In tracing its history, we can readily imagine that the ring was invented merely as an accompaniment to bracelet and necklace; afterward it became a badge of distinction; and finally, when the art of engraving and cutting stones was introduced, it attained an importance which no other trinket can boast of. Ornamented with initials, armorial crests, or mystic characters, it has been used for centuries as a seal for state documents and secret despatches, a sort of gage de foi of their authenticity. There are numerous instances in the sacred writings of its peculiar significance when thus employed. For example, when Ahasuerus, giving ear to the counsels of his favorite, consented to exterminate the Jews, it is recorded that "the king took his ring from his hand, and gave it unto Haman;" and, concerning the proclamation, "in the name of King Ahasuerus was it written, and sealed with the king's ring." We also read elsewhere that the den into which Daniel was thrown was sealed by the king "with his own signet, and with the signets of his lords, that the purpose might not be changed concerning Daniel."
It is supposed that the Greeks did not know the ring at the time of the Trojan war; for Homer does not speak of it, and instead of sealing, they secured their letters by means of a silken cord. Although this people encouraged learning and the fine arts, they do not seem to have possessed that of engraving, which they borrowed from the Egyptians, who excelled in this branch to a remarkable degree.
The rage for signets soon became universal, no patrician was without his ring, and in Rome the engravers were forbidden to make any two seals alike. In such esteem were they held, that it is related, when Lucullus visited Alexandria, Ptolemy could find no more acceptable present to offer him than an emerald, on which was engraved a portrait of himself. Julius Caesar had on his ring the image of Venus, armed with a dart; and the seal of Pompey was a lion holding a sword, while that of Scipio Africanus bore the portrait of Syphax, the Libyan king whom he had vanquished.
The manner of wearing the signet differed greatly, the Hebrews preferring to ornament the right hand, the Romans the left. The Greeks put it on the fourth finger of the left hand, because of the belief that a nerve connected that member with the heart; hence the same custom is observed with the wedding-ring.
After the advent of Christianity, it assumed a spiritual as well as political value, the episcopal ring, as it is called, being used as a pledge of spiritual marriage between the bishop and the church. This custom is of ancient date, since there is mention in the proceedings of the fourth Council of Toledo, A.D. 633, that a bishop condemned for any offence by one council, if found innocent upon a second trial, should have his ring restored. The popes also wore seals, and at the present time the revered Father of the Catholic Church has two—one which he uses to sign apostolical briefs and private letters, called the fisherman's ring, representing St. Peter drawing in his net full of fishes; the other, with which he seals his bulls, is ornamented with the heads of St. Paul and St. Peter, with a cross between the two.
The Hebrew used the wedding-ring, though some writer maintains that it was not a pledge of love, but given in lieu of a piece of money. It is evident that the Christians adopted the practice in their marriage rites at an early period, some of the oldest liturgies containing the vows with regard to it.
Being esteemed in a political and religious sense, it is no matter of wonder that Cupid's minions have also, from time immemorial, made the ring a seal of undying constancy, accepting its circular form as a type of eternity. Thus, Portia, after bestowing her riches upon Bassanio, says:
"I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you."
But lovers, not content with the emblem of shape, also added mottoes, and it became the fashion to engrave verses, names, and dates within the ring. Alluding to the custom, Hamlet asks, "Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?" And in the last act of The Merchant of Venice, when Portia exclaims:
"A quarrel, ho, already? What's the matter?"