On even the earliest pins, however, and especially on the domed backs of safety pins and clasps, there are curious carvings of dots and circles and other forms, which give scope to the second theory of the origin of adornment, the magical. For along with these fasteners are found necklaces of beads and other adornments that served no practical end—except the very important purpose of placating the gods, of warding off evil.
The telling of rosary beads, widespread today in Moslem as in Catholic lands, is a milder modern aid to prayer; in primitive times the need for protection was no less frequent and more desperate. Those of us who carry a rabbit’s foot or other charm, who put an amulet in our automobile to help us drive safely, who still “knock wood” to keep away mischance, need not smile at our far-off ancestors who engraved their beads with potent symbols or wore a scarab, preferably carved of precious stone, to keep all ills away. Charms and amulets were on every neck and arm. The devils were all about; they whirled in the tempest; they sprang suddenly in the form of a wild beast; they twisted one’s ankle as a jungle vine. And every stone-age child knew that the agate protected one against thunder and against tiger bite. If the agate was ringed like an eye, especially a tiger’s eye, it could outstare and drive away the fiercest fiend. To turn away the fangs of the venomous hidden snake, what better charm than lapis lazuli? Thus each of the colored stones known to the ancients had its special powers, or could be carved with symbols and signs of might—and jewels were worn to ward off all misfortune. Even among the ancient Greeks, it was recognized that (as the slave in Aristophanes’ play Plutus observes) there is no amulet that can save one from “the bite of a sycophant.”
The third theory of the origin of adornment, the aesthetic, declares that man is born with a love of beauty. There is no question—and if there were, modern research has answered it—that the bright trinket attracts the babe. When one is happy one wants to sing; when one sees beauty, one wants to experience it with the gift of sight or, if it is tangible, to put it on. And ever to increase earth’s store of beauty. We cannot snare a sunrise, but we can make a garland of spring flowers. Even before he fashioned beads, primitive man adorned himself with necklaces of shells, of bears’ claws, stags’ teeth—probably also of many colored berries, but these have crumbled in the caves. Such findings are so widespread that Carlyle declared: “The first spiritual want of a barbarous man is decoration.”
Since the question of origins is buried in surmise, it seems fair to follow that eminent advocate of the middle way, Sir Roger de Coverley, and allow that there is something to be said for all three theories. Each impulse, to hold up clothing, to ward off evil, to enjoy beauty—power, protection, pleasure—may have had a share in the birth of adornment. It is true that there are paintings and statues, in the early tombs, of women clad only in their jewels. But while queens, and the concubines of kings might be thus untrammeled in their quest of beauty, humbler folk at work needed workaday attire. And always the magicians, the medicine men, then the priests, wove their holy spells, with mitre and chalice and ring inscribed with the secret words of power. A monarch of early times was an impressive sight, as not only his rings, his armlets and neckpiece, but his breastplate, the buckle of his belt, and the hilt of his sword were carved with sacred symbols and crusted with precious stones. Here were protection, power, and grandeur intertwined.
Perhaps the earliest jewelry to which we can attach an owner’s name was in the find unearthed in 1901 by Flinders Petrie in the royal tombs at Abydos. It is a bracelet of golden hawks, rising from alternate blocks of turquoise and gold, and it belonged to the Egyptian Queen of Zer back in 5400 B.C. Somewhat later lived the Princess Knumit, whose mummy was adorned with all manner of jewels, anklets, bracelets, armlets, headbands, including a serpent necklace of beads of gold, silver, carnelian, lapis lazuli, and emerald, and hieroglyphics wrought in gold with inlaid gems. From Chaldea, as early as 3000 B.C., we have beads, and jewelry of lapis lazuli, and headdresses of finely beaten gold.
Egypt and the Near East
A panel in one of the pyramids gives us a realistic picture of the interior of a jeweler’s shop of long ago. The master craftsman, his bookkeeper, his workers and his apprentices are all busy at their tasks. We see them selecting, cutting, grinding, firing, shaping, setting, polishing, with tools that have changed little in 3000 years. The jewels we know today are all present there: diadems, earrings, brooches, bracelets, rings, girdles, anklets. The necklace seems to have been, in most cases, a wide tight band, almost a collar; on many a mummy such a “choker” has been preserved, studded with jewels, the gold between often in the shape of a falcon, or a lotus, or a sphinx. Favorite among the designs, of course, was the scarab; in the mummy itself, a scarab was inserted to take the place of the heart.
Two ornaments common in ancient Egypt are not found in use today. One is the pectoral, a great bejeweled breastpiece, usually hung from the neck. The other is the golden wig cover. The great men and women of the eighteenth century B.C. wore long black wigs (in contrast to the great men of the eighteenth century A.D.; George Washington’s inaugural wig, was, of course, powdered white). Close-fitting over these black wigs were joined rows of gold bands or medallions, beaten fine, fastened together, forming a complete cover that reached to the shoulders. The bands bore hieroglyphics, the medallions were usually shaped like heads of man or beast. One other difference from later times: for the snuffbox of the eighteenth century A.D., or the cigarette lighter of the twentieth, society folk in ancient Egypt carried a perfume box.
The Egyptians had many rings, including signet rings. These were intaglios; that is, the design was cut into, hollowed out of, the metal or stone, so that when the ring was pressed on clay or wax it would leave a raised design like a cameo. The design might be a god, or a sacred animal such as a scarab or a sphinx, usually with an indication of the identity of the owner. Thus the King’s seal, and especially the King’s signet ring if borne by a messenger, carried the royal authority. Jezebel, wife of Ahab, King of the Israelites, used the seal of her royal spouse on the letters she wrote to destroy Naboth, whose vineyard they coveted.