Bishop Patrick, in his ‘Reflections on the Devotions of the Roman Church,’ 1674, asks, with assumed naïveté, how these names of the Three Wise Men—Melchior, Balthazar, and Jasper—are to be of service, ‘when another tradition says they were Apellius, Amerus, and Damascus; a third, that they were Megalath, Galgalath, and Sarasin; and a fourth calls them Ator, Sator, and Peratoras; which last I should choose (in this uncertainty), as having the more kingly sound.’
[39] The horn of the narwhal (which in the Middle Ages passed for the horn of the unicorn) was supposed to possess, among other virtues, that of neutralising and detecting the presence of poison. Various old writers relate that it became agitated when placed in contact with a poisoned body, and the most efficacious antidote to poison was the water in which it had been steeped. A piece of the horn was attached to a chain of gold, in order that it might be plunged into a dish without putting in the fingers.
[40] The Runic characters are of very remote antiquity, and of entirely pagan origin. They are attributed to Odin, whom tradition asserts to have been eminently skilful in the art of writing, as well for the common purposes of life, as for the operations of magic. It is the earliest alphabet in use among the Teutonic and Gothic nations of Northern Europe. The name is derived from the Teutonic rûn, a mystery; whence runa, a whisper, and helrun, divination. They were distinguished into various kinds: the noxious—or, as they were called, the bitter—employed to bring various evils on their enemies; the favourable averted misfortunes; the victorious procured conquest to those who used them; the medicinal were inscribed on the leaves of trees for healing; others served to dispel melancholy thoughts; to prevent shipwreck; were antidotes against poison; preservatives against the anger of enemies; efficacious to render a mistress favourable—these last were to be used with great caution. If an ignorant person had chanced to write one letter for another, or had erred in the minutest stroke, he would have exposed his mistress to some dangerous illness, which was only to be cured by writing other runes with the greatest niceness. All these various kinds differed only in the ceremonies observed in writing them, in the materials on which they were written, in the place where they were exposed, in the manner in which the lines were drawn, whether in the form of a circle, of a serpent, or a triangle, &c.
‘In the strict observance of these childish particulars consisted’ (remarks Mallet in his ‘Northern Antiquities’) ‘that obscure and ridiculous art which acquired to so many weak and wicked persons the respectable name of priests and prophetesses, merely for filling rude minds with so much jealousy, fear, and hatred.’
Grimm states that the Anglo-Saxon Runic alphabet was derived from the Scandinavian at a period when it had only sixteen letters, the complementary letters of the two alphabets having been formed on principles that offer not the slightest analogy. While on the subject of Runic calendars I may mention (although unconnected with rings) a singular Runic almanack which was exhibited at the Winchester meeting of the Archæological Institute in 1845. It is in the form of a walking-stick, called in the north of Europe a ‘rim-stok,’ or ‘primstaf.’ The symbols and figures which ornament this calendar relate to the saints’ days and the successive occupations of the seasons. The staff is of a fashion rarely to be found in the north, and appears to be the same which was procured at Trondheim, in Norway, by Mr. Wolff, formerly Norwegian consul at London, who published an account of it.
[41] A modern poet thus apostrophises the turquoise and its changeful properties in the following beautiful sonnet:—
‘In sunny hours, long flown, how oft my eyes
Have gazed with rapture on thy tender blue!
Turquoise! thou magic gem, thy lovely hue
Vies with the tints celestial of the skies.
What sweet romance thy beauty bids arise,
When, beaming brightly to the anxious view,
Thou giv’st th’ assurance dear that love is true!
But should thy rays be clouded, what deep sighs,
What showers of tenderness distress the heart!
Ah! much of joy I owe thee, but no woe.
As to my mind, thou ever didst impart
That feeling blest which made my pale cheek glow
(For love was mine, shorn of his wings and dart).
Turquoise! in warmest strains thy praise should flow,
Such as some gifted minstrel could bestow.’
[42] A more homely remedy for the same disorder is given in Wittal’s ‘Little Dictionary,’ where we find that—
‘The bone of a hare’s foot, closed in a ring,
Will drive away the cramp, whenas it doth wring.’
[43] Appendix.