§ 8. Amongst the dooms or punishments which Æthelbirht, King of Kent, established in the days of Augustine, the amount of what was called bot or damages to be paid for every description of injury to the person is fully detailed.[238] The laws of King Alfred comprise, likewise, numerous clauses respecting compensation for wounds inflicted; and the term “dolzbote” occurs in c. 23, relating to tearing by a dog. A silver ring was found in Essex, England, inscribed with the Anglo-Saxon word dolzbot, the exact meaning of which is compensation made for giving a man a wound either by a stab or blow.[239]
§ 9. We find a romantic story coupled with the founding of Aix-la-Chapelle. Petrarch relates[240] of Charles the Great of France, that this monarch was so fondly attached to a fair lady that, after her death, he carried about her embalmed body in a superb coffin and that he could not indeed forsake it, because, under the tongue, was a gem “enchassée” in a very small ring.
A venerable and learned bishop, who thought a living beauty was preferable to the remains of a departed one, rebuked his sovereign for his irreligious and strange passion and revealed to him the important secret that his love arose from a charm that lay under the woman’s tongue. Whereupon the bishop went to the woman’s corse and drew from her mouth the ring; which the emperor had scarcely looked upon when he abhorred the former object of his attachment and felt such an extraordinary regard for the bishop that he could not dispense with his presence for a single moment, until the good prelate was so troubled with royal favor that he cast the ring into a lake or marsh. The emperor happened to be attracted to the site of the submerged ring; and, in consequence, founded upon it a palace and church, which gave birth to Aix-la-Chapelle.
The Germans have a legend which they connect with what must have been this ring. It runs thus: Charlemagne, although near his dissolution, lingered in ceaseless agony, until the archbishop who attended him caused the lake to be dragged and, silently placing the talisman on the person of the dying monarch, his struggling soul parted quietly away. This talisman is said to be in the possession of Louis Napoleon; but it is described as a small nut, in a gold filagree envelopment, found round the neck of Charlemagne on the opening of his tomb and given by the town of Aix-la-Chapelle to Bonaparte and by him to his favorite Hortense, ci-devant Queen of Holland, at whose death it descended to her son. In the German legend it is said to have been framed by some of the magi in the train of the ambassadors of Aaroun-al-Raschid to the mighty Emperor of the West, at the instance of his spouse Fastrada, with the virtue that her husband should be always fascinated towards the person or thing on which it was.[241]
§ 10. Some of our readers are lovers of operatic music, and have heard Zampa. The placing of a ring on the finger of a statue and its consequences must have been gathered from a story by Floriguus. He mentions the case of a young gentleman of Rome, who, on his wedding day, went out walking with his bride and some friend after dinner; towards evening, he got to a tennis-court and while he played he took off his ring and placed it upon the finger of a brass statue of Venus. The game finished, he went to fetch his ring; but Venus had bent her finger upon it and he could not get it off. Whereupon, loth to make his companions tarry, he there left it, intending to fetch it the next day, went then to supper and, so, to bed; but, in the night, the truly brazen Venus had slipped between him and his bride, and thus troubled him for several successive nights. Not knowing how to help himself, he made his moan to one Palumbus, a learned magician, who gave him a letter and bade him, at such a time of the night, in such a crossway, where old Saturn would pass by with his associates, to deliver to him the epistle. The young man, of a bold spirit, accordingly did so; and when Saturn had read it, he called Venus, who was riding before him, and commanded her to deliver the ring, which forthwith she did.
Moore has even made use of this tale. He calls it “The Ring,” and uses upwards of sixty stanzas on it. He seems here to have laid aside, as much as it was possible for him, his usual polish and tried to imitate Monk Lewis. The scene is laid in Christian times; his hero is one Rupert; and the deliverer a Father Austin. Moore says he met with the story in a German work, “Fromman upon Fascination;” while Fromman quotes it from Belaucensis.
It is remarkable how often we find stories, which have originated in heathen times, made a vehicle for Catholic tales. The above has found its way into monkish legend.
In The Miracles of the Virgin Mary, compiled in the twelfth century, by a French monk,[242] there is a tale of a young man, who, falling in love with an image of the Virgin, inadvertently placed on one of its fingers a ring, which he had received from his mistress, accompanying the gift with the most tender language of respect and affection. A miracle instantly took place and the ring remained immovable. The young man, greatly alarmed for the consequences of his rashness, consulted his friends, who advised him, by all means, to devote himself entirely to the service of the Madonna. His love for his former mistress prevailed over their remonstrances and he married her; but on the wedding-night, the newly betrothed lady appeared to him and urged her claim, with so many dreadful menaces that the poor man felt himself compelled to abandon his bride and, that very night, to retire privately to a hermitage, where he became a monk for the rest of his life. This story has been translated by Mons. Le Grand, in his entertaining collection of fabliaux, where the ring is called a marriage-ring.
Perhaps this last story grew out of the legend of St. Agnes. A priest, who officiated in a church dedicated to St. Agnes, was very desirous of being married. He prayed the Pope’s license, who gave it him, together with an emerald ring; and commanded him to pay his addresses to the image of St. Agnes in his own church. Then the priest did so and the image put forth her finger and he put the ring thereon; whereupon the image drew her finger in again and kept the ring fast—and the priest was contented to remain a bachelor; “and yet, as it is sayd, the rynge is on the fynger of the ymage.”[243]
§ 11. There is a legend of a Sir Richard Baker, who was surnamed Bloody Baker, wherein a ring bears its part.[244] This Sir Richard Baker was buried in Cranbrook church, Kent, England, and his gauntlet, gloves, helmet and spurs are suspended over his tomb. The gloves are red. The Baker family had formerly large possessions in Cranbrook; but in the reign of Edward VI. great misfortunes fell on them; by extravagance and dissipation they gradually lost all their lands, until an old house in the village (now used as the poor-house) was all that remained to them. The sole representative of the family remaining at the accession of Queen Mary was Sir Richard Baker. He had spent some years abroad in consequence of a duel; but when Mary reigned he thought he might safely return, as he was a papist; when he came to Cranbrook, he took up his abode in his old house; he brought one foreign servant with him; and only these two lived there. Very soon strange stories began to be whispered respecting unearthly shrieks having been heard frequently to issue at nightfall from his house. Many people of importance were stopped and robbed in the Glastonbury woods and many unfortunate travellers were missed and never heard of more. Richard Baker still continued to live in seclusion, but he gradually repurchased his alienated property, although he was known to have spent all he possessed before he left England. But wickedness was not always to prosper. He formed an apparent attachment to a young lady in the neighborhood, remarkable for always wearing a great many jewels. He often pressed her to come and see his old house, telling her he had many curious things he wished to show her. She had always resisted fixing a day for her visit, but happening to walk within a short distance of his house, she determined to surprise him with a visit; her companion, a lady older than herself, endeavored to dissuade her from doing so, but she would not be turned from her purpose. They knocked at the door, but no one answered them; they, however, discovered it was not locked and determined to enter. At the head of the stairs hung a parrot which, on their passing, cried out: