English Excursions:
Vindolanda, Northumberland
In the far north of England, situated in a windswept bit of countryside not far from Hadrian’s Wall, is a link to the Roman age that is still yielding pieces of its past. Having slept silently in the cool soil of Northumbria for nearly 2,000 years, the former military base has since become one of the most important sources of information on the Roman experience in Britain. The ongoing excavation has yielded some of the most intriguing finds of any Roman site in the world. The site — a treasure in its own right — now also holds a worldclass museum and educational facility to display the items reclaimed from the ages.
In the first century AD, Britain was experiencing a military occupation by the world’s supreme power. Brutal clashes between the foreign legionnaries and ragtag local guerrilla groups were soaking the land with blood. Following the pattern set by Roman armies in other parts of the Empire, the Roman military established scores of forts to garrison the troops necessary for dominating the feisty natives.
Having found the native Britons of the north a ferocious enemy and needing to protect the Staneway, a nearby Roman road, a simple fort of wood and turf was begun in 85 AD. It followed the prescribed pattern of Roman forts from Spain to Palestine: rectangular, aligned east to west, with wooden barracks for the soldiers, a sturdier stone structure for the main headquarters, a bathhouse and a temple for worship. Attached was a small civilian settlement to provide goods and services for the garrison.
By 208 AD a major rebellion was underway, prompting the Romans to vastly enlarge the fort and replace the wooden structures with stone. Stables, temples, shops, taverns and bathhouses were added, resulting in the sprawling ground plan that is still visible today. Hundreds of highly trained men from around the Empire soon filled the fort, the complex expanding to accommodate infantry and cavalry units and a vast administrative bureaucracy. The huge site hummed with military and civilian activity for another 200 years, leaving layer upon layer of objects great and small in the memory of the land.
As the Empire fell into chaos, the Romans’ ability to subjugate Britain ebbed. The archaeology suggests a slow dwindling of activity rather than a sudden evacuation. With the encroaching of barbarian tribes into Italy, personnel were siphoned off to defend the Imperial city until few were left.
With the final collapse of the Empire, the Britons were triumphant in their long guerrilla war against the invaders. Time moved on and the memory of the Roman era faded. The following generations faced new threats — Vikings, Normans, and plague — and the Roman forts, villas and towns across Britain fell into decay. Eventually many of them were reclaimed by the land, and vanished as if they had never been there at all.
Not everyone forgot about Vindolanda, however. Stories still circulated among the Northumbrian countryside of a great Roman fort that had once pulsed with life, now lying in ruins just under the grass. For a long time its location was not exactly known, until during the Tudor period an antiquarian made mention of the ruins. Later visitors claimed to have found a still-tiled bathhouse and altar. It wasn’t until the 19th century that any attempt at archaeological work was done at the site, and not until 1914 was the Roman name of the site finally confirmed — Vindolanda.
The first serious attempts to uncover the remains of Vindolanda were made when archaeologist Eric Birley purchased some of the land covering the ruins in the 1930s and began to excavate.
The foundations of the stone buildings were found fairly quickly, their sturdy quality indicating that the Romans were intending the fort to be a centre of military power for the long haul. As more rectangular foundations rose from the ground, the layout of the fort — a small city made up of block upon block of stores and homes and administrative offices — began to take shape.
As the decades progressed, Birley’s sons took over the excavations with the help of an army of professional archaeologists and volunteers. Slowly the earth began to yield its treasures: deposits ranging from weapons to jewellery to gambling dice were found. Altars and statues of gods were recovered, offering insight into the religious practices of the inhabitants. Finely detailed objects of bronze and silver appeared, giving a new perspective on the sophistication of the residents. And then came something even more surprising: troves of incredibly wellpreserved leather shoes, wooden tablets bearing legible writing and other perishable objects were unearthed, kept safe from the ravages of time by the low oxygen content of their muddy grave.
The volume of wooden tablets bearing written messages was unprecedented; there are over 400 and counting. Though they apparently weren’t valued in their time — they were found in a waterlogged rubbish heap, presumably discarded after being read — they proved a boon to historians. Some tablets contained military orders, some contained accounts, one even contained correspondence from a Vindolanda military officer’s wife inviting another Roman army wife to a birthday party. Some were letters from loved ones, wishing their soldier to be safe so far away from home in the Britons’ hostile land. Whether formal or familiar, the messages left by souls long forgotten by history allowed investigators an exceedingly rare look into the recorded thoughts of the northern frontier’s ancient occupiers.
Even as more of the site is discovered and analysed every year, Vindolanda’s soil still offers surprises. In 2010 the remains of a young girl, her hands still bound, were found in a shallow pit in what is thought to be the back room of a barrack house. The circumstances of her death (and, of course, the identity of her ancient assailant) remain one of the site’s many mysteries.
As the new millennium dawned a sleek museum and educational centre was built to showcase the incredible array of relics. Row upon row of highquality weapons, coins, buttons, eating utensils, combs and other items of everyday use are displayed — along with Britain’s finest collection of Roman-era leather footwear and written correspondence. The collections are being expanded as new finds are made and new light is shed on what life was like in this thriving community.
Some Roman ruins, evocative as they are, can feel a little sterile. Vindolanda is different. Still a living, breathing excavation site, it yields new treasures every season, and the ability to examine those finds in the site’s museum offers a rare connection to the past. Taken together, the extraordinary exhibits paint a vivid picture of the military, social, domestic and religious dimensions of life here on the cold, wet frontier of the Roman Empire.