The
Crosby Garrett Helmet is a spectacular example of a Roman cavalry sports
helmet, in the form of the face of a young clean-shaven man with luxuriant
curly hair, wearing a Phrygian cap (shaped like a bent cone) topped by a winged
griffin.
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| The Crosby Garrett Helmet on display. Photo by Daniel Pett, available under Creative Commons on Flickr |
The
helmet is constructed of copper alloy.
The visor shows traces of having been tinned, so the face would
originally have been a silvery colour.
The helmet was well-used, with signs of wear from the visor being opened
and closed, and had been repaired with a sheet of bronze riveted over a split. The
bowl of the helmet was broken into many pieces when discovered, and had been
folded before being buried. The face mask was intact and had been placed face
down. For more details, see the Portable Antiquities Scheme record
and the initial report by Ralph Jackson.
The
helmet was discovered by metal detectorists in 2010, buried in pastureland near
the hamlet of Crosby Garrett in the Eden Valley, northern England.
An
archaeological investigation of the find spot was conducted by Tullie House
Museum (Carlisle) and the Portable Antiquities Scheme. This has now been
published (Breeze and Bishop [Eds] 2013), and is also reported in the February
2014 issue of Current Archaeology (CA), Issue 287.
The
field where the helmet was found is on sloping ground on a ridge plateau. Survey identified the remains of earthworks
surrounding a large ditched enclosure measuring 500 metres along its southern
edge (other dimensions and full size unknown). The shape of the enclosure is
consistent with a local settlement, rather than a Roman fortification. However,
there was a short straight length of earthwork outside and parallel with the
enclosure boundary, resembling the defensive structure called a titulus that protected the entrance to
Roman temporary military camps, perhaps indicating that the inhabitants had
chosen to copy a Roman military construction technique.
Within
the enclosure more low earthworks surrounded a much smaller enclosure shaped
‘like a fattened kidney bean’ (roughly 100 m on its long axis by roughly 60 m
on its short axis) and a hut circle.
Geophysical survey identified more hut circles, a rectangular building
and a variety of terraces and boundaries, with the buildings tending to
concentrate in the northern half of the area surveyed. Stuart Noon, the Finds Liaison Officer
interviewed for the CA article, suggested that the lower area of the settlement
could have been used for outbuildings and perhaps a paddock.
The
helmet find spot was on a terrace where buildings had stood during the Roman
period, directly in front of a boundary ditch, and at the lower end of the
settlement in a place that has ‘an amazing view’. Excavation of a small trench on the spot
indicated that the helmet had been buried in some form of artificial stone construction,
with two layers of stone cobbles set in soil on top of two paving slabs. The helmet had been placed on the slabs, soil
mounded around it, and the stone cobbles put on top as a cap. There was no wear
on the cobbles, suggesting that they were not a road or track surface. Stuart Noon described the structure as
cairn-like, and suggested that it was a formal monument. He also suggested that the weight of soil may
not have been enough to crush the helmet bowl, as the helmet was buried only 50
cm deep, and thus that the helmet may have been deliberately broken before it
was buried, suggesting a ‘ritual connotation’.
Two
Roman coins were found in the trench. One was a coin of Constantine from 300–335
and the other, in a cavity in the cobbles, was a barely worn coin of
Constantius II dating to 335–337. There
were also some fragments of copper alloy that could be more fragments of the
helmet, a blue glass bead, and an unidentified iron object that might possibly
be part of a weapon. These may indicate that the helmet was buried with other
objects, and the coins may date the construction of the cairn-like structure. The decorated rivets that would have held the
strap to fasten the helmet are of a type dated to the late second to third
century AD. So, if the two
fourth-century coins date the burial, the helmet would already have been old
when it was buried. (Caveat: the coins
can indicate the earliest possible date
at which they were buried, since they cannot have been buried before they were
made, but not the actual date, since
they may have been buried many years after they were made. The unworn coin had presumably not been
rattling around someone’s pocket or being handed around in numerous transactions,
otherwise it would show signs of wear, but it could have been sitting
undisturbed in a protected environment such as a strong box. So the helmet is considerably older than the
coins, but both might have been old when they were buried).
Helmets of this type were used for a military display-come-training-exercise called the hippika gymnasia, in which elite cavalry
units staged a mock battle watched by important dignitaries, sometimes the
Emperor himself. Mike Bishop explains in
the CA article that cavalry sports helmets first appeared in the first century,
initially as face masks that could be fitted to ordinary cavalry helmets,
became progressively more ornate through the second and third centuries, and
disappeared by the fourth century after Emperor Diocletian (285–304 AD)
reformed the army. During the late second and third century, it was fashionable
to stage the hippika gymnasia as a
sort of re-enactment of the Trojan War legends. The Phrygian cap was a style
associated with the east and could be used to signify a Trojan.
Unlike
combat equipment, which was Roman Army property and had to be returned at the
end of service, sports helmets were the personal property of individual
cavalrymen and can be found in non-military contexts (Jackson 2010).
Interpretation
Among
the many interesting issues raised by the article, two particularly struck me.
The first
was the idea that the helmet may have been old when it was buried (if the coins
date the burial, maybe a hundred years old or more). This suggests that it may have had several
owners, one of whom chose to bury it.
It’s not surprising that the helmet might have had several owners; it
looks an expensive and prestigious item, and unless it was badly damaged in a
mock battle it could probably be expected to last longer than one term of
service. Perhaps some soldiers sold
their sports equipment on to colleagues when they left the army, if they
reckoned that the cash would be more useful to them in setting up their
retirement, or perhaps gave items as gifts to close comrades or protégés. Or perhaps the personal possessions of
soldiers who died in service were auctioned off to their colleagues and the
money sent to their families, rather than trying to ship personal effects
home. Or, for that matter, maybe some managed
to lose their equipment to a colleague in a bet or a duel. Either way, maybe the helmet had a long and varied
life being handed on to successive soldiers in an elite unit before one of them
decided to take it home when he retired.
Another possibility is that it could have been a family heirloom inherited
by successive generations of a family living at Crosby Garrett, either as a
piece of equipment actively used by successive owners (e.g. if the family had a
tradition of sons following their fathers into the cavalry), or as an
ornamental heirloom displayed on the Roman equivalent of the mantelpiece to
commemorate an increasingly distant ancestor.
If
the helmet had several owners, why might one of them have chosen to treat it
differently, by burying it in a cairn rather than passing it on? This is a question to which we can never know
the answer. One possibility is that the last owner brought it home and interred
it as a symbolic way of marking his discharge from the army. Another is that it
was interred as a memorial to someone with whom it was especially closely
associated. Or perhaps the last owner
had no-one to pass it on to – if it was a family heirloom, perhaps there was no
son or son-in-law or grandson to inherit, or none who had a need or desire for
a sports cavalry helmet – and so it was buried by the family when the last
owner died.
If
the coins date the burial to the 330s or later, I wonder if a couple of
specific cultural changes could have played a part. If Diocletian’s army reforms
abolished the hippika gymnasia this
may have rendered the helmet obsolete. In which case, even if there was a son
who had followed his forebears into the traditional cavalry unit there may have
been no use for the helmet, and a dignified burial as a memorial to the last
family member to perform in a hippika
gymnasia may have seemed appropriate.
Religious change could be another possibility. The Emperor Constantine showed overt
favouritism to Christianity after he won the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in
312, and Christianity became the official state religion in 381. The pagan god Mithras is always depicted
wearing a Phrygian cap, very similar to the Crosby Garrett helmet. The Mithras mystery cult was very popular in
the Roman army, and would surely have been well known to anyone serving in a
cavalry unit. Even if the Crosby Garrett
helmet originally signified a Trojan, it may also have come to be associated
with Mithras. As Christianity became the
prevailing religion in the Roman Empire during the fourth century, owning a
helmet that looked like a pagan idol may have become a bit embarrassing,
perhaps even dangerous if it attracted hostile attention from zealous
Christians. In which case, respectfully interring it may have seemed
appropriate, possibly to mark a conversion to Christianity.
It is
interesting that the helmet was buried on a terrace with an impressive view
over the landscape. Perhaps that just
happened to be the owner’s favourite spot, where he liked to stand and survey
his domain (or just admire the view) and so it was a suitable place for a
memorial. However, it does remind me of
the location of some Bronze Age tumuli, such as the one on nearby Wild Boar
Fell which is placed not on the broad flat summit of the fell (where it would
be invisible except to someone right on the summit plateau), but at the break
of slope on the edge of the summit ridge, where it commands a wide view and is
visible on the skyline to someone looking up from the valley below. There is a
theory that some of these tumuli were positioned as a claim of ownership over
the lands that could be seen from them, and I wonder if the burial spot for the
Crosby Garrett helmet could have been chosen for the same sort of reason.
As
well as the helmet’s age, the second issue that caught my attention is the
presence of what appears to be a substantial, previously unknown, Roman-period
settlement in the upper Eden Valley, presumably with considerable wealth as the
Crosby Garrett helmet must have been an expensive and prestigious item. The hut circles suggest that traditional
building forms were in use, yet the titulus
may indicate familiarity with Roman military techniques and a willingness to
adopt those that were considered useful.
The presence of the Crosby Garrett helmet indicates some sort of
connection with an elite Roman cavalry unit.
The connection could be merely one of loot, or possibly a one-off trade
transaction, if someone happened to see the helmet, liked the look of it and
bought it. Or it may indicate some more substantial relationship. Cavalry
auxiliaries in the Roman army were routinely recruited from the provinces. Perhaps someone from the Crosby Garrett
settlement served as a Roman cavalry auxiliary and brought his prestige sports
helmet home when his service was finished, or perhaps a cavalryman serving at
one of the Roman forts in the area married a local girl and settled down with
her. There may also be a possibility
that the settlement supplied the Roman army with something. It’s not difficult to imagine a retired
cavalryman taking up horse-breeding and horse-training, and supplying cavalry
mounts to his former colleagues as a profitable business. As the helmet is second- or third-century and
the Roman coins are fourth-century, it may indicate a long-term connection
between the Crosby Garrett settlement and the Romans, perhaps extending over
several generations. Again, it is not
hard to imagine a family developing a tradition of sons and grandsons serving
in their fathers’ and grandfathers’ old cavalry unit, and/or supplying horses
to it, although this is pure speculation.
Speculating
further, one of the models for the transition from Roman administration to
small post-Roman kingdoms postulates that some Roman fort commanders may have
become local warlords as central authority broke down, supporting themselves by
collecting supplies from the local population instead of taxes when the salary
payments stopped arriving. Such a
process would have been smoother – indeed, may have been effectively underway
long before the formal end of Roman rule – if local Roman commanders were
already closely integrated with the local tribal leaders. If the finds at Crosby Garrett do indicate an
important local settlement with strong ties to the Roman army, it would fit
easily into this sort of model. It may
even be significant that Crosby Garrett is in the Eden Valley, which is one of
the (many) candidates for the location of the sixth-century kingdom of Rheged
(see earlier posts on the location of Rheged here
and here).
I need hardly say that this is so tenuous that it doesn’t even qualify as speculation. Nevertheless, the idea that the heroes of
sixth-century Rheged might have had some distant connection with the Roman
elite cavalryman who owned the spectacular Crosby Garrett helmet has a certain romantic
appeal.
References
Breeze
DJ, Bishop MC (Eds). The Crosby Garrett Helmet. The Armatura Press, ISBN 978-0-9570261-7-9 (£5). Excerpt available online.
Jackson R. Roman
Cavalry Sports helmet from Crosby Garrett, Cumbria. Report for the Portable
Antiquities Scheme, 2010. Available online
