fourth finger
Art Gallery at Basel, Switzerland]
Many of the Mycenæan engraved rings were evidently not intended to be
used for sealing, as the intaglio is frequently very shallow, and as
the proper position of the parts of the body would not be rightly shown
in an impression. Hence these rings must have been designed simply for
wear as ornaments. The hoop is often astonishingly small, so much so
that it will not pass down onto the third finger-joint of an average
man’s hand, and would only fit the very slender finger of a woman.[197]
Some remarkably fine rings are in the Cesnola Collection of Cypriote
Antiquities in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Among them
two serpentine rings of gold are well worth noting. In one of these
the coil has six turns which are brazed together; at either end is a
ram’s head. The other ring shows a serpent of two full coils, with
erect head and curved neck and tail; scales are marked at the ends.
The bands of the ring are smooth and plain.[198] Many of the rings are
of the swivel type and are set with artistically engraved scarabs. In
one of these the scarab is of green plasma, translucent but somewhat
clouded; the cutting is well executed. The bottom shows two wrestlers,
each entirely nude with the exception of a short ribbed apron about
the loins. Behind each is an erect uræus (the serpent emblem of
Egyptian divinities and kings), with wings like those of the goddess
Mut, extended in protection. Between the wrestlers, on the ground, is
an object resembling a wolf’s head. The bow and collet of this signet
are of gold. The plasma scarab in another of these swivel rings has
been pronounced to be a perfect example of this form. The stone is a
pure green and the scarab has been decorated with two seated, winged
androsphinxes (with man’s head and lion’s body), the paws raised before
the sacred tree between them; the symbol of lordship, _neb_, is
placed below. The hoop is a plain, thin wire.[199]
Two massive ivory rings were found in the course of excavations at
Salamis, on the island of Cyprus. One was set with an oval disk of
green glass, and was of the type used for sealing amphoræ of wine. The
other bears the head of a woman in bas-relief; this is probably a cameo
of Arsinoë.[200]
The story of the ring of Polycrates, tyrant of Samos (d. 522 B.C.),
is related by Herodotus[201] (b. 484 B.C.), who, writing less than a
century after the death of Polycrates, may probably give us the main
facts with reasonable accuracy. According to this account, Polycrates
had formed an alliance with Amasis, King of Egypt, and the latter
began to fear that the unbroken good fortune of the Samian ruler would
arouse the jealousy of the gods; he therefore counselled Polycrates to
throw away his most prized treasure. This was a splendid emerald, set
in a gold ring, and engraved by Theodorus of Samos, the supreme master
of the art of gem engraving in that age. Acceding to the request of
Amasis, Polycrates sailed out to sea on one of his ships and cast the
precious ring into the waters. However, the gods refused the gift, for
not long afterward the tyrant’s chief cook brought him back the ring,
which had just been found in cutting up a fish. News of this occurrence
was sent to Amasis, who immediately broke off the alliance, since he
believed that the gods were implacable, and would visit Polycrates with
downfall and destruction. This, indeed, proved to be the case, as a
few years later the tyrant was inveigled into the power of Orœtes, a
Persian satrap, and was put to death by crucifixion.
The design engraved upon this ring was a lyre, if we can trust
the statement to this effect made centuries later by Clemens
Alexandrinus.[202] Strange to say Pliny, who relates the story quite
fully, asserts that in the Temple of Concord there was shown the
supposed gem of the famous ring of Polycrates. This was an unengraved
sardonyx, set in a golden cornucopia, and had been dedicated to the
temple by Augustus. Pliny is careful to write “if we may believe,” in
reporting this almost certainly spurious treasure of the Temple of
Concord. Probably the attribution was nothing more than an invention of
the custodians to enlist the interest of visitors.
A corroboration to a certain extent of the tradition that the seal of
Polycrates was cut on an emerald is given by the existence of a small
engraved emerald of about this period, found in Cyprus, and evidently
of Phœnician workmanship. It bears the figure of a sovereign holding
a sceptre in one hand and an axe in the other; on his head is a high
tiara and the arrangement of hair and beard, as well as the dress and
other details, are of Ægypto-Syrian type. This gem formed part of the
Tyszkiewicz Collection.[203]
In a recently published work, M. Salomon Reinach, of the National
Museum at St. Germain-en-Laye, an archæologist of the highest repute,
makes a curious conjecture in regard to the real significance of the
story related by Herodotus regarding this signet. M. Reinach holds
that when Polycrates sailed out to sea to cast away his ring, he was
engaged in the performance of a ceremony similar to that performed
annually by the Doges of Venice, when they wedded the Adriatic by
casting a ring into its waters. Polycrates, as a “thalassocrat,” or
ruler of the sea, celebrated in this way his mastery over this element,
and M. Reinach believes that this act, told as an isolated happening by
Herodotus, was really a ceremony repeated each year. The conjecture is
an ingenious one, although it may not be generally accepted.[204]
The signet of the Persian sovereign, Xerxes, is said to have borne
the nude figure of a woman with disheveled hair.[205] This depicted
Anahita, the Persian goddess of fertilization and also of war, a
divinity closely resembling the Assyrian Ishtar in her attributes and
functions. According to other ancient authorities, however, the design
was either a portrait of Xerxes himself, that of Cyrus the Great, or
else a representation of the horse whose neighing legend states to have
been received as an omen determining the choice of Darius Hystaspes,
father of Xerxes, as King of Persia.
In Græco-Roman times, a certain Eurates is represented to be the owner
of a ring set with an engraved signet bearing the head of the Pythian
Apollo, and to have boasted that the ring literally “spoke” to him. Of
course, the satirist Lucian, who tells this tale, only offers it as a
specimen of the lies told by Eurates, still the recital indicates that
such fables were credited in the second century of our era.[206]
Another superstitious use of signet rings was to throw a number of
them into a heap and pull out one at random, the design engraved on
the signet being interpreted as a favorable or unfavorable omen, which
foretold the outcome of any contemplated action. An instance of this
appears in Plutarch’s life of Timoleon (d. 337 B.C.), the
Greek general who freed Syracuse from the tyrant Dionysius. In one of
his campaigns the enemy had taken up a strong position behind a river,
which the troops of Timoleon were forced to ford. A noble rivalry
sprang up among the officers as to who should be the first to enter
the river, and Timoleon, fearing that confusion would result from the
dispute, decided to settle the question by lot. Therefore he took from
each of the officers his signet ring, cast them into his own cloak,
shook them together, and drew out one, which fortunately bore the
figure of a trophy. This was hailed as a good omen, the quarrel was
forgotten, and the stream was forded so impetuously, and the attack was
so vigorous that the enemy was overwhelmed.[207]
After his Persian conquests, in 331 B.C., Alexander the Great
sealed the letters he sent to Europe with his old seal, while for
those sent to functionaries in his new Asiatic domains he used the
seal of Darius III, Codomannus (reigned 336–330 B.C.), whose
daughter Statira he afterwards wedded. Quintus Curtius regards this
as emblematic of the idea that a single mind was not wide enough to
embrace two such destinies,[208] but the true reason was undoubtedly
that the Asiatic officials were already familiar with the Persian
sovereign’s seal and were accustomed to render it due obedience.
The emblem of the anchor used by the Seleucidæ, the dynasty founded
in Syria by Seleucus Nicator, one of Alexander’s generals, is said to
have originated in a strange dream of Laodicea, mother of Seleucus and
wife of Antiochus. One night she dreamt that she was visited by the God
Apollo, and that he bestowed upon her a ring set with a stone on which
an anchor was engraved. This was to be given to the son she was to
bear. As such a ring was found in the room the next morning, the dream
seemed to be thoroughly corroborated, and, moreover, when Seleucus
was born, he had on his thigh the birthmark of an anchor. Subsequent
to Alexander’s death in 323 B.C., Seleucus founded, in 312
B.C. the kingdom of Syria, which was transmitted to a long
series of his descendants, each of whom in turn is said to have borne a
similar birthmark.[209]
[Illustration: CARDINAL OF BRANDENBURG, BY THE MASTER OF THE
DEATH OF MARY
Seal ring on index of right hand; rings set with precious stones
on fourth and little fingers of the same hand
Reale Galleria Nazionale, Rome]
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF A MOTHER AND HER DAUGHTER, BY
BARTHOLOMEW BRUYN
Three rings on right hand, one with a pointed diamond; also three
rings on left hand, two on index finger; the one on the fourth
finger set with two pearls
Imperial Hermitage, Petrograd]
In the Hellenistic period (ca. 300 B.C.-ca. 100 B.C.) signet rings
entirely of metal largely gave place to those in which the seal was
engraved on a stone set in a metal ring. Chalcedony continued to be
freely used for this purpose, but the employment of the choicer and
harder precious stones from India, transparent and brilliant, and of
deeper coloring, characterizes this period. In the front rank is the
jacinth, unknown in earlier times, with its wonderful ruddy hues. This
is the favorite stone of the time. Usually the gem is given a strongly
convex form in order to bring out better the play of color. Scarcely
less favored than the jacinths were the garnets, also cut in a convex
shape; in many cases the under side was cut slightly concave to enhance
the effect. Evidently, however, garnets were less prized than jacinths,
for the engravings on the former are almost without exception much
inferior to those on the latter. Sometimes, in this period, unengraved
garnets, cut convex, are used for ring adornment. Another precious
stone that makes its first appearance in the Hellenistic epoch is the
beryl, which, because of its costliness, is more rarely met with than
those we have already mentioned. It is only used for the very finest
work, as is also the case with the topaz. The amethyst, which had
almost gone out of fashion in the preceding periods, was now restored
to favor, principally because of its beautiful color; like the other
stones, it was cut convex. Rock crystal was still used, as were also
carnelian and sardonyx.[210]
That cruel persecutor of the Jews, Antiochus IV, Epiphanes (175–164
B.C.), on his death-bed, confided to his most trusted councillor,
Philip, the signet ring from his finger, that it might be held in
trust for his son, a child but nine years old, until the latter should
come of age and exercise the royal authority. In the meanwhile, the
grant of the signet was equivalent to the bestowal of the regency upon
Philip, as he had the power to affix the royal seal upon all edicts or
ordinances. The son did not, however, live to receive the ring, as he
only survived his father two years, although he was a nominal successor
under the title, Antiochus V, Eupator.[211]
Two Greek epigrams in the Anthology, on engraved amethysts in signet
rings, express the prevailing superstition regarding the sobering
effect of this precious stone; these have been very well Englished by
Rev. C. W. King.[212] One, by Antipater, concerns a signet of Cleopatra
and runs in King’s version as follows:
A Mœnad wild, on amethyst I stand,
The engraving truly of a skilful hand;
A subject foreign to the sober stone,
But Cleopatra claims it for her own;
And hallow’d by her touch, the nymph so free
Must quit her drunken mood, and sober be.
That this was really a ring-stone is proved by the Greek words “on the
queen’s hand,” which King has not literally translated. The image was
that of Methe, goddess of intoxication. The other epigram is shorter
but to the same point:
On wineless gem, I, toper Bacchus, reign;
Learn, stone, to drink, or teach me to abstain.
That admiration of a work of art on the part of an unscrupulous
official is sometimes fraught with danger for the rightful ownership
of the object, was illustrated in the case of a seal ring belonging
to a Roman citizen of Agrigentum in Sicily. The arch-pilferer Verres,
Roman governor of the island from 73 to 71 B.C., being on
one occasion struck by the beauty of a seal impression on a letter
just handed to his interpreter Vitellius, asked whence the letter
came and who was the sender. The information was of course quickly
given, and thereupon Verres, then in Syracuse, dictated a letter to
his representative in Agrigentum, requiring that the seal ring should
be forwarded to Syracuse without delay, and the owner, a certain
Lucius Titius, was forced to give it up to the unscrupulous Roman
governor.[213] The injustice of this act must have been felt all the
more keenly that the special and peculiar design on a seal was then
regarded as something closely linked with the personality of the owner.
A strong appeal to the memories aroused by a signet bearing the effigy
of a renowned ancestor, was made by Cicero in one of his orations
against Catilina. He declared that when he submitted to Publius
Lentulus Sura, who was involved in the great Catilinian conspiracy, an
incriminating letter believed to be his, asking him whether he did not
acknowledge the seal with which it was stamped, Lentulus nodded assent.
Thereupon Cicero addressed him in these words: “In effect the seal is
well known, it is the image of your ancestor, whose sole love was for
his country and his fellow-citizens. Mute as it is, this image should
have sufficed to hold you aloof from such a crime.”[214]
When, after the decisive battle of Pharsala, Julius Cæsar came to Egypt
in pursuit of his defeated adversary, Pompey, he learned that the
latter had been treacherously assassinated by the Egyptians, who hoped
thereby to gain favor with the conqueror. As proof of Pompey’s death,
his head was brought to Cæsar, who turned away in aversion from the
messenger of death. At the same time, Pompey’s signet ring was given
to the victor, on receiving which tears rose to his eyes,[215] for no
memento could be more potent than such a ring. Cæsar’s manifestation
of grief was absolutely free from hypocrisy for he was “of a noble
generous nature,” and had long had the most friendly relations with
Pompey, to whom he gave his daughter Julia in marriage, until the
inevitable rivalry for the control of Rome brought them into enmity.
The death of Julia is said to have contributed not a little to the
termination of the friendship between Cæsar and Pompey.
St. Ambrose answering the self-posed query, whether anyone having an
image of a tyrant was liable to punishment, asserts that he remembered
to have read that certain persons who wore rings bearing the effigies
of Brutus and Cassius, the assassins of Cæsar, had been condemned to
capital punishment.[216] Of course, the wearing of such a ring would
imply not only an admiration of the person figured, but also devotion
to his cause.
The imprint of a proprietor’s seal was frequently made upon his trees,
and served to establish his ownership, so that strangers could have no
excuse for cutting them down, or in case of fruit trees, for plucking
the fruit. The degree of confidence reposed in the seal impression
is strikingly illustrated by the account that when Pompey learned
that some of his soldiers were committing atrocities on the march,
he ordered that all their swords should be sealed, and no one should
remove the impression without having obtained permission to do so.[217]
The symbols used as mint-marks on ancient coins are often reproductions
of the seals of the chief magistrate of the city or district, or else
of the mint-master. Among these may be noted such types as: a locust,
a calf’s head, a dancing Satyr, a young male head, a culex (gnat),
etc.[218] A ring as a mint-mark on early English coins is a clear
indication that such coins were struck in one of the ecclesiastical
mints. On a penny of Stephen’s reign (1135–1154), from the Archbishop
of York’s mint, this mint-mark has been made by converting the left
leaf of the fleur-de-lys surmounting the sceptre into a small annulet.
The ring-mark appears on the coins of York from the earliest times, and
is assumed to have been especially favored for the English Primate’s
mint in reference to the Ring of St. Peter, or the Fisherman’s Ring. A
penny, probably coined after the installation of Archbishop William in
1141, appears to be one of the earliest of this type. The reverse gives
Ulf as the name of the coiner or moneyer.[219]
While none of the signet rings of Roman emperors, or even of Romans
prominent in the social or political life of the centuries immediately
preceding and succeeding the beginning of the Christian Era, have
been preserved, it is possible to learn from literary sources the
devices engraved on many of them. Scipio Africanus, the conqueror of
Hannibal, had his father’s portrait engraved on his signet, and his son
followed the father’s example in this respect. The idea seems to be an
excellent one, as both family honor and filial love could thus find
expression. The gifted, but dissolute Sylla, in the first design he had
cut upon his signet, sought to perpetuate the memory of his victory
over Jugurtha in 107 B.C., the Mauritanian king Bocchus being
depicted in the act of surrendering Jugurtha. Later on Sylla used a
signet with three trophies, and finally selected one with a portrait of
Alexander the Great. For Lucullus, the great gourmet and master of all
the arts of Roman luxury, the head of Ptolemy, King of Egypt, seemed
the design best fitted for his signet.
The two great rivals, Pompey and Cæsar, chose widely divergent symbols.
The former wore a signet engraved with a lion bearing a sword, while
on Cæsar’s ring was cut an armed Venus, the Venus Victrix, from whom
the gens Julia claimed descent, and for whose statue Cæsar is said to
have brought pearls from Britain to be set on the statue’s breastplate.
The first choice made by Augustus was a sphinx, in symbolical allusion
to his taciturnity; later in his reign he wore a signet with Alexander
the Great’s head engraved thereon, and finally, moved perhaps by
the flatteries of his adulators, he substituted his own image for
that of the great Macedonian. The famous literary patron of the
Augustan Age, Mæcenas (d. 8 A.D.), who was at the same time
a very able statesman, chose the singular emblem of a frog. That the
bloodthirsty Nero should select a design figuring a martyrdom seems
very appropriate, and in the flaying of Marsyas by Apollo cut on his
ring, he undoubtedly identified himself with the sun god and leader of
the muses who took vengeance upon his would-be rival in the musical
art. For Nero was a most devoted amateur of the arts as he understood
them, and had sung--in a strained, high-pitched voice it is said--in
the theatres of Greece, earning applause enough from the wily Greeks
we may be sure. Actuated by jealousy, he is said to have had the singer
Menedemus whipped, and to have warmly applauded his “melodious” cries
of agony, evidently rejoicing in having forced him to “sing another
song.”
Galba (3–69 B.C.), Nero’s immediate successor, is said to have
used successively three signets, the first depicting a dog bending its
head beneath the prow of a ship; this was followed by a ring showing a
Victory with a trophy, and lastly came one bearing the effigies of his
ancestors. As his reign of less than a year seems too short for us to
suppose that all these changes were made in that time, perhaps only the
last-mentioned ring was the one he used as emperor. Commodus (161–192
A.D.), the unworthy son of the philosopher-emperor, Marcus
Aurelius, had the figure of an Amazon engraved for his signet, this
choice having been made, so it is said, because of the pleasure he took
in seeing his mistress Martia dressed in this way.
Augustus Cæsar reposed such unlimited confidence in his son-in-law,
Agrippa, and in his friend and finance minister, Mæcenas, that he was
in the habit of confiding his letters to them for correction, and
gave them permission to send off the corrected letters, bearing the
stamp of his signet which he had deposited in their charge, without
submitting them again to him. Similar trust was reposed by Vespasian in
Mutianus.[220]
The seal was stamped on a linen band passed around the closed tablets
on the inside surfaces of which the letter had been written. The
impression, made when the ends of the band were joined, was either
upon wax, soft viscous earth, or even on a mixture of chalk; this
was commonly moistened with saliva before the signet was used, so
that the engraved stone might not adhere to the imprint and could
be easily taken off. The bearer of such a letter fully realized his
responsibility for its delivery with unbroken seal, and generally
took pains to have this duly recognized by the person to whom it was
addressed.[221] The personal seal was also impressed, both in Roman
times and later, upon all documents private or public. In the case
of private documents the strictly guarded individuality of the seal
really afforded a very considerable guarantee of the genuineness of a
document. A survival of this is the common little red seal attached
now-a-days to legal documents, necessary to their validity it is true,
but giving no possible confirmation of the signature. This latter was
in fact represented by the design of the old signets.
The “Dream Book” of Artemidorus relates as an especially direful
vision, that of one who dreamed his signet ring had dropped from his
finger, and that the engraved stone set therein had broken into many
fragments, the result of this being that he could transact no business
for forty-five days,[222] presumably until he could have a new signet
engraved. For the impression of the individual signet was indispensable
to give validity to any order or agreement.
[Illustration: Two brass rings. Roman. 1, set with an inscribed
agate,; 2, key-ring, set with an engraved onyx
Gorlæus, Dactyliotheca, Delphis Bat., 1601]
[Illustration: Two gold rings, with onyx gems. Roman. 1, engraved
with seated figure of Ceres; 2, design of dove bringing back the
olive branch to the Ark
Gorlæus, Dactyliotheca, Delphis Bat., 1601]
[Illustration:
Two bronze rings excavated at the Borough Field, Chesterford,
Essex, 1848. Late Roman.
British Museum]
[Illustration:
Bone ring with grotesque mask carved on bezel. Found near the
amphitheatre at Lyons, France. Roman.
British Museum]
[Illustration: Roman gold rings of the Fourth Century
A.D. 1, set with plasma bead; 2, double ring, set with
garnets; 3, gold hoop composed of a plain band on either side
of a wavy band; set with a convex plasma; 4. set with convex
almandine intaglio
British Museum]
[Illustration:
Ornamental gold ring from Wiston, Sussex, England, set with a
dark amethyst
British Museum]
[Illustration:
Silver ring. On bezel engraved design of a bird approaching a
fallen stag. About Fifth Century A.D.
British Museum]