MODERN RINGS.
The period known as mediæval commences with the fall of ancient Rome
under the Gothic invasion, and concludes with the capture of
Constantinople by the Turks in 1453. The modern era therefore commences
in the middle of the fifteenth century, during the reign of Henry VI.
As private wealth increased, finger-rings became much more ornamental;
to the art which the goldsmith and jeweller devoted to them, was added
that of the engraver and enameller. Fig. 156, from the Londesborough
collection, is decorated with floral ornament, engraved and filled with
green and red enamel colours. The effect on the gold is extremely
pleasing, having a certain quaint sumptuousness peculiarly its own. Fig.
157 is a fine specimen, from the same collection, of a signet-ring,
bearing “a merchant’s mark” upon its face. These marks varied with every
owner, and were as peculiar to himself as is the modern autograph; they
were a combination of initials or letter-like devices, frequently
surmounted by a cross, or a conventional sign, believed to represent the
sails of a ship, in allusion to their trading vessels. The marks were
placed upon the bales of merchandize, and were constantly used where the
coat-armour or badge of persons entitled to bear arms would be placed.
The authority vested in such merchants’ rings is curiously illustrated
in one of the historical plays on the life and reign of Queen Elizabeth,
written by Thomas Heywood, and to which he gave the quaint title, “If
you know not me, you know nobody.” Sir Thomas Gresham, the great London
merchant, is one of the principal characters, and in a scene where he is
absent from home, and in sudden need of cash, he exclaims, “Here, John,
take this seal-ring; bid Timothy presently send me a hundred pound.”
John takes the ring to the trusty Timothy, saying, “Here’s his
seal-ring; I hope a sufficient warrant.” To which Timothy replies, “Upon
so good security, John, I’ll fit me to deliver it.” Another merchant, in
the same play, is made to obtain his wants by similar means:--
“---- receive thou my seal-ring:
Bear it to my factor; bid him by that token
Sort thee out forty pounds’ worth of such wares
As thou shall think most beneficial.”
[Illustration: Fig. 156.]
[Illustration: Fig. 157.]
The custom must have been common to be thus used in dramatic scenes of
real life, which the plainest audience would criticise. These plays were
produced in 1606, and serve to show that the value attached to a
seal-ring descended from very ancient to comparatively modern times.
In the Waterton collection is a massive gold signet-ring, with the rebus
of the Wylmot family quaintly designed in the taste of the fourteenth
century. In the centre is a tree; on one side of it the letters WY, and
on the other OT. Supposing the tree to be an _elm_, the name reads
Wy-_elm_-ot, or Wylmot.
[Illustration: Fig. 158.]
[Illustration: Fig. 159.]
In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries religious figures were
frequently engraved on rings. Fig. 158 represents a ring upon which is
very delicately engraved a representation of St. Christopher bearing the
Saviour on his shoulder across an arm of the sea, in accordance with the
old legendary history of this saint. The circle is formed by ten
lozenges, each of which bears a letter of the inscription, =de boen cuer=.
The figure of St. Christopher was used as an amulet against sudden
death--particularly by drowning; for it was popularly believed that no
sudden or violent death could occur to any person on any day when he had
reverently looked upon this saint’s effigy. Hence it was not uncommon
for charitable individuals to place such figures outside their houses,
or paint them on the walls. There is a colossal figure (and St.
Christopher was said to have been of gigantic stature), thus painted,
beside the great gate of the ancient city of Treves, on the Moselle.
The enameller and engraver were both employed on the ring Fig. 159, also
from the Londesborough collection. The hoop is richly decorated, with
quaint floriated ornament cut upon its surface, and filled in with
_niello_, then extensively used by goldsmiths in enriching their works,
as it is still in Russia. This beautiful ring is inscribed withinside
with the motto =mon cor plesor=--“my heart’s delight”--and was doubtless a
_gage d’amour_.
[Illustration: Fig. 160.]
[Illustration: Fig. 161.]
Of Elizabeth of England and Mary of Scotland, interesting mementoes are
preserved in the shape of rings. Fig. 160 represents the gold
signet-ring of Mary, now preserved in the British Museum. Upon the face
is engraved the royal arms and supporters of Scotland, with the motto
IN . DEFENS, and her initials M.R. But the most curious portion of the ring
is the inner side of the seal, as shown in the cut, where a crowned
monogram is engraved, which might have been an unsolved enigma, but for
the existence in our State Paper Office of a letter written by Mary to
Queen Elizabeth, in which she has drawn this identical monogram after
signing her name. Sir Henry Ellis, who first traced out this curious
history, says, “It is clearly formed of the letters M and A (for Mary
and Albany), and gives countenance to the opinion that the written
monogram was intended for Elizabeth and Burleigh to study; the
subsequent creation of the title of Duke of Albany in Lord Darnley
ultimately opening their eyes to the enigma.” Elizabeth’s intense
dislike to the Darnley marriage is well known, as she endeavoured to
force Mary into a match with one of her own favourites, the Earl of
Leicester.
The Waterton collection boasts a gem of no inferior interest in
connection with this unhappy marriage. It is the ring of Henry, Lord
Darnley, husband to Mary Queen of Scots. On the bezel it bears the two
initials M.H. united by a lover’s knot, and within the hoop the name
engraved of HENRI . L . DARNLEY, and the year of the marriage, 1565. The
cut, Fig. 161, shows the face of the ring with the initials; below is
engraved a fac-simile of the interior of the ring as a plane surface.
Queen Elizabeth’s history, and that of her unfortunate favourite, the
Earl of Essex, has a tragic story connected with a ring. The narrative
is popularly known, and may be briefly told. It is said that the queen,
at a time when she was most passionately attached to the earl, gave him
a ring, with the assurance that she would pardon any fault with which he
might be accused when he should return that pledge. Long after this,
when he was condemned for treason, she expected to receive this token,
and was prepared to have granted the promised pardon. It came not. The
queen was confirmed in the belief that he had ceased to care for her,
and pride and jealousy consigned him to the death of a traitor. But the
earl had, in the last extremity of despair, entrusted the ring to the
Countess of Nottingham, wife of the Lord High Admiral, an enemy to the
unfortunate Essex, who forbade his wife to take any proceedings in the
matter, but to conceal the trust entirely, and secrete the ring. When
the countess lay upon her death-bed, she sent for her royal mistress,
for the first time told her guilt, “and humbly implored mercy from God
and forgiveness from her earthly sovereign, who did not only refuse to
give it, but having shook her as she lay in bed, sent her, accompanied
with most fearful curses, to a higher tribunal.” Such is the awful
account of the scene by Francis Osborne. Dr. Birch says the words used
by Elizabeth were, “God may forgive you, but I never can.” It was the
death-blow to the proud old queen, whose regret for the death of Essex
could not be quenched by her pride and belief in his ingratitude. A
confirmed melancholy settled upon her; she died lonely and
broken-hearted.
[Illustration: Fig. 162.]
[Illustration: Fig. 163.]
[Illustration: Fig. 164.]
This ring is now in the possession of the Rev. Lord John Thynne, and
three views of it are given in Figs. 162, 163, and 164. It is of gold,
of extremely delicate workmanship throughout. A cameo head of the queen
is cut on hard onyx and set as its central jewel; the execution of this
head is of the highest order, and may possibly have been the work of
Valerio Vincentino, an Italian artist who visited England and cut
similar works for Elizabeth and Burleigh. It is one of the most minute
but the most striking likenesses. The hoop of the ring is enriched with
engraving, and the under surface decorated with floriated ornament,
relieved by blue enamel. It has descended from Lady Frances Devereux,
Essex’s daughter, in unbroken succession from mother and daughter, to
the present possessor. Although the entire story has met with
disbelievers, the most sceptical must allow that whether this be _the_
ring or not, it is valuable as a work of art of the Elizabethan era.
[Illustration: Fig. 165.]
[Illustration: Fig. 166.]
A ring possessing even greater claim to notice, but depending for its
appropriation on its own internal evidence, is the next on our list
(Figs. 165 and 166). It purports to be the seal-ring of William
Shakspere, and was found March 16, 1810, by a labourer’s wife, in the
mill close adjoining Stratford-on-Avon churchyard. It passed into the
possession of R. B. Wheler, Esq., the historian of the town; and his
sister, at his death, presented it to the museum of Shaksperian relics
formed in the birthplace of the poet. It is of gold, weighing 12 dwts.;
having the initials W.S. braced together by a tasselled cord; the only
other ornament upon the ring being a band of pellets and lines on the
outer edge of the bezel.
Is it Shakspere’s? It is evidently a gentleman’s ring, and of the poet’s
era. It is just such a ring as a man in his station would fittingly
wear--gentlemanly, but not pretentious. There was but one other person
in the small town of Stratford at that time to whom the same initials
belonged. This was one William Smith, but _his_ seal is attached to
several documents preserved among the records of the corporation, and is
totally different.[136-*] Mr. Halliwell, in his “Life of Shakspere,”
observes that “little doubt can be entertained that this ring belonged
to the poet, and it is probably the one he lost before his death, and
was not to be found when his will was executed, the word _hand_ being
substituted for _seal_ in the original copy of that document.”[136-†]
In the great poet’s will, five of his friends have bequests of memorial
rings. Two are his townsmen, Hamlett Sadler and William Raynoldes, who
each have twenty-six shillings and eightpence left them “to buy them
ringes;” the other three being the actors (“my fellows,” as he
affectionately terms them) John Heminge, Richard Burbage, and Henry
Condell,[137-*] each of whom has a similar sum.
Rings were at this time an almost necessary part of the toilet of a
gentleman; they indicated rank and character by their style or their
devices. Hence the wills and inventories of the era abound with notices
of rings, many persons wearing them in profusion, as may be seen in the
portraits painted at this time. The Germans particularly delighted in
them, and wore them upon many fingers, and upon different joints of the
fingers, the forefinger especially; a custom still followed by their
descendants. The ladies even wreathed them in the bands of their
head-dresses. Rabelais speaks of the rings Gargantua wore because his
father desired him to “renew that ancient mark of nobility.” On the
forefinger of his left hand he had a gold ring, set with a large
carbuncle; and on the middle finger one of mixed metal, then usually
made by alchemists. On the middle finger of the right hand he had “a
ring made spire-wise, wherein was set a perfect balew ruby, a pointed
diamond, and a Physon emerald of inestimable value.”
Italy now furnished the most splendid and tasteful jewellery; the
workmen of Venice exceeding all others. The Londesborough collection
supplies us with a graceful example, Fig. 167. The claws support the
setting of a sharply-pointed pyramidal diamond, such as was then coveted
for writing on glass. It was with a similar ring Raleigh wrote the words
on the window-pane--“Fain would I rise, but that I fear to fall”--to
which Queen Elizabeth added, “If thy heart fail thee, do not rise at
all;” an implied encouragement which led him on to fortune.
[Illustration: Fig. 167.]
[Illustration: Fig. 168.]
In Burgon’s life of Sir Thomas Gresham is engraved the wedding ring of
that merchant-prince. “It opens horizontally, thus forming two rings,
which are, nevertheless, linked together, and respectively inscribed on
the inner side with a Scripture poesy. _Quod Deus conjunxit_ is engraved
on one half, and _Homo non seperet_ on the other.” It is here copied,
Fig. 168.
In Ben Jonson’s comedy, _The Magnetic Lady_, the parson compelled to
form a hasty wedding asks--
“Have you a wedding ring?”
To which he receives as answer--
“Ay, and a poesy:
_Annulus hic nobis, quod sic uterque, dabit_.”
He at once exclaims--
“... Good!
_This ring will give you what you both desire._
I’ll make the whole house chant it, and the parish.”
Such rings were known as Gemel or Gimmal rings, the word being derived
from the Latin _gemellus_, twins. The two making one, and though
separate, indivisible, peculiarly fitted them for wedding rings. Their
structure will be best understood from the very fine specimen in the
Londesborough collection, Fig. 169. The ring, as closed and worn on the
finger, is shown in the uppermost figure (_a_). It is set with sapphire
and amethyst, the elaborate and beautiful design enriched by coloured
enamels. The lower figure shows the ring parted (_b_), displaying the
inscription on the flat side of each section, which is also enriched by
engraving and _niello_.
Dryden, in his play of _Don Sebastian_, describes such a ring:--
“A curious artist wrought them
With joints so close as not to be perceived;
Yet they are both each other’s counterpart.
(Her part had _Juan_ inscribed, and his had _Zaida_:
You know those names were theirs), and in the midst
A heart divided in two halves was placed.
Now if the rivets of those Rings inclosed
Fit not each other, I have forged this lie:
But if they join, we must for ever part.”
A complete illustration of this passage of the poet is afforded in Fig.
170, from the same collection. It also illustrates Dr. Nares’s remark
that “Gimmal rings, though originally double, were by a further
refinement made triple, or even more complicated; yet the name remained
unchanged.” So Herrick:--
“Thou sent’st to me a true love knot; but I
Return a ring of jimmals, to imply
Thy love had one knot, mine a triple tye.”
[Illustration: Fig. 169.]
[Illustration: Fig. 170.]
This ring (Fig. 170) is shown (_a_) as it appears when closed. It parts
into three hoops, secured on a small pivot, as seen (_b_); the toothed
edge of the central hoop forming an ornamental centre to the hoop of the
ring, and having two hearts in the middle; a hand is affixed to the side
of the upper and lower hoop; the fingers slightly raised, so that when
the hoops are brought together, they link in each other, and close over
the hearts, securing all firmly.
A mechanical ring of still greater mystic significance is shown, Fig.
171, and is one of the most curious of the Londesborough series. The
outside of the hoop is perfectly plain, and is set with a ruby and
amethyst. Upon pressing these stones, a spring opens, and discovers the
surface covered with magical signs and names of spirits; among them
Asmodiel, Nachiel, and Zamiel occur, a similar series occupying the
interior of the hoop. Such a ring might be worn without suspicion of its
true import, looking simplicity itself, but fraught with unholy meaning.
It was probably constructed for some mystic philosopher, or student of
the occult sciences, searching for the philosopher’s stone, the elixir
of life, and the power given to man to control the unseen world of
spirits.
[Illustration: Fig. 171.]
[Illustration: Fig. 172.]
[Illustration: Fig. 173.]
We close our review of the art of ring-making in the sixteenth century
with two very beautiful examples. Fig. 172, from the Londesborough
collection, has a ruby in a very tall setting, enriched by enamel. The
sides of the hoop are highly decorated with flowers and scroll ornament,
also richly enamelled. The Waterton collection gives us Fig. 173, a gold
enamelled ring, set with a large turquoise in the centre, and surrounded
by six raised garnets. This ring is stated to have subsequently belonged
to Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, whose cipher is upon it.
[Illustration: Fig. 174.]
[Illustration: Fig. 175.]
We must not, however, end this portion of our history without a
reference to the simple, but most important, “plain gold ring” of
matrimony. It was at this time almost universally inscribed with a
“poesy” of one or two lines of rhyme. Two specimens are here engraved.
Fig. 174 is formed like the badge of the Order of the Garter, with the
buckle in front, and the motto of the order outside the hoop; withinside
are the words “I’ll win and wear you.” The ordinary form of ring is
shown in Fig. 175, and is inscribed “Let likinge laste.” They were
invariably inscribed _withinside_ the hoop. Thus Lyly, in his “Euphues,”
1597, addressing the ladies, hopes they will favour his work, “writing
their judgments as you do the poesies in your rings, which are always
next to the finger, not to be seen of him that holdeth you by the hand,
and yet known by you that wear them on your hands.” Such jingling rhymes
were in great request, and exerted the ingenuity of poetasters and small
wits. In 1624 a small collection of them was printed, with the quaint
title, “Love’s Garland; or poesies for rings, handkerchiefs, and gloves,
and such pretty tokens that lovers send their loves.” They are generally
in double, seldom in triple lines of rhyme. The Rev. R. Brooke, of
Gateforth House, Selby, has presented a curious collection of such rings
to the South Kensington Museum. The six following poesies are selected
from this series, as they are good examples of the average inspirations
of ring-poets:--
“Seithe God hath wrought this choice in thee,
So frame thyselfe to comfourth mee.”
“United hearts death only parts.”
“Let us share in joy and care.”
“A faithfull wife preserveth life.”
“As God decreed, so we agreed.”
“Love and live happily.”
The custom of thus inscribing rings continued until the middle of the
last century. There is a story told of Dr. John Thomas, Bishop of
Lincoln, in 1753, that he inscribed his _fourth_ wife’s ring with these
words:--
“If I survive
I’ll make them five.”
Horace Walpole says--“My Lady Rochford desired me t’other day to give
her a motto for a ruby ring,” so that at that time poesies were not
confined to wedding rings.
Allusion has already been made in Chapter I. to the custom of using
rings as receptacles for relics or poisons. The most famed belonged to
Cæsar Borgia, son of Pope Alexander VI., both adepts in poisoning; a
grasp from the hand wearing this ring ensured a very slow, but certain
death: it contained a virulent poison, which found vent through a small
spike, pressed out by a spring when the hand was grasped, and which was
so slight in its operation as to be scarcely felt, and not usually
noticed by the person wounded during the excitement of the hearty
friendship so well simulated. When conspiracies against the life of
William of Orange were rife under the influence of the court of Spain
[_circa_ 1582], the unworthy son of Count Egmont “had himself undertaken
to destroy the prince at his own table by means of poison which he kept
concealed in a ring. Saint Aldegonde (his friend and counsellor) was to
have been taken off in the same way, and a hollow ring filled with
poison is said to have been found in Egmont’s lodgings.”[144-*]
[Illustration: Fig. 176.]
[Illustration: Fig. 177.]
Fig. 176 represents a curious Venetian ring, the bezel formed like a box
to contain relics. The face of the ring (in this instance the cover of
the box) has a representation of St. Mark seated, holding his gospel,
and giving the benediction. The spaces between this figure and the oval
border are perforated, so that the interior of the box is visible, and
the relic enshrined might be seen. Fig. 177 is another ring of the same
construction: it is richly engraved and set with two rubies and a
pyramidal diamond; the collet securing the latter stone opens with a
spring, and exhibits a somewhat large receptacle for such virulent
poisons as were concocted by Italian chemists in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries.
The elaborate character of design adopted at this time for Venetian
rings, the highly artistic taste that governed it, as well as the beauty
of the stones employed in settings, combined to perfect _bijouterie_
that has never been surpassed. Fig. 178 is a ring of very peculiar
design. It is set with three stones in raised bezels; to their bases are
affixed, by a swivel, gold pendent ornaments, each set with a garnet; as
the hand moves these pendants fall about the finger, the stones
glittering in the movement. This fashion was evidently borrowed from the
East, where people delight in pendent ornaments, and even affix them to
articles of utility. Fig. 179 is a ring of silver, of East Indian
workmanship, discovered in the ruins of one of their most ancient
temples; to its centre are affixed bunches of pear-shaped hollow drops
of silver, which jingle with a soft low note as the hand moves.
[Illustration: Fig. 178.]
[Illustration: Fig. 179.]
We have already alluded to the old Eastern tale of “The Fish and the
Ring,” invented some thousands of years since. It has survived to our
own day, and is still related and believed by the commonalty to the east
of London. In the church at Stepney is a tomb to the memory of Lady
Rebecca Berry, who died 1696, in whose coat-of-arms a fish and an
annulet appear. She has hence been supposed the heroine of a once
popular ballad, the scene of which is laid in Yorkshire; it is entitled,
“The Cruel Knight, or Fortunate Farmer’s Daughter,” and narrates how one
of knightly rank in passing a village heard the cry of a woman in
travail, and was told by a witch that he was pre-doomed to marry that
girl on her arrival at womanhood. The knight in deep disgust draws a
ring from his finger, and casting it into a rapid river, vows he will
never do so unless she can produce that ring. After many years a fish is
brought to the farmer’s daughter to dress for dinner, and she finds the
ring in its stomach, enabling her to win a titled husband, who no longer
fights against his fate.
The civic arms of Glasgow exhibit a fish holding a ring in its mouth.
This alludes to an incident in the life of St. Kentigern, patron of the
See, as related in the “Acta Sanctorum.” The queen, who was his
penitent, had formed an attachment to a soldier, and had given him a
ring she had received from her husband. The king knew his ring, but
abided his revenge, until one day discovering the soldier asleep by the
banks of the Clyde, he took the ring from his finger and threw it in the
stream. He then demanded of his queen a sight of his old love gift, a
request she was utterly unable to comply with. In despair, she confessed
all to St. Kentigern, vowing a purer life in future. The saint went to
the river, caught a salmon, and took from its stomach the missing ring,
which restored peace to all parties.[147-*]
The occurrence of the fish and ring in the arms of Glasgow and in the
Stepney monument, is “confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ” of the
truth of these stories, in the minds of the vulgar, who would regard
scepticism in the same light as religious infidelity.
[Illustration: Fig. 180.]
[Illustration: Fig. 181.]
Memorial rings were sometimes made to exhibit a small portrait, and on
some occasions to conceal one beneath the stone. Such is the ring, Fig.
180, from the Londesborough collection, which was made for some devoted
adherent of King Charles I., when such devotion was dangerous. A
table-cut diamond is set within an oval rim, acting as a lid to a small
case opening by means of a spring, and revealing a portrait of Charles
executed in enamel. The face of the ring, its back, and side portions
of the shank, are decorated with engraved scroll-work, filled in with
black enamel. “Relics” of this kind are consecrated by much higher
associations than what the mere crust of time bestows upon them; and
even were they not sufficiently old to excite the notice of the
antiquary, they are well deserving of attention from their exhibiting
“memorials of feelings which must ever command respect and admiration.”
Horace Walpole had in the Strawberry Hill collection, “one of the only
seven mourning rings given at the burial of Charles I. It has the king’s
head in miniature behind a death’s head; between the letters C. R. the
motto, ‘Prepared be to follow me.’”
A much more lugubrious memorial is presented from the same collection,
Fig. 181. Two figures of skeletons surround the finger and support a
small sarcophagus. The ring is of gold enamelled, the skeletons being
made still more hideous by a covering of white enamel. The lid of the
sarcophagus is also enamelled, with a Maltese cross in red, on a black
ground studded with gilt hearts. This lid is made to slide off, and
display a very minute skeleton lying within.
These doleful decorations first came into favour and fashion at the
court of France, when Diana of Poictiers became the mistress of Henry
II. At that time she was a widow, and in mourning; so black and white
became fashionable colours: jewels were formed like funeral memorials;
golden ornaments shaped like coffins, holding enamelled skeletons, hung
from the neck; and watches made to fit in little silver skulls were
attached to the waist.
In the Duke of Newcastle’s comedy, _The Country Captain_, 1649, a lady
of title is told that when she resides in the country a great show of
finger-rings will not be necessary: “Shew your white hand with but one
diamond when you carve, and be not ashamed to wear your own wedding
ringe with the old poesy.” That many rings were worn by persons of both
sexes is clear from another passage in the same play, where a fop is
described, “who makes his fingers like jewellers’ cards to set rings
upon.”
The stock of rings described in the same author’s play, _The Varietie_,
as the treasure of an old country lady, is amusingly indicative of past
legacies or memorials, as well as of the tastes of the yeomanry: “A
toad-stone, two Turkies (Turquoise), six thumb-rings, three alderman’s
seals, five gemels, and foure death’s head.” The enumeration concludes
with the uncomplimentary observation, “these are alehouse ornaments.”
These death’s-head rings were very commonly worn by the middle classes
in the latter part of the sixteenth and the early part of the
seventeenth centuries; particularly by such as affected a respectable
gravity. Luther used to wear a gold ring, with a small death’s head in
enamel, and these words, “Mori sæpe cogita” (Think oft on death); round
the setting was engraved “O mors, ero mors tua” (Death, I will be thy
death). This ring is preserved at Dresden. Shakspere, in his Love’s
_Labour’s Lost_ (Act V. scene 2), makes his jesting courtier, Biron,
compare the countenance of Holophernes to “a death’s face in a ring.” We
have already adverted to a similar ring worn by one of Shakspere’s
fellow townsmen.
[Illustration: Fig. 182.]
[Illustration: Figs. 183 and 184.]
In the “Recueil des Ouvrages d’Orfeverie,” by Gilles l’Egaré, published
in the early part of the reign of Louis XIV., is an unusually good
design for one of these rings, which we copy, Fig. 182. It is entirely
composed of mortuary emblems, on a ground of black enamel. Fig. 183 is
an English memorial ring set with stones; on the circlet is engraved an
elongated skeleton, with crossbones above the skull, and a spade and
pick-axe at the feet; the ground is black enamel. It has been converted
into a memorial by its original purchaser, who caused to be engraved
withinside the hoop, “C.R., Jan. 30, 1649, Martyr.” It is now in the
Londesborough collection, from whence we obtain Fig. 184, a very good
specimen of a mourning ring of the early part of the last century, with
which we take leave of this branch of the subject.
[Illustration: Fig. 185.]
[Illustration: Fig. 186.]
The jewellers of the last century do not seem to have bestowed the same
attention on design as their predecessors did. Rings appear to have
reached their highest excellence in design and execution in the
_ateliers_ of Venice. We meet with little originality of conception, and
certainly great inferiority of execution, in the works then issued. In
southern Europe, where jewellery is deemed almost a necessary of life,
and the poorest will wear it in profusion, though only made of copper,
greater scope was given to invention. Fig. 185 is a Spanish silver ring
of the early part of the century. In its centre it has a heart, winged
and crowned; the heart is transfixed by an arrow, but surrounded by
flowers. It is possibly a religious emblem. Fig. 186 is another Spanish
ring of more modern manufacture, but of very light and elegant design.
The flowers are formed of rubies and diamonds, and the effect is
extremely pleasing.
[Illustration: Fig. 187.]
[Illustration: Fig. 188.]
Such works may have originated the “giardinetti” rings, of which a good
collection of specimens may be seen in the South Kensington Museum, two
being here copied in Figs. 187 and 188. They are there described as
English works of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and appear to
have been used as guards, or “keepers,” to the wedding-ring. They are of
pleasing floriated design, and of very delicate execution. Much taste
may be exhibited in the selection of coloured stones for the flowers of
such rings, which are certainly a great ornament to the hand.
[Illustration: Fig. 189.]
[Illustration: Figs. 190 and 191.]
Recurring to the Eastern nations, in whose eyes jewellery has always
found great favour, we find that the Indians prefer rings with large
floriated faces, spreading over three fingers like a shield. When made
for the wealthy in massive gold, the flower leaves are of cut jewels,
but the humbler classes, who equally love display, are content with them
in cast silver. Such a ring is engraved, Fig. 189, from an original in
the British Museum, from whence we also obtain the two specimens of
rings beside it, being such as are worn by the humblest classes. Fig.
190 is of brass, Fig. 191 of silver, the latter boasting a sort of
apology for a jewelled centre.
[Illustration: Fig. 192.]
[Illustration: Figs. 193 and 194.]
A triplicate of Moorish rings will enable us to understand their
peculiarities. Fig. 192 has a large circular face, composed of a cluster
of small bosses, set with five circular turquoise, and four rubies; the
centre being a turquoise, with a ruby and turquoise alternating round
it. The ring is of silver. It is in the Londesborough collection, as
also is Fig. 193, another silver ring set with an octangular bloodstone,
with a circular turquoise on each side. Fig. 194 is a signet ring,
bearing the name of its original owner engraved on a carnelian. This
also is of silver.
The modern Egyptians indulge greatly in finger-rings. The wife of the
poorest peasant will cover her hands with them, though they be only cast
in pewter, decorated with gems of coloured glass, and not worth a penny
each. For ladies of the higher class very pretty rings are designed. One
of them is here engraved (Fig. 195), from an original purchased by the
author in Cairo. It is a simple hoop of twisted gold, to which is
appended a series of pendent ornaments, consisting of small beads of
coral, and thin plates of gold, cut to represent the leaves of a plant.
As the hand moves, these ornaments play about the finger, and a very
brilliant effect might be produced if diamonds were used in the
pendants. Fig. 196 is the ring commonly worn by the middle class
Egyptian men. They are usually of silver, set with mineral stones, and
are valued as the manufacture of the silversmiths of Mecca, that sacred
city being supposed to exert a holy influence on all the works it
originates.
There is also a curious ring, with a double “keeper,” worn by Egyptian
men, as shown in Fig. 197. It is composed entirely of common cast
silver, set with mineral stone. The lowermost keeper of twisted wire is
first put on the finger, then follows the ring, the second keeper is
then brought down upon it; the two being held by a brace which passes at
the back of the ring, and gives security to the whole.
[Illustration: Fig. 195.]
[Illustration: Fig. 196.]
[Illustration: Fig. 197.]
At the commencement of the present century, “harlequin-rings” were
fashionable in England. They were so called because set round with
variously-coloured stones, in some way resembling the motley costume of
harlequin. To these succeeded “regard-rings,” the stones selected so
that the initial of the name of each spelt altogether the word _regard_,
thus:--
R--Ruby.
E--Emerald.
G--Garnet.
A--Amethyst.
R--Ruby.
D--Diamond.
These pleasing and agreeable _gages d’amitie_ originated with the French
jewellers, and were soon made to spell proper names. Where precious
stones could not be obtained with the necessary initial, mineral stones,
such as _lapis-lazuli_, and _verde antique_, were pressed into the
service. These rings are now occasionally made. Her Royal Highness the
Princess of Wales is said to possess one having the familiar name of the
Prince, “Bertie,” spelt thus upon it.
[Illustration: Fig. 198.]
[Illustration: Fig. 199.]
With two specimens of modern French work we close our selection of
designs. Fig. 198 is a signet ring, the face engraved with a
coat-of-arms. At the sides two _cupidons_ repose amid scroll-work
partaking of the taste of the Renaissance. The same peculiarity
influences the design of Fig. 199. Here a central arch of five stones,
in separate settings, is held by the heads and outstretched wings of
_Chimeras_, whose breasts are also jewelled. Both are excellent designs.
[Illustration: Fig. 200.]
The last ring we shall bring before the reader’s notice (Fig. 200) is
the famous “Fisherman’s ring” of the Pope. It is a signet ring of steel
used for the briefs issued from the Romish Court. “When a brief is
written to any distinguished personage, or has relation to religious or
general important matter, the impression from the Fisherman’s ring is
said to be made upon a gold surface; in some other cases it appears upon
lead; and these seals are generally attached by strings of silk.
Impressions of this seal are also made in ink direct upon the substance
on which the brief is written.” Mr. Edwards calls attention to the
classic form of the boat and oar, showing direct derivation from an
antique original. The seal is also made in the fashion of a Roman
signet. A new one is made for every pope, and Mr. Edwards thus narrates
the ceremonies connected therewith:--“When a pope dies, the Cardinal
Chamberlain, or Chancellor, accompanied by a large number of the high
dignitaries of the papal court, comes into the room where the body lies,
and the principal or great notary makes an attestation of the
circumstance. Then the Cardinal Chamberlain calls out the name of the
deceased pope three times, striking the body each time with a gold
hammer, and as no response comes, the chief notary makes another
attestation. After this the Cardinal Chancellor demands the Fisherman’s
ring, and certain ceremonies are performed over it; and then he strikes
the ring with a golden hammer, and an officer destroys the figure of
Peter by the use of a file. From this moment all the authority and acts
of the late pope pass to the College or Conclave of Cardinals. When a
new pope is consecrated, it is always the Cardinal Chancellor, or
Chamberlain, who presents the renewed Fisherman’s ring, and this
presentation is accompanied by imposing ceremonies.”
The facts we have gathered about finger-rings are scattered over the
history of many ages and nations; and in the selection of illustrations
we have been guided by their historic value as well as their artistic
merits, so that they may be referred to as authorities to test the age
and country of other works of their class, if brought to them for
comparison.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[74-*] “History and Poetry of Finger-rings.”
[74-†] Genesis, chap. xxxviii.
[75-*] “Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians,” vol. iii. p. 373.
[82-*] Barrera, “History of Gems and Jewels.”
[83-*] “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” chap. xxv.
[83-†] “The History and Poetry of Finger-rings,” by Charles Edwards.
[89-*] “Antiquité Expliquée et Representée en Figures.”
[96-*] “Account of Excavations at Harnham Hill.” _Archæologia_, vol.
xxxv.
[96-†] “Remains of Pagan Saxondom,” p. 71.
[97-*] In the museum at Augsburg are several which were found in cutting
for the railway near that city. A large series of personal ornaments is
also preserved there, which are so exactly similar to others found near
Richborough, in Kent, that they would appear to have come from the same
manufactory. As the Romans introduced their arts wherever they went, so
the Saxons seem to have continued theirs in all their colonies.
[98-*] See the “Inventorium Sepulchrale: an Account of some Antiquities
dug up by the Rev. Bryan Faussett, of Heppington, Kent.” Edited by C.
Roach Smith.
[100-*] Engraved as an illustration to the volume describing the
congress of the British Archæological Association at Winchester, in
1845.
[108-*] He was elected 1418, and died 1464.
[115-*] J. Y. Akerman on Gnostic Gems, in _Archæologia_, vol. xxxii.
[116-*] T. Wright, M.A., &c., in _Archæologia_, vol. xxx.
[117-*] Masarius, quoted in Topsel’s “History of Serpents,” 1611.
[136-*] He was a draper; and his seal has a device upon it consisting of
a skull with a bone in the mouth; the letters W. S. are under it, and
very small. This ring was most probably of silver. It is unlikely that a
small trader like Smith should wear a heavy gold ring, like this which
claims to be Shakspere’s.
[136-†] The concluding words of the will are--“in witness whereof I have
hereunto put my seale,” the last word being struck through with a pen,
and _hand_ substituted.
[137-*] Heminge was the old stage-manager, who, like Shakspere, became
very wealthy by the profession. Burbage was the great tragedian, and the
original performer of Richard III. Condell was a comedian,
part-proprietor of the Globe Theatre; it is to him and Heminge we are
indebted for the first complete edition of Shakspere’s works, the folio
of 1623.
[144-*] Motley’s “Rise of the Dutch Republic.”
[147-*] In the Koran this wild version of the story occurs:--“Solomon
entrusted his signet with one of his concubines, which the devil
obtained from her, and sat on the throne in Solomon’s shape. After forty
days the devil departed, and threw the ring into the sea. The signet was
swallowed by a fish, which being caught and given to Solomon, the ring
was found in its belly, and thus he recovered his kingdom.”--SALE’S
_Koran_, chap. xxxviii.
ANCIENT BROOCHES AND DRESS FASTENINGS.
ANCIENT BROOCHES AND DRESS FASTENINGS.
Every artist who paints an historical picture knows the difficulty of
obtaining the necessary _minutiæ_, in order to give _vraisemblance_ to
his picture, as the authorities are widely scattered, and can only be
brought together by those who know where to look for them; for often
they lie hidden in illuminated MSS., or in books of considerable rarity,
seldom looked at by the general reader, and only fully appreciated by
literary men and students. We propose to show how varied and curious the
history of any article of dress becomes if studied carefully, and how
such minor details indicate clearly defined periods, as faithfully as
any other historic _data_ left for our guidance.
The use of the fibula, or brooch, was, in all probability, first adopted
by men to secure the outer cloak upon the shoulders. It originated among
the ancient Greeks, and appears to have been considered as a
characteristic of Greek costume, even after it had long been adopted by
the Romans, as may be understood from a passage of Suetonius in his life
of Augustus. “He distributed among various other persons, togæ and
pallia, and made a law that the Romans should wear the Greek habit, and
the Greeks the Roman habit;” that is, that the Greeks should wear the
toga, and the Romans the pallium. Now, though it is certain that the
pallium, or cloak, was peculiar to the Greeks, and that many authors,
besides Suetonius, testify the same, yet it is as evident that this
article of dress became afterwards the common habit of Greeks and
Romans.
[Illustration: Fig. 201.]
The earliest form in which we meet with a fibula is that of a circular
disc, having a pin crossing it behind, which passed through the folds of
the cloak, and was hidden from sight by this outer disc. It retained
that form for ages, and is rarely seen upon antique monuments in any
other shape. It is very clearly represented upon the statue of Paris, as
shown in Fig. 201. It will be seen that the cloak covered the left arm,
the opening being upon the right one, where the brooch reposed on the
shoulder, leaving the right arm free. There is a very beautiful and
well-known antique statue of Diana, representing the goddess fastening
her mantel in the same manner.
The character of this outer garment varied with the seasons, but whether
heavy and warm, or light and cool, it was usually plain in its
character, or simply decorated with a border, and corner ornament.
Sometimes, when worn by great personages, it appears to have been
decorated with needlework, and shot with threads of gold. Such a one is
described in the Odyssey (book xix.) as worn by Ulysses:--
“In ample mode
A robe of military purple flow’d
O’er all his frame: illustrious on his breast
The double-clasping gold the king confest.
In the rich woof a hound, mosaic drawn,
Bore on full stretch, and seized a dappled fawn:
Deep in the neck his fangs indent their hold;
They pant and struggle in the moving gold.”
When the brooch secured the short military cloak of the Romans, it was
usually worn in the centre of the breast. As the desire for personal
display increased, a brooch was worn on each shoulder; the ladies often
wearing a row of them to close the sleeve left open down the arm.
Occasionally, they were also used to fasten the tunic above the knee, in
the way that Diana,
“Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,”
appears to have secured hers before she indulged in the chase.
As luxury increased in the Roman Empire, these articles of utility
became also ornaments of much cost and splendour. The art of the
goldsmith was devoted to enrichments for them; that of the enameller to
brilliant colouring. They increased in size greatly, and became
distinctive of rank and wealth. The influence of Eastern taste, when
the seat of royalty was transferred from Rome to Constantinople, was
visible in the jewellery afterwards usually worn; nor was the taste by
any means confined to the fair sex, the men in the East being still as
fond of jewellery as the ladies of the harem. The poorest persons
eagerly wear what their limited means allow, and load themselves with
cheap ornaments, although a pound weight of them would not be worth five
shillings.
These enamelled brooches are frequently found in places where Roman
towns once stood. They may, in fact, be said to abound in most museums.
We select two, as examples, from the York Museum, a collection
singularly rich in relics of Roman art. York was one of the most
important stations in England, and here died the Emperor Septimus
Severus, in the year 211, at the age of sixty-five, “worn out with
anxiety, fatigue, and disease,” says the Rev. C. Wellbeloved, the
historian of York. He had returned from his successful war in the north,
but had achieved victory with the loss of fifty thousand of his
soldiers. Caracalla, his eldest son, was with him at the time, but
immediately set out for Rome. In the year 304, when the empire was
divided between the Cæsars, Galerius, Maximianus, and Constantius
Chlorus, Britain fell to the share of the latter, who immediately came
over, and fixed his residence in York. He died two years afterwards, and
his son, Constantine the Great, by Helena, a British princess, succeeded
him, being proclaimed emperor by the army at York, where he was at the
time of his father’s death. The first of these elegant brooches is of
circular form (Fig. 202), like a raised shield divided into several
compartments. The side view placed with it will enable the reader to
understand the arrangement of the pin, which moves freely on a pivot,
the point held by a curve in the lower projecting bar. The second
example (Fig. 203) was found near Bootham bar, and is of more elaborate
design. The raised centre is divided into ornamental compartments,
filled with rich purple and white enamel colours. The point of the pin
is here brought closer to the brooch, as if it had been intended to
fasten a finer kind of material than the preceding one, which from its
width would take in a coarser texture.
[Illustration: Fig. 202.]
[Illustration: Fig. 203.]
The use of enamel colours as enrichments to metal ornaments belongs to
the later days of Rome. Sometimes the work is very coarse, but specimens
occur (though rarely) of extremely delicate execution. It was executed
in what the French antiquaries term the _champ-levé_ manner; that is,
the part to be enamelled was cut, or hollowed, by a graving tool, in the
surface, and then filled with fusible colours, rubbed when cool to a
level surface. This decoration was not confined to small articles of
jewellery, but was used for belts and sword-handles. An admirable
example of a small bronze vase, thus beautifully enriched, was found in
excavating the triple tumuli popularly known as the Bartlow Hills, in
Cambridgeshire. Horse-trappings were highly enriched in the same manner.
Boxes, and small articles of furniture, were also inlaid with enamelled
plaques of metal.
[Illustration: Fig. 204.]
A tendency to great variety of design characterised the jewellery of the
Byzantine empire; and the old circular fibula, that had been worn
contentedly for so very many centuries, was discarded for new forms;
which were again cast aside at the caprice of the wearer, attracted by
the ever-varying designs of the jeweller. The bow or harp-shaped fibula,
however, retained its place when once introduced, nearly as long as its
circular forerunner. One of the finest specimens of a fibula of this
kind is here given, copied from the original, which was discovered about
twenty years ago by labourers employed on the railway near the town of
Amiens, at a spot where other objects of the Gallo-Roman period were met
with. The place may probably have been the cemetery of the town, when
the masters of the world ruled there. The workmen found a leaden coffin
of great thickness, which contained two skeletons, the smaller having
within it many articles of female ornament. These consisted of a pair of
gold ear-rings of very peculiar and original design; a gold ring set
with a carnelian, on which was engraved a youthful figure riding on a
goat; a pair of slender armlets of gold; a pendent ornament of glass,
evidently formed to wear as a charm to keep off the baneful effect of
the evil eye, so much dreaded by the ancients; and this buckle (Fig.
204). The latter is constructed of the finest gold, the bow decorated
with an upright row of pellets, and three small flowerets across the
centre. The shaft is covered with most delicate chased ornament, or
reeded patterns, soldered to the surface; a row of raised studs are each
in the middle of a curved quatrefoil, the outer border raised in lines
of indented decoration. The whole bears traces of the influence of Greek
art, the workmen of that highly-cultivated and artistic nation always
excelling their Roman brethren, and the richer classes in Rome
patronising them in preference. Nothing can exceed the delicacy and
beauty of Greek jewellery; the Roman being of a heavier and less
artistic taste. The character of the two nations may thus be clearly
traced in so insignificant an article as a breast-pin.
Figs. 205 and 206 represent two of the most ordinary forms of the bronze
bow-shaped fibulæ, as worn by the ordinary classes. Fig. 205 was found
at Strood, in Kent, in a brick-field opposite Rochester Castle, on the
other side of the Medway, which field had been the cemetery of the city
when the Romans ruled it.
[Illustration: Fig. 205.]
[Illustration: Fig. 206.]
The reader will notice, in both the latter instances, the pin is a
continuation of a coil of strong metal, of which it is formed, and which
gives it great strength and elasticity. When the latter was passed
through the several folds of the dress, and the end secured in the
strong metal catch below, it would not be easy to unfasten the garment
or lose the pin. The second example is less stiff in contour, and from
it the reader may more clearly comprehend the arrangement for securing
the pin. Here, again, the pin proceeds from spirals at the upper part of
the brooch.
These common articles were sometimes made more attractive to the eye by
decorating the upper portion with coarse enamel colours; a specimen is
given in Fig. 207; it is of clumsy form, and cheap construction; it was
found, with many other minor antiquities, among heaps of bones, in the
well-known caves at King’s Scarr, about two miles north-east of Settle,
in Yorkshire--caves that are conjectured to have been the homes of the
old Britons who once lived a semi-savage life in them.
In the excellent museum at Boulogne are preserved many articles found in
the immediate neighbourhood, and belonging to the Gallo-Roman period.
Among them is the bronze fibula Fig. 208, which shows the very decided
arc formed by the upper part, and the mode by which the point of the pin
was secured in the sheath below.
[Illustration: Fig. 207.]
[Illustration: Fig. 208.]
Sometimes these bow-shaped fibulæ were made with an extremely large and
ugly bow, as in Fig. 209, which hung over the dress. They are
occasionally met with six inches in width, with a pin an inch or two
longer: being used for the heavier winter cloaks. The gore-shaped
pendant is made hollow, and is often decorated with incised lines and
zigzag patterns. They appear to have been in most favour among the Roman
provincials in Gaul and Britain, particularly as the nature of the
winters obliged them to seek in the heavy woollen _sagum_, or in the
skin mantle, some greater protection against the inclemency of the
weather than their southern conquerors required.
[Illustration: Fig. 209.]
Allusion has already been made to the extreme taste for showy jewellery,
and gaudy personal decoration, indulged in by the later Roman rulers,
after the seat of government had been removed to Constantinople. It
seems to have increased as their power decayed: for the rude paintings
and mosaics of the eighth and ninth centuries depict emperors and
empresses in dresses literally covered with ornament and
jewellery--indeed, the artists must have put forth their best strength
in depicting the dresses, as if they had received similar orders to
those given by good Mrs. Primrose, who expressly desired the painter of
her portrait to put as many jewels on her stomacher “as he could for the
money.”
[Illustration: Fig. 210.]
Fig. 210, the bust of the Emperor Constantine Pogonatus (so called from
the ample beard the monarch wore), is an example of male foppery. This
emperor came to the throne A.D. 668, and died in 685. It will be
perceived that two brooches fasten his outer garment, one upon each
shoulder. That upon the right one is highly enriched, but the original,
as really worn by the emperor, was most probably much more so, by
chasing, enamel, and jewels which the artist had not space, or perhaps
ability, to express. From it hang three chains, which were most probably
formed of hollow gold beads, cast in an ornamental matrix; such having
been found in Crimean graves; and less frequently in those of the
Germanic and Gaulish chieftains and aristocrats. To the ends of these
chains were affixed circular ornaments, sometimes decorated with enamel,
like the York fibulæ already described, and sometimes with cameos, set
in a gold framework: for as the Arts decayed, the finer works of this
kind, executed in the palmy days of Rome, were much prized and valued as
the works of a race who were acknowledged to be mentally superior.
The empresses naturally wore a greater abundance of jewellery than their
lords; they also wore great circular brooches on each shoulder, but they
increased the pendent ornaments by adding heavy gold chains, which hung
across the breast, and from the brooches on both sides nearly to the
waist; at the ends of these chains was a group of smaller chains, each
supporting a jewel of varied form, so that a heavy bunch of them was
formed. Ultimately other chains with pendent jewels were attached to the
chain that passed across the breast, and completely covered that part of
the person with decoration.
[Illustration: Fig. 211.]
In the museum at Mayence is preserved a very curious monumental
sculpture, upon which is presented the effigy of the man for whom it was
erected, his wife, and son. He was a sailor, who died at the ripe age of
seventy-five, and appears to have been generous to his lady in the
article of jewellery, according to the usual habit of his craft. Mr. C.
Roach Smith, who first published this curious monument in his
“Collectanea Antiqua,” observes that “she had evidently dressed for the
portrait.” She wears a vest, fitting closely to the arms and bust, and
at the neck gathered to a frill, which is enclosed by a torque, or gold
necklet. Over this hangs a garment, which falls gracefully down in
front, and is crossed at the breast over the left arm. The jewellery of
the widow is of no common description, nor niggardly bestowed. Upon the
breast, below the torque, is a rose-shaped ornament or brooch, and
beneath that a couple of fibulæ; two more of a similar pattern fasten
the upper garment near the right shoulder, and upon the left arm, just
above the elbow; an armlet encircles the right arm, and bracelets the
wrist. Fig. 211 gives the upper portion of the form of this lady:
judging from the style of her head-dress she may have lived in the reign
of the Emperor Hadrian. Probably many years younger than her
sailor-husband, she appears to have tempered her grief with judgment,
and to have taken advantage of his death to set herself forth to the
world in her gayest costume.
[Illustration: Figs. 212-214.]
As barbarism increased, and subverted good taste, brooches of the most
absurd forms were invented, and made more grotesque by unnatural enamel
colours. Birds, fish, men on horseback, formed the face of these
brooches, which would never have been understood by a modern eye, had
they not been found with the pins attached to them behind. Three
examples from the great work of Montfaucon are given in Figs. 212, 213,
and 214, they were found in Italy and Germany. The first represents a
combination of two warlike implements on one handle--the upper one an
axe, the lower a bipennis. The second specimen is made like a bird: we
have given it at an angle, to show the way the pin was fastened at the
back of it. The third specimen is a fish, which might pass as a fair
representation of some member of the finny tribe, whose proper name need
not be too curiously asked for; but unluckily the designer of the
brooch, indulging in the grotesque, has represented some monstrous bird
with bat’s ears emerging from one side of the fish.
[Illustration: Fig. 215.]
[Illustration: Fig. 216.]
We give two specimens, one from the banks of the Rhine, the other found
opposite our own shores. Fig. 215 represents a bird, probably of the
hawk kind, whose eye has been made the socket for a garnet, and the
extremity of his tail a receptacle for another piece of jewellery. It
was found on the site of the Roman station at Cologne. Fig. 216, which
is of plain bronze, is more fortunate as an attempt to represent a cock;
it was discovered, with many other curious antiquities, at Etaples, near
Boulogne, and is preserved in the museum of the latter town.
[Illustration: Fig. 217.]
A very distinct character pervades the ornamental works of the ancient
nations that once inhabited the British Isles.
A curious discovery of the fibula, Fig. 217, was made at Stamford,
Lincolnshire. It was found in the process of enlarging a stone-pit in
the parish of Castle Bytham. It is described by Mr. Akerman, in his
“Pagan Saxondom,” as “a ring fibula, of white metal, gilt, in very
excellent preservation, and set with four gems closely resembling
carbuncles. An irregular interlacing pattern is worked over the whole
front surface, but it is perfectly plain behind.” Mr. Akerman is
inclined to think that it has a Scandinavian character, and favours the
supposition that its owner was a Danish lady.
[Illustration: Fig. 218.]
This supposition seems borne out by the researches of Dr. Davies, in his
interesting ethnographical sketch of the various ancient populations who
have invaded and inhabited Anglia in pre-historic times, prefixed to
that very valuable work, the “Crania Britannica.” He is of opinion that
about the time of Cæsar, the population of our island throughout the
northern and midland counties was derived from the tribes of Jutland and
North Germany, and that the southern portions of the island were
exclusively filled by the Saxon immigrants.
A fibula of very peculiar form is found in these northern counties in
great abundance. We give an example in Fig. 218. It is of bronze, and
was found at Driffield, Yorkshire, in the grave of a female. Sometimes
these fibulæ are richly ornamented with interlaced patterns, and heads
of strange birds and animals. They are then generally gilt, and have
been found of enormous size, eight inches in length by six in breadth. I
imagine these very large brooches fastened the heavy outer cloak, the
smaller being used for lighter portions of the dress.
[Illustration: Fig. 219.]
[Illustration: Fig. 220.]
The ordinary form of brooch worn by the humbler classes is shown in the
two specimens (Figs. 219 and 220), both are of bronze, with very slight
attempt at ornament, and were found by labourers employed in repairing
the road on the line of the Watling Street, about a mile from the
Romano-British settlement at Cesterover, between Bensford Bridge and the
road leading from Rugby to Lutterworth.
[Illustration: Fig. 221.]
[Illustration: Fig. 222.]
Two specimens of the circular fibulæ of the southern Anglo-Saxons are
given in Figs. 221 and 222. They were both found in Kent, where the
wealthiest and most refined Saxons were located. It is curious to note
how completely in design and execution they resemble such as are found
in South Germany. In the Augsburg Museum are some identical in design
and execution with Kentish specimens in the Mayer Museum at Liverpool.
They appear as if made by the same workmen.
These fibulæ are generally much enriched on the upper surface. A soft
enamel, or slices of pearl (which have generally perished), probably
filled the outer rim in Fig. 221; the centre is here raised, and is
formed of pearl, in the centre of which is a garnet, and slices of
garnet are cut to fit the triangular ornaments; to give them greater
brilliancy, they are laid on a thin piece of gold foil. Fig. 222 is of
more elaborate design; the use of garnet is again apparent, but the
spaces between the jewellery are filled with a double row of incurvated
ornaments, made of fine threads of gold; sometimes these threads of gold
are reeded, or plaited, of two or three finer gold threads. I have been
assured by practical goldsmiths that more delicate work could not be
done in the present day. All these small ornaments are made singly, and
then fastened in their places. They excite astonishment at the great
refinement that must have characterised the Anglo-Saxons, and which is
carried out in other articles found in their tumuli.
Fig. 223 represents a group of Anglo-Saxon pins. The first specimen is
of the simplest design, with no attempt at ornament, except the double
cross roughly incised in the bronze. The middle pin, on the contrary, is
one of the finest kind; the head is ornamented with jewellery and
goldsmith’s work, the stem is of bronze. The pin beside it is of silver
gilt, the centre decorated with a raised garnet. I have placed in front
of them a very remarkable specimen of a double pin, connected by a
chain, exactly similar to such as were universally fashionable a few
years ago. Though fashion may be “ever changing,” it is not “ever new.”
[Illustration: Fig. 223.]
The ancient Irish brooch was unlike others worn in Scotland or England.
It had a long central pin, with an open ring at its summit, allowing
free motion to the bar which passed through it, and formed a
half-circle, supporting a lunette-shaped pendant, covered with elaborate
decoration and jewellery. They varied in size and decoration according
to the rank of the wearer. The highest price of a silver one for a king,
according to Vallancey, was thirty heifers, when made of refined silver;
the lowest value attached to them being three heifers. I have seen a
very large specimen, of the intrinsic value of three pounds. The pin is
9-1/2 inches long, and the circular brooch 5 inches in diameter. Larger
specimens have been found and mistaken for poniards. They were made thus
large and strong to pass easily through the thick woollen garments
necessary to the cold, wet climate.
[Illustration: Fig. 224.]
This old style of design in ornament continued in use in Ireland until
the twelfth or thirteenth century--in fact, until the inhabitants had
destroyed its civilisation by internecine war. Many works, like the bell
of St. Patrick at Belfast, might, at the first glance, be attributed to
the same era as the famous “Durham book,” or book of St. Cuthbert, now
one of the chief treasures of the British Museum library, and which is
believed to have been executed as early as the seventh century by
Eadfrith, afterwards of Lindisfarne, who died in 721. We are, however,
certain as to the date of the bell, for an inscription is upon it,
stating it was made to the order of Donnell O’Lochlain, one of the old
Irish kings, who came to the throne in 1083, and died in 1121.
[Illustration: Fig. 225.]
The first brooch discovered in Ireland is in the possession of Mr.
Waterhouse, the goldsmith, of Dublin. It is represented in Fig. 224,
and is engraved the full size of the original, but the length of the
long plain pin has been curtailed. It was found accidentally by a
peasant near Drogheda. It is of bronze, decorated with gems and ornament
in enamel, and may probably be of no earlier date than the bell just
alluded to.
[Illustration: Fig. 226.]
A simpler kind of ornamental pin was worn by the lower classes, of which
I give two specimens in Fig. 225, _a_, _b_. They are engraved about half
the size of the originals. The first is a plain pin, with a small ring
hanging from its head. The second is unique in its character, having an
old man’s head at its summit: it is of bronze, gilt. As we descend in
the scale of rank, these pins become plainer, the poorer classes using
them of bone, roughly fashioned by themselves.
The common kind of Scottish pins was of very similar character, as the
example placed beside those last described will show. The head of the
pin _c_ projects some distance in advance of it, as seen in the side
view. A small cross is in the centre of the upper part; the other
ornament is convoluted, and is brought into relief by chasing.
The ordinary form of the later Scottish brooch is that of a broad open
circle, decorated with intricate knot-work, or floral designs. Dr.
Wilson, in his “Archæology and Pre-historic Annals of Scotland,” has
engraved one very similar, and says, “The interlaced knot-work appears
to have been a favourite device of Celtic art (Fig. 226). It occurs on
the sculptures, the jewellery, the manuscripts, and the decorated
shrines and bookcases of Early Irish Christian art, and has been
perpetuated almost to our own day on the weapons and personal ornaments
of the Scottish Highlanders.”
“The brooch has always been a favourite Celtic ornament, and is, indeed,
almost indispensable to the Highland costume. It is worn universally by
the Scottish Highlanders, both male and female; and in many Highland
families of various ranks, favourite brooches have been preserved
through many generations as heirlooms, which no pecuniary inducement
would tempt their humblest owner to part with.”
[Illustration]
ALBERT DÜRER: HIS WORKS, HIS COMPATRIOTS, AND HIS TIMES.
[Illustration: DURER’S WIFE. ALBERT DURER. PIRKHEIMER.]
ALBERT DÜRER: HIS WORKS, HIS COMPATRIOTS, AND HIS TIMES.
Dürer is the one great name which represents early German art in its
pure nationality. In his works we see all its peculiarities and may
study all its merits. It is not without its defects also, but as they
may be honestly considered a part of the whole, it becomes a necessary
thing to consider them with the beauties to which they may be
conjoined; nor must we be deterred in our search for the latter quality
by such occasional drawbacks, if we would investigate the efforts of the
artist-mind toward excellence, for that was its characteristic feature
from the fall of Rome to the period in which Dürer flourished. In the
somewhat gaudy glories of the Byzantine school, we can trace only the
failing powers of a great empire conscious of its old dignity but not
fully able to display it. In the barbaric night which succeeded, we find
art sunk to the most childish attempt at imitating simple nature; which
was “copied most vilely.” In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries we
trace the latent wish for the delineation of beauty struggling again
into life; but it was simply the wish rather than the power to delineate
the graceful, that we find displayed in the contorted figures which the
artists of these days attempted to picture as graceful beings. Still,
crude and strange, or even grotesque, as they may appear, they are not
to be despised. Amid much that is repulsive to modern cultivated taste,
we occasionally find _naïve_ delineations of simple beauty, natural
expression, and touches of human pathos, which tell how honestly and how
eagerly these old artists worked; how truly they wished to do more than
they had power to accomplish; and though clogged to the earth by the
dark age they lived in, how earnestly they wished to soar above that
position. The archaisms of old Greece are not better than such works;
and as we can trace the onward course of those ancient masters of art
from the rude outlines on the vases of Etruria, to the glorious works of
Phidias and Praxiteles--even so, if we wish to know the true course of
the revival of modern art, must we trace it in the sculpture,
wall-painting, and missal-drawing, of the middle ages, until we find it
assume a more definite and better-regulated style in the fifteenth
century; that period of the revival of classical tastes, and bright
day-spring of art in Italy, from which we ourselves still drink
inspiration as from the “well undefiled.”
The influence of the Italian school after the era of Raffaelle may be
said to be paramount. As his works became known and studied, they gave
laws to other artists; and the mannerisms and peculiarities of earlier
schools were softened down and disappeared. Gothic art--if such a term
may be applied to the art which was the hand-maiden of Gothic
architecture (the term _Gothic_ being by no means understood as meaning
_barbaric_)--had run its course by aid of its own experience alone,
possessing qualifications of its own, but being in some degree more
remarkable for its strength of feeling than grace of expression. The
Italian school inoculated it with elegance; but it naturally possessed
an independent power, together with a vigour and native grace which
rewarded those who sought for it, rather than courted them by its
palpable display. Gothic art in its native strength, as it had grown
gradually and achieved its own position, may be seen in the works of the
northern contemporaries of Raffaelle; the study of its rise and progress
is no unworthy study of the human mind in its onward course toward
excellence, nor should we allow prejudice to weigh with us in
contemplating these labours. It has been well observed that “in art as
in many other branches of human knowledge and industry, exclusiveness,
or the tendency to depreciate that which does not conform to our own
taste and feelings, is a fertile source of error and mischief. Such a
disposition deprives mankind of the free and unrestrained enjoyment of
much that is calculated to cheer and improve them. The _naïveté_ of the
early German and Italian painters, the earnest simplicity with which
they conceived and expressed the devotional subjects treated by them,
and the moral beauty of the subjects themselves, may excite our
admiration, without disqualifying us for duly admiring the brilliant
breadth of light and shadow of Rembrandt, or the genuine truth and
humour of Wilkie.”[190-*] In this spirit must we study the works of the
early native artists of the northern schools, and in this way comprehend
their true philosophic position, and the æsthetics of their style.
Germany, a great and powerful nation, was in the fifteenth century the
home of northern intelligence; and nowhere was it more fully made
visible than in the old town of Nürnberg; it was the centre of trade,
the abode of opulence, the patron of literature and the arts. Here, amid
congenial spirits, lived Albert Dürer--“in him,” says Dr. Kügler, “the
style of art already existing attained its most peculiar and its highest
perfection. He became the representative of German art at this period.”
To himself and his works, therefore, must we look for a true knowledge
of the German school; and to Nürnberg, as it was in his epoch, for an
acquaintance with the characteristics of the refined life of the German
people. It is no unprofitable labour to unveil these ancient and
forgotten times; much in man’s history, great and good, is hidden in the
pages of old chronicles, and it is a worthy task to call back forgotten
glories that may induce modern emulation, or at least vindicate the true
position of the great departed.
“From the barred visor of antiquity,
Reflected, shines the eternal light of truth
As from a mirror.”[191-*]
The modern traveller who visits Nürnberg will see an old city most
singularly unaltered. For the last two centuries it would seem to have
remained almost stationary; its inhabitants succeeding each other
without a wish for change, living in the old houses of their
progenitors, and quietly retaining a certain stolid position which has
neither lost nor won in the great battle of life around them. On
approaching its walls it is difficult at first to believe that a city so
quaint and peculiar still exists intact. It is precisely like looking at
a pictured town in an old missal, with its series of square towers, and
long curtain wall embracing its entire circumference; its old castle
perched on the rock, and its great massive round towers proudly
protecting its chief gates upon all sides. There is a strange
“old-world” look about everything within these walls also, and we
scarcely feel that we have arrived at the nineteenth century as we
indulge in the thoughts they call forth. It is a place to dream in over
the past, to carry one’s mind away from the bustle of modern life to the
thoughtful contemplation of that once enjoyed here by generations long
departed. It seems no place for the actual realities of our railroad
days, and there is a sort of impertinence in bringing us by such means
close to its quiet old walls; you feel thrown, as it were, from the
go-a-head rapidities of modern times into the calm, heavy, slow-going
days of Kaiser Maximilian, without time to consider the change. It is a
place for a poet, one imbued with a love of old cities and their
denizens, like Longfellow,--and how admirably in a few lines has he
described the feeling it engenders, and the aspect of the city and its
suburbs!--
“In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow lands,
Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nürnberg, the ancient, stands.