The statement is made on what seems as good authority as in such a
matter can be cited that in Europe the custom of wearing finger-rings
is “going out”—to “come in” again, doubtless, with renewed vitality.
It is hardly to be expected that it will suffer a permanent extinction
while human character remains what it is; and the acutest observer can
discern no symptoms of change in that. The original impulse moving
the gentlemen and ladies of the Stone Age to circumclude their untidy
digits with annular sections of the shinbones of their vanquished
foemen while awaiting a knowledge of the metals is apparently not
nearly exhausted, and we are far less likely to see the end of it than
it is to see the end of us. It is more probable, indeed, that the
nose-ring will return to bless us than that the finger-ring will add
itself to the melancholy list of good things gone before.
Amongst the several tribes of our species the habit of encircling
the human finger with something not contemplated in the original
design of that variously useful member is almost universal, and it
so far antedates history and tradition that by another sort of lying
than either it has been outfitted with a divine origin. In ancient
Egypt it was ascribed to Osiris, whose priests were distinguished
from meaner mortals by finger-rings of a peculiar and mystical
design, having a profound significance all the more impressive by
reason of its impenetrability to conjecture. Perchol, however, has an
ingenious theory that it was intended to puzzle the Egyptologist of
the time-to-be; an instance of foresight which one can commend while
deploring the unworthy motive at the back of it.
Amongst the ancient Jews rings were symbols of authority, as we see
in the case of Joseph, to whom the Pharaoh gave one when he made him
Governor; and this was a common use of rings in all antiquity. They
were credentials of ambassadors and messengers, and served in place
of written commissions, which, frequently it was impossible to give,
for the commissioning power could not write, and which would have
been ineffective, for most other persons could not read. In matters
of business the ring was a power-of-attorney. Its usefulness in this
way was suggested, doubtless, by the difficulty of imposture: written
authorization may easily be forged, but a ring can not well be obtained
from the finger of its owner without his consent.
The attribution of magical and medicinal virtues to rings pervades
all ancient and mediæval story. Gyges, King of Lydia, had a ring by
which the wearer could become invisible—a result accomplishable,
though sometimes too tardily, by our modern plan of going away. One
of the Kings of Lombardy had a ring which told him in what direction
to travel. It may have contained a compass, though to that theory
is opposed the objection that he antedated the invention of that
instrument. But (I make the suggestion with humility) may not his have
been the compass afterward invented? Medicated rings were in popular
use in ancient Rome. An efficacious design for these, according to
Trallian, a physician of the fourth century, was Hercules strangling
the Nemæan lion. This, he assures us, is, if well engraved, a specific
for stomach-ache. Throughout mediæval Europe belief in the healing
power of certain rings was widely diffused; but then, as now, persons
free from gross superstitions preferred to treat their disorders by
touching the relics of saints.
Rings engraved with the names of the Magi were once in great medical
repute, but in 1674 a learned prelate threw discredit upon them by
showing that the true names were not known, being variously given as
Melchior, Balthasar and Jasper; Apellius, Amerus and Damascus; Ator,
Sator and Petratoras. As the author of _Ben-Hur_ has given the
weight of his authority to the first three names, the healing-ring may
with some confidence be engraved with them and pushed back into its old
place in public esteem. But before risking any money in the manufacture
it would be prudent to test upon a few patients the accuracy of General
Wallace’s historical knowledge by administering the names of his choice
internally.
A ring presented to Edward the Confessor cured epilepsy, and after
the death of the royal owner by another and hardier disease it was
preserved as a relic in Westminster Abbey. Rings which had been
blessed, or even touched, by the sovereign were for some centuries
considered worthy of a place in the British _materia medica_;
and such would doubtless command a high price to-day in the American
market—not to keep the purchaser in good health, but to make his
neighbors sick with envy.
Of all rings possessing magical or medicinal virtues the toadstone ring
of our fathers was the most interesting. It was well known to those
ingenious naturalists that
the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head,
as Shakspeare was at the trouble to point out. It was customary to set
this in a ring and wear it, for it had the useful property of changing
color and sweating when poison was about. As poison was one of the
commonest means by which our easy-going ancestors accomplished the end
of one another’s sojourn in this vale of tears a monitor of that kind
was extremely useful to have literally “on hand at meal-time.”
Certain stones were once regarded as having maleficent properties and
were never set in rings. A chronicler relates that a certain knight in
one of the crusades possessed himself of a costly scimitar belonging to
a Saracen whom he had slain, and became so expert in its use that he
discarded his own weapon and used the other. But from that time forth
he met with nothing but disaster and shame. It was discovered that in
fitting the scimitar with a cross-hilt, as Christian piety demanded,
the malicious armorer had substituted for one of the gems an emerald,
which by some secret process he had disguised. The malign stone and the
armorer’s head having been removed the prowess of the knight was again
effective and he rose to great distinction and honor. In the folk-lore
of some of the riparian peoples along the Danube the topaz was listed
as a peculiar possession of the Adversary of Souls. It was held that
if one could by force or fraud get a topaz ring upon an enemy’s finger
it would be impossible to remove it, and the victim would go, body and
soul, to the devil. Advancing enlightenment has effaced these silly
superstitions; we now know that the opal only is really malign.
We have it on the authority of Shakspeare that at least Aldermen wore
thumb rings, for Falstaff avers that before he was blown up like a
bladder by sighing and grief he could have crept through one, being
“not an eagle’s talon in the waist.” If the custom had lived till our
time Aldermen would have been at considerable expense for thumb-rings,
for their fingers are all thumbs everywhere but in the public pocket.
As engagements and weddings subtend a pretty wide angle in the circle
of human life in modern times the ring is perhaps a more important
factor in the happiness of at least one-half the race than ever before;
and that half is the more conservative half; it and its customs are
not soon parted. Not that engagement rings and wedding rings are a new
thing under the sun: amongst several ancient peoples the wedding ring
was an institution of prime importance. The bride’s investiture with
that sign and symbol of wifehood was not merely in attestation of the
wedding; it was the wedding. Divorce consisted in pulling it off, and
that simple act—commonly performed by the husband—was not complicated
with any questions of counsel fees, alimony and custody of the children.
The finger-ring will probably maintain its “ancient, solitary reign”
for some time yet. The custom of wearing it is too deeply rooted in
the nature of things, and the root has too many ramifications to be
lightly renounced by virtue of any royal rescript of the “queens of
fashion” in Paris, London or New York. It is not a mere garden plant
growing loosely in the artificial top-soil of human vanity, but a
hardy perennial, having a firm hold in many substrata of character and
tradition, and eliciting nourishment from all. The finger-ring is on to
stay.