 49; Van Es & Verwers 1980:30-2, fig. 1920). The assured ones in the south of the trench were of the regular Dorestad type with a wooden barrel placed in a dugout pit (cf. Eckstein, Van Es & Hollstein 1975). The wood had decayed entirely and only some faint earth marks remained visible. The pits themselves were about 2 m wide and reached to 2.20-2.60 NAP. One of the three other features seems to have been a well made from a hollowed tree-trunk (well 4) – also known among the well types occurring in Hedeby (Schietzel 1969:39-48 fig. 28-9) – while the other two features concern the remaining lower parts of wells. In Hoogstraat IV another well belonging to house site 5 or 6 was detected (Van Es & Verwers 2009:82 fig 54). It probably was a wooden well made from a barrel 2.8 m high and 0.60-70 m in diameter in secondary use as cladding of the well shaft. Additionally two extraordinarily deep oval pits on either side of the land abutment on parcel 7 of the Hoogstraat II trench were

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considered to be wells too (Van Es & Verwers 2009:106). In the latest publication the excavators point out that wells were extremely rare in the riverbank area and found in combination only with the foremost houses (Van Es & Verwers 2009:91). For the same reason they came in 1980 to the assumption that the wells should belong to an early stage in the occupation of the site. Well 3 from Hoogstraat I lying a little advanced in the transitional zone between the westernmost sector and the one adjacent are regarded as slightly later than the others. Positioned in front of a platform it ‘would be very unpractical because the ships had to moor there’ (Van Es & Verwers 1980:32). The same phenomenon of an over-representation of the western areas of the Hoogstraat trenches can be found in the artefact distribution of loom-weights. Loom-weights

Loom-weights are one of the very few comprehensively worked up artefact groups from Dorestad, where a comparison of the artefacts from the riverbed with the ones in the front part of the settlement on the riverbank from the De Heul excavation is possible. Here they give evidence of a common domestic affair – notwithstanding the discussion of home-work or specialised handicraft (cf. Van Es & Verwers 2009:323; Brandenburgh, this volume) – and therefore are able to reflect the extent of housing occupation of the site. Altogether c. 2000 fragments of weights made of sandy and poorly fired clay were excavated (Kars 1982:154), of which 947 fragments derive from the Hoogstraat excavations (Van Es & Verwers 2009:322-3). Additionally three cylindrical or oval blocks made from tuff with a groove around the middle and one specimen of limestone were discussed as being loomweights or net-sinkers (Van Es & Verwers 1980:165 fig 116). Meanwhile it is accepted that the latter might have been used for fishing (Kars 1982:158) and thus shall be neglected in this context. The degree of fragmentation of the loom-weights in Hoogstraat I – from 147 specimens only 14 were found intact (Van Es & Verwers 1980:124) – was taken as indication that they were dumped there as refuse (Kars 1982:154). However there are no surveys on the relationship of complete and fragmented objects from the De Heul excavations yet that enable a proper appraisal of the issue. It is a common fact that loomweights are generally poorly fired and therefore tend to break easily. Van Es and Verwers (2009:323) assess the ratio of 1:10 of the intact and fragmented loom-weights from Hoogstraat I to be rather above than below average for the entire excavation. For that reason they believe that their distribution in the riverbed does not reflect refuse being brought to this location but in fact local activities. In the Hoogstraat excavation trenches loom-weights are relatively well represented in the foremost section of the settlement on the bank (zone 1). Concentrations were found in the raised area in front of the bank (zone 2) of Hoogstraat 0, IV and II (cf. Van Es & Verwers 2009:fig. 251). In Hoogstraat I they were distributed more regularly and less densely over the raised area in front of the bank and the deeper part of the Carolingian riverbed (zones 2-3), which might reflect a

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faster development of the dams. Unlike in the northern three trenches, the process of deposition here silted up the deeper part of the Carolingian riverbed more rapidly (Van Es & Verwers 2009:322-3). The fact that in Hoogstraat III in the deeper part of the Carolingian riverbed (zone 3) the density of loom-weights is only moderate in comparison to that of other artefact groups has been seen as indicating that this particular type of loom-weights went out of use after the Carolingian period. Comparing the distribution of loom-weights within the Hoogstraat excavation trenches to the overall distribution map (see Fig. 58). Van Es and Verwers (2009:322) realised that the density in the riverbed corresponds very well with the front part of the settlement on the riverbank. One could even put it more precisely: it is not the riverbed as a whole where the densities match those of the settlement, but the similarities are instead restricted to the riverbank and the raised area in front of it (zones 1-2) that is, merely to the western parts of the Hoogstraat trenches. If anything these considerations taken together seem to speak against the idea of the Hoogstraat dams belonging primarily to a system of land improvement for settlement occupation. Against the background of the Schleswig features it seems to be reasonable that the earthen dams erected in the former riverbed of the Kromme Rijn indeed primarily served as harbour facilities. In the course of the perpetual extension of the dams which became necessary due to the gradual shifting of the riverbed the rear parts lost their main function as solid accesses to a landing site. As they left a raised area that thereby was well suited for dwellings the settlement successively started to follow its harbour into the silted up riverbed. Thus the evidence of the wells in the harbour area and the distribution of loom-weights does not only prove that Hoogstraat was a regularly developed part of the settlement, but restriction or overrepresentation of this evidence to the rear parts of the dams clearly emphasises that it was not until the abandonment of the rear compartments in their function as harbour facilities that the adjacent settlement started to grow in eastern direction. However, the question posed by Milne as to why narrower harbour facilities that would have been quite adequate, easier to erect and maintain if their only aim was to provide access (cf. Van Es & Verwers 2009:343) were not built remains unanswered. s e t t l e m e n t l ay- o u t

As suggested above, the very front of the dams was without any building development, as it had to provide solid access to the landing site where the ships ran aground. Still the impressive breadth of the dams, measuring between 5 or 6 up to 7 or 8 m (Van Es & Verwers 2009:54) – keeping in mind that they were occasionally built side-to-side and thus even wider (Van Es & Verwers 1980:35; 2009:99) – demands another explanation. Based on phosphate mapping (Van Es 1969:190, fig. 3) the emporium of Dorestad is assumed to have stretched in an elongated zone of c. 3000 m along the Carolingian left shore of the Kromme Rijn. It is believed to have consisted of a

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Fig. 50.

Dorestad. Reconstruction of the layout of the vicus in the northern

district, with farmsteads in the foreground farmsteads, dwellings in the centre, and in the background dams and the Kromme Rijn. Plots and roads are subdividing the area orthogonally, from Prummel 1983:cover.

were loosely distributed rather than forming a closed line of buildings (Van Es & Verwers 2002:289). In Hoogstraat 0 clear traces of a second row of houses were found behind the foremost row (Van Es & Verwers 2002:289; 2009:104). The dwelling area behind Hoogstraat was heavily disturbed, overbuilt by a modern residential area and had only been examined in smaller sections. With the De Heul excavation the approximate rear boundary of the vicus was indicated by a burial ground. The cemetery of De Heul with c. 2350 west-east-oriented inhumations (Perizonius & Pot 1981:371) and a possible small church apparently had been installed in a central position in the middle of the rear part of the settlement (Van Es 1990:157). Apart from that, the area behind the vicus was a zone of agrarian character (Fig. 50). Here the building development was less dense and the main features were large boat-shaped houses measuring 10 x 26-28 m (Van Es & Verwers 1994; 1995). As they partly were situated on rectangular plots and since some of them had granaries as outbuildings they have been interpreted as farmsteads. That this area indeed was used for agriculture and food supply is demonstrated by carbonized grain from a cellar of one of the houses (van Zeist 1969; cf. Van Es & Verwers 1995: 181, fig. 5) as well as by the huge number of bones from domesticated mammals found here (Prummel 1978; 1983). The hedeby case

In Hedeby the considerable size of the harbour facilities from the harbour excavation led to the same questions that were brought up concerning the breadth of the dams from Dorestad Hoogstraat. According to the development on the shore areas, long before the erection of the first harbour facilities, initially a beach market in the range of a simple landing place has to be expected in Hedeby. The gradual construction of the harbour with a solid access to a landing place and the appearance of the first jetties culminated in the assembly of facilities by connecting the parts to one single d o r e s ta d r e v i s i t e d

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northern district, a middle part and a castellum quarter in the south. Of the latter two areas, little is known. The middle part was situated along the western edge of the late medieval town centre of present day Wijk bij Duurstede between Steenstraat and Middelweg. With the separate burial ground of De Engk and c. 1100 burials at its back the settlement must have been quite sizeable. The Roman castellum Levefanum which to date has only been approximately located is generally thought to have played a decisive role in the emergence of Dorestad. Situated at the spur of land at the former confluence of Kromme Rijn and Lek it might have formed a representative centre for the royal officials and an early church is supposed to have been situated here. However it remains unclear whether the southern part had a closed building development at all, as the evidence from a small-scale excavation at the castle garden northwest of the castellum points to a less dense settlement occupation (Van Es & Verwers 1985:72-3; Van Es 1990:160-2, fig. 2). Besides, having the wik set off from the Roman nucleus outside its city walls seems to have been quite characteristic, especially for Anglo-Saxon England. Take Lundenwik (Milne 1999:148-9) or Eoforwik (Kemp 1996) as examples. This model also emerged along the Rhine in Cologne and Mainz (Ament 1996:136). The northern district of Dorestad is known best because extensive excavations have taken place here. With regard to the settlement layout in question the excavations of Hoogstraat and De Heul are of prime interest. The settlement on the riverbank was systematically subdivided into plots or parcels with their narrow side directed towards the harbour. They continued across a road running parallel to the shore onto the so-called ‘land abutments’ – a narrow strip of land adjacent to the riverbed. The ‘land abutments’ formed independent plots and were linked up with the dams in the riverbed. Between the longitudinal sides of the plots of the settlement narrow roads ran along which relate to the interspaces between the dams (Van Es & Verwers 2009:91; 320). Hence it looks as if the settlement site was divided by an orthogonal system of c. 4 m wide interspaces. The plots themselves apparently possessed a standard breadth and possibly also a fixed length of 150 (c. 36-8 m) or 200 feet (45-7 m) for a house parcel. Moreover there seems to be a correlation between paired dams built side-to-side and two corresponding adjacent plots on the riverbank (Van Es & Verwers 2009:100-3, fig. 81). Like the plots, the dwellings built on them were facing with their narrow side towards the riverbed, too. Even though details concerning their specific construction are not known it can be assessed that they were rather small and probably resembled the urban versions of longhouses found in Hedeby. With an estimated size of 5-6 x 12-15 m and – judging from a single house plan published (Van Es & Verwers 2002:289, fig.  9) – outer supporting posts, their ground plans indeed seem to have had certain similarities with the so-called Hedeby house which measured 5.5 x 12 m (Schultze 2008:160-201). In Dorestad the excavators gained the impression that not every plot on the riverbank contemporaneously was covered with a building, but only around 60%. This means that they

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structure (Kalmring 2010:239-43, fig. 182). Even if in that process at least two jetties in the north were erected directly attached to one another the coincidence of the plot boundary leading to the shoreline with the border between the two harbour facilities has – unlike in Dorestad (Van Es & Verwers 1980:35; 40) – been taken as evidence of a private operation of the single structures (Kalmring 2010:256, note 117; 358, note 156). The whole harbour development finally led to a U-shaped wooden platform composed of several individual harbour facilities with a central long and slender open area of water and an impressive size of almost 1500 m 2, which could not be explained by the demands of merchant shipping or an intentional facilitation of stock turnover between ships and land alone. Without going into the settlement structure of Hedeby any deeper, the geomagnetic picture measured in April 2002 (Hilberg 2003; 2007 fig. 3) reveals a densely build settlement within the semicircular rampart erected in the second half of the 10th century (Andersen 1998:146-7). Even though a chronological differentiation of the anomalies at this stage is hardly possible, the picture we have obtained does not show any open space where the goods reaching Hedeby via ship or overland transport could have been traded. The existence of an open space for market transactions within the settlement area of Hedeby is unlikely, as market places

in the western Baltic do not seem to appear before the 13th century (Hybel & Poulsen 2007:241). Corresponding to the conclusions drawn from the high medieval features of Schleswig (Lüdtke 1984; 1997; Vogel 2002:375-6) and Lübeck (Ellmers 1990; Mührenberg 1993) it rather has to be assumed that the harbour of Hedeby with its constructions did not only meet the demands of merchant shipping with regard of mooring possibilities, but contemporaneously served as the market place of the settlement. The various artefacts from the harbour excavation which reflect market transactions seem to confirm this assumption (Kalmring 2010:390-442). Against this background it seems reasonable to assume a comparable utilisation of the front of the dams in Dorestad, too. The operation of the harbour facilities in Hedeby does not seem to have been an autonomous development, but – as a few charters from the reign of Charles the Bald suggest (cf. Adam 1996:190 note 321) – could have followed models from the Frankish realm. Albeit the buildings in the foremost row of Dorestad Hoogstraat gave the impression of a loose distribution rather than forming a closed line of buildings, the whole riverbank was systematically partitioned into plots subdividing the settlement into a series of immediately following rows of plots. However evidence for a marketplace as such in terms of an open space within the vicus has not been provided yet. Generally it can be assessed Fig. 51.

Dorestad, Hoogstraat. Distribution of coins. 1: Roman coin; 2: sceatta;

3: denarius Pippin III or Charlemagne; 4: hoard Wijk bij Duurstede 1972-I; 5: denarius of Charlemagne or Louis the Pious; 6: hoard find Wijk bij Duurstede 1972-II; 7: denarius of Louis the Pious (Christiana Religio) or Lothar; 8: exact position within trench uncertain, from Van Es & Verwers 2009:Fig 246.

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Conclusions

The revision of the analysis of the Hoogstraat features as causeways giving access to the landing site at the riverbank of the Kromme Rijn (Van Es & Verwers 1980) and their reinterpretation as a system of land improvement with the remains of substructures of houses (Van Es & Verwers 2009) have been discussed from a Hedeby/Schleswig point of view. As a result it has to be stated that Van Es and Verwers apparently were not wrong in their interpretation of the dams as harbour facilities nor in seeing them as part of the regular dwelling area of the vicus. They most probably had been both, though in chronological succession. The only thing they never have been is a deliberate means of raising a low and soggy area for settlement occupation.

Even in the current Hoogstraat-publication (Van Es & Verwers 2009) it is agreed that the dams followed the shifting of the Kromme Rijn. With the new identification of the end-revetments subdividing them into short compartments this development must have been almost perpetual. As, on the one hand, they facilitated the access across the former riverbed but – with a height of c. 1.5 m above the mean water level – never allowed a swimming berth to any vessel, the dams have to be classified as harbour facilities belonging to the sub-group of landing sites with solid access. Even though, without the tool of dendrochronology, it is difficult to determine the sequence of the building structures, the Schleswig case study makes it reasonable to assume that in Dorestad as well housing construction on the dams was not introduced before the abandonment of the rear compartments in their function as harbour facilities. While due to the gradual shifting of the riverbed the dams had to be extended over and over again, they left a raised and dry area at their rear sections which was well suited for settlement occupation. Hence the area soon became exploited and the settlement started to follow its harbour into the riverbed. Therefore it is suggested that the dams in fact primarily were built as harbour facilities and only as a side effect became a settlement area. Given the example of Hedeby harbour and the indication of a double function of the encountered constructions as harbour facilities and market place plus the evidence of the settlement layout in general and of the northern district in particular, an analogue utilisation of the remarkably broad Hoogstraat dams is suggested. It is assumed that the narrow strips of land adjacent to the riverbed of the Kromme Rijn initially functioned as a regular beach market at a landing site. It was not until the shifting of the riverbed made the erection of dams compulsory that the beach market had to be relocated and moved up on the developing harbour facilities. Hence we can resolve the problem that the negation of the identification of the structures in the riverbed as the harbour called into question the accepted trading function of the northern district of Dorestad (Van Es & Verwers 2002:294): With the confirmation of Hoogstraat as a harbour and its identification as a scene of the market trade, the northern district beyond a doubt formed the economic heart of the vicus famosus mentioned in Liudger’s Vita Gregorii. D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

that the whole layout of the settlement seems to have been aligned towards the harbour. Hence the suggestion of the dams not only giving access to the vessels at the beach of the Kromme Rijn, but – as the place of stock turnover – having simultaneously served as a scene of market trade can provide an explanation for their large breadth. The 104 coins found during the Hoogstraat excavations (Gelder 1978; 1980; 2009) 4 seem to indicate trade activities on the dams. Even if for the coins deriving from the hoards HS-1 1972 I and HS-1 1972 II it has to be resolved whether they concern real hoards for safekeeping or whether they were originally carried in an organic container and only lost by their owners, the distribution of the single finds shows an interesting pattern: while the distribution of the loomweights is focused on the western compartments of the dams, especially in Hoogstraat I, the coins were found in the parts facing the riverside (Fig. 51). It can be assumed that the narrow strips of land (the ‘land abutments') adjacent to the road along the riverbed at the dawn of the vicus would have functioned as a regular beach market at a landing site – an assumption corroborated by the circumstance that only here in the settlement area of the riverbank sceattas had been discovered (Van Es & Verwers 2009:311). The necessity of erecting dams in the damp riverbed in order to follow the shifting of the Kromme Rijn led to a relocation of the beach market, keeping up with the harbour facilities.

4 Exclusive of early modern coins nos. 357.1.7, 357.4.1, 357.4.5, 358.0.0 (Gelder 1980:221) and no. 450.1.1 (Gelder 2009:259).

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Fig. 52.

Clockwise and

anticlockwise spun threads, resulting in z- or s-spinning.

Fig. 53.

Warp-weighted loom (after Walton Rogers 2007).

Textile production and trade in Dorestad

Introduction

During the excavations in Dorestad six fragments of textile have been found. These pieces are in some cases the remains of garments made or worn by the people living in Dorestad. The textile finds are all made of wool and are without exception quite large. Soil-conditions were clearly favorable enough to preserve this material in some places, so it is remarkable that only these few pieces were found. It is plausible that many textiles were not recovered or were overlooked during the largescale excavations in the sixties and seventies. It is clear however that in some areas in Dorestad no textiles have survived being buried for over a 1000 years. During the excavations of the last few years, where great care has been taken to wet-sieve and collect small finds, no textiles have been found at all. With only six pieces of textile recovered in Dorestad there clearly is a problem if one wants to understand the importance of textile production and trade in this early medieval centre. It is necessary to consider the evidence from Dorestad in relation to the textile finds from other parts of the country, to reach a better understanding of these topics. In order to do so, the textiles from Dorestad are presented first. After that textiles and textile-production in other parts of the Netherlands are discussed, followed by a discussion on production and long-distance trade of textiles in which Dorestad may have played a vital role. The process of making woven te x tiles

Textile production involves a number of different actions, starting with selecting the fibres, spinning these fibres into yarns, dyeing and finally weaving the yarns into a piece of cloth. To spin yarns from fibres such as wool or linen one needs a spindle whorl and a distaff. Depending on the direction the

spindle whorl rotates, the threads are twisted either clockwise or anticlockwise resulting in z- or s-spun thread (Fig. 52). Right-handed spinners generally spin clockwise (z-spun treads), but accomplished spinners can change the direction of spin when needed. In order to make an even stronger yarn several threads may be twisted together, resulting in plied yarn. The process of weaving large pieces of cloth was generally conducted on a warp-weighted loom (Fig. 53). This type of loom would have stood slightly at an angle against the wall of a building. The vertical threads of the fabric, the warp, were hung onto the upper crossbeam of the loom and put under tension by attaching loom weights. These loom weights can be found in abundance in Dorestad (cf. Kalmring, this volume). Fabrics are made of at least two sets of threads that cross each other perpendicularly. The way in which the horizontal threads – the weft – are woven through the vertical threads – the warp – defines the bind of the fabric. Fig. 54a-d shows the types of binds that are most common in this period in the Netherlands. Fulling or felting is a finishing process that takes place after weaving a fabric. It involves soaking the woven fabric in water and a fulling agent like soap or mud, and beating or treading it. The aim of this process is to make the fabric thicker and denser and therefore warmer and waterproof. It is however not so easy to recognise whether or not a fabric has been felted by such a process because a garment can acquire the same appearance from normal use. Friction of one piece of cloth against another, for example under the armpit or between an outer garment and its lining, can result in the same matted and felted surface. On the other hand, the absence of a felted surface does not necessarily mean that a Fig. 54a-d.

Types of binds most common in

the Netherlands in the Early Middle Ages: a: tabby; b: plain 2/2 twill; c: diamond twill; d: herringbone or chevron twill. a

b

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Fig. 55.

Dorestad: mitten found in

Hoogstraat I. Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

fabric was not felted. During excavation and find processing the matted surface can easily break away leaving a clean and unfelted appearance. T h e t e x t i l e f i n d s f r o m D o r e s ta d

One of the best preserved complete garments in the Netherlands was found in Dorestad: the mitten found in Hoogstraat 1 (Fig. 55). The mitten is made out of two pieces of the same fabric. It is very coarsely woven in a 2/2 herringbone-twill (see Fig. 54d), with thin warp and thick weft-threads and only 3-6 threads per cm (Miedema 1980). The mitten is sewn very roughly with large whip-stitches and sewing threads up to 2 mm in width. Technically this garment is therefore not a very challenging piece. No dyes have been detected during dye-analyses of the mitten which means that it probably wasn't dyed and therefore had the natural colour of the wool.1 This, however, is not certain because dyestuffs can deteriorate over time or dissolve in the soil. Practically the entire mitten, outside as well as the inside, shows a felted surface. As stated before, it is not so easy to recognise whether or not a fabric is primary felted. In the case of the mitten it is very probable though, because it would greatly enhance the function of this garment. Two other pieces, both found in Hoogstraat II, are not so spectacular: they are merely small pieces cut off of or left over from garments. One piece is woven in a plain 2/2 twill (see Fig. 54b) with 12 threads/cm; the other is a 2/2 herringbone twill of 13 threads/cm. The fabrics of these two smaller pieces show great similarity to that of the mitten: both having thin threads in one direction of the weave and thicker threads in the other direction and both having a felted surface (Miedema 1980). The remaining three pieces of textile are not woven but felt, made out of plucks of unspun wool (Fig. 56). In 1 Analysis conducted by Maarten van Bommel (ICN) on 9/1/2009; ICN-report 1219 ‘HPLC analyse van een handschoen, Dorestad, Rijksmuseum van Oudheden’.

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one instance a slab of felt was made in an irregular form of approximately 20x20 cm and 4 mm thick. Its colour (it is now reddish brown) suggests that it has been dyed, but so far no dye analyses has been conducted. The function of this piece is still unclear. The other two pieces of felt are both long thick strips (Fig. 57). One piece is drenched with tar and was possibly used as filling material between planks (cf. Willemsen 2009:fig. 126). E v i d e n c e f o r t e x t i l e p r o d u c t i o n i n D o r e s ta d

Although the textile finds from Dorestad may give invaluable information about the way the individual textiles and garments were made, it is difficult to derive a picture of textile production in Dorestad from only these few pieces. When studying the loom weights found in Dorestad it is possible to conclude that textiles were produced in Dorestad. Recent excavations (Dijkstra, this volume) have provided evidence for tools used to weave textiles. During the excavations in the period 1969-1976 over 2000 fragments of loom weights were recorded (Fig. 58). The distribution of the loom weights in fig. 7 may seem impressive in some places with more than 34 pieces per 1000 m 2 (Kars 1982:155). One can, however, argue that this is in fact not a very dense pattern, if one considers that each loom needed between 30 to 60 weights (depending on the width of the loom) and the fact that loom weights break easily so they would have been replaced regularly. From this evidence, one can conclude that textiles were made in Dorestad. But how was textile production organized? Are we looking at small-scale household production or organized textile workshops? Since early history weaving had been a household activity mainly done by women. By the end of the first millennium this way of making textiles was undoubtedly still the general way to do it. Beside this household-production there is also written evidence for the existence of specialized workshops going as far back as the Roman period (Wild 1967) and emerging in the texts in the 7th century again. These so-called gynaeceum – meaning women’s quarters – were generally associated with royal

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Fig. 57.

Fig. 56.

Dorestad: long strip of felt from unspun wool.

Dorestad: piece

of textile felt from unspun wool. Fig. 58.

Distribution of

loom weights at Dorestad. Frequencies are given per 1000 m2 excavated area,

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after Kars 1982:Fig. 35.

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or monastic centres. The women working here were of mixed status: sometimes they are mentioned as slaves, and sometimes as free women (Walton Rogers 2007:46). Knowing the existence of specialized centres for textileproduction elsewhere in Europe, is it likely that Dorestad also had specialized craftsmen – or probably craftswomen – working in the city? Or was it merely a centre of trade? There is no reason to believe Dorestad needed textile workshops, if the emporia were mainly centres of consumption. On the other hand, Dorestad probably was not only a centre of long distance trade. It was also a centre for its surroundings (Hodges 1999). And as often seen with the development of cities, it is very likely that the city attracted specialist craftsmen. Although there is no direct evidence for the existence of specialized textile craftsmen in Dorestad, it seems unlikely that there weren’t any. Unfortunately the dataset of textiles from Dorestad is too small to ascertain the type of production in the city. The few pieces of garments that were found in Dorestad are coarsely woven and sewn using techniques every woman was accomplished enough to use. These garments are clearly household products, but this does not mean there was no specialist production as well. Te x tiles and production in the Netherl ands

In order to answer questions about the way textile production was organized and the position of Dorestad in the textile trade it is necessary to shift focus to textile remains found elsewhere in the Netherlands. What can be said about trade and production by looking at the dataset of textiles from the Netherlands? Is it possible to tie any of these finds to the socalled pallium Fresonicum or Frisian cloth that is mentioned in historical texts? As part of a PhD-research project on early medieval textiles, evidence from settlement sites in the Netherlands has been examined (Brandenburgh, in press). Textiles found in cemeteries are abundantly available as well, but these finds are not useful when dealing with the period of Dorestad because they are often older than the 8th and 9th century. Textiles in graves are most often found in contact with metal artefacts. With the rise of Christianity the burial tradition changed, resulting in fewer metal artefacts in the graves, thus leaving fewer textiles. The cemetery finds therefore are most useful for the period before the Christian tradition. The dataset of settlement-finds consists of 440 fragments of 265 different textiles, from 31 sites mainly situated in the north of the country. Of these textiles, 80 have been published before in more or less detail (Schlabow 1974 on Leens, Westeremden, and a few other textiles from the northern provinces; Bender Jørgensen 1992 on Dokkum, Berg Sion; Zimmerman 2005/2006 on Ulrum; Comis in prep. on Anjum; Miedema 1980 on Dorestad; Leene 1964 on Middelburg; Zimmerman, in press on the hats of Rasquert and Leens). Some of the textile finds, like those coming from the living mounds of Friesland and Groningen (terpen), are badly dated with dates ranging from 600 BC to 1000 AD.

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These sites clearly do not offer the possibilities to create any sort of chronological framework for the development of textile production. Several sites, on the other hand, do not have this dating problem: Dorestad naturally is among these sites, as well as Middelburg, Anjum and a few of the old terpen-excavations like Leens and Westeremden. E vidence for Frisian cloth

Frisian cloth is mentioned in historical texts several times. Strikingly, in these texts the function and use of this type of cloth change over time. In earlier texts Frisian cloth is a valuable and fine cloth or mantle. In later texts of the 10th century it is mentioned as a cloth-type that is produced in large quantities and had a fixed value. The cloth therefore could and did serve as a way of payment. The fabrics in these later texts could be fine but also simple or coarse (Hägg 1993). Apart from this gradual change in the production, trade and appearance of Frisian cloth there is another challenge. When focussing on the period of Dorestad, the written sources do not mention clearly the properties of the material itself. The texts mention that Frisian cloth was valued for being of fine quality. One can interpret this in many ways but this qualification should exclude the coarser weaves found abundantly in the Netherlands. Secondly the cloth seems to have been famous for its colours. Among the textiles found in the Netherlands in most cases no dyestuffs have been detected so far (Walton Rogers 1995, Brandenburgh in press). Of course this does not necessarily mean that they were not dyed because dyestuff can dissolve over time, but it is remarkable that the Dutch textiles were generally not dyed but made out of naturally dark brown or black wool. Therefore it is unlikely that these fabrics are the same as colourful Frisian cloth. With so few characteristics to work with, it is hard to search our dataset for certain types of weave to match the description of Frisian cloth. The written sources do, on the other hand, mention the properties of the objects made out of Frisian cloth. Pallia was used as a men’s mantle or also decking. This narrows the scope to the fabrics that were used as and suitable for mantles. One could therefore suggest that one should be looking for textiles that had properties that fitted the use as mantle: they should be waterproof and warm and the thick felted textiles might fit this description (Hägg 1993:88). There are a few of these fabrics among the Dutch settlement finds but overall the evidence for primary felting is very sparse. Only a few pieces found show evidence of felting and it is not clear whether this is primary or not. The question is whether the Frisians produced the pallia Fresonica themselves or whether they were merely the transporters or tradesmen of this cloth-type. Again this might depend on our definition of Frisian cloth and the moment in time. It has been suggested that the so-called Z/S broken diamond twill might be identified with Frisian cloth (Bender Jørgensen 1992:143). This fabric comes in a wide range of qualities, varying from very coarse to medium fine. It is abundantly present in the dataset of Dutch textiles and much less

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Piled fabric found at Leens.

in the countries surrounding us. This type of weave therefore seems to be characteristic for this area. We can with some certainty assume that the inhabitants of the terpen produced this type of weave themselves. Research on raw wool found in the settlements and the woven textiles from these same sites has pointed out the similarities between the fleeces of the local sheep and the final product (Walton Rogers 1995). This locally produced textile might be identified with the later entries of Frisian cloth in historical texts. The 10thcentury inventory of the monastery of Werden, for example, mentions the delivery of large amounts of cloth from and produced in different settlements in Friesland (Hägg 1993:82). As stated before, these fabrics could be fine but also coarse. This local fabric, however, certainly does not fit the description of the earlier periods where the cloth is prized for its qualities, being a dyed and fine mantle. The evidence for this type of textiles is so far very sparse. With no apparent production sites known at the moment one can only assume right now that during the heyday of Dorestad the Frisians were only the transporters of this type of cloth. P r o d u c t i o n a n d t r a d e o f o t h e r fa b r i c s

Frisian cloth was not the only fabric that was produced to be traded. The most valuable textiles are probably those on which most time and effort had been spent. By now we can begin to understand which types of textiles were possibly not made everywhere because they needed a lot of time, special skills or specific tools to produce. These products of specialized workers are likely to have been valuable goods and likely consequently traded. We can think of several types of fabric that had properties that made them desirable goods and worth trading. These textiles can be described as piled fabrics, very fine fabrics and fine needlework or embroideries. A piled weave is a very thick fabric with long strands of thread worked into the fabric and hanging from the surface. These threads had the same function as fur, causing water to drip down the threads instead of drenching the surface beneath. This fabric was very suitable for cloaks which fits the picture we have from, for instance, England. There this fabric is mainly found in men’s graves as a cloak or grave-

Fig. 60.

Veil-like weave found at Leens.

cover. Piled weaves required extra technical skill to produce which may indicate they were made by specialized craftsmen. These fabrics are sparsely present in the Netherlands: only in Leens and Dokkum examples have been found (Fig. 59). Piled fabrics were certainly an item of trade. Historical texts indicate they were made in and traded from Ireland and Iceland. But also the Frisians seem to have had their share in this market: texts mention that they were dealing in a cloth called villosa which translates as a shaggy fabric. This may have been the same type of cloak (Gudjónsson 1962:70). Also the very fine fabrics must have been valuable. Obviously every woman could spin with a considerable amount of skill, but it would have taken more time and skill to spin and weave thinner yarns. Several fabrics show exceptionally fine spinning and weaving. Firstly the so-called Schleiergewebe or veil-like weave which was found in Leens (Fig. 60). This is a very fragile and open tabby (see Fig. 3a), woven with z-spun threads of 0.2 mm and approximately 10 threads/cm. The fabric was woven out of naturally white wool 2 and was possibly used as headdress. The finest textile is another tabby found in Dokkum. This fabric is a very dense cloth woven with 28 x 15 threads/cm. Two colours of wool were used: white for the warp and dark brown for the weft. It is not clear whether the fabric was also dyed, since no dyes have been detected on the textile. Both these fabrics must have taken considerable skill and time to produce, which may point to production other than on a household level. Most textiles in the Netherlands, like the mitten of Dorestad, are rather coarsely sewn. There are, however, a few examples that show that on some occasions much more effort was spent in sewing a garment. The most convincing evidence is present in several hats found in the terpen in the north of the country. Three of these hats, excavated in Oostrum, Dokkum and Leens (Fig. 61a-b), are carefully sewn using the same kind of decorative stitching (Fig. 62). In the case of the hats from Oostrum and Dokkum a sewing-thread has been used in a contrasting colour which would make the decorative band even more attractive (Brandenburgh in press). The use of the 2 No dyes were detected during dye-analyses.

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A considerable share of these activities would have been selfsupporting domestic production. It is, however, possible that Dorestad had one or several textile workshops where fabrics were made solely for a textile market. Several types of textiles are known to have been traded over long distances. It is likely that a large variety of fabrics and garments – expensive and time-consuming textiles made in specialized workshops as well as the coarser fabrics produced in bulk ­– passed through the centre of trade we know as Dorestad. As to the places of production of these specialized products we are not sure. So far no evidence is available suggesting Dorestad was one of the places where these goods were produced. Further research on the textiles from this region as well as the tools used to produce them will likely give more information about Dorestad’s role in textile production and trade.

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Fig. 62.

Decorative stitching

used on the hats from Oostrum, Dokkum and Leens. Fig. 61a.

Early medieval hat excavated at Oostrum. Collection: Fries Museum.

same type of decorative stitching on the outside of the hats gives the impression of standardisation in making these hats. The use of decorative stitching is self-evidently more than simply functional and may have been an indicator of wealth or status. Fig. 61b

page 33

Conclusion

The evidence for textile production and trade in Dorestad is sparse. The finds of loom weights and spindle whorls indicate that textile production was part of the lives of the inhabitants, but the way this craft was organized is still unknown.

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dorestad coined

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Madelinus and the Disappearing of Gold

The name ‘Madelinus’ is very well-known by those who are interested in medieval coins or archaeologists who specialize in the early-medieval period in northwestern Europe. However, a correct analysis of Madelinus’s functioning and his products is quite another thing. Merovingian coins are indeed a complex matter and this essay cannot provide definitive answers to all the questions. But by touching upon certain long standing issues and raising some new points – for many of which the answers are still lacking – as well as by cutting away some false or distorted opinions, I hope to offer a contribution to a better understanding of this particular group of artefacts in early mediaeval archaeology. I will start with a short overview of the state of coinage and currency in the Frankish empire (Grierson & Blackburn 1986). Fr ank ish coinage

In the aftermath of the Roman empire in the West, coin production was more or less limited to gold coins (Fig. 63). Not everything that appeared on the market was original: many imitations circulated as well. In the 6th century there was a considerable influx in present-day France and surrounding countries of gold coins of Byzantine origin. At the same time western Europe saw the beginning of the production of gold coins by Germanic kingdoms here, mostly anonymous and therefore not always easy to date. The Franks adhered to this Fig. 63.

Tremissis of Pecomaniaco, showing a moneyer at work. Paris,

Bibliothèque Nationale de France, from Lafaurie 1964.

way of operating for the larger part of the 6th century. They continued the production of these pseudo-imperial coins (with the name of the emperor in the East, that is) that can only be attributed on stylistic grounds. The same situation prevailed in Frisia. Most certainly a coherent group of pseudoimperial tremisses can be attributed safely to this region, albeit no name of a Frisian ruler appears on these coins. At this stage a very rare coin type with the legends AVDVLFVS FRISIA and VICTVRIA AVDVLFO must be mentioned, only to say that it is not very likely that this was an emission of royal Frisian origin. Neither can it be attributed safely to that region or to any other specific area in the Frankish sphere – in fact we are clueless here. Only its dating to c. 590 is no problem, since the type is in conformity with other (more or less datable) coins and so is its gold content. Its presence in the very important Escharen hoard is indicative as well. This hoard, that is so crucial for the dating of the different phases of the coinage of the Franks, will be discussed in more detail later. At the end of the 6th century Frankish coinage arrived at a new phase in which the traditional imperial legends were replaced (Pol 2001b; Pol 2002). Now the names of the mint where the coin was struck and the moneyer who was responsible for its production appeared. This seems to coincide with a less visible but more important reform, namely that of the weight and gold content of the coins. The previous period of pseudo-imperial coinage saw a gradual decline of the amount of precious metal in the coins, and now central control seems to be back again. Not a single scrap of written evidence to support this statement has survived, but the historical documents that the coins themselves are do inform us of the new circumstances by way of their changing outer and inner aspects. Although no fewer than 800 mints are known to have existed in France, the western part of Switzerland, Germany along the Rhine and in Belgium plus two in the Netherlands, and in spite of the fact that some 1500 moneyers produced a wide array of stylistically diverse coins over slightly less than the century between c. 585 and 675 AD, these items still were d o r e s ta d c o i n e d

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Fig. 64.

Tremissis of Dorestat, moneyer Rimoaldus. Leeuwarden, Fries

Fig. 65-

Tremissis of Dorestat, moneyer Madelinus. Utrecht, Geldmuseum.

Museum, from Boeles 1951:513, no.120.

made after one and the same model. They all are: gold, 1.3 gram, obverse bust, reverse cross and of a fairly consistent gold content. There must have been something like central control and legislation, although texts stating this are missing. The coins themselves seem to contradict the idea of unity because of the large number of mints and the ever-varying size and style produced by them – innumerable hands were involved in making the many dies – so it is not difficult to see why this coinage gives an impression of being in a state of chaos. This impression is certainly strengthened by the fact that only a very small part of the coins that were issued show the name of a king in the legend. So it is not difficult to understand why his role in the coinage system was often regarded as a quantité négligeable, or at least very different to what is usually observed in earlier and later periods and in other societies. The Low Countries

The region that is now called the Netherlands was situated at the northern periphery of the Frankish realm, partly in and partly outside the border. It seems to have played a very marginal role in the production of gold coins in the period under view, since only the mints of Maastricht and Wijk bij Duurstede are confirmed. Nijmegen is regarded as very likely to have housed a Frankish mint but Tiel must be discarded as the site of one. However, Maastricht and Wijk bij Duurstede in fact were important production centres as can be derived from the relatively large number of coins that have survived among the total of Merovingian coins known today. For Maastricht equally important is the significant number of twelve moneyers that were active there (Pol 1995). There are a few places in France where 20 or even 25 moneyers were active in slightly less than a century, but these are exceptions to the rule as the large majority of the mints probably operated on an incidental basis only. They saw no more than one moneyer and he served there probably for a very limited time span. Seen in this perspective, the frontier mint of Dorestat1 was of quite a different character. In Dorestat only two moneyers were active, Rimoaldus (Fig. 64) and Madelinus. They both had been striking quite extensive series of coins in Maastricht before their appearance in Dorestat, but in Dorestat Rimoaldus seems to have been far 1 On 7th-century coins the orthography of the place name exclusively contains a ‘t’, therefore in this article Dorestat is written like this.

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less productive. Only five specimens can now be attributed to his issues here. For Madelinus, however, at this moment the very impressive number of nearly 600 coins can be associated with his name. This phrasing is deliberate, because in fact this huge number is not only Madelinus’s own doing. A closer look quickly reveals that – where many specimens are made quite neatly – a large part of these coins show rather crude designs and legends. It is not difficult to see that this series was subject to large-scale imitation (Pol 2001a; Pol 2008). For a better understanding of what has been going on in this series, the material was divided along the line of a correct orthography of the mint indication. On the stylistically best specimens it reads DORESTATI FIT (‘made in Dorestat’; Fig. 65), but on the majority of the coins the letter I at the end of the place-name is missing. The division may seem somewhat arbitrary, but it works: among what I regard as imitations there are coins that do not show much sign of degradation, but not a single die-link with the originals has been found. Of course, this is not conclusive evidence, but the percentage of die-identical and die-linked specimens in the group of original coins is very high, as is observed in so many other series of Merovingian coins. Coins are struck with dies that wear down or perish at different speed and are therefore replaced in an unpredictable rhythm. Very often, among a certain number of coins many specimens are found that were struck with one obverse die and a number of different reverse dies. This circumstance permits us to establish a relative chronology, because the longest living die is gradually becoming ‘older’. Where were these imitations (Fig. 66) made? Until recently, the answer to this question could only be outlined very roughly. When looking at the production side, one cannot help but noticing that the total group of imitations is extremely heterogeneous. This leads us more or less automatically to the conclusion that a very large number of mints were involved. The finds of imitations are spread evenly over northwestern Europe, and at present no distribution pattern can be seen that helps in isolating one or more probable production centres. And this in turn may lead to the conclusion that these mints hardly deserved that name: probably a matter of small-scale and primitive, incidental striking of coins by every goldsmith around the corner. Special skills for making dies and the proper gold content are required, but these are indeed probably among the usual tools of goldsmiths. Only an extraordinary find in nearby Katwijk, on the coast at the very

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Fig. 66.

Tremissis of Dorestat, moneyer Madelinus – imitation. Utrecht,

Geldmuseum.

Gold content

The gradual decline of the gold content of the tremissis in the 7th century has already been mentioned. This debasement took place progressively, as is clear from the relative chronology of coin-types and varieties and die-links, together with the differences in composition that subsequent coin hoards show. The latter are extremely rare ensembles since in a period of some ten decades in the 6th and 7th centuries, in the whole of western Europe only 25 hoards have come down to us. In the Netherlands we are at least blessed with the fortunate preservation of most of these valuable documents in the museums in Assen, Leeuwarden, Leiden and Utrecht. In comparison France is much less well off because there none of the larger hoards has been kept together. Crucial for the dating of Merovingian coinage in the national phase is

Fig. 67.

Lead striking for a Tremissis of pseudo-Madelinus type. Utrecht,

Geldmuseum, from Pol 2010.

the Escharen hoard (Fig. 68) because it supplies us with a fixed point for undated coinage (Lafarie 195960; Grierson & Blackburn 1986:124). Of a series of hoards, Escharen is the oldest that contains Frankish coins with the names of mints and moneyers. These coins cannot be dated easily by themselves, since there are no records that inform us about the periods the moneyers were active. Apart from these items, in this hoard there are two more groups of coins that can be dated fairly accurately because they show the names of reigning emperors. One is from Byzantium itself, the other from cities in Provence and both series end with Mauricius Tiberius who reigned from 582 till 602. Numismatic reasoning has it that in this case the hoard was concealed c. 600 AD, which is confirmed by the absence of any coins from Marseilles under Chlotarius II from 613 onwards. This prolific mint in the South of France is represented extensively in Wieuwerd, which is the next in the row of hoards. Now that the terminus post quem of the Escharen hoard itself has been established firmly, the nondated coins are dated by their presence in the hoard and its date of concealment: they belong to the earliest in the phase of national coinage of the Franks, certainly being around c. 590. Among these are coins from all over France, as well as from nearby Maastricht (Fig. 69) and Huy on the Meuse river. The very end of gold coinage in the Frankish empire is reached with the introduction of the silver denarius, welldated to c. 675 by some royal and episcopal coins of Tours, Fig. 69.

Tremissis of Maastricht, moneyer Madelinus. Utrecht, Geldmuseum.

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Fig. 68

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end of the Roman limes, supplied us with a clue (Pol & Van der Veen 2008; Pol 2010). Here a trial striking for a pseudoMadelinus was recovered (Fig. 67). This is most certainly not to be regarded as a half-fabricate for a coin forger producing guilt copper coins – these too exist in the early Middle Ages – but as an effort to test a coin die: there is a design on only one side, the flan is not round but square, and the object is destroyed by breaking it into two. Usually coins are spread in all directions, sometimes very far. Also the travelling of coin dies is reported every now and then, but patterns can safely be regarded as a very local product: made on the spot, so to say. This circumstance enables us to pin down at least one of many varieties as struck in what is now Katwijk. The possibility that the item does not reflect a trial striking strictu sensu but a means of cleaning the dies by making an impression in lead, does not affect the importance of the geographical pinpointing. There is, however, a slight problem that comes with this identification of one of the imitative mints, namely that a regular gold coin struck with the same obverse die of exactly this variety has not been seen to date. The question as to why the Madelinus-type was imitated so extensively is equally hard to answer. The most common reply is that the type obviously had become immensely popular and therefore was requested on a large scale whenever new coins were needed. Some archaeologists assume that it is the cross on the reverse that made the Madelinus type so much in demand. But then, all Merovingian coins of the period showed this design!

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d o r e s ta d c o i n e d

Fig. 70.

Silver sceatta of Madelinus-type. Utrecht, Geldmuseum, from Pol 2008.

Clermont and Marseilles. All regular Frankish coins with the names of mints and moneyers therefore have to be situated between c. 585 and c. 675. Their spread over these nine decades is subject to typology, style, die-studies, hoard sequence and, finally, the gradual decline of the gold content. In this way the starting date for Madelinus’s activities in Dorestat is fixed at c. 630-640. As remarked before, he produced a number of different types in Maastricht before coming to Dorestat. His latest products in Maastricht are exact look-alikes of the coins he struck at his new residence. The coins of both mints have a gold content of c. 50%, plus or minus 5%. When and where the first imitations came about cannot be said with certainty, but the stylistically best specimens do show the same fineness. Therefore, these must be regarded as contemporaries or near contemporaries, possibly made in or near Dorestat. They even may be products of the regular mint under Madelinus, but here we must point out the combined slight degradation of style and gold content that is already there under the surface. Since the original coins by Madelinus are fairly consistent in their gold content, the period in which they were made was probably rather short, maybe no more than a decade. There is no clue as to why production stopped so soon, except for the tautological assumption that in the 7th century Dorestat may not have had the importance it gained in the 8th and 9th centuries. Anyhow, after the middle of the 7th century things grew out of hand very soon. The number of imitations – compared with other series of Frankish coins – is disproportionally large and in the following quarter of a century the diversity of styles and hands becomes gigantic,

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along with rapid decline of the gold content. In all that has been remarked here on the gold content of imitations, it was assumed that their producers also more or less adhered to the standard. It goes without saying that since we have no means to establish whether the imitative mints were under Frankish rule or not, we cannot say how close the development of the gold content in the Frankish empire was followed. However, since imitation is a matter of fashion, of following a popular or well-known example, it is also subject to change. The imitators were in the business of making gold coins and in due course the production of (gold) pseudoMadelinus coins was replaced by making the purely silver coins (Fig. 70) that next became paramount, in the centre plus probably in the periphery at the same time as well (Metcalf 1993-4:252; Pol 2008). And most probably Frisian coinage followed suit immediately, as it had done already twice before – with the pseudo-imperial series and the Dronrijp-type – and was about to do later as well. Fashion, certainly, but clearly inspired by economic laws. Gold mone y?

At this point the ultimate question must be raised: the gold objects made in Dorestat and other mints were certainly coins, but were they also money? Since the items were made according to certain specifications we quite rightly call them coins and as such they left the mint, in an economic frame of mind. But however small tremisses are – slightly over 1 gram and about the size of a fingernail – they certainly were not fit for use in day-to-day transactions in the market-place. The value of these small pieces probably was several thousand times the value of a present-day small coin – a 200 or 500 euro banknote is the more likely equivalent of the 7th-century tremissis. They may have functioned in larger mercantile transactions or in the trade of luxury items as has been remarked so often before. Also politically inspired ‘payments’ are a likely possibility, as are the social interactions in which people get involved and where the exchange of gifts, on whatever scale, is an important element. Gold was a category that early medieval society could not do without. In many instances, however, it was not the heavy gold rings or the preciously decorated armour that was needed: at that moment the small coins came in, from Dorestat or elsewhere...

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Boom and bust at 9th-century Dorestad Simon Coupland

they do not offer a reliable guide to fluctuations over time, and it is now recognised that single finds are a much more reliable indicator in this regard (Blackburn 1990; 1993; 2003; 2008:34-6). The coins which were overlooked in Van Gelder’s survey were the large numbers of Christiana religio issues of Louis the Pious which were mentioned but not enumerated in the 19th-century accounts which he drew upon. These accounts suggest that Louis’ Christiana religio coinage was in fact the most common type found at Wijk bij Duurstede, a supposition confirmed by the well documented finds of the last thirty years. For the second reason for amending Van Gelder’s conclusions is that since 1980 many more single finds have been recorded, both from archaeological excavations and from metal detectorists, as well as two more small hoards, one of them a pre-Carolingian group of 12 sceattas found in 1994/5 (Van Doesburg 1998), the other a corroded lump of at least 17 Christiana religio coins of Louis the Pious discovered in 2002 (Fig. 71; Dijkstra 2004). This means that Wijk bij Duurstede is now far and away the most productive site for Carolingian coin finds anywhere in Europe. I know of over 375 single finds, compared with just over 200 at Domburg, which is the next best represented; nowhere else has as many as 100, Fig. 71.

2002 hoard of Christiana religio coins of Louis the

Pious. Photo: trecht, Geldmuseum, from Dijkstra 2004.

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As Van Es and Verwers rightly noted in 1980, the coin finds from Wijk bij Duurstede provide invaluable evidence to date the rise and fall of the prosperity of Carolingian Dorestad (Van Es & Verwers 1980:294-8). In their work, the great Dutch numismatist H. Enno van Gelder surveyed the existing corpus of single finds and the three local coin hoards and concluded that ‘in the last quarter of the 8th century and the first quarter of the 9th century a regular influx of currency from all parts of the kingdom circulated in Dorestad, and this influx, the result of thriving trade, sharply declined around 830[...] The exceptional productivity of the Dorestad mint, again confirmed by the recent finds in the area, came to an end about the same time’ (Van Gelder 1980:223). Although Van Gelder’s conclusions have frequently been repeated (e.g. Van Es 1990:163, Van Doesburg 1994:195, Verhulst 2002:133), there are compelling reasons to amend them. First, it is clear that some coins were included in his figures which should have been omitted, and that others were left out which should have been taken into account (Coupland 1988:8-12). The coins which should not have been included were the contents of the three hoards found at Wijk bij Duurstede. Although hoards offer very useful insights into economic conditions at the moment they were deposited,

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and most sites considerably fewer (Coupland forthcoming a). We should also note that more Carolingian hoards have now been found at Wijk bij Duurstede than anywhere else in Europe. If anyone ever questions it, incidentally, here is irrefutable proof of the location of Carolingian Dorestad at Wijk bij Duurstede. More significantly for our purposes, all this means that we are in a uniquely strong position to study the economy of Dorestad during the Carolingian period. What the single finds offer are two distinct types of insight into the local economy of the time: firstly, the number of finds can be assumed to reflect the amount of coins in circulation at the site, with variations over time giving a sense of the fluctuations in economic activity. As we shall see, we now have a clearer and more secure picture than ever before of a remarkable boom in the local economy between the end of the 8th century and the 830s. The emporium then evidently suffered a severe downturn in the 840s, before disappearing altogether around 855. Secondly, the origin of the coins can give us an idea of the changing circulation patterns of the coinage, and thus shed light on Dorestad’s role in the wider Frankish economy. As we shall see, the single finds reveal a transformation in Dorestad’s trading network in the late 8th century, as coins from more distant parts of the Frankish realm reached the port in ever increasing numbers. This state of affairs continued during the reign of Louis the Pious, but Dorestad’s sphere of influence then shrank in the 840s, with the disappearance of the inter-regional trade which was so significant in the port’s heyday. A number of factors point to the most likely cause of Dorestad’s surge in prosperity in the late 8th and early 9th century, which was not matched elsewhere on the Continent, as an increase in trade with Scandinavia, which in turn drew in silver from right across Francia. A series of events, including the Frankish civil war, Viking incursions, and the arrival of significant quantities of Arab silver in Scandinavia combined to hamper that trade and thus to hasten Dorestad’s remarkably rapid decline after 840, until its demise in the 850s. Single finds: the big picture

Because of the uncertainty regarding the exhaustiveness of the finds recorded before the 1970s – essentially, coins which were unusual or interesting were more frequently reported than those which were common, which were ignored (Coupland 1988:9-12) – Figure 72 is based only on the welldocumented finds made in recent times. There is a potential danger with this approach, in that areas of the site which have been investigated archeologically will be especially well represented, and may not be representative of the whole of Carolingian Dorestad. However, because large numbers of finds have also come from detectorists, and not just from excavation, it can be assumed that they provide a reliable sample. Any major discrepancies between these 176 modern finds and the fuller find record (over twice that number) will also be noted at the appropriate point. It needs to be borne in mind that the vertical axis does not depict the actual number of finds, but the number of finds per year of circulation, since

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average number of finds per year

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

96

3,5

LP XR

3,0

Chm monogram

2,5 2,0 1,5 1,0 0,5 0,0 750

Fig. 72.

770

790

810

830

850

870

890

Modern single finds from Wijk bij Duurstede per year, 751-900.

we would expect fewer finds of coins which were in circulation for only four or five years than of those which were part of the coin stock for quarter of a century. The figures have also been adjusted to reflect the effect of wastage rates gradually removing older coins from circulation.1 As a result of using only the reliably documented modern finds and of using a more accurate method of analysis, there are significant differences between this histogram and that published in my earlier analysis (Coupland 2002:225). There the highest point was around 820, when Louis the Pious was producing mint-signed coinage. Such coins are relatively rare and of significant interest to collectors, so were almost certainly more fully documented in earlier reports (58 are recorded in all, but just 14 among modern finds). The effect of taking into account the continuing circulation of Louis’ Christiana religio coinage after 840 is also evident, in that it now only just tops Charlemagne’s monogram coinage on the chart, reflecting a greater consistency in economic activity at the site. The picture that emerges is clear and dramatic – slow and steady activity in the latter part of the 8th century, but then a sudden boom in the economy at the end of that century, which then continues, with perhaps a slight dip over the early years of the 9th century, until the high point of the 830s. The sharp decline identified by Van Gelder then occurs not in that decade, during the reign of Louis the Pious, but after the emperor’s death, with economic activity evidently ceasing altogether around 860. A comparison with the single finds from two other nearby sites helps to bring out the local factors at Dorestad more clearly. The finds from Domburg and Schouwen (Fig. 73 & 74, which similarly show levels of circulation, adjusted for wastage) reveal a significant increase in the amount of coinage in circulation across this whole region in the 820s and 830s, and indeed, we can observe this trend right across the Frankish empire (Coupland forthcoming a). However, 1 For a fuller discussion of the issues, and charts showing the original data without length of circulation being taken into account, see Coupland forthcoming a.

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average number of finds per year

average number of finds per year

4,5 LP XR 4,0 3,5 3,0 2,5 2,0 1,5 -

2,0 -

LP XR

1,8 1,6 1,4 1,2 1,0 -

1,0 0,8 -

0,0 750

Fig. 73.

770

790

810

830

850

870

890

Single finds from Domburg per year, 751-900.

comparing the data from the three sites shows that the boom at Dorestad began substantially earlier than elsewhere, in the latter part of Charlemagne’s reign. We shall return to this. When we look at the period of Dorestad’s decline, the charts again demonstrate the contrast between the single finds at these three sites, which are relatively close to each other and must surely have operated within the same economic sphere. In particular, at both Domburg and Schouwen there are finds of Charles the Bald’s Gratia dei rex coinage, which was introduced in a coinage reform in 864 and is well known from West Frankish hoards. By contrast there are absolutely no such finds at Dorestad, just as there are no finds of coins of Lothar II, who ruled after his father’s death in 855. This confirms that there must have been a cessation in Dorestad’s economic activity in the mid-850s, for how else can we explain the complete lack of finds at Wijk bij Duurstede of coinage which was clearly circulating elsewhere in the region in the 860s and 870s? It is important to appreciate that in Figure 2 coins minted between 840 and 864 which cannot be dated more precisely have been spread evenly across that period. They could potentially all have been lost before 855.

0,6 750 Fig. 74.

770

790

810

830

850

870

890

Single finds from Schouwen per year, 751-900.

onstrate that it was one of the leading mints of the empire, ranking alongside Melle in Poitou, the site of the only known Frankish silver mine, and the Italian mints of Milan, Pavia and Venice (Coupland 2005:215, 223; 1990:33-4; forthcoming a). Dorestad’s prominence can be observed even when there was no mint-name on the coinage, and Louis the Pious was minting coins bearing the anonymous Christiana religio legend. As Van Gelder noticed as long ago as the 1960s, there is an important group of these coins which can on stylistic grounds be attributed to Dorestad (Fig. 75; Van Gelder 1961:31-2; Van Gelder 1965:250-1; Coupland 1988:16-22). As Figure 76 reflects, these represent the largest group of Louis’ Christiana religio coins not only in northern hoards such as the finds from Emmen, Wagenborgen and Yde in the Netherlands, but also in the more southerly hoards of Pilligerheck, Roermond, and now Luzancy, near Paris. Although none was present in Fig. 76.

Percentages of Christiana religio coins attributable to Dorestad in

various contemporary hoards.

D o r e s ta d ’ s b o o m y e a r s

29% 16% 41%

Hoards and single finds elsewhere in the empire confirm Dorestad’s significance in the Carolingian economy through­ out the reigns of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious. They dem-

12% 14%

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

0,5 -

11% Fig. 75.

0%

Christiana religio coin of Louis the Pious attributable to Dorestad.

Private collection; photo Simon Coupland.

0%

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Dorestad

Chartres

Paris Le Mans? Poitiers? Clermont?

Fig. 77.

Lead objects found at Wijk bij Duurstede, one bearing the imprint of

a square Christiana religio die, the other that of a round die of Charles the Bald from Paris. Photo: RMO Leiden.

Fig. 78.

the hoards from Hermenches in Switzerland or Freising in Bavaria, a single find has turned up as far away as nord-Isère (Coupland forthcoming c).2 Dorestad was clearly still one of the most significant imperial mints in the 820s and 830s. It may be thought surprising that the reverse die of a Christiana religio issue found stamped on a lead object, maybe a weight, at Wijk bij Duurstede does not match the style of this group of coins (Fig. 77; Willemsen 2009:121, cf. Fig. 2). This is not significant, however, in that an almost identical object which was similarly found at the site bears the reverse die of a coin of Charles the Bald from Paris, so the Christiana religio die may likewise originate from another mint altogether. One thing which these two lead objects helpfully illustrate is the two different types of dies used by the Franks: round and square. The impressions in the lead clearly show that the Christiana religio coin die had a square end, and the Parisian die a round one, as did the only known surviving Carolingian coin die, from Melle.3 The fact that the coins from the Dorestad mint were struck at angles of 0º, 90º, 180º and 270º indicates that the dies here, too, were square. Van Gelder’s suggestion that this represented a significant technological advance in coin production (Van Gelder 1961:25-6) is questionable, however. Melle was a highly significant and productive mint with a high quality of output consistently maintained over decades, yet used round dies. Although the Franks evidently valued some level of standardisation in design (as the Christiana religio coinage itself demonstrates), a standardised relationship between the two faces of a coin offered no particular advantage, since round dies could be lined up just as effectively as square ones, and there is no evidence that the Carolingians ever used die axes as a means to detect forgery.

It is important to note that the prolonged and steady rise in economic activity which we observe at Dorestad between the 790s and the 830s was not paralleled in other places on the Continent from which we have collections of single finds (Coupland forthcoming a). Equally significant is the fact that it was not mirrored across the Channel in AngloSaxon England, either. Indeed, the singe finds there indicate a drop in the amount of silver in circulation at this time (Blackburn 2003:32). There are several clues to suggest that the most likely cause of Dorestad’s increased prosperity was an increase in trade with Scandinavia. Archaeological evidence in southern Denmark confirms that trade with the Franks was flourishing at this time (Näsman 2000), and the particular significance of Dorestad is brought out by Rimbert’s Life of Anskar, which referred to Danes in Hedeby who had been ‘baptized in Dorestad’ (Waitz 1884:52). Even during the reign of the warlike Danish king Godfrid, when political relations between the two nations were severely strained, Frankish written sources reveal that cross-border trade was continuing.4 And the 820s and 830s, when the boom at Dorestad evidently reached its peak, appear to have been a period of remarkable harmony between the Franks and the Danes, with regular diplomatic contact between the two courts, and Frankish missionaries able to travel freely into Denmark for the first time (Coupland forthcoming a). It is also noteworthy that the earliest Danish coinage types minted in Hedeby initially imitated coinage from the Dorestad mint, then subsequently used ship motifs which were almost certainly inspired by the portrait coinage produced at Dorestad by Charlemagne and Louis the Pious (cf. Williams, this volume).

2 Specimens were also present in the hoards from Aalsum, Harlingen, Lokeren, Loppersum, Oudwoude, Rijs, Roswinkel; Tzummarum 1, Westerklief 1 and Zelzate, though unfortunately I cannot give accurate percentages, having not been able to study the entire hoards.

4 See the reference to merchants in Annales regni Francorum (revision) 809: Kurze 1895:128, translated in Scholz 1972:90. Godfrid’s relations with the Franks are summarised in e.g. Collins 1998:167-9.

3 See www.mshs.univ-poitiers.fr/cescm/IMG/pdf/Expo_Melle_Panneaux.pdf. The Paris mint also owns a lead imprint of a Melle die: www.monnaiedeparis.com/ musee/medailler.htm

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Origin of single finds of coins of Pippin III at Wijk bij Duurstede.

5 Note that the term ‘Frisia’ is used in this article with its 9th-century meaning, which includes a significantly larger area than modern-day Friesland.

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1-3 coins 4-9 coins 10+ coins

1-3 coins 4-9 coins 10+ coins Dorestad

Dorestad Verdun

Rouen Strasbourg?

Mainz

Chateaudun

Sens Orleans Bourges Lyon Vienne Milan Treviso Agen Pavia Arles Ravenna Lucca Toulouse Beziers Marseille Narbonne Gerona Ampurias Tours Melle

Melle Treviso Parma

Origin of single finds of Charlemagne’s pre-reform coinage at Wijk bij

Fig. 80.

Origin of single finds of Charlemagne’s monogram coinage at Wijk

Duurstede.

bij Duurstede.

At the trading settlement at Kaupang in Norway, the evidence similarly points to the Carolingian empire, and Frisia in particular, as a highly significant trading partner at this time (Blackburn 2008:70; Skre, this volume).5 At Birka in Sweden, too, archaeological evidence shows that the primary focus of long-distance trade during this period was western Europe (Magnus 1998:23), while the Life of Anskar mentions Frankish merchants setting out to visit Birka and men from Birka travelling to Dorestad, presumably to trade (Waitz 1884:31, 58). At Kaupang, at Birka, and indeed right across Scandi­ navia the most common finds of Frankish coinage are, as at Dorestad, of Louis’ Christiana religio type (Garipzanov 2009). Although some of these coins were most likely taken in raids on Aquitaine, and others perhaps given as religious or political gifts, a significant number were undoubtedly imported as a result of trade, as a recent find of Carolingian coins on Ærø in Denmark underlines (Moesgaard 2009; Coupland forthcoming b). This range of evidence of flourishing trade between diverse regions of Scandinavia and Dorestad, taken from a variety of sources, provides a very plausible explanation of the port’s increased prosperity in the early 9th century.

investigation, which are not necessarily exclusive: first, a balance of payments surplus drawing silver into Dorestad from the rest of the Continent; second, a continuance of the circulation, and perhaps even minting, of sceattas in northern Frisia to the end of the 8th century. The first is suggested by the patterns of circulation which are revealed when we plot the origins of the coins found at Wijk bij Duurstede. In this instance the coins found in hoards are included alongside single finds, because they are equally valid evidence of the port’s contacts with other regions. They show a remarkable expansion of Dorestad’s network during the late 8th and early 9th centuries which parallels the economic growth suggested by the volume of single finds. Under Pippin III some single finds are of uncertain origin, but those which can be attributed come predominantly from Dorestad itself (7-8 out of 19) and then from the south and west: Francia, Neustria and northern Aquitaine (Fig. 78).7 The contemporary coin hoard found at Wijk bij Duurstede in 1972 consisted entirely of local coins: 24 of Dorestad and one of Maastricht (Van Gelder 1980:212-15). In Charlemagne’s prereform period coins from Italy and the Rhine are also found at Wijk bij Duurstede, but the numbers of mints represented are still small (Fig. 79).8 In the local hoard containing these coins, just over half – nine of the 17 – bore the mint-name of Dorestad, while other coins came from Dinant, Reims and Mainz (Van Gelder 1980:218-19). At the turn of the century the picture changes dramatically. Just as the number of single finds mushrooms, so does their spread (Fig. 80). No fewer than 29 of Charlemagne’s forty known mints of monogram coinage are represented by finds at Wijk bij Duurstede, with coins from all corners of this vast empire, and it is worth noting that five of the remaining eleven mints are not known from any hoard or

T h e s o u r c e o f t h e s i lv e r

This conclusion does, however, raise the significant question of the origin of the silver which fuelled the increase in coinage production at Dorestad at this time. For late 8th- and early 9th-century Scandinavia was not a region rich in silver. It had no established coinage 6 and little thesaurised silver, and it was only the Viking age which saw significant importation of silver into the north. The numismatic evidence from Francia and Scandinavia suggests two possibilities worthy of closer 6 We shall consider a localised exception to this, at Ribe, below. The Hedeby coinage mentioned earlier can be seen as a consequence rather than a source of this expansion. 7 The three coins found in addition to the list in Coupland 2002:228, are from Dorestad and from uncertain mints (RF and R).

8 The coin ascribed to Parma in Coupland 2002:228, following Van Gelder 1980, should rather be attributed to Verdun (NUMIS 1033592 = de Geer 789-4-22); compare Völckers 1965:XXV.81. Additional single finds are also now known from Dorestad (1), Strasbourg? (1) and the as yet unidentified mints of CLS and RAVDIO.

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Fig. 79.

Quentovic Trier Laon

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1-3 coins 4-9 coins 10+ coins

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100

Quentovic Rouen

Aachen

Mainz Meaux Strasbourg

Toulouse

Fig. 81.

Dorestad Cologne

Milan Pavia

Regensbourg

Treviso Venezia

Origin of single finds of Louis the Pious’ second coinage type at Wijk

bij Duurstede.

single finds. There are single finds in significant numbers from such distant mints as Arles, Mainz, Melle, Milan, Pavia and Toulouse.9 This is surely evidence that at the end of the 8th century Dorestad was part of a vast network of trade that stretched across the empire, and that in that trade it was a highly significant player.10 During Louis the Pious’s reign this trend, like the economic boom we observed earlier, evidently continued, with finds of mint-signed coins again from right across the empire (Fig. 81).11 The 15 coins found with the pre-reform coins of Charlemagne mentioned earlier, in what was evidently a savings hoard,12 thus come from a much wider spread of mints than the earlier coins: just three were minted in Dorestad itself, while the rest were struck in Aachen, Bourges, Cambrai, Cologne, Meaux, Milan, Narbonne, Strasbourg, Tours and Venice (Van Gelder 1980:219-21). As for the latter part of Louis’ reign, when the Christiana religio coinage was being produced, we are unfortunately not yet in a position to map the origins of these coins. This is partly because I am only able to attribute about half of these with any confidence, but more particularly because so few of these coins have been properly published, with illustrations which would permit an attribution. Among the few single finds from Wijk bij Duurstede which I have been able to study, ten were attributable to Dorestad itself, five to Melle and four to Milan, and one apiece to Dax, Orléans, Trier, Saxony, Sens and Tours (Coupland forthcoming c). As for the 2002 hoard (Fig. 71), several of the 17 coins it contained are badly corroded and fused together in an inseparable lump. However, of those that can be studied, two are of Trier, one of Venice, one probably 9 To Coupland 2002:228-9, can now be added additional single finds from Agen (1), Arles (1), Dorestad (2), Laon (1), Mainz (2), Narbonne (1 + 1 obole), Pavia (2) and Tours (2). 10 Although the finds of coins from other mints at Wijk bij Duurstede are not matched by finds of Dorestad coinage at other sites across the empire, this is partly due to the fact that very few Carolingian single finds of any type are recorded anywhere in France. There are, however, a number of single finds of Charlemagne’s Dorestad monogram coinage from the Netherlands, as well as from Amay in Belgium, Mainz, and Kregme in Denmark; Coupland 2002:215, n. 19.

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of Milan (only one face can be studied) and one probably of Reims (here the mint attribution is less certain).13 The coins presumably represented the contents of someone’s purse, and it might perhaps have belonged to a merchant from the Rhine/Moselle region, given the origins of the coins and the apparent lack of otherwise common issues from mints such as Melle, Orléans, Dax, Tours or indeed Dorestad itself, though this is highly speculative. To summarise the picture thus far, we have seen that from the end of the 8th century increasing numbers of coins began to flow into Dorestad from an ever wider range of Carolingian regions. Although the single finds should not be interpreted in a simplistic way, as if individual merchants from each part of the realm were travelling to Dorestad with only local coins in their purses, the evidence does indicate a flow of coinage into the port from right across this huge area, through local, regional and long-distance commerce, including no doubt tolls, taxes and trade. As we have seen, this was not the case before the reform of 793/4, and it would not be the case after the breakdown of the empire into three kingdoms in 840 (Metcalf 199014 ; Coupland 2001:192). This evidence suggests that Dorestad was enjoying a balance of payments surplus over the rest of the empire, as Frankish merchants travelled to and from the emporium purchasing and distributing an increased range and volume of goods and materials, including doubtless many from Scandinavia. This would account both for the unique rise in prosperity which is observable at Dorestad between 790 and 820, and for the way in which the pattern of coin circulation changed between the 750s and the 830s. Having said that Scandinavia had no established coinage at this early date, there was one apparent exception to this rule, namely the Danish town of Ribe. The very large number of local finds of so-called Wodan-monster sceattas, the complete absence of finds of Carolingian coinage in Ribe and the very well defined stratigraphy of the site all suggest not only that these particular sceattas were minted at Ribe but also that they acted as an indigenous currency, to the exclusion of other, foreign coins. They appear to have been in circulation locally throughout the 8th century until they were replaced c. 820 by early Danish pennies of the same size as Carolingian denarii but continuing the iconography of the Wodan-monster sceattas (Malmer 2007; Feveile 2008). Merchants travelling from Ribe to Dorestad would thus doubtless have brought silver sceattas to the emporium which would then have been turned into Carolingian pennies during Dorestad’s boom years. Could this also have been the case in the rest of northern Frisia? For it has been suggested that in these marginal 11 To Coupland 2002:230 should be added additional single finds from Dorestad (2), Mainz (1), Rouen (1) and Toulouse (1 obole). 12 That is, a hoard which has evidently been put together in two or more discrete stages, containing coins which should normally have been removed from circulation by recoinages. 13 I am extremely grateful to Menno Dijkstra for sending me pictures of the coins. 14 Leiden 1991: 1 Dorestad (NUMIS 1017282); Rotterdam 1990: 1 Dorestad (NUMIS 1026025); Wageningen 1980: 1 Seal of Solomon (NUMIS 1032644, cf. Völckers 1965:V.1).

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border regions, perhaps closer in mentality to Ribe than to the Frankish heartlands, sceattas similarly remained in use in the local economy till the end of the 8th century (Feveile 2008:61-3). Although Frisia had been conquered by Pippin III and was under Frankish rule, it remained a liminal territory, and in 837 Louis the Pious complained about the disobedience of Frisian counts who had allegedly offered inadequate resistance to Danish raiders (Annales Bertiniani [AB] 837: Grat, Vielliard & Clémencet 1964:22; trans. Nelson 1991:37). In economic terms, the north of Frisia was very different from the Frankish regions to the south, with no towns, abbeys or monasteries, and later in the 9th century there is clear evidence of a pattern of economic activity in Frisia quite unlike that elsewhere on the Continent (Coupland 2006:250-62). Moreover, in the early 8th century there is certainly ‘proof of an already thoroughly monetized and well-developed economy... Sceattas appear to have been widely employed in daily local exchanges, as well as in international trade’ (Op den Velde & Metcalf 2007:161). The question is whether these sceattas continued to be used as currency during the latter part of the 8th century, when Pippin and Charlemagne had begun minting Carolingian denarii in Dorestad and elsewhere. The evidence behind this hypothesis is the large number of sceatta finds in the north and the small number of finds of early Carolingian coinage. Among the single finds from Wijnaldum in Friesland, for example, were 36 sceattas but just one monogram coin of Charlemagne and six coins of Louis the Pious, with no Carolingian coins from before the reform of 793/4 (Pol 1999). Certainly there are few published single finds of Pippin III’s coinage in this region: I know of just three, from Leiden and Rotterdam in Zuid-Holland and Wageningen in Gelderland.15 There are slightly more finds of Charlemagne’s pre-reform coinage, but still not many: I am aware of one apiece from Gelderland and Groningen, two from Zuid-Holland, and four from Friesland.16 After the reform of 793/4 the numbers noticeably increase – even omitting all finds of coins from Melle, which could be coins of Charles the Bald, there are six single finds from Friesland, four from Noord-Holland, three from Zuid-Holland, two apiece from Groningen and Gelderland, and a small hoard of 15 coins, plus one pre-reform coin, from Borne in Overijssel.17

These figures might appear to support the case for the continuing circulation of sceattas in Frisia into the late 8th century. However, it is important to appreciate that a similar picture can be observed in other Frankish regions where there was definitely no circulation of sceattas. A survey of single finds from as far apart as the Loire, nord-Isère and Mainz all show few or indeed no finds of coins of Pippin, a few more of Charlemagne before the reform, and a larger number of monogram coins (Coupland forthcoming a).18 Indeed, at Wijk bij Duurstede itself there are 19 single finds of coins of Pippin and 21 of Charlemagne’s pre-reform coinage, compared with over 100 of the monogram coinage, yet there is no question that Carolingian denarii formed the local currency there. What is more, from Domburg there are 24 single finds of Pippin’s coinage19 and 27 pre-reform coins of Charlemagne, which, given the site’s location, again suggests that these denarii were being used as currency in Frisia. Given Ribe’s trading links with Francia, and especially the Rhineland (Jensen 1991:13-17), given the large numbers of sceattas which had evidently been circulating in northern Frisia, and given Frisia’s liminal position in the Frankish economy, it is very likely that some sceattas were still being melted down and recoined as Frankish deniers at Dorestad in the late 8th century. However, the relatively small number of finds of pre-reform coins from northern Frisia cannot be taken as evidence that sceattas were still being used as currency there, let alone being minted, at this late period. The fact that there are no known hoards containing both coinages is particularly significant, because savings hoards, containing current and non-current coinage, are a feature of hoarding in Frisia in the 9th century (Coupland 2006:256-62). In sum, the most likely source of the silver which fuelled Dorestad’s dramatic rise in economic prosperity between the 790s and the 830s remains increased trade with Scandinavia, which in turn drew in increasing amounts of coinage from all across the Frankish world.

15 Gelderland: Buren 1991 – 1 Ste Marie? (MG 282, NUMIS 1019394); Groningen: De Marne 1997 – 1 Mainz (NUMIS 1015537); Zuid-Holland: Katwijk 2001 – 1 Dorestad, 1 Quentovic (NUMIS 1016309-10); Friesland: Dongeradeel 1995 – 1 ? (NUMIS 1029275), Franekeradeel 1994 – 1 Mainz (NUMIS 1022080), 1996 – 1 Verdun (contemporary forgery, NUMIS 1027417), Het Bildt c. 1991 – 1 Avignon (NUMIS 1020634).

17 The Loire (0, 1 and 2 coins respectively): Saget & Ménanteau 2003; nord-Isère (1,1 and 4): unpublished; Mainz (2, 3 and 5): Stoess 1994.

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As was noted earlier, the port’s prosperity appears to have declined significantly in the 840s. It is unlikely that this was caused solely by the attacks on Dorestad which took place roughly annually between 834 and 837 (AB 834, 835, 836 and

18 To Coupland 2002:231, should be added a coin of Pippin III of Chartres (?) in the Boogaert collection. 19 Although the authors quoted at the start of this paper understood Van Gelder to have concluded that minting in Dorestad ceased in 830, he emphasised in a private letter to me dated 9 November 1988 that ‘I did not say that they [i.e. Louis’ Christiana religio coinage and Lothar’s temple coinage] were not struck at Dorestad, but that they were struck in a mint that was not under regular control of the Frankish government, either at Dorestad or elsewhere (p. 34).’ I have argued vigorously that the Christiana religio coinage and Lothar’s temple coinage were both produced at Dorestad itself: Coupland 1988:18-22. We shall consider further reasons for believing that Lothar’s coinage was minted locally below.

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16 Friesland: Bolsward 1884/5 – 1 Agen (Haertle 1997 no. 528), Franekeradeel 1997 – 1 Milan (NUMIS 1001110), 2000 – 1 Dorestad (NUMIS 100825), Harlingen 1991 – 1 Laon (NUMIS 1033940), 1999 – 1 Dorestad (NUMIS 1033941), Menaldumadeel 1996 – 1 Mainz (NUMIS 1004610); Noord-Holland: Bergen c. 1989 – 1 Milan (NUMIS 1024784 = Haertle 1997 no. 693/001), Castricum 1988 – 1 Pavia (NUMIS 1006438, found with 1 from Melle), Wieringen 1993 – 1 Milan (NUMIS 1014496), 2000 – 1 Dorestad (NUMIS 1021101); Zuid-Holland: Katwijk 2005 – 1 Milan (NUMIS 1052911), Rotterdam 2000 – 1 SENNES (NUMIS 1026662), Westland 2007 – 1 Milan (NUMIS 1074647); Groningen: De Marne 1993/7 – 1 Toulouse (NUMIS 1015510), Winsum 1986 – 1 Dorestad (NUMIS 1017736); Gelderland: Buren 1991 – 1 Milan (NUMIS 1034643), 1995 – 1 Ravenna obole (NUMIS 1019407); Borne 1987 (Overijssel): Verlinde 1990.

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837: Grat, Vielliard & Clémencet 1964:14, 17-18, 19, 21-2; trans. Nelson 1991:30, 33, 35, 37). Although they must have caused some damage to Dorestad’s prosperity, the fact that Viking bands returned year after year ironically indicates that the port was still in operation and that commerce was still thriving. If Carolingian written sources are to be believed, the motivation behind the raids was Frankish politics, with the attacks being carried out on behalf of the emperor’s son Lothar in revenge for his exile to Italy (AB 841: Grat, Vielliard and Clémencet 1964:39, trans. Nelson 1991:51; Nithard IV.2: Lauer 1926:122). If this was the case, Lothar sowed the wind but reaped the whirlwind. For in 841 control of the port was seized by one of the Viking chieftains who had recently attacked it, and over the next thirty years Dorestad and the county around it remained almost permanently under the control of a series of Danish masters, albeit ones who had pledged some kind of allegiance to the reigning Frankish monarch (Coupland 1998). It may well be that the port was already in decline, due to the gradual silting of the river Rhine – this was evidently the case in the Hoogstraat I area – but the numismatic evidence suggests that in the 840s the amount of coinage in circulation at the site was significantly less than in previous decades, and that in the 850s it diminished still further, with no minting at all taking place after 855,20 and little or no coinage from outside reaching the site. From a numismatic perspective, this sudden drop in the 840s is surprising, since this was the period when Lothar’s Dorestad temple coinage was being minted, and this coinage is represented in large numbers in contemporary northern hoards. For example, the Tzummarum 2 hoard (Pol 1992) contained over 2000 examples! I am also aware of 52 recorded single finds of Lothar’s Dorestad temple coinage, a remarkably high figure, twice the number of single finds of Charlemagne’s local monogram coinage (25) and nearly twice that of Louis the Pious’s second coinage type from Dorestad (28). If the port was in decline at the time, as the single finds from Wijk bij Duurstede suggest, does this indicate that the temple coinage was minted elsewhere, in an unofficial mint, perhaps under the control of Scandinavians?21 Lothar’s temple coins were certainly of very variable quality, and the emperor’s name was consistently barbarous, reading IOTAMVSIPNEIRAT, or the like, instead of Lotharius imperator (Coupland 2001:174). Furthermore, that Vikings in the Netherlands were imitating Carolingian coinage, including coinage from Dorestad, is strongly suggested by the presence of contemporary forgeries in the Westerklief 2 hoard, which was almost certainly concealed by a Scandinavian owner (Besteman 2009:50, 55, 61). 20 See previous note. Incidentally, Van Gelder also wrote, ‘In this context I must point out that my commentary on Roermond no. 19 [Lothar’s second type, with mint-name in field] contains an evident error: the words ‘in een niet officieel muntatelier’ should be crossed out.’ 21 I am aware of 4 other finds from Friesland, 3 from Drenthe, 2 from Gelderland, 2 from Noord-Holland, 1 from Zuid-Holland and 1 other from Zeeland.

1-3 coins 4-9 coins 10+ coins Dorestad Cambrai

Reims Verdun Orléans Tours Bourges? Melle Bordeaux Toulouse

Fig. 82.

Origin of single finds of coinage minted between 840 and 855 at Wijk

bij Duurstede.

There are, however, several reasons why it is unlikely that Lothar’s temple coinage was the product of an unofficial mint outside Dorestad. First, the port remained a significant trading centre in the 840s, even if it was in decline, and we know of no other local settlement under Frankish or Scandinavian control likely to have been handling as much silver as Dorestad. Second, no fewer than 32 of these 52 single finds were made at just three productive sites: Domburg in Zeeland (13), Wijk bij Duurstede itself (12) and Wijnaldum in Friesland (7). This distribution pattern, coupled with the spread of the other finds across the Netherlands,22 supports the origin of the coinage in the trading centre of Dorestad. Finally, another factor which supports the coins’ minting in Dorestad itself is the high proportion of these coins in the single finds from Wijk bij Duurstede. The proportion of Dorestad temple coins amongst all contemporary finds (including those of Charles the Bald and Pippin II) is 37%, which is comparable to the figure of local finds under Pippin III and exceeded only during production of the portrait coinage of Louis the Pious.23 The most plausible conclusion is thus that Lothar’s Dorestad temple coinage was indeed struck at the site, its barbarous legends presumably reflecting the fact that the Danish chieftains who were overseeing production were not terribly bothered about spelling Lothar’s name correctly. The subsequent coinage type with the mint-name in field was evidently struck in significantly smaller numbers – there are fewer single finds overall (15 compared with 52 of the temple coins) and far fewer at Wijk bij Duurstede (one as against 12). As has been mentioned already, there are also no known coins 22 Pippin III: 7-8 local coins out of 19 finds (37-42%); Charlemagne pre-reform: 4 out of 17 attributed coins (24%); Charlemagne monogram: 12 out of 132 (9%); Charlemagne portrait coins: 1 out of 8 (13%); Louis the Pious portrait coins: 8 out of 15 (53%); Louis the Pious Class II: 11 out of 56 (20%); Louis Christiana religio: 10 out of 49 (20%); Lothar I and his contemporaries: 13 out of 35 (37%). 23 Single finds: Basel and Bülach in Switzerland, Burghöfe and Kronsegg in Bavaria: Haertle 1997, nos. 517, 543, 545; Emmerig 2004:63; Hoards: Coupland 2001:176-7 (Pilligerheck, Roermond, Wagenborgen and Westerklief 2).

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in the reign of Louis the Pious, but none after the accession of Charles the Bald (Coupland 2001:176-7). Elsewhere, just a few are present in hoards from Lothar’s Middle Kingdom, but I know of no single finds outside Switzerland and southern Germany.� This represents a sea change from the previous half century, when Italian mints were among the most prolific in the empire and their coinage circulated widely (Coupland forthcoming a). This breakdown in economic contacts between different areas of the empire which had at Dorestad’s height formed one vast currency pool across the continent must have had serious consequences for the entire Frankish economy, but it must surely also have been highly damaging to Dorestad’s prosperity. At the same time the beginning of the flood of Arab silver into the Baltic in the mid-9th century almost certainly meant a drop in trade between Sweden and the west, and probably also between Denmark and Dorestad as well. An increase in the number and intensity of Viking attacks in the 840s and hence a general sense of uncertainty and instability in the north (Coupland 2006:245-7) must also have further contributed to the decrease of economic activity at Dorestad. When we add in the silting of the river observed at Hoogstraat I, we can see that there is a whole range of reasons for the end to the economic boom enjoyed by the port from the 790s to the 830s. In sum, the evidence of the coinage, especially the superb range of finds from Wijk bij Duurstede, reveals very clearly Dorestad’s economic boom and bust. Under Charlemagne the port enjoyed a dramatic rise in its fortunes around the turn of the 9th century, a rise which continued through the reign of Louis the Pious, into the 830s. Around 840 that situation changed dramatically, as Viking chieftains seized control of the port, believing no doubt that they had got their hands on the proverbial goose that lays the golden eggs. As a result of a series of factors, however, already by the 840s the goose was barely laying at all. And, to stretch the metaphor a little, the numismatic evidence is equally clear that when a Viking fleet attacked the port in 863 (AB 863: Grat, Vielliard & Clémencet 1964:95; trans. Nelson 1991:104) they must have found that the goose that was the once great emporium of Dorestad had already been dead for several years. D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

of Dorestad minted in the name of Lothar II, and no finds at the site of either his coinage or that of Charles the Bald’s otherwise common Gratia dei rex type, minted from 864. From a numismatic perspective, after 855 Dorestad ceased to exist, at least until the end of the 9th century. The high proportion of finds of Lothar’s Dorestad coinage at Wijk bij Duurstede is significant in another way. For just as the large number of local finds in the reign of Pippin III mirrored the limited spread of mints whose coins were reaching the site, and by contrast the low proportion of finds of Charlemagne’s Dorestad monogram coinage at Wijk bij Duurstede reflected the very wide range of Frankish coin imports, so after 840 we can observe a remarkable reversal from the boom years of the early 9th century. As Fig. 82 shows, all the finds, which as we have already noted are fewer in number, are from the south and west, with no coins from the Rhine valley or from Italy. Bearing in mind how, as we have seen, so much of the silver flowing into Dorestad in the reigns of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious came from this eastern part of the empire, particularly Italy, this apparent breakdown in trade with the Eastern Franks, the rest of Lothar’s kingdom, and the territories which lay beyond them, must surely have marked a significant loss to the emporium’s prosperity. Evidence from other regions shows that Dorestad was not alone in experiencing this dislocation. The cause was presumably the civil war which erupted in 840 and the subsequent division of the empire into three kingdoms whose relationship was tense, at times even hostile. In Louis the German’s eastern kingdom there seems to have been very little coinage production, although some finds of Lothar’s Dorestad coinage are recorded from the route down the Rhine, in the large hoards from Roermond and Pilligerheck and as single finds from Mainz, Xanten and Bourg Saint Pierre (Van Gelder 1985; Lafaurie 1970; Stoess 1994:nos. 523; Haertle 1997:nos. 534, 871). In the case of Italy, however, the rupture of economic ties with Dorestad seems to have been complete. Whereas in the reigns of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious Italian mints were well represented in finds at Wijk bij Duurstede, from the 840s and 850s there are no finds of Italian coins at the site at all. This matches the situation in the West Frankish kingdom: significant numbers of finds

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The Influence of Dorestad Coinage on Coin Design in England and Scandinavia

Dorestad was a major mint within both the Merovingian and Carolingian coinages. The Dorestad issues in these periods are discussed elsewhere in this volume by Arent Pol and Simon Coupland respectively. In the Carolingian period, many of these coins were typical of national types, distinguished only by the Dorestad mint signature, but more distinctive Dorestad issues are also known. Rather than discussing these coinages directly, the focus of this paper is the imitation of Dorestad coins in various areas around the North Sea economic zone within which Dorestad played such a central role. The paper will take three case studies from different kingdoms, and will consider the significance of the decision to imitate coins of Dorestad within these different areas, and what this tells us about the significance of Dorestad itself. C o i n i m i tat i o n

Imitation is widespread within early medieval coinage, and more widely within monetary history of a wide variety of periods and cultures. Virtually all coinage springs from a limited number of monetary traditions rather than springing up spontaneously as a common response to a common problem, and it is therefore unsurprising that imitation has played a large part in the adoption and development of coinage. Imitation has taken place for three main reasons. 1 Creation of coinage where no locally produced coinage previously existed, taking as an example a coinage with which the issuers of the imitative coins (and those people who were intended to use it) were already familiar. 2 Imitation of some form of innovation, applied within an existing coinage for economic reasons, or for reasons of status. 3 Indication of some form of political/ cultural/religious identity, which the imitator and the imitated had in common. The third of these reasons is compatible with either of the other two, but all of the forms of imitation necessarily imply that there is something about the coinage selected for imita-

tion which is worthy of imitation. In the case of the economic arguments for the adoption of a new coinage (whether from nothing, or as a coinage reform) the justification also tends to be economic. The imitated coinage may be seen as a particularly ‘good’ coinage in some way. The main characteristics shared by most definitions of money are that it should act as a means of exchange, a measure of value, a means for the storage of wealth and that the value of the money should be guaranteed in some form. In the early Middle Ages, coinage was only slightly removed from a bullion economy, in that the value of the coinage was primarily dictated by the precious metal content, both in terms of quality and quantity. Coins might thus be imitated because they were seen as particularly pure, or because they were consistently struck to a better weight than other coinages, or because they were made of a particularly valuable metal (gold instead of silver, or silver instead of bronze). This issue of quality is particularly important in cases where the imitator is exposed to more than one potential model, either or any of which might be imitated. Quality aside, there might also be economic justifications for choosing to imitate the dominant currency circulating within a particular area even if this not the ‘best’ available model. Thus ease of exchange might lead to the acceptance of a widespread but compara­tively base coinage rather than a purer but less readily available alternative. By contrast, if the motivation to imitate was to express an identity rather than purely imitative, the selection of a model might be because the imitated coinage represented a particular model of power or authority with which other rulers wished to identify, or it might reflect some form of political/ religious affiliation. A recurrent theme in the development of medieval European coinage is the close association between the initial adoption of coinage and Christianisation, reflecting a shared concept of Romanised Christian kingship, in which issuing coins was simply something that kings did as a sign that they were kings, rather than through any economic imperative, as represented by a number of tiny coinages d o r e s ta d c o i n e d

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which were apparently issued on far too small a scale to have had any practical function (e.g. Norwegian coinage, c. 9951030; for wider discussion of coinage and Christianisation, see Williams 2006a; 2007). However, where more than one Christian coinage was available as a model, or in the case of imitating innovations within an existing coinage, the selection of one model over another might reflect political affiliation, or one of the economic factors mentioned above, or a combination of these factors, and it is not always clear which is the dominant element. For example, two rival gold coinages and their imitations can be seen competing for influence around the Mediterranean in the 13th century, the ducat of Venice and the florin of Florence (Grierson 1991:109-10). Both were great commercial centres, who used their commercial importance to build networks of political power and influence. The decision to imitate one coinage rather than the other can therefore be seen in terms of both economic and political affiliation, rather than one or the other. This sort of complexity is directly analogous to the situation regarding Dorestad in the 9th century. The imitation of Dorestad coinage undeniably points to the importance of that coinage, and by implication of Dorestad itself. However, Dorestad was important for more than one reason. It was a highly important commercial centre, as discussed elsewhere in this volume, but it was also the most important North Sea port of the Carolingian empire. Its coinage was thus a visible expression of Carolingian political authority, and in some cases of the Christian identity represented by the Carolingians, especially in a period in which Charlemagne and Louis the Pious were actively promoting Christianisation in neighbouring kingdoms both through peaceful missions and through more aggressive means. I will argue that while the three different sets of imitation below all point to the importance both of Dorestad and the Carolingian empire, the significance is slightly different in each case. The 9th- century coinage of Hedeby and Ribe

The first study is the coinage minted in Hedeby (now in northern Germany but then on the southern border of Denmark) and Ribe (on the west cost of Jutland), and here I must acknowledge my debt to the work of Brita Malmer, as much of what follows is based on her extensive work on the subject. Hedeby, according to the Royal Frankish Annals (rfa), had been established in 808 AD by Godfred, king of the Danes, who had forcibly transplanted traders from the Slavic port of Reric, and established a trading centre of his own on the southern border of his kingdom (RFA, sub 808). Historical sources for this period in Denmark are few, and lack detail, and one may question how far the kingdom of the Danes represents a single unified kingdom, and how far it represents an overkingship with several smaller regions with their own rulers submerged below the ‘kings of the Danes’ who appear in Frankish records. Certainly large-scale constructions such as the Danvirke and the Kanhave Canal point to extensive royal authority, as do accounts of the forces which Godfred and other Danish kings were able, at least

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on occasion, to command (Williams 2002). However, there is virtually no firm evidence this early to point to a unified kingdom, and the coinage in particular points in a different direction. There was nothing that could be described as a Danish national coinage before the 10th century at the earliest and coin use in the 9th century was highly regionalised. It should therefore be noted that the term ‘Danish’ is used here as a convenient shorthand for the fact that the coins in question were minted under the authority (directly or indirectly) of rulers labelled in contemporary sources as kings of the Danes. This does not presuppose any sort of ‘national’ circulation, nor indeed any lasting political unity in this period across the area which later came to form the kingdom of Denmark. The only place within Denmark where coins were apparently issued before the establishment of Hedeby was Ribe, where a coinage was established in the 8th century, representing the eastern end of an economic zone which spanned the North Sea area. The origins of this coinage, referred to as ‘Series X’ or ‘Wodan/Monster’ have been much debated, since the distribution points to production in Ribe, while the character of the coinage has much in common with Frisian coinage of the period, with only minimal coin use (and no coin production) elsewhere in Denmark (Metcalf 1984; Metcalf 1993/4, vol 2:275-93; 1996a; Hatz 2001; Malmer 2002a; 2007; Williams 2007). Recent work by Claus Feveile (2006; 2008) leaves no real doubt that this coinage was produced at Ribe throughout the 8th century and even into the early 9th, while at the same time the growing corpus of Danish single finds evidence confirms the very restricted circulation of this type elsewhere in Denmark. The obvious parallel is the production of a number of distinct regional coinages within 8th-century England, corresponding to much smaller areas than the main kingdoms which appear in the historical record (Metcalf 1993/4), although texts such as the so-called Tribal Hidage point to the existence of a layer of smaller sub-kingdoms below (for a summary of different interpretations of this interesting but problematic text, see Rumble 1996). In the 9th century, two largely distinct coinages emerge in Denmark. One (Malmer’s KG 5 and 6) was based in western Jutland, and both production and distribution seems to have been centred on Ribe and its hinterland. They did travel more widely, and a number of coins of this type are known from Birka in Sweden, presumably reflecting trading links with Ribe, but these have been converted into pendants, and have thus lost their monetary function. The primary design of this group was based on the earlier Series X type, with a bearded facing bust on one side, and a stylised beast on the other, although both designs were modified from the earlier prototype to take advantage of the larger flan of the 9th-century coins. The other group of coinage, KG 3, was centred on Hedeby and its hinterland, although coins of this group again travelled more widely, and can again be seen to be effectively demonetised as pendants once removed from their direct economic context (Malmer 2007). Unlike Ribe, Hedeby had no earlier tradition of coinage, and it is notable

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Fig. 83.

Hedeby imitation of

Dorestad type, KG 3, c. 825, after

Fig. 85.

Ship reverse from Hedeby KG 3, c. 825,

after Malmer 2007:Fig. 2.7, 2.

Malmer 2007:Fig. 2.3, 1-2.

Hedeby imitation of

Dorestad type, KG 8, c. 950, after Malmer 2007:Fig. 2.6, 1.

that the authorities chose not to imitate the Ribe designs, but rather to imitate Carolingian models and, more specifically, models from Dorestad. By far the most common design in KG 3 was based on Charlemagne’s type 2 coinage, with the name CAROLVS divided into two lines on the obverse, and the name of the mint in two lines on the reverse, in this instance DORESTAT (Fig. 83). The presence of the mint signature leaves no doubt that in this coinage the model was specifically the coinage of Dorestad, rather than Carolingian coinage more generally. This Dorestad-derived coinage developed in a number of phases, beginning with very close imitations of the prototype, but becoming increasingly stylised over time so that the letters of the inscriptions eventually developed in the 10th century into a geometric design only distantly recognisable as relating to the CAROLVS/DORESTAT inscriptions (Fig. 84) (Malmer 1966; Malmer 2007; Hatz 1984). A variety of other images are combined with the main motifs within both the Ribe and the Hedeby series, and some of these designs seem to derive from Scandinavian or Germanic art, as well as from other coin types. KG 4, which contains a number of these irregular types, can be linked in terms of distribution with KG 5, and is not recorded at Hedeby, but there is some crossover of design in the irregular reverses of KG 3, 4 and 5, with KG 6 representing a later development of KG 5 (Malmer 2007; for comprehensive discussion of the complicated relationship between the different groups, see Malmer forthcoming). However, one reverse design in particular links the two main series, and this again shows Carolingian influence. The design here is a ship. The form of the ship varies, showing either a somewhat blocky vessel with a square sail, or a rather more elegant vessel with curved stems, again with a square sail, and a row of shields, very much the archetypal Viking ship (Fig. 85). Both ship types have parallels in Scandinavian art, and have been studied by maritime archaeologists as part of the evidence for the development of ship types in the Viking Age (Crumlin Pedersen 1998). Once again, the model for this coinage is Carolingian, although both of the ship types on the Danish coins differ from the design of the ship on the Carolingian prototype, itself ultimately derived from coins of the Roman usurper Allectus (AD 293-6) (Archibald 1982:note 5). This probably in part reflects that the Danish ship types postdate the first phase of the CAROLVS/ DORESTAD type, reflecting a growing confidence in the local coinage. This is a fairly typical stage in the development from an entirely imitative coinage to a distinctive ‘national’ coinage.

However, the modification of the ship design may also reflect the fact that the Danish die-cutters were presumably familiar with ship design, both in art and reality, and were therefore able to draw on experience rather than simply copying, as occurred with the unfamiliar Roman alphabet of the CAROLVS/ DORESTAT inscription. The choice of the ship type to imitate may in itself indicate a sense of affinity for a symbol with direct relevance for the maritime trading centres of Hedeby and Ribe. To judge from surviving examples, the prototype was never a particularly common issue in comparison to the main Carolingian types. However, what is particularly interesting in this context is that the issue of the Carolingian prototype was limited to only a few mints, including Quentovic and Dorestad. In the context of the CAROLVS/DORESTAT imitations, and the wider evidence for contacts between Frisia and Scandinavia in the 9th century, it is reasonable to assume that ship coins from Dorestad rather than Quentovic also provided the model for this type. This would also be consistent with the fact that Dorestad mint signatures are rather more common than Quentovic on surviving examples of the type (Archibald 1982:25). It is just possible that a rarer type from Hedeby, showing a stylised building, may derive from the temple image on the Christiana religio type of Louis the Pious, but if so it is, like the ships, a reinterpretation rather than a direct imitation (Malmer 2007:18). Design aside, there are two interesting features regarding the relationship between the Danish coins and their Carolingian prototypes. The first is the relationship between size and weight. The diameter of both the Hedeby and the Ribe coins is close to that of Carolingian deniers, but the Danish coins are struck to a much lighter weight, with an average of 0.77g. Rather than an entirely independent weight standard, this appears to be based on the Carolingian obol, or halfpenny, introduced on a substantial scale by Louis the Pious (814-40) and previously struck only in very small quantities (Coupland 1990:26; Malmer 2002b; 2007). The fact that the coins relate to a Carolingian weight standard indicates that they must have had at least in part an economic function. This is also suggested by a second point. KG 3 is thought to have been introduced c. AD 825, with KG 4 and 5 perhaps a little later (Malmer 2007:18-9). However, the designs being imitated are somewhat earlier. The CAROLVS/ DORESTAT coins are copied from Class 2 of the coinage of Charlemagne (771-93/4), and the ship designs either from Class 4 of Charlemagne (812-14) or Class 1 of Louis the Pious (814-18) (Grierson & Blackburn 1986:209-10, 213; Coupland 1990:24), so both types were obsolete within the Carolingian Empire by the time that the imitations were apparently produced, although a few examples seem to have survived in circulation into the 840s or even the 850s, not least in d o r e s ta d c o i n e d

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Dorestad itself (Archibald 1982:note 6). With the possible exception of the irregular building type (see above), the main Christiana religio type of Louis the Pious (issued 822-40) had no influence whatsoever on the coinage of either Hedeby or Ribe, although these went on to dominate Scandinavian finds of Carolingian coins in the 9th century. This probably points to economic influence, and suggests that the earlier Carolingian types were already relatively common, which is reflected in the record of Carolingian coin finds from across Scandinavia (Moesgaard 2004; Garipzanov 2009; Coupland forthcoming b). Imitation was often based around what was familiar, and this suggests both that the earlier Carolingian types remained in circulation within southern Scandinavia, and that coinage of Dorestad was disproportionately influential in Denmark in relation to its importance within the Carolingian coinage as a whole. The lasting influence of the CAROLVS/DORESTAD design is shown by continued imitation in the 10th century at Hedeby (KG 7-9). This followed a hiatus in coin production in the late 9th century, after which the revived Hedeby coinage dominated the circulation within Hedeby itself for over half a century (Malmer 2007; Wiechmann 2007). The contrast between the early economic influence of Dorestad and the later dominance of the national Christiana religio type is interesting, given the likely context within which the Danish coins were minted. As mentioned, Christiana religio coins became quite common in Denmark, and Jens Christian Moesgaard (2004) has suggested that they may have had specific links with the Christianisation process, as baptismal or political gifts carried by Christian missionaries, although Simon Coupland (forthcoming b) is more cautious on this point. However, as mentioned above, minting itself also has close links with Christianisation, and a recurrent pattern occurs throughout early medieval coinage whereby coinage formed a visible (and portable) public expression of a shared ideology of Romanised Christian kingship. The early 9th century saw a series of complicated interactions between Carolingian rulers and various rivals for the Danish kingship. A number of the latter were, at various times, given sanctuary within the Empire and/or installed as kings of the Danes with Frankish support, generally having received baptism and committed to supporting wider Christianisation (Coupland 1998; Wamers 2002). It seems very likely that the issues of both Hedeby and Ribe reflect this Frankish influence, religious as well as political (Malmer 2002c; 2004; 2007; Williams 2007), and that the collapse of these coinages in the late 9th century reflect the collapse of Carolingian influence within the kingdom of the Danes, with Hedeby, along with other major centres of production/exchange adopting an exchange system based on silver bullion, possibly influenced by Islamic weight systems. Taking all of this together, there are two contrasting aspects to the influence of Dorestad on the 9th-century coinage of Hedeby and Ribe. On the one hand, the decision to mint coins at all was very probably related to the political/ religious relationship between Carolingian emperors and

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successive kings of the Danes, many of whom had only shortlived and partial control of the ‘Danish’ kingdom, perhaps reflected in the quite separate spheres of circulation around Hedeby and Ribe, as well as in the cessation of the coinage in the late 9th century. On the other hand, the influence not of Carolingian coinage in general, still less of the Christiana religio type which could best have expressed the Christian identity of Danish rulers, but rather of two separate coin types directly associated with Dorestad almost certainly points to the economic influence of Dorestad in southern Scandinavia in the early 9th century. The gold mancus of Coenwulf of Mercia

The second case study concerns a gold coin in the name of Coenwulf of Mercia (796-821), apparently minted in London, and currently unique (Fig. 86) (Williams 2006; Blackburn 2007:62-4; Williams & Cowell 2009). The coin was found near Biggleswade in Bedfordshire in 2001, and subsequently acquired by the British Museum. It can probably be safely identified as a mancus, a term borrowed into Anglo-Saxon usage from Arabic and applied specifically as a denomination, bit also by association as a unit of account and a unit of weight (Lyon 1969; Grierson & Blackburn 1986:329-31; Naismith 2005; Blackburn 2007). The weight of the coin at 4.33g also places it very close to the Carolingian solidus of c. 4.25g, and the distinction between solidus and mancus may be more one of usage than of a fundamental difference. The obverse shows a right-facing stylised Roman imperial diademed bust, with the inscription COENWULF REX M, with a contraction mark over the M, the standard contraction for Merciorum, giving a full inscription ‘Coenwulf, king of the Mercians’. The style both of the bust and of the inscription place the new coin firmly in the Canterbury issues of both Coenwulf and his brother Cuthred, sub-king of Kent under Coenwulf (798-807) See, for example, the similarities to the dies of Blunt, Lyon and Stewart 1963, nos. Coenwulf 29 and 31, and Cuthred 18 and 22. I am grateful to Stewart Lyon for useful discussion of this point. The lettering on the reverse inscription is in the same style, and the reverse design, typically for Mercian coinage of the period, is based around an ornate cross. In this variety, the terminals of the limbs of the cross meet and curve back to the centre, creating the effect of a flower with eight petals. Again, a direct parallel can be found on a Coenwulf penny of the Canterbury moneyer Oba (Fig. 87) However, the reverse inscription reads DE VICO LVNDONIAE (’From the vicus of London’). The choice to describe London as a vicus (OE wic, meaning trading centre) rather than a civitas (city), or simply to give the name of London without further qualification, has direct parallels with a gold solidus in the BM collection, issued in the name of the Frankish ruler Charlemagne with the inscription VICO DVRISTAT (Fig 88). This coin is in itself quite controversial. It gives Charlemagne a crudely abbreviated form of his title ‘King of the Franks and the Lombards’, suggesting that it was

Fig. 86

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Fig. 87

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Fig. 88

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(the name is reflected in modern Aldwych), contemporary references do not entirely support this, and an alternative interpretation would make the distinction more one of function than of location. London was thus described as a civitas in the context of royal or ecclesiastical authority and administration, but as a vicus in the context of its economic role. Thus, when Ecgberht of Wessex conquered Mercia a few years after Coenwulf’s death he chose to describe London as a civitas on his coinage in celebration of his capture of a major centre of power from Roman times onwards (Williams 2006; 2008:44-5). By contrast, Coenwulf’s decision to refer to London specifically as a vicus seems to reflect the use of the same term for Dorestad on Charlemagne’s coin. If so, just as the overall decision to issue the gold coinage was to create a parallel in which Coenwulf equalled or even outshone Charlemagne, then London seems to be set out as a direct comparison for Dorestad. Although in modern terms the idea of competition between London and Wijk bij Duurstede may seem unlikely, this coin suggests that in the early 9th century, Dorestad was seen as the standard to emulate as an international economic centre in northern Europe. T h e s h i p c o i n a g e o f At h e l s ta n I o f E a s t A n g l i a

The third case is again known only from a single surviving coin (Fig. 89). This was found in Norfolk in 1977 and acquired by Norwich Castle Museum. It was published by my colleague Marion Archibald (1982), to whose interpretation I am indebted. The coin imitates the same Carolingian ship type that inspired the Danish ship-types discussed above, and carries the inscription EDELSTAN REX, and can be identified with Athelstan I of East Anglia, a ruler not recorded in the historical record other than through his coinage, but identifiable as a king of East Anglia through links between Fig. 89.

Silver penny of Athelstan of East Anglia. © Norwich Castle Museum

and Art Gallery.

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issued before his adoption of the imperial title on his coinage in 812 (Grierson & Blackburn 1986), although Dolley and Morrison (1966:no. 98) preferred to attribute the coin on stylistic grounds to Charles the Bald, despite the fact that he did not use this title. Another example with the same VICO DVRISTAT inscription is coupled with a much cruder obverse. The function of the more literate coin has been debated, and it has often been seen (along with the handful of other gold coins in the name of Charlemagne) as a ceremonial issue rather than a currency coin. However, the crudity of the design belies this, and Grierson & Blackburn (1986) make the valid point that Dorestad is an unlikely choice for a special presentation piece. Given Dorestad’s economic character, and given also the growing evidence for a substantial (and widely imitated) gold coinage a few years later in the name of Louis the Pious (Blackburn 2007), it seems more likely that this should be seen as an early example of a gold currency coin, although both Carolingian and Anglo-Saxon coins in the 9th century seem to have been limited to high-value transactions, which may well have meant that they had an element of symbolic as well as economic function. Against this background, it seems likely that Coenwulf ’s gold coinage should be interpreted at least in part as a response to the introduction by Charlemagne of a regal coinage in gold, in the wider context of international oneupmanship between rulers. Coenwulf was the successor of Offa of Mercia (757-96), and Offa’s attempts to set himself on a level with Charlemagne (and Charlemagne’s resistance to this) have often been noted. Arguably, this was reflected in the coinage reforms of both Offa and Charlemagne (Grierson & Blackburn 1986; Chick 1997; Williams 2001). Coenwulf was if anything more powerful than Offa, and one of his Kentish charters shows him using the title imperator, either before or very shortly after Charlemagne’s imperial coronation (BCS 153). The dating depends on whether the charter is dated from Coenwulf ’s accession in Mercia in 796, or in Kent in 798. I am grateful to Alex Burghart for useful discussion of this point. The quality of the execution of the design, which is far superior to the surviving examples in the name of Charlemagne, points to this sort of competition, and the die-cutting (which could just as easily have taken place in London as Canterbury) of the Canterbury group of silver pennies with which the coin is associated is amongst the finest within Coenwulf ’s coinage. Thus, while the selection of this particular die-cutter to produce dies for the gold coinage may have been entirely random, it may reflect recognition of his skill, with the intention that the mancus, as a high-status coin, should look as impressive as possible. This brings us to the choice of London as the mint for the coin, and the decision to describe it as a vicus rather than a civitas. Both terms are used for London in this period, in addition to numerous references to London without further clarification, and although archaeologists have in recent years tended to draw a geographical distinction between the civitas or burh inside the old Roman walls and the vicus or wic outside

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Fig. 90.

Silver penny

of Louis the Pious, ship type with Dorestad mint signature. © Trustees of the British Museum.

his coins and those of other Mercian and East Anglian kings minted in East Anglia. The bulk of his coinage (and therefore also his reign) has been attributed to the period c. 827-40, although this coin appears to be slightly earlier, for reasons discussed below. As mentioned above, ship-types were apparently issued at both Dorestad and Quentovic, towards the end of Charlemagne’s reign and early in the reign of Louis the Pious. Surviving examples from Dorestad are more numerous, and this may always have been the case, and the well-established monetary links between East Anglia and Frisia in the 7th and 8th centuries (Metcalf 1984; Metcalf 2007; Williams 2008:) also point to Dorestad more than Quentovic. Furthermore, this coin is rather closer to the Carolingian prototypes than the Danish imitations, enabling a more detailed stylistic comparison, and Archibald has argued that the best parallels are Dorestad issues of Louis the Pious (Fig. 90). In addition to various details of shape and fittings discussed by Archibald, one may also note that the Athelstan coin has a cross at the masthead, a detail also found on Dorestad coins, in contrast to the bird at the masthead found on coins of Quentovic (Grierson & Blackburn 1986:no. 749). It therefore seems safe to assume that this coin is derived from a Dorestad prototype. The coin was issued by the moneyer Eadgar, who also issued coins for three Mercian kings in East Anglia in the 820s, but not for Athelstan’s East Anglian successor Æthelweard. It is somewhat cruder in style than the main series of Athelstan’s coins, and the combination of style, the use of letter forms in the inscription which were already becoming unfashionable in the 820s, and the fineness of the metal (compared with other examples of both Coenwulf of Mercia and other issues of Athelstan) all led Archibald to the conclusion that the most obvious place for this coin in the sequence of coinage known to have been issued in East Anglia was well before the beginning of the main series in the name of Athelstan, and possibly as early as 821, following the death of Coenwulf. Since there is no external evidence against which Athelstan’s accession can be firmly dated, this interpretation was presented as hypothesis rather than fact, and this status

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necessarily remains. Nevertheless, an abortive attempt to take control of the kingdom, followed by a successful attempt some years later, would be consistent both with the rarity of the type and the differences between this and Athelstan’s main issues, and with the apparent continuity of coinage under various rulers by the moneyer Eadgar in East Anglia in the 920s. The circumstances would also provide a context for the decision to produce an imitative issue. East Anglia had long been under Mercian authority, first during the long reign of Offa, and subsequently under Coenwulf, and as such, coinage within East Anglia had been reduced to a regional group within the Mercian coinage. A short-lived coinage in the name of Æthelberht (d. 794), issued by the moneyer Lul and showing a wolf and twins, is often seen as indicative of an unsuccessful attempt at independence. Another coinage issued by Lul in the name of an otherwise unknown king Eadwald can be placed numismatically at the end of Offa’s reign, but this was stylistically much closer to the coins of both Offa and Coenwulf, and it is unclear whether Eadwald should be interpreted as another short-lived interloper, or perhaps a sub-king to Coenwulf in the manner of Coenwulf’s brother Cuthred in Kent (Williams 2008:38). The stylistic similarities with the Mercian issues may point to the latter. In either case, a full generation had passed since there had been any sort of independent coinage in East Anglia, and even that had not been firmly established, and may no longer have been remembered in the 820s. Furthermore, since we know nothing of Athelstan’s antecedents, it is possible that the wolf and twins image of Æthelberht’s coinage had specific dynastic associations which were less appropriate for Athelstan. However, if Athelstan was attempting to re-establish an independent East Anglian kingdom in the face of Mercian opposition, it might make sense for him to wish to avoid issuing coins of recognisably ‘Mercian’ type. By contrast, a Carolingian design may have seemed safely neutral, or even indicated a degree of political affiliation. It would be rash to build too much into this, given how little is known of Athelstan, especially since his later types have similarities with the mainstream of Mercian and West Saxon coinage. However, it is probably not unreasonable to assume

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Conclusion

Imitative coinage around the North Sea clearly reflected Carolingian influence. That influence was in varying degrees political, cultural and religious as well as economic, and the examples discussed here reflect the Carolingian Empire at the height of its power. The precise factors in each of the three cases are likely to have been different. The Danish coins reflect an active Christian mission to Scandinavia, as well as attempts to extend Frankish hegemony. By contrast, Coenwulf’s mancus seems more to represent rivalry between, if not equals, then at least competitors. The circumstances behind Athelstan’s ship coinage are too poorly documented to permit more than speculation. Nevertheless, all three groups of imitations were at least in part driven by economic factors. The fact that the coinage of Dorestad in particular was so influential (and disproportionately so in terms of its place in the Carolingian coinage as a whole) suggests that the driving force behind the imitations was not primarily ideological, but rather an indicator of just how far the economic interaction between the Carolingian empire and its neighbours around the North Sea was channelled through Dorestad. These imitative coinages thus provide a useful reminder, if such is needed, of the wider significance of Dorestad as the economic centre of the North Sea world.

D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

that one element in the choice of design was the recurrent trend of a new coinage imitating something which was already perceived to be a ‘good’ and widely accepted coinage. Carolingian coins are comparatively unusual as finds from England in this period, either in hoards or as single finds, but this probably reflects at least to some extent the fact that the various Anglo-Saxon kingdoms had enough authority to exercise ‘closed’ economies with some success, in which only internally issued coinage was permitted to circulate, and imported coinage was largely melted down. This exclusion of imported coinage was not always completely effective, especially in ports, coastal areas, and close to the boundaries of neighbouring kingdoms. Nevertheless, it remains the case that our picture of Carolingian coinage as a whole is heavily influenced by Continental rather than English finds. Within that picture, as mentioned above, the ship types made up only a small part of the circulating currency of the Carolingian Empire. In terms of North Sea trade, the proportions may have been very different, and it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the Dorestad ship type was copied in East Anglia because it presented a convenient model. If so, it represents yet another example both of Dorestad’s international connections, and the extent of its economic influence around the North Sea.

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dorestad fired

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Fig. 91.

Palm cup from the cemetery at De Heul. Utrecht,

Collection PUG, inv.no. 6867. Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

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Fig. 92.

Fragmentary deep palm-cup, end 7th-early 8th century, WD 498.2.?.

Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

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Some Glass Finds from Dorestad A Survey Clasina Isings

Merovingian goblets

The glass found at the harbour sites as well as that from the civil settlement is quite comparable to finds known from elsewhere (Van Es & Verwers 1980:259; Baumgartner & Krüger 1988:58). The majority dates from the Carolingian period and only a few are older, including some which might have come from the early medieval town, as did the deep palm cup

Fig. 93.

Fragment of a stemmed goblet, WD 449.2.19. Photo: RMO/Peter Jan

Bomhof.

from the cemetery (Fig. 91) and a mould-blown fragmentary one from the settlement (Fig. 92). The most interesting Merovingian fragment is a rare type of stemmed goblet (Fig. 93). Stemmed goblets are not very numerous among glass from this period in Western Europe, but the occurrence of several varieties in Northern Italy may indicate that they were made there, Torcello being one of the important sites of early medieval glassmaking (Leciejewicz, Tabaczynska & Tabaczynski 1977; Falcetti 2003:61). The fragment from Harbour-site IV is part of a bowl which probably was more or less conical and which was connected to the stem by four small ‘pillars’. For making the pillars four little stems had been drawn from the base of the cup and been connected together. Comparable goblets are known from Italian sites, a complete one and a fragment of one being found at Aquileia (Calvi 1968:172-73). There is a fragment from a similar goblet d o r e s ta d f i r e d

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Early medieval glass finds from ancient Dorestad were already known in the 19th century. Settlement finds were discovered as well as proof of the existence of a cemetery at the site ‘De Heul’ (Roes 1965). Development plans of the modern town made excavations necessary and the ancient harbour as well as an annexe civil settlement have been excavated. The harbour excavations have been published in two volumes (Van Es & Verwers 1980; 2009). The publication of the civil settlement is to follow in the near future. Dorestad was a trade centre and apparently broken glass was traded (Steppuhn 1998:53). Glass probably also formed part of Dorestad’s wares, for numerous fragments have come to light. Many of them may have come from elsewhere and to these fragments from glass used in the town itself would have been added such as e.g. vessels of which enough survived to be restored, and of course of (almost) complete ones from the cemetery at the site ‘De Heul’, as well as the linen-smoothers discussed below. The broken glass was meant for cullet for glass-working. Beads were possibly made at Dorestad in glass and probably also in amber of which large raw fragments have been discovered (Willemsen 2009:124-5). Glass vessels may have been produced as well. The possibility exists that some of the cullet may have been traded to other sites on the Rhine e.g. Utrecht where fragments of crucibles have been found during the excavations in the 20th century, having a layer of green and red glass on the inside and drops of glass on the outside (Vollgraff & Van Hoorn 1934:63-4, pl.XXII). As they were found in the rubble from the demolished St.Salvator’s church, they were not datable by context. Whether beads or inlays were produced remains uncertain.

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Fig. 94.

Funnel beaker with

horizontal moulding, WD 385.2.9, from Van Es & Verwers 2009:261.

in the Antiquario Forense at Rome (Isings 1978:495-7; Isings 2009:259). None of them are definitively datable; the Aquileia goblet is dated tentatively to the 4th to 5th centuries, but might be also of a somewhat later date. Funnel be akers

Among the Carolingian glass the palm cup/funnel-beaker series was the favourite drinking vessel of the time (Steppuhn 1998:59; Baumgartner & Krüger 1988:60; Isings 2009:260). Most recognisable fragments are plain, but there are several with in calmo rims and some with a double rim of this type, resulting in a kind of insertion. The majority have rounded rims and only few inturned or cavity rims (for the development of rim-types cf. Feveile L.L. 2006:202-7). From the width of some rims it may be assumed these belonged to the later development of the funnel, the one with the stemmed foot, which also occurred at Dorestad where several examples of this type of base have been found. More of them might have remained, and there is a suggestion that similar bases might sometimes have been collected for some second use. There exists indeed proof of such a second use; the Civici Musei at Brescia possesses part of a plaster frieze of an archivolt the lotos-motifs of which had been modelled around funnel bases (seen at the exhibition ‘Karl der Grosse’ at Aachen, 1965). Part of these had become visible where the plaster had broken off. A variety of the funnel beaker has a horizontal hollow mould somewhere on the wall (Fig. 94). In some cases this might indicate that is was meant as a hanging lamp, but when the mould sits rather low on the side, this does not seem probable. However, no stands for unstable drinking vessels have been discovered thus far, so the question about its function remains. It has been suggested that this type of funnel beaker was typical for the Netherlands where thus far most examples have been found, but fragments from Scandinavia may have belonged to similar vessels (Holmquist 1964:fig 123-4; Feveile L.L. 2006:221-2). The type is also known from Southampton (Hunter & Heyworth 1998:Fig.13 and 26), so this variety may have been in wider use than formerly assumed, perhaps owing to the fact that wallfragments might not have been recognised and thus have been interpreted as fragments of Merovingian bell-beakers (as I did myself: Isings 2009:260). At the Hoogstraat sites fragments of eleven beakers of this type came to light, one of

dorestad annemarieke willemsen.indb 116

them from the later variety of the funnel. Among the Dutch finds three examples have been discovered in the North of the Netherlands, one complete and another almost complete (Maul 2002:84, Liste XX, 24, 26 and 27). Most funnel-beakers are plain, but some have mould-blown corrugations or were decorated with reticella coils which generally are applied in loops. Self- coloured and yellow twists were most common, but self-coloured and opaque white also occurs; there is one fragment which is tentatively ascribed to a funnel-beaker because of the probability that the ornament is the lower part of larger one – with a rather sophisticated ornament. Of a vertical bundle of self-coloured and white or yellow twists both outer ones end in scrolls, and it is feasible that the other coils also ended in scrolls (Baumgartner & Krüger 1988:74, no. 18; Isings 1978:161). This seems a kind of revival of the Roman snake-thread ornaments. Whereas the technique of application of coils and loops is the same as that of the snake-thread technique, the fashioning of the scroll is more sophisticated and illustrates the technical skill of the Carolingian glassmakers (Fig.  95). A more ordinary decoration is the one of a spiral thread below the rim of the beaker. Some fragments with applied trails are too small to determine whether they formed part of funnels or not. This is also the case for some wallfragments with thick trailed loops which may have been part of 7th-century beakers or of bulbous jars with applied coils.

Fig. 95

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Reticell a bowls

Bowls and squat jars are also represented among the Dorestad glass, and small base fragments may have belonged to either type. Three rim-fragments of jars have in calmo rims, two of them have a spiral thread on their necks (Fig. 96) and one with a yellow horizontal coil on the shoulder might have had reticella trails on the lower part, as in the case of a fragmentary bi-coloured squat jar (Isings 1980:Fig.154,5). The main colour is greenish. At the start of the blowing process a spiral thread in red was wound around the lower part of the bulb which then was blown into the right shape, the spiral thread becoming thus flush with the surface. Reticella coils of a very Fig. 96.

Fragment of a beaker with a spiral trail on the neck, WD 371.3.3.

Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

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Golden gl ass

Luxury glass vessels with applied gold-leaf ornaments have been discovered at several sites and are also represented at Dorestad (Isings 2009:264). Two of them are rim fragments of funnel beakers. In one case the gold leaf has flaked off, but the triangles engraved on the glass which probably served to facilitate the adhering of the gold leaf, still remain. A fragment which might be part of a funnel beaker did preserve its decoration. The similarity of the triangle-and-lozenges pattern to those on the so-called Frisian jugs (see Fig. 154) indicate an origin from a Rhineland workshop where in rich monasteries and courts gold leaf was available and used in manuscript illustrations. In both cases – the illustration as well as the glass – fine workmanship was needed and great technical skill (Lundström 1971:52-68; Feveile L.L. 2006:220).

Fig. 98.

Sherd with remains of crossed gold foil decoration, WD74 411.3.5.

Photo: RMO/Peter Jan Bomhof.

A rim fragment of a funnel beaker of almost colourless glass shows a different pattern (Fig. 98) with some similarity to the crossing bands on a beaker from Borg and, on a fragment from Ribe (Feveile, L.L. 2006, Tavle 3; for a list of vessels with gold foil decoration see appendix 2:277) and is mentioned among glass from the Invellino workshop (Stiegemann & Wennhoff 1999:174-5) and on another Dorestad find which will be published separately (see Fig. 153; Willemsen 2009:Fig. 176). As the fragment did not come from the harbour one wonders whether costly glass was also owned by rich citizens and not only at courts. Gold leaf was applied to vessels of different shapes, as well as on pseudo-cameo brooches. Which kind of glue was used is as yet unknown. Gl ass smoothers

In non-vessel glass there were beads, window glass and linen smoothers, some complete, others fragmentary, about 18 examples of them, an article of daily use which even survived into the 19th century (Haevernick & Haberey 1965:130-8). Constant rubbing on fine textiles results in a shiny surface as we all know. If the textile had been waxed the result would be finer. Schmaedecke (1998:28-9; 1998:93-120) has suggested that the smoothers would have been in fact glass ingots but this is refuted by Steppuhn (1998:94-6; 1999:113-39) and Gratuze et al. (to be published), smoothers being still the most likely explanation.

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Fig. 97

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fine quality were than added. One of the bowls was made in a similar way (Isings 1980:Fig.154,6; Willemsen 2009:Fig. 171 left). The start of the red trail is visible on the neck of the bowl. Reticella rods on this bowl came from differently patterned original moulds; the rods had been drawn and twisted into a very thin shape (Fig. 97). The bowl belongs to the Valsgärde type which is one of the vessel shapes found, including part of a broad outfolded rim with spiral thread inside. There is a large (unpublished) base-fragment of a blue vessel which may have formed part of a similar bowl (see Fig. 156). The general shape of a bowl with a yellow feather pattern is unknown (Isings 1980:233; Fig.155) as is also the type of a small fragment with a bright red and white feather pattern (Isings 1980:264; Fig. 226,5).There has been discussion by several specialists about the red streaking and the use of red glass in general, which apparently was not easy to make (Evison 1983:19; Evison 1990:218-28; Hunter & Heyworth 1998:35-7, chapter 4,1 and 2). Both opaque and translucent red glass was made during the Roman period but as fashions and customs changed, glass vessels became less colourful, whereas beads became more polychrome than before. During the Roman period and the early Middle Ages glass vessels with red streaks appear and the question arose whether these were just accidental or intentional. In the case of the Dorestad bowl, the starting point of the red trail is visible. This indicates that it had to be partly coloured and trailing was easiest way to do it. It seems probable that whenever the red streaks are on the surface of the glass only they were an intentional colouring achieved during the blowing process.

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Fig. 99.

Comparison of the main components of the tesserae

0,2

and vessel glass from Dorestad with Roman colourless vessel glass found in Nijmegen and with data from Dekowna (1990) on soda-ash glass from Haithabu and data from Brill (1999) on tesserae from Northern Italy.

CaO: SiO2

0,15

0,1

tesserae Roman glass vessel glass Haithabu Soda-ash blue rim Tesserae from Northern Italy Celtic glass

0,05

0 0

0,01

0,02

0,03

0,04

0,05

0,06

K2O: SiO2

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Chemical Characterisation of Glass and Inlays from Dorestad Preliminary results of non-destructive X-Ray Fluorescence analyses Luc Megens

In the Early Middle Ages Dorestad was one of the most important trade centres of North Western Europe. Among many other materials that were traded and used in Dorestad, glass sherds and tesserae were found during excavations (Willemsen 2009:138). Henderson (1995) analysed vessel glass from Dorestad and found that the glass could not have been made exclusively from recycled Roman glass, but at least in part from primary components. He proposed that the coloured glass might have been produced by adding tesserae to the melt. The tesserae, small pieces of glass used in mosaics, are thought to have been imported from Northern Italy and traded to Scandinavia for the production of beads (Willemsen 2009:144). In Ribe in Denmark large amounts of tesserae and evidence that they were made there into beads have been found (Henderson 2000:71, see Fig. 119).

Fig. 100

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ArTax XRF spectrometer, with a molybdenum X-ray tube operating at 50 kV and 250 µA and a silicon drift detector. The primary X-rays were focused with polycapillary X-ray optics with a spot size of c. 100 µm. With this small spot size it was possible to analyse individual stones or pieces of glass. R e s u lt s a n d D i s c u s s i o n

Analyses show that all analyzed tesserae and fragments of vessel glass found at Dorestad are sodium glasses. Sodium itself was not analysed, but the low amounts of potassium and lead showed that they were not potassium or lead glasses. Of the glass found at Haithabu, an important trade settlement on the border of modern Germany and Denmark that flourished around the same time as Dorestad, around 45% was potassium glass, while more than half of the analysed finds were sodium glass (Dekowna 1990).

E x p e r i m e n ta l m e t h o d s

Tesser ae

All the objects were analysed without preparation by means of X-ray fluorescence spectrometry (XRF). All tesserae found in Dorestad, 10 blue, 8 green, 1 white and 1 red, and for comparison also the fragments of vessel glass with coloured rims were analysed. For the tesserae, smoothers and vessel glass a Bruker AXS Tracer III-V portable XRF instrument with a rhodium X-ray tube operating at 40 kV and 2.2 µA and a Si-PIN detector was used. This instrument analyses a surface area of c. 5 x 6 mm. The inside of the instrument was made vacuum (between 2 and 10 mbar) with a membrane pump and the objects to be analysed were placed against the x-ray window, thus enabling the analysis of elements heavier than magnesium. Sodium, one of the main elements in glass, can not be analysed with this method. The famous Dorestad brooch (Fig. 100) and four other objects with inlays of gem stones or glass (Fig. 101) were analysed with a Bruker AXS

A number of tesserae from Dorestad, mostly blue and green, were analysed. The analysed tesserae are all sodium glasses, but they contain some potassium as well. There are two sources for sodium in the production of glass, mineral soda (trona or natron) or the ashes of beach and desert plants (halophytes) which contain high amounts of sodium. Mine­ ral soda was the main source since the 6th century BC in the Mediterranean area and was used in Roman glass. Before the 6th century, plant ashes were used in glass production and after the spread of Islam in the 8th century AD it started to take over the role of mineral soda again. The amount of potassium in glass is an indication which sodium source was used, since soda-ash also contains a considerable amount of potassium and mineral soda very little (Wedepohl 2003:7-13). The potassium and calcium contents of the tesserae of Dorestad are similar to those of tesserae from Northern Italy (Brill 1999:Fig. 3). A small group of tesserae has similar contents to Roman glass from Nijmegen and are therefore

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Introduction

Fig. 101

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Fig. 102a

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Fig. 102b

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probably made, like Roman glass, with mineral soda (Fig. 99). However, the amount of potassium in most of the tesserae is higher than in Roman glass, but lower than expected in sodaash glasses (Wedepohl 2003:174; Dekowna 1990). The alkali elements (sodium and especially potassium) are known to leach from glass under certain circumstances in the soil, thus creating a surface layer on the glass depleted in alkali. Since measurements were performed non-destructively, this might yield lower values for the alkali content than present in the whole glass as measured by Wedepohl (2003), Dekowna (1990) and Brill (1999). Therefore, the data have to be interpreted with care. The colour of glass is determined by the presence of elements like iron, copper, manganese or cobalt. A small amount of iron present in sand gives glass a light green colour, which can be removed by adding manganese, yielding colourless glass. Adding more iron results in a darker green glass. Cobalt colours glass blue; copper, depending on its chemical state, produces colours ranging from turquoise to green or red. To produce opaque glass lead stannate, lead antimonate and calcium antimonate were used as far back as ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia (Wedepohl 2003:26-9). In the analysed tesserae antimony is present, at a higher concentration in blue tesserae than in green tesserae. The green and several of the blue tesserae also contain some tin (Fig. 102a). Both these elements are present in the glass opacifiers lead antimonate, calcium antimonate and lead stannate. In the blue tesserae less lead is present than expected had lead antimonate and lead stannate been added to the glass, which indicates that calcium antimonate was used. Most green tesserae contain more lead; in these cases there is an extra source for the lead (Fig. 102b). In the blue tesserae cobalt is present, but much less than manganese, iron or copper. The concentrations of manganese, iron and copper in both the green and the blue tesserae vary widely (Fig. 103). There seems to be no correlation between colour and the concentrations of these elements. There appears to be a negative correlation between the iron and copper content.

Smoothers

Four of five analysed smoothers, big rounded pieces of glass generally thought to be used for smoothening clothes, appeared to be lead-rich glasses. The fifth is a potash glass. The lead-rich glasses are all very similar in composition, as can be seen in the XRF spectra (Fig. 104). Smootheners from Haithabu were shown to be potash glasses (Dekowna 1990). Fig. 104 T h e D o r e s ta d b r o o c h a n d o t h e r i n l ay w o r k

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The blue pieces in the Dorestad brooch appeared to be pieces of glass, coloured with cobalt and also containing iron, copper and some manganese. The green pieces were also glass, coloured with almost equal amounts of iron and copper and also containing some manganese. The small red pieces are glass with iron, copper, zinc, manganese and some lead. The big stone in the centre of the fibula was shown to be a garnet, most probably an almandine. The white stones are pearls. The blue glasses in the other inlay works also contain cobalt, but differ from each other in the ratios of iron, copper and manganese. Also the green glasses show variation in there compositions. Conclusions

Because the glass objects of Dorestad were analysed only non-destructively by XRF the data have to be interpreted with caution. Further investigations of samples with different techniques are necessary, e.g. to determine the sodium content and to overcome the problem of the effect of possible surface change on the measurements. The tesserae from Dorestad show similarities with tesserae from Northern Italy. The concentrations of the elements in the tesserae both from Dorestad and from Italy show rather wide ranges. Therefore, it is possible but can not be proven that the Dorestad tesserae have been imported from Northern Italy. Also the coloured rims of vessel glass are of the same type as the tesserae, sodium glass with some potassium, but there is no strong relation with the tesserae.1

Coloured vessel gl ass

Fig. 103

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The calcium and potassium concentrations in the blue rims of vessel glass fall in the same range as those of the tesserae (Fig. 99). Like the tesserae the blue rims of vessel glass contain manganese, iron, copper and lead, and cobalt. The relative concentrations of these elements show less variation than in the blue tesserae (Fig. 103). In some of the blue rims zinc was also detected. Antimony and tin, however, were present in lower or not detectable concentrations in these glasses (Fig. 102b). Based on these data it is unlikely that tesserae were used to produce these coloured glasses.

1 Acknowledgements: The author wishes to thank Annemarieke Willemsen and Florian Preiß for their help.

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miscellaneous 6% tesserae 43%

deformed glass fragments 29%

glass drops/threads 15%

Fig. 105.

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glass lumps 7 %

Percentage of the five finds categories.

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Tesserae and Glass Drops Indications for Glass-Working in Early Medieval Dorestad Florian Preiß

1 For example within the major exhibitions ‘Phönix aus Sand und Asche’ in Bonn and Basel (Baumgartner & Krueger 1988) and ‘799 – Kunst und Kultur der Karolingerzeit’ in Paderborn (Stiegemann & Wemhoff 1999). 2 On this occasion a richly illustrated catalogue was published (Willemsen 2009). 3 I had the opportunity to make these observations during my internship at the RMO. In connection with the Dorestad exhibition, a major part of the glass finds was prepared for entry into the museum’s digital collection management system ‘TMS’. In addition to the finds from the Dorestad collection, some recent tesserae finds, which are in the possession of excavation company ADC and building society Bouwfonds Wijk bij Duurstede, also are discussed in this paper. I must point out that the original documentation of all Dorestad

T e s s e r a e ( C ata l o g u e N o. 01 t o 3 6 )

With 36 fragments, glass tesserae form the largest category among the accounted finds. In general, the production of tesserae was carried out by dispersing and flattening viscous glass on a working surface into the form of a sheet and then cutting or knocking the annealed glass sheet into pieces of a mostly cubical shape and similar sizes (Steppuhn 1998:87). Predominantly the tesserae are made from coloured opaque glass. Tesserae were used for the assembling of mosaics primarily but they also could function as raw glass, either for the colouration of glass or as basic material for bead production. In such a way tesserae often were found at places where glass-working clearly was evidenced. Advantages of tesserae as small ingots of raw glass are obvious: they are easily transportable, handy to portion and appear in a respectable colour spectrum (Pöche 2005:72; Steppuhn 1998:87). Research suggests that finds of tesserae in early medieval contexts could be contemporary i.e. early medieval products, but as well could be of Roman origin, with the exact ratio between those two groups remaining uncertain (Kurzmann 2004:216-17; Pöche 2005:72). The Dorestad tesserae are dominated by cuboid- and cubical-shaped pieces, as is the case in Groß Strömkendorf (Pöche 2005:71). Other shapes are less frequent. This is little surprising if one regards the manufacturing process mentioned above and the primary purpose of tesserae as mosaic stones. Tesserae with a round-shaped exterior in contrast are rarer. They derive from the outer edge of the glass plate (Pöche 2005:71). excavations had not been handed over to the museum yet, and thus an evaluation of the context of the regarded finds and their stratigraphy was not possible. Neither was it possible to decide which finds definitely derive from undisturbed early medieval layers. 4 This includes all relevant finds that were already preserved in the RMO depot for glass and metal. 5 Short reports on these activities can be found in Van Es et al. 1993:45 and Van Es et al. 1994:45.

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

Glass finds from early medieval Dorestad have been a topic of find presentations several times (Isings 1980, Isings 2009 and earlier Roes 1965), while the vessel glass finds from the Hoogstraat excavations have received elaborate attention and were highlighted in several international exhibitions.1 Recently the special exhibition ‘Dorestad – Medieval Metropolis’2 at the Leiden Rijksmuseum van Oudheden (RMO) could point out anew the extraordinarily huge amounts of excavation finds from this emporium. Not only for their quantity but also for quality, the Dorestad vessel glass finds are of special importance as the numerous fragments with reticella or goldleaf decoration show. However, some other – mostly rather unhandsome – finds from glass, which could be regarded as indications for possible glass-working in Dorestad, have to date attracted less interest. In this paper such finds among the Dorestad Collection (‘Collectie Dorestad’) of the RMO are presented and their indication for glass-working is considered.3 In total 85 objects (84 catalogue numbers) could be taken in account when answering the question.4 It is conspicuous that these objects originate predominantly from more recent excavations and were recovered by the use of sieves due to their small dimensions: about 60% of the accounted finds were made in the early 1990s (most notably during the excavation for a supermarket construction5) and in 2007 at the Veilingterrein excavation, for both of which the spoil was sieved systematically. The finds are classified into five categories: tesserae, glass lumps, glass drops/threads, deformed glass fragments and miscellaneous (Fig. 105).

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yellow

One piece for instance could as well be a heavily deformed fragment of vessel glass (catalogue No. 37). Another piece is hard to distinguish from a heavily corroded tessera (catalogue No. 39). One piece of bluish glass (catalogue No. 38) features an original, round-shaped exterior and so seems to be a fragment either of a larger glass lump, glass ingot or linen smoother.

bluish green colourless translucent white red blue

G l a s s d r o p s / t h r e a d s ( C ata l o g u e N o. 4 3 t o 5 4)

green 0 Fig. 106:

5

10

15

20

Frequencies of the tesserae colours (absolute numbers)

A huge spread in the find numbers of tesserae can be observed: The 36 pieces from Dorestad join similar numbers from Haithabu with 71 pieces (Steppuhn 1998:86), Paviken 39 pieces (Lundström 1976:4), Paderborn 76 pieces (Gai 1999:213) and Groß Strömkendorf 46 pieces (Pöche 2005:70). While there are 2204 pieces known from Ribe (Feveile 2006:240) and 919 pieces from Åhus (Callmer & Henderson 1991:144-6),6 Helgö and Kaupang feature two pieces respectively and Birka four (Lundström 1976:5). Bluish colours dominate the colour spectrum of the Dorestad tesserae, followed by greenish colours, other colours are represented only by one or two pieces (Fig. 106). The Haithabu (Steppuhn 1998:86) and Ribe 7 tesserae are mostly reddish in colour, Groß Strömkendorf features mainly bluish (Pöche 2005:109) and Paderborn greenishcoloured tesserae (Gai 2004:6, Fig. 1). Pöche cautions against overrating the colour distribution since it is not sure whether the found tesserae represent the rejected or the favoured pieces and in the end the colour distribution might also result from random variables like uncontrollable supply (Pöche 2005:71). The size of the Dorestad tesserae may vary considerably. The dimensions are fairly heterogeneous. For instance a larger tessera like catalogue No. 21 or 33 could incorporate a number of smaller tesserae. Chemical analysis with X-Ray Fluorescence Spectrometry (XRF) was carried out on some of the tesserae by Luc Megens (ICN) prior to the Dorestad exhibition (Megens, this volume). It revealed that they are soda-silica-lime-glasses. The concentration of lead, manganese, iron and copper in the tesserae varies widely though and their chemical composition does not seem to correlate with their colour.8 G l a s s l u m p s ( C ata l o g u e N o. 3 7 t o 4 2 )

The Dorestad glass lumps are small fragments only, which do not exceed a weight of 5 g. Their identification as raw glass is very difficult hence and remains ambiguous for all of them. 6 In Åhus nearly half of all tesserae had a gold-leaf layer. A small number of these pieces even featured adhesions of mortar, meaning that these probably derive from destroyed mosaics. 7 Pöche 2005:71 referring to unpublished data of C. Feveile. 8 L. Megens, Chemical Characterisation of Glass and Tesserae in Dorestad. Preliminary results of non-destructive X-Ray Fluorescence analyses (Poster presented at the Dorestad Congress in Leiden, 24-27 June 2009).

Drops and threads are residues which were formed unintentionally during the processing of viscous glass. Though some of them – especially threads – might be a result of a ‘glass proof’ for testing the quality and characteristics of viscous glass (Kurzmann 2004:197), most of these pieces were probably formed when viscous glass dropped down from tools or was shaken off (Steppuhn 1998:91-2).9 Basically, one has to deal with the possibility of remelting and recycling of these residues. Larger drops and threads accordingly are less likely to be found as they would have been recycled. The thread fragments presented in this article all are broken on both edges meaning that they derive from the middle part of a longer thread. Catalogue No. 51 shows marks that are likely to have been made by a tweezer or similar tool. The colour spectrum of the glass of the drops and threads varies, but most pieces are of a greenish translucent glass. The purity of the glass varies as well. While some pieces show no signs of impurities, other pieces feature inclusions of small particles, bubbles or streaks. D e f o r m e d g l a s s f r ag m e n t s ( C ata l o g u e N o. 5 5 t o 7 9 )

While some deformed glass fragments show clearly that they are sherds originating from vessel glass, some other deformed fragments’ origin is difficult to determine. The fragments were certainly reshaped under the influence of high temperatures but in the end this does not necessarily have to be linked to glass-working. The deformation also could originate from a different craft or a settlement context.10 A number of glass fragments (catalogue No. 70, 74, 77 and 79) are notable as they consist of several glass layers fused together. Two to four layers is the most common arrangement, but in the case of the largest piece (No. 74) there are more layers. One surface of this piece can be identified as its bottom side since it clearly shows marks of a contact surface which impressed into the then still viscous glass. It cannot be said why the glass layers of these fragments are fused together but it seems likely that this happened unintentionally. Catalogue No. 73 is striking as well, as its rather plain bottom side is opposed by an irregularly deformed upper surface. It shows in its greenish translucent glass a feather-like pattern of opaque white glass.11 9 Steppuhn also points out that a more globular drop results from a higher temperature than the glass in a more irregular drop form. 10 E.g. as result of a fire in a dwelling with high temperature effects on glass vessels or window glass or as glass sherds in a fireplace, cf. Pöche 2005:78. In this context, Pöche points out that deformed glass artefacts from cremation burial contexts could look very similar to deformed glass found in settlement contexts. 11 This pattern gives the impression that the object originally may have been a bead or similar object deformed by heat impact.

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surface defects Fig. 107.

Top view of the crucible (catalogue no. 80). The photo was taken

before restoration; the fragments are fixed by adhesive provisionally. Not to scale.

M i s c e l l a n e o u s ( C ata l o g u e N o. 8 0 - 8 4)

Five other finds could not be classified in any of the previous categories and therefore form this miscellaneous group. One object can be interpreted as fragment of a crucible (catalogue No. 80). It consists of four matching ceramic fragments of the rim of a crucible with a mouth diameter of 18  cm. A colourless, translucent layer of glass covers its internal wall except for few millimetres below the lip of the vessel. This glass layer has a thickness of up to 1 mm and shows numerous cracks and fissures on its surface. One area on the internal wall of the vessel is covered by an irregularly oblongshaped glass spot of opaque white colour with a thickness of two to three millimetres (Fig. 107). This spot itself is covered for a large part by the described translucent glass layer. The white opaque glass seems likely to be the remainder of a tessera that was fused in this crucible, deformed and stuck to the internal wall. Some additional surface defects in the translucent glass layer indicate that glass of further tesserae might have stuck there. Excavations in the Italian Benedictine abbey of San Vincenzo al Volturno, where the existence of a glass workshop was proven, revealed crucibles with adhering tesserae (Dell’Acqua 1997:36). Similarly a blue tessera sticking to the basal sherd of a crucible was found in the Swiss abbey of Müstair (Goll 2005:87). If the interpretation likewise applies for the presented Dorestad fragment, this would imply the find of a tool important for glass-working. The shape of the crucible fragment itself shows some parallels to the find of a crucible from Villeneuve-lès-Maguelone (Southern France), which dates to the 6th century (Foy & Vallauri 1985:15, Fig. 1.1 and 2). At first sight this vessel’s profile resembles the 12 Isings 1978:262 refers to this find. The fragment presented in this article in contrast was not found until the year 1992 when an excavation on the construction site of a supermarket was carried out. 13 Pöche also mentions that the defect segmented beads could have had a certain value as well since they are found in hoards occasionally. 14 The ‘plate glass’ technique, which was applied in early modern times, accumulates production waste, that at first sight shows some similarities to catalogue No. 83: these production waste fragments are cap-like objects that

Dorestad crucible strikingly, but it is designed more edged and it is flat based. It cannot be said whether the Dorestad piece had a flat base as well, but at least the dimensions are nearly the same; the mouth diameter is equivalent, and for the height of both vessels similar values may be assumed. Another crucible fragment from Dorestad showing a glass layer on its internal wall obviously had been found prior to 1978 but could not be traced in the Dorestad collection in preparation for the recent exhibition.12 Catalogue No. 81 is a slag-like, porous lump that seems not to have been completely fused/vitrified. It does not necessarily have to be waste from glass-working but could also derive from another craft involving high temperature. Due to its impurities and porosity, this lump certainly was not suitable for recycling or remelting, unlike glass lumps. Catalogue No. 82, a waste bead, is a segmented bead with three segments. It was a defective product as the canal of the thread hole is intact on one side only and not continuous: hence the bead could not be strung. Nevertheless a find of a waste bead of this type should not be regarded as a definite proof of production of these beads at the finding-place. Such finds should rather be seen as an indicator for trade in these beads (Pöche 2005:54). Defective beads of this type were not sorted out directly after production but went into trade in larger containers and were repackaged in trade places to smaller units. Not until this stage were defective beads sorted out.13 An interpretation of catalogue No. 83 remains difficult. It is a glass sherd with the marks of a glassblower’s pipe around a circular opening (diameter 0.9 cm) on the ‘bottom’ side. The ‘upper’ side in contrast shows a round melted edge around the opening. Though the object has some similarities to production waste originating from flat glass production by the so-called ‘plate glass’ technique, this interpretation seems rather unlikely.14 Comparable finds are not known yet to me. The object could have formed the opening fragment of a balloon- or bubble-like vessel. It might also have been a part of an ink pot.15 Catalogue No. 84, a translucent greenish glass rod, has a length of 7.7 cm and a round-shaped section with a uniform diameter of 0.7 cm. Both ends have broken edges with one end appearing slightly chamfered. The first interpretation of this object on the excavation site was a stirring staff16 – just as small glass staffs were and today still are used as stirring tools (e.g. in mortars or as laboratory equipment). This seems plausible but as finds of glass staffs repeatedly have been recovered on sites with proved glass-working,17 an alternative interpretation as staff-shaped glass ingot or also have the mark of a glassmaker’s pipe in their centre (Tarcsay 2009:19394). I thank Kinga Tarcsay (Vienna) for her evaluation of the find on the basis of photography. Despite the fundamental limitations of a photography-based evaluation only, she considers that the fragment’s colour and structure as well as its profile section and small diameter argue against an interpretation as ‘plate glass’ technique production waste. 15 I thank Bjarne Gaut (Oslo) for this suggestion made at the Round Table session of the Dorestad congress 26 June 2009. 16 Inscription of the Dutch denotation ‘roerstaf’ on the excavation label. 17 E.g. in Ribe (Bencard 1979:126), Maastricht (Sablerolles et al. 1997:297-8), Haithabu (Steppuhn 1998:84-6), Groß Strömkendorf (Pöche 2005:73-4). d o r e s ta d f i r e d

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D o r e s ta d i n a n I n t e r n at i o n a l F r a m e w o r k

opaque white glass 2-3 mm thick

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Fig. 108

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Fig. 109

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Fig. 110

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as interstage product from bead production should also be taken into consideration. However, the extreme regularity of the Dorestad staff is rather reminiscent of finds from early modern glasshouses.18 G l a s s - w o r k i n g i n D o r e s ta d

Though it cannot keep up with the quantity of glass-working-related finds from other sites19, the material presented in this article makes it very likely that glass-working effectively took place in Dorestad, as has been suggested earlier (Isings 1978:262; Van Es 1990:174). To what extent these activities were carried out, what the product range looked like and whether it included beads only or vessel glass and flat glass as well, remains unclear for now. Production waste that is distinctive for the production of certain vessel glass and flat glass types20 is not known from Dorestad yet.21 The Dorestad excavations so far have brought no indications for raw glass production, i.e. fusing glass from its primary raw materials – unlike in Haithabu. In this trading place a glass furnace was discovered in-situ (Steppuhn 1998:94-6). If Dorestad did not produce raw glass itself, glass workers could have imported it from other places. The excavations did not recover glass workshops either.22 In any case bead production may have taken place in very simple workshops that do not necessarily leave explicit traces in the ground. Experiments conducted by Danish archaeologists

18 For instance staffs from the Austrian glasshouse Reichenau (Tarcsay 2009:113). 19 For comparison: from Haithabu 1141 finds related to glass-working are known (Steppuhn, 1998:79), Groß Strömkendorf has 1724 (Pöche 2005:18) and Maastricht about 750 (Sablerolles et al. 1997:294).

support this (Gam 1990:209-10). In the trial a simple furnace with a depth of 15 cm, surrounded by fist-sized stones could easily reach temperatures of 1000-1100 °C. Early medieval glass-working in Dorestad accordingly was not dependent on stationary and permanent workshops. A high mobility of glass workers, who could do their work on a temporary basis and at varying places, certainly is supposable. For instance, the glass house of the Paderborn palace was active for a short period only (Gai 1999:213). Since these temporary workshops sometimes leave few traces, it is especially important to pay carefully attention to any indications during the excavation and to increase the effect of finds by using sieves on site. The finds presented in this article originate for the largest part from the post-1990 excavations where sieving was applied. This maintainable additional effort produces a considerable bonus of finds, which can give important indications for certain crafts like glass-working. Prospects for the future seem exciting as the new project ‘Dorestad – vicus famosus’ has started and is promoted with substantial financial support from the Netherlands Organisation for Scientific Research (NWO)�. This framework will include digital disclosure of the primary finds and field data. Furthermore the RMO has initiated collaboration with Instituut Collectie Nederland (ICN) in order to investigate glass finds from Dorestad scientifically (initiators: A.  Willemsen and L. Megens). Hopefully these new approaches will also reveal some extra and novel details on the question of glass-working in Dorestad.

22 As I could not inspect the original documentation of the Dorestad excavations (cf. end note 3), I could not run a spatial analysis either, e.g. for areas that show particular high concentrations of glass waste.

20 Among this, finds of moils would be particularly distinctive. 21 However, even for high medieval glass houses, these finds of waste glass still are relatively scarce, probably due to a high ratio of recycling. In contrast to this, late medieval and especially early modern glass houses sometimes are situated next to enormous dumps with glass waste.

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01 Description: tessera, blue opaque Surface: matt Colour: similar Sapphire blue RAL 500323 Shape: prismatic Inclusions: few air bubbles Dimensions: max. length 1.0 cm Weight: 1.33 g Inventory number RMO: WD 4657b 02 Description: tessera, blue opaque Surface: matt to glossy Colour: similar Distant blue RAL 5023 Shape: almost cuboid-shaped Inclusions: small white particle (