CUSTOMS AND INCIDENTS IN CONNECTION WITH RINGS.
One of the most singular usages in former times in which a ring was
employed was the annual celebration at Venice of the wedding of the Doge
with the Adriatic. This custom is said to date from the era of Pope
Alexander III., and the Doge of Venice, Zidni, in the twelfth century.
This prince having on behalf of the pontiff attacked the hostile fleet of
Frederic Barbarossa, and obtained a complete victory, with the capture of
the emperor’s son, Otho, the Pope in grateful acknowledgment gave him a
ring, ordaining that henceforth and for ever, annually, the governing Doge
should, with a ring, espouse the sea. The pontiff promised that the bride
should be obedient and subject to his sway, for ever, as a wife is
subjected to her husband.
It is recorded that in this year (1177) this pompous ceremony was
performed for the first time. The Doge died in the following year. On
Ascension Day the Venetians, headed by their Doge, celebrated the
triumphant event. Galleys, sailing-vessels, and gondolas accompanied the
chief of the State, who occupied a prominent position on the ‘Bucentoro,’
which held, as its name implies, two hundred persons. This vessel was
decorated with columns, statues, etc., and the top was covered with
crimson velvet. There were twenty-one oars on each side. Musical
performers attended in another barge. The vessel left the Piazza of St.
Mark under a salute of guns, and proceeded slowly to the Isle of Lido.
Here the Doge, taking the ring from his finger, gave it to his betrothed
wife, the Adriatic, by dropping it into her bosom, repeating these words:
‘We espouse thee, oh sea! in token of our just and perpetual
dominion.’[73]
The reader will remember the well-known lines of Byron, written at Venice:
The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord;
And, annual marriage now no more renew’d,
The Bucentaur lies rotting, unrestored,
Neglected garment of her widowhood.
It is probable that Shakspeare alluded to this custom when he says in
‘Othello:’--
I would not my unhoused free condition
Put into circumscription, and confine
For the sea’s worth.
Byron, in the ‘Two Foscari,’ again alludes to the ‘marriage’ ring of the
Doge. When the Council of Ten demanded of the Doge Foscari--
The resignation of the ducal ring,
Which he had worn so long and venerably,
he laid aside the ducal bonnet and robes, surrendered his ring of office,
and exclaimed:
There’s the ducal ring,
And there’s the ducal diadem. And so
The Adriatic’s free to wed another.
So, Rogers:
He was deposed,
He who had reigned so long and gloriously;
His ducal bonnet taken from his brow,
His robes stript off, his seal and signet-ring
Broken before him.
Rings, in common with jewels of various descriptions, were given by our
monarchs on state occasions, and as New Year’s gifts, as marks of special
favour. In Rymer’s ‘Fœdera’ there is a curious inventory of rings and
ouches, with other jewels, which King Henry VI. bestowed in 1445, as New
Year’s gifts, on his uncle and nobles. In the inventories of Queen
Elizabeth’s jewels there are numerous instances of such gifts.
[Illustration: New Year’s gift ring.]
At the marriage of Henry VI. with Margaret of Anjou, Cardinal Beaufort
presented a gold ring to the bride, given to him by Henry V., and which
the latter wore when crowned at Paris.
The crest of the Cromwells is a demi-lion rampant arg., in his dexter gamb
a gem-ring or. The origin of this is stated thus:--At a tournament held by
Henry VIII., in 1540, the King was particularly delighted with the
gallantry of Sir Richard Cromwell (whom he had knighted on the second day
of the tournament), and exclaiming ‘Formerly thou wast my _Dick_, but
hereafter thou shalt be my _Diamond_,’ presented him with a diamond ring,
bidding him for the future wear such a one in the fore-gamb of the
demi-lion in the crest, instead of a javelin as heretofore. The arms of
Sir Richard with this alteration were ever afterwards borne by the elder
branch of the family, and by Oliver Cromwell himself, on his assuming the
Protectorate, though previously he had borne the javelin.
A gold ring found St. Mary’s Field, near Leicester, in 1796, had been a
New Year’s gift, and is inscribed ‘en bon an.’
[Illustration: New Year’s gift ring.]
In former times when St. Valentine’s Day was kept as a joyous festival,
the drawing of a kind of lottery took place, followed by ceremonies not
much unlike what is now generally called the game of ‘forfeits.’ Married
and single persons were alike liable to be chosen as a valentine, and a
present was invariably given to the choosing party. Rings were frequently
bestowed. Pepys, in 1668, notes: ‘This evening my wife did with great
pleasure show me her stock of jewels, increased by the ring she hath
lately made as my valentine’s gift this year, a turkey (turquoise) stone
set with diamonds.’ Noticing also the jewels of the celebrated Miss
Stuart, he says: ‘The Duke of York, being once her valentine, did give her
a jewel of about eight hundred pounds, and my Lord Mandeville, her
valentine this year, a ring of about three hundred pounds.’
* * * * *
Rings have been employed frequently in facilitating diplomatic missions,
and in negotiations of a very delicate and critical nature. Plutarch
relates an anecdote of Luculus to prove his disinterestedness. Being sent
on an embassy to King Ptolemy Physcon, he not merely refused all the
splendid presents offered to him, amounting in value to eighty talents
(15,444_l._), but even received of his table allowance no more than was
absolutely necessary for his maintenance, and when the King attended him
down to his ship, as he was about to return to Rome, and pressed upon his
acceptance an emerald ‘of the precious kind,’ set in gold (for a ring),
he declined this also, until Ptolemy made him observe it was engraved with
his own portrait, whereupon, fearing his refusal should be considered a
mark of personal ill-will, he at last accepted the ring as a keepsake. At
a dark epoch in the fortunes of the unhappy Mary, Queen of Scots, when, in
1567, scarcely a shadow of regal power was left to her, an attempt was
made to induce her to resign the crown. Sir Robert Melville was employed
on this mission, giving her, as an authority for his errand, a turquoise
ring confided to him for that purpose by the confederate lords.
A ring in the possession of Miss H. P. Lonsdale is stated to have been
given by Queen Anne, from her finger, to a Mr. Nugent for some diplomatic
services. It is of gold, set with a heart-shaped ruby crowned with three
small diamonds. At the back is a royal crown, and the letters ‘A. R.’
Clement VII., to propitiate King Henry VIII., sent him a consecrated rose;
while, to gain the good services of Cardinal Wolsey, the Pope drew from
his finger a ring of value, which he entrusted to the care of Secretary
Pace at Rome, expressing regret that he could not himself present it in
person.
When the Duchess of Savoy was held a prisoner by Charles the Bold, Duke of
Burgundy, she found means to send her secretary to solicit the aid of
Louis XI. As she was prevented from writing, the only credentials she
could give her emissary was the ring the King had given her on the
occasion of her marriage. This passport would have sufficed, but that,
unfortunately, the bearer, when he presented himself to the King, wore the
cross of St. André. Louis ordered the man to be arrested, suspecting him
to be a spy of the Duke of Burgundy, and that he had stolen his sister’s
ring. The messenger would have been hung, but for the timely arrival of
the Lord of Rivarola, who was sent by the Duchess, urging the King to
assist her.
Plutarch mentions that Clearchus, Cyrus the Younger’s general, in return
for favours received from Ctesias, the physician of Tisaphernes, presented
him with his ring as an introduction to his family in Sparta.
At the declaration of peace between England and Spain in 1604 King James
gave the Spanish Ambassador, the Duke de Frias, Constable of Castile, who
negotiated the treaty, a large diamond ring, in commemoration of the
_marriage_, as he called the peace.
Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, had a large diamond cut by Berghem
into a triangle, which he had set in a ring representing two clasped
hands, the symbol of good faith, and sent to Louis XI., ‘an allusion’
(remarks the Rev. C. W. King), ‘though in an acceptable form, to his
deficiency in that virtue.’
An anecdote connected with the celebrated ‘Pitt’ diamond is related by Mr.
Eastwick, and shows how important results may sometimes be secured, when
reason and logic may not prevail. This jewel passed through some curious
adventures, and, after having ornamented the sword of Napoleon at
Waterloo, was sent as a present in a ring by George IV. to the Sovereign
of Persia, Fath-Ali-Shah. The bearer of this costly ring, Sir Harford
Jones, was stopped in his journey by a messenger from the court, and
desired not to enter the capital, where French interests were then
paramount. After Sir Harford had exhausted every argument to show that he
ought to be received, without making any impression on the Persian Khan,
he said, ‘Well, if it must be so, I shall return, but this must go with
me,’ and he took from his pocket the beautiful diamond ring which had been
sent for the Shah. The sparkle of the gem produced a magical effect; the
Khan no sooner beheld it than he lost his balance, and fell back from his
seat quite out of breath; then, recovering himself, he shouted, ‘Stop,
stop, Elchi! May your condescending kindness go on increasing! This alters
the matter. I will send an express to the heavenly-resembling threshold of
the asylum of the world! I swear by your head that you will be received
with all honour. Mashallah! it is not everyone that has diamonds like the
Inglis.’ He was as good as his word; the express courier was despatched,
and Sir Harford Jones entered the city of Teheran by one gate, while
General Gardanne, the French envoy, was packed off by the other.
[This stone must have been a fraction or portion of the cutting of this
famous diamond, as the ‘Regent’ is still in the French _Garde-meuble_, or
national treasury.]
In 1514 Venice deputed two ambassadors to France and England; amongst
other _bribes_, two rings were ordered to be given privily to the French
Secretary, Robertet, ‘as a mark of love in the Signory’s name.’ One had a
ruby and a diamond.
A correspondent of ‘Notes and Queries’ (3rd series, vol. i. p. 486) gives
an interesting extract from an old newspaper (the ‘Mercurius Publicus,’
for November 29, 1660), in which allusion is made to the King’s Gift
Rings. On the disbanding of Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper’s regiment at
Salisbury, ‘the men joyfully welcomed His Majestie’s Commissioners by
shouts and acclamations, and understanding of His Majestie’s goodness in
bestowing freely a full week’s pay, over and above their just arrears,
they broke out into another great shout, and then unanimously resolved
with that week’s pay to buy, each man, a ring, whose posie should be “The
King’s gift,” as an earnest and memorandum, to be ready on all occasions
when His Majesty’s service (and none but his), should call them.’
I may mention the gift of rings to the native chiefs of India by the
Prince of Wales, during his recent progress in that country. At Aden the
Prince expressed his acknowledgments, on behalf of the Queen, for the
services rendered by the Sultan of Lahej to the garrison of Aden, and put
a massive gold ring with the initials ‘A. E.’ on the Sultan’s finger with
his own hand.
The Maharajah of Benares was presented with a ring having an oval
miniature portrait of the Prince, in enamel, set in brilliants.
* * * * *
Identification by means of a ring is alluded to in the Greek romance, by
Heliodorus, of ‘Theagines and Chariclea.’ The latter, through a ring and
fillet which had been attached to her at her birth, is, after many
adventures, discovered to be the daughter of Hydaspes, and becomes heiress
of the Ethiopian sovereignty. The modern Italian poets have availed
themselves of this incident.
Roger of Wendover relates how Richard Cœur de Lion, when returning from
the Crusades, secretly, and in disguise, through Germany to his own
country, was identified in a town of Slavonia, called Gazara, by means of
a ring. The King had sent a messenger to the nearest castle to ask for
peace and safe-conduct from the lord of that province. He had on his
return purchased of a Pisan merchant for nine hundred bezants, three
jewels called carbuncles, or more commonly ‘rubies.’ One of these he had,
whilst on board ship, enclosed in a gold ring, and this he sent by the
said messenger to the governor of the castle. When the messenger was asked
by the governor who they were that requested safe conduct, he answered
that they were pilgrims returning from Jerusalem. The governor then asked
what their names were, to which the messenger replied, ‘one of them is
called Baldwin de Bethune, the other Hugh, a merchant who has also sent
you a ring.’ The lord of the castle, looking more attentively at the ring,
said, ‘He is not called Hugh, but King Richard,’ and then added, ‘although
I have sworn to seize all pilgrims coming from those parts, and not to
accept of any gift from them, nevertheless, for the worthiness of the
gift, and also of the sender, to him who has so honoured me, a stranger to
him, I both return his present and grant him free permission to depart.’
* * * * *
A ring, in all probability, saved the Emperor Charles V. from the most
critical position in which he had ever been placed. Having requested
permission of Francis I. to pass through France, in order to reach sooner
his Flemish dominions, where his presence was urgently required, the
rival, so lately his prisoner, not only granted the request, but gave him
a most brilliant reception. Some of the French King’s counsellors thought
this generous conduct to a crafty foe was quixotic in the extreme, and
that Charles should be detained until he had cancelled some of the hard
conditions, to which he had compelled Francis to subscribe to purchase his
release. Among those who strongly advocated the policy of detaining the
imperial guest was the King’s fair friend, the Duchesse d’Estampes.
Charles, who was informed of the dangerous weight thrown in the scale
against him, resolved to win over the influential counsellor. One day, as
he was washing his hands before dinner, he dropped a diamond ring of great
value, which the Duchess picked up and presented to him. ‘Nay, madam,’
said the Emperor gallantly to her, ‘it is in too fair a hand for me to
take back.’ The gift had its full value, and Charles pursued his way
without molestation.
* * * * *
Instances are recorded in which the wearing of a ring has been the means
of saving life. Such happened to the Count de St. Pol at the battle of
Pavia. He had fallen covered with wounds; avarice recalled him to life. A
soldier, seeking for pillage, arrived at the place where the unfortunate
Count lay extended, senseless, among the dead. He perceived a very
beautiful diamond glitter on the finger of the apparently lifeless man.
Not being successful in drawing the ring off, he began to cut the finger.
The pain extorted a piercing cry from the Count, who had only swooned. He
mentioned his name, and had the presence of mind to recommend silence to
the soldier, telling him that if he boasted of having in his power a
prince of the house of France, the Emperor’s generals would take him into
their own hands in order to get his ransom; and he promised to make the
soldier’s fortune if he would take care of his wounds, and follow him to
France. This reasoning had its effect; the soldier secretly conveyed the
Prince to Pavia, had his wounds dressed, and was nobly rewarded for it.
Taylor, in his ‘Danger of Premature Interments’ (1816) relates the
following incident. The heroine of this event was named Retchmuth Adolet.
She was the wife of a merchant at Cologne, and is said to have died of the
plague, which destroyed a great part of the inhabitants of that city in
1571. She was speedily interred, and a ring of great value was suffered to
remain on her finger, which tempted the cupidity of the grave-digger. The
night was the time he had planned for obtaining possession of it. On going
to the grave, opening it, and attempting to take the ring from off the
finger of the lady, she came to herself, and so terrified the sacrilegious
thief, that he ran away and left his lantern behind him. The lady took
advantage of his fright, and with the assistance of his lantern, found her
way home, and lived to be the mother of three children. After her real
decease, she was buried near the door of the same church, and a tomb was
erected over her grave, upon which the incident related was engraved.
Mrs. Bray, in a notice of ‘Cotele,’ and ‘the Edgcumbes of the Olden Time’
(‘Gentleman’s Magazine,’ November 1853), relates a singular circumstance
of this character, which ‘is so well authenticated, that not even a doubt
rests upon its truth.’ It refers to the mother of that Sir Richard
Edgcumbe, Knight, who, in 1748, was created Baron of Mount Edgcumbe.
‘The family were residing at Cotele (I do not know the date of the year),
when Lady Edgcumbe became much indisposed, and to all appearance died. How
long after is not stated, but her body was deposited in the family vault
of the parish church. The interment had not long taken place, before the
sexton (who must have heard from the nurse or servants that she was buried
with something of value upon her) went down into the vault at midnight,
and contrived to force open the coffin. A gold ring was on her ladyship’s
finger, which in a hurried way he attempted to draw off, but, not readily
succeeding, he pressed with great violence the finger. Upon this the body
moved in the coffin, and such was the terror of the man, that he ran away
as fast as he could, leaving his lantern behind him. Lady Edgcumbe arose,
astonished at finding herself dressed in grave-clothes, and numbered with
the tenants of the vault. She took up the lantern, and proceeded at once
to the mansion of Cotele. The terror, followed by the rejoicing of her
family and household, which such a resurrection from the tomb occasioned,
may well be conceived. Exactly five years after this circumstance, she
became the mother of that Sir Richard Edgcumbe, who was created Baron.
Polwhele, in his “History of Cornwall,” says: “Of the authenticity of this
event there can be no reasonable doubt. A few years ago a gentleman of my
acquaintance heard all the particulars of the transaction from the late
Lord Graves, of Thancks, which is in the neighbourhood of Cotele. But I
need not appeal to Lord Graves’s authority, as I recollect the narrative
as coming from the lips of my grandmother Polwhele, who used to render the
story extremely interesting from a variety of minute circumstances, and
who, from her connexion and intimacy of her own with the Edgcumbe family,
was unquestionably well-informed on the subject.”
‘It may seem strange that when Lady Edgcumbe was thus committed to the
grave she was not buried in lead; but at the period of her supposed death
it was very unusual to bury persons, even of high rank and station, in a
leaden coffin, if they died and were buried in the country. The nearest
town to Cotele of any note was Plymouth, a seaport to which there was then
no regular road from the far-distant old mansion, and I question if at
that period Plymouth could have furnished such an unusual thing as a lead
coffin. Lady Edgcumbe was probably buried in oak secured by nails or
screws, which without much difficulty could be forced open by the sexton
in his meditated robbery of the body.’
While rings have favoured the living, they have also been the means of
recognising the dead. An instance of this is related in the history of the
great Duke of Burgundy, renowned for the splendour of his court and his
love of jewels. He died in the battle of Nanci, and his body was not found
until three days afterwards, when it was recognised by one of the Duke’s
household by a ring and other precious jewels upon it; otherwise the
corpse was so disfigured that it could not have been identified.
The body of the great naval commander Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who was
shipwrecked on the rocks of Scilly in 1707, was washed on shore, when some
fishermen, it is said, having stolen a valuable emerald ring, buried the
corpse. The ring, being shown about, made a great noise over the island,
and was the cause of the discovery and ultimate removal of the body to
Westminster Abbey.
Another account is that which was published under the authority of the
Earl of Romney, grandson of Sir Cloudesley Shovel. Some years after the
fatal shipwreck, an aged woman confessed to the parish minister of St.
Mary’s on her deathbed that, exhausted with fatigue, one man who had
survived the disaster reached her hut, and that she had murdered him to
secure the valuable property on his person. This worst of wreckers then
produced a ring taken from the finger of her victim, and it was afterwards
identified as one presented to Sir Cloudesley Shovel by Lord Berkeley.
William Trotter, of an ancient family on the Scottish border, is recorded
to have fallen at the battle of Flodden; and, in corroboration of the
fact, a gold ring was found about the middle of the last century, upon
the site of the field of battle, bearing an inscription in Norman-French,
having between each word a boar’s head, the armorial bearings of the
Trotters.
Martius, in ‘Titus Andronicus,’ when he falls into a dark pit, discovers
the body of Bassianus, by the light of the jewel on the dead man’s hand:--
Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man’s earthy cheeks,
And shows the rugged entrails of this pit:
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus,
When he by night lay bath’d in human blood.
I may mention the employment of rings for criminal purposes, such as their
use for concealing poison, of which we have instances in past ages, and in
late times. Hannibal, we are told, from a fear of being delivered up to
the Romans by Prusius, King of Bithynia, swallowed poison, which, to be
prepared for the worst, he carried with him in the hollow of a ring. To
this Juvenal alludes in his Tenth Satire:--
Nor swords, nor spears, nor stones from engines hurl’d,
Shall quell the man whose frown alarm’d the world;
The vengeance due to Cannæ’s fatal field,
And floods of human gore--a ring shall yield.
Demosthenes is also said to have died in a similar manner. The keeper of
the Roman treasures, after the robbery by Crassus of the gold deposited
there by Camillus, broke the stone of his ring in his mouth, in which
poison was concealed, and immediately expired.
‘The ancients,’ remarks the Rev. C. W. King (‘Antique Gems’), ‘were
acquainted with vegetable poisons, as speedy in their effects as the
modern strychnine, as appears in the death of Britannicus from a potion
prepared by Locusta, and in innumerable other instances. These hollow
rings were put together with a degree of skill far beyond that of our
modern jewellers; for the soldering of the numerous joinings of the gold
plates of which they are formed is absolutely imperceptible even when
breathed upon--a test under which the best modern solder always assumes a
lighter tint.’
Motley, in his ‘Rise of the Dutch Republic,’ relates that in the
conspiracies against the life of the Prince of Orange (about 1582), under
the influence of the court of Spain, the young Lamoral Egmont, in return
for the kindness shown to him by the Prince, attempted to destroy him at
his own table by means of poison which he kept concealed in a ring. Sainte
Philip de Marnix, Lord of Aldegonde, was to have been taken off in the
same way; and a hollow ring filled with poison was said to have been found
in Egmont’s lodgings. The young noble was imprisoned, and his guilt was
undoubted, but he owed his escape from death to the Prince of Orange.
[Illustration: Poison ring.]
A poison ring of curious construction is described by Mr. Fairholt as
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.
[Illustration: Venetian poison ring.]
The other ring has a representation of St. Mark seated holding his gospel,
and giving a 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.
It is recorded of the infamous Pope Alexander VI. (Borgia) that he caused
a key, similar to the key-ring, to be used in opening a cabinet, but the
Pope’s key was poisoned in the handle, and provided with a small sharp
pin, which gave a slight puncture, sufficient to allow the poison to pass
below the skin. When he wished to rid himself of an objectionable friend
he would request him to unlock the cabinet; as the lock turned rather
stiffly, a little pressure was necessary on the key handle, sufficient to
produce the effect desired.
The signet-ring of Cæsar Borgia was exhibited a few years ago at a meeting
of the British Archæological Association by the Rev. C. H. Hartshorne. It
is of gold, slightly enamelled, with the date 1503, and round the inside
is the motto, ‘Fays ceque doys avien que pourra.’ A box dropped into the
front, having on it ‘Borgia,’ in letters reversed, round which are the
words ‘Cor unum una via.’ At the back is a slide, within which, it is
related, he carried the poison he was in the habit of dropping into the
wine of his unsuspecting guests.
Another ring-device of Cæsar Borgia was: ‘Aut Cæsar aut nihil.’ The
following distich was made upon him:--
Borgia Cæsar erat factis et nomine Cæsar;
‘Aut nihil aut Cæsar’ dixit, utrumque fuit.
In late times the death of Condorcet was occasioned by a subtle poison,
made by Cabanis, and enclosed in a ring. The particulars of this tragedy
are related by Arago. Proscribed by the Revolution of 1792, Condorcet,
formerly secretary to the Academy of Sciences, took refuge in the house of
a Madame Vernet, at Paris, a lady who generously risked her own life in
endeavouring to save that of the eminent philosopher. Fearing to
compromise his protectress by a longer stay, Condorcet left Paris with the
intention of taking refuge in the country house of an old friend, who was,
however, absent, and he wandered about, taking shelter at night in some
stone-quarries, but was at length arrested, and conducted to
Bourg-la-Reine, where he was placed in a damp cell. The next morning
(March 28, 1794) he was found dead in his prison, having taken poison,
which he carried about with him in a ring.
A singular story of a poisoned ring appeared in the French newspapers a
few years ago, to the effect that a gentleman who had purchased some
objects of art at a shop in the Rue St. Honoré, was examining an ancient
ring, when he gave himself a slight scratch in the hand with a sharp part
of it. He continued talking to the dealer a short time, when he suddenly
felt an indescribable sensation over his whole body, which appeared to
paralyse his faculties, and he became so seriously ill that it was found
necessary to send for a medical man. The doctor immediately discovered
every symptom of poisoning by some mineral substance. He applied strong
antidotes, and in a short time the gentleman was in a measure recovered.
The ring in question having been examined by the medical man, who had long
resided in Venice, was found to be what was formerly called a ‘death’
ring, in use by Italians when acts of poisoning were frequent about the
middle of the seventeenth century. Attached to it inside were two claws
of a lion made of the sharpest steel, and having clefts in them filled
with a violent poison. In a crowded assembly, or in a ball, the wearer of
this fatal ring, wishing to exercise revenge on any person, would take
their hand, and when pressing in the sharp claw, would be sure to inflict
a slight scratch on the skin. This was enough, for on the following
morning the victim would be sure to be found dead. Notwithstanding the
many years since which the poison in this ring had been placed there, it
retained its strength sufficiently to cause great inconvenience to the
gentleman as stated.
* * * * *
A singular interest is attached to the recovery of lost rings, of which
there are many instances. One is recorded in connection with the
wonder-working hand of St. Stephen of Hungary, which is now in the castle
of Buda. In 1621, Pope Gregory canonised this monarch, after a lapse of
two hundred years that his remains had been lying in the cathedral of
Stuhlweissenberg, and on their removal it was discovered that the skeleton
had no right hand. This created much stir, as it was known that a very
valuable ring had been on one of the fingers, but no tidings of the
missing member were heard until some years after, when a certain abbot
Mercurius, who had formerly been treasurer to the cathedral, had an
interview with the reigning monarch Ladislaus. The story he told was a
rich one, the hand with the ring on it had been committed to his safe
keeping by a beautiful youth, ‘dressed all in white.’ The historian
Feesler, himself an ecclesiastic, says that ‘Ladislaus saw through
Mercurius, but left God to deal with him.’ In the chapter on ‘Ring
Superstitions’ I have mentioned the discovery of Lady Dundee’s ring, and
the omen attached to it.
The late Professor De Morgan, in ‘Notes and Queries’ (December 21, 1861),
related an instance of a recovered ring, which (although not vouching for
its truth) he states as having been commented upon nearly fifty years ago
in the country town close to which the scene is placed, with all degrees
of belief and unbelief. A servant-boy was sent into the town with a
valuable ring. He took it out of the box to admire it, and in passing over
a plank bridge he let it fall on a muddy bank. Not being able to find it
he ran away, took to the sea, and finally settled in a colony, made a
large fortune, came back after many years, and bought the estate on which
he had been a servant. One day, while walking over his land with a friend,
he came to the plank bridge, and there told his friend the story. ‘I could
swear,’ he said, pushing his stick into the mud, ‘to the very spot where
the ring was dropped:’ when the stick came back the ring was on the end of
it.
A large silver signet-ring was lost by a Mr. Murray, in Caithness, as he
was walking one day on a shingly beach bounding his estate. Fully a
century afterwards it was found in the shingle in fair condition, and
restored to Mr. Murray’s remote heir, Sir Peter Murray Thrieplund, of
Fingask.
The truth of a similarly recovered ring I am able to attest from my
acquaintance with the late Mrs. Drake, of Pilton, near Barnstaple, to
whose family the incident refers. The husband of this lady, while with her
in a boat off Ilfracombe about fifteen years ago, lost a valuable ring. Of
course no hopes were ever entertained of its recovery. In 1869, however,
the ring was picked up on the beach at Lee, near Ilfracombe, by a little
child who was living in the valley. The ring was readily identified, as it
bore the inscription: ‘John, Lord Rollo, born Oct. 16, 1751, died April
3, 1842.’
In the bed of the river in the parish of Fornham St. Martin, in Suffolk,
was found, some years since, a gold ring with a ruby, late in the
possession of Charles Blomfield, Esq., which is conjectured by some to be
the ring that the Countess of Leicester is related (by Matthew Paris) to
have thrown away in her flight after the battle of Fornham St. Genevieve,
October 16, 1173. The Earl and Countess of Leicester were taken prisoners
at this battle.
A matron of East Lulworth lost her ring one day: two years afterwards she
was peeling some potatoes brought from a field half-a-mile distant from
the cottage, and upon dividing one discovered her ring inside.
A Mrs. Mountjoy, of Brechin, when feeding a calf, let it suck her fingers,
and on withdrawing her hand found that her ring had disappeared. Believing
the calf was the innocent thief, she refused to part with it, and after
keeping the animal for three years, had it slaughtered, and the ring was
found in the intestines.
A wealthy German farmer, living near Nordanhamn, was making flour-balls in
1871 for his cattle. At the end of his work he missed his ring, bearing
his wife’s name. Soon afterwards the farmer sold seven bullocks, which the
purchaser shipped to England, on board the ‘Adler’ cattle-steamer on
October 26. Two days afterwards an English smack, the ‘Mary Ann’ of
Colchester, picked up at sea the still warm carcass of a bullock, which
was opened by the crew to obtain some fat for greasing the rigging. Inside
the animal they found a gold ring inscribed with the woman’s name and the
date 1860. Captain Tye reported the circumstance as soon as he arrived in
port, and handed the ring over to an official, who sent it up to London.
The authorities set to work to trace its ownership, and found that the
only ship reporting the loss of a beast that could have passed the ‘Mary
Ann’ was the steamer ‘Adler,’ from which a bullock supposed to be dead,
had been thrown overboard on October 28. Meanwhile, the ‘Shipping Gazette’
recording the finding of the ring had reached Nordanhamn, and one of its
readers there had recognised the name inscribed upon it; communications
were opened with the farmer, and in due time he repossessed his ring.
In the chapter on ‘Ring Superstitions’ allusion is made to the marvellous
stories of rings found in the bodies of fishes. An instance, however, of
this character was mentioned in the newspapers lately, as having occurred
at St. John’s, Newfoundland. It is said that a signet-ring bearing the
monogram ‘P.B.’ was discovered by a fisherman in the entrails of a
cod-fish caught in Trinity Bay. The fisherman, John Potter, kept the prize
in his possession for some time, but, the incident getting known, he was
requested by the colonial secretary to send or bring the ring to St.
John’s, as he had received letters from a family named Burnam, of Poole,
England, stating that they had reason to feel certain that the ring once
belonged to Pauline Burnam, who was one of the several hundred passengers
of the Allan steamship ‘Anglo-Saxon,’ which was wrecked off Chance Bay
(N.F.) in 1861, the said Pauline Burnam being a relative of theirs. The
fisherman, in whose possession the ring was, brought it to St. John’s, and
presented it at the colonial secretary’s office. After a brief delay he
was introduced to a Mr. Burnam, who at once identified the object as the
wedding-ring of his mother, and which she had always worn since her
marriage at Huddersfield, in the year 1846. The ring was accordingly
given up to Mr. Burnam, who rewarded the fortunate finder with fifty
pounds.
On October 7, 1868, some fishermen, throwing their nets in the Volga,
captured a sturgeon, which was found to be the same as that which his
Imperial Highness the heir-presumptive of the Russian crown had accepted
as an offering in 1866 from the municipality of Nijni. At the desire of
the Prince the fish was restored to the sea. Its identity was proved by a
silver ring attached to the right gill of the fish, on which was inscribed
the date, Aug. 27, 1866. Another similar ring, which had been attached to
the left gill, had disappeared.
It is to be presumed that the sturgeon was returned to the water with some
mark to indicate the period at which it was re-captured. Some time after
this occurrence a similar case occurred in the Volga, when another
sturgeon, which had been offered as a present to the late Emperor
Nicholas, and had been recommitted to its native element, was taken alive,
and recognised by the rings attached to it.
The French newspapers of May 1873 announced that at one of the principal
_restaurants_ in Paris, a valuable diamond ring was found in the stomach
of a salmon purchased at the central markets.
In the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine’ (January 1765), is the account of a Mrs.
Todd, of Deptford, who, in going in a boat to Whitstable, endeavoured to
prove that no person need be poor who was willing to be otherwise; and
being excited with her argument, took off her gold ring, and, throwing it
out into the sea, said ‘it was as much impossible for any person to be
poor who had an inclination to be otherwise, as for her ever to see that
ring again.’ The second day after this, and when she had landed, she
bought some mackerel, which the servant commenced to dress for dinner,
whereupon there was found a gold ring in one. The servant ran to show it
to her mistress, and the ring proved to be that which she had thrown away.
Brand, in his ‘History of Newcastle,’ relates that a gentleman of that
city, in the middle of the seventeenth century, dropped a ring from his
hand over the bridge into the River Tyne. Years passed on, when one day
his wife bought a fish in the market, and the ring was discovered in its
stomach.
A correspondent to ‘Notes and Queries’ (vol. i. series 3, p. 36), relates
the following curious anecdote: ‘A gentleman, who was in the habit of
frequenting a favourite spot for the sake of a view that interested him,
used to lounge on a rail, and one day in a fit of absence of mind got
fumbling about the post in which one end of the rail was inserted. On his
way home he missed a valuable ring; he went back again and looked
diligently for it but without success. A considerable time afterwards in
visiting his old haunt, and indulging in his usual fit of absence, he was
very agreeably surprised to find the ring on his finger again, and which
appears to have been occasioned by (in both instances), his pressing his
finger in the aperture of the post, which just fitted sufficiently with a
pressure to hold the ring. I afterwards tried the experiment at the spot,
and found it perfectly easy to have been effected with an easily fitting
ring.’
A curious antique ring, discovered in 1867 near the site of the Priory of
St. Mary, Pilton, near Barnstaple, was exhibited by Mr. Chanter, the
owner, at the Exeter Meeting of the Royal Archæological Institute (July
1873). The ring is of pure gold, weighing 131 grains, a large egg-shaped
sapphire being in the middle, in a solid oval setting. The stone had a
hole drilled through the lower edge, through which a gold stud was passed,
but it did not extend through the gold setting. The stone had been
evidently flawed by the operation. The ring was intended for the thumb,
and for ecclesiastical use, dating from about 1100 or 1200. A singularity
is attached to the discovery. Some men were engaged in hedging, when they
had to cut down some old trees. After cutting down one, they found the
‘moot’ of another underneath, and right in the centre of the latter was a
round ball eight or ten inches in diameter, which the men took at first to
be a cannon-ball. On opening the clay, however, the ring, bright and
perfect, was exposed in the centre. A theory to account for this
remarkable discovery is that the ring might have been stolen and buried by
the thief for concealment under the tree in a ball of clay. For some
reason or other the ring was left there, and in the course of time another
tree grew over the old one.
Among the singular _discoveries_ of rings, I may mention the
following:--In 1697 a woman was drowned for theft, in the Loch of Spynie,
in Morayshire, and in 1811 the skeleton was brought to light, with a ring
on its finger. In 1862, during some discoveries made at Pompeii, a body
was too far decayed to be touched, but liquid plaster of Paris was poured
upon it, and a cast was taken, so accurately done that a ring was found on
the finger. In the excavation of an Anglo-Saxon burial-place at Harnham
Hill, near Salisbury, a silver twisted ring was found on the middle
finger-bone of a skeleton. In some sepulchral objects from Italy, Styria,
and Mecklenburg, obtained by the late J. M. Kemble, Esq., was a
finger-ring of bronze, in which the bone still lay. The Abbé Cochet, the
indefatigable Norman explorer, mentions this as of usual occurrence. ‘Au
doigt de la main sont les bagues, ou des anneaux d’or, d’argent, de
cuivre, ou de bronze. Quelques unes de ces bagues sont unies; mais
d’autres ont des chatons en agate, en verroterie rouge ou vert, ou des
croix encaustées sur métal. Communement, elles sont encore passées au
doigt que les porta, dont la phalange est tout verdie par l’oxyde du
bronze’ (‘La Normandie Souterraine,’ p. 29).
In Moore’s ‘Life of Byron’ we have an instance of a lost ring recovered
under peculiarly interesting circumstances: ‘On the day of the arrival of
the lady’s (Miss Millbanke) answer, he (Lord Byron) was sitting down to
dinner, when his gardener came in, and presented him with his mother’s
wedding-ring, which she had lost many years before, and which the gardener
had just found in digging up the mould under her window. Almost at the
same moment, the letter from Miss Millbanke arrived, and Lord Byron
exclaimed, “If it contains a consent, I will be married with this very
ring.” It _did_ contain a very flattering acceptance of his proposal (of
marriage), and a duplicate of the letter had been sent to London, in case
this should have missed him.’
* * * * *
Among the numerous applications of rings to various purposes, one of the
most curious is the custom, once prevalent in the Isle of Man, that if a
man grossly insulted a married woman he was to suffer death, but if the
woman was unmarried the Deemster, or judge, gave her a rope, a sword, and
a ring, and she had it put to her choice either to hang him with the rope,
or to cut off his head with the sword, or to marry him with the ring.
In one of Robin Hood’s ballads we find that a ring was part of a prize for
archery:--
A greate courser, with saddle and brydle,
With gold burnished full bright;
A paire of gloves, a red golde ring,
A pipe of wyne, good fay.
What man berest him best, I wist,
The prize shall bear away.
Rings were proffered as bribes: in the old legend of King Estmere, the
porter of King Adlan’s hall is bribed by that monarch and his brother,
disguised as harpers, to admit them:--
Then they pulled out a ryng of gold,
Layd itt on the porter’s arme,
‘And ever we will thee, proud porter,
Thou wilt saye us no harme.’
Sore he looked on King Estmère,
And sore he handled the ryng,
Then opened to them the fayre hall gates,
He lett for no kind of thyng.
The lady, King Adlan’s daughter, for whose sake the ring is given, is thus
described:--
The talents of gold were on her head sette,
Hanged low down to her knee;
And everye ring on her small fingèr
Shone of the chrystall free.
In the romance of ‘Earl Richard,’ we have another instance of a ring fee,
or bribe, to a porter:--
She took a ring from her finger
And gave’t the porter for his fee,
Says, ‘tak you that, my good porter,
And bid the queen speak to me.’
In the capital ballad of the ‘Baffled Knight,’ or ‘Lady’s Policy,’ the
latter in answer to the overtures of her drunken wooer says:--
Oh, yonder stands my steed so free,
Among the cocks of hay, sir;
And if the pinner should chance to see
He’ll take my steed away, sir.
The Knight rejoins:--
Upon my finger I have a ring,
It’s made of finest gold-a,
And, lady, it thy steed shall bring
Out of the pinner’s fold-a.
Miller, in his ‘History of the Anglo-Saxons,’ relates a pretty story of a
‘bribe’ ring, an episode in the battles between Edmund Ironside and
Canute. It was on the eve of one of these conflicts that a Danish chief,
named Ulfr, being hotly pursued by the Saxons, rushed into a wood, in the
hurry of defeat, and lost his way. After wandering about some time, he met
a Saxon peasant, who was driving home his oxen. The Danish chief asked his
name. ‘It is Godwin,’ answered the peasant; ‘and you are one of the Danes
who were compelled yesterday to fly for your life.’ The sea-king
acknowledged it was true, and asked the herdsman if he could guide him
either to the Danish ships, or where the army was encamped. ‘The Dane must
be mad,’ answered Godwin, ‘who trusts to a Saxon for safety.’ Ulfr
entreated this rude Gurth of the forest to point him out the way, at the
same time urging his argument by presenting the herdsman with a massive
gold ring, to win his favour. Godwin looked at the ring, and after having
carefully examined it he again placed it in the hand of the sea-king, and
said: ‘I will not take this, but will show you the way.’ Ulfr spent the
day at the herdsman’s cottage; night came, and found Godwin in readiness
to be his guide. The herdsman had an aged father, who, before he permitted
his son to depart, thus addressed the Danish chief: ‘It is my only son
whom I allow to accompany you; to your good faith I entrust him, for
remember that, there will no longer be any safety for him amongst his
countrymen if it is once known that he has been your guide. Present him to
your King, and entreat him to take my son into his service.’ Ulfr
promised, and he kept his word. The humble cowherd, who afterwards married
the sea-king’s sister, became the powerful Earl Godwin, of historic
celebrity.
* * * * *
In former times rings denoted quality, if we may judge from the
expressions in an old play (‘First Part of the Contention: York and
Lancaster;’ Shakspeare Society):--
I am a gentleman, looke on my ring,
Ransome me at what thou wilt, it shall be paid.
In the popular German ballad of ‘Anneli,’ or the ‘Anneli Lied,’ translated
by Mr. J. H. Dixon (‘Notes and Queries,’ 3rd series, vol. ix.), the
maiden, whose lover is drowned in the lake while swimming, is in a boat
with a fisherman who recovers the body, which she places on her lap:--
And she kiss’d his mouth, and he seem’d to smile,
‘Oh, no, I will not repine,
For God in heaven hath granted him
A happier home than mine.’
And she chaf’d in hers his clammy hands--
Ah! what does the maiden see?
There was a bridal-ring for one
Was never a bride to be.
She drew from his finger that posied ring,
‘Fisherman--lo! thy fee!’
And clasping him round and round she plunged,
And scream’d with a maniac glee--
‘No other young man in Argovie
Shall drown for the love of me!’
Mr. R. S. Ralston, M.A., in his ‘Songs of the Russians,’ mentions an
interesting custom in connection with rings: ‘Among the games is that
called the “Burial of the Gold.” A number of girls form a circle, and pass
from hand to hand a gold ring, which a girl who stands inside the circle
tries to detect. Meanwhile they sing in chorus the following verses:--
See here, gold I bury, I bury;
Silver pure I bury, bury;
In the rooms, the rooms of my father,
Rooms so high, so high, of my mother.
Guess, O maiden, find out, pretty one,
Whose hand is holding
The wings of the serpent.
The girl in the middle replies:--
Gladly would I have guessed,
Had I but known, or had seen,--
Crossing over the plain,
Plaiting the ruddy brown hair,
Weaving with silk in and out
Interlacing with gold.
O, my friends, dear companions,
Tell the truth, do not conceal it,
Give, oh give me back my gold!
My mother will beat me
For three days, for four;
With three rods of gold,
With a fourth rod of pearl.
The chorus breaks in, singing:--
The ring has fallen, has fallen
Among the guelders and raspberries,
Among the black currants.
* * * *
Disappeared has our gold,
Hidden amid the mere dust,
Grown all over with moss.’
In Warner’s ‘History of Ireland’ (vol. i. book 10) is the following ring
anecdote: ‘The people were inspired with such a spirit of honour, virtue,
and religion, by the great example of Brien, and by his excellent
administration, that, as a proof of it, we are informed that a young lady
of great beauty, adorned with jewels and a costly dress, undertook to
journey alone from one end of the kingdom to the other, with a wand only
in her hand, on the top of which was a ring of exceeding great value; and
such an impression had the laws and government of this monarch made on the
minds of all the people that no attempt was made on her honour, nor was
she robbed of her clothes or jewels.’
This forms the subject of one of the sweetest melodies of Moore:--
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems and snow-white wand.
Janus Nicius Crytræus relates that a certain pope had a tame raven, which
secreted the pope’s ring, or _annulus Piscatoris_. The pope, thinking that
some one had committed the robbery, issued a bull of excommunication
against the robber. The raven grew very thin, and lost all his plumage. On
the ring being found, and the excommunication taken off, the raven
recovered his flesh and his plumage.
Upon this story was founded the admirable Ingoldsby legend of the ‘Jackdaw
of Rheims.’
* * * * *
During the great war of liberation in Germany, the ladies deposited in
the public treasury their jewels and ornaments to be sold for the national
cause, and they each received in turn an iron ring inscribed ‘Ich gab Gold
am Eisen’ (I gave gold for iron). Russell, who mentions this in his ‘Tour
in Germany,’ 1813, adds:--‘A Prussian dame is as proud, and justly proud,
of this coarse decoration as her husband and her son is of his iron
cross.’
* * * * *
A singular mode of securing a ring on the finger is mentioned by a
correspondent to ‘Notes and Queries’ (4th Series, vol. vi. p. 323): ‘In
the possession of a lady relative of mine is an old painting in oils,
representing Sir William Segar, Principal King-at-Arms to James I. (1604),
and his wife. They stand side by side, and are three-quarter portraits of
life size. On the fourth finger of Lady Segar’s right hand is a jewelled
ring, to which are attached several black strings, curiously joined at the
back of the hand, and fastened round the wrist.’
* * * * *
A curious and tragical incident in connection with a ring is related in
the ‘Lives of the Lindsays.’ The young Colin, Earl of Balcarres, was
obtaining for his bride a young Dutch lady, Mauritia de Nassau, daughter
of a natural son of Maurice, Prince of Orange. The day arrived for the
wedding, the noble party were assembled in the church, and the bride was
at the altar; but, to the dismay of the company, no bridegroom appeared.
The volatile Colin had forgotten the day of his marriage, and was
discovered in his night-gown and slippers, quietly eating his breakfast.
He hurried to the church, but in his haste left the ring in his
writing-case; a friend in the company gave him one; the ceremony went on,
and, without looking at it, he placed it on the finger of the bride. It
was a _mourning_ ring, with the death’s-head and cross-bones. On
perceiving it at the close of the ceremony she fainted away, and the evil
omen had made such an impression on her mind that, on recovering, she
declared she should die within the year, and her presentiment was too
truly fulfilled.
* * * * *
Louis de Berquem, of Bruges, to whom is ascribed the art of cutting and
polishing the diamond, made his first attempts in 1475, upon three rough
and large diamonds, confided to him for that purpose by Charles the Rash,
Duke of Burgundy. One of these was cut in a triangular shape, and mounted
on a ring, on which were figured two hands, as a symbol of alliance and
good faith, and was presented to Louis XI., King of France.
* * * * *
Mr. Howitt, in his additions to the ‘History of Magic’ of Ennemoser,
remarks: ‘In the St. Vitus’s dance patients often experience divinatory
visions of a fugitive nature, either referring to themselves or to others,
and occasionally in symbolic words. In the “Leaves from Prevorst,” such
symbolic somnambulism is related, and I myself have observed a very
similar case: Miss V. Brand, during a violent paroxysm of St. Vitus’s
dance, suddenly saw a black evil-boding crow fly into the room, from
which, she said, she was unable to protect herself, as it unceasingly flew
round her, as if it wished to make some communication. This appearance was
of daily occurrence with the paroxysm for eight days afterwards. On the
ninth, when the attacks had become less violent, the vision commenced with
the appearance of a white dove, which carried a letter containing a
betrothal ring in its beak; shortly afterwards the crow flew in with a
black-sealed letter. The next morning the post brought a letter with
betrothal cards from a cousin, and a few hours after the news was received
of the death of her aunt at Lohburg, of whose illness she was ignorant. Of
both these letters, which two different posts brought in on the same day,
Miss V. Brand could not possibly have known anything. The change of birds
and their colours during her recovery, and before the announcement of
agreeable or sorrowful news, the symbols of the ring and the black seal
exhibit in this vision a particularly pure expression of the soul, as well
as a correct view into the future.’
* * * * *
A French MS. of the thirteenth century gives the earliest version hitherto
discovered of the fable of the three rings, known by the story in
Boccaccio’s ‘Decamerone,’ and by Lessing’s ‘Nathan.’ From these, however,
it differs essentially. In the present version the true ring is found out
after the father’s death, while Boccaccio and Lessing tell the contrary.
Of course the allegorical meaning of the true ring is the Christian faith,
and the two false are the Mohammedan and the Judaic faith. The Mohammedan
faith is considered the oldest because it represents the pagan faith in
general.
* * * * *
Among the singular uses to which rings have been applied, I may mention
what were called ‘meridian.’ These were various kinds of astronomical
rings formerly in use, but now superseded by more exact instruments. In
the French ‘Encyclopédie’ (Diderot and D’Alembert) will be found an
account of the ‘solar’ ring (_anneau solaire_), which showed the hour by
means of a small perforation, ‘un trou, par lequel on fait passer un
rayon de soleil.’ Zeller also describes a kind of sun-dial in the form of
a ring. This was called the astronomical ring, ‘annulus astronomicus.’[74]
[Illustration: Dial rings.]
The Rev. Danson R. Currer has a _brass_ ring-dial, probably of the kind
formerly designated as ‘journey rings.’
Mr. Edward Jones, of Dolgellau, has a dial-ring consisting of two
concentric rings moving within the other, the larger one having a linear
groove, and the smaller one a slight hole working into it.
[Illustration: Dial ring.]
* * * * *
The romantic attachment of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, to Mary, the
second sister of Henry VIII., is an interesting episode in ring history.
She had been married in 1514 to Louis XII. of France, a political union of
youth and beauty to debilitated old age. Brandon was sent with several
English nobles to grace the nuptials. There is reason to believe that Mary
had flattered his hopes of marrying her long before she quitted England.
King Louis died three months after his marriage, and a few days after the
Queen was secretly married to Suffolk. That during the brief interval
between the marriage and death of the French monarch some interchange of
affection occurred between the lovers is certain. A rumour had spread that
Suffolk had shown a diamond ring she gave him. ‘The truth is,’ she writes,
‘that one night at Tournay, being at the banquet, after the banquet he put
himself upon his knees before me, and in speaking and in playing he drew
from my finger the ring, and put it upon his, and since showed it to me;
and I took to laugh, and to him said that he was a thief, and that I
thought not that the King had with him led thieves out of his country. The
word _larron_ he could not understand, wherefore I was constrained to ask
how one said in Flemish _larron_. And afterwards I said to him in Flemish
_dieffe_, and I prayed him many times to give it me again, for that it
was too much known. But he understood me not well, and kept it on unto the
next day that I spake to the King, him requiring to make him to give it to
me, because it was too much known--I promising him one of my bracelets the
which I wore, the which I gave him. And then he gave me the said ring; the
which one other time at Lylle, being set nigh to my lady of Hornes, and he
before upon his knees, it took again from my finger. I spake to the King
to have it again; but it was not possible, for he said unto me that he
would give me others better, and that I should leave him that. I said unto
him that it was not for the value, but for that it was too much known. He
would not understand it, but departed from me. The morrow after he brought
me one fair point of diamond, and one table of ruby, and showed me it was
for the other ring, wherefore I durst no more speak of it, if not to
beseech him it should not be shewed to any person; the which hath not all
to me been done.’ ‘Thus signed, M.’
* * * * *
In ‘Household Words’ (vol. ix. p. 277), there is an account of two rings
supposed to have been stolen from Charles II. on his death-bed. ‘I should
have told you, in his fits his feet were as cold as ice, and were kept
rubbed with hot cloths, which were difficult to get. Some say the Queen
rubbed one and washed it in tears. Pillows were brought from the Duchess
of Portsmouth by Mrs. Roche. His Highness, the Duke of York, was the first
there, and then I think the Queen (he sent for her); the Duchess of
Portsmouth swooned in the chamber, and was carried out for air; Nelly
Gwynne roared to a disturbance, and was led out, and lay roaring behind
the door; the Duchess wept and returned; the Princess (afterwards Queen
Anne) was not admitted, he was so ghastly a sight (his eye-balls were
turned that none of the blacks were seen, and his mouth drawn up to one
eye), so they feared it might affect the child she goes with. None came in
at the common door, but by an odd side-door, to prevent a crowd, but
enough at convenient times to satisfy all. The grief of the Duchess of
Portsmouth did not prevent her packing and sending many strong boxes to
the French ambassador’s; and the second day of the King’s sickness, the
chamber being kept dark--one who comes from the light does not see very
soon, and much less one who is between them and the light there is--so she
went to the side of the bed, and sat down to, and, taking the King’s hands
in hers, felt his two great diamond rings; thinking herself alone, and,
asking him what he did with them on, said she would take them off, and did
it at the same time, and looking up saw the Duke on the other side,
steadfastly looking on her, at which she blushed much, and held them
towards him, and said: “Here, sire, will you take them?” “No, madam,” he
said, “they are as safe in your hands as mine, I will not touch them until
I see how things will go.” But, since the King’s death, she has forgot to
restore them, though he has not that she took them, for he told the
story.’
This extract is taken from a letter written by a lady who was the wife of
a person about the court at Whitehall, and forms part of a curious
collection of papers lately discovered at Draycot House, near Chippenham.
* * * * *
In connection with incidents concerning rings, I may allude to the golden
spoil that Messrs. Garrard, goldsmiths, of the Haymarket, London,
purchased from the prize-agents of the British forces employed on the Gold
Coast. These precious objects appear to have been collected by the King
of Ashantee in great haste as a propitiatory offering, and were evidently
seized and sent at random to the British general. Among them are rings of
the most beautiful yet fantastic shapes, showing the extraordinary
imitative talents which the Ashantee goldsmiths possess. Perhaps the most
curious of these is a ring finely chased, the signet of which is made of
what seems to be an ancient Coptic coin. Two rings appear to have been
copied from early English betrothal rings, precisely such as those by
which lovers plighted their troth in this country many years ago.