Rings.
Looking over an old jewel-case, the other day, I found a ring; no treasured heirloom or gage d'amour of by-gone days, but a simple black circlet, whose sole ornament was a silver heart, on which were engraved in rude fashion the letters VA. The sight of it recalled a stormy day during the winter of 1864, when a pale and emaciated Confederate soldier knocked at our door and asked for shelter. Of course, it was cheerfully granted.
On questioning him we learned that he had suffered the rigor of prison life for two years; had just been released, and was en route to join his regiment before Petersburg. Upon leaving, he thanked me for our hospitality, and begged my acceptance of this little ring, the making of which had served to while away the tedium of captivity. I put it carefully aside, and the lapse of time and other more stirring events had almost obliterated the circumstance from my mind, until it was thus revived.
As I gazed upon it, how many memories were revived by it! In it I traced the life of the donor, and in him the vain hopes and aspirations of his comrades and the ruin which befell them. I heard the call to arms; saw the leave-taking and departure for the field; followed him amid the sanguinary contests of battle; till at length defeat, like a black cloud, lowers over his decimated legions, and he finds himself within a prison's walls. There, chafing against captivity, listening eagerly for tidings of release, and sick with hope deferred, I see him beguiling the weary hours in fashioning this little trinket. At last the hour of liberty arrives, and with bounding pulse, to the tune of "Home, sweet home," he turns his back on prison-bars. Once again he is a soldier of the army of Northern Virginia; but gone are the high hopes which animated his breast, and gone are most of the brave comrades who once stood shoulder to shoulder with him; hardship, hunger, and death have done their work, and the end is near; a few more suns, and he and his cause fall to rise no more!
Such is the story that I read in that little hoop of black horn. How many startling events, how many passions of the human heart crowded into a tiny compass!
And this, methought, is not the only ring about which might be woven a tale of joy or sorrow. The "lion-hearted" king, notwithstanding his pilgrim guise, by means of one was betrayed to his relentless Austrian foe; and, centuries later, the gallant Essex entrusted his life to such an advocate. Trifling baubles as they are, which may be hid in the hollow of a baby's hand, they have, from their first introduction to the world, acted a conspicuous part in its history.
The Persians maintain that Guiamschild, fourth king of the first race, introduced the ring. Whether this be true or not, it is certainly of ancient date, since mention is made of it in Genesis as being worn by the Hebrews as a signet. It was also in use among the Egyptians; for we are told that, after the interpretation of the dream, "Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it on Joseph's hand," as a mark of royal favor. The Sabines used this ornament during the time of Romulus, and perhaps the glittering jewels on the fingers of the women may have enhanced their attractions in the eyes of the bold Roman youths when they so unceremoniously bore them off. But it is not certain at what precise period the Romans adopted rings; for there are no signs of them on their statues prior to those of Numa and Servius Tullius. They were commonly made of iron, and Pliny says that Marius wore his first gold one in his third consulate, the year 650 of Rome. Senators were not allowed to wear them of this metal unless distinguished as ambassadors in foreign service; but in after days golden rings became the badge of knighthood; the people wearing silver, the slaves iron.
In tracing its history, we can readily imagine that the ring was invented merely as an accompaniment to bracelet and necklace; afterward it became a badge of distinction; and finally, when the art of engraving and cutting stones was introduced, it attained an importance which no other trinket can boast of. Ornamented with initials, armorial crests, or mystic characters, it has been used for centuries as a seal for state documents and secret despatches, a sort of gage de foi of their authenticity. There are numerous instances in the sacred writings of its peculiar significance when thus employed. For example, when Ahasuerus, giving ear to the counsels of his favorite, consented to exterminate the Jews, it is recorded that "the king took his ring from his hand, and gave it unto Haman;" and, concerning the proclamation, "in the name of King Ahasuerus was it written, and sealed with the king's ring." We also read elsewhere that the den into which Daniel was thrown was sealed by the king "with his own signet, and with the signets of his lords, that the purpose might not be changed concerning Daniel."
It is supposed that the Greeks did not know the ring at the time of the Trojan war; for Homer does not speak of it, and instead of sealing, they secured their letters by means of a silken cord. Although this people encouraged learning and the fine arts, they do not seem to have possessed that of engraving, which they borrowed from the Egyptians, who excelled in this branch to a remarkable degree.
The rage for signets soon became universal, no patrician was without his ring, and in Rome the engravers were forbidden to make any two seals alike. In such esteem were they held, that it is related, when Lucullus visited Alexandria, Ptolemy could find no more acceptable present to offer him than an emerald, on which was engraved a portrait of himself. Julius Caesar had on his ring the image of Venus, armed with a dart; and the seal of Pompey was a lion holding a sword, while that of Scipio Africanus bore the portrait of Syphax, the Libyan king whom he had vanquished.
The manner of wearing the signet differed greatly, the Hebrews preferring to ornament the right hand, the Romans the left. The Greeks put it on the fourth finger of the left hand, because of the belief that a nerve connected that member with the heart; hence the same custom is observed with the wedding-ring.
After the advent of Christianity, it assumed a spiritual as well as political value, the episcopal ring, as it is called, being used as a pledge of spiritual marriage between the bishop and the church. This custom is of ancient date, since there is mention in the proceedings of the fourth Council of Toledo, A.D. 633, that a bishop condemned for any offence by one council, if found innocent upon a second trial, should have his ring restored. The popes also wore seals, and at the present time the revered Father of the Catholic Church has two—one which he uses to sign apostolical briefs and private letters, called the fisherman's ring, representing St. Peter drawing in his net full of fishes; the other, with which he seals his bulls, is ornamented with the heads of St. Paul and St. Peter, with a cross between the two.
The Hebrew used the wedding-ring, though some writer maintains that it was not a pledge of love, but given in lieu of a piece of money. It is evident that the Christians adopted the practice in their marriage rites at an early period, some of the oldest liturgies containing the vows with regard to it.
Being esteemed in a political and religious sense, it is no matter of wonder that Cupid's minions have also, from time immemorial, made the ring a seal of undying constancy, accepting its circular form as a type of eternity. Thus, Portia, after bestowing her riches upon Bassanio, says:
"I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you."
But lovers, not content with the emblem of shape, also added mottoes, and it became the fashion to engrave verses, names, and dates within the ring. Alluding to the custom, Hamlet asks, "Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?" And in the last act of The Merchant of Venice, when Portia exclaims:
"A quarrel, ho, already? What's the matter?"
Gratiano answers:
"About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me; whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife—Love me, and leave me not."
The wedding-ring of Lady Catharine Grey, sister of Lady Jane Grey, consisted of five golden links, and on the four inner ones were these lines of her husband's composition:
"As circles five by art compact, shewe but one ring in sight,
So trust uniteth faithfull mindes with knott of secret might;
Whose force to breake but greedie Death noe wight possesseth power,
As time and sequels well shall prove. My ringe can say no more."
The famous ring given by Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Essex is said to be still extant, and in the possession of Lord John Thynne, a descendant of Lady Frances Devereux, the earl's daughter. It is of gold, the sides engraved, with a cameo head of Elizabeth in a sardonyx setting.
Before ending this paper, I must relate a curious legend, told of the Emperor Charlemagne, prefacing my story by saying, that in those times certain precious stones were thought to possess peculiar virtues which had an influence on the wearers or those around them. At the court of Charlemagne there lived a woman, neither young nor handsome, but who appeared to have a wondrous fascination for the monarch. So potent were her charms, that he neglected the affairs of his empire, and allowed his sword to rust. At last, to the great joy of all, the woman died; but Charlemagne mourned grievously, and even when her body was prepared for burial, refused to allow it to be carried out of his sight. However, there was in the palace a bishop, learned in the arts, and acquainted with the superstitions of the time; and one day, when the king had gone hunting, he resolved to examine the corpse. His search was successful; for under the woman's tongue he found a ring, which he immediately secured. On his return from the chase, the emperor repaired to the room where the body lay; but instead of lingering near it, he ordered it to be interred, and seemed to have entirely recovered from the spell that bound him. That night a ball was given at court; and many a fair cheek flushed in anticipation of being the choice of Charlemagne in the dance; but lo! when the music struck up, the emperor stepped forward and requested the bishop to be his partner. The good priest, resenting the indignity, escaped from the hall, and feeling assured that the ring in his possession was the cause of such conduct, threw it into a lake beneath the palace walls. Thereupon Charlemagne recovered his senses, but ever after was devoted to the spot, and built there the town of Aix. Some old chronicler also asserts that, when the monarch was on his death-bed, he said that it was impossible for him to depart in peace from this world until a certain ring was restored to him. The secret of its hiding-place being revealed, the lake was dragged and the charm found. Charlemagne received it with many signs of joy, and requested that it might be buried with him.
For the truth of this legend I do not vouch; but it is averred that, years afterward, when the tomb of the mighty Frank was opened, on his breast was found an antique ring.