Stranded Barbarians & Disjoined Angels

Peter S. Wells, Barbarians to Angels: The Dark Ages Reconsidered. New York: W.W. Norton &
Company, 2008.

The ongoing debate over Rome’s fall gained a new addition in 2008 in the form of Barbarians to Angels. Herein, author Peter S. Wells, a professor of archeology and expert on that which pertains to Europe, argues that the disappearance of Rome was due to changes rather than collapse and that the so-called Dark Ages was an era of vibrant cultural development and “was anything but dark.” Wells delivers a whirlwind tour of archeological sites and discoveries ranging from the early 400s to Charlemagne’s 8th century and reaching across northwestern Europe from Britain to Transylvania. Considering the volume of information covered, this book is a great overview of the evidence available to archeologists, but its very reliance upon archeology is also a weakness. Wells’ book is not so much history as an examination of evidence and after 202 pages of loosely categorical chapters the reader is left with an incomplete picture of what was really happening in the years after Rome.

The emphasis on “change” over “collapse” or “decline” is a phenomenon perhaps best demonstrated through the development of cities. Though Rome, Regensburg, Mainz, and Cologne get relatively brief examinations, London receives a whole chapter. The city grew up from humble beginnings and enjoyed a great deal of popularity as a trade center, especially after Roman improvement. Raided cemeteries allow archeologists to examine the lives of the early Londoners, and Wells reports that skeleton sampling shows how the city folk enjoyed good nutrition and a relatively safe environment. With the fall of Rome to Alaric in 410, London certainly seemed to collapse, yet Wells argues for a mere transformation rather than an out-and-out breakdown. He addresses the appropriation of monumental stonework for later building projects and the presence of “dark earth” that was supposedly laid down at that time and claims from the finds there that London was not truly abandoned but altered by the new needs of her occupants. Indeed, under Anglo-Saxon rule the city reveals a continuing trade and the presence of an upper-class, despite the new wattle-and-daub housing projects that characterized the town. Problematically, this calls into question Wells’ reasoning that London had not in fact declined: though the upper-class remained, as did the production of trade goods, does the rise of such rustic structures as found in the dark earth and the reduction of grand imperial edifices not suggest that Rome did indeed decline, at least in Britain? Wells’ counter is that modern critics are biased thanks to the large buildings of the present day.

Wells’ examination of the changing European cultures of the Dark Ages is just as enlightening, and just as prone to uncertainty. Contrary to what one might expect, it would seem that the Dark Ages was a time of relative plenty, a period both innovative and thriving. Agriculture dramatically improved after Rome’s fall as the 5th and 6th centuries saw the widespread use of the moldboard plow, which, along with the new horse collar and a crop rotation system, revolutionized European farming. In addition, new centers of commerce opened in the north between the 5th and 9th centuries, notably Gudme, off the coast of modern Denmark. Along with its neighboring port Gudme developed from the 1st century to become a vibrant trade center, importing pottery, glass, and Roman coin, while playing host to profitable ironworks. Within this bountiful new environment, Wells gives identity and wealth a great deal more attention than the Dark Age peasants; they get their face time in the chapter on agriculture, but throughout the book ornate brooches and similar adornments are examined in detail, as they are a means of telling how barbarians saw themselves. Brooches and other “pop” items depicted stylized humans and animals, what is called Germanic art today, and this style seemed to parallel the rise of new, post-Roman nations that made themselves known in the 5th and 6th centuries. Curiously, Wells does not seem concerned that the “flourishing” art of post-Roman Europe was only patronized by the elites. In his gushing examination of decorative metalwork, Wells introduces the reader to new designs that were prominent in the Dark Ages, picking out brooches from a “richly appointed grave,” the helm from the Sutton Hoo – a famous ship burial that gets a lot of attention in this book – and the ornate Ardagh Chalice from a church in Ireland. It certainly stands to reason that only the affluent of any society would be able to indulge in such finery, but the very nature of the new art leads one to wonder whether the Dark Ages really did see a decline in wealth at the middle-class level along with their cities. That is not to say that some of the upper middle-class were not well off; more graves yield information regarding the smiths of the era, including one fellow who dealt in silver and sterner weapons and had tools small enough to travel, fitting well with his dual role as a mobile warrior.

In what is perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Barbarians to Angels, change and vibrant culture come together in Christianity. Consistent with his strictly cultural approach, Wells’ handles religion in the context of how it changed over time – all politics aside. Wells demonstrates that Christianity merged and blended with the local traditions and customs of the newly converted lands, the discovery of another beloved grave pointing to such a blend. Items buried with the deceased show an interesting combination of Christian symbols with those of ostensibly pagan origin, notably stylized animals. Wells admits that the rise of animals in post-Roman iconography goes unexplained, though religious interpretations are applicable – perhaps the pre-historic association of the animals was a pagan reaction to the new Christian faith. While certainly possible, the alternative of mere identification seems to go un-addressed. After all, such association with animals is not strictly pagan – the Lion of Judah is a famous associate of the Jewish nation and the dove is often chosen to personify the Holy Spirit. More obvious religious blending appears in the appropriation of traditions directly into Christian practice. Roman votive offerings in the forms of silver plaques are suddenly endowed with Christian meanings in the Water Newton find, a British discovery that Wells neglects to date. Similarly, pagan practices involving water were carried over, a church being founded on a riverside religious site where the Christians continued lobbing weapons into the flow as their forefathers had done for thousands of years. But after all the curious asides and observations, Wells’ attachment to archeology at the expense of history leaves some glaring omissions. Much is made of pagan influence on Christian development, but there is no mention of Christian Arianism practiced by the barbarians or its associated stresses when brought into direct contact with the Catholic Church. By neglecting to include proper history in his examination of archeology, Wells commits his subjects to molds even as he attempts to prove how they evolved.

Throughout the book, Wells makes many reasonable claims – such as the likely proliferation of farmers – but these observations are hampered by the lack of notes on any of the pages. For the most part, Wells’ style is a good mix of historical backdrop and presentation, a somewhat winning combination considering the disproportionate attention paid archeology. However, his division of information into subjects rather than eras is rather troublesome – while understandable in light of the sheer volume of data, albeit hugely generalized, Wells’ argument remains that the Dark Ages were a period of development and thriving cultures, yet the rampant leaping about from brooches to dark earth to crumbled church foundations leaves the reader wondering just when these developments came about, and how they are connected. Yet Wells sometimes places a disconcerting amount of faith in archeology; in the case of the Anglo-Saxon invasion of Britain he brushes aside the violence-laden accounts of contemporaries like Gildas and declares that, in light of the archeology – or, more shakily, the lack of such – it may be said that what migration took place was miniscule, rather than the waves depicted by the historians. His proof: artifacts briskly written off as trade goods (based upon contexts not divulged in the text) and Dark Age pollination that supposedly shows how Anglo-Saxon graves actually hold local Britons. There is no mention of British defenders – Vortigern and Arthur – or Saxon invaders – Hengist and Horsa - or any of the events surrounding the men and their resultant legends.

As a standalone text, Barbarians to Angels leaves much to be desired. It is an excellent catalogue of materials and would be a useful resource for readers seeking a quick understanding of a certain field. But in purporting to offer history, Wells leaves the reader with an impression rather than a complete picture, a list of isolated facts with precious little chronology in which to place them. All that is clear is that: after Rome a lot happened; whether any of it constituted a continual progress and “flowering” is up to the interpretation of the reader.

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