Superstition was not confined to the real world of animal life, but ranged over the fabulous natural history which mixed largely with the true, in all men’s minds, at this credulous era of the world’s history, when persons put more faith in false charms for the cure of disease or the prevention of evil, than in the power of medicine, or the value of proper preventives. The horn of the unicorn, the claw of the griffin, and other relics of equal verity and value, were sought eagerly by those rich enough to procure them, and when obtained were believed to ensure much good fortune to the possessor. A fear of the “evil eye”—that bugbear which still disturbs the happiness of the lower class Italians and of the Eastern nations generally—was carefully provided against. One great preservative was the wearing of a ring with the figure of a cockatrice upon it. This imaginary creature was supposed to be produced from that rarest of all rare things, a cock’s egg, foolishly believed to be laid on certain occasions under magic influence and planetary agencies. Sir Thomas Browne, in his “Vulgar Errors,” describes this imaginary creature “with legs, wings, a serpentine and winding tail, and a crest or comb somewhat like a cock.” The Londesborough collection supplies us with a thumb-ring ([Fig. 141]), having two cockatrices cut in high relief upon an agate. The eye of the living cockatrice was believed to be so deadly as to kill by a look, to which Shakspere alludes in Twelfth Night, and again in Romeo and Juliet:—
“Say thou but I,
And that base vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.”
There was, however, a counteraction to the danger, for it was also believed that if a person saw the creature before it saw him, then the cockatrice died from the effect of the human eye. To this Dryden alludes:—
“Mischiefs are like a cockatrice’s eye,
If they see first they kill, if seen they die.”
The figure of this bird merely gave security against the evil eye; it had no other effect; and for this purpose various engraved stones were used. Thus, [Fig. 142], from the same collection, has set in its centre a Gnostic gem with cabalistic figures, believed able to avert the dreadful glance.
Such stones were, of course, “far sought, dear bought;” and rings believed to possess such covetable power had a high money value. How then were the poor, still more ignorant and superstitious, to be aided? Craft came to the aid of faith: demand, as usual, produced supply, and inscriptions took the place of costly jewels. Rings were fabricated in silver and baser metals, having cabalistic words upon them, the names of spirits or of saints. To meet the poorest ring-wearer they were even cast in lead, and sold on the cheapest terms. They were believed to prevent cramp and epilepsy. One in the Londesborough collection is inscribed with the mystic word Anamzapta. In a manuscript of the fourteenth century, in the library at Stockholm, we have this recipe “for the falling sickness. Say the word anamzaptus in his ear when he is fallen doun in that evyll, and also in a woman’s ear anamzapta, and they shall never more after feel that evyll.”
In the Journal of the Archæological Institute, vol. iii., is an engraving of a curious magical ring, copied in [Fig. 143]. It was found on the coast of Glamorganshire, near to “the Worm’s Head,” the western extremity of the county, where numerous objects have been found at various times on the shifting of the sand, such as firearms, an astrolabe, and silver dollars. This ring is of gold, much bent and defaced, and inscribed with mystic words inside and outside the hoop. Their talismanic character seems to be sufficiently proved by the English medical manuscript preserved at Stockholm, already alluded to, in which, among various cabalistic prescriptions, is one “for peynes in theth.... Boro berto briore + vulnera quinque dei sint medicina mei + Tahebal + Ghether + + + Othman.” The last word should probably be read Guthman, and it is succeeded by five crosses, possibly in allusion to the five wounds of the Saviour.