absent-mindedness, that when the Roman senator Cneius Sentius
Saturninus arose in the senate and pronounced a fiery harangue on
the death of Caligula, urging the senators to regain their former
liberties of which they had been robbed, he quite forgot that he wore
on his hand a ring set with a stone on which the head of the detested
tyrant was cut. His fellow senator, Trebellius Maximus, remarking it,
however, snatched it from his finger, and the stone was crushed to
pieces.[223]
How common in ancient Rome was the use of a signet ring to seal up the
provision rooms in a household, is shown by a passage in the “Casina”
of the comic poet Plautus, written about 200 B.C., where
Cleopatra on leaving her home to visit a neighbor, directs her slaves
to seal these rooms and bring her ring back to her.[224]
Of the betrothal ring, Clemens Alexandrinus says that it was not given
as an ornament, but for sealing objects in the conjugal domicile. As
the husband’s signet ring was often used in a similar way, it was
quite customary to bequeath it to a wife or a daughter. An example of
this appears in the case of Emperor Aurelian (214–275 A.D.)
who left his seal ring to his wife and daughter jointly, the Latin
historian adding that in so doing he was acting “just like a private
citizen.”[225]
A curious subject was chosen for his signet-ring by a native of
Intercatia in Spain. His father had been killed in a single combat by
the Roman leader Scipio Æmilius, and it was this scene that the son had
engraved upon his ring. When Stilo Preconinus related this fact in Rome
he laughingly demanded of his hearers what they supposed the Spaniard
would have done if his father had killed Scipio instead of being
killed by him.[226]
In the Roman world the custom of removing the rings in case of death is
noted by Pliny, who says that they were taken from the fingers of those
in the comatose state of the dying; the rings were often replaced after
death.[227] An instance in point is noted by Suetonius, who reports
that when Tiberius became unconscious, and was believed to be about
to die, his seal ring was slipped from his finger, but on regaining
consciousness the emperor demanded that it should be replaced.[228] To
have a ring drop from the finger was regarded as a bad omen, and when
an accident of this kind happened to Emperor Hadrian, he is said to
have exclaimed: “This is a sign of death.” The ring which fell from his
finger bore a gem engraved with his own image.
The elegy of Propertius (49–15? B.C.) on the “Shade of Cynthia,” gives
proof that a valuable ring was often left on the hand of the corpse
when it was burned on the funeral pyre. The Latin verses describing the
apparition may be thus rendered in prose:[229]
“She still had the same eyes and hair as when on the funeral couch; but
her garments had been burned away. The flame had destroyed the beryl
which used to grace her finger, and the infernal stream had discolored
her lips.”
The sense of intimate connection between a valued ring and the wearer,
finds expression in Shakespeare’s lines (Cymbeline Act I, sc. 5):
My ring I hold dear as my finger; ’tis part of it.
And if we go back 2200 years to a far distant quarter of the globe we
meet with the same feeling of intimate connection in the inspired
words of the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah (xxii, 24):
_As_ I live, saith the Lord, though Coniah the son of
Jehoiakim King of Judah were the signet upon my right hand, yet
would I pluck thee hence.
The prophet Haggai (chap. ii, verse 23) uses the designation signet to
indicate a specially chosen instrument, in the following words:
In that day, saith the Lord of hosts, will I take thee, O Zerubbabel,
my servant, the son of Shealtiel, saith the Lord, and will make thee as
a signet: for I have chosen thee, saith the Lord of hosts.
The Freemasons have adopted the signet of Zerubbabel as one of the
symbols of the Royal Arch, the seventh masonic degree.[230]
The monogram of Christ appears on a signet made for a Christian lady of
Roman times, Ælia Valeria. Of this sacred symbol St. John Chrysostom
wrote that the Christians of his time always inscribed it at the
beginning of their letters, and he gives as a reason for this that
wherever the name of God appeared there was nothing but happiness.
Undoubtedly the shape of the Greek X (Ch), forming part of this
monogram, suggested a form of the cross, and gave an added significance
to the monogram, especially in view of Chrysostom’s statement that the
Christians of his time painted or engraved a cross on their houses and
made the sign of the cross over their foreheads and their hearts.[231]
Clemens Alexandrinus in the second century tells us that men were
required to wear the seal ring on the little finger, as worn in this
way it would interfere least with the use of the hand, and would be
best protected from injury and loss.[232] While, however, fashion must
have dictated to a great extent the finger on which a seal ring was
to be worn, we should bear in mind that any particular custom in this
matter was not constant, and that individual preferences must often
have determined the finger chosen to bear the seal ring. This diversity
is attested by the differing statements of the old writers, as well as
by the rare examples offered by ancient statues and paintings.
One of the rare ivory rings in the British Museum is a signet the
bezel of which bears an engraved design of Christ on the Cross, with
the Virgin and St. John on either side. The legend is the motto of
Constantine the Great: In hoc signo vinces. The hoop of this ring,
which was found in Suffolk, has been restored at the back. The figures
are very rudely engraved for a production of the sixteenth century.[233]
[Illustration:
Bronze signet-ring, Byzantine, two views and impression. The
abbreviated Greek inscription reads: “May the Lord help his
servant Stephan”
British Museum]
[Illustration: Bronze signet ring. European. Fifteenth Century
British Museum]
[Illustration: Silver ring, broken at the back. Bezel bears
letter “T” crowned. Fifteenth Century
British Museum]
[Illustration:
Ivory signet ring, with impression. On the carved bezel, the
Crucifixion, between the Virgin and St. John; legend: “_In hoc
signo vinces_,” motto of the Emperor Constantine
British Museum]
[Illustration:
Bronze signet. The octagonal bezel is engraved with a greyhound’s
head, and a rather obscure inscription. Ring and impression of
signet. Fifteenth Century
British Museum]
[Illustration: Gold signet ring, engraved with a lion rampant;
beneath, a star. Ring and impression. Sixteenth Century
British Museum]
[Illustration:
Massive gold ring; bezel engraved with a lion passant regardant,
and the legend: “Now is thus.” English, late Fifteenth Century.
Ring and impression of signet
British Museum]
It appears to have been an ancient usage in some parts of the Christian
world to use two signet rings in connection with the baptismal
ceremonies. One of these was employed to seal up the font, or else the
baptistry, while the other was used to affix a seal upon the profession
of faith made by the neophyte, this profession being later entered on a
public register. Some of the ecclesiastical writers saw the origin of
the first-named ring in the text (Cant. iv, 12):
A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a
fountain sealed.[234]
A recognition that at the beginning of the sixth century A.D.
bishops were in possession of signet rings is offered by a circular
letter addressed by Clovis I, in 511 A.D., after his victory
over the Visigoths at Vouglé, to the bishops of the many cities that
came under his domination as the fruits of this success. He informs
the bishops that he will free all prisoners, either clerical or lay,
for whom this favor shall be asked in letters “sealed with your ring.”
This, however, only confirms the other testimony to the effect that the
bishops had signets, but does not suffice to establish the existence at
this time of rings given to them at their consecration as symbols of
their office.[235]
The French kings of the Merovingian age stamped upon their royal
documents the design engraved on their signet rings, the accompanying
formula being frequently as follows: “By the impress of our ring we
corroborate (_roborari fecimus_)”; slightly different forms appear
sometimes. The following list gives, with the dates, a number of seal
impressions that have been found on such documents:[236]
Childebert I, 528 A.D.
Sigebert I, 545, A.D.
Childeric I, 583 A.D.
Dagobert I, 629, 631–632, 635 A.D.
Childeric II, 664 A.D.
Thierry III, 673 A.D.
Dagobert II, 675 A.D.
Charles Martel (mayor of the palace), 724 A.D.
Pepin le Bref (mayor of the palace), 748 and 751 A.D.
Pepin le Bref, king, 755 and 768 A.D.
In the Carolingian period, Charlemagne and his successors continued the
use of the same formulas.
The possession of signet rings by well-born women, although not usual
in Roman times, became quite common in the early Middle Ages, under the
influence of the Germanic peoples, which accorded to woman a much more
important station than did the Romans or Gallo-Romans. Among the relics
of the Merovingian period that have been preserved to our day, is the
ring of Berteildis, one of the wives of Dagobert I (602?-638).[237]
It is of silver and is inscribed with the name of the queen and the
monogram of the word _regina_.[238] A document from the time of
Childeric II, dated in 637, shows impressions of two queenly signets,
one that of Emnechildis, wife of Sigebert II, King of Austrasia
and guardian of Childeric, and the other belonging to Blichildis,
Childeric’s wife.
In the tomb of the Frankish king Childeric I (458–481 A.D.),
accidentally discovered at Tournai in 1653, in an ancient cemetery
of the parish church of St. Brica, were found a number of valuable
relics of this sovereign, among them his signet ring. After having
been taken to Vienna by Archduke Leopold Wilhelm, then governor of the
Low Countries, the treasure came, after his death, into the Imperial
Cabinet there. In 1665 the Archbishop of Mayence secured from Emperor
Leopold I permission to offer it to Louis XIV. In July of this year
the precious objects were transmitted to the French king and were
deposited in the Cabinet de Médailles, recently constituted in the
Louvre. Shortly afterward, they were transferred to the Bibliothèque du
Roi, and were safely preserved in this institution, under its changing
names, until 1831, when the ring and other of the Childeric relics,
as well as a number of other historic objects, were stolen from the
library. The ring was never recovered. Fortunately there exists a very
exact description and a figuration of the ring in an account of the
treasure published in 1655, at Antwerp, by Jean Jacques Chifflet, first
physician of the Archduke.[239] The ring, which is of massive gold,
bears a large oval bezel on which is engraved the bust, full face.
The sovereign is beardless, with long hair parted in the middle and
hanging down to his shoulders. The bust is garbed in Roman style; on
the tunic may be seen a decorative plaque. The king’s right hand holds
a lance which rests on his shoulder, as may be observed in the imperial
medals of Constantine II, Theodosius II, and their successors. The
legend, in the genitive case, _Childerici Regis_, presupposes the
word _signum_ or _sigillum_, as the ring was unquestionably
a signet. M. Deloche considers it probable that it was made on the
occasion of Childeric’s marriage with Basnia, Queen of Thuringia, who
had abandoned her native land and her husband to wed the Frankish
sovereign. Clovis I (481–511) was the offspring of this union. Although
the original has been lost there has fortunately been preserved an
imprint from it on the margin of a manuscript in the Bibliothèque de
Sainte Geneviève; of the entire ring there is the carefully executed
drawing made for Chifflet’s work.[240]
In many cases the Carolingian monarchs rendered their signets, set with
antique gems, significant of their own personality by having their
names engraved around the setting. In this way Carloman (741–747)
utilized an antique gem showing a female bust with hair tied in a
knot, while Charlemagne’s choice was a gem engraved with the head of
Marcus Aurelius; at a later time he substituted for this one bearing
the head of the Alexandrian god Serapis. It is noteworthy that there
is a great likeness between the portraits of Antoninus Pius and the
type chosen for Serapis. Louis I, le Debonnaire (814–840), selected
a portrait of Antoninus Pius, and his son, Lothaire, Roman emperor,
840–855 A.D., a gem with Caracalla’s head, the choice being no
inappropriate one in view of Lothaire’s weak and treacherous character.
Rev. C. W. King conjectures that the selection of the particular head
may have depended upon its resemblance, more or less close, to the
features of the monarch, as even though the likeness should not be very
exact, the work would surpass anything that the unskilful gem-cutters
of this age could produce.[241]
Of the seal of the Prophet Mohammed, we are told by Ibn Kaldoun that
when he was about to send a letter to the Emperor Heraclius, his
attention was called to the fact that no letter would be received by a
foreign potentate unless it bore the impression of the Prophet’s seal.
Mohammed therefore had a seal made of silver, bearing the inscription
“_Mohammed rasûl Allah_,” “Mohammed the Apostle of God”; these
three words, according to Al-Bokhari, were disposed in three lines.
The Prophet made use of this seal and forbade the making of any one
like it. After his death it was employed by his successors, Abu Bekr,
Omar and Othman, but the last-named unluckily let it fall from his
hand into the well of Aris, whose depth it had never been possible to
measure. A duplicate was executed to replace the original, but its
loss was greatly deplored, and was looked upon as a possible presage
of ill-fortune.[242] The title inscribed upon it was prouder in its
simplicity than that assumed by any other ruler, not excepting those
who claimed for themselves a divine ancestry, or divine attributes.
These could at most pretend to rank as divinities of a lower order,
while Mohammed claimed to be the mouthpiece of the one and only God.
Burton writes that it is “a tradition of the Prophet” that the
carnelian is the best stone for a signet ring, and this is still the
usage among Mohammedans in the Orient. In the Arabian tale entitled
“History of Al Hajjaj ben Yusuf and the Young Sayyed,” we read that the
signet should be of carnelian because the stone was a guard against
poverty.[243]
Some Arabic signets bore peculiarly apt inscriptions. One of these
reads: “Correspondence is only a half-joy,” a delicate piece of
flattery for the recipient of a letter bearing this seal. Another
signet gives the following very necessary warning to the person to
whom the letter is addressed, should it happen to contain something
which ought not to be revealed. “If more than two know it, the secret
is out.”[244] Such inscriptions are certainly more significant than a
motto of less special meaning.
In an essay on Arabic signets, Hammer-Purgstall[245] calls attention
to a fundamental distinction between talismans and signets. With the
former, the inscription is engraved so that it may be read as it
stands, while with the latter the characters are reversed so that only
the impression gives them in their proper order. Besides this, the
talismans rarely contain the wearer’s name, which is the most essential
part of the signet. Nevertheless, there can be little doubt that in
many cases the signet was at the same time a talisman.
That lovers--even Mohammedan lovers--in the seventeenth century,
had romantic designs engraved upon seal rings, is illustrated by
what Garzoni relates concerning the seal ring of “Mahometh Bassa.”
This bore the figure of a silk-worm upon a mulberry leaf, the design
commemorating the wearer’s love for a Moorish girl, and signifying that
he drew his life from her as did the silk-worm from the leaf.[246]
Tavernier relates that in his time, the last half of the seventeenth
century, the secret treasure of the Sultans in Constantinople was
guarded in an innermost treasure-chamber of the Serail. This chamber
was only opened at intervals to receive the surplus gold that had been
collected from the Empire or received in any way, when the total sum
had reached 18,000,000 livres (over $7,000,000] according to the value
of the livre in Tavernier’s day). The gold was contained in sacks, each
of which held 15,000 ducats. When an addition to the treasure was to be
deposited, the Sultan himself led the way to the treasure-chamber and
stamped his seal, with his own hand, on red wax spread over the knot
of the cord with which the sack was secured. This seal was engraved on
the bezel of a gold ring and constituted no design, but simply the name
of the reigning sovereign, the characters being probably intricately
combined in the elaborate and cryptic manner used in the case of the
imperial name and titles.[247]
A Byzantine signet ring of the sixth or seventh century of our era, in
the British Museum, shows the head of Christ, beneath which bending
figures of two angels in profound adoration are depicted. Angel-figures
almost exactly similar may be seen in Byzantine ivory carvings of this
later period, the type evidently being one of those rigidly defined
in the hieratic art of the school. With this ring were found coins of
Heraclius (610–641), the Greek emperor in whose reign fell the death
of Mohammed (June 8, 632) and the overthrow of the Sassanian Persian
monarchy by the Mohammedans.[248]
How important the possession of a royal seal-ring was considered to
be, as proving the title of a successor, appears in the story that at
the death-bed of Alexius Comnenus (1084–1118), Emperor of the East,
when the son and rightful successor, John Comnenus, perceived that his
mother Irene was working to exclude him from the throne and to seat
thereon his blue-stocking sister Anna, he took off the imperial ring
from the hand of his dying father and thus ensured for himself the
title to the Eastern Empire.[249]
Saint Bernard of Clairvaux (1091–1153), the enthusiastic preacher of
the Second Crusade in 1147, excuses himself in some of his letters
that he has failed to seal them, because he could not lay his hand on
his signet. In a letter to Pope Eugene III, the saint complains that
several spurious letters bearing his name have been circulated, sealed
with a counterfeit seal; he also notifies the pontiff that from this
time his letters will bear a new seal, on which will be his portrait
and his name.[250]
Well-to-do merchants of mediæval times, not entitled to armorial
bearings, often had special individual marks or symbols engraved
upon their signets. This custom obtained on the continent as well
as in England, and allusion is made in the Old English poem of the
fourteenth century, “Piers Plowman,” to “merchantes merkes ymedeled
in glasse.”[251] Probably emblems of this kind came to have a certain
association with the business which in many cases descended from
father to son through a number of generations.
A royal signet ring once believed to be that of Saint Louis (Louis
IX, 1214–1270) and long preserved in the treasury of St. Denis, as an
object of reverent care, is now in the Louvre Museum. The fact that
the crescent is introduced as a symbol fails to connect the ring with
the Crusader St. Louis, as this symbol was not used by the Saracens of
his time, but was only adopted as a Mohammedan device after the Turks
captured Constantinople, the crescent having been a recognised symbol
in ancient times in Byzantium long before the city came to be called
Constantinople.[252]
The engraved stone in the ring is a table-cut sapphire, the monarch
being figured standing, with a nimbus around his head; he is crowned
and bears a sceptre. The letters S L on the stone have been interpreted
to mean rather _sigillum Ludovici_ than _Sanctus Ludovicus_,
and one critic suggests the possibility that it may have been executed
in Constantinople, in Byzantine times, for Louis VII, who was there
in 1147, and was received with high honors by Manuel Comnenus,
the Greek emperor’s courtesy being rather bred of fear of French
aggression than of affection for the French crusader. As we have good
evidence that gem-cutting was not practised at this time in France,
it seems plausible enough that Louis VII should have availed himself
of this opportunity to have a signet engraved for him by a Greek
gem-cutter.[253]
The signet ring of King Charles V of France (1337–1380) was set with
an Oriental ruby on which was engraved “the bearded head of a king.”
This signet was used by King Charles to seal the letters written by
his own hand. The somewhat vague description in the inventory suggests
that this may have been an antique gem, the supposedly royal head being
that of some Greek divinity. The art of engraving on such hard stones
as the ruby does not seem to have been practised in the thirteenth or
fourteenth centuries, the revival of this art belonging to a later
period. Evidently the head was not that of Charles himself or of any
of his predecessors, for, had this been the case the inventory would
hardly fail to note the fact.[254]
When a certain Bratilos was sent as a messenger by the eastern emperor
Cantacuzene (1341–1355) to his empress Irene, to announce the outbreak
of a dangerous revolt, he bore a sealed letter from the emperor.[255]
While on his journey, however, he began to fear that he might be
waylaid and robbed of the important document. This peril he effectively
provided against by memorizing the letter and then destroying it, after
he had removed the wax impression of the imperial signet, which he
could safely guard in his mouth, and which served to accredit him when
he came before the empress.[256] Not long afterward Cantacuzene was
defeated and deposed by John V, Palæologus, and retired to a monastery,
where he lived until 1411, composing a history of his own times in his
leisure moments; his wife also took the religious vows under the name
of Eugenia.
Much has been written about the ring or rather the engraved seal of
Michelangelo. This gem enjoyed such high esteem that it was very often
copied, the copies sometimes acquiring the repute of being originals.
Four of them, two in paste, one in amethyst, and one in carnelian,
exist in Denmark, the two latter having the dimensions of the original
gem. The copy in carnelian--the stone in which the original was cut--is
exceptionally well executed.[257] The original seal is now in the
Bibliothêque Nationale in Paris and came into the possession of Louis
XIV in 1680. The king wore it set in a ring.
It was brought to France in 1600 by a Sieur Bigarris, director of the
Mint, and its history was at the time traced back to Agosto Tassi,
goldsmith in Bologna, to whom Michelangelo had bequeathed it. The gem
was the work of Pier Maria di Pescia, and bears his symbolic signature,
a boy fishing (_pescia_, fishing). The dimensions are given as 15
mm. by 11 mm., the form being oval, and in this restricted space is a
design embracing twelve human figures, two genii, a horse, a goat and
a tree. Two of the figures appear to have been copied from a detail of
Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel frescoes: a woman helping another woman
to place a basket of grapes upon her head. Watelet and Levesque in
their “_Dictionnaire des Arts_” published in 1791, characterize
this seal as “the most beautiful engraved gem known.”
The Royal Collection at Windsor Castle contains a gold ring set with
a cameo portrait of Louis XII, of France (1498–1515), cut in a pale
ruby of clear lustre. The work is believed to have been executed during
the lifetime of the king, and was considered by Rev. C. W. King to be
the earliest Renaissance portrait cut on a stone of the hardness of
a ruby. He regarded it as a work of the famous Renaissance gem-cutter
Domenico dei Camei, this artist having engraved a portrait of the
Milanese duke Ludovico Sforza, surnamed Il Moro, on the same hard
material. The gold plate at the back of the bezel holding the gem bears
the inscription “Loys XII^{me} Roy de France décéda I Janvier, 1515,”
the stone having been set in the ring at some time after the monarch’s
death.[258]