Drinkwater J.F. The Alamanni and Rome 213-496 (Caracalla to Clovis)

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Figures

Fig. 1 The Rhine: High, Upper, Middle, and Lower regions. 10

Fig. 2 The north-western provinces, Wrst–second centuries. 17

Fig. 3 The Lahn and Wetterau regions. 34

Fig. 4 Alamannia. 37

Fig. 5 The north-western provinces, third century. 47

Fig. 6 Elbgermanic burial sites to c.300. 83

Fig. 7 Elbgermanic burial sites c.310–75. 84

Fig. 8 Alamannia: main concentrations of

archaeological remains. 87

Fig. 9 The Breisgau. 88

Fig. 10 Known hill-sites, excavated sites named. 94

Fig. 11 Known hill-sites: main lines of distribution. 97

Fig. 12 Kellmu

nz fort. 100

Fig. 13 Za

hringer Burgberg: plan. 102

Fig. 14 Za

hringer Burgberg: techniques of construction. 103

Fig. 15 Elbgermanic and Eastgermanic

grave-goods c.300–400. 113

Fig. 16 Circulation of fourth-century Roman bronze

coins in Alamannia. 129

Fig. 17 The north-western provinces, fourth century. 185

Fig. 18 Proposed routes of the 356 campaigns. 223

Fig. 19 The 357 campaigns. 232

Fig. 20 The 358 campaign. 244

Fig. 21 The 359 campaign. 250

Fig. 22 The 361 campaign. 257

Fig. 23 Alta Ripa, Mannheim-Neckarau, and Ladenburg. 290

Fig. 24 The ‘SchiVsla

nde’ at Mannheim-Neckarau. 298

Fig. 25 The north-western provinces, Wfth century. 333

Fig. 26 Distribution of burials, late Wfth to early

sixth century. 342

Fig. 27 The Lyon ‘medallion’. 365

Figures xi

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Introduction

Alamannic warriors Wgure signiWcantly in later Roman history.1 In

365, the emperor Valentinian I refused to go to the help of his brother

against the usurper, Procopius, on the grounds that he was needed in

the west to face major attacks by the Alamanni. According to

Ammianus Marcellinus, he kept saying that, while Procopius was

only the enemy of himself and Valens, the Alamanni were the

enemies of the entire Roman world.2 Ac cor ding to tradition, in 496 or

497 the Frankish king Clovis, whose destiny it was to assume the

mantle of Rome in western Europe, Wrst openly rejected the gods of

his forefathers and appealed to Christ at a crucial point in the defeat

of Alamanni at the great battle of Zu

lpich.3 The impact of the

Alamanni still rings in the modern French and Spanish for Germany:

Allemagne, Alemania. However, though they have received some

attention in modern studies, there is still relatively little available

on them in English, and what there is does not fully reXect the results

of recent work on their origins and development.4 Two distinct lines

of research have come together to change our thinking on the

Alamanni.

1 Geuenich (1997a: 20–1) explains why he prefers ‘Alemanni’ and ‘Alemannic’ to

‘Alamanni’ and ‘Alamannic’. His arguments are sound, but concern German ortho-

graphy. Here, I keep to common English usage.

2 Ammianus Marcellinus [henceforth ‘AM’] 26.5.13. Cf. below 267, 273–4.

3 Gregory of Tours, Dec. Lib. Hist. 2.30. Cf. below 332.

4 The pioneering work of Okamura has not been followed up (see his complaints,

1984: viii). More recently see, for example, Matthews (1989), Todd (1992) and

Hummer (1998). What I say here about the lack of English publications on Alamannic

research echoes the remarks of Creighton and Wilson (1999: 9) in respect of

Romano-German studies in general, though this problem has been eased by the

appearance of Carroll (2001).

The Wrst, historical, was stimulated by Wenskus’ Stammesbildung

und Verfassung.5 It seeks to understand the nature of the Germanic

peoples who eventually took over the western Empire. Its practi-

tioners reject nineteenth and early-twentieth-century interpretation

of Germanic groupings as discrete ‘tribes’ or ‘peoples’, the ancient

creators and hereditary transmitters of eternal and heroic folk values

and institutions, moving into the Empire from the heart of Europe.

Rather, they see them as the consequence of a continuing process by

which a wide variety of communities continually dissolved and

re-formed to create new aggregations of peoples: the process of ‘ethno-

genesis’.6 Ethnogenesis has generated controversy, becoming part of a

much wider debate with important contemporary political reson-

ances, over ‘ethnicity’.7 I will touch on aspects of this below. For the

moment, however, it is suYcient to say that in dealing with the

Alamanni, ethnogenesis is a useful concept. In particular, it frees us

from notions of mass migration.

5 Wenskus (1961). See also Pohl (2000: 103), (2002a: 17), (2002b: 223–5).

6 Seminally, Wolfram (1979); most recently concerning the western Germani, Pohl

(2002a: 18–20). For discussion and acceptance of the views of Wenskus and Pohl in

this respect, see, e.g. Keller (1998: 584–9); Steuer (1998: 272, 283). As far as anglo-

phone scholarship is concerned, ethnogenesis has provoked a mixed reaction. Hea-

ther rejects it (1991: 317–30), but cf. his qualiWcation in 1998 (107); Amory (1997)

accepts it (see 34–5 for a useful summary), but signiWcantly modiWes—in his words,

‘complicates’—it (13). This he does by stressing the importance of existing local and

institutional allegiances within the Empire. These allegiances became the building

blocks of shifting political identities, as late Roman leaders adapted their deWnitions

of insiders and outsiders—Amory’s ‘ideologies’—to meet diVering circumstances. All

this involved no racial or even loosely ‘ethnic’ aYliations: there was no—not even

‘non-tribal’—movement of barbarians over the frontier and so no ‘Roman/barbarian’

divide. Rather (e.g. 26–32), following Whittaker (1994), Amory sees what happened

as the result of the expansion of the ‘frontier zone’, the newly powerful inhabitants of

which were cast as Germanic ‘peoples’ by the educated classes of the centre. Amory is

persuasive, but I do not follow him here because I believe that there was new

‘Germanic’ settlement (despite Amory’s criticism of the term as linguistic, not

cultural or ethnic (xv, 33), we have to call these people something) east of the

upper Rhine and north of the upper Danube, and because I have doubts about the

validity of the ‘frontier zone’ (see below 35–40, 349, 354).

7 See, e.g. Graves-Brown, Jones, and Gamble (ed.) (1996); the very useful survey

oVered by Geary (1999); and, most recently, the Wercely hostile assessments of the

work of Wenskus and his pupils in Gillett (ed.) (2002a). The basic problem is, as

Amory (1997: 15) observes, the inevitable association of ethnicity with race, and

racism: its ‘insidious sub-text’.

2 Introduction

The second line of research is the result of fresh energy and conW-

dence on the part of archaeologists working in south-west Germany.

The discovery of new sites and new forms of site, and reconsideration

of older Wnds, have prompted revision of many aspects of the

Alamannic settlement of former imperial territory west of the Rhine

and north of the upper Danube.8 Important catalysts in promoting

such studies and encouraging both sets of practitioners to seek

common ground have been the discovery of a major inscription in

Augsburg in 1992, and conferences and exhibitions on both Franks

and Alamanni held to celebrate the 1500th anniversary of Zu

lpich.9

The aim of this book is to review this work and to present my own

ideas on the relationship between the Alamanni and imperial Rome.

It is not intended as a survey of the Alamanni from the Roman into

the medieval period. Most of the current debate on the Alamanni and

Rome is being conducted among a small group of early-medieval

historians and prehistoric archaeologists.10 These, in their readiness

to accept the Roman historical background as a datum, run the risk of

missing current shifts in opinion in this Weld, for example, concern-

ing the reliability of Ammianus Marcellinus’ Res Gestae.11 Con-

versely, historians of the Late Empire are ignoring what their

medieval and archaeological colleagues have to tell them about the

Alamanni. I must, however, concede that this book would have been

impossible to w rite if I had not been able to draw upon a number of

recent syntheses by specialists in both areas. The most useful

were: Geuenich’s general history; Lorenz’s study of the mid-fourth-

century campaigns; the catalogue of the great Alamannic exhibition

of 1997/98; and Geuenich’s edition of the proceedings of the Zu

lpich

conference of 1996 (published in 1998).12 Also handy was Pohl’s

8 Keller (1993: 85).

9 Steuer (1998: 270–1); Pohl (2000: 108). The actual date and circumstances of

Clovis’ conversion, and so of the signiWcance of the battle of Zu

lpich, remain hotly

debated: see Wood (1994: 43–8); Geuenich (1997a: 78–84). Cf. below 335.

10 The medieval character of such studies is explicit in the title of Wenskus (1961).

For the prehistoric character of the archaeological tradition see Haberstroh (2000a:

11), with Brather (2002: 149).

11 For excessive trust in Ammianus see, e.g. Geuenich (1997a: 32–5, 42, 53).

Cf. below 177–8.

12 Geuenich (1997a); Lorenz, S. (1997); Alamannen (1997); Geuenich (ed.)

(1998).

Introduction 3

summary of modern work on the Alamanni.13 What follows must

still be regarded as provisional, since much modern thinking about

the Alamanni remains uncertain, including basic issues of method-

ology and even terminology.14

An immediate problem is, indeed, simply what to call them. The

derivation and meaning of Alamanni will receive attention later.15

Here, it is necessary only to recall that all our literary information

concerning the Alamanni comes from Greco-Roman writers.16 This

includes their name: we do not know what they called themselves. In

these circumstances, the historian might well expect help from

archaeology. One might hope, for example, for the identiWcation of

a discrete and coherent new Germanic community within the area

that the Romans knew as Alamannia which might ser ve to justify

their, and our, labelling all its inhabitants ‘Alamanni’. However, this is

not available. Settlement remains are poor.17 This forces dependence

upon funerary archaeology, but there is a remarkable shortage of

early Germanic graves in the region. We have a small number of high-

status inhumations, but the vast majority of corpses must have been

disposed of in ways which currently elude archaeological detection.18

In addition to the problem of Wnding early Alamannic graves, there is

that of how much historical information can be won from the study

of archaeological material.19 Much depends on what can be deduced

from the classiWcation, dating and mapping of standard grave-goods.

Traditionally, such exercises have been used to show when and how

13 Pohl (2000: 101–7).

14 See, e.g. Fingerlin (1997b: 125), especially in respect of problems relating to the

dating of archaeological material. A serious technical problem has been, until recently

at least, the confusion of late-Iron Age and early-Germanic ceramics: Fingerlin (1990:

102); Bu

cker (1999: 19, 25–160, 217). See also below, 5, on the interpretation of

distribution-maps; and the judicious remarks of Keller (1993: 87–8) on the diYculty

of synthesis and on the historian’s obligation to undertake it.

15 See below 63–9.

16 Steuer (1998: 278).

17 Cf. Bu

cker et al. (1997: 311–12), mainly concerning the Merovingian period,

but noting similar problems in dealing w ith earlier times—in particular, the tendency

of simple, wooden-built houses and settlements regularly to shift position within a

‘home-area’.

18 Fingerlin (1990: 117, 121), (1993: 72); Schach-Do

rges (1997: 85–6, 95) and

Keller (1998: 594–5), together estimating that we have only around 80 reliable burial

sites, comprising about 200 graves, for the period from the third to the Wfth century.

19 Keller (1998: 588); Steuer (1998: 271–3).

4 Introduction

peoples migrated from their homelands, but argument has long

raged as to the scientiWc validity of distribution-maps. These can

illustrate the activities of modern researchers quite as much as those

of ancient communities.20 Furthermore, even if there is enough

material to produce valid distribution-maps showing the existence

of various ‘culture-groups’, such groups do not necessarily indicate

distinct ethnicities nor do they give any hint of the political loyalties

of the communities who deposited the objects concerned.21 (Political

loyalties might be wider, being shared with other, culturally distinct

groups, or narrower, causing conXict within the same cultural group,

or a mixture of both.) These waters were muddied by the readiness of

the pioneers of culture-group studies to permit their Wndings to be

used to support late-nineteenth/early-twentieth-century European

nationalisms: in particular, Gustaf Kossinna, whose name many

now regard as anathema.22 For this reason, some contemporary

scholars prefer to talk of no more than ‘zones of circulation’ of

goods or ‘long distance contacts’ between peoples, social and com-

mercial as well as migratory.23 Others believe that archaeology has no

role in the writing of ethnic history.24 It has recently been proposed

that a more statistical approach to grave-assemblages might yet yield

reliable information on ethnic identity and political aYliation; but all

remains very problematical.25 One has to accept that the Alamanni

are archaeologically invisible: it is currently impossible to detect even

historically attested sub-groups of the Alamanni (Bucinobantes,

20 Schach-Do

rges (1997: 81); Pohl (1998a: 643); Steuer (1998: esp. 271–4,

289–301).

21 Roth (1998: 630); Steuer (1998: 279, 289, 314). Cf. Amory (1997: 16): ‘It is not

easy to determine subjective ethnic identity from objectively visible culture.’

22 Pohl (2000: 47–9); Curta (2002a: 202–3, cf. 211–13, later Soviet exploitation of

this methodology). Curiously, Graves-Brown, Jones, and Gamble (ed.) (1996) con-

tains many references to Kossinna and his school, but none to Wenskus.

23 Steuer (1998: 287, 307): ‘Verkehrsra

umen’, ‘Fernbeziehungen’. Cf. below 46.

24 Brather (2002: 150, 170, 174); Fehr (2002: 200). Cf. the critique of Brather by

Schmauder (2003: 292–8).

25 See, e.g. Keller (1998: 588 and n. 19) on the potential of ‘Bestattungsitte’, though

as markers of socio-political change, not ethnicity; Siegmund (1998: 558–9, 560–1,

567–70) proposing that the study of burial customs enables us to distinguish between

Frankish and Alamannic areas of settlement in the period c.450–520/23, and now

(2000) extending the period covered to c.670, and taking into account Saxons and

Thuringians. On Siegmund, see Drinkwater (2001); Brather (2002: 153–5). On the

issue in general, see (relatively positively) Schmauder (2003: esp. 298).

Introduction 5

Lentienses etc.) in the record.26 It is no wonder that some archae-

ologists are reluctant to attach any literary-based name, in particular

‘Suebian’, ‘Gothic’, ‘Frankish’ or ‘Alamannic’, to artefacts, the areas in

which they are found, or the people who might have produced or

used them, favouring instead the bland but safer ‘Germanic’.27 It may

appear, therefore, that in respect of the Alamanni, history and

archaeology are on divergent paths.

In such a situation, a Wrm decision has to be taken to prevent

paralysis. One must work from the better to the less well-known,

which returns us to the literary sources. Even though his account

presents problems, our most detailed informant is Ammianus

Marcellinus. He tells us that by the middle years of the fourth century

the Romans accepted that all the land over the Rhine and the Danube

which had formerly been part of the provinces of Upper Germany

and Raetia, and even a section of Raetia south of the Danube to Lake

Constance, was now in the hands of people they called Alamanni.28

This is entirely consistent with later sources which tell us that Clovis

decisively defeated the Alamanni and that much of their territory was

eventually integrated into the Frankish Empire as ‘Alamannia’.29

Ammianus’ testimony is also consistent with earlier texts, from

around the end of the third century, which indicate that Alamanni

had taken over Roman territory beyond the Danube and the Rhine a

generation or so before.30 It also Wts archaeological Wndings, both

negative (the disappearance of Latin inscriptions from and the large-

scale supply of imperial coinage to this area) and positive (late-

Roman military building along the Rhine and upper Danube as a

26 Fingerlin (1993: 60). Cf. below 96, 122, 126. Behind this problem is the

surprising uniformity of Germanic archaeology, with few if any artefacts that may

be reliably assigned to a speciWc population mentioned in the literary sources:

cf. Siegmund (2000: 301–2).

27 See, e.g. Steuer (1998: 275); Bu

cker (1999: 16), explicitly preferring ‘Germanic’

to ‘Alamannic’; and Trumm (2002: 17). Kulikowski (2002: 69, n. 2) goes even further,

preferring ‘barbarian’ to ‘Germanic’.

28 Cf. Martin (1997b: 163); Steuer (1998: 275–6).

29 Geuenich (1997a: 78–108).

30 Pan. Lat. 4 (8) [Galletier].10.2 (297): Raetia was lost under Gallienus; Laterculus

Veronensis: Nomina provinciarum omnium 14 [Riese (1892: VIII.79)] (c.300): a list

of transrhenish civitates supposedly lost to the barbarians during the reign of

Gallienus. See also Drinkwater (1987: 82, 86–7); Nuber (1993: 101), (1998: 373).

6 Introduction

new frontier was created to the rear of the old).31 All this provides a

basic working framework. Change was afoot in the region; ampliWca-

tion will follow, but to get this book started it seems acceptable to call

the people who brought it about the Alamanni.

Anticipating material that will be presented later, I should explain

how I see these Alamanni, which returns us to the issue of ethnicity.

Ethnicity is very diYcult to tie down because its basic vocabulary, in

both ancient and modern European languages (ethnos, gens, natio,

‘people’, ‘tribe’, ‘Volk’, ‘Sippe’, ‘Stamm’ etc.), is hard to control. It is

diYcult to deWne each term precisely, and still more diYcult to relate

them all to each other, and this can lead to endless misunderstanding

and qualiWcation.32 It is little wonder that Amory cut through the

Gordian knot by beginning his study of the Ostrogoths with his own

deWnition of ethnicity.33 I follow his lead. Here, I take an ancient

people or folk to be an established community, aware of its identity

and of something of a common history. Its identity is formed by how

it characterizes itself and how it is seen by outsiders. It is not racially

‘pure’ or exclusive, but it has a strong tradition of endogamy—there

has to be some sort of biological link—and, as it develops, it may be

inclined to trace its foundation to a mythical ancestor. It need not be

politically united: one has only to think of the endless wars between

the ancient Greeks, despite their acceptance of each other as fellow

‘Hellenes’. However, as it develops it may exhibit the potential to come

together under strong leadership. Such periods of unity are important

because they may become permanent or, if only temporary, they give a

people the moral strength to survive conquest by outsiders.

The earliest, third-century, Alamanni were not an ethnos,agens,a

people, or a ‘Volk’. As long-distance raiders, they arrived in modern

south-west Germany randomly, not by tribal migration. The name

Alamanni, though it had Germanic roots, won general currency as a

Roman designation, identifying barbarians coming from and settling

over the Rhine and Danube. Ethnogenesis, the process that eventu-

ally made these disparate incomers a people, began in the fourth

century. Then, forming static communities settled close to the

31 Nuber (1993: 102); Mackensen (1999: esp. 201).

32 Cf. Wolfram (1998: 608–9).

33 Amory (1997: xiv).

Introduction 7