With a silver sheen to that hauntingly immobile face and empty slitted apertures for eyes, this helmet instantly projects an uncanny, otherworldly effect. And presumably that was exactly the point.
Roman helmets of a similar typology have been found all over Europe, and this especially powerful one in Holland was found by chance in 1915 upon the gravelly banks of Nijmegen’s River Waal and currently resides in the local museum there.
The components that survived centuries dunked in fresh water are the ornamental diadem-like band over the brow with projecting busts (allegorical figures?), ear and neck guards to either side, and of course that wonderful mask of silvered bronze, attached to the surround by a hinge at the top and two clamps beneath the ears. The structurally essential part that covered the skull was hammered from iron and has largely rusted away, once decorated by reasonably realistic locks of hair.
The class of helmet is extreme. Noteworthy because of the over the top decoration, and distinct from cavalry helmets because of that peculiar mask, designed to cover the face so thoroughly one wonders about its practicality altogether with even the modicum of peripheral vision most helmets afforded stripped away.
During what occasions such helmets were worn is a matter of some debate. Writing in the 2nd century A.D., Arrian describes the hippika gymnasia, mounted exercises with cavalrymen facing off with dummy weapons, wearing colourful tunics, fancy armour, helmets that sound suspiciously like this one. And partially because of this ancient testimony they are usually interpreted as “sport” or “parade” helmets.
But is this too trite? I wonder whether this overly restricts the idea of spectacle in the Roman martial arena – after all, wouldn’t spooking hapless Celts when marching into battle deserve just as much artistry and innovation?
