The Israelites, indeed, wore rings on their fingers, in their nostrils, in their ears, and we are told that when they walked there was a tinkling about their feet. They also wore a gem pressed into the soft side of the nostril, a favorite spot for display through the Near East, still adorned by a gem among the Bedouins and the Hindus of today. The Israelites gave of these jewels in great quantity to adorn the Tabernacle that was built in the wilderness—and also for the making of the Golden Calf.
Legend has it that Solomon’s wisdom emanated from a magic ring. One day he carelessly left this ring behind him at the bath, and with the water of his bath it was thrown into the sea. Solomon retained enough wisdom to suspend his legal court for forty days, after which the ring came back to him in the stomach of a fish served at his table. A similar story of a jewel returned in the belly of a fish is told by Polycrates, tyrant of Samos in 530 B.C. Like stories occur in The Thousand and One Nights; and the coat of arms of the city of Glasgow contains a salmon with a ring in its mouth, memorializing the occasion when St. Kentigern from the fish’s mouth restored to an early queen her ring and her reputation.
Oriental tales have many accounts of magic rings. One of the most elaborate deals with Gyges, a Lydian noble to whom King Candaules, proud of the possession of a beautiful wife, displayed her in her undraped beauty. The resourceful Gyges descended into a chasm of the earth, where he found a brazen horse with a human carcass in its belly. From the body Gyges took a ring which, when he turned the stone inward, made him invisible. Thus fortified, Gyges entered the palace and murdered the king. The widow, Nyssia, married him; he reigned thirty-eight years, from 716 to 678 B.C., with the help of the ring becoming so powerful and so rich that men spoke proverbially of “the wealth of Gyges.”
Another ring, as remembered by Chaucer in The Squire’s Tale, gave a man the power to understand the language of the birds. The reader may remember that the messenger between King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba was a bird that whispered in their ears. We gather such stories from early days literally through a fabulous thousand and one nights.
Although jewelry was a preeminent concern of the Egyptians, because they must be adorned not only in this world but in the next, it was a lively preoccupation throughout the Near East, the cradle of civilization. Babylonian and Assyrian tombs yield treasures in splendidly mounted jewels. A description of the goddess Ishtar, descending through the Seven Gates to the ultimate world, pictures her at each gate putting aside a separate jewel, finger rings, toe rings, necklace, earrings, armlet, brooch, girdle: she passes through the final gate in unadorned beauty.
Among the jewels of ancient Persia, from the fourth century B.C., is a great necklace of three rows of pearls, almost 500 pearls in all, half of them still well preserved across the flight of twenty-five centuries.
Westward to the Greeks
There exist some examples of Greek art in early times. A gold and silver brooch in the form of a flower may have been shaped about 1400 B.C. Perhaps 500 years later, by the time of the Trojan War, there were inlays, intaglios, even small plaques of gold with hooks to fit the ear. In the fifth century, when the great dramatists filled the theatres, Greek lapidaries were making filigree and enamels of fruit and flowers—a bit later, of the fair feminine form. By this time, too, the Greeks were copying the designs they saw on, or bought from, Egyptian and Phoenician traders; the sphinx and the scarab appear in Hellenic workmanship.
Originators are held by their new problems to a sort of modesty in design. Imitators often—striving to outdo—overdo. The Greeks grew far more elaborate than their predecessors. The great Greek sculptors were delighted with the human figure which posed sufficient problems, either bare or simply draped. But outside of statuary, and after the great fifth and fourth centuries, the wealthy Greeks in their ways of life had caught the fever of display. Their jewelry must surpass that of the eastern barbarians to whom they were bringing the benefits of Greek culture. From every medallion of a necklace, for example, might hang a pendant. And this pendant might be a tiny golden vase, which contained perfume—each vase a different fragrance—or which might open to reveal a series of figures—as, later, baroque rosary beads opened to reveal, in minute carving, episodes in the life of the Virgin Mary.